Blackness, Aragorn pulled himself to his feet, not far of Indur was struggling to regain his footing; the only noise either could hear was the sound of raindrops as they began to fall. Slowly, both turned to regard each other, Fire in their eyes. "If… If you ever come near my son again…" Ji Indur paused, Your son? That was… you fool… it is your own folly for letting the child stray! Aragorn lunged forward, pushing the wraith back against the stones. "My Folly?! Piece of corpse! Carcass even Orks despise! My folly indeed! Your Folly That You Would Attack A Child In MY LANDS!!" Indur hissed, wincing at the sharp rocks that dug into his skin. Aragorn let him drop, loose strands of rain soaked hair falling over his eyes. "Come near me or mine again, and I will prove a far harsher man that even Sauron was!"

Ji Indur laughed, You?! Harsher than Sauron?! You boast poorly mortal! What know you of pain or cruelty; you are a child to me! An insect to one such as Sauron! Aragorn smiled, "If that be the case wraith, than why did we win his own war?" Indur raised himself so that their eyes met evenly. …you won…because ones greater than us all let you win…… A cruel hiss ended his statement, and no matter the lighting, Aragorn could see his pale reflection swallowed in the depths of the Ringwraiths eyes. A cry from above drew both of their attention, Khamul held the struggling heir of Gondor in his grip, his eyes fixed on the two below him. Aragorn roared out "Release my son wraith! You coward! If you wish to quarrel do so with me!!"

Khamul laughed, a sharp bitter sound, You want him, heir of Isiludur? Before Indur could cry out to stay the others hand Khamul hefted the child with a great heave and Eldarion gave a cry as he vanished down the side of the mountain.

"Eldarion!!!! Eldariooooon!!!"

Aragorn fell to his knees, and something broke, shattering his insides to pieces, slowly something else moved forward to take its place…

So here you are again… spawn of Isiludur… The rain was gone, the stony cliffs, now there was nothing… and a lone form came into focus in the heart of the dark hole. The Wraith lord gazed down upon him, his robes lay torn, the metal of his own gauntlets cut threw his flesh and his blood dripped slowly from the wounds. The long white mane lay stained with black upon his shoulders, his entire form bowed in pain. Yet his eyes glowed like embers in their depths, old even beyond their years. And his crown still stood proudly on his brow. Aragorn did not raise his head; his hands lay limp at his sides.

… You are not giving up, are you mortal? No…not yet… I think not yet… you realize the boy is still alive… Aragorn's face arched up sharply, hate bordering madness flashed in his eyes, and the Nazgul seemed to catch his breath. "That boy, is my Son! And he will not be for much longer! Your Damned brethren threw him from the peaks of Minas Tirith!" The Witch king nodded, eyes hidden now in the depths of shadow. …He will die… should he touch the ground… the dark one leaned over the king's stricken form, and in hardly even a whisper… I can stop his fall, if you allow it… the offer scraped threw his ears like the gauntlets the Nine wore, sharp and piercing.

Aragorn lashed out, catching the others jaw with his fist and satisfaction pierced threw his grief as the wraith crumpled. The other tried to rise, failed, a pained hiss deep in his craw, the light fading from his eyes even as the black world about them began to fade, Aragorn felt the rain… "Wraith lord! Wait! Can you, I said Wait! No! Not Yet! Can you save him?!" There came no reply, the fallen Witch king lay still. With a curse to all things Aragorn struggled to hold onto what he saw in his mind. To stop that fall, if he can really stop his fall…"Do what you will!! Damn you! Do what you will if he will live!!" his voice surprised even himself, almost a sob, he could barely get the words from his throat. It seemed that a sigh echoed throughout the shadows, then a flash of light as if to shame fire drew the breath from his lungs…

Aragorn's eyes flashed open, he rose and strode swiftly to the edge and spread his hands wide, a feeling of panic filled him, this was not his mind commanding these motions, and a sharp voice hissed out…

fiith ta taar!! zaa- mûkarz!!

hold him high!! Grip gently!!

The storm shrieked its furry, and the winds lashed like whips against the stones, the city below closed their windows against the sudden storm that slashed threw the streets and scattered all that was not tied down like kindling. Upon the peak Khamul and Indur were still, their eyes glowing softly in their hoods. The rain itself had been blown away, the sudden drop in temperature turning what did fall into freezing snow. And in the heart of all this madness a vortex of wind had formed, rising swiftly up the mountains face with its passenger unconscious in its eye. It pulsed, settled upon the rock and in an instant was gone.

…for a moment there was silence, then the rain returned and fell softly onto the forms of the king, the wraiths, and the heir. Aragorn moved forward, slowly, his steps soft, inside his mind the Nazgul still held the reigns, but was unable to stop his host's timid steps. (These feelings… almost painful… after what I have endured I did not think pain could still reach me… the sea had faded from my eyes…)The king knelt, despite the wraiths desire to draw back. Gently, very gently, Aragorn raised his son into his arms; his eyes beginning to sting… tears fell as a sob of relief escaped his throat. "My Son… Thank the Valar, Eldarion, my Eldarion…"

Murazor hissed, the feel of tears on his face almost as sharp as the fires of Sauron eye, (this pain… is this… I cannot… I died long ago…and this child is nothing to me… my brethren and my lord are my only concerns, …my lord…) Aragorn did not stir, his arms wrapped protectively about his sons form. Indur shifted nervously, sensing Murazor's presence, concerned that he was not in control. Khamul hissed under his breath, his eyes sparked anew by seeing the Witch Kings power again. Aragorn sighed, (What is the price I pay now for your help Witch King… you are never free in your gifts.) silence answered him, than a low hiss…(Why are you weeping?!) The King smiled, (So I was right, the nine have forgotten how to love. That is why I weep, foul creature, I weep because I almost lost something dearer to me than life.) Once more silence, then a wary question, (…your life? you could have other heirs, you have your youth still…)

(I would never have another such as him, one child cannot be traded for another. Anything with half a soul understands that.)

From the wraith lord there was silence, Murazor shuddered, a deep languidness settling over him, clouding his thoughts… (…To much energy used in that summons… what is done is…done…)no more thoughts came from the dark being, all traces of his presence faded deep into the back of Aragorn's mind. With deep eyes the king rose, and with not another look at the Nazgul, took the path down from the ledges and into Minas Tirith.