In my heart I feel the pull of fear, I can't allow,
To pull me under in a grip… that's strong, from years of practice hones…
Shadows stretch across the land, for which we fought in war,
I wonder now…
When open darkness rolls ore the land…and the wind brings deaths sweet tones….
Shall this be the day, oh Valar above, the earth reclaims my bones?
Though I am weary I will not rest, for we shall now fear sleep.
A warrior's heart within my breast, yet mortal feet beneath.
The roads are dark, the path is long, and darkness rules the skies,
Our steps are hounded by their songs, their Nazgul cries…
Gandalf watched Aragorn's form come into focus on the path, he made no sound. Aragorn did not acknowledge him; he passed by with his eyes on nothing but the child in his arms. The wizard sighed, "Aragorn!" The king stopped, "What do you want Gandalf…. I cannot undue it, I had no choice." The wizard moved forward, his eyes soft. "Aragorn, I do not blame you… the fault is mine. I felt things were moving quickly yet I did not act, and now you pay the price of my folly…" The child stirred, his eyes fluttering. "Take him home Aragorn, I will deal with the wraiths, and…" Here the wizard paused, regret plain on his brow. "I fear your adventure continues Aragorn… just know this, whatever comes from it, you acted wisely…" Somewhere in the back of his mind the Witch King laughed.
There was a flurry of activity from the citadel; Gimli in the armory was collecting the weapons he had left there in safe keeping. Beside the white tree Legolas honed his aim, a determined edge to his mouth, a set fire in his eyes. Faramir drew sword, tossed it from hand to hand, his manner serious and solemn. (I will come back, and I will come back alive.) The guards of Gondor stood well out of the way as the fellowship drew together at the white trees base, "Where are the hobbits, have any seen Frodo and the others?" Gimli shook his head, "Nay, I know not. They will join us soon I'm sure. …We are all sure of this? War is good for a dwarf! What fear we blackness?! Live we not in the great mountains? Yet methinks it be not the way for an elf to travel…" Legolas smiled, "War is no stranger to elves, or dwarfs, nor to men or now even hobbits. But what you say is irrelevant Gimli, I dislike the dark, but I fought in Mordor's own walls, and my ancestors fought the great evils as well. I will not perish from lack of light."
Both turned eyes to Faramir who stood silent, his eyes on the blackness of the skyline, "… what fear I death… if it will save this? What fear I the end if it may prove a new beginning for this city, this world? I have fought for her before, and my blood has been spilled…. I will not shirk; I will not turn away from this… I cannot allow this darkness to hang over her, not while I still live…" The elf and dwarf turned away, their faces resolved. From above them on the path Aragorn looked down, the child in his arms sleeping. (I will never let the dark touch him, not my son… no matter what I may sacrifice, if you can Ringwraith, if you can where I cannot, than I charge you with his life. Protect him. And you may do what you will with me…) the last drops fell, the rain washing over the city and a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance…
Frodo placed Sting into its scabbard; beside him Bilbo was carefully looking over the weaponry for something to suit him. "What we really need my boy, is two Stings! …To long, to short, to big, to broad…" Frodo sighed, "Here Bilbo, it's your sword. You carry Sting and I'll find… something else." The older hobbit looked at him with questioning eyes, as if to ask (Are you sure?) but he reached out and took sword and scabbard with a soft smile. "Your good to me Frodo, always were a good boy." Bilbo left to find the others, and Frodo turned back to the arms with searching eyes. (To big to broad, to long to short…darn.) There was nothing wrong with them, but certainly none were as fine of feel as sting had been, no, not even close…
With a sigh he turned and left the armory, grabbing the closest blade available. (It's no sting, but I'll adjust. Besides, no reason not to be optimistic! If all goes well, I won't even have needed to bring one!" The sounds of horses and riders reached his ears, and threw the doorway Legolas was tacking up his charger. "Are you almost ready Frodo?" The horse bit at his reigns as if to snatch them from the elf and avoid the journey. Legolas pulled them back sternly and the beast grew still. "Yes, I think so. Who is coming with us?" The Elf smiled. "A better question Frodo, is who is not coming with us." Faramir already mounted pulled up alongside them. " You are ready Legolas, Frodo?" Both nodded. Gimli ran toward them, looking almost comical under the arsenal he carried. "you might not like this methinks, but something's amiss with Aragorn!" Faramir mumbled something below his breath, "…Probably the wraiths… he cannot stand their presence…"
Gimli shook his head, "If that be the case, why is he saddling his steed? It looks to me that he intends to come with us." Legolas froze, his eyes confused. "That does not make sense… when I spoke with him last he had no intention of journeying with us at all, what would have changed his mind?" seizing the opportunity the horse reared and bolted, vanishing out of the stables and into the topmost of the cities rings. For a moment there was silence, and then a muffled snickering came from the dwarf. With a mumbled Elfish Curse Legolas set out to retrieve his horse and gear, or whichever he found first. Faramir blinked, "Now what do you suppose that was all about?"
Gandalf watched as the fellowship arranged themselves. (It seems all our hobbits are coming… that is something we don't need for a moment… and the steward has set himself to the task as I assumed he would. I somewhat worry for Legolas and Gimli…) he sighed, (at least we convinced Arwen and Eowyn not to come…) the shadows seemed to be fading, their warning delivered, (I know they will return, and bring with them the storm before we reach the gate, we have so little time…)
"Are you ready to go Gandalf, we must depart soon." The wizard turned, Aragon sat mounted, his eyes somewhat empty, and not far behind the wraiths also sat, their horses to frightened to even scream. Both whitened hoods were pulled to hide their faces, old steel hung at their side, and both hands and feet they had covered with leather gloves and boots. They seemed not men any more than when they had served the ring, now they were more mist than midnight, but that was all. "Gandalf, are you ready?" He shook his head clear, "I am ready, as always my friend."
(No Aragorn, I am not ready… and neither are you.)
The small procession cantered onto the fields, robes flying in the breeze as the shadows stretched to allow them passage, and in the skies above them the dragon whipped the wind to shame. (Will we return this time, what waits for us upon the road to Morgoth's realm? And when we return, if we are to return… will it be to the beginning for us… or the end…)