They pitched their camp beside a tree that's branches would shield them from the skies. Legolas and Faramir were not pleased, (though the steward was still in pain) at the stop. Both were still quite well seasoned, and willing to push further, but the fatigue of the hobbits one out, and soon all sat around the fire listening as (for probably the thousandth time :)) Bilbo told the Story of his travels with the Dwarfs. "So he Drew back the Bow, and fired a great black arrow into the bare spot on Smaug's breast! And as sure as night turns to day…" A curious hiss came from Khamul; he stood not far from the fire, eyes glowing in his hood. …A great black arrow…? With the plumes of a raven in its tail, and twining leather all of black? Bilbo blinked in surprise, "I say, you speak as if you'd seen it before!" The wraith laughed low in his craw, a sound like boots crunching on frost. …Oh I know well those arrows… for it was only one of many… Akhorahil was our group's archer, and he made his arrows with pride… over the years… some were lost… this hero of yours, simply found one.
Bilbo blinked, surprised. "You still… have names?" For a moment Khamul was silent, then a deadly hiss began oozing from his throat, it grew shrill and grating, causing the group to cover their ears and wince. Bilbo merely stared on calmly, his expression one of confused pacifism. With an enraged shriek the wraith moved forward, blade slipping free from the scabbard and frosting, still Bilbo sat until the other was almost upon him, and then said softly, "If the question is unpleasant to you, you do not have to answer it." Khamul stood baffled; blade hefted in his hand, but did not strike. Instead the laughter returned, and with a swish of robe Khamul left the fire side in favor of the dark. The fellowship stared at the old hobbit, who merely sighed and said sadly, "You know, he was really something once… you can tell, people who held power, it clings to their very being. The way they walk, they speak…" Bilbo added a twig to the fire, "Those great people who cannot fall, unless they do so in flame."
Indur woke to the feeling of rage and sorrow, and the tinges of madness… (Khamul… what have you done this time… can you not even move without anger?) Wearily the Champion of Mordor rose and mounted his steed, following the essence of his brethren until it led to a small ledge in the field. The beast did not run when he dismounted, and Indur paused, perturbed. True he had ridden horses that did not run when he took himself from them, but those had been beasts of Mordor, bred to carry the nine and serve as a weapon if the need arose. This hose was not of that line, he could see that much even if he were blind. Its mouth was small and delicate, with higher cheekbones and a finer arch to its neck. And though it was a beast of war, it was in no way as stocky or powerfully legged as any horse he had ridden in the past would have had to be, simply to carry his armor and tack.
(So why don't you run, you foolish thing? You were frightened enough when I first rode you, I had to force my will into yours… surely you have not adjusted so fast?) Dismissing these inquires for a later date, the wraith approached the other. …Khamul… what is it that drives you now… I feel your confusion, as well as… other things… The Easterling eyes glowed scarlet. It matters not to you!! Do not pry Indur, least I remind you of the extent of my dislike of you, if you wish for company than dwell with those fools! The Easterling turned his head away, …You are weak as them already… Indur said nothing. His eyes glowing with his silent anger, cold as ice. With two powerful strides he crossed the distance between them and with a firm blow knocked the other to the dirt. I am weak?! I am WEAK??!! Khamul lay stunned, his eyes now pale in his face as he gazed into the sky scourge's rage glazed eyes. I am not the one of us who throws himself into pity whenever something is not as it should be! Do you see me sulking like a brat in the shadows?! Do you see me hiding from what is new? What is strange? I will survive this!! The shriek echoed about them and all that heard it withdrew from the black tongue that had been screamed to the skies. Panting, eyes bright, Indur glared down at his fellow, and as quickly as his rage had come it abtated, leaving a wall of ice between them as Indur once more fell silent, his eyes speaking for him.
…I will survive this, but somehow, I fear you may not…
Indur turned and remounted the horse that once more tried to flee his presence, both horse and rider disappeared over the hill. Khamul did not move, his eyes were empty, silent, save for a shuddering thought that made his blood turn to ice. (I know why Sauron favored him now… I know why… I know…)
Gandalf watched as at first light the others placed their packs and weapons upon the horses, and watching Gimli load up ax after ax after ax… "…Is it a wonder he walks… with all that weaponry where would he sit?" Legolas laughed, catching the wizard of guard. Gandalf smiled back, it was a smile that said to kindly not repeat what they were smiling about. Legolas turned as Aragorn came out from under the tree and seemed to pause, the two regarded each other in silence, then Aragorn drew back slightly, his eyes troubled at the distance Legolas had put between them. In an unspoken apology the Elf smiled and moved toward him. The two went to gather the few horses still tethered to the tree.
It escaped none's notice that a horse and rider were missing. Indur had been silent since he had returned last night. Gandalf sighed, (I knew when we found Khamul things would become worrisome…)
( You are more distant than you have been, it is almost pleasant.) From the wraith within there came no answer. Aragorn sighed, strapping the saddle to his horse. (I know you have not left me, I feel you.) Again, there was but silence. The king stood for but a moment more in worried quiet. "Gandalf has said he is the key… what do we do if the key withdraws? I feel the darkness… it's getting stronger…" Legolas turned to him confused; it was unlike Aragorn to mumble to himself. "Are you well?" The king turned, then sighed resignedly and mounted the beast. "I am fine Legolas, as fine as any the Valar shaped can be with a demon inside them." (The journey begins again Witch King, I do not fear you, now show the way. For both our sakes, let us end this hurriedly.) There came an almost amused snort, the Ringwraith raised its head. (So you sense it as well, as we come closer…) The voice faded, it sounded strangled, as if in pain.
"Aragorn! We cannot depart!" Frodo ran up beside him, "We cannot find the other Wraith! Indur went of after him last night, and returned alone…" Aragorn swore, frustrated at another delay. (We haven't the time for that wraiths foolish pride! The dark grows! Can he not feel it? Or is he just so comfortable with it?!) A sharp pain seized him, and he groaned, clutching at his throat. (What is this? Explain! I know this pain is caused by you!) The blackness of his mind seemed to shatter, and another world came into perspective. Black all black, with no sense of heat or cold, no light, and no air... a vice around his throat, held by a hand so icy, it burns! (Burns like fire and hail!! Witch King!! What do you show me?!) Then waves, waves breaking on a shore unknown, watching them fade…
So now you lead him to me… Look well, King of dust. Look into my eyes…
And the fellowship turned stunned as Aragorn fell lifelessly from his horse, the scream of a Nazgul echoing the thump of his fall.