Gandalf sighed, "I fear we have lost him again, but also the wraith as well… they are both beyond my reach…"

The fellowship was silent, Legolas fingered the string of his bow between his thumb and pinky, A low curse came from Faramir. "We must press on, is he well enough to travel?" Gandalf merely shrugged his shoulders in exasperation. "I would know how? How many times do you think I have seen a soul leave a body without the person being dead? I assume he will be fine, I fail to see how we can do him more harm."

Gimli nodded, "Well then we have no decision to make, I'll strap him to the saddle, and we can get moving." The taller members of the group exchanged skeptic looks, "Pardons Gimli, but…" the dwarf waved the steward away. "No need, no need, I'll take care of everything." And without another word the dwarf walked to where Aragorn lay, muttered an apology for having to do this, threw the king over his shoulder, and walked to the horses. Legolas shook his head, "I think he does not fully comprehend what he plans to do." Faramir nodded, "I agree full heartedly, but I will still gladly watch him try, …he will need a hand eventually…" Legolas chuckled somewhat half heartedly and the two followed the dwarf.

Merry and Pippin went to get their horse ready again, and Gandalf turned to follow them. But he stopped, and instead his gaze wandered over to where Frodo and Samwise stood. "Is all well you two?" Frodo blinked a few times, and a tad shaken replied, "Yes, yes all is well; forgive me Gandalf, my mind wandered…" Sam shook his head, his mouth worried. "He's been doing that a great deal sir, since we started, actually." Gandalf nodded, his eyes hooded with thought, "…I would not worry of it for now, it is no danger to anyone yet." Gandalf joined the others. For a moment Sam stood still, and then from his throat came a squeaky "Yet?"

"I could have managed it myself! I almost had it done!" Faramir sighed and finished tying the cinches, letting the elf deal with the irate dwarf. "We must make haste Gimli, and I fear you were moving a tad slow…" The dwarfs beard bristled, "I was nearly done!" The horse turned its head, seemingly as annoyed by the noise as the steward. Not far off the hobbits had managed to use an overturned stump as a mounting block and were ready to depart.

"I have already apologized Gimli…" the dwarf merely huffed in response. Gandalf chuckled as he stopped his horse before them. "Does anyone remember whose turn it is in the sky?"

Mine…

Indur moved forward, tendrils of frost weaving below his feet. Gandalf seemed surprised, "Very well, if that is true, I doubt any will begrudge you the honor. Anantaboga is resting in the field." The Nazgul nodded, then turned and silently disappeared between the waving grasses. Gimli blinked, "I don't recall us ever taking turns with the wraiths!" Legolas gazed after the dark figure with lightly veiled dislike. "We didn't, but I doubt the dragon will let him cause any trouble." Gimli nodded, "you know I wonder…" Legolas arched an eyebrow, "You wonder..?" Gimli snorted, "I wonder if wraiths can get chaffed?" for a moment the elf looked horrified, then slowly grinned. "I wish so Gimli, but probably not, probably not."

Khamul kept a distance from the party, it would do no good to be seen like this, to be seen this… weak. The wraith shuddered, a feeling of humiliation for a moment overpowering his anxiety. (In all those years… all those years we rode and fought together… never had he melted, never had he struck back…) another shiver shook his form, (To think, I, the emissary of Mordor, intimidated even for a moment by that pathetic little…) his thoughts trailed back to the fierce light in Indur's eyes and he shivered, despite himself. (I am getting weak, to be so easily bothered, I feared no one in my service to the eye… save perhaps my captain on some rare occasions, but that was hardly being weak! That was being wise… none should ever stand before Murazor when he is in a wrath…)

With an angry hiss he steeled himself, then spurred his horse to join the group that was slowly moving ahead, (I will adapt, this is still an enemy whose strengths and weaknesses I know… and this disgusting feeling will fade soon enough. I will not be intimidated!)

… Not by that one...The fellowship sensed to be wary, and kept safe distance from the wraith when he joined their group, though Bilbo did turn his head every now and then. To gaze sadly at the wraith with deep, sorrowful eyes.

Aragorn looked about him, stunned. Few times had a feeling like this seized him, one of such sorrow, and emptiness… there was nothing to see in this place, it seemed you could pierce the dark for a short time around where you stood, but rest assured you would quickly be swallowed again into the vast nothing. The ground was hard and bare, colorless as everything else, its solid presence the only thing that gave off feeling. (No heat, no cold… it's as if my senses have all failed me. What is this place, and who was… oh, those eyes!) Aragorn shook his head, swiftly brushing aside that memory for as long as he could, no use. Those eyes had seared his very soul.

A sound reached his ears, a moan. Desperate for sound he followed to where it had come from. Upon the ground the crumpled form was still, twisted grotesquely as if flung by a mighty wave only to crash upon jagged stones. A small pool of black lay about the form, it rippled softly as the moan came again. Aragorn felt as if he couldn't breath, the face of the one before him pulled up from long lost memories. "…Hoarmurath..? Is… is that you..?" there came no reply, the wraith was still. Almost timidly Aragorn circled the creature, perhaps it was dead now… the light that usually lit the wraiths eyes was absent, and the form so still… the feeling of another calling him drew him away. It was the same, another crumpled black robe, the armor shattered and piercing its wearer. (They are all like this… what could have dealt them such a blow, Sauron perhaps… no, no it was the other…)

The last figure was not so still, it twitched and writhed, the motions were weak, but they were still present. And he knew the eyes that met his before he even saw them, how could he not? Those eyes in that hood had haunted him so long; they were as familiar as seeing Arwen by his side each morning. "Murazor."

A weak hiss, it seemed the other would rise but he did not. …So now… you are trapped here as well… Aragorn narrowed his eyes, "Trapped, no. as soon as you stop this idiotic game your playing I will wake and join the others." The wraith stained at him shocked, …you do not realize… no, I see it… this is different mortal, this is not inside your mind. You have left your body… do you see now… that is where you are fool…

"What are you speaking of?! Not in my, then where in Mordor are we!!" Murazor grew still, eyes becoming vacant and glassy. "No! You listen to me! Where am I now!" Aragorn stooped down and shook the wraith, than drew back appalled. Black coated his hands, sticky and chilled.

"…Murazor… where is this all coming from…" in a moment of blind instinct as a trained ranger he felt for a pulse, then realized how pointless it was and moved the hood aside. Deep gouges ran down the wraiths cheeks and throat, pale skin, burned almost to charcoal hung in shreds. A small fire returned slowly to the blank eyes. The witch king laughed weakly, pain, pain and betrayal seeping from him with his blood, he choked, gasped, lips moving but no sound emerging till a trickle of blood ran from his mouth and it seemed he could cough his throat clear. Aragorn leaned his head down, barely able to hear the words… …Do you see… our reward for all our service…years upon years… I fought for him… I…I gave my mind… blindly.

The wraith fell still, a sigh like held breath easing from between his lips. Aragorn made no move to reply, he did not stir, but he stayed where he had crouched, and cradled the wraiths head in his lap, in silence.