The gate was shut. Gandalf looked back to where it had been, his face drawn, eyes deep. The hobbits clustered around him, and Frodo turned his head to look into the darkness ahead. Bilbo clasped sting by the scabbard, his palm sweating. Faramir was still, Gimli, shifted his weight, but did not offer voice to his thoughts. Legolas smiled weakly, but his hands shook, if any cared to look for it. And Khamul bowed his head, and hissed… the darkness seeped into him, calling, always calling…
Something grabbed him, he jerked in surprise and made as if to strike. Frodo kept his grip and held the fallen kings eyes. "…it's all right, to be afraid old one… so am i." Khamul stood still, Bilbo cleared his throat.
"As much as I dislike the thought, we must go forward, mustn't we?"
Gandalf nodded, turning to look into the darkness stretching out endlessly before them. "…yes, the door to the time of before has closed, and now there lies no way out or back but through the fallen's lair." Gimli huffed,
"We could try to find another door… are you all right elf?"
Legolas had fallen to one knee, head bowed in silence. "I feel this place… the emptiness, madness… we have come for nothing. The wraiths are surely no more. Nothing could withstand this, this darkness…"
A soft glow settled over the group, Legolas stood quickly, looking about. Mithrandir smiled. "…It isallright, the cause is not so hopeless as that.The Valar stand by us, they see us here and offer us a light. We should press forward." The fellowship readied their arms. Khamul laughed at them, quietly, but mockingly. Faramir turned, his eyes dark. "…I see nothing amusing Ringwraith." Khamul seemed to grow darker; his eyes took a red gleam, but did not reply immediately, his head turned now to the sound in the distance only he seemed to hear.
Your weapons are useless, what do you fools think to kill? All that is here is already dead, the sleep impenetrable by blade or curse. Sauron roams, but your weapons will not touch him, and his lord is as unattainable as the moon.
Gimli grumbled, "I dislike the thought of an enemy un-hackable, but killing them isn't our quest, or had you forgotten?" Khamul did not reply, instead he looked silently at Indur and Aragorn's still forms. For a moment something flickered in the backs of his eyes, a soft regret, and then nothing. Gandalf held his staff high,
"We must be on our way, and return as quickly as we can. I sense something before us, perhaps to the left…" and the fellowship moved forward.
Aragorn heard the door open, felt the life and warmth upset everything within the darkness around him, and reveled in it. (Now, we must meet them, the sooner we have joined ranks the sooner we can…) something had tightened around his throat, squeezing sharply as a vice. He choked in shock for a moment, his hands grappling to pull the fingers from his neck, to draw air. The grip only tightened, shattering his protests as spots of color began to swirl in the blackness, until he ceased to struggle at all. He tried to focus his gaze, concentrate…
A feeling of euphoria was settling in, deep languid…
With the fellowship Aragorn's body began to strangle.
Murazor slept, his consciousness fading in and out like the ebb of the sea, something drew him out of himself, away… far from the blackness and chill to a warm little room, with a fire, and a boy. The child was crying, holding his knees and weeping silently, to proud to cry aloud. His father was dying, and soon all of his little freedoms and dreams would be nothing. His eyes watched the flame, their golden light shone of his face like a mural in some warriors dining hall, turning the fair skin deep and bronzed, so that the tears themselves were invisible except for the trail of wetness they left behind. The image was becoming hazy, but he fought to keep it, for the boy was changing before his eyes into a child he did not know. The child lay awake in a fine bed, his mother asleep in the chair beside him, perchance from calming his nightmares.
His eyes were on the ceiling, and his tears ran freely, accompanied by muffled sobs. (Father…) the little mind reached out, touched his in briefest passing without knowing he was there. (Where are you father? Where are you…) it continued to grow dim, but the child was singing something, he wanted to hear it, needed to hear…
"Light, filters through the trees…
And the breeze blows through the glen…
The streams all flash, with silver, from the little fish within…" the eyes grew heavy, and shut. The child was still. Murazor stood shaken, something seemed to be clenching about him, grabbing his chest in a vice. …I am always forgetting… when I sleep… If I wake… A different pain clenched at him now, in the back of his being, as if from miles away, the sound of someone choking. He closed his mind to it, consumed in his own thoughts. I gave my mind… it came again, faded now, hardly a rasp. Something flashed through his core, a sword broken and reforged, a lion of gold, a voice offering everything for a child… The eyes of the Witch king snapped open...
...Sauron roared out, pain and surprise forcing him todrop the high king to the floor. He whirled about to seize his attacker, blood ran from the crack in his armor and onto the gauntlet tips… "My Witch King… you will regret that mistake…" The Nazgul lord crouched, his fire spent to its final end, but he raised his head in challenge, and shrieked for revenge.
Seal my fate tonight…
Since the light has fallen…
Long I've wandered, lost in Sauron's hands…
I do not fear the end,
As long as death comes while I fight,
Seal my fate tonight…
…seal my fate tonight…