Author's note: I own nothing yet again, except the Dragon. He's mine Dangit!
The moment ended, the ground quaked.
The air grew warmer, from somewhere in the distance a light shone across the ground.
The door was opening; Murazor lowered his head from the glare, turned to the wizard… We have no more time… run… run swiftly. He grabbed the hobbit and tossed him across his shoulder. The wraiths drew together, hissed, the temperature around them dropping as they braced for conflict. In an instant like a spring freed of its coil Homurath bolted, the others close behind. The fellowship matched their pace, even the hobbits. Save one. Bilbo looked hopelessly after the group as they grew further and further ahead of him. He panted, pushing himself, remembering his youth and the speed with which he had run then.
Still the gap grew larger, winded, the old hobbit stopped and stooped with his hands on his knees. "Well old boy… you really aren't as young as you were, even old Bombur would laugh at me now…" he looked after them, smiled, and then grinned outright at what was coming towards him. Khamul had lowered himself into a sprint; he seized Bilbo by the back of the shirt and whirled back to the group. "So I was not forgotten!" Khamul hissed in irritation.
…I beg to differ… had I not looked back…
"But you did, thank you! And not a moment too late either! I'm sure it was inevitable; at my age after all, I am not as I was. …but, why did you come back?"
…that is…what a king does. He looks back, and he returns.
Bilbo laughed, whipped a tear from his eye and whispered… "Yes my boy… that is exactly what a king does."
Aragorn kept pace with Murazor, the ground grew increasingly violent, the tremors threatening their steps. The Witch King turned his head, hissed to Akorahil, the wraith swept to the back of the group with gauntlets curved. Legolas kept pace with Gimli, who was urging along Merry, Pippin, and a baffled Faramir. Gandalf was clocking all of them, side by side with Homurath, his staff aglow and lighting their way. Samwise was only a step behind Murazor, keeping his eyes linked with Frodo, who was reeling from the Nazgul's chill. But with his body so impaired, the ring stood unable to take hold. Indur and Adunaphel took the sides, Ren and Uvatha flagged out in front. "How far is it to the door? The hobbits are winding!"
"We must keep moving Gimli! And we are not there yet! If they fail they must be carried!"
"I do not understand this, I really do not…"
"Yes, yes Faramir, we know. Just keep running!"
"Legolas, do you see anything?"
"No Aragorn! It is all blackness still, and the light we saw earlier has gone!"
"Has gone, or is being blocked… haste everyone! We must go faster!"
Dwar hissed as Khamul came up beside him, spared a momentary glance at Bilbo and called out… …Murazor… where is the door…?
The witch king did not respond, He looked at Aragorn, Aragorn returned his gaze. The two looked forward again and continued in silence. The constructed scenery crumpled, dripped like wax around their feet before fading as if it had never been. Pippin stared as a squirrel melted below a dripping bush, and jerked with a cry as Gimli pulled him onward. They were close, the light had returned, but they were fools if they couldn't see the titan's silhouette inside it. Morgoth was already at the door.
He did not face them, there was no need. There was too much outside the door, so much more important than the mortals now, he stretched out his hand as if to grab what they still could not see. The sickening smell had returned, and the whispers of the forest were seeping in. the gate stretched wider still, ripping a crack along one of the sides. Gandalf stood tense, his staff still held high, the light falling short of the fallen Valar's face. Aragorn shivered, and drew his blade.
That moment, hopeless beyond hopelessness, there was no movement or sound, it seemed frozen in time. Frodo closed his eyes, whimpered.
Samwise shook and trembled, one hand shot out and took hold of Frodo's.
Legolas and Gimli braced, Merry and Pippin looked with eyes that did not truly see, their hearts and minds hardened for battle, and death.
Faramir closed his eyes, (I was warned, I might never see the city again… all I have fought for… brother, you stood with me at Mordor, and this place is darker still, but I feel you. If this is where I die, and why I die… it is enough.)
Bilbo looked on, feeling old beyond his years, (surely all the good that has been done, is not meant to fall to this slaughter.)
…And Murazor shrieked, thrust his hand within his robes and drew blade.
"Ringil…" Gandalf gazed stunned, "From whence did you acquire..?" Morgoth turned, his words carried sharp.
You would dare so offend me? Fool! You have been below my concern of late, vessel of my liegeman's hopes, release that blade! He loomed above the Witch king, eyes aglow in the heights of the dark. Murazor did not yield, he brandished the blade all the higher. Morgoth snarled and smashed down to crush him. Aragorn stepped beside the wraith, and brandished Anduril. Gandalf raised his staff all the higher.
"Faramir! The Trinket I gave you when you rode after Aragorn to Mordor! Do you have it still?"
Morgoth's hand crashed before the wraith, but not upon him, he remembered well the blade. He reached back, this time he would strike.
"Yes Gandalf! I have it!"
"Take it out you fool! Take it out and raise it high!"
Faded of the race of men, I will shatter you to the voids!
Faramir drew forth the Vial, The vial of Galadriel that Gandalf had borrowed from Frodo and entrusted to him so long ago. It shone like a nova, blinding in its brilliance… which was exactly as Gandalf had hoped. Morgoth roared his anger, retracting his hands to cover his burning eyes. Murazor tossed the Hobbit to Samwise, Pull him back and keep distance, I have not the time to spare thee! He reared to his full height, as terrible as he had been on the fields of Pelennor, and drove the blade into the dark god's foot.
Morgoth gave a cry, stung by Fingolfin's sword; blinded by the light of the Silmaril he was pained and enraged. He kicked out, sending wraith and sword flying. But The Witch King shrieked and sprang up again, lunged forward and leapt; he carved a slice across the knees and drew away. Morgoth struck out blindly, scattering the fellowship as they ran to avoid the deadly blow. Gandalf gave a cry and lunged forward, the names of the Valar upon his tongue, his staff alight like silver, Murazor circled around slicing deftly, pressing the advantage until the titan's sight cleared. Aragorn threw his weight into Anduril as it sank deep into icy flesh.
The gate was open, sunlight flooded the blackness, once more blinding the Dark One's sight. A mighty roar came, and a burst of brilliant flame. Anantaboga sprang into the gape and curled his form upon Morgoth, biting his throat and clawing his eyes. The Valar grabbed the dragon by the maw and wrenched the gaping jaws away. At last able to see he gazed enraged upon the great worm.
A splash, coughing, Merry and Pippin pulled themselves upon the shore. The branches were still, everything was still, and calm. If they hadn't just run through… well who would have known… Samwise came gasping up beside them, dragging Frodo under his arm before pulling him upon the shore. "We need to keep him cool… I fear, he's not speaking to me, and the ring..!" Pippin grabbed Sam and shook him.
"Frodo will be fine! Gandalf will see to him when he can, where are the others!" a splash was his answer, Bilbo swam up beside them and flopped upon the grass.
"I… have never seen… anything… so… well goodness me…" Merry stood and looked back over the water.
"I see Faramir and Legolas! And Gimli as well! But still no Aragorn or Gandalf, or the Nine." The man, dwarf and elf joined them moments later. Faramir stretched out winded, eyes shut, and shoulders trembling. Legolas sat slightly huddled, his arms about his legs, his head bowed to his knees.
"…we should not have left them, Mithrandir is tiring, we could have helped…" Gimli scoffed.
"Yes, our corpses could have barricaded the door, (grumble)…me without my ax. We were no good there Elf. You know it, I know it, and he knows it too. They won't hold it against you."
Legolas turned his head, but he did not meet the Dwarfs gaze.
"I was… I was too afraid to aid them. I was too weak to have assisted even if the power had been in me… I am a coward."
"Are you all crazy?" The fellowship turned to Bilbo. "Coward? Coward! That title is reserved to one alone here! I! And I will tell you Legolas that you are in danger of being… well, rather foolish for an elf. We have just stood below the original Shadow, and we trembled! That is all we did! Tremble! Stood beneath a thousand Saurons and we did not die! We did not scream! We did not crumple! Oh yes, cowards we may be! But we are the best cowards this land had to offer, and I bear that title with pride. …Legolas, this darkness is closer to you, and so you felt it very keenly, it is not a coward's heart in your breast, you must believe it, as we do."
Bilbo turned back to the door. "Many a braver heart than mine is struggling with him still; we must place our hearts with them."