Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings is property of Tolkien and there are many references throughout to Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. I only own what you do not recognize. The character Chinky is not meant to cause offence and is named after a real horse whose name has been shortened from a Fiat Cinquecento (Chinky – Chento).
Authors Note: Sorry this chapter is a bit short but it was originally the first half of a very long chapter and I decided to split it into two. I'm doing very well and Chapter 53 is just about to be started, there is only a couple of chapters after that one. So its nearly done, hopefully it should have 55 chapters all together not including the Prologue and Epilogue. I think I'll be both glad and sad when this story is done. I mean it has taken up a lot of my time recently. I have snagged some text out of the extended Return of the King film for this chapter (any excuse to watch it) so I don't own that.
Happy Reading
Chapter 45: Three Maia spirits
Giant black mountains reared up to the east, an impenetrable barrier casting long sickly shadows onto the once beautiful land of Ithilien. Black clouds massed at the jagged summits promising eternal rain and hell to whoever tried to scale their sides. No one had ever tried such a feat, for to think of it alone was suicide. The walls were vertical in places and towers stood with Orcs and other foul things ready to shoot down a worthy mountaineer. If you did get past the giant vertical walls and through the everlasting, scorching rain you descended into darkness. Gas clouds rose from the mires and bogs, toxic plumes that would eat you from the inside out. No mortal or immortal creature of the light had passed those walls and survived. There was little chance that the two small hobbits would be any different.
The march was quiet, only the continuous plodding of iron shod hooves broke the silence. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, many knowing that they would not be on the return journey and many not wanting to think about it. They were on a suicide mission, yet their names would go down in history, for they were the ones that stood against the might of Sauron. It did not matter whether they lived or died, for they had tried, to save the world from plunging into eternal darkness and corruption.
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Amy sat up as tall and straight on Moridin's back as she could manage. Her right hand rested on her thigh and her left on the pommel of the large Dragon blade. Her lower legs gripped Moridin's sides lightly and her upper legs were loose, absorbing all his movements. She was riding exactly as she had been shown all those years ago, her mind flashed back to her old instructor as he yelled at her whilst she desperately tried to hold on to the fat little New Forest pony. If only he could see her now. Riding on a horse, that was far too big for her, with the ease of one born in the saddle. She supposed she had her elven heritage for that, along with her father's blood.
She looked to her right and saw Èomer and Aragorn riding confidently, yet their slightly tense postures told masses about their real state of mind. They were only mortal after all; their life blood was cut short by the continual turning of the wheel of time. Both were kings of men, and although Aragorn had the power to take Rohan back into its original Gondor kingdom, Amy knew that he would leave it to Èomer. He would have enough to worry about with both Gondor and Arnor, she also had a fleeting suspicion that he would leave the land they were riding through currently to someone else as well. Delegation; a leader's finest attribute.
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The sky darkened to a full pitch as the black gates came into sight. Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder rumbled in the distance; an unnatural storm for an unnatural place. No moisture hung in the air and the smell of rain was absent in the dry and barren volcanic plains.
As the black gates loomed above the company they came to a stop. Horses nervously tossed their heads and stamped, their hoof falls muffled by the ashy soil. The only sound was the jingling of jointed metal bits and the squeaking of new leather.
As the dust settled the full scale of the gates came into view and there was an audible gulp heard among the warriors. Many had told tales of this place to scare their children into obedience, never knowing what it really looked like. In their hearts they now knew that the stories they told were mere fairy tales when faced with the reality of the desolate place.
For an age they appeared to be standing there, no knowing what was going to happen next, or even if Sauron knew they were there.
"Do you think we should knock?" Came the voice of Gimli from his stout dwarven mount.
"No Gimli, he knows we are here. Calm and be patient." Gandalf said.
Almost as soon as these words left his mouth the gates gave an audible groan and the ground beneath them rumbled. Slowly the gates opened to allow a rider through on a horse as black as Moridin, yet this horse was twisted and corrupted, no honour or soul lay within him.
The rider on its back was just as evil looking. All arms and legs and its helmet covered everything bar its mouth. Blackness oozed from pours on the scaly white skin, and lips were dry and cracked. It was not until the thing opened its mouth that the full effect of its foulness could be seen.
Baring its teeth in a grim smile the mouth split the face in half. Green and rotting teeth hung like knives from its upper jaw and protruded through its bottom like mountain pinnacles. Salvia dripped from the teeth, a yellow slime trickling from the side of its mouth. A rank smell assaulted the nostrils of those who had ridden forward and many of the elves still with the main army were gagging. Legolas wrinkled his nose and grimaced as he started breathing shallowly through his mouth. Amy, as soon as the smell reached her, had created a bubble of Air around her nose filtering the smell somewhat.
After the shock had passed the thing in front of them assaulted them again; it spoke.
"My master; Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome." The Mouth of Sauron proclaimed its voice oddly angelic despite its appearance.
Aragorn gave a very disbelieving look and fingered the scabbard of his sword.
"Is there any with the authority to speak with me?" The Mouth said opening his vile mouth again.
Gandalf rode forward until he was less than five feet from the black horse. Shadowfax stretched his nose forward to greet the unfamiliar black horse, but quickly pulled it away again. A look of disgust flittered across the silver head.
'My Grandsire says that the horse smells like it has been dead for a year.' Moridin said in his mind to Amy.
'I'm sure it was a beautiful creature once. When we have done talking I will put it out of the misery it is in.'
'Shall we go forward to aid the Istari?' Moridin said.
'No, our time will come.'
"We do not come to speak with Sauron, the faithless and accursed. Tell your master this; the armies of Mordor must disband, he is to depart these lands never to return." Gandalf said drawing himself up and raising his newly created staff.
The Mouth of Sauron laughed before talking again. "I have a token I was bidden to show thee." He pulled out a small mithril shirt from his cloak and threw it at the wizard. It was obvious to whom the shirt belonged to, and the fact that it was in the hands of Sauron did not bode well for the Halfling.
"Frodo." Merry and Pippin said together, tears forming in their childlike eyes. Both bowed their heads in sorrow, for there was little chance their friend was still alive.
"The Halfling was dear to thee I see. Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host. Who would have thought that one so small could endure so much pain." The Mouth cocked his head to the side as he said this. Glee spread through his angelic voice, laughing and taunting.
"I do not believe it, I will not!" Gandalf said as he raised his staff and shot a bolt of light towards the Mouth of Sauron. Before the bolt hit the Mouth shuddered and raised his hand and the white light was absorbed. When he spoke again it was obvious that the Mouth had been pushed aside, Sauron was speaking now.
"Gandalf the Grey, or White. Your colour matters little to me." The voice scratched and hissed, as though it was not used to speaking with a human mouth. A bolt of black light went towards the wizard; it was absorbed in the wizard's staff and shot back out as white.
"You will be destroyed." Gandalf said sweat beading on his brow.
"What is to happen? Here we are two Maia spirits battling till the end of time." Sauron said.
Moridin thundered forward at this and Amy raised her Dragon marked sword. "Three Maia spirits!" She called.
Sauron, in the Mouth's body, had only seconds to realise what the small girl had said before a dragon marked blade whistled through his throat. "The child of Onlee. No!" He said as he rushed out of the fallen Mouth's body and back to the giant lidless eye. When he reached the eye it gave an almighty shriek before opening the gates fully and allowing the rest of the Orc army though.
"I guess that ends the negotiations." Gimli said before giving Amy a strange look and urging his pony into a canter back towards the rest of the army.
Amy smiled gently before sending a bolt of blade sharp Air towards the horse. It fell to the ground and the second before it died it let out a relieved whinny.
"Be at peace my child." Moridin said.
