Aragorn

Aragorn strode from King Theoden's tent. A new weight around his waist had a miraculous lightening effect on his heart. Part of him wondered if he was still dreaming. Had the father of his true love and the only father he had ever known really just given him Andril, the sword forged from the shards of Narsil? A hand to the weapon assured him that it had indeed been a reality.

And he would do everything that he possibly could to be worthy of it. He strode swiftly across the camp to where his horse was tethered. A few minutes later, his mount was ready to embark. Just as he was about to leave the firelight, he heard Gimli's gruff voice off to the side. "And just where do you think you're going?" Turning, he addressed the dwarf.

"Not this time! This time you must stay Gimli."

The dwarf's eyebrows shot up, and then a soft voice spoke from the other side. "Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?"

Aragorn turned and looked into the dark, elven eyes of his best friend.

Gimli spoke again, "You might as well accept it. We're coming with you, Laddie!"

Legolas

Legolas watched Aragorn give the necessary eye roll before breaking into a smile. But the squeeze he gave both their shoulders expressed his gratitude.

They rode out of the camp and started down the Paths of the dead.

As they rode down the barren canyon, Gimli asked horsly, "What kind of Army would linger in a place like this?"

"One who is cursed!" Legolas answered softly. "Long ago, the men of the mountains swore an oath to the last King of Gondor to come to his aid, to fight. But when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled, vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them, never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge. Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people? The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North shall he come, need shall drive him. He shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead."

As he spoke, he watched Aragorn's back as he rode ahead of them. To many, Aragorn was playing the role of a fearless leader. But Legolas could see the tension in his shoulders and hear his breathing quicken as the elf spoke the prophecy.

Sometime later, they dismounted and started up an incline leading their horses. Legolas passed the reigns to Gimli and sidled up to his friend. He placed a gentle hand on Aragorn's back, who stiffened for a moment before realizing who had touched him. He turned, and their eyes locked. Silently communicating their love and devotion to each other.

Aragorn

The three hunters approached a dark, narrow doorway. Legolas spoke in his hushed voice, reading the runes etched above the door. "The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it. The way is shut."

As if in answer to his voice, an ethereal mist blew past them out of the arch. Spooked by the breeze, the horses jerked from their grip and galloped down the canyon.

"Breggo!" Aragorn called out halfheartedly, knowing it would do little good.

Legolas' hand again went to Aragorn's back and squeezed gently. Setting his jaw, he spoke with determination. "I do not fear death!" Before stepping forward into the darkness.

He heard light footsteps behind him and didn't need to look to see who it was.

"What do you see?" He heard Gimli's rough voice and knew that both his companions had followed him.

"I see shapes of man and horses!" Legolas' familiar voice answered.

"Where?"

"Pale banners like shreds of cloud. Spears rise like winter thickets through a shroud of mist. The dead are following. They have been summoned."

"The dead...The dead have been summoned! I knew that!"

The dwarf's voice faded as the Aragorn hurried ahead with Legolas on his heels. A few seconds later, the dwarf apparently realized he'd been left alone and called "Legolas!"

Aragorn hadn't thought his heart could beat any faster. Until ghostly hands began to wrap around him, brushing his shoulders, grabbing at his neck. The thing that kept him from bolting was the touch of a living hand on his back that he knew was his best friend. Even though the hand trembled, it was the greatest strength he had.

A crunching under his feet made him glance down. And he immediately wished he hadn't. The entire floor was covered in skulls.

"Don't look down!" He hissed to the ones behind him.

After minutes that felt like hours, they came out into an open space with a towering building at one end.

A maniacal laugh echoed around them. "Who enters my domain?" A misty green skeleton appeared on the steps.

Aragorn glanced back at his friend, who gave his elbow one final squeeze before stepping forward and speaking with a strength he didn't know he possessed. "One will have your allegiance!"

"The dead do not suffer the living to pass."

"YOU WILL SUFFER ME!"

The king's laugh took on a more menacing pitch, and the cavern was lit up with the same eerie green light that surrounded the leader. Thousands of similar beings came around them, and Aragorn felt a bit of his resolve begin to fade away. Could he really become who he was born to me? This army could crush them in a moment.

Legolas

Legolas felt a fresh wave of anger wash over him. How dare these creatures treat his friend with contempt. How could anyone deny the kingly aura that surrounded the man? Placing an arrow in his bow, he let it fly at the dead king's head. It flew right through and landed on the ground.

The king laughed again as he stepped closer. Repeating the words that had been etched above the entrance.

Aragorn's jaw clenched again as he took a step closer spoke, "I summon you to fulfill your oath!"

"None but the king of Gondor may command me!" The king's sword came out toward Aragorn's throat.

Aragorn flashed Anduril in front of him before blocking the attack.

Legolas's heart raced as pride overwhelmed him.

"That blade was broken!" The ghost rasped out.

"It has been remade." Aragorn's hand closed around the ghost's throat, shoving him backward. "Fight for us, and regain your honor! What say you!" He walked through the dead army, continuing to brandish his sword. "WHAT SAY YOU?"

Gimli's words made Legolas want to kick him. "AH! You waste your time, Aragorn! They had no honor in life, and they have none now in death."

Aragorn ignored him and spoke again, "I am Isildur's heir! Fight for me! And I will hold your oaths fulfilled!"

The evil laugh echoed again as the army began to disappear.

Aragorn gave a final call. His voice was more desperate. "You have my word! Fight! And I will release you from this living death! What say you?"

Gimli gave his own shout, "Stand you, traitors!"

The answer was a deafening roar as everything around them began to collapse.

"OUT!" Aragorn screamed.

They just managed to climb over the skulls that were now raining down on them.

Aragorn

Aragorn glanced back and felt horror fill him as he lost sight of Legolas.

"Legolas! Gimli RUN!"

They barely made it out of the cave without being crushed. They came out on top of a hill, overlooking a river. And the sight that met his eyes nearly crushed him. The dark ships that Elrond had spoken of were speeding with the current, and a town behind them was in flames. Overcome with grief, Aragorn fell to his knees. How could they be too late? He had failed. Up until this point, an ember of hope had remained in his heart. But now, even that had been snuffed out.

All at once, an arm came around his shoulders, squeezing gently before beginning to rub soothingly. He didn't need to look to know that it was Legolas. He leaned against his friend's leg. Savoring the touch. But while the weight on him lessened slightly, the grief still pressed on him. The elf didn't say a word, just continued his soothing stroking.

All at once, a sound behind him had him getting to his feet, turning back to the cave entrance. Almost afraid to hope that the army had agreed to fight. A mist twisted itself into the form of the dead king, and the being spoke again. "We fight!"

Aragorn couldn't speak. He merely nodded. He glanced back at the elf who had reached out and squeezed his shoulder again. The smile the elf gave him was one of pride and joy.

Once again, while his friend's touch hadn't made the problem magically go away, it had managed to comfort his heart like nothing else could.