All at once, his mind was suddenly clear. The veil of shadow that had blinded his eyes, confused his thoughts, was lifted - just in time for him to hit the ground. Talion shrieked in pain, but his body held together despite the power of the impact; he must have fallen from a great height, but he had the fading echoes of a Nazgûl's power, which was enough to save him. Still, it fucking hurt!
His fellbeast hit the ground not too far away, already dead, its ribcage crushed by… something. Talion rolled onto his stomach and looked up just in time to see the Great Eye contract to a point, and then explode.
That was it then. Sauron had been defeated.
He slumped to the ash below, even as he felt blood start to trickle from his throat once more. But as he did so, he heard metal hit the ground nearby with a familiar clang.
A very familiar clang.
All at once, he was back in the Crack of Doom, his hands moving at another's direction. With Celebrimbor's knowledge and skill, the New Ring to challenge Sauron took shape and settled, its strength as firm and deep as the pillars of the earth itself. But though the mountain burned around them, the Ring was cold, like ice, and seemed to suck in the heat without ever changing its own temperature.
There it was again. A second clang, closer this time.
This time he was back atop the Black Tower. His drake, Deldúath, was perched on one of the spikes that ringed the edge of the platform at the very summit, right under the Eye. It watched as he approached and looked up at it for a moment, searching for any sign of Celebrimbor. Yet there was nothing, nothing he could discern at least, so he turned away.
Eltariel lay mostly unconscious at the edge of the overlook. She was missing two fingers, which he found nearby - but there was no sign of the New Ring, and he dared not linger long to search.
A third, closer still.
Shelob's tunnels. The Spider was smiling enigmatically as always. "There is no such thing as coincidence in this world," she had said sixty years ago, when he told her what had happened atop the Black Tower, "Everything happens for a reason, even if we don't know what that reason is. Eru does not mandate for us to know the reasons behind all things - but this I do know. Like the One Ring, the New Ring will resurface - when its time comes."
A fourth and final clang. The New Ring hit the ground with the weight of the whole world behind it. Talion looked up - and there it was, barely a body-length away, almost glowing silver amidst Mordor's dull gray ash and dust.
A voice, ancient and ageless, heavy with knowledge and grief as old as the world.
Death is not your destiny today, Talion Wind-Rider.
The Nazgûl gasped, choked, and threw out a hand.
The script on the New Ring flared bright blue, and it came to him at once, slamming down on his finger and shattering what remained of Isildur's Ring in the process. His wounds were wiped away in the blink of an eye, fresh air filling his lungs, and he staggered to his feet, looking frantically around.
Mount Doom was erupting perilously close - he could feel the heat even through his cold armor, and he threw himself into an Elven Sprint, racing away from the lava flow.
But he didn't get very far before the ground rolled with an earthquake. The earth split in front of him, collapsed; Gorgoroth was honeycombed with tunnels and caverns from many thousands of years of mining metals for weapons and armor, and the roofs of the deep caves fell in, collapsing one atop another before they vanished in great clouds of dust and debris.
Talion's mind immediately went to the slaves. Who knew how many Men and Orcs had been down there in chains - free now, but no less dead for it. But no, there was no time; the lava flow from Doom was close - too close. He raced along the cliff edge and whistled, putting power into it for the first time in nearly a decade. He dimly remembered, through the dark veil, being followed -
A roar answered his hopes, and he threw himself into the air, catching one of the saddle's handles just in time.
The earth fell away below him, right as magma rolled over the spot where he'd been standing, spilling down into the pits below, but his attention was on what was above him now. "Sweetheart!" he cried, and Daerwen shrieked in triumph. She briefly slowed her flight to let him flip up onto her back, but once he was settled in the saddle, she pulled her wings in again, diving to get back some speed and send them streaking away from Doom.
Yet as they went, Talion looked back, scanning the horizon for a flash of silver-blue.
But there was nothing.
"Shelob! You're injured!"
The Spider Queen laughed softly as Talion jogged up to her, concerned but unsure if she would allow him to touch. She was in human form, or something very close to it, and her middle was wrapped tight in webbing like a bandage. "Peace, Talion," she said, waving him off, "I am close to healed, anyway. It was a small but necessary wound."
The Nazgûl was not reassured and let her know as much with a sharp look, but allowed his hands to be batted away.
"More importantly," she continued, "I am pleased to see you back with us. You've been missed."
He staggered under a sudden weight, and whipped around to find that one of her brood - larger now, but still familiar - had pounced on him. He couldn't help but laugh, and took a moment to wrestle with the spider in question, who was now the size of a caragor. When the spider was satisfied with its greeting and settled next to him, he looked back up to its mother. "My people?"
"South," she answered, "In Núrn, for the most part. The southern half of the Mountains of Shadow, or so some messengers told me."
"Good hunting for the drakes, in the forests of southern Ithilien," Talion said automatically, "and Núrn is good for growing crops for people and other animals."
Shelob smiled a little bit at that. "Go, Gravewalker, Wind-Rider. Your people await your return."
Talion almost did - but then he paused and turned back. "What about you? What will you do now?"
That earned him another soft laugh. "I hated Sauron with all of my being, but he was what kept these tunnels safe for me and my brood. Now that he is gone, there is no place for us here. We will head east and south, into Rhûn and the Hither Lands, where shadows still linger."
"Pruzah wundunne," said the wraith.
Shelob blinked at him, then laughed for real. "The number of people who would say safe travels to me are very few indeed. Even if only for that reason alone, you have been worth knowing. Be well, Talion. For as long as we endure, we will remember you."
Before he could say anything in reply, she and her brood slipped away.
Daerwen knew where to go, so he let her fly as she would, the reins only loosely held in one armored hand. He kept looking back north, searching for any sign of Celebrimbor, but if the Elf had survived the fall of the Black Tower, he didn't seek the Ringwraith out. Just as well, perhaps; Talion still wasn't sure how he would react if the other did appear.
Then something hit him, made him gasp and hunch in on himself and clutch at Daerwen's saddle to stop from falling out of it. He looked around frantically for an attack that he hadn't sensed - but then he shielded his eyes and looked up.
The sun shone warmly down from overhead, and bit by bit he relaxed into its light and heat, feeling it loosen the last of the dark threads binding him. He'd almost forgotten it existed, having been removed from its world for decades; even before he fell, shadows had been pulled close to him by Isildur's Ring and darkened his eyes and life. The clouds over Gorgoroth were slowly dispersing, but the drake had flown free of them, over the Maegond Spur of the Mountains of Shadow and into Núrn.
Daerwen squawked in concern, but he patted her side and said, "I'm all right, sweetheart."
After a moment, she purred, apparently satisfied, and angled west into the southern Mountains of Shadow.
There was a fortress of stone and wood and packed earth, protecting the eastern end of a wide valley, which opened up into several more further in the mountains. It was simple - none of the sometimes ornate trappings of any of Mordor's Orc-tribes - but strong, and even from such a height he could see Orcs and Men and even one or two dwarves and Avari, the "Dark" Elves of the Forest of Carnán, on the walls and working within. He heard the shout even as the drake started circling down for a landing inside.
"Daerwen!" The voice echoed off the mountains like a trumpet, clear and strong. Whoever it was, they could sound the alarm for the entire valley in a few seconds. Talion rose up onto his knees and pushed back his hood so his face could be seen by the Elves or anyone with a spyglass.
There was an almost shocked silence, followed by, "TALION?!"
The fortress and even the local homesteads came alive in an instant, suddenly swarming with people. Yet a space was cleared in the central courtyard, and Daerwen landed easily on the rough cobbles, then lowered herself all the way to the ground so he could slip off her back.
At once, he was buried in people crying and cheering and hugging him tight before being pulled along to the next person. He couldn't help but laugh - the first time in a good long while - and returned the embraces and back slaps and greetings and threats, until -
"Where is he?!"
He knew that voice, and turned even as the crowd parted. "Idril."
She was there, only a little older than he remembered. Even though she was one of the blood of Númenor and so aged slower than most Men, it couldn't have been that long since he Fell. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she gasped, "Ada!" and nearly flew into his arms.
Talion held her just as tight, and felt a faint dampness against his neck. "It's done," he told her - and everyone else, "The One Ring has been destroyed, and Barad-dûr thrown down - Sauron is defeated, once and for all."
That brought a fresh wave of cheers, but Idril pulled back to wipe her eyes, then looked into his own. "But there's something else, isn't there?"
"...the fall was not easy, or quiet," he said at last, "Gorgoroth has been devastated - Doom has erupted, and the mines collapsed. I don't know how many survived, or what state they're in."
"Then it seems like we still have work to do," said Idril, before she turned to start giving out orders.