If you have been following this story up till now, then odds are you've already seen the effects such a place as the Passage of the Dead has on a spirit. It strips away what they once were, their mind, their sense of self, until all that's left is the very base elements. So, it was for the once residents of the Halls of Mandos, and so it would be for all who dared to pass through this terrifying spectacle.

Few of the Valar wished to go through such a place as that, but there was no other way…for the straight road of the elves had been sealed when the dead had risen and taken the land of Middle-Earth. There were no boats in the harbour anymore, there was nothing in the harbour anymore…not even a harbour.

There was no other way to reach the mortals and their plight. But only one was truly brave enough to go without the urging of vengeance or regret to move her on. Yavvanna, Lady of the Earth and by far the fiercest of her great and grand kin, was not one to be swayed by any fearsome sight. She would go, and by her side – as he was with everything – stood her husband Aulë, creator of all Dwarves and their Kindred.

'Look, I know you think you have no other option…' began the once proud lord of Mandos. 'But you have no idea what this place does to you…you can't begin to understand the things you will see, the person, no the creature you will be on the other side. Believe me I've gone through it…you have another option, turn back now.'

'And turn our backs on our people like you,' snarled Aulë, who had never been one for great patience. 'Besides which, you told us you have no memory of the events.'

'Well, no, no I don't.'

'Then, how can we take anything you say as truth, it's all just speculation.'

'No, Aulë, please I know we've always felt distaste to one another, but if you don't listen to me now you will die...or worse.'

'Then we die.' Said the lady, her long woven hair, swaying in what should have been a non-existent breeze. 'I will not let my earth, my trees and all that do walk amongst them pay any longer for your foolishness, Mandos. For your weakness and madness has unleashed this plague upon the earth, and if we do not step in and put a stop to it, then no one shall.'

Let us go forth past the entrance to this terrible construction, down deep into the bowls of the thing, where five intrepid rescuers now make their way through, to a place where one reality touches the other. A place where both are twisted and turned until not even the great almighty Eru , could be able to tell which one had been which before.

It is a world of strange images and terrifying sights, but of course if you ever do happen to pass through such an unimaginable place such as this, one day, you will of course be going far too fast to notice such things. Because once one has started to go through the Passage of the Dead, one cannot stop until you're out on the other side.

Five people went through that passage that day: the four Valar – the Earth Lady and her Smith Lord, Mandos, to show the way and Vairë, because they had tried to stop her – and the Maiar known as Olorin, because starting an adventure without Gandalf the Grey, would simply be bad manners.

But of course, none of this really matters now, for you see neither Yavvanna nor her husband were fëa, nor where they mad, as Námo had been the first time he had passed through such a place. No, they were full Valar, at the height of both their power and their sanity. In fact, such was their power that had they been so inclined, they could have snatched the mantle of King and Queen straight out from Manwë and Varda's bloody hands. But of course, such was the way things were made, that to even contemplate doing so would be a marking of insanity among the Valar, so they were content. Content to make and to grow things, content to remain as they had done now for more than the ages of men. Yet as the two slightly less sane Valar, and the former wizard were about to observe, the potential for more was most certainly there.

Námo had never walked these halls before while still in his right mind, so his memory of the place was foggy at best; yet as they passed into the gap between his world and the next, a memory as clear as the sky surged within him and he froze.

'Stop!' Screamed the once mighty Valar, but Yavvanna did not listen. Too long had they waited already, too long had they idled and done absolutely nothing while the earth crumbled and dried, till nothing but a husk was left. She would not stand for this, not anymore. And so, when Námo screamed at her to turn back, that something terrible was about to happen, she ignored him – and like always her husband followed her lead.

It began like this:

The Earth trembled beneath their feet. Only this was not the earth at all, and the trembling was not the result of shifting tectonic plates, but the screaming and terror of all those who had never made it out of this Passage of the Dead.

A hand, lined and as old as the day is long, burst forth from the ground beneath her and attempted to snatch at the hem of the great lady's dress. But of course, by doing so, it had made a most grave miscalculation. Bending down, the lady of the Earth pried its trembling fingers away from her skirt, and yanking it with such a strength upward, that the whole rotting body was pulled forth from the ground, she tossed it aside like it had never been anything at all.

You may think you know where this horrific masterpiece of abomination leads to. After all, the majority of the pain and the travesty which it caused last time it was open, happened in the land of the Dunlander – but that land is dead, and we shall not see it again.

Now if this were a normal tunnel, a tunnel where one way leads to another, and there is no switching between planes of existence, that would have been the end of the story. But as you may well suspect by now, this was not an ordinary tunnel, and the people marching down it, at a pace that breaks all current laws of physics, science and of course – the soundest logic of all – good old fashion hobbit sense, well these people were certainly no ordinary pedestrians.

And this tunnel, well this tunnel took a hard turn west to a land that once was bright, that once was filled with cool swaying grass, the hard clap of a horse's feet and the old creak of the trees beyond – to a land that once had hope, that once had pride, up west to a land that held none of those things any more. Go up, up and out of the dark and into the pale grey of the sky above and what will you see?

The Lady of the Earth stood there, her long green dress flowing slightly in the barely present breeze. She looked out from that cave, from that tunnel, into the dried out shell that had once been a forest, no, that had once been a great forest. She did not weep, for her grief was past that, this place…this land should have been safe…should have been protected from…from these creatures of death and decay. But it hadn't been and one thing, one thing was made certain that day in those dried dead woods of her once great masterpiece, not even her tree shepherds could stand against such monsters as these.

She hadn't done anything to protect them, for she had not been here, but she was now, and nothing would stop her from saving them … not even the strange metal thing racing towards her.

Oh Fuck.

The party were showered in a stream of seemingly unending small pieces of carved metal. Of course, when one is completely immortal – and in a body that knows it to boot – showers of strange metallic objects, really don't faze you, or at least don't end up killing you. Both Olorin, and Aulë were thrown backwards by the force, crashing into separate sides of the tunnel.

Yavvanna wrapped one arm around Vairë, while the other she raised in front of them both – shielding the younger Valar from the full force of the oncoming barrage. Námo, did absolutely nothing, he simply stood there as the bullets rained down upon him. He simply stood there, as if he wanted them to work, as if he truly believed that he – more than anyone else – deserved death.