The Paths of the Dead

We were riding. Again. I have nothing against horses; to tell the truth the horse I had been using was very mild mannered, and even a babe could handle it. It is also the truth however, that I am a terrible horseperson, and have barely mastered the basics. I felt close to sickened with the need to take to the air which of course I could not. It would also be cruel to leave such a kind animal in the shadow of Dwimorberg, the haunted mountain, and even if Gimli wished for a horse of his own his legs were too short to master horsemanship. Not that I was picking it up quickly at all. By now I had given up on feeling pain, and where there had once been feeling in by buttocks and thighs was now numb. In short, I missed flying terribly and really wanted to get rid of this blasted horse.

This heartbreak and frustration was nothing compared to the fear that was falling upon me at that moment. It was one of those foreboding feelings, amplified by millions and despair deepening by the second. I attempted to keep the charade of being fine, truly I did, but I found myself falling deeper into silence. Memories of the Eorlingas whispers as we rode from them filled my ears. They are Elvish wights. Let them go where they belong, into dark places never to return. The times are evil enough. Sauron's influence was falling upon Rohan like a sheet as the ring grew ever closer to its quarry. All we could hope was that Frodo and Sam were progressing well, and that they were alive. Otherwise our toil was for nothing. It felt right now as if the ring was exposed to me. Residual magic it left behind.

Our horses did one positive thing at least. The echoing clops of their hooves told me where rocks were- and by the way the echoes bounced back, those rocks were very jagged and in their plenty. We rode in single file, Aragorn first and I last. There was a chill though it was almost midday, the sun still having not risen over the ridges of the mountain. From what I felt at least. "What kind of army would linger in this place?" Gimli risked asking. After initial surprise I concluded it was a fair question. Gimli was deductive for certain, having made it quite obvious he knew the paths were bad news. But it was unlikely he knew much of them.

It was Legolas who answered him, Aragorn lost in thought and I not trusting myself to speak without trembling. "One that is cursed." He replied. "Long ago the men of the mountain swore to the last king of Gondor they would fight. But when his need was dire, they fled into the mountain. Isildur cursed them so they could never rest until they fulfilled their pledge. They come from the twilight, the forgotten people." The last part was quoted from the prophecy.

Even speaking these words of doom Legolas's voice set off butterflies in my stomach which I used willpower to subdue. I had come to the conclusion that with recent events I was not thinking straight, henceforth my 'crush' on the elf. It simply doesn't make sense, I told myself.

Finally we entered a patch of trees that made dread drop upon us unfathomably. They made no sound, I could only tell they were trees from the echoes. Even Legolas, the prince of the woodland realm, shuddered.

I thought I would have heard the opening from the whoosh of displaced air going in or out, but it was the exact opposite. Instead I could tell where it was because of the lack of sound coming from the area. Echoes bounced off all other things. But Legolas's voice hardly registered in my ears. "The way is shut. I was made by those who are dead. The way is shut." There must have been words inscribed upon the entrance, but despite the dread having fallen upon the rest of us Legolas had no fear for the ghosts of men.

We dismounted and tried to go in. The evil in the air drove the horses crazy- mine almost bucked me away and there were screams from Arod. However so great was the love a rangers horse had for its rider, Roheryn went in following Aragorn's sheer strength of will. It would've been an incredible scene if not for the situation.

"Randi!" I cried to the horse, using Vianliz in hope it would be calming "Noe op! At fen! Li dun." (My friend! Please stop! Your mad! Calm down). It did nothing to calm to beast. And then a soft singing came over, beautiful and calming. Legolas, I realised. Arod had stopped trembling, and was being petted by Gimli. I felt sharp eyes on me, then flicker off, then back onto me again. Legolas came over and laid his hands on the horses snout. He resumed singing, and as he sang I felt my own fear lessen for a moment. My horse stopped rearing and stayed calm and still by my side. There was a slight rise in heat. "Thank-you" I told the elf as he walked away. I sensed his nod, my ear-tips going pink for a moment.

Aragorn waited for us just inside the entrance, then turned to face the tunnel. "I do not fear death." He told himself firmly and walked right on. Legolas passed through with Arod just after. Only Gimli, the horse and I remained. "An elf will go underground where a dwarf dare not!" He exclaimed plunging in. But he dragged his feet, and Gimli son of Gloin was afraid, he who had walked many deep places in the world.

So only I remained, with my horse. And I felt myself go weak at the knees and sick in the stomach. Petrifying memories threatened to surface. I took a step forwards, feeling myself blanch. I gulped. Time to let go of fear.


The walls seemed to absorb any sound into them. There were no comforting echoes to guide my way, just my friend's heartbeats, breaths and quiet footfalls. There was only one tiny speck of heat in the mountain, a torch carried by Aragorn. I wasn't sure where he had got it. Nothing assailed us, yet with every step my fear grew. It took all my willpower to stop my knees knocking and to keep one hand on the wall. Its coldness seeped through my gloves. The worst thing now is that I knew there was no turning back- even if I had tried I was leading my horse behind me. I couldn't reckon the time we spent there, but I do know that in that tunnel was the largest build up of fear I had felt in my long life.

And then there were no more walls, at least not from what I could tell. It felt as if a dry mist was descending upon us. I heard a rustle as Legolas jutted his head forward. "What is it?" Gimli asked from in front of me. "What do you see?"

"I see shapes of men. And horses."

"Where?"

"Pale banners like shreds of cloud. Spears like winter thickets shrouded in mist. The dead are following. They have been summoned." Legolas did not answer properly.

I shivered and my knees knocked for a moment. At least it was just mist I told myself, though I knew it wasn't true. I couldn't hear anything. There was not a breath of displaced air, a single echo of sound. There was complete utter emptiness, the only thing keeping my orientation being my hand on my horse's reigns. Finally something I liked the horse for.

"Dead? Very good Legolas!" Gimli ran off in the direction of Legolas's voice. I followed the footsteps. It was difficult having to judge immediately, combined with the fact I was too scared to think straight. I walked straight into one of the horses, but at least it told me I had reached them. Aragorn muttered something about simbelmyne which I couldn't comprehend through horror. Then Aragorn shook me out of stupor for a second with his voice. "LET US PASS, AND THEN COME!" He thundered. I bit my lip to stop myself whimpering. "I SUMMON YOU TO THE STONE OF ERECH!"

Loud noises, no big deal you say. You can't hear anything, no big deal you think. The problem is- in my entire life I had never been in a total lack of silence. There was always the sound of my own breaths echoing in my lungs, always something. Now the rock beneath my feet was seemingly trapping all sound the second it was muttered. Now, the immediate second I was getting orientated in the silence it was broken by the thundering voice of a king. I am not proud of how I felt, or my actions. My hand began drumming a constant tattoo on the side of my leg, unstoppable. Eru Illuvatar, I was on the verge of a panic attack.

Aragorn took a step forward, and we blindly followed. The irony. There was a squeak and a crack. "Do not look down." Aragorn muttered quietly. The temporary observation of sound halted the tattoo for a minute. I could think a little. I moved my boot hearing the way the new surface beneath it creaked and cracked. It was bone. Skulls to be exact.

Then as answer to Aragorn's booming, a numbing blast flew through us. The little speck of heat from his torch extinguished. I jumped. With no more stimuli, my hand began to drum its tattoo once again. I began an uncontrollable shivering.

"WHO ENTERS MY DOMAIN?" Rumbled a voice. Where did it come from? I couldn't hear anyone else here apart from my companions. They were quiet enough as it was, silent at times. I couldn't even tell which direction the voice came from. It came from everywhere. My shivering and shaking intensified, my hand numbly dropping my horses reigns. Both hands drummed a tattoo now, and I was close to falling to my knees. Scratch that, I did.

This was worse than any Balrog, Orc or beast. Dammit, this was worse than when I was in Sauron's domain, even worse than Melkor sewing wings into my back and magicking them. The coldness in Aragorn's voice took away the last of my resolve. "One who will have your allegiance." Then there was a numbing laugh. The voice was chilling. "The dead.." I never heard the end of that sentence. I hugged myself around the shoulders, my breath began to go wheezy which set my side on fire, and began quaking. I remembered.


(Flashback) I was staggering around helplessly, ignorant of all pain. I had just passed through a corner of the forests of Brethil and was following the Teiglin. I didn't know that I was following my father's exact footsteps from years before. My vision flickered. A moment of sight, then a plain, horrendous expanse of white every time any light fell upon my face. It was night, and through the flickering I could tell that I was straggling across green grass- yet the land smelled of ashes and dust. The body of Glaurung. There was a rushing of water; I had reached the crossing of Teiglin. And almost unknowingly I scrambled up a hill. I came to lean across a great grey stone before I fell to my knees.

My sight flickered again. Something was written on the stone. I lowered my head a little. TURIN TURAMBAR DAGNIR GLAURUNGA. I let out a gasp of horror and surprise, hand grasping at the small copper pendant around my neck and the copper band around my wrist. The band had been on since my day of birth, and the necklace… Turin, my brother and childhood best friend had given it to me for my fifth birthday. It had been crafted by Sador, my only other friend, a family servant. Beneath the first words read the words NIENOR NINIEL. The younger sister I never met. The bracelet should've gone to her, I thought, the living descendant. The one that had had a life anyways. The dress I was wearing would've gone to her to- I was still wearing what I had been wearing over thirty years ago, a child's dress. It hardly reached my knees, the back was burst from where my wings now spread, and was filthy beyond measure.

My vision flickered again, and I found myself looking upon another sight. Two piles of dust- somehow the elements had not moved them. And lying in each pile of dust were identical blue stones. My parent's marriage pendants. In all that I knew and remembered, my parents had never parted with those stones.

Oh, mother, father, sister, brother. I wish I could've done something. Tears slid down my face, falling at the base of the stone. My face turned damp, but it was cleaner than it had been in decades.

Then a mist gathered around me, a dry mist. My vison flickered; were those faces? After another bout of whiteness I could see- I was staring into a face that looked like my own. Yet it was not like mine- whilst mine had somehow kept its youth despite my torments, this one was worn and haggard, a crone. There was the same straight hair running from our heads- though hers had grown white from age, or possibly the mist- but our eyes were identical. Well the one original eye I had left. I was staring into the face of my dead mother.

"Urwen." She said, and her voice shook. "Lalaith." And I too shook. Just as I was now, I realised. The memory was growing weaker. "Mana" I whispered back to her. "Forgive me." And then my father's face appeared, giving me a mighty fright. He too was withered by age. "I remember you," he stuttered "I remember you!" I nodded. "It's me Ada. Urwen, Lalaith. Your daughter."

"You came to see me on the chair of Thangorodrim. You were kind. I thought there was some good in this world." I nodded tears still streaming from my face. From sorrow or joy I did not know.

"You lied to me." This shocked me. My eyes widened, though my vision still wavered.

"YOU LIED TO ME!" Hurin screamed. My vison wavered on, only to find his gaunt ghostly face right in mine. I yelped and scrambled back, scared. The ghosts withdrew, only to come back with bodies. And there were three. The third also shared resemblance to me, or once had. And in his hand he held a mighty sword, Gurthang. It was Turin.

"NOW!" Hurin half hissed half screamed. Claw like hands reached out for me, the hands of my mother and father, and Gurthang swept down upon me. My vison went blank, and pure numbing fear filled me, worse than any I had felt before. And I knew fear. My vision was still blank, as I felt a burning pain sear across my cheek. My vison flickered on for a millisecond, and I saw just as my blood hit the soil the sword burst back into shards.

I withdrew from the memory quaking and with a gasp. Then there was a tiny light in the darkness. A comforting hand on mine, gently pulling me up. An arm went under my own and gently lifted me to my feet. I stood, shivering, but not as bad as I had been before. My side was on fire, though nothing like an actual attack, and there was a searing pain in my cheek. My hand brushed the scar. Just a scar, not a fresh wound. The hand remained in my own, rubbing small circles on the back and just being there. It was- comforting. Warm, calloused, but soft and comforting. I unconsciously wrapped my fingers around it.

"…King of Gondor may command me." The ghost hissed. I shivered, but the hand in mine kept me from running. There was the whoosh of a blade, then a clang as it met another. Not a normal clang though; this rang. A ghost blade. I still could not tell the location of the ghost as its sound was everywhere, but I knew the location of Aragorn. The dead man must be in front of him. "That line was broken" the spectre said.

"It has been remade." Aragorn said with the air of a king. There was a another whoosh surrounding us. Then Aragorn appeared to address the whole cavern. The sheer will and determination in that voice stopped my shivering and the constant tapping of my hand slowed. The hand on mine had stopped rubbing circles too, now just a small comfort instead of a lifeline. I realised with I slight shock that it was Legolas's hand, but almost being back to my normal self, scolded myself for not realising earlier. Even in this hour of darkness and fear, I couldn't stop my heart fluttering.

"Fight for us." Aragorn said with conviction. "Fight for us and regain your honour. What do you say?" There was no reply. "What do you say?" Aragorn repeated. Gimli spoke. "You're wasting your time Aragorn! They had no honour in life, they have none in death." For some reason these words angered me. Maybe it was the fear that I had gone through just to do this, or maybe it was the plight of Gondor but I could not stand it. "Gimli" I said coolly. "Shut up. This is our only choice." Gimli wisely didn't retort.

Aragorn sounded commanding now. "What do you say? You have my word! Fight and I will release you from this living death!" It was eerie, as he appeared to be yelling to nothing. There were still no comforting echoes and the sound seemed to be sucked away, but the elf prince's hand kept me anchored. Kept me sane. I wasn't petrified anymore- just a bit scared and nervous. "Stand, you traitors!" Gimli yelled. Who he was yelling to was still unknown to me, but I later assumed it was the ghosts.

Suddenly a wind began to blow, and the dry mist-like smoke surrounding us fell away from my skin. I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. The whole place began to shake like an earthquake, setting us off balance. We tipped and tumbled, somehow just staying on our feet. I felt something pop up onto my boots, then another. Something round with holes. A skull. "Out!" Aragorn yelled to us, and we sprinted away. This did not do much as skulls were now raining down on us from above unmercifully. I felt the fear from before begin to rise in me, and my sider began to sting and burn. I concentrated on the hand in mine, mooring myself so I would keep running. "Legolas! Darke! Run!" Aragorn yelled. For some reason Legolas had kept his hand in mine, though he would easily outstrip us all solo. The horses were all keeping pace with Aragorn, screaming and kicking with panic.

Finally I felt some warmth come from in front of us. We burst outside by a river, panting for breath. I once again fell to my knees, half from shock, half from the pain that was building in my ribcage. It wasn't as bad as it had been before though, I thought a few minutes later when I could determine straightly again. Aragorn too had fallen to his knees, though for a different reason. There were flaps and cracks of sails, the quiet thrum of waves against a hull. Only one kind of ship sounded like that- the ships of Cosairs. I realised Legolas had left me now, putting an arm around Aragorn. He probably didn't think I needed the support anymore, I concluded. It was true- now we were outside, with stimulus to guide me and without ghosts I was fine. My hand did miss the feel though- I almost wanted to go up and hold it again, to enjoy it without fear. I pushed it aside to be dealt with later, as I tried to do with all other unhelpful things.

A noise came from the cave, and I cringed. Please no more ghosts, no more phantoms or spectres… My wish was granted, in a way. There was nothing more to fear from them. The voice of the first ghost spoke, though now in the warmth of day with the grass beneath my boots, it wasn't quite so terrifying. Still scary though. I heard Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli all turn around in front of me, and I followed in suite. The ghost rumbled. "We fight."


A/N- So yeah, I am late again, but I will get another thing up on Wednesday! Promise this time! Hope you liked it FFR:) Also, I will try to get things up a bit more often now, so you can expect random posts as well as the ones on Wednesdays!(YAY!) You guys are awesome.