A/N: Howdy again. So I'm a little later than I planned with this. Sorry about that. I decided on a bit of a major last minute rewrite (I kinda chucked out 80% of the chapter). Proper Notes at the end. (Also, I own nothing). Finally, I've also updated the last chapter with some more stuff as some folk said it got a little stale.
Light
Though the horns of Rohan caused the Witch King to abandon the Gate the attack was not yet ended. Through the gate came a force of Olog-Hai and Orcs, the huge Trolls at least as large as the ones Harry had encountered in his youth.
Harry reacted to them sluggishly, his strength still spent from the battle of wills with the Nazgûl Lord yet he knew he could not yield. He pushed himself upright once more and prepared to meet the newest attack from the minions of Sauron.
Already the attackers were upon him and he was being pushed back slowly. Too many of Sauron's foul creatures, empowered by the darkness of the Witch King, pressed at him and he had not the strength to keep them all at bay. Curses flew from his wand rapidly and painted the white stone of the City in hues of red and blue. All those who encroached were blown back or impaled by his magic yet still it was not enough to hold them back. As he prepared to Apparate to a more defensible spot he finally found himself no longer alone as the Prince of Dol Amroth led a large force of men to support the beleaguered wizard.
Now that he was surrounded by allies he could no longer level his full destructive magic at his foes. His sword returned to use again and flashed in the sunlight that streamed from the dark clouds torn asunder. Despite the valour of the men now striving to regain the gate under Prince Imrahil the Olog-Hai were too great a force for normal men to overcome. Each was at least a dozen feet tall and every one wore thick black iron armour and carried cruel serrated swords larger than a man. Each one tore through entire squads of men in moments yet still the Men fought for though the valour of Gondor was dimmed from the days of the Kings it was not yet wholly spent.
Harry saw that they could not hope to hold the gate without meeting the strength of the Olog-Hai. Despite his exhaustion he knew that of all the men in the fight only he could hope to contest them.
He Apparated away so that he could focus on the great Sauron-bred Trolls without concern for defending himself. His wand danced before him and the rubble strewn across the city streets rose at his command. Some formed into great trolls themselves while many more became rough-hewn stone golems. His magic almost caused disaster. When the Gondorians noticed his creations some were thrown into a panic and a few attempted to retreat back to the streets of the City. The Prince of Dol Amroth called for them to stand and so strong was his voice and so forceful his presence that the wavering men held their ground.
In moments Harry's creations engaged the enemy and his allies realized that had happened and a cheer went up. Imrahil led again a charge at the side of Harry's creatures and this time the fight was much more to their favour. Now that the battle for the gate had been equalised Harry knew that they would prevail is the strength and the bravery of the men but held a little longer. The broad entryway to the city remained hard to defend though and Harry knew without the gates it could not hold long if the remaining Orcs outside made a determined attempt.
He tried to repair the great gates yet found he could not. Created by Sauron the great ram Grond laid a fell spell upon them that could not be overcome by Harry's magic for far greater and older was the power of Sauron the Great. Birthed from the mind of Ilúvatar before the dawn of the world no mortal magic could undo his will. He knew he could use his magic to block the gates for a time but was loath to do so. The Rohirrim fought upon the Pelennor and it would do no good to leave them stranded from the shelter of the city should the battle go ill.
In the end though his decision was made for him. The Gate now regained, Prince Imrahil called to his Knights and commanded them to form up for he intended to lead a sally out to the aid of the embattled horse lords. His mounted Knights, clad in bright silver steel joined with Harry's creatures and the remaining soldiers and drove the last of the Orcs from the inside of the walls.
The horns of Rohan had renewed their faith and they fought with the greatest of fury, such that Harry was able to leave them and Apparate again to the wall-tops for he was desperate to see if Éowyn yet lived. He did all he could to discern her among the thousands of riders but even his sharp eyes could not make out one among so many at so great a distance.
The waves of Orcs assailing the walls abated as the host at the walls turned to join to counter attack against the Rohirrim and Harry saw the attack now turned against them. From the walls the men of Gondor cried to the horse lords to retreat, to come to the gate, to shelter in Minas Tirith yet they could not be heard. Behind him Prince Imrahil prepared his men about the gate for his sortie to join with the Rohirrim in a last desperate gamble but Harry had only eyes for the battle outwith.
Still he could not find her, yet the host of the Rohirrim turned now to charge the army of the Haradrim. Among the men of Harad were a great many mounted warriors but even worse were the Oliphaunts. Each was as tall as a building and carried upon their backs a number of archers of Harad. The charge of the Rohirrim was stymied and turned for their horses would not approach the great beasts.
He knew he needed to help and now that the City looked to be able to hold its ground alone he would. He sighted on one of the largest of the Mûmakil which was parting the horses of Rohan before it like water about immovable stone. He Apparated.
He landed amid the tiered tower attached to the creature's back. He lost his balance immediately upon the swaying and moving platform as the great elephant like beast rampaged across the Pelennor. He threw out his arms and was able to grasp at the perilously low railing that ran about the structure before he was thrown from it. He then took that moment to regain his bearings and see just what his situation now was. So large was the creature that the battle seemed distant from him and he could not see the host of Rohan which even now passed as close by as the horses would allow.
Also riding upon the animal were more than ten tattooed and heavily pierced Haradrim and though not all had seen his appearance a few turned towards him and let loose with their bows. The charm work applied to his armour aided him greatly here for he could not hope to react fast enough. The arrows were turned away as if they had struck the finest plated steel and he quickly erected a shield. While his armour was easily able to turn away such projectiles it would not protect his face. He occasionally wished he'd known what was to befall him when he stepped to this world and had brought some reasonable equipment. A Weasley shield hat would have been most useful.
For a moment curses flashed from his wand and in seconds all the Haradrim had been thrown to the distant ground, their screams fading quickly into the roar of battle. Harry moved to the head of the creature as best he could, once again almost thrown by the chaotic movements it made as it charged heedless across the Pelennor now without guidance.
He pointed his wand at the creature's head and took a deep breath. He spoke, "Imperio". He felt the gigantic creature bend easily to his will. Long years it had been trained to heed the every command of its handler and it did not question the commands that he now passed into its mind.
He directed the beast into its brethren and it did not balk. It loosed a great cry and charged across at the nearest Mûmak. The great tusks of his beast drove beneath the other and knocked it aside such that it lost its footing and crashed to the ground with an earth rending thump. The many Rohirrim who had become unmounted were nearby and converged upon the creature when they saw its vulnerability and soon its hide ran with blood from their blades. It would not die quickly, but it would not be returning to the battle.
Harry moved on, he threw fire upon the structure upon the back of another Mûmak and it lit up in roaring flames. The men riding atop the creature screamed in terror and agony as they were engulfed by the furious magical flames. Half of their number leapt from the structure into the open space beyond. It availed them none for the height was too great for any man to survive the drop. The creature carrying the inferno became blinded in panic and pain and felled yet another in its frenzied attempts to escape the burning fires.
Harry then tried to get a grasp of the situation again and found that the majority of the still mounted Rohirrim had passed the Oliphaunts by and now engaged the mounted Haradrim at the rear.
The commander of the Haradrim was there, his banner a Black Serpent held high in the dead and rancid air from Mordor. The horsemen of Rohan were the greater riders by far, their horses the swifter and smarter and the riders of Harad began to fall quickly to their blades.
Seeing that the Rohirrim could win that fight Harry instead decided to send his thrall towards the large army from Khand that had been assaulting the far side of the city and had only now come to the battle.
They had not the discipline of the Haradrim, nor the numbers of the Orcs. Their history was a long one, however, and many had been their wars with the Mûmakil riders of Harad. The Variags of Khand charged in close to the legs of the great elephant and it cried in pain and distress as their great axes dug deep into the flesh of its legs.
It fell to its knees with a bone-rattling crunch and Harry was thrown forward and into the open air. Surely that would then have been the end of him had he not had the presence of mind to Apparate desperately back to the White City. Such a panicked Apparition was small benefit for when he appeared he was thrown across the ground with such force that he felt a couple of ribs crack at the impact
He lay there a long moment as he caught his breath again, drawing harsh rattling breaths as liquid fire ran through his lungs. He groaned in pain and hauled himself upright against the low wall that stood at the edge of the Courtyard of the Tree that overlooked the City. In the battle he still had not seen Éowyn but knew in his heart that she was near.
Ships were coming upon the battle he saw, many in number and black of sail they rapidly moved along the Anduin and for a moment he felt defeat fall upon him. Yet the ships of Umbar came from the west and behind them the darkness of Sauron was dissipating. The despair lifted from him just a little for surely the cruel Corsairs of Umbar would not bring with them the dawn. He returned his sight to the battle then and what he saw stopped his heart in dread.
Upon the field brooded the darkest shadow. A winged Nazgûl upon the earth and standing before it he saw a flicker of gold. Éowyn.
"No!" Harry shouted furiously and disappeared with a crack, appearing amidst the carnage and death upon the Pelennor. Before him was his foe and she whom he had come to realise now resided firmly in his heart. He brandished his wand in fury and began the words of a spell when Éowyn swung her sword with a cry and cut the fell head from the body the black beast that stood before her.
The great abomination fell to the ground in a mess of foul smelling leather, flesh and black blood. Hearing his cry Éowyn turned and saw him there but before she could do more than call his name the Black Captain had regained his feet.
The Lord of Nazgûl strode towards Éowyn and his step was slow, ponderous and as unstoppable as the march of Death.
A grim look adorned her face as she stood between her King and Death but she would not quail. She weighed her sword in her hand and prepared for the onslaught.
The great mace of the Witch King flew at her at a speed greater than any mortal man could achieve. The spectral muscles and sinews of the Witch King were strong and the one who possessed them had earned great skill in the many years of his true life.
Éowyn's speed allowed her to jump from the path of the spiked weapon and it embedded itself in the ground
Harry could not suffer her to come to harm. A spell threw her beyond the reach of the Lord of Nazgûl and another caused the earth at his feet to explode with deadly force enough to kill any Man. Yet the Witch King was no mere Man and he could not be undone so easily. He stood again, unhurt and unperturbed.
He turned his back on Éowyn and stalked towards Harry, his great mace now held in one hand while his sword yet resided in the other. It had been many years indeed since any man had stood before the full power of the Lord of the Nine and lived, only with the fall of his dark master and the decimation of his power had he been brought low enough to combat. Now, bolstered by the power and sorcery of Sauron resurgent he was terrible to behold and his countenance spoke death to those who did.
Harry held his sword in his left hand while his wand was clutched in his right, he stood firm before the terror of the Chief of the Nazgûl and did not balk. Harry knew the evil of Man for of all men he had come to know Voldemort best and though the power of the Ring held dominion over the Lord of Nazgûl he was a man still. Harry would not fear him.
Almost before he could breathe the great mace flashed out again with inhuman speed only to be stopped in its path by a clear shield from Harry's wand. Then the black sword swung at his head only to be turned aside by his hastily raised blade. Harry had no time for attack as the huge mace beyond anything any man could carry swung at him again and again. After bare seconds Harry felt the Witch King gather his power for a strike and Harry's sword fell broken and the black blade of Angmar cut into the reinforced armour at his side and he was thrown to the ground. Such was the power of the blow that had he not laid his charms upon his armour he surely would have been cut in two. The charms did just enough though and the Morgul Blade did not bite his flesh.
Harry grunted with pain but did not yield for he saw what Éowyn was doing behind his opponent. His wand shot fire at the Lord of Minas Morgul only for the rattling sibilant laugh to return as he passed through them unharmed.
"Fool, no fire can lessen the power of Sauron the Great!" he proclaimed. "Your defiance is less than nothing before me for no Man may kill me."
At that moment a scream rent the air and the Witch King fell to his knees for Merry had come upon him and buried his blade of Westernesse in the invisible flesh of the Black Captain's leg. Then Éowyn stepped before him, her long hair whipping about her and her eyes as bright and hard as the silmarils of Fëanor and said, "Then you will meet your end at the hand of a woman!" and thrust her sword towards the black figure.
But the Lord of the Nazgûl was ancient and not yet spent and his sword rose again to deflect Éowyn's sword and he rose again to face her. Éowyn was no short woman, for the blood of Eorl was some of the most noble outside that of Westernesse yet the Witch King towered over her and far outmatched her in strength and reach. For more than an age of the world he had endured and though his strength waned with his Master's at the end of the Second Age ever was he untiring and long experience had he in battle. Though Merry's blow did him a great hurt it would not yet prove to be his end for the power of the Dark Lord lifted him again to battle.
He struck out again at Éowyn. Using the speed Harry had seen in his spars with her she was able to hold her own against the Lord of Nazgûl and was even able to strike at him, though no damage resulted. The great black mace that had so threatened Harry had been dropped when the wraith was stabbed by Merry, who now lay beside it, clutching at his arm. Even as he watched the blade Merry had plunged into the unseen flesh of the Witch King burned away. Such was the skill of those who crafted it in long distant Westernesse that in its death it crafted another for though the Witch King was not spent he was still severed from his dark master and no more could he draw strength hither.
Harry wasted no time rejoining the fight and his flaring magic put the Witch King on the back foot as the many discarded weapons and shield animated to fight the dark sorcerer. All about hundreds of blades, spears and axes, some the fine blades of Gondor and Rohan and others the cruel weapons of the Orcs, rose at his command and the Lord of Minas Morgul was assailed.
As Harry had seen such magic was unheard of in Middle-earth and so the Lord of the Nazgûl could do nothing but defend against them with fell blade and black armour. Yet even in this he was deadly and soon both Harry and Éowyn were exhausted from long battle while the terrible and unending stamina of the Witch King saw him take the offensive against them.
Once he had been bested upon the ruined watchtower of Amon Sûl by Aragorn of the line of Elendil but now his Master's power was both near and fixed upon Minas Tirith and his strength was waxed beyond any mortal man.
Harry saw Éowyn take another heavy hit on her shield and knew they could not take much more. He Apparated in close to her for the barest moment it took to grab her and twist away again. He gazed into her eyes and said, "Forgive me, my Lady."
Then he lowered his mouth to hers while all around them was death and towards them flew the foremost of Sauron's lieutenants but in that moment all was swept away and no evil could reach them. For both the only sensation was of the other, of the warmth and feel of their body, lips and soul. For an eternity it seemed they remained together, yet when they broke both knew it much too soon. For like Melian and Elu Thingol in the first age of the world they could have remained together for years without hardship.
As soon as they broke Harry's wand pointed at the Witch King and he whispered the words of the Patronus Charm one final time that day.
If the light before at the gates was bright it was like a candle before this. All combatants were for a moment blinded by the flash of purest white light, a light that later would be said to echo the light of the great tree Telperion. It was later said that all in Middle-earth saw the light and at Ilmarin atop Taniquetil in the shining west eyes did turn to the source.
And at that moment too the Black Ships of Umbar unfurled their banner and the White Tree of Elendil was displayed again in Gondor for the first time in centuries, the jewels upon the banner shone with fire in the light of Harry's spell. A fresh sea breeze blew in from the west and in plaza before the palace of Minas Tirith the white tree there, of the line of Nimloth the Fair of Númenor and long thought dead with the Kings of Gondor did burst once more into bloom.
For one king had come and another king had been dealt a mortal blow. The Witch King let loose a screech which sent all the horses near into fits of terror and it is said birds for many miles around took flight and didn't return ere the year was out. He fell to his knees and clutched at his head, his weapons now broken and forgotten on the ground. Stronger he had been before the blade of Westernesse had pierced his flesh but now he was loose from his master and was vulnerable to the light and love now assailing him. The black armour upon his invisible body crumpled as his life force fled from the world at last and a great wind blew across the battlefield to the place of his death. All about him the grass blackened and died and those near to him gasped as the breath was torn from their lungs.
Finally a great shock wave burst forth from his broken body and all around were knocked to the ground.
And so it was that the words of Glorfindel in the Second Age did come to pass, for not by the hand of man was he slain but by the love of man. Finally after an age of the earth the King of Angmar and the Chief of all Sauron's followers in Middle-earth passed from the planes of the world and was thrown beyond the Walls of Night to the Timeless Halls of Ilúvatar and the unknown fate of all men.
Far beyond the limits of sight the awareness of Sauron did too feel the power and light of Harry's spell. He knew that his greatest lieutenant had fallen yet he was not wroth for he knew that light such was a beacon to all with true sight. Even beyond the Door of Night in the timeless void beyond Eä. The one who was lost would find his way home. Deep in his fortress of Barad-dûr the great Enemy was elated.
Harry struggled to his feet as he clutched at his badly bruised side. Éowyn had been knocked flat by the death of the Ringwraith and was laying on the ground clutching at her shield arm. Beside her Merry was in similar discomfort. It was fortunate indeed that the fighting had moved away from where they all now lay.
The host of Orcs that had been left broken and terrified by the light of Harry's patronus was now completely lost with the loss of its Black Captain though the Haradrim fought on yet and still the Rohirrim were hard-pressed in the face of the remaining Mûmakil. Yet the coming of Aragorn in the ships of the enemy now ensured a victory against the darkness for he had come with the southern army of Gondor with all the haste available to him, as he had promised and soon the men issued forth from the ships and the Haradrim were to be beset on all sides.
Yet none of this did Harry know about, nor did he care for his eyes were only for Éowyn who had taken serious injury in her short fight with the Witch King of Angmar. Her shield arm was broken from the final heavy blow he laid against her shield and upon her fair face could be seen numerous small scratches.
Merry it seemed had recovered somewhat and staggered over to them still cradling his sword arm close. Éowyn stared at the blackened spot where once the Leader of the Nine had stood then turned and embraced Harry with all the fierce strength she could gather. For a long moment they both stayed there, enjoying the feel of the other before Éowyn broke away and turned to where her uncle lay still.
"Harry, he yet lives, you must save him!" she cried when she reached him.
As Harry ran over he barely heard Théoden whisper through bloodied lips, "Éowyn, my eyes must have passed already from mortal sight for your beauty should not be here amid such death and ruin."
Harry waved his wand over the broken King and frowned in worry at the results. Many broken bones and internal injuries but he was not yet beyond hope of saving. He immediately began working his craft as his wand moved ever over the body of the King as he set about stabilising his most grievous wounds.
"Do not waste your time, master Wizard," said Théoden softly as Éowyn wept at his chest. "My body is broken, but I go now to my fathers and even in their mighty company I shall not feel ashamed! The Black Serpent was slain by my hand and the armies of Mordor did break before our charge, a mighty victory worthy of the House of Eorl."
"Not if I have anything to do with it," said Harry stubbornly. The wounds were survivable, but they required the will to live. He cursed the rohirric glorification of heroic death for Théoden now felt his death would be most fitting and was not fighting for life but to say some parting words to Merry and his niece.
"Farewell master Holbytla," said the king as his eyes continued to fade. "I fear I will not now be able to listen to your tales nor talk to you of the herb-lore of our peoples as I promised. Where is Éomer? I would talk to him before I pass for he must be King after me."
"He is near, Théoden King," said Harry as he worked ever faster and with more desperation. "But if I have anything to do with it you will not be passing any time soon."
Then Harry decided to take desperate action. He looked to Éowyn and saw that she did not wish to let him go. He said to Théoden, "I am sorry, my King. You shall have to reprimand me later."
Before the king could respond Harry cast a heavy sleeping charm upon the him, it would serve to slow his rapidly weakening heartbeat. The man had lost much blood due to his internal injuries and Harry knew that would help, even if it could rob the man of his final words.
"What have you done, has he passed?" Éowyn asked.
Harry shook his head. "Not dead. A very deep sleep. I would have a little more time but he commanded me to stop. You may wish to look away, this will look unpleasant."
Éowyn refused and he saw her eyes were set steely grey. He turned back to the fallen King.
Had he had potions this would have been an easy injury to fix. Without them though he could not reach the serious injuries upon his organs. Most medical charms were aimed at healing surface injuries. They were not unusable on internal injuries as they were quite generally applicable but they required a close contact between the spell and the injury. With internal injuries that was a hard thing to manage and thus for most such injuries potions were much preferred. With no potions available to him there was only one way to reach them.
"Éowyn, pass me my sword, I cast it down near you," he said.
It was a measure of the trust she bore him that no questions then came. She handed him his broken sword, blade still sharp as a scalpel though broken and still clean of foul blood thanks to his charms.
First he shrunk it so that it might be more easily held, then after taking a breath, he cut open the King's chest and forced his ribs apart so that he might gain access. He needed to work fast or he would only do more damage.
Éowyn gasped in horror when her uncle was cut open and his ribs forced aside.
It was then that Éomer rode up at the head of what remained of his éored for the battle was yet to be won.
"What has happened?" he cried upon seeing the King. "How came the King to this? Does Théoden king now lie slain?"
"Harry tries to save him, he says he rides the very precipice of death," said Éowyn to her brother. "But the battle is not yet won, Théoden cannot lead and you would be next after him. You must continue the fight, we will remain here."
"It must be so," admitted Éomer, "Yet do not believe I have not noticed your presence sister. I am not pleased to see you surrounded by such death but I must accept it for now as this is no place for argument. I will lead the Eorlingas to victory for our King, alive or dead."
He then remounted his horse and cried for the Rohirrim to follow. They charged the remaining Haradrim and cried "Théoden King! Théoden King!" as they raced to battle.
As the discussion continued Harry worked. His wand was finding all the tears within the body of Théoden and he mended them with as much haste as he possessed. He did what he could to clear the fluid build-up in his lungs and healed them as best he could. A minute passed, then two and he knew he had to stop lest he do more damage than he healed. He healed the cracked bones and closed the opening.
Finally he found that Théoden's heart had stopped beating. He cast an oxygen breathing charm upon the head of the king and began pressing upon his chest rhythmically. After a minute there was no result. After a further minute a spell indicated his heart was beating again, though still weakly.
Harry breathed out in a long sigh. He checked the King's life signs and they were now much stronger though he'd managed to re-break a number of ribs. He quickly healed them as he did not want any more damage to be caused if he could help it. Théoden would most definitely be sore when he woke up but Harry found that much preferable to death. If the King was aggrieved then Harry would deal with that when the time came.
He turned to Éowyn who was watching him with wide open eyes from a distance. It was obvious she wanted to do more but knew there was no way she could help.
"Is it done?" she asked in trepidation. "Will he live?"
Harry ran a bloodied hand through his hair, grimacing as his own injuries reminded him of their presence. "He should. I wish I could be more sure than that but I believe he will now survive. He will need to be taken to the Houses of Healing as his recovery is likely to be long. How does the battle progress?"
"I know not," Éowyn said, her tone stating plainly that he should have guessed that.
Still about them were men and wounded upon the battlefield and from one of them they found out the battle yet continued.
Lord Aragorn's forces had joined those of the Rohirrim and Imrahil and the Orcs and men of Khand were in full flight. The Haradrim yet fought for in their veins ran the blood of Númenor of old through the Black Númenorians who had made their homes upon the southern shores before the fall of Westernesse. It would yet be a bloody battle but victory was soon to come upon the fields of Pelennor. The darkness was not yet complete.
A/N: The previous chapter (Darkness) will be getting an update at around the same time as this one goes up. I wanted to expand a bit on what actually went on while Minas Tirith was under assault.
Now I'm concerned that the death of the Witch King is a little cliché but I really wanted to do a bit of a call-back to the Voldemort prophecy in Harry Potter and Harry's 'Power He Knows Not'. Part of my reason for doing this fic was to play around with meshing a little bit more than setting and characters. Dunno if it works but hey ho, experiments are most interesting when they don't work.
I always felt the Witch King went down a bit easy in both the books and the film. Also some may point out that he should have died when Merry stabbed him (who actually killed the Witch King in the books is a bit of a debate). I decided to go for the strict interpretation of the text, that Merry's blade broke the 'spell' that made the Witch King unkillable and then Éowyn did the killing. I feel a bit bad for robbing Éowyn of the kill but she put up much more of a fight this time so it's swings and roundabouts.
Théoden was originally going to die but to be honest I didn't think Harry would have any of it. I'm looking forward to a bunch of reviews telling me that I'm a moron and healing people doesn't work that way. Please do, I'm not a doctor and while I did some research on the subject I'm sure there's folk who know much more. Harry used a muggle technique to restart Théoden's heart because I quite like the idea of magicals having a bit of a taboo about that. I'm really not sure about the 'open-body-magical-healing' thing. It seemed a good idea at the time but now feels forced. Eh. Tell me what you think.
Tolkien Notes:
Ilmarin is where Manwë and his wife Varda live. Manwë is the boss of the Valar and is the one best able to hear the commands of Ilúvatar (Eru), the monotheistic God that created all of Eä, which is basically the universe.
Elu Thingol was an Elf and Melian was a Maia. They fell in love and got lost in each-other's beauty for years before they shook themselves out of the most epic moment of googly-eyes in literary history.
Telperion was one of the two trees of Yavanna (another Valar). It gave off a silvery light and was eventually killed by Morgoth and Ungoliant (Giant spider and Shelob's mum). The light of the two trees is legendary and renowned for its purity and utter loveliness. The Sun and Moon are but fruits from the two trees.
Finally, the Witch King has a very very very long history. When he ruled over Angmar (far in the north) he was eventually defeated by Earnur (the last King, though he wasn't king at the time) but not killed. Glorfindel (who himself has a long and very intricate history) prophesied that "Not by the hand of man will he fall". I chose to interpret that as 'could totally be killed by love'.
Thank you again for all your lovely reviews. I have other much more constructive things I could be doing but this is the thing I want to do. Keep the reviews rolling, especially if I do anything stupid. I shall endeavour to fix it.