Here's the fourth chapter...and still not even one review. Ah well, I hope this part is more interesting. I will continue writing even if I didn't get one review just for the sake of wanting to continue. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tolkien, who if not dead, would have thousands of people lining up front of him to get him to sign their books.
A total failure, the Witch King thought, not only did we fail to regain the One Ring, but we lost our mounts and cloaks. In fact, I am surprised that we survived Sauron's wrath.
He was now back at Minas Morgul, writing the detailed events of the hunt for the Ring in his study. A huge pile of scrolls sat on the left side of his desk, which Sauron had given him upon his return. The Witch King had been annoyed that once again his master was asking him to do the work that he, the ruler of Mordor, was supposed to tend to.
The sounds of orcs grunting and swords clashing came from the outside, loud even in the study and making it hard to concentrate on his work. In fact, all of the Nazgûl were in Minas Morgul right now. Too many things had happened since they returned. It hadn't been pleasant to be swept away by a flood. It had been even worse when they felt Sauron's rage erupt like a volcano. They had to walk all the way back to Mordor on foot. The others weren't exactly pleasurable company when uncloaked. Khamûl appeared as a gloomy-looking young man with his shoulder length white hair hanging down in front of his eyes. Gothmog was a man of strong build with black hair and beard. Morgomir gave the appearance of a sallow-looking man with a thin face and greasy black hair. The others definitely didn't look at their best when they had first put on their rings. Khamûl sulked, snapped at anyone who tried to talk to him and tried to pick arguments with the Witch King on a even more regular basis. The worst part of the journey was when Herumor and Fuinur refused to speak with him. It took a grueling three weeks to travel to Mordor. Sauron had burst into one of furious tirades about how the Nazgûl never contacted him and how they failed in such an important quest. He even tortured all of them. The Witch King barely survived this and the others didn't fare better. After that Sauron sent the Nine away from Barad-dûr, cloaked again and riding flying fell beasts, and the Witch King with the stack of statistics reports. He also sent part of the army to Minas Morgul; for he announced that they shall be attacking soon. The Witch King hated those new changes. He was perfectly contented in living alone. But now with all nine Nazgûl, the army and the nine fell beasts taking up residence in Minas Morgul, the place became somewhat crowded and noisy. The Witch King had to place more spells on the door of his study to prevent others from entering and even concealed the entrance. The last thing he wanted was for Khamûl and his followers to barge in and find a reason to blackmail him. He had now just finished recording the defeat of Saruman's army at Helm's Deep. Since the encounter with Saruman while searching for the Ring, the Witch King disliked the Maia wholeheartedly.
It served him right to get defeated. He may be a Maia who was once the head of the White Council, but he is no better than Sauron. Saruman's heart was twisted by greed for greater power. His ending would not be pleasant.
The sudden glowing of the palantír interrupted the Witch King from his thoughts. Sighing in annoyance, he headed over and placed his hands on it.
What does Sauron want now?
The time has come. Sauron's flaming eye appeared before him. You shall lead the armies of Mordor to attack Gondor. Start with Osgiliath and then move on to Minas Tirith. Kill all who oppose you and capture both places.
Why me, Sauron? Surely Khamûl is a better candidate? That was the first thing the Witch King thought of.
Do not suggest such a ridiculous notion! All of you had failed in finding my Ring, so I am going to try to conquer Middle-earth without it. I am giving you a chance to prove yourself worthy of being the Lord of the Nazgûl.
I do not deserve a chance. I had already failed.
Prepare to attack in three days. Sauron ignored the Witch King's words and severed the connection.
Sighing heavily, the Witch King sat down at his desk again. He was somewhat struck by the news to attack Minas Tirith. Although he never showed it, the Witch King hated battles and tried to avoid them. Angmar was a different matter. He was forced to fight the people of Arnor to defend his newly found realm. In fact, he did know that the people of Arnor were descendents of the people of Númenor until he destroyed all of them. Eärnur too was a different matter, for at that time Sauron was asking him to find someone to fill in the last place among the Nazgûl. But now Sauron was ordering him to attack an almost defenseless city. The Witch King knew Gondor was not at its strongest right now and would certainly not withstand the assault of Mordor.
Suddenly a knock rang out on the study door.
How did whoever is knocking find the door in the first place? I placed an illusion spell on the door to give it the appearance of a stone wall. He thought in puzzlement as he got up to answer it.
The Witch King opened the door only to find Herumor, Fuinur and Eärnur on the other side. The twins had only begun to speak to him again when Khamûl, Gothmog and Morgomir challenged them to a duel just to vent their anger. Only did the Witch King happened to pass by and threatened to fight the three with sorcery when Herumor and Fuinur finally forgive him for the events of the hunt for the Ring. He was also extremely surprised to see Eärnur along with the two, who rarely sought company with the others.
"It was easy. This place has the strongest presence of sorcery, and only you could have done that." Herumor said casually, answering the Witch King's unspoken question.
"Any news from Sauron, Captain?" Fuinur asked.
"We are to attack Minas Tirith." The Witch King said heavily.
Eärnur, who was silent, started at this news.
"No!" He exclaimed.
"Look, Eärnur. Everybody knows you were a king of Gondor. But that was a long time ago. If you do not wish to get on Sauron's bad side, you better obey him."" Fuinur pointed out.
"If you three have chosen to discuss about a sensitive topic, I suggest you to wisely come in." The Witch King said, somewhat reluctantly. He didn't want Khamûl walking past to hear their conversation. As for the secret of his study, he decided to trust the three.
"I never knew you collected ancient tomes, Captain. May I ask what they contain?" Herumor exclaimed as he stepped in.
"Never you mind." The Witch King said shortly. He still didn't want anyone to find out the content of his books. "Please sit down."
As the three sat down at the chairs in front of the desk, the Witch King immediately explained in detail what Sauron wanted them to do. Herumor and Fuinur looked shocked at this while Eärnur looked devastated.
"Minas Tirith would never survive. Gondor would be destroyed!" Fuinur realized.
"But we do not have a choice, do we?" Herumor said plainly.
"Is there a way to avoid this battle?" Eärnur spoke again.
"I see no other way, Eärnur. I am sure you three are loath to receive another one of Sauron's punishments, am I correct?" The Witch King asked.
All three Nazgûl shuddered.
"But I cannot turn my sword against those of Gondor!" Eärnur shouted, standing up, "It is one of the worst forms of betrayal! It was bad enough being a Nazgûl, but this is worse. Sauron has gone over the line!"
This is probably the most words I had ever heard Eärnur utter. But he is right; I cannot force a Gondorian to kill those from his own country. Hmm…I wonder if anything could be done. The Witch King thought.
"Eärnur! You cannot disobey Sauron in something as major as this!" Herumor said, shocked,"Look what happed to the Captain when he shut himself in at Minas Morgul!"
The Witch King winced. He hated when he was constantly reminded of that particular incident.
"There may be a way." He said slowly.
"Captain!" Fuinur exclaimed.
Who says we shall be killing the enemy? Fighting is not my desire, neither is it Eärnur's. I am tired of being Sauron's slave! Maybe we could somehow help the Gondorians.
"I had defied Sauron once, and I will do it again. I paid the price dearly. But I had had enough!" The Witch King said firmly.
"But…" Fuinur started.
"You cannot convince him out of it, Fuinur. We will help you the best we could." Herumor said.
"The others must not know what we are about to do." Eärnur pointed out.
"But what are we about to do?" The Witch King asked.
For three days the Witch King tried to think of a plan. There was no avoiding this battle, so he would have to compromise for some while. Herumor had suggested bringing only half of the army so Minas Tirith would have a better chance. But Eärnur pointed out that Sauron would immediately notice something was wrong. Fuinur thought they could, in the confusion of the battle, to cut down some of the orcs, Easterlings and the Haradrim. But it was too risky in the Witch King's opinion. The Gondorians were bound to notice that something wasn't right. In the end it was Eärnur's idea to attack with arrows and darts from the skies with their flying fell beasts. It was still very risky, along with the problem of their inexperience with the darts. If the people of Gondor didn't notice, Khamûl and others will. On the day of battle, the Witch King led almost the entire force of Mordor toward Osgiliath first. The strategy was simple: To kill all the Gondorian soldiers there and take over the place. The Witch King, Herumor, Fuinur and Eärnur was forced to participate in the following battle against the Gondorians stationed there because there wasn't enough room for the fell beasts, although Eärnur didn't fight at all. In the chaos, the Witch King had accidentally shot a man whom he thought to be the captain with a dart while aiming at an orc. Khamûl, Gothmog and Morgomir slaughtered the soldiers such relish that it made the Witch King shudder. By the end of the day, Osgiliath fell. All the soldiers were dead, and only a few soldiers from Mordor killed. The Witch King could feel Sauron watching the battle carefully. He wouldn't find anything suspicious though. For good measure, the Witch King even led the Eight to pursue the remaining Gondorians including the injured captain fleeing towards Minas Tirith. But to his surprise, Gandalf rode out and drove them all away with a bright light shining from his staff. He was somewhat different since the Witch King last saw him, and seemed to be more powerful too.
The next day he led the armies of Mordor across the river to cross the Pelennor Fields. Minas Tirith, the White City, stood on the other side. It was built level by level in white stone circles. A great spur of rock jutted out from the center with the White Tower resting on top. The top of houses could be seen, including the White Tower. The symbol of Gondor, a white tree without leaves, could be also seen in front of the tower. Flags flew from every tower bearing the symbol. It was a magnificent city, worthy of its name. The Witch King became even angrier at Sauron for ordering him to destroy such a proud and ancient structure. He could already see the Gondorian army preparing for battle within the walls from his fell beast. It was pitifully small, and the Witch King knew for sure that they would never stand against the might of Mordor unless someone came to their aid. Nevertheless, he ordered the army to attack. They brought out catapults and such and began firing at Minas Tirith. The Witch King signaled, and the others rose to air along with their fell beasts. Khamûl, Gothmog, Morgomir, Akhorahil and Ji Indur all flew towards the city, destroying their catapults and killing many soldiers. Meanwhile unnoticed, Eärnur drew his bow and hit some of the orcs operating the catapults. Herumor and Fuinur did the same. The Witch King also drew his bow and secretly shot down a leader of the Easterlings. For this plan they had especially gathered some Gondorian arrows so whoever found the bodies wouldn't become suspicious. Everything was going quite well. The Gondorians were still shooting down many of the army of Mordor's catapults and lots of them had come out to fight. They slew many of the orcs, Easterlings and the Haradrim along with the Witch King, Herumor, Fuinur and Eärnur's help. But Khamûl and the others were wrecking havoc among the Gondorians, causing terror and confusion among them. The Witch King was running out of arrows, but he continued to shoot. He didn't want to use the darts, for he was likely to miss. He realized there was a flaw to this plan.
If we run out of arrows, what do we do next? Land and search the bodies for more? I fear this would not work out quite as well as we had planned…
"Captain! I had run out of arrows! What next?" Fuinur shouted from his fell beast.
"I did not predict this minor inconvenience." The Witch King replied honestly while nocking his last arrow.
"Minor? Major, most likely," Herumor scoffed as he tossed away his bow and empty quiver, "Maybe we should just carry out what Fuinur suggested earlier and fight on the ground instead."
"I am sorry, Captain. I forgot this would happen." Eärnur apologized.
Suddenly the Witch King felt Sauron contacting his mind just as he fired his last arrow to hit a Haradrim about to cut down a Gondorian soldier.
Confound it! Not now!
What are you doing, Witch King? Did I just see you shoot at one from my own army? Sauron's tone was threatening.
I missed the Gondorian soldier. That was the best excuse the Witch King could think of.
Then why didn't you do what Khamûl and the others are doing? Flying among the Gondorians and spreading terror among them. Are Herumor, Fuinur and Eärnur in league with your schemes? Are you trying to allow Gondor to win the battle?
The Witch King flinched. He should have been more careful, and now he and the others were about the pay the price. He had to somehow lead Sauron's attention away from Herumor, Fuinur and Eärnur. He knew there was no denying now and was very angry.
I had had enough of YOUR schemes, Sauron. You have no heart for the people of Middle-earth! For the land of Middle-earth! How could you order a mass slaughter of the people of Gondor! Look what you did with Númenor, and I am not about to allow the same thing to happen to Gondor. The entire island was destroyed! I have no right to obey you, and I can help the Gondorians as I please!
To the Witch King's surprise, when Sauron spoke again, his tone was almost wistful. Almost sorry.
It was not my idea to destroy Númenor...
But it changed just as quickly.
But you, Witch King, also have no right to disobey me. I thought you learned your lesson when you locked yourself up at Minas Morgul, but now it seems you have not. You are in no position to help the enemy as my servant. You shall pay for this, Witch King. You shall pay for this very dearly.
An intense pain filled the Witch King's head. He cried out and dropped his bow. Everything seemed to spin, and then blackness claimed him.
Darkness. Utter darkness with no light.
He was floating in it.
There was no sound, no smell, and nothing to see.
Am I dead? Where exactly am I? He thought dimly.
The darkness seemed to shift slowly, and then swirled away in a high speed.
The Witch King came back to consciousness sitting on the ground. No longer was he on the fell beast flying over Minas Tirith. In fact, the entire city was gone. There were no sounds of battle, only the peaceful roar of the ocean.
The ocean? The only place where it is heard...
He stood up, took a good look around him and stepped back in surprise. The darkness had given way to show the old realm of Númenor in its former glory. Houses and buildings built of stone lined neatly the dirt roads. The ocean lay not far away, with several large sailing ships bobbing gently in the waves. The sky was a brilliant blue with a few wisps of clouds floating lazily along it. The strange thing was, there was nobody around. There were no sounds of activity that showed that people lived here. The royal palace in a distance lay in ruins.
I am back in Númenor? What just happened? I only remember Sauron speaking with me, an intense pain in my head and then I was here. What is going on?
Even though the Witch King thought the whole thing was strange, he was quite elated. To be back at Númenor again when it has been gone so long!
I thought Númenor was destroyed completely. Then why is it still intact as I see it before me? The palace is in ruins while the other buildings are intact. Something is not quite right.
As he thought, the sky began to turn red. Alarmed, the Witch King stood up. He could smell the putrid odor of sulfur. Recognizing the smell, he became even more alarmed. It was the constant smell of Mordor. He suddenly heard the clanking of metal clad feet coming towards him. A tall armored figure walked into view. The Witch King knew this figure too well. He drew his sword.
"Sauron, what are you doing here?" He said calmly.
"Don't you know?" Sauron answered shortly.
"This is Númenor." The Witch King said slowly, not letting his guard down.
"Not exactly. This is what your inner world looks like. To be honest, I am not surprised to find it as Númenor."
"Inner world? Then we're inside my mind. You possessed me!" The Witch King realized quickly.
Herumor watched in shock as the Captain seemed fall limp for awhile, and then suddenly steered his fell beast towards Minas Tirith. The fell beast snatched up numerous Gondorian soldiers and dropped them. They screamed as they fell to their deaths. The Captain even casted numerous spells, destroying parts of the city and blowing up the soldiers.
"Captain! That's not the…"
"Silence, Herumor!" Eärnur yelled, "Possessed, he is, probably by Sauron! We cannot let him know of our plan!"
"What do we do now?" Fuinur shouted as Khamûl and the others followed the Captain's example and were soon killing soldiers in this horrible way.
"We must back off for the duration of the battle. It is our best hope." Herumor called as he began to guide his beast away from the battle.
"Herumor! We have to stop him! Minas Tirith will lose the battle!" Eärnur exclaimed.
"We cannot, Eärnur!" Fuinur realized, "He will turn on us! We cannot hope to restrain the Captain, for he is too powerful for us to handle now. The only thing we could do is to wait and see."
"It is necessary, Witch King. If I let you carry out the battle in your own way, Mordor would have suffered a defeat." Sauron explained while swinging his mace around idly.
In a flash, the Witch King suddenly saw the vision of a man wielding a sword that glowed with a bright light, an elf with bow and arrows and a dwarf wielding an ax leading a vast army, cutting down all the forces of Mordor down. He knew immediately that today's battle will be lost no matter how hard Sauron tried to turn the events by possessing him. The Witch King was somewhat relieved. But he did not want to be possessed after the events of the hunt for the Ring. Who was Sauron to mess with his mind as he pleased?
The Witch King swung his sword towards Sauron, who deflected it easily. Quickly he pulled it away and struck again, only to be met by Sauron's mace almost twisting the sword out of his grip.
"You move too slowly, Witch King. I thought you improved in these past hundred years." Sauron taunted.
"I will defeat you and drive you away from my mind!" The Witch King shouted. From the sky he could see what he was doing outside of his mind right now, and it angered him.
"I hardly see that possible, since you cannot even land a hit on me." Sauron said, swinging his mace.
The Witch King dodged in time and slashed at his currently exposed left arm. Although it connected, the sword bounced off his gauntlet with a clang. Dismayed, he struck at Sauron's right hand, trying to disarm him. But Sauron caught his sword arm and threw him directly towards a house. The Witch King's vision flashed white as he hit, the building falling down into a pile of rubble. Painfully he got up, and rushed at Sauron again, who easily step sided and sent him sprawling again with a flick of his weapon. Stunned, the Witch King didn't get up right away.
I need a new strategy! The Witch King thought quickly. I cannot fight him by force. His armor deflects all attacks. Sauron is also immune to sorcery. What shall I do now…
Sauron's mace swung down towards his head. He rolled away and responded by a vicious kick. Sauron staggered for a second, and the Witch King took the chance to quickly knock his mace away.
"Not bad, Witch King. Not bad at all. Maybe I underestimated you." Sauron commented, drawing his long broadsword.
On the outside, the battering ram Grond was brought out. Trolls hauled the massive tool as the army of Mordor chanted the name. Destructive spells were laid on the battering ram, and it was made especially to break down the mithril doors of Minas Tirith. The Witch King rode a black horse up to the gate. Raising a hand, he shouted the spell of major destruction as the trolls swung Grond. Two times it hit the gate, and on the third, it crumbled into pieces. But the space beyond it wasn't abandoned. Gandalf, the White Wizard, sat atop of his white horse, defying the Witch King entrance to the city. But he only laughed. What a fool! Does he think he alone can actually stop him?
"You cannot enter here!" Gandalf cried, raising his staff, "Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master! Go!"
"Old fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!" The Witch King snarled and drew his sword. It burst into brilliant orange flames. He swung to strike at the Wizard, who drew his own sword to meet the attack. But the call of a rooster sounded out in a distance. Morning came, and horns blew. Along the dawn came new hope. The Rohirrim had come at last to Gondor's aid.
"Stop, Sauron!" The Witch King shouted, parrying another blow from Sauron, "Do not attack the Wizard! I had wronged him already! Cease casting spells, for they take their toll on me instead of you."
"What do I care?" Sauron laughed without humor, "He is only another obstacle to be removed along with you, a wraith who never learns his lesson."
"Get out of my mind, and give the control of my body back!"
"Not before you agree to stop your futile efforts to help the enemy. I ought to have you punished severely for this act of betrayal."
"Did you not listen to the words that you spoke through me? Do you not know how true they may be?" The Witch King realized that he thought along the exact same lines before, "'This is my hour' indeed!"
"I say what I please." Sauron retorted.
The prophecy of Glorfindel. Will it be fulfilled today in this battle?
The Witch King casted a binding spell unexpectedly. Golden ropes materialized and wrapped themselves around Sauron. But he broke them as easily as they were made of charred flax. A powerful spell of thunder was unleashed next, which exploded on contact in a shower of sparks as it hit Sauron. But he emerged from the smoke unfazed, and attacked the Witch King again. Backing off, he summoned high waves of water, strong gusts of wind and solid columns of earth to assail his opponent relentlessly. But nothing seemed to work.
"You should have learned your lesson already, Witch King. I am impervious to the feeble sorcery of a mere wraith." Sauron declared as he dispelled another thunder spell, "I will wait until you spend yourself."
The Witch King was doubled up, leaning on his sword as he breathed hard. His ailment was beginning to take its high toll of fatigue. The spells Sauron made him cast on the outside had already wore him out, along with the major spell of destruction used to shatter the gates of Minas Tirith. He saw Sauron swing his sword, just like he did several hundred years ago when they fought at Minas Morgul.
Éowyn, the shieldmaiden of Rohan, urged her horse onwards. She was currently riding along with the Rohirrim, under the disguise as Dernhelm the soldier. The beacons of Gondor were lit only a few days ago. Ever since the forces of Rohan had been riding towards Minas Tirith as fast as they could. Her emotions were mixed. She was pleased to fight the enemies along with the men. Finally she could be temporarily free from her cage! But despair also clung at her. Lord Aragorn, the man whom she secretly admired, had gone done to the Paths of the Dead. Éowyn knew nobody came out of there alive, and she doubted he would either. She was also worried for the halfling Merry, who sat in behind her on the same horse. Was it a wise decision to take him along? She was also worried for her brother Éomer, and mostly King Théoden, whom she loved like a father. It was too easy to be slain in battle.
The horns suddenly sounded out as day came. They had arrived in Minas Tirith! Éowyn could already hear the sounds of battle. The putrid smell of burning vegetation rose from the Pelennor Fields. The city was in a sorry state. Fires burned from within and it seemed to be almost deserted. Chunks of the White City were taken out. All the Gondorian soldiers were out fighting. They were hopelessly outnumbered. But at the sound of the horn they looked and saw the Rohirrim. An elated cheer rose from the soldiers. King Théoden turned his horse to face the Rohirrim and cried out in a loud voice,
"Arise, arise! Riders of Théoden!
Fell deeds awake; fire and slaughter!
spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered.
A sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!"
The Rohirrim sang along with King Théoden. Their song declared a new hope. Hope of winning the battle. Éowyn joined in enthusiastically. The king seized a horn and blew it loudly, and the others echoed him. The sound of horns rang out clearly through the air.
"Ride now! Ride to Gondor!" Everyone shouted.
King Théoden urged his horse into a run with his knights following him. The flags they held bore the symbol of a white horse running on a green back ground. Fearlessly they charged into the ranks of Mordor. Éowyn drew her sword and Merry his blade of the Westernesse. The enemy scattered at the front as many were slain by the advancing Rohirrim's spears. King Théoden himself slew the leader of the Haradrim with his spear, which broke in his hand. Éowyn swung at Easterlings who suddenly appeared, and Merry stabbed one. Éomer also felled many single handedly. They drove back the enemy, and they continued to ride across the Pelennor fields. Many of the enemy fell dead. It seemed like they were probably going to win.
But suddenly the sky darkened and the flapping of wings were heard. Unearthly screams rent the battlefield and Éowyn looked up. Above them wheeled the dreaded Ringwraiths riding winged fell beasts, the terrible servants of the Dark Lord. At that sight every man and beast began to panic. The Rohirrim scattered as their horses tried to flee the oncoming terror. But Éowyn saw King Théoden, the only one who didn't flee. All his knights were dead, but he still raised his sword to defy the Ringwraiths.
"To me! To me! Up Eorlingas! Fear no darkness!" He shouted.
Éowyn saw one of them flying towards him.
"Théoden King! Get away, quickly!" She tried to shout. But the sudden terror froze her voice.
"King Théoden!" Merry yelled.
A dart flew from the descending Ringwraith. It hit his horse Snowmane, who gave a shrill neigh and fell on its side. King Théoden fell and was crushed beneath his horse.
"Uncle!" Éowyn finally screamed out.
Please! He cannot die like this!
Her terrified horse could take no more. Éowyn and Merry were thrown off when the horse gave a wild buckle and ran away. She painfully got up and recovered her sword and shield while Merry ran towards King Théoden. The Ringwraith had already landed with his fell beast, and was advancing towards where King Théoden fell. He was a tall and terrible figure, cloaked in all black. He wore a helm that curved into a single spike on the top with a circle of small spikes that encircled the head. In one hand he held a drawn sword and in the other a mace with gauntleted hands. The eyes beneath his helm seemed to gleam a malevolent red.
"Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!" Éowyn shouted, pointing her sword towards the Ringwraith.
"Do not come between the Nazgûl and his prey, or he will not slay you in turn." His voice was cold, chilling her to the bone.
"Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may!" Éowyn swung her sword in an attacking position.
"Hinder me? You fool! How can you stand up against the Witch King of Angmar himself? No man can hinder me, let alone you!" The Ringwraith hissed.
Despite the terror, despair and panic she felt right now, Éowyn laughed at the irony of his words. She took off her helm and threw it away.
"Look here!" She cried, "No living man am I! I am a woman. Éowyn I am, daughter of Éomund. You stand between me and my lord and my kin. Begone, if you are indeed deathless! I will smite you, if you touch him! "
I will avenge you, Théoden King!
The Ringwraith said nothing while his beast screeched at her and lunged. Skillfully she avoided it and hacked off its head with two strokes from her sword. The beast fell dead into a heap, but the Ringwraith emerged again and swung at her with his mace. Éowyn felt the wind pass by where her head had previously been as she dodged again. Just as quickly his sword slashed towards her left. She blocked it with her shield and stabbed with her sword blindly towards the Ringwraith. But he parried it with his own, knocked the sword out of her hands and struck again with his mace. Éowyn tried to block it, but the mace broke her shield along with her arm with a sharp crack. She cried out in pain and fell to the ground on her knees. The Ringwraith positioned his sword to strike the final blow.
This is the end. I am sorry, Uncle. I should have never gone to face the Ringwraith…
"No, you would not have the upper hand, Sauron!"
For the first time in thousands of years, the Witch King felt true terror. Right now as he faced Sauron about to be defeated, Glorfindel's prophecy rang again and again through his mind. He saw himself strike down the king of Rohan and was now facing a shieldmaiden who had been disguised as a Rider of Rohan. The Witch King was terrified when she revealed herself as Éowyn. Although he had lived for thousands of years and was weary of life, he still clung to it. He had been through countless sufferings and pain that shaped him as the character as he was today. The Witch King desired to live to see Sauron defeated at last and Mordor fall. He had kept records of the history of Middle-earth more than five thousand years. Now he was about to face possible death, he grew even more desperate to defeat his opponent.
No...I cannot die like this! Not with Sauron still alive inside my mind. At least I must drive him out first! But if I were to perish, I would be taking him with me!
The Witch King summoned his remaining strength and struck at Sauron repeatedly as hard as he could. The first strike knocked away the sword that was about to descend on his head. The second strike knocked Sauron off balance, although he recovered quickly. The Witch King continued to strike in a frenzy, shouting as he did so.
"Have you ever heard of the prophecy of Glorfindel? I presume not, for you care nothing about your slaves! 'Far of yet is his doom,' he said, 'yet he would not fall by the hand of man!' Look who stands before me: A shieldmaiden of Rohan, a seemly weak opponent. Have you been planning my demise since that incident hundreds of years ago? Look what you did with the king of Rohan! Surely this girl is the king's relative! Now her hate is aroused and she is bent on seeking revenge. Surely you do not mind losing one of your slaves, when each could be so easily replaced? What do you have to say for yourself, Sauron? Answer me!"
Surprisingly Sauron said nothing as he continued to defend himself from the Witch King's blows.
"Now for the last time, get out of my mind!" The Witch King yelled.
But an expected pain burned though his left leg and he cried out bitterly. It was like somebody had struck him with an icy cold knife. He recognized the feeling and looked toward the sky. The halfling he noticed earlier riding with the shieldmaiden called Éowyn had crept up behind him unnoticed and stabbed him in the knee with a blade of Númenor. His blade that was about to descend on the shieldmaiden sheared away to one side and missed.
No! I cannot allow myself to fade now! Not after so many years.....I must....
Sauron stood there watching, making no move to attack. But driven by anger and pain, the Witch King used his last strength and sprang towards him. He raised a hand, and a massive fireball emerged and flew towards Sauron. It hit with a colossal explosion, knocking Sauron all the way towards the sea. Not even wondering how he casted that fire spell, the Witch King aimed his sword and stabbed as hard as he could at Sauron before he recovered. The weapon slid beneath the plates of his opponent's chest armor and impaled him completely, the blade coming out of his back. For a moment Sauron stood there frozen, and then disappeared with a blast of black smoke that obliterated the already ruined buildings around.
The Witch King had no time to celebrate his victory. The buildings of Númenor started to crumble into ruin around him and sea was strangely drying up. The wound from the deadly blade burned colder than ever, and the Witch King could already feel himself slipping away. Everything faded into darkness again.
The world came back to him, and the sounds of battle were heard. The Witch King was kneeling on the ground, using his sword to support himself. Éowyn was still standing and holding her broken arm, her face an expression of pain. The halfling was sprawled in some distance, his blade shriveled into nothingness. The Witch King couldn't see clearly, and blackness started to creep across his vision.
I am dying… He realized.
"Captain!" He heard Herumor and Fuinur cry out in despair.
The Witch King's thoughts were in turmoil. He was wondering when he perished, what would happen to the rest of the Nazgûl. How would Sauron react? What would happen after he was gone? Why did Glorfindel's prophecy have a habit of coming true? Why Sauron sent him to lead this battle? Maybe it was for the best. He had caused enough grief in Middle-earth. If he was gone, Sauron won't use him to harm more people anymore. Perhaps the various races will never be ruled by Sauron.
Then I am willing to make this sacrifice.
Éowyn had picked up her sword. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The Witch King felt Sauron contacting his mind again and the now familiar pain in his head.
He is attempting to possess me again. Maybe I can trap him in my mind...
The girl's sword hung limply from her hands. She was struggling to remain standing.
Time is running out for me. I do not have a choice now. My strength is failing me. What I am about to do is not a shame…
"Kill me." The Witch King said quietly.
Éowyn gave a little start. Her sword almost dropped to the ground.
"I thought...you..." She managed to say faintly.
He could already vaguely see the crumbling realm of Númenor again. The sky was no longer blue, but turning black. The figure of Sauron was there again, but he was dodging the falling debris. He seemed to see the Witch King and stretched out a hand.
"Do it now." He said with more force. He was been drawn in again as Númenor became clearer.
The Witch King suddenly lunged and grabbed the shieldmaiden's shoulder, at the same time when her blade, driven off course, pierced his chest. He met the look of the pained shieldmaiden steadily. She held an expression of confusion, but that determination was still there. Even now that the Witch King was fading, he cannot help but wonder about it. Heroic men had quailed with terror before him, yet here was one lone shieldmaiden who openly challenged him...and succeeded.
Strangely he felt nothing from that fatal sword wound, only the relief. Sauron no longer tried to contact him. Maybe he was trapped after all. Maybe he will never regain the Ring again and rule Middle-earth.
"You have my thanks..." The last words he spoke were hardly heard.
...I presume...this is the end now...
Éowyn's sword broke into many shards. But the Witch King had already lost the strength to keep his form. Now formless he was blown along with the wind, but he could still see, although he couldn't feel himself as a being at all. He saw himself shrivel up and collapse to the ground, now only a pile of robes and armor. He saw the shieldmaiden also collapse, overcome finally by the pain. As he was blown along with the wind, memories came unbidden back to his mind.
He remembered Númenor, a realm that belonged to Eru Ilúvatar. Who was Eru Ilúvatar? He couldn't remember. He remembered when he ruled in Númenor as a king with great power who excelled in sorcery. He remembered the day when Sauron came with the greatest of the nine rings, and how he accepted it without question despite the protests and warnings of his advisors. He remembered, most of all, how people who had being evil during their lifetime was judged in the Hall of Mandos and was cast into the Void. How horrible stories were told what happened to them and how the fallen Vala Melkor himself was thrown in there. Who was Melkor anyway? The name sounds familiar.
I am going to the Void, The Witch King realized, I shouldn't have accepted the ring. It was the worst choice I had ever made. Now I will pay for it. Why did Sauron give me the ring? He particularly sent me to the Void! I had a quiet and peaceful life, and he ruined it all. It is not fair! I will never forgive him for this!
"You will pay for this, Sauron!" He shouted. But his voice was not to be heard. He tried fighting against the wind, but he was only a departed spirit, helpless to do anything.
The wind continued to bear him towards the West.
Towards the Hall of Mandos.
Towards judgment.
Towards eternal darkness and suffering.
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