The War of Light and Shadow
By Freddie23
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Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.
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Chapter 81 – A Change Is Coming
For the longest moment, everything seemed almost surreal in its peace. Only the sound of a gentle breeze rustling clothing and fallen banners broke up the silence. It was truly eerie. Even the remaining Orcs and Uruk-hai stood still, stunned into inactivity by the unexpected fall of their master and leader. They looked around, searching for the leadership they craved. They would not find it though. All that remained of the once all-powerful Dark Lord of Arda was a blackened crater and scorched ground where he had fallen at the point of Anduril.
Aragorn remained sat on the ground where he had landed, although he had managed to prop himself up with his arms to see what had occurred following his last desperate attempt to slay the Dark Lord Sauron. He stared unblinkingly at the remains of Evil that he had just conquered. It seemed impossible. Just moments previous he had been losing, he had fallen and he knew he should have died. In his head, he frantically replayed the battle in his mind but he could not pinpoint the moment when he had gained the upper hand. And yet somehow he had. Sauron – what was left of him - remained on the ground, pulverised into the very earth he had tainted with his tyranny, the Ring of Power was settled in his pocket as though nothing had happened. He could feel it thrumming deeply as though reverberating within him, mourning the loss of its master almost as if it could feel loss as a mortal soul could. It was somewhat disconcerting but Aragorn found, for the first time in months, that he could easily push all thought of that innocuous-looking band of gold from his mind. The weight suddenly disappeared from his shoulders and he physically slumped. He was free from the weight of his responsibility for the first time in many years and the relief was so great that he felt tears stinging his eyes. Blinking, he told himself that it was just the lingering smoke in the air making them water and he brushed his sleeve over his face, succeeding only in smearing gore and grime everywhere.
Just as suddenly as it had fallen silent, the sounds of battle abruptly returned as both sides realised what had happened. Aragorn could almost have believed that he had been momentarily deafened by the shock had it not been for the fact that until now, everything had been still as well. The Men realised that the Lord of Darkness was dead and gone and that there were still those amongst the Enemy alive on the battlefield. The Enemy also realised that they were surrounded, now close to being outnumbered and leaderless now that the Nazgul had fled and their master had fallen.
In a frank display of cowardice, the leaders of the Uruk-hai fled, leaving the underlings to either battle their way out or die where they stood at the hands of their enemy. No Man would take an Orc prisoner. There would be no surrender and no mercy.
Aragorn shook his head in surprise as the battle began raging around him again and his head was filled with the clanging of swords and the cries of death that had become familiar. Close by, he heard Faramir shouting orders to any Man that would listen and he thought that it should have been him giving instructions to his people. Of course, with Sauron's fall, the Orcs had no one to look to but that did not mean that they would simply disappear from the face of the earth. They still had to be beaten or driven away.
He knew that he should probably get up and help with the effort but he found that he could not get his legs working. It was as if he was pinned to the ground while all around him his men continued to fight bravely.
It wouldn't take long, he knew, for the Humans to overpower or chase away what remained of the now woefully disorganised Enemy.
Indeed, within minutes things were dying down again. Dawn was breaking, covering the field in grey light and highlighting the blood-stained earth in which he sat. Aragorn looked to the skies, tears still gathered in his eyes; he remained utterly stunned at what had happened. The clouds were roiling above him and he considered that although the weight of responsibility had left him little seemed to have changed. They were still at war. The world still dawned grey.
A shadow was cast over him and he turned his eyes down to find Eomer standing over him. His face was covered in dirt and blood and he was clearly injured but he was grinning widely as if overcome with happiness at their victory. Falling to his knees, Eomer dropped his weapon to the ground and suddenly Aragorn found himself engulfed in a tight hug. It was the last thing he had been expecting from the Rohan man. Eomer's arms were wrapped tightly around his neck but he didn't care at the aching it caused; it felt too wonderful to celebrate this moment to destroy it was complaints.
"It's over!" exclaimed the Rohan commander in a ragged voice filled with emotion. "You did it. It's finally over."
The words hit Aragorn and he gasped in shock when the Rohan warrior spoke them. It really was over. It had not occurred to him, not properly, until this moment when said aloud by another. He rested his chin against Eomer's broad shoulder, which was trembling he noticed, and let the tears slip from his eyes at last. What did it matter if he cried? Eomer was doing so.
"Can you believe it?" Eomer demanded of him ecstatically as he pulled away, still grinning like an excited child. He pressed his hands to either side of Aragorn's face and kissed each cheek in celebration. "You did it, Aragorn. He is gone. Rejoice."
A weak smile, trembling and uncertain came to Aragorn's lips and he realised that he must have looked a fright – far from the jubilant Eomer. He was happy, beyond words. But perhaps he would need some time to come to terms with it all before he could celebrate in the same way. Besides, exhaustion was tugging at his senses, pulling him away from coherence and threatening to drag him down entirely into its depths.
"You did well," smiled Eomer slightly more sedately this time.
Aragorn clasped his friend's arm and offered up the best smile he could manage. "We did well, Eomer. All of us. Every one."
The commander agreed with an exaggerated nod of his head and looked around. Suddenly, he seemed to remember his reason for seeking out the king in the first place. His eyes turned to Aragorn first though, raking over his body and trying to determine whether any damage had been done in battle. Obviously his inspection was insufficient though as he then asked, "Are you injured?"
"Nothing major." In truth, Aragorn considered himself incredibly fortunate. He should have been dead by rights. He very nearly had been. And yet, he breathed still and despite myriad aches and pains all over his body, he was grateful to have lived.
"Good. What little of the Enemy that remains are being rounded up as we speak. Many have retreated but I have not given the order to follow them. Let us worry about that at a later date, if you are in agreement."
"Yes." There would be time to cleanse Middle Earth fully later. The Men who still stood had done enough and could do no more now. The Orcs were scattered and leaderless now; they would be easy to hunt down later. Eomer's words, however, prompted Aragorn that things were not done yet. There was much yet to organise. Many were injured and would have to be carried back to the healing camp. The dead would have to be collected for they could not be left to rot amongst the Orc corpses; they were heroes of battle and must be honoured as such in death.
He climbed to his feet, allowing Eomer to lever him up, and took a moment to regain his equilibrium.
All about him had returned to chaos. Men and women roamed everywhere, searching out the unfortunate Enemy who still lived as well as looking for their own injured amongst the fallen. They looked exhausted but pleased with the victory.
"Eomer, help to get the wounded back to camp. None of the dead will be forsaken here to rest amongst the Shadow. Each must be accounted for and given proper honours. Many died honourably here."
"Yes, my Lord," bowed Eomer deeply. He looked to Aragorn for permission to move off to do as asked, which Aragorn granted with a nod.
He walked amongst the carnage for a while, searching for those he could help. Several times, he went back and forth from the camp where the healers were already working their way through the hurt. Not many had escaped without injury – including Aragorn himself. His ribs ached fiercely from the encounter with the Troll and his whole body ached with exhaustion and the remnants of some ancient power that had been thrust at him upon the Dark Lord's demise.
"Aragorn!" Jecha approached him, favouring one leg. Clearly he had been hurt but he was still on his feet. For a moment though Aragorn did not know who he spoke to; for the first time he was seeing the Easterling without his customary shroud covering his face. A bright smile lit up the handsome face, twinkling in the deep brown eyes that Aragorn was more familiar with. Fine lines around the eyes indicated that he was probably older than Aragorn had previously guessed but he remained noble and proud, probably just as good-looking now as he had been in his youth. Still, Aragorn found himself oddly surprised that the Easterling had dismissed what had become his constant state of dress. It was not what he expected.
"Jecha," the man greeted once he had pulled himself together and lowered his eyes so as not to appear to be staring at the unfamiliar sight.
"Congratulations on your victory, Sire."
"Uh, thank you." Jecha embraced him briefly and pulled back with another dazzling smile, showing white teeth. "Are you hurt?" Aragorn asked, gesturing to the Easterling's leg.
"Oh. It is but a scratch. You?"
"No." Aragorn realised that Jecha was probably wondering at his presence in the camp amongst the healers. "Just helping to clear the patients."
"Well, there is plenty to be getting on with. I'm sure the healers can put you to work."
"I meant…on the battlefield-" Aragorn started as Jecha went to lead him towards where the healers were gathered around their many patients.
"Nonsense, you are of far better use to us here."
It was not hard to see that Jecha merely wanted the king away from the battlefield, away from any danger that might still linger for. It would be a shame for him to have survived the battle only to be taken down by a stray Orc or Uruk that had happened to survive the slaughter. Aragorn wondered, as he was led amongst patients to a triage area, whether this was the beginning of his life as a king. Was he destined to forever remain in the shadows now, away from battle and protected within a bubble of greater warriors? Somehow it didn't seem right. And yet he couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved now to be away from the heavy atmosphere of the battlefield.
Despite his concerns though, Jecha was correct - there was plenty to do in the healing camp. He was put to work aiding the healers in their duties. His own training as a medic was sorely lacking but he picked things up quickly and was soon applying bandages fashioned from torn up blankets like a professional.
People seemed thrilled to have him amongst them. Everyone he met congratulated him on his great victory even though they had been injured, some seriously, in the battle. Never had he expected such wonderful commitment from his people. It was humbling considering he had only recently been named king.
At some point, Valon, head healer of the Rohirrim, noted Aragorn cradling his arm and breathing shallowly and insisted upon knowing what pained him. After a considerable argument that had raged loud but shortly, Aragorn consented to be checked over, insisting all the time that it was simply bruised ribs and nothing serious. A self-diagnosis that Valon confirmed after a quick examination. He was ordered not to do any heavy lifting and get some rest. Of course, Aragorn had absolutely no intention of obeying. Men were walking around carrying out their duties with worse wounds than his he could not be seen to be shunning his duties.
Pulling back on his shirt, Aragorn got up from the ground where he had been forced to endure his exam and went to go to the door when something caught his eye. A flash of gold. For an instant his heart stopped and he thought of Legolas – or Legolas' unfortunate father slain on the battlefield. But after a second sense returned to him and he realised why he recognised the person laid on the ground.
"Eowyn?!"
The woman was laid on the ground covered up to her chest with a blanket. Her eyes were closed, her face pale but she was still breathing steadily. He knelt down next to her and took her hand.
"Eowyn? Can you hear me?"
"Aragorn?" she mumbled, cracking one green eye open to look at who was disturbing her rest.
"What happened to you?"
"Orc," she replied simply and it seemed to be an effort.
"You were in battle? I thought Eomer instructed you to remain behind," Aragorn noted, recalling the argument that had ensued when Eomer had forbade her from riding out with the others.
"He did," she smiled weakly back at him. "I couldn't stay behind whilst others went out to fight." Looking pleadingly up at him, she asked, "You understand that, don't you? I couldn't stay behind, Aragorn. I couldn't."
"Don't worry about that now," he reassured, looking around himself already. To a healer passing by, he ordered, "Go fetch Eomer. Now!"
Eowyn's eyes had fallen closed again and she sighed softly to herself. Aragorn summoned another healer. Valon was nowhere to be seen and he didn't want to wait for her to get attention.
"Let the healer look at you now, Eowyn," Aragorn told her soothingly as the healer began to look her over. "Your brother is on his way."
She rolled her eyes at him and let out a hiss of pain as the healer probed her stomach for wounds. "He will be angry, Aragorn. I disobeyed him."
Aragorn shook his head softly and offered her a reassuring smile. "He will be relieved that you are all right, I assure you. You were very brave to go into battle as you did. He will appreciate that."
"Brave," she scoffed, her eyes looking skywards now. "How do you know I was? I was terrified the whole time."
"It takes great strength of character to willingly plunge into battle when you have been given the option of remaining behind. For that, if nothing else, you should be commended," he told her gently, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb and wondering at the scrapes there. Clearly, she had been deeply involved in the fighting. The thought of her locked in battle with a creature of the Shadow chilled him more than he would ever admit.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," she whispered softly, her eyes now locked on him and shining with appreciation.
At this, Aragorn blushed deeply. He could not get used to being addressed thusly and certainly not by those he had known for a long time.
"Aragorn," he corrected. "Please call me Aragorn – as always."
With a gentle nod, she smiled at him and it made him blush all the more. He had never noticed before what a pretty smile she had.
Just as he was about to open his mouth to mention it, Eomer's voice swept over him.
"What on earth did you think you were doing?!" he shouted, his voice a mix of anger and panic. "Are you all right? Is she all right?" he demanded of the healer attending her.
"I'm fine," answered Eowyn reassuringly, her gaze flicking downwards to where Aragorn's hand had left hers.
"She will be fine. She has sustained a few bruises and a nasty knock to the head. But given chance to rest, she will recover," answered the healer in more detail. "I do need space to treat her though, if you care to give me some room."
Realising that they had effectively been dismissed, Aragorn got up from the ground and took Eomer's shoulder to lead him away. "Come, let him work."
As he was led away, Eomer demanded to know, "Where is Valon? He should be treating her personally."
"This healer is perfectly capable. She will be fine, Eomer. You know this."
"What was she thinking charging off into battle like that and getting hurt?"
"She was thinking like her brother. And I doubt it was her intention to get injured. She just wanted to defend what she believed in. You have to commend that."
"No, I don't," Eomer stated decisively.
"Well, I do. You cannot blame her, Eomer. You must have known that she did not want to be left behind."
"Of course. But I thought her more sensible. She could have been killed."
"But she was not. She is well. Now, come, there is much to do."
Pulling himself together, Eomer nodded and looked to Aragorn. "Thank you for staying with her until I arrived."
"Of course."
"All right, let's try to clear some more of the field."
Eomer led his king back out onto the battlefield. Much had been done already. The Orc bodies had been moved only to ensure that they were not concealing any Humans beneath them. Men were carrying Men back up to the high ground. All of the survivors had now been aided up to the healers and were receiving treatment for their wounds. Already people were collecting whatever they could find to construct pyres for the dead. They would be given proper ceremony before the army moved out. The Orcs would be left to rot. If nothing else, they would be good food for the crows already circling overhead.
It was dawn the next day when the last of the pyres was ignited. All around the five great pyres burning, Men stood to pay their respects. Flags bearing the White Tree, although mostly torn and tattered, had been planted next to each fire in tribute. Heads were hung and tears were shed for those who had died in the fight for peace.
Aragorn stood in contemplative silence. Some of his friends were being reduced to ashes as he watched. Janor, he had learned, had perished in battle, as had the Ranger scout Tarsem and seven other of his fellow Rangers. The Gondorians had lost many also. Faramir's most trusted lieutenant had perished protecting his commander. So too had Bracell of Jecha's group. Telling his wife and daughter of his demise had not been pleasant and Aragorn had felt completely useless as the woman had cried onto his shoulder. The Rohirrim had also suffered many losses. All but a couple of their great warhorses had been killed in battle and they grieved for them as deeply as they did the Human losses.
Aragorn mourned all their losses greatly. He felt responsible for every single death. With his head bowed, he begged whatever deity might be listening to give him the strength to guide them on from this tragedy. It had been a wonderful coup for the fighters of freedom to win this battle but they had paid a heavy price indeed for their victory. But that was the price of battle, Aragorn knew.
He recalled, as he stood watching the flames lapping at the skies, that night in Bree when he had been overwhelmed by the scale of what he was attempting and he had fled in anger and terror only for Legolas to find him cowering outside in tears. His guardian and eased his fears that night, had told him that every soldier knew the price of war and went willingly into battle for him. Legolas had maintained that when the time came, he would know what was right. And he did. That was what troubled him now. He stood before these pyres watching friends turn to ashes and yet he knew that they had died for something and that he had done the right thing. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.
"Look! Look at that," someone from the gathered crowd gasped in amazement, prompting Aragorn to open his eyes to see what the commotion around him was all about.
"Would you look at that," another exclaimed and soon everyone was echoing the sentiment.
Aragorn followed the upturned gaze of Eomer who stood next to him supporting his still recovering sister.
Wonder replaced sadness as he looked up towards the heavens.
The thick, unnatural grey clouds of pollution that had blanketed the skies over Arda for as long as Aragorn had been alive - and a lot longer besides - had begun to disperse and parted directly above the congregation of Men honouring their dead. In place of the dense roiling black clouds of unnatural creation, was a patch of brilliant blue sky, clear and wonderful and unlike anything any of them had ever seen before. It was miraculous and taken as a sign that the evil of Sauron, the terror-reign of the Shadow, was at long last being replaced by the purity of the Light. All around, people stood staring upwards in awe, grinning and laughing as sunlight, pure and unfiltered lit the ground for the first time in almost a century.
Aragorn stared long and hard at the patch of brilliant blue, unwilling to blink lest it disappear completely from sight and never be seen again. He felt tears slide down to wet his cheeks but he didn't care. He could hardly believe that such a thing had occurred and his tears were a celebration of this most unexpected change in his world.
He didn't realise that he had fallen to his knees until he felt Eomer's hand come down to rest supportively on his shoulder.
This was what truly great relief felt like, he thought, as he fought the urge to break down and sob in great thanks for whatever was blessing them with this rare moment. He wished that Legolas was here with him to share this wonder. Almost crushing grief washed over him at the absence of his guardian and he laid his hand against his chest to ease the pain growing there behind his ribs. He could so easily picture the look of sheer joy that would have been on Legolas' face had he been alive to witness this moment.
Sunlight, bright and yellow, played over Aragorn's face and he revelled for a moment in its unique warmth. Never had he felt such warmth. He could have sat there all day and basked in it, so wondrous it felt upon his grey, chilled skin.
After a few minutes of bathing thusly, the sunlight was shaded and he felt a drop of rain splash down on his face.
The rain came down on the gathered Men but none of them wished to flee from the gentle downpour. This was not the hard, stinging rain of the past but a cleansing rain that promised to wash away the evil that had tainted the very lands with its filth and the sunlight yet lingered over the parched earth. No longer did the air feel heavy and oppressive but rather clean, freshened by the long-forgotten weather. People turned around and around, arms outstretched, faces directed to the heavens as if in praise of this change in the elements and encourage it to continue.
Aragorn felt himself soon get soaked but he didn't mind as it washed away the blood and sadness that had covered him for so long.
For a long time, the Men either celebrated openly the symbol of the end of their oppression or, like their king, fell into silent reverie brought on by sadness and regret over the loss of a loved one not there to witness the miracle. It was a stark contrast of moods and yet the atmosphere was not dampened one bit as the two clashed.
The celebrations and mourning could only last for so long though. Once the pyres had burned themselves out, people began to retreat back to the camp. They were exhausted after the long battle and wanted to rest now that the threat had passed them by before they were made to continue back on the road to Gondor, which even now Men were speaking about with excitement.
Aragorn remained until last, sat where he had fallen upon the start of the rains, left alone by those retreating around him. Now, he looked up to the skies to find that although it rained still, the sky was beginning to clear again at last. Night was coming in and already he could see the small dots of shimmering silver that Legolas had told him once were stars. He had never set eyes on them before and for a moment he sat entranced. Of this, Legolas most certainly would have rejoiced. Upon his deathbed, the Elf had lamented the veiled stars, he recalled. He had wanted to be under them looking up at their beauty. Aragorn could not grant this wish though. He had felt powerless and he felt regret now that there was nothing he could have done for this would have been a spectacular thing to see in one's last moments on Arda. It was all too late now though. Legolas was gone and would never enjoy seeing Middle Earth the way he remembered it from his youth.
"Aragorn, my friend, we should go now."
"In a moment, Eomer."
Respectfully, Eomer stepped backwards, giving his king the time he needed.
Mercifully though, it didn't take long for Aragorn to gain his feet after being prompted. Turning, the king smiled softly at his old friend.
"Arda rejoices our victory," Aragorn smiled at the Rohan man who nodded in agreement.
"And yet, my Lord, you still seem troubled."
"Yes. There is something-" Aragorn's hand moved almost unconsciously to his pocket. "There is something we have to discuss. Find Jecha, Faramir and Halbarad and bring them to me."
"Right now?"
"It is of great importance. We must leave this night."
"Leave, my Lord?"
"Go."
Not knowing what on earth this was all about considering that just an hour ago they were celebrating their great victory over the Shadow, Eomer nevertheless nodded and moved away to do as he had been asked.
Aragorn followed him back to the camp, more slowly as he considered his next step. The battle may have been won but the war would not truly be over until he had completed this one final great task. He didn't even know what exactly was prompting him forward with such urgency so suddenly. Sauron was dead and gone, a crater in the earth he had poisoned. And yet Aragorn somehow knew that this was not the end of it. He could not be certain that the Dark Lord would never rise again until every last part of that Evil was gone for good. And a large part of the Shadow still existed in the small band of gold still resting heavily in Aragorn's pocket.
OIOI
"You want to go into Mordor? Why?" Faramir asked in exasperation, not understanding what had prompted this decision from the king. "We won, remember? I know that there are Orcs and other such creatures yet to rid the world of but surely it can wait until we have regrouped. Why go to the trouble now?"
"Because it is not over yet. And until I complete this last task it won't be over completely."
"What task?" asked Eomer somewhat more calmly than his Gondorian counterpart. "What lies in Mordor for us?"
"Nothing." Aragorn bowed his head, his fingers sliding around the cold band of gold thoughtfully. "But I must go."
"Why?"
Suddenly Aragorn found himself torn. He wanted to share with his friends, his fellow commanders, the truth about this last part of their quest but in his mind echoed Legolas' words in Edoras. He had told his young ward never to reveal to anyone that he possessed the Ring of Power. And Aragorn had stuck to that promise, never once being tempted to tell another soul of his charge. But things had changed since Edoras. Legolas was gone and Aragorn was alone with this burden. He needed to tell them, needed to share the load.
"Because it won't ever be over whilst a part of the Dark Lord yet lives."
The four commanders looked to each other in confusion. It was Halbarad of the Rangers who spoke first. "Sauron still lives? What do you mean by this, my Lord?"
Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Aragorn pulled the Ring of Power out of his pocket and held it within a tightly clenched fist for a moment before finally showing the golden burden to the others. Although he knew that as a mystical object it was all but useless now he could still feel its power subtly thrumming down his fingers, tempting him.
Three of them had no clue what they were looking at. An unremarkable-looking ring was not a sufficient answer to their questions over going into the Black Lands.
So Faramir voiced to the group, "A piece of jewellery?"
Aragorn could have laughed. So much pressure had been placed on him over the years about this 'piece of jewellery'; to hear it described in such a flippant manner was almost comical.
But for Jecha, understanding clicked in instantly.
"That is not…what I believe it to be?" he asked in wonder, his eyes wide, shadowed by the shroud he had replaced around his face.
"Sauron's Ring. His power yet lives within this. Whilst it remains, he will never be truly gone."
"How long have you had this?" Jecha almost demanded of him, his eyes glued on the Ring held before him. "All throughout this campaign?"
"Much longer. My father gave it to me before his death when I was but a child."
"All this time it has been in your hands."
"Reluctantly so, yes."
"Do you have any idea how dangerous this thing is?" demanded Jecha, almost as though in anger of Aragorn keeping this secret from his fellow soldiers all this time.
"I have a vague notion," Aragorn muttered sarcastically.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand. What exactly is this thing?" Faramir asked, interrupting in order to gain answers from the only two people who seemed to know what was going on.
"The One Ring that Sauron long ago forged with the intent of holding all his dark magics within it and ruling over all the other Rings he had made, held by the three ring-bearers, whom he exterminated one by one. It is how he managed to return to power millennia ago. Isildur, Aragorn's ancestor, cut the Ring from Sauron's finger during the First War. It was thereafter thought to have been lost," explained Jecha, displaying knowledge on the subject that surprised even Aragorn. "But it seems it has been amongst us all this time. Not lost at all."
"Are you saying that Sauron lives within that Ring?" Halbarad asked cautiously, his eyes full of suspicion and fixated on the Ring resting in Aragorn's palm.
"In a manner. He bound himself to the Ring. So I suppose you could say that he is a part of it. If the Ring survives then so does he."
Eomer put in, "That is an extremely troubling thought."
"I should say."
Faramir asked, looking intently at the Ring, "All right; tell me how this involves marching into Mordor, which, by the way, remains crawling with the Enemy?"
"The Ring must be destroyed," Aragorn said poignantly.
For a moment, the Gondorian man remained silent in anticipation and then said, "My question still stands."
"It is of Mordor. That is where it began, that it where it must be unmade."
"Unmade?"
"Within the Mountain of Fire," suggested Jecha, once more calling upon his knowledge of the legendary One Ring.
"I learned somewhat of it from Erestor in Rivendell – what he deigned to tell me anyway. I intend to take it deep within the Mountain of Shadow, make sure no one can ever lay hands on it again." Aragorn surprised himself with how determined he sounded. It was certainly more than he felt in his heart.
"Bold."
"But necessary, I believe."
Eomer asked then, "Did you ever discuss this with Legolas? What was his advice?"
Shaking his head, Aragorn confessed, "I hid it from him for many long years. Only in Rohan did I reveal to him the truth. He was angry. Not that I had hidden it from him but that I had revealed to him that it was in my possession. He told me never to speak of it to another living soul, that it was too dangerous to disclose its presence to any other. I believed him to be right. But no longer can I keep it a secret. The Dark Lord is dead at last and this is the final battle. I must destroy it. I know this to be the right decision."
"The One Ring is rumoured to be incredibly powerful Aragorn. Have you considered it might be prudent, given the challenges in your rule that lie ahead of you, to keep it?"
Aragorn looked in surprise at Jecha's question. It had never occurred to him to actually keep the thing; it had caused him so much trouble over the years and brought him no significant gain. "No. Why would I? I want to be rid of it. It has been nothing but a burden since the moment I was first bequeathed it. You would know if you had carried it all these past years." He calmed the fire that had burned in his chest at the thought of keeping it and once his heart-rate had steadied somewhat he continued, "Sauron's essence yet runs through the Ring. I don't want any single part of him to remain. Not one thing. And I certainly don't want it tainting me any further."
Eomer agreed wholeheartedly, "A wise precaution, my Lord."
Jecha looked suitably told off and protested no more but still sat back as though offended by his Lord's words. There was something strange in his eyes that Aragorn had never seen before. He barely had time to muse upon what it was though before the Easterling blinked and the look disappeared.
"Walking into Mordor, even with the lord of that land gone, is a dangerous proposition. It should not be undertaken lightly, Aragorn," warned Faramir, who in his time as commander in Osgiliath just a few leagues away from the Black Lands had seen and heard plenty of Mordor.
"And I do not do it lightly, Faramir. Long have I thought upon this day. I know in my heart that it is the right thing."
For a long moment then, Aragorn became lost in his own thoughts, almost oblivious to the commanders around him speaking. He remembered the feeling of being so burdened when all around him was becoming darker. He remembered the threat of the Wraiths and Legolas telling him once that he should avoid encounters with such creatures as best as possible given his burden. Perhaps had he not possessed that dreaded Ring then his guardian might still be alive today. He might have fought the Wraith and won with no need for Legolas to ever become involved with the wretched creatures. How he would have loved for that to have been the case.
But then, he supposed that had Arathorn never possessed the Ring, he would never have felt the need to pass on guardianship of his son to Legolas and Aragorn and the Elf would never have met at all. He could not imagine his life without the guidance of the Elf and, for all that had happened, would never wish it either.
A blessing and a curse.
Softly, Aragorn added with great thought, "If I don't do this, it won't ever be over."
Faramir sat back with a heavy sigh. He could offer no further argument; he could see the great weight on his king and he felt sympathy for it. It was not something that he would wish for.
"It will be over," said Eomer with renewed determination. "We will go into Mordor and destroy the damned thing and it will all be over for good. Never again will we have to think on this Evil."
Aragorn's hand drifted to his pocket, again his mind distracted, as though the Ring sought to distract him from what he intended to do. "I do not think that is possible. It will always be here. With me. Calling-"
Eomer's hand came down on Aragorn's shoulder and the younger man snapped so suddenly from his dark thoughts that he physically startled.
"We may never forget the trouble this has caused, Your Majesty, but we can be rid of this terror now." Halbarad had a look of determination in his grey eyes to match that of every other man gathered in conference and Aragorn suddenly found himself relieved beyond belief that he was blessed with such friends. Without them, he was sure to have drowned in his responsibilities by now.
"First thing tomorrow, we will leave for the land of Mordor," stated Eomer firmly. "A small contingent will move faster over the mountains and attract less attention to those yet lingering in those lands."
"No. Now," Aragorn said quickly, finally looking up at those around him. "Now. We must leave as soon as possible."
"No. You are exhausted, I am exhausted, we all are," Eomer told him, looking to the others for their nods of agreement. "We have battled long and hard. We must all get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow we will leave."
A part of Aragorn wanted to protest. In his chest beat the almost desperate urge to be in Mordor and getting rid of the Ring that had brought him so much pain and grief. But he did see the sense in Eomer's proposition. He could not deny it; he was tired and his body craved rest even as his mind reeled with the possibility of soon being rid of the Ring of Power forged by Sauron.
So, he nodded. "Very well. First thing in the morning."
The others also nodded in agreement, each slightly relieved that Eomer had made the suggestion. The prospect of traipsing over the mountains and heading into the hot, dangerous lands of Mordor whilst they still recovered, body and mind, from the horror of their recent battle was not a pleasant one.
Whilst the others got up to return to their respective places around the camp, Eomer remained for a moment and asked of Aragorn, "Are you going to be all right?"
"Of course."
For a long moment, Eomer stared into stormy grey eyes, watching for any flicker of a lie. He clearly saw nothing though, as he broke contact and nodded again. Tapping Aragorn's arm, he said, "Get some rest."
"I will." In truth, he was exhausted and the thought of sleep this night was almost as much as a relief as the thought of ridding himself of the Ring in his pocket. "Thank you, my friend. Without you I…I would be lost."
Eomer grinned at him. "Quite right! You are most welcome. Now sleep. You look worse than I do."
"Clearly you have not looked at your reflection in the last couple of days. You look a fright, you know."
Again, Eomer laughed good-heartedly. "And what, then, does that tell you about your appearance?! Although, I doubt there is anyone here who looks a whole lot different from us."
"If Legolas were here, he would look unruffled," Aragorn said quietly, with a small smile upon his face.
Eomer was startled by this. Since Legolas' death Aragorn had barely mentioned him out loud. Thinking that the subject was just too painful for him to dwell upon, no one had brought it up around him. It was a surprise, and not an unpleasant one, to now hear the young man speak of his lost mentor.
"That he would. And he would be the envy of every man here."
"You speak well of him now?"
"Of course I do. I liked Legolas – despite all evidence to the contrary." Eomer smiled when Aragorn chuckled softly to himself. "And I am deeply sorry for his loss. I am sorry that he missed this moment. For your sake as much as any. I know he would be proud of you. I can picture his face."
"That is all I would wish. Ever have I sought to make him proud. Sometimes it seemed an impossible task."
Frowning, Eomer asked, "What do you mean?" When Aragorn didn't answer, merely bowed his head to the ground, the Rohan man continued, "He was proud of you every moment of every day."
"Sometimes he had a funny way of showing it." It was not said in anger, for Eomer heard the young king's voice crack in sorrow.
"To you perhaps. But to those around you, it was obvious that he was proud. It showed on his face every time you made a decision, whether he thought it right or wrong. Every little victory, he fairly glowed with pride."
Aragorn looked up, his eyes wet with tears. He was not ashamed to cry before Eomer. They had been through much together and there was little he could hide from the Rohan commander. "Really?"
"Don't ever think he wasn't. He cared for you as a father would a son."
"I miss him. I miss his guidance. Sometimes I feel I might fail without him to help me wade through this task."
"When my uncle passed away right before my eyes, I felt much the same way. I was left with a devastated kingdom with every man, woman and child looking to me to know what to do. But I managed. I learnt as I went along and soon it just came naturally."
"I hope it will be the same with me."
"Would you give yourself a break? You just led your people to victory! Rejoice! Do not despair. Legolas would not want that. In fact, he would chastise you right now, I think."
"Yes, you are right," smiled Aragorn weakly.
"He would have done anything for you, Aragorn. Don't ever forget that. Don't ever lessen his sacrifice. It was a great thing."
Aragorn nodded, wiping his tears away with his sleeve.
"There will be time to grieve when we reach home. Let us sleep this night. Then we will rid ourselves of Sauron's final curse and be done with that creature of Shadow."
Taking a deep breath, feeling better after speaking frankly with Eomer than he had in a long time, Aragorn said, "Thank you. Sleep well."
"You too." Eomer patted Aragorn's shoulder as he stood, casting one last encouraging look towards the king before turning to search out his sister and get some rest himself. How things had changed. He could well imagine Legolas' surprise had he been privy to the praise being heaped onto him by one who had been at best ambivalent towards him. Still, the boy needed the boost to his morale and he had wanted to speak of his guardian. Who was Eomer to deny his king? And, strangely, he found that he meant the words he had spoken. He missed Legolas too. Long had they argued and they had hardly gotten along when they first met. In fact, he recalled having to be physically prised off of the Elf at their first meeting when Legolas had goaded him into reacting. But things had changed much since then. He had come to respect Legolas' bravery and his honesty and loyalty to his ward. That respect went a long way and he had been saddened the day he had discovered Legolas' death.
"Where have you been?" Eowyn interrupted his thoughts. "What is wrong?"
"Nothing," he immediately snapped even as he fiercely wiped at the tears streaking his cheeks. "I was just thinking of…those lost."
"Oh." Eowyn was propped up against an upturned crate that looked to have once contained Orkish weaponry, probably brought from Minas Tirith by the Gondorians. She looked pale in the light of the fires but he could tell that she was no longer in any real danger. He felt relief replace the grief and he smiled as he took a seat beside her. "What?"
"What?" he shot back.
"You have that look in your eyes again."
"What look are you referring to, exactly?"
"That something has happened and you're debating whether to be truthful with me or not," she told him knowingly.
He sighed. "Yes."
"Then debate no long and tell me what it is."
"Tomorrow you will be starting back upon the road to Gondor. You will return to Minas Tirith and recover there. I will join you later," he told her the vague plan, hoping that she would leave it at that and he would not have to tell her exactly where he was going. He knew that she would not be pleased with his decision to leave her to return to the White City alone.
However, Eowyn was not one to just accept what she was told without pressing for details. Concern shone in her eyes as she asked, "Why will you not be joining me?"
"I will be taking a different road, Eowyn; one you cannot tread with me."
"Where will you be going?"
"There is one last task I must complete before I can return to Gondor."
"What task, Eomer? Why won't you just tell me?" she asked urgently, taking his hand and squeezing it tight.
"Something for Aragorn. Please do not ask me for details. They are not mine to disclose and for you to know the truth would only place you in danger."
"What danger? The war is won, isn't it?"
"Yes." He bent to the side and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Please do not worry."
"Is it dangerous, this task?"
He could not lie to her, he found, about this. "There is some danger. But all will be well."
"Is there any way I can convince you not to go, to return with me to the city?"
"I cannot, Eowyn. I have to help Aragorn. He needs me."
She sighed heavily. The thought of her brother wandering back into danger having survived the battle of their lives was not appealing but what could she say? Eomer loved Aragorn, there was no denying it. He had proven already that he would walk into the fire for him. She could not expect that to change now that the battle was won.
"All right. Please promise me that you'll be careful."
"I will be, you have my word."
Nodding, Eowyn laid her head against her brother's shoulder. "I don't suppose there's any chance you'd consent to me going with you?"
"No chance at all," he smiled even though his tone was final.
OIOI
The camp was quiet. Everyone but the few guards scattered around on duty, watchful in case of further Orc sightings, was deeply asleep, still exhausted by the battle just fought.
One, however, was creeping on almost silent feet around the slumbering bodies of his comrades. He did not fear waking any of them. Even if they did stir there would be nothing out of the ordinary about him being up and about. He doubted they would challenge him even if they did think his actions strange. Many still feared him and his companion. Before it had been somewhat of a nuisance to never have the trust of those he fought alongside; tonight if he were discovered awake whilst everyone else slept no one would dare approach him and that was a blessing that made all the previous discomfort worth it.
It was obvious where the one he sought slept. Around him were Halbarad and his Rangers, who seemed to have appointed themselves the king's unofficial guardians since coming to Minas Tirith and joining the cause. He stepped around them. None were still awake. As guards, they had much left to learn, he thought with a smile.
Aragorn laid on his back only half covered in a blanket despite the damp chill in the air. He was sound asleep and it was not surprising. He had seemed exhausted earlier during their discussion. Perhaps, he would not wake.
Looking around in the soft glow of the fire, he checked that no one had been disturbed by his presence. Bar the odd snore or grunt though, nothing stirred in the camp. So, looking back to his target, he crouched down, poised effortlessly next to the king.
So often had he seen Aragorn unconsciously touch at his left jacket pocket that he knew immediately and without question where to look. Confident that the young man was not going to be disturbed, he reached into the pocket, fingers scrabbling carefully about for the feel of cool metal.
But he could not find anything. The Ring was gone.
"What-!" Aragorn was disturbed right away by the exclamation of disbelief and his eyes snapped open. The threat prompted him to leap backwards where he laid so that he was almost on top of one unfortunate Ranger sleeping nearby.
The intruder into the king's space tried to scramble backwards in order to climb to his feet and escape from those waking up all around him but it was too late. He stumbled and fell and was immediately surrounded for there was no doubt at all that he was the one who had disturbed the king and caused him to cry out.
"Do not move, or I will kill you," growled the threatening voice of Halbarad.
A sword tip was pressed to his throat, close enough to make good on the threat, and he wisely kept still. There was no way he could run now.
"What is going on?" This time it was Faramir asking the question. He too had been disturbed and was currently helping Aragorn to his feet. "What happened?"
"He was attacking the king," said Halbarad, motioning with his sword to the throat of his prisoner.
"Who?"
"That, I was just about to find out. Watch him," Halbarad ordered his Rangers who had all drawn their weapons and had them trained upon the intruder. The leader of the Rangers himself bent down and pulled back the hood of the thick brown cloak concealing the intruder. Beneath the cloak was yet another layer. Scarlet robes and black cloth swathing the face.
"Jecha?" Aragorn asked immediately upon seeing the uniform of the Easterling.
Unsatisfied, Halbarad pulled away the mask to reveal the hidden face.
Not Jecha, it turned out. "Sonal," Aragorn corrected himself. Jecha's taciturn companion. "What…?"
"You damned traitor!" shouted Faramir, ripping his sword from its sheath in fury at the betrayal. There was no fear of waking anyone else; everyone seemed to already have been disturbed by the ruckus.
"Were you looking for this?" Aragorn then asked with enviable calm, pulling the Ring out from where it had been hidden hanging on a length of string beneath his shirt.
Dark eyes shone with anger and want as they glared at the Ring. "You must give me that," Sonal said, his voice so heavily accented that Aragorn had to concentrate on the words in order to understand them. He couldn't recall Sonal ever speaking directly to him before.
"I must do nothing for you."
"You do not understand, child. The Ring is mine."
"I don't think so. It belongs to no one."
"Then you will not miss it. Give it to me." Aragorn just glared at him and Sonal felt the tip of a Ranger's sword pressed close enough to his skin to draw blood. "You have no idea what the Ring is capable of. The power it can endow upon a person. And you plan to squander this great gift to our peoples. It is foolishness, child."
Anger flared in Aragorn's heart at this ignorance. "The Ring is Evil. It knows nothing else and will corrupt any man foolish enough to attempt to control it. You are the fool, Sonal, not I." He looked then to Halbarad and ordered, "Keep him restrained. And find Jecha. Bring him to me."
"Yes, sir."
It didn't take long for Jecha to be led through the gathered crowd. He walked as though he knew he was being brought before the king for some wrongdoing and the look of regret in his eyes made Aragorn's heart sink for there was little doubt that he knew of his companion's plan to steal the Ring.
Steeling himself, Aragorn straightened out and demanded of the second Easterling, "Explain this."
Jecha looked at the older man still held at sword-point on the ground. There was regret clearly shining in his eyes but something else as well. Disappointment. Aragorn got the terrible feeling that it was rather because of his companion's failure to complete the mission without getting caught rather than because of his actions this night.
Rather than answering Aragorn's question though, Jecha seemed to ask one of his own of Sonal in their own language, which no one else could understand. Aragorn did not like the thought that they could communicate anything without anyone else knowing one bit so he put a stop to it.
"Jecha. Answer me."
With a heavy sigh, the Easterling turned to Aragorn, eyes glinting somewhat dangerously in the light of the fires. "I really am sorry, Aragorn, but I am going to have to insist that you give me the Ring now."
Halbarad scoffed at this and pointed out, "You do realise that you're in no position to be insisting anything?"
"Oh, I don't know."
Jecha pulled his own curved sword from its sheath and boldly pointed it at Aragorn. With Sonal considered the main problem, no one had been guarding Jecha but the moment the threat was made against the king many swords were drawn and pointed at the other Easterling.
"Lower your weapon," ordered Halbarad in a low, dangerous voice. "Now."
"Please understand why I cannot do that."
All anger had drained from Aragorn by now. He just felt sad and disappointed at this most unexpected betrayal. Ever since he had first become allied with this man and his somewhat eclectic band of followers he had liked Jecha, had come to trust him and look to him for knowledge and guidance, even when Legolas had been there to offer the same. More than that though, he had considered Jecha to be a friend. Never had he anticipated this betrayal of trust.
"Why would you do this to me?" Aragorn asked of the Easterling in a soft voice that he found difficult to keep from trembling. "Why?"
Again with a sigh, Jecha looked down at Sonal, who still cowered on the ground at knifepoint. "Loyalty," was his simple answer.
Looking down somewhat distastefully at Sonal, with whom he shared no friendship whatsoever, Aragorn asked, "What about your loyalty to me? Is that worth nothing? Is my friendship worth nothing to you?"
"Blood runs deeper than friendship," Jecha told him immediately.
Confirming what he suspected, that Jecha and Sonal, apart from being from the same region of Middle Earth, were also related by blood, did nothing to ease Aragorn's anger and disappointment. He knew not whether they were father and son, nor did he care much anymore.
"Do not continue upon this course, Jecha," Faramir interrupted, acutely aware that Jecha's deadly sharp sword remained pointed at Aragorn. "Put down your weapon or we will be forced to take it from you."
At this point, although Jecha never even wavered, Sonal shouted something in his own language. Aragorn didn't have to understand the words to know what was being said. Jecha was being ordered not to back down, to get the One Ring from the king at all costs. It was a foolish thing now. Surely Jecha and Sonal were intelligent enough to know this to be true. And yet their convictions held them firm. They would not falter.
"I cannot, I'm afraid, Faramir. I need that Ring, Aragorn. You need to give it to me now."
"It's not going to happen," said the man of Gondor firmly.
Halbarad warned, "Last chance. Put the sword down. Now!"
"With that Ring, we could do wonderful things. You don't know! So much power and you are willing to just throw it all away!"
"More than willing," replied Aragorn without hesitation. "Eager, even. Because that thing is evil, Jecha! It has to be destroyed!"
"Have I not guided you well since we met? Have I not given you reason enough to trust me?"
"Maybe. But in this you are wrong."
With that, Aragorn gave a brief nod to Halbarad and the Rangers surrounding Jecha and they swiftly stepped forward to efficiently disarm him. Not once had Aragorn believed himself to be in any real danger from the Easterling. He knew that at any time to Rangers would jump in and restrain him. He had hoped to get some sense out of the man he had come to trust but apparently it was not to be and he could not stand to listen to his senseless ramblings, no matter how enlightened they may have sounded, anymore.
"I do not regret this," Jecha said as he was taken by the arms and Sonal was pulled roughly to his feet.
"I pray that one day you will. For your own sake."
Jecha offered the king a small smile but said nothing more. Sonal glared at everyone who dared look him in the eye but also said nothing more. He seemed even more furious than Jecha about the failure of his mission. Aragorn had never realised how intimidating the man could look. Perhaps because he had never once engaged him in conversation – or for that matter dared look him in the eyes; even now he flinched away.
"Are you all right?" Faramir asked of Aragorn as soon as the pair of traitors had been led away. "You're not hurt?"
"No. Not at all. He didn't get that close."
"Good."
With his heart still racing, Aragorn knew he wouldn't get much more rest that night. Adrenaline coursed through his body but he made himself sit down because he found that his legs were trembling.
"I can't believe it," he found himself speaking. "I cannot believe he would betray me."
"I always knew there was something off about him."
"You couldn't possibly have known. No one knew."
Faramir released a rush of breath and joined Aragorn on the ground. "So what now?"
"We go to Mordor, stick with the plan. There is nothing else we can do. I truly believe this, Faramir. It is the right thing."
"I agree, wholeheartedly."
"Then to Mordor shall we go in the morning and be done with all this."
To Be Continued…