*crawls out from reclusive cave* Hello friends! I cannot apologize enough for how long it's been since I last updated. Unfortunately personal circumstances prevented me from finishing these next two chapters (the second just needs to be spellchecked, etc. I want to thank you SO much for your patience and especially your positive feedback, it keeps me writing. Hopefully I'll be able to edit the second update and het it out soon but for now here's the next chapter!
The steady stomp of hooves and feet was the only sound to be heard as the Armies of the West continued their march towards Mordor. They had set out six days ago, leaving a small company behind in case their enemy decided to attack Gondor while they were absent. Two days past they had lost a few hundred soldiers when they came within sight of the marshes of Mordor. Aragorn had dismissed the faint of heart, bidding them to liberate Cair Andros if they could not will themselves to approach the Black Gate. He did not blame them for wanting to return to their home, it was well known among the troops that their mission was a desperate one.
All signs of Gondor had been lost long ago on the horizon, leaving the men with only the disheartening view of endless cracked plains both ahead of and behind them. The air was hot and heavy, laden with the smell of smoke and ash. Early after their departure the Nazgul appeared in the sky ahead of them, monitoring the company's progress. Their shrieks and the calls of their flying mounts were enough to make the men shake in their saddles. But none of them were harmed, for the Wraiths knew that elves rode with the company, and they feared their strength, and the magic that the White Wizard carried with him.
Even so, the soldiers were on their guard, and if not for the determination of their leaders they may have turned back from the dark lands. Aragorn, the captains, and the remaining members of the Fellowship rode at the front of the company, with standard bearers on both sides of them. There was little discussion between them but their solemn eyes were always alert, ready for any sign of an ambush by their enemies. Eredhel's hand never left the hilt of her sword, and though her posture was one of ease her mind had not stopped reeling since they had agreed upon their plan almost a week past. Her thoughts were bent on the vision she had endured while using the palantir, trying to determine exactly how she would prevent it from happening while also stopping the same fate from befalling another of her companions.
Her contemplation was interrupted when their company came to a sudden halt. Looking up, she saw that they had arrived at the marshes and across the bog ridden plain she could see the Black Gate. A wail echoed through the air and she saw four of the Nazgul withdrawing to the shadow lands, most likely to bring news to their master's troops of their enemies advancement. Eredhel felt an arm on her shoulder and shook herself, her eyes meeting those of Aragorn. "My apologies, what were you saying?" she asked, offering him a weak smile. The man grimly returned it, fiddling with the reins in his grasp.
"I was asking if there is a fail safe path through the bog, as I have heard that the grounds that guard Morannon are treachorous." The eyes of the captains and commanders fell upon the elleth, wondering if all the tales they had heard were true. Layers of smog and mist hung over the uneven ground and it reeked of burning and decay.
"It is not the terrain you need to worry about. Avoid the pools and the earth will be sturdy enough for the horses. These lands are cursed, and it is little wonder considering their proximity to Mordor. Close by here the Battle of the Last Alliance was fought and even now the spirits and flesh of the dead linger, preserved in the poisoned waters that have seeped across the plain. Tell the men to follow no light they may see, nor listen to any voice that they do not recognize as their companion's. Even now it is getting dark and it is barely past noon, a heavy cloud hangs over Mordor."
"So it's quite the cheery place," said Eomer, attempting the lighten the air.
"It's absolutely wretched," added Legolas, his eyes dark. The elves could feel the death that lingered around them, the fading grass bleached by the toxic waters that leeched the life from all they touched.
"Well then, we should let Sauron know that we're here before we start trampling all over his lovely garden," decided Aragorn, with half a smile on his face. Eomer chortled, glad that someone besides himself was willing to break the grim mood. Aragorn motioned and several men bearing trumpets came forward. Those who carried hunting horns also raised them to their lips and at their king's signal, blew several strong blasts, the deep notes shattering the morbid silence that had fallen over the company. It was an open challenge, yet they received no reply. No movement could be seen from the Black Gate and the Nazgul continued to swoop over them.
"He wants us closer," said Eredhel suddenly, her brow furrowed.
"What do you mean?" asked Imrahil.
"He wants us close enough that we cannot escape. He has had days to prepare for our coming, there are definitely troops hidden in the hills behind us, to fence us in once we approach the entrance."
"Aye," agreed Elladan, "Sauron believes we have saved him the trouble of sending his troops all the way back to Minas Tirith, he thinks we are confident that we are going to best his servants."
"Confidence is definitely something we're lacking," added Elrohir. Legolas smirked before turning to Aragorn.
"Perhaps we should split our forces, it will be more difficult for them to surround us. There's no way for us to gain any element of surprise with the Wraiths above us."
"Indeed," said Aragorn. "Eomer, Imrahil, tell your captains to take your men and arrange them how they see fit so that we cannot be overtaken from behind. The remaining soldiers will be our main force, we will have to make sure to spread out to make the job of boxing us in more difficult. Seeing as Sauron has not been kind enough to answer our call we will have to knock on the front door."
"Yes, you and I will take an envoy," concurred Gandalf. "Eomer, Imrahil, Gimli, the hobbits and the elves. So that Sauron may answer to all the races of Middle Earth. I do not expect that he will cooperate but it is the proper way to do such things. He still believes himself to be strong, and does not realize that we are only a distraction." They all nodded in agreement, and then Imrahil and Eomer went to speak with their captains, telling them of the plan. When they returned the others were ready to depart across the filth covered plain. Eredhel was sitting behind Legolas, having not had the heart to bring Berenoch to the gate. Though she had ridden him to battle many times, she knew that this one was different, and would not repay his years of tirelessness and loyalty with a gruesome ride that would most likely end in death. She knew he would remain close by, but out of harm's way and it lessened her burden knowing no orc would claim him.
Sighing, she turned to the blond elf in front of her, ignoring the fact that for a moment his hair was black and the pools around them were replaced with cracked earth, and the hills of Evendim rose to her right. Groaning, she wrapped an arm around his torso, noticing that every muscle she touched was tensed. She tightened her grip on him, knowing that his worry would do him no good in their current situation. Her movement relaxed him and he grimaced as they started to pick their way across the marshy wasteland.
"Don't die." The request was so abrupt that Eredhel started slightly, her hand twitching from its place on the hilt of her sword. His voice was calm, and collected, as if he had done nothing more than asked to go for a walk through the forest with him. But through their connection she could sense his true feelings. Panic, desperation, fear.
"Believe it or not, I don't actually try to get myself killed," she answered, her tone even. But her attempt at humour didn't pacify him and she heard him suck in a breath.
"Well try especially hard then." Eredhel exhaled as they fell silent. The air was heavy and humid, with fog and mist swirling around the horses hooves and the men's feet. Even now they could see the remnants of the great battle fought millenias ago. Rusted weapons were half covered in moss and shrubs, while the burned limbs of trees and other plants still remained. It was almost a relief when they reached the opposite side and Aragorn began ordering the men into their battle positions. Once he was satisfied with them he turned to his friends, his eyes grave and sombre, but set with a fierce determination.
"We will go now to the Gate," he said, motioning for a standard bearer from Gondor to join them. They pressed their heels into their horses flanks and rode towards the great black entrance, noticing that the sky grew even darker as they approached it. They halted before it and paused, their eyes on Aragorn.
The man hesitated, swallowing the lump that had grown in his throat. The gate loomed above him, topped with menacing pinacles and razor sharp spikes. Gathering his nerve, he made eye contact with Eredhel and found her smiling at him. The expression looked so sincerely genuine, more genuine than any he had seen on her face within the past months. When he was a young child he had often asked her if she would stay with him, when he grew scared of the tales of orcs and evil that roamed the world. She had always given him that same smile, and the same reply. 'I would stay with you even if you were to go to the world's end ertithen (little one)'.
He knew she was thinking of it just as he was, and that gave him courage, knowing that he was not alone. Aragorn cast one last glance at his friends around him, before raising his voice to be heard by those that manned the gate. "Let the Lord of these lands come forth! So that he may face justice for the evil and suffering he has inflicted across Middle Earth!" his voice was loud and clear, carrying with it the strength and authority of a king. But after several moments no answer came, and no sound could be heard from within Mordor. The elves shared a look of unease, unsure whether or not to expect some form of deception or trap.
Finally, after almost ten minutes had passed, movement could be heard. The gate began to creak open, it's ancient hinges emitting shrill shrieks of protest. A small embassy emerged, of a dozen black clad soldiers led by a masked man. As they got closer they could see he was quite tall and his armor was black and wicked. His horse however was what uneased them. It was dark like it's master, but it's skin was stretched thin across it's ribs and shoulders, so that they could see every bone that made up its powerful frame. Its head resembled a skull and fire burned from its eyes and nostrils.
Sauron's company stopped just short of Aragorn's, their black banners flapping in the breeze. The lieutenant stared at them coldly before a morbid laugh escaped his throat. He was one of the greatest servants of Sauron, and had learned much of sorcery and evil from him. Though he was no Ringwraith he was far crueller than any of the Dark Lord's men or orcs and his voice was mocking and cold. "Is there any here with the importance or authority to treat with me? Or even the mind to? Clearly not you," he said, turning to Aragorn. "It takes far more than a rabble of soldiers or a piece of flimsy steel to make a King, and your lineage is wrought with a frailty that does not become one who would sit upon a throne." Imrahil snarled, but Gandalf silenced him as Aragorn and the Mouth of Sauron stared at each other coldly. Though Aragorn made no move to draw his weapon the lieutenant's hand suddenly flew to his sword. "I am an ambassador, you may make no move against me!" he declared, and a hint of fear creeped into his voice.
"This is no place for such treaties," said Gandalf gravely. "Though no one has intended to assail you and no one will, though ambassadors usually possess less insolence and more decent sense."
"Ah, so you will speak for them Greybeard? My master has heard of your doings, often sticking your nose where it does not belong. Unwise is he who attempts to place webs around the Dark Lord's feet, and you shall regret your schemes when the sky burns and the Free People fall around you. But enough, I have things I was bidden to show you and the rest of your company, for my master believes it may change your intentions." From beneath his heavy cloak he drew Sam's silver sword, along with an elven cloak pinned with a mallorn brooch. He cackled wickedly at the looks of disbelief on their faces before displaying the last item. Frodo's shirt of mithril glimmered dimly despite the overcast sky and Pippin let out a cry of despair.
"Hush!" ordered Gandalf sternly before he turned back to the Mouth of Sauron. "Why do you bear these things?"
"Dwarves, Men, Shire rats, elves," he practically spat the word, "and the blade of the fallen West. A conspiracy is clearly at work here, against he who is the soul one entitled to rule Middle Earth. My master does not doubt that the one that carried these trifles consorts with you. I guess that you know him, and wish that he would come to no harm or at least that his task would not fail, though I do not know how you hoped an imp might spy on the Dark Lord and remain unseen."
"He is alive then?" asked Gandalf, and he seemed suddenly old and very bent, with an air of defeat weighing heavily on him.
"Ha! We guessed right. He still draws breath, but unless you bend to the Dark Lord's wishes he shall soon be begging for a swift end."
"What are the terms?" asked Gandalf broken heartedly.
"Your deluded forces are to withdraw, and take oaths to never again move against the Dark Lord. All the lands to the east of the Anduin shall belong to him, including Dol Goldur and Mirkwood," Eredhel felt Legolas's muscles constrict in front of her, and a surge of rage and panic rushed through their connection. "The rest that lies west of the Anduin shall be tributaries, and they will govern their own affairs, but bear no weapons. They shall help rebuild Isengard, as it was wrongly destroyed and there a commander of the Dark Lord shall dwell, to ensure that these terms are kept. In return you shall receive your little companion, who shall endure endless torture and misery if you should refuse."
Silence fell over the company, their faces now pained and grey. The thought that Frodo had already failed and their distraction had been for nought despaired them. But suddenly Eredhel spoke, her voice steady and unflinching before the cruel lieutenant. "You lie," she said venomously. Though the tokens were enough to make the snake's words seem true she could sense his deception, and she could not yet foresee the Ring within Sauron's grasp. Her words surprised the others, but before Gandalf could ask her for an explanation, the Mouth of Sauron spoke.
"Ahh, I have been told of you Varyor, and your meddling both in these lands and abroad. I have also been tasked with slitting your throat, should your companions not agree to our terms. Though I was instructed to do it only once the others are dead and serving for the sport of scavengers."
"Enough!" said Gandalf, having regained some of his conviction. But his eyes flicked to the elleth's, asking the silent question. She gave him a confident nod and saw a spark re enter his eyes. He turned back to the lieutenant, his face set in a grim frown. "We will accept none of these terms, for we do not trust the Lord of Deception to keep his word, now or ever. We will however, for our friends, take these!" He raised his staff and a bright light flashed from it, momentarily blinding the Mouth of Sauron. Gandalf swiftly grabbed the sword and garments before the envoy took off back towards their forces. But before they had even reached them drums had begun to beat from within Mordor and fire and smoke had filled the sky.
Dust clouded the air as orcs and men began to spill from the hills around them, having laid in wait while their lieutenant bantered with the captains. Now they came forth, surrounding the Armies of the West. Their numbers seemed innumberable and from within Mordor companies of hill trolls, wargs, and other foul beasts came forth.
Aragorn bit his lip and turned to his men, seeing the despair in their eyes. Above them, the sun had turned red, and the deafening stomp of feet had drowned out all other noise. "Armies of the West, my brothers and sisters! Here we stand, on the edge of the world we know, to fight an evil that will devour all we hold dear! Someday may come when the darkness devours all light, and our hope is swallowed by despair and suffering. But it is not this day! Today we stand to defend our homes, families and friends! We fight for a land free from fear, darkness and evil! For all that you love and cherish, I bid you to stand with me, and fight, for the coming dawn!" He raised his sword into the air, the blade flashing brilliantly. The soldiers roared and stamped their feet, mimicking his movement. Aragorn grinned and turned, charging forward to meet the sea of black that was stampeding towards them.