The healer (Legolas love story)

Chapter 28: Lost warriors

A/N: Just a quick word. First I wanted to thank you all for reading this book. I seriously never thought that this book would have readers who would patiently wait for new chapters. I have seriously given up continuing this book, but a few comments made me continue again. I'm really sorry for the late updates and grammatical mistakes for I don't have much time to edit each chapter. 

Thank you again and enjoy reading :)

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It was some hours that they were riding along a barren mountain path. It was a narrow passage between high walls of rock on each side that didn't let the light of the sun warm the coldness of the road. Everywhere looked gray and lifeless. A few trees that had dared to grow on that wasteland, had creepy branches more than gloomy dark leaves. No sound could be heard except the howling of wind between the jagged rocks.

"What kind of army would linger in such a place?" said Gimli while looking around in disgust.

"One that is cursed." answered Legolas. "Long ago the Men of the Mountain swore an oath to the last king of Gondor, to come to his aid, to fight. But when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled, vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them, never to rest, until they had fulfilled their pledge. There is a prophecy about them." he said quietly and then began to sing the words of the old prophecy. "Who shall call them from the grey twilight? The forgotten people. The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the north shall he come. Need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the Paths of the Dead."

"Oh!" said Gimli and looked at Aragorn. The old words now had taken meaning. 

Nestarel looked at Aragorn's grim face. "Why had Lord Elrond come to see you?" she asked.

"To give me this." said Aragorn and drew his sword. Only then did the other three realize he was carrying another sword. The sword shone in the deem light proudly. Ancient Elevn words had been carved on its sharp blade.

"Narsil." murmured Nestarel astonished to see the old famous sword.

"Andúril, the flame of the west, made from shards of Narsil." said Aragorn and put the sword back into its sheath. He didn't take his look from the road. His face became colder. "He said that Arwen is dying," he said after a moment and his hold on the reins become so tight that his knuckels turned white. "That as the darkness continues she will fade away."

Nestarel became sad. "So she chose mortal life." she whispered.

"I told her to leave." said Aragorn and shook his head. Nestarel knew what turmoil was in his heart. 

"Aragorn!" said Nestarel softly trying to calm him down. "We will find this army and they will help us in the battle. Please, have hope."

"We may find this army, yes. but I doubt they will answer to me who only carries an old sword." said Aragorn bitterly and rode faster than them.

"Or maybe they will, Melon." said Nestarel quietly, while watching his back.

"He is angry," said Legolas beside her. "I can really understand her. But the news that Elrond brought, gave him a well-needed push to go forwards and accept his title. The only thing that force him to accept his title was a threat to Arwen's life. Love can make us be strong."

It was a few hours before dusk that they reached the end of the road and they unmounted. There at the end, There was a hole shaped like a hole that looked like a gate to utter naught. Around the door was covered with skulls of those who had dared and ignored the warning that the door was giving. All around the frame ancient rune was running on the stone.