Chapter Twenty-Two

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is a rather short one, but my favorite scene is within this one :) So this one, like all other chapters, is gonna be chalked full of detail. :) yay! Enjoy the reading!!

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 ~Chapter Twenty-Two~

The Victory of Minas Tirith

On the other side of the battlefield on near the port along the large Anduin River, the fleet of black ships pulls up along the shore. An orc commander with the human skull embedded on his helmet, 'Skully', hurried towards the ships shoving his men out of the way to the front of the line. The port was fairly close to the White City, only about three miles away across the body field of Pelennor as the battle continues to rage on. Large shadows slide across the docks as the sailing ships approach. The beady eyes of the orcs watch as a sinister black sailed ship glides into the docks as nine other ships follow behind. Through the strangeness filled the air as there seemed to be no life upon those ship decks. They were empty, however that did not stir any concern in the orc commander.

A sneer spread across Skully's dark lips as his eyes watched the ships raging with anger, "Late, as usual! Get off your ships, you sea rats!" Laughter erupted within the mass of the gathered hundreds of orcs. "There's knife work here needs doing."

Aragorn leaps from the leading ship and charging across the docks, roaring at the top of his lungs with his greatsword clasped tightly in his grasp. Legolas, Medlinya, and Gimli follow close behind the Ranger with their weapons drawn and eyes stared at the orcs with an air of immense confidence. Skully and the orc army smirk in amusement at the sight of the four charging after many numbers of orc.

Gimli, holding his axe with his strong hands, spoke. "There are plenty for both of us! May the best dwarf win!"

Instantaneously, the Army of the Dead leap straight out of the sides of the ships. The throng of green phantoms charge across the surface of the water from other ships with frightening speed, overtaking Aragorn.

The orc shrink back and scream at the sight of five thousand spectral warriors lead by a terrifying dead King just as the phantom warriors swarm into the flank of the orc army. With a raging blood-lust, the undead climb over the top of each other to try and reach the enemy, creating a king of rolling mountain of ghouls that sweep all before them away.

The orcs have no defense as their weapons cannot make contact with the ghosts.

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On the Pelennor Field, Merry emerges from being tucked in close to the fallen Oliphaunt, coughing the dirt out from his lungs that had been kicked up during the battle. Struggling to breath fresh air, his brown eyes caught the sight of the Witch-king standing over Eowyn, pulling her to her feet as she pants in fear.

The Witch-King grabs Eowyn by the throat with his black metal gauntlet to his black eyeless sockets,"You fool! No man can kill me!" His clasp around her fragile throat gradually squeezed tighter and tighter, " Die..." The Witch-king's raspy voice susurrated almost like a death's whisper, filling her ears with the last sounds before darkness took fold.

Suddenly the small hobbit comes up from behind and stabs the Witch-king in the back of the leg with the dagger given to him by Galadriel so long ago. His blade crumbles into nothing and he falls to the ground, holding his right arm in pain. The Witch-king let out a ear-splitting shriek, and falls to its knees. Eowyn regained to her feet unsteadily after loss of oxygen and held her helmet high before tossing it to the ground, shaking her long golden hair loose. Eowyn stands before the now vulnerable Witch-King, revealing her true form: a shield maiden of Rohan.

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