Journey’s End
Chapter 38
The Black Gate
I hurriedly pulled my chainmail on over my shirt. It was the only armour I intended to wear today. We were to ride for the Black Gate in less than an hour, and my problem was, I didn’t have a horse. As I fastened my cloak, I spotted Galadriel’s dagger sitting beside my sword. I had almost forgotten about it. I picked it up carefully and slipped it into my boot, and then belted my sheathed sword to my side. The room I was using was just below the highest level of the city, and as I walked outside, I found the street bustling with soldiers and their families. I weaved my way through them, witnessing countless tearful goodbyes. The people of Minas Tirith did not expect us to return. As I made my way down to the lower levels of the city that were heavily damaged by the battle, I spotted Eómer speaking with the Rohirrim. I had been told last night that King Théoden had fallen in battle; Eómer was to take his place.
I wasn’t particularly eager to march on foot, so I began searching for a horse.
“Rana!”
I turned to see Legolas walking towards me, accompanied by Gimli and two very familiar horses. Legolas handed me Falas’s reins with a smile at my obviously shocked expression.
“How?” Was the only word I could speak as I looked in amazement at the animal I never thought I would see again.
“It appears they followed the Rohirrim into battle.” Legolas smiled.
“Intelligent beasts.” Gimli muttered as I stroked Falas’s neck. I grinned and swung myself into the familiar saddle.
“We should find Aragorn.” Legolas said as he and Gimli mounted, and rode alongside me. I nodded, saying nothing. I had not seen Aragorn since last night, when he had seemed ridiculously over-protective. I followed Legolas through the sea of men and horses, until we finally spotted Aragorn astride Brego, speaking to Gandalf, who rode Shadowfax. Pippin sat in the saddle in front of the wizard. Aragorn wore the tabard of Gondor and finely-crafted armour. He looked like… Well, like a King.
We rode towards him as Eómer appeared, with Merry sitting behind him. I smiled at the Hobbits. Pippin wore the armour of the tower guard, whereas Merry wore the armour of the Rohirrim. I felt rather plain, wearing my old leather tunic as I stood amongst the gold and silver colours of the two armies. I wordlessly moved to Aragorn’s side as what was left of the massive wooden gates of the city were opened. Aragorn walked ahead of the army, and I slipped behind him, following him out of the city. As I turned back, for a final glance at the white city, I was shocked to see the extent of the damage. Whole chunks of the walls were missing, and several fires still burned. I walked between Legolas and Eómer as we began travelling towards the Black Gate.
***
After marching for several hours, I found myself able to actually see the Black Gate. The massive, dark structure marked the entrance into Mordor, and already the air we breathed was becoming thick. I gripped Falas’s reins a little tighter as my fear began to grow, realising that the end was drawing near.
The gate towered above us as we came to a halt, then everything fell silent.
“Where are they?” Whispered Pippin, as if he was expecting Orcs to come leaping down from the surrounding mountains. Aragorn, turned back to us, and for a fleeting second, our eyes met, before he rode forward and Gandalf, Legolas, Eómer, the Hobbits and myself followed, accompanied by a man bearing the banner of Gondor.
“Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!” Aragorn shouted as we reached the gate. “Let justice be done upon him!”
The gate creaked open, leaving a gap just large enough for a horse to ride through, and sure enough, a rider came forth. His dark horse was clad in mail, and the rider was heavily armoured. The only skin I could see was his exposed mouth. The skin around his black lips was horrendously split and cracked, and his long yellowed teeth came to vicious points and were exposed in a mocking smile. This was The Mouth of Sauron, his lieutenant.
“My master Sauron the Great bids thee welcome.” The Mouth growled, his face pulling into an even wider, more grotesque smile. I grimaced in disgust as he continued to speak. “Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?”
“We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this. The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return.” Gandalf commanded.
“Aha! Old Greybeard! I have a token I was bidden to show thee.” The Mouth said in a mocking tone, before holding up a glistening object. It was Frodo’s Mithril shirt.
“Frodo!” Pippin cried as the Mouth threw the shirt to Gandalf. “Frodo!” He cried out again as I sat in horrified silence.
“Silence!” Gandalf commanded him.
“No!” Wailed Merry.
“Silence!” The wizard repeated.
“The Halfling was dear to thee I see. Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host. Who would’ve thought one so small could endure so much pain? And he did Gandalf, he did.” The Mouth growled.
“Liar…” I hissed, fighting back tears. The Mouth cocked his head at me, and everyone around me fell silent. “You lie.” Frodo and Sam couldn’t be dead… I knew in my heart that they were still alive.
“A liar? You call me a liar?” The Mouth grinned. “She who lies to her own heart?”
I sat in shocked silence, how could he know about my feelings for Aragorn? How was that possible? My hands shook with anger, and I sensed that Aragorn was looking at me, and I prayed that he did not know what the Mouth meant. I saw him urge his horse forward, and instantly the Mouth turned away from me, distracted by his movement.
“And who is this? Isildur’s heir? It takes more to make a King than a broken Elvish blade.” He mocked as Aragorn approached him. I one sweeping movement, Aragorn unsheathed Andúril and beheaded The Mouth of Sauron.
“I guess that concludes negotiations.” Muttered Gimli.
“Not a moment too soon…” I murmured as Aragorn turned back to us.
“I do not believe it. I will not.” He insisted, turning back to us. He moved to my side and I looked as The Black Gate began to open to its full width, revealing an army if Orcs, marching towards us.
“Pull back! Pull back!” Aragorn cried, and our small party turned and galloped back to the head of the army.
