𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐟

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

"This is ... terrifying," you mumbled, biting your lip as you held onto Legolas's hand as tightly as you could.

"There aren't even any ghosts yet, man up," Legolas teased, though he flushed when he saw you wince. "Sorry. That was insensitive."

You smirked back at him. "I'd rather woman up, thanks."

The joke made him laugh, and definitely loosened some of the fear that had been crawling up and tightening your throat. He'd definitely come a long way from the antisocial, almost emotionless ellon who you'd met in Rivendell.

Rivendell ... that seemed so long ago. Your heart grew heavy with worry, and you almost felt sick. All the calm peaceful Elves there, Arwen ... more and more reminders of all that hung in the balance if you didn't succeed.

But you were almost more determined now, as you looked around you, at the-

"Oh, Valar."

The queasy feeling returned as you stared at the skull you'd been about to trip over. You couldn't tell if it belonged to an Elf, human, Dwarf, or something else, but its empty eye sockets stared at you as though it could still see.

You finally pulled your eyes from the skull, trying your best not to think of the red stains on it, expecting Legolas to be gently leading you forwards, but he, too, was fixated upon the skull, his eyes flickering over identical ones surrounding it.

"What do you see?" you asked him.

"Men, horses ..." his voice was little more than an unsteady murmur, and he looked uneasy. "The dead have been summoned, and they follow us."

"Joy," Gimli muttered. "That's just fucking great."

"We must keep going," Aragorn reminded the three of you, holding his torch higher. "Remember - all of our friends and allies are counting on us and this opportunity."

As you dragged your feet further and further into the shadowy cave, something pulled at your arms, your ankles, your waist, making it harder to move forward. The resistance was fairly weak, but it was annoying, and just slightly affective.

"Why are you pulling me back, Legolas?" you asked, turning your head.

"... Y/N ... I'm not even touching you," he replied.

You looked down at your body, almost jumping out of your skin and stifling a scream when you saw what was causing the resistance.

Green, transparent hands had latched onto you.

Ghostly hands.

"Like I said, the ghosts have been summoned," Aragorn repeated calmly, as you flapped your arms like a chicken, trying to make the hands let go. "Be calm, and ignore them."

You stopped moving your arms, attempting to walk forward.

Key word: 'attempting'.

Walking through ghosts, whilst they could go through you if they chose, was like wading through mud. It got harder with each step you took, until the small stone corridor opened up into a massive, honest-to-goodness cave.

"Isn't this place delightful?" you frowned, completely unable to move with all the hands grabbing on to you. "I feel so at home already."

"Who dares to summon us?"

You looked around for the voice, but you couldn't see a source. All of a sudden, the ghost hands swarming around your ankles disappeared, like fog being rolled away by the wind.

"Aragorn Elessar, who would have your allegiance."

Your brother looked like a king as he said it. He had no need of crown nor robes - his posture, aura and stance said enough.

This man is royalty, everything about him seemed to say. He is great and wise.

The Ghost King appeared, and something about him made you want to bend over and hurl.

He was a glowing green skeleton, but with far more substance than the tiny, pitiful ghosts who had slowed your pace on the way here. A rotting crown sat atop his head, and bloodstained armour hung loosely under a shredded cape.

These men are cowards, you remembered. Cowards who broke their oaths to the King of Gondor, and who ran when they had sworn to fight.

The disgust that curled your lip at the tale made you able to face him with more confidence, staring into his white, dead eyes as more and more ghosts appeared.

"I do not bow to men, especially not of the living." The Ghost King practically scoffed those words, as though none of you were worthy, had not suffered ten times more than his pitiful ass ever had.

You clenched your fists.

"You will fulfil your oath!" Aragorn commanded.

The Ghost King just laughed, more soldiers appearing, a spectral kingdom building itself around you as the dead chanted eerily.

"The Path of the Dead is closed, made by those who suffered Death. You must die!"

Legolas shot an arrow towards their leader, who just laughed as it went straight through him. You speed-walked backwards as fast as humanly (Elven-ly?) possible, huddling together with Legolas and Gimli.

But Aragorn did not waver.

In fact, he walked forwards, even as the phantom army readied their bows and swords with all intention of murder.

He was so brave. You really admired him for that.

"Fulfil your oath!" The power of Aragorn's words was like a shockwave, startling the ghosts enough to drop their weapons. Even the King wavered.

"None but the King of Gondor may command me," he finally responded, with a smirk. As though he thought that he had won.

The Ghost King swept his sword in a wide arc, speeding towards Aragorn's neck. With inhuman reflexes, the Dunedain blocked his blow, raising an eyebrow.

"T-That blade ..." the spirit staggered backwards. "That blade was broken."

"It was reforged in the fires of the Elves!" Aragorn roared. "Fight alongside me, and you shall regain your honour - what say you?"

"He's wasting his time," Gimli sighed. "This army feels no need for honour."

"I am Isildur's heir! I am of Dunedain, of Elves, of Men - fight for us!"

The Ghost King laughed. A chilling cackle, as his people began to disappear, vanishing just as easily as they'd appeared.

"Traitors!" you yelled. "Stand your ground!"

A rumbling noise made you look up and shriek as hundreds of skulls fell from the ceiling, hurtling towards you in a sickening avalanche of death.

"Run!" Aragorn screamed, sprinting for a small crack in the rock himself.

You almost tripped, but Legolas pulled you up smoothly as you ran, somehow flashing you a sweet smile even when you could've been about to die.

Wow.

As the four of you burst out of the side of the mountain, gasping inelegantly, the smell of smoke curled in the air, drifting towards you.

Towns in the mountainsides surrounding you were blazing in fire, crawling with pirates who cackled madly, preparing to support Orcs in their battle-ready ships

You fell to your knees. You were too late. Gondor and Rohan would never get the assistance they needed to battle Sauron's amassing forces.

Something, some feeling, made you turn around, just in time to see the Ghost King melt out of the stone wall.

He bowed to Aragorn.

"We fight for you."

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