After a minute, Aragorn, met the ghostly king's gaze with unwavering resolve. "I hold your oath fulfilled," he declared firmly, his words carrying the weight of authority. "Go, be at peace."
As Aragorn's words hung in the air, a sense of finality settled over the battlefield. The spectral army began to fade, their ethereal forms melting away like morning mist.
Gandalf, then turned to Aragorn and bowed respectfully to the new king, a silent acknowledgment of the momentous events unfolding before us.
As the last traces of the dead vanished into the wind, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief mingled with seriousness. The battle may have been won, but the scars it left behind would linger. Yet, amidst the quiet, there was also a glimmer of hope for the future, with Aragorn now king, I knew that the world of men would be in great hands.
・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Later, as we all were standing in the solemn throne room of Minas Tirith, a council gathered to discuss their grim situation. Gandalf's words weigh heavily on us as he declares, "Frodo has passed beyond my sight."
"The darkness is deepening," he adds, emphasizing the growing threat. Aragorn remains resolute. "If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it," he insists, searching for any glimmer of hope.
"It's only a matter of time," Gandalf replies, his tone grave, indicating the looming danger. "He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping," Gandalf warns, his words echoing through the chamber.
Meanwhile, Gimli, ever blunt, occupies the steward's throne, puffing on a pipe. "Let him stay there. Let him rot! Why should we care?" he grumbles, displaying his frustration. I step forward, my voice booming at Gimli, "Because ten thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom, stupid".
"I've sent him to his death," Gandalf says from next to me, burdened by the weight of his decision.
"No. There's still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth," Aragorn asserts, offering a glimmer of optimism.
"We can give him that," Aragorn declares. Gimli questions how, skeptical of our chances. Aragorn outlines our plan. "Draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate," he explains, laying out our strategy.
Khellan then interjects, expressing doubt. "We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms," he remarks, highlighting the challenges we face. But Aragorn remains undeterred. "Not for ourselves, but we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us," he proposes, determined to create a diversion.
"Keep him blind to all else that moves," Aragorn concludes, emphasizing the importance of our role in Frodo's quest. Legolas recognizes the necessity of our sacrifice. "A diversion," he agrees, acknowledging the perilous task ahead.
"Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?" Gimli quips.
Gandalf warns of Sauron's suspicions. "Sauron will suspect a trap. He will not take the bait," he cautions, mindful of our adversary's cunning. But Aragorn remains confident. "Oh, I think he will," he asserts, his determination unwavering as we prepare for the perilous journey ahead.
・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
As we journeyed towards the Black Gate, the tension in the air was palpable. I found myself riding alongside Legolas, the rhythmic sound of our horses' hooves echoed against the rugged terrain, each step bringing us closer to our daunting destination.
Ahead of us, Aine rode alongside Khellan, their bond evident even amidst the solemn atmosphere. Khellan's steady presence seemed to provide Aine with a sense of comfort, and I felt happiness as I watched.
Meanwhile, Gimli, rode upon his own sturdy steed, his determination mirrored in the resolute expression upon his face. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, Gimli remained undaunted, his unwavering resolve serving as a beacon of strength for us all.
・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
As we reached the Black Gate, my heart pounded with anticipation, mingled with a tinge of dread. Pippin's query hung in the air, a question we all silently echoed: "Where are they?"
Aragorn wasted no time in pressing forward, urging his horse toward the gate, with all of us close behind.
Aragorn's commanding voice cut through the stillness, demanding justice from the Lord of the Black Land. The gate begrudgingly creaked open, revealing a lone figure mounted on a dark horse, their sinister mask sending shivers down my spine. The Mouth of Sauron spoke, his words dripping with malice as he claimed authority to negotiate on behalf of his master.
Gandalf's refusal to parley with Sauron only seemed to goad the Mouth of Sauron further.
"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 of Sauron taunted with a wicked laugh.
Aragorn's swift action, his blade silencing the Mouth of Sauron in one decisive stroke, reignited a glimmer of hope within me.
Gimli's wry remark brought a fleeting moment of levity, but Aragorn's unwavering determination reminded us that our task was far from over.
We were called to retreat and so we did. Though, we were then surrounded by the orcs, leaving us enclosed in a circle with no where to go.
Gimli's gruff voice then broke the silence, his words tinged with a hint of resignation. "Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf and Faeries," he grumbled, his tone laced with jest.
Legolas, chimed in with his characteristic optimism. "What about side by side with friends?" he quipped, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"Or even better, side by side with a beautiful princess and her trusty side kick elf?" I added with a playful smirk, earning a chuckle from Gimli and a mock scowl from Legolas.
"Aye, I suppose I could tolerate that."
・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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