Osgiliath was little more than a shadow of its former glory, reduced to a ruin of skeletal houses and fallen stone pillars that littered the once-bustling streets. Every now and then, we would pass a dismal statue, its lifeless eyes gazing sadly over the rubble of a broken kingdom. It was eerily silent; Only the occasional ghostly echo of a distant bird interrupted the still, dusty air. I felt loathe to continue forward, for each step seemed as loud as if we were shouting.
We had come to the marketplace, a large open area that had once been filled with seller's stands and carts many years ago. Now, it was strewn with corpses. Some were old, old enough to have decayed to skeletal figures while others were still soaked in dried blood. Aerel knelt by one, a Gondorian with armor not yet rusted by the rain.
"This happened recently," She began, studying the corpse for wounds. "Perhaps a day ago?"
Eradan joined her, his brow furrowing with worry. "Not even. See the blood there? Still fresh."
"That means," Aerel gasped, looking about fearfully.
"We are not alone."
My own words sent a chill down my own spine, and I instantly felt as if I was being watched. Each crevice and corner seemed now to hide an unnamed evil, and every ruined spire was now the haunt of unwelcome eyes.
We continued with more caution now, each step still paining me. My injury hadn't been as deep as first thought, but the poison was still working its dark magic, albeit slower.
Soon, we came to a narrowing of the road. What had once been a main thoroughfare had turned into a side street, petering off into a series of alleys that led further into the city. I stared down it, studying the way forward as my remaining companions took a break to drink from what little their waterskins still held.
Suddenly, the sound of a door slamming jolted us all from the moment of calm.
"Morgoth!" Eradan cursed, drawing his sword and rushing to my side. "What was that??"
"Some still remain in the city, it would appear," I replied, wincing slightly as I motioned for Aerel to join us. "Stay together, they're most likely looters or reserve contingents of orcs."
Silence once more surrounded us as we continued down the narrow road, careful to stay away from doorways and windows. Anything, or anyone, could be lurking within.
"Perhaps we should wait until the cover of darkness to aid our passage," Aerel whispered as she slowed to a halt. "This city is full of unfriendly eyes."
"There's smoke on the air," Eradan said, an unnerved expression on his young features. "We might not have time to lose."
I nodded in agreement. "Minas Tirith is likely under attack as we speak. We must make haste."
As if in answer a loud boom sounded from the west. It was followed by a rumble, likely from collapsing debris. Immediately after was an unearthly screech, amplified off the walls of the ruined city. It pierced my mind, filling me with images of death and suffering.
Without heed for any present danger, I leapt up the nearby set of stairs, soon reaching the top. From there, I could see it.
Minas Tirith... Of all places, I never feared that it would fall to the darkness. It was a city of light, and of beauty. A city that had stood in defiance of the Shadow for what seemed to be a life-age. Now, it was covered by stormclouds, its lower levels engulfed in flame. A sea of swarming bodies stood just outside the gate, countless as grains of grass in the western fields.
The White City... The thought of it falling filled me with a primal, deep-seated fear. If it could succumb, what could possibly stand in Sauron's way?
Perhaps noting a change in my demeanor or sensing my unease, Aerel rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "There is still hope, Turin. We must hold onto it while we still draw breath, lest we fall into despair."
Feeling that despair in my heart, I turned to her mournfully. "What hope have we left? If the city falls and the White Tree burns, surely there is nothing left that can stay the tide of the Enemy."
Eradan, watching our exchange in silence, furrowed his brows at my grim words.
"Look at us," I continued, an urgency filling my voice. "We set out as six, and now only half of our number remains. And how many of us left only survived by some unusual stroke of luck or blind chance? Soon we shall be as chaff in the wind, divided and crushed by the boots of our enemy. And none will answer our call, frantic as it may be. None will ride to our aid as we languish in fear and doubt. No help will come from the fiefs, for they will be as fuel for Sauron's fire. What can we possibly do to stop him??" My voice had raised almost to a shout, and I began to panic as I imagined what would happen to us when the Enemy had prevailed.
"Do you not see? It burns as we speak! Soon it will be as Osgiliath, cold and bereft of life!"
Aerel grabbed my arm, spinning me to face her. "Take control of yourself, captain! The despair of the Nazgul fills you! Did you not hear its cry?"
As her words churned through my mind, it was as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes. She was right. In all my years of serving Gondor, through war and famine, terrible loss and heart-rending grief, I had never fallen to such a level of hopelessness. Not only would it harm me and cause me to be filled with fear and doubt, it would also harm the wellbeing of those in my charge.
And then, as if revealed from beneath a veil of shadow, a voice seeped into my thoughts. Soft and deadly, like the pointed blade of a stiletto against my mind, it spoke words of fear, terrible things that one would never dare utter in the light of day.
As if sensing it as well, Aerel drew closer, her palm coming to rest against my temple. She whispered hurried words in a language unknown to me, and immediately I heard the dark voice reply with a hissing laugh. Once more she murmured the words, and at this the laugh came to an abrupt halt, grinding into silence like the gears of a broken machine. A third time she spoke, and suddenly an ear-piercing scream rang out through the empty buildings and through the depths of my mind. The voice fled from me then, and nevermore would I hear its taunting.
"I am sorry," I said, shaking my head as I regained my composure. "Thank you for whatever you did to banish them from my mind, Aerel."
Aerel nodded slightly, her hand lingering a moment longer before she withdrew. "I merely prayed to Eru."
Eradan's reassuring smile chased away any lingering doubts in my heart. "No need to apologize. Few can resist the call of the Ringwraiths."
"They draw near even as we speak," Aerel said, casting her gaze towards the sky above. "We should hasten on."
We continued on, the sounds of battle rising and growing more intense with each passing moment, the ring of sharpened steel mixed with the screams of dying men. The ruined city loomed large all around us, each toppled stone and each collapsed home the potential haunt of some Mordor demon. The sun climbed to its zenith and dipped down below the skeletal ruins again before we made it to the outskirts. Each step seemed haunted by a nameless fear, a shadow in the corner of my eye that disappeared whenever I tried to look in its direction. Even now, as the light began to fade into a hazy horizon, something seemed to be trailing us, a shapeless, formless phantom that shrunk from the light and stuck close to the walls of the buildings.
I was unsure if I was the only one who noticed it, but I was loathe to mention it to the others for fear of it leaping from the darkness to strike.
Ahead of us was a bridge which was, surprisingly, mostly intact. It spanned the river, connecting the main city from the residential areas, which slowly grew further and further apart until they opened up completely to the Pelennor Fields beyond. We would have to traverse these houses, which were now likely infested with orcs and evil men who had commandeered these buildings for a forward operating base.
"They're likely to be watching the bridge," Eradan said, cautiously watching the far side as he took a step forward.
"It's the only way to cross, unfortunately," I replied. "The only intact bridge is on the other side of the city, and I do not know if it still stands."
"Perhaps we should wait until it's completely dark. At least then the Men among them will have difficulty seeing us," said Eradan.
I pursed my lips, hesitant to agree. We had little enough time as it was, but it was better to be late than to never arrive at all. I finally nodded, my jaw set in determination. "Once the sun sets, we will make our crossing."
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Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the last rays of the sun finally shrunk away, retreating to the far corners of the world to give light to those untouched by the shadow. We rose from our vantage point on the ground floor of an abandoned shop, careful to check for any sign of hostile activity.
When we all agreed it was clear, I led the way, dashing across the eerily empty courtyard to the pillar that stood just in front of the bridge. From there, I gazed across at the far side of the river, just barely able to make out the distant flicker of torches moving back and forth. While they were near, they were far enough away that we should by all means be able to sneak past them if we were careful enough. Just as I turned to signal for the others to continue, I heard something faint coming from an alleyway to our right...
Was it... Crying?
Eradan and Aerel looked just as confused as I felt, and as we continued to listen there could be no doubt. It was crying, certainly, yet something about it felt off. It was far to wispy and broken to be a man, yet too deep and grating to be a woman or child. It sounded utterly pitiful, like someone completely broken.
A moment longer, and a fearful chill crept down my spine. This weeping was twisted; Like a creature attempting to mimic the wailing of a man but falling just short.
"Who goes there?!" I whispered harshly, making sure to be quiet enough still that my voice would not travel.
To my surprise, the weeper answered.
"I am death undone... I am you, unmade," The voice hissed from the darkness. My heart caught in my chest as I recognized the voice as the one I had heard in my mind only hours before.
"I am he that weeps through the eternal night," it continued, drawing closer with each word. A halting, hitching breath came along with it, as if the speaker couldn't quite take in a full breath of air but desperately wanted to.
"I am... Malbeth, Wailer of the Nine," It finished, and as it did a shadow seemed to materialize from the pavestones. It soon took a shape that was vaguely human, and black, tattered robes wrapped around it. This being exuded hatred, loathing, and fear, every one of which I could feel in my deepest being.
To my surprise, Aerel took a step forward, and if she felt fear she did not show it. "You do not belong here, wraith," she said, a slight quiver in her voice. "The light of Illuvatar banishes you!"
To this, the wraith laughed, that same mocking laugh I heard in my head. "The Light One has forsaken you, look to your precious city." He lifted a withered hand toward Minas Tirith. "Don't you feel it? My master has sway here now."
He let out a breath, and with it Aerel shrunk back in fear. A second later, I felt my heart constrict, pain shooting through my limbs as I crumpled to my knees. An uncontrollable fright also took hold, and even had I wanted to make a move to attack this foul creature I was frozen in place.
Eradan, however, was afflicted the most of the three of us. As he fell to his knees, he let out a piercing scream, covering his ears as blood began to seep from them.
Despite this, he started to crawl forward, sword in hand. Malbeth hissed, drawing his own cruel blade and advancing on my brother. His first strike was aimed true, but somehow Eradan was able to deflect it, swinging back with a counter of his own. The wraith seemed taken aback, but nonetheless was able to step out of the way.
Now that he was distracted, his hold on me began to weaken, and I was able to rise to my feet and draw my sword. Simultaneously, Aerel did the same, and we advanced to cover Eradan.
Malbeth seethed, his hunched form taking a defensive stance. "You are brave to linger here so long... Brave and foolish."
Without waiting for a reply, the lashed out, carving a wide swathe with his blade that would have hit all three of us had we not moved out of the way. Malbeth then took the offensive, using our momentary disadvantage to inflict a series of swift, calculated strikes that pushed us all back further. Already it was clear that he was the better swordsman, and it was only a matter of time before one of us slipped up.
We spread out, attempting to flank him. The wraith would not be outwitted however, and each time one of us got around him he would push us all back with a flurry of attacks. I looked to Eradan, signaling to him that I would try to get the wraith's attention so he could flank. I let out a shout and went on the offensive, using my broad frame to swing with all of my might at the smaller wraith. This technique was not in vain, and indeed he seemed to be buckling under the strength of my blows.
At exactly the same moment as I swung once more, Eradan decided to strike. His thrust was well placed, and would have landed true were it not for a slight miscalculation. He overstepped just barely too far, and with blinding speed Malbeth completely slid away from my strike and towards Eradan, knocking him off balance.
It was then that I saw the knife in the wraith's other hand.
I cried out in alarm as I wound back for another strike, but I knew that there was no time...