The army of ghosts approach the orcs with great speed, surging forwards like a tidal wave. They kill, but nobody can kill them. They leave masses of bodies behind their trail, which I make sure I don't fall over while I fight. The green glow is all that I can see, apart from my companions- they kill everything in sight, leave or take a few orcs, which we quickly finish off.
My heartbeat picks up quickly as I follow the ghost army ahead of me, my energy charged by pure adrenaline. Moments later, the army separates slightly, allowing me to see the battle with a better view. The white city of Minas Tirith is beside the battlefield, which is scattered with multiple armies.
An orc approaches me, growling, and raises his sword. I slice across his chest under his raised arm, and he clutches at his wound pathetically. Rolling my eyes, I stab it in the face and walk away, hearing the thud of its body hitting the floor. Flipping my blades in my hands, I stab two orcs from behind me before flipping them back an decapitating another.
I realize how powerful the ghosts are, silently thanking them for killing so many orcs and giving us more hope.
"Legolas!" Aragorn cries from nearby, and I turn briskly to see him pointing at a humongous creature stomping through the battlefield. Remembering the image from one of my history books back in Rivendell, I recall it being a Mûmakil. I stop fighting for a moment to stare at its pointed tusks with sharp talons attached to them, and the wooden platform attached to its back. On the Mûmakil's back stood dozens of archers, bows notched and aimed. My hope drops even more when I realize that there are multiple beasts roaming the area, not only the one nearby.
I hear an orc approaching me from behind and I turn to stab it in the chest. I try to ignore the splutters of blood and the choking noises as I turn to the next orc.
Suddenly, I hear the echoing sounds of bow strings twanging, and arrows rain down around me. One sails towards me and I only have enough time to turn away slightly. It grazes past my cheek, cutting the skin and drawing blood. Sighing in relief that it hadn't hit me in the face, I continue to fight.
Looking up momentarily, I see Legolas climbing up the leg on the Mûmakil, using the arrows embedded in the tough, leathery skin. He's going to bring that beast down.
I turn away to behead an orc and stab another between the eyes, grimacing at the thick coating of dark blood on my swords. I look up again to check on Legolas and see him on the neck of the Mûmakil, the wooden platform (along with all of the archers) gone. I watch as he quickly loads his bow with three arrows and fires it into the back of its neck.
The creature lets out a low, loud cry of pain and collapses to the ground. Legolas slides to the ground and I lose sight of him when a group of mounted men ride in between where we stand, but I saw Gimli there, so I don't worry about him. They will watch each other's backs.
Another orc falls to the floor, dead, in front of me and I straighten up to challenge another one to fight me, but to my surprise, I see none left. Glancing around wearily, I see Mûmakil lying around, dead, and masses of bodies- not only orcs. Wiping the stained metal of my swords on my well-worn tunic, I scan the battefields that are littered with dead horses, men, orcs, and Mûmakil.
I notice the ghost army finishing the last few orcs in Minas Tirith. There is no more fighting. We won. But my mind isn't feeling the relief or joy of a victory- I feel dread. How many lives have been lost to conquer the armies? Too many, I feel.
"I told you so." I turn around to see Legolas teasing me. He swings his bow over his arm and smiles. "You're alive, are you not?"
"Yes," I laugh, running up to him and hugging him tightly. "I'm not dead."
I release him and we head over to Gimli and Aragorn, stepping over bodies, Legols' arm draped over my shoulder. My expression is sad when I see how many men lie dead. Legolas smiles solemnly at me as we stand slightly behind Aragorn and Gimli. The King of the Dead materializes in front of us and his army behind him, looking somewhat angry and menacing. I shiver as wind brushes hair off my neck, and Legolas presses his lips to my forehead comfortingly as I watch the King speak.
"Release us." He says, hissing slightly.
"Bad idea." Gimli pipes up from the other side of Legolas. I stick my head out and glare at him disapprovingly. "Very handy in a tight spot, these lads, despite the fact they're dead."
"True." I murmur, shrugging. We couldn't have won without them, and they didn't even lose a single soldier. They're dead- they're unstoppable. But we don't want them on bad terms with us...
"You gave us your word!" The King growls angrily at Aragorn. I stare at the back of his head, waiting for his reaction.
Silence.
Just stares.
"I hold your oath fulfilled." He finally says. "Go, be at peace." He adds in a softer tone.
The breeze picks up, lifting my hair and swaying it to and fro. The ghost King and his army start to dissolve and float away, a long sigh echoing through the plains as they reduce to nothing. I stare at where they stood for a few moments more before turning away at the sound of footsteps.
Gandalf and Pippin make their way towards us, and I smile at Pippin. I am glad he's safe- Merry would be too. My heartbeat stops for a moment when I realize he was with us when we set out; therefore, he fought here with Éowyn and the Rohirrim.
As Gandalf bows down to Aragorn, acknowledging him as the King of Gondor, Pippin walks over to me and pokes me in the ribs.
"Where's Merry?" His face is full of concern and fear for his friend, for he hasn't seen him yet.
I glance down at the hobbit and shake my head slightly, face full of sympathy.
"I do not know... Let's go find him."
Pippin swallows and nods, and we separate from the rest of the group, searching for the hobbit amongst the bodies laying at our feet.
"Merry!" Pippin cries.
My heart throbs- I fear we will not find Merry; or at least not the way we want to. Glancing back, I notice the other survivors searching through bodies for loved ones and I bite my lip, turning back to Pippin. We won, but at a very high cost.
"Merry?" I shout, desperately trying to find the hobbit amidst the masses of bodies.
"No!" Pippin and I turn abruptly at Éomer's wail, filled with pain and sorrow. My eyes widen when I see him carrying Éowyn's body. My eyes fill with tears and I make a silent prayer that she is not dead, just unconscious. I turn back to Pippin sadly and step over another body, still searching for Merry. He has to be here somewhere.
* * *
"Merry!" Pippin calls out frantically as we approach a fallen Mûmakil. We've been searching for an hour or so now, with no luck. Pippin's face is sorrowful and have dried tears on his face. "Merry!"
I scan the battlefield with tired eyes as Pippin turns around slowly, facing the giant beast. Suddenly, he rushes over to where a body lies and crouches down. I run over to him, confused. The body is much to large to be Merry's...
My heart skips a beat when he pushes the body over and uncovers Merry.
"Merry?" Pippin whispers, shaking his still body. I bite my lip and blink rapidly, holding back tears. "Merry, it's me."
Merry opens his eyes and gazes unsteadily at Pippin. He's alive... I think, lips curling up slightly.
"It's Pippin." Pippin whispers, choking up slightly at the end. I feel tears form in my eyes, threatening to spill.
"I knew you would find me..." Merry whispers weakly.
"Yes..." Pippin responds.
"Are you going to leave me?"
"No, Merry... I'm going to look after you." Pippin promises, taking Merry's cloak off the ground and placing it over his friend.
* * *
Gimli sits in the steward's throne smoking a pipe. According to Pippin, Denethor (the steward of Gondor) was trying to burn him and his son, Faramir (Boromir's brother), alive. Pippin saved Faramir with Gandalf's help, but Denethor lit himself alight and ran off the high cliff of Minas Tirith. And now he is dead.
Pippin stayed true to his word, and I carried Merry to the Houses of Healing. Tears were in my eyes the whole evening when I saw how many people lay, injured, in a bed, with their friends and family sobbing and praying for them to get better. Théoden was lost in the battle as well. His people all carried that weight of the knowledge, walking around with shoulders dropped in sadness and exhaustion. I then saw Aragorn healing Éowyn, and relief filled me when I learned that she was not dead. Éomer never left her side. Now, Gandalf, Éomer, Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas and I stand in the throne room, discussing our next move. Gandalf paces the room while Aragorn back-faces us, the atmosphere tense and quiet.
"Frodo has passed beyond my sight." Gandalf mutters. "The darkness is deepening."
"If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it." Aragorn points out, not turning to face us yet. I nod in agreement.
"It's only a matter of time," Gandalf debates, "He has suffered defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping."
I bite my lower lip, starting to get concerned. How many defeats would it take for the enemy to stop coming back? Even with our victories, so many lives have been lost, and our numbers are decreasing.
"Let him stay there. Let him rot! Why should we care?" Gimli grumbles, his gruff voice echoing in the white room.
"Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom." Gandalf replies. "I've sent him to his death." He adds quietly, sounding sad. I glance around the room, but nobody says anything. Gandalf was now loosing hope in our quest and our Ring bearer...
"No. There's still hope for Frodo." Aragorn says, turning around to face us. "He needs time and a safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth." He glances at Gandalf. "We can give him that."
"How?" Gimli repeats the thoughts of most of the people in the room. The smoke from his pipe bellows out and drifts towards the ceiling.
"Draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."
"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms." Éomer says, stepping forwards from his spot beside me.
"Not for ourselves, but we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us." Aragorn reasons, and I nod my head. I understand now, where this is going. "Keep him blind to all else that moves."
"A diversion." Legolas says, and a grin spreads out on my face despite the situation.
"Certainty of death. Small chance of success." Gimli says through his pipe. "What are we waiting for?"
"Sauron will suspect a trap." Gandalf persists to Aragorn. I tilt my head, also understanding what he is saying. "He will not take the bait."
"Oh, I think he will." Aragorn replies with a ghost of a smile on his lips.
A/N: On the side is the video where Pippin finds Merry.. It's so sad omg I cry so much D:
The story is almost over! Answer the question at the end of my last chapter and vote! :)
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Shay xx