WARNING! Mild description of violence in this chapter. Also, it's my first ever attempt at a battle scene so comments on that would be greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy :)
~°•°~
"How is siding with a nazgûl reasonable? Are we sure he isn't bewitched?"
High-General Dirhael asked the somewhat amused looking wizard, absentmindedly wavering his hand in Redd's direction, tiredness and annoyance dripping from his every word.
The young ranger stepped from one foot to the others nervously, rattling his chains in the process. Redd was obviously getting frustrated by the fact that his own father has been talking for almost fifteen minutes as if he wasn't even there. For now, he simply settled on examining the royal war tent, glaring around himself furiously, as if trying to burn a hole into the side of it and escape into the wintry night outside.
Gandalf gave the father and son a patient smile as Aragorn tried to make himself a bit more comfortable in his chair but finding that physical comfort didn't help with the emotional one.
"Even if he was, it doesn't change the fact that he and the other rangers have survived in Mordor for quite some time now. The information they acquired can be useful."
Aragorn's words carried a perfect mix of concern, interest and authority. Gandal, however, could feel the frustration rising within the general and the ranger. He put a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder and carefully alleviating some of his anger with the help of the weakening Narya, which was examining the renegade rangers from the moment they were caught. The wizard's tone of voice was gentle, but still carried a certainty that Dirhael couldn't find the strength to fight against.
"There is no need to worry about Redd, my friend. He's free of any kind of unnatural influence. Besides, lady Galadriel was adamant that this nazgûl is supposed to be different from the others and with the dark lord gone, we might just be able to negotiate with him."
The High-General gave a heavy sigh as he basically fell into the chair next to his kings. With distrusting eyes, he finally addressed his aggravated son.
"Can it be reasoned with, Redd?"
Redd ignored them and kept on studying the tenet for a few moments before acknowledging them with the most fake expression of shock he could possibly muster.
"Oh, why I am sorry, we're not pretending that I'm a piece of furniture anymore? I was sooooo not prepared for this absolute ton of honour that you bestow upon me, father dearest. Why, I dare not interrupt you in thy casual afternoon talks of genocide."
"Genocide?"
The king didn't look as much surprised or offended by the statement as he seemed to be curious while Dirhael just rolled his eyes, being close to giving up.
"How do you expect anybody to take you seriously when you cannot even show respect to your king?"
Redd raised an eyebrow.
"And exactly happened to the whole 'how dare you replace your king with a twisted wraith' thing from two days ago? Shouldn't I, by that logic, be a citizen of Mor..."
"Cease this foolishness, boy! I did not raise you to speak in this manner to your elders!"
"Well then your childhood must have been quite interesting considering that you've taken away my every weapon, posted the majority of your soldiers around the tent and yet you still have to keep me in chains for some reason. I'm not saying that's pretty paranoid behaviour, but it is pretty paranoid behaviour."
The annoyed father stared his son down, expecting him to give in eventually, but being slightly surprised when instead of doing as expected, Redd threw a murderous glare right back at him as their king did his best to hide his amused face in a cup of tea. Dirhael almost wasn't able to suppress his own proud smirk.
The boy got some practice since last time.
Gandalf gave a light chuckle horribly disguised as a cough; his amusement still palpable in his voice.
"And would you be interested in a more civilized conversation without those on?"
The elder lightly gestured with the bottom of his brilliant white staff in the general direction of the clinging chains. Needless to say, that the sudden stop to the argument surprised Redd enough to stumble on his words.
"I, uh...maybe?"
Aragorn let a smile warm his face for a moment before calling on a guard, who brought a chair, unlocked Redd's iron shackles and scurried out of the tent.
Redd did his best to recover what was left of his emotionless mask of stone and sat down as Gandalf finally took the seat on the other side of Aragorn. Somehow, Redd felt more judged sitting down than when he was standing.
Aragorn looked Redd up and down, leaned forward in his chair with a mask of equal curiosity and compassion.
"I think I'll start this of first, shall I? Why did you defect, Redd?"
Redd's confusion broke through in his expression.
"I'm sorry, your highness, what?"
Aragorn gave him a patient smile as he leaned back in his chair once more.
"I'd like to know why you abandoned your family and left Gondor. You see, in any other circumstance, I might have believed that you just wanted to rebel and look around the lands that were prohibited to enter, but you fought against Mordor for years before this. Not to mention that you rebelling wouldn't be enough to convince five more rangers to follow you meaning that there is something I do not see, a problem that's driven you and your friends to do this and I'd like to know why."
Redd leaned back in his chair, loosing himself in his thoughts for a moment as he lightly stroked his chin. Sure, it will be a slippery slope once he starts talking, but then again brooding won't help anybody either.
He looked up to see the king with patience written all over his face, his father who looked equal measure interested in Redd's answer as he looked furious that this conversation had to be had in the first place and finally Gandalf who shot him an encouraging nod and a warm smile.
Redd let out a small sigh.
"All our lives we were told that all the patrolling and later on the war was to free the people of Middle earth from the threat that was Sauron. But..."
"And didn't we? The dark lord's no more."
Valar know that Redd loves his father, but in times like these he would just love to throw him out of a window.
"BUT, in leading a war and tending to the civilian disputes, the leadership has forgotten about the people that needed us the most. The slaves of Mordor. From my very early youth I can remember the people who escaped the iron prison, telling their horrifying stories of the torture they went through and how in every single one of these cases the survivor was found dead a few weeks later because they lacked the motivation to keep on living. That's why we defected. We wanted to stop the problem at its source. Mind you we expected the orcs, but we did not expect to encounter a nazgûl."
A thoughtful silence fell upon them.
Just as the king was about to speak the flaps on the tent opened and closed to reveal the Bane of the Witch king and the captain of the royal guard herself.
Éowyn had her hair loose, as per usual. She held her helmet under her arm and wore he newest armour even though it was so dirty that it could be easily mistaken for one of the armours hanging in the royal army museum. She gave a quick bow to the royal present and talked in a somewhat monotone, rehearsed voice.
"Your highness, everything is in position, we're ready to attack the fort as soon as in two days from today. They're still unaware of our presence which gives us the element of surprise. I'd recommend attacking as soon as possible."
"What fort are you talking about?"
Éowyn jumped up at Redd's desperate sounding question a little before getting control of herself not even a second later, an expression of concern melting through her usually rock-hard disposition.
"Don't worry about it, Redd. The scum won't be able to hurt anyone soon."
Horror appeared on the rangers face.
"No, please, you can't. You don't understand."
Aragorn gave Redd a sad smile as he, Gandalf and Éowyn stood up and started leaving the tent.
"Don't worry, we won't let any harm come to the slaves of the fort. I promise."
"No wait you don't understand."
Redd's desperate sounding words fell on deaf ears as Dirhael ordered a few soldiers to take his son back into his temporary cell. The father's gaze was resigned but still held a glimmer of the love and fear he felt for his son.
"You and the other rangers will be taken to Minas Tirith as soon as we can find appropriate transport. I'm sorry, Redd, but this is for your own wellbeing."
~°•°~
Minas Morgul, a day later
~°•°~
Idril sat down on a log, taking in the heat of the bonfire, happy to finally be free of her duties for the day.
Talion and some of the captains left not even a day ago to reinforce the Núrnen kingdom's secondary fort Taurband against an attack the nazgûl glimpsed within the Palantir, leaving Idril to act as a kind of a Steward of Mordor, temporarily responsible for performing all, or at the very least most, of Talion's duties while he's gone.
Idril's head started pounding just imagining all the work that awaited her the next morning. She knew that when he was alive, Talion served as a ranger of Gondor as well as the captain of the Black Gate which would place him in a great position to learn to make good administrative and just decisions. With Idril's experience as shieldmaiden of Minas Tirith, she thought herself to be the same if not more prepared to take on the task of ruling Mordor.
She was so, SO wrong.
Idril's calm early morning was quickly interrupted by Dûsh the Unshamed and Kûga the Clever basically dragging her into the main halls of the tower only to be almost drowned in the sea of paperwork, military reports, civilian complaints, complaints on Ralla and company, territory conflicts and war planning.
She couldn't thank the stars enough for Dûsh's and Kûga's advice and translations as well as Talion writing notes on basically everything within Mordor, to the point where she was mostly copying his work. Idril got lost in the mountain of work until the two captains brought her, in the late afternoon, her first mean that day.
She certainly could see how Talion got so riled up after a month of what she assumed to be an administrative hell for him. Not that it excused his outburst. Idril made a note of taking some of the responsibilities off Talion when he got back.
Idril took a large bite out of her roasted meat and admired the glittering stars above, just enjoying the quiet moment.
"Hey commander, brought you lil' somethin' to drink."
Kûga shot Idril a wide, almost completely toothless smile shaking a bottle vine to try and entice her with it. She shot a wide smile back.
"Hey. Is your wife feeling any better?"
The Uruk-hai sat down next to her with a heavy sigh and handing her the bottle.
"Ah, well... she's feelin' a bit under weather with another of our pups on the way, but she's a warrior at heart. I've got no doubt she'll be fine. However, that's not why I'm here."
Idril raised her eyebrow.
"Why then?"
"That look."
Kûga pointed at her face before taking a big gulp from the grog he brought for himself.
"It's the same face the boss makes when he doesn't have the answers he searched for. You know... curiosity eating you up from the inside, but bein' unable or unwillin' to feed it and all..."
Idril took a swing of her vine.
"I still don't understand why any of the orcs would follow him, willingly. I mean, sure, he saved you a couple of times sacrificing himself in the process, plus he was a better choice to the dark lord at the time, but he still humiliated and enslaved your people. It makes no sense why anybody would follow someone like that."
Kûga's expression melted into one of deep thinking even if just for a brief moment.
"It's more about the principle in my case. I mean, what pathetic kind of a soldier needs their leader to sacrifice himself just for the possibility of them fleein' mostly unharmed? A lousy one by the looks of it. I intend to repay the boss for what he's done for me, my boys and my family. I either fight by his side or die protectin' him."
A mix of desperation and curiosity appeared upon Idril's features.
"But how do you know that these thoughts are your own? How do you know that those feelings are real and not just forced upon you?"
The captain gave a nervous look around himself, making sure that nobody listened. Strangely enough, the camp was scarcely populated that night, with only a few orcs in it. Kûga still looked somewhat uncertain.
"You see, the boss doesn't have as strong of a hold of us as he believes."
Idril tilted her head to the side a little.
"... How can you be so sure?"
Kûga once more looked around himself wildly, his slowly greying dreads softly clicking against his ornate marauder shoulder plate and shield with their metal ends.
"First, I have to ask you to never speak of this with anyone, especially with the boss."
"I promise."
The confusion and curiosity were now obvious on her face. Kûga gave a huff and leaned in closer, whispering, his eyes still frantically scanning the area.
"At first, when he was still usin' that blue magic, with that elven wraith still within him, it was... different from now. When he marked us with it, it felt like someone urgin' you to fall asleep, but when you woke up you found that you killed most of the people you knew and served with. However, after he became a black rider, it somehow changed. Maybe it was because he didn't have to battle the wraith anymore, or maybe it came with being a nazgûl, but it became painful. Both shamin' and recruitment."
"So, how's it better now?"
Kûga gave Idril a patient smile.
"Because the mind control thingy always wears off after 'bout three days."
Idril almost couldn't pick up her jaw from the metaphorical floor.
"You mean that..."
"... That any one of us could have betrayed you at any given point in time but we didn't? Yeap, precisely."
"How is it that Talion doesn't know?"
Kûga took another swing of from his bottle, Idril mimicking the action.
"He might not have control of our minds anymore, but through the ring, I think, he still can...I don't know... influence our minds? It feels like a sleepin' creature at the back of the head that reacts to the boss's magicks, makin' you want to obey him, thought desire can be resisted if you put your mind to it."
"So are you worried that he'll stop trusting you if he finds out."
"Nope, it's more about him bein' too thrustin' for his own good. He'll find out that we're here of our own will, he'll start puttin' a lot more trust in us and if that happens, mind you this is a big if, some stupid glob will try to kill him for it, destroyin' all the trust he had in us in the first place. No, no, no no. It's easier to let him stay unaware."
Idril took a time short time to just enjoy the warmth of the dancing flames of the slowly dying campfire. A heavy sigh of hers followed.
"This is a right sorry situation all around."
"Hmm, not as bad as it could be."
Kûga gave a somewhat depressed sounding chuckle and finished his bottle of grog. For the rest of the evening, they didn't talk much as more and more orcs started flooding into the old siege camp.
~°•°~
Taurband, two days later
~°•°~
Baranor always knew that, as a soldier, he would face many different foes in his lifetime. Whenever he fought for Minas Ithil, the vanishing sons or, most recently, for the newly restored kingdom of Núrnen side by side with both queen and Prince of the realm, while representing a nazgûl. With all that in mind, it shouldn't be surprising that he ended up fighting the very people for whose sake it was in the first place.
Considering that Taurband was mainly a farming settlement now, there wasn't much defensive force to speak of. However, they managed to hold of the gondorians long enough for their reinforcements to arrive in the form of Queen Lithariel, prince Câld and a war chief with full entourage from the main Núrnen fort.
With these numbers they were able to push the gondorians back into the fields and away from the fort itself. That is until their leading commander, Éowyn, entered the fight. The Taurband army has been swiftly pushed back once more being forced to defend the slowly crumbling fortress walls. Some of their soldiers started losing consciousness after almost two full days of fighting.
Baranor stepped back, closely avoiding an arrow. He ducked from a swinging sword and rammed the pommel of his sword straight into the poor bastard's face, knocking him out instantly, probably breaking his nose in the process. He went ahead to coulter an attack coming from behind him, disarming and impaling the Gondorian soldier.
He climbed the nearest fortress wall, ignoring the creaking of his bones. The sight was daunting. The gondorians would soon breach the walls. He looked to the people of the fortress, who looked back at him with hopelessness, desperation and an expectation. He could not let that stand.
"Don't let up! We shan't fall this day!"
Baranor shouted orders around as the warriors of Taurband prepared for the walls to finally crumble.
And yet when the walls fell, no attackers came rushing through. Curious, Baranor looked beyond the rubble to see Éowyn mounted upon her horse, facing a figure cloaked in a blackened armour and a mask covering its face to match. The rider's steed, darker than night itself, eyeing the army of men hungrily.
The defenders started cheering and shouting war cries as a deep fright settled upon the men of Gondor.
The spirit of vengeance has arrived.
~°•°~
Éowyn couldn't quite believe her eyes despite knowing the chances of it arriving.
There, upon the top of a small hill, was the black rider. Despite not seeing them, she could feel its eyes burning right through her. It's mask, thought crudely made, held the familiar symbols of a crown of Gondor.
Éowyn finally broke free of the fear that kept her lips chained, her voice carrying strong across the relatively quiet battlefield.
"Isildur?!"
The nazgûl stayed quiet for a moment longer before even acknowledging her.
"Éowyn, Bane of the Witch king, by the ancient rights of your people, I challenge you to a duel until one of us yields or falls unconscious."
The Ringwraith's voice seamed to belong to a soft-spoken man and yet it was cloaked with a deafening echo of the slain, the sound booming as it carried over the rows of attackers, evoking nothing but fear and dread within. They stood strong, however, their leader's courage an anchor in the sea of hopelessness.
"There'll be no aid and no magic allowed. No killing or maiming. Only swords will be permitted. If you lose, you will order your army to return to their king as you, alongside your already captured men, will be held hostage."
"And what if I refuse your challenge?"
"Then the battle will resume, and you can trust me that after what you've done, we will not spare you just for the sake of it."
As those words were said, four captains emerged from behind the hill top each leading almost a thousand soldiers to battle. Éowyn knew there were too many, yet she let nothing show upon her face.
"And if I win?"
"Then the fortress will be yours with no more resistance and I shall put my life in your hands."
Éowyn looked at her soldiers. They were exhausted, many of them injured if not dead, with paralysing fright in their eyes. They wouldn't last an hour. She looked up once more with fires of determination in her gaze.
"I accept."
The nazgûl gave a nod and dismounted, the Gondorian leader mirroring the creature's action. They met in the middle of the, now emptied, battlefield. Each drew their sword, giving a small bow as the duel began.
~°•°~
The late sunny afternoon has melted into a blood red sunset and yet there was still no victor of the duel in sight.
Doesn't matter.
Blade closer to the chest. Deep breath in. Brace for impact.
CLASH
Éowyn barely blocked the nazgûl's attack, sparks flying everywhere as the sword trembled in her hands. She swirled her blade to try and disarm the creature and yet, it countered once more, almost burying its pommel in her face, which she only barely sidestepped. She swung her sword at its back, at which the wraith swiftly turned and blocked her strike landing in a defensive position, ready for her next move.
The nazgûl was showing barely any signs of getting tired all the while Éowyn was more exhausted by the minute.
She also assumed a defensive pose as the duellists slowly started circling each other. Never was she this grateful for refusing to rest after the war of the ring and instead doing nothing but train for the past month.
Every muscle in her body screamed at her with exhaustion and yet she let nothing show. She only received a few minor cuts so far, but she knew she had to end in quick or run the risk of losing the fight.
Éowyn barely noticed her opponent charging at her, but when she sidestepped it, there it was. The creatures back wide open.
She rammed her cross-guard straight into its back making it tumble down onto the blood-stained soil, letting go of its sword with the force of the blow. It turned and tried to lift its weapon, but the Gondorian soldier stepped on the blade of the sword while pointing her own at the wraith's neck. A smirk spread across her face.
"Do you yiel...uggh!"
The black rider kicked Éowyn in the chest, making her gasp and lose balance, before she knew it, she found herself on the floor and facing the red sky. The nazgûl held her down with his armoured shin on her chest and other foot pinning down her now abandoned sword, pointing his own at her neck.
"No, I don't. Do you?"
It took a moment of short-lived struggle to find out that she was well and truly trapped.
"Yes, I yield."
"Then honour your oath and let no more die."
She gave him a defeated nod as he let his foe stand up.
~°•°~
Taurband, few hours later
~°•°~
It was absolutely exhausting, but Talion's victory motivated the people of Taurband, soldier and civilian alike, to start repairing the damage done as soon as the Gondorian army left. Now with most of the outer walls repaired and their captives secured, people started celebrating their victory and started preparing the fallen for their last rights.
Baranor wandered seaming aimlessly through the fort. Night slowly fell upon them, and Talion was still nowhere to be seen. With the Núrnen royalty giving up on the search for the day, the elderly Haradrim had still one place to search through before starting to panic.
The halls of the fort were uncharacteristically quiet, with only one or two stray civilians in sight. The staircase to reach the nazgûl's chambers felt colder and lonelier that usual. Baranor did not bother to knock, he knew well that Talion was aware of him.
He found the Ringwraith undressed from hips up, his poorly bandaged back facing the old general and his scars almost glowing in the soft moon light. Talion was looking out of a window just stargazing, once or twice lightly touching his face.
"Did something happen?"
"Well, yes. You did after all defeat...oh, my..."
Baranor was not prepared for the sight he saw when he walked around the black rider. There were two faint bruises forming on Talion's face, one on the lower right side of his chin and the other right next to his left eye. Talion was not amused.
"Could you please stop staring?"
"Not really? You look horrible."
Talion huffed disapprovingly.
"She barely grazed me. Although she has a great right hook."
The last sentence was so quiet that Baranor almost didn't catch it. He took a wet cloth out of a bucket of water, which Talion was using to clean his wounds, and started cleaning the wraith's face.
"Stop flinching. This is what's going to happen. I'll finish cleaning your wounds, you're going to go to sleep and, in the morning, you're going to have an audience with their majesties followed by me giving you a full report on today's events. Understood?"
Talion's voice sounded more resigned that usual, though still holding a certain spark of mischief to it.
"Sir, yes, sir."