Brothers In Arms: A Middle Earth Story

Chapter 11: A Wraith in the Shadows

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."