Vicious || Legolas

Twenty three

Their steps seemed to echoed unnaturally in the confined tunnel. Namir hated it. It felt as if the walls were closing in. There was no fresh air here, only the smell of dust and death. Somewhere distant water was dripping. It echoes around them and each drop sent a shiver down his spine. The wounds at his neck ached in phantom pain. He was seriously beginning to loath the underground. Confinement in rock with no sun and no fresh air left him back in that tower, in that thick walled cell that remained cold and alone. 

Aragorn led the way, a flaming torch in one hand and his sword extended with the other. He kept a fast pace, moving at a brisk jog through the tunnel as it narrowed and widened, twisted and turned. Legolas just behind him and Namir at his heels. The skin-changer had claws extending from his fingers, sword still sheathed at his back. The blade too big to wield in such a confined space. He could feel his heartbeat in his ear and his eyes were darting wildly around the space. Pupils thin cat slits. 

The tunnel suddenly opened into a ginormous hall. It wasn't as big as some of the ones Namir recalled from Erebor but it was far rougher than any dwarf city. The rock walls were uneven and sharp. The ceiling above a mess of jagged points that dripped water. One one side of the hall was a set of stone steps half worn away by time. Around them were the distant shapes of structures. walls, empty doors, tunnels and windows. Their outlines only distant in the dim light of the one torch. The stench of death was worse here and Namir was sure that in these ruined city halls skeletons lay. It felt like they had intruded, crept upon something dark that they shouldn't have. 

Aragorn turned to the stairs and a ghastly rasp, barely more than the guttural sound of the wind through stone, filled the air. "Who dare enters my domain?" Namir whimpered. His whole body was telling him to flee. Animal instincts leaving him trembling as he fought the urge to run. For the first time he could recall, he envied the humans and their lack of instincts. Aragorn was standing strong, unflinching as a shape seemed to form at the base of the stairs. It was humanoid, illuminated in green. A skeleton with the frayed remains of a king's armour. A helmet on his head and the whisper of what once had been a beard on his chin. 

At the sight of it, Namir whimpered, unable to stop himself from skittering back a few steps. "One who will have your allegiance", Aragorn replied, but it came out more of a sworn whisper. Legolas was gazing around at the fog that was now filling the hall. Unnatural fog that seemed to chill them to their bones. 

"The dead do not suffer the living to pass", the ghost king rasped. 

"You will suffer me", Aragorn spat, voice coming out far stronger this time. Around them, the fog was slowly condensing. Namir could feel it as all his hair seemed to stand on end, prickling the back of his neck. His anxiety tightened, breath coming in fast pants now. This felt like a nightmare. 

The Ghost king laughed and it cracked like the snapping of branches. The fog began to glow green, taking the shapes of the ruined city around them. What was broken walls became whole and doors took shape in the stone as green figures poured out of them. Soldiers in broken and buried armour with swords and shields. Each one the mouldy worm eaten bones that they became. Smiles of broken yellowed teeth and eyes set in hollow sockets. Their forms were nothing more substantial than a cloud but Namir knew that those swords could run him through and he wouldn't be able to stop them. 

"The way is shut", came the guttural voice of the king. "It was made by those who are dead and the dead keep it". The ghostly soldiers, for there must be hundreds there and more forming, surrounded the four of them now. They crept closer, unhurried steps. Namir was biting his lip as to not whimper, whole body shaking and breath loud and fast. There was a dizzy effect to his vision and he felt his head grow light. 

"The way is shut. Now you must die". 

Legolas strung his bow but the arrow passed through air. Namir couldn't breath. The walls were closing in and he was so cold. "I summon you to fulfil your oath", Aragorn stated as he raised his sword. 

The ghost king came striding forwards, his arm behind him as the circle closed in. "Only the king of Gondor may command me". With a snarling yell, he raised his sword up the strike. A clang of steel echoed around the hall as it met the blade of Gondor. "That blade was broken". The was shock in that deathly voice. 

Aragorn grabbed the king by the throat. His hand seemingly able to touch the ghosty armour and bone. "It has been remade". He shoved the king back and the ghost stood still. The haunted army around them halting in surprise. "Fight for us and regain your honour", Aragorn glanced around the hall. "What say you?"

There was no reply. Empty sockets stared at them as the man stepped forwards. The ghosts were close now. Feet away. If Namir wanted then he could reach out and pass his hand through them. He didn't want to. He was trying not to pass out. His head hurt and his breathing had turned in to stuttered, choked off gasps. Black swirling at the corners of his vision. He staggered to the right as the glimpse of a ghost with it's head half caved in loomed at him. The spectres around him parting to allow him through but closing up again after him. He was separated from Gimli. Legolas lost in the sea of green forms. Aragorn only audible. 

"What say you?" The man asked again. 

"Ah, you'll waste your time Aragorn", the dwarf called, axe gripped tightly. "They ha don honour in life and they have none now in death".

"I am Isildur's heir. Fight for me and I will owe your oaths fulfilled! What say you?"

Namir didn't hear if the ghosts agreed or not. His body had decided that it'd had enough. The anxiety and fear had reached it's peak. Body unable to relax with the ghosts surrounding them. He was distantly aware of his knees hitting the stone floor first with a sharp crack. Head lolling and eyes falling as he slumped down. Frame still shaking in the surrounding cold. The last thing he did hear was Gimli crying out in alarm as the dwarf forced the ghosts to part. 

unedited 

Namir is seriously developing claustrophobia. Also animals don't like ghosts.