The Lastborn: A Middle Earth Story(Book 1)(EDITING)

Chapter 31: The End of All

The tower doors opened silently. Gerithor and his friends approached cautiously, unsure of what would come out.
   The doors stayed open, but nobody emerged from the darkness within. Gerithor stepped forward.
   "He's at the top. He's waiting." Gerithor spoke with barely veiled hatred.
   "Then let's be done with him!" Kalan growled and brandished his axe.
   Gerithor turned around. "Eldahir, Sarina, stay here and keep watch."
   Eldahir looked at his friend in surprise. "No! I'm going to help you up there!"
   "Eldahir... I understand you want to be at my side, but I cannot let you die. You're injured, you wouldn't stand a chance. Please understand brother." Gerithor put a hand on Eldahir's shoulder.
   "I won't leave you. Let me come with you," Eldahir said pleadingly.
   "No. I am sorry." Gerithor sadly turned away and looked at Sarina. "Keep an eye on him. Don't let him do anything foolish."
   Sarina said nothing, but looked down. Gerithor kept his glowing eyes on both of them. "If this is the end my friends, farewell. May you live the rest of your days in peace."
   Eldahir walked to him and embraced his friend. A tear fell down Gerithor's cheek as he realized this could very well be the last time they saw each other. "Farewell my brother." He said, pulling away after a moment. Eldahir's eyes were filled with tears as well, and he nodded and took a deep breath.
   Gerithor looked at Sarina, who didn't look up. "Goodbye, Sarina." He said with sadness and turned away, following Kalan and Raldis up the winding stairs. He looked back once more and saw Sarina looking at him, a tear running down her face. He looked away and disappeared up the stairs.
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They reached the top, and Gerithor strode out onto the top of the tower. Standing there was Arnakhor.
His glowing eyes rose up to meet Gerithor's. "You've come."
"Yes. And I will kill you." Gerithor drew his sword.
Arnakhor let out a slight chuckle. "Why? What have I done to you?"
"Enough games. You know very well what you've done. I'm not listening to you," Gerithor growled. Kalan and Raldis ran up behind him, taking places at either side of him.
"Ah... One of mine!" He pointed at Raldis.
"Not anymore." Raldis spat.
Arnakhor raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Is this... Ranger, better than me?"
"You threatened me! You gave me no choice about serving you!" Raldis yelled.
"You are one of us! We're better than they are!" Arnakhor pointed a gloved finger at Gerithor.
"How? How are we any different?" Raldis said accusingly.
"We are destined to rule beside the Dark Lord! They will be forgotten."
"That's where you're wrong. You will be forgotten. We will rule Gondor. I have seen it." Gerithor interrupted, trying to project confidence into his voice.
Arnakhor looked at him for a moment in silence, seeming to study him. Then his eyes grew wide.
"You speak the truth!" Arnakhor said in shock and took a step back.
"How did you know?" Gerithor said, surprised.
"You're not the only one who can see the future, Lastborn. I too can see it." Arnakhor said thoughtfully. "And I can see your thoughts and visions. You have seen one of your own crowned king of Gondor." Then his mouth twisted into a crooked smile. "But you have also seen the real truth. The Dark Lord will rule Middle Earth once more."
Gerithor narrowed his eyes. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
Arnakhor took on a look of mock pity. "Oh, but I'm afraid you don't. Raldis... You know what will happen to your family if you side with this vagabond. Do not make the wrong choice." Arnakhor beckoned the young soldier.
Raldis looked torn. Then he slowly stepped forward and took a place at Arnakhor's side.
Gerithor looked at him in shock.
"I am sorry! He'll kill my family if I don't!" Raldis looked helpless.
Another Black Numenorean appeared from the shadows. Gerithor recognized him as the one he had defeated and set free in the forest. It seemed like so long ago.
"Lastborn. I've been waiting for a chance to get my revenge." Relacar said in a sneering voice. Gerithor saw that he had a huge scar where Gerithor had slashed him, and the eye on that side was covered with a milky film.
"Relacar, Raldis. You know what to do." Arnakhor pointed forward, and they both moved to attack Kalan. Gerithor stepped forward, oblivious to all else but Arnakhor. The dark armored man grinned evilly and drew his curved scimitar, advancing forward to meet Gerithor. The young ranger lifted his sword and charged forward, his glowing eyes filled with hate.
The two met with fury, sparks flying from the force of their blows. Their blades locked, and they pushed against each other's strength, looking at each other with eyes narrowed.
Gerithor was smaller and weaker than Arnakhor, but more agile. He dropped to one knee abruptly and rolled out of the way, causing Arnakhor to stumble forward from the force he had been exerting. Gerithor quickly stabbed at him but Arnakhor recovered quickly, blocking the strike and turning to face Gerithor.
Gerithor attacked swiftly with a combination that put Arnakhor in retreat. He fended off the blows, growing increasingly surprised by the strength behind them. Arnakhor bided his time, waiting until the ranger used up his strength.
That's when he saw the Ring.
He knew of the Dwarven Rings. When he had studied the dark arts he had taken a particular interest in learning about them. He immediately recognized the one on Gerithor's hand and knew that its power would help him immeasurably.
   Gerithor noticed Arnakhor's focus on the Ring, and took advantage of it. He put more force into his strikes while Arnakhor was unfocused on the fight, which caused the dark armored man to stumble back. He fell to his knees, holding his sword over his head to fend off Gerithor's attacks.
   Suddenly, as swiftly as a striking viper Arnakhor grabbed Gerithor's wrist and sprang up, twisting it to an angle that made Gerithor cry out in pain. Arnakhor took the brief moment to yank the Ring from the young ranger's hand. A second later he attempted to stab him in the chest, but Gerithor was able to barely block the strike.
   Arnakhor leapt back with his prize, and put it on his finger. Gerithor's eyes widened as Arnakhor seemed to grow in stature. The dark man raised his sword into the sky, and lightning crackled around the blade.
   "This is why your people are weak Lastborn! You never made use of the dark arts!" Arnakhor's eyes began to glow brighter, and he rushed at Gerithor with renewed wrath.
   Gerithor retreated, doing all he could to stay out of the way of Arnakhor's blade. He fell back until he was nearly to one of the edges of the tower, and looked over out of the corner of his eye as he saw movement. Kalan was laying on the ground, unconscious or dead. Gerithor couldn't tell. Relacar was nowhere in sight. Raldis was making his way toward Gerithor now, a look of self loathing and fear on his face. Arnakhor saw this and stepped back.
   "Kill him." He spoke with authority to the young soldier. Raldis stopped.
  "N-no." He whimpered, a tear falling down his face. Arnakhor pointed a finger at him.
   "You will." At these words Raldis went limp for a moment then looked up, his eyes glowing blue. All expression was gone from his face. He moved toward Gerithor, sword raised to strike.
   "No Raldis! Get back! We can still defeat him!" Gerithor said with panic seeping into his voice.
   "He can't hear you," Arnakhor said, seeming to be partly in a trance.
   Raldis sprang forward and attacked Gerithor with strength that seemed to come from Arnakhor himself. Gerithor defended himself, but made no counterattack. He knew what he had to do. But he didn't want to do it. Raldis had a family, he would never forgive himself.
   But this wasn't Raldis. Somehow Arnakhor was controlling him. He fell onto his back as Raldis struck again and again, leaving himself open multiple times. You can't, Gerithor thought to himself. He looked at Raldis' expressionless face with sadness. There was nothing else he could do.
   A tear fell down his face as he thrust upward with all his strength. The blue glow faded from Raldis' eyes, and in the background Arnakhor fell back in pain.
   Raldis collapsed forward, his face contorted in agony. Gerithor cried out as he reached to catch him. But it was too late. His eyes were blank, and his face was locked in an eternal expression of suffering.
   Gerithor stood up angrily, tears falling freely from his eyes. He spun to face Arnakhor.
   "You-" he didn't have a chance to finish, for Arnakhor was already upon him. He knocked the sword from Gerithor's hand and picked him up by the throat. The young ranger struggled to breathe, clawing at Arnakhor's hand for release.
   "It's over Lastborn. It is as I have foreseen it. You have seen it too." Arnakhor tightened his grip. Gerithor gasped and tried to reach the ground with his feet. This felt stunningly similar to the dream he had had...
"You know, Lastborn..." the Black Numenorean sneered, his grip vicelike. "One can learn much by looking into a man's eyes... Anger, sorrow, fear. The most stoic of men can be betrayed by the light in their eyes. And the fear is practically leaping from yours."
   Suddenly a dagger stuck into Arnakhor's neck from behind. Arnakhor let out a shout of pain and released Gerithor, spinning around and thrusting with his sword.
   Right into Eldahir.
   Eldahir had snuck up on Arnakhor and had stabbed him with what should have been a fatal blow, but somehow Arnakhor didn't die. Sarina was a little distance behind Eldahir, running as fast as she could toward him. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. Gerithor let out a silent scream as Eldahir grimaced in pain and fell to his knees. Arnakhor grinned evilly and twisted the sword deeper into Eldahir's chest, making Eldahir cry out in agony.
   Gerithor pulled out his dagger. His vision was blurred by tears but he knew where his target was. He brought the dagger down with all his strength, right into Arnakhor's side. The Black Numenorean let out a shout and spun around, swinging at Gerithor. He dodged just in time, and the blade only grazed his shoulder.
    Arnakhor staggered forward, but didn't fall. His grabbed the handle of the dagger in his side and yanked it out.
   "You will die a worse death than your friend!" Arnakhor threw the dagger at Gerithor who quickly swung his sword, knocking the dagger aside.
   Gerithor was blinded with rage and hatred now.
   "No, you will die scum. And I will not make your death quick." The ranger strode forward, his sword in one hand and his dagger in the other. He went on the offensive, driving Arnakhor down the stairs.
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   Sarina ran to Eldahir as he fell and caught him in her arms. He was deathly pale, and opened his eyes and looked at her.
   "S-Sarina?" He said weakly, his voice quivering.
   "Yes it's me," Sarina said between sobs.
   Eldahir took her hand. "I'm sorry I went after him when you didn't want me to. I had to."
Sarina silenced him. "No, you saved your friend. It was noble of you." She choked back another sob.
   "Sarina... I'm not going to make it. I have little life in me."
   "No... No... Don't say that." Sarina ran a hand through his sweat drenched hair.
   "I need to tell you something before I'm-" he coughed several times, then took a deep breath. "Before I'm gone."
   "You aren't going anywhere..." Sarina grabbed his hand and tried to smile.
   "Sarina... I love you. I have since I first met you." Eldahir coughed again.
   Sarina tried not to sob more. Over the journey she had grown closer and closer to him. But now she saw that she had fallen in love with him as well. She hadn't realized it until this moment... When it was nearly too late. "I love you too Eldahir." She held back more tears.
   Eldahir smiled weakly, the light in his eyes fading.
   "I'm glad I had a chance to hear that." He squeezed her hand. "But you have to let me go. You have your whole life to live, live it to the fullest."
   "I'll never forget you Eldahir," she leaned forward and kissed him lightly. He smiled and closed his eyes. He squeezed her hand one last time, then his grip loosened. She slowly moved away and looked at him. A final breath escaped his lungs and his chest stopped moving. He was gone.
   Sarina began to sob, and rested her head on his chest. The wind blew cold over the top of the tower.
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   Ranger and dark lord fought their way to the throne room, Gerithor always on the offensive, Arnakhor barely avoiding death. Gerithor clearly had the upper hand now. His rage gave him strength. Arnakhor was fast weakening. It took all the dark magic he knew to keep himself from dying immediately from the neck wound.
   Gerithor pushed him back all the way to the throne. Arnakhor weakly blocked his attacks, then went on a last offensive. He swung at Gerithor, who dodged the blows with the agility of a panther. Arnakhor stumbled back to the throne, and pulled out a crossbow from behind it. He pointed it at Gerithor's heart.
   "It's over now Lastborn. For both of us I fear." He grimaced as he put a hand to his neck.
   "I have succeeded. You are defeated. And I have nothing to live for now. You've taken everything from me." Gerithor slumped his shoulders defeatedly, but looked up at Arnakhor, hate still in his eyes. The blue glow had disappeared from them.
   Arnakhor's eyes narrowed. "Then in that case, perhaps I should let you live. With the pain. The agony of losing everyone dear to you."
   Gerithor lowered his head. He had lost the will to fight.
   "You are alone in this world ranger. You won't even find a home among your own people now." Arnakhor's mouth curled up in a grin.
   "You and I are not so different really. The only difference is that I embraced power, you shunned it. And look where that got you.
   "You're worthless now..." He said with disgust. Suddenly he lifted the crossbow and fired.
   Whether by luck, or by fate, Arnakhor's aim was off. The bolt hit Gerithor in the shoulder, knocking the ranger back. But he was quick to respond. He threw his dagger with blinding speed, right into Arnakhor's heart. The man clutched at his chest and fell back, collapsing into his throne. He gasped as his life slowly left him. The glow from his eyes began to fade, and soon, it was gone completely.
   Arnakhor was no more.
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   But it was no victory that day for Gerithor. He staggered up the stairs to the top of the tower to find that Eldahir was already dead. Sarina sat next to him, her face sorrowful. Gerithor ran over and knelt beside Eldahir. He held his friend in his arms and cried, oblivious to all else. After a long while he stood.
   Raldis' body also lay nearby. Gerithor's heart was wrenched with pain when the thought entered his mind that he had killed him. He went over and closed the young soldier's eyes, and put his sword in his hands.
    "Rest in peace friend," he whispered softly, his voice shaky. He looked around for Kalan.
  The dwarf was propped against a wall, his eyes closed and a gruesome gash in his head. Gerithor ran over to him. Surely he wasn't dead too...
  The dwarf opened his eyes slowly, and seemed confused.
   "What happened?" Kalan said, looking at Gerithor.
   "It's over. Arnakhor has been defeated." There was no joy in Gerithor's voice.
   "Where's Sarina and Eldie?" Kalan asked, his voice filled with worry. He leaned forward then flinched, putting a hand to his head.
   "Sarina is alright... Eldahir... He... He..." Gerithor couldn't finish, and broke down into tears. Kalan seemed to understand and a look of sorrow filled his face.
    "I'm sorry lad..." Kalan embraced Gerithor, and the young ranger returned the embrace, shaking from crying silently.
    "There's still the matter of Angmar's army," Kalan said after a moment, when Gerithor had pulled away.
   "You're right. I don't know what to do." Gerithor said defeatedly.
   "Then be glad you have me on your side lad!" Kalan said with as much cheer as he could muster. "I managed to knock out that bugger, I think he was Arnakhor's lieutenant." He pointed at Relacar, who was laying unconscious on the hard stone floor a short distance away.
   Gerithor looked at Kalan, his eyes red from crying. "Thank you friend. For everything." He put a hand on Kalan's shoulder. Then he stood up and walked over to Relacar. He kicked the man and drew his sword. Relacar rolled over and groaned, then looked in despair when he saw Gerithor standing over him.
   "Order your men to leave Carn Dum." Gerithor said forcefully.
   The man growled and sat still for a moment. Finally he spoke. "Fine. Promise not to kill me."
   "Only if you first take an oath to lead your people as far north as you can go, never to return."
   "I swear." Relacar stood up and looked at Gerithor in disdain. "You won ranger. I can respect that, and I'll honor our agreement. But your people will die out anyway, with or without our intervention."
   Gerithor shook his head. "That is not your concern. Give the order now and I won't kill you." Relacar led him down the stairs, where they met another soldier.
   "Tell the men to make ready, we're leaving." Relacar told him.
  "Yes sir!" The guard ran out the door.
   "There. Now let me go."
   "Very well," Gerithor said as he roughly shoved the man forward. "We'll return soon to make sure you honored your agreement. And without your lord you will not stand a chance against us."
   Relacar sneered and ran out the door. Kalan appeared at Gerithor's side.
   "Why did ya trust him?" Kalan asked skeptically.
   "Black Numenoreans are bound by a strange code of honor. They will turn on you with every chance they get, but they will never break an oath. I doubt they will be back soon." Gerithor turned to Kalan.
   "We should return to Fornost. We will bring Eldahir's and Raldis' bodies with us." Gerithor tried to keep the tears from returning.
   "Aye, that'll do. I'll find a wagon, I'm sure there's one around here. Let me deal with Eldahir and Raldis. You should go talk to Sarina lad." With that Kalan trudged out the door.
   Gerithor went back up the stairs to the top of the tower. Sarina stood near the edge, looking out over the landscape. Gerithor didn't feel like talking to anyone.
   "Sarina." He said softly. She turned around.
   "We're leaving soon," he said simply. He moved next to her, and didn't speak. He knew she needed comfort... But he couldn't give it right now. The pain was still too close to him as well. She seemed slightly comforted by his presence, and they both stood beside each other for a long while in silence.
   Kalan had found a wagon and was soon ready. He shouted for them and they both departed from the tower and went to the wagon, which was waiting just outside. Sarina took a seat on the wagon next to Kalan, not speaking a word. Gerithor stood behind it, needing some time to himself. Kalan whistled and the kine pulling the wagon plodded slowly ahead, back to Fornost.
   It was over at last.