Muted protection

Chapter 19

Linwaethiel's POV

The next day we rode out at first light. My mare had recovered from the battle of Minas Tirith but seemed to get more nervous the further we got from the White City. I watched as my father rode silently at the front of the army, after last night he seemed more worried, as if he held the world on his shoulders. I rode further back, choosing the company of Legolas, as he had the elf-like silence that was neither tense nor too relaxed.

Soon we come within sight of the black gates and I feel a shiver run through my spine. I look over the large black mass before us and remember the dream I had had. I still believed Frodo and Sam were alive, for if not, we would already be dead. We reach the black gates unopposed and I feel a sense that this is too easy. When there is still no sight of any other form of life I hear Pippin speak up from in front of Gandalf.

"Where are they?" Without a backwards glance at the hobbit Aragorn spurs his horse forwards. Gandalf moves to follow and Legolas wth Gimli behind him follows after. I push my horse forwards at the same time as Eomer and soon join the small group trotting closer to the gates. My father addresses theatres in a commanding voice.

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!" The gate creaks open at his words and my horse jitters back and to the side, nothing I murmur in elvish calms her until Eomer says something in the language of the Rohan. I nod my head but turn it quickly when I see a single rider exit from between the giant black gates. Nothing is visible except its grotesque mouth as it is covered in a ludicrously large helmet and black armour. My eyes zero in on it when it begins to speak.

"My master, Sauron the Great, bids you welcome. Is there any in this rout with the authority to treat with me?"

Gandalf is the one to answer, his voice hard. "We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this: The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."

The mouth of Sauron answers in an almost gleeful tone as he watches us without eyes. "Old Greybeard. I have a token I was bidden to show thee."

He holds up Frodo's Mithril shirt and Pippin whispers out. "Frodo."

The Mouth Of Sauron throws the Mithrill shirt to Gandalf, who catches it. This time Pippin cries out louder. "Frodo!"

"Silence." Gandalf commands.

"No!" This time Merry is the one to cry out and is silenced by Gandalf's harsh voice.

"The halfling was dear to thee, I see." My fingers itch to hurl a knife at him as he continues to pour the venomous words out of his mouth. And the itch only grows when he continues. "Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host. Who would've thought one so small could endure so much pain? And he did, Gandalf. He did."

He looks towards me then back to Aragorn. "Once you are dead, Sauron will let all of Mordor enjoy that precious daughter of yours. Her mind and body will be broken, yet she will be kept alive to watch as we slaughter the rest of your men."

I glare as the figure laughs but am surprised when Aragorn rides forwards ever so casually to the side of the laughing figure who decides to taunt him.

"And who is this? Isildur's heir? It takes more to make a king than a broken Elvish blade." With a quick, hard, slice, Aragorn cuts the Mouth of Sauron's head with his sword. I remain expressionless watching as the head and helmet hit the ground with a clatter.