The Lady of Rivendell

Chapter 17 - Army of The Dead

"What kind of army would linger in such a place?"

The group make their way through the desolate pathway, past the crumbled rocks. The Dimholt road, it left a sense of doom, and dread by just being there. Gimli seemed to be particularly disturbed through the journey through the mountain, eyes flickering over the landscape, skittish.  

"One that is cursed." Legolas came up beside Aloryssa,  eyes passing over the trees, narrowed slightly. "Long ago the Men of the Mountain swore an oath to the last King of Gondor - to come to his aid, to fight..." Legolas let out a sad sigh, "but when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled... Vanishing into the darkness of the mountain... And so Isildur cursed them - never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge."

A silence passed over the group, reminding Aloryssa of how silent the mountain was. Not a single bird or rabbit could be heard. Only the sound of their horses and rocks moving beneath their feet. The wind whips past her hair, sending shivers down her spine. The light seems to slowly vanish, as the path becomes narrow, and the trees seem to close in on them. It is not long before she comes face to face with the entrance to the cave, the door showing an endless abyss of darkness. Dismounting, Aloryssa gives Arloon a comforting pet along the length of his head, trying to soothe the horse. She eyed the entrance, resisting the urge to turn around, she knew she must move forward with the company, to ensure the world of men is given a chance in the upcoming war. 

"The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away..." Gimli's fingers twitch, with the urge to brandish his axe. 

"The way is shut. It was made by the those who are dead, and the dead keep it. The way is shut." As Legolas finishes the translation a gust of ice cold wind brushes out of the cave, sending shards of ice though the veins of their small gathering. 

The horses rear up, letting out a petrified whinny, before galloping off, leaving them stranded, with only one option. 

Realising that they could not call the horses back to them, Aragorn turned to the doorway, a renewed sense of purpose...

"I do not fear death."

I follow behind him, feeling no hesitation. The darkness seems to swarm Aloryssa, filling her entire being with darkness, but she presses forward, behind Aragorn. 

Aragorn lights a torch, illuminating the cavern. Legolas is talking quietly to Gimli, as we move though the misty cave. Shapes seem to come out of the mist lifting up as the brush against the trespassers in their tomb. There are skulls and bones lining the walls, we continue, until we reach a clearing... She look around at the tall walls of the cavern, as there is a groaning creaking noise, a rumble growing louder, and taking on a low growling voice.

"Who enters my domain?" The spectre of the King of the Dead becomes visible through a swirl of green mist, his half decayed body sickly transparent.

"One who will have your allegiance." Aragorn stands in front of the King, unflinching.

" The Dead do not suffer the living to pass..." The kind responds with a cruel snarl. 

"You will suffer me!" 

There is only a second of silence, before the Ghost responds with an evil laugh, echoing as the fog seems to draw back, revealing hundreds more of ghosts, an old army ready for battle. 

"The way is shut..." The King repeats again, moving towards Aragorn. "It was made by those who are Dead and the Dead keep it"

Aloryssa turns to look around the cave, seeing the ghosts have surrounded them.

"The way is shut. Now, you must die."

An arrow wizzes past Aloryssa's head, towards to King of the Dead, and through his head. 

Aragorn begins to move forward hand reaching for his sword, pulling it out of its sheath, as the army begins to close in on the living occupants of the cave. 

"I summon you to fulfil your oath!" 

"None but the King of Gondor may command me!" As the King of the dead move to strike against Aragorn, aiming a blow for his head, Aragorn parries, raising his sword to block the deadly blow. There is a clash of metal, as the two swords connect, a clang reverberating through the cave. 

"It cannot be - that line was broken!" The weak cry of astonishment was met with a hand around the Spectre's throat.

"It has been remade."

Silence greets Aragorn, as he releases the ghost. 

"Fight for us and regain your honour!" The ghost began to fade from view. "What say you?"

There is a pause...

"What say you?" 

"Arghh! You're wasting your time, Aragorn!" Gimli shouts, "They had no honour in life, they have none now in death."

Aloryssa looks around for any sign that the ghosts were still there, of any sign that they were going to join their cause.

"I am Isildur's heir. Fight for me and I will hold your oath fulfilled. What say you?"

There is a rumble, the cavern floor starting to shake, dust falling from the ceiling. 

"Stand, You Traitors!" Gimli shouts, twisting in place.

The chuckles of the ghost rumble with the cave, deep and rough. The foundation of the toom shakes violently, before crumbling and falling apart. Skulls start to pour from the walls, flooding the cavern and falling over the cliff edge in the cave. 

"Run!" Aloryssa cries out, pushing Gimli out ahead of her, They struggle against the tide of skulls, rushing towards the exit, only just making it before the doorway closes under the pressure of thousands of skulls. Sunlight blinds Aloryssa, as air untouched by the stench of decay fills her lungs. 

Only a small relief is the fresh air, as it is soon taken away by the sight of ships, sailing through canals. And towards Minas Tirith. The pirates succumbed to Saruman's orders, in aid of the dark forces working to crush the world of men. Aragorn falls to his knees, defeated. Legolas places a hand of comfort onto his shoulder.

Aloryssa looks down, the desperation of their situation pressing heavily onto her heart. She didn't know what there was to do now, there seemed to be no hope.

There is the sound of wind whistling behind the four, and out of the mountain, steps the ghostly figure of the King of the Dead. Aragorn rises to his feet, expectantly gazing at the spectre. 

" We fight."