Chapter 9

 

 

 

 

Aragorn’s legs buckled as they weakly tried to hold his unsteady body. His arms trembled as he held Anduril above his head, ready to strike down the evil that had imprisoned him on this mountain.

 

With each attempt, Alatar parried the weaker man’s thrusts the shock of the impact reverberated down Aragorn’s arms nearly to the point of causing him to drop the blade. Aragorn couldn’t take much more, Anduril instinctively knew where the next attack was coming from but Aragorn’s weakened arms couldn’t hold the blade for much longer. Alatar tried to step away from the blade but Aragorn followed, unwilling to give the wizard enough distance to use his magic.

 

His temper frayed, Aragorn rushed Alatar with more speed and determination than the wizard anticipated. He couldn’t concern himself with the safety of his family and friends fighting behind him, he needed to rid Middle-Earth of this evil being before anything else could be done.

 

They battled deep into the cave, out of the elements and the distracting sounds of the battle raging on below.

 

The others followed closely behind, with the exception of  Celeborn, who stood at the cave entrance with Arwen, reluctant to bring her closer to either battle.

 

Legolas kept his bow at the ready, eyes as wide as a hawk, senses outstretched for any looming danger. Cirdan circled to the other side to ensure that the wizard could not escape in any direction if he defeated Aragorn.

 

The smell of spilled blood was nauseating & the two men could see it was Aragorn's, staining the ground where he had been chained.

 

Alatar dove behind the stone table, laughing as the distance would allow him to conjure a spell. Anduril caught a piece of the wizard’s cloak and shredded it, causing the wizard to gasp in alarm. He swung his staff at the approaching King, struggling to keep his distance. Alatar laughed as Aragorn tried to block the low swing but missed and the staff impacted with his leg and sent him to his knees.

 

Alatar lifted his staff and swung it in an arc towards Aragorn’s head. The King barely had enough time to block the attack and he groaned at the strength behind Alatar’s blow.

 

Aragorn rolled away and the staff slid down the steel blade to strike the floor. He groaned loudly as he pushed himself to his feet and whirled on the wizard. Anduril glowed in his hand and it’s heat drove Aragorn toward his target. Before he knew what he was doing, the blade was sailing toward Alatar’s head. The wizard had no choice but to bring his staff upright to block the blow.

 

As Anduril impacted the center of the staff, the wood splintered and cracked, the sound echoing throughout the cavern. Aragorn removed Anduril and swung again, desperately trying to capitalize on Alatar’s shock at the elven blade being able to cause such damage. The wizard stepped back as Anduril sailed toward the staff once again, and this time, upon impact, the staff split in two.

 

A great light flashed and Alatar dropped the pieces in shock, the heat from the power encased in the now broken staff searing his hands. He screamed as he felt his power vanish. What little strength that remained, he used in an effort to fend off the advancing King.

 

Alatar ran to the stone table and drew the coronet of Elendil out of its ornate box. He held it over his head, ready to destroy it, or make a last attempt to call on its power, Aragorn wasn’t certain.

 

He rushed the man and threw him against the stone wall. As Elladan approached, stalking behind the wizard and Aragorn to lend his brother aid, Aragorn tossed Anduril to him with a cry, “Flame of the West, head your Master’s call! From the ashes, a fire shall be waken ; a light in the darkness of defeat! Use your power in the hands of my kin to destroy the dragon!”

 

“Give it to me!” Aragorn cried and turned his attention away from his brother after he could see the elf catch Anduril and eye it warily.

 

Alatar shook the coronet, desperately trying to release its power to use against Aragorn. The King of the West and the wizard struggled relentlessly for control of the coronet.

 

As Aragorn’s hand passed across the diamond, blood from his wrists dripped onto the stone. The coronet began to tremble and hum, low and steady distracting the men from their struggle. Their eyes went wide and both men stood frozen in place as a blinding beam of light shot out from the diamond and straight into the stone wall.

 

 

 

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Elladan raced down the hillside, afraid that he would be too late. Afraid he would find the army below, bloodied in defeat.  He slipped on a patch of wet grass and stones crumbled beneath his weight as he took no care in the way he made it down the mountain.

 

With a cry that distracted the already frightened elf, he reached a small ledge just as the standards of the King appeared from the trees. Riders from Rohan, Gondorian archers and swordsmen joined the battle, surprising the Orc’s from behind.

 

Elladan stared in wonder as fresh troops joined the already exhausted army of Arnor. At their head, Elladan noticed his brother, along with Imrahil, leaning across their steeds to dispatch any Orc they encountered. Elladan blinked back his surprise, wondering again, how Elrohir had come to be with this army.

 

Faramir’s men had arrived just in time to launch a surprise attack on the flanks of the Orc army invading Annuminas before turning, with Elrohir and Imrahil at the head, toward their King’s mountain prison.

 

Elladan joined his brother’s side and together they dispatched as many Orc’s as dared cross their path. With a moment to breathe, Elrohir stared at the blade his brother wielded. A moment of panic crossed his face, thinking the worst of his foster-brother and King, but the smile that curved Elladan’s lips served to reassure the other elf.

 

“To dispatch the dragon.” Elladan gazed overhead at the beast flying thus far out of range. “If the Flame of the West cannot defeat this beast, there is none that can.”

 

The bladed glowed as the sun struck the elven metal, drawing the attention of the dragon overhead.

 

Imrahil gasped as he caught eye of the flying beast. “Sweet Eru what has happened here?”

 

“A very long story, Imrahil,” Elladan advised. “Should we live through this day, I will be happy to tell it.”

 

“Be wary brother.” Elrohir stepped aside so as to not allow the dragon’s flailing tail to take them out simultaneously. “I’ve felt its sting.”

 

Elladan remembered his brother’s injury and shot him a questioning glance moments before the dragon swept out of the sky, its claws reaching for the glimmering blade.

 

Dwarves rushed the dragon as it swept past Elladan, one axe crushing the dragon’s scales, another replacing the crumbled steal and embedding itself deeply into the unprotected skin of the beast. One by one the dwarves followed this pattern. Sacrificing one axe on the scales only to thrust another in its place.

 

Elladan dropped to his knees as the dragon sailed overhead, too distracted by the pain of dwarven axes to see the lone elf beneath the one vulnerable portion of the dragon’s body.

 

The beast realized its danger just as Elladan thrust the blade into the belly of the beast, piercing its heart. He rolled out of the way, ignoring his body’s strained protest at muscles being used in such a fashion, just as the creature collapsed onto the blood-stained ground.

 

The creature’s death squeal echoed in their eardrums. Dwarves were launched off their feet as the large body impacting the ground caused it to tremble. In their anger, they continued to hack away at the nearly dead beast as Elladan gained his feet, walked slowly toward the creature and withdrew the blood-stained blade from the dragon’s heart. It’s blood dripped down the blade as the elf stared triumphantly down at the dying beast.

 

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When Elladan and Elrohir arrived at the cave’s mouth, they were shocked to find it quiet within. Momentary panic gripped their hearts and they rushed toward the cloaked figure standing in the shadows.

 

Arwen was encased in Celeborn’s arms, his cloak wrapped securely around her shoulders to keep out the chill.

 

The elves embraced their sister tightly, grateful that she was safe and unharmed.

 

“I must see what is happening. It has fallen quiet. Too quiet.” Arwen said and turned away from them with a determined step to walk into the darkness of the cave.

 

Celeborn rushed ahead, determined to protect his granddaughter from any further harm. The twins flanked their sister, each of the same mind as their grandfather.

 

They stopped, wide-eyed, as a white light lit the interior of the cave and bathed all within with its glow.

 

Before them, into the very stone itself, a portal stood. On the other side, a lush, green field filled with such intricate and beautiful architecture it made elven workmanship pale in comparison.

 

They walked toward the light, blindly searching for an explainable reason they could be seeing a land accessible only from across the Sea.

 

Floating beings appeared, their non-corporeal bodies watching with as much awe as those standing on the other side.

 

Alatar’s grip on the coronet weakened and Aragorn wrenched it from his grasp. He pushed the wizard to the ground and stumbled away.  The wizard slid to the stone, whimpering, muttering as if he’d gone mad. He’d finally realized that the great and almighty power of the Elindilmir was not a power at all, not one to be used for destruction anyway.

 

The wizard whimpered as he realized that the only power it contained was the ability for it’s rightful heir’s to see the land from which the Numenorean’s, his people, had come. A reminder of what was destroyed because of their ancestor’s greed and rebellion. But also to remind them of what could be again – Elros Tar-Minyatur’s final gift to his human ancestors – The ability to see their home across the Sea. Even in the wake of Sauron’s near destruction of Middle-Earth, there was always hope, no matter how faint.

 

Aragorn stood immobile, the coronet glowing, humming steadily in his hands.

 

Alatar screamed as wisps of cloud extended out of the portal and snaked toward his body.

 

“It is time to return,” A voice said.

 

“To join your people.” Came another voice.

 

“To take your place in the prison you wished to create for all beings.” Came another.

 

Aragorn blinked, his strength wavering as he stepped back to avoid being touched by the cloud that had formed talons around the wizard.

 

“Do not fear, heir of Numenor, you will not be harmed.” Came a voice from within the portal. “We have come for he whom we wrongly sent to watch over your land.”

 

Alatar cried out as he was lifted into the wispy talons. They closed around his body like a vice and pulled him into the portal. His screams echoed off the walls of the cave, sending chills down the spines of everyone watching the events unfold.

 

Suddenly the beings disappeared and a fertile land, heartbreaking in its beauty, replaced them. Aragorn caught his breath, feeling inadequate merely looking on such a sight.

 

Celeborn and Cirdan gasped, bowing their heads in honor of their long-departed home.

 

Arwen gasped, and the twins’ eyes widened, as Elrond appeared, his arms wrapped securely around his wife. She choked back tears at seeing her mother again – something she never dreamed could possibly happen. She raised her hand, pressed a kiss to the palm and extended it toward them. They smiled warmly and repeated the elven gesture.

 

Before she could open her lips to speak, their eyes darted to Aragorn as his strength finally gave out and he fell to his knees.

 

Arwen gasped and rushed to his side, Elladan and Elrohir following on her heels.

 

“Estel!” Arwen cradled his head against her chest as she would a babe. His breathing was coming in huge gasps, as if the power to keep open the portal was being drawn directly from his very soul. Arwen’s eyes widened in understanding as Celeborn and Cirdan knelt before Aragorn and placed their hands on his own.

 

“You cannot keep this portal open,” Cirdan said.

 

“It is draining your life.” Celeborn stared into the portal and smiled sadly at Galadriel, who had moved to stand beside her daughter. “The blessing and curse of the Elendilmir.”

 

“It will kill you, King Elessar, if you continue to hold it.”

 

Aragorn tried to speak, but his eyes were fixed upon the portal that he had somehow, his weakened mind and body could not yet comprehend, conjured out of thin air. Coherent thought fled his mind at the possibilities. Celebrian, Arwen’s mother, smiled at him with sad, knowing eyes.  With a re-awakened realization, Aragorn remembered that he had taken away her only daughter. Doomed the Evenstar of the elves to a moral life that could only end in pain and suffering. Aragorn choked back a sob as memories, sad and joyous filled his mind.

 

Celebrian watched these scenes play out in his mind, and she smiled, an understanding and approving smile that sent an encouraging tingle through the portal. She was so very like and yet unlike Arwen, with her long flowing golden hair and her face that could have fooled his very eyes had Arwen not been kneeling before him.

 

Arwen gripped his chin and shook his head in an attempt to draw his gaze from the people and the beauty mere steps away.

 

“You will never see such – beauty,” he whispered through parched lips. He wrenched his eyes away from the scene and when they fell on his wife, they held a sadness so deep it nearly moved those watching from afar to tears. “I have taken you from – this.” He waved with his remaining strength toward Valinor. “I am not worthy of you.” He trailed, his voice lost from the harsh treatment at the hands of Alatar.

 

“No!” Arwen cried tearfully. “I knew what I was rejecting when I bonded myself to you.” She cast a longing look toward her mother, her family and the beauty of Valinor that called to her very soul. They smiled in understanding as Arwen pressed her finger to Aragorn’s lips. “I regret not a single moment of my decision. I love you, Estel. For now and forever.”

 

He shook his head, and she knew he wanted the elves to step through the portal and take Arwen with them. The beauty, the peace and tranquility that they lost by remaining in Middle-Earth, with him, was heartbreaking.

 

“My Estel,” Arwen brushed strands of sweet-soaked hair from his eyes and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. “I cannot leave you. I will not. We are bound together for all time. Even in death.” She smiled as she caressed his cheek and pressed her lips to his. “How could our child grow up without his father?”

 

Aragorn’s eyes widened, as did those who looked on from Valinor. Arwen took a bloodied hand and flattened it across her stomach. “Yes. A baby. Our baby. Created out of our love. He will be born into a free Middle-Earth, Estel. And we will raise him,” she cast a small smile toward her family, “with the knowledge of all who have come before.”

 

“A – baby,” His voice was a mere whisper as his strength failed. “Our – baby.”

 

Arwen nodded and covered his hands with her own. “Let it go, love.” She pried his fingers from the coronet until he barely held it in his hands. Her love, her power flowed into him, giving him strength for one last act.

 

Crystal eyes stared into the portal and he smiled, as those he recognized, and those he didn’t, saluted him in the elven tradition he had learned as a child.

 

He returned the gesture with one hand, the other holding the coronet above his head. “From Numenor it came, to Valinor will it return!” He cried and flung the coronet into the portal.

 

As the coronet left his hands, the portal began to close. Without the blood of Numenor touching it’s stone, the power waned. The coronet struck the ground at Elrond’s feet just as the last wisp of the land could be seen fading from Middle-Earth.

 

Aragorn collapsed into Arwen’s arms, exhausted, his strength spent and his wounds more grave than they wanted to admit.

 

A litter was carried into the cave as the dwarves, elves and Arnorian Rangers waited patiently outside for news of the King. A nearly unconscious Aragorn was lifted gingerly onto the material, made softer by the elves in the cave laying their cloaks upon it. He held Arwen’s hand as tightly as possible, his eyes searching and memorizing every inch of her face. “A baby,” He mouthed, still unable to believe the news. “Amin me lle” he whispered as consciousness faded.