˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ OATHBREAKER'S ARMY ❫ ❞

⋆ 🌪. CHAPTER FIFTY THREE ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ dunharrow:  dwimorberg ─── act four

❝ 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝙄, 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙𝙨 ❞

*✧ ─── THE CAVERN HELD A FAINT GREEN GLOW THAT WAS AS UNNATURAL AS THE INHABITANTS DWELLING INSIDE. Mist clung to the ground, swirling like smoke. Gyda could barely see the ground she was walking on. Aragorn had brought torches from Dunharrow, the fire from the one he held aloft casted moving shadows across the walls. Elladan with another went at the rear, and Gimli who had muttered about elves and dwarfs was stumbling behind trying to overtake him.

Gyda felt as if there were eyes upon them, gleaming from the darkest corners that even the torchlight didn't reach. And when the Company halted, there seemed endless whispers of voices. Her steps on the ground were soft, but for some reason they seemed to echo louder—as if she could not conceal her trespassing.

Then a great empty space appeared, growing in width and length, there were no walls and something dark and heavy pressed down on her. The hairs on the back of her neck raised in warning and a chill ran up her spine. Something deceitful rested in the air—Gyda could almost taste the foulness.

Then something glimmered, like a beacon luring them to false comforts. She squinted to make sense of it through the unnatural darkness as Aragorn slowly approached whatever lay hidden.

"Does he feel no fear?" Gimli muttered beneath his breath, the fingers curled around his axe tightening.

With bathed breath, Gyda watched as Aragorn passed his torch to Elladan and kneeled. Carefully Gyda stepped closer and rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. Her eyes lifted up as she passed Elgarain, who looked almost as if she could be part of the dead. Gyda almost believed the light reflected on her skin might pass right through her. Then she averted her gaze when she came closer.

A pile of bones; still clad in their mail. His belt was of gold and garnets and rich with gold was the helm upon his bony head. He had fallen near the far wall of the cave, as now could be seen, and before him stood a stony door closed fast: his finger-bones were still clawing at the cracks.

The sight before them was grim. The soldier's remains lay half buried in the dust, twisted in such a way that it seemed less like dead found him and more like he had been trying to flee from it. The sight made something unpleasant stir inside her stomach. She had after all witnessed many elves and men alike succumb to the agony of war. And fear sometimes was a mightier opponent than anything made of flesh.

Aragorn remained still for a moment longer, the torchlight flickering across his face, before turning wordlessly toward the next archway. His steps echoed along the narrow passage, sharp and hollow, each one swallowed by the stone.

Legolas came to walk beside Gyda. His voice was barely a whisper, meant only for elven ears. "The dead are following." Her murmured, eyes narrowed toward the shadows behind them. "I see shapes of men and horses, and pale banners like shred of clouds and spears like winter-thickets on a misty night."

Gyda swallowed, her throat dry as she glanced over her shoulder. She saw not what Legolas saw, but the darkness seemed to pulse faintly, as though it had a heartbeat of its own.

Elladan's voice followed, quiet but certain. "Yes. The Dead ride behind. They have been summoned."

Gyda exhaled shakily, and willed away the fear that tried to take hold of her. "Let them come." Her words were steady. "The curse binds them still, it will hold with the heir of Isildur among us."

At last, the narrow path widened, spilling them into a vast, hollow chamber where their footsteps echoed. A stairway hewn directly from the mountain's heart, rose before them. Its stone edges worn smooth by ages untold. Dust veiled each step in a thick, unbroken layer, and long cobwebs hung like ghostly banners.

At the stair's summit, pillars carved with intricate detail loomed into view, their surfaces etched with ancient runes and forgotten sigils. Gyda felt it again—the eyes watching them, scrutinizing their every step. The hand holding her sword tightened warily as she moved to stand closer to Elgarain.

"Who enters my domain?"

The wall shook, as if the mere sound of the voice could make the earth move. The sound wasn't merely heard, it pressed into her chest, vibrating through her bones until her heart stumbled in its rhythm. Instinct took hold before thought could; she spun around, stepping in front of Elgarain, sword flashing free from its sheath with a sharp whisper of steel.

Her eyes darted through the dim light, searching the dark corners of the chamber, but all she saw were restless shadows cast by their torches. Her breath came fast, the air grew heavier and she could feel it settling over her skin like a shroud.

Then light came. It shimmered faintly at first, a wavering gleam at the top of the stairs, but soon it began to move, bending twisting—forming. Gyda's grip tightened around her sword, though her palms were slick with sweat. The glow shifted like mist caught in a storm, pulling together into the shape of a man.

Her pulse thudded in her throat as cold wind spiralled down the stairs.

Beside her Aragorn lifted his torch higher. The flame guttered, then flared defiantly. "One who will have your allegiance."

"The dead do not suffer the living to pass."

"You will suffer me." Aragorn affirmed.

A long, tense silence followed, so absolute that Gyda could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. The air seemed to hold its breath, the cold pressing tighter around them.

And then laughter—it started slow, faint and then grew swelling into a sound that clawed its way through the chamber. It was laughter devoid of warmth or mirth. No, Gyda realised, it was hollow and haunting. It was echoing from every crevice of stone until it was impossible to tell where it came from.

Gyda flinched, her grip tightening on her sword as the light shifted unnaturally green once more and from the swirling mist around them a city took shape. Her breath caught in her throat as more forms appeared in the distance—men in armour dulled by time, their hollow eyes glinting faintly in the green glow.

The mist thickened, curling around her boots like grasping fingers. Her every instinct was to run, but her body remained rooted on the spot. Gyda knew she would try to fight her way out if she could, but there were so many—and what could a simple sword do against the dead?

"The way is shut." The king of the dead announced, "it was made by those who are dead. And the dead keep it."

More soldiers took form around them, their rotten flesh see-through.

"The way is shut—now you must die."

Gyda tensed as Legolas raised his bow, notched an arrow and let it fly toward the king. But as she expected, the arrow merely soared straight through him and lodged itself in the stone wall behind the king.

"I summon you to fulfill your oath." Aragorn walked closer, his steps calm, his gaze steady and not giving away a hint of fear.

The king stalked forward, "None but the king of Gondor may command me."

The sound reverberated through the chamber, shaking dust from the high ceiling but Aragorn did not yield. In a single motion he raised his sword, the steel glinting in the light and the symbols etched on its surface seemed to pulse with light as the sword of the king came down upon it.

Gyda watched in awe as their swords clashed, and Aragorn skilfully parried the attack.

"That line was broken!" The king's voice trembled.

"It has been remade."

The king was pushed back.

"Fight for us, and regain your honour." Aragorn began, his voice carried through the chamber, clear and commanding. The greenish light of the dead flickered across his face, casting his features in shadows.

His gaze swept over the hundreds of hollow eyes fixed upon him. He lifted Andúril, and pointed it toward one of the ghostly soldiers nearest the front. Its armour faintly translucent, its once proud crest dimmed by centuries of shame. "What say you?"

No answer was given as he made his way through the crowd and repeated his question.

"Ah! You waste your time Aragorn." Gimli's voice broke the heavy silence. "They had no honour in life, they have none now in death."

Gyda did not say it aloud, but she agreed. Her lips pressed together into a thin line as her gaze swept over the gathered spirits. Men who had once borne banners of pride, now reduced to whispers and flickering shapes of memories.

When Isildur had cursed them, she remembered standing beside her father. She had pitied them once in her youth—she could not phantom what horrors could bring one to shun their oaths.

She remembered thinking then, let them never forget. Let the weight of their oaths haunt them through the long centuries, until the echo of their betrayal carved itself into their very bones. Let them remember what it means to forsake honour when it is needed the most.

"I am Isildur's heir." Aragorn continued instead, "fight for me and I will hold your oaths fulfilled." He spun around and faced the king once more, "what say you?!"

Laughter rang out once more as the army that surrounded them began to fade away, row by row.

"You have my word!" Aragorn promised "Fight and I will release you from this living death. What say you!?"

"Stand you traitors!" Gimli cursed, lifting his axe up high.

The wind howled and the mist that clung to their feet was blown away, a low rumbling echoed and Gyda's head snapped up to the ceiling as it started to break apart. Dust showered from above and pieces of rock came crashing down.

Gyda stumbled backway, a sharp gasp tore from her throat as a cascade of skulls clattered across the ground. One after another they tumbled like a river of the dead. Her eyes darted upward, the walls surrounding the stairway began to fracture, hairline cracks spidering across the stone. Dust and debris drifted down in thin clouds.

From the hollowed fissures, skulls, dozens, then hundred spilled forth, rolling and tumbling with a life of their own.

"Out!"

Aragorn's shout barely registered before Gyda turned, clasped her fingers around Elgarain's thin wrist and hauled her through the cavern. But more and more skulls came tumbling from crevices and they stumbled through the heavy onslaught. "Hold on!" Gyda shouted as she pushed forward.

"Legolas, run!"

"Gyda!" Elgarain shouted frantically. "I can't hold on!" As she spoke her body was pulled backwards by the force of endless skulls falling into the depths below.

"Elgarain!" Gyda screamed, her own voice swallowed by the tumult. She could see Elgarain's form tumbling downward in the chasm, pale and helpless against the onslaught in her current condition.

Gyda's fingers scraped against the rough stone, each nail catching painfully as she reached for any ledge, any protrusion that might bring her closer to Elgarain without sending her spiralling downwards. Her heart hammered, a frantic drumbeat she could almost feel in her throat.

"Elgarain!" She screamed again, her voice raw and nearly drowned out by the echoing clatter of bones. Her mind raced, searching for a plan, any plan. Think, Gyda, think!

She caught sight of Elgarain's hand pale and trembling, brushing against a jagged stone jutting from the cavern wall. Without thinking, she dove forward, and just before she reached the edge, she stuck her sword into the stone to halt her movement.

Gyda's own hand shot out, closing around Elgarain's just as a smaller cascade of skulls tumbled between them. Pain lanced through her arm as she pulled with every ounce of strength she possessed.

"Elgarain, hold on! I've got you." Gyda's teeth clenched.

Elgarain's breath came in ragged gasps, and for a moment Gyda feared she might slip, that the bones would claim her friend before she could do anything, but then slowly with agonizing effort, Elgarain's legs found precarious purchase against the stone wall.

Gyda's arms burned, every muscle straining but she refused to let go.

Finally with a heave that left her gasping, Gyda dragged Elgarain back toward solid ground, the grip on her sword so strong her knuckles had turned white. She pushed Elgarain forward in front of her. "Go, quick! Go."

Together they scrambled up, hands digging in the ground and fingers curling around each stray rock they could reach whilst more skulls tumbled down.

Gyda's heart pounded in her ears, each thump echoing the voice of panic inside her mind. Don't slip. Don't let go. Keep moving. She stole a glance at Elgarain whose grip on her arm was firm but trembling.

Finally the walls of the cavern converged, the chaotic space narrowing into a slim shadowed passway. Aragorn was already there, hand extended toward them. Gyda pushed Elgarain forward into his arms before pushing herself inside with the last of her strength just as the ceiling above the entrance collapsed behind her.

Gyda's collapsed against the stone wall, chest heaving.

"Quickly!" Aragorn urged as he wrapped a protective arm around Elgarain's shoulders to move her forward.

Legolas was in front of Gyda, his hand steady and firm as he reached back to pull her forward, guiding her through the narrow pass. She stumbled against him, legs trembling from the effort and the relentless fear.

"Keep going, you got it." He murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the wind that whistled through the corridor.

Gyda nodded forcing her legs to obey even as every muscle screamed in protest.

At last the underfoot began to slope upward leading them out of the oppressive cavern and onto a jagged hilltop. The air here was more clear.

Gyda's chest heaved as she took in the sight before them.

Below, a river stretched through the valley and upon it were the black ships of the Corsairs of Umbar and close to the riverbank a village stood alight. Smoke curling like a warning sign. Her heart shattered inside her chest.

Before them Aragorn sank down to his knees. Elgarain, pale and trembling lowered herself beside him, pressed close to comfort him.

The wind howled, soft at first and then it stirred in a way it should not.

Behind them through the rocks of the mountain the King of the Dead appeared once more to stand in front of Aragorn.

"We fight."

and another update! can you believe it, because we barely can :p