I awaken from a long dreamless sleep in a room lit only with moonlight...

I feel dead. My body aches and my head throbs.

Immediately I open my eyes more and look around, remembering the previous day... remembering the bloodshed.

The room I lie in is quite large, white pillars that are a dark steel blue because of the night, other wounded men in the room on beds.

My eyes flash over to the foot of my bed, where I see my bow lying on top of the covers I am under. But I sit up, looking down at my right arm that had been bound, the remains of blood forming a line across my forearm. My leather sleeve is pulled up to my elbow. I wear only that shirt and the leather trousers. My boots and other armor are missing.

I look over to my right when I hear voices. I see Éomer and Aragorn kneeling by Éowyn's bedside, Lord Elrond doing the same, speaking a quiet healing spell with his hand above her arm.

"How is she?" I ask.

All of them look at me except Éomer who seems so concerned for his sister.

"She will be alright," Elrond responds.

Aragorn stands up, removing his hand from her arm and walking to my bed, sitting in the chair with his back from them and taking a wet cloth from the bowl on the small table by me.

"What happened...?" I breathe. "Did we win?"

"We have drawn back the armies of Mordor for now," he responds quietly, placing the cold rag on my cheek bone gently, feeling the cut and bruise under it when he does so.

I look into his bright blue eyes that show only tenderness.

"You are lucky you did not bleed too much before King Théoden found you. You were sleeping on a dead nazgul dragon."

I take the cloth from him and hold it in my hands, looking down. "Is anyone else hurt?"

"There are a lot injured, and even more dead..." He breathes.

"Where's Legolas?"

His eyes almost sparkle and a ghost of a smile almost appears on his lips. His eyes move past my shoulder.

I turn my head to see my elf sleeping with his head resting on the edge of my bed, his hand right where mine was before I had moved it, his fingers curled as if he had been holding my hand and fell asleep doing so. His face is dirty and he has not even removed his bloody and worn armor.

I look back at Aragorn who is now smiling slightly. "He came after Théoden brought you here. He has not left your side."

I smile almost but look up at him from under my lashes shyly.

"He is very fond of you, Vilora."

"He is a great soul," is all I say formally.

But from the look he is giving me I think he knows what's been going on between us. "Elves can only love once, you know," he says.

"Chill dude, we're not there yet."

He chuckles. "Good to know even in these dark times your spirit hasn't dimmed, my lady."

I almost smile and look down... then I remember something. "Who are the Dernhelm?"

"An ancient army that fought under Isildur long ago... They betrayed him when the city was in great need. And like cowards they vanished. The king cursed them to never again rest until they had won Gondor the war like they were supposed to."

"...And now that they have..."

"They have been set free."

I think on this. I had never known ghosts were real. But demons are powerful beings. And messing with the devil will get you into trouble. So I never did. But my world has barriers between the natural world and the others that this place seems to be lacking.

I notice through the open window, Arwen walking from the other building and out into the night light. I look past Aragorn to make sure Elrond is gone. "So have you heard any word of Lady Arwen?"

His eyes suddenly look interested and humble. He shakes his head slightly as he looks down.

"Hope she's doing alright..." I look over my shoulder out the window again like I notice something. "Lord Elrond is looking for you. He's outside." I say.

But Aragorn is now distracted with the thought of his love and he hesitates. But he stands up and leaves the room after I place the cloth into the bowl.

I prop myself up once he's out of sight to see out and I spot the future king as he stops in his tracks.

There is a starstruck look in her large eyes.

He walks forward so slowly, as if he thinks he has strayed into a dream. But sudden the flies ahead and wraps his arms around her in a loving hug, spinning her around as she laughs joyfully.

I smile. Finally they are reunited.

He puts her down and she comes in for a loving kiss.

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"Frodo has passed beyond my sight..." Gandalf the White says as he paces the floor of the Mina's Tirith throne room.

We has all gathered here, Aragorn, Théoden, Elrond, Gimli, the dwarf general, the Rhûn captain, Éomer, Legolas, and I.

I am wearing just my black leather shirt and trousers, with my old black boots.

"The darkness is deepening," he continues.

"If Sauron had the Ring we would know it," Aragorn says with his back to us.

"It's only a matter of time," the wizard responds.

"There is no way he can make it through the lands of shadow undetected," Lord Elrond says. "Sauron may not have his form but his eye is always watching."

"He is still strong..." I mutter. I stand by Legolas who stands by Éomer.

"Sauron has suffered a defeat, yes..." Gandalf thinks. "But behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping."

"Let him stay there," Gimli says taking the pipe out of his mouth, blowing smoke as he speaks. "Let him rot. Why should we care?"

"Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and MountDoom."

The dwarf looks down...

Gandalf is quiet but then he murmurs, "I've sent him to his death."

"There has to be something we can do," I say.

"Are you suggesting that after all of this Sauron will still get the ring?" The Rhûn captain asks.

There is no answer.

"No," Aragorn says, turning around. "There is still hope for Frodo."

"He's right. We still have four armies here. We can do something," I say.

"Like what?" Théoden asks.

"Frodo needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that," Aragorn says.

"How?" Gimli asks.

"Draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

The dwarf coughs on the substance in his lungs after he says this.

"We cannot achieve victory for through strength of arms," Éomer says, walking up to the king.

"Not for us, but we can give Frodo a chance," he says.

"Aragorn's right," I say. "We have a chance to get them across the fields if we keep Sauron's eye fixed on us."

"I diversion," Legolas states.

He and I exchange a look.

"Certainty of death. Small chance of success..." Gimli starts. "What are we waiting for?"

Gandalf looks at Elrond as Éomer looks at me. But we all seem to agree with the future king. This is what we must do.

Gandalf nears Aragorn and speaks quietly. "Sauron will suspect a trap. He will not take the bait."

But the future king looks into the wizard's eyes confidently. "Oh I think he will."

Gandalf looks towards the palantir sitting on the steps to he king's throne, covered by a grey cloth.

Elrond steps up to him. "Aragorn no. It is too dangerous."

"It is our only option, my lord," he says. "Do not worry."

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I walk through the city, passing the miserable citizens. The women and children have now returned and they mourn over the deaths of their husbands, fathers, and sons.

As is I stride down the stone walkways, the air blows my hair back from my shoulders. But it is not the cool breeze that feels refreshing against my skin. This wind chills my bones, and moans in the air. The smell that I was once used to has returned, the stench of death, and decay... In the white city now turned grey with ash, and red with blood. I look over the Fields of Pelennor, only a sea of bodies, with the flags of Gondor stuck into the dirt, flowing in the wind... As the eerie fog of dust rolls over the plains.

The crying of a woman fills my ears as I look back to where I stand. She holds her son I her arms, her worn face showing so much pain, so much sorrow. This is a side of war I have not seen for quite some time. Back on earth I was used to the vacant streets and cities, not thinking about what death does to others because what we killed were pure demons... orcs and goblins... the same ones that fill these lands.

I see young Pippin in the streets, looking up at something now.

With a surprised gasp, I run to him. "Peregrin!" I say and he looks my direction.

"My lady," he responds with raised eyebrows.

I kneel down to see him. "Thank God you're alright. Where's young Merry?'

"Sleeping, my lady. He's okay now." He looks relieved and also burdened. I am sure he was worried sick about his best friend.

"How's Faramir?"

He looks up to where his eyes were before. "I suppose he is doing just fine now."

I gaze to where he is and see the Gondor captain talking to Éowyn on the ledge softly.

I smile.

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As the sun passes behind the clouds I find my way up to the top of the city. As I pass the dead white tree, the symbol of Gondor, and what marks their flags, I notice a small blossom at the tip of one of the branches. Gandalf had said it would never bloom as long as the world is filled with darkness... as long as hope was lost.

I walk towards the edge of the overlook when I see a figure standing there, looking down at the blood covered fields.

I approach him at his side, staring out over the edge, placing my hands on the stone barrier.

"It's frightening, isn't it? Being so close to Mordor," I ask Éomer.

"As a child, looking over the hills... once every now and then you could hear a thunder... distant it was... and my sister and I would look into the distance and see a red light... far off in the darkness... Frightened her it did. She would have nightmares about the realm of Sauron and crawl into my uncle's bed late at night."

"I would always have nightmares about losing my family when I was a child... Didn't think they would ever come true..."

I can feel his gaze on me but I don't return it.

"I am glad Éowyn is better. I did not know she had come with the men."

"I warned her not to... but I never believed she would do it either... I almost lost my baby sister out there..."

"She is one of the most courageous people I've ever known."

"But she needs to understand that being courageous doesn't mean you look for a quarrel. But only when you must; you have to be brave." He looks at to the sea of bodies.

I stay quiet for a little, thinking about what he said. "This is it, isn't it?" I ask after a while.

He eyes me.

I look back into the deep brown. "This is the final confrontation... Do you think we will survive?"

He hesitates, wanting to say 'yes' but thinking logically... he looks down. "I do not know," he murmurs.

"Even if death is near... I will not cower. I will fight with you and the others for young Frodo."

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We ride down through the city in a line, Aragorn at the head, walking on horses through the tiers and out the gates, the women and children watching us as we make our way through, on the journey that is not to have a return, the end meeting us all soon.

I ride on my white horse behind Gandalf, and ahead of Legolas and Gimli that share a horse because the dwarf cannot ride I his own. I wear my same suit of Rivendell armor and have some of my hair is done like it was the day I left Mirkwood to go to Rivendell...

We head out of the fields and make our way through the plains, as men gather bodies to be burned, the smell of darkness filling our lungs.

Our army follows us on foot, marching down the lands and towards the black hills, thunder and red fire showing above them, filling the clouds with ash.

Arwen rides by my side with a look of bravery in her eyes. I had done the favor of pulling her hair back into a French braid to keep it out of the way for her.

It's a two day journey to the Black Gate that closes off Mordor at the north border. On day two we head through the marshes, the horses having a hard time trudging through the haunted waters. We had to spend the night there as well on the first night... But we are all silent on the mission to our doom.

At midday the peaks of Mordor part to reveal the enormous black wall made of thick metal and spiked at the top... it is a mighty gate that no army of Middle Earth would ever be able to break through.

As we near it I gulp at the size, twenty stories or taller it must be. It is as high as the top of the white city at least.

Thunder cracks behind the black hills. And the sounds of terror can be heard in the distance... the lands of Mordor... a hell on earth.

All of us come to a slow before the gates... I look left at Éomer who rides with young Merry on the back of his horse, Pippin sitting in front of Gandalf on Shadowfax. I notice then that Merry wears armor from Rohan, and Pippin traditional armor of Gondor like Aragorn's, the white tree tattooing their navy chests.

Aragorn, Arwen, Théoden, Elrond, Legolas and I are also up here on the front lines.

Some of us look to the king of Gondor for what to do next... how we are to draw out the dark armies.

Aragorn sends his horse forward, Gandalf following when he does. The remaining eight of us follow him in a horizontal line towards the huge metal wall.

Once we are a bit closer we stop. Now with the massive black barricade in front of us I can no longer see MountDoom or the black tower.

"Let the lord of the BlackLand come forth!" Aragorn calls up. "Let justice be done upon him!"

All of us wait with baited breath at what is to come. But I am not afraid, not anymore.

I sit on my horse with a scowl of anger on my face, remembering why those in Gondor died; those in Rohan; and those whom I loved.

But then we hear a clinking of metal gears, so loud I almost have to cover my ears. I hear what sounds like a mighty chain before us, as the gates creak and begin to crack open slowly.

I sense Éomer's horse shift slightly as a rider comes from the opening.

A being in black, on the same colored stallion dressed in steel armor. The man wears metal on his shoulders and a cloak of charcoal under that. His helmet reminds me of that of the Witch King but this looks more like an iron crown upon his head, metal covering his eyes if he has any, leaving just an opening for his mouth.

His horse walks with pride towards us.

I don't move but clutch my sword with a glare in my eyes, readying for the worst.

As he approaches the feel of this area changes by his presence, keeping everyone on edge, if they weren't angry enough.

I notice symbols on the demon's helmet once he is close. "My master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome," the grimy, wickedly awful voice says to us, spit staining his cracked grey skin. The thing smiles with his nasty, yellowed teeth beneath his black, slimy lips with an oversized mouth.

I look for a response from Aragorn but he only he looks in disgust at this lord; this Mouth of Sauron.

"Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?" the demon asks.

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

The lord snarls. "Old Greybeard," he addresses the wizard "I have a token I was bidden to show thee." He pulls out a small shirt made of white gems or chainmail it looks like, tiny, hobbit sized-...

I hear everyone hold their breath as they stair at it with horror.

"Frodo," Pippin gasps quietly.

He tosses the shirt to Gandalf and the wizard catches it.

I look over at Legolas who looks heartbroken... and speechless

"Frodo," Pip says louder.

"Silence," Gandalf scolds.

"No," Merry cries.

"Silence," the wizard repeats at a higher volume.

They don't speak but I can see tears in their eyes.

I frown. But he's not dead... so how did they get this from him?

"The halfling was dear to thee, I see," the lord says.

Aragorn swallows.

"Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host," he continues, giving us a smile.

Gimli grips Legolas with anger, grinding his teeth, tears wanting to escape the dwarf's eyes.

The elf stairs still with shock, not knowing quite what to feel. But his innocent eyes show deep sorrow... it is hard for elves to cry. I don't see it too often. But if the circumstances are right they most definitely can... I think at this moment Legolas wants to, though his eyes are not red like the others.

It is then that I realize perhaps my thoughts are denial... how would they get his vest without finding him? So I know then that he must be dead... we have already failed... which means we have to leave now. There is no purpose being here. But to survive out there for just a few more days doesn't sound too bright either... My head is spinning.

"Gandalf," I whisper as he is to the left of me. I look at him with worry. But his eyes flash to mine and with a quick and quiet tongue he mutters, "Don't listen to him. Frodo is still alive."

I don't argue. Because he looks so sure of it. The facts tell me not to believe him, but his words pierce my brain and his voice is not the only one telling me he's right.

"Who would have thought that one so small could endure so much pain?" the demon before us trails on. Why is he antagonizing us? Does he want us to give up? Are they scared of us? "And he did, Gandalf. He did."

I think Aragorn knows the Mouth is wrong, for he looks furious and determined to carry on with our plan.

Elrond looks indifferent. Out of all of us he is the wisest, his daughter sitting there with a glare upon her eyes.

Éomer and Théoden are not close to Frodo like the others are, but they look sorrowful and also confused as to what to do now.

Peregrin clutches the hobbit's shirt in his gloved hands.

The Mouth growls at us, for a victory that he sees upon himself.

The king of Gondor moves his horse forward slowly, walking to the right side of the demon as he looks down in thought.

"And who is this?" the lord asks. "Isildur's heir?" he mocks. "It takes more to make a king than a broken Elvish blade."

I wonder what he is doing but soon enough he pulls Andúril, the sword forged from the shards of Narsil (Elendil; the blade that was broken), from its sheath with one armstroke, lopping off the head of the lord with an angry cry. It rolls on the ground under his horse and the body soon drops with it. The animal turns and runs back inside the gates.

"I guess that concludes negotiations," Gimli mutters.

Aragorn looks back at us, determination in his blue eyes. "I do not believe it. I will not," he says with truth of his words gleaming true, like Gandalf's.

I lift my chin in confidence, believing him at whole.

But the gates behind us begin to open further and the gears and chains work again, sending metallic terror into the hearts and ears of our soldiers.

Before us we see the armies of Mordor marching with flags of black, a symbol of a red eye on them that flap in the dusty wind.

Orc, goblin, troll, and nasty mutated creatures snarl at us as the gates open, revealing millions and billions of them ready to kill.

"Pull back," Aragorn says and steers his horse back to our line of men who stand a ways behind us.

The nine of us follow him to our army, the horses' hooves kicking up the dirt of the ash lands.

We slow and turn around again, facing the gates once more but this time in front of our men.

Aragorn stays at the head. "Hold your ground! Hold your ground!" he says to the soldiers who look utterly frightened. The men that are weak, exhausted, and troubled by the deaths of their friends and family not too long ago...

"Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers!" the king continues. "I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me!" He rides down the line, pacing back and forth. "A day may come when the courage of men, dwarves, or elves fail, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship! But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down. But it is not this day! This day we fight!"

I pull out my sword.

"By all that you hold dear on this good earth I bid you stand, men of the west! Dwarves of the east! Elves of the north! Rise up! Take back the lives they stole from you!"

Our army draws their weapons as he lifts the blade of Elendil high.

"For wrath and ruin!" I call, repeating what Théoden had said before. "A sword day! A red day! Ere the sun rises! For the world's ending!" I hold my blade in the air. "Deeeaaaath!" I cheer

The others cheer this word with me, the cries of all the warriors heard, filling the skies with a valiant voices of our people. A hope rises. It rises with death. It rises with blood. It rises with glory.

The king's horse whinnies as its hooves beat the air, turning to face the flood of demons before us with confidence and strength.

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PS: please please please COMMENT and tell me anything on your mind or what you think so far. I REALLY need reviews if i am to grow as i writer! thank you!