"Some pirates achieved immortality
by great deeds of cruelty or derring-do.
Some achieved immortality by
amassing great wealth.
But the captain had long ago decided
that he would, on the whole, prefer to
achieve immortality by not dying."

― Terry Pratchett, The Color of Magic

39. Crushing the Corsairs

The sun was gone, under a dark, horrible sky, and Legolas was more tired than he could recall ever being before. Hour upon hour the Grey Company had ridden, not eating, not sleeping – barely even pausing for toilet breaks – and behind them surged the army of the dead. Chasing orcs through Rohan had been a breeze in comparison with this frantic race.

Behind Legolas Gimli dozed fitfully, leaning heavily against his back and relying on him to keep them both upright on the horse. At first it had been uncomfortable, but now it was downright painful; Legolas' legs had become weak and trembling with exhaustion. 

If he – an elf – felt this weary, what must it not be like for the humans? But nobody complained. Doggedly they continued: Halbarad staying always close to Aragorn's side, carrying his banner, and the rest of the rangers following suit in a close throng.

At the head of the company Aragorn sat tall and straight in the saddle, unbending and determined like he was made of iron. The sight of his ramrod back was comforting, and the control he had over the ghosts impressive. They looked stronger here, closer to Mordor, and their dead eyes flared with purpose.

I think the dead admire Aragorn, just like we do, he thought to Arod. Talking to the horse was a recent habit of his, and the steed was a patient listener. His replies were on the less sophisticated scale, but it was better than nothing; when Gimli slept Legolas had no one else.

I admire you more, thought Arod loyally.

Thank you. But Aragorn is very much my superior! He gives everything to fulfil our mission; neglecting his own comforts, and even forsaking sleep and food, so that we can come in time to defeat Sauron's secret weapon. That is inspiring. Just looking at him now makes my heart swell with affection, and I almost forget how tired I am. Many kings could learn from him – my father included. He smiled to himself over a vision of the Elvenking on the Woodland throne, a silver robe pooling around his elegant boots, and expensive rings crowding his fingers where they gripped a goblet of Dorwinion wine. Comparing King Thranduil with this seasoned ranger in worn clothes was like comparing day to night. In all fairness, Thranduil was a skilled fighter too, but his warriors followed him out of respect and duty rather than love.

A frightened hare drew Legolas' gaze as it crossed the path and disappeared among the rocks. The cliff walls were less sheer here, he noticed, and further ahead he glimpsed fields and homesteads. We are slowly leaving the mountains, it seems, but I still cannot see the river where we will cross into Lebennin. Lamedon is a much larger country than I expected, and yet it is only a small part of Gondor. Aragorn will have a huge kingdom to rule when he takes the throne.

We must cross another river? thought Arod miserably. They are horrible and cold.

Aye. A few more. Sorry about that. He patted Arod's neck. Anyway... When leaving home all those months ago, I knew the world would be large, of course, but seeing it with my own eyes and experiencing it in my legs and feet is much different from reading about it in books or studying maps. I think that when I return, the Great Wood will feel small, and the palace even more so. Will I ever be satisfied with staying there, when I know how much left I have to explore? Suddenly his chest felt heavy. I do not think I want to go back to that life. I have changed. It would be exceedingly dull to be a courtier again, and help my father solve disputes, make purchases, and arrange festivities... The only excitement being to hunt the occasional spider or stray orc. He sighed. I would suffocate! But at least for a while, before I return, I shall travel with Gimli as I promised, and visit those caves he fell in love with. We could come here as well; this would have been a lovely place without the ghosts and the threat of war. Have you seen how beautifully the spring flowers grow in the crevices among the rocks? And the soft grass–

Don't talk of grass! I'm hungry.

Oh. Sorry again, but perhaps we will take a break soon.

I'm not optimistic.

The rivers here are lovely too. I could borrow a boat from the humans, and explore one of them further south. Follow it to the sea... If it was summer I could swim far out. I wish I had time to bathe now, by the way. I have not washed my hair since... He broke off, remembering when he had last bathed and the events that followed.

... since you showed off your body to the cat. I remember that. Arod's voice was full of mirth. You are not unlike a stallion sometimes.

I am not like a stallion! Legolas huffed indignantly.

What happened to her anyway? She was decent for a cat, and seldom clawed my back when she rode with you.

I do not know where she is. Legolas repressed a wave of worry and longing for his friend. Let us not talk about the cat. See! Aragorn is raising his hand. Time for a quick lunch.

Finally! Arod's head dropped to the grass so quickly that Legolas and Gimli almost fell off.

ʕll * _ * llʔ

Later that day the Grey Company left the mountain pass and entered the more open highlands of central Lamedon. The country seemed to have been fairly densely populated, despite its altitude and remoteness, but now the farms, villages and small towns they passed looked deserted. The only living creatures Legolas saw were black sheep and cattle with thick fur and long, curved horns, grazing on the sloping meadows.

He breathed in a lungful of crisp air, tinged with the sweet fragrance of a wide variety of spring flowers blossoming on the roadside. It was depressing to be under Mordor's dreary cloud; this would have been a truly delightful ride in normal, healthy daylight.

The road ascended a hill, and Legolas found the view to the east open for the first time. His eyes were drawn to a coarsely ridged line of distant mountain tops; the border into Mordor. The murky darkness veiling the sun had its source from behind them, and bile rose in his throat when he felt the emanating evil; a similar dread the balrog in Moria had procured, and to a lesser extent the passing of the Nazgûl on their winged beasts.

Tearing his gaze from the appalling sight, Legolas let his eyes travel over the plains of Lebennin. Several rivers cut through them, black as rivulets of blood in the dim light, and gloomily he recalled what a beautiful land it had been. A few lines of an old song surfaced in his memory: The white lilies sway / And the golden bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin / In the green fields of Lebennin. Now the fields looked grey rather than green, and again he regretted coming here in such dark times.

Turning south, he hoped to catch a glimpse of the alluring sea, but his line of sight was blocked by the Belfalas mountains. Instead a movement only a few miles away drew his attention: a battle.

He must have made a sound of surprise, for Aragorn instantly reined in his horse. "What do you see?"

"There is a skirmish ahead, at the river crossing. Two battleships are anchored there, carrying foreign soldiers in golden armor and red cloaks. Some of them have come ashore, and they fight with what appears to be local men."

"Sauron's secret weapon," Aragorn growled. "There will be more ships over at the Anduin – the bulk of them, I surmise; in the palantír I saw a huge Haradrim fleet at Pelargir." He raised his voice. "This is our first test, friends. Soon it begins for real. Let us ride closer, and be ready to charge at my signal. Prepare your weapons!"

Legolas strung his bow, feeling a knot of tension over the imminent killing. Again he would be fighting humans instead of orcs. Would he ever get used to that?

As they approached the river, not only Legolas and the half-elven could see the battle scene ahead. The Lamedon defenders fought valiantly, holding the enemy at bay, but at a high cost. The river bank was littered with corpses.

Then there was a sudden shriek, and the combatants stopped mid-fight to look with gaping mouths at Aragorn and his terrible ghost army. Their paralysis lasted a heartbeat before one of the defenders cried: "The king of the dead is upon us!" With that he turned and ran into the shallow water of the river crossing. His fellows followed suit, and so did the enemy warriors.

"No, wait!" yelled Aragorn. "Men of Lamedon, I come in peace!"

But nobody heeded his words. In great panic they chased out of the water and continued across the Lebennin plains, friend and foe alike.

"That went well," smirked Elladan and sheathed his sword. Legolas had finally learned to separate him and his brother, even without checking their fingers for scars.

"I disagree," muttered Gimli hoarsely. "I had wanted to put my axe to use, and get something else to occupy my mind with."

Legolas turned to look at him, a bit worried over his tone of voice. "Are you alright, my friend?"

"Nay," he replied curtly, glancing at the shimmering shapes that billowed like pale clouds behind their company, and then dropping his gaze with a shudder.

Legolas gave his arm a comforting squeeze. "Aragon will release them soon. And you have to admit they have been useful so far!"

For his own part, he was grateful not to be obliged to spill human blood for a while yet.

"Come," called Aragorn. "We will cross the Gilrain and follow the fleers."

At the other side of the river, a man waited for them, trembling at the sight of the dead yet bravely holding his ground as they approached. He had tanned skin and a black beard, and though he wasn't very tall, he looked fearsome in chainmail armor and a bloodspecked helmet that covered most of his face.

"Halt!" he cried in a surprisingly steady voice despite his fear. "Who comes into Gondor?"

Aragorn motioned to Halbarad, who unfolded the black banner and raised it high.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, called Elessar, the Elfstone," he proclaimed. "I am the heir of Isildur, son of Elendil of Gondor, and I carry the sword that was broken."

The man stared dazedly at Aragorn, but then he suddenly removed his helmet and dropped to his knees. "My lord and king... I am Angbor, Lord of Lamedon, at your service."

"Gather your folk and come behind, if you dare! At Pelargir the heir of Isildur will have need of you."

Standing again, the man nodded vigorously. "I will come, my lord! And I shall summon all able men hereabouts to follow you."

"How many are there?"

"Several thousand warriors, counting all the southern fiefs. We sent a small part of our strength north when Minas Tirith called for aid, but then the corsairs of Harad and Umbar sailed up the river and cut the rest of us off."

Aragorn's face became grim. "Minas Tirith is under attack?"

"Aye, my lord, the beacons were lit three days ago."

"Then we have no time to lose! I fear that the city will fall ere we come to its aid."

ʕll ಠ ︵ ಠ llʔ

After a brief rest, the Grey Company continued, and for a full day and a night they followed the enemy's trail across the Lebennin plains. By now Legolas only had energy to pay brief attention to the beautiful meadows with their abundance of flowers, and under him Arod, moist and foaming with perspiration, was too fatigued even to lament missing out on the rich grass.

It was pitch dark when they finally arrived at the Pelargir harbor. The Anduin was very wide here, and Legolas almost felt like he had come to the sea at last, though he knew it was many miles south.

In the river he saw the main host of the corsairs, and it was just as huge as Aragorn had said. Blood red pennons waved from a forest of masts; there must be at least fifty large ships and many smaller boats.

The fleeing men had gathered at the shore, and now turned to meet their pursuers. Reunited with their comrades, they seemed to gain courage – and indeed, their number was large, and they were well equipped with plate armor and curved, scarlet swords.

When the Haradrim on board the ships saw Aragorn and his small company of Dúnedain rangers, they began to laugh and jeer, banging their shields with their swords in contempt. "So this is the 'great host' you were chased by," shouted one of them to the men ashore, his voice full of glee.

"There were phantoms with them before," replied one, a bit sullenly, for in the darkness the dead must be invisible to him.

"Yes, they had wraiths in the likes of men and horses," another agreed.

"Are you afraid of monsters from children's tales?" taunted the man on the ship. "Kill those pathetic dogs!"

Aragorn calmly called forth the shimmering leader of the oathbreakers, only barely visible even this close. "Now come. By the Black Stone I call you!" His voice rang clear, echoing loudly and commanding across the water.

The apparition bowed curtly, and raised a vaporous spear. In response, the whole ghost army billowed forward, sweeping through the enemy ranks and engulfing the many ships in a great, grey wave.

Soon the corsairs' jeers and laughter were replaced with shrill screams and panicked yelps, followed by splashes as they jumped overboard.

These ghosts were no children's tales; they were very real, and deadly in their purpose. Nobody could resist their wrath.

/ \
/o o\
‹''›{ O }‹''›
\, . ,/
∘˚˳°

Legolas cleaned his dagger in the river, vainly trying to forget the anguished scream of the young Haradrim man he had killed with it.

Little over an hour the battle had lasted. The ghosts did not need their spears; the fear they procured was weapon enough. Everywhere they passed, men lost their minds and drowned themselves rather than having to endure the terror, and the few that made it ashore were easily dealt with by Aragorn and his company.

The only survivors had been the poor slaves chained to the oars, and when they were freed they remained at their posts, gratefully volunteering to join Aragorn. He had put a Dúnadan ranger in charge on each ship, and now everyone was eager to continue upstream to Minas Tirith.

Aragorn himself stood proud and tall at the railing of the largest ship which he had claimed for his own. The black fleet was at his command, and at the shore, the shadow army waited obediently for new orders.

For the first time since he had known Aragorn, Legolas felt intimidated and almost shy when he looked up at him. This man was a great king, through and through. No wonder the Dark Lord feared him so much!

"Hear now the words of the Heir of Isildur," cried Aragorn ponderously, addressing the ghosts. "Your oath is fulfilled. Go back and trouble not the valleys ever again! Depart and be at rest!"

The leader of the dead broke his immaterial spear and threw the pieces on the ground. Bowing deeply, he turned away, and his army went with him. Before Legolas' eyes they dissolved as mist in sunshine and were gone, free of their curse at last.

Gimli breathed out a relieved sigh, shaking himself like after a long sleep. "Thank Mahal! May I soon forget this accursed journey."

And may I forget the voices of the men I have killed, added Legolas silently.

As a reply to his thought, he suddenly heard another voice: the call of a bird greeting a new, sunless dawn.

"Mee-ah! Ca-ca-ca. Mee-ah!" A white shape took form on the bleak sky, and was soon joined by several others. "Mee-ah! Meeee-ah!"

Seagulls! As if he didn't have enough to worry about.

ʕll o _ o llʔ

With the dead gone, a group of riders tentatively approached the harbor. In the front, Legolas recognized Angbor, Lord of Lamedon.

As Aragorn strode to meet him, an excited soar rose among the other warriors: "The heir of Isildur. It is the heir of Isildur!"

Aragorn greeted Angbor warmly. "You came sooner than I had dared hope! But are these all? I thought you said there were thousands?"

"More will come shortly. I have sent runners all across southern Gondor," Angbor explained. "I expect the army should be complete by tonight."

Aragorn frowned. "I do not like to tarry, when Minas Tirith calls for aid – yet I need all the men I can get. Any news from the north?"

"Yes, my lord, wagon loads of fugitives have been arriving in Lossarnach; women and children, mostly, and a few elderly. They say a terrible host is gathering in Minas Morgul, and Denethor's plight is dire, for Rohan has not come. Now his only hope lies with his son, who leads the defence in Osgiliath, and the wizard Gandalf who apparently has fended off a swarm of winged monsters from Mordor."

"The Rohirrim have not come, you say?" Aragorn mused. "That is dire tidings, indeed. By now, Sauron will have begun marching to Minas Tirith, which means I must be there at the very latest the day after tomorrow, or fail utterly."

On the walk back to the river, Legolas felt a hard knot of worry as he pondered over Angbor's news. "Perhaps we should not wait for the rest of the men," he suggested to Aragorn. "If we sail at once, we could be in Minas Tirith already tomorrow."

"We are too few."

"Few, but strong. We have the rangers' swords, and my bow, and Gimli's axe... We could make a difference," Legolas insisted. "Gandalf cannot stand alone!"

Gimli, who already looked like himself again now that the ghosts were gone, chuckled heartily. "Don't worry, lad. The lass can fend for herself one more day, I'm sure."

"I was not thinking of her," Legolas lied. "Gandalf is my friend too, and Pippin, and–"

"What lass?" Elladan interrupted. "The cat lady?"

"You never told us that tale," added his brother.

"Now is not a good time." Legolas hurried over to where Arod was grazing, and pretended to be very busy checking his hooves for stones.

Thankfully the twins let him off the hook, and he was soon alone with his thoughts.

I hope Gimli is right, and Kat manages on her own. Still, in a war anything could happen. Anything.

Arod humphed noncommittally. He had been busy eating ever since they arrived at Pelargir, and probably wasn't listening.

Legolas sat at the horse's feet, leaning his head against his bent knees. He kept seeing horrible visions of a dead little cat, with blood streaking its tabby fur. Or a cat with bushy fur and tail, crouching at a field full of fighting warriors, and making those hissing noises she would do when frightened.

She would probably not be on the battlefield, though, or at least he hoped she wouldn't. Instead she would be all alone in the city – alone, and probably afraid, like that time in Helm's Deep. How badly he had treated her then, and how insensitive he had been towards her feelings! He should have protected her and comforted her – like a real friend would.

Again he heard her parting words: I love you, Legolas. This time they burned his heart like glowing embers, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be with her; to take her in his arms and tell her he loved her too. For he did, he realized. Perhaps not the way she wanted, but he loved her as his best friend.

I am coming to you as soon as I can; please stay alive until I get there. Please do not die on me. He sent the thought into the void, willing the river to take it north, though he knew it was impossible to communicate at that distance.

Rubbing his suddenly moist eyes, he lifted his head to look at the sky with its multitude of seabirds. It was strangely comforting to follow their lazy circles with his eyes.

I wish I could fly like you... Then I would rescue her. And after the war, maybe he could come back here and sail west... Never returning to the forest and his father's expectations.

Feeling a bit cheered at the thought, he turned to Arod again. Soon you shall ride a boat, my friend. That will be fun!

Ride a what? Me? Never. Never, I tell you! Over my dead body!

/\ ,., /\
| ಠ ಠ |
|*_*|

Early the next morning, Legolas stood with Gimli at the railing of one of the ships, holding an arm around a shivering Arod's neck. The fresh wind whipped his face as the vessel shot forward. They were finally leaving Pelargir.

Legolas had slept well that night, for the first time in many days, and ever since he woke up he had felt hopeful. The Black Fleet carried several thousand footmen, and parallel to the river Lord Angbor led a huge cavalry by road. With such a host they would beat Sauron, for sure!

At the oars the former slaves labored with zeal – voluntarily now, instead of being driven to it with cruel whips – but it was slow work.

"The current is strong," Gimli muttered. "I hope we'll make it in time."

"Up with your beard, Durin's son! For thus is it spoken: 'Oft hope is born, when all is forlorn.' We will be there soon, and then we shall show those orcs the meaning of the word fear!"

"Hum. Alright then, lad. I guess I'm just impatient for the fighting to begin in earnest." Then he chuckled. "Maybe this time, you can try beating my kill count."

But Legolas wasn't listening anymore. He regarded the foaming water around the prow with a pounding heart. I am on my way! I am coming to you now.

And over his heads the gulls cried: "Meeh-ah. Meeeeh-ah!"

A/N:

This chapter was written almost exactly 20 years after the first LOTR movie came out... I still vividly remember when we drove home from the opening night past midnight, and I was so full of feelings I could almost burst. Pure movie magic happened that night! Since then, I've never stopped loving Middle-earth and its characters.

Image Credits:

Screenshot from The Lord of the Rings movies.