Melting a Heart of Ice

The small company of Aragorn, Triina, Legolas, and Gimli rode a long and dark road for many hours at a slow and cautious pace. Each step taken echoed with the sound of horses’ hoofs against cold barren stone. The air they breathed smelled of stone and earth, and was filled with dust.

“I cannot feel anything… there are no living things outside our company.” Triina spoke in cautious wonder.

“Nothing at all? Should make for an easy ride then.” Gimli nodded, though he too was nervous in the dark place.

“Nothing. Not even an insect walks here.” She muttered. Looking around her as she steered her horse to follow Aragorn she felt Legolas tighten his arms to comfort her from his place behind.

For hours more they pressed on in silence that was only broken by their echoing steps, and the occasional fall of lose rock from the cliffs above them.

“What kind of army would linger in such a place?” Gimli demanded finally, looking up at Aragorn who offered no answer.

“One that is cursed.” Legolas answered, “Long ago the Men of the Mountain swore an oath to the last king of Gondor, to come to his aid, to fight. 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.” He explained quietly.

“Who shall call them from the grey twilight? The Forgotten People. The Heir of Him to whom the oath they swore. From the North he shall come. Need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the Paths of the Dead.” Triina muttered, but the barren silence about them brought her quiet mutterings to an echoing announcement. “Ahm… the Til’Arin have the prophecy written in their libraries.” She blushed when Gimli and Aragorn both glanced behind to her.

“And you remember every grim word.” Gimli nodded with a small teasing grin.

Before Triina could retort they rounded a corner and came upon an old and small cave entrance, adorned with many skulls and long ago abandoned of all life. Slowly the Fellowship dismounted their horses and approached the doorway.

“The very warmth of my blood seems stole away.” Gimli muttered.

“Ah… but at least now I can feel some emotion again other than our own.” Triina smiled.

“A comfort! What life would be in there?”

“… None, I said emotions… not life.” She frowned.

Legolas left her side to study the worn writing above the door, reading aloud: “The way is shut. It was made by those who were dead, and the dead keep it. The way is shut.”

Triina sighed and remained firm where she was, not at all comforted by the knowledge that she was more than likely feeling the emotions of the dead. Just as she went to take a step closer to Aragorn for a bit of security a terribly unnerving noise came from the cave in a rush of dusty wind. The horses behind her cried out and fled, abandoning their riders as Aragorn shouted after his steed.

“I do not fear death.” He announced firmly, as if challenging the wind, and turned to make his way into the cave.

“I do,” a small voice muttered in his ear, causing him to jump and reach into the hood of his cloak to find a young faerie boy in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” Aragorn demanded, a little more harshly than he intended.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean any trouble I promise! I just wanted to see where you were going!”

Aragorn sighed as the faerie trembled in his hand and recollected himself before speaking again. “You have seen it. Now go back to the others; this is no place for you.” He ordered.

“I can’t.” spoke the faerie meekly. Aragorn sighed in hidden annoyance and looked down at the small creature before noticing that only one wing was glowing. The other wing was bent in an odd way, and only flickering the glow of the other.

Filled with guilt and knowing that he must have injured the faerie’s wing when he snatched him from the hood of his cloak, Aragorn nodded and looked over at his fellows. “It seems we have a stowaway.” He announced, attempting to be lighthearted over the matter before entering the cave. Legolas glanced back at Triina as if to tell her that everything was all right and followed closely behind.

“Well this is something unheard of!” Gimli grunted as he and Triina stood outside the cave.

“What is?”

“An Elf going underground where a Dwarf dare not!” he answered.

“Oh we’ll never hear the end of this.” She huffed, “I’ll go if you go.”

“C’mon lassie. Can’t let ‘em get too far ahead of us… someone has to keep an eye on those two.” He nodded and made his way to the cave with her laughing uneasily behind.

The cave was dark and filled with dread as Aragorn led his company through the paths of the dead, and passed piles upon piles of skulls and bones. Triina shuddered and walked closer to Aragorn and Legolas, unintentionally leaving Gimli behind her. “I don’t like this place!” the young faerie hissed, peeping out of the deep hood of Aragorn’s cloak and clinging to the shoulder of it to hold himself up and see better. Aragorn offered no answer as he scanned the path ahead of them.

“What is it?” Triina questioned when Aragorn and Legolas slowed their pace, unable to see past them in the narrow path.

“What do you see?” Gimli demanded.

“Pale banners like shreds of cloud. Spears rise like winter-thickets through a shroud of mist. The dead are following. They have been summoned.” He answered quietly.

“The dead? Summoned? I knew that. Very good. Very good, Legolas!” Gimli grunted before running to catch up to the others after being left behind by his Til’Arin friend.

“Oh!” the faerie cried out suddenly and quickly disappeared into the fabrics of Aragorn’s cloak once more, hiding close to the shoulder that he could still be felt. Aragorn gave a quick and light pat of assurance as the forms of many ghostly arms formed reaching from the ground and walls, grabbing at the living.

Aragorn and Legolas simply brushed them away, while Gimli puffed and blew them off like smoke. Triina found it difficult to remain composed as an overwhelming sorrow came over her over the fact these ghosts that reached for them had no emotions; the Til’Arin believed that tormented ghosts eventually faded to an entirely different existence, where they were foggy memories of their own selves. Nothing more. And it was a terrible and tortured existence that forced them into that state.

“Do not look down.” Aragorn ordered suddenly. Triina noticed Gimli look down and cringe before continuing to walk through the rock-filled path behind the others, now wincing with each step. Giving into curiosity, she took the chance and looked at the gravel below her feet only to realize that the loose rocks she had been walking on weren’t rocks at all. With each step she was crushing countless human bones, sending now sickening cracks and crunches to echo off the walls around her.

“Aragorn,” She breathed, standing still as a statue and closing her eyes for a moment.

“What is it?” Legolas asked, quickly moving to her side, causing more sounds of bones cracking to echo through her head.

“I can’t walk on these bones, I… these dead, they did not die in peace! They did not move to the Waiting Halls. They fade in tragedy! And we destroy their remains with every step!” she breathed, staring into his eyes in horror.

“We shall give them peace.” Aragorn announced firmly, and continued his path. Swallowing her emotions and fear Triina forced herself to follow behind with Legolas at her side until they reached a great and wide hall. All was silent and uneasy around them as they walked into the hall, staring to a terribly ominous doorway opposite their entrance.

“Who enters my domain?” a firm male voice demanded, echoing around them as the figure of a ghostly and decaying king appeared. Triina at once felt his anger, and sorrow, and the fear of the small creature cowering in Aragorn’s cloak.

“One who will have your allegiance.” Aragorn answered in a voice of equal challenge to the King’s.

“The dead do not suffer the living to pass.” The King spoke.

“You will suffer me.”

With that firm announcement from Aragorn, a ghostly city appeared around their company. Triina heard the young faerie cry out in terror, and saw the movement of Aragorn’s cloak as he tried to burrow deeper into the hood, hiding from the terrors around him. “Legolas,” she whispered, recalling her dream and realizing just how similar the cave around his body was to these halls of the dead.

“Do not fear, My Love.” He spoke in hushed Elvish as an army of countless dead soldiers surrounded them full circle, creating a sea of ghostly and terrifying figures filled with grief, anger, sorrow, pain, and hatred.

“The way is shut!” The King announced loudly, and Triina felt her heart begin to beat faster as Gimli tightened his grip on his axe, and Legolas fitted an arrow to his bow.

“It was made by those who are Dead, and the Dead keep it!”

The faerie could be heard sobbing in fear, muffled somewhere deep in Aragorn’s clothing.

“The way is shut!”

She placed her hands on her swords but thought better of drawing them. A blade is no use against a spirit of one who is already dead.

“Now you must die.”

The King approached Aragorn quickly, and Legolas fired his bow. The arrow whistled through the air, but did no damage as it flew through the King’s head, only distorting his image for a moment.

“I summon you to fulfill your oath.” Aragorn announced.

“None but the King of Gondor may command me!” The King spat angrily; hate dripping like acid venom from his words.

Aragorn drew his sword, the sword of Isildur’s heir. The King drew his own sword and swung to deliver a fatal blow to Aragorn, and Triina gasped a high-pitched gasp of terror, but to her great surprise, and that of the King, Aragorn drew his own blade and blocked the blow.

“That bind was broken!” The King seethed.

“It has been remade.” Aragorn nodded, pushing the furious ghost away from him, “Fight for us and regain your honor! What say you?” he demanded of the army surrounding them, but was met with silence.

“He’s wasting his time… they have no interest in fighting with us. They don’t remember what it felt like to have such a purpose.” Triina muttered sadly.

“I am Isildur’s heir! Fight for me, and I will hold your oaths fulfilled! What say you?” Aragorn pushed as Legolas pulled Triina’s trembling hand gently into his while the King laughed and the army began to fade. “You have my word! Fight and I will release you from this living death! What say you?!” Aragorn continued.

“Stand you traitors!” Gimli ordered, but was only met with a short silence before the ground began to shake beneath them. The great doorway broke open, catching the attention of the fellowship as a countless sea of human skulls poured into the hall.

“Out!” Aragorn ordered, running for the exit as best he could while the skulls filled the chamber around them. Legolas and Gimli followed behind, but Triina was frozen with fear as another pit of dread filled her. She recognized it as death coming to claim the living now, as she had felt the same dreadful warning before each fallen Fellowship member’s passing, Helms Deep, and the visit of the Water Wraiths. She could not bear to continue if her dream was truly a vision of events to come; If Legolas did not escape, she could not go on.

“TRIINA!” Legolas bellowed, pulling her out of her own terror as Aragorn found his way outdoors.

“RUN!” Aragorn called back, watching as the others ran past him. The Faerie on his shoulder clung to the shoulder of his shirt to prevent from falling as she fought her way through the sea of skulls, taking his hand and falling with him out of the cave. Rolling down the hill to safety they could hear the cave collapsing behind them as skulls rolled down after them, tumbling down the mountainside.

Legolas caught them both and helped them to their feet before pulling Triina close to him as she began to cry, overwhelmed with relief that he survived. They began to make their way down the mountainside once she regained herself until they noticed smoke in the distance.

Once they were close enough they saw ships with black sails in the waters below, sailing away from villages that had been burned to the ground. Triina sighed deeply and said a quiet Til’Arin blessing for the fallen, and Aragorn collapsed to his knees in despair as he and his company stared at the destruction before them. Gimli rested on his axe and gave a sad sigh as Legolas placed a comforting hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. Triina slowly fell to her knees, being overpowered by the emotions of her fellows, and the young faerie climbed down Aragorn’s shirt to walk in the grass to a rock, only stopping on the edge when he was able to see the fires and smoke clearly before dropping to his hands and knees and crying.

Behind them the King of the Dead stood, watching them intently before taking a few steps closer. The sound of his ghostly feet in the dry grass alerted them to his presence, leaving Aragorn to stand and turn to face him.

“I was misled by the presence of this woman.” He spoke quietly, staring passed Aragorn to Triina, “Another came to me and warned us of your treachery.”

“Treachery?!” Gimli interrupted angrily, but was quickly silenced by Triina.

“Lies, clearly, were spoken by our last visitor. That this one would come to us. That her company would promise freedom. That she would curse us further, and that the sword her ‘Heir’ carried was only an enchanted blade to appear to be what it is not; its wielder would claim to be Isildur’s Heir.” He spoke before turning his eyes to Aragorn.

“We will fight.”

A glimmer of hope filled the hearts of the small company that faced the dead King at those words, leaving smiles on their faces as he disappeared.