The Sunset Princess

A Light from the Shadows

The journey was shorter than I would have liked. I wanted more time to prepare myself, to sneak glances at Legolas and all those others I loved, but the Black Lands moved closer every minute that passed. We came through fair Ithilien, and onto a darker road, where no living things grew or thrived, not even a hardy weed or a lowly worm.

Far above, just out of mortal sight, the Nazgúl prowled the skies. We had been noticed, but not a single orc came to challenge us. I supressed the shiver of fear as one flew right above me, but other warriors could not hold it back. I glanced down the lines, seeing that the youngest of the soldiers were trembling. Aragorn noticed too and, in pity, he sent some away to defend other lands. Their honour would be saved, but they would not have need to come to the Black Gate itself. Others, seeing Aragorn's compassion and being boldened by it, chose to stay, and fell back into line, trembling no more. Raina, riding at the head of a column of Rohirrim, reached down to squeeze one young man's shoulder. He nodded at her, determined once more. She herself trembled not. Her jaw was set.

The Gates of the Morannon were before us. Behind them, two structures stood out in Mordor itself, the very air of which seemed to be made of flame and smoke. One was Orodruin, Mount Doom where the Ring itself was forged. Vapours belched forth from it, iron grey and hot. On the sides lay evidence of past eruptions, great heaps of volcanic rock not yet cool. Behind it and to the left, Barad Dur stood, tall and terrible as its master. I could sense him, with the breathless terror of a child facing a wolf. His Eye was focused on our army, which seemed so tiny when I looked on the power of the Enemy.

Frodo and Sam were in there. Calm, gentle-hearted Frodo, and his loyal Sam. For a moment, I could barely breath in the acrid air. Fear was pointless; we had to try. For them.

We rode forwards, closer to the Black Gate. It was high, made of iron and consisted of two colossal doors. So huge was it that it was hard to tell where the Morannon ended, and the rock into which it was set began. Spikes were set atop it like warg teeth, as if anyone would be mad enough to climb it.

The fear of the men was reaching a crescendo. A flame sprung to life inside me, a desire to do more than just kill in these lands which had seen so much death. It occurred to me that a certain act of defiance had been known to push back the darkness more than any other, in the great tales of the Ancient Days; an act either so brave or so stupid that it might just make Sauron shiver.

His Eye was on me. I noticed it with a jerk, trying to discern my thoughts, fears and desires at the edge of my mind. I tensed my jaw to hide a wince. His thought felt like a battering ram against the doors of my fëa. However, I looked right into the Black Lands, at Barad Dur, staring back. An image was presented to me, of the power of the Noldor restored to its former glory. Things of beauty created, and kingdoms rising from the ashes of evil to become places of peace and plenty, with me at the helm, wearing a red gown embroidered with Fëanorian stars, a crown upon my head. (Q: soul)

That was folly. No kingdom of the Noldor would ever rise in Middle Earth again, much less one with me as its queen. Sauron's mistake was offering me such power, for I did not want it. Last time we had met, when I touched the Palantir, Fëanor's power had helped me to drive him back, but this time, I needed him not. I pushed the image from my mind, replacing it with one of Barad Dur falling ruinously towards Mordor's cracked ground, of a forest glade bedecked with spring blossoms, of a free Gondor where children laughed, and wives did not fear their husbands would never come home.

The army had paused, and there was silence. Even the men, it seemed, perceived that some struggle had taken place between Sauron and I. Legolas and the sons of Elrond, the only elves among us, knew full well I had the upper hand. I felt their fëa brush mine, sharing their pride and satisfaction. There was a distant rumble from Barad Dur, and Hengist danced nervously beneath me. I soothed him. Sauron was irritated, then, that he had failed to tempt me.