Prequel to my version of The Lord of The Rings trilogy

The Haunted Mountain

The riders moved cautiously through the barren canyon, their horses' hooves echoing on the stony ground, the harsh wind biting through the silence. It was a desolate place, the walls of the canyon towering above them, casting long, oppressive shadows. Gimli, ever the observer, furrowed his brow as they continued onward.

"What kind of army would linger in such a place?" he asked, his voice heavy with suspicion and unease.

Legolas, walking at the front of the group, glanced back over his shoulder, his keen elven eyes scanning the landscape with a sense of calm, though his voice carried the weight of a history long past. "One that is cursed. Long ago, the men of the mountains swore an oath to the last King of Gondor to come to his aid, to fight when the darkness descended upon him. But when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled, vanishing into the blackness of the mountain. And so, Isildur cursed them—never to rest, never to know peace, until they had fulfilled their pledge."

Gimli grimaced at the sound of the curse, his thoughts running to his own kin's battles and ancient grudges. "Cursed, you say? Sounds like a mighty problem to me."

"Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people?" Legolas continued, his voice distant as though reciting an old tale. "The heir of him to whom the oath was sworn. From the North shall he come, and need shall drive him. He shall pass through the door to the Paths of the Dead."

"I'm sure it's all very interesting, Legolas, but we don't need a whole history lesson," Liv interjected, rolling her eyes, though she could sense the weight of the words her friend was speaking.

Legolas gave her a wry smile. "I'm just saying."

"Well, don't," Liv replied curtly, her tone half-teasing, half-impatient.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Some sister you are."

"You mean adopted sister," Liv shot back. "We're not even biologically related."

Legolas looked at her with an expression that seemed to suggest there was no difference. "What's the difference?"

David, walking alongside them, struggled to suppress a chuckle. He hadn't known Liv long, but the sibling-like banter between her and Legolas never failed to amuse him.

The narrow canyon eventually opened up before them, revealing a vast, foreboding entrance—etched in ancient stone, the door to the Paths of the Dead. Its eerie presence sent a shiver down Liv's spine as she looked at it, feeling a coldness in the air that made her blood run colder.

Gimli grunted, his tone filled with misgiving. "The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away," he muttered, his breath visible in the chilled air.

Legolas stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the inscription above the door. He read aloud, his voice clear and steady despite the ominous words. "The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it. The way is shut."

The moment his words echoed in the air, something stirred. The door creaked and groaned as though something unseen was pushing against it from the other side. Suddenly, a dark form surged out toward them in a rush, sending a ripple of panic through the group.

The horses, startled by the sudden movement, bolted, pulling violently at their reins. Most of the horses ran off, their hooves thundering against the ground as they disappeared into the distance. But Liv and David's horses, Snowflake and Lucky, stood their ground, seemingly unperturbed. They remained where they stood, calm in the midst of the chaos.

"Snowflake, Lucky," Liv muttered under her breath, "We'll summon you when we need you." The horses flicked their ears, but otherwise remained where they were, seemingly understanding the quiet command.

Aragorn shouted after his horse, Brego, who had already fled into the night. "Brego!"

Gimli, his face filled with alarm, turned toward the others. "I do not fear death," Aragorn said resolutely, stepping forward with determination. He began to walk through the darkened entrance, his footsteps steady and unwavering. Liv and David followed close behind him, their own hearts heavy with the weight of the journey ahead.

Gimli, looking uneasy, muttered under his breath, "Well, this is a thing unheard of. An elf and two teenagers going underground, where a dwarf dare not go. Oh, I'll never hear the end of it."

He took a deep breath and, despite his clear hesitation, sprinted after them, his boots echoing on the cold stone. "Oh, I'll regret this," he added under his breath, but there was no turning back now.

Legolas glanced over his shoulder, his expression a mixture of concern and understanding. "Come, Gimli. The journey ahead may be long, but we cannot turn back now."

And so, together, they entered the dark mouth of the Path of the Dead, knowing that whatever awaited them within, they would face it as one.