In the Ruins//Legolas

Chapter 33; The Values at the End

"So, ready?" Durion turned to the army marching behind him. They were about half-way to the Black Gate and it was time to let Sauron know.

"I do not know if one can be ready for this." Boromir mumbled with a pale but determined face.

"We will see." Durion smirked and lifted his arm. He drew Sowilo with a precise motion and then lifted the finished rune high above his head. It glowed bright. Bright as a star. Then, Durion felt it. It felt dark and invasive. He took in a shuddering breath and felt a shiver run down his spine. "Well, he sees me now."

"I reckon it will take them about an hour to gather their army." Aragorn nodded.

"Well, that will be just in time for us to meet them at the Black Gate." Gimli laughs and Durion can't help but be amazed by his upbeat attitude.

***

"Where are they?" Pippin asked the question everyone wanted the answer to. They stood in front of the Black Gate, expecting an army of orcs to meet them but only being greeted by the closed Gate. Aragorn, Durion and Mithrandir ride up to the Gate, closely followed by Boromir, Legolas, Gimli and Eomer.

This feels like a trap. Durion thinks to himself. Legolas looks up at the top of the Gate.

If it is, it's well concealed. Legolas thinks and Durion looks back at him with a smile. This new development in their communication didn't take too long to get used to. It first began with a simple attunement to the other's emotions and that slowly developed to a full blown thought sharing. Neither of them are complaining.

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Aragorn shouts at the Gate. "Let justice be done upon him!" The Gate cracks open and out rides a single rider in black armour. Their horses nervously sidestep.

"My master Sauron the Great bids thee welcome." The rider's mouth opens with those words, revealing a repulsing row of rotted teeth. They do not hide their disgust. "Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?"

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

"Aha! Old Greybeard! I have a token I was bidden to show thee." The rider laughs and holds up a familiar chainmail shirt. Before any other emotion, anger fills Durion first.

"Frodo! Frodo!" Pippin cries.

"Silence!" Mithrandir hisses back at the hobbit.

"No!" Merry yells.

"Silence!" The wizard says again.

"The halfling was dear to thee I see. Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host. Who would've thought one so small could endure so much pain? And he did Gandalf, he did." The rider pours salt into the wound, and angry tears fill the Fellowship's eyes. Aragorn rides forward. "And who is this? Isildur's heir? It takes more to make a King than a broken Elvish blade-" Andúril sweeps through the air and rescues the rider's pitiful head from its miserable body.

"I guess that concludes negotiations." Gimli nods approvingly. The Gate opens fully, revealing the overwhelming numbers of orcs beyond marching at them.

"Pull back! Pull back!" Aragorn yells at them and they ride back to their own army. The soldiers look very uncertain. "Hold your ground! Hold your ground!"

"Talk to them some." Durion claps Aragorn on the shoulder while riding by. As Aragorn begins his speech, Durion takes the time to pour some of his energy into drawing some encouraging and protection runes over the army.