Element of the Heart - A Lord of the Rings/Legolas Fanfiction

Chapter 40: The Need for a King

Aragorn scanned the steep walls of the mountains on either side of him. His horse stiffened and let out a soft neigh. "Shh..." He stroked its mane and clicked his tongue, prodding it forward. We are close.

Gimli shifted on Arod behind Legolas, trying to peer ahead. "What kind of army would linger in such a place?"

"One that is cursed," Legolas said.

Gimli glanced at him. "Cursed?"

Legolas urged Arod forward. "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. Who shall call the cursed from the grey twilight, the forgotten people?"

Arod suddenly reared underneath them. Hasufel whined. Both horses refused to budge any further. Aragorn looked right. "There."

It was the entrance to the cave under the mountain. Aragorn dismounted, holding tightly to Hasufel's reins. Legolas and Gimli did the same. Above the entrance were carvings and words, crudely formed like cave drawings. Legolas read them aloud. "The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it."

A sound emerged: an unearthly cross between a moan and a growl. A harsh wind blew out, carrying a mist and the stench of death. The horses bolted.

"The very warmth of my blood is stolen away." Gimli clutched his ax to his chest.

Aragorn glared into the cave. "I do not fear death." He drew his sword and walked in.

Legolas followed immediately after.

Gimli hesitated. "Why, this is unheard of! An elf will venture into a cave, but I, a dwarf of all races, feel unwanted in a cave under a mountain!" He huffed and ran inside, stopping himself before smashing into Legolas.

The three tread cautiously upon a single path, the one most used.

"The dead have been summoned," Legolas said.

Aragorn looked down. Around them swirled a pale green mist. Phantom hands reached out to him, but fell through his form. Whispers drifted through the air.

"They beg for relief." Legolas turned in alarm to Aragorn. "They call for us to join them."

The cave began to shake. Pebble-sized rocks broke off from the ceiling, pelting their cloaks and heads. Larger rocks promised to follow.

"Run!" Aragorn ran down a corridor. It led to a large, open hollow. It was a single room – one large enough to hold an army.

From nowhere appeared a ghost of a man. He was no more than a skeleton wearing tatters of a cloak – all made up of the same green mist the three were surrounded by earlier.

The ghost drilled its empty stare into them. "What is this? A man, an elf, and a dwarf." His gaze lingered on Legolas. "You!" He extended a bony finger. "You are of she that lingers on, of she that wanders between life," his finger dropped, "and death."

"Do you speak of Lady Amariel, the once-Queen of Mirkwood?" Legolas demanded. "Where does her spirit dwell?"

The dead king cackled. "You breathe too strongly to ask such a question. Only the dead have the right to know, and they alone shall keep their secrets," His skull made a loud crack as he turned to Aragorn, the only one who looked neither worried nor hopeless. "The dead answer to no one!"

Aragorn's right hand grasped the hilt of his sword tightly. "You will answer to me!"

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