The Crownless Again Shall Be King

Chapter 7- The Beacons

Chapter 7- The Beacons

                Gandalf led us up the different levels of Minas Tirith until we reached the looming steeples below the Beacon. Already we were weak and tired from lack of sleep and I doubted that we could last much longer. We were already running on fumes.

"Peregrin Took, my lad, there is a task now to be done," Gandalf announced. "Another opportunity for one of the Shire-folk to show their great worth."

The old wizard led us down a long, narrow alleyway. He had insisted that I wear my hood over my head; the Steward was not pleased with my recent behavior and it was clear that he was just itching for me to mess up.

"You must not fail me," Gandalf kneeled down before Pippin, grasping his shoulder. "Both of you."

"Pardon?" I arched my eyebrows. "I thought you wanted Pippin to do this."

"I do," decided Gandalf. "But you, dear Elleth, possess fire and flame."

"True," I sighed, looking up at the looming, white-washed wall before me. There were rocky crags and small foot holes that looked as if they could help us on the climb ahead. "We will not fail you, Mithrandir," I promised.

Already I could feel the pain bubbling down my fingers from my enchanted Ring. My ring-finger tingled and stung, like a small burn from campfire or a hot pan. Without another thought or word, Pippin and I hurried for the wall. I boosted Pippin up to  grasp the first cranny, and he scurried upward without difficulty.

After a small nod to Mithrandir, I followed after the Hobbit, gripping onto the same nook and pulling myself upward. My feet found a crevice and from then on, I had smooth-goings. The pain increased, spreading down into my knuckles and then bubbling up into my other fingers and down my arm.

I grimaced, biting my lip so hard that it bled.

"You cannot run from your destiny, Rayel," mocked Melkor. I could hear his sickly-smooth voice ringing in my ears.

My breathing began to grow unsteadily and already the pain in my arms began to leech into my shoulder. "Are you alright?" Pippin whispered, looking down at me with concerned green eyes.

"Yes," I lied. "I'm fine," I forced a thin-lipped smile.

Up, up, up the slope we went, until we were practically below the altar-like Beacon. There was a long, outstretched bridge that swept from the citadel-like fortress to the conflagration. A Minas Tirith guard was patrolling the conduit, carrying a long spear.

The two of us pulled our bodies over the lip of the altar to wear the nine pallets of wood sat. Above the kindling, was a basin of oil, filled to the brim. "Pip," I whispered, get the oil and I'll distract the men.

"Alright," he nodded, slowly climbing up the stack of wood.

I peered around the corner, spotting another guard sitting atop one of the benches by the citadel. He held a tankard of mead and appeared to be very distracted. Without hesitance, I slowly gathered a small ball of smoke in my hands, manipulating the air currents to sweep it over to the far side of the bridge. 

The smoke wisped, curling into the form of a ghostly maiden. Both the guards grew wide-eyed, slowly approaching the banshee like creature I had created.

Pippin now freely climbed atop the altar, and reached for the lamp above the oil. As his small hand grasped it, the fire extinguished and the basin of oil came splashing down onto the dry bark. In a swift rate, I grabbed the small Hobbit and pulled him off the stack of pallets and beside me.

"Climb down, now," I ordered him.

Instantly he obeyed and once he was down far enough, I emitted a firey blast, igniting the pallets into a fuming blaze in seconds. The oil popped and snapped, increasing the heat and causing a great deal of smoke.