His Corrupted Soul [Witch-King x OC]

Chapter X : The Battle at the Black Gate

"The living soul of man, once conscious of its power, cannot be quelled." -Horace Mann

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|SOUNDTRACK|

Claim Your Weapons - Christian Reindl (feat. Atrel)

The Eagles - Return of the King Soundtrack

The Reuniting of the Fellowship - Return of the King Soundtrack

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They were surrounded on all sides, orcs and trolls and whatever other manner of monstrosity that made up the Mordor Host. Everyone not on horseback stood shoulder to shoulder, weapons at the ready. They all stood firm, gazes hardened as they watched the Mordor Host continue to gather in number, seemingly never-ending. Inconnu and Er-Murazor, still on their horses, kept their hands on the hilts of their swords. She had yet to unsheathe Ghost's Song, feeling that the time was not yet right. For him, his sword had been resheathed not long after the death of the Mouth. It would not be long, however, when both would leave their sheathes and taste the blood of orcs.

Being here now, Inconnu's mind wandered a little to where it all began. Back to the river-city of Osgiliath over a year ago...

It was then that she and Sverundr nearly crashed into another rider, one who was a dark blur initially. When she swerved and Sverundr was left dancing around the other horse, she looked at the rider. Inconnu had expected to see another ranger or perhaps a guard of the city.

Instead, she was face-to-face with a rider dressed in robes of black, and whose head was shrouded in the darkness of a deep hood.

Time seemed to slow down for the two riders, their mounts moving around in a circle as they got a good look at the other. For a single moment, Inconnu saw something other than the hooded rider, but a pale man who looked to be emaciated with a tall crown of iron upon his brow. It was a ghostly image, a being not fully of the physical plane, but there all the same. Hidden in plain sight. Then the gaunt look faded and she saw a man of black hair and lordly features, this time seeming as to be more tangible, but still just a wavering image over the physical form of the black rider. Inconnu was left stunned at the things she was seeing, wondering what this experience was and what it could possibly mean.

And now Inconnu did know what it meant. It meant finding the Witch-King of Angmar, finding Glorfindel's account of the fall of Arnor and his hidden words, and in the end, it meant finding the Witch-King again and freeing him from the darkness and corruption. And now he was here, right beside her as a mortal man and willing to fight alongside the many others here in the light. Inconnu stole another look at Er-Murazor, one he caught, and she gave him their private smile. He returned it, wanting to reach out to her again, but at the present time, he knew he couldn't. At this present time, there was to be battle.

Inconnu looked to the others she had spent much time with. All were steady, and then as though in a trance Aragorn moved forward, sword raised. His steps were slow, measured, and then for only a few moments, he glanced back at the others. Gandalf raised the mithril shirt, and Aragorn lowered his sword a little.

"For Frodo."

Inconnu had barely heard the words, and immediately after they were said Aragorn again raised his sword and charged at the gathered Mordor Host. There was a brief pause, men glancing at their fellows, and then they two charged into battle.

Inconnu and Er-Murazor then finally unsheathed their blades, one shining silver in the dull light and the other that seemed to absorb it into its black depths. Sverundr snorted and stamped his hooves until his rider urged him at full gallop towards the enemy. Er-Murazor on his own black stallion followed closely. When the Men of the West clashed with the Mordor Host, it was like ocean waves crashing against black rocks.