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And thanks to Cairistiona for the beta.

Chapter 31: Isildur’s Heir

   Then Aragorn led the way, and such was the strength of his will in that hour that all the Dúnedain and their horses followed him

The Passing of the Grey Company                                                   The Return of the King

   It stands before me now, a gaping black chasm in the mountain that towers sheer above us. As a gateway to a tomb it feels, and a tomb I greatly fear it may become. Would that there was any other way, I never would have come to this place. But I am the only one who can hope to accomplish what I must now attempt; no other can summon those that lie within and bring them to our aid. And without that aid, Minas Tirith will surely fall. If I am to have any hope of defeating our Enemy, I have to pass this door, though it fills me with dread to do so.

   I look behind me at the familiar faces of my men, my friends, who have ridden far and hard to be at my side. Here too are my Elven brothers and the remaining members of our Fellowship, Legolas and Gimli. I love them all, and I know it is only out of love for me that they have ventured to this terrible mountain. I glance at Halbarad who stands beside me. He has told me his death lies beyond this door and yet he does not quail. He returns my gaze and I see in his eyes he is resolute, in spite of his fear. He will follow where I lead. And yet I am only too aware that if I continue on this path I may lead them to their deaths.

   Yet continue I must.

   The horses are nervous. Some are trembling and sweating as they sense the fear that emanates from this awful place. Arod is in a pitiful state, but Legolas sings to him quietly, and his trembling lessens. We all talk soothingly to our mounts; calloused hands gently stroke soft winter furs. Each horse knows and trusts his rider. Years spent in silent companionship have forged the bonds that will hold them to their masters when all their instincts scream for them to flee. If my men hold fast, their mounts will too. My men will hold fast, if I do.

    My own heart is pounding at the thought of where I must go. I feel sweat break upon my brow beneath my helm; my hands are not as steady as I would wish them to be. But I must not show my fear. As I stand here on the threshold of this cornerstone of my life, I snatch a moment to curb my doubt and crush the mounting wave of terror that rises within me. I swallow hard and clench my jaw.

     I must do this.

     I reach out to Roheryn, my hand this time is as still as the rock before us. I face my men; the look I give them, I know, shows my determination. I have used this face often enough in my past to galvanise those who follow me. But in all the long years I have toiled, never has more been asked of me than this. Ahead is my hardest test.  Beyond this door is my destiny. If I fail, those years will all have been for nothing. I take a deep breath and fill my lungs with clean mountain air. I can do this. Everything I have ever desired lies on the other side of this haunted mountain.

    Now is my time to claim it.

    And so I take that first step along this path. My horse and I walk forwards and pass beneath the grotesquely carved archway above us. And as I plunge into the darkness, I hear my men follow.

   My eyes slowly adjust to the dark. Cold, hard rock lines our route on either side. But the path ahead is clear and the torches I brought from Dunharrow light the way. At first, there is no sound but the horses’ hooves as they dance nervously on the rocky ground and the gentle murmurings of the men as they whisper soothingly to them. But the dread that at once settles upon me is oppressive. Every step that carries me further into this place becomes a supreme act of courage. I feel an unseen presence all about me. But I keep walking; carrying aloft one of the torches, I stride ever deeper into the mountain. I have no way of knowing how long it will take to reach the other side or if the path will even lead us into daylight ever again. If it does not, then I know with absolute certainty, this is where we shall all meet our doom.

   Steadily we make our way.

   The path is wide and our passage unhindered. We have not gone far when I am sure I can hear the sound of unfamiliar voices. I call a halt and listen. Ghostly whispers break the silence all around us. We are being watched. My blood chills to the marrow and a bolt of terror shoots through me, but I keep my eyes to the front and stride forth again with purpose. Shadows may surround me, but I shall not slink in them. As the whisperings increase, I glance behind to check on the progress of my men. They are with me still; their faces grim and determined, but their eyes betray their fear. Elladan brings up the rear, holding aloft the other torch. It comforts me more than I can say to have my brothers near. I know that it is for my sake, more than any desire to go to war, that has brought them here. I spare a thought for our father at home in Rivendell, waiting and wondering anxiously how his sons fare. And Arwen, my dearest beloved, who is ever in the forefront of my mind, would that I could reach across all the vast leagues that divide us and behold you again, if only for a moment. Keep me secure in your thoughts as you are ever in mine.

   The path leads straight before us.

   The voices of the Shadow Men grow louder. To thwart my fear, I turn my thoughts elsewhere; to anywhere but this dreadful place. I wonder as to the fate of the Ringbearer, as I have done constantly since that day at Parth Galen. I know only too well our efforts will come to nought if he fails. My heart goes out to Frodo and his faithful friend. What perils are they being forced to endure? Is their road proving as dark as this one, or is it even darker still? I can do no more than send a silent prayer to the Valar for their safe keeping. In spite of Gandalf’s reassurances, I still feel guilt that two such gentle souls, who should be in my care, now have to face their trials alone.

   Ah guilt; I carried enough with me before ever I started on this quest. As if the pain I have long given my foster family is not sufficient to torment me, now, it seems, I add to that list of those I have failed at every stage of this journey. Gandalf, at least, is restored to us. But not Boromir. I was not with him in his hour of need; for him there will be no return. Merry and Pippin, I can only hope are safe for now. There is nothing more I can for them.

   No, the guilt eating at me now is for a beautiful, golden haired maiden, whose pale face I see before me in my mind’s eye with every step I take. I see her cheeks, glistening with tears as she begs me on her knees not to take this path without her. Would that I could have brought her with me, rather than leave her there in such despair. My failure to understand her brings me shame. Could I not have explained more kindly why it is that I am not free to return the love she so desperately desired? I have hurt her grievously, unwittingly maybe, but the guilt is still mine. Through all my fear on this dreadful path, none is greater than my fear of what may become of her. If I live through these terrible days, I shall never forget the vision of her standing there in the grey light of dawn, watching us leave, so proud, yet so utterly broken. And yet I turned away and abandoned her.

   Suddenly the walls are gone and the space about us is wide.

   Ahead something glitters in the torchlight. In spite of my fear, I can not pass by without looking closer. Lying before a closed door are the remains of a Rohan warrior. From his garb, I deem he is of high rank. Could this be Baldor son of Brego who took this path so many years ago, never to return? Elladan comes and stands with me and takes my torch.  I kneel beside the dead man, moved to sudden pity for one who has lain untended in such a place for so long. I perceive there is some mystery here, one to which I shall never learn the answer, for, as the whisperings grow louder, I know I can not linger; I have an errand to accomplish.

   The Dead are right behind us. Now, I deem, the time has come to issue my challenge. I have no wish for any of us to meet the same end as this unfortunate warrior.

   I turn and cry aloud into the blackness to those unseen faces: ‘Keep your hordes and your secrets hidden in the Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass and then come! I summon you to the Stone of Erech!'  [1]

   Silence follows. We all wait, motionless and with mounting dread. Then I receive my reply. A chilling gust of wind blasts into the chamber and extinguishes the touches. A darkness beyond that of any starless night immediately descends and surrounds us. I fumble for my flint; I must relight the flares, and quickly. This path is terrible enough with light; without it, it is unthinkable. But neither Elladan nor I succeed with our task. To what end this pertains I do not know, but I greatly fear it does not bode well. We now have no choice; in darkness we must go on. But the dark is deeper than the blackness of any forest I have ever known in all my life. I do not believe any pit of Morgoth’s could be worse to endure than this. My eyes involuntarily strain into the dark, seeking the merest spark to guide me in this void. But there is none. My men call to each other in the pitch black; I hear the fear in their voices.  I talk boldly to them, girding them.

    “Hold fast my friends. Do not waver now! In darkness we must go forth. Follow, and trust we shall come to light once again.”

   I take care that they do not hear the terror in my own voice for the whisperings are now all around us. I feel I could reach out my hand and touch whatever it is that is that surrounds us. But now I must go on. Elladan and Halbarad are right beside me. I silently offer them my thanks for their unspoken support. I unsheathe Andúril and the dry air echoes with the welcome sound. The comfort of Elendil’s sword in my hand hardens my will and thus strengthened, I continue on into the terrifying blackness.

   I walk cautiously and, behind me, I hear my men slowly follow. I have never known such terror. I would rather face an army of flesh and blood orcs, alone, than endure a moment longer the company of this haunting host. The urge to flee swells within me constantly, but I do not let it surface. I remind myself I am Isildur’s heir, the blood of Tuor and Beren flows in my veins. I will not cower before the ghosts of traitors such as these.

   They will let me pass.

   On and on we go. The path seems endless. I can not help but wonder if I will ever emerge into daylight again. I am weary now. This has been the hardest of many hard days lately and I am still not recovered from my struggle with the Dark Lord of two nights ago. I have no wish to dwell on that encounter, not here, not in this accursed place. But images plague my mind in the darkness. Over and over they invade my consciousness as if tormenting me the once was not enough. To have felt his eyes upon me and all his will bent on my destruction twas a hard thing to bear. My skin crawls at the memory, but I know too that he did not defeat me and from that I draw great strength.

   There is hope yet.

   At last another sound invades the darkness. Water flows up ahead and, oh joy, there is light. We pass another gateway into a narrow ravine and there above us is a dark sky, lit with many bright stars. Never in all my life have I beheld them with such joy as I do now. With relief beyond reckoning, we can mount our horses again. We ride steadily on this narrow path, but then a wide valley opens out before us; a sight more welcome I have never known. It is a place of green fields and clear streams and living people.

   The first stage of my test is done; I have walked the Paths of the Dead.

   And we still live and what is more, the Dead follow. This much is accomplished, but my joy is hollow. I am still floundering in the foothills of this mountain that is mine to climb. There is still so much to achieve. We have such a very long way to go and so little time to get there. We can not delay for rest or food, much as I would wish to for the sake of my men. We are all bent from the effort of battling our fear, but I have to ask yet more of my companions.

   “Friends, forget your weariness! Ride now, ride! We must come to the Stone of Erech ere this day passes, and long still is the way.” [2]

   Even as I speak, I urge Roheryn into a gallop. He springs forward, as relieved as I am to put the mountain behind him. We set a great pace; league upon league, we devour the ground, but eventually I feel him begin to tire. He stumbles as his hooves struggle to keep their hold, but still I push him mercilessly.

   Just before midnight, we come at last to the Hill of Erech and to the great unearthly black stone than stands there. Here it is almost as dark as it was in the mountain itself and as we halt, I can hear the murmurings of the Shadow host behind us. They have followed us this far at least. My hope rises that they will do as I bid. I dismount and stand beside Isildur’s stone as Elrohir brings to me a silver horn. I wonder at it for a moment as I have never seen it before, but then I put it to my lips and blow. There is an answer, seemingly distant and far away, but the Shadows have replied.

   I stand up tall and erect. At last the time has come. As Isildur’s heir, I must now be revealed. I speak loud and clear, my voice firm and commanding.

   “Oathbreakers, why have ye come?”  [3]

   A remote voice supplies the answer I so desire. They will fulfil their oath. To this I reply: “The hour is come at last. Now I go to Pelargir upon Anduin, and ye shall come after me. And when all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace and depart for ever. For I am Elessar, Isildur’s heir of Gondor.”  [4]

   Then Halbarad steps up beside me and unfurls the banner he has carried so stalwartly for so far. In the deep blackness on that hillside, no device can be seen upon it, but in the morning, as the sun rises over the Morthond Vale, I see it clearly for the very first time.

   It is sable and upon it is a White Tree that thrives and flowers, and above are Seven Stars wrought of sparkling gems, but over them all, glistening silver and gold in the light of this new dawn, is the crown of Elendil. I feel tears prick my eyes as I gaze with wonder at this fulfilment of my beloved’s long labour. What hope and longing, and love has gone into every stitch as hour upon hour she sat in her workroom and made this for me? I feel humbled to receive such a gift. This is indeed a standard worthy of a king. I reach out my hand and gently trace the emblems with my fingers, lightly touching the precious jewels that form them. And for just a moment, the White Mountains and the black stone of Isildur disappear, and I am back in Rivendell again. I am standing in my father’s garden beneath the silver birches, and it is the fair face of my beloved that my fingertips caress so gently.

   Oh Arwen! What hope is there still for us to ever be together?

   But I am abruptly bought back to the cold hill of Erech by the stirring of my men in the camp. We must be swiftly on our way. War awaits us now. But no longer am I Strider the Ranger. Now I am Isildur’s Heir and from henceforth all shall know me as such. I know not what battles must still be fought and won before I can claim my inheritance. But this is my hour.

   And for you, my beloved, I shall not fail.

   I see shapes of Men and of horses, and pale banners like shreds of clouds, and spears like winter-thickets on a misty night. The Dead are following.

The Passing of the Grey Company                                                   The Return of the King

[1] [2] [3] [4]  The Passing of the grey Company                            The Return of the King