I breathe... taking in the fresh air that blows from the leaves of the aspen trees that surround the palace. This is it. I might not live to see any more beauty in this world or my own. I am scared... but in a way I am not. I know what I must do. I fight not because I hate what is ahead, but love what is behind; what I protect. Just as Legolas had said. And he is right. I know that now.
In just a few days the sparks of the fire will start and it will either blow down the ash lands of Mordor or I will die in it.
I pick up the royal, Rivendell armor that was made especially for me, golden metal that is as light as a feather but as strong as dragon scales, in my arms. The cuirass is plain, but shaped to fit my figure, short sleeved cut, with a scaled skirt that is split down the middle, and I high collar. Black leather pants and gold boots that cover my knee cap as well. With a thin chainmail long sleeved shirt that I wear under the cuirass, and metal gauntlets.
My hair is in its usual style Nin always did with me; the four braids do with most of my hair falling in waves down my back.
I walk from my room and down to the courtyard, hearing no voices in the silver city. It is completely vacant... Even the Sword of Elendil is gone...
I meet Legolas on the stone platform as he holds the reins of my dragon. But my jaw drops when I see what the beast is dressed in. Armor made by the elves; dark silver armor that covers his head and scales down his neck. It covers also his feet and claws, making them twice at deadly.
I wear just what I got from Mirkwood and stuff my new armor into the side pack of the saddle.
I turn my head to Legolas who stands at my side after Morier is ready. He returns my serious gaze.
"To war," I say.
"Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar," he responds nobly. (I will follow you to death and beyond)
I smile and take his hand into mine
Together we mount the dragon and his wings extend into the calm air. "...To the sky," I finally say.
"Asca melloneamin," Legolas commands and Morier leaps up into the wind, banking, and heading for the MistyMountains.
.
.
The journey is long... and quiet. The two of us grow nervous and serious. This war is real and might take one of us... and we know that.
It is five days before we come over the peak of the mountains that border both Rohan and Gondor... There at the end of the range of peaks we see the white kingdom of Minas Tirith... the king's city, carved from great stones and made with six tiers, fifty times the size of Helm's Deep, with a great tower at the center that reaches out like a needle of a compass, cutting all the other tiers and stopping at the top, with the palace of the king resting on it.
It's incredible. Though what captures my attention is the massive army of orcs, goblins, trolls, siege weapons, and other things... There has to be at least hundreds of thousands if not millions... It is an army here to end us all... and they just might succeed. They looks like mere dots of enemy formed in large squares that stand beneath the city, filling Pelennor Fields with black soldiers that stomp and bang drums, with battle cries of nasty mutant beings.
From here I can see the borders of Mordor... Far to the east. A black mountain range with a volcano spewing lava every second, keeping the skies overhead filled with ash and dust.
We circle around to the top tier and make a landing on the overlook where we see Gandalf and Pippin.
Morier roars, thrusting his wings back and forth, blowing the two friends' hair and clothes about them as the dragon's feet touch the stone floor.
YOU ARE READING
Between Two Worlds
Fanfiction"Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountains. Like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the west, behind the hills, into shadow. How did it come to this?" _____________...
