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Summary:

After many months of battle the Last Alliance is no closer to breaching the accursed Gates of the Black Land, and now a Messenger has stepped forth offering them terms of surrender; yet they are but the terms of slavery; all the while the Ents debate if they shall go to war as they once did and in Imladris beauty blooms anew for ever shall love bear fruit even in the darkest days.

Notes:

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Chapter Text

(The night before the coming battle)

They had been having a quiet dinner, yet Galadriel suddenly was silent; then she rose from her seat, her cup of wine clattering to the floor.

"Damn…" whispered Jon, cursing his moment of weakness.

"You shall not be going, Baelon; I won't allow it!" said Galadriel, her eyes heavy with fear and sorrow.

"How dare you even think to hide such nonsense from me!" snarled Galadriel. "Do you not recall what befell my brother Finrod when he thought to pass through Tol-in-Gaurhoth unnoticed. 

"My Star I…" Jon tried to say, but his protests were forgotten as Galadriel stood glowering over him.

"You fool do you think yourself clever to sneak into Mordor with nought but your brothers and that damnable Gryphon?" Galadriel asked with a dangerous softness in her voice.

Jon stood up. He spoke sternly. "I do not think myself foolish, my star, nor have I forgotten the fate of my good brother," he said. "Yet we must bring the Dark Lord to heel."

Galadriel said nothing, but poured herself another glass of wine, and Jon could see the look of anguish in her proud eyes, then at last, she spoke.

"What has possessed you to consider such foolishness?" asked Galadriel, and though her voice was calm, Jon felt the anger welling in her like a great flame.

"I do it for us, my star! I wish to end this war before we are bled dry," answered Jon. For a moment he thought Galadriel might strike him, but she said nothing and took her seat once more. 

Galadriel sighed and paused before she spoke again. "This scheme is not one of wisdom nor valour, but of vain glory and foolishness," she said. "Shall my wisdom fall upon deft ear, my husband? Will you forsake wisdom for madness?" 

"No, my star... I would never turn aside your wisdom, but you must know the longer we tarry before the Black Gate shall give Sauron time to marshall many evils to bring us low" Jon tried to justify himself, but Galadriel snorted.

"Do not speak to me of the evils of Sauron as if I were but a maiden freshly crowned my wolf" snorted Galadriel. "I know well the mind of the Dark Lord and what might await us behind those cursed walls; I too know that Sauron had no doubt laid traps for those foolhardy enough to sneak into his lands, I won't allow it! Do you hear my Jon? I shall not let you go to your death for pride and folly!" 

"My purpose is clear, my star; we shall not be going to seek out war but rather to act as spies, Loras and Robar have already agreed to accompany me. I swear to you no harm shall befall us," said Jon, hoping his wife might see reason.

Yet fate seemed to have turned against him as not a moment later, Daenerys, Arya, and Rhaenys entered the tent, their faces weary and armour spattered with orcish blood.

"Oh, thank the Valar!" said Galadriel angrily. "Perhaps you can knock some sense into our foolish husband before he seeks out his death."

"Well, met Galadriel, I had hoped to speak to you ere the evening ended, but it seems we have more pressing matters," said Rhaenys angrily.

"Rhae…" grumbled Jon, displeased that he should be found out like this.

"Be silent, Jon," said Daenerys furiously. "Loras already spoke to of us of your idiotic schemes; I won't allow it, damn you none of us will,"

Arya Laughed. "Yes, dear cousin, how could you think to go on some grand adventure with those fools and not take me with you," she said. "Do you loathe me so that you think to keep such things from me?"

"By the Valar! Arya, we mustn't encourage such foolishness," growled Galadriel, "Now, if you wish to speak will such ill grace, then you may leave; there shall be no foray's into Mordor."

Jon opened his mouth as if to speak, but he said nothing. He looked up at the face of Galadriel with its bright solemn eyes bent upon him, and bowed his head in shame.

Then Daenerys stepped forward and she kissed Jon's hand; and embraced him.

"Why must you fill our hearts with such anguish," she said. "Have you no care for us, my nephew? That you would rush headlong into peril? Why should we suffer for your foolishness?"

"Enough! I did not summon you three so we might wound our wolf's pride, but to make him see reason," said Galadriel to them, pouring for each in turn a little liquor from her silver decanter.

"Aye, Galadriel is right; we've come to make our dragon see reason, as he seems eager to rush headlong in peril no matter what may befall him," said Rhaenys, dowing her wine with gusto.

"Damned fool", Arya growled, crossing her arms for a few moments before she began to beat her chest like when she was a child.

"Enough, Arya…" said Jon angrily. "You know I must do this, or we shall lose this war, have you no faith in me?"

"No! You are a fool, my love! An honest fool but one nonetheless." cried Arya, and in her fair face there was great distress. "If you pass through those cursed gates, you shall not return!"

"By the Valar, I did not think to be skewered by your barbs and japes!" Jon cried. "Why must you forsake me, All of you? I do not do this for glory nor pride!"

"Do you blame us, my beloved fool?" said Galadriel, once more towering over him. "We love you dearly and shall use any means we have to keep you safe, even if we must save you from yourself. To walk into those lands is to walk openly into the arms of death though death may be better than what else might befall you should the Orcs capture you; I have lost much to Sauron, but we shall not let him have you!"

Jon shut his eyes and shivered, but said nothing. They all stared at him in silence, except Galadriel who turned away. But Rhaenys's face was stern as stone. "Speak, brother!" she said.

In a soft hesitating voice Jon began again, and slowly his words grew clearer and stronger. "I ask them to forget it and forgive me, for I let despair cloud my mind!"

"Despair, why must you speak of despair, nephew?" said Daenerys rather confused.

"It is as I say, my beloved aunt, the dread of failing those I hold dear, of Gondor being raised to the ground, of Sauron destroying all that is fair and good in this world," said Jon. "I have lost much already. I am haunted by those I left behind, my uncle sacrificed for the cruelty of the Lannisters and that inbred monster, dear Robb butchered by those he thought friends and worst of all the Tyrells who turned upon me when they thought to claim the crown; I cannot abide such hurts again, though you may call me foolish, I hoped to do this for us my love so that you might live in peace and comfort."

Rhaenys passed her hand over her eyes, brushing away the tears. "Oh, my brother, for all your wisdom, you are still so foolish!" he said. "What good is such happiness if you cannot share such gladness with us?"

"I know Rhaenys, forgive me, I was given to despair," said Jon, and he kissed her hand; and they embraced.

"Then you will no longer enter Mordor?" asked Daenerys, brushing away her tears, and she cried with happiness when Jon shook his head.

Then he turned to Galadriel. "I would ask your forgiveness as well, my star," he said. "I know I have caused you all misery, but it shall not happen again; I swear by the Valar and the Highest one."

For a long moment, Galadriel said nothing, her blue eyes sparkling with tears, and then she pulled him into a fierce embrace, uncaring of who might see them.

"Of course, I forgive you, my wolf," she said. "But I ask you not deliver me such anguish again lest I make good on the vow I swore in Rhun so long ago."

Jon laughed. "Such bravery, my star!" he said. "What shall your kin do when they look upon you? Galadriel the wise, so passionate and fierce perhaps they shall liken you to one of Hador's folk."

"I'm afraid that foolish Lady fell wholly and madly in love with foolhardy Northmen who wakened her heart, oh may the Valar have mercy on that poor and foolish woman," said Galadriel merrily.

After such matters were settled, the four of them sat around the oaken table and enjoyed a quiet supper, knowing the dawn would bring battle once again, yet their hearts were gladdened for such was the love they shared, soon weariness overcame them, and they fell onto the bed on either side of him, not a word spoken between the four as the drifted off to sleep.

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(Dagorlad the following day)

"Don't rush… young man; these things take time…" growled Jon, as he clove the helm of a charging orc, the words of Treebeard echoed still fresh in his mind.

They fought on the plain for days and months at the Black Gates, hoping in vain to breach the Lands of Shadow, yet Sauron had denied them each time; the armies of the Dark Lord were innumerable great hosts of Orcs, Evil Men and other evil creatures.

"By the Valar... It has been months, and yet those damned trees are content to let us be slaughtered while they count the stars." thought Jon angrily and struck an Orc hard in the face, his mailed fist shattering bone, and the beast fell over dead.

Jon banished these dreadful thoughts from his mind as he spied his brothers in the distance; they stood back-to-back death in glimmering mail. Loras, his sword sheared off limbs, cracked heads, broke shields asunder; with a great sweep Robar hewed the head off another half-troll. Beside them stood the Elder Council of the Greenwood, wielding their axes in great cleaving strokes. The bows of Noldor were singing.

Yet for the fairness of the host, such butchery brought back painful memories of The War of the Five Kings, a war of petty men too blinded by greed, but he mustn't think of such things; his days in Westeros were long past and not worthy of remembrance.

Soon he had reached his brothers; who had routed the orcs for the moment, granting them a brief respite though it seemed Robar knew his mind and glanced at him worriedly.

"It seems your mind is troubled brother... I'd wager your mind is drawn back to our days in Westeros?" asked Robar.

"You know me, well brother," replied Jon, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Aye, we do, brother; too often are our minds alike," groaned Loras. "It shames me that we once fought for petty lords over who might sit in an iron chair,"

"Alas, that I could take back my part in that foolish war," thought Jon.

"Undoubtedly, not since the wars of wrath has there been so mighty a host nor a cause so noble as the one, we now lead," growled Robar, stamping on the neck of a struggling Orc.

"Aye, but take heart, brother's songs shall be sung of our glory!" cried Loras, his heart burning with the zeal of battle.

"Focus, Loras!" cried Jon. " The Orcs are upon us again! By the Valar, they are like ants."

"I know, I know…" growled Loras.

"Fool…" said Robar, brandishing his sword.

"Come on… let us finish this, I am weary, and we cannot linger here forever," grumbled Jon, holding Ringil aloft, its blade flickering as blue flame.

"Aye, brother, I fear if the Ents waylay us any further, we may have to sneak into Mordor and open the gates from within?" said Loras, vexedly.

Jon laughed grimly. By the Valar brother!" he said. "We have tried that once before, Loras. Do you remember how that went? I've no wish to face the ire of my wives again nor be skewered by Orcish arrows!"

Then with a great cry, they rushed forth once more to meet the Orcs; their voices were soon drowned out by the din of fighting as the Orcs girded them on all sides, and the battle began again, though fortune favoured them nought they must breach the gates soon least the bloom of their armies be blunted by the gates of shadow.

"These Orcs are without end!" growled Loras, leaping forward to strike a flurry of swift blows, before leaping back as a large Orc endeavoured to behead him.

"Aye, we cannot stay here lest we be overwhelmed," said Robar, slashing his sword across the bestial, hate-filled face of another enemy.

"Gurth an Glamhoth!" cried a strong voice, and from among the throng came Lord Glorfindel shining in the rising sun, his sword stained with black blood, though he was unwearied, cleaving through the Orcs with sweeping strokes.

The onset of the Elves was fierce and sudden, and the Orcs gave way before them, taken at unawares they wailed and broke, scattering like sparks in a gale. The Noldor with a loud cheer, turned and smote their pursuers. The Morgul host became the hunted, and their flight became an onslaught. The field was strewn with the bodies of Orcs and men, and the reek of death hung heavy in the air.

And so, at length Glorfindel and Jon met in the midst of the battle, and they leaned on their swords and looked on one another and were glad.

"Thus, we meet again master, though now the hosts of the Dark Lord lay between us," said Jon. "How have you fared in your hunt master?"

"Quite well, Jon," snorted Glorfindel. "I spied you amid the black host; it seems the terror of the dread helm is still fresh in the hearts of the enemy young one."

"Quite right, master," laughed Jon. "I do well to remind them of that terror; let them think the Mormegil has risen anew to take revenge upon them in the name of fair Doriath!"

"It's no wonder my kin have named you Gorthol as they once did Turin," answered Glorfindel surlily. "Yet you must be vigilant Jon; the mightiest man may be felled by a single arrow, and the shafts of the Orcs are numerous as blades of grass!" 

"Lord Glorfindel, we are honoured to have you join us," Robar said, surprised to see his weapons master there.

"It gladdens me to see you as well, Robar; you three have blossomed into warriors that even Turgon would be glad to count among his household," said Glorfindel. "Though I fear we must speak later, it seems the Orcs have mustered their courage."

At that moment, a thunderous bellow was heard as the ranks of Orcs opened, and a mighty hill troll came striding forth, wielding a two-handed mace in its knotted hands.

Loras rushed to meet the beast, and they came together with two aurochs. Loras took the mace blows on his shield and turned aside another before stabbing his blade upwards into the chest of the troll, driving his sword down and out, staining the ground with guts and black blood, as the lumbering beast fell forward dead.

"Are you alright, Loras?" asked Jon, glancing at his brother's cracked shield in concern.

"I am... I need a moment... my arm is aching from those mace blows," replied Loras, wiping his sweat from his forehead.

"Aye, I imagine so trolls may be mindless beasts, but it cannot be said they are poor warriors," said Jon, setting his foot upon the neck of a crawling orc and breaking it.

"Can you still fight Lord Flower?" asked Robar mockingly.

"Yes, you bronze plated bastard", Loras growled, stooping to pick up his battered shield.

Lord Glorfindel chortled grimly. "The battle has raged for the better part of the morning. Isildur and Elendur have smashed the right flank while lord Elrond drove the van of the Easterlings into the swamps, so it is left to us to deal with the stragglers," 

"Then we just have to fight a little more..." said Jon, wearily leaning on his sword. "Let us hope the Orcs soon lose heart. I've no wish to fight till the sun rises again.

"Indeed…follow me young Edain," said Glorfindel with a smile, and they followed after him, eager for the day to end.

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(Dagorlad several hours later)

The battle before the Black Gate persisted for several more hours as Sauron's forces seemed to favour death to defeat, falling upon them with bloodthirsty cruelty, yet too did the Men of Westernesse and the Noldor defy them, and soon the day had wore away, and it was near twilight when the Orc host broke retreating through the passages beneath the gate.

"By the Valar, where are the Ents? Must they tarry in the woods while we are mired in death," asked Robar, scowling at the Black Gate as if his ire would cause the fortifications to give way.

"The Ents care not for the wars of men, Robar; they have love for nought save the forest, and there is little hope they shall aid us in the coming days", Glorfindel answered with a cutting voice.

"Alas, I fear you are right, master," said Robar angrily. "It seems we must contend with Sauron ourselves," 

"Aye, were that I could, I would march into those woods and drag the old fools out by the scruff of their beards..." thought Jon gloomily. "I had hoped to be home soon Arianne must be ready to give birth soon,"

Though it was not all sadness, his lady loves had sent him messages to keep him abreast of the comings and goings of Imladris, especially Arianne, who blamed him for her condition and complained of their son, who kept her awake at all hours of the night kicking her belly.

"I'm sure our boy shall be a good man, though I hope the wolf blood doesn't run as hot in him as it did my mother," thought Jon, half joyful, half terrified.

Yet such thoughts were forgotten as the air was rent by the sound of many cruel horns, and a fresh host of great black Orcs issued forth from the maggot holes though they were not alone behind them strode mountain-trolls and the swarthy men of far harad the battle would begin anew under the stars it seems. 

"Oh, by the Valar, look more yet come", cried Robar, his face grim and set but resolute.

"Let them come then! For we are the mighty of the West, let them feel the bite of Andali steel," cried Loras, brandishing his blade, his eyes flashing in hatred for the enemy now before them.

Jon grimaced and hefted his shield once more, glancing at his master, who seemed unphased by the coming of this new rabble.

"Our fortune is grim, but we are not without allies; see our companions ride to our aid," said Glorfindel.

His friend spoke truly; before them went a great cavalry of horsemen moving like a glimmer of stars, and at their head was one greater than all the rest: Lord Elrond, his golden armour stained by the offal of battle, in his hand was Hadhafang gleaming, cold and white. 

Thought joyed to see his companions, they malice of Mordor as upon them, and he feared they had come too late, yet the Orcs made no move forward, then suddenly there was a braying of horns that shook the very stones and stunned men's ears.

"What devilry is this? Mordor hopes to parley," Lord Glorfindel said, clutching the hilt of his sword.

"Truly?" asked Loras, his countenance half of fear and half of dread.

"What is Sauron playing at?" asked Robar, glancing from side to side as if expecting some hidden blow.

"I know not the mind of Sauron, though I'd wager he hopes to bargain time to recover what troops he might," growled Elrond, gripping the handle of his sword.

"He might wish to come to an accord now that his troops have been defeated…" said Loras, half mocking, half hopeful.

"Perhaps..." said Jon, adjusting the helm on his head.

"Aye, yet my heart tells me it is for a darker purpose. Still, I am proud of you all; you've blossomed into splendid warriors though I am most proud of you, Jon, to fight so fiercely for so long, it is as if old Hador himself has come again to lend us aid" Glorfindel said, looking at Jon with pride.

"Thank you, my lord, though it is an evil fortune! I am near the end of my strength," said Jon, and a moment later, another horn rang out one of Westernesse; he glanced out eastward and saw a company of Arnorians being led by Isildur and Elendur.

To his happiness, Isildur seemed in good spirits, as did Elendur; though their armour was rent in many places and banners frayed, they galloped their horses over the last furlongs, and halted beside them.

"Oh, thank the Valar, you are all safe," said Isildur, looking upon the enemy with fierce hatred.

"You look as if you walked through the mountains of terror, Son of Elendil," said Elrond grimly.

"Aye, the enemy was not content to leave us be and sent forth his troll guard to waylay us," said Isildur.

"Aye, tis a war against the cruellest of foes," snorted Jon, "Mayhaps we can hope the worst is behind us,"

"That is all well and good, but perhaps we should turn our attention to the army before us," said Elendur, glancing warily at the Orcs and swarthy men who stood silently about them, rank upon rank, cruel and merciless.

There came a long rolling of great drums like thunder in the mountains, and then a braying of horns that shook the very stones and stunned men's ears. And thereupon the door of the Black Gate was thrown open with a great clang, and out of it there came an embassy from the Dark Tower. At its head there rode a tall and evil shape, mounted upon a black horse, if horse it was; for it was huge and hideous, and its face was a frightful mask, more like a skull than a living head, and in the sockets of its eyes and in its nostrils there burned a flame. 

The rider was robed all in black, and black was his lofty helm; yet this was no Ringwraith but a living man. The Lieutenant of the Tower of Barad-dur he was, and his name is remembered in no tale; for he himself had forgotten it, and he said: "I am the Mouth of Sauron." 

Now halting a few paces before the Captains of the West he looked them up and down and laughed.

"Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?' he asked. 'Or indeed with wit to understand me? Not thou at least! Why, any brigand of the hills can show as good a following!" he mocked, turning to Jon with scorn. "My master bid I deliver a message bastard, whether in Westeros or these shores, a bastard will always be a bastard; you are nought but a brigand; it needs more to make a lord than the blade of a whores son long disgraced and the helm of so wretched a man as Hador the woeful, yet you think yourself worthy? You who slayed your mother at birth and left your cousin to die, but my master applauds you for such cruelty. Indeed, he offers you a place as his lieutenant if you'd but lay down your arms." 

Jon said naught in answer, but he took the other's eye and held it, and for a moment they strove; thus, but soon... the other quailed and gave back as if menaced with a blow. "I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed!' he cried.

"Where such laws hold," said Elrond. "It is also custom for ambassadors to not be so boorish or insolent. But no harm shall come to you. You have nought to fear from us, until your errand is done. But unless your master has come to new wisdom, then with all his servants you will be in great peril."

"Don't speak for me, Lord Elrond…" interrupted Jon angrily. "I shall not be spoken of as some lowborn bastard. I am a prince of House Targaryen and a Dragonlord."

"Jon!" cried Isildur, but Jon paid him no mind glowering at the Messenger as if his gaze would strike him dead.

"You would be wise to keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, Emissary, lest you find your head removed from your shoulders," growled Elrond, grasping his sword.

"So!" said the Messenger. "Then thou art the spokesman, Half-elven? We haven't heard from you in a while, you've been hiding in your Valley, but you've stuck your nose out too far this time, Master Elrond; a pity for the one who stands in the way of Sauron the Great. I have tokens that I was bidden to show to thee, you and your king in special if you both dared to come here," He signed to one of his guards, and he came forward bearing a bundle swathed in black cloths.

The Messenger put these aside, and there to the astonishment and dismay of all the Elven Captains he held up first a beautiful silvered hammer..., and next a jewelled diadem..., and lastly to his horror, a skull branded with evil runes and dark spells.

"Do you recognise him half-elf?... The hammer of the one who was my Lord's apprentice many centuries ago but who hoped to deprive him of what was his by right, and as punishment, my Lord razed Eriador and cast down his kingdom, but best was the punishment reserved for such disloyalty I'm sure you remember well what befell him… it would be wise if you kept his story in mind," said the messenger with a cruel smile.

"By the Valar, it must be the hammer of Celebrimbor," thought Jon. "To think Sauron would keep such things as trophies, he is cruller than any Orc or man,"

"Silence!" cried Elrond, bowing his head to hide his tears.

"Name your Lord's terms, wretch!" said Isildur angrily. "Then begone lest I forget the laws that ensure your life,".

"Ah, the son of the wretched Anduinë!" he cried. "Tis no surprise to find you among such poor company; alas, if your grandfather might have listened to reason, we might have served my Great Lord together. Still, I thank him, for his screams were a tune worthy of the Ainur."

"Speak traitor, this is your last warning... another insult, and your life is forfeit," growled Isildur, drawing his sword and marching forward, yet the Messenger paid him no mind.

"These are the terms," said the Messenger, and smiled as he eyed them one by one. "The rabble of Gondor and its sister kingdom shall withdraw at once beyond the Anduin, first taking oaths never again to assail Sauron the Great in arms, open or secret. All lands east of Anduin shall be Sauron's for ever, solely. West of the Anduin as far as the Misty Mountains and the Kingdom of Lindon shall be tributary to Mordor, and men there shall bear no weapons, but shall have leave to govern their own affairs. Yet they shall be bound to rebuild Minas Ithil, and that city shall belong to Sauron, and there his lieutenant shall dwell, finally the elves will deliver to him the three rings they had stolen so long ago"

Looking into the emissary's eyes they read his thought. The Witch King was to be that lieutenant, and gather all that remained of the West under his sway; he would be their tyrant and they his slaves.

But Elrond said: "It is too much to ask for peace that your Master receives in exchange for what otherwise he would have to conquer throughout many wars. Or perhaps after watching this endless battle from atop his tower, he no longer trusts his troops, and now he lowers himself to negotiate with us? What assurance do we have that Sauron, Vile Master of Treachery, will keep his word? When he has deceived us many times in the past... No, I don't think so, yet it is not my place to make such choices, we shall retreat in good order, and then we will consider these demands." 

It seemed then to Elrond, intent, watching him as a man engaged in fencing with a deadly foe, that for the taking of a breath the Messenger was at a loss; yet swiftly he laughed again.

"Do what you desire! But know that these terms will never be offered again! If you sue for his clemency you must first do his bidding... But as recognition of the courage you have shown by defying his rule, my Lord Sauron has granted you permission to go back to your camp without more bloodshed," said the Messenger, and turned away and galloped back to Cirith Gorgor.

Jon knew the answer to such terms well, yet it had bought them time, and so the Orcs and men retreated back into their dark holes; his companions said nothing and rode off back to camp, their hearts heavy, but hope burned bright within them.

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(Camp of the Last Alliance)

Their coming to the camp was much as it always been, with those who prevailed offering congratulations, while those who had yet to fight were eager to hear stories of their valour; though his mind was troubled, the sight of Arya, Rhaenys and Daenerys lightened his heart.

When at last, they halted and dismounted, Jon was stiff and wished for nothing more than some warm food and a good bath, yet such thoughts were forgotten when Arya ran forward and embraced him, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Jon, what's going on?" asked Arya, her joy replaced with worry and apprehension.

"You'll find out soon, Arya... Now please let us rest; I am weary..." said Jon, hoping to no cause a racket; alas, Arya paid him no mind and clung tighter to him.

"No..." said Arya, "Tis no reason that we must part so soon, my love even; I care not who knows of our love."

Alas, Rhaenys and Daenerys now came to greet them, though their faces were stony; no doubt they wished to speak with him before he retired for the evening, and it seems Arya was adamant that he accompanies her.

"Arya!" Rhaenys yelled furiously.

"Cease this foolishness!" said Daenerys angrily.

Arya's response to both was to stick her tongue out and reattach her chest to Jon's breastplate, much to Jon's annoyance and embarrassment.

"It would be wise if you let me go, Arya, or I fear what might happen," said Jon, glancing at Galadriel, who was frowning in displeasure, as she could ill afford to be so tender with him in the company of others.

"No, Jon... You're mine," said Arya boldly, clinging fast to him and smiling gaily.

"Well...do as you wish, but don't say I didn't warn you," said Jon, smiling grimly. Walking towards the pavilion, where his companions had no doubt gathered to discuss the Messenger's terms.

"Foolish elf..." said Arya, glancing at Galadriel, who merely smiled as if she hadn't a clue why Arya was vexed so.

"I told you rightly, but common sense often escapes you," said Jon, laughing gaily.

"Be quiet!" growled Arya angrily.

"Enough! If you want to know what happened, let's go inside at once," said Jon, offering his arm, and Daenerys took it gladly, much to the ire of Rhaenys and Arya, though his star said nothing smiling at them with delight.

"But how?" Aria asked.

"When?" Rhaenys asked.

Daenerys smiled grimly. "If you'd not spent your time loafing about, perhaps you could accompany my dear nephew, alas your fortunes are ill, and I claim the victory,"

"Sshh...My dear sisters, Daenerys has earned the right to accompany our wolf," said Galadriel, bowing to the princess, who smiled in return.

"I told you, my wolf, I took an oath, one that I shall not forsake for petty rivalries, though I must be allowed some amusement occasionally," said Galadriel merrily.

"Ha, I know, my Star though I ask you not tease Arya so, she is too wild for such barbs, but come, let us attend the council," said Jon, making his way to the large pavilion, passing all manner of elves and men who bowed their heads or offered regards to the Prince of Osgiliath and his companions. 

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The council had gathered in haste; upon entering the faces that greeted them were weary but in good spirits. Elendil was there beside Gil-galad. Thranduil and Amroth were smoking their pipes and watching the gathering with keen interest.

"Welcome, my friends; I am glad for your coming, for it seems we have much to speak of!" said Gil-galad as he motioned to the last two seats on either side of Anárion, who rose from his chair and embraced Jon.

"It is a welcome sight to see you, old friend," said Anárion. "Though it seems you have seen many troubles as of late,"

Jon laughed. "Aye, orcs are doughty foes, doughtier still when you must face them knee deep in mud," he said. "I am glad to see you are in good spirits, my lord,"

After a short conversation, Jon escorted Galadriel to her seat and then took his own beside her, eager to discuss Sauron's terms.

"Thank you, Prince Jon," said Galadriel courteously.

"You're welcome, my lady," he answered.

"Are we all here then?" asked Gil-galad. "I hadn't thought to summon a council so soon, but it seems it cannot wait."

"Indeed, my lord Gil-galad," said Anárion laughing. "Such is their urgency I'd wonder if my brother had taken up with Trolls, he certainly has the reek of one,"

"Enough of your japes, brother!" growled Isildur, "Our fortunes have gone ill, and now is not the time for such foolishness,"

"Your brother speaks truly, Anárion!" said Elendil angrily. "If you cannot act with some civility, then perhaps I shall have you tend to the cows for the month? Or the stables, should it strike my fancy,"

"It is not necessary to be so stern, son of Amandil... such happiness is a treasure we much cherish in these dark days", Galadriel said suddenly, and took Jon's hand in her own, and smiled at him before looking away so as not to arouse suspicion.

"Thank you, my Lady," said Anárion, with a face scarlet up to the ears.

At length, Elrond turned to Gil-galad. "We apologise for our woeful appearance, my king," he said. "But the news we bring cannot wait." 

"What news do you bring us, Elrond Peredhel?" asked Gil-galad, his eyes glinting in the gloom.

"We battled the armies of the Dark Lord for the better part of the day, and well into the evening, we slew many however, as we neared the Black Gate, Sauron sprung his trap and sent forth fresh troops, yet it was no trap for the Dark Lord sent forth a Messenger," said Elrond gravely.

"The fool hoped to parley?" boomed Durin, banging his fist against the table.

"Aye, old friend though, I wouldn't call that farce a parley but rather a jape to amuse Sauron's fancy," said Jon.

"What were Sauron's terms?" said Elendil.

Thus Isildur recounted their meeting with the Messenger in full, omitting nothing, and they listened with anger while the old king spoke of the cruelty of the Messenger; indeed, he might've shared every insult said if he had been allowed; but Durin raised his hand.

"Bah, I think that is enough, son of Elendil," he said, "It's plain to see what the Dark Lord is plotting. Now, what shall we do about this Messenger!"

"The terms are but an insult, a foolish one but an insult nonetheless," said Galadriel.

"To what end?" asked Loras. "Does he think that we would ever consider such folly?"

"Perhaps the Lord of Mordor hopes to buy himself time to marshal fresh evil to him... no doubt he thought himself our better, and we have swept aside each of his armies in turn; mayhaps he is desperate," said Isildur.

"Perhaps, Sauron spent the better part of his power against the Númenóreans and the Elves in ages past, not unlike his master before him preferring trickery to force," answered Círdan. "Yet doubtless he overlooked the coming of the Westerosi, who have been a particularly bedevilling thorn in his side." 

"Aye, strange powers have our enemies, and strange weaknesses!" said Jon. "'But it has long been said: oft evil will shall evil mar. Though I now recall the conversation I had with Lord Aulë ere Sauron marched on Angrenost, he spoke of the Dark Lord's powers waning as he endeavoured to conceal himself from the Valar; perhaps he has yet to recover his strength?"

"Could such a thing be true?" said Isildur.

"There seemed a haste or perhaps fear in his attack on Minas Ithil; perhaps he thought we would be unable to defy him; Sauron has ever been a creature of guile to attack us openly is an act of desperation, not need," said Elendil.

"Undoubted Sauron wished revenge upon your and yours, my friend, but the coming of the Westerosi diverted his attention, until now at least," said Gil-galad, his countenance grim.

"And doubtless not desiring to waste any more time, Sauron assailed us in force, hoping to destroy our peoples before we had the chance to take root," said Elendil grimly.

"It seems that the Dark Lord wished to vanquish all his foes in one hammer blow," said Glorfindel, glancing at Jon at the others pityingly.

"Undoubted he hoped to destroy us singly and had little thought that we might unite against him, he can no longer afford such missteps and hopes to bargain time while we skulk about like beggars at his gate," said Robar angrily.

"That mockery of parley was merely a ruse to recover what soldiers he could and fill us with despair," said Gil-galad.

"What will we do then? We've fought for months, and we are no closer to breaching those gates than when we began," asked Magni.

"Aye, we cannot delay any further. Soon the terror of Sauron will overshadow the last armies of our friends, and we shall be defeated by weight of numbers," said Anárion sternly.

"Then we are in agreement? We must muster our full strength and try to take the Black Gate... or I fear we shall be fated to misfortune like the Elves to laid siege to Angband," said Prince Thranduil, speaking for the first time. His voice was melancholy and grim.

"I agree; we must assail the gates as soon as we are able," said Jon, speaking suddenly to the surprise of many and the joy of the Dwarves.

"I did not look to you for such boldness, Jon," said Elendil surveying him keenly, and not without wonder.

"Perhaps, my lord though a dragon is nothing if not valiant, and Prince Thranduil has the right of it; we may triumph in the field for a day, but if we cannot break down his gates, then it shall be as Angband merely waiting for our defeat, no... he is right we much march now," said Jon.

"A century ago, you dismissed such plans as folly," Galadriel said.

"I know, my Lady, I would deem it folly if not for the shadow of my heart; many have passed through the Black Gate; but more may follow. Always more people coming to Mordor until such that the shadow may outnumber us a hundred times over, no more! We shall rip down those accursed gates and drag Sauron from his tower in chains," said Jon grimly, and still holding her hand caressed it.

At that moment, Jon sensed the vexation of his lady loves; no doubt they feared he would be caught by Círdan or worse yet Gil-galad, though his fears were dashed by the sweet laughter of his star, who glanced at him sweetly seemingly oblivious to the company they now kept.

However, their fondness did not go unnoticed Círdan frowned, not wishing to believe that the boy he had come to see as a son could be so cruel as to court the Lady of Light under Írimë's nose.

"Why would he dishonour Írimë so brazenly? Perhaps I should speak with them, away from the others; I don't wish to cause a scene," thought Círdan wearily.

"I agree with Jon. Let us break down those accursed gates," said Durin, thumping the table with his meaty fist.

"I think the same," said Magni, brandishing his axe.

"Jon is right! If we continue as we are it matters not if we breach the gate as our armies will be nought but prey for the Orcs," said Glorfindel, exchanging glances with Thranduil and Gil-galad.

"I shall follow Jon to whatever end!" began Thranduil, feeling the golden circlet that had slipped over one eye. Then he stopped, and a shadow came over his face, and he closed his eyes. "Let it never be said that the sons of the Greenwood lack the valour to follow their friends!" he said. "We shall march to death and glory for all fair things!"

"We have spent months here fighting incessantly, and we have not achieved anything while the Enemy is hidden and unassailable in his dark tower..." Prince Amroth added with a grim laugh. "The time for discretion is over; let us go forth bravely and bring low this evil." 

"What say you, Círdan?" asked King Gil-galad.

Círdan was drawn from his thoughts and gazed about him, his eyes weary, and for a moment, he seemed stooped as if his many years weighted upon him; then at last he spoke.

"The world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them, of old treachery and flightiness were the reason for our misfortunes and defeats," said Círdan, addressing them gravely. "I would caution haste were it any other foe, but Sauron shall not sit idle I see no other choice now but to march upon the gate without hope of help," 

Elendil and Gil-galad exchanged glances and nodded.

"Very well… Lady Galadriel, do you wish to contribute something?" said Elendil, turning his bright glance upon her.

"There is nought more to say, Elendil the bold; our purpose is clear," said Galadriel boldly, yet dread hung heavy about her.

"Do not despair, my star. We shall be victorious," said Jon, hoping to ease her burden.

"You know me well, my Wolf…" whispered Galadriel sadly, and Jon caressed her hand once more, a small comfort but welcome nonetheless.

"Then it is decided... shall gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate in two days, " said King Gil-galad with his hands on the table, slightly lowering his gaze, no doubt understanding what was coming.

"As my King commands," said Glorfindel, bowing low.

"At last!... Sauron shall feel the bite of my axe!" cried Durin, holding the glimmering axe aloft, its blade shining as fallen snow.

"I admire your spirit, King Durin, but slaying Sauron shall be no small feat," said Elendil grimly, feeling the edge of his sword, Narsil.

"If that is all, I think it best we retire for the evening, especially you, Lord Elrond; you look as if you stormed Angband with nought but your wits and words," said Gil-galad looking at him with kindly pity.

"Thank you, my King…." said Elrond wearily.

"Aye, you must rest well, Jon; you three are no good to us half alive," said Anárion.

"Yes, Jon, if you wish, I can send one of my smiths to tend to your armour", Magni proposed, causing King Durin to snort.

"Boy, for all your subtly, you are still brazen as a merchant of Ered Mithrin," snorted Durin. "Tis a wonder you have scarpered off with the armour under cover of night." 

"Ha, you cannot blame a dwarf for trying", Magni huffed.

"You honour me with your generosity, old friend, but I prefer to tend to my own armour as my uncle did," said Jon, recalling how he often found his uncle in the Godswood cleaning the blade with a swatch of oiled leather for many years he had dreamt of being regarded as a Stark and being given Ice.

Although those days seemed so long ago, more fantasy than memory... However, Jon turned his gaze towards Arya, who lowered her head as tears fell from her eyes as she remembered the execution of her father in front of the Sept of Baelor.

Knowing her pain well, Jon embraced her and whispered softly: "Uncle would be proud of the woman you have become; you and Sansa, both my dear she-wolf,"

Arya looked at him, smiled, and kissed him sweetly, her tears now of joy.

"Let us do away with such unhappy thoughts... and rest as we may, the coming days shall be a true test," said Elendil gravely.

"As my King commands…" said Robar, bowing low.

"In that case, Círdan and Glorfindel…You should rest too…Good night" said Gil-galad, rising from his seat and departing for his tent.

Jon rose to leave when he heard the sweet voice of Galadriel in his mind.

"My wolf, tonight we shall sojourn to your sister's tent, I would offer you my bed again, but it is unfair that I should keep you to myself, so tonight, I and your kin shall relieve you of your burdens," said Galadriel, eyes gleaming in pleasure and mirth.

"My Star…" said Jon, but Galadriel departed as quickly as she might; she was followed by Arya, Rhaenys and Daenerys, who didn't deign to meet his gaze, and he felt a sense of dread come over him.

"What devilry are they planning, I wonder?" thought Jon as his brothers clapped him on the back, hooting and laughing at his supposed misfortune.

"Well, Jon, it seems you shall perish before your time," said Loras gaily, yes flashing in mirth.

Robar laughed gaily and embraced Loras. "Indeed, brother!" he said. "Woe betides our dear brother cut down in the flower of youth," 

"Silence, you fools!" Jon growled.

"Oohhhh…do not be so dour brother, perhaps you should bathe before your doom; if you must be a corpse, you should be presentable," said Robar.

"Tis a wonder that the Lady Galadriel didn't keel over dead sitting next to you for so long," said Loras, laughing to himself.

"Perhaps that is why she left so swiftly" sneered Robar. "Woe to the poor Lady of Light that she must keep such company, why I'd wager even an Orc smells better,"

"Begone, you damned rascals, or I'll sick Vhagar on you", growled Jon angrily.

Loras laughed. "As you say, my lord," he said, "Come, Robar, let us see if the dwarves have procured more of that marvellous tobacco."

"Quite right, Loras, and mayhaps when Galadriel sends Jon to meet the Doomsman, we might have the pick of his treasure," said Robar, smiling ruefully.

And with that, they left, leaving Jon to grumble and curse at his misfortune for being companions of such ill-begotten company.

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(Camp of the Last Alliance)

Shortly after he entered his tent, he spied a scrap of parchment on his desk; it was a note from Rhaenys asking him to come to her tent tonight as Galadriel had requested earlier, though as he was about to leave, a company of dwarves ambled in, each looking quite pleased to be there; then, the leader of the group stepped forward.

"Welcome and well met!" said the dwarf, bowing low. "Thror at your service," he said, and bowed still lower.

"Baelon Targaryen at your service and your family's," said Jon rightly, returning the bow in kind. "Am I right in guessing that you are the smiths that wish to tend my armour?"

"Quite right," answered the dwarf, stroking his beard and smiling brightly. "I must offer my sincerest thanks, my lord. Seldom do we dwarves have the opportunity to care for something of such magnificence; we are grateful for such generosity on your part and the kindness you have shown our peoples."

"You are most welcome," said Jon.

"You have had many grand adventures, I hear," said Thror. "It reminds me of my youth when I was but a beardling with more grit than sense. But I shall not keep you with such tales. Would you like us to tend to your blade and helm, my Lord?" 

"Alas, I am afraid, not noble dwarf; none may tend to Ringil save myself and the lady Írimë," said Jon politely.

Thror looked at him and laughed. "Ah, quite right young lord, well everything is in order. I do hope you shall enjoy your evening."

"Likewise, master dwarf, I shall tell Magni of your good conduct in the morning, said Jon. "But for now, I must be off."

He bid the dwarves farewell and then set off for Rhaenys tent, wondering what awaited him tonight.

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(Under the eves of twilight)

He made his way through the camp, careful not to draw the attention of the soldiers or, worse yet, Círdan; he had noticed the old elf eyeing him during the council, and he feared that his master may soon learn of his marriage to Galadriel.

"Let us hope the night shall not go ill for me," thought Jon as he, at last, came to the bright golden tent of his tent; two guards stood at either side of the doorway, upon noticing him, they bowed and bid him pass, the tent was far more austere than Galadriel's with oaken furniture and a bed of furs. 

Yet all that was forgotten, standing in the centre of the tent, clad in raiment's of finest silk were his loves Rhaenys wore black, Dany wore turquoise, Arya wore one of silver, and Galadriel, as was her custom, wore a shift of pure white.

Arya smiled. "Well, met my dear cousin," she said, "I'm glad you came; we thought to spend the evening with you," 

Jon laughed. "Aye, how could I refuse such beauties," he said. "I see you have been busy."

He looked past them and noticed a large tub of water; there was some scent about it that reminded him of honeyed clovers that bloomed around Annuminas in the spring. It seemed Galadriel and Dany had also been at work, lighting candles about the room and scattering petals upon the bed; their eyes sparkling with love, yet their smiles were sinful as the seven.

It was then Arya spied Ringil on his waist, and her eyes glinted in joy though such thoughts were swiftly forgotten, when Rhaenys stepped forward and embraced him.

"You've no need for your weapons, brother," chortled Rhaenys, undoing his sword belt and tossing it to the far end of the tent.

"Ah, even when we promise a night of passion, he comes armed for war. Truly you are a Dragon," laughed Daenerys, 'but I expect no less from my beloved nephew."

"Rhae…," said Jon.

"Sshh…My Valonqar, don't say anything…." said Rhaenys sweetly, peppering his jaw with tender kisses.

Jon then felt Arya's soft but calloused hands undoing the drawstrings of his pants and deftly removing his shirt, leaving him bare before his loves.

Jon was embarrassed his body was still covered in black blood, sweat and mud from the earlier battles... Though Rhaenys and Arya didn't seem bothered by his unsightly appearance, they quickly led him to the silver tub, and Jon groaned in joy as he felt his muscles come undone; the sweet smells made him drowsy so much so that he didn't notice when his loves began to clean him. 

"You don't have to…" Jon tried to say, though his loves silenced him and continued with their work tenderly scouring his weary body of the offal of battle. Then, finally, when he was clean, Arya and Rhaenys began to dry him with beautiful towels and led him to the soft bed in the corner of the room.

He saw Daenerys and Galadriel sitting beside the bed, drinking Arnorian whiskey from jewelled goblets; seeing they were done, his aunt set aside her liquor and laid him on the bed before grabbing several bottles of scented oil from the nearby table and uncorking them filling the room with a sweet smell.

"By the Valar!" cried Jon, feeling the soft calloused hands of his aunt undo the knots in his back, all the while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He knew not how long he lay there, but it seemed an eternity as he dosed off, enjoying the familiarity he felt for his loves.

"Dany…" groaned Jon, his voice hoarse with need; he struggled to stay awake, partaking in the tender mercies of his lady loves.

"Sshh…Silence, Jon" said Daenerys, undoing another knot in his back.

The evening was one of blissfulness as he surrendered to the loving touch of his aunt; when she was done, he rolled over and was welcomed by the sight of Galadriel, and her face was smiling and kind. She kissed him sweetly, and her words were honey sweet.

"We all heard your bravery on the battlefield, my husband, and this is your reward," said Galadriel, taking up her silver harp and singing a sweet melody that filled them with courage and love.

Jon felt sleep coming upon him, even as Galadriel sang her sweet tune and he lay himself upon a soft bed and fell at once into a dreamless slumber.

Jon woke suddenly; it was near the witching hour, and the stars shone cold and bright through the tent. He wondered how he got here and remembered the evening he shared with his loves.

"They truly love me!" thought Jon, and then he realised he was encircled Arya lying atop him with Daenerys and Rhaenys in the crooks of his arm... which meant.

Jon gingerly turned his head and saw a swath of golden tresses; Galadriel lay there sound asleep as he gazed at her; She stirred, and for a moment, he thought she might wake, but instead, she pulled him and Arya into her arms and laid their heads upon her heaving bosom which were softer than any pillows.

"Truly, this is best in life, I'd thought to clean my weapons, but that can wait till morning," thought Jon; the camp was almost silent while there were few fires lit, a sign that most of the camp was sleeping with this in mind, Jon enjoyed the warmness of his lady loves and fell asleep once more his dreams filled with the laughter of children and soaring dragons.

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Black Gate of Mordor…Days later

When all was ordered, the captains rode forth towards the Black Gate with a great guard of horsemen and the banners of many houses and heralds and trumpeters. There was Jon as chief herald, and Elendil his sons and grandsons, and Durin, and Magni, and Thranduil with a stout company of axemen and Amroth accompanied by the mightiest bowmen of his house.

His companions and lady loves rode behind him while Galadriel rode alongside him, for the daughter of Finarfin shall not follow mere Lords, yet it was a wonder to many to see the Lady of Edhellond girded for war drawing the attention of those who followed them, but they didn't dare to question her and marched along in silence.

They came within cry of the Morannon, and unfurled their banners, and blew upon their trumpets, and Jon rode forth and blew upon his horn so then cried aloud so that all might hear him.

"Come forth!" he cried. "Let the Lord of Slaves and Treachery come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon the realms of elves, men and dwarves. Therefore, the Kings of these lands demand he comes forth to answer for these evils and depart then forever. Come forth!"

There was a long silence, and no cry nor shout came from the gate; then came a great rolling boom as the postern door of the gate was thrown open, and the Messenger rode forth on his hellish steed, yet Sauron had not deigned to show himself.

"Tis a wonder that he is a coward!" thought Jon, glowering as the Messenger rode to meet them.

The Messenger rode forth and halted before them, his cruel eyes glinting behind his high helm, and he spoke in a snarling hiss.

"My master's patience has worn thin," he said. "He wishes an answer... will you agree to his terms?" 

"You may bring these words to your master King's Men most cursed off our proud peoples," growled Elendil, "We reject them utterly. Get you gone, for your embassy is over and death is near to you. We did not come here to waste words in treating with Sauron, faithless and accursed; still less with one of his slaves. Begone!" 

Then the Messenger of Mordor snarled as a beast. His face twisted in wrath and disbelief, Rage filled his speech, and he slavered as a dog, yet no words he uttered; rather shapeless sounds of fury came strangling from his throat. But as he beheld the splendour of the Captains of the West, he was filled with a great terror and fear overcame his wrath. He gave a hissing cry then, turned, leapt upon his steed, and, with his company, galloped madly through the Black Gate. But as they went, his soldiers blew their horns in signal long arranged; and even before they came to the gate Sauron sprang his trap.

Drums rolled and fires leapt up. The great doors of the Black Gate swung back wide. Out of it streamed a great host of Orcs, who roared and cheered, eager for slaughter. Dust rose smothering the air, as from nearby there came a great host of Easterlings and Harad and evil dwarves that had waited for the signal in the shadows of Ered Lithui beyond the further Tower. Down the hills from either side of the Morannon Orcs came like a sea of shadow stamping their feet, clanking their shields and bellowing war cries; this would be the final push, whether for victory or defeat.

"I guess that concludes negotiations," said Jon, handing the banner now to one of his squires who rode off with haste towards the camp.

"So, it seems, now it shall begin," said Robar, clutching his sword.

"Let them come," seconded Loras, donning his helm and hefting his shield, prepared for the battle to come.

"Valonqar..." said Rhaenys, clutching Dramborleg; the hordes of Sauron were innumerable, and her heart was overcome with grief at the thought of their deaths. For a moment, she thought to grab her brother and flee to the farthest reaches of Arda, yet when she looked upon her friends, the valour of her father's ran like new fire in her veins; she then thought of the days ahead to return to Osgiliath with Jon and rule in peace and comfort for such a thing she will gladly give her life.

Daenerys and Arya thought much the same gone was their fear for boldness burned hotly in them as the fires of the old dragons when the world was young; they would win this war, they would enjoy the sweetness of life and never again think of death or misery only the hope of better years ahead.

Robar thought much the same as the rest to retire in peace and comfort, to live their days in Middle-Earth, he and Loras in the North while Jon ruled in the south, placing those dark days in Westeros firmly behind them.

Galadriel smiled; it moved her to see the devotion they bore her wolf, yet too, there was a bitterness to her heart for fear of losing those who she had come to see as a family, but now was not the time for such doubt.

"Utúlie'n aurë! Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatári, utúlië'n aurë!" cried Jon, dawning the helm of Hador and holding Ringil aloft, its blade glittering as a pale flame in a sea of darkness.

"I love you, my wolf," said Galadriel, not caring who might have heard.

The first assault crashed into them. The orcs hindered by the mires that lay before the hills halted and poured their arrows into the defending ranks, yet the aim of the Orcs was poor, and they foolishly charged forth eager for slaughter and with a great cry, the Host of the West rushed to meet them.

"Aiya Eärendil elenion ancalima!!" cried Elrond, charging forward.

Together Isildur and Anárion leapt forward, their men close behind. The two swords flashed from the sheath as one. And they hurled themselves into the melee, their blades gleaming with white fire.

Then Jon raised his horn, and he blew a blast, and the echoes leapt from rock to rock, and all that heard that voice in was filled with courage.

Jon and Galadriel were first to meet the Orcish horde great was the clash of their meeting, like the booming of thunder, yet the fury of the Dragons and Elves burned the hotter; the Goblins lept forward and loosened a volley of poisoned shafts though none struck home, as they rode through the black hordes they heard the howling of wolves and from the forest thundered a pack of wolves led by Ghost and Lady their eyes keen, fangs glimmering as steel; the wolves were swift to close the distance and fell upon the armies of Mordor pulling men from horses, toppling Trolls and glutting themselves on the shrieking Goblins.

Deathclaw soared above, swooping low like a bolt of thunder, and striking hard against the Orcs, his great talons scything flesh and bone, yet none could overcome him, for he was the herald of the Valar and valiant as any beast of shadow and twice as fierce.

Then good fortune, one of Magni's siege engines struck true, launching a great boulder through a company of Orcs revelling the dark lands beyond; they had their chance.

"Now! Now is the time!... Jon thought when he saw how vulnerable the Gates of Mordor were.

"The gates! Take the gates!" cried Gil-galad, his voice ringing like thunder.

The soldiers charged forward, evading the barbed arrows of the orcs, yet as they drew nearer, the Great Gates began to swing closed.

"No!" cried Jon urging Lòmerocco forward, hoping to make it through the gates before they shut.

"Jon!" Galadriel cried, in fear she could not reach him cut off by a company of evil dwarves advancing upon her, wielding cruel hammers and spiked maces.

The Enemy loosened a volley of flaming arrows, and the siege engines burst into flames forcing a portion of the dwarves to retreat, hoping to save their creations.

The gates were almost closed, and Jon was set upon by a dozen Orcs who grabbed him from the saddle and tossed him to the ground, he rose to his feet swiftly cutting the head off one before gutting another, yet more were still coming too many, too close, too swift and that is when Jon knew.

"I am going to die here," thought Jon.

It was then a great cry was heard above the din of war: ra-hoom-rah! Then suddenly, several large boulders soared overhead and smashed into the gates. Then they saw it; the trees were quivering and bending as if a gust had struck them. There was silence once more, and then music began like solemn drums, and above the rolling beats and booms there welled voices singing high and strong.

We come, we come with roll of drum: ta-runda runda runda rom! 

The Ents were coming: ever nearer and louder rose their song: 

We come, we come with horn and drum: ta-ru¯na ru¯na ru¯na rom!

Before long, they saw the marching line approaching: the Ents.

were swinging along with great strides down the slope towards them.

Treebeard was at their head, and some fifty followers were behind.

him, two abreast, keeping step with their feet and beating time with

their hands upon their flanks. As they drew near the flash and flicker

of their eyes could be seen.

"Hoom, hom! Here we come with a boom, here we come at last!"

Bellowed Treebeard.

"Come, join the Moot! We are off. We are off to Mordor!"

"To Mordor!" the Ents cried in many voices.

"To Mordor!"

"To Mordor! Though Mordor be ringed and barred with doors of

stone;" Though Mordor be strong and hard, as cold as stone and bare as

bone, We go, we go, we go to war, to hew the stone and break the door;

For bole and bough are burning now, the furnace roars – we go to

war! To land of gloom with tramp of doom, with roll of drum, we

come, we come; To Mordor with doom we come!

With doom we come, with doom we come!

So, they sang as they marched southwards.

"The Ents!... It's the Ents!" cried the elves in joy.

"They came…" Jon said in disbelief.

"It was just a matter of patience, you see; they didn't abandon us," cried Galadriel and kissed him fiercely, no caring if any saw them for the joy in her heart.

Jon returned the kiss gladly; he turned and was greeted by the sight of Daenerys, her leathers frayed and stained with red and black blood.

"Dany...It gladdens me to see you alright," said Jon.

"And you as well, dear nephew; Come, you'll have time to fuck later; we've a battle to win," said Daenerys, decapitating a foul troll-men who charged headlong at them.

"It's Treebeard!" cried Loras. "He leads the Ents to war!"

"It's true...Treebeard is marching ahead of them," said Galadriel, peering into the distance, her elf eyes shining in joy.

"The old coot certainly took his time," growled Jon.

"That was most discourteous, Jon," said Galadriel though her voice was drowned out by a deep echoing boom as the Ents hurled great boulders at the Black Gate.

"Get down!" cried Gil-galad.

"Watch out!" said Elendil, ducking down as a boulder flew overhead.

The soldiers heeded their Kings words and retreated in good order, occasionally ducking down as more boulders flew over their heads; alas, it not hurt was done to the gates as they ground closed.

"Come! We must seize command of the gates!... We can't let them close!" cried Jon, and he leapt upon Lòmerocco and sped off after the retreating Orcs, the cries of his loves falling upon deft ears.

Yet the words of their captain rang clear as the soldiery of Westernesse followed after him slaying all who stood before them.

"Press on, don't let them close the gates!" said Jon, bashing aside what Orcs he could, Ringil rising and falling like a flash of silver staining the ground with black blood and rotten guts.

They finally came before the Gate, and the Blackguard of Barad-dur hurried to meet him, Orcs near man high, each clad in black plate from head to foot wielding stout hammers.

Jon charged forth, ignoring his brother's shouts of warning, but it was too late several Orcs sprang up from among the slain, and he was ringed in the Blackguard upon him their hammers, each blow felt as a bolt of lightning coursing through his arm with a great cry one took him from the back of the knee, and Jon shouted out in pain before toppling over.

"JON!" cried Loras, desperately trying to reach his brother before he was slain, yet his prayers were answered as a final boulder smashed through the gate, slaying what guard still lingered and forming a breach. 

"Come, brothers, to Mordor!" cried Jon rushing through the breach into the lands of shadow.

"You had to be the first to set foot in this horrible place?" growled Robar, slaying another of the Haradrim.

"Silence, you damned fool, by the Valar, must you always rush headlong into danger? If we live through today, I will tell your grandmother of your heroics!" scolded Glorfindel, suddenly appearing from amidst the slain.

After them came Elendur and Amroth, along with the knights of their household and the wolves of Ghost's pack; whatever Orcs had remained guarding the gate fled, and none remained now save them and the dead.

"Well, it seems we have good fortune," said Loras, wiping the blood from his helm.

"Aye, brother, but what of the Ents?" asked Jon, leaning upon his shield in weariness.

Yet there was no answer as three Ents came striding through the breach; one Jon knew as Treebeard though the other two were wholly new, one resembling a willow, the other a birch.

"'Hm, you are hasty folk, I see," said Treebeard glaring at the Orc evilly as they scurried to their dark holes.

"A friend of yours?" asked Jon glancing at the Ents accompanying Treebeard.

"Aye, Finglas and Fladrif – to give them their Elvish names; you may call them Leaflock and Skinbark if you like that better," said Treebeard, shaking his great head too and fro.

Jon turned and saw Daenerys, Arya and Galadriel striding towards them, their faces etched in fury, and for a moment, he felt fear.

"I think you may perish ere the Age ends, brother," said Loras, amused by his brother's misfortune.

But Jon didn't answer as he beheld the Land of Mordor for the first time. hard and cruel and bitter was the land that met his gaze. The wind of the world blew now from the West, and the great clouds were lifted high, floating away eastward; but still only a grey light came to the dreary fields of Gorgoroth. Still far away, forty miles at least, they saw Mount Doom, its feet founded in ashen ruin, its huge cone rising to a great height, where its reeking head was swathed in cloud. Its fires were now dimmed, and it stood in smouldering slumber, as threatening and dangerous as a sleeping beast. Behind it there hung a vast shadow, ominous as a thunder-cloud, the veils of Barad-dur that was reared far away upon a long spur of the Ashen Mountains thrust down from the North.

Jon suddenly felt a great fear overcome him, and his heart was ceased by dread, and for a moment, he wished to hide to fly from these lands and never return, yet he mastered himself, knowing it to be a trick.

"He knows I'm here! He knows we have broken down his gate, and he shall make us pay for our insolence," thought Jon worriedly as he unhurriedly strode towards Barad-dûr a strange verse upon his lips not uttered by any save the Lord who dwelt in that cursed tower.

"Jon?" asked Galadriel, but Jon gave no answer, his voice dark and strong.

"Three rings for the Elven Kings under heaven,

Seven for the Dwarf Lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for the mortal men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne in the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them,

One ring to draw them all, and bind them in the dark in the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie."

When he finished, all looked at him in dismay until he felt the warm caress of Galadriel.

"You have seen beheld it the will and malice of Sauron," said Galadriel, dismayed, wishing she could embrace her husband and console him.

"You are not alone, my friend... Sauron shall do no harm to you, not while I have strength," said Glorfindel.

"No one will allow it..." seconded Robar and Loras.

"Thank you..." said Jon, and he was embraced by his kin, a sign of love amid the desolation of the shadowed lands.

"Let us hope they shall be victorious, or I fear this shall be the end of all living things," thought Treebeard.

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Valley of Imladris…

"Hurry princess, your labour is nearly at an end!" said the elven midwife while she only screamed in pain as she felt how her baby made its way to the world through her entrails.

"AAAAHHHH!" she yelled.

The months away from Jon had been torturous, the sickness, the cravings and rising at all hours of the night to use the privy, but earlier today, her water had broken, and the labour had been wearying, but now she would meet their baby born in the peace of Imladris.

"I see the head!" cried the midwife. "Come, princess, one more push."

"By the Valar!" cried Arianne, then suddenly all was silent save for the lusty cries of a new born babe.

"It's a boy large, lusty and strong," said the elf wrapping the baby in a fur blanket.

"My baby, my baby…let me see him," Arianne said, stretching out her arms with what strength was left to her, and the midwife handed the little bundle to her, a smile upon her face.

Small and dainty with a flushed little face, his head crowned by tuffs of black hair, a truly beautiful child.

"Hello, little Amanówë, I am your mama," said Arianne.

At that moment, the baby stirred and began to cry, revealing eyes that shone like amethyst.

"Oh Jon, our little dragon has your eyes," thought Arianne happily.

"I think the baby wants his first meal," The midwife said, and Arianne nodded, bearing her breast to her son, who gurgled happily before taking her nipple in his mouth and sucking greedily.

"He's a glutton," said Arianne tearily, holding her baby close.

"Jon, my dragon, please return; you must meet our son", thought Arianne, praying for her husband's safe return.

Notes:

thanks to great red