"If you stop tellin' people it's all sorted out
after they're dead, they might try sorting it
all out while they're alive."

― Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman, Good Omens

32. Ghostbusters

"What is that? Look! Fire, red fire! Are there dragons in this land? Look, there is another!"

Pippin's eager voice woke Kat up from her slumber. She was laying securely in his arms, and he in turn was held by Gandalf, so the journey had been comfortable despite the haste. In addition, Shadowfax had a very smooth gait.

Now she drowsily looked where the hobbit pointed. Indeed, there was a series of blazes over the distant mountains, and though it was night, part of the sky had turned red like the sunset.

Gandalf yelled to Shadowfax that he must hurry. "The beacons of Gondor are alight, calling for aid!" The war had begun.

The horse seemed not to listen, and instead neighed merrily. Kat saw three horsemen nearby, galloping past them through the darkness. The horses answered with neighs of their own, but their riders paid no attention and continued at top speed like haunted by a pack of wargs.

Gandalf explained to Pippin that they were messengers of Gondor, alerted by the beacons. The beacons were an ancient form of communication; a chain of huge fireplaces built across the mountain range which spanned the country from Minas Tirith all the way to the western sea. At intervals messengers were stationed, ready to speedily ride to Rohan and other allies and call for help when the beacons were lit. This was the first time they were lit in ages, and that was proof of how dire the need must be.

Kat listened with interest, but Pippin seemed more intent on going back to sleep which was a bit frustrating. Not for the first time during the ride she wished she could talk and ask questions herself. Having no Legolas to translate for her was a huge handicap.

Pippin started to snore and Gandalf went silent, and Kat was left with her thoughts.

She thought about the people they had met; those three messengers galloping past. How many years had they waited to do the job they were once assigned? A lifetime, perhaps.

She pictured being a beacon keeper isolated in the mountains, whose family had spent centuries patiently guarding their stack of wood and waiting to see a fire blossom on the next hill, so they could light theirs and ride to Rohan – a fire which was never seen during his lifetime, nor the lifetime of his father, or his father before him. And today the fire was lit. She imagined how surreal it must be for him to see that distant light, and realize what he had been waiting for all his life was actually happening. It was real. His purpose would be fulfilled.

Mind-blowing, in a way.

Kat regarded the fires in the distance. It was a fiercely beautiful panorama, with the  brilliance of the moon and myriad of stars above, and beneath them, the crests and peaks of the mountains forming a dark contour behind the blazing pyres. Yet, it was also a terrifying sight because of what it meant. War. War was upon them. Mordor's host must have come to the White City. Would Gandalf be able to pass through? He had much power, especially now as reborn, so hopefully he would. But then there was that horrible flying shadow... They had seen it again when they passed Edoras, and instead of fighting it, Gandalf had advised Éowyn to abandon the city and take her people to a place called Dunharrow in the mountains.

Kat wondered what the shadow was. A dragon? Or a dinosaur – one of those winged pterodactyls? Gandalf probably knew, but she couldn't ask him.

I wish I could talk to you, she thought forlornly.

Behind her, Gandalf chuckled softly. "But you can."

You're kidding me. You can hear me? You've heard me all along? Kat's fur rose and her tail grew bushy. Her conversations with Legolas had been private, for goodness' sake!

Only if I concentrate hard, came the reply. Gandalf's mental voice sounded weak and distant, like he was speaking over a bad phone line. I am not as attuned with nature as others of my Order, or as elves for that matter.

So... You haven't secretly been listening to... uh, stuff I've said to... uh... certain elves?

"I have not listened much, no." He chuckled again, and to her surprise he stroked her head. "It is like that, then. I suspected as much."

Kat didn't need to ask him what he meant. I won't let it affect my quest, if that's what you worry about.

"I know. I trust your professionalism and competence – both of you."

Thank you. Kat felt a warm knot of affection build up within her, mingled with a slight guilt. She had misjudged the wizard, never quite warming up to him, and she had not mourned his death. Sorry for toying with your beard those times before.

"Apology accepted." Somehow she knew he understood what she really was apologizing for.

/\_,,_.,
( *ᆽ* )

The spring predawn was moist and crisp when the Grey Company gathered on the courtyard, making ready to leave. Elrond's sons came over to Legolas and Gimli, leading two identical brown mares (of course they had to be identical!).

Legolas still hadn't figured out who of the twins was who, but now he got an idea.

"Such fine horses. Elrohir – what is yours named?" he asked.

Scars looked pleased. "She is Nórima."

A-ha! Scars was Elrohir then. Finally!

"And mine is Nessima." No-scars, who Legolas now knew was Elladan, stroked his horse lovingly.

The main hall door slammed shut and Éowyn came hurrying out. This time she was dressed in men's clothes and wore a sword.

Legolas had to stop himself from looking at her exposed legs. Was the woman not embarrassed to show her curves so openly?

Gimli and the twins were less tactful. "Shapely," murmured Elladan.

"Slim, but not too slim," Elrohir agreed.

"A fine lass. Feisty."

Éowyn had brought a parting cup of wine that she gave to Aragorn, who swallowed a mouthful before passing it to the rest of them. Legolas remembered Kat's words about hygiene and carefully wiped the chalice with his sleeve before he took a miniscule sip, and noticed that Elrond's sons did the same.

"Aragorn, will you go?" Éowyn's voice was slightly distorted and her eyes were red.

"I will."

"Then will you not let me ride with your company, as I have asked?"

Sadly shaking his head, Aragorn said that he could not allow that unless her brother and the king agreed, but they wouldn't arrive at Dunharrow until the next day.

Éowyn sank down on her knees, and tears began to trickle down her cheeks as she begged him to change his mind.

Legolas' heart ached. It hurt to see such a proud lady humiliating herself before the whole company, and again he was struck by the unfairness of her situation. As far as he could judge human ages, she was an adult woman, yet her brother and uncle had all power over her.

"Nay, lady!" Calmly Aragorn helped her up and kissed her hand. Then he mounted his horse in a swift leap and took off directly, and only his grim face and stiff shoulders showed the pain he felt.

Turning his gaze from Éowyn's stricken appearance, Legolas followed him.

"I'd have let her come," Gimli mumbled from behind him on the horse. "I mean, why not? She's willing, and we could use the extra sword."

"But she is a woman." Legolas was surprised. "Dwarf women are fighters sometimes, then?"

"Aye. Often. Though you'd probably think they were men, if you saw them."

"I am intrigued now. Why would I think that?"

"Because we look and dress the same."

"But what about their lack of beards?"

"Lack of beards?" He sounded affronted. "A full, well-tended beard is any dwarf's pride and joy, no matter his sex."

Legolas was surprised. Fascinating as he found beards to be in general, he couldn't imagine what they would look like on a female.

Then something struck him. "So... any dwarf could be a lady. Such as... you?"

"That's a very impolite thing to ask," said Gimli sternly. "I'll pardon you for this time, because you're not familiar with our customs. Exposing one's sex is reserved for courtship."

"My apologies." Legolas had even more questions after that piece of information, but didn't want to risk another blunder. It was clear there was still much to learn about dwarves.

"No worries, lad. At least you understand there are dwarf women. I've met people who believe dwarves aren't born, but grow out of mountains." He chuckled. "Ridiculous."

"What is ridiculous?" One of Elrond's sons had made them company, and Legolas looked at his hands to see who.

Darn. Why was he wearing gloves?

"Nothing in particular," said Gimli dismissively. He apparently didn't want to speak about dwarf customs with others, which made Legolas feel slightly smug and singled out.

The company continued, and the closer to the mountain they got, the more silent they became. A sense of profound dread spread among the humans and Gimli. Even Legolas shared part of it, though he was not afraid of ghosts. Instead it was the prospect of Aragorn's failure that worried him, for he knew it would mean certain death to them all – and victory to the Dark Lord.

Soon they came to Dimholt; a dark forest, with ancient, gnarled fir trees in dense clusters under the shadow of the mountain. Legolas tried to talk to them, but they were unwilling and deep in slumber. Maybe it was just the season; at this altitude they might not yet have awakened to the warmth and light of spring, but he did not quite believe that himself. Instead the silence of the trees made him almost more ill at ease than the impending meeting with the dead oathbreakers.

The horses grew increasingly nervous, and finally stopped altogether in a glade where an ominous, black stone stood erect like a guard, casting its long shadow over the path.

Arod scraped his hooves in the moss and tossed his head, refusing to take another step.

"My blood runs chill," muttered Gimli, and Legolas could feel him shivering behind him. He wanted to comfort the other, but couldn't think of anything to say. Instead he dismounted and tried to send calming thoughts to Arod, but the horse's reply was incoherent and he seemed near panic. It would not take much more for him to bolt.

In the end they all had to lead their poor animals, and yet it was no easy feat to get them past the frightening stone finger.

The demure forest gave way to a cave-like passage, with sheer cliff walls on either side. They had to walk close together in the narrow space, and the fear of the humans and animals seemed to mix in the air and grow to become almost palpable.

For Legolas' part it was mostly the mountain closing in on him that made him feel queasy, but to his relief a sliver of sky remained far above which he could rest his eyes on, and that helped to compose him. He didn't want to show weakness, not before all these hardened Dúnedain, and particularly not before Elrond's twins who both seemed calm as cucumbers.

After a short while they halted again when the passage ended before a huge, black door set directly into the mountain. Mysterious runes and pictures were carved into an arch above it, but in the semi-darkness Legolas could not make out what they said.

The place reminded him of the entrance to Moria, and he felt a new wave of anxiety at the memory. Would these caves be as confined and dark? This time he would have to pass through them without Kat's calming voice in his mind, and somehow he knew there would be no sliver of sky to look at in there.

Halbarad's voice was slightly hoarse when he spoke: "This is an evil door, and my death lies beyond it. I will dare to pass it nonetheless; but no horse will enter."

Aragorn replied with authority that they must go in, and the horses too, because they had to pass through the caves at speed or the enemy would win.

Resolutely he opened the door, and soon both the man and his horse had disappeared into the darkness. If he was afraid, he hid it so well even Legolas' couldn't spot it.

Heartened by their leader's courage the Dúnedain followed his example, coaxing their steeds when needed and helping each other to get them all through.

Elrohir and Elladan went next, and Legolas tried to follow – but the black tunnel was more than poor Arod could bear.

I cannot. I cannot go in there. I am sorry, dear master, but I want to go home now. The look he gave Legolas was so pitiful it almost broke his heart.

Softly he put his hands over the horse's eyes so he couldn't see the terrifying opening, and sang a mellow lullaby to him.

"Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together!
The wind's in the tree-top, the wind's in the heather;
The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,
And bright are the windows of night in her tower."

The ancient words calmed both Arod and Legolas himself, and still with his hands covering the horse's eyes they walked through the gate together.

A dry, dusty smell hit Legolas' nostrils at the other side, and he almost trod in a pile of fresh dung dropped by one of the nervous horses.

Gimli's shaking voice drifted in from outside. "Here is a thing unheard of. An elf will go underground and a dwarf dares not!" With that he ran inside, and the door slammed shut behind him.

The darkness was now total, but thankfully not for long; Aragorn had brought torches. Soon a flickering, warm light was reflected on the pale faces of the humans and in the whites of the jittery horses' eyes.

Still leading the horses, they walked through a wide, roughly cut tunnel. The floor was surprisingly dry and covered in fine gravel. All sounds were amplified between the rock walls, and clopping of hooves and anxious snorts mingled with the steady tramp of the men's boots.

Nobody talked, and underneath the echoes of their passing, Legolas was slowly aware of a new sound: the barely audible whisper of many enraged voices.

The dead had come, and they were not happy.

Ahead, Aragorn suddenly stopped before a locked door, with an ancient skeleton sprawled out in front of it. He must have been a warrior, for his chainmail shirt and golden helmet were still intact, and a ruined sword lay beside him. His bony hand was feebly stretched out towards the door, which had deep scratch marks.

Aragorn looked sad and murmured that this man would never be buried with his kin under one of the mounds at Edoras. Who was he, and why had he tried to go through that door? What was on the other side?

Then he shook himself out of his reverie, and raised his voice: "None shall ever know, for that is not my errand! Keep your hoards and your secrets." He stared challengingly into the darkness, and it seemed he was speaking to the whispering ghosts. "Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to the Stone of Erech!"

The angry whispers instantly ceased, replaced with a dreadful, ominous silence. Without warning, an icy wind suddenly whipped their faces in a hard blast.

The torches died, and pitch darkness surrounded them once more.

"Damn," swore Aragorn under his breath. "Elladan – the steel."

A spark flared, and another one, and a third. The torch would not be lit.

Legolas' heart had begun to pound and his mouth was dry as ash. No. Not this! He could face mad oathbreakers any day rather than this! The layers of stone above him felt heavy, and he imagined them crashing down; trapping him, burying him alive.

Clenching his fists to keep them from trembling, he moved closer to Arod. The warmth and familiar smell of horse comforted him, but could not take away the disturbing mental visions.

"Let me try." Halbarad's voice was shaky.

More sparks flickered and died, and then the man said something that sounded like a series of very nasty curses, but the Westron words were unfamiliar to Legolas.

"It is no use. They cannot be rekindled." The voice was light, belonging to Elrohir or Elladan.

"Let us continue," added his brother.

"Aye. Let us leave this accursed darkness behind," said Aragorn.

Legolas walked blindly with his arm resting heavily on Arod's neck, trusting the horse's instincts to keep them both on the right path. Last in line he heard the shuffling feet of Gimli. The dwarf stumbled occasionally and his breathing was labored, but Legolas had no energy to help him. In this nightmare each would have to manage as best they could.

To keep his mind off thoughts of becoming buried alive, he listened to the ghosts whose hissing whispers had resumed. He heard their passage; a soft rustle of thousands of ethereal feet – like an army of mice. Not too close, which he found to be a good sign. If they wanted to attack they would have done so by now. Maybe Aragorn's risky plan would actually work?

Having ghosts fighting on their side would give them a huge advantage in the upcoming war; orcs and evil men were likely no less afraid of them than the Dúnedain and Gimli. But before they met Sauron's host, there was this unknown, secret weapon that Aragorn had seen in the palantír. What could that be? Something coming from the south, he had said, but south of Gondor was only the sea.

The sea. That was a curious word. Legolas had never seen it, yet always dreamed of it – though it was hard to imagine an endless expanse of water, of course.

Kat had lived by the sea. He remembered the occasion when she told him that; it had been a calm, sunny day on the Anduin, quite the contrast to this. She had mentally sung a song to him about rowing and crocodiles.

Sweet Kat, how she had always managed to cheer him up, even in his most somber moments. How he wished she was here.

Maybe one day they could visit the sea together? Perhaps make a boat or raft and set out...

Suddenly he recalled what Gandalf had said in Fangorn; the message he brought from Galadriel: 'Beware of the sea. If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore, thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more.'

Did that mean he could never go there? Beware of the sea. It sounded like a warning, but yet... Despite Galadriel's words, he suddenly longed to see it even more. To stand on a beach and watch the horizon. To sail west into the sunset, and then at last explore the Undying Lands...

There was a ringing clash some way back. Gimli must have stumbled on the uneven ground and dropped his axe.

"Hammer and thongs," he whimpered, near tears. "Blessed Mahal, save me from this grave! Don't let them take me."

"They will not harm you," Legolas said soothingly.

Gimli did not listen. His whimpers were replaced by a low mumble, like he was talking to someone. Perhaps he was praying to Aulë, or Mahal as dwarves called him; the Vala who had created them when the world was new.

The dwarf's distress shook Legolas to the core. This was Gimli. His stout friend who until now had seemed to fear nothing – but against an army of ghosts even the unlimited courage of dwarves faltered.

_- - -_
ʕಠ u ಠʔ
\\ \ / //

The horrible journey through the black tunnel ended at last. Beyond exhausted, Legolas stumbled out through another gate onto a deserted road between tall cliffs.

He drew in the cool night air in deep gulps, and again his eyes found a sliver of sky to rest upon. It had become a dark shade of blue, with a few pale stars. Had the whole day passed already? It looked like the sun was just about to set.

The company mounted their horses and continued. Legolas glanced behind him, and for the first time he saw their silent companions. Shimmering shapes sailed forth in their wake; a great host crowding on the narrow path, complete with misty war banners and horses.

Were the men's poor steeds cursed too? That seemed unfair.

One of Elrond's sons rode last in line, and Legolas told him what he saw.

The half-elven turned to look as well. "Yes, the dead ride behind," he agreed solemnly. "They have been summoned."

The ravine ended and a vast valley stretched out below them. A river cut through it with many turns and bends, and clusters of tiny lights twinkled from the homesteads and farms scattered over the landscape.

Gimli asked where they were, and one of the twins explained that they had gone straight through the mountain and were now in Gondor, by the river Morthond far west on Minas Tirith.

Aragorn raised his sword and loudly encouraged them to continue despite their weariness. They must reach the Stone of Erech before midnight, which was only a couple of hours away.

At hearing his reassuring voice, Legolas felt a surge of warmth and affection for Aragorn. No matter how tired and disheartened he was, that man had the power to make him feel better. A great asset for a leader! Elessar would become a good king.

The horses seemed happy to be out of the cave and were revived by the smell of fresh grass under their hooves, so the company could set a fast pace. They found a well tended road and followed it, past fields and through villages, and behind them flew the oathbreakers like a waterfall of clouds.

Wherever the ghost army passed, doors and windows were slammed shut and the lights snuffed, and terrified voices cried from the houses: "The King of the dead! The King of the dead comes upon us!"

Further down the road, warning bells rang and people fled before the terrible host, but Aragorn did not seem to care. He rode like there was no tomorrow, and perhaps if he failed, there wouldn't be.

Arod was soon foaming with sweat and he began to stumble on his tired legs. Legolas' entire body ached from trying to remain seated, and for the first time in his life, he wished he had a saddle. Gimli sat very close behind, clinging on him like a too tight backpack, but he did not have the heart to tell his friend he could hardly breathe like that. Instead he stoically endured the ride, knowing that it would soon be over. Midnight was not far off, and he could glimpse the round shape of what must be the Stone of Erech on top of a hill in the distance.

They arrived at last and halted on the slopes of the hill, with the shadowy ghosts spreading out in a vast circle behind them.

The Stone was a smooth, black globe, and looked strangely out of place; a magical artefact belonging in another world, or another time. Like a horse-sized palantír it loomed over them, partly buried in the ground as if a giant had tried to throw it into the earth.

Legolas shivered. The Stone seemed to suck up all the light and warmth in its vicinity, making the night darker and colder just there.

Aragorn received a horn from one of the twins and put it to his lips. A clear note rang across the vale, echoing back and forth like there were horn blowers on every peak and crest around them.

"Oathbreakers, why have ye come?" He sounded powerful and fearless.

Like a sigh in the wind, a voice replied: "To fulfil our oath and have peace."

Aragorn declared that they would get it, but first they must come with him to Pelargir by the river Anduin, and clear that land of Sauron's servants. When the task was done, they would get rest at last and be free forever. This he promised them as Isildur's heir.

He made a motion to Halbarad, and the Dúnadan took from his pack an oblong item covered in cloth. Solemnly he unwrapped it and let the wind unfurl a large, dark banner.

Legolas stared at it, awestruck by its simple beauty. A white tree had been embroidered in exquisite detail with silver thread on the black fabric, and centered over its branches was a mithril crown. An arch of seven white diamonds gleamed like stars above it.

"Behold the standard of Elendil!" Aragorn exclaimed.

From the dead there was no reply, but somehow Legolas felt less anger from them now. Instead there was determination and purpose, an eagerness to get going and fulfil their oath at last.

Relief flooded through them all; men, dwarf and elves. Aragorn had succeeded. With an army of ghosts on his side, he would counter Sauron's secret weapon and bring victory to Gondor. They would win.

A/N:

I had forgotten what a horror story this part of the book is! I'll have to sleep with the lights on tonight. :D

About dwarves and equality: According to Appendix A in The Return of the King, dwarf-women are usually taken for dwarf-men by humans because they look and sound like them, and only a third of dwarves marry. This makes me think that dwarves could be the most equal race in Middle-earth, and that some of the dwarves we know from the stories may actually have been female.

I toyed with the idea to let Gimli be female and expose it to Legolas in this chapter... *gasp!* But then I remembered Kat had seen them all line up to pee, so that ruined my plan haha. But you're free to make your own headcanon about it. :)

Image Credits:

Screenshot from The Lord of the Rings movies.