The Final Hour

[Envin]

Aragorn but smiles at the taunts of Morsereg, refusing to allow himself to be nettled by mere words.

"I would say, Morsereg," said he, calmly, "that if Orcs have had their fun with anyone," he saw the sword and lifted up his own to meet it, "I would say that it was thy father's wife," he saw the blade near, but heard the sprinkling of the metal chain, "for only thus can thy entirely unattractive appearance be explained." He carried through with the feigned parry until the last moment, the sound of Morsereg's Morning Star in motion giving it away, and he leapt from standing a clean eight feet back, letting both blows of Dindaedel go wide, with all his weight behind them.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

Morsereg stumbled, following with his Morning Star and sword. His eyes glared at Aragorn, "You dare insult Eru and the Valar? For I have no father, fool!" He rushed forward, slashing with only his sword, "I was created directly by Eru and then trained by Mandos, more than you can say!" He growled, his blows heading at Aragorn's head, keeping him occupied with blocking. Out of nowhere, it seemed, Morsereg stuck his foot out, attempting to sweep Aragorn's feet from under him.

[Envin]

"If one feeleth the need to boast, the one is insecure. I shall let the outcome of this struggle speak for me." Aragorn findeth it simple to parry and deflect the rapid blows of Morsereg, Anduril singing in the sun, and a split moment ere Morsereg's foot meets the king's leg Aragorn heareth the rush of its wind, and slaps aside the Morgul Blade with an exceptionally heavy swing. He flies into a low flip near to the ground, soaring above the swing of the foot, and lands in front of Morsereg, rolling beneath his kick and passing behind him, swinging blindly behind as he passeth. He leaps up ten paces behind Morsereg and stands fast, awaiting the next move.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

Morsereg hopped over the blade Anduril as it came by in a blind swing, and whirled about to meet his eyes with Aragorn once again. He was soon to get Aragorn into a corner, with the pikes. Then he would be destroyed. He rose his Morning Star, bringing the mace down upon Aragorn from above, while stabbing forward with his sword.

[Envin]

Aragorn lifteth Anduril high into the air, and with a well-timed swing meets the bite of the flanged ball upon the wicked chain, batting it away from him as a child plays in the yard. The Morgul Blade snaketh through the air, whistling as it neareth Aragorn, whose blade was all attention to the mace. So Aragorn turneth himself slightly to the right, and rather than straight-on defend against the thrust of the sword, he bringeth his stout bracer from seeming nowhere, slapping the flat of the blade in the prime instant as it came at him, and continueth his spin to the right, slipping around past Morsereg's right side. In passing, he dealeth five swift trios of blows that rained down upon Dindaedel as so much lightning in a gale, then leapeth backward to take the defensive once more.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

Morsereg, ever swiftly, kept up his defense, blocking every blow thrown at him, following Aragorn silently, swords clashing violently. He was knicked in his left arm once by Anduril, but it bothered him not. He watched Aragorn take the defense, as he had throughout the whole of the battle, and rushed forward, slashing violently with Morning Star and Morgul Blade, but his ambition was not to harm Aragorn, not this time...This time it was to get him into a corner with the pikemen.

[Envin]

At a glance Aragorn seeth Morsereg press him his advantage of tight quarters, and assail the High King grievously. He needeth not to look behind him, for he knoweth the pikemen to be near at hand, and thinketh perhaps 'tis time to discontinue his stance of defense. The Morgul Blade of Morsereg soareth now at his feet, while the devious Morning Star plungeth at his head, and swift as a striking snake he leapeth lightly up, perching for an endless, soul-wrenching instant upon the blade, and then springeth into a flip, kicking aside with contempt the ball of the mace that careereth toward him, and now his eyes burn with fire. Now he flingeth himself into the fray, and is a sight well-beholden there beneath the sun. First he feigns a heavy assault on Morsereg's left, but halts and spins about, hacking at his right side, letting his momentum take him as he continueth his spin about Morsereg, then halting behind the demon ere he is aware of him. He thrusts his blade in swift succesion at his neck and back and sides, and as Morsereg turneth, about Aragorn rolleth now to the side and cometh up swinging.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

Morsereg was now on the defensive, but it would not bother him. He blocked all of Elessar's strokes flawlessly, the pure darkness that dwelt in his heart burning his lust for the battle. He sent a quick jerk of his head to the pikemen, and they closed in, making the circle smaller. With another signal, the dragon Smaug came down, clawing at Aragorn a few times before departing again to the sky.

It was not exactly going against the guidelines of their battle, either. It was simply...bending them, a little. Smaug was not Morsereg, it was true, but he was not just completely Smaug either. He was Morsereg's familiar, that is, Morsereg's energy personified within a creature, an extension of Morsereg.

Morsereg then took one more stab at Aragorn's stomach, all the hate of Morgoth sewn into his strike.

[Envin]

Aragorn's blood boils at the treacherous tactics of his foe, and his muscles scream as they are wielded as never before. The talons of Smaug tear his flesh and bloody him full sore, but his teeth are gritted against the pain, and as the cowardly wyrm soars safely away, Anduril scores his underbelly; Smaug flies away in great wroth, black blood dripping from him and smoking upon the grass.

Aragorn turneth unto Morsereg with doom in his gaze, his righteous anger burning white hot within him. Their eyes lock in steely glance, and an eternity seemeth to linger and then to pass between them. Then with a swipe across his breast Aragorn taketh Morsereg's blade away, but the Istari keepeth his strength behind, and then another eternity passeth as between them they push and force upon the other by main strength.



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[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

Morsereg growled, pushing on the sword with all of his might, despite wielding it with only one hand. It seemed like eternity, this battle, like all existences would come to an end before it finally cracked down. He then decided to go with another plan, letting Aragorn's strike move his sword aside, simply lowering the sword, and letting him fall forward. At that moment of stumbling, Morsereg brought the hilt of his sword to Aragorn's back.

[Legolas]

Legolas and E'vesash running were seen flying down the levels of the Citadel. Their hair was lifted in the rushing of the wind against their great bounds as they traversed the path down the city. It was a short time for they to reach the great wall, their first protection against the enemy. Here they ascended the steps until they stood upon the great wall. Out upon the Pellenor the lord of Gondor was in locked combat with the feared Morsereg Dindaedel. Their doom was certain now. Against such a host, none could be victorious... But still they would fight...

Legolas felt his hand reach out, holding Evy's in his tight grip. He whispered quietly to her, his voice almost indistinguishable against the beating of the drums and the war cries.

"Not matter what happens Evy, stay near me..."

[E'vesash]

E'vesash glanced toward him for but a brief moment as his words were spoken, before her gaze was once more turned outward toward the host that moved toward them. Below she saw Morsereg and Aragorn locked together in a duel. She saw Arwen on the wall as well, a short distance away. "I will be fine." She said to Legolas in response with a nod. Then she raised her bow, fitted it with an arrow and held it at her side. There was naught more to do but wait...

[Legolas]

Legolas felt reassured by her words and turned in a like manner to watch the battle waged below. Aragorn was strong, but Morsereg had the might of magic in his hands. Legolas offered up a plea to the Valar in that moment. Above all else, to see the strength of men fall in a like manner to that of the elves...that would be the end...

[Envin]

In the instant of Morsereg's leaving off with his sword, Aragorn is aware of him, but his weight is already behind Anduril, and forward he stumbles to the ground as Morsereg spinneth about, and down crashes the Morgul Blade. Aragorn smasheth to the earth with a loss of breath from the fall, and as his frame meets the grass of the Pelennor, he feeleth the black insipid bite of the sword of his foe mar his back in poltroonish blow. Yet he clencheth he teeth with naught but a grunt to the pain as the sword tip cuts him, for the wound is not overdeep, as he rolleth aside upon meeting the ground. Morsereg raiseth his weapons at once as Aragorn pushes himself upon with his sword, the strong wind eating away at the long cut on his left back from his shoulder to the foot of his back, but standeth firm and true before the downcast eyes and hateful breath of his enemy.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

Morsereg smirked, and looked at Aragorn fiercly. He was getting tired of his impudent defense, but not so much so that he'd go out of the oath yet. He rushed forward, raising his sword, but as Aragorn's defense went up, he sidestepped, slashing towards the Lord of Gondor's side, and taking his Morning star to swing towards his backside.