The Final Hour

[Envin]

Aragorn seeth a thin smile of contempt crease across Morsereg's lips and grins broadly in return, taunting his foe to cross him. His back flames in searing pain, but he heedeth it with only little thought, for, though it bleeds, it shall not kill him. He must needs rather give thought to Morsereg, and marks the raising of the Morgul Blade, bringing up Anduril to greet it, and then is nearly taken aback at the sidestep. But then he heareth the whistle of the Morning Star and continues to sweep Anduril upwards in front of him, bringeth the sword over his head, and with its pale blade catches the ball upon the chain as it nears his bloodied back. He takes the momentum of the chain and croucheth low, as with Anduril he throws the ball over his head, straight at Morsereg's deadly face.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

Morsereg growled, and dodged to the side quickly, being grazed on his shoulder by the tip of his own Morning Star's spike. Aragorn would not win this day, no matter what the price was to him. At the low crouching King, Morsereg returned his Morning Star, and brought the sword as well to the King, from his backside.

[Envin]

Aragorn laugheth into the wind as the spikes of his own weapon bloody Dindaedel's carrion-like face, but steps backward away from the encroaching Morning Star. He feeleth the rush of wind afore the Morgul Blade from behind, and spinneth swiftly about, Anduril upright before him. He sweepeth the Morgul Blade back whence it came and droppeth swiftly into a roll, the Morning Star barely missing him. Aragorn cometh to his feet again and turns about with his blade ready.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

(Aaron, PM me when you want me to, ya know.)

Morsereg frowned upon the coward Elessar. He lowered his weapons, and tossed his Morning Star into the crowd of orcs to carry, holding now only his Morgul Blade, standing there, as if waiting for the offensive from Aragorn.

[Megloren Istdale]

Several dozen breathless Urk-hai entered Pelennor Feilds and marched directly towards the waving Enedwaithian banner. Approaching who appeared to be the leader, they spoke- "Megloren Istdale is under seige at Isengard. We need 10,000 of your men."

[Envin]

{Gotcha. Two more posts from you counting your next one, how's that?}


Shouts and cursings come from a large party of Orcs as several of them are flattened by the Morning Star, and Aragorn smiles now at Morsereg and his sword. He unsheaths his curvéd elven dagger, which heretofore had lain unused at his side, and throws it into the grass where it bites the earth deep and stands in the breeze. Then he advanceth quickly upon Morsereg, pale Andúril soaring in the sun. The runéd blade careers at Morsereg's left side as Aragorn feints his attack, but then he spins swiftly about and bringeth Andúril speeding at Morsereg's left side one-handed, as his left hand in a tight fist flies at Morsereg's teeth.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

{Gotcha}

Morsereg saw through his plan, and would not easily be done. With one hand he defended against the strikes of Anduril, himself and his blade parallel to each other. He used the other hand, and grabbed Aragorn's arm mid-strike, and from his mouth issued fangs, courtesy of the gone Alucard. Rearing his head back, Morsereg lunged his mouth and fangs forward, into the arm of the King.

[Envin]

{Now.}

The teeth of woebegone Alucard sink deeply into the flesh of the King, and Aragorn bellows with rage. His left arm is within Morsereg's mouth, and the right arm holds Anduril as the blades clash, and with a blood-spurting wrench Aragorn twists his arm free. Crimson blood and bits of flesh fly from Morsereg's mouth, and the demon spits the rest into Aragorn's face. Aragorn makes as if to spin about again, but then lunges straight forward, lashing out with his heavy boot clean between Morsereg's legs, while with his sword he swiftly carves a thin slice of flesh from his face, then leaps back, intent on driving his foe insane by attacking little.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

He wouldn't take this anymore....Nay, not anymore. This was beginning to bore him, this Elessar. His eyes darted to the black sky once for a fraction of a second, and out from his mouth came a shrill cry. From the clouds bursted Smaug, yet again come to interefere. His dead eyes locked on to the King Elessar, and slowly descended to the ground, pinning the Lord of Gondor in the process. Unable to move, Aragorn could only watch as Morsereg approached him, Morgul Blade in his skeletal hand, black demonic wings flexing themselves. He kneeled upon Aragorn's legs, and grabbed within his hand Anduril. For what seemed like days, although in reality was only minutes, the two fought with their sheer strength for the blade. Morsereg soon wrenched it from Aragorn's hands, tossing it aside, towards the Orcs, having broken Aragorn's arm in the process.

"Smaug...I believe you can leave now. He can't fight back now, he's unarmed and has a broken arm." Morsereg smirked, and the great winged dragon flew into the air, leaving Morsereg to his business with Aragorn. He now took in his hands his Morgul Blade, and rose it high above his head, stabbing down towards Aragorn's chest.

[Envin]

The dastardly evil of Morsereg is revealed in all of its horrid glory upon this day, and a unified gasp from all the thousands of onlookers, Orc and Man alike is heard, as through cowardly ploy Smaug gleefully descends to the arena and with his weight crusheth the King of Men. Aragorn may do naught against the sheer force of the beast, and to the ground he falls. He struggles. He cries in raging helplessness against the strength of Smaug, and is filled with fury and, yea, e'en bloodlust when Morsereg walks to him.

Then the demon Istari taketh up Anduril, but Aragorn shalt not release the blade, and all time seemeth to cease for a space as their wills and strengths grapple for the sword. But then across the Pelennor is heard a shattering and a grinding, and Aragorn's face contorts in pain. His arm flies limp and bones protrude from his flesh, and Anduril is cast aside. Then Smaug laughs in his fiery breath a ascends, and with a wicked smile Morsereg lifts his blade.

For this instant were all the Atani made. For this instance indeed did Elendil and his sons ride the wreck of the Sea, and for this moment did Arathorn and Gilraen wed. For now beneath the sun, surrounded by thousands of lives, Aragorn the King Elessar, simple child of Men, lifts up his eyes to the face of utter hatred, and in Estel's eyes there is naught but peace and calm. And down cometh the Morgul Blade, slow in its fall and its crush, and in that instant the purpose of all Men is made clear. For crying out in pain and clenching his mouth so that his lip is burst, Aragorn brings together his palms, clapping them, e'en his broken arm, straight afore him, and captures the Morgul Blade in its descent. The momentum and weight of Morsereg he takes as the sword falls, and snaps the blade in twain.

Morsereg's face is one of utter surprise, and Aragorn's is one of triumph, as in a everlasting moment their eyes meet, and Dindaedel at last understands. But then the moment passeth, and Aragorn spinneth the shard about, and clean into Morsereg's neck he drives it. Deeply, with all the purity of Numenor it plunges, emerging with a spray of black, evil blood upon the far side, and Morsereg roars.

[Morsereg Dîndaedel]

Morsereg looked at Aragorn, in disbelief, his eyes darting between his opponent, his shattered blade, and the shard lodged now into his neck. Even while being killed, he kept his calm...No, that was saying too little. He laughed, right in the face of his enemy, despite the greater pain it caused him. "You killed me...Elessar. You killed me. Great job," His laughter began to disperse slowly, "But you won't be seeing the last of me. No, as we speak Karasu rises from his Icy Grave...You have killed me, but my soul lives on. Karasu shall avenge me...He awakens from his Icy Tomb, and he shall make sure your deeds do not go unavenged..." As life began to lift from his eyes, he muttered his last words, "Kill him for me, Karasu."

And thus it came to pass that Morsereg Dindaedel, the third of the great Dark Lords, passed from Middle-Earth, and to the Halls of Mandos. His body collapsed off of Aragorn, still gripping his Morgul Blade willfully. The hordes of Morsereg, upon seeing the death of their master, ran. They made their way back to their realms, somehow knowing that they would have someone to rule over them. The Dark Dwarves of the Ered Luin, however, being a direct creation that spawned from Morsereg, collapsed upon the field, litering the battlefield with stunted corpses. From above the clouds came a cry of torment, and then plumetting to the ground in a great mass of body was Smaug the Dragon. He collapsed upon the battlefield, giving out one final puff of fire before his skin began to dissolve into the air, smoking. He soon became the skeletal mass that Morsereg had risen him as.

The first half of Morsereg's soul then stood in the Halls of Mandos, not scared in the least, awaiting his judgement..........

[Legolas]

Legolas' eyes watched as the dark lord fell to the ground. A great wind fell across the field, seeming to scatter the remains of his soul as he passed out of existence. The terror of the free people had been defeated by Envinyatar...

[Saeros]

The hosts of Enedwaith and Imladris had fought their way through the lines of Dindaedel. Their brave men and elves had slayen many and now the dark army vanished, run off the field in terror because of the fall of its master. A great cheer and shouting raised upon the Pelennor and within Minas Tirith. Arwen run down to Aragorn and jumped into his arms and Saeros who had remained brave behind of Aragorn and hold off the orcs from his back turned weary and wounded surround and smiled at the Queen and King. Than he raised his arm and shouted: "Victory!"

[Megloren Istdale]

The Urk-hai troup, turning to see Morsereg's death, walked slowly towards him. "M'lord, your victory was one of history, Lady Megloren would agree. But at the current moment, sire, she is under seige by Moria and those from Ered Luin. Kili Redtears is with her, but they remain outnumbered. Please sir... We have requested aid from Rivendell, but they refuse M'lord." The leader threw a filthy look at Saeros. He was of absolutely no help to her at all.

[Envin]

{LOL, it's all right. Let's tone down the arguing for now, OK? Meg, go ahead with the plan you PM'ed me about, and that'll be just fine, and save confusion here.}

Morsereg's words were soft and still, spoken with his last gasps of breath, but Aragorn heard them, and even as pain coursed through his veins he knew that this was not the final trial - that more lay ahead, and only through great valour would he rid the world of evil for certain. The great frame of the Black Istari crumpled onto the field, and with screams evil fled from the Pelennor. Aragorn rose to his feet slowly, just in time to be caught by good Saeros as he came up with his host and dispatched many a foe. Saeros supported Aragorn and pleaded with him to come to Houses of Healing. Aragorn at last assented, first calling for Anduril.

The sword of his fathers was placed in his hand, and slowly he walked into the city, Saeros at his side. He gave orders that the body of Dindaedel and his weaponry should be brought to Rath Dinen, to await the King's pleasure. Arwen came to him as he entered the City, and embraced him tightly, helping him to the Houses. He turned and surveyed the plains ere he entered the Houses, and saw the last lingerings of Morsereg's evil depart the world.

He turned his face to the Houses, gritting his teeth against the pain, though his mind was turned far to the north, where he knew his next perils lay.