[Lugbúrz]

Even as the pursuers were delayed, the barge was getting out of reach of the Western bank and making its way steadily across. The nine horses were tied to the far-end of the barge, away from the approaching bank, a precaution the traitor from Minas Tirith had thought necessary. Now he stood beside them while the thieves were scattered around the barge. His eyes were scanning the Eastern bank, which lay in a murky mist, and as he spied the shore, the mist seemed to stretch out and engulf the boat, and settle heavily on the whole river.

The barge soon came to gently dock against the bank, and in that very instant all on the boat felt despair, for through the fog, they could make out in the bleak light of the lamps, a tall dark menace. Panic did not find the time to enter their bodies, for they stood petrified and hopeless. As the Witch-King moved through the ranks, the bargees fell with no noise, voiceless corpses they had become.

When the Wraith confronted Sadiya, he sniffed at the horror in her eyes, and then perceived the baby. For a moment, his gaze appeared to vacillate and then a black hand slowly stretched out and pulled the baby that was now crying, away from its mother's touch. Lifting it for all to see, as if with a diabolical smirk, he dilatorily choked the very last cry out of the infant and threw the lifeless child at the mother's feet. Sadiya stood for a moment paralyzed without life, and then let out a chilling scream that made even the Nazgul consider her again in fear. But Sadiya slumped to the floor and covered her beloved baby.

One and all were shattered by the stupefying shriek. Even across the Anduin, Ælfritha cowered to the ground in fear, and looked out into the mist between. As she turned around in despair she found an outstretched hand to help her up. It was Anglachel, and behind him stood a grim band of guards from Minas Tirith. On their swords shone the blood of the remaining orcs that had bothered them a while ago. Although the merchant had proven swift to elicit the aid of friends, he knew he was helpless in their quest, and as he aided Ælfritha up, their eyes met and both understood that they could not stand up to this Evil.

And even while they gave up hope, hope anew gushed into the heart of the Gondorian aboard the barge. As he saw the child fall as a lifeless heap, he came face to face with the evil of his folly. Then did he wish most to be within the walls of the White City, safe from the debauchery of Middle-earth, save himself. In a way he felt happy to have rid Minas Tirith of himself, and in spiteful honour he took out his sword for one last time and cut loose the nearest horse.

Kane, who was next to him noticed what the man had done, and understood. As he pulled his sword out too, both of them nodded to each other with pride, and Kane freed another beast. As the beast neighed, another scream they heard, and Kane turned around and dropped his sword in horror. For at the feet of the Witch-King lay Rhana, a sword still through her bossom, for she had gone to Sadiya's aid. As the Ringwraith detached her from the sword, she crumpled with a whimper, but as she collapsed, a hand caught her fall, and she gazed at it with a smile. Her hand extended to stroke the young face and look into its welled up eyes, and she knew that even in death she had found what she had never hoped to find. As Kane closed her eyelids he did not care what was going on around him.

The Nazgul, having felt the Gondorian's intent had charged to secure his prizes, and mete out death. As he fell upon the traitor, all the nine horses had been freed. The clash of swords was monumental. Both swung with a burning rage, and the momentum of the strikes pushed the man ever closer to the edge of the barge. His skill with the sword was no help against the raw evil that wielded the other one. There was no way to fight the dead, and he knew it. A devilish blow severed his right hand and the sword fell to the ground with a clang. Just as the Ringwraith pierced his heart with the fatal blow, the Man of Gondor found the last ounce of strength with which he kicked the plank of the barge that opened out. He fell with awe and was redeemed, because as he met his doom, the nine horses sensed their calling too, and seeing but despair around them they rose in a graceful crescendo, and plunged into the gushing river that flowed before them, not as nine but as one.

The Witch-King let out a horrible cry when he knew his defeat and turned into a Monster of Malice. He turned around and smelt the fawning Ulfeg and came upon him as a hundred mad oliphaunts. Not even the Witch-King could have expected what happened next, for Ulfeg did not die, yet.

As he struck out in hopeless hate, he stopped midway and turned around as if in reply to an urgent voice. And he beheld a most amazing sight, for the horses were being pulled to the Eastern shore, the river had risen as a wave and was channeling the beasts to the bank, as if powered by an unseen force. Unseen maybe, but the Witch-King raised his sword and stood in wonder, as so did Ulfeg, for he had not seen anything like this.

As they stood watching, the beasts were pulled to the very edge even as they struggled to get free and perish in the river. But suddenly, the river swelled in the middle and another wave, much bigger and much more powerful rose above the first and with a merciless vengeance struck out and engulfed the smaller one like an eagle killing a snake. The horses were plunged to the very depths of the river and the exploding waves rocked the barge with a vigour so great that along with Ulfeg, the King of the Ringwraiths also lost his balance into the turbulence of the Anduin.

Kane, who was on the other end of the barge, was knocked off onto the other bank, where he lay for a while in self-pity. He then stood up and saw in despair, upon the escaping barge, the frail outline of Sadiya, who was sitting in ths same place upon the barge, unaffected by the events, caressing the corpse in her arms. As Kane watched, the broken barge flowed into the mist and out of sight.

He fell on his knees, and fatigue gave way to an overwhelming sadness. He started sobbing, and as he looked around him and realised he had nowhere to go, he began to weep. With what little sanity he had left, he looked around once again, and as the first rays of dawn descended upon the horizon, the mist gave way to give him a glimpse of hope. For across the Great River, upon the bank of the enemies of his people, rose the White Tower of Ecthelion. On the very height of Minas Tirith, like a spire rising above the misty waters, it shined of hope to the most unlikely heart.

Warmed by something he could not explain, and did not want to believe, Kane stood up with a fresh determination, and walked forth, a Solitary Leader of the disbanded quest.

[ February 05, 2003: Message edited by: Lugbúrz ]