FicWad

A/n: well, I hope we've mourned enough for the Pope. Now there is a new Pope, Benedict XVI. I heard that he was followed the same doctrines and principles that Pope John Paul II had.



But anyway, I've come to post two new chapters, for in a few days, I shall start my new job. I might have some difficulties posting for a while, as I will be occupied with my work from day to day. As I was posting new chapters, I had the computers in the local library to use to my purposes. However, I'm only allowed one hour, or less, for the use of the computers. It might take me many days to post new chapters to the story on all the other sites I found when I began posting. Other than that... I'll post more chapters as soon as I can, okay. However, I would like to thank everyone for their prayers and support for me looking for work. It is greatly appreciated.



Without further ado, here are chapters 13 and 14, enjoy.









Chapter 13: The sword of kings, re-forged! Become who you were born to be, Aragorn







Kenshin, Théoden, Aragorn, and the riders from Edoras arrived in the camp of Dunharrow. The encampment of soldiers slowly grew. On all level spaces there was a great concourse of men, white tents stretched away into the distance in orderly rows, lines of picketed horses, a great store of arms, and piles of spears bristling like thickets of new-planted trees.



"Make way for the king!" the soldiers called out to the men of Théoden's arrival, "make way! The king is here!"

"My lord!" greeted the men, "hail to you, sire!"



Théoden returned each greeting with a wave of his hand to the men, then turned to one of the soldiers.



"Grimbold, how many?" he asked the man as he continued to trot his horse through the growing encampment.

"I bring five hundred men from the Westfold, my Lord," Grimbold answered as he glanced up at Théoden.

"We have three hundred more from Fenmarch, Théoden-King," another soldier called to the king.

"Where are the riders from Snowbourn?" inquired Théoden looking about for their whereabouts.

"None have come, my Lord," replied Gamling.



Théoden and the riders continued to ride forth through the war camp... towards a winding road of singular construction that climbed up towards a mountain-meadow high above the valley, where the king's camp was.









Once settled upon the camp, Théoden was at the edge of the mountain, looking down at the camp below. Aragorn and Kenshin went beside Theoden and looked down, where they could see a winding line of Riders crossing the ford and filing along the road towards the camp prepared for them.



"6000 spears," Théoden said to them, quietly yet tiredly, "less than half of what I'd hoped for."

"Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor," noted Aragorn plainly.

"It's very likely," Kenshin added sadly, "that the soldiers will be killed needlessly in battle, Théoden."

Theoden paused a moment, pondering what Kenshin and Aragorn said, but then nodded firmly as he faithfully replied, "...more will come, Kenshin."

"And if you don't receive any more men, Théoden," stated Kenshin, in a matter of fact, "you will have to go into battle with the soldiers that have already gathered here, that you will."

"Every hour lost hastens Gondor's defeat," interjected Aragorn, concurring with Kenshin, "we have till dawn, then we must ride."

The King nodded in affirmation. Just then...





A horse reared and neighed in fear across the camp that was heard by Aragorn, Kenshin, and Théoden as they glanced up... to see a Rider struggling with his fearful mount. The animals were tossing their heads with rolling eyes and dancing nervously on the spot while their riders tried to calm them. Legolas gazed about the king's camp and noted an unusual tension in the animals and Men. Saito, Gimli and Sanosuke were particularly uncomfortable gazing upon the rowdy beasts of burden, as one of them nearly bumped its head into Sanosuke.

"Man!" grumbled Sanosuke, "what's up with these horses? As if one moody horse wasn't enough."



All of the soldiers, in fact, seemed to be having trouble with their usually obedient horses. Éomer carried a saddle as Legolas, Saito, Sanosuke, and Gimli came towards him.



"The horses are restless," Legolas told Éomer as he also noticed the lack of the boisterous conversation that usually accompanies soldiers, "...and the men are quiet."

"What's got them so nervous, anyway?" inquired Sanosuke.

"They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain, Sanosuke," Éomer answered, as he made an indication with his head... towards a deep cleft within the mountain's walls, a cleft that was obviously a roadway that went through the mountains.



Sanosuke saw for himself that the men did not like that place. It was as if... they were uncomfortable to be near that cleft, like it was forbidden to them.



"That road there," Gimli inquired about the path in the mountains, "...where does that lead?"

"...It is the road to the Dimholt, the door under the mountain," answered Legolas dreadfully.

"And what kind of mountain is that?" asked Saito nonchalantly.

"...It is a haunted mountain, Saito," answered Eomer, fearfully, "...none who venture there, ever return...

"...That Mountain is evil," Eomer ended forebodingly, as he walked away.







Aragorn began to move towards the cleft in the mountains... and gazed at it. He carefully treaded closer each moment, while nearby men struggled with their unusually difficult mounts, trying to stay away from the road into the ominous mountain that make their horses neigh restlessly with unsettling fear. As Aragorn continued to gaze closely into the cleft...



A small, luminous green light slowly emerged from within the Mountain... and its presence slowly became overwhelming for Aragorn, like it was calling to him...



Aragorn froze in his standing, unable to turn away from the light... as if he felt drawn to it...





"Aragorn!" a voice called out causing Aragorn to jump visibly almost as if coming from a trance.

Aragorn turned around to see that it was Gimli who called him.

"Let's find some food," said Gimli before turning away.





Aragorn then looked back at the road once more, and saw that the light had faded from the path, then decided to turn to follow the Dwarf. Unbeknownst to them...



Kenshin, from a great distance away looked toward the cleft. He also saw the green light and felt the presence of the Dwimorberg. His expression darkened to the thought of the mountain, which nearly chilled his bones.











In Kyoto, a statement was made that more monsters would attack, and that some to many of the men would be needed for the battle. However, the women and children would be evacuated. The police were assisting the citizens in gathering their things for the journey out of Kyoto. There were no happy faces when the women were forced to leave their homes, and their men.

Radagast and the others returned to the Aoiya with Yamagata, while Kawaji was making preparations for the battle, placing their guns and cannons on the ground, as well as on top of each building that was near the fields outside of Kyoto. The Oniwaban group began to make their weapons. Katsu assisted them in making bombs due to his extensive knowledge of explosives. However, Yamagata, Radagast, Okina, and the blue-armored samurai, Ishimura, were discussing the preparations thus far.





"Mr. Radagast," said Yamagata, "...we were able to move the people out of the city. However... we recruited many of the civilians to assist in this fight."

"...A pity," replied a somber Radagast, "I had hoped to avoid getting the innocent people involved."

"So did I," said Yamagata, solemnly, "...I think even Himura would've agreed that involving the people was unnecessary. Perhaps I should've considered what he told me... that our purpose in fighting in the revolution was to bring peace, not to be a power that is used unwisely, and if we forgot that... that fighting in the revolution was meaningless anyhow."

"Of course," agreed Radagast, "the ignorance of Men was one of the great reasons I forsook them for so long... that they were so caught up in what they accomplish, they get too greedy for it. And in that effect, it makes them so forgetful of the reason /why /they were doing their deeds. It's just like how all Men lust for great power... and once you grasp onto it, it is almost impossible for you to let go.

"...Believe me... it is not a new thing for me. Even more so that it becomes so irritatingly obvious for me to figure out," finished Radagast.

"It is always hard to stay true to the reasons you were fighting an enemy," commented Yamagata.

Radagast breathed in as he said, "...anyway, we must concentrate on the matter at hand. Ishimura, what are your samurai doing at this moment?"

"We're setting ourselves in every corner of the city," said Ishimura, "putting up stacks of wood in the streets for means of concealment. We've also placed packs of straw for us to use against the enemy..."

Ishimura then fixed a dark gaze upon Yamagata and added, "we've used such means of defense against the army once."

Ignoring Ishimura's gaze, Yamagata then said, "we've also positioned our men, including the police and some of the civilians in every corner of Kyoto, just in case the enemy tries to break through our defenses."

"And the Oniwaban group stands ready to defend Kyoto, as we have always done in the past," interjected Okina.

"This is a very wise strategy, Yamagata," commended Radagast, "for Sauron has a myriad of beasts at his command that would stand up to your weapons."

"Perhaps so," said Yamagata, "but we must try our best. The imperialist used such modern weapons against the Shogunate's forces at the Battle of Toba Fushimi, and they won."

"Yes, but I can assure you that it won't be that easy," commented Radagast, "in which case, you are correct. We must draw the line here, as well as in Middle-Earth, for in this coming struggle, both worlds shall be put to the test."

Radagast went on, "when all this began here in Kyoto, you were facing mere raids and cowardly ambushes and pillaging, but by now you should know that these doings were all in a great net and strategy that you have unwittingly caught yourselves into. This is a great war that was long well planned by the enemy, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride may say. If Sauron wins... I believe that he will have the power to destroy Middle-Earth, as well as this world. But I suspect he won't stop there, he's too compulsive and ignorant to do so...

"...For there are other worlds out there that will suffer the same fate, if we fail," Radagast included at the last.

"You mean," gasped Yamagata at this startling revelation, "...that there are more worlds out there."

"Indeed," Radagast explained, "a multiverse where there are an unlimited number of worlds, each different in its own right. It's completely comparable to the number of people there are, where everyone is the same race, but make different choices of their own."

"If I were any other man," interjected Ishimura, "I would've completely taken you for a crazy old man with a stick."

Radagast grimaced at Ishimura's ridicule, as he thought to himself, '/how predictable/.'

"So, if what you say is true," intoned Yamagata, "if Sauron succeeds in regaining his powers... he intends to invade more worlds?"

"Exactly," said Radagast positively, "the concept of such a scheme is not beyond Sauron's imagination, I assure you. And the fate of the multiverse will either be in our hands... or in Sauron's."



"Lord Yamagata!" called out a soldier.

"What is it?" responded Yamagata.

"There are some people in strange robes heading in our direction, sir," the soldier replied.







Everyone within the Aoiya went outside the restaurant to see what was going on. Kawaji had joined them when he received the report of strange newcomers. Radagast smiled, as the others were shocked, as well as dumbfounded to see a band of figures in exotic armor and weaponry. They were almost countless in number as everyone observed. The figures then stopped marching as three of them that marched up front, one carrying a long staff-sized spear, wearing hoods over their heads... stepped a few paces towards Yamagata and Radagast.

The figures removed their hoods to reveal themselves before the people. They all had pointed ears, and the most beautiful, yet most exotic faces that the Japanese had ever seen. One of them had long, blonde hair. The other two were twins with raven-black hair, and grey eyes. But they were all clad in bright mail beneath the silver-grey cloaks that they wore.





Radagast bowed his head at the newcomers and greeted, "mae govannen, Glorfindel."

"Greetings, brown wizard," said Glorfindel, bowing his head, "we came here to this world as swiftly as we might when your summons came."

"Do you know these people, Mr. Radagast?" asked Kawaji.

"Indeed," answered Radagast as he introduced, "the Elf with the light-golden hair is Glorfindel. And the Elf twins are Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Lord Elrond. They come to visit me from Rivendell from time to time."



The three Elves, Glorfindel, Elladan and Elrohir bowed themselves again, confirming their authenticity. Then, another of the company from Middle-Earth stepped forward, a Man.



"I am Halbarad Dunadan, Dunedain Ranger of the North," he said, bowing, "I have brought but 30 of the Rangers that could be gathered in haste to this long struggle. Many of us had heard rumor of the people that came from this world to Middle-Earth. Though many were skeptical... there were some who believed it... and I am one of those who believed."

The brown wizard giggled a bit in surprise, seeing that the man known as Halbarad, had been a believer of this world.



"Elladan and Elrohir also came to this world with the same curiosity as Halbarad," mentioned Glorfindel, then briefed, "...Radagast, we only have 6000 Galadhrim brethren with us, along with the band of the Dunedain Rangers. However... our forces will still not be enough for what comes to this city."

"Still not enough?!" growled Ishimura, "some help you people bring."

"Ishimura!" cried Radagast reproachfully, trying to calm him down, "as I recall your numbers weren't that many either. So despite how conditions are dire, we must accept whatever help they have brought for us."

"He's right," interjected Omasu, "no matter what kind of help we have received, whether it is great or small... no one is any position to complain about it right now."



Ishimura huffed to himself, reluctantly submitting to Omasu's statement.



"I also bring you a gift, brown wizard," interjected Glorfindel, bringing forth under his cloak, a sword covered within a grey sheath, with Elvish inscriptions on the hilt, "...Orcrist, the Cleaver-of-Goblins, recovered from the tomb of Thorin Oakenshield."

Radagast looked upon it, filled with great awe.



"...The twin sword of Glamdring," the wizard said, as he gently took the sword from Glorfindel, "...this was a sword of Elvish craftsmanship, that was made by the Noldor in the First Age. I received word that it was buried with Thorin, of the Dwarves when he died in the Battle of the Five Armies. It isn't like you to go rummaging through tombs."

"A tomb?" questioned Ishimura, in criticism, "you must be grave robbers!"

"We have had special permission from the Dwarves," explained Glorfindel, "we promised to return it to Thorin's grave. Gandalf Mithrandir especially requested for you to have this sword for the battle, Radagast."

"...Indeed," said an awed Radagast, gazing upon Orcrist, "...I never would've thought that Gandalf would bring me such a kingly gift as this."

"...Mr. Glorfindel," interjected Yamagata, introducing himself, "I am Aritomo Yamagata, Secretary of the Army of Japan. We are all humbled by your presence, such as it is. I believe that we all share a common curiosity for our different worlds."

"I appreciate that," said Glorfindel, as he then turned to the unsettled Ishimura, "...but we must not fear, for there may be more help ahead for all of us."

"Where from?" asked a skeptical Ishimura.

Then, one of the twins, Elladan spoke, "from Middle-Earth... from an army of the dead."



Everyone froze in incredulous doubt, even Ishimura, who grimaced even further when mentioning the dead.



"Radagast the Brown," said Elrohir, "I bring news from our father; the days are now short. If he is in haste, Aragorn shall go to the Dwimorberg Mountain."

"...The Dwimorberg Mountain?" gasped Radagast, leaving everyone bemused and bewildered at the wizard's reaction, noticing that he didn't like what the Elf told him.

"What is he saying?" asked Okina earnestly, "...what is this Dwimorberg Mountain?"

"And who's this Aragorn fellow?" Chou asked also.

Radagast paused a moment before he began to explain, "...at the time of the War of the Last Alliance, an army of men from the mountains had sworn allegiance to fight for Gondor. When that time came... the army deserted Gondor, willfully breaking their oath, for they had worshipped Sauron in the Dark Years before. This treasonous act that they committed invoked Isildur's wrath upon them... and they were cursed into the undead."



Everyone shuddered, hearing from Radagast, the tragedy of the men that were servants of Sauron in the past.



Radagast went on, "the army then hid themselves, retreating into the dark halls of that terrifying mountain that Elrohir spoke of, not daring to go to war on Sauron's part. The only way to insure the curse to be broken, is if they fight against Sauron, so that the king, or rather a descendant of the king's line would hold their oaths fulfilled, allowing their long-awaited rest."

"And so, this Aragorn, is the king of Gondor?" asked Yamagata, inquiring further of the man called Aragorn.

"He is not the king yet, but he is descended from the line of kings," answered Radagast, as he went on further, "Gondor has been currently under the control of the House of Stewards ever since Isildur's death. Only the line of Elendil and Isildur can set them free from their curse... and Aragorn is the last of the bloodline. Anyone else who ventured into the mountain where the shadow army lies... ended up dead, or otherwise disappeared out of all knowledge."

"But there may be a way to get them to come to our aid," said Elladan, "our father shall bring to Aragorn, the blade that was broken... my brother and I have re-forged it, stronger than before, and can summon any army at his command. Of course, only Aragorn has the power to wield it."

"All very well and dandy," interjected Kawaji, smugly, "but will it help us any?"

"We had best hope that it does, Kawaji," responded Radagast, fervently, "Aragorn, son of Arathorn must venture into the mountain. The cursed army may be our only hope of saving Kyoto, as well as this world."











Night fell over the camp of Dunharrow. Théoden had hoped that more would come to aid Gondor against the Onslaught of Mordor, but alas...



No more soldiers had come. And no matter what would happen, they would have to ride out to Gondor in the morning as Aragorn had said to the king. But despite what the soldiers had to do... their minds were still restless due to the lack of forces that they had.

Fortunately, there were some who looked forward to going into battle... namely, Merry Brandybuck, who was now being groomed by Éowyn within one of the tents. Misao was with them, seeing Éowyn dress the valiant Hobbit for the upcoming battle.





"...There," said Éowyn, as she buckled the helmet on Merry's head and stood up venerably before him, "a true esquire of Rohan."

"You look great Merry," added Misao as she saw Merry using both hands to admire his helmet, then went down over to his sword, given to him by Éowyn.

"...I'm ready!" Merry said, drawing his sword enthusiastically, startling both Misao and Éowyn.



The happy women both hastily stepped out of the way of the flailing blade laughing, waving their hands at Merry.



"Hey, watch it, you knucklehead," Misao said, giggling a little, "you could've sliced us in half."

"Sorry Misao," said Merry contritely as he gazed at the sword, "...actually, it isn't all that dangerous. It's not even sharp."

"Well, that's no good," said Éowyn, as she gripped the blade, noticing its dullness, "you won't kill many Orcs with a blunt blade. Isn't that right, Misao?"

"Yeah Éowyn," agreed Misao, "it's worse than having a dull kunai at your side."

"I'm sure that it is," replied Éowyn, as she ushered Merry out of the tent, "come on."



Merry went outside of the tent, waving his sword around, like he was in actual battle, trying to remember the moves Boromir had taught him, what seemed a life age ago. Éowyn and Misao followed Merry out of the tent, admiring the Hobbit's enthusiasm. Éomer and Gamling were sitting outside the tent, eating by a campfire, as they saw the stout Hobbit wield the sword in his hand.



Éowyn then waved her arms at Merry gesturing, "to the smithy, go!"

"I'll race you, Merry!" cried Misao as she challenged Merry, who ran after her.

"You and your young friend should not encourage him, Éowyn," Éomer said to Éowyn.

"...You should not doubt him," Éowyn returned with irritation.

"I do not doubt his heart," Éomer assured her, sarcastically, "only the reach of his arm."



Gamling cackled a bit to himself appreciatively, enjoying a good little joke once in a while.



However, Éowyn did not think it was funny as she said in frustration, "why should Merry be left behind? He has as much cause to go to war as you."

As she said her statement, Éomer began to ponder what his sister said.



Éowyn then added, "would you also leave Misao behind as well, because she is a woman? She knows how to fight just as well as I do. But unlike myself, she has fought before in battle, and even has leadership of her group called the Oniwaban. She could also be very useful to you, as Merry can be..."

Éomer became particularly surprised with the fact that Misao was leader of the Oniwaban group, which he found it a bit unbelievable.



"...Why can they both not fight for those they love," Éowyn finished to herself, looking away from Éomer towards the direction that Misao and Merry went off to, then started back to the tent.

"Éowyn," Éomer called to his sister, standing up to meet her and told her, "...I do believe that Misao knows how to handle herself in a fight. I'm quite sure that in all the time she has been to Middle-Earth that she had endured many perils."



Éowyn listened to Éomer's words of sincerity for Misao... but knew that it would be short-lived...



"However," added Éomer, with a bit of doubt, which confirmed Éowyn's fears, "I am uncertain as to whether or not she knows how terrible a war can truly be... and you yourself know as little of war as that Hobbit."

Éomer walked closer to Éowyn, continuing, in a deep, foreboding voice, "when the fear takes him, as well as Misao, and the blood and the screams and the horror of battle take hold... do you think either of them would stand and fight?"



Éowyn stood speechless, grimacing at Éomer for his condescending words...



"...They would flee," Éomer told her, "and they would be right to do so."

Éomer then laid a hand on Éowyn, concluding reasonably, "war is the province of Men, Éowyn... no matter what world it may be in."



He went away afterwards, with Éowyn watching after her brother with a contemptuous expression.

'We'll see about that... you knucklehead,' she thought bitterly of Éomer, taking after Misao.









Later on that night...



A pair of guards moved towards the edge of the cliff... and spotted a cloaked figure, riding through the camp of Dunharrow, already reaching and slowly trundling up the winding road that went up towards the king's camp, riding past the stone Púkel-men that squat by the road. The men who spotted the mysterious figure, would meet him at the edge of the road, the moment when he reaches the top...







Meanwhile... Aragorn tossed restlessly in his sleep, his dreams shifting and disturbing...





He saw a vision of Arwen, laid upon a chaise, as leaves blew gustily with the wind around her, looking as if she was gravely ill...



Then an image of the Dimholt road, leading into the door of the Dwimorberg Mountain, swiftly entered his mind like a flash of memory that passed over him...





I choose... a mortal life. Arwen's words echoed within Aragorn's dream, remembering the solemn vow she made to him.





As he dreamt further... his mind beheld to see, that Arwen was shedding a tear... and her body began glowing into a bright white light, as if her life was being drained from her completely...



I wish I could've seen him... one last time... she spoke in a little voice...





Arwen's words continued to echo hauntingly within Aragorn... as he could only watch as the symbol of her immortality, the Evenstar pendant, slowly fall lifelessly from his hand...





CRASH!



To shatter upon a shiny marble floor, like it was a piece of glass...







Aragorn quickly awoke with a gasp of deep breath, drawing his Elven dagger, but found that there was no danger. However, there was a soldier at his tent, holding the flap open.

"Sir," the guard said to Aragorn in bewilderment, seeing him awaking so frantically.



Aragorn settled himself... then turned to the guard that called him.



"King Théoden awaits you, my lord," the guard notified the restless ranger.

Aragorn quickly went out of the tent, and found that Kenshin was with the guard.

"What is it Kenshin?" asked Aragorn.

"I don't know," said Kenshin, "it seems that Théoden has something that he wants to say to us both, that he does."





The soldier then led Kenshin and Aragorn towards the king's pavilion. Once inside... they both saw Théoden standing in front of a robed and seated figure...



"What is it you wish to speak to us about, Théoden?" asked Kenshin.

Théoden only responded, "...I take my leave."



The king's response left bemused and bewildered expressions upon Aragorn and Kenshin. Théoden walked out of the tent, going between Kenshin and Aragorn, with an almost unsettling expression on his face. The two summoned adventurers could tell that there was something that Théoden did not like about the hooded stranger. After Théoden left, Kenshin and Aragorn turned to the stranger as he slowly rose from the chair, gently pulling back his hood...



Revealing himself as Elrond of Rivendell. Taken by an unexpected surprise, Aragorn and Kenshin humbly and devoutly bowed in Elrond's presence.





"My lord Elrond," said Aragorn, greeting his foster father.

"What brings you here to Dunharrow, at this late hour, Sir Elrond?" asked Kenshin.

"I have come on behalf of one, whom I love, Kenshin," answered Elrond silently, which made Aragorn pause a little fearfully in his standing, "...Arwen is dying."



Aragorn immediately felt his face tighten with a cold feeling entering him. He had just been dreaming about his Elf-lady love dying in grief...



"Miss Arwen is dying, you say?" asked a gasping Kenshin.

Elrond solemnly nodded as he went on, "she will not long survive the evil that now spreads from Mordor. The light of the Evenstar is failing. As Sauron's power grows, her strength wanes. Arwen's life is now tied to the fate of the Ring."



Aragorn had believed what Elrond said about Arwen as he looked upon the Evenstar pendant, which was darkening, confirming that the Darkness of Mordor was overtaking her.



"The shadow is upon us, Aragorn... the end has come," Elrond ended gravely to Aragorn.

"...It will not be our end, but /his/," Aragorn firmly assured Elrond, with a conviction he did not feel.

"We will not allow Mordor's growing powers to harm your daughter any further, that we won't," Kenshin added, even more firmly.

"...You both ride to war, but not to victory," Elrond sadly admitted to them, as he briefed further, "...Sauron's armies march on Minas Tirith, this you both know. But in secret, he sends another force, which will attack, from the river. A fleet of Corsair ships sails from the South. They'll be in the city in two days."

Elrond then turned to Kenshin, "and we Elves have sent what we had to Kyoto, Kenshin. But nevertheless... it is still not enough to counter the overwhelming forces that Sauron has placed in your world. Both worlds are outnumbered... you will need more men."

"There are none," replied Aragorn, inwardly despairing.

Elrond paused a moment before informing Aragorn carefully," ...there are those who dwell in the mountain..."



WHOOOSH!



A small gust of wind blew within the tent, as Aragorn had another vision in his head... of a lime-green, ghostly figure of a dead king that cackled viciously. The mere sight of the vision made Aragorn grimace and recoil in great fear. The gust of wind had also taken Kenshin by surprise as well, his eyes wide with shock...



"...Are you saying that there's another army... within the Dwimorberg Mountain?" asked a stuttering Kenshin.

Elrond nodded contentedly, an answer that Aragorn did not like so much, for he knew about the army that dwelled within that mountain...



"...Murderers... traitors!" Aragorn said harshly of the army Elrond mentioned, adding contemptuously, "you would call upon them to fight? They believe in nothing, they answer to no one."

"They will answer to the King of Gondor!" Elrond returned firmly, as he threw back the folds of his cloak...





And pulled out a long blade, close-furled in a black sheathe bound about with many thongs. Aragorn and Kenshin gazed at the handle of the sword with bewildered recognition.

'/...That sword...its/,' thought Kenshin in wide-eyed shock...





"Andúril, the Flame of the west, forged from the shards of Narsil," Elrond named the sword, presenting it for Aragorn.





Aragorn could not believe what he saw... the sword of his ancestors, re-forged before his very eyes. And now it was brought before him to be used against Sauron once more.

"Aragorn," said Kenshin, fatefully, "it seems that you were fated to have this sword... that you most certainly were."



The reluctant warrior looked upon Kenshin for a moment, considering what he had said. Then he turned to Elrond, slowly walking over to him, to gaze upon the re-forged sword that was held out for him... and eventually went to carefully grasp the sword... within his own hands...



"...Sauron will not have forgotten the sword of Elendil," Aragorn said confidently in a low voice, taking the old weapon of his ancestors.

Elrond and Kenshin stood by... as Aragorn slowly... but very hesitantly... lowered his hand, to reach for the sword's handle...





SLING!





And drew the blade, looking with great awe upon its mighty steel, carved with elvish runes, seven stars, a crescent sun near the hilt, and a rayed moon near the tip of the blade, on either side of the sword. Kenshin gazed in astonishment upon the mighty ancient weapon of Elendil and its inscriptions, reminding him of his own reverse-bladed sword, Hope, which only had an inscription upon the inside of its hilt, engraved by Shakku Arai...





"...The blade that was broken shall return to Minas Tirith," Aragorn murmured staunchly, continuing to gaze at the sword, with hope now filling within him.

"The Man who can wield the power of this sword, can summon to him an army more deadly than any that walks this earth," announced Elrond sternly, "this is your test, Aragorn. Every path you have trod, through wilderness, through war... has lead to this moment."

Moments passed as Aragorn pondered deeply of Elrond's statements...



"Put aside the Ranger, become who you were born to be," Elrond concluded fatefully, pushing his point home, "take the Dimholt road."

Aragorn nodded in affirmation, as he lowered the sword, knowing that he must do this, in order to save Gondor.



"You must go with him, Kenshin," Elrond said importantly to Kenshin, "you will be needed to represent your world, if it is also to be saved."

"I understand Sir Elrond... that I do," replied Kenshin.

With both men understanding of what must be done...





Elrond said formally to Aragorn, giving a blessing, "Ónen i-Estel Edain, Aragorn (/I give hope to men, Aragorn/)."

Aragorn paused, before replying forlornly, with his expression momentarily bleak, "...Ú-chebin... estel anim (/...I keep none... for myself/)."



Aragorn, with uncertainty, then sheathed the sword, preparing himself, and Kenshin... to go into the Dwimorberg Mountain.













Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or Lord of the Rings. RK is the property of Nobuhiro Watsuki and Lord of the Rings is the property of Professor J. R. R. Tolkien