Disclaimer: I don't know Nsync. I don't know Justin Timberlake in real life. Also this story is in no way meant to imply that he is homosexual in real life. This piece of literature is simply the work of a fan and is pure fiction.
I don't own The Lord of the Rings or any other works of the series. The rights of the series goes solely to the series author J.R.R. Tolkien.
Now that's out of the way. This story appeared in my head when I was trapped in the car with my relatives for a 24-hour road trip. I was really, really bored! I shudder just thinking about that trip. Anyway, if your below legal age to read this where your from, then all I can tell you is stop and don't let your parents catch you. He he that's not much of a warning, but hey what else can I do.
For those of you who would like to join, I've started a new Yahoo! Group http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TonyJustiss there you can talk about this story and any others that I've written like The Trinity or Love is Universal. If you want to send me an email you can reach me at silvenfox@yahoo.com.
Chapter 26
Two days Justin spent reading the books Gandalf gave him. He immersed himself in the history of Middle Earth and its people. The sun was still hidden behind a cloud of gray. The light outside was pale and Justin was reading outside the gleaming, White Tower of the city. The courtyard was beautiful with its green grass and majestic fountain that stood in the middle of the court. The White Tree of Gondor, dead to the world drooped lifelessly over the edge of the fountain. The stone bench Justin sat on was uncomfortable but he barely noticed he was so caught up in the books. Hence the reason he jumped when a hand laid itself on his shoulder.
"It is time."
Justin looked up into Gandalf's solemn face. "Already?"
Gandalf nodded, leaning upon his tall staff. "Faramir is still fighting and his men are losing numbers fast. A cavalry of mounted men must be made ready to fight. I will lead them and you will be at my side for soon the battle will be taken from Osgiliath to outside on the Pelennor Fields."
Justin felt a sense of responsibility come over him at the wise man's words. He closed the book he was reading handing it to Gandalf. "These books were a big help, Gandalf. Thanks."
"Your welcome, young one. I hope the knowledge you have gained will help you in the battle to come. This fight will be but a skirmish compared to the full battle I see in the future."
'What a pep talk,' Justin thought inwardly rolling his eyes. He stood up and followed the elder Wizard to the stables where their horses were kept. Inside Justin was a ball of knots but outside he was the picture of composure. They entered the stable and Justin smiled seeing Lightwings standing beside the silver coated Shadowfax.
"Are you ready?" asked Gandalf.
Justin grabbed the hilt of his sword at his side and wiggled his shoe feeling the dagger concealed within. He let out a deep breath, giving Gandalf a shaky smile.
"Ready as I'll ever be."
They mounted the horses and with haste they made their way down the street. At a gallop they came to the first circle of the city, where lay the great gate of Minas Tirith. Already men were gathered on horseback awaited them. Their fear filled faces struck something within Justin's heart. The soldiers back at Helm's Deep had looked the same way before the battle there. The odds were against them in that battle also, but they had won. Could they pull another miracle here. From the look in Gandalf's eyes Justin wasn't so sure that it would happen this time.
"What about the Rohirrim? They are still coming right?" Justin whispered to Gandalf as they steered their horses to the front of the loose formation of horseback soldiers.
Gandalf shifted his grip on his staff and adjusted his hold on Shadowfax's mane before turning to Justin. "Theoden and his men will still come, but not before many men's blood is shed."
The great gate of the city opened before them, not all the way but enough for riders to go through one at a time. This was to be a secret and the enemy couldn't know what they were up to. Gandalf turned Shadowfax around so that he could look into the faces of the soldiers. He made his voice loud so that even those furthest away could hear him.
"We will wait in the shadows of the Gate, under the walls of the city. It is crucial that the enemy not know we are there. For they do not know we have a sortie ready to counterattack. When the signal from Lord Denethor comes will we attack. Remember, only when we get the signal!"
There was a chorus of agreement and then they followed one by one through the Great Gate. Justin sucked in a breath as he steered Lightwings through gap. Seeing the destruction and death close up was different from seeing it from the top of the walls. Many Orcs, Goblins, Trolls, and wild men of the South raged across the Pelennor fields engaging the Gondorian soldiers in battle. And this was just the beginning. The real enemy's force hadn't even arrived yet. These were the ones that Faramir failed to stop at Osgiliath. Justin shuddered along with the other horseback warriors waiting in the shadows. Justin narrowed his eyes and his vision magnified. Less than two miles away he could make out the rearguard of Faramir's forces retreating the enemy driving them back towards the walls of the city. The enemy, some riding horses, others wargs, shot flaming arrows at their retreating backs. They were a line of fire with their flaming torches. Then suddenly those retreating ordered together into a formation, not running, but marching back into battle. The men around Justin laughed and silently cheered.
"That must be Faramir," one soldier beside Justin murmured.
Gandalf smiled seeing the formation. "It must be. The Steward's son can govern man and beast. Perhaps there is hope yet."
The fighting men were overwhelmed for there was an echo of fierce cries. The horsemen of the enemy swept up like a wave. The lines of fire became a flowing horizontal line of flames, for the Orcs ordered together into files. Files upon files of Orcs bearing flames and the wild men of the South with their growling harsh voices swept up overtaking the retreating human soldiers. Multiple, piercing cries were heard from the air, as the fell beast of the Nazgûl swooped down from the sky to kill any of the missed men.
"The Nazgûl!" cried a soldier near Gandalf.
The White Wizard rounded on him immediately and told him harshly: "Quiet, you fool!"
The Nazgûl invoked a fear in the retreating soldiers like no other. They fled the battle wild and thoughtless. They flung their weapons without care, crying out fearfully, falling to the ground in terror. A feeling of anger flowed through Justin. Quickly he unsheathed the Dawnbringer and surged forward intent on helping, but a hand holding his arm stopped him from moving further.
Gandalf leveled him with an understanding look. "Now is not the time. Only when the signal comes."
Justin managed a curt nod, his eyes not leaving those dying on the fields. Unconsciously he gripped the handle of his longsword tighter in his hand anger and helplessness coursing within him. How could Denethor still have them wait after seeing how needlessly his men were dying. Couldn't the Steward see them upon his view in the Citadel high above in the top part of the city? If he didn't want to send them out, surely Pippin who was with the Steward would make him see reason. Fuck it, Justin wasn't waiting anymore. He had enough sitting back and watching.
And then as Justin kicked Lightwings forward, a trumpet rang from the Citadel, and Denethor at last released the cavalry. At last, it was their time. Within the shadow of the Gate, under the gigantic white walls of the city the formed men galloped forward charging with a resounding shot of attack. Quickly they raced to the soldiers' aide riding through either side of their retreat attacking the lines of the enemy. Gandalf outran them all. On Shadowfax's back he was a streak of white. Lightwings carried Justin running hard almost as fast as Shadowfax, lord of all horses. Gandalf raised his hand and Justin copied him, and then simultaneously light stabbed upwards from their hands.
The Nazgûl screeched like banshees then sharply broke off flying away. Their captain, King Angmar long ago, now Lord of the Nazgûl was not ready to face two powerful Wizards. Unknown to Justin, his eyes glowed bright blue, visible electric currents crackling in both eyes. Whistling as it sliced through air; the Dawnbringer cut through Orc after Orc that came near Justin path. He galloped through enemies cutting down all. With a yell he stabbed his sword through the gut of a goblin and with his other hand he raised it to the face of a wild men form the South.
"Die!"
A crackling bolt of lightning starting from his palm striking the creature in the face. It stood no chance of surviving a hit that close range. It fell to the ground charred and shaking, nerves still reacting to the electric shock to its system. Eyes blazing, Justin made mincemeat to the dark creatures. Flinging forward his hand he whispered, "Burn" and a whole line of dark creatures instantly started screaming, as blue flames sprung up consuming their bodies.
The host of Mordor was not prepared for the cavalry. They scattered and ran back across the Pelennor fear filling their hearts. The retreat turned around and became their pursuers. Once hunted they now were the hunted, chasing back their attackers. The battlefield was filled with the bodies of Ocrs and Men alike, torches thrown asunder, discarded weapons strewn all around. The cavalry rode forward with the rest of Faramir's men chasing back the Dark Host. But they were not permitted to go very far for their mission was to drive the enemy back. This was not the main battle; still there were more forces that were on their way flowing out of Mordor in the east. The trumpet sounded again and the company of Gondor halted.
Justin slowed Lightwings to a stop then looked to Gandalf who was nearby. "Are we going back?"
"For the time being," answered Gandalf, navigating Shadowfax closer to Justin. The wizard looked to the ground spying an injured soldier lying near Justin. His eyes registered surprise and recognition as he barely managed an "Oh, no," before jumping down from his horse running towards the fallen person.
Justin jumped from his horse coming up on the kneeling Gandalf's side. He looked over the Wizard's shoulder gasping in shock at seeing the person lying on the ground. It was Faramir, Boromir's younger brother, lying wounded with two arrows sticking out from his chest.
Justin knelt beside Gandalf looking into the Wizard's grave face he asked: "Is he going to make it?"
Gandalf gave the wounds a long look over. "My knowledge is not in the arts of healing. His wounds are beyond me. If we rush him to the Houses of Healing then perhaps he may have a chance yet."
Soldiers under the bidding of Gandalf rushed forward and helped the wounded lord up onto Shadowfax. Gandalf climbed too on the horse holding the unconscious Faramir in his arms. The company rode back to the gates of the city and entered, proudly. The people of the city looked on proud of their conquering men but they were saddened in heart for only a third of Faramir's men returned with the cavalry. Personally, Gandalf and Justin took Faramir up to the White Tower. Denethor's face lost all color seeing his son being carried in the arms of two guards.
"Faramir!"
Pippin stood dressed in his armor minus a helmet, stock still beside Denethor's chair, frozen with shock. The Steward raced forward, black robes flying behind him. Running a shaking hand down his son's face he sadly looked to Gandalf.
"Is my son dead, Mithrandir?"
Gandalf leaning upon his staff shook his head. "No, not dead. But he needs a healer to tend to his wounds."
"I've seen Xena take many arrow wounds and still live," Justin offered, feeling dumb when the comment left his lips. His mouth always had a way of spewing forth words without his consent.
Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. "Xena?"
Justin smiled meekly. "The Warrior Princess..."
The Grey Company swarmed the Great Sea in Pelagir and easily captured the pirate fleet of Umbar with the aide of the Shadow Host that Aragorn had at his call. There were fifty huge, black ships and numerous smaller vessels that were beyond count. This was what they had been looking for. The quickest way to Minas Tirith would be to sail down the river. With luck they would arrive before the city was burned to the ground. Aragorn sent one of the Dúnedain to each great ship and the biggest he took for himself with Legolas, Boromir, and Gimli accompanying him. It was night as Legolas stood on the bow of the ship looking out upon the Sea.
He thought back to earlier when they first came upon the Sea and he heard the wailing of the Gulls echoing in the air. Oh, what feelings they stirred in him.
'If only I had listened to Mithrandir,' he thought, watching the waves of water roll lazily upon one another.
Back when they had reunited with Gandalf in the forest of Fangorn, the old wizard had taken the Elf aside giving Legolas a message. Before coming to Fangorn, Gandalf had journeyed through Lothlorien where he had conference with the Lady of Light, Galadriel. In her wisdom and gift of foresight she saw a part of the future. A message she gave Gandalf to give to the Prince of Mirkwood.
'For the Prince of Mirkwood a message. Beware the call of the Sea.'
How Legolas wished that he had heeded her warning, now the cry of the Gulls wouldn't leave his head. When he had first heard the Gulls he had stopped, forgetting everything around him. Middle Earth, the battle, the Fellowship...
Only the thought of Justin snapped him from his thoughts. Deep within the heart of all Elves lies the longing to go the Sea, sail across it and join their kindred in Valinor, where the land is always green and things do not die. Now the Sea Longing was in his heart and it wouldn't go away. He could feel it within his spirit that he never would truly be happy again living under the trees of Middle Earth.
The Sea called to his spirit...
His heart however longed for Justin and he wouldn't leave Middle Earth without his heart...
"What the fuck?!"
Justin watched the forces of Mordor finally arrive. And arrive they did. In numbers that he never even dreamed of. Brigades of Orcs bred in Mordor and Men the like any have ever seen, short, broad and bearded like Dwarves, marched across the Pelennor. Ever more they came from the East in uncountable companies.
They didn't however attack the city's wall when arriving. The main wall of the city was built of great height and nothing, steel nor fire could break it. For the wall was made the same as the tower of Orthanc in Isengard. Built in the days long ago, when the race of Man was good at great crafts and skills before waning, the indomitable wall stood tall. The Orcs knew all of this and they went to work setting up great, wooden catapults. Catapults that shot missiles right over the tall battlements into the first circle of the city. When the missiles hit the ground they, somehow unknown, burst into flame. Soon the whole first circle was aflame and any that could be spared were busy putting out the flames. Past the fires the Orcs shot more missiles, these round and less ruinous. These were meant to invoke fear, sorrow, and pain.
The Orcs were catapulting the heads of the dead men who died in Osgiliath.
When people saw the heads they wept and cried out in despair. Little by little the fight began to leave them.
For all the while they cried out: 'Where are the Rohirrim? Will they come?'
The Nazgûl were back and it seemed that now they were showing just how powerful their lord was. They derived their power from the Dark Lord and as his power was showing forth their voices which invoked terror grew louder and fiercer. Now and again they swooped down from the black clouds of the night their fell beast they rode on wailing like demons straight from the fiery pits of Hell. Justin was busy himself, defending the people from the flying menaces. He shot blinding, white light from his hands into the air staving off their fear provoked attacks.
Gandalf would have helped but he was busy leading the men to arms. Denethor couldn't do it for he was sick with grief. Faramir was with fever and between life and death, Denethor blaming himself shut out everything and everyone. The city was not even a care to him while he lay at his son's side. So it was up to the White Wizard to take charge, giving the men orders and battle tactics. He went all around the city, from the top of the Citadel down to the Gates of the City. Where he went the hearts of men lifted, forgetting the cry's of the Nazgûl. They lifted their weapons and fought anew. The fight continued on all day and night, the men of Gondor had their own catapults also and they put them to use. Chucking across the battlements huge slabs of stone at their enemies they crushed many of their number. On it went the siege towers the enemy had ready were burned to the ground when used, for they were ready for any Orcs that tried to climb the huge wall.
Justin stood his ground near the Gate of the City, shooting light into the dark sky keeping the Nazgûl away. The strongest garrison they had was holding down the Gate. The Orcs knowing that the wall of the city was impenetrable decided to focus their entrance on the weakest part. The Gate of the City. On their side they had a huge battering ram made of steel and other metals, forged deep in the pits of Mordor. The Gate shook in its setting from the force of the blows dealt against it for it was made of iron and its post was of steel. Drums rolled on among the Orcs uncounted.
Then there was silence.
Justin stopped his gazing upwards for the Nazgûl surprised at the silence. He gazed at the great gate feeling a sense of uneasiness grip him suddenly. Something in his spider sense was telling him that evil was afoot on the other side. Suddenly in the air a deep, terrifying voice rang chanting in tongue that Justin couldn't translate. The language was rough and harsh sounding to his ears. He wouldn't be surprised if they were bleeding now. Three times the voice rang out and each time the ram on the other side hammered against the gate. Then on the third and final time the hammer hit...
The Gate of Gondor broke.
There was a flash of light and rumbling like thunder and the Gate that had held for so long fell to the ground and pieces of iron and steel. Justin stepped backward hand going to his head for it was pounding at the sense of evil radiating in the air. Justin blocked off the feeling, sealing and shutting it off. A hush fell over the soldiers of Gondor suddenly for on a tall, jet-black horse rode in the Black Captain, the Lord of the Nazgûl.
He was wearing a black cloak and underneath was blacker than midnight armor. Under the archway with the fires in the background he looked a figure of hell itself come to take them away. The men gave shouts of fear and fled their post, none able to fully gaze upon the Lord of the Nazgûl. All saved Justin, who stood in front of the Black Rider defiantly glaring up into his hooded face.
"Fool!" cried the Lord of the Nazgûl. "Do you think you can stand up against me! I will be the death of you!"
Faster than the most skilled warriors, Justin drew his sword and raised it to the Rider. "Then bring it, asswipe!"
The Black Rider threw back his hood and underneath was helmet in a crown theme. In the places where there should have been flesh, Justin only saw flames, bright and smoldering. The Black Rider laughed at Justin then spoke some words in a Black Tongue.
Gritting his teeth and steeling his heart Justin fought off the effect the Black Rider had over him with his spell. Holding the Dawnbringer forth he cocked his head and asked mockingly, "That's cute. You're trying to ask me on a date."
The Black Captain was not happy with Justin's mockery. Shouting more Black Words that rumbled with power he raised his hand. A jet-black beam of light shot forth racing through the air. Justin almost closed his eyes but he held his ground and the beam of light struck the Dawnbringer. The light hit the sword then repelled off flying off into the sky. Amazed Justin and the Witch King stared at the sword.
'Might as well go with it,' Justin thought, smiling coldly at the Black Rider. "You shall not enter this city as long I draw breath." The Dawnbringer's blade began to glow a pale gold. "I'll fight you off by myself if I have to." Brighter it glowed shining in the darkness. "I don't care what it takes, but YOU. WONT. PASS!"
There was a flash from the sword Justin just not realizing what was happening gazed dumb struck at the blade. The writing inscribed on the blade stood out on the shining surface.
In Elvish letters it said: 'In worthy's hands, light shall come to defend.'
With a start Justin remembered what Gandalf told him when he first saw the sword... 'The sword is very powerful. In a time of great need its power will come to you.'
Involuntarily, Justin raised his sword heavenward and the sword shined ever brighter. Suddenly, there was a bright flash then a column of intense golden light shot into the sky. The light raced through the sky impacting the dark clouds circling over the land. All around in the city, across the Pelennor, from miles around everyone could see the light. Slowly a hole appeared in the clouds that quickly grew wider and wider. Somewhere in the city, in some courtyard a rooster crowed. Its crow was loud and piercing sounding clear across the battlefield. The light in the sky shot back down into Justin's sword. The sword now that its job was done no longer glowed.
It had done as it was named for... It brought what the rooster crowed for...
It brought the Dawn.
Out of nowhere, Gandalf appeared on the back of Shadowfax. Staff out and face hardened, glaring he stared down the Lord of the Nazgûl. "The dawn is upon us! Light has come so go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master. Go!"
Then as if in answer a horn sounded. From somewhere it came again, horn after horn. Blowing with no sense of order only to announce a presence. Justin had a thing for remembering notes. A reason he was so good at music. These notes he heard before. At Helm's Deep. Grinning with relief he looked out past the Black Rider into the fields. Up on the hills, riders upon riders appeared. King Theoden and the Rohirrim had finally arrived. And Justin could only think of one thing to say at the time.
"Well, it's about fucking time."
***************************************************** To read the next chapter, go and join my Yahoo! Group. Chapter 27 is already posted.
For those of you who would like to join, I've started a new Yahoo! Group http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TonyJustiss there you can talk about this story and any others that I've written like The Trinity or Love is Universal. If you want to send me an email you can reach me at silvenfox@yahoo.com.