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A/N: To Viv, the greatest beta alive, thanks for making this happen. To my human muses, the Smutketeers, for bugging me forward.

To all of you who follow the story and review, thanks as well, since you make THE MUSE happen.

Chapter XXIX: MORANNON

Drums rolled and fires lept up on the top of the battlements of the fortress of Cirith Gorgor. The great doors of the Black Gate swung back wide as a great host of warriors of the Dark Lord streamed out.

The Captains of The West galloped back at a dead run, and from the host of Mordor went up a frightening yell.

Aragorn had counted on a trap, and now he saw there was no chance they could resist the strike of the dark forces. Even in the face of doom, the decimated troops of the Army of the West were prepared to hold the hills facing the Black Door to the end.

The soldiers did not know that the Ringbearer had been intercepted by the forces of Sauron and their ultimate purpose lost. As they saw their leaders ride back to their posts with hordes of orcs in pursuit they prepared to defend their ground.

Dust rose, darkening the air, and an army of Easterlings that had waited for the signal in the shadows marched up against one flank, charging from beyond the further Tower. Down from the hills on either side of the Morannon, hordes of orcs attacked.

The warriors of the West were trapped and soon surrounded by forces many times their match closing on them as to drown the fighters in a sea of enemies.

Sauron had taken the offered bait in jaws of steel.

Upon the first hill stood Aragorn with Gandalf, and high in the wind was raised the banner of the Tree and Stars. Upon the other hill stood the banners of Rohan and the Amazons, White Horse and Ivy Leaf upon a crescent moon.

Circling each hill was a ring of warriors facing all ways, armed with spears and swords. The Amazon archers were lined up, defending the center of the second hill.

In the front facing Mordor, where the first enemy assault would come, stood the sons of Elrond and the Dunedain, and on the right were the Prince Imrahil with his Swan Knights of Dol Amroth, and selected soldiers of Minas Tirith.

Before Aragorn could give a single order, the first assault crashed into them. The orcs, hindered by the mires that lay before the hills, halted and shot their arrows into the defending ranks.

Behind them came a great company of hill-trolls out of Gorgoroth. They were taller and broader than men, clad only in a close-fitting mesh of horny scales and wielding heavy hammers in their knotted hands. The sight of them alone let the blood in the men's veins freeze.
Each of their huge hands was the size of an adult man itself. This beasts were the soldier's nightmares come to life. Reckless, they sprang into the pools of the stinking moat and waded across, bellowing as they charged against the men of Gondor. They broke the line of the Tower Guard of Minas Tirith and beat upon helm and head, and arm and shield, bending upon the fallen to bite their throats as the salty thick smell of blood surged in the air. ]

There was a strong wind blowing, and upon it arrows whined, flying from both sides; the Amazon and Rohirrim archers were taking out as many foes as they could, their aim not missing a single shot.

But they were few against the sea of attackers closing in. And in that moment, rising out of the gray haze tainting the sun, the Nazgul came with cold voices crying words of death; and then all hope for mankind was quenched.

Aella was leading the archers as long as they still had arrows, and Cyrene's eyes searched for the figure of Legolas on the next hill. He was shooting at the Nazgul with the great bow of the Galadhrim, and if Cyrene could match his aim blindly, there was chance they might together take down some of the Wraiths.

She took her helmet off and made her best effort to shoot in the same angle as Legolas. She evoked in her mind the exact alignment of his shooting posture to imitate it, and her trained eye recognized his aim by just watching him from afar. All her experience and skill would be set to trial. For their luck, the winged Nazgul were relatively big and slow. Both of their arrows flew true, piercing a flying creature. Her third shot was rewarded by a high whine, as a beast was struck and fell wounded on the field, throwing its rider off in the middle of the air.

But the archers were by then out of arrows and Cyrene's feat only gave the Amazons the feeling that they weren't helpless. And that was enough.

Reaching for their swords and axes at the same time, Cyrene and Aella looked at each other and back at the archers, male and female standing by them.

"See you in Hades, my sister," said Cyrene.

"Don't make me wait," answered Aella, and both laughed fiercely as they charged against the Easterlings breaking their ranks. "For Artemis and for glory! For Rohan and the King, charge my warriors!" yelled Cyrene, leading them into mayhem.

Eomer heard Cyrene and turned in the saddle where he was, standing among the last eored of his riders, cutting through the attackers while defending his ground, to see the archers, armed with their swords charge into the enemy. His first impulse was to turn his horse and ride towards Cyrene. But he knew they both had more of a chance of surviving if each one held their own ground. And praying to the Gods that he would survive the day and see her again, Eomer turned with renewed energies, cutting down the vile orcs that kept running up the hill like a never ending stream of evil. If the Rohirrim went down that day, they were going down in glory.

All about the hills the hosts of Mordor raged. Legolas stood almost oblivious to the madness surrounding him. He was hunting the Nazgul, one by one. But time was not on his side. He ventured a look around and saw the soldiers of the West fighting and falling bravely under the immense force of foes storming the hill were he stood.

His concentration faltered as he heard her voice though the rage of the battle. And his heart skipped a beat, for he recognized that Cyrene was charging into certain death.

Torn between the urge to run to her and protect her or die at her side, his sense of duty took over, and he focused again on the specters flying high above them.

"Namarie, amaelamin" he whispered and felt grief almost stopping his heart, as he kept on aiming and shooting down the flying Nazgul. He hoped his bow would give her and the other warriors at least a small hope to survive the battle.

The sun gleamed red, and under the wings of the low flying Nazgul the shadows of death fell dark upon the earth.

Aragorn stood beneath his banner, silent and stern, lost in thoughts of things long past or far away. His eyes gleamed like stars that shine the brighter as the night grows deeper. To his right, on the hilltop, stood Gandalf, and he was white and cold and no shadow fell on him. The onslaught of Mordor broke like a wave on the besieged hills, voices roaring in pain, victory, and agony amidst the loud clashing of arms.

Suddenly as if a sudden vision had come over him, Gandalf the White stirred and turned, looking back north where the skies were pale and clear. For an endless moment his eyes sought the skies and hope appeared on his face.

Then he lifted up his hands and cried in a loud voice that rose above the raging battle beneath him, "The eagles are coming!"

Many voices repeated in joyful disbelief, "The eagles are coming! The eagles are coming!" Those voices sounded uncertain, as if they did not fully understand the meaning of Gandalf's cry.

Both, the Army of the West and of the hosts of Mordor looked up and wondered at this sign.

There came Gwaihir the Windlord, and Landroval his brother, greatest of all the Eagles of the North. Behind them in long swift lines came all their vassals from the northern mountains, speeding on a gathering wind.

They fell straight down upon the Nazgul, stooping suddenly out of the high air, and the rush of their wide wings as they passed over was like wind.

The Nazgul turned and fled, vanishing into Mordor's shadows, hearing a sudden terrible call out of the Dark Tower; and at that moment all the hosts of Mordor trembled, doubt clutching their hearts. Their laughter faltered and their hands shook.

The Power of the Master that drove them on and filled them with hate and fury was wavering, its will was removed from them, and now looking in the eyes of their enemies they saw a deadly light and were afraid.

All the Captains of the West cried aloud, for their hearts were filled with a new hope in the midst of despair. Out from the beleaguered hills knights of Gondor, Riders of Rohan, Dunedain of the North, Amazons from across the sea, drove against their wavering foes, piercing the rows of enemies with the thrust of their spears and swords.

But Gandalf lifted up his arms and called out once more in a clear voice,
"Stand, Warriors of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom."

Even as he spoke the earth shook beneath their feet.

Above the Towers of the Black Gate, a vast soaring darkness rose to the sky, flickering with fire. The earth groaned and quaked. The Towers of the Teeth swayed, shook, and fell. The mighty rampart crumbled, the Black Gate fell onto itself in ruin, and from far away, growing, came a drumming rumble, a roar, a long echoing roll of destruction.

"The realm of Sauron is ended!" cried Gandalf. "The Ringbearer has fulfilled his quest."

And as the warriors looked south to the Land of Mordor, there rose a huge shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky. Gigantic it reared above the world, and stretched out towards them a huge threatening hand, terrible but impotent, for even as it loomed over them, a great wind took it, and it was blown away like a rain-cloud passing. A terrible silence fell upon the battlefield.

The warriors saw their enemies were flying and the power of Mordor was gone.

The creatures of Sauron, orc or troll or beast spell-enslaved, ran mindless, some slaying each other or casting themselves in pits or fleeing, wailing, back to hide in holes and dark places.

The Men of Rhun and of Harad, Easterling and Southron, saw their defeat and the majesty and glory of the Captains of the West. And those that were deepest and longest in evil servitude, hating the West but still proud and bold, now gathered for a last stand of desperate battle. But the most part fled eastward while they could, and some cast their weapons down and pled for mercy.

After all foes had fled or, in the case of the humans, sent unarmed away, the remaining warriors of the Army of the West gathered on the field.

Upon the hill defended by Aragorn and his men, the survivors watched the marvelous eagle Gwaihir land and take Gandalf upon his back. Together, they flew off towards Mount Doom, to find the Ringbearer.

Legolas's eyes searched the field, looking for Cyrene. He saw the banner of the Amazons set again next the banner of Rohan, upon the next hill. His keen sight sought her familiar figure among the warrior women but he could not distinguish her.

Gimli stood by his side. "Can you see the Amazons? Are they well?" he asked, knowing that Legolas had a better chance of spotting them then he had. Gimli was anxious. Despite all joy that he felt at the defeat of the Dark Lord, he couldn't bear the thought of Aella or Cyrene fallen on the field.

It was then that Legolas saw both Amazons walking wearily towards the hill. Aella was limping, supported by Cyrene. He could see, even from afar, that Cyrene's left hand was pressed against the side of her armor, over the wound he knew was not yet fully healed. But both were alive.

"They seem to be well, battered but alive, Gimli. They are returning to join Eomer and the Rohirrim," Legolas said, and a sharp stab of disappointment and jealousy hit him. She would never return to him.

Gimli's smile was bright as he patted his friend's shoulder. "As long as they and we breathe, Master Elf, there is still hope. Do not forget that."

"No, Gimli. Cyrene does not wish to be bothered with my attentions any more. And I shall respect her wishes," Legolas said, shouldering his bow and sheathing his knives.

The dwarf shook his head at the stubbornness of the elf and the woman. Now that they had succeeded in war they had to fight for love. The image of Aella before his mind's eye lit up his heart. It was as important as destroying Sauron and the One Ring. And he would also give his share of fair fight.

**************

Cyrene looked worried at the dislocated bone in Aella's leg. The little Amazon had been lucky to be hit with the broadside of an axe, so instead of cutting her leg, the weapon had only dislodged her bone. Cyrene had slain the attacker and carried Aella away. Then she had quickly put the bone back into place, and if she had not been bleeding from her wound again, she would have carried Aella back to the hill. But she just could not.

Now that it was over, weakness, weariness, and her own personal defeat took over her mind. They had won the war; the Amazons had earned fame and glory. But she had lost him, and the heart and love she never knew she had been able to feel.
Eomer rode to Cyrene and Aella and dismounted by their side. "My sisters, you are both wounded! Please let me aid you," he said, and he swept Aella off the ground and up into his saddle. Cyrene halted him from picking her up as well.

"Don't you dare, King of Rohan!" she said in a stern voice, but with a smile on her face. Eomer smiled back at her, though he saw that her thin smile didn't reach her eyes.

"As you wish, mistress. The King of Rohan is your most humble servant," he said. He carefully looked over to her hand, which held the joint of her armor and the bloody tunic beneath. "You are bleeding, Cyrene. Let me help you."

"Nothing a good bandage wouldn't fix, Eomer. Do not fret. I suppose we will camp here?" she asked. They had walked slowly together, guiding Eomer's mount with Aella on top towards the rest of what was left the Rohirrim forces.

"No, Cyrene. Aragorn has decided that we should move on as soon as we have taken care of our dead and wounded. This place is still full of evil and we shall part as soon as possible."

The Amazon sighed loudly. She had managed to look over at the hill of the men of Gondor and distinctly recognized Legolas and Gimli. Both were alive, and that gave joy to her heart.

But it also reminded her of what she had done to send the elf away from her and her own pain at having to part from him. Cyrene did not feel courageous enough to face him again and resist him. So she looked for a way out. Even the coward's way.

"Eomer, I'd like to return to Minas Tirith tonight. To see Eowyn and prepare the departure of the Amazons. I will leave my warriors in charge of Aella. Do you give me your leave?" she asked.

"You do not have to lie to me, my sister. I understand." He spoke softly enough that Aella couldn't overhear them. "You have my leave, and Dúmetar will ride with you to The White City. I hope that you will not leave before we return to it, though."

"I will await your arrival. , Eomer.I shall prepare the departure of my warriors and will lead them from Minas Tirith to the coast. They will be riding with you, so I will be looking forward to your arrival," explained Cyrene.

"And then, what will you do, Cyrene? Will you go back to the island or will you stay in Middle Earth? You know you will be always welcome in Edoras," Eomer continued.

"I know, Eomer, my brother, and Edoras will always be my home away from home. But I do not know where the Goddess will lead me yet," said the Amazon.

They had reached the hill. Eomer picked Aella off the saddle and carried her to where his medic was attending the injured. A few hundred feet away, some uninjured Rohirrim were burying their dead. The Amazons on the other side of the hill had built a funeral pyre for their fallen.

Cyrene left Aella to be tended by Eomer's medic and joined her surviving warriors honoring the brave who had made their way to Hades. After the ceremony she returned to see Aella.

"I will leave for Minas Tirith now, Aella," she explained to her friend. A fellow Amazon arrived and bound a fresh bandage across Cyrene's wound.

Aella waited until the Amazon was done and gone before saying, "So you are fleeing?"

Cyrene turned to her best friend and said, "Yes. And I hope that Middle Earth is big enough to give Legolas and me the chance to begin a new life apart from another."

Aella wanted to argue, even to hit her friend's stubborn head until Cyrene understood that Legolas and she belonged together. But at the look in Cyrene's eyes, Aella trimmed her impulse. There was pain, regret and determination, and Cyrene would have to overcome those on her own. Of course, that didn't mean that Aella wouldn't do her fair share to helping Cyrene find happiness, whether her friend wanted it or not.

"I shall meet you in Minas Tirith then, Cyrene. May the Goddess be with you," said the redhead.

Cyrene knelt where Aella lay and embraced her. "She is, my sister, since she sent you into my life. Take care. I will await you."

Then the Amazon princess stood up and walked to where Dumetar was waiting for her with their mounts. They had a long ride ahead. Away from the Morannon and from Legolas.