One Sword To Rule Them All

A giant shadow covered a mountain. It was the shadow of Ancalagon, the great dragon had regained its flesh and yet its eyes still shone with a sinister blue color. Its scales black as the night sky.

Atop it sat Arthas, he seemed exhausted. It had taken him 3 days and nights to give Ancalagon flesh. The dragon was simply too big. He had to constantly rest and heal it again and again.

Arthas seemed to be in a hurry. He had not planned for it to take so long. He originally had thought he would get to return in a day but it took him 3 additional days to heal the dragon.

He sat on its head and commanded the dragon to take off. The dragon took off, the clouds parted and the mountains trembled as it soared the sky...

As the dragon passed the azure sky, it blocked the sun and cast a shadow so big on the land below that it grew dark as night. From afar, it appeared as a pitch-black cloud of calamity.

He soon reached Isengard. The dragon landed on the forest, shaking the earth as if an earthquake had come. He jumped down and wings of light appeared on his back. He flew atop the tower and to his surprise, it was empty and the lands around it were flooded with water.

He sighed, "It seems I am a step too late...". He looked at the distance towards Mordor, "I can't go to war without doing that...". He flew down the tower but he did not find Saruman's corpse. 'He might be alive...'

He sat atop the tower and closed his eyes. "Feel the energy, the light of the past..." Light gradually surrounded him in a circle as runes flashed in the surroundings.

Scenes appeared before him...

The Army of Isengard left only to return in defeat. Saruman began growing nervous and decided to create a stronger army. A human betrayed Rohan and joined him. The ents attacked and flooded Isengard and laid waste to his plans.

The army of Rohan arrived, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir with them. The human of Rohan tried to betray Saruman but the latter expected it, he pushed him off the tower and vanished with magic.

Arthas opened his eyes as the scenes flashed in them. "Saruman is alive, good." he stood up and held onto a strand of light. "I will find you..." Arthas went back to Ancalagon and commanded the dragon to follow the strand of light.

Magic and light were both energy but merely in different forms. Magic was spiritual as the light was both spiritual and physical. Every person's magic had a unique spiritual mark, the light of the paladins was the same.

Saruman had used a powerful form of enchantment magic to escape thus he left a little residual spiritual energy behind. Arthas grasped it and formed a connection with it and created his light strand to track down Saruman. If he had been a week late, the residual energy wouldn't have been enough.

It was all thanks to Ysildea's experiments that he had discovered such unique powers of his light. His light was unlike the one's paladins of Azeroth used. It was entirely unique and different. Its source remained unknown...

The Dragon soared again and followed the strand. Scenery flashed as they closed in on an unassuming hut deep in the forests.

Saruman sat on the ground, his clothes seemed dirty as his hair was in disarray. He was angry and tired. Just as the wizard put down his bowl to stand up, he heard an incredibly loud roar that shook his being and the world around him.

The forest grew dark as the massive dragon descended like a mountain. The winds picked up and fiercely shook the trees. On its head, Arthas looked at Saruman with a faint smile, his eyes unknowingly shining like the sun.

Saruman could only see a silhouette atop the black dragon. The silhouette's eyes terrified him to his core. For a moment, he thought it was Morgoth who had descended upon him.

When he saw it was Arthas, he grew even more afraid for he had not even imagined for him to be so powerful. The wizard had always thought Arthas was on par with Gandalf at most but now... He could only shake in fear.

Saruman's horror grew as he realized the dragon was Ancalagon and Arthas stood on its head as if he owned it.

Arthas gracefully flew down from atop the dragon; He wore simple but elegant black clothes; his white hair twinkling under the sunlight, flowing in the air. the wings paired with his eyes made him look like a god.

He reminded Saruman of the Valar...

The white wizard unknowingly kneeled. His body moving on its own as if it had recognized Arthas as king without question.

Arthas stopped as he reached the wizard and brandished Frostmourne, "Saruman, the white; I am sorry but I cannot accept you as my vassal even if you kneel." he said calmly and pointed the tip of the sword at him.

Saruman unknown gulped as he stood up fiercely, he glared at Arthas, fear gave birth to anger, "You...". Arthas did not let him say anything as Frostmourne stabbed the wizard in the ċhėst.

Arthas felt the great power possessed by the Maia and smiled in excitement. Every time the sword had taken a soul, it would increase his power and he had access to the soul to channel it if he needed more. That was how he managed to raise Ancalagon, however, deep within the sword was a limitless source of darkness he had discovered and dared not to tap into it too much. The only time he tapped in it was when he raised the black dragon.

Suddenly, he took out a dagger and cut the palm of his left hand, his right holding the sword. He plunged his left hand in his ċhėst forcefully, piercing his ribs and moving his hand close to his heart.

He let out a grunt of pain as he moved his hand around in his ċhėst and searched for something. He found something and put in inside the cut in his hand and slowly took his hand out. Blood spilled on the ground but he paid it no mind.

Inside the cut on his palm, bellow the skin was a black crystal that seemed to give off dark-colored light. He smirked as blood fell down his lips and plunged his left hand similarly in Saruman's ċhėst. The let the crystal be free near Saruman's heart and let go.

He immediately reversed the flow of the soul and raised Saruman at the same time as he absorbed the soul and killed him. Golden light engulfed both of them and slowly healed the wounds...

Arthas had a relieved and confident smile, 'It is finally over!'. Thunder cracked in the sky as it ended and Saruman fell to the ground.

The white wizard slowly stood up, his eyes shone the same color as all the other undead otherwise he was not that different. Saruman asked in terror as he backed away, "What have you done to me?!".

Arthas sighed, "Your fate would have been a miserable one, sentenced to walk middle-earth for all time as a powerless and nȧkėd spirit. I have given you a better future...".

Saruman asked, "What future?". Arthas continued, "I needed to get rid of something in my body and soul, however, I couldn't do it because if It went out, I knew it would destroy everything in its surrounding with the power of the void. So, I researched and realized that when absorbing souls into Frostmourne, momentarily, my soul and the other one becomes one and I absorb a portion of the power. I realized I could get rid of it if I found a powerful soul that could bear it so I found you. You live because of me being here so you have escaped that future...".

Saruman wanted to talk but something within him obeyed and he left with a confused expression. Arthas returned atop the dragon and they moved toward Mordor.

'Void Lord you can't decimate my soul anymore, if you try, Saruman will die in my place and since he is a Maia, he will eventually heal his soul. I am free...' he sighed in relief and relaxed. " I need to put on armor and get ready for the war... I hope I am not late..." he murmured to himself.

Minas Tirith, day of the battle.

Shadow of black clouds covered the plains between Mordor and Minas Tirith. Orcs stood formation ready for war. In the front, Gothmog(the leader of Balrogs) and the Balrogs who had allied with Sauron and had regained life thanks to him, glared at the army of elves, men, and dwarfs; Frightening them.

Among the black clouds, the dragons soared. Bodies the size of hills, Dozens of them, looming over the army as if to show them true despair. The Nazgûl flying above the army and surveying the would-be battlefield.

The worst of all was Sauron himself. He looked like darkness incarnate. A form of Malice and hatred personified. The air around his form rippled as if he was on fire, great heat around him. He was black and yet he was bright as fire, his silhouette frightening and powerful. The one ring on his hand twinkled as if it was happy to be there. Its joy the doom of others...

On the other side, rows and rows of armies stood in various formations. Whether they be men, elf, or Dwarf, all had nervous expressions. Their eyes held fear as they gazed upon Mordor's army and Sauron.

In front of the army stood; Thranduil King of the Woodland Realm atop his famed mount, Thorin King under the mountain, Elrond lord of Rivendell, Celeborn king of Lorien, Théoden King of Rohan, and Aragorn King of Gondor. Behind them were Legolas, Haldir, Boromir, Gandalf, Faramir, Gimli, Tauriel, Virion, Eiliandir, Dumir, Thalrog, Morgan, Valentin, Atanas, Dimitar, Zoran, Therion, Lúthedir, Dammriel, and Dwomar. Their eyes held no fear, armed and ready for battle.

Ysildea and Galadriel stood atop the walls of Minas Tirith watching the armies from above. The steward of Gondor and Radagast accompanying them.

Meanwhile, Arthas had changed into armor as he rode atop the Black dragon. Ancalagon grew closer with Arthas on its head...