One Sword To Rule Them All

[ (I recommend to listen to the kinds of music that I put before you start reading from this chapter on, Thanks) Music: Strength of a Thousand Men - Two Steps From Hell]

The air was calm like a lake on a sunny day, the sky gloomy as if right before a storm. The land dry as if thirsting for the blood of those standing upon it.

The army of middle-earth stood in formation in front of the great castle, Minas Tirith. The sky above sending rays of light upon them from between the grey clouds as if a great revelation was to come.

The Army of Mordor seemed like a shadow, eating away at the light. The sky above filled with black clouds, as though the world was to come to an end.

The tension thick... Hearts were beating rapidly as drops of sweat formed on the faces of men, elf, and Dwarf alike.

Suddenly from the mountains came a sinister fog; accompanied the fog was the army of the dead. They were known as the Dead Men of Dunharrow or Oathbreakers for they were Men of the White Mountains, cursed to remain in Middle-earth by Isildur after they abandoned their oath to aid him in the War of the Last Alliance.

Aragorn had promised them freedom of their curse if they joined him. For Aragorn was of Isildur's bloodline and thus had the right. He was the rightful King of Gondor.

The two armies stood against Mordor; the three armies now in a calm state. No army made a move as if waiting for something.

A few minutes passed and the tension grew thicker and thicker...

Worry began to appear on the face of Gandalf the white. Kings in the front of the army grew Grim. Aragorn turned to look at Gandalf, the two seemed to share many words with mere looks.

As Aragorn prepared to go forward A loud roar erupted in the skies. The world shook as the land trembled. The roar was earsplitting, sudden, thunderous, Daunting, and Deep like a primal force.

From behind the mountains, a black form grew visible; Big as the mountains with wings of darkness stretching over the horizon. Twin evil orbs of blue fire as eyes; Black scales as skin. Ancalagon the Black, The greatest dragon of Middle-Earth had returned.

Atop the great Dragon was a man. He was handsome and manly, hair as white as snow and yet seemingly shining silver under the light of the sun; And Eyes dazzling like the ocean. He wore a bright and intricate Armor of Mithril, a golden Cape flowed behind him similar to his long hair. A crown of light above his head, An intimidating sword in his hand. Arthas Menethil, The Great and Wise King of Lordaeron, Light-bearer of Lorien (Caladcyll), Dragon Slayer, Hero of the war of the five armies, Conquerer of Rhun, Army Slayer, Bane of the northern undead (Gained this one in the 60-year time skip), The Progenitor of Paladins.

The Dragon landed atop a mountain to the west of Minas Tirith. The mountain shook as boulders fell, cracks appeared on the sides; Ancalagon's frightening visage became the focus of the dragons who flew atop Mordor. The dragons became terrified.

Wings of light grew on the man's back as he descended to the front of the army. He gazed at the ones in front and in the back... Arthas's aura was of Majesty and power. He emitted magnificence that appeared out of place like a star in the middle of darkness.

Gandalf had a face of disbelief and slight fear, he was out of composure and slightly trembling. His eyes locked on the dragon. He turned to look at Arthas with confusion and shock; His eyes wide. The same went for the kings and the others... even Galadriel. Only Ysildea seemed unperturbed.

Arthas ignored them and turned to look at Sauron. This was the first time he had laid eyes upon the evil lord. He could feel the dark power being emitted from his enemy. Fire and darkness were the elements of his form.

He also noticed the fear in the eyes of the army. Who could blame them? Dragons, Balrogs, dead souls, orcs, The Nazgul, and finally Sauron himself were all figures that existed in horror stories to silence and scare children.

When one hears of the story, there is only imagination... When one stands in front of such things... A unique terror makes the heart tremble, the gut to feel death, the hair to stand on end in horror, and the Instincts to scream 'RUN!'.

Arthas raised Frostmourne and addressed the entire army, his voice amplified by his power reached everywhere.

[Music: Heart of Courage - Two Steps From Hell]

"The enemy you see has no mercy; They will slaughter your families and end your people. You have mustered the courage to defend what is yours..." His tone was serious.

"That is why All I see before me are noble Heroes... Those of us who see the next dawn shall live as glorious heroes and those of us who don't shall live as everlasting legends, their stories told for many years to come." He grew slightly passionate.

"The hope of your loved ones is behind you, The weight of the world on your shoulders, The fate of the future in your hands... My father once told me to not fear a man wielding a weapon, he told me to fear a frightened man who gathers the courage to wield a weapon... Do you have the courage to wield your weapons?! Do you have what it takes to answer the hope behind you, to carry the weight of the world, to shape the future?!"

He paused for a moment and continued passionately, "Do you dare to stand with me as we enter a new age, an age where we shall forge our own destiny?! DO YOU HAVE THE COURAGE?!!".

The army let out a tremendously loud voice that made the very ground shake, "YES!".

"Then stand beside me as equals as we enter a new era, OUR ERA!"

The blood of the army began boiling in their veins...

The enemies began laughing. The orcs let out a loud burst of laughter. Sauron, however, remained silent and merely raised his weapon.

His eyes lit up in radiant light as a grand halo surrounded him. The very air vibrated as Arthas unleashed all his power; The world around him grew dim as if in surrender...

The laughter stopped as a terrifying blood-stilling killing intent locked onto them. The figure of Arthas seemed more like a god than a man in front of their horrified eyes.

The paladins eyed the Balrogs. The kings eyed the Nazgul. Ancalagon eyed the dragons. Arthas gazed at Sauron solemnly.

He pointed his sword toward Mordor and shouted with all his voice, "ATTACK!". His voice echoed across the entire land like a crack of thunder.

The army behind him let out a thunderous battle cry and advanced. The army of the dead moved first and behind them, The riders and kings marched in front, the archers drew their bows, the warriors brandished their weapons, the war machines were activated, the paladins summoned their light.

It was as if the world had been engulfed in an apocalyptic storm. At the very front, Arthas who had shot forward first in a brilliant flash; reached Sauron.

The Battle Began...

Who will prevail? One Sword or One Ring?

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