Stuck inside a cell with nothing but a door on the other side and no windows makes it difficult to know how long you were truly there. It felt like at least a winter but the days soon turned into a blur. Being fed just enough to survive started to weaken my resolve, that and a few of my escape attempts. I could take on a few of the guards but there always seemed to be more in the shadows, waiting to put me back in my place. It would seem that fate wanted me to stay in this cell, but why?
All I thought about each day was how I had let down my men, the banishment weighed heavily on my heart. How could a man be banished just for wanting to ask for help. How could the Steward justify it, why did he not want help? Being stuck in a cell offered plenty of time for reflection. Was trying to get help really worth it? What would happen if I went back to Gondor? Are my men even still alive? I had so many questions in my mind but no real way to answer them. Each blur of a day would start and end the same, in darkness and in quiet contemplation. Until one day I was stirred from my slumber…
The noise of clattering metal, the familiar sound of battle made it feel like a dream from times of old but the two large thuds to the ground that physically shook me awake were real. My eyes opened to a strange sight, two dead guards on the ground with a man standing between them. A hooded figure in tattered clothes, a sword in one hand and an open hand gesturing towards me. The hooded figure removed his hood and looked down upon and told me that it was time to leave this place and asked if I could fight. With what strength I had left I picked myself up off of the cold floor and stumbled towards him. He picked up one of the guards’ weapons and handed it to me. I slowly reached my hand across the handle of the sword. I clenched my hand to get a good grip and by some unbeknown power I felt reinvigorated, I felt alive again.
The man looked at me and nodded. He headed for the door. The door I had spent many days wondering what was on the other side of. The door which represented my freedom. He burst through the door to reveal more dead guards and a long hallway. Before I could ask any questions, the man turned around and told me that we must hurry. We hastened our pace through the hallway to the door at the end. A slow creek could be heard as the second door opened; a seemingly different light could be seen on the outside. It was moonlight, this corridor had led to the outside into a courtyard.
Across the courtyard men could be seen, similar looking to the guards who now lay dead in my cell. These men would certainly not be best impressed to see me out of my cell. Before we could even make a plan of attack the quiet air was pierced with the noise of ‘you there, stop!’. The guards turned and made their way towards us in a hastened pace, swords raised and what seemed to be grins on their faces as if they were going to enjoy the upcoming fight. The man whom freed me leaped into action with sword in hand and raced towards some of the guards to the right. He had been kind enough to let me deal with the guards to the left.
These two men came running at me, crying out in anger to try and dishearten me. I would not let these men so easily overcome me. I tightened my grip on the sword as I prepared to fight. The first man lunged towards me thrusting his sword towards my abdomen. I parried the first blade, the ‘ting’ of the metal as it bounced off of one another. Before I had time to counterattack the second mans blade came swinging down. I moved my sword in to intercept, blocking the attack with a clash of blades we seemed paused in the moment as our two swords seemed frozen in time. The attacker putting more pressure on the blade made me stumble and the blade left its mark just above my eye. I yelled out, not because of the pain or the blood dripping down my face but because this is the most, I had felt alive in many winters. To be in battle fighting for my life again.
I felt the adrenaline kick in as I rose to my feet, the attacked seemed in disbelief that their prisoner still had any strength left. This would be there undoing. I gripped the sword with my left hand and charged towards the second man. Our blades clashed again, parrying blows from left and right. The clashing of metal continued for a moment until I had gotten the upper hand as I was able to move his blade away from his body and plunged my sword into his chest. Without hesitation I pivoted on my feet pulling the sword from my foes chest and releasing a stream of blood as he fell to his feet. The first attacker came running towards me angrier than before at the sight of his comrade. His blade poised to strike. Our blades met again, this time mine was covered in blood that spluttered as my metal met his. I pushed him back with my sword and swung my sword high cleaving across his body. He fell to the ground, clasping at what was left in his chest and shock soon took hold of him as he passed.
My attention soon turned towards the man whom freed me, he had dispatched the guards that he was fighting and told me what had to be done next. Over the next few minutes as we made our way through the compound, we stumbled upon a two halflings whom were also prisoners to this place. Without a moment notice we freed them as we made our way to the what I presume was the exit. Dispatching any foes that we as we got there. As we made it towards what seemed like the main gate a similar hooded man stood there waving towards as if he were to lead up to our freedom. What happened next is still of some mystery to me.
As the man stood there this overpowering scream that pierced my very soul froze me in place. This scream made my whole-body shudder as I was unable to move. All I could do is watch as a dark figure in robes made his way towards the man by the gate and made his attack. The man’s attacks seemed futile as the figure seemed to be made out of the darkness like some nightmare. I fight did not ensue for long as the shrouded screamer plunged a small blade into the man’s side before letting out another deafening howl. Something I had not realised at this point was that the man who had freed me seemed less affected by the screams and after shaking off the initial stun ran towards his ally with a lit torch and defended his falling comrade before the hooded figure seemed to glide off into the darkness. It was only after my senses had returned that I soon realised what I had witnessed. Thought to be legend and used as a bedtime story to keep children in line that hooded figure was one of the east’s riders, he was one of the nine, he was a Nazgul…
