The wind swirled about Gerithor, a maelstrom of vivid blues and violets. It clawed and grasped like powerful hands, catching his cloak and wrapping it tightly around him. The sky was black, and a million pale stars shone like pinpricks through the blackness. He glanced around slowly at the alien landscape that lie before him. A dream... This is a dream, he thought to himself as the realization hit him. That thought alone somewhat reassured him. 

He stood atop a tall hill, and from it he could see for miles all around. In the distance, he heard horns and the marching of many feet. Dark mountains stood stark against the sky to the south, and behind them he saw a great Eye. Suddenly, as he cast his eyes upon it it drew closer, and he could see that it was made of flame. A voice, terrifying and fell, spoke to him from out of the fire. 

"You cannot fight the shadow. The void will claim you, son of the North. The wheel of fire draws near, and it will consume all. Let the darkness in, ranger... Let it take hold of your heart."

A shaft of light fell from the sky at that moment and sundered the Eye in two. An otherworldly sound like that of air escaping one's lungs emanated from the fragmented Eye before it faded away, and in its place stood a figure. No... Not just a figure. The warrior that Gerithor had seen in his visions before. He was clad in silver armor, a blood-red cape flowing behind him in the ghostly wind.

The being stepped forward. "Gerithor, son of Gerimond. Your quest nears its end. The Eldar have sent me to you in Man's time of need, but that time too will soon be over. You will have need of me once more, then I shall return to the place of my forebears."

"Who are you?" Gerithor inquired, his voice carried away on the gusts of wind. 

"I am a warrior of ages past. I am a spirit of fire, but the dark flames were my bane. I will say no more than that. But know this. You must stay pure of heart, and you must guard yourself. My power is as treacherous as the blade of a sellsword. I do the will of they who sent me, but more than that I do the will of your desire. Do not let wrath consume you, or you may never return to the world of the living." The warrior's face blurred and shaped with the wind, but Gerithor could see eyes of blue fire glaring at him. 

"Why me?" He pressed. He wanted to know the source of this, what had caused this possession. 

"The Eldar have found you pure. More so than most in this fallen world. Only you had the innocence of mind to endure my power. Stay true to that, no matter what befalls you." The warrior raised a hand in farewell, and the wind carried him away until Gerithor stood alone.

==================

Two Days Later, Mirkwood Road

An unnatural dark had shrouded the road in shadow, though it was midday and only hours before the sun had shone. Distant rumors of thunder could be heard to the south, and many of the company whispered that Sauron had triumphed and was covering the land in eternal night. 

Gerithor didn't believe them. If these words were true, they would surely know it. Further, his scouts had reported the Zaskia had fortified Dol Guldur to withstand a siege. If Sauron had defeated Gondor, she would almost certainly be going on the offensive. 

What remained of Thranduil's host marched with them, as well as Rukil's men under the faithful hand of Hadar. Glorfindel, Gloin, and Gerithor rode with the commanders of the armies, for they were eager to see the quest to its end. Kalan had stayed behind to help the survivors rebuild Erebor, along with Edhael. The two had struck up a friendship through their shared trials, and now they could hardly be parted from one another. 

"M'lords, there's dust on the west road! An army marches!" A scout exclaimed as he reined his horse in beside the commanders. 

"Did you see them?" Glorfindel asked, his keen blue eyes scanning the road ahead.

"Nay, the brush is too thick on either side of the road to observe them undetected," the scout replied. "But they are many in number." 

Glorfindel cast an anxious glance at Hadar and Gerithor. "How did our scouts not see them sooner?" 

"Why would they be coming from the West road?" Hadar inquired. "Dol Guldur lies to the south." 

Just then, a horn answered. It was not deep and bellowing like the horns of the orcs, nor loud and tinny like the horns of the Easterlings; Instead, it was fair, like the cascade of pure water down a cliff. 

"Elves!" Gerithor exclaimed, a smile lighting up his features as he recognized the familiar sound.

They watched a moment, and where the road forked they could soon see elven banners waving. 

"The flag of Lothlorien," Glorfindel observed, a hint of joy in his voice. 

"And Rivendell," Gerithor added as he recognized the deep blue banner. Then his eyes landed upon a familiar figure. 

Clad all in white, save a silver cuirass, the Lady Galadriel rode at the head of the army on a pure white steed, a sword on her hip and an expression of determination upon her ethereal face. Lord Elrond rode at her side in the full battle armor of a Noldor warrior, and his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir were behind him. 

The elven army came to a stop, and Elrond rode to meet the leaders of Gerithor's company. He gave a respectful bow and approached. 

"We heard of your victory in the north. The Lady has watched long, day upon day and night upon night. She believes that now is the time to strike the crippling blow against the forces of Dol Guldur. We have come to aid you with what strength we have left." 

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, a slightly confused look on his face. "What strength you have left? Did something happen?"

"The Lady's realm was attacked. Twice. Great were the losses on both sides," Elrond replied, his expression sorrowful. "We learned that the attack came from Dol Guldur. Knowing that your forces would likely march on the fortress as well, we mustered our soldiers and made for the south road with due haste."

"Your aid would be most appreciated," Gerithor replied gratefully. Elrond nodded in response, but frowned slightly when his eyes landed upon Hadar. 

"I do not believe we have been introduced," he stated cautiously. 

Without waiting for someone else to speak, Hadar grinned ear to ear. "I'm Hadar, commander of Prince Rukil of Rhun's armies. We are allies."

"Ah," Elrond replied. "I am Lord Elrond of Rivendell. I am glad to hear that there are some in the East still unswayed by the Dark Lord's deceit." 

"More than you would think," Hadar replied. "Thousands have fled his terror. And now that the Khan is dead, Rukil is the rightful heir of the entire realm." 

At this Thranduil interrupted, his elk stamping its foot on the ground nervously. "All of this is well and good... But we do not have time on our side. We should march."

"I agree, your highness," Gerithor replied, casting an eye on the dark sky above. "Something ill is taking place. We can talk after."

"If we survive, that is," Thranduil replied darkly. 

=============================

They reached Thranduil's realm that evening and the decision was unanimously made that they stay in his halls for the night. They all agreed that it was folly to storm Dol Guldur at night. 

The scars of battle were still visible there. Wood black with burn-marks and scattered fragments of weapons and armor were a stark reminder that even this elven haven was not safe from the enemy. 

The forces of Rivendell, Lothlorien, and Mirkwood made camp in the main hall, leaving the guest chambers for the dwarves and the dungeons for the Easterlings, Haradrim, and Rangers. There were so many Easterlings, however, that accommodations were also made for them in the wine cellar. 

Gerithor could hear them making merry from the cell he had chosen as his resting place. Their laughter made it clear that they had broken into the King's wine and were enjoying it to the fullest. He could only imagine how angry King Thranduil would be if he knew. Not that he could do anything about it; The Easterlings outnumbered the elves five to one. 

The ranger rolled over on the slab that was supposed to be a bed, gathering his cloak about him. He knew that he would not sleep. Battles were frightful affairs, and the one that would be fought the next day would be even more so. Though he had entered Carn Dum itself in his younger years, he had heard stories of Dol Guldur that made the Witch-King's castle pale in comparison. Stories of prisoners being tortured there for hundreds of years, and of ghosts that roamed the ruined halls. No place save Mordor itself was filled with so much darkness, for the Dark Lord himself had once ruled Dol Guldur. 

Aside from the stories, the battle itself would be equally horrible. The strength of Zaskia, and most likely Khamul the Nazgul as well, was centered within those walls. And taking a fortress was nothing like defending one. They would have to storm it hall by hall, and every foot gained would be gained in blood. 

Shaking the dark thoughts from his mind, he rose and walked to the door of his cell. A small crack in the rocks above revealed glimmering stars, dancing like fireflies in the night sky. He allowed himself a short moment of peace as he gazed upon them, leaning on the oaken rail that was on the edge of the path.

"My father once told me that the stars are all dead, and their light is all that remains of them," Gilian said softly as she approached and leaned on the rail beside him. 

"Well that's... Dark," Gerithor replied with a chuckle. Gilian gave him a wry smile and nodded.

"I suppose. Dark words for dark times though, eh?" She absently reached for a strand of her hair and twirled it around her finger. 

Gerithor didn't reply for a moment. She was right, these were indeed dark times. But things were changing... For better or for worse, nothing would be the same after the coming battle. 

"You know? I could do with a bit of light for once," he replied, turning to face Gilian. "If we both make it through this... I have something to ask of you." 

Gilian's eyes met his and she gave him a questioning look. "What would that be?" 

"Should things end favorably for our side... I mean, if the Enemy is defeated... Would you...?" Gerithor paused, his face reddening as he realized he had no idea how to ask what he was about to ask. 

Gilian's lips turned upward in a joyous smile, her eyes shining. "I think I know what you're trying to say..."

Gerithor returned the smile shyly. "I'm not very good with words so I'll just say it as plainly as I can, if that's alright with you." 

Gilian nodded, the smile still on her face. 

"Would you like to start a new life with me? We have both been rangers for our entire lives, but I tire of wandering. I long to settle down, free from the worry of having to find somewhere to lay my head at night. I want to find a place to call home. And there's no one I'd rather share that with than you." 

Wrapping her arms around him, Gilian nodded emphatically. "Yes. That sounds perfect." 

Gerithor rested his chin on the top of her head, pulling her close to him. "How about a farm? Perhaps on the countryside?" 

"With a stable and maybe a stream running alongside it," Gilian added. "And a white fence." 

Gerithor laughed gently. "The fence might be a little too cliche, but I'll see what I can do." 

"Now I hope more than ever before that we succeed," Gilian replied after a moment of companionable silence, a hint of sorrow in her voice. 

"We will," Gerithor said comfortingly. "Don't worry yourself with that. Just get some rest tonight and don't think about it." 

"It's difficult not to," Gilian whispered, shivering involuntarily. "The battle at Erebor was horrible. I hoped never to see one again." 

"If luck is with us, tomorrow shall be the last time you will." He said the words more to reassure her than anything... but he hoped with all his heart that he was right.

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We are nearing the end now! Sorry for the slow updates, I've been working significantly more than full time so I haven't had much time to write. I hope you enjoy the chapter though! Also, on a side note I saw Infinity War and *gasp* it was great :D