Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.
A/N I just came up with this title on the spot really. No real research. Its Sindarin and it pretty much means "Dark King" or "Dark Lord", the latter being my intended title. Sorry but it can be a tad frustrating coming up with all these Elvish titles.
Chapter 27: Barad-Taur
It was only a matter of time before Harry made it to the very Cracks of Doom. It was here where Sauron had forged the One Ring all those millennia ago. And it was also here where the One Ring was unmade by the action of the Hobbits. Now, this was where Voldemort-Sauron was conducting the final ritual.
The cavern was a single pathway, over looking a raging sea of lava. Waves of molten rocks crashed upon the very walls of the volcano, and it was all to obvious to Harry that if it weren't for the cooling charms maintaining his temperature, he could very well die of heat exhaustion. At the very end of the path were the three chalices, all of them hovering in mid air over the lava and glowing a sinister, purplish color. And standing before the chalices, his back to Harry, chanting in what seemed to be the Black Speech of Mordor, was the Dark Lord Voldemort-Sauron.
"Voldemort," snarled Harry his voice a filled with a streak of righteous anger. Finally, after all this time, he was here. It was time to face his mortal enemy, one last time: and not just him. "Voldemort... Sauron."
The Dark Lord turned toward Harry, blood scarlet eyes glaring from behind the ebony helmet. "Harry... Potter... Heir of Elessar," the two voices hissed and rumbled simultaneously.
Suddenly, a ball of green flame formed at the tips of the Dark Lord's fingertips. Leveling the fireball toward Harry, the Dark Lord yelled, "Avada Kedavra!" sending the flaming green light toward Harry. Harry in return merely reacted, flinging his two swords out in front of himself protectively. The killing curse hit the blades with a shattering sound and after a few moments, a blinding light flashed from Harry's armor sending the curse hurtling toward the ceiling where it crashed, causing some boulders to fall into the lava.
"Ah yes, your armor was created by the brother wand of our armor's wand," said the voice of Voldemort.
"This ends here," declared Harry. "Your reign ends once and for all, here today, for both of you! I will not allow you to summon Morgoth back into the spheres of the world!"
"Ah, but the ritual is already underway, it cannot be stopped," gloated the two voices. "However, we perceive that you just may upset the summoning."
"For too long has the bloodline of the Edain thwarted my goals," declared the voice of Sauron.
"For too long has the Boy who lived been a thorn in my side," hissed the voice of Voldemort.
"Therefore," said the two voices, "We agree with you very much that this war shall end once and for all. Never again shall we be threatened: it shall end with your death. And if we cannot fight each other through magic, then it will be the physical that shall do the killing!"
Voldemort-Sauron raised his arms and started chanting in the Black Speech once more. A purplish vortex formed above his head, drawing a vacuum around the air surrounding the Dark Lord, sparks cracking from the edges of the vortex. Slowly, something started emerging out of the vortex, something large.
It was a mace: a giant mace about as large as a bus. Its grip with spiny and would've been harmful to the touch of any mortal. Its staff was long and decorated in sinister designs. The head was carved into a frightening image of a crown, spiky and lethal. The whole mace was ebony black as the night.
To Harry's surprise, the mace soon started to shrink, slowly but surely. Soon, it had shrunk from its previous bus size to about a meter long, its grip fitting perfectly into the palm of the Dark Lord.
"Grond, the Hammer of the Underworld," declared Voldemort-Sauron as he examined the mace. "We had been hoping to present it to its rightful owner as soon as he had returned but he will not mind if we use it once for our use if it is to vanquish one last headache."
Harry gulped as he fought down a wave of sudden terror that threatened to erupt from within himself. He brandished his two swords, ready to meet anything.
It was the Dark Lord who struck first, moving at lightening fast speed despite his large bulk. The mace swung forth and struck toward where Harry was standing only to crash on the pathway with a thunderous sound. Harry had leapt high into the air to avoid the mace and came landed some distance further behind. He immediately struck back, swinging Anduril and the Sword of Gryffindor around in graceful fashion as he struck at Voldemort-Sauron. The Dark Lord merely sidestepped backward at rapid speed, avoiding every one of the hits. He swung his mace forth again only to have Harry dodge it with another backwards leap, this time throwing in a summersault as well.
Without missing a beat, Harry struck at the Dark Lord again, the two blades twirling in whirlwind motions. Anduril and the Sword of Gryffindor clashed Grond as the weapons of the two combatants met, the sounds of metal hitting metal ringing throughout the chamber.
"Most impressive, Potter," hissed the voice of Voldemort. "Your skills with the sword are quite astounding. I never realized you possessed such talent."
"I never realized till quite recently myself," replied Harry. He spun around, attempting to make his swords connect only to have them deflected by the Dark Lord's mace. He leapt back, crouched low and launched himself toward his opponent again, their weapons clashing once more.
"You know Potter," said Voldemort as the two continued their duel. "You are without a doubt perhaps the most powerful wizard upon Middle-Earth now, perhaps even greater than even Dumbledore. How would you think of joining us, and we could all rule the realm together?"
Harry dodged another blow from the mace as he thrust Anduril toward the Dark Lord's face. "Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?" he snarled, as the Dark Lord brought his face back, missing the sword.
"Gaining new powers can be quite a relish. The potential that you had a change of heart was always there," said Voldemort. He swung the mace hard and hit Harry in his side. Although his armor kept him from being hurt, it still sent Harry flying in the air toward a far wall.
"NEVER!" yelled Harry as he twisted in the air. He managed to land on the wall on his feet. Then, using the momentum, he rocketed himself straight back at Voldemort-Sauron. Harry landed a powerful flying kick on the Dark Lord's abdomen, the force of the blow so strong it actually managed to shove the large frame of Voldemort-Sauron back several feet.
"Such a pity," snarled the two voices. Voldemort-Sauron struck back at Harry, the mace coming toward him in powerful smashing motions. Harry simply continued countering each blow, hoping to find an opening for attack.
Harry found that opening when Voldemort-Sauron raised his mace up high. Harry leapt into the air as Grond came crashing down, leaving a crater in the pathway. Kicking off the walls, Harry flew toward his opponent and at the right moment, slashed at the frame of the Dark Lord. Harry landed opposite his opponent, crouched on the ground, his blades still out from the attack.
Harry was completely startled however when the two voices spoke: "Is that the best you can do? We were hoping for better. You have disappointed us!" Saying that, Voldemort-Sauron swung Grond toward Harry in an upward motion. Caught unprepared, Harry was struck by the full force of the mace and was sent flying into the air.
* * *
Outside, the battle continued to rage on. Orc and troll fell before the mighty blades of the Elves and yet they continued to swarm out, their numbers never ending. In certain sections, they were already starting to overwhelm the Elvish and Dwarvish forces that stood at the front lines. Elvish captains had no choice but to retreat many of their forces towards more secure spots of the line lest they were scattered.
Toward the back, the Order of the Phoenix and the Aurors continued their support. Amongst those fighting was Neville Longbottom, desperately wielding Aiglos as he kept Orc and troll at bay. "Mustn't give up," he muttered. He then took a deep breath and yelled, "WE MUSTN'T GIVE UP! WE CAN WIN THIS!" He speared another Orc as if to make his point.
Not to far from Neville, Albus Dumbledore looked over the battlefield. "I would truly wish I could agree with Mr. Longbottom," he said. It was then that a rumbling, earth shaking growl emerged from the depths of Barad-dur. A chill of fright ran through the Forces of Light. "Unfortunately," said Dumbledore, "our situation is just about to grow much more desperate."
"That growl! It can't be," exclaimed Gilrandir from the frontlines. "It's not possible!"
Unfortunately, it was all too real for with a series of mighty roars, a group of fiery Balrogs emerged from the tower led by their leader Gothmog II. The fire demons fell upon the startled Elves, flaying them with their flaming whips. Countless Elves were flung into the air by the Balrogs, unable to properly defend themselves.
"It is all too true, little Eldar," snarled Gothmog II. "You should've never returned to these lands."
Undaunted, Gilrandir grit his teeth and charged his horse toward Gothmog II. Gothmog II too drew out his flaming sword and the Elf blade and Demon blade clashed with an explosive sound. Inspired by their commander, the Elves once again rallied against the ancient fire demons, fighting back fiercely with all the power of their ancient kind. Not to be outdone by the Elves, the Dwarves too valiantly took up against the Balrogs and the Orcs and Trolls that were still fighting with them. Wizards too shot in their spells, trying their best to aid their allies.
The battle lines had once again seemingly stabilized when a cold scream pierced through the air. The Nazgul had come, flying in upon their fell beats, sending great waves of fear through their enemies. The Ring Wraits flew their beasts through the forces of the Light, disrupting their formations and shattering their morale. Their will broken by the Nazgul, the forces of Light were easy pickings for the Balrogs as their whips broke through the Elvish and Dwarvish line. Soon, chaos was upon them as Elf, Dwarf, and magical human along with their other allies started to panic, their defenses falling apart at the very seams.
"Do not give in! Do not give in!" declared Gilrandir. "Hold your posts! Courage Forces of Light! Do not let the Darkness consume you! You must believe in the Light!" Gilrandir's cry was interrupted by another high-pitched scream. The Elf Commander looked behind just in time to see Khamul, the leader of the Nazgul fly his Fell Beast straight toward him.
To be continued...
A/N OK, I suppose this chapter was a little short. But I'm getting to wrap this fic up so I can go on to greener pastures (LOL). Anyway, this fic is almost done. Thank you for sticking with it for such a VERY, VERY (year and a half) long time.