Almost hypnotized the Witch king watched the shield maiden draw back her sword. No man… no man can slay…

As the blade drew near the helm, and the entire of the field seemed to watched and hold its breath, the small hobbit trembled as he felt his grip on the dagger slipping. Time stood still.

Like a bolt of lightning the blade tore free.

A shriek of pain and rage, the dark captain whirled about, falling barely far enough bellow the blade that it struck his helm, and the clang of the metals echoed into the silence. Then, like a clock winding back up time resumed its normal course. Another fell beast bore down upon them, one massive wing buffeting both Maiden and hobbit to the dirt as Khamul pulled the Witch King into the saddle and off the ground.

"Eowyn! Eowyn! Are you well?" Merry crawled to where the shield maiden lay stunned, her eyes distant and glassy, the fragments of her sword strewn about her…

Kh-Khamul… The hiss was faint. The wraith Lord squirmed in the saddle much as an eel would on the shore, and it took all the Easterling's prowess to keep him from falling. (Indur is the better flyer, but too far off… I am needed on the battlefield… this, this will be a blow to the warriors… to the Orcs…) With a strong hand he held the other as still as he could be held, for the wound burned like fire, and to those such as the nine the feel of fire was unbearable…

…another fell cry a distance off, Khamul turned his head to see Indur bearing down upon the Rohan with a fury like the Eyes, his beast's froth splashing onto his kills. The shrieks of the Wraiths pushed horror into all hearts, this was personal now, this was revenge.

The wind carried them higher as it filled the fell beasts wings, and their course turned towards Mordor. (We fly there, near the eye of our lord… for when distant we heal slowly.) Can you hear me Murazor? There came no reply, the eyes within the helm had shut, and the frosty hiss that answered him was weakened. The ground drew up as beast and riders plummeted down…

Upon the walls of Minas Tirith Gandalf closed his eyes, murmured under his breath as he felt the hobbit tug on his robe. "Disaster Gandalf! Madness and disaster! They fly near the ground now, and part the troops like water!" The wizard opened his eyes, a sadness in them that Pippin had not seen before.

"I know my friend, I know… we took a gamble when she struck at the Witch King. Had it only succeeded… but now the rest have blood in their eyes." The sound of trolls assaulting the gates bellow sent a shudder threw the city. "I fear we may not stand till morning…"