When Past Becomes Present by Chemins

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Summary: This is an AU in progress set at the end of The Two Towers. Warnings: Angst, attempted suicide (on Aragorn's part), and possibly a couple of choice words. Rated K+ First Story in a Trilogy.

Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters, just the plot, yada, yada, yada...

When Past Becomes Present

by Chemins

What would've happened if Aragorn wasn't as fine as he made himself out to be at the end of the movie? What happened to him? And in his past...


After a short pursuit to keep the Uruk-hai from thinking twice about their retreat, Gandalf the White sat facing the sunrise, his face one of small joy. Behind him, he could still hear the cries of the warriors of Helm's Deep. "Victory is ours!" they shouted. Gandalf closed his eyes for a moment. Yes, victory was theirs, but at what cost?

His eyes swept over the field that was littered with bodies of both friend and foe. The red blood of Men, the darker red blood of Elves, and the black blood of Uruk-hai, stained and soaked the ground. Yes, the cost was great, but the battle of Helm's Deep would pale in comparison to what lay ahead, that Gandalf was sure of.

Gandalf looked down the line of warriors next to him. Aragorn and Legolas, in particular, caught his attention. Neither looked like they'd slept for days on end, and both had the eyes of those in intense, single-focused mourning. The thought flitted across the Istar's mind to ask them what death particularly troubled them, but realized it was not the time for such explanations.

"Sauron's wrath will be terrible, his retribution swift. The battle for Helm's Deep is over. The battle for Middle Earth is about to begin." He looked down the line again, and caught Aragorn's eye. For a moment, a brief flash of pain crossed the ranger's eyes, but it was quickly hidden by the emotional shutter that Aragorn had grown so skillful at raising. The ranger's face gave nothing away, and Gandalf mentally shrugged.

"All our hope now lies in two little hobbits, somewhere in the wilderness." Gandalf glanced behind him and saw warriors finishing off what few Uruk-hai remained. He also saw Gimli standing on the wall, his axe raised in victory, his face beaming underneath his beard. Gandalf shook his head slightly and looked back towards the retreating swarm of Uruk-hai. Suddenly, though, his attention was drawn farther down the line. Turning his head quickly, Gandalf saw Aragorn slumped in his saddle, and heard Legolas' frantic calls.

"Aragorn? What is it, what's wrong?" The elf received no answer, and a moment later, Aragorn slid from Hasufel's back and landed hard on the ground. He lay, unmoving, as Legolas jumped from Arod's back and hurried to his friend's side. Hasufel turned to his fallen rider and nudged his shoulder with his snout, trying to revive him. Gandalf quickly dismounted from Shadowfax and pushed through the horses. "Aragorn? Legolas, what is it?" The elf didn't look up as he pushed Aragorn from his stomach to his back. Both Gandalf and Legolas took in the heir's wounds.

A gash in his temple bled sluggishly, spilling down his face. His bottom lip was split and dried blood was visible on his chin. There was a small amount of blood on each shoulder from the Warg wounds that Aragorn had taken no time to dress, and his hands also bled from multiple cuts. That's not what caught Legolas' eyes, though. Instead, his attention was brought to Aragorn's chest and side, in which the tunic was stained dark red, and the fabric was sopping wet. The prince looked up at Gandalf in helplessness, who also saw Aragorn's wounds. "Legolas, take him quickly to Helm's Deep. Find a healer and try to get him as comfortable as possible. I shall be there as quickly as I can."

Legolas nodded, and with the help of Èomer, pulled Aragorn to his feet. He remained slack in between them, and it was then that Legolas heard the labored breathing coming from his friend. "He has broken ribs." Gandalf frowned and said, "All the more reason for you to leave now." Arod knelt to the ground as Legolas and Èomer came towards him, and Legolas nodded his thanks to the horse. With little difficulty, the elf mounted the horse, and Aragorn sat in front of him, his body limp, his head resting against Legolas' shoulder. A sharp kick and a whistle later, Arod rode swiftly into the distance.

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Aragorn tried to focus on something, anything, as he listened to the cries of the dying and the fighting. Everything seemed slightly off...as though his head were underwater, and he was listening to sounds above the surface. His vision was also wavering; black was forming around the edges, threatening to creep in at any moment. He heard a new voice cut in through the roar, and struggled to remember the name of the speaker. *Why can I not focus?* His thoughts also seemed to come slowly.

After several seconds of hard thinking, Aragorn finally realized who was speaking. *Gandalf,* he thought triumphantly. The words echoed in his ears. "Sauron's wrath will be terrible, his retribution swift. The battle for Helm's Deep is over. The battle for Middle Earth is about to begin." Aragorn looked at Gandalf, knowing he should be trying harder to listen, and hoped that he'd be able to do so by looking at the speaker. As he turned, a sudden and unexpected jab of pain ran through Aragorn's body; he felt it starting at his right side, up through his chest, centering on his ribs, hovering around his arms for a moment, then very nearly heard it exploding in his head.

Hiding a wince expertly, Aragorn was relieved when the Istar changed the position of his gaze. Again, words rumbled through his head. "All our hope now lies in two little hobbits, somewhere in the wilderness." Aragorn struggled to remember. *Hobbits...haflings...met them at Bree...I let two of them down...Frodo...I let him go...* Somewhere along that line of thinking, Aragorn's mind suddenly decided it had enough. The blackness that had been held at bay suddenly swept in, covering Aragorn's world in darkness. The ranger felt himself slump forward on Hasufel's back, and held back a scream as agony washed through his senses. He heard someone...*Leg'las?*...call his name, and ask him what was wrong.

*I wish I knew, my friend.* Suddenly, the pain grew too great to bear, and Aragorn felt himself falling sideways from his saddle, towards the hard, war torn earth. He was unconscious before his head hit the ground.

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Legolas mentally urged Arod faster, ignoring the shocked stares of the Elvish and Human fighters who looked at the unconscious king-to-be. He felt unnatural heat radiating from his best friend, and also felt blood soaking the front of his tunic. A quick glance in Arod's mid-stride told Legolas that the side wound had gone all the way through, increasing Aragorn's loss of blood. Legolas looked down as his friend as Aragorn mumbled something incoherent and moaned. "Shh, mellon nin. We are nearly there." Aragorn grimaced and his left hand traveled to his side and clutched it tightly. "Ta awra..." Legolas felt his mouth go dry. For Aragorn to say something hurt... "Hush, Estel. Esta." The ranger moaned once more before falling slack in Legolas' arms once again.

The elf looked up at Helm's Deep as they fell into its shadow, and one warrior from the top called, "Is there any assistance you need, elf?" Legolas pulled on the reigns with one hand while the other wrapped itself around Aragorn's still body. "A healer. And a quiet place. Lord Aragorn is gravely injured." The warrior nodded quickly. "Aye, sire. I will meet you at the front second wall." Legolas nodded and kicked Arod forward, running him up the causeway. Indeed, the warrior that Legolas had spoken to was waiting inside, and gestured towards the high tower. "Come, a healer has already been sent." Legolas followed the swiftly moving man on Arod, watching the villagers carefully to be sure that none would be injured by Arod's hooves.

Legolas didn't bother dismounting from Arod as they entered the tower, and merely rode the great horse up several flights of stairs. When at last they reached the top floor, they found a man standing patiently, a satchel of herbs in his hands. Legolas ignored him momentarily and slid from Arod's back. He turned and carefully pulled the unresponsive Man from the horse, holding him carefully as he sank to the ground. Looking at the warrior that had brought them to the tower, he said, "Take Arod to the stables and give him the best of care. He's been through much."

The warrior nodded and took the reigns. He hesitated, however, when he saw a layer of blood coating the horse's hide. His gaze traveled to Aragorn's pale and sweating face, then quietly said, "Take care of him." Legolas frowned as he heard something akin to malice and happiness in the man's voice. However, without another word, the warrior took the reluctant horse and headed down the stairs.

Legolas turned his attention to the healer. "What happened to him?" Legolas shook his head. "I do not know. He hid his injuries from me and I knew naught he was injured until he fell from his horse." The healer gestured to a room behind him. "Come, bring him inside." Legolas slung one of Aragorn's arms over his shoulder and held it tightly. He moved gracefully under his burden and dragged the ranger into the room. The chamber was obviously one fit for a king, and Legolas belatedly realized that the warrior who'd taken them to the tower had known who Aragorn was. The elf decided to seek out and find that villager later.

With the healer's help, Legolas laid Aragorn on the bed and both turned as footsteps sounded on the stairs. "Aragorn, my lad!" Legolas looked at Gimli seriously as the dwarf took in his friend's appearance. "What happened to him?" Legolas shook his head and turned back to the healer, who said, "We must get this mail off him. It's only pressing onto the wounds." Legolas moved to the other side of the bed and sat carefully upon it. With skillful hands, Legolas untied the vest that covered the mail and pulled it open. The healer swallowed loudly as he saw the mail twisted and broken in two places. "No orc blade could have done that! This mail is the finest Rohan has to offer!"

Legolas looked at the mail carefully and noticed something odd about the mail. "Gimli, come look at this." The dwarf moved forward, and Legolas asked, "What can you see?" Gimli frowned and fingered the mail. "This armor is made of poor steel. It would do naught against a blade. In fact..." Without a word, Gimli brought forth a small dagger, placed the tip in one of the small loops, and pulled. The steel broke as though it were string. Everyone was silent as the implications hit them. "Gimli, what of your own mail?" Gimli tried the same test on his, but instead, the tip of the dagger broke. The dwarf pulled himself to his full four feet of height. "I will check around and check everyone else's mail. If they prove to be fit, I am afraid that someone may have been after Aragorn's life."

The dwarf left, and Legolas turned back to his friend. Brushing away the issue of the mail, he and the healer worked to get the mail shirt off Aragorn's still body, which proved easy once Legolas produced a dagger and cut it away. The two then carefully pulled the tunic from the ranger's body, and Legolas' eyes widened at the state of his friend. His abdomen and chest were a myriad of colorful bruises, some old, most new. His shoulder wounds from the Warg attack were red and inflamed. His upper arm still bled freely from his first encounter with the Uruk-hai. Legolas looked towards the side wound first.

"It's a stab wound, and it went all the way through. It also looks like the blade was twisted as it was pulled out." His eyes traveled to the chest wound, and he shook his head. "This one's deep as well." Legolas also noticed a flood of black blood around both wounds. Frowning, he touched it and sniffed it. "Orc blood. Whoever stabbed him had a weapon covered in orc blood." The healer frowned and asked, "Maybe the orc that attacked him had accidentally sliced one of its own?" Legolas shook his head. "Were we dealing with regular orcs, I might consider it. But these are Uruk-hai. They are not bred to make mistakes." Legolas was silent for a moment, then said, "Whoever attacked him was one of our own fighters."

The healer desperately jumped at another option. "Perhaps the attack was accidental? After all, it was night, and the heavens were raining down upon the battleground. It would be easy to make such a mistake." Legolas couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Mistake? You're suggesting that someone mistook Aragorn," Legolas looked to his friend's pale face, "For an Uruk-hai?" The healer shook his head, realizing that Legolas was becoming suspicious of him. "Peace, elf. I am not one who wants to see Lord Aragorn dead. I have lived among these warriors all my life. I just don't want to believe that one of them is responsible for this act of treachery."

Legolas nodded, hearing the sincerity in the healer's voice. "Very well. We should best be treating his wounds." The healer nodded and quickly pulled bandages, herbs, and a water skin from his satchel. Handing the water pouch to Legolas, he nodded to the fire and pot near it. "Heat up this water. We will need it to clean the wounds." Legolas moved to the side and nodded. The healer pushed away some locks from the ranger's face. "Poor lad, who have you angered this time?" Legolas smiled slightly, hearing Elrond's voice in that sentence. "Hurry, my prince. As soon as we clean and bandage the wounds, we will need to wrap his ribs as well. Though I do not believe they've pierced his lungs."

Legolas nodded and thanked the Valar for small miracles. He turned to the bed but a sight at the door made him freeze in mid-stride. The warrior that had taken them to the tower was standing there, a single arrow strung and pointed at Aragorn. "For his sake, elf, healer, step away from him." The healer gritted his teeth, reluctant to leave his charge, but stepped away. Legolas asked fiercely, "Who are you? Why are you doing this?" The man laughed manically, and it was in that moment that Legolas realized he was insane.

"Oh, elf. You never realize that he is Man. Weak, selfish, naïve, and a fool. Were it not for Isildur, we would never have had to fight the battle of Helm's Deep!" Legolas frowned. "You're blaming him for his predecessor's mistake?" The warrior growled, "His mistake also, elf! He should not have come here! He should have remained a ranger, roaming the lands, protecting other people! He should not have come back and tried to reclaim his title!" Legolas snapped, "He's only fulfilling his destiny! It is not his choice to become king! Throughout his life he's been opposed to the idea! Why do you think he chose exile and became a ranger?"

The warrior shrugged. "It does not concern me. All I know is that he's planning to take the throne of Gondor and lead her into ruin, setting the trend for the rest of the world!" Legolas shook his head, pitying the man "What did he do to you? Why do you hate him so?" The warrior's face twisted into a grimace and he ignored the tears that fell from his eyes. "He killed my daughter! He said he could save her, but he didn't! He lied and took her away, 'To Rivendell, where the greatest healers are,' he said. He told me he'd bring her back alive and well! But he didn't! All he brought back was a corpse! A body! And that's how he'll be delivered to Gondor!" Legolas jumped as the arrow was drawn back tighter and tried to bide some time. He knew Gimli and Gandalf should be arriving at the tower soon; he could hear Gimli's heavy steps near the base of the tower.

"Was it you who attacked him? Did you give him a faulty mail shirt?" The warrior nodded. "Yes, that was I. I'd hoped that he would get wounded in the battle, but he even survived the causeway! So when he was running past, heading towards the castle to find the king, I attacked him. He didn't know what was going on at first, not until I pulled my sword from his side. But he only defended; he didn't fight back. Then I punched him once and stabbed him in the chest. Even then, he only defended." The man was silent, then cried towards Aragorn, "Why didn't you fight back, coward? You could have finished me! You're a better fighter than I! So why didn't you fight back?"

Legolas intervened, "Because he values life! He would not have attacked you! And in the same way he values life, I am sure that he didn't mean for your daughter to die!" The warrior took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and when they opened, they were once again controlled. "No. It's because he is a coward. He is weak. Just like Isildur. But that ends today!" Legolas heard the tendons in the warrior's fingers tighten, and without a thought, lunged forward, placing himself between the warrior and Aragorn. The arrow whistled through the air and there was a sickening squish as arrow met flesh.

Legolas looked down in shock at the arrow that protruded from his chest. The warrior also looked horrified. Legolas looked back up at the warrior and the elf heard footsteps near the base of the tower, slowly advancing. "I was with Aragorn when he brought your daughter to Rivendell, human! I was there!" Legolas words were forced and strained, but he had to, at all cost, keep the human's attention on him. "You lie!" Legolas shook his head painfully, wincing as agony flared in his chest. "No. She was badly burned, and there was poison in her, was there not?" The look on the man's face told him he was correct. "She had no chance, human. Not Elrond, nor Elladan and Elrohir could save her! Aragorn did his best but failed! And he...he did not forgive himself. He still hasn't."

*FLASHBACK*

Legolas looked through the garden, wandering silently. Though his feet had no road, they led him skillfully through the foliage. He was looking for Aragorn, his friend. Only hours before, a girl that had been entrusted to Aragorn's care had died, her father's name on her lips. The girl had been caught in a forest fire after being attacked by spiders. Her body was young, and her wounds had been grievous. No one, not even the great healer Elrond himself, could save her.

"Aragorn? My friend, where are you?" No one answered, but it's not like the elf expected his grieving friend to answer. However, he suddenly stumbled across a trail that no one had taken the time to hide. Legolas looked at the steps and frowned. "Aragorn; you are so caught up in your mourning that you did not care to hide your trail. Very uncharacteristic." The elf once again took to walking, following the trail. He finally found his friend, leaning against a tree, his eyes shadowed. Legolas stood in front of him, hoping for a response, and his breath hitched in his throat as he saw the dagger that Aragorn was playing with.

"Aragorn, what are you doing?" The ranger was silent for a moment, then softly said, "I broke my promise, Legolas. I promised Harndun that I would return Nostela in good health. I told him that the healers of Rivendell would be able to help her, that they'd be able to save her." A moment of silence, and Aragorn held the dagger tightly in both hands. "I was blinded by hope that the child would live; I thought that her father could once again be happy." Legolas sat on the ground in front of Aragorn, giving him a few feet. "It is not wrong to hope, Aragorn." The ranger smiled grimly. "It is wrong to lie, Legolas." The elf shook his head. "You did not know that she would not live."

Aragorn shook his head and turned his attention to the dagger. Without a word, he suddenly slid the point of the dagger across his wrist, slicing the main artery. Blood started to spill out, dripping down Aragorn's arm, and Legolas cried out and hurried to his side. However, before he could get there, Aragorn turned the dagger around and slit his other wrist. "Aragorn! What are you doing?" The dagger dropped to the ground, and Aragorn closed his eyes. "She's dead, Legolas. I deserve no better." Legolas panicked as he saw Aragorn's face paling before his eyes.

"No! I will not let you leave us like this!" Moving quickly, Legolas pulled his cloak from his shoulders and tore several strips of the Elven fabric. He started to bind the ranger's wrists, and his panic rose as he realized that Aragorn was already unconscious. "No, Aragorn. Please don't do this to us!" With his wounds bound tightly, Legolas looked around frantically, getting his bearings. With a determined nod, Legolas knelt and pulled the ranger to his feet, half carrying him. "No, mellon nin. You will live. You have to."

Legolas arrived at palace fifteen minutes later, and Elladan and Elrohir greeted him at the door. "What happened to Estel? What's wrong?" Legolas growled, "He slit his wrists." Both brothers paled at this news, and Legolas snapped, "What are you waiting for? Elrohir, go get Elrond! Elladan, help me. We'll be in his room, Elrohir." Elladan slid under his brother's arm and looked at his pale face. "Oh, tithen gwador, what did you do?"

Elrond sat silently in his study, reading a book of tales, as he often did in the evening. This time it was more out of necessity than habit; he needed to get his mind off the young child he could not save. However, a sudden racket at the door drew his attention and he frowned as Elrohir slid into the room, panting, his eyes wild. "Ada, you must come quickly! It's Estel!" Elrond was on his feet swiftly and asked, "What happened?" Elrohir stammered fearfully, "H-he tried to k-kill himself, Ada." Elrond paled and his mouth hung open. "It's because of the girl! I knew he would do something stupid!" Elrond followed his son down several hallways until they came to Estel's room.

"Elrond! Hurry, please! I did not know what to do! I bound his wrists as best I could and carried him here from the garden." Elrond nodded, holding up a placating hand to calm Legolas. "Easy, my prince. You did well. Elladan, go get me some healing herbs; we need to get these wounds closed up. Elrohir, I'll need bandages. No Legolas, stay where you are. I might need you help." The twins dashed out of the room, slipping on the marble floors as they did so, and Legolas turned his attention to Elrond. "Is he going to die?" Elrond ignored the question and leant over his youngest son. "You did well, Legolas. The bleeding has mostly stopped, but he is not out of danger. Get a blanket and cover him; he will be cold from loss of blood."

Legolas did as he was asked and soon, despite the warmth of the room, Aragorn was shivering. About the same time, Elladan and Elrohir reentered the room and gave their father the requested items. Elrond did not speak as he set to work, and by the time he was done, both the twins and Legolas were pacing with worry. Elrond smiled tiredly. "Do not fear, he will be alright." Legolas shook his head. "Nay, my lord. His body shall be all right. It is his mind we should still worry about."

*END FLASHBACK*

Harndun flinched. "What happened after that?" Legolas' words were whispered now, and his tunic was stained with both his and Aragorn's blood. "He woke up some time later, returned the body of Nostela to you, and it took us two years to pull him out of depression. The death of your daughter almost killed him, Harndun, and left a black mark on his heart. He changed the moment he drew that dagger across his skin." Legolas paused for breath, and then painfully whispered, "He left, headed into the Wild once more after those two years. He didn't come back until he arrived at Rivendell with the Hobbits. That was thirty years in the Wild, Harndun. Thirty years in which Aragorn could have given into his pain and ended it all! But he didn't, because he is not weak as you have him out to be."

A sudden sharp pain from Legolas' chest caused him to cry out and sink to his knees. The healer knelt next to him, holding him carefully, and turned his eyes to Harndun. "Both the prince and Aragorn will die if you do not let me care for them." Harndun's eyes seemed to waver for a moment, as if the tale had changed his mind, then they once again became focused. "No. They will both die. Neither one of them deserve to live." Another voice behind Harndun growled, "And neither do you, traitor!" Harndun swung around and saw Gimli's axe headed for his face. Harndun brought his bow up and the axe sliced through it, but gave Harndun a little time to move. Rolling over the threshold of the door, Harndun dashed past Gimli and headed towards the stairs.

He froze, however, rather suddenly, and Gimli looked in disbelief at the dagger that protruded from the back of Harndun's head. The man fell to the ground and Gimli reversed the path of the dagger with his eyes. "Aragorn..." The ranger was standing, albeit shakily, his arm still extended from when he'd thrown the dagger. Gandalf dashed up behind Gimli and saw Aragorn. The Man stayed on his feet only a second later before crumpling to the ground. With unnatural speed, Gandalf ran forward and caught the ranger before he could fall and held him tightly. Gimli looked at Legolas, who was focusing on nothing, his eyes glazed. "Legolas!" The dwarf charged forward as Legolas passed out, and he caught the elf carefully, avoiding the arrow. Gimli patted the unconscious elf on the back. "It'll be okay, laddie. Just rest now." The healer looked on in shock at the concern the dwarf had for the elf. It was more than odd, but then again, the healer decided, he'd seen such stranger.

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Aragorn battled uphill to regain consciousness. When he did, agony throbbed through his body, and he wasn't sure waking up was such a good idea. However, sudden memories came flooding back on him, the most prominent: seeing Legolas with an arrow in his chest. Aragorn's eyes snapped open and he looked around quickly. A restraining hand on his arm caught his attention. "Easy, Aragorn. You gave all of us quite a scare. We nearly lost you." Aragorn's eyes came to rest on Gandalf's face. "What happened? Where's Legolas, is he alright?" His words came out in a rushed whisper, and Gandalf nodded. "He's healing, Aragorn. He saved your life by jumping in front of an arrow meant for you."

Aragorn looked around, trying to gain his bearings. "Where am I?" Gandalf took pity on his confusion. "In the high tower of Helm's Deep. You were wounded badly, and there was also poison working through your veins. You have been unconscious for nearly a week." Aragorn closed his eyes and tried to dispel the fog from his brain. "Harndun was here...what happened?" Gandalf's eyebrows arched. "You killed him, though I do not know where you found the strength to get to your feet and throw a dagger. But you stopped his escape, and ended his wrath upon you." Aragorn frowned. "No, no I didn't." Gandalf frowned and was about to ask what Aragorn meant when the ranger's eyes drifted closed and he winced. "Rest, Aragorn. When you next awake, I shall bring Legolas to you." The ranger was already asleep.

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The bandages that stretched across his chest inhibited Legolas' usual grace. He looked at Aragorn, who was getting dressed, and asked, "I wonder how Harndun knew you would be king?" Aragorn grimaced. "I do not wish to discuss that matter any further, Legolas. It holds too many memories." The ranger tied his belt to his waist and strapped his sword to it. Legolas watched as he moved to pick up his dagger and sheath it. However, his hand hesitated as it reached for the Elven weapon and Legolas closed his eyes. It was the same dagger that Aragorn had used to try and end his life so many years ago. When he opened them, he saw Aragorn's dagger resting safely in its sheath, and Aragorn was fingering his fight wrist.

The thin white scar that ran across the skin gave testimony that not even Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur, lord of the Dunédain, and king of Gondor, was invincible. However, Aragorn quickly pulled his gloves on, covering up the marks, and turned to Legolas, who had a knowing look in his eyes. The ranger moved to go past him, and his best friend rested a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "It is over, Aragorn. You needn't fear the past anymore." Aragorn looked up, his eyes troubled, and his voice was hoarse as he said, "No, Legolas. It is not over. Nostela had an older brother. And he was very much enraged that she died. He challenged me to a battle and lost, and swore revenge. Legolas, it will not be over. Not until enough of my blood has been spilt to pay for that crime."

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Harod sharpened his sword expertly, then gave it a few slashes in the cool night air. It made a whooshing sound as it sliced through the slight humidity. He knew from listening in on scouts that Aragorn, his pesky Woodland elf friend, the rather annoying short dwarf, and the wizard were going to be riding the perimeter of Helm's Deep, to be sure there were no lingering orcs. They were not going to take any warriors, so confident they were of their skill. Yes, vengeance would be his, Harod decided. Very soon. He looked over his weapons and nodded his approval. There was also a small creature squirming in a bag, and Harod grinned. The wizard would not be able to use his powers. Four sets of shackles attached to trees waited for their prisoners. They were immovable, and Harod knew they'd hold his victims.

Harod turned and looked at the dawn. He frowned; the sun had been rising red for the past week. "They killed him...I'll have to do this on my own." The thought thrilled Harod, and he took his sword. Kneeling with it, he closed his eyes and said, "I swear, by my father's blood, and on my sword, that Nostela will be honored tonight. Vengeance shall soothe her soul, and Aragorn will pay."

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Yeah! It's finished! So, anyone like this and want a sequel? Not gonna write a sequel until I get ten reviews asking/threatening/telling me to write one! Tell your friends! Read and tell me what you think!

Sequel posted : Continue on to When Present Becomes Reailty