Post by Recommended on Aug 16, 2006 13:10:02 GMT -5
Admin Note: This work is being posted by the site admin as a Novice Writers Recommended story. The author may or may not be a member of the site, but they will be able to respond to any reviews you leave. So please review as you normally would.
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...
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.
~
~
~
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.
~
~
~
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
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.
~
~
~
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.
~
~
~