#aragorn x oc

[quillofspirit]

Chapter 2 - Réod

Tropes Slight cowboy AU (some elements only), platonic relationship. tw loss, grief, some injuries mentionned Word count; 3,100

Read on Ao3 here

Chapter 1 here

Chapter 2 – Réod

The fire crackled between well placed rocks and kept Aragorn warm despite the chill night air. He looked at the sleeping woman across the fire pit.

There was something familiar in her story, from the little he knew, and also quite perplexing. He struggled to understand how a woman so naturally at ease with horses and with a name like hers would feel anything else than relief knowing she was heading back to her homeland. She worked hard for her skills, that much was clear by the defined muscles and the confidence of her movement, which could only be the result of practice, lots of it. But parts of it seemed to come to her naturally, like instinct forces the foal to run, or the wolf to hunt.

His travels allowed him to meet many people, royals and subjects alike, those bound to the law of the land and those to their ancestors. His time as a ranger meant he also felled many orcs, goblins and other foul smelling creature, and he found they too had habits and ways of seeing the world that felt central to their identity. It linked them with their land and their people.

He knew within meeting another where they came from, there was always something to give away their origin, whether they meant to keep it from his ranger's ears and his keen eyes or not. She did not appear to be hiding her ancestry, and he felt confident that she would not do so intentionally. Unless she did not know it herself.

She was curled up by the fire, head resting on her arm. She'd be sore tomorrow, he knew from experience, but she was deep asleep before he could voice any concern. Though from what she'd admitted earlier, she didn't need it. Leaving everything you knew demands strength and courage.

If he looked long enough, he thought he could still see traces of their first meeting in the way her eyebrow furrowed at the slightest sound. He struggled to explain the shock of seeing a woman arguing with a horse in the forest. It should not have surprised him, he grew up with people and spent time with others who had a deep connection to their horses. Unexpected, that was the word. It had been unexpected.

Sparks flew up to the night sky, blending into the glittering stars, and Aragorn let his eyes drift to the horse snoozing behind the woman. It looked asleep, its bottom lip hanging loosely and quivering occasionally, but he knew better.

"You have looked after her well Réod," he spoke lowly in Elvish.

The horse's ears twitched and he shifted his balance.

"One might think you are returning a favour."

His eyes opened and looked at him, with a twinkle that wasn't from the fire or the stars, but something much more akin to wisdom.

A log cracked loudly in the fire and the woman shifted in her sleep. At the sound, Réod stepped closer to her and put his nose to her cheek. Her brow relaxed at the warm and familiar touch, and she sighed, pulling the cloak closer to her chin.

He hadn't responded to her offer yet, and if he had any doubts about her honesty before, the obvious care from the horse solidified his belief. One could always trust a horse's instinct. And, he knew he would not outrun Réod.

Éostré woke with a sore neck. She couldn't be surprised when her sleeping accommodation consisted of her cloak and some loose dirt. Still, she sat up gingerly and found the annoyance stubbornly holding on to her mind vanquished by the beauty of her surroundings. The sun streamed between tall trees where birds chirped and trilled in the early morning, the small creek twinkling in the shy sun light. Except for the occasional gallop between pasture, she rarely had the occasion to appreciate a sunrise. She breathed the moment in deeply, finding the chill air – still untouched by the sun – invigorating.

A soft splash broke through the singing of the birds, and she smiled fondly at Réod making his way into the shallow water, amused by the sound and the sparkle of the drops. The horse snickered when water hit his nose, and he paused briefly before pawing at the stream with vigour. While she laughed, Éostré wondered if the will of the horse could win out over the relentless water, and was all the more warmed at the thought of that horse by her side again.

She got up from her sleeping spot with minimal grimaces and whines, though not without effort, and looked for the Ranger, disappointment snipping at her optimism when she didn't find him. In truth, though he had not verbally accepted her offer, she hoped he might travel with her at least part of the way. It would make for an easier time, and she did really want the company.

She was reassured when her eyes fell on his cloak laid by the fire, and wondered if he had slept at all. When rough whiskers tickled her, she turned to see Réod had abandoned the battle of wits to nuzzle at her arm. Regardless of the Ranger's decision, she had a loyal and trustworthy companion by her side.

"I'm glad you slept well," said Aragorn as he appeared from the forest, "we should break fast and travel while the sun shines."

Réod startled at the sound of his voice, displeased by his interruption as it moved Éostré's attention to the Ranger. The woman chuckled at the horse's spark of jealousy and offered a few scratches, which he accepted, happy to compromise.

She had heard whispers, some of it in revered tones, about the skills of rangers, those that seemed to be invisible unless they wanted to be seen. It was the first time the thought brought her some comfort, as she did not tend to be unnoticed, and neither did Réod. She kept hope that their journey would be unimpeded, but knew in her gut it might not be so.

It did not take long for them to find a comfortable pace, with Réod firmly by her side and Aragorn leading. By the time the sun shone above their heads, they had made good progress and Aragorn fallen back in step with Éostré.

"How did you come to form such a formidable friendship with another's horse?" His voice carried without much effort, and she wondered how well he would sound in a great hall. She smiled as she answered.

"I raised Réod from a foal. His dam passed not long after his birth, and I couldn't stand by and let him follow her. He was so fragile still, but he had a desire to live," she looked at the horse trotting ahead as she talked. "By the time I finished training him, some of the Lords had heard of him and were ready to purchase him from me."

The breath she let out then told him how much that choice had cost her. She watched the horse fondly as he quickly grazed on enticing leaves. Her reticence to have Réod accompany her made sense now, not many would believe the horse had followed her despite her protests. She would be treated a thief by the Lords and an arsonist by the innkeeper. She could start a new life in Rohan, where her talents would be highly regarded. 'She might be surprised how at home she feels' Aragorn thought to himself.

"My family didn't have much, and that's how I could contribute. Both my parents passed two years later, and I started to work at the inn. When I saw Réod again, I knew I had to stay."

"In spite of the owner?" Aragorn asked, though he thought he knew the answer.

"I would fight the earth, the sky and all the magic in this world for that horse, and I won't be the one to abandon him again." she said.

Aragorn smiled, thinking of his own dear mother. Éostré continued

"His new owner liked to stay nearby, and Réod always had a place in my – the stable."

Her smile lost a bit of shine, and she almost hid it well.

"I suppose it is mine no longer," she shrugged. "It never was, but people called it so and I spent years caring for the place and the horses. I have the scars to prove it."

She added, and there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she showed her hands and forearms. Aragorn was surprised by the amount, her sun-tanned skin peppered with scars, big and small.

"This one I got from a bad splinter. This one from a troubled horse before we found out he was unwell."

"So, I just felt like it was mine. I might have grown old and happy there."

She reached for her back and stroked a hand over her shoulder absentmindedly.

Behind them, Réod halted and blew air, almost at the same moment Aragorn stopped and put a hand on the hilt of his sword. The horse snorted and looked at the forest uneasily while Éostré grabbed the hilt and nimbly swung herself on the saddle.

From the shadows, three rugged men appeared. They sneered at the group and strode towards them with every confidence they would walk away with a good horde. Two other had used the distraction to block retreat, and Aragorn turned to them while Réod and Éostré faced the front.

"Aye boys, what do you suppose the lady has for us?"

It was a mean looking one in the front, with an ugly smirk curving his lips. Before Aragorn could answer, Éostré was advancing with Réod.

"This lady has only the edge of her sword and the might of her steed to offer those who would impede her travels."

She continued through the men's shock.

"I would advise you consider your options, Sirs and let us pass."

The man who had spoken looked at Éostré, his smirk widening like he was already enjoying how he could break through the facade. The woman stood tall in her saddle, and she looked him straight in the eye, but the sun shone brightly behind her head, her hair the colour of autumn leaves as the light passed through each strand, and he struggled to hold her glare. The bandit told himself he needed to keep and eye on that damn horse instead, and he faked a laugh, pointing his sword at the horse.

"Now, now, we've asked gently! Thought you nobles were s'posed to be courteous."

Today was the day their instincts failed them, but turning back now was admitting defeat to a woman and her horse, and that he couldn't stomach. She pushed Réod closer, and he was forced to look down as the sun burned his eyes.

"The lady's been generous enough to let you keep your tongue, to expect more speaks only of your greed." she spoke with confidence and grabbed the rope at her hip.

Réod was growing impatient, his ears pinned back and unable to stand still, and Aragorn didn't know how long Éostré would hold him back. The two men at the back of the group were stealing looks at each other, slowly edging back into the woods.

When Aragorn spoke, the men startled. They'd quite forgotten him.

"I wouldn't test the lady or the horse, they're quite unforgiving."

"Ah, so the guard dog talks, she must be paying you handsomely."

Éostré did not take kindly to his tone and calmly adjusted the rope in her hands. The man seemed amused by the gesture.

"He's not known for his patience," Aragorn replied.

"Neither am I." Éostré added.

In one swift movement, she'd circled the looped rope above her head and sent it towards the three. Seeing the rope come, the bandit grabbed his sword with both hands and moved to block it. Instead, it slipped down the blade and settled around his wrists. At the same moment, Éostré wrapped her end on the hilt of the saddle and Réod took quick steps back, squeezing the bandit's wrists and sending his sword clattering to the ground. In less than a breath, the man was disarmed and caught.

"Are you happy with your little trick, lady?" He spit at her.

Éostré laughed at him and pulled a little on the rope to remind him of his position.

"Well, you are now alone and unarmed."

Seeing their leader vulnerable convinced his friends to flee back into the trees. His eyes betrayed his fury, but he stayed silent now.

"Go find them before they decide you're not worth saving." She said.

A flick of her wrist loosened the rope enough that it slipped off, and the man massaged his red skin, hesitating. Éostré interrupted his planning.

"Leave the sword, you won't need it."

Réod pawed the ground aggressively as the bandit ran back into the woods, disappearing between trunks and bushes

.

With the men fully chased off, Éostré stroked Réod's wide neck.

"One would think you've had practice intimidating ruffians," Aragorn offered as he sheathed his sword.

Éostré chuckled and slid down her saddle.

"I am in the habit of dealing with animals over 40 stones trying to trample me, I am not, however, in the habit of being intimidated by an overpowered babble of boys better suited as jesters."

Aragorn hid his laugh in a cough and pet Réod's head, whispering words of comfort. She didn't understand it, or know what language it was, but it had a sweet melody, she noted. If she had been more familiar with the elven-tongue, she would know he was expressing fond concerns about escorting a woman with her temperament, but the horse knew it to be good-matured teasing and agreed.

As they walked, the forest slowly gave way to valleys decorated by bushes blooming little yellow flowers. Around them, the sparse trees grew fewer, leaving only the yellow grassy hills. Instead of trees, thick lupine flowers grew in bushels, like spears of vivid yellow lining the road.

Réod kept grabbing handfuls of them any time he could, trying to hide it from the two walking behind. Éostré smiled fondly at him everytime, but her gaze seemed far away. Aragorn was content with only the breeze to occupy the silence, he didn't feel it was his place to prod. She, however, could bear the heaviness of silence no longer, and though her stare remained far, she addressed him.

"I have grown fond of the purple and pink kind, but I had never seen so many yellow lupines. Réod seems to think they taste wonderful."

He smiled at that.

"Horses tend to like the white ones most, but I prefer the seeds of the blue one."

The woman almost missed her next step, so concerned with the words she heard.

"You – you eat them?"

"Once prepared, they make for a sweet nut-like pea."

"How long was it before you started sharing your horses' preferences?"

Aragorn shook his head and watched Réod take a mouthful of the sweet flowers, ripping it up to the roots with his enthusiasm. The horse was surprised by the unexpected appearance and nickered before attempting to jump away from the roots flying around his head threateningly.

Éostré and Aragorn laughed as they watched Réod gallop away from the terrible danger suddenly emerging.

Over the next few days of travel, Éostré often found Aragorn looking after Réod. His affection did not go unnoticed by the horse, who had grown into the habit of using the man's broad back as a scratching post, and to the woman's surprise, he let him.

One morning, he woke and found the spot where Éostré had curled up to sleep empty. Not one to give in to fear, he called for her, receiving nothing but the waking snort of Réod, who looked startled not to see her.

Aragorn found footsteps in the soft dirt just as Réod picked up the same direction. The Ranger grabbed his sword out of habit, he doubted something might have happened without him or the horse hearing it.

A short but brisk walk had them climbing a small hill, upon which sat Éostré. She was on her knees, arms tightly wound around herself and tears falling freely down her cheeks. Empathy grabbed hold of his heart, and Aragorn sat beside her in the grass, Réod on the other side.

She did not acknowledge either of them, sighing shakily and wiping her cheeks with her sleeves, drawing calming breaths before she broke the silence, her voice scratchy. It betrayed how long she'd been sitting here, alone with her thoughts.

"I had a vivid dream that brought memories forth. I did not want to wake you before the sun did."

She looked at him and forced a smile on her lips.

"I saw a few rabbits around, I bet we could catch one for breakfast."

Aragorn mulled over her words, and his answer had her smile faltering.

"Do not let your burdens weight on you alone when you are not, Éostré."

She turned back to the horizon and took in another shaky breath. Then, she closed her eyes and a big tear rolled down her face.

"When I was little, my neighbour fell from his roof one day and I was the only one around. His arm and two ribs were broken from the fall, and his wrist was in bad shape. I was too young to know how to help, even though I wanted to."

She kept her eyes closed as she spoke.

"I got on one of his horses and fetched help. She was the biggest mare I've ever seen, with a beautiful grey coat and intelligent eyes. I learned to ride on her, my neighbour insisted since my family didn't have one of our own."

"One morning, years later, the mare came to me as I walked to his house. She seemed calm, and intent on appreciating the warm summer sun. She gave her last breath that day, laid on soft green grass and belly full."

She was no longer sobbing, but small tears fell down her cheeks as she talked. The sun was barely over the hills, shy fingers stroking the tops of bushes and making the drops on her face glitter.

"Today marks the 5 year anniversary, and I am no closer to feeling at home than I ever felt caring for that mare."

Wiping her cheeks, she looked to the sky and stroked Réod's shiny coat, mind far from where they sat. They stayed watching the sunrise until it was well over the hills and Éostré's stomach grumbled its discontentment.

She chuckled despite herself and turned to Aragorn.

"Who'd you think can catch breakfast faster?"

I love Réod more everytime

[mirkwoodshewolf]

IATCOD Chap. 28; Plan in motion

*Author's note*

This was a chapter long in the making due to life getting in the way but I finally got around a week ago to finally get this chapter done. Not a lot of action in this, just some plot settings to get ready for the main action that'll happen the next few chapters. But I hope you all enjoy this chapter no matter what. And yes I had to use the death whistle from Puss in boots the Last wish so credit goes to Dreamworks for that. 

NEXT CHAPTER

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_________________________________________________________________

After Cain had returned back to Hela's chambers and told everyone what Druig had suggested, there was silence in the room. Everyone pondering in concern, fear, and denial.

"And you're sure there is no other way?" asked Gandalf.

"It has worked one other time. With Fili and Kili sons of Dis, nephews of Thorin Oakenshield. Hela gave to them the very gauntlets she wears that holds our kins celestial stones. When Sauron took full control over her body, the stones used both their bodies as a host to banish Sauron's spirit from her very body before releasing them."

"Bofur and my uncle Oin did tell me that tale when I was still a lad. Never before had they been both in awe and struck with terror at the sight of what happened that night."

"I too was there when it happened. Never would I have thought that two Dwarves could hold the power of nine Celestial gems and live." Said Legolas recalling that night at Bard's house.

"But Merry still needs time to heal. He's not ready." Proclaimed Pippin worriedly.

"And the raw power of a Celestial's stone is nothing to be trifled with. I have seen what gripping a celestial stone can do." Aragorn said with a distant yet horrified look in his eye as he remembered one incident with some wild men in the North when they came to take out the remaining members of the Dúnedain.

The chief of the wild men had foolishly thought he could take Thena's stone for himself to enhance his weapon's strength and durability. But when he went to take the stone from Hela's gauntlet after ripping it from her arm, his body began to crack and burn like firewood.

His screams sounding like something both unholy and holy at the same time. His eyes became soulless white and gold until his body exploded into a pure light before Hela managed to contain Thena's stone once again.

"How do we not know that the same could happen to Merry if he takes hold of Druig's stone?" continued Aragorn.

"He wouldn't have suggested Merry if he didn't feel some sort of connection to him. Trust me Aragorn, I don't like this either but we are running out of options and out of time." Cain said as thunder rumbled once again and the red lightning began to flash in the sky once more. Cain and Aragorn turned to Merry and Aragorn said to him.

"The choice is yours Merry." Everyone turned to the hobbit who still looked exhausted from his Black breath recovery. Merry slowly stood up, Pippin tried to help but he held his hand out to refuse help. He slowly walked to the center of the room and said to everyone present.

"Since starting this quest back in the borders of the Shire, Pip and I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. But even then I didn't care, all I wanted was to see Frodo away from the danger. Only to find out that he must bravely face the danger himself to destroy the biggest threat to our home. And Sam, loyal hearted that he is, he willingly without a second thought vowed to go alongside Frodo even if it costs him his own life. Boromir died to save Pippin and I. Without a second thought, he kept bravely fighting until his last breath took hold. I have lost—many of my friends, and thousands-nay millions more all over Middle Earth will suffer if Hela is not awakened. If there is a chance to free her from her curse, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to play my part in saving Middle Earth."

Everyone took to heart of what Merry had to say. He walked back over to Druig's stone and called for him once again. The black onyx stone glew bright until a golden light shot out once again and appearing before him once again was Druig.

"You have made your decision." He spoke down to the young hobbit.

"I have." Replied Merry.

"Then what say you, Meriadoc Brandybuck?" Merry took a deep breath before exhaling through his nose and he said.

"How do we save Hela from herself?" A slight grin came across Druig's face then he told Merry.

"Take my stone within your hand, once you feel the full strength of my power coursing through your body, press the stone to the crown of your head. And we shall become One mind, One body, One soul."

"You both shall become one? But will Merry still be there? Your soul won't overwhelm his?" asked Pippin.

"He has accepted the terms young Peregrin Took." Druig said turning towards the other hobbit. "Time is of the dire most essence now, and we must bring her back now before it is too late." Druig's spirit then shot back into his stone and the glow of the stone faded.

"He's right Pip. If we're going to do this, it has to be now. If Hela is truly dying from this spell, Druig and I need to act now. And we've already lost a day already." Merry and Pippin looked at each other then after a moment of staring at each other, Pippin gave him a nod.

"Pippin, come join us." Cain said as he took out his knife and he slide the blade across his palm. Pippin walked over towards the others who were now starting to huddle on the other side of the room.

Using his blood, Cain drew along the floor a Celestial rune circle to protect everyone within the tower from any Celestial power outbursts. Everyone stood within the circle while Merry stood over the table where Druig's stone rested.

He turned to the others as Cain now began to wrap his wounded palm and he gave the young hobbit a strong nod. Merry nodded to him and took a deep breath as he reached out and took the stone within his bare hand.

As he grasp the stone into his palm, Merry's arm began to slowly crackle open like lava seeping through Mount Doom itself, he fell to his knees in agony as the power of the Mind celestial began coursing through his veins. But he kept a firm grip on the stone as well as holding his enclosed fist with his free hand.

The group watched in despair as Merry was forced to endure this pain alone. Pippin softly whimpered and said.

"We have to make him let it go! He's hurting can't you see he's in such agony!"

"No Pippin, we cannot interfere at this point." Gandalf warned him as he held him back.

"Merry?" cried out Aragorn. Merry continued to grunt and cry in agony.

"Merry talk to us." Cain ordered. As Merry continued to groan and pant in agony he finally spoke up.

"I'm fine. I'm alright." Slowly he raised his enclosed hand as he felt the full power of the Mind Celestial coursing through his entire body. But even with such power coursing through him, it was causing the gem to feel so heavy, he could barely lift his own arm.

However Merry knew he had to do what Druig had told him. Using his free hand, he guided his enclosed fist towards his head and with a cry, he open his palm and pressed the stone into his very head before a flash of light and wave of red energy shot out hitting the barrier but knocking down all the furniture in place. Then Merry fell onto his back with a thud and Druig's gem embedded into his very skin.

"MERRY!" cried Pippin as he ran through the barrier. Everyone crowded over him but Cain warned them.

"Don't move him!" Gimli held Pippin back as both Gandalf and Cain knelt over the unconscious Merry. Cain used his enhanced senses and could hear Merry's heart beating normally. "His heartrate and breathing is normal." Gandalf waved a hand over Merry's face.

"And his spirit is still in-tact." Suddenly Merry's eyes shot open but they glowed the same golden light that Druig produces whenever he used his mind controlling abilities. Cain and Gandalf backed away as did everyone else as Merry now stood up but there was a difference to the way he stood. He looked down at his hands and he said.

"I almost forgotten what it's like to have an actual body."

"Is that you Druig?" asked Cain.

"No, it's Sauron. Of course it's me." He turned over to Pippin and said, "And don't worry Pippin, Merry's still here. I just need to take control when performing the spell. However I do need to request something of you all. Performing this spell, requires my full concentration and power. Both Merry's body and Hela's will be completely defenseless, so someone needs to stand guard over us in case time runs out." They all turned to one another before Haldir spoke up.

"I'll do it." Everyone turned to him and Haldir said as he looked to Cain, "It's what Hela would've done for me." Cain nodded.

"I admire your heart and loyalty to my sweet Hela, but you'll need a better weapon than your own. Take Aeglos and place the tip of the blade to Thena's gemstone. It was once the host of her powers, and should any Deviants come to the tower seeking her or my power, you'll need the power of the Celestial of War to aid you." Druig told him. Haldir nodded then Merry walked over towards Hela.

He stood over the head of the bed and placed his hands on each side of Hela's temples. Golden light emanated from his palms and bounced between his palms and Hela's temples which also began to glow. Soon the small glow from Merry's eyes grew bigger until his whole eyes were nothing but a pure golden light.

"It's happening. Now it's up to him and Merry. The rest of us will continue to get the people down below and prepare for the Deviants as well as the Celestials of Sauron's attack." Said Cain. As the others began to leave the tower leaving Haldir alone, Cain said to him, "Haldir," the march warden turned to him. "Take it from someone who has tasted vengeance for over 2 Ages. When Nergal shows himself, do not engage him alone. You will wait for us to aid you in taking him down, understood?" Haldir turned his head with a narrowed, hateful look in his eyes. "Understood?" Cain asked in a firmer tone.

"Go help the others in getting the people to the lower levels of the city. They've suffered enough at the hands of a leader who could care less about them." Haldir said as he went over and took Aeglos from Hela's side.

Cain turned but had a suspicious look on his face as he left to join the others to help evacuate and prepare Gondor for the oncoming Deviants.

Within Hela's mind, both Druig and Merry walked through a dark chasm with the only light coming from the very floor they walked upon. However the floor itself was a sea of souls glowing a pure blue light.

"Is this really what's inside Hela's mind?"

"We're only at the gate. Everyone has their own unique gateway into their subconscious." explained Druig.

"So what is it that we're looking for?"

"A tree. A very large tree."

"A tree?" asked Merry unsurely.

"Being the Mind Celestial I've come to see that in everyone's mind, no matter the race or species, the gates of their minds hold a very special tree to which I've called them the Tree of Life. Each branch representing a person's memory or thought. It's what makes them the person or creature that they are. And if my hunch is correct, Hela's tree may not look like it once was." As they treaded through the ankle-deep water, Merry began to grow weary of the souls that were moaning and weeping.

"Who are all these people?"

"The souls that had been lost but could not move on. Remember Hela is the bridge between the Seen and the Unseen world. Souls pass through her in order to move onto Mandos' halls, even under this spell they continue to come to her. But they're trapped here until she gives them her blessing."

'You are correct.' A voice spoke up. The boys stopped and Druig stood in front of Merry protectively as a spirit soon raised itself up from the water before taking the shape of King Theoden.

"Theoden King?" Merry gawked.

"Hello Meriadoc." He then turned to Druig and said, "And you must be her twin brother Lord Druig. Hela told me many stories of you and your sister Makkari the Speedster when I was a lad." Druig nodded and Merry said.

"Theoden King, we're looking for Hela's Tree of Life, can you take us to it?"

"I can but I must warn you. The spell that has imprisoned not only us but Hela herself has grown too strong. If you dive too deep into her mind, you too may also suffer the same fate as she."

"That's a risk we have to take. I won't leave here without knowing my sister will be okay." Answered Druig firmly. Theoden's spirit looked at both of them as Merry gave him a strong nod.

"Very well." He faded back into a spirit ball and began the light to guide them through the darkness and towards where they needed to go. Eventually they came upon a grand willow tree that stood nearly as tall as Treebeard himself, but just as Druig had thought, the lush green vines had been dried up and were starting to crumbling.

Within the vines were small thought bubbles that would normally be as bright as bubbles should be, but they were now dimmed and grey with faded memories hazed over.

"This is Hela's Tree of Life?" asked Merry.

"Yes. But it's worse than I imagined it would be." They walked up to the tree as Theoden's voice spoke to them.

'Remember, dive too deep and you too may suffer the same fate as she. Though I do hope you are successful in returning our Hela home. Good luck.' His spirit then dove back into the sea of souls. Merry walked up to the tree and touched the main trunk. He could feel just how malnourished the tree was.

"Any ideas on how we can fix it?"

"It's not up to us, it's up to Hela. Only she can mend her own Tree."

"But how are we going to find her?" Druig walked around Hela's tree until he had found what he'd expect to find. Glowing in a haunting green and black aura of magic was a large mushroom that was attached to one of the roots of Hela's tree. The light pulsating and almost sounding like a heartbeat but what had Druig in awe was the mushroom was showing a vision much like Hela's thought bubbles on the vines of her trees had.

"I think I might have found her." Merry came around and knelt down beside him. The two of them stared at the mirrored image of what looked like a large green pasture (much like the Shire) and Hela was out folding laundry. "You ready for this?"

"Let's do it." Answered Merry. Druig took his hand and together with their free hands, they reach out and touched the mushroom all while their eyes glowed a pure gold. The second they touched the mushroom, the black and green aura shot out like lighting trying to fend off Druig's and Merry's touch. Both the Celestial and the Hobbit groaned and cried out in pain but they kept a firm hold on the mushroom. Until they were encompassed by the green light.

"Merry? Merry! Wake up!" Merry's eyes shot open and he saw Druig kneeling over him. "Easy there halfling." Merry held his head in pain as he let out a small groan.

"What happened?"

"We got absorbed by the curse and sent into this false world. I must say I'm impressed by your mental stamina, any normal person would've crumbled by now. Think there might be a future for you being a Mind Celestial." Druig held his hand and helped Merry onto his feet.

"Hela once said I would make a clever one."

"And for myself I can see why she said that." Merry gave a slight smile before asking.

"Now that we're here, how do we find Hela? This place is nearly as big as the Shire."

"We just start walking. Hopefully we'll come across her. And we may just find out just what exactly this curse is doing to her." The two then proceeded to walk once again onward this time through the peaceful green pastures.

Back in the real world, Cain was standing along the very edge of the city where Denethor had leapt to his death. He could sense the very change in the air from the darkened clouds, the difference in the lightning and the very air seemed denser as if a dark spell had once again been placed over all of Middle Earth.

"We've gotten the last of the civilians gathered in the lower caves. And Faramir and Gandalf finally managed to work out the protection spell Hela had made for the city. It should be up later tonight." Aragorn said behind him.

"With all that Denethor allowed to happen, this city doesn't need to suffer twice at the hands of a bigger threat than orcs, trolls and wargs." Said Cain. Aragorn stood beside him and said.

"They'll find a way to bring her back."

"It's not bringing Hela back that I'm worried about." One look on Cain's somber face and Aragorn knew what he meant.

"You fear for Haldir's mental state at losing Hela."

"Grief—is a powerful feeling. Especially if it's fueled by rage. I may not be able to physically see his eyes but I can sense his heartbeat. His deep, sharp breaths through his nose, and the anxious ticks he's now been having at the tips of his hands, especially since he took hold of Aeglos."

"You fear he might turn into what you became." Cain solemnly let out a deep sigh. Aragorn placed a hand to Cain's shoulder and he told him, "He may not know it now, but he'll need your guidance before the end. Who better to understand what he's going through, if you can find the way, he will too before the end."

"I hope so Aragorn, I really hope so." Aragorn turned and headed back inside the palace leaving Cain to stand alone once again. However Cain felt a dark presence behind him and he withdrew his axe and his blade soon met with another and a voice said to him.

"You can even sense Death coming for you. Impressive."

"Deimos." The two of them uncrossed their crossed their weapons. "Why are you here?" Cain sneered lowly in the tone he's always used for those who were impure of heart.

"Apologizes for interrupting your little brotherly love session with Isildur's heir, but I had to come see for myself what wasteful plan you all have tried to come up with to save yourselves." Deimos chuckled sinisterly.

"You underestimate them. Even in their darkest hours, until there is no hope remaining, the Fellowship and the people of Gondor will continue to fight till their last breath."

"It's a waste. You cannot save them from the inevitable. Without Hela's power, the Deviants will take each race of Middle Earth, one by one until all is nothing but shadow and stone."

"And what do you three get out of all this in the end? If all is meant to be shadow and stone, what will you and your brothers do?"

"What Perses and Nergal want is up to them. I, however, have a different score to settle." Cain heard as Deimos unsheathed his second sickle. "As I'm sure you're aware, each Celestial while cut from the same cloth based on one's powers, there are the Celestials gifted with sub-level powers. A power solely focused to one main power."

"Yes. Like those celestials who could only control one element, or be able to see into the future."

"Hela had her time to be the high Celestial of Death, but she missed the whole point of her existence entirely."

"How so? By teaching that death shouldn't be feared? That it is another path to the next life."

"That! That right there!" Deimos snarled in distain. "You actually believe that death is a merciful, that it's something to be fully embraced and accepted like how you view Life. No, no, no. Death should be feared, uncertain, and permanent." He emphasized on the word permanent as Cain could feel his red eyes cutting right through him.

"You've come for me." Cain realized.

"Now you're catching on." Deimos then began to circle around Cain like a predator, eyeing him as he continued, "When you were brought back by the desperation of your brother Ikaris, you didn't value what he had given you. And while I find the very idea of resurrections and reincarnations absurd, what I loathe more than anything in this world are those who think they can cheat Death."

"As you said, it wasn't my choice to be brought back to life."

"You don't think I don't know how throughout the first 100 years of your banishment you tried to end your own life? And yet with each time, you survived."

Cain's heartbeat escalated, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a cold chill ran up his entire body. He could hear the blades of Deimos' sickles cut across the cobbled stone beneath them.

"But here's how we can rectify all of this. When the time's right, I will come for you, and you and I shall face off in a duel to the death. See who truly has the blessing of the Valor on their side. You do that, and I swear to not harm a single hair on anyone else's heads."

"You really think I'll trust you to do that? After the way you beat Haldir and Hela nearly to death."

"A mere demonstration for what I have in stored for you. They were just so I could get to you. You agree to fight me, and death will only come for you." Deimos then let out a soft yet haunting whistle and when Cain turned around, he could sense that Deimos was gone, only hearing the brief whistle before it too was silenced.

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Almost as if he had been strung up on strings, he collapsed to his knees, his heart still racing in such fear that he only felt when he came before the Nine Nazgul.

In Hela's mind, Merry and Druig continued walking along the grassy over hills until they came to a quaint little cabin. To Merry it almost resembled Frodo and Bilbo's home of Bag-end with a similar green circular door but it was a big-people sized home.

It had a small front deck with a porch swing, and the front yard was covered with wild flowers. A gazebo that looked exactly like the one in Lothlorien stood at the side of the cabin.

"Is this what Hela dreams about?" asked Merry.

"She was never one for riches or grand castles. When we were children, she always said she'd get herself a cabin and plant wild flowers as far as the eye could see." Said Druig. "But even so, this is still a prison so don't get swept by whatever you see. Remember Theoden's warning." Merry nodded as the two of them soon heard the sound of arrows being twanged from an bow around back. They heard the arrow hit a target so they came around to see someone who looked like Haldir doing some target practice.

Instead of the normal Marchwarden uniform or even armor, he donned on a simple dark green tunic and grey trousers. Haldir notched another arrow into his bow and released it and it split the arrow that was already in the target.

"Can he see us?" Merry quietly asked.

"No. This is an illusion, they usually can't see nor hear us."

"Even if this were an illusion, we Elves can hear the flutter of a humming bird's wings 10 leagues away." Haldir actually responded to them. He turned towards them and greeted with a warm smile and a bow of his head, "Welcome Merry, and back already Druig? It's not even been 20 minutes since you left." Merry looked up at Druig worriedly. While Druig's eyes expressed shock, he turned to Merry and told him telepathically.

'Just follow my lead.' Druig cleared his throat and said, "Well you know how it is. Big brothers and all, can't leave you two alone for one second."

"Even after all this time we've been married, you still can't trust us alone. Though I can understand, being an older brother myself. What can I do you both for?"

"We're actually here for Hela. Is she in the cabin?" Merry asked the Haldir illusion.

"Unfortunately you won't find her in the cabin. At this time of the day she's down at the farm just over that hill. What do you want with her?" there was a hint of suspicion to this fake Haldir's tone but Druig plainly said.

"Just received a message from Keoghan about the Midsummer's ball tonight. Apparently Kingo once again burned the cake and they need Hela's help since she is the best baker out of all our kinsman."

"Very well. But I must warn you, one of the cows just recently gave birth. She'll be on the fight if you anywhere near her pen."

"Thanks for the heads up Haldir. Good day." The two of them bowed to Haldir the Mind Celestial bow before heading over the hill where Haldir said the farm was at. "Tell me you caught the way he got suspicious on why we needed Hela."

"I did. There was also something in his eyes that gleamed the same color as the spell that shot out around us when we touched that mushroom on her Tree."

"You are indeed a clever hobbit Master Merry." They soon came up and looked down at a large farm. With large shire horses running freely around the wooded area in the back, large mountain dogs helping log around eggs, crates of apples and corn, and ducks and chickens waddling about the farm grounds.

As they walked through the farm grounds, they heard soft humming coming from the stables. They slowly walked in and soon found Hela brushing a white stallion's mane humming softly.

"Hela?" Merry called out to her. She jumped and smiled.

"Merry, this is a surprise. I wasn't expecting you till next month for Pippin's birthday. And Druig, back so soon. Let me guess, you thought Haldir and I were having another sweet rendezvous at the gazebo that you walked in on just shortly after we began courting." At that openly suggestive statement, Druig's cheeks went red as he said.

"No but thank you for that unholy image that is now seared into my brain." Hela giggled and said as she stroked the stallion's nose. "So what brings you both here?"

Merry turned to Druig wondering if they should break it to her now since looking at her, it seemed like they had found the real Hela. Druig was torn because the last time he had seen his sister this happy was when they were children. After Sauron came fully into power by the time the three of them came of age, Hela always held such a burden on her shoulders. Like the weight of the world fell on top of her weighing her down and taking her innocence away bit by bit until all that was left was a hollowed shell.

Here she seemed—happy, relieved even. No wonder why she's refused to awaken from such a dream. But he knew she had to, but they had to approach it delicately at first.

"Keoghan reached out to me halfway on my journey telling me that Kingo burnt the cake for the midsummer's ball again." Hela let out a sigh and shook her head.

"That Kingo, he can put on a show with Sprite but when it comes to drawing or cooking, he's hopeless. And I thought Apollo had banished him from the kitchen?"

"He did, and that banishment is still in affect but you know how Kingo is."

"He always finds a way." Both he and Hela said together. "Sorry Snowmane, afraid this grooming session's gonna have to be cut short." Snowmane huffed and let out a shocked whinny. "Don't blame me, if I don't go stop Kingo, he could blow the whole castle up." she got out of Snowmane's stable and walked pass Druig and Merry. "C'mon, we better get a move on. I'll have to tell Haldir first of where I'll be heading."

"Actually we just told him that before we came to find you." Merry said.

"Oh well okay then. That's one less thing to worry about." As they stepped out, Hela raised up her fingers and let out a sharp, loud whistle that almost resembled an eagle's scream. They waited for a bit until finally a real eagle's cry was heard and swooping down was Hela's great eagle Icarus. "Hey Icarus, think you can carry Merry to the palace?" he let out a soft trill before lowering himself down for Merry to climb on.

Druig nudged the hobbit forward and Merry raced up and with Hela's help, mounted on top of the great eagle.

"But what about you?" asked Druig.

"Why would I need Icarus to fly?" Hela's normal dress soon morphed into the Starlight Celestial armor. "Being born a Starlight Celestial, I never need aid in flying again." As Hela shot up onto the air like a shooting star, Merry and Druig looked at each other worriedly before Icarus soon took off following behind his mother and Druig used his levitating powers to fly right beside Merry and Icarus.

Another night was passing even through the dark, thunderous clouds that covered all of Middle Earth. Gandalf, Aragorn and Cain all stood along the balcony near the throne room as Cain said.

"One more day to go, and the Deviants will return to Middle Earth."

"Any word of Merry and Druig's progress?" asked Aragorn.

"I had just met with Haldir, no changes." Gandalf replied solemnly. "I know Merry is strong and Druig is powerful but I fear they may not bring our Celestial of Death back in time."

"We still have time." Aragorn stated. "All we can do now is give Merry and Druig the aid they need. We've coded the protection spell, the second we see those demons appear, we activate the spell."

"It won't just be the Deviants we'll need to worry about. Nergal, Perses and Deimos will also need to be stopped. I fear their goals are more than just what Sauron had intended for them. And if they try to stop Merry and Druig from helping Hela, Varda help us all." Cain said as thunder once again rumbled in the sky and red lightning flashed in the sky.

[katetheworm]

Naud Bui Amarth

Note: hi hi hi, welcome to another part in this lovely adventure with Cefrey and Aragorn. I was planning on adding a whole other scene to this but it would have made it very long and kinda unnecessary, so here we are! I hope you enjoy and please feel free to chat or send in asks! Also! A little while ago I commissioned another piece of Cefrey, go check it out!! Reblogs, likes, comments, etc are always welcome, but please remember reblogs >>> likes Other Sites: Ao3, Quotev Pairing: Aragorn x Original Female Character/Reader Warnings: none for this chapter Rating: T Words: 3748

Part Six (Masterlist)

The morning after Cefrey and Strider’s conversation was quite eventful. Elrond had summoned many people from all across Middle Earth to discuss the fate of the Ring, and, much to the mage’s surprise, she had been invited as well. Gandalf assured her that it should not have come as such a shock since she was there, protecting the Ring from falling into the hands of evil. And while Cefrey understood his train of thought, she still was not sure what to think of it. She was simply a human, yes she was a human with magical abilities, but she rarely spoke to others and… The mage sighed. Her mind was just trying to get her out of going to the meeting, a meeting which she had every right of attending. 

Gathering herself, Cefrey rose out of bed and donned another dress that was gifted to her by the elves. This one was a two piece with an off-white chemise and a forest green cover, it had a corset like top and flowed down the sides and back of the chemise. Fixing her hair by pinning it on the sides with two beautiful elven clips, the mage took in a deep breath. This was a meeting to decide the fate of Middle Earth. Cefrey was not used to such grand undertakings, preferring solitude and the embrace of nature compared to civilization. But this was different, she decided, this was important beyond her regular comforts. 

She finally moved to leave her room, glancing at herself in the mirror one last time before setting off to join the Council of Elrond.

The room where the council was to take place had many chairs surrounding a white pedestal in the center, most likely where the ring would be placed, as well as a larger chair at one end where Cefrey noticed Lord Elrond resided.

She walked up to him as she seemed to be the first one there. “Good morning, Lord Elrond.”

The elf’s countenance shifted from one of deep contemplation to one of soft care at the sight of the mage. “Good morning, dear Cefrey. I see that you are quite early to this meeting.”

Cefrey laughed. “Yes, well it is nicer to be early rather than late, don’t you think?” 

Before Elrond could respond, more people funneled into the room, taking their respective seats. The mage bowed her head at the elf, leaving to take her seat as well. Much to her joy, Frodo had decided to sit between her and Gandalf. She smiled down at the quite anxious looking halfling, resting a hand on his shoulder to try and ease his nerves. He looked up at her, grateful for her support. 

Once everyone had been seated–Cefrey caught the eye of Strider as he sat across from her–Elrond stood and began the meeting, “Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom.” He glanced over at Frodo, nodding his head, “Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.”

The young hobbit hesitated a moment, gazing up at Cefrey and Gandalf who both gave him a firm movement of their heads, encouraging him to do as Elrond said. He stood and walked over to the plinth, carefully placing the Ring down on it before turning and going back to his seat. 

Cefrey gave him a quiet look of consolation as he sat back down beside her. A tight feeling wound its way around her heart as her gaze moved away from the hobbit and towards the tiny piece of metal before her. It… it seemed as if it was trying to speak to her, attempting to twist her morals and her thoughts into more sinister and evil things. Furrowing her brows and inhaling a sharp breath of air, the mage pushed those thoughts away. Those thoughts of power and greed, of using her magic to make all in the land bend to her will. She was stronger than that, she would not let him win.

Thankfully her thoughts were interrupted as the man with dirty blond hair that Cefrey saw the other night stood and walked closer to the Ring, “In a dream,” He paused. “I saw the Eastern sky grow dark, in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying, your doom is near at hand,” The man took another step closer to the Ring, Cefrey’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Isildur's bane is found.” Cefrey glanced over at Elrond, then at Gandalf as the man neared the Ring, his hand reaching out, “Isildur's Bane…”

“Boromir!” Elrond jumped to his feet, his voice filled with rage and fear at what the man might do.

Cefrey’s hands gripped tightly at her dress. The fear in the elf lord’s voice and the desperation in Boromir’s, scared her. This evil was stronger than she could ever have imagined. And she knew at that moment that this evil ring must be destroyed, lest it destroy them all. Before anyone could do anything–or perhaps before Boromir could continue his cursed train of thought–Gandalf stood quickly, the air around them growing dark and cold as he spoke.

“Ash nazg durbatuluk,” His deepened voice caused all around him to wince in pain, the man staggering back to his seat. “Ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatuluk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.”

Sighing in relief once Gandalf finished and the light returned to the room, Cefrey looks at Gandalf, her brows furrowed, emotions running haywire. Lord Elrond then spoke the very words that were running through her mind, “Never before has anyone uttered words of that tongue here in Imladris.”

The talk continued as Gandalf warned the entire council of the Ring’s evil. Cefrey understood that none could wield it except for Sauron, but decided to not say anything… yet. Boromir disagreed. He believed it to be a gift, a tool to use to save Middle Earth, to protect Gondor from harm. 

Cefrey had half a mind to stand up herself and tell Boromir how idiotic he was being, she instead tried a softer approach as she knew men like him, men that would not care to listen to others when they are so set in their ways. She sat up straighter then, her eyes locking with Strider’s once more as some unspoken words passed between them. 

“None here can wield the Ring, my lord, not you, not I, none but Sauron.” Her voice held a conviction she had never experienced before, and yet it felt right to say such things to this man. 

Boromir narrowed his eyes at her, unsure of what to fully make of this wandering mage, but still displeased at her outright argument towards him. “You are but a maiden, unaware of the hardships of life around you, why should I believe what you say?”

A certain ranger spoke up rather quickly to Cefrey’s defense and she could hear the annoyance in his tone, “Cefrey is right, Boromir, and I believe you know what she says to be true as well. You cannot wield it. None of us can.” Strider’s voice slowly lost its anger as the knight of Gondor turned from the mage to face him, a deep scowl on his face. “The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.”

Boromir scoffed at Strider’s remark, his glare intensifying. “And what would a ranger know of this matter?” His words reflecting what he had said to Cefrey just moments before.

The mage raised a brow at that. Yes, Strider was a ranger, but he was invited to the council just as Boromir was. Once again, Cefrey wanted to speak up but was interrupted as an elf – Legolas from the Woodland realm if she recalled correctly – stood abruptly.

“This is no mere ranger.” That was interesting, Cefrey thought. “He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.”

Cefrey’s eyes widened. Isildur’s heir? Heir to Gondor? That was who she had been traveling with, who she had grown close to, trusted with her life? Her green eyes landed on his gray ones, confusion and shock laced in them. It took him a minute to return her gaze, after he told Legolas to sit and Boromir’s disdain for the ranger only grew. His eyebrows were furrowed, a look of… guilt, or perhaps regret on his face. It was not Cefrey’s business to know exactly who he was, and she understood that, but then why did it hurt her so? She had not divulged all of her past to him and there was no reason for him to do so either. And yet she still felt saddened by the fact that she only found out his true name from someone else, at a time where neither could speak to each other about it. 

Changing her expression to one where she hoped to convey that they would talk about it later, Cefrey's attention was then quickly switched over to the dwarf as he stood and smashed his axe onto the ring, only for his weapon to break rather than the Ring itself. Lord Elrond told Gimli then that there was only one way to destroy the Ring; by bringing it back to the very place it was forged. Mount Doom.

Boromir interrupted after that, "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the great eye is ever watchful. Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this." He shook his head. "It is folly."

Soon practically everyone stood from their seats and began arguing. Cefrey’s eyes landed on Aragorn again, a thousand words passing between them as they listened to the commotion. The mage was surprised as even Gandalf joined the fray, her green eyes widening only to fall onto the quiet hobbit beside her, his voice barely being heard.

"I will take it."

Frodo glanced at the sorceress, his countenance filled with doubt. She gave him a sad yet reassuring look before squeezing his hand and nodding. It wasn't that Cefrey wanted the halfling to go on such a perilous quest, but she also knew that anyone else–including herself–would be too easily corrupted by the Ring's power.

Emboldened by Cefrey’s encouragement Frodo stood taller, his words rising over the din of voices around them. She noticed Gandalf’s resigned look then, as he heard the hobbit too. 

“I will take it.” He took a step forward, hands clenched in a tight fist by his side. “I will take the Ring to Mordor.” The entirety of the hall stopped and stared at Frodo, looks of fear, suspicion, confusion, but mostly awe, all focused on the young halfling and his strong choice of words. Cefrey noticed his eyes go over each and every person who stood, staring at him, making his previous courage dwindle a bit before he spoke again, “Though, I do not know the way.”

A soft smile spread across the mage’s face as she stood as well, stepping forward until she was in front of the hobbit. Gandalf came up beside her, his eyes still conveying a deep sorrow, yet he did not convey it outwardly. The grey wizard spoke first, “I will help you bear this burden Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.”

On any normal day, under any normal circumstances, the mage would much rather have simply gone back into nature, enjoying her simple life. But these were not normal times, they were dark times, trying times, and she knew that she had to help anywhere she could. She already swore to protect this young hobbit and she would not back down now. Perhaps it was because she had grown to feel rather protective of Frodo, or perhaps there was something else drawing her to do so, either way, she knew she had to. Cefrey felt, in the deepest parts of her being, that this was what she must do, in spite of the dangers, of the hardships they will all face, the stark difference from her previous life to this, she will help him. 

Kneeling down and taking his small hand in hers, Cefrey held Frodo’s gaze, a resolute look on her countenance. “I, too, will aid you on this quest, young Frodo, my magic is yours to wield.”

As soon as she began to speak, she heard a rustle behind her as Strider… as Aragorn stood as well, causing the sorceress to rise from her kneeling position and move to stand behind the halfling. Seemingly without even a conscious effort, Cefrey’s eyes landed on the ranger’s, and while his gaze was fixed on Frodo, for a brief moment it moved to her, an emotion behind his grey eyes that she could not understand. 

“If by my life or death I can protect you, I will” Aragorn walked up to the hobbit while talking, kneeling before him as he spoke again, “You have my sword.” His words echoed the ones Cefrey had uttered before.

Legolas took a step forward as well, his countenance grim yet determined, “And you have my bow.”

Another came forward beside the elf, “And my axe,” said Gimli, son of Gloin.

“You carry the fate of us all, little one,” Boromir spoke and took a step forward. “If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done.” Despite his previous misgivings, the mage felt as though he would be crucial to their journey and deemed to hold no ill will towards the man.

Cefrey smiled at the group that was forming as a thought graced her mind; perhaps this quest did have a fighting chance–

Her thoughts were interrupted, however, as out from the bushes came a shouting Samwise Gamgee as he ran up next to Frodo, “Mr. Frodo’s not going anywhere without me!”

With a glint of bemusement in his eyes, Lord Elrond shook his head at the headstrong hobbit, “No indeed. It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not.”

“Wait!” Two more hobbits burst forth, completing the group of four halflings that Cefrey helped guide to Rivendell. “We’re coming too!” Exclaimed Merry, Pippin not far behind, much to the elven lord’s astoundment. “You’d have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us.”

“Anyway,” Pippin spoke, with much conviction and confidence in his voice. “You need people of intelligence on this sort of mission… quest… thing.”

Merry shot him an unamused glance, “Well that rules you out, Pip.”

The mage chuckled at their antics before stepping in line beside Aragorn, and with the rest of their interesting group.

Elrond’s gaze wandered over each person standing beside Frodo, a faint, proud smile curling on his lips, “Ten companions…” He nodded resolutely. “So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!”

“Great!” The youngest hobbit spoke yet again, “Where are we going?”

.

The meeting having ended, the recently formed fellowship disbanded with their respective groups to gather their things, to say goodbyes, and to prepare for the upcoming journey. Cefrey was amongst those ten companions, a fact which continued to astound her. Her, a wandering mage of unknown origins, who spent most of her life simply living, especially after all that she had been through. A woman, in the end, a simple woman who lived longer than other women she knew, who aged differently because of what? Her magic? Some outside force? It couldn’t all have been fate that created her, that led to her having such a strange life. 

The woman sighed heavily, those thoughts had been running rampant through her mind for the past few days as one strange occurrence after another continued to happen to her, around her, because of her. Cefrey rounded a corner, the trim of her dress brushing against the stone floor as she walked through the halls of Imladris. Her mind still going a mile a minute, the mage came to a stop as her eyes focused on a man just ahead of her. His back was turned slightly, but she could tell it was him almost immediately. Strider… well Aragorn as he should be referred to as now, stood a mere distance away, hands clasped tightly behind his back, from what she could see of his expression, it seemed contemplative, in a way. Perhaps he, too, was dealing with troublesome thoughts that refused to go away. 

At the sight of the ranger, Cefrey was reminded of how his identity was rather abruptly thrown in her face at the meeting just hours before. They had not been able to speak about it since, each having their own duties and ministrations to attend to, but the desire to was definitely there. At least for Cefrey it was, she could not speak for what Aragorn thought.

Approaching Aragorn, the mage clasped her hands in front of her, a few ways of broaching the topic of his identity ran through her mind until she settled on one, “I wondered why you had looked upon those shards of that forgotten sword so despondently before, and now, I suppose, I know why.” Her tone was not one of displeasure or hurt, she did not hold his secrets against him. “The heir to Gondor, and here I thought I was merely traveling with a common man.”

The ranger sighed but did not seem displeased at her company nor her comment, simply resigned to it. “That sword and those titles carry a burden I am not sure I wish to bear.” His grey eyes lifted to look into her green ones, and Cefrey could see the pain and the guilt he felt, all because of men he was distantly related to. “How can I, a common man as you say, hope to repair the mistakes made so long ago, mistakes that are coming back to light, mistakes that I feel the need to help rectify.”

“Mistakes made by men you have never met, by men that are not you, Aragorn.” The mage furrowed her eyebrows, sympathy and kindness in her face and voice. She did not understand why he carried such guilt for things he did not do. “Do not let those who came before you dictate what you will do in the future. Your fate is in your hands to do with what you will.” 

She wanted to say more, to say that she saw his kindness, courage, his empathy for others. That he could never be like his ancestors, that she knew, in her heart and soul, that he was better, and that he would change the world in such wondrous ways. But she felt that it was not her place to say such things, at least not yet. They knew each other for mere days, and she also believed that these were things he must figure out on his own, that he would not believe them yet as he has not said them to himself.

Aragorn huffed a quiet laugh, “You are wise beyond your years, Cefrey the Green.” 

His comment held some underlying meaning to the mage, he took her words to heart, yes, but she did not think that he fully believed them yet. Perhaps they should switch to other topics, she thought, ones that were not so melancholy.

“Wise beyond my years, you say?” Her tone and body language shifted to a more playful disposition. “I suppose that depends on how old you think I am.”

At that, she saw the ranger’s expression change as well, he definitely knew that she was trying to switch the tone of their conversation, but he was also curious at what she meant by that. “Is this some trick to get me to stumble over trying to guess your age?”

Cefrey laughed openly at that, “I would never do such a thing, I would never make you guess a lady’s age in such a way, nor do I think you would get it right.”

“And why is that?” The ranger questioned.

“Because… I am seventy eight.”

Aragorn’s eyes widened slightly and it was not difficult to guess why. While the Dunedain aged slower than most men, and the mage was certain Aragorn was older than he appeared as well, she was most definitely not one of the Dunedain, which made her age peculiar, to say the least. However, somehow, due to her magic that flowed within her, she was also able to age much slower than others. There was not much else she could explain as to the reasonings or the science behind her aging other than her magic. She explained as such to the ranger and he took it rather easily–in spite of his earlier surprise.

Cefrey hummed, her eyes glancing at the scenery around them before landing on the man before her once more. “We both have held secrets from one another, ones that, I hope, have not ruined what trust we have formed between us.” She placed a hand on her chest, “I hold no ill will towards you for not revealing your true identity, we both have things we wish to keep close, and I respect that.”

Aragorn bowed his head towards her, a silent showing of that same respect he has for her. “You are much too kind, Cefrey the Green, and while your kindness is your virtue, I still feel as though I should have been the one to tell you who I am, not have it be revealed to you in such a manner.”

A small smile graced her freckled features, “And your chivalry and wisdom is your virtue… Aragorn.”

Saying his true name felt right to her for some reason unbeknownst to her. Cefrey bid farewell to the ranger then, unsure if their conversation should continue even though she wished it to. As much as she wanted to simply sit and talk to him, this man she met not days before, she knew that they did not have such time to do so. There was a darkness looming on the horizon, a darkness she was afraid would soon consume them all if they did nothing to stop it.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

To Love a Ranger Masterlist

✨Completed✨

Aragorn x Issa

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

[darth-feanor-writes]

Sword and Arrow Masterpost

[making another one because the first two didn’t work out right]

The Rangers of the North are known far and wide, but two are especially renowned: Aragorn, the Lord of  the Dúnedain and Commandant of Rangers, and Beruthiel, his second-in-command.When Aragorn receives a dire summons from Rivendell  but is wandering the Wild on some business of his, Beruthiel rides with haste from Fornost to find him. Once they reach Rivendell, she is  invited to the secretive Council of Elrond and, unwilling to leave her  friend's side, she joins the group known as the Fellowship of the Ring. From there, Beruthiel is thrown onto a journey of love, death, and heartbreak as she meets -  and loses - people who she would fight with sword and arrow for. [somewhat inspired by Ranger’s  Apprentice]

~🗡️👑🏹~

Prologue (700 words)

Chapter 1 (800 words)

Chapter 2 (800 words)

Chapter 3 (3.2k words)

Chapter 4 (3.8k words)

Chapter 5 (1.8k words)

~🗡️👑🏹~

This fanfic is a work in progress. More chapters will be added as they are posted.

[possum-princee]

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Original Female Character(s), Éowyn/Faramir (Son of Denethor II), Éowyn (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s), Legolas Greenleaf/Original Female Character(s), Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf Characters: Aragorn | Estel, Éowyn (Tolkien), Original Female Character(s), Legolas Greenleaf, Boromir (Son of Denethor II), Faramir (Son of Denethor II), Gandalf | Mithrandir, Gimli (Son of Glóin), Frodo Baggins, Sam Gamgee, Pippin Took, Merry Brandybuck Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Friendship, Polyamory, Soft Dom Aragorn, Fights, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Trying my best, Canonical Character Death, special snowflake character, Threesome - F/F/M, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Númenor, I'm twisting a bit of canon for the story, I don't know everything tolkien, Please do not shame me for that, Let's cry about Boromir together, Probably tag some kinks in the future, Threesome - F/M/M, Nonbinary Pippin, Nonbinary Character, femme nonbinary Series: Part 1 of The Heirs of Númenor Summary:

Fairiel, unaware of her Númenor blood, befriends a ranger and finds herself on a quest much larger than anything she's experienced. Her actions help shape Middle Earth for years to come.

Also some fucking happens and romance is involved.

[i-am-darth-feanor]

Sword and Arrow: Chapter 1

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings

Pairings: Aragorn/Female OC, Aragorn/Boromir

Chapter warnings: none :)

Fic summary/blurb thing: 🏹⚔️ 👑𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫. 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜.👑⚔️ 🏹The Rangers of the North are known far and wide for their skills in battle and secrecy. Of this taciturn group of Dúnedain, two are especially renowned for their deeds in battle: Aragorn, the Lord of the Dúnedain and Commandant of Rangers, and Beruthiel, his second-in-command.When Aragorn receives a dire summons from Rivendell but is wandering the Wild on some business of his, Beruthiel rides with haste from Fornost to find him. Once they reach Rivendell, she is invited to the secretive Council of Elrond and, unwilling to leave her friend's side, she joins the group known as the Fellowship of the Ring.From there, Beruthiel is thrown onto a thrilling ride of adventure, love, death, and heartbreak as she meets -  and loses - people who she would fight with sword and arrow for. [somewhat inspired by Ranger’s Apprentice]

~👑🗡️🏹~

CHAPTER 1

SIXTY-SEVEN YEARS LATER

A hooded figure pushed open the door of the Prancing Pony, taking shelter from the torrential rain outside. She scanned the room, then pushed back the hood, showing a head full of messy brown hair cut short about her shoulders like a man's.

"Ah, Wildcat!" the man behind the counter greeted her.

"Butterbur," she responded in a low voice.

"What can I do for you today?" Butterbur continued in an amiable voice, setting down the tray of beers. "Will you be staying for the night?"

"Afraid not, Butterbur," she said, looking cautiously around the room. "Have you seen Ara- Strider lately?"

"Strider! Of course!" the man exclaimed. "Left last morning." Wildcat cursed and turned to go. Just as she was about to open the door, she turned back.

"Was he alone, or was there anyone with him?" she asked.

"Four hobbits, there were!" Butterbur happily said. Suddenly interested, Wildcat walked back to the counter.

"Do you know their names?" she urgently demanded. Butterbur hesitated.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell, you know," he admitted.

"This is urgent business, Butterbur," she said leaning closer. "Ranger business." The fat man sighed.

"One was a Brandybuck, I believe; right delightful folk! Haven't seen one on this side of the Brandywine for ages now. And there was a Took with them, fine hobbits, they are. And, let me see, one was their servant, didn't quite catch his name, but Bob and Nob would know, probably. Oh, and Underhill! Underhill, that was the fourth." Wildcat raised an eyebrow. Butterbur sighed. "Baggins, if you must know."

"Which way did they go?" Wildcat interrogated. "East?"

"Yeh- yes!" he said, surprised. "East. To Rivendell, Strider said."

"Thank you," she said to Butterbur, reaching for her belt. "You've been most helpful." She slid a gold coin across the table and turned to go.

"Wildcat?" Butterbur asked. She partially turned. "Will the- the Black Riders come again?"

"No," she said with finality. "They won't."  Then she pushed open the door, pulling her hood back up. A dark elf horse was tied to the post just outside. She mounted up and rode off into the night, heading east.

~👑🗡️🏹~

Galloping as fast as her horse could go, Wildcat finally approached Weathertop. "Amon Sul..." she breathed. Surely Aragorn and the hobbits had taken shelter here. It was, by the broadest definition, defendable.

Wildcat, or, to use her proper name, Beruthiel, urged her tired horse up the steep path to the top of the watchtower. Once there, she slid off and inspected her surroundings. It looked deserted, but her Ranger's eyes made out what looked like the remnants of a fire.

Beruthiel hurried over to kneel by the dead fire. She let a pinch of ashes run between her fingers. They were stone cold, whoever had made this fire was long gone. She had no doubt that it wasn't Aragorn, she knew the man well and he would never risk a fire.

However, she saw dried liquid near the fire, with seeds nearby. Tomatoes? She shook her head. Hobbits, then. Aragorn left for a while and hobbits managed to start a fire. Beruthiel cast a quick glance around. The setting sun illuminated a patch of black on the stones. She picked it up, then immediately dropped it.

It was a fragment of cloth, cut jaggedly. The thick material told her that it once belonged to a cloak. Beruthiel knew that Aragorn wore a green-brown Ranger's cloak. Hobbits being hobbits, they had probably not thought to bring any of their own. "Nazgul..." she whispered. She was on the right track. Another day of hard riding would bring her to the small company, given that they had not been ridden down by Nazgul. She had departed Rivendell with Lord Glorfindel to search for said hobbits and Ranger, but they had split up past the Fords of the Bruinen, agreeing that they could search twice as fast separately. Glorfindel, as far as Beruthiel knew, was still combing the wilds, while she had ridden to Bree: she knew for a fact that Aragorn often visited the town.

Beruthiel faintly smiled at the memory of the elf-lord as she mounted her horse. He had been taller and more handsome than she could fathom a man to be. She had been so nervous around Glorfindel, so awed by the warrior she had heard so many tales about. But then he had smiled and had been so kind to her for the two days they had taken to reach the Bruinen. No use in daydreaming, she told herself sternly. You are a Ranger, and you have a job to do.

The Ranger kicked her horses' side, urging him on to what she hoped to be the final leg of their journey before they found Aragorn and the four hobbits.

~👑🗡️🏹~

Sword and Arrow Masterpost

[willowhaired]

Wild Waters [Lord of the Rings]

Aragorn × Ithil

Another rider arrives to Rivendell just in time for the council. She brings the scent of sea and thunder wherever she sets foot. She is not unknown to nor Elrond, nor Aragorn, but it might be her, herself, knowing the least about who she is.

Word count: 1,433 Last updated: Dec 12, 2021

Aesthetic Chapter 1: Wanderer of the Sea 

[wonderlandfandomkingdom]

Does anyone else like LOTR and wants more fanfic?

Does anyone else love a good old Aragorn story?

I recommend this series right here, one of the best stories I have ever read; I kid you not.

[quillofspirit]

The Woman and The Horse - Part 1

Tropes; Slight cowboy AU (some elements only), platonic relationship. tw; loss, grief, some injuries mentionned Word count; 4,100

Éostré doesn't know where she belongs. The thing she does know? Wherever that is has horses. And when she gets there, it will have one more, if Réod has anything to say about it.

Read it on Ao3 here

Chapter 2 here

Header photo credits: Valley and Mountain by Sharissa Johnson Horse and Woman by miinaphoto

It felt like she was making the right choice, deep in her gut. Her method had proved true thus far, except about working for that ass-hat of a man. That had been a mistake. Yet the optimistic and kind part of her knew it had provided many things, not least the means to get away from it. No, she did not think it would feel this way if it was not what fate intended.

For every choice she would make, and no matter how little she later regretted it, there would always be a cunning voice in the back of her head that made her wonder what she might have achieved if she only stayed and fought. It had come back as soon as her employer started berating her for his misfortunes, but it had quieted as she gathered her life in a bag. For the first day, it stayed dormant, unheard over the excitement of the open road and the promise it held. Then it crept through her thoughts until it was all she could think about. That second night, she barely slept, so taken with memories, her soul could not find rest. She thought of the horses left behind and she hoped Lithuion would not be discouraged by her departure. The young man had promise, and he learned fast, but had a sensitive soul. The horses loved him for it and the innkeeper took too much pleasure in torturing it.

Despite her employers' open dislike of her, and his attempts at making the patrons laugh at her expanse, she had a good relationship with most of them. They appreciated her hard work and the care she gave their horses. She gave good advice and she did not do it for the extra coin it sometimes brought her way.

Since she was little, it had been about spending time with horses. Her parents did not have one for the first decade of her life, but many of her neighbours did and as soon as she could, she was doing chores for them. The small things, like cleaning manure and brushing. That is what she liked most, it felt very therapeutic.

At first, even if she loved watching them, she was afraid of getting too close. She saw them work often, and snap tree trunks almost as thick as she was beneath their hooves. In fear, or maybe common sense, she kept her distance in the pasture, using the tools to keep herself clear of those strong legs. After a few years of working with them, she lost all nervousness around the horses. The bigger one was the sweetest mare she ever encountered, often nudging her for scratches and nuzzles.

She rode for the first time on a sunny summer day, when she was 11. She was cleaning the pasture for her neighbour, the one with the two big bay horses they used for lugging wood and lent to the people in town. That day, the neighbour provided a step and showed her how to climb on. When she refused, he might have insinuated he would find help elsewhere if she did not attempt to ride.

The big mare was just as sweet as she always was, calmly waiting for her to settle. She did not move as the girl clambered on, and found herself almost having vertigo. She was sitting quite comfortably, the back wide as it was, but kept a tight grip on the mane and her eyes alert for any twitch.

She looked quickly down at her neighbour still gently petting the mare’s neck and calmly reminding her to keep her eyes up. She struggled to look anywhere other than the horse, until the mare turned her head and played affectionately with the tip of the girl's shoe. She giggled despite herself and felt the knot in her chest loosen, two fingers letting go of the mane to scratch the mare's wide neck. With little warning, her neighbour took the lead and asked the mare to walk.

The girl's hands clung to the bristly mane a little tighter, and her body to the mare’s. She had never seen the horse do anything to endanger someone, and she had gotten more than close since working with her. Yet sitting on the mare and trusting her instead of her own feet felt just a little out of her comfort zone. Since working with the big mare, the girl had learned her habits and quirks. She knew this horse, had giggled at her affection and put her hands on her neck for warmth on more than one chilly mornings.

Little Éostré breathed in deeply and forced her muscles to relax, hands loosening just enough to smooth her fingers into the horses’ coat and feel her. It felt fuzzy, and she remembered how she had nuzzled her only a few minutes ago, as they were approaching the tall fence, the soft nose sniffing her cheek. She had closed her eyes at the sensation.

She focused on feeling the mare move, the muscles rippling under her legs and the heat radiating. It felt almost cozy. Slowly, her eyes drifted up, and met her neighbours', flashing a proud smile. He asked her to lean back and keep straight, making the mare slow to a stop. Her neighbour slung the rope over the mare’s neck and told her to hold it only enough to feel the horse, to communicate with her. This was the way to speak to her for now, though later she would learn many other ways.

Slowly, she made the horse walk and turn each side, until she was no longer looking at the ground but where she wanted to go. When she stopped finally, she flung her feet to the same side and let herself fall into the arms of her neighbour. Getting up had been stressful, as she did not want to kick the gentle mare’s side with inexperienced feet, but getting down was accompanied with the slow realization that she had never been that high in her life, and she was feeling very grateful to the mare for making her feel as safe as she was on her own two feet, if not safer.

A few weeks later, she pat the horse as she told her how nice it was and how happy she felt to have gotten the experience. The mare’s ears twitched and she snorted, lifting her head and looking towards the house with a worried expression. She did not get scared easily, used as she was to loud and sudden noises, this was something Éostré had not heard. The girl tried to sooth her by running a hand on her side and talking to her, but she pawed at the ground for an answer and trotted towards the house.

The young girl was left to run after it, her heart beating loudly in her chest with each stride she took. If the mare was worried, and urgently addressing the situation, she needed to alert her neighbour quickly. The wolves might be getting closer again, and there had been a horse which warned a family of a fire, likely saving all of their lives. She hoped it was not the latter, she knew her neighbour loved his house. He spent much of his free time tending to the small garden of flowers he planted for his late wife.

When she caught up to the mare, the nervous movements had turned frantic and it threatened to make the young girl panic. The grey mare stopped pawing only to lift both front legs and stomp, her snorts coming quickly and in short, powerful bursts. It was clear she was impatiently trying to be understood.

Little Éostré stood watching, helpless, until she saw the mare rush into the fence, like she was telling the girl where to run. If she had learned anything, it was to trust the mare. Éostré squeezed through the planks and ran to the house. She called for her neighbour, and made her way to the front, where he surely would be. She gasped and skidded to a halt, so fast she almost lost her balance, when she finally came upon him.

Sprawled on the ground, her neighbour held his side with one arm. He did not appear to realize her presence yet, so taken with pain. She looked at him, eyes wide and breath coming rapidly, but she wanted to look away. She should have, she knew her mother would have been telling her to, while she tended to him with the kind care she gave all her patients. But she was not there now.

Her neighbour groaned and took in a sharp breath through gritted teeth as he tried to sit. She sprang forward and took his free arm to help him, earning a hiss of pain. He opened his eyes sharply and she pulled back into herself, afraid to hurt him further. They argued for a little while, but she knew he needed help she could not provide.

This was not a simple wash and bandage, he was holding his arm firmly and his wrist, the one she had grabbed to help, looked swollen and out of place, sweat already beading on his face. She took him by the bicep and together, they sat him by the house, so he could rest in the shadows while she fetched help. She told him she would be quick and he responded with a strained 'be careful'.

The young girl ran back to the mare, still nervously pacing by the fence and letting out frightened snorts. Éostré climbed to the top plank and told the mare they needed to get help, which the horse seemed to understand. Despite her nervous behaviour, she came to a stop before the girl, offering her back. Éostré climbed before hesitation took hold.

As they made their way to the village, she urged the mare to a faster pace, fear creeping up her throat. She was more afraid of getting help too late than falling off. Only as she was clinging to the horse, trying to stay on, did she notice the other horse running beside them. Hopefully, that would be enough to catch the villager’s attention quickly and she would not need to get down by herself.

Her mother would often recall the day her daughter came galloping into the square, on the biggest horse the village had ever seen, and saved their neighbours life. It was both her proudest and scariest moment. She helped the neighbour and her daughter successfully calmed the horses that evening, by giving hay and stroking them. The village took turns caring for their neighbour, but none wanted to take the job of the young girl, not when she looked incredibly happy doing so, and when the horses listened to her every word.

9 years later

Aragorn observed the roots in his hand, known to him as galadhûl, something he could always find a use for. He carefully slipped them into his satchel and was once again reminded of its fullness. Whispers had brought him on the Great West Road, where he travelled to reach the Westfold in Rohan. He was investigating talks of raids from Dunlendings becoming more frequent. It was a strange thing indeed if they were encroaching on Rohan's land, and more concerning if the Rohirrim did not push them back.

Straightening, he started in the direction of the river, where he splashed his face with water. He spent a moment admiring the strong flow of the stream and the fish swimming underneath, between rocks and short greenish plants. Before long, he caught himself dinner and he sat on a log, smoking his pipe while a fire crackled beside him.

He extended his hand to turn the fish, but stopped midway, his head tilting to the forest and keen eyes scanning the treeline. There, between bushes and bark, came a faint rustling and something that sounded like an exasperated voice. He stayed still, wondering if whoever was there would pass by.

His interested expression turned to concern once he heard a woman yelp. With one swift movement, his pipe was abandoned, his sword in hand and he was stalking to the forest, though his pace quickened when he heard the woman arguing.

"I cannot go back, but you will. If you do not, the consequences of your absence will fall on me, however far I am." She sounded adamant, but her voice had a touch of fragility that betrayed her true feelings.

About 30 paces in front of him stood the woman. She wore practical clothes, the type hunters preferred for the freedom it offered, of forest green and brown, though she didn't seem equipped to hunt, with only a few satchels at her hip, and a bag strung around her back. She was looking up at a horse, but branches from nearby trees kept its rider hidden.

As he approached, Aragorn strained to see who she was speaking with. The horse, a fit dark bay horse, was advancing on the woman, who held a hand and met its head to slow it down. She didn't seem to be afraid of it, her hand softly stroking its nose.

"I cannot go back," she insisted but looked mournful to voice it. "It would ruin what is left of my heart for my affection to be forbidden once again."

Getting in the middle of a lover’s affair was often messy, and seldom ended well, least of all for those who made it their issue. Aragorn was just falling back when the horse moved again, pushing the woman almost off balance and bringing the sword strapped to the saddle into view. It was a fine saddle, and a finer sword still, clearly some well-off individual, though Aragorn might have guessed it by the horse.

The woman sounded determined to stay away, but the armed rider did not seem to be standing down. Aragorn could lament his dinner later. For now, he corrected the grip on his sword and made himself known.

He appeared from the woods and opened his mouth to intervene but found himself at a loss for words. The woman and horse turned in what he would later call a comically wide-eyed expression. For a moment, all stood still and he returned their confusion when he noted the absence of a rider. Like they were one, the woman and horse took in his sudden apparition until their eyes fell to his sword.

The horse moved first and if he had any doubts before, its agility and boldness proved its good standing. It was a fine breed, strong muscles evident beneath a shimmering coat the colour of a bold wine. The horse placed itself between the woman and Aragorn, fore legs raised and ready. Taken aback, the ranger put a few more steps between them and raised his free hand in surrender.

The horse lowered its feet but snorted decidedly in his direction, still keeping the woman hidden from view.

"I mean no harm," Aragorn spoke over the horse, "I thought I may be of assistance when I heard your voice."

From behind the protective horse came a soft voice, lowly speaking to it. It didn't seem to agree, pawing at the ground and snorting again in his direction. The woman came into view and grabbed the reins firmly. She looked at Aragorn, eyes squinting despite the shadows of the tall trees, taking in his appearance better now that surprise had worn off.

"Are you alone?" She asked.

"I am," he answered, "though it appears you are in good company."

Her eyes creased in amusement, but the rest of her face remained passive. Aragorn saw her hand tighten around the reins, just in time to keep the horse from advancing on him. She was judging his character, deciding whether to let loose of the reins, and he returned the favour in curiosity. Her overdress was a soft green and well-loved, held at the waist with a thick belt from which satchels and a coiled rope hung. Despite her lack of apparent weapon in the face of a strange armed man, she was facing him squarely and he suspected she would stand the same without the presence of the very protective horse. He wondered briefly how far its rider was, a steed ornated thus was rarely abandoned.

There was something in her eyes that seemed satisfied with his patience, and he doubted the absence of words was the reason she broke the silence.

"Réod seems reluctant to let me leave."

The horse, Réod, looked at the woman and nickered in approval.

"He seems to care deeply about you, not many horses would protect someone so eagerly," Aragorn said.

The woman looked at Réod, and Aragorn saw the affection in her eyes. She had not been talking to a rider at all.

"Since you are in no need of protection, may I offer a fire and a fish?"

He had not imagined he would be sharing dinner with anyone, and Aragorn was forced to cut his fish in two, though he guessed the woman would not have noticed if he had handed her a whole hog. She sat on her folded cape, absentmindedly petting the horse grazing beside her. Whether her inattentive stare was the result of her present situation or the one that had her fleeing in the first place, he did not know. The ranger did not think he could ask, and so he offered the less burned side of the fish.

"I apologize for the taste, I was not careful as I should have been," he said.

Her eyes focused on him, like she was just now realizing where she was, and she accepted the plate readily.

"I could not judge a meal offered in kindness," she replied easily "especially not when I suspect I am to blame for whatever it lacks."

He did not have much of an answer to that, so he smiled softly and went on eating his diner. Aragorn had not expected her to be so well spoken. He had not expected Eostré to be ungrateful at all, clearly she knew how to speak respectfully, but she still seemed hesitant to share anything about herself beyond her name. He had resisted the urge to ask, and as the sun laid for the night, the itch moved to the back of his mind and he could almost forget it completely. What he saw was a young woman, haunted by the paths laid before her, and determined to make the right choice.

She ate slowly, much slower than he did, and when she noticed his empty plate, she searched through one of the saddle satchels, now on the ground beside her. She found what she was looking for, wrapped in a fine cloth. Her movements slowed as she set it upon her knees, and she stared at it for a moment, like it would offer its opinion. Whatever she had been looking for, she shook her head and opened the wrap to reveal a loaf of bread and some cheese. She ripped the loaf in half and offered one to him.

His look of curiosity turned to amusement and he took it. Despite implying the horse's owner would not forgive her, she knew the man or the satchels well enough to know where to find stashed food. Aragorn's curious mind mulled over the mystery before he bit into the bread and let its soft flavour take over his mind. It was good bread, clearly the work of a talented baker.

She took a few bites of her diner, finally, before she started to talk.

"I want to thank you for your generosity." She said, looking at the flames between them "Both of this fire, your food, but also your willingness to intervene when you thought my life in danger."

She offered him a bit of cheese, that he took with eagerness.

"May I ask what is it that brings you so close to the Drúedain Forest? Most avoid it for fear of the Wild Men that are rumoured to live within," she asked.

Aragorn searched her face for any traces of fear or disdain at the mention of the Forest Folk, and was surprised to find her watching his own.

"I don't intend to wander into their forest. They wish to be left to themselves and so they should." He answered, his gaze softer, but still inquisitive. "I am travelling eastward for now, following the Great Road"

She nodded at that, and he continued.

"I am a Ranger, I go where the winds takes me," her eyes showed understanding and he asked "What has you travelling this close to the forest if you know of what it hides?"

She took a few moments to decide what she could answer. She did not trust him, that much was evident, but not because she distrusted him. She was simply cautious and knew her situation was precarious. He kept his demeanour casual, and did not let the weight of her gaze affect his.

"I find myself in the unfortunate position of having to move Eastward. I do not have much, fortunately, and was hoping I might find work in the next village." She spoke finally.

Aragorn cocked an eyebrow.

"The next village Eastward is at least a 4 days walk."

She sighed at that.

"I realize that our meeting has been most unconventional, and I appreciate your patience. However, I do believe that our meeting comes at a fortuitous time, and can result in you getting more than good bread and cheese." She said the last part with a shy smile, and he cocked his head in agreement.

"As quick as Réod is to protect me, I would not mind company I can converse with." She was choosing her words, Aragorn could tell. Something twinkled in her eye and she added "should you be willing to travel through the Firien Woods and to Edoras, with a woman and a stubborn horse."

He took his final bite of bread and mulled over her suggestion, not letting her gaze fall away even though she wanted to. Réod was a few paces away, grazing and looking incredibly at ease, though Aragorn suspected that the mildest amount of discomfort from Éostré would have the horse charging him. He needed to be careful with his questions

"I do find myself curious as to what could force someone to travel hundreds of miles, unaccompanied, safe for a fine horse and its finest saddle."

She knew the topic would float up, and she respected the ranger for wanting to know what exactly he was getting into. For all he knew, she'd stolen a good horse, and having found no one to sell it to, she was now forced to run away. She steeled herself.

"My former employer is responsible for an inn in a town near Minas Tirith. He has been left patronage after his father's passing, and business has changed since he was put in charge. One night, he was away and left me, begrudgingly so, in charge." her eyes naturally drifted to the fire, lost in thought. "There was a dispute between two guests, one they were quite determined to resolve through fists. I threw them out, hoping they would be discouraged, and I gave them a common enemy in doing so. Their ire turned to me, and they set fire to the stable."

Like he understood her words, Réod nudged Eostré's arm in a warming gesture. It seemed to work as she turned her eyes to the horse and pat his neck gently, a sad smile lingering on her lips.

"I was responsible for the stables and the horses, everybody knew it. When I heard the horses, I ran and saw the blaze quickly gaining, likely aided by the hay."

Aragorn was starting to understand her, and the bond she had with the horse. Judging from the loyalty he had for her, she must have been good, though that didn't surprise him from what he had seen so far.

"When the innkeeper came back, furious, he insisted I had always been rebellious and had always intended to ruin him. Most of the horses were scattered in the village, and I managed to wrangle the two that had ran further." She looked up to him then, eyes sad but determined. "He made clear that my contumacy was not welcomed in his town and I would henceforth be treated as a criminal."

Aragorn frowned. "The Steward and Knights of Gondor do not take lightly to villagers enacting justice as they will."

She smiled and it did not reach her eyes. She looked to Réod, this time aware of his affections and returning it.

"I doubt they would have heard of it before he could have."

There was not much to add to the discussion after that and Aragorn didn't dare admit how disturbed the sentiment left him.

Thank you to the kindness of everyone, it made me want to post this :) <3

[mirkwoodshewolf]

IATCOD Chap. 27; Celestial help

*Author's note*

Okay I'll be honest I've had this chapter done for awhile now but some life changing news came my way and I had to put posting on hold (don't worry it's not health wise, my family and I are moving by mid Dec. so I've been busy packing my stuff, helping move stuff to storage, etc.) But now with the thanksgiving holiday in it's final stretch, I wanted to take this moment to post this chapter up before the final stretch of my move happens next weekend. So I hope everyone had a good thanksgiving/thursday (if you don't celebrate it) and will continue to have a good rest of your weekend and hope everyone enjoys this new update as well.

NEXT CHAPTER

Face cast

Druig: Joseph Quinn

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@thats-s0-ravenn

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So fair even in death, Hela’s friends and even the people of Gondor couldn’t find it in themselves to bury her.  So she was placed at the highest room at the Tower of Ecthelion where she once stood guard as Guardian of the White city.  Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, and Gandalf all stood around her coffin of glass and silver.

No one spoke a word, for who could? There wasn’t anything anyone could say that would bring Hela back.  Two lit candles were lit by the two top poles of her coffin.  Gimli was torn between anger and sorrow as he stared down at Hela’s body before turning away sobbing into his hand.  Legolas wrapped a comforting arm around his Dwarvish friend while tears slowly slid down his face as well.

Gandalf solemnly looked down at his old friend, the young Celestial who he had not only taken under his wing, but had also learned from her.  He placed a hand on top of her still one.  Poor Merry and Pippin were the ones truly heartbroken, Hela was like a mother-figure to them and got them from getting into too much trouble.  They couldn’t understand how such a strong warrior like her could’ve been killed like this?

And Aragorn—he was torn.  His heart torn both ways of wanting to both mourn Hela but also seek vengeance against the three council members of Denethor.  He wanted to know who had cast the spell, and see with his own eyes the life drain from his sister’s killer under his blade.

Meanwhile down in the House of Healing in a secluded area of a spiritual healing pool that Hela herself had made for those in great need of healing, Haldir laid in the tub while Cain tended to his wounds.

The water glowed a pure blue light and the light seemed to shimmer as it went in circles around the perimeter of the tub, almost as if a current were pushing it.  Cain held a rag in his hand and was gently dabbing across Haldir’s wounds while his other hand stroked across his body to feel what other damage had been done to him.

“This pool seems to be sensing a lot of internal damage. It can guide the healing process, but whether you get better or not is up to you.” Haldir didn’t speak a word.  His face was stoic, his eyes deeply sunken in and the light from his eyes was almost completely faded.  “I know what it’s like to lose the love of your life. When I awoke that day after losing my wife and children, I was lost, angry, filled with unbearable pain. And it’s okay to feel those things Haldir, but it’s not okay to keep it bottled up inside. Trust me.”

Again, Haldir spoke not a word.  Cain sighed but continued with the healing until he couldn’t smell a single trace of blood and grim on Haldir anymore.

“I don’t wish to push you Haldir but I’d like you to tell me what happened over there. Perhaps there could be a reason as to why they targeted Hela.” The sound of Haldir rising from the pool and walking over to redress himself. 

“There’s nothing to say.” Haldir spoke so softly it would almost sound like the faint sounds of the wind blowing.  But Cain heard him.

“I understand it’s hard to talk about……”

“Hard to talk about? What is there to talk about?!” gradually Haldir’s voice got louder with pain and rage as he began to rant.  “Three dark sorcerers captured me as bait to lure Hela away from the city and I watched as they beat her like a horse! She was still alive in my arms, I felt her heart beating still…..But now I’m told I was able to be saved by your teachings WHEN YOU COULDN’T EVEN HEAL YOUR OWN SISTER IN THE SAME MANNER!!”

Silence rang out in the room as Haldir glared down at Cain in fury.  His chest heaving and heart racing.  Cain’s surprised but sorrow-filled face stared at the grieving Marchwarden.  When Haldir realized what he had said, he turned his head away and said regretfully.

“That came out wrong, I—I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. As I said, let the anger and pain flow like water.”

“I’m trying to understand myself just why this all happened, but none of it makes any sense. The way they fought against her it—they enjoyed tormenting her. I could see it in their eyes, they took pleasure in it. Same as when they tortured me. I—I’m lost Lord Cain. I feel so lost.” Haldir fell to his knees and could feel the stinging sensation of tears starting to form but they couldn’t fall for Haldir had cried himself to near exhaustion after he had awakened from Nergal’s attack.

“Haldir,” he felt Cain’s hand on his shoulder and looked up to see the now last of the Celestials kneeling before him, his glowing eyes piercing his very soul but his voice was a calm and soothing like honey.  “I know you’re hurting right now, but you’re not the only one here who is mourning for Hela. How do you think Merry and Pippin are feeling to have lost the woman they have known since they were children? How do you think Aragorn and Gandalf are feeling at losing a friend they have known for centuries all together? And me? I am her brother who has only come to know her for only 80 years, but she is still my sister. The rest of my kin are either dead or have been turned to stone.”

“I—didn’t even think of that. I could remember the halfling that came with us, his cries could’ve rivaled mine in mourning.”

“But we can’t let this destroy our spirits.” Cain told him.  “Back when Hela became the last of our kin, she could’ve chosen to run. Isolate herself and never be seen by a single soul. Instead, she chose to continue the fight to protect and serve Middle Earth. And that’s what we all need to do now.”

“You’re speaking as if she is still here.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Hela, it’s that the ones that we lose never truly leave us. They are all around us, not just in our hearts and memories, but through how we are shaped. What we chose to do after they are gone.” Haldir looked at Cain and then said.

“I believe it would be wise for you all to hear just what happened at Minas Morgul.” Cain nodded then he and Haldir left the spiritual healing pool and headed towards the throne room.

Cain had sent a telepathic message to the others who all met with him and Haldir and Haldir began to explain to them what had occurred at Minas Morgul.

“I didn’t know how it happened at first, but all I know was that I couldn’t control my own limbs. I tried to fight against it, but it was no use. Next thing I knew I awoke chained up surrounded by darkness. Most of the stories I’ve been told of torture methods of orcs, goblins and even men, they—were nothing compared to what I went through. Some form of liquid was given to me by force, not to drink you see, but they poured it onto my skin. The very burning sensation was unlike anything I’ve felt before. For 2 full days I couldn’t move my own finger.”

“What did this liquid look like?” asked Aragorn.

“It was as silver as Mithril but as thick as blood. At times it almost seemed alive as it soaked into my skin, moving through my veins like a worm.”

“I have seen that type of liquid from time to time.” Faramir’s voice spoke up.  “I’ve seen Nergal create this potion that he’ll use on some of the prisoners and traitors of Gondor. The screams I’ve heard from some of the men he’s used it on, they were unlike anything I’ve ever heard. Some claim to have felt like they were burning from the inside out.”

“Durin’s beard.” Gimli muttered grimly shaking his head.  Even though he had a distrust towards Elves and even Haldir, not even he would wish something like that upon an elf.

“Did they say as to why they wanted Hela?” asked Cain.

“All Perses kept saying was that she needed to surrender to the power she had been given.”

“What does that mean?” asked Merry.

“She did.” Pippin soon spoke up.  Everyone turned to the young hobbit as he continued, “when Hela found the guards who had taken you to Minas Morgul. She did something to those guards. Just like you had described Mr. Haldir, it was like she had possessed them with a wave of her hands. It was frightening. I’ve never seen Hela do something like that before, not even when this journey began.”

“Perses even said it that it had to be intoxicating. The feeling of having someone’s life in her hands.”

“Hela has always had the potential to do great good or great evil.” Gandalf explained.  “Being the only Celestial of death, she was put to the test to see how a Celestial could deal with such a burden. For only one other person had the power over the dead and was more powerful than she was.”

“Sauron.” Aragorn and Legolas both answered together.

“Yes. But we must also remember a greater threat is coming. Without Hela, the Deviants will return.”

“How exactly did Hela defeat them all? When we used to ask her about that as children, she always diverted from the real answer and told us to not worry about it.” Said Merry.

“She didn’t defeat them.” Cain responded.  “The deviants had grown too strong and too numerous for her to handle. So she went to Mirkwood to seek council with Legolas’ father Thranduil. There he had given her a spell that could seal them deep beneath the seas. By using her blood she drew the gate, and with her lifeforce it became the key. She has lived the last 248 years as a walking key. But if she was ever slain in battle, the gateway would become accessible, on the day she sealed them away. Which is in three days from now.”

“Three days from now is also when Smaug had sacked Dale and took claim over Erebor. No wonder she said something else besides a dragon had needed her attention.” Gimli said.

“Now all they would need to do is wait for the red sun to rise on the third day, the seas will open and the gateway will be revealed.” Cain pinched the bridge of his nose sighing heavily.

“Even if you were there to help her Cain, you would’ve been turned to stone just like the rest of your kin. If not killed since you aren’t a Celestial.” Aragorn assured him, knowing that Cain was blaming himself for not being there for his sister.

“So how do we defeat them?” asked Pippin.

“We can’t.” Gandalf said solemnly.  “Sauron created the Deviants to only be taken down by the Celestials themselves.”

“We may not be able to defeat them, but there might be a way to hold them off.” Faramir said.  “I’ve noticed in a room just before reaching the dungeons there is a large rune of protection. Runes that I’ve only seen in the tales of the Celestial. Hela must’ve made it long ago when the deviants still roamed these lands. If we can somehow activate the spell that powers it, we might be able to create a barrier to protect us for a time.”

“Take me to these runes Faramir and I’ll work out the spell from there.” Faramir nodded then he and Gandalf left the throne room.

“Meanwhile the rest of us have to evacuate the city. The people have already been caught in the crossfires of the armies of Mordor, for them the Deviants would be a fate worse than death.” Aragorn said.

“Where will we take them? Osgiliath is in runes.” Pippin said.

“We will take them deep underground. Hela once showed me in the days of old when war came to this city, back when Sauron was still in power. There is a place large enough for the women and children to seek shelter in. Much like the caves back at Helm’s Deep. It’ll be safe and enforced to keep them alive while we handle the beasts in the city.” Everyone nodded to the King of Gondor and they began to prepare for evacuation and protection.

Legolas and Haldir (along with Eowyn’s assistance) helped the healers take the injured down to the lower levels first since they would need time to be moved and knowing that the Deviants always went for the vulnerable and the weak.  Gimli, Merry and Pippin helped the cooks and servants with the food rations that would need to be taken down, and Aragorn made the proclamation to the people of Gondor that they would need to prepare to go underground.

He told them that they would need to gather only what they needed and be prepared to move by the time of the second nightfall.   All the awhile Cain was back up at the tower of Ecthelion and he looked down at Hela.

He still couldn’t hear her heartbeat and yet he could still feel that her body was warm.

“We’re evacuating the civilians to the lower levels you helped made Hela. I promise, we’re going to hold them off for as long as we can. I may not have my Celestial power anymore, but Celestial blood still runs through my veins. And in your honor, I swear to you I will not let the white city fall to the Deviants.”

As he turned to leave the tower, Cain could almost hear a faint voice calling out.  He knew it wasn’t anyone out in Gondor calling out for this voice said something in both his and Hela’s Celeste language.  He felt around and soon pulled out the bag that Hela had given him that held half of their kin’s power stones.  He touched the bag and he could feel the strong aura of power emanating from the bag within.

“Druig.” He softly said.  He raced out of the tower and reached out to the others and told them to meet him at the throne room, and fast.

When the Fellowship, Haldir, and Faramir were in the throne room Cain had said.

“When I first met Hela to help her regain her spiritual connection to our kins celestial power stones, I’ve always felt a stronger presence within her brother Druig’s stone. Now him being a Celestial of the Mind, I believed it to be just his raw power alone, but I should’ve known better. A big brother, especially a twin, will always find a way.”

“What are you talking about laddie? Speak in words that don’t sound like riddle talk.” Gimli said.

“What I’m saying Gimli is that Druig didn’t just surrender all of his power into the Celestial gem, he also surrendered a part of his subconsciousness in here as well. Hidden away from even Hela until the right moment.”

“So you’re saying that Druig’s mind is inside his stone and he wants to come out now?” asked Pippin.

“Aye. And perhaps with his help, we can find a way to defeat the Deviants once and for all.

“I did always hear a voice for a time when Hela first came to me as a hawk. Translating every cry and squawk she made until I began to pick it up. And it happened right after I had found her family’s celestial gems within a cave not too far from the borders of Bree.” Aragorn spoke up, siding with Cain’s suggestion.

“But how do we get him to come out? Hela always warned us that if anyone unworthy touched a celestial gem, bad things would happen.” Merry said.

“Yes, and Druig is not one to trust people so easily. Especially those of the world of Men and Elves. Thought Men were too arrogant and Elves were too hotheaded. No offense.”

“I wouldn’t blame him for that.” Said Aragorn.

“Neither would I.” Faramir agreed.

“What about us? Hobbits have never been much for gold or riches. Do you think Druig would come out for one of us?” asked Pippin.  Cain and Gandalf looked to each other and Gandalf said.

“Your ancestors came long after Druig had been turned to stone. I wouldn’t see why he wouldn’t try. Being of the Mind he’ll see no ill intent within either of you.”

“Do you both know how to summon him?” asked Cain.

“Hela taught us all the calls to each of her siblings and her mother. We got this Master Cain.” Merry assured him.  He nodded then he and Gandalf told the others to stand back.  Cain took the bag and slowly turned it upside down and out came out Druig’s stone which was now glowing a golden light around the onyx black stone.

Cain backed away as Merry and Pippin stood on either side over Druig’s stone.

“Ready Merry?” asked Pippin.

“Ready Pip.” Answered Merry.  Together the two hobbits did Druig’s Celestial bow (pressing their hands together they had their thumbs, index and tall fingers touching each other while their other two fingers rested in the empty spaces between their fingers. Then they touched the center of their foreheads with the tip of their index and tall finger before resting them back in front of their chests).  The together they spoke Druig’s prayer.

“Oh He who was first of the Second Age Celestials. The first of the pair of three. The trinity that is of Mind, Body and Soul we ask thee of the power of the Mind. Celestial Druig, we call to you!” as they spoke, the gem began to glow brighter and brighter until it shone almost as powerful as the sun.  Until it suddenly stopped.

And nothing happened.

Everyone was confused.

“Did they say it right?” asked Gimli.

“Yes. I don’t understand, it should’ve worked. I’ve heard this prayer a thousand times whenever he, Hela and Makkari made it.” Said Cain.

“Maybe they didn’t……” Gimli continued but then a powerful beam of light shot out from Druig’s gem and red magic began to swarm around both Merry and Pippin.  Their arms were pinned behind their backs, they were lifted midway off the ground and around their temples a golden light shined as they felt their heads almost being squeezed.

The hobbits let out a pained scream and as the others readied their weapons and Cain called out their names.  But they too were soon consumed by the red magic, lifted just a few inches off the ground, their arms trapped at their sides.  Another light burst out from the gem but this time a figure began to take shape.

A translucent figure, almost like a ghost now stood forward, his pupils glowing a pure gold while his right hands glowed with the same red magic that now surrounded them.  He had long, wavy brown hair that came to his shoulders, like most ghosts and apparitions that appear in the Seen world, his lower half was none existent.  The black and red celestial armor was a given fact to the others that this was indeed Druig’s spirit that had been put into the stone.

He turned towards the hobbits and spoke in a voice that was both warm as honey but a deep as thunder.

“How did you both know to say that prayer? Only two people in all existence know those words.”

“Miss Hela taught it to us. She told us all about you, her and Makkari Mr. Druig sir.” Pippin said before letting out a cry as the glowing at his temples brightened feeling his head was about to explode.

“You may be familiar with the stories of me and my sisters but I don’t recall seeing your kind before. Who are you and why do you seek my power?”

“We’re Hobbits. Halflings. Shire folk. Please Lord Druig we need your help.” Merry said through the pain in his head.

“They speak the truth Druig.” Cain said.  Druig turned towards the others and he straightened up.

“None but my family dare say my name alone.” He raised his right hand and as he floated towards the others, he made a ‘come hither’ motion with his right index finger to bring Merry and Pippin along with him.  “There is something about you in your head, you’re clearly immortal but you are not of Elven blood nor like this Ranger here.”

“When you were younger, you once heard Orion and Delta speak about a fallen Celestial. A Celestial of their own power, but they spoke his name in a hushed curse. So you went to Phastos and Apollo to know what they were referring to, but Thena intervened before they could speak and told you the story of Cain the Wrathful.”

“And he is you. Cain the Wrathful? The fallen Celestial of Starlight.” Cain nodded.  “And just what does an exile? Two elves? A Dwarf? A wizard? Two hobbits? And two Dúnedain Men want with my power?”

“We don’t want your power for gain or conquest. We need your help. I’ve sensed your spirit within your gemstone ever since Hela came to me. As an older brother myself I know what it’s like to worry over your younger siblings. The spell you must’ve used could only activate when Hela was in dire need of help. And now she is.”

“What trouble has befallen my sweet, sweet Hela?” at the mention of his twin sister’s name.  He released everyone from his spell, his eyes reverting back to the deep brown.  When no one spoke he demanded, his voice now becoming like the deep thunder it truly could be, “SPEAK!!”

“Hela is……she’s……She has fallen.” Aragorn spoke solemnly.  Druig’s face went from anger to sorrow as he shook his head.  His eyes widened in disbelief.

“Take me to her.”

“Druig…..” Cain started but Druig snapped.

“Please!” his thunderous voice cracked in sorrow.  Most people think that ghosts and spirits can’t shed a tear, but everyone saw for themselves that even a spirit can still cry as a single tear fell at the corner of Druig’s face and slid down his chin before disappearing into thin air as it fell from his chin.

“Can you freely move without your stone or……” Gimli started to say.

“I need to be within range of her.” He turned to the hobbits and told them, “You both knew the prayer to summon me, I’ll freely allow one of you to carry my stone.”

“I’ll do it.” Volunteered Merry.  Druig gave him a soft nod then in a flash of light, Druig’s spirit disappeared and the light from Druig’s black stone dimmed until it was once again a simple black gemstone.  Merry walked over and picked it up. “It feels smooth, like a pebble but almost as cool as water. Huh, who would’ve thought after all these years of wondering what these gems felt like, it’d be that.”

“Best not keep him waiting.” Faramir suggested.  Everyone then headed back for the tower of Ecthelion where Hela lied in her bed.  Merry set them gemstone onto the floor and once again the gem glowed and Druig’s spirit reappeared before them.

When he caught sight of his twin sister on the bed beaten and scarred, he couldn’t believe that over 3000 years on her own, she’d fallen like this.

“How?” was all Druig could muster.  Everyone turned to Haldir and he finally spoke.

“Three dark sorcerers used me to get to her. She fought as best as she could, but they proved to be stronger than she even with all her power.” Druig turned to Haldir and floated right up to the elf.  He raised his hands up and placed them on either side of Haldir’s head, his thumbs just barely touching the top of Haldir’s eyes.  Druig’s eyes glowed gold and he slowly bowed his head as he began to look inside Haldir’s mind.

There he saw and felt every ounce of pain both he and Hela had endured with Deimos. Nergal and Perses.  The poison they gave Haldir, every slice of Deimos’s sickles on both their bodies, the raw power of Perses’ hand-to-hand combat, and even the gas that had taken them both down.

Druig suddenly released Haldir and actually stumbled to the ground weak and in agony at what he had just felt.  He crawled across the room, Pippin took a step in concerned but was not only held back by Merry but Druig’s voice echoed with agony.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!” Druig finally pressed his back to the wall and curled himself inward in agony.

“Mr. Druig? Are you—okay?” Merry asked hesitantly.

“I saw it.” he whispered brokenly.

“Saw what?” Merry asked again.

“I saw her through your eyes.” Druig looked to Haldir.  “Even after what they did to you, you still fought by her side?” Haldir looked down.

“I only wish I had fought harder. If I had not gotten captured, maybe there would’ve been a greater chance at stopping them. But they…..” Haldir’s breathing grew sharp and heavy as regret filled him once again.  Druig tilted his head and could feel Haldir’s emotions radiating even without needing to look back into his head.

“You’re the one she chose.” Druig stood back up and once again levitated before Haldir.  “She always did have an admiration for the Elves but never did I think she would choose one to be her One.” Druig then floated over to his sister’s body and whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you little sister. But at least you didn’t pass on alone.” When Druig reached out to touch her head he softly gasped.

His sorrow turned perplex as his eyes began to glow gold.  He remained still as he stared down at his sister’s body, not once removing his hand from her head.

“Druig? What is it?” asked Cain.

“I have seen many corpses in my life, many slain warriors even of my own kin. But not a single dead body’s mind is as active as Hela’s is.” Druig said.

“What does that mean?” asked Pippin.

“Have you ever had that feeling when you feel like your trapped in a dream? Where your body is completely still yet your mind is screaming at you to wake up?” they all gave him a nod.  “I sense within her that while her body is unresponsive, her mind is as active as a bee’s hive. This is a spell unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“So….Hela isn’t dead?” Pippin asked with a hint of hope in his voice.

“Not yet. This feels like her power but I’ve never known Hela to do something like this to someone.” Druig turned to his sisters friends and his exiled brother and asked.  “You said dark sorcerers did this to her, what did they look like?”

“I can show you.” Faramir stepped forward.  Druig floated over to him and like he did with Haldir, he placed his hands on either side of Faramir’s head, his thumbs just above the young Steward’s son’s eyes and there Druig saw the faces of Perses, Deimos and Nergal.  Druig let out a gasp, his eyes widened in shock as he shook his head.

“It—it couldn’t be. No, no, no, it can’t be.”

“Master Druig, you know these men?” asked Gandalf.

“Not physically but…..oh Irmo I can’t believe how foolish I was to do that to her!” Druig snapped in his anger and in his anger, his raw power caused several objects to fling across the room, some of them nearly taking out some of the men in the room.

“What Druig? What did you do?” asked Aragorn.

“You would think I was a fool after I tell you.”

“For Hela’s sake? I think I would’ve done the same if I had been in your place. Please Lord Druig, we have no answers and if there’s anything you can tell us, we need to know. Not for Middle Earth’s sake or ours, but your sister’s.” Druig looked into Aragorn’s eyes and saw nothing but the truth.  He could see just how much this mortal man cared for his sister like she was his own blood.

“Shortly after Sauron had created his Ring of Power, Hela used to wake up screaming. From these….awful dreams. She never wanted to speak about them but she allowed me to see them through her mind. And each time it was always the same dream. She dreamt of darkness and fire. She saw herself standing over the world as it burned to the ground, Her armor changed into one of iron, almost like the Dark Lord’s himself. But she wasn’t alone. At her side, there were three men in Celestial armor as well, but they weren’t any of ours, it was unlike anything I have ever seen Celestial armor be. And those men were the very same men I saw in your head.” He said pointing to Faramir.

Everyone was speechless at Druig’s confession.  This couldn’t be possible could it? Those men in Celestial armor?

“I-I didn’t know how to comfort her or reassure her so I-I……I erased those dreams from her head. Each time until she didn’t dream of them anymore.” Druig scoffed.  “To think she was seeing the future and I made her forget. She could’ve known not to trust them.”

“She did.” Haldir spoke.  Druig turned to the Marchwarden.  “She didn’t know how to explain it, but the moment she had met Perses first, she told me there was something both familiar yet evil about him. Sam goes for Nergal and Deimos. She knew not to trust them.”

 “But why would she see those men in Celestial armor? I thought they were just evil wizards?” asked Pippin.

“It’s not possible. None but the Valar and the Celestial prime can create Celestials.” Said Gandalf.

“Her Celestial connection.” Cain muttered.  Everyone turned to him.  “When Sauron took possession over Hela, he didn’t just severe her connection to just the powers of our kin. She had lost her Celestial connection, in a way her aura was like how a mortal man’s is.”

“What do you mean Master Cain?” asked Merry.

“Celestials hold a certain aura that glows much like the Elves. When I first met Hela, I was shocked to see just how dim her Celestial aura was, it was like seeing the last specks of a campfire before it’s extinguished by a foot or dumping some dirt on top of it. It took the entire time she was with me to regain that Celestial glow that our kin is known for.”

“And Sauron’s servants did not kill all of our men. Some were said to have been taken straight into the Black Gates, never to be seen again. And those warriors that were said to have been taken were both strong bodied and strong-willed.” Faramir said.

“He’s deceived us all along. His plans for Hela, her powers, the councilmen of Denethor, it all makes sense now. Sauron didn’t want Hela’s powers for himself…..” Cain started fearfully.

“He wanted to harvest them.” Druig spoke grimly.

“Sauron has created his own Celestials of Death.” Suddenly thunder boomed from the sky but unlike storms in the past, the lightning that flashed from the sky was blood red.

“If they truly are Celestials of Death, then all is lost.” Gimli said.  “Lady Hela is a powerful Celestial, but with three Celestials of her own power on the side of our enemy, what hope do we have in stopping them? Especially when in three days’ time, they’ll bring back the Deviants.”

“That’s sometimes the trouble with your Dwarves that I’ll never understand.” Druig said.  Gimli grumbled under his breath offendedly.

“What do you mean?” asked Aragorn.

“I did say Hela is under a powerful spell, but all spells, no matter how powerful can be broken.”

“You mean you can break her free of that spell this whole time?” exclaimed Gimli.

“Not me, this is Hela’s magic working against her. Only she has the power to break this curse, but who’s to say she can’t do it without a little help?”

“What are you suggesting Druig?” asked Cain.

“If I can send my spirit deep into Hela’s subconscious, I might be able to help her break free of whatever imprisonment this spell has on her. But in order to counteract a spell this powerful, I need a host body to use my power.” Druig gave a small smirk for he already had chosen who he wanted to use his power.

“No Druig, absolutely not!” Cain immediately said.

“I didn’t even say who I’ve chosen!” Druig exclaimed.

“But I know who you’re thinking of choosing! And I can’t watch as his body is destroyed by your power!” he walked out of the tower and headed down the stairs.

As Cain trudged down the stairs in a huff, Druig’s spirit suddenly appeared before him and he demanded.

“Do you want to be responsible for what is to come next if we choose to do nothing?”

“You don’t understand Druig. Merry and Eowyn both went up against the second greatest threat the third Age has ever known. More dangerous than even Smaug. The Witch King of Angmar is not a foe to be taken lightly, they were both lucky to have come back with their sanity still intact.”

“I’ve seen through Hela’s eyes how the Black breath is and how dangerous Angmar was to Middle Earth. But it doesn’t change the fact that out of anyone in that room, Meriadoc Brandybuck shows more promise in wielding my power. And if you don’t let him and I find a way to help Hela, then Middle Earth will be nothing but shadow and stone.”

Cain’s breathing deepened as he crossed his arms, his body fidgeting with anxiety.  He cursed that Druig was right, even he could sense that Merry was meant for something greater, even greater than aiding in helping to defeat the Witch King himself.

“This is his decision. Not yours. If he says no, you will not use your mind manipulation to force him to help you.”

“And if he agrees, then you keep your mouth shut and let us do our work, while you do yours. Without Hela, the Deviants will go for any and all traces of life force to sustain themselves. And you’re the only one with enough knowledge on how to take them down. Deal, brother?” Druig held out his hand.

Cain then reached out and was actually able to grab onto Druig’s hand as the two brothers shook on it.

“If any harm comes to that Hobbit, you’ll see why I was given the name Cain the Wrathful.”

“And you’ll see that when it comes to my twin sisters, I’m not afraid to break the rules and risk banishment for their safety.” Druig’s eyes glowed red in warning.

[katetheworm]

possible new chapter of Naud Bui Amarth coming out today!!

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

To Love a Ranger Chapter 1- Aragorn x OC

Aragorn x Issa

Description: While waiting for Aragorn to return from a scouting mission Issa is caught off guard when Arwen brings a Hobbit to the Valley, and that Hobbit had been stabbed by a Morgul Blade.

Word Count: 1.8k

Issa, though she wasn’t exactly trying to, couldn’t hide her shock when Arwen approached her with a frantic look on her face. Well, that wasn’t what shocked her, it was what she said to her: there was a Hobbit who bore something extremely important that had been gravely injured. While on the way to Rivendell with four other Hobbits and Aragorn in tow, Frodo was attacked by Nazgûls and stabbed with a Morgul Blade. Arwen had sensed the danger and rode her horse to meet and save Frodo, returning him for her father to heal. He had sent his daughter to fetch Issa as he needed her assistance, and the girl wasted no time in heading towards the healing wing of the Last Homely House.

The process lasted for what felt like hours, and it was exhausting. It was nearly dark by the time they managed to stabilize the poor Hobbit, and they left it up to the other healers to make sure he stayed that way. Elrond thanked her with a kind smile before making his way to deal with some other business, leaving Issa alone. With nothing else to do but worry and pray, she leaned against a nearby wall and slid down, finally taking a deep breath. She didn’t stay there for long however before she heard footsteps approaching her quickly. Her head snapped up when she heard her name.

“Issa,” Arwen called, almost breathlessly as she rounded the corner by Issa. The girl was quick to stand and brush her dress to look more presentable as the elf reached her.

“Arwen, what troubles you mellon nin (my friend)?” She questioned concernedly.

“Not troubles me, brings me peace,” she responded, an excited smile appearing on her face. “Aragorn has returned with the Ring Bearer’s friends. They’re walking up the steps as we speak.” Issa immediately jumped to action, her heart soaring as she picked up the skirt of her dress and began running towards the entrance of the house with her friend following closely behind her.

True to Arwen’s words, Aragorn had just reached the top of the stairs of the Last Homely House with three Hobbits in tow. The latter were looking around the entrance in wonder, but looked at Issa when she and Arwen reached them. In an instant Aragorn’s arms were open and Issa stepped into them, hugging him tightly. Once they pulled away, they noticed three pairs of eyes on them, and Aragorn cleared his throat before looking at the Hobbits.

“Gentleman, this is my wife, Issa Goodwin.”

“Future wife,” the woman reminded him playfully, which made him roll his eyes playfully before continuing.

“Issa, these are Masters Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took-”

“You can just call me Merry though,” the boy, Merry, piped up.

“And me Pippin,” said boy added. The girl had to hold back a giggle at the slight exhaustion in Aragorn’s expression at the interruption.

“And that there is Master Samwise Gamgee” he concluded, gesturing to the last unnamed Hobbit.

“You may just call me Sam,” Samwise added softly. “Almost everyone does.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you all,” she responded kindly. “Is everyone okay? Are there any other injuries?” Though she had been talking to all of them, her eyes lingered on Aragorn just a bit longer.

“No, we’re fine,” Samwise spoke nervously. “Is Mr. Frodo okay?” A small, patient smile graced her face as she nodded.

“Yes, Master Baggins is resting in the hospital wing resting at the moment,” she answered, receiving relieved sighs from everyone. “It was lucky that Lady Arwen was there to bring him here immediately. Would you like to go sit with him?” Immediately the Hobbits perked up and nodded eagerly.

“Please,” Samwise answered politely, which made Issa’s smile widen.

“Very well, Lady Arwen here will escort you to his room. Arwen, if you please,” she gestured down the hallways they had just come from. The Elf offered her a smile then a simple nod before rounding the Hobbits up and walking off. Issa watched them until they disappeared around the corner, then faced her fiance. 

She wasn’t surprised to see him already looking at her, but she was when he suddenly stepped forward and hugged her again, this time much longer since they no longer had an audience. It wasn’t that Aragorn wasn’t a touchy person, in fact it was quite the opposite. But it was usually her that initiated it. She knew it was one of two things: he knew that she would want to hold him but he beat her to the punch, or he was just genuinely scared about something (which was most likely what happened). It only took her a split second to hug him back, resting her head on his chest.

“I was so worried about you,” she muttered just loud enough for him to hear, humming contentedly when his grip tightened around her. “When Arwen told me what happened, I was so scared that you wouldn’t be okay.”

“Doubting my skills now, melethdel (darling)?” He questioned jokingly, effectively lightening the mood and making her breathe out a laugh.

“Aragorn, I know that you’re a skilled Ranger, but it was just you and those Hobbits. I didn’t know what to think.” A small, sympathetic smile appeared on Aragorn’s face as he pulled back to look at her. Issa’s eyes stayed on him as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I would not allow anything to happen to me or the Hobbits, not when I have a beautiful woman patiently awaiting my return home as always.” A blush dusted the girl’s cheeks and she shook her head amusedly.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, mell tulwie veru nîn (My dear future husband),” she retorted amusedly, pulling away from him.

“And yet you’re blushing, melda tulwie indis nîn (My beloved future wife),” he shot back with a cheeky grin, ignoring her protests as he pulled her into his arms yet again. Issa scrunched up her nose playfully before looking up at him.

“You stink, you need a bath,” she quickly diverted.

“Maybe you could help me,” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Hunc (Pig),” she scoffed playfully, beginning to walk away.

“Issa, you know I was just kidding,” he said quickly, watching her helplessly (obviously not realizing she was jokingly). Rather than face him again, she simply spoke.

“Are you coming or not?” She didn’t say anything nor turn around as she headed to their shared room, knowing that he would follow. And, as usual, he did.

Just ten minutes later Issa had a hot bubble bath prepared for Aragorn, who let out a long, almost relieved sigh upon just looking at it. She had also taken the liberty of making a quick stop at the kitchen for food, not knowing when the last time he ate was. When she returned Aragorn was already undressed and in the soapy tub, his eyes closed and his head leaned back against the lip of it. For a moment she thought he had fallen asleep in the few minutes she was gone, but his eyes opened when he heard her close the bathroom door. A small smile graced his face as she took a seat beside the tub with the food in her lap.

“You are Valinor sent,” he muttered gratefully as he reached out to grab a piece of bread from the plate. She watched as he ate the food she brought, savoring every bite, and she grinned affectionately. After he finished eating he began to bathe himself, and Issa felt the atmosphere change. Not in a bad way per se, but she could immediately tell what he was thinking just by the look on his face. After knowing each other for so long she was able to understand what he was feeling by the subtle expressions on his face and in his mannerisms. She could already tell what made his attitude change: he was thinking about what happened to Frodo on the way to Rivendell.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” She inquired after a minute. The man in front of her shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to meet her eye and instead tried to busy himself by focusing on scrubbing the grime off his arms.

“There’s not much to say,” he answered. “We were too slow in our journey and Frodo was forced to pay the price for it.”

“Aragorn,” Issa called softly, resting her hand over the one that held his rag, which made him pause and finally look at her. “You did the best that you could, my love.”

“I left them alone,” he muttered, sounding guilt-ridden about it. “Without protection at that. They had no idea how to use a sword, it wasn’t fair to do that to them.”

“You weren’t expecting an attack, people make mistakes like that all the time,” she shot back. “There’s nothing wrong with that. And guess what? Because you were quick in thinking and you got back to them in time, you stalled long enough for Arwen to get to you and the Hobbits. If it weren’t for you, Frodo would be a Ring Wraith or worse, dead.” Her words comforted him a bit, and he finally conceded with a nod.

“If you say so, melethdel (darling).” Issa smiled triumphantly, which brought another smile to Aragorn’s face as she stood.

“Now, you finish washing up while I take this back to the kitchen,” she gestured to the plate now in her hands once again. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

“Yes ma’am,” Aragorn chuckled, which made her roll her eyes playfully as she walked out of the bathroom. It didn’t take her long to run to the kitchen and wash the dishes (because she always liked doing her part around the house), yet when she returned to their room again Aragorn was already out of the tub and in more comfortable clothes. He was already in bed, laying on top of the covers. For a moment Issa thought yet again that he had fallen asleep, but then, without opening his eyes, he reached his arms out for her.

“Lay with me?” It sounded more like a question, and Issa was happy to answer it by doing as he asked. She settled into his embrace and allowed him to hold her, something that helped him ground himself after a difficult mission.

“Lord Elrond is hosting a council once Frodo wakes up,” he mentioned softly after a moment. “He’s already sent out letters to Mirkwood, Gondor and the Lonely Mountains and they’ll be joining. He wants both of us there.”

“We can worry about that when Frodo wakes up,” she brushed off as her eyes began to fall closed. “Right now I just want to spend time with you and focus on you.” Aragorn’s chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle and his grip around her tightened just a bit.

“As my love wishes,” he responded simply, pulling her closer to him as they melted in each other’s embrace for the night.

[darth-feanor-writes]

Sword and Arrow: Chapter 6

All Chapters

Fandom: the Lord of the Rings

Pairings: Aragorn/Boromir, Aragorn/Female OC

Chapter summary: Naturally, sword lessons with the hobbits leads to betting.

Warnings: mention of various weapons

Words: 3.2k

Chapters: 6/?

CHAPTER 6

"You want me to do what?" Aragorn asked again.

"I want you to teach me how to use a sword." Beruthiel had shown up to the sandy-floored training ground lugging a sheathed sword. She'd practiced and practiced with her new bow for two weeks, but she still thought something was missing. "When we're out there somewhere" -she waved at the valley- "I never know when I might run out of arrows. When we're on Ranger missions, we have a horse with lots of spare arrows, but we're not going to have it like that now, and I might run out of arrows, so I want a weapon I can rely on, but the throwing knife is really easy to lose in a melee fight, and the saxe doesn't have a long reach-" She paused for a breath. "I want to learn how to use a sword."

"I don't know..." Aragorn said, hands on his hips. "It takes a long time to learn how to master the sword."

"Well, then don't teach me to master the sword," Beruthiel answered. "Just teach me how to, you know, hold it, swing it, kill something, not cut my feet off... I don't want to be able to beat a knight in a duel or something, I want to be able to defend myself when I run out of arrows."

Aragorn studied her. She looked serious. "And you'll do everything I tell you to do?"

She shrugged. "Within reason. I'll do any exercise you tell me to do, but I'm not giving you my coffee for a month or anything." Her friend sighed and looked up at the sky.

"My plans have been thwarted," he said to whoever was listening. Beruthiel smothered a laugh. "All right, I'll teach you. But hold on, let me get the hobbits first."

"The hobbits?" she asked suspiciously. "Are you going to make me juggle them or something?"

"I- what?!" Aragorn spluttered. "Ruth, you're very weird sometimes."

"I get it from you," she said easily. "I was very well-thought-of before you came along." Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "Okay, maybe not that well thought of," she amended. "But what do you need the hobbits for, now?"

"I was thinking that I would teach them to use a sword as well," he said. "Iluvatar knows they'll need it." Beruthiel nodded.

~🗡️👑🏹~

A few minutes later, Aragorn came back to the training ground, the four hobbits following him like little ducklings. "I've brought the sacrifices," Aragorn said in a grim voice. The hobbits, already nervous from the dark ranger summoning them, jumped back in fright.

"Aragorn," Beruthiel scolded him. He grinned at her in an apparent change of mood.

"I couldn't resist," he said. She rolled her eyes.

"Don't listen to anything Aragorn tells you," she told the four hobbits. "He's an old busybody." She elbowed him in the ribs. "Now, are you going to teach us?"

"Teach us what?" Frodo carefully asked. "What are you going to teach us?"

"How to make a proper sacrifice to the Valar, of course," the Ranger replied.

"Aragorn."

"Ahem. Sorry. You need to know how to use a sword," Aragorn told them. "It's a dangerous world out there, and we won't always be there to protect you." He gestured at Beruthiel and himself. "You need to know how to defend yourself. So, do you have blades?" The hobbits nodded their agreement. "Let me see."

Frodo went first, handing Aragorn the short sword he wore around his waist. "It's called Sting," he told the older man. "It's Bilbo's sword." Aragorn nodded, drawing it out of the leather scabbard. The sword had a leaf-shaped blade and a leather-wrapped grip. It looked tiny in the Ranger's hand, but for a hobbit, it was large enough to wield double-handed.

"A very good blade," Aragorn said approvingly. "Elvish." He sheathed the sword and handed it to Frodo. Aragorn noticed with satisfaction that Frodo knew how to wear the sword correctly- Bilbo had taught him earlier. "Now, let's see yours." He motioned to the rest of the hobbits. They clumsily took out their own blades- Pippin with more grace than Merry and Sam.

Aragorn inspected each of the swords in turn. He thought he recognized the style- it was of the old kingdom, Arnor before it fell. "These were forged a long time ago," he muttered to himself as he turned the blade over in his hands. "Made to fight creatures of the Dark." He looked up. "Where did you get these?"

"From the Barrows, we did, Mister Strider," Sam said. Aragorn cocked an eyebrow. Sam proceeded to explain what had happened- they had met a man named Tom Bombadil in the Old Forest, then had been taken by a Barrow-wight later on. Old Bombadil had rescued them and given each of them a dagger. Aragorn nodded at the name Tom Bombadil; he had heard of the man but never met him.

"Now, Beruthiel doesn't have a sword," Aragorn told the hobbits after giving their swords back. "So we're going to get her one."

 ~🗡️👑🏹~

"So, Beruthiel, can you tell me what's wrong with this sword?" Aragorn asked, pointing to a sword he'd unsheathed. It looked positively ancient.

Beruthiel looked at him as if saying, Are you kidding me? "...It's bent," she said. "Aragorn, I may not be a swordsman, but I am not stupid." He grinned at her.

"Just making sure." He dodged her punch to the shoulder and beckoned to her. Beruthiel mock-glared at him and followed him to a rack of swords.

"But what's wrong with the sword I brought?" asked Beruthiel.

"It's too heavy," Aragorn said over his shoulder. "You can lift it, but can you swing it in battle?"

"Ah. That makes sense."

"I always do. Now come over here." Aragorn beckoned to her. Beruthiel raised an eyebrow and followed him. He held up a sheathed sword and handed it to her. Taking it, she saw that it was heavy. Once she unsheathed it, all the weight went away. The sword was very plain, with a simple flat crossguard and a conical pommel. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather, stained by the previous owner's use. She didn't want to think about whether it was blood or just sweat. The blade of the sword was long and thin, with a groove down the center to reduce the weight without sacrificing length. "How is it?" Aragorn asked. She gave it an experimental swing.

"It's well balanced," she said. She didn't know anything about swords, but they seemed close enough to knives. This would be a good knife.

Aragorn nodded. "Good. Now let's get out there with the hobbits." He turned back to her. "I'm assuming you know how to clip the scabbard to your belt?"

Beruthiel rolled her eyes, threading her belt through the loops in the scabbard made for that purpose. "Again, I'm not stupid."

"We can get you a baldric if you want," he said thoughtfully, walking backward while facing her. "That might be easier.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I have the knives too, remember? Plus I don't think you can mount a quiver on a baldric."

"Good point. I should probably get myself one, though."

Beruthiel looked at him in surprise. "What about your bow?"

"I'm planning on leaving it behind," he said. "You and Legolas are good enough on your own, I don't think we need a third archer. A third swordsman will be all for the better, though. I've heard about how good Boromir is, but Gandalf is, well..."

"Old," Beruthiel supplied with a hint of a grin.

"Yes, old. And I think most of the fighting we do will be hand-to-hand melee fighting. Better to have more people in the battle than providing support."

Beruthiel nodded. "That's a good idea. But you should consider taking a hunting bow, just in case. My arrows will destroy a small animal if we need to hunt."

"Yes, that's a good idea."

"I'm full of them."

~🗡️👑🏹~

Beruthiel and the four hobbits stood lined up in front of Aragorn. "I suppose you know how to draw your swords?" he asked. All five of them nodded with a range of confidence. "Go on. One at a time, Beruthiel first." Beruthiel carefully drew her sword with the usual shrrinng of leather on metal. Aragorn nodded with approval. Frodo was next. He drew the leaf-shaped blade with success, holding it correctly. Sam fumbled with his blade after drawing, nearly dropping it, but recovered it and refrained from cutting his feet off. We'll need some work there, Aragorn thought. Merry and Pippin were rather good with it, the latter being the best among the hobbits.

"Alright," Aragorn began with a small smile. "Lesson one: pointy end goes in the other person." All five of them groaned. "Seriously, you have no idea how many people accidentally hit themselves." He eyed the five standing in front of him. "Now, since all of you are beginners, I'll begin with the defensive. There are two ways to block a hit. Can anyone tell me the first?"

Surprisingly, it was Merry who answered first. "Parry," he said.

Aragorn nodded. "That's right. Beruthiel, can you swing at me, overhead?" Beruthiel stepped forward uncertainly. "That's all right, you won't hurt me."

Beruthiel swung overhead at Aragorn with one of the wooden wasters that they were practicing with. He brought his own up and held her 'sword' there. "That's a parry," he told the hobbits. "That's when you block a blow." They nodded. "I want you four to pair off and practice that, taking turns. Beruthiel, you're with me." Beruthiel swallowed. She'd seen Aragorn in battle, and he was absolutely ferocious.

"Not you two!" he said sharply. The hobbits had paired up- Merry and Pippin, and Frodo and Sam. He separated the two pairs and assigned Pippin to Sam and Merry to Frodo. "So you don't go easy on him," he said, pointing to Sam and Frodo. "And you two don't mess around." Merry and Pippin gave each other a crestfallen look, then the pairs began quarreling over who got to strike first. Aragorn moved to stop them, then sighed.

"Those two," he said to Beruthiel as he approached her. She grinned. "You first," he said. She nodded and brought her sword up and over. He blocked it easily. "Good. Now my turn." Beruthiel had barely gotten her sword up before his own came down. She grunted with the effort of pushing him back. All of a sudden, Aragorn whipped his sword to the side, sending her crashing forward. Beruthiel barely regained her balance in time. "Lesson number two," Aragorn said. "Never lose your balance." Beruthiel nodded. She bent over as if to catch her breath, then suddenly struck, which Aragorn blocked. Aragorn grinned at her. "Good," he said. "You're learning. You never win a battle by playing fair."

After a few turns, Aragorn called the hobbits back. "Now, the next method of blocking isn't so much blocking as deflecting," he explained. "Beruthiel?"

"I'm your guinea pig, aren't I?" she muttered, stepping forward.

"Yes, you are."

Beruthiel brought the wooden sword up and over in an arc to meet Aragorn's, but instead of blocking it, he tilted his sword to the side to let hers go sliding past. Beruthiel staggered, trying to regain her balance. Meanwhile, Aragorn brought his sword around in a neat arc and mimed slicing her in the back. "Woah," Pippin said once they were done. "That's cool!"

"It is," Aragorn agreed. "It's better than blocking because to block, you need to be stronger than your opponent, which you won't be." He gestured to the hobbits. "No offense. With deflecting, you're using your opponent's weight against them. That's Lesson Number Two: use their weaknesses against them."

"I thought Lesson Number Two was to never lose your balance," Beruthiel put in.

"Fine," Aragorn said with a sigh, raising his eyes to heaven. "Lesson Number Three: use their weakness against them. Now, I want you to practice that for a few turns."

By the end of the day, they'd made good progress, having moved on to the offensive side of things. The five students were very sweaty, very sore, and very pleased with themselves. Aragorn had noticed that Merry and Pippin were naturals with the blade, and while Beruthiel and Frodo didn't show the same adeptness, they more than made up for it with eagerness to learn. Sam, however, didn't particularly want to learn, but he was putting in a good effort.

Aragorn stretched, rolling his shoulders, and began a sweeping sword drill. It had been too long since he really practiced.

~🗡️👑🏹~

Beruthiel and the four hobbits sat in the shade near the practice ground with Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf. Boromir and Aragorn were beginning their next bout nearby.

"Ten shillings on Boromir!" Pippin said excitedly, digging the money out of his pockets. How he still had it, Beruthiel had no idea.

"Same here," Merry added. The two hobbits were very taken with the Gondorian warrior and looked up to him- figuratively and literally. Frodo eyed the money and shrugged.

"Fifteen shillings," Frodo said. Sam shrugged, he'd lost his wallet long ago.

"Hmm." Beruthiel took a coin out of her pocket. "A Castar on Aragorn." She'd seen how well he could fight. She set the small silver coin on the grass.

"Fine," Legolas said. "A Celeban on Aragorn." He set a larger silver coin beside Beruthiel and grinned at her. "They're underestimating him, aren't they?"

"A gold kharaz on Boromir," Gimli said firmly. He threw a heavy gold coin beside Legolas'. Beruthiel regarded the mix of Elvish, Dwarvish, Hobbit, and Gondorian currency with confusion.

"What's the exchange rate again?" she asked despairingly. All shrugged, even Legolas.

"You lot are taking bets on us?" Boromir asked with disbelief. He shook his head.

"Go on," Beruthiel said, grinning. "I need the money." Aragorn shook his head and turned back to Boromir.

"You better have bet on me," he threw over his shoulder and assumed the 'ready' position.

Beruthiel watched, fascinated, as the two began their dance of steel. Both men had taken off their shirts many bouts ago, and she found it hard not to stare at their bare chests, especially Aragorn's. Legolas nudged her and smirked. She quickly tore her eyes away and whipped around. "What?!" she demanded.

"I'll just pretend that I didn't see you staring at Estel," the elf said with a small smile. "Handsome as he is."

"I- I wasn't staring at him!" Beruthiel answered. "I was... inspecting his technique. I'm trying to learn the sword."

"Learn the sword?" Legolas asked with raised eyebrows. "I'd say that Estel is having you work on drills, jabs and parrys, that stuff?"

"He's taught us how to deflect too, so the opponent loses his balance," Beruthiel said defensively. "And more, he's taught us how to keep footwork good."

Legolas shook his head. "Pshaw, I'll show you what real swordsmanship is like after these two are done." He nodded towards Aragorn and Boromir.

The two men fought back and forth, from one end of the practice ground to the other. Beruthiel had to admire the differences between Boromir and Aragorn's fighting styles- while Boromir used the hack-and-slash method, Aragorn preferred grand, sweeping strokes. Both were very effective, but soon enough, Aragorn had disarmed Boromir and had his waster at the other man's throat.

"That's four to three for me," Aragorn announced with a grin. "I win." Boromir grumbled something about Dúnedain giants but stepped back a pace and bowed to Aragorn, who did likewise. Aragorn set his waster aside and approached the group on the grass just after Boromir did.

"Who bet for me?" Boromir asked with a smile. All four hobbits, and Gimli, raised their hands. Aragorn studied the group.

"Glad to see that so many of you had confidence in me," he said.

Legolas shrugged. "It's the people that matter that believe in you," he said with a pointed look towards Beruthiel, who elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow," he complained, rubbing his side. "What happened to me being a prince?"

"I.. er, Your Highness," Beruthiel began uncertainly.

"It all goes flying out the window when you make comments like those," Aragorn said drily.

"That reminds me," Legolas said, standing up. "Care for a bout, Estel?"

"Valar help me," Aragorn groaned, but followed the elf on the sandy area. Legolas was testing the wooden wasters, finally selecting one. "Can someone start the round?" the Ranger added, looking around.

"On it," Beruthiel replied, springing to her feet. She'd seen how this worked, and it didn't require too much skill. She moved so she stood between Aragorn and Legolas and off to the side, so as to not get caught in the middle of their duel. "Participants bow," she called out. Both of them bowed from the waist while not taking their eyes off their opponents' eyes. "Swords up." Both assumed the ready position. "Begin!" And they did. Legolas struck like lightning, but Aragorn was there to deflect it. Studying the flurry of fighting, Beruthiel noted that both of them were wielding the sword with their left hand.

The hobbits were also watching keenly. Merry and Pippin were cheering whenever Legolas struck a blow, while Sam was chanting "Strider, Strider". Frodo remained silent, but Beruthiel saw his eyes darting to the fencers' hands, their feet, their posture. He was a fast learner, she thought. Gandalf was still sitting leaning against the low stone wall, smoking his pipe. He had gone a few bouts against Beruthiel, and she now knew that he was much, much faster than he looked, but nowhere as good as Aragorn, Legolas, or Boromir.

Reaching a break, both resorted to circling each other. Aragorn grinned and tossed his sword to the other hand. Legolas had obviously been expecting it, because he just smiled and fell upon the man, battering at his defenses. Slowly, Aragorn began to give ground. Only a step at first, but Legolas forced him another few paces, then another five. Soon enough, Legolas had Aragorn's back to a wall. Aragorn, his movements now limited, began to look for another option, but found none.

Finally, with a twist of his wrist, Legolas disarmed Aragorn and brought his sword to his opponent's neck. "Yield," Aragorn panted. "I yield." Legolas smiled and stepped back, allowing Aragorn some room. "Participants bow," Beruthiel called again. They did so, then Legolas clasped his friend's hand and patted him on the back.

"You've gotten much better than last time," he told him. Turning to Beruthiel, he said, "I would've flipped him onto his back, but I felt that I had embarrassed him enough."

"You exaggerate," Aragorn said. "I figured out how to avoid that years ago." Legolas raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"I didn't know you could fight like that," she said to Aragorn. He winked.

"There's many things that you don't know I can do."

"Can you teach me?" she asked eagerly. "Teach me to fight like that?"

"Maybe," Aragorn answered. "After you've learned the regular style."

Beruthiel left the training ground practically skipping with joy.

~🗡️👑🏹~

Sword and Arrow Masterpost

[marsconer]

writing lord of the rings fanfic is like. *has three versions of how an event goes* *goes into research tangent on folklore and anthropology* * cries about it* it’s what tolkien would have wanted.

[i-am-darth-feanor]

Sword and Arrow: Chapter 3

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings

Pairings: Aragorn/Female OC, Aragorn/Boromir

Chapter warnings: none :)

Fic summary/blurb thing: 🏹⚔️ 👑𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫. 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜.👑⚔️ 🏹The Rangers of the North are known far and wide for their skills in battle and secrecy. Of this taciturn group of Dúnedain, two are especially renowned for their deeds in battle: Aragorn, the Lord of the Dúnedain and Commandant of Rangers, and Beruthiel, his second-in-command.When Aragorn receives a dire summons from Rivendell but is wandering the Wild on some business of his, Beruthiel rides with haste from Fornost to find him. Once they reach Rivendell, she is invited to the secretive Council of Elrond and, unwilling to leave her friend's side, she joins the group known as the Fellowship of the Ring.From there, Beruthiel is thrown onto a thrilling ride of adventure, love, death, and heartbreak as she meets -  and loses - people who she would fight with sword and arrow for. [somewhat inspired by Ranger’s Apprentice]

Chapter summary: More character exposition and relationship development in Rivendell!

~🗡️👑🏹~

CHAPTER 3

Beruthiel and Aragorn, along with the three hobbits, arrived at Rivendell a few days later. Aragorn sighed in relief as they came into the view of the narrow stone bridge arching across the River Bruinen. He turned back to Beruthiel, who led Bill the pony. She raised an eyebrow in question, and he nodded exhaustedly.

Beruthiel turned to Merry and Pippin. "We're there," she said. "This is Rivendell."

"Come on," said Aragorn. 

Beruthiel and the hobbits followed him as he carefully walked over the bridge. Beruthiel squinted. At the other end, an elleth sat beside the statue of an elven warrior holding a spear. Her head came up as she heard footsteps, and she turned around. A smile lit up her face. "Estel!" she called, springing to her feet. Beruthiel saw that she was barefoot. Aragorn gave the elleth a tired smile. "Adar sent me to watch for you," she said as they neared. "He wanted me to say that the Ringbearer is awake. I wanted to ride out and search for you, but  Adar explicitly forbade it. And you know how he can be," she said with a shudder. 

"Who's that?" Pippin whispered to Merry.

"I think that's his wife," the other hobbit whispered back. Sam cuffed him around the head.

"But is she?" Pippin pressed. 

Beruthiel sighed audibly. "That is Lady Arwen," she said, raising her voices in finality. "Aragorn's adoptive sister."

"So... not his wife?" Merry said, sounding disappointed.

"Yes," Beruthiel said, sighing again. "He has not had a wife or a girlfriend for the last eighty-seven years, as far as I know."

"But you're going to change that?" Pippin wiggled his eyebrows. 

Beruthiel glanced at Aragorn. Help me, she mouthed. He raised an eyebrow. "Nay, I'm letting you deal with this on your own," he replied, a smile on his lips. 

Beruthiel turned back to the hobbits, exasperated. "Aragorn and I are NOT together, and are NOT going to be!" she exclaimed. "We - are - friends!"

"That's what they all say," Sam said with a wicked smile. Beruthiel glowered at them, then spun on her heel and joined Aragorn and Arwen.

"So," Arwen said. "Are you together?" 

Beruthiel considered glaring at her, then came to the conclusion that she shouldn't glare at an elf, particularly one of such a renowned family. Aragorn chuckled at her strained expression. "How are things here, my lady?" Beruthiel asked Arwen. "And why did Lord Elrond ask me to find Aragorn? Valar only know how to find him when he's away." 

Aragorn snorted with amusement. That was true.

"Kings do not snort, Estel," Arwen gently chided him.

"Ladies do not chide, Arwen," Aragorn mimicked her tone. "And besides, I'm not a king."

"Yet," Beruthiel finished. 

He sighed. "Ruth, you know I don't want to be king..."

"You will have to be, Estel." Arwen sighed. "Adar fears a war is coming... he was visited by Ossë in a dream."

"Ossë?" Aragorn exclaimed. "The Stormfather?"

"That one," Arwen said. "He told Adar, 'Unite them'." Aragorn shook his head.

"Is that why Aragorn's been called here, my lady?" Beruthiel inquired. Arwen nodded. Beruthiel looked back at the hobbits, who were following them, whispering among themselves. Beruthiel nodded. "Then I'll head back to Fornost tomorrow. Or should I take the hobbits back to the Shire first?" 

Arwen looked surprised. "Adar wants you here, too! And never mind about the hobbits..." 

Aragorn shook his head, chuckling. "Has Adar's foresight shown him anything about the havoc they'll wreak in Rivendell?" he teased. "Valar, those two are trouble."

"Do you know what they've done so far?" Beruthiel chimed in. "We had to endure teasing about courting the whole way here."

"Not that that doesn't happen in Fornost," Aragorn added. 

Beruthiel sighed. "Back to important topics," she said. "Frodo is awake?"

"Yes,"  Arwen informed. "Woke this morning. He's better." 

Beruthiel nodded. "Is Acarthor still here?" she asked eagerly. 

Arwen smiled. "Yes, he's with Adar. They are, I believe, discussing healing techniques." Aragorn smiled. Acarthor was the elderly Ranger that had taught them both. "I'll take you to him," Arwen offered. She glanced back at the hobbits. "We'll take you three, too. You can see Frodo." 

Sam's face lit up. Merry and Pippin continued in their conversation. "A game of truth or dare, perhaps?"

"No, she'll choose truth for sure. She looks like the careful sort." Beruthiel glanced at Aragorn. 'Careful?' he mouthed. She shook her head, smiling.

"Strider'll choose dare, though. Then we can get them to..." 

Aragorn sighed, exasperated. "Come on." 

🗡️👑🏹

The evening had fallen. The hobbits had been very excited to see that Frodo was awake, especially Sam. Merry and Pippin had proceeded to fill Frodo in about Beruthiel and Aragorn, while both of them had exasperatedly stomped out.

Aragorn wandered the halls of his childhood, smiling as he remembered various amounts of trouble he had gotten into- knocking over a statue while running from Elladan and Elrohir, climbing a tall pillar, and getting stuck.

A book was tucked under his arm- the history of the Second Age, written by Lord Elrond himself. The Ranger settled down on a chair on a terrace and began to read, immersing himself in the lore.

After some time, he froze, hearing footsteps. His hand went to his sword's hilt, which was not there. He had taken it off in his rooms. There was no need for alarm in the House of Elrond, really, but it was a Ranger instinct.

The source of the footsteps was a man younger than Aragorn, but with the same dark, wavy hair and grey eyes. His gaze roamed over the mosaics set in the vaulted ceiling, then landed on a floor-to-ceiling painting of Isildur standing alone against Sauron, the broken sword in his hand glowing white. Aragorn studied the man closely. He looked like a Dunadan, but Aragorn didn't recognize him as one. He is, in general, too neat to be one, the Ranger thought. This was a man of the South, he decided. Of Gondor.

Gondor. Aragorn's heart ached to go back there. He had been there once, under service of Ecthelion, the Steward at the time. But to him, it had seemed that he had come home after a long journey. The rugged mountains, fertile land, and gushing rivers seemed so familiar to him. And Minas Tirith, the White City. Aragorn didn't want to be King, no, but he wanted to spend more time in his land.

The Gondorian took in the painting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aragorn studying him and turned. "You are no elf," he said with surprise. He had seen only elves since he had arrived here this morning, aside from the dwarves that had arrived with him. Aragorn tipped his head to the side.

"Men of the South are welcome here," he said neutrally.

"Who are you?" the Gondorian inquired. 

Aragorn took a breath. No, not a good idea to tell a stranger, even one from Gondor, his name. It was being spoken in the wrong parts these days, and there was a price on it. "A friend of Gandalf the Grey," he eventually said. The other man nodded.

"Then we are here on a common purpose." He paused. "Friend." Slightly confused by Aragorn's reluctance to give his name, the man smiled good-naturedly and looked around again. His eyes fell on the statue of an elleth holding a stand on which a shattered sword was set. The man sharply gasped. Behind him, Aragorn saw a flurry of movement. As his eyes fell on it, it froze. He looked for a few more seconds, then relaxed his gaze, looking over at the other man. Then his eyes snapped back to where he had seen the movement. Nothing.

"The shards of Narsil," the other man said with wonder. "The blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand!" He picked up the hilt and tested its weight the way a warrior would. Watching him, Aragorn pursed his lips in dissatisfaction, as that was his forefather's sword, but said nothing. The Gondorian ran a finger along the blade. Blood welled in a cut. "It's still sharp," he said softly. He turned slightly and saw Aragorn still watching him.

"But no more than a broken heirloom," he said hurriedly, mistaking the Ranger's dissatisfaction with his handling of the sword for scorn at his fascination. He carelessly returned to hilt from where he picked it up and turned, hurrying out of the room.

Aragorn got up and closed his book, putting it on his chair. He walked over to the statue and reverently picked up the blade, which lay at the elleth's feet. He grasped it for a second like a full sword, then carefully returned it with the other shards, sighing.

His hand went back to the hilt as a figure melted from the shadows. It threw back its hood and grinned. Aragorn exhaled in relief. Beruthiel. "You should stop doing that," he told her, still gazing at the sword. "You'll give me a heart attack someday, and then you'll be responsible for the death of the chieftain." 

Beruthiel smiled with some sadness. "You should not fear the past," she said, coming up behind him and resting a hand on his shoulder. "You are Isildur's Heir, not Isildur himself." 

Aragorn sighed again. "The same blood flows in my veins," he said sadly. "The same weakness." Beruthiel cocked an eyebrow.

"Now, that sounds very poetic. What've you been reading?" 

Aragorn smiled a little. "I don't want to be Isildur's Heir, Ruth," he said quietly. "I- I don't want to be tied to this destiny."

"A destiny is something that someone is tied to, Aragorn," she said softly. "And honestly, I couldn't think of a better person for the job." 

Aragorn turned to look at her, then sighed, running a hand through his long hair. "Is it wrong?" he eventually asked, still looking at the shards of Narsil. "That I don't want to be king? Ruth, sometimes- sometimes I don't want to be Isildur's Heir. And then- then I feel bad for it." He looked back at her again. "Storms, Ruth I would make a terrible king." 

Beruthiel raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Why?!" Aragorn asked, laughing bitterly. He began counting off on his fingers. "I'm not politically savvy, I can't talk my way out of situations, Valar know if I can keep the best interests of everyone in mind while making decisions, and I'm a storming Ranger!" 

Beruthiel raised both her eyebrows. "I think you would make a great king," she said. Aragorn disbelievingly looked at her. "You're kind, you care about people, you don't care if it's an elf-lord talking to you or a hobbit farmer, you treat them all the same... And because you're a Ranger, you know what problems people face. Real people, Aragorn, not some stuck-up nobleman sitting outside his manor sipping tea. Steward Denethor can't help farmers and workers, Aragorn, because he's never lived among them and experienced their problems. But you... People call on us all the time to help them. You'll know which problems you need to solve." Aragorn opened his mouth to talk, but Beruthiel held up her hand. "You won't be corrupt. You've governed Fornost for sixty-odd years now, and you're good at it. You're a good man, Aragorn."

"Good men can make bad kings," Aragorn said dismissively. 

Beruthiel shook her head. "They can," she agreed. "But bad men make worse kings. At least you're not some stuck-up, self-important idiot, right?" Aragorn smiled, shaking his head. "At least, when you do something, it will be because you want to help, not because you'll get something out of it." 

Aragorn nodded once, then fell silent. "Is there any hope, Ruth?" he whispered after some time. "Can we win?"

"You are Hope, Aragorn!" she said.

Aragorn eyed her. "Now who's being poetic?"

Beruthiel laughed. "But it's true! People look up to you. Even the Elves. You have this... commanding air to you. I- I guess it makes people believe in you. Now," she said half-jokingly. "If we could get you to cut your hair at least once a year, that might be a bit better, too."

"Ruth!" Aragorn protested. "At least- at least I don't cut my hair with my saxe knife!"

"What, you expect me to carry scissors everywhere?" Beruthiel challenged, hand straying to the long saxe in her double scabbard.

"No," he admitted. "But you could, you know, stop at a barber's place in Bree or something." 

Beruthiel visibly shuddered. "I'm not letting any storming Bree-man get near me," she said. "Remember what happened that one time?"

"Oh, yes," he responded, chuckling. "Oh, yes, I remember that." 

She shook her head, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking towards the shattered sword. "You could ask them to put it back together, you know," she said to Aragorn. "They'd do it. The Elves. And Narsil would go back to war again... Imagine the looks on the orcs' faces when they see it." 

Aragorn grinned. "Can't be worse than the time Roheryn walloped a few of them," he said, referring to his horse. "I can't," he said a little softer. "I... I don't know if I can wield such a sword, Ruth. It's a sword of kings. A- a sword of heroes."

"You are a hero."

 Aragorn smiled sadly. "I don't know about that." He turned to look her in the eye. "Thank you, Ruth. Thank you for believing in me."

 She grinned cockily. "That's my job."

 Aragorn eyed her for a moment. "How did you find me, anyway?"

"You weren't at the feast," she explained. "So I guessed you were- Do you hear that?!"

"Yes,"  Aragorn breathed. He had also heard the faint sound of horns in the distance. He tipped his head to the side, listening. "That's Elrohir's silver horn!" he exclaimed. "They're at the gates." With that, he vaulted over the railing of the balcony and softly landed on the roof below.

From above, Beruthiel saw the white of his teeth as he grinned at her. "Coming?" he called. She shook her head, then jumped after him. The two of them ran, light-footed, over the roofs, jumping when they had to. True Rangers, they moved with the light, their mottled green-and-grey cloaks aiding the allusion. And onlooker would've seen only a suspicious shadow, and by the time he looked again, it would've disappeared.

Aragorn stood at the edge of the last roof, the narrow bridge from where they had entered ahead of them. In the circular courtyard ahead, two horsemen- or should I say horselves- were dismounting from their steeds. Aragorn looked back at Beruthiel- she was just behind him- and nodded. He looked below, then lightly jumped down, making no noise. Beruthiel peered over the edge. Aragorn was standing there, holding a hand up to help her. She sniffed, then jumped down herself.

Your loss, he mouthed at her, shrugging. She turned away to conceal her smile. Aragorn peered at the two ahead of them, then silently moved out of the shrubbery.

"Elladan, Elrohir," he called, sliding the deep cowl of his cloak back. "What brings you here at this hour? You look like you're in a hurry..." Both of them had visibly started with surprise at the voice. Then one of them spoke.

"Stop doing that, Estel!" he said. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" 

The other one sniffed with a superior air. "Well, I heard him coming," he told his twin. Beruthiel squinted at both of them. She had seen them before, but storms, they looked exactly alike.

"Did not," the first twin said. "You jumped, too." 

Aragorn beckoned at Beruthiel, who obligingly came out of the shadows. "Ahh! There's another one!" the second cried in mock terror. 

Beruthiel glanced up at Aragorn. He shrugged. "We, er, heard your horn, my..." Beruthiel couldn't decide which one to look at. She settled on the first one. "My lord?" 

The one she'd looked at grinned. "No, I'm Elladan." He pointed at the other. "He's Elrohir." 

Aragorn sighed. "The one that says he's Elladan is Elrohir," he told his friend. "And vice versa." Beruthiel looked on, bemused. 

Elrohir's face grew serious. "There are orcs in the Misty Mountains, Estel," he said. "Too many of them. We think... we think that they're trying to barricade Eriador from Rhovanion. So that the Rangers can't ride to help Gondor when... when Sauron" - he shuddered when he said the name - "attacks."

"We also went to Mirkwood," Elladan chimed in. "To ask about Gollum." His tone grew somber. "He's escaped, Estel."

"What?!" Beruthiel and Aragorn said in unison. Beruthiel touched a hand to her forehead. 

Elladan nodded. "Apparently, Legolas has come to warn Adar about this..." Beruthiel scrunched up her eyebrows. Storms, she had never liked history... But the only notable Legolas she could think of was Prince Legolas, and it matched with what Elladan had said about Mirkwood. She only just prevented her mouth from gaping open. A prince? Here?

Elrohir looked around. "We should speak to Adar," he said to Aragorn. "He'll be wanting to hear about this." 

Aragorn nodded and moved aside. "He's in..." Aragorn looked at Beruthiel.

"The Hall of Fire, I think," she said, sighing. 

Elladan nodded at her. "Thank you, Ranger..."

"Beruthiel, my lord," she said. She watched with wide eyes as they left.

"I hope you're not fancying my brothers," Aragorn said lightly. 

She shook her head. "They're- they're just so-"

"Handsome? Regal?"

"Elvish," she finished. Aragorn snorted with amusement.

"Let's get to the Hall of Fire now, shall we?" he asked. "There's a hobbit waiting for me so he can revise his song."

"Let's," Beruthiel agreed. "But let us take the door this time, shall we?" 

Aragorn snorted again in the same manner. "Doors are for people with no imagination," he said but did not climb on any roofs. He offered Beruthiel his elbow like a gentleman. The moment was ruined when she shoved him hard enough to send him staggering a few paces. "Women," he muttered.

 🗡️👑🏹

It was past midnight now. Most of the people of assorted races that were present at the Hall of Fire had retired to bed. Aragorn and Arwen, who had cornered him, stood alone on a bridge, lit by the moon and stars.

"Renech i lu i erui govannen? (Do you remember when we first met?)" Arwen asked. 

Aragorn nodded. "Nauthannem i ned ol reniannen (I thought I had wandered into a dream)," he said. 

Arwen smiled, reaching up to touch his rough cheek. "Gwenwin in enninath... U-arnech in naeth i si celich. (Long years have passed. You did not carry the cares you carry now."

Aragorn looked away. Those cares came from his responsibility. His duty.

"Estel," she said in Westron. "I want you to take care of this." Aragorn opened his hand and saw her Evenstar pendant there. She shushed him as he began to object. "I believe in you, Estel. We need you to become what you were meant to become. Remember who you are," she whispered. "Think of it as a token, if you wish. The kind that a lady gives her knight." 

Aragorn looked down at her. "I'm not a knight."

"And I'm not your lady," she said back. "But take it. A message that you will always see." She took it from his hand and fastened it around his neck. Aragorn sighed and embraced her.

Sword and Arrow Masterpost

[A/N] heavy editing has been done on this chapter but it’s still not as good as most of the later ones.