Post by Admin on Jul 4, 2022 5:11:03 GMT
Author: LegolasLover2003
Summary: What if… Aragorn took the Ring from Frodo?
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, & Frodo
Warnings: Character Death
“Can you protect me from yourself?”
It was a simple question. A mere thought that had nagged at the back of the Halfling’s mind. This one inkling… this feeling… but perhaps it was the Ring’s feeling and not his own? Some days, it got harder to tell.
But before him stood a man who, so far, had remained steadfast in the face of such temptations… had remained loyal to a fault, not only to Frodo himself but to the others as well. If any held hope for this world, it was he… and in no others would the Halfling have placed so much trust for the companions he now meant to leave behind.
“Would you take it?” Frodo asked, his blue gaze fixed upon the Ranger.
Aragorn’s own grey gaze wavered for but a moment. Then he heard it… those soft whispers… his names spoken in a voice that dripped with the sweetness of honey.
‘Aragorn… Elessar…’
For the briefest of moments, the battle within the man seemed to tilt one way then another. I was hard to deny that call… the desire to but stretch his hand out and take the Ring. It would be so easy… so very simple…
Sensing the Halfling’s fear, Aragorn’s eyes returned to those bright blues and inwardly, the man sighed. He knew his answer…
Strong fingers reached out, taking Frodo’s hand. The voice within his mind was relentless, the words sweet… promising peace… an end to the suffering of men… “I would have gone with you to the end.” Aragorn spoke, his fingers curling around the much smaller hand of the Hobbit. Gently he pushed that hand to Frodo’s chest, releasing the Halfling. “Into the very fires of Mordor.”
Frodo blinked, nodding his head ever so slightly. “I know.”
Such were the last words of Frodo Baggins, for as he opened his mouth to speak a plea for safety for his Shire companions, the bite of an Elven hunting dagger sliced through his throat. Blue eyes widened, unable to comprehend exactly what had transpired. His body shivered, the Hobbit dropping to his knees, fingers clutching the Ring and its chain tightly against his chest. Blood flowed, staining the grass a deep crimson.
It took only seconds for life to leave the Halfling, and for Aragorn to wipe the dagger Celeborn gave him upon the Halfling’s Lorien cloak. Sheathing the weapon, the Ranger reached out his hand… and took the Ring from Frodo’s lifeless fingers.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“There’s too many, laddie!” Gimli shouted, the Dwarf standing his ground and planting the head of his ax into the flank of a rushing Uruk-hai. The stout being was holding his own, but the pair were quickly becoming overwhelmed… and Legolas had run out of arrows.
The twin knives of the Elven prince twirled in lithe fingers as the blond spun and ducked, digging his blades deep into the chest of another Uruk-hai, before ripping them away, pivoting, and slashing at another as they came on relentlessly.
The blaring sound of the Horn of Gondor rent the battlefield of Amon Hen like a blade through butter. Legolas knew what that meant, and he spared a glance toward the direction they had come. It was there that the Mirkwood Elf saw Aragorn stagger, stabbing his blade down into the dirt as he struggled to rise to his feet once more.
What the Elf did not know, however, was that it was not battle which brought the human low. The power of the Ring wavered as it desperately desired to go with the Uruk-hai and leave the would-be Gondorian king. The Ring allowed for Aragorn to realize the grave sin he had committed… gave the man the clarity of mind to realize he had murdered Frodo for the Ring… he had succumbed to its power… like his ancestor before him so very long ago. It whispered dreaded words now, no longer sweet and filled with promise, instead planting the suggestion that it was no longer worth fighting. They were all going to die… to lose… for Aragorn, the Ring commanded, had not the strength of will to destroy it… not after falling to its power.
The Uruk-hai horde continued to press forward. Gimli and Legolas held them back, but one slipped past the prince’s defenses, making for the Ranger who seemed oblivious to the battle that raged.
Something warm and wet hit Aragorn’s face then and the man looked up to see Legolas standing in front of him, back to the human, a wickedly jagged blade pinned between the Elf’s side and his arm, being held fast there. Blood was running down Legolas’ side, and it was the prince’s own blood which had sprayed upon Aragorn’s face. The Uruk-hai sword would have been a death blow to the Ranger… yet his friend had, at the risk of his own life, spared him such a grim fate.
Standing, Aragorn swayed slightly, jerking his blade from the soil, and stabbing beneath Legolas’ arm, eviscerating the Uruk-hai which was locked in combat with the Mirkwood Elf.
Legolas dropped the sword as the Uruk-hai fell, his pale fingers going to the wound at his side. “My thanks, Aragorn.” The blond spoke, turning as he reached for the twin knives on his back, ready to rejoin the fray as he had sheathed them in his mad dash to Aragorn’s side.
Those pale fingers fell away however as the sting of a blade stole his breath. Legolas could hear Gimli shouting at him… but his blue gaze was locked upon the dark grey eyes of the man whom he had considered his dearest friend for decades.
“Es…tel…” Legolas gasped, his lithe hands reaching down to wrap around the Ranger’s own hand… a hand that held the hilt of the sword upon which the prince found himself impaled. The Elf blinked, his mind trying to understand… to comprehend… Blood fell from lips that were beginning to turn blue, spilling down his chin as his green tunic began to turn a deep brown red.
Jerking his sword from the Elf’s gut, Aragorn took one step back. Legolas crashed down to his knees, fingers trying in vain to staunch the bleeding. His head tilted back slightly, blue eyes looking up at the Ranger… and then he saw it… there in Aragorn’s hand… the chain which Frodo had worn about his neck… the glint of gold between the man’s fingers… the Ring of Power truly did corrupt all.
Blood stained, shaking fingers reached out for the man, “Es… tel…” Legolas gasped again. But Aragorn moved back out of his reach and the Mirkwood prince collapsed to the earth, breathing his last.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Grey eyes flew open as Aragorn gasped, the man sitting up quickly from where he lay.
“Estel?” Legolas whispered, kneeling next to the man then.
The prince had been on watch as the three hunters took a quick rest before returning to their pursuit of Saruman’s Uruk-hai… and the poor Hobbits who had been abducted by them.
Breathing hard, the Ranger closed his eyes, running a hand over his face. “It was just a dream…”
“What was just a dream?” Legolas asked, a slight smile on his face. “You humans and your nightmares.”
Glaring at the Elf for a moment, Aragorn smirked. “I recall you having a few of your own once or twice.” He teased before sighing softly.
It had been nothing more than a dream… the Ring was safe in the Hobbit’s keeping, and both Frodo and Sam were well on their way to Mordor now.
“Come, it will be dawn soon and already I feel as if we have tarried too long.” Legolas said, offering the Ranger a hand up. “Gimli’s snores are enough to wake even the dead.”
Nodding, Aragorn accepted the help, standing and looking to the distant horizon. “We should go. There are still others who need our aid this day.”
As Legolas roused Gimli, the Ranger couldn’t help but watch his friend. The nightmare had felt so real… so true… but to even contemplate killing Legolas…
“Estel?” the Elf said, drawing his attention by speaking the man’s name and waving slightly. “Are you still lost in your nightmare?”
Shaking his head, Aragorn slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder. “Just contemplating what ifs. Come. Let us make haste.” He spoke before breaking out in a run once more, past the rocky outcropping they had made their resting spot, and into the short grass of the Plains of Rohan.
Behind him he heard Gimli start to complain… and Legolas laugh at the Dwarf’s comments. They had more important things to worry about than the lies of night terrors.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
END
Summary: What if… Aragorn took the Ring from Frodo?
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, & Frodo
Warnings: Character Death
“Can you protect me from yourself?”
It was a simple question. A mere thought that had nagged at the back of the Halfling’s mind. This one inkling… this feeling… but perhaps it was the Ring’s feeling and not his own? Some days, it got harder to tell.
But before him stood a man who, so far, had remained steadfast in the face of such temptations… had remained loyal to a fault, not only to Frodo himself but to the others as well. If any held hope for this world, it was he… and in no others would the Halfling have placed so much trust for the companions he now meant to leave behind.
“Would you take it?” Frodo asked, his blue gaze fixed upon the Ranger.
Aragorn’s own grey gaze wavered for but a moment. Then he heard it… those soft whispers… his names spoken in a voice that dripped with the sweetness of honey.
‘Aragorn… Elessar…’
For the briefest of moments, the battle within the man seemed to tilt one way then another. I was hard to deny that call… the desire to but stretch his hand out and take the Ring. It would be so easy… so very simple…
Sensing the Halfling’s fear, Aragorn’s eyes returned to those bright blues and inwardly, the man sighed. He knew his answer…
Strong fingers reached out, taking Frodo’s hand. The voice within his mind was relentless, the words sweet… promising peace… an end to the suffering of men… “I would have gone with you to the end.” Aragorn spoke, his fingers curling around the much smaller hand of the Hobbit. Gently he pushed that hand to Frodo’s chest, releasing the Halfling. “Into the very fires of Mordor.”
Frodo blinked, nodding his head ever so slightly. “I know.”
Such were the last words of Frodo Baggins, for as he opened his mouth to speak a plea for safety for his Shire companions, the bite of an Elven hunting dagger sliced through his throat. Blue eyes widened, unable to comprehend exactly what had transpired. His body shivered, the Hobbit dropping to his knees, fingers clutching the Ring and its chain tightly against his chest. Blood flowed, staining the grass a deep crimson.
It took only seconds for life to leave the Halfling, and for Aragorn to wipe the dagger Celeborn gave him upon the Halfling’s Lorien cloak. Sheathing the weapon, the Ranger reached out his hand… and took the Ring from Frodo’s lifeless fingers.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“There’s too many, laddie!” Gimli shouted, the Dwarf standing his ground and planting the head of his ax into the flank of a rushing Uruk-hai. The stout being was holding his own, but the pair were quickly becoming overwhelmed… and Legolas had run out of arrows.
The twin knives of the Elven prince twirled in lithe fingers as the blond spun and ducked, digging his blades deep into the chest of another Uruk-hai, before ripping them away, pivoting, and slashing at another as they came on relentlessly.
The blaring sound of the Horn of Gondor rent the battlefield of Amon Hen like a blade through butter. Legolas knew what that meant, and he spared a glance toward the direction they had come. It was there that the Mirkwood Elf saw Aragorn stagger, stabbing his blade down into the dirt as he struggled to rise to his feet once more.
What the Elf did not know, however, was that it was not battle which brought the human low. The power of the Ring wavered as it desperately desired to go with the Uruk-hai and leave the would-be Gondorian king. The Ring allowed for Aragorn to realize the grave sin he had committed… gave the man the clarity of mind to realize he had murdered Frodo for the Ring… he had succumbed to its power… like his ancestor before him so very long ago. It whispered dreaded words now, no longer sweet and filled with promise, instead planting the suggestion that it was no longer worth fighting. They were all going to die… to lose… for Aragorn, the Ring commanded, had not the strength of will to destroy it… not after falling to its power.
The Uruk-hai horde continued to press forward. Gimli and Legolas held them back, but one slipped past the prince’s defenses, making for the Ranger who seemed oblivious to the battle that raged.
Something warm and wet hit Aragorn’s face then and the man looked up to see Legolas standing in front of him, back to the human, a wickedly jagged blade pinned between the Elf’s side and his arm, being held fast there. Blood was running down Legolas’ side, and it was the prince’s own blood which had sprayed upon Aragorn’s face. The Uruk-hai sword would have been a death blow to the Ranger… yet his friend had, at the risk of his own life, spared him such a grim fate.
Standing, Aragorn swayed slightly, jerking his blade from the soil, and stabbing beneath Legolas’ arm, eviscerating the Uruk-hai which was locked in combat with the Mirkwood Elf.
Legolas dropped the sword as the Uruk-hai fell, his pale fingers going to the wound at his side. “My thanks, Aragorn.” The blond spoke, turning as he reached for the twin knives on his back, ready to rejoin the fray as he had sheathed them in his mad dash to Aragorn’s side.
Those pale fingers fell away however as the sting of a blade stole his breath. Legolas could hear Gimli shouting at him… but his blue gaze was locked upon the dark grey eyes of the man whom he had considered his dearest friend for decades.
“Es…tel…” Legolas gasped, his lithe hands reaching down to wrap around the Ranger’s own hand… a hand that held the hilt of the sword upon which the prince found himself impaled. The Elf blinked, his mind trying to understand… to comprehend… Blood fell from lips that were beginning to turn blue, spilling down his chin as his green tunic began to turn a deep brown red.
Jerking his sword from the Elf’s gut, Aragorn took one step back. Legolas crashed down to his knees, fingers trying in vain to staunch the bleeding. His head tilted back slightly, blue eyes looking up at the Ranger… and then he saw it… there in Aragorn’s hand… the chain which Frodo had worn about his neck… the glint of gold between the man’s fingers… the Ring of Power truly did corrupt all.
Blood stained, shaking fingers reached out for the man, “Es… tel…” Legolas gasped again. But Aragorn moved back out of his reach and the Mirkwood prince collapsed to the earth, breathing his last.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Grey eyes flew open as Aragorn gasped, the man sitting up quickly from where he lay.
“Estel?” Legolas whispered, kneeling next to the man then.
The prince had been on watch as the three hunters took a quick rest before returning to their pursuit of Saruman’s Uruk-hai… and the poor Hobbits who had been abducted by them.
Breathing hard, the Ranger closed his eyes, running a hand over his face. “It was just a dream…”
“What was just a dream?” Legolas asked, a slight smile on his face. “You humans and your nightmares.”
Glaring at the Elf for a moment, Aragorn smirked. “I recall you having a few of your own once or twice.” He teased before sighing softly.
It had been nothing more than a dream… the Ring was safe in the Hobbit’s keeping, and both Frodo and Sam were well on their way to Mordor now.
“Come, it will be dawn soon and already I feel as if we have tarried too long.” Legolas said, offering the Ranger a hand up. “Gimli’s snores are enough to wake even the dead.”
Nodding, Aragorn accepted the help, standing and looking to the distant horizon. “We should go. There are still others who need our aid this day.”
As Legolas roused Gimli, the Ranger couldn’t help but watch his friend. The nightmare had felt so real… so true… but to even contemplate killing Legolas…
“Estel?” the Elf said, drawing his attention by speaking the man’s name and waving slightly. “Are you still lost in your nightmare?”
Shaking his head, Aragorn slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder. “Just contemplating what ifs. Come. Let us make haste.” He spoke before breaking out in a run once more, past the rocky outcropping they had made their resting spot, and into the short grass of the Plains of Rohan.
Behind him he heard Gimli start to complain… and Legolas laugh at the Dwarf’s comments. They had more important things to worry about than the lies of night terrors.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
END