As I stand before the gates of Mordor my thoughts wander home, even as the Eye turns its attention to us.
I ran across the world for my home. I faced a Balrog deep under the earth for my home. I fought with the men of Rohan, and then the men of Gondor for my home. I abandoned my father, desperately trying to keep our kingdom together, for my home. I stand here, now, for my home. I thought I would die for my home. I just did not think I would die like this.
Many times I have faced great armies, feeling great fear. Yet here I stand before the most formidable force I will ever face, and feel no fear. I am not sure if I should be concerned or grateful.
I choose to be grateful.
I wonder, if this is how my father felt all those centuries ago. When he stood on this ground. He does not talk about it, he never has. I never ask.
I wonder if his knees had trembled then, as mine have done on countless occasions. Did he hope his hands would not shake, when he stood behind his father and waited for the battle to begin. Waiting for Gil-Galads order.
My knees tremble, and my hands shake as I await Aragorn's order.
Did he say a prayer, I wonder. I do not think I will.
Did he shed a tear, I wonder. For the losses he knew he would suffer. The friends that would be lost to him. The father that would be stolen from him.
I shed a tear for my father, for the heartache my loss will cause him. I shed several for Gimli and Aragorn, their mortals souls destined to never touch mine again.
Did he hope for a great victory, I wonder. Dreaming of returning home a triumphant prince, instead of a devastated king.
My only hope is that we are not too late, that Frodo still has a chance to succeed. That my home still stands. That those I love still stand.
"For Frodo"
I say a prayer.