After watching Lord of the Rings for the I'velostcounthowmanytimes, I was inspired to write this little piece. Hope everyone enjoys!
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with the Lord of the Rings. I just borrowed some of its characters for a little while.
I'm Going to Tell You About a Hero
Aragorn II Elessar, son of Arathorn, sat of throne of Gondor with his head resting on one palm, staring out the long window at his pristine white city. It was beginning to grow dark and the faint moonlight made the towering white pillars appear mysterious and majestic.
It had been a very long day. His wife, the Lady Arwen, remained bedridden in the days before their first child was to be born. That was Aragorn wished to be, sitting by Arwen's side, holding her hand while they waited anxiously for the arrival of their heir.
Alas, it was not to be. It seemed that far too much of Aragorn's time was spent in tiring meetings with the Steward of this and the Captain of that. Peace had come back to the Reunited Kingdom after the defeat of Sauron, but it was still a never ending struggle to maintain the fragile unity.
Gondor has retaken much of the land that they had lost during the last few centuries, and the ties of communication between men, dwarves and elves had never been stronger with Aragorn at the helm. Work was never done for a King, and Aragorn, though he would admit it to no other but Arwen, sometimes missed his quiet days as a Ranger of the North.
However, this was his life now and Aragorn would not change it for the world, especially now that he had a child on the way.
Suddenly, the great doors of the main hall creaked open and one of his captains approached.
"Excuse me, your highness," he said, eyes cast down slightly in appropriately submission, "But you have a guest".
"It has been a very weary day," Aragorn replied, eyes still fixed out the window, "I don't think I have it in me for any more meetings today."
The captain smiled. "This one I think you may like to take regardless, my lord," he replied.
Soft footsteps barely made a sound on the marble floor as a third voice spoke up, "Not even for an old friend?"
Aragorn's head snapped up and he stared out in astonishment "Frodo?" he cried, cape swirling as he leaped to his feet.
The captain quietly left as Frodo approached the throne, a small smile playing on his pale face. He spread his arms out and said, "It is good to see you again, Aragorn."
A smile of his own broke over the king's face as he hurried down the numerous steps. It had been over three years since he had seen the hobbit. They exchanged letter consistently, but with Frodo back at the Shire and Aragorn tied to his duties as King, there had never been time for a visit.
Now, seeing his dear friend standing in his hall, so small among the great columns, Aragorn felt the familiar surge of pride and protectiveness.
Aragorn stopped several feet from Frodo and with the grace that only a warrior king could conjure, swept down to one knee in reverence.
Frodo looked down at the king of men with an air of amusement and slight disapproval. "I really wish you wouldn't do that, my lord."
Straightening, Aragorn studied the small figure before him. Frodo looked about the same he had on the day that they had first meet. How long ago that seemed now. How much they had both been through.
"You are always welcome in my home, Frodo Baggins," Aragorn declared, "What brings you here now?"
Frodo's mouth twitched in amusement towards Aragorn's comment of the extravagant palace as his home. Before, the only home that Aragorn has processed was the open sky and the countless trees.
"I was rather hoping we could talk," he said, eyes suddenly flitting away from his friend, "There is something that I need to tell you."
"Of course," Aragorn replied, arm stretching down to rap around the thin shoulders, "It is a beautiful night. How about a walk?"
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The castle of Gondor had a balcony that stretched almost its entire length and had a wonderful view of the city.
The king of said kingdom, and the hobbit that had saved them all, walked shoulder to shoulder. Or rather, shoulder to chest. They made a strange picture, the tall man with a crown of silver on his head and the childlike figure next to him, messy dark hair blowing in the summer breeze.
"I hear that you are about to become a father," Frodo said, "The kingdom rejoices in the news."
"Yes," Aragorn replied, a grin that he couldn't control on his face, "Any day now. I must admit that I am a bit nervous about it."
"Oh you mustn't be," chided Frodo gently, "You will be the most wonderful of fathers." He paused for a moment and then said thoughtfully, "And even if you aren't, then at least the child still has Arwen."
The statement surprised a laugh from Aragorn. Frodo always had that effect on the King. It often seemed to Aragorn that Frodo was the personification of goodness, of peace.
"Truer words have never been spoken," he replied, "I should like for him or her to know you and the others. Perhaps we shall have to make a trip to the Shire someday."
Frodo stopped walking and after a moment, went over to lean against the rail.
Aragorn, worried, stepped over to stand over his friend, his body naturally making a shield over the hobbit. "Frodo, what is it?"
The silence stretched out for several more moments. "I should like nothing more than to meet you child, Aragorn," Frodo said finally, "But I am afraid that I won't get the chance."
"Why not?"
Frodo continued to gaze out over the city. Abruptly, he whispered, "I still dream about it. The ring."
Aragorn said nothing, but his body tensed.
"I still hear it whispering in my head," Frodo continued, voice low and pained, "I close my eyes and see it spinning around and around. I jerk awake from nightmares. I feel pain from the stab wound from Weathertop that I suffered so very long ago. And I see that moment in Mount Doom where I finally, finally lost control. The moment where we were almost defeated."
Aragorn reached down and gripped Frodo's shoulder.
Frodo looked up at him and Aragorn was struck by how very old his eyes looked.
"It's different for Sam and Pip and Merry and for that I am eternally grateful. Time can heal their wounds," Frodo said.
He looked back out over the city. "But it can't heal mine."
"You're leaving," Aragorn stated. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Frodo replied, eyes now closed, "To the Undying Lands. It is there that I hope to find peace."
Frodo stepped away from the railing and gazed upon his friend with a mixture of grief and deep love. "I would not be alive if weren't for you Aragorn," he said softly, "We never would have beaten the evil if it weren't for you. You will forever be one of my most beloved of friends. But yes, I have come to bid you farewell."
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Aragorn hummed quietly to his newborn son, swaying back and forth while his wife took a well deserved rest.
"Welcome to Gondor my little prince, my son," the king said and turning to gaze out the open window in the direction of a green land full of rolling hills and a species of little people called Hobbits continued, "One day, when you are old enough I am going to tell you about an extraordinary hero and my dearest friend."
His son gurgled happily and Aragorn leaned down to kiss the top of his dark haired head.
"His name was Frodo."
Fin
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