Still angry and distraught by Boromir's assault and attempted theft of his ring and his duty, Frodo stuck his hand out in front of Aragorn and angrily taunted him by opening it to reveal his ancestor Isildur's Bane - the Ring of Power.
"Would you destroy it?" Frodo asked.
After a long pause, Aragorn stretched out his hand and closed Frodo's. "I would have followed you to the end. To the very fires of Mordor." Aragorn said solemnly to Frodo.
"That is why you should take it", Frodo said.
"No." Aragorn whispered.
"You feel it is a mistake? Fine. Then let it be mine to bear, as Ringbearer. I feel the ring's pull even now. You're confident that you would have followed me to the end, but chances are you would have had to go through me to get there. You are a good man and would make a good ruler. Perhaps that is why you are immune to its pull." Frodo replied.
Aragorn opened his mouth to refute Frodo's claim and turn him down, but noticed the blue glow from Frodo's sheath. "There is a nazgul nearby. With the ring and your courage, strength, and will you just might be able to make it serve a new master. Please! We cannot take another assault of orcs! It could tear our fellowship apart!"
Aragorn begrudgingly took the ring from Frodo's hand and put it on. Aragorn turned invisible, and saw the great Eye of Sauron bear down upon him. After a hard stare of defiance, Aragorn turned to the approaching horde of Saruman's uruk-hai, and then to the nazgul Frodo spoke of. Both were bearing down upon them.
Aragorn concentrated his will upon the uruk-hai and found himself only able to slow a few of them by ringing their heads with the highest pitch Aragorn could imagine - one he had recently heard from the nazgul. Aragorn then saw the nazgul was closer to him than the uruk-hai, so he turned to face him. Something about the white wraith shrouded in and riding upon black seemed to indicate its sudden unwavering loyalty and obedience, and at the moment of that sensation it turned and beared down on the uruk-hai that were now attacking the fellowship. Aragorn needed to draw his sword and join them, but he noticed that when he pulled his focus away, the wraith seemed to rebel and the uruk-hai fought harder and the ones he disoriented regained their senses. So instead he turned and refocused, until there were no more clangs of swords or screams of death and war. Aragorn then had the wraith fly right back to Minas Morgul, not taking the ring off until it was a speck in the distance.
Aragorn ran to find Boromir with many arrows littering his chest, with Merry and Pippin crying over him. Boromir saw the ring in Aragorn's hand. "Did you take it from him?" Boromir asked.
"No, he didn't. I gave it to him." Frodo replied, as he stumbled out of the woods. He had a few arrows in him too, and he fell to the ground.
"I'm so sorry, Frodo. You were right. I was a fool." Boromir was crying.
"We're all fools. Sam's dead because of me. But at least the rest of us lived thanks to Aragorn." Frodo replied.
Aragorn was beside himself with grief and rage. Frodo and Boromir tried to console him by again, repeating the reality that he was a good man and after that the delusion that he would make a good ruler. Aragorn returned the favor by calming down and standing by them giving them company as their eyes went blank. As soon as they could no longer hear, Aragorn threw his sword against the nearest tree and, strangling the ring with his clenched fists that he blamed for the deaths of his friends - no, his brothers - he screamed so loud even the Valar would likely hear it before watching his tears impact against the leaves.
Two ships came down the river, and two ships went over the falls of Rauros. Frodo and Sam, their little heads against one another as their pale, furry feet faced each end, each with their swords. Frodo had insisted before he die that someone take Sting, so Merry, being the most graceful of the two remaining hobbits - which Gimli replied to with "That confirms it! We're all doomed!" lightening the mood a little - took the sword and had his own sword go down the falls with Frodo instead, as Sam held to his own sword as he did the friend he died trying to protect.
The rest of the story went as it did, for the most part, but without the now-deceased hobbits wandering blindly into Mordor. Aragorn and company wandered into Rohan, though at a lesser pace. They felt eyes following them, knowing well who they belonged to, and disregarded them. Eventually they would encounter Gandalf, now clad in white, who accepted the situation of Aragorn using the ring against Sauron with as much hope and despair as he would have Frodo walking into Mordor to destroy it. Gandalf agreed with Frodo's assessment, while also adding "may the Valar show more mercy to your heirs than was shown to Frodo."
The rest of the war also had less loss and tragedy. Aragorn practiced using the ring to force his will on the nazgul, eventually learning how to control them and legions of orcs while also drawing his sword and joining them without having to focus on keeping them loyal. Helm's Deep's walls did not crumble. Instead, the uruk-hai and their explosives along with the forests of Fangorn would mount a brutal pincer attack that would bring Isengard and then Saruman within to his knees. "I will serve the master of the ring, so long as his will and that of his conniving upstart that betrayed me does not allow me to take it from him and reclaim my place as the White Istari and rightful ruler of the One Ring and Middle-Earth.", Saruman said arrogantly as he begrudgingly bent one knee before Aragorn.
"Fear not," Aragorn said, mocking him back. "Your fate is to atone for your evil, not commit it further. And when this war is done, you will go over the sea with Gandalf, and hope the Valar show you as much mercy as we have."
From there they marched to Minas Tirith with the Rohirrim at his side, Aragorn politely rebuffing Eowyn's advances, which would soon be accepted by Faramir, who opened the gates for their savior and ruler in spite of Denethor's grumbling.
Denethor called Aragorn a wise hypocrite for his use of the Ring before marching out of the palace and locking himself in his quarters for the remainder of his long and miserable life.
Sauron's forces came to Minas Tirith, and Sauron's forces then came to Minas Morgul, then the Black Gates, then Cirith Ungol, then Barad-dur - always growing in size as Aragorn, flanked by his fellowship, focused his ever-growing will and power on the enemy. Eventually, the Eye of Sauron shrank down into the body of a withered old man, cackling while saying "A wise hypocrite indeed. I accept you as my heir. Frodo would be proud." before Aragorn angrily smote him dead with his sword. Heir? No. Aragorn was done with this charade. His massive army of light and shadow went down to the slopes of Mount Doom to dispose of this curse forever. But there was one thing that would stand in their way, grinning as much as Sauron did.
"I will not let you destroy my preciousss". Smeagol said, at the entrance to Mount Doom, a candle over some of Saruman's black powder. "I will give my life to save the preciousss!" as he threw the candle down upon the powder, causing it to explode and the entire cavern to collapse on him.
Aragorn, frustrated, tried to climb on one of the nazgul's mounts and throw it in the top, but the black smoke billowed and choked the mount back down the slope, which was impossible to climb even with siege, and the top was coated in the same, perpetual flow of smoke. Aragorn would not be denied his freedom, so he cast the ring into the lava floes nearby. "Same source", he thought. But the ring simply washed to the side of the "river", and it took hours and many dead orcs to get it out and cool enough to handle.
Aragorn, tired of bloodshed, ordered Sauron's former armies to scatter into the shadows where they came from, never to prey upon anyone but themselves ever again. The easterlings and the southrons were sent home, and the slaves of Mordor were given the land of the wild men that sacked and murdered countless innocent men, women, and children of Rohan in Saruman's name, along with weapons to defend them. The reprieve of clean air on their faces and the feel of water and grass and life clearly gave them more strength than the weapons and armor did, which were the best Gondor had to offer.
Arwen came to marry him. Elrond consoled Aragorn on his choices, telling him Frodo made the right decision. Gandalf prepared to leave, with Saruman in wicker elven chains that belied a strength capable of tripping an oliphaunt, tied to Gandalf's staff. Grima, as he layed brick as an indentured servant of Rohan, spat on Saruman has he passed through a village. Nobody scolded him for it. In fact later that night a fair maiden would approach and reward him with a keg of mead and herself.
They boarded the ship and set sail for their true home. The mists gathered and parted, and there was the shore. He reached out with his mind to apologize to Eru, but found a woman instead. Era. Grief-stricken but accepting of his father's choices. Choices...? Gandalf reacted with dread as he psychically heard the news of Eru's passing. He had planned to simply pass on his memories and powers to Era and thus pass on in a more peaceful manner, but had instead taken his own life when he heard word of the corrupted shard of the Ring of Power's continued usage. Frodo was at the shore. Gandalf was struck by his words although he always knew, somewhere deep down, that he would hear when he returned to Valinor.
"I was wrong, Gandalf. This was Sauron's plan all along."
Aragorn and Arwen passed the ring to their child when it was clear that it could not be destroyed and he was old enough to take the throne, knowing there was no other way. It became an heirloom of the Kingdom of Gondor, and with each heir its influence grew stronger and stronger, including over the rest of the kingdom, which grew to encompass Middle-Earth in short order. 201 years later, Gondor was glistening with beauty. Glorious white. But it felt more...off-white...to those living there. Or searing bright, if you happened to not be an obedient citizen - an obedient slave. Law-breakers were burned daily - everything from petty thieves to those caught swearing in public to those who engaged in sexual acts society didn't approve of - acts that were commonplace and regarded as beautiful, happy, mutually-pleasurable acts of light, life, and love just a few centuries prior. Soldiers of Gondor and Rohan marched from the Shire to the Harad keeping the world in check. The population had barely grown due to all the government control and burning of law breakers, so one day a descendant of Aragorn marched the banished legions of Sauron out of the shadows. This was an heir of Aragorn, and had his father's wisdom. Beyond questioning. In fact that was heresy by law, and no one wanted to burn for that. In spite of that, in whispers, here and there, peasantry spoke the truth in the shadows, where it usually ends up dwelling in such times - "Aragorn didn't kill Sauron. He simply helped him move."
"And Sauron now has two eyes - one being the sun itself." This part was a believable lie added by Sauron's covert agents to keep the peasantry in a state of perpetual fear.
Sauron sat, slowly working on each lineage year after year until finally, just in time, he had the perfect body and setting to establish his great and terrible dominion. Soon Night - also known by the names Nyx and Nox - would turn her attention to him, be struck down, and his master, the rightful ruler of all multiverses and the Umbra Legion, Melkor - also known by the insult Morgoth Bauglir - freed from her prison, where Sauron heard Night had gone further than the Valar and deprived Melkor of his torso as well, leaving nothing but a severed head being tortured and siphoned from in an extradimensional cage.
Nyx's Shade sat on a pile of dragon bones she had recently licked clean of flesh with her powers, drinking some meed and looking up at a bit of smoke coming from a door in the Throat of the World. She sighed. "I suppose its this fool's turn now." she thought to herself, as she fidgeted with the uncorrupted Ring of Power - Mor, its black, wispy letters in the gold band seeming to have movement within them. She sat down her mead and looked at the Ring of Might - Vis - on the other hand, silver with cyan letters burning bright with a visual hum about them. She slowly raised her hands upward. A familiar and terrifying sight this would become to worlds both far and near - at the hands of her disowned son and an unruly construct of foolish tree children who mis-cast a necromantic ritual her brother Chaos gave them, respectively. Terrifying because of what came after. The slow movement of blue energy came up through the bones of dragons, men, mer, and beasts as far as the eye can see. Movement in the forests as countless minions rushed through them. Screams carried in the wind as bathers and farmers and hunters and guards alike saw the endless stream of undead rush by. Thankfully, Nyx is not Sauron. Thankfully, it was safe for them to scream. They knew this. Otherwise they would have simply died quickly and silently. That is what was at stake in this conflict.
It was mid summer in Gondor, the hottest in living memory, one personifying the height of Sauron's tyranny. Why was it suddenly so cold? Why was snow falling? And why did Mordor suddenly change from a volcanic red to a frozen blue? The ash clouds were once again billowing, but they seemed more like storm clouds bearing snow. And from the pass of Minas Morgul, it looked like a pyroclastic flow was moving from it - or more accurately, a "cryoclastic" flow of snow and ice moving quickly and without warning. It took up the entire field of view, from the clouds to the ground. A giant blizzard that came lunging towards Minas Tirith like an apocalyptic tidal wave without warning. The guard turned to the King. He was grinning ear to ear, which was a more horrifying sight than the sudden snowstorm obliterating the entire city's field of vision.
"Go inside." A woman's whisper said in the minds of every non-combatant man, woman, and child in Minas Tirith. They didn't need to be told that really, though with how hot it had been, some did leave their windows cracked once they had gone inside.
The outermost wall creaked a little. Frost climbed at unnatural speeds up the sides of the walls. Guards were nervous. And then they screamed as the wall was ripped out and away from the city, collapsing with the guards crushed underneath, blue chaos fire blowing it apart and out away from the innocents so they wouldn't be harmed. Dead eyes turned blue, and their owners rose. But there wasn't a lot of them. The ruler of Gondor, Aragorn's heir, who was now devoured from the inside out by Sauron, and thus Sauron himself in all but physical appearance, had garrisoned the bulk of Gondor's forces at the top of the city around the palace. His abominations hiding in the mountain above, ready to come down and open a chance at Nyx's pale throat. He knew that even fully decapitating her wouldn't kill her - even if he carved her into pieces of blood and flesh that she would just regenerate a new body in a matter of moments. He would have to dominate and devour her outright. But perhaps a crushed throat would at least slow her down enough for that, even if she gained power from the adversity and censorship momentarily.
Blue flickers at each gate, as each gate was blown apart. Another wall thinly guarded, another group of undead. Sauron was delighted at the deaths of the descendants of those who dared to defy their Master. Soon they would spend an eternity in undeath and servitude to Melkor.
The final gate. The clouds dispersed enough so that the sun was barely visible through the snow and mist. Then suddenly, the sun pulsed, and light came down from it and broke the gate from the inside out, hitting orcs across the mountain scattering them. Feral vampires and undead on Nyx's side were hit, too, but the innocent vampires and the Volkihar clan were shielded. Nyx directed one of the beams of light at herself, and she deflected it right at the palace door, sending it flying through guards to Sauron's feet.
Sauron got up. It was time. His master would be avenged, and all of existence real and imagined would be theirs to remake in their divine image. No longer would they suffer and kneel before the oh-so-righteous virtues of the Umbra Vigil. The Valar would see. All would see. Liberty? For those with the might and thus the right to keep it! Truth? From now on we will finally decide what that is! Justice? Indeed! Nyx claims right makes might as she holds might over our heads? She will pay for that hypocrisy here and NOW!
Sauron drew his black mace and brandished the Ring of Power, getting ready to devour the souls of Night's army, his own subjects, and then Night's. His face held a manic grin of pure bliss.
That grin fell to shock and dread upon seeing the two rings on Nyx's hands, which were as idle as the expression on her face.
Nyx's Shade sighed. This had become as boring as butchering bandit camps in Elwynn Forest with her Shade in Azeroth. "Kal, if you could...", she blandly pleaded.
A searing pain suddenly went through Sauron's back and he dropped his mace to the ground. Snow was blowing into the keep. The ring with its glowing red letters flew off of his hand. The screeching of the ring echoed across the room as Sauron's now-former body's eyes went blank. The ring floated in Nyx's right hand as the fiery red letters were seemingly drowned and silenced in black ink. "Truth will out," Nyx thought, as she cracked a grin. Kal had already flash stepped to the Umbra Vigil's base of Dovahndor / Sjel Blad in the same soul society as Valinor and Sovngarde known as the Aetherial Mists, and also known as Valhalla to a far off world on the other side of the universe - being stealthed and invisible, nobody noticed her departure, including Nyx, who could see her the entire time. Night honestly felt bad about wasting Kal's time for the sake of laziness, but she would make it up to her later tonight after a few drinks, laughs, and kisses. Night's Shade and Night's armies began to dematerialize into dust and the dust moved back towards Mount Doom along with the snow. When it had been consumed by the mountain, whimpers could be heard in Minas Tirith and along the countryside and crying as wives and husbands came out to see their beloved guards lying butchered in the most horrific ways imaginable in fields of now-dead crops. The food stores were fine thankfully. And also, there were no clouds over Mordor. Everything was silent there. The lava that had turned from red to blue was now cold rock. Mount Doom collapsed, and what remained of its peak was covered in snow, just as it would have been if the ring was destroyed.
Nyx's Shade stood at Caranthir Tower with her weather control machine, focusing it on the door at the Throat of the World to ensure that Gondor's next winter would be the warmest in living memory - warm enough to grow crops to compensate for the loss of their summer harvest - before it suddenly and miraculously returned to normal the following summer and winter. To the north, she could sense one of Nirn's two stargates humming to life and a few soldiers, scientists, and a twisted-jackpot-winning gamer from the other side of the universe bluster through as a starving dragon approached their location.
"Back on track." she thought, as she dispersed into a cloud of bats and flew down to eat the dragon before it ate one of them. "Though Era is a bit too sullen and hurting. As is Gandalf. Its put all of Winterhold College in a depressing state - even moreso than usual. Perhaps I'll ask Frodo if its okay to go back and cast Pacify on him before he told Aragorn 'ThAt Is WhY yOu ShOuLd TaKe It' so he keeps his mouth shut until Sting glows instead. I'm sure he'll agree to it, especially if it'll cheer Gandalf and Aragorn up. The same motivation that caused him to make this mistake will be the same motivation that gives me the informed consent to fix it."