A/N: Please be aware that I am the author of the other 2 fics by the same name on this site. This is going to be a reboot of the entire series and I'm excited to be returning to it. That being said, please don't worry about plagarism and additionally, be aware several major changes will be made from the other one. :)

"It just isn't fair," Sam grumbled darkly, tugging lightly on Bill's reins as they made their way up the hillside.

Aragorn took note that Merry rolled his eyes. It had been a peaceful journey eastward thus far. Long periods of silent trekking through grassy plains and over rocky hillsides marked with the occasional remark or retort from one of the hobbits. They were slow but faster than he had expected, much to Aragorn's relief. It had taken them the better of two days to understand the weight of all that was suddenly put upon their shoulders, the force of the evil that hunted them. It saddened him that they had had to realize such at all.

"All sorts of foul things just poppin' out," Sam continued, sighing in frustration, "Hoping to get back that Ring and come after such as us."

Aragorn looked over his shoulder then, choosing to finally speak. "For all your enemies, Master Gamgee, there are many who will also aid you. That is why we go to Rivendell. Elrond and his folk will shelter you there."

"Yes!" Pippin spoke up excitedly. "The elves'll help Frodo!"

Sam agreed with a small nod, still rather undecided about the entire thing. If nothing else, he supposed he was at least somewhat eager to visit the elves old Mr. Bilbo had so often spoken of. That, at least, had been worth giving up his warm, comfortable bed for a few days. "Well, I'm glad for that, very much so, but still, I'd like for a few more allies with dangerous looking swords."

Aragorn perked a brow. "Do you find mine not dangerous enough, master hobbit?""

He turned a faint shade of red, "I…well…you know, those…those things, back at the Pony. Wraiths, you called them, they were awful." Sam sighed now. "Why is it that all the ancient things seem so out to get us?"

Merry snorted from aside him. "Gandalf's ancient. You're forgetting about him."

"Not all that has kept from walking the earth wishes you harm," Aragorn replied softly, keeping pace to encourage them along, "There is much in the world that desires to entreat with none, save when they must. The Nazgul are servants, they heed the call of their master, but there are many in Middle-earth as old as they that answer to no one."

Merry's expression grew thoughtful. "My uncle used to talk about these trees down in the Old Forest, trees that would whisper and move it seemed, just out of the corner of your eye so it felt like you were imagining it. He said there was a man that lived there too, or at least he could hear him singing through the trees. We supposed he was just a little overfond of pipeweed."

Aragorn grew silent then, working his jaw before offering a small shrug. "There is much of myth and legend that has long been forgotten, some of those myths and legends desire to remain just so."

"Like what?" Pippin called out, a few steps behind and beginning to pant, "Frodo's uncle's seen a dragon, you know; went and stole from it, actually! That sort of thing?"

"Dragons have often wished to remain with no company save their stolen hoard, yes, though some have tried to win their allegiance through gifts and promises. Most, however, had little luck and met a fiery end." Aragorn reached out to brush Bill's mane gently, swiping his tongue over his lower lip. "We have many stories," He remarked after a moment of thought, "My people, about what once was." Aragorn ran a tongue over his lower lip, setting his jaw as he continued making his way up the rocky hillside. "Long ago, there was one who guarded the ancient city of kings, called Annuminas, on the shores of a great lake. As the kingdom of Arthedain fell into decay and the city abandoned, she remained there as a guardian, as a reminder of what had been and could be again. It's said she aided and counseled the kings of Arthedain, took up a blade alongside them as the threat of Angmar grew in the North." He looked over his shoulder towards the halflings. All but Frodo appeared confused and he realized he had spoken too much of what they did not know.

"What happened to her?" Frodo continued and Aragorn spied the curiosity in his bright eyes.

"No one knows," He said, "After the last king of Gondor fell, she was never heard from again. Some say she'll return one day to restore glory to Annuminas, others say she died long ago. Either way, it makes for a good tale for children." The last sentence rang hollow on his tongue.

"And what do you think?" Pippin inquired boldly.

Aragorn shrugged, voice growing quieter. "It makes no difference what I think." Pippin huffed at that and Aragorn sighed, amending his reply. "If she were to return, gladly would her aid be accepted. The Free Peoples are in need of whatever allies they can muster."

"You said the last king of Gondor," Frodo spoke up once more. He was quick, Aragorn had noticed, recognizing what details his companions oft overlooked. "Does Gondor no longer have a king?"

He did not say anything at that. It made him uncomfortable, talk of such, and he regretted the topic of conservation. Still, he nodded and replied very quietly, more solemnly than he had intended and not as quickly as he might have cared for, "That line was not broken.

And then, across the thick forests of the Trollshaws and over the snowy peaks of the Misty Mountains and deep in the heart of Fangorn Forest, something that had slumbered for an age beneath the mossy branches and green leaves, stirred.