Disclaimer- None of this is mine, it al belongs to the wonderful J.R.R Tolkien.
This is my first LotR fanfic and my second fanfic ever. My native language is not English, I actually come from Holland. So please forgive me for any spelling errors.
It's a very short story and it has actually little plot, but I just wanted to try and write something about Aragorn, and to practice my writing skills so that they can get better. Please tell me what you think and what I can improve.
He couldn't stop now. He couldn't give up after everything he had endured to get here.
But how his body hurt. His legs were aching from the many days of walking and the numerous wounds on his body were not abating his health either. And then of course there was the poison. At least he guessed it was poison. Something orc's forced you to drink just couldn't be something good.
He had been on his way home after several years in the wild. He yearned for the warmth and serenity of Imladris and his family. These years as a ranger had been hard on him. He had seen villages attacked and burnt by orc's, entire families brutally slaughtered by corsairs and villagers fighting each other over a piece of ground.
But he wouldn't give up this way of life for all the gold in the world. No, he was helping and protecting people who didn't have the means to do so for themselves, and even though the people he was looking out for looked at him with fear and scorn, as long as he knew he was fighting for a good cause and something he believed in, he was happy.
He had just been traveling three days when everything suddenly seemed to turn against him. On the evening of the third day a storm broke loose. Within minutes he was soaking wet. Searching for a place of shelter wasn't as easy it should have been, for when he spotted a cave, he suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of orc voices. Quickly looking for a place to hide, he saw a big ancient tree where he could easily hide behind. Having no better options he ran to the tree and jumped behind it. He was not a moment to soon for the figure of an orc could be seen coming out of the mouth of the cave.
'Come on! We haven't got all night! I want flesh tonight!' The orc growled to his companions.
'But it's raining!' A second orc whined.
The first orc, apparently the leader stepped up to the second one.
'We could stay here and eat your flesh, do you like that?' He asked in a menacing tone.
The second orc didn't say anything to that and the group continued it's way out of the cave and into the forest.
There were at least twenty five of them, and there was no way he would be able to handle them on his own. He was a good fighter, yes, but twenty-five against one was to much to hope for to get out of unscathed. Or even getting out of with his life.
Just as the last of the orc's were disappearing in the dark of the forest, a flash of lightning lightened the sky and hit a tree. The same tree Aragorn was hiding behind.
The tree groaned and Aragorn had no choice but to leave his hiding place, or to get pinned beneath the tree.
He rolled out of the tree's path of danger, but at the same time attracted another. The orc's had noticed the commotion and saw the human. Aragorn barely had the time to draw his sword before the first orc's reached them. He knew he had no change of defeating all of them, but he kept fighting none the less. He wouldn't just give in without a fight. He sparred, blocked, ducked and turned, but eventually he got overwhelmed and a blow to his head coasted him to lose consciousness. His last thought before everything went black was that he had at leased managed to kill twelve of them.
From the next days he couldn't remember much. Everything was just a haze of pain. They had beaten him, whipped him and forced him to drink some foul liquid.
After almost a week they thought him to weak to try to escape. This was the moment he had waited for. They had left him unbound and the orc's were sleeping after they had a brawl in which they killed three of their own number. As silent as he could he crept to the mouth of the cave in which they had held him captive. The same cave where he had wanted to find shelter. His weapons and pack lay in a corner at the entrance of the cave. He quickly strapped them back on and made his way out of the cave and into the forest as fast as possible. He made sure not to leave a trail so the orc's wouldn't be able to follow him.
So now here he was, injured and exhausted, trying to make his way to the Last Homely House. The orc's hadn't found him. He wasn't aware of his surroundings anymore and his entire concentration went out to walking. One foot in front of the other. Each step shot waves of pain trough out his body and black spots were dancing in front of his eyes. He warily looked up and what he saw brightened his spirits a bit. The woods of Rivendell. He was almost home.
With a last effort he quickened his step a bit and made his way to the gates of Imladris and the Last Homely House.
His legs were starting to sway and the black spots were increasing as he walked trough the gates. Two shouts grabbed his attention and he saw the twins come running to them, their expressions changing from joy to shock as they took in his appearance. His father was behind them and he to had an expression of worry upon his face. Their mouths were moving but he couldn't make out the words, it was as if a blanket had spread over him. He was feeling light headed. Finally home, was his last thought before unconsciousness claimed him.