This is a plot bunny that has been swimming around in my head for a while. I hope you enjoy it.
"For Frodo!" Aragorn said, then ran to face the enemy, the others close behind.
The battle was met!
Aragorn knew that this was the last fight for all mankind, and the realization made him reckless and fey. The last charge of men! So be it. The only hope was probably lying dead in some forgotten field.
Rage overtook him. All the anger bottled up in him bubbled up and hammered in his veins, begging to be loosened. He gave in willingly, anger boiling at the plight of his people. Why should they have to suffer? A bloodlust was upon him, and no creature got close to him, his blade always seeking, thrusting, parrying. All his rage at loosing his father to orcs and his mother to grief poured out, giving him wings. Memory after memory flitted through his mind. Growing up in Rivendell. Childhood romps with Elladan and Elrohir. Meeting Legolas and cementing an everlasting friendship.
Words began weaving into his thoughts, starting softly, then developing into haunting, mournful voices accompanied by an unforgettable tune.
I am the voice of the wind and the pouring rain.
Faster and faster they sang, interspersed with pictures. Arwen with blossoms in her hair, long ago. Leaving to accept his chieftaincy of the Rangers. Searching for Gollum
I am the voice of your hunger and pain.
The Shire. Merry and Pippin.
I am the voice of the future.
Boromir.
I am the voice.
Then suddenly, Merry's voice broke into his thoughts.
"The Eagles! The Eagles are coming!"
I will remain.
The italics are the words of a song sung by Celtic Woman, called, appropriately, The Voice. I hope you like it.