The Evil in Me

Summary: The Ring is powerful and everyone can hear its call. And when Good and Evil start to blur, how do you know the difference?

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Text in italics is copied from the book (a few sentences might have been deleted). This story is maybe AU although I think that we don't have enough information to say for sure. But feel free to consider this a total AU if you wish. Mostly book-verse, but the final scene is movie-verse.

Rated: K

Note: This was written for Teitho "Good and Evil" challenge.

Characters: Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, Boromir


Frodo could not fall asleep. He tossed and turned, feeling that there was some dread lurking nearby, a dread that would not fall asleep even if they did. It was a strange feeling. Nothing unusual had happened that night, and he could not decide what had caused his restlessness. In the pale moonlight he could see the tall form of Caradhras, standing proud above them. Perhaps it was the gloomy peak that made him feel so?

Suddenly he heard a voice which sounded like Gandalf's. The hobbit crawled out of his bedroll and silently sneaked in the direction the voice was coming from. He could see the wizard sniffing the air.

"Winter deepens behind us," he said quietly to Aragorn. "The heights away north are whiter than they were; snow is lying far down their shoulders. Tonight we shall be on our way high up towards the Redhorn Gate. We may well be seen by watchers on that narrow path, and waylaid by some evil; but the weather may prove a more deadly enemy than any. What do you think of your course now, Aragorn?"

Frodo overheard these words, and understood that Gandalf and Aragorn were continuing some debate that had begun long before. He listened anxiously.

"I think no good of our course from beginning to end, as you know well, Gandalf," answered Aragorn. "And perils known and unknown will grow as we go on. But we must go on; and it is no good our delaying the passage of the mountains. Further south there are no passes, till one comes to the Gap of Rohan. I do not trust that way since your news of Saruman. Who knows which side now the marshals of the Horse-lords serve?"

"Who knows indeed!" said Gandalf. "But there is another way, and not by the pass of Caradhras: the dark and secret way that we have spoken of."

"But let us not speak of it again! Not yet. Say nothing to the others I beg, not until it is plain that there is no other way."

"We must decide before we go further," answered Gandalf.

"Then let us weigh the matter in our minds, while the others rest and sleep," said Aragorn.

The hobbit listened anxiously. He hoped that they would choose the mountains. He could not imagine what the other road was, but if even Strider was afraid of it, it could be no good.

More thinking about this would not help him; this was not his decisions to make. He looked compassionately at the man and the wizard. The choice they had to make was a heavy burden, and Frodo knew that he could do nothing but trust them completely. He turned back and walked towards his bedroll, as silently as he had come.

Gandalf smiled. "He is gone," he whispered softly.

"Who is gone?" Aragorn asked confused.

"Frodo," the wizard replied. "He had been listening to our conversation for a while."

The ranger looked dismayed. "Why didn't you tell me? No one was supposed to know. This is our burden alone."

"Do not be concerned about Frodo," Gandalf said. "The burden he bears is large enough as it is, and he will not spend time worrying about the path." A mysterious smile graced his lips. "But now that he is gone you can tell me everything."

Aragorn looked surprised. "What do you mean?" He asked. "What do you wish to hear?"

The wizard's smile did not fade. "You know of what I speak. I can see it, my friend, and it is obvious to anyone who knows you well. Something is troubling you, and don't try to hide it."

The ranger nervously groomed his unruly hair with a hand and looked away. "You are wrong," he murmured incoherently.

"The times when I am wrong are very few," Gandalf said. "And this is not one of them. Tell me, and you will bear it more easily," he paused, giving the man the opportunity to answer. When he did not use it, however, the wizard continued. "Does it have something to do with the Ring?"

"I can hear it, Gandalf!" Aragorn suddenly shouted. "I hear its voice every minute when I am awake, and when I fall asleep, I see it in my dreams! I fear that I might betray you."

The wizard laughed mirthlessly. "Do you think you are the only one who hears it?" He asked.

The man looked up in surprise. "Who else?" He whispered worried.

Gandalf sighed. "Everyone," he said softly. "Every single member of the Fellowship." The ranger's face showed complete shock, and he continued. "Everyone hears it to a different extend. For some it is a mere whisper, and they can hardly detect where it is coming from. And for others it sounds like a scream they cannot escape."

Aragorn looked at the wizard as if he was seeing him for the first time. "You too?" He asked.

"Everyone." Gandalf nodded, but this time his face bore no smile.

The ranger's gaze passed over the sleeping forms. "Will they all resist?" He asked worried.

"I cannot tell you anything more," the wizard said. "The choice still lies ahead."

Aragorn was thoughtful for a moment, but suddenly sat on the grass and held his head in his hands. "I feared this," he muttered. "My entire life I have waited for this, and feared it greatly. I feared I would prove to be weak and corrupted like my forefathers. They all told me this wouldn't happen. Lord Elrond, Arwen – they all said I was stronger. But they were all wrong."

Gandalf listened with a secretive and somewhat annoying smile. "Why do you think they were wrong?" He asked merrily.

The ranger sighed. "There is obviously some evil in me. I wouldn't hear it otherwise."

"I wouldn't tell you that you are wrong," Gandalf said. "You say that there is evil in you. But this is the way it should be. No one is pure good or pure evil, pure light or pure darkness. It is the one who manages to defeat the darkness within, who can be called a good man."

"But isn't the one who is never tempted by evil a better man?" Aragorn countered.

The wizard shook his head. "No, it is the one who has been tempted and has resisted," he explained. "Good is not the absence of Evil. Good cannot exist without Evil, and they are in constant battle. You have heard the call of the Ring and have resisted, and this shows the real strength of the goodness in you. Imagine that you have never heard the call, and then, naturally, you would never fall into the trap. But where is the strength then? If your goodness has never been tested, how do you know that it will resist? No, my friend, it is the fact that you have been tempted, but had denied the temptation, that makes you strong."

Aragorn did not look convinced, and Gandalf offered another argument. "How would you define bravery?" He asked. "Do you call brave the one who never feels fear?"

"No." The ranger shook his head. "If you do something foolhardy only because you feel no fear, this doesn't make you brave. But if you are afraid, and you overcome your fear and do it in spite of that, than this would be real courage."

"Exactly," the wizard agreed. "Real courage is overcoming one's fear. Fear is necessary for the existence of courage, just like evil is necessary for the existence of good."

"So the purpose of Evil in this world is to test Good?" Aragorn asked.

"What is the purpose of Evil is a question for someone wiser than me," Gandalf said seriously. "But I wouldn't say that it is here with a purpose. I suppose it is here because it is inevitable," he looked at his sleeping companions before he continued, and his eyes were clouded with worry. "Nothing can exist without its opposite. Day cannot exist without Night, Cold cannot exist without Warm, Love cannot exist without Hate, and Beauty cannot exist without Ugliness. For how would you call something beautiful, if you have never seen anything ugly?"

"I see. So I am supposed to have evil in me, and I should be relieved that I am hearing the call of the Ring," the ranger said in disbelief.

"Perhaps relieved is not the right word," Gandalf replied. "It is still early to be relieved because you have not completed the task and we still don't know for sure if you will resist until the end." He saw the look of fear on Aragorn's face and quickly continued. "But I am sure you will. You will resist the call until the very end, and then you can feel relieved and proud." He sighed. "I wish I could say this of everyone here," he said, his gaze lingering on one of the sleeping forms. "But it is too early to speak of this. The choice still lies ahead."


They looked back. Dark yawned the archway of the Gates under the mountain-shadow. Faint and far beneath the earth rolled the slow drum-beats: 'doom'. A thin black smoke trailed out. Nothing else was to be seen; the dale all around was empty. 'Doom'. Grief at last wholly overcame them, and they wept long: some standing and silent, some cast upon the ground. 'Doom, doom'. The drum-beats faded.

Aragorn stared at the mountain, but his gaze was empty and he saw nothing. What had just happened was hard to comprehend. Mithrandir, Gandalf, The Grey Pilgrim, his life-long friend was gone. Gone into the blackest abyss where he could not follow.

He gazed at his weeping companions. They all grieved, but they did not know the wizard as well as he did. Gimli and Boromir had met him only occasionally before, and although the hobbits had seen him more often, they still knew nothing of him. For them Gandalf was the pleasant old man who entertained them with fireworks. But who the real wizard was, what were his troubles, his fears, his hopes and desires, they had no idea.

The softest footsteps were heard behind him and he turned to face Legolas. If someone here knew Gandalf well and fully shared his sorrow, it was the elf. But something on the fair face told him that he was not here to talk about their friend's death. There would be time to grieve later, but now Legolas wanted to face another problem, something he found more urgent.

He held the man's elbow and pulled him aside. "Gandalf is gone," he said softly. "Now you can tell me."

The ranger was sincerely surprised. "Tell you what?"

The elf sighed. "Aragorn, there is no way you can hide the obvious. I saw how troubled you were at the beginning of this trip. I was planning to ask you about it, when I saw that you started talking to Gandalf. I watched as the two of you discussed something every night, and your cares seemed to go away. I wondered why you never told me anything, but I decided that it was your choice to keep it to yourself if you think that you need to. But now Gandalf is gone." Legolas paused and looked at his friend, who seemed positively nervous. "You know that I am not asking out of curiosity. I still remember the look on your face before you started talking to Gandalf, and I don't want to see it again."

Aragorn looked down. "I didn't tell you anything because I was ashamed," he muttered. "I was ashamed of myself."

The elf raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Now, this doesn't make any sense. I see nothing you could be ashamed of."

"This is because you know nothing of my weakness!" The man hissed in irritation.

Legolas smiled and clasped the ranger's shoulder. "This is where you are wrong," he said. "I know everything about your weakness. It doesn't exist."

Aragorn shook his head. "I can hear it!" He cried, fully expecting his friend to look at him with contempt. "I can hear the Ring!"

To his greatest surprise, the elf only shrugged. "So what?" He asked casually. "So do I." The statement was said simply, in the same tone of voice Legolas would have used to say that the lembas he had eaten had tasted better than any he had eaten before. Well, naturally the elf would never say this because, as the hobbits were soon going to find out, all lembas tasted the same.

"You hear it too?" Aragorn frowned in shock. "What does it say to you?"

"Every time it uses a different tactic to make me take it," the elf said. "But it always promises that if I have it, I would be able to drive all evil out of my home. All spiders and other creatures of darkness would flee, and Greenwood would be restored to its previous beauty."

The man looked at him worried. These were certainly things that must sound very tempting to his friend. "And?" He prompted.

"And what?" Legolas shrugged. "I know that it is lying."

I know that it is lying. It sounded so simple. Yes, Aragorn knew that it was lying, he had always known that. But this was so easy to forget every time the Ring started speaking with this sweet voice only it possessed, listing beautiful promises.

The elf looked at him compassionately. "I can see that you are worried and afraid," he said. "But I don't fear for you. You will resist the call, and I have no doubts about that. There is too much good in you, my friend, and it is too strong to be defeated by a mere ring."

"It is not a mere ring," Aragorn protested.

"And you are not a mere man," Legolas said with a smile. "If you believed in yourself half as much as I believe in you, you would know that I am right." Suddenly he frowned in concern and looked at their companions. "I am afraid we must go. We cannot linger here any longer. But we could talk more once we reach Lothlórien."

The two turned and walked back towards the others. "Alas! I Fear we cannot stay here longer," said Aragorn. He looked towards the mountains and held up his sword. "Farewell, Gandalf!" he cried. "Did I not say to you: 'if you pass the doors of Moria, beware'? Alas that I spoke true! What hope have we without you?"

He turned to the Company. "We must do without hope," he said. "At least we may yet be avenged. Let us gird ourselves and weep no more! Come! We have a long road, and much to do."

And they ran ahead with heavy hearts and no hope, but there was something else which troubled Aragorn even more. 'You will resist,' Legolas had said. The same words Gandalf had used not so long ago. Perhaps it was true. But the wizard had also said something else.

'I wish I could say this of everyone here.'

Had Gandalf meant someone specific? And if he had, then whom?

He looked back and sighed sadly. It was not too hard to guess.


Aragorn ran up the hill, constantly checking the ground for any tracks. The Ring-bearer was gone. Frodo had left and he was unable to protect him. But he had to find him! He had to bring this to an end! He rushed to the summit and sat on the high seat and looked in all directions hoping to find a sign of the hobbit. But his eyes found nothing.

Even as he gazed his quick ears caught sounds in the woodlands below, on the west side of the River. He stiffened. There were cries, and among them, to his horror, he could distinguish the harsh voices of Orcs. Then suddenly with a deep-throated call a great horn blew, and the blasts of it smote the hills and echoed in the hollows, rising in a mighty shout above the roaring of the falls.

"The horn of Boromir!" he cried. "He is in need!" He sprang down the steps and away, leaping down the path.

As he ran the cries came louder, but fainter now and desperately the horn was blowing. Fierce and shrill rose the yells of the Orcs, and suddenly the horn-calls ceased. Aragorn raced down the last slope, but before he could reach the hill's foot, the sounds died away; and as he turned to the left and ran towards them they retreated, until at last he could hear them no more. Drawing his bright sword and crying 'Elendil! Elendil!' he crashed through the trees.

A mile, maybe, from Parth Galen in a little glade not far from the lake he found Boromir. He was sitting with his back to a great tree, as if he was resting. But Aragorn saw that he was pierced with many black-feathered arrows; his sword was still in his hand, but it was broken near the hilt; his horn cloven in two was at his side. Many Orcs lay slain, piled all about him and at his feet.

Aragorn knelt beside him. Boromir opened his eyes and strove to speak. At last slow words came. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo," he said. "I am sorry. I have paid." His glance strayed to his fallen enemies; twenty at least lay there. "They have gone: the Halflings: the Orcs have taken them. I think they are not dead. Orcs bound them." He paused and his eyes closed wearily. After a moment he spoke again.

"Farewell, Aragorn! Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! I have failed."

"No!" said Aragorn, taking his hand and kissing his brow. "You have conquered. Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace! Minas Tirith shall not fall!"

Boromir smiled sadly, but shook his head. "I have betrayed you all," he said. "I have proven to be evil."

"No, not evil!" Aragorn said quickly. "It is the Ring that guided you, and you were unable to resist."

"Weak then," Boromir whispered. "I am not sure this is much better."

"You are not weak!" The ranger stated in determination. "You fought bravely to defend the hobbits and you have proven your worth. You are weaker than the Ring perhaps, but there is nothing to be ashamed of. There are very few stronger than this evil."

"And you are one of them," Boromir replied. "I can see it clearly. You are stronger than me. And you are stronger than the Ring. You will resist its call."

The ranger was about to argue, but there was something more important, something he needed to know.

"Which way did they go? Was Frodo there?" said Aragorn.

But Boromir did not speak again.

Aragorn held his hand and knelt, bent with weeping, until Legolas and Gimli arrived. The Ring had already taken its first victim.

Evil had triumphed.


The Black Gate opened. They had come to draw out Sauron's armies and give Frodo a chance to succeed in his mission, but it would most probably mean their doom.

Aragorn clasped the hilt of his sword and stared at the Eye in awe. And then, time seemed to stop. The bright Eye was luring him, pulling him forward.

Aragorn, it whispered. Elessar. And then the sweet promises followed, promises only he could hear. Promises that if he surrendered to it, he would be a great king and would bring peace and happiness to everyone in Middle-earth. He would be able to push away all evil. Arwen would be able to stay with him, but she would not need to give up her immortality. She would be immortal, and he would be immortal as well. The Elves would not need to leave Middle-earth because it would turn into a place of beauty, as magnificent as Valinor itself.

'I know that it is lying,' Legolas had said. But it was so easy to believe. And he knew that this was the final test.

Unable to resist, Aragorn took a few steps forward. He could feel his companions' expectant gazes. And then he stopped and turned back. His gaze met Gandalf's for a moment, and his eyes told the wizard everything he needed to know.

"For Frodo!" He said and raised his sword. A loud battle cry sounded through the army and everyone rushed forward.

He had passed the final test. He had resisted until the very end.

And this would be the End. Whether Frodo would succeed, or whether they all would be completely destroyed, this Age would end one way or another. But it mattered not.

It did not matter what the outcome of this battle would be. He had already won. Gandalf, Legolas, and Boromir had all been right.

Evil was defeated.

The End

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