Disclaimer ~ The characters, setting and events are all J.R.R. Tolkiens, only the words belong to me.
I knew it was comming even before the first arrow struck. There had been an evil presence in the air that even my pathetic, human scences could pick up. My shoulder aches, but it is my left arm, and it did not peirce my heart. I can still fight. The little ones need me to keep going. In the corner of my eye, I can see them as they send stones flying through the air, doing their best to help me in the battle.
Another arrow imbeds itself into my side. I can feel the loss of blood as it begins to affect me, as the dizziness poors into my mind. Yet still I fight, it is too late to turn back.
Desperately, I try to get the hobbits to safety, but the orcs are relentless in their fight. They will not let me escape alive. Why they do not attack the halflings is beyond me, I cannot focus. All my concentration is centered around the fight. Block, dodge, attack, kill.
I fall to the earth. There is a third arrow now burried in my chest. It has pierced my heart. I can feel the life draining from me. It will be over soon. The orcs rush forward and take Merry and Pippin. There is nothing I can do. Then the demon walks slowly towards me, confident his task is almost complete.
Without warning, Aragorn emerges from the trees! I do not see the battle, my vision is fading. Soon. Soon I will get the death that I deserve for betraying the trust that was placed in me. I only hope that I managed, in some small way, to redeem myself in the eyes of the other two. Whatever anyone might tell them, I hope that they will know that I was willing to die for them.
That I did die for them.
Aragorn is trying to save me. To heal the wound in my heart. He does not understand. I am beyond aid. I tell him to leave it, to let me die in peace. I ask him where Frodo has gone. He tells me he let him go. A sudden respect for the ranger who abandoned Gondor flares through my heart. He managed to let the young man go, where I was ready to kill him to keep him here. If anything this man before me has done in the past is as noble as this, and even if it is not, then he is truely a great man, surely worthy of the crown.
I reach desperately for my sword as he tells me that I fought bravely. That I kept my honour. This doen't mean much to me now, but I want to feel like I died fighting, weapon in hand. Clutching it to my chest, I acknowledge Aragorn as the King of Gondor. With my last breath, I inform him that, once all was said and done, he had my alleigence. He had my loyalty and, in the end, he'd gained my respect.
I knew it was comming even before the first arrow struck. There had been an evil presence in the air that even my pathetic, human scences could pick up. My shoulder aches, but it is my left arm, and it did not peirce my heart. I can still fight. The little ones need me to keep going. In the corner of my eye, I can see them as they send stones flying through the air, doing their best to help me in the battle.
Another arrow imbeds itself into my side. I can feel the loss of blood as it begins to affect me, as the dizziness poors into my mind. Yet still I fight, it is too late to turn back.
Desperately, I try to get the hobbits to safety, but the orcs are relentless in their fight. They will not let me escape alive. Why they do not attack the halflings is beyond me, I cannot focus. All my concentration is centered around the fight. Block, dodge, attack, kill.
I fall to the earth. There is a third arrow now burried in my chest. It has pierced my heart. I can feel the life draining from me. It will be over soon. The orcs rush forward and take Merry and Pippin. There is nothing I can do. Then the demon walks slowly towards me, confident his task is almost complete.
Without warning, Aragorn emerges from the trees! I do not see the battle, my vision is fading. Soon. Soon I will get the death that I deserve for betraying the trust that was placed in me. I only hope that I managed, in some small way, to redeem myself in the eyes of the other two. Whatever anyone might tell them, I hope that they will know that I was willing to die for them.
That I did die for them.
Aragorn is trying to save me. To heal the wound in my heart. He does not understand. I am beyond aid. I tell him to leave it, to let me die in peace. I ask him where Frodo has gone. He tells me he let him go. A sudden respect for the ranger who abandoned Gondor flares through my heart. He managed to let the young man go, where I was ready to kill him to keep him here. If anything this man before me has done in the past is as noble as this, and even if it is not, then he is truely a great man, surely worthy of the crown.
I reach desperately for my sword as he tells me that I fought bravely. That I kept my honour. This doen't mean much to me now, but I want to feel like I died fighting, weapon in hand. Clutching it to my chest, I acknowledge Aragorn as the King of Gondor. With my last breath, I inform him that, once all was said and done, he had my alleigence. He had my loyalty and, in the end, he'd gained my respect.