A/N

Something I've seen debated a lot about the upcoming Power Rangers movie is its aesthetic, how it's overall less colourful, and more 'organic,' at least in regards to the ranger suits, not to mention the different appearances of Zordon and Rita. For the most part I'm onboard, the exceptions being the Megazord (I like the look of the individual zords, not so much the Megazord itself), and Goldar. Back when I was a kiddiwink watching MMPR as a school child, I always thought of Goldar as a sort of 'trump card' that Rita (and Zed) never used because he was too good to waste. He's the first monster the rangers fight, and isn't actually killed, and as a kid, he was damn intimidating. Far less so as an adult, but, well, nostalgia is a powerful tool. So on one hand the take on Goldar in the film as a being of pure gold does fit in with Rita's apparent geomancy-esque powers, but...yeah.

Anyway, drabbled this up. Doubt the final fight in the film will end like this, but I'm free to imagine otherwise (for now at least).

Not Only Gold Glitters

All that is gold does not glitter. Not all those who wander are lost. The old that is strong does not wither. Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

Jason didn't know why Lord of the Rings was in his mind. Yes, he was the football star of Angel Grove High, that didn't mean he didn't read. But, in hindsight, as he drawled out from the Megazord, maybe it was appropriate. He was fighting evil monsters who served an evil space witch, who wanted to do very evil things in a most evil manner. "Evil" was a word he thought was used far too liberally these days, but over the past month, what he'd been told about Rita, and what he'd seen her do…well, "evil" was the word that Zordon had used, and right now, he had nothing against using it.

So he continued to crawl, ahead of his fellow rangers. Angel Grove was in ruins – the putties had gone in first, and Goldar had come to finish the job. It taken everything the zords had to even slow him down, and had required the Megazord to 'defeat' him, albeit at the cost of its own functionality. Maybe it could be salvaged, maybe not. But that didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that he was still alive, and could still fight. That he could still hold the power sword – his weapon. All that mattered was that Goldar had shrunk back down to normal size, but was staggering up as well. A winged being made of pure gold, carrying a sword in each hand. It stared at Jason as he approached. A blank, emotionless stare, so different from Rita's constant smirk, but no less intimidating. Rita, at least, looked human. Rita, at least, was a thinking being that in theory, could be reasoned with. But Goldar was a monster. He looked like a monster, and had acted like a monster. Jason didn't even know if "he" was technically the correct term. But like so many things, that didn't matter.

All that mattered was that Goldar had to be destroyed.

So with a yell, he swung his sword. The strength that the power coin had granted him, coupled with the ranger suit, would have been enough to destroy putties with his bare hands. But the sword was stronger still, and already, he knew he needed it. As Goldar parried his blow, as a 'clang' echoed across the battlefield, as his arm rang numb, he wondered if it was enough. As Goldar brought up his second sword in a bid to impale him, and he parried that blow in term (with similar results), he didn't wonder if it wasn't enough. He knew it wasn't enough.

Then Goldar kicked him, sending him sprawling down the road, tearing through the asphalt, such was its force. In desperation, he looked towards his friends. They were crawling out of the Megazord's command module, looking even worse for wear than he was. He saw the putties charge towards them.

Rita isn't giving up.

Zordon. He heard his voice. His technology, against Rita's magic. He knew it to be true, as well. Rita wanted the world in ashes. Like it or not, the Power Rangers were the only means of saving it. Even if Goldar had reverted to human-sized form, if the Power Rangers fell today, Rita could begin her conquest tomorrow. The putties could fall in droves and still be replaced - they were dredged up from the earth, like golems of myth. Goldar, though…Jason looked up, through his cracked visor, seeing the shining creature advancing on him. Goldar had to fall. Today. So as the being brought down his sword to impale him, he rolled aside, bringing his leg against the back of Goldar's knee. Enough to make him kneel down, as if in pain. Enough for Jason to flip up, and with the cry of a tyrannosaur on his lips, swing the power sword once more. Cry out in pain as his blow tore through Goldar's arm, such was the force of the impact. But it was enough to cleave off the monster's left arm. Enough, so that even as Jason staggered back, breathing heavily, he saw Goldar do the same. Saw the beast turn its head to the stump that had once carried a weapon of war. Saw it turn back to him, its features blank.

It, Jason reflected. Goldar was an "it" now. "It" was a creature that had just lost its arm, and had said nothing. For a moment, did nothing. Human beings did inhumane acts all the time. Goldar was inhumane by its very nature. No human would charge against him like this, so unmoved by the loss of a limb. So bringing his sword to bear, Jason defied its blows, raining down on him like a hailstorm. Thrust, strike, parry, strike – they danced, and not like the ballet class at Angel Grove High. If it was even standing anymore. He wondered if-

Goldar got in a blow, tearing through armour and flesh. He yelled, as red blood flowed across red armour. He looked back in desperation towards his team. The putties kept coming. He was alone.

You're not alone.

Again, Zordon's voice rang clear. Rang clear enough to clear his vision, and his mind. Alone. Maybe he faced Goldar alone, but the last month…no, he hadn't been alone. The car crash had made him alone, but as terrible as that was, that didn't compare to the death and destruction around him. He wasn't alone. He would fight alone, but the rangers, his friends, would be there afterwards. Once this was ended.

Cut off the head of the beast.

Were they Zordon's words, or his own? He couldn't say, but he saw the truth in them. The putties would keep coming. Rita would keep coming. Goldar had to fall now. Only that would be a blow severe enough to force the space witch to retreat. If not, 376,000 people would die here today. Later, 7 billion.

So Goldar charged, and he stood strong. Goldar charged, and he met the gaze of gold. "That's a lot of gold," he'd said, while piloting his zord. What he wouldn't give for it now. But right now, all he had was his strength, and wits. Wits enough to dart to Goldar's left as the beast struck from its right. Strength enough to let out a roar, and sever Goldar's head from his body. Not enough strength to collapse, exhausted, on the burning surface. But wits enough to see through his eyes, Goldar collapse. The head gone. The body disintegrating into a million times a million particles.

He lay there, and smiled. Not only from his victory. Not even from the sound of his friends cheering. Not even from, most bizarrely, what sounded like Rita complaining about a headache. It was, in the knowledge that he'd done something truly, wholly good, that there was a second verse in Lord of the Rings that could now, finally, be applied.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken. A light from the shadows shall spring. Renewed shall be the blade that was broken. The crownless again shall be king.

He wasn't a king. A sword alone didn't confer royalty, and his sword, thankfully, was still intact.

But not only gold glittered. Not only blood was red, and he, at last, was no longer lost.

He was the red ranger. A power ranger.

And he had won.