Exodus:
Prologue
Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR or any of its characters, so please: don't sue.
The cries of slain orc mingled with that of the fallen free peoples. Arrows continued to pour into the flaming city of Minas Tirith, and Aragorn looked out at the carnage. "Gandalf," the wizard turned, and acknowledged the king with a raised eyebrow. "Gandalf," Aragorn repeated, "What is to become of my people? There is no escape from this menace." "I do not know, Aragorn, but I know that we must not falter in defense of this city." "Victory is impossible, Gandalf; should have done what Denethor has done, and spared myself the task of watching my nation crumble." "Aragorn, you wouldn't-"
The ranger ignored the wizard. He gripped his sword, stared at it, and began to laugh. This was not the jovial laughter of a well-fed hobbit, sitting idly by the hearth, but that of a madman, the raving hiccups of insanity. Aragorn raised the mighty blade Narsil, a pointed the tip of the blade at his chest. "I have seen Rohan fall, but I will not see Gondor do the same!"
"Aragorn, cease this madness! The fall of Helm's Deep was inevitable, none of us expected to survive it."
"But I did Gandalf, I survived that battle, when countless others fell to the Uruk-Hai, I managed to escape the carnage! I let the soldiers of the White Hand slay thousands of refugees! Because of my failure, Gondor will fall as well. I don't deserve to rule these people, or even to live at all." Aragorn pushed the blade into his flesh, just enough so he would bleed.
"Aragorn, there is always hope. Don't throw your life away when your people need you the most."
"My hope died the day I saw Frodo's mangled corpse at the foot of Mount Doom!" the king drove the blade into his body, and Isildur's heir felt no more.
"Aragorn, wake up!" Aragorn awoke, to find himself upon a marble tomb (Author's note: Like Balin's tomb in the Fellowship Movie), clad in white robes. The King of Gondor got off the marble box, and stood up. Much to his surprise, Aragorn was in a courtyard surrounded by headstones of various shapes and sizes. Looking to his left he saw a statue of Elendil on horseback; Aragorn was in the Royal Cemetary. "Aragorn, I'm over here," Aragorn turned, to see the owner of the voice; it was an old man, also dressed in white robes, with a beard that went down to his waist.
"Gandalf?" Aragorn asked, in disbelief.
"No, I am Eru." Aragorn immediately dropped to one knee. The god walked over to the last king of Gondor, and lifted him to his feet. "No need to bow before me, Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, at the moment we have more important things to do,"
Prologue
Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR or any of its characters, so please: don't sue.
The cries of slain orc mingled with that of the fallen free peoples. Arrows continued to pour into the flaming city of Minas Tirith, and Aragorn looked out at the carnage. "Gandalf," the wizard turned, and acknowledged the king with a raised eyebrow. "Gandalf," Aragorn repeated, "What is to become of my people? There is no escape from this menace." "I do not know, Aragorn, but I know that we must not falter in defense of this city." "Victory is impossible, Gandalf; should have done what Denethor has done, and spared myself the task of watching my nation crumble." "Aragorn, you wouldn't-"
The ranger ignored the wizard. He gripped his sword, stared at it, and began to laugh. This was not the jovial laughter of a well-fed hobbit, sitting idly by the hearth, but that of a madman, the raving hiccups of insanity. Aragorn raised the mighty blade Narsil, a pointed the tip of the blade at his chest. "I have seen Rohan fall, but I will not see Gondor do the same!"
"Aragorn, cease this madness! The fall of Helm's Deep was inevitable, none of us expected to survive it."
"But I did Gandalf, I survived that battle, when countless others fell to the Uruk-Hai, I managed to escape the carnage! I let the soldiers of the White Hand slay thousands of refugees! Because of my failure, Gondor will fall as well. I don't deserve to rule these people, or even to live at all." Aragorn pushed the blade into his flesh, just enough so he would bleed.
"Aragorn, there is always hope. Don't throw your life away when your people need you the most."
"My hope died the day I saw Frodo's mangled corpse at the foot of Mount Doom!" the king drove the blade into his body, and Isildur's heir felt no more.
"Aragorn, wake up!" Aragorn awoke, to find himself upon a marble tomb (Author's note: Like Balin's tomb in the Fellowship Movie), clad in white robes. The King of Gondor got off the marble box, and stood up. Much to his surprise, Aragorn was in a courtyard surrounded by headstones of various shapes and sizes. Looking to his left he saw a statue of Elendil on horseback; Aragorn was in the Royal Cemetary. "Aragorn, I'm over here," Aragorn turned, to see the owner of the voice; it was an old man, also dressed in white robes, with a beard that went down to his waist.
"Gandalf?" Aragorn asked, in disbelief.
"No, I am Eru." Aragorn immediately dropped to one knee. The god walked over to the last king of Gondor, and lifted him to his feet. "No need to bow before me, Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, at the moment we have more important things to do,"