Author's Note: Well, congratulations; you are reading the first crossover between Captain America: The Winter Soldier and The Lord of the Rings ever written. :D Anyway, let me get a few things out of the way so that you can enjoy the story. First off, this takes place right after Winter Soldier and, on the other end, an unspecified date during the 17 years between the Long Expected Party and the start of Frodo's journey. This story is only AU in the sense that it does NOT take any Civil War stuff into account, as it was written before Civil War came out. I would love your feedback as you read; I hope you enjoy!
Updated Author's Note: This, the REVISED version of the story is in most respects like the original. My editing was sometimes just tiny revisions to sentences, but other times it was more major alterations to dialogue. However, nothing in the plot has changed; this is the same story read over with the eye of one who has gained much experience since I first wrote this. But I'd still really appreciate feedback, for as the wise have said, I am semper reformanda: always reforming!
. . .
The Winter Soldier sat in an abandoned building, still struggling with the new concept of conflicting thoughts. He had never once disobeyed, or at least he could never remember disobeying—pain and pattern had trained that out of him. HYDRA had made him a machine, capable only of following orders. But now something else had invaded his mind, a parasite of some sort, and orders were no longer the only objective in his consciousness.
You know me.
Those words echoed in his mind, haunting him anew every second, but he could not stop himself from thinking them. No, I don't, the Soldier thought with his eyes shut tightly. It was just what he had yelled to that familiar man, the so-called "Captain America", during their last confrontation.
Bucky, you've known me your whole life.
The conversation had played in the Soldier's mind for days. He was not even sure exactly how long it had been since he had taken refuge in this broken down building, but however much time had passed, it had not been long enough to dispel his confusion. If anything, time had added to the lack of clarity.
Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.
Shut up!
I'm not gonna fight you. You're my friend.
You're my mission. You're. My. Mission.
Then finish it. 'Cause I'm with you 'til the end of the line.
Why were those last words so disturbing to the Soldier? He had pondered them many times since dragging Captain America from the water, but he still had no solution. He was not entirely sure why he had saved the man in the first place. Through this seemingly new process of thinking and wondering, questions were never answered; they only grew in number. If his mind would only stop demanding solutions, perhaps he could have some kind of peace. But every time he tried to shove doubts or inquiries from his thoughts, the face of Captain America appeared in his memory, and his wrestling with himself continued.
The Soldier knew he would have to move from this place soon, for both safety and satisfaction. He might not know much, but he was sure he wanted to avoid being detected by both S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA. He also had to end the war in his mind. Information would not suddenly appear, the Soldier knew, and if he wanted peace in the form of answers, he would have to actively pursue it.
The Winter Soldier pushed himself to his feet, trying to ignore his body's protests to the action. He had relocated his shoulder soon after finding shelter, but he still had many severe bruises. His stomach rumbled from lack of food, and he realized that his first step in his new plan of action should be to acquire nourishment and casual clothes. He had no idea where to find these items, but there were containers holding rubbish in the alleys, and while these would not offer the finest resources, the Soldier decided that one such container might have materials that would suffice.
Stealthily peering out from one of the structure's broken windows, the Soldier deduced that no one was within sight, and his opportunity for movement was at hand. Without much difficulty, he slipped through a hole in the wall where several boards should have been and began heading for a nearby alleyway.
. . . . .
Aragorn sat by himself at a small table and sipped his ale slowly. The Prancing Pony was the same as it had always been, and that was a comforting fact. Even if the people of Bree did not appreciate Aragorn, the ranger still enjoyed stopping in the area. The inn was no Rivendell, but it was far more comfortable and safe than the wild.
A new customer came through the door, and Butterbur hurried over to offer up hospitality. The stranger wore a dark hood, and Aragorn could not see his face. The heir of Elendil watched as Butterbur seated the man and ordered Nob to wait on him. The stranger looked up at Aragorn, intentionally but carefully revealing his identity.
"Halbarad!" Aragorn exclaimed as he stood up and moved over to his kinsman's table. "It is an unexpected pleasure to see you. What errand brings you to Bree?"
"I am returning to the Shire," Halbarad answered. "I have been about many other tasks, but now I am at last going to watch over the peaceful realm of the Little Folk. It was my hope to come upon you when I reached it."
"I have only just left the Shire a few days ago," Aragorn said. Nob soon appeared with refreshments for Halbarad, and the two rangers made themselves at home.
"Are our people well? Is the land still safe?" Halbarad asked, taking a bite of bread.
"It remains secure," Aragorn explained, "and the Dúnedain stationed there are well. I travel to Imladris to rest for a while from my labors. It has been long since I gazed at that fair valley, and I hope to reach it by the week's end."
"When do you set out from The Prancing Pony?"
Aragorn smiled, an expression that Halbarad thought revealed the man's high lineage more than any other. "If it were an urgent matter, I would have left at first light. However, I decided to take a late breakfast. I was planning to begin in but a few minutes."
"Will you not stay and tell me of your journeying?"
"If you ask it, I shall do it."
Aragorn and Halbarad related to each other the tales of their travels. They hardly noticed the bustling about of Butterbur or the talking and laughing of the other guests. They were just glad to gain some news and see a friend. At last, however, Aragorn bade Halbarad a farewell and prepared to start out.
"I wish you a good journey with Eru's blessing," Halbarad said.
"You have my thanks. I wish the same for you."
"Be wary, though, Aragorn," Halbarad warned quietly. "There have been rumors of evil things stirring in the Trollshaws as of late. Keep open your keen eyes!"
"I will," Aragorn assured him. "Farewell, my friend."
Aragorn arose from the table and walked to his room. On the bed sat his pack, ready to travel. Lying near it was his bow, his quiver, and the shards of Narsil. The ranger set his burden on his shoulders and strapped his sword to his side. He would normally have placed his bow in his pack, but Halbarad's warning caused him to keep it handy. He fastened his quiver in place, threw his cloak over all his gear, and marched out to find Butterbur.
After paying the innkeeper for last night's room, Aragorn walked out onto the uneven street of Bree, heading toward the stable. There was housed his steed, and when Aragorn had reached the stall, he stroked its neck and mounted. The ranger turned his eyes eastward, and with his jaw set, he urged the horse forward. Imladris awaited him.
. . .
Author's Note: How was the first chapter? Remember, you've got to review! I am not afraid to call down the Doom of the Noldor on the evil readers who give no feedback, so I suggest you review, if only for your own safety. ;)
