This tale is a dark one, and I warn you to read it at your own discretion. It is a tale of horror and tragedy, from events that took place long ago. There is blood and gore, death, and betrayal. And none of it is pretty. How do we know of this tale?
Because I Survived.
~A Survivor.
Aragorn found the dwarf standing alone, the red of his beard matching the fire of the sunset in the sky.
"Gimli," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What occupies you?"
Gimli looked at him and guffawed. "Come now, lad, the Ring—the One Ring—on a journey to Mordor in the hands of hobbits?"
Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "Frodo is the only one able to resist the call of the One Ring. He must do it."
Gimli clenched his fists. "Pah! A dwarf could do a much better job! The lad looks drawn already. And to destroy the Ring when it could be used instead to restore the dwarven kingdoms—foolish!"
"I agree," Aragorn said quietly. He lowered his voice. "I almost dare not speak of it in Rivendell for it is infested with elves but I will take the risk with you.
"Join me, Gimli. I too wish to see the realms of men restored, united under their rightful leader. The One Ring cannot give us the power to do it but I know someone who can."
The dwarf's sharp eyes turned to his face, alight with suspicion and curiosity. "Who?"
Aragorn leaned down and whispered, "Sauron. He hungers for the One Ring. Think of the power he will reward to the ones who return it."
He stepped back. "Perhaps enough to restore a dwarven kingdom or the world of men. Or both." He shrugged.
Gimli's eyes lit up and he smoothed his beard with a thoughtful expression. "We steal the Ring from the hobbit and make for Mordor, aye, lad?"
Aragorn held up a hand. "No, my good dwarf, no. I know these elves; they would sniff out our intentions and put an end to it. And Gandalf, he would stop us for he guards Frodo like a dog. We must be rid of the wizard before we make our move; have patience!"
Gimli slammed his fist into his palm. "I will wait if it kills me if I will see the kingdoms of dwarves restored to their former glory. I will aid you in your quest, Aragorn. I too harbor a hate for elves."
Aragorn played off the dwarf's hate. "After restoring our realms to power, we will bring the Age of Elves to a quick end. Under our united rule, they will stand no chance."
Gimli turned his eyes with a sneer downward and regarded the fair head of Legolas and the weathered one of Gandalf bent together below.
"And now," he said. "To wait for the moment to smite the wizard down."
Aragorn sat back and smiled, his mission accomplished. He could not carry the One Ring without being corrupted but Gimli could hold it and take it to Sauron. After he had served his usefulness, he would die.
The Fellowship of the Ring departed Rivendell and traveled forth into Middle Earth. Man and dwarf kept their eyes open for a chance to be rid of Gandalf but no opportunity graced them until the party plunged into the dark halls of Khazad-Dum.
Gimli spoke low to Aragorn as they walked through the cold halls, Gandalf's staff lighting the way. The jagged stone walls rose up, their path littered with pebbles and bones while the higher ceilings hung with cobwebs.
"Balin used to lord over these halls, Aragorn. He sent a last letter to my father. A balrog dwells here, friend to the dark minions who overtook Moria. I would see it cleansed and restored."
"As would I," Aragorn agreed, patting the dwarf on the back.
Gimli nodded. He leaned closer to his human companion. "And I have thought of a way to end the wizard."
Aragorn and Gimli both looked with disdain at the silhouetted hat bobbing behind the lit staff ahead of them, giving off the pale illumination.
"How?" asked the ranger, wary of Legolas's sharp ears.
"We will feed him to the balrog as payment to let us pass," Gimli said, his voice soft in triumph.
Aragorn considered in silence, struck by the genius of the idea. He stared at the pointed hat and a smile marked his approval. It needed a little finesse but the general idea would be the same.
The party ventured deeper into the mines, passing through echoing halls. More then once dwarf and man feared their plan spoiled as Gandalf leeched the precious few words from Balin's charred journal for the wizard now knew of some danger.
As the drums sounded in the deep, Gimli stared at the bones of his slaughtered people lying around his feet in the dirty room and swore to avenge them, readying his axe for battle.
The goblins and trolls came in swarms, driving the company of nine back though they fought with courage and bravery, leaving many slain in puddles of black blood. The losing battle sent hobbit, man, elf, and dwarf fleeing from the pressing enemy. Their hasty path ended at the beginning of a broken bridge, leading to the outside. The nine started across it, leaping the gap in the middle. Gimli nodded to Aragorn, jerking his head at the red glow far below them.
The beast broke from the darkness, eyes glowing red, and his mouth filled with red gases. A whip of fire lashed in his hands, its cruel snap tainting the air to accompany the hungry cries of the goblins closing in behind, their arrows pinging on the stone of the bridge.
The balrog closed in as Aragorn wondered how to handle the situation. He had to be rid of Gandalf but he could not let his companions realize his dark intentions.
Gandalf lunged past him, back the way they had come, his arms raised and his weathered face fierce. He slammed his staff base into the stone of the bridge and cried, "You shall not pass!"
"Run!" Legolas cried, sprinting for the far tunnel.
And the company fled as the balrog reeled back, falling to rejoin the red chasm below. Its whip snapped up, slicing through the air in a desperate attempt to catch itself but missed the bridge and hit Gandalf's ankle. The old man stumbled.
On the far end of the bridge, the eight companions halted despite the goblin arrows falling around them, their eyes wide as Gandalf fell; teetering back over the edge, and only his flailing hands saved him from a quick death. He dangled, clinging to the edge of the bridge.
"Gandalf!" Frodo shrieked, held back from flinging himself into the rain of arrows by Boromir.
Aragorn saw his chance and seized it. He leapt out and knelt before the wizard, hiding him from the view of those behind him. He peeled the old man's desperate fingers from the ledge with a malicious smile. As the human plummeted with a warning cry of "Beware!", the rest of his words were cut off as Aragorn leaned down, his hands outstretched and cried in anguish,"Gandaaaaalllllffffffff!"
Gimli put a hand on his shoulder and said in sympathy, "He is gone, lad, and we will join him if we do not flee."
A quick wink encouraged Aragorn's quick thinking. Behind them, six pairs of stricken eyes stared in horror. The grieving mood broke as the company was forced to flee at the tidal wave of scrambling goblins approaching. They rushed out into cold sunshine, slowing to a halt to stop among the jagged rocks of the mountain's peaks to rest, Gimli drew Aragorn aside.
The dwarf gestured to where Frodo lay, weakened by a brutal blow to his chest by a troll spear remade into his mithril shirt. He growled, "The wizard is gone. We should take the Ring from him now!"
"Not so fast, master dwarf," Aragorn cautioned. "We have yet to pass through Lothlorien. The Lady Galadriel would know if we committed such treachery and we must journey through the Golden Wood on our way to Mordor. We will wait until after we leave her realm."
And the ranger strolled to Frodo's side to tend his wounds, leaving the dwarf clenching his fists in frustration.
The company journeyed onward. Their path led them through Lothlorien and saw them greet and bid goodbye the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. The eight companions paddled down the river in the boats given to them by the elves to aid their journey, gliding smoothly over the clear water as it rippled over unfathomable depths.
Several nights later saw the hobbits and their friends camped on the riverbank resting. Here Aragorn drew Gimli aside at the break of dawn, walking into the tall grass near the banks.
"Now is when we strike, master dwarf," he said, pointing down the hill toward the river where two small forms scurried across the rocky beach toward one of the three boats. "Your long wait is at an end. There flees Frodo and his faithful dog, Sam. While the orcs entertain our friends, we will slay the hobbits and take the Ring."
"Orcs?" Gimli questioned as he and Aragorn crept down the hill to the bank, blades naked.
Aragorn nodded. "I saw them coming a while back. They will rid us of some of our party members, I think."
Human and dwarf crossed the beach in a few strides and hurled themselves upon the defenseless hobbits, cutting off their alarmed cries of protest with a few swift strokes. The river washed away the blood, swirling the red away into the blue waters.
Aragorn dumped the light corpses into the boat bobbing on the water, thinking with mock pity of the hobbits' desperate scrambling, as Gimli jerked the chain holding the One Ring from Frodo's limp neck. His eyes gleamed. Aragorn shoved the boat to the currents' mercies and watched it float away.
Gimli pocketed the Ring without a word but a small nod of a mission accomplished. He and Aragorn jogged back to the camp, where dead orcs pierced with arrows lay littered throughout the trees. Following the body trail, they found Legolas kneeling beside the body of Boromir, his corpse stabbed with dozens of black orc arrows. The elf turned to look at them with a sad expression.
"He died defending Merry and Pippin," he said. "But they are gone, captured by orcs."
Aragorn knelt without a word, composing a stricken face as he touched Boromir's cold form. "Sam and Frodo have departed on their own quest. It seems they wish to slip into Mordor on their own."
Legolas nodded, his eyes faraway. "Yes . . . may the valar be with them, and Boromir on this sad day. Come, let us give him the parting his deserves and be on our way."
Aragorn glanced back at the camp of Théoden King as he, Legolas, and Gimli plunged into the misty mountain pass. He fingered Anduril's hilt; the fool Elrond had given him the last tool he needed to win the war. Gandalf was dead, Merry and Pippin eaten by orcs. There remained only Legolas to deal with.
Théoden's armies might be enough to defeat an army of orcs but they would stand no chance against his army of undead. He knew the six thousand riders streaming out behind the Lord of the Mark would ride for Minas Tirith and be gone but distance could be made back.
And it was time Legolas died. Aragorn knew the Ring sang to Gimli's heart, despite his dwarven resilience and he feared the dwarf would soon turn on him out of greed. But worse then that, Legolas seemed to grow suspicious. His elven senses knew something was wrong.
It occurred to Aragorn after he killed Legolas, he would have slain elf and hobbit. With an army of undead at his side, man would soon follow. And it was only a matter of time before dwarf joined the list.
The high walls of the pass were half-hidden in mist. It seemed half the snaps underfoot came less from sticks and more from the bones of the doomed who had come before him.
Aragorn needed Gimli to hold the One Ring for a while yet. He would not risk holding it and fall into the same pit as the nine mortals who had gone before him and turned into Ring Wraiths. He needed his head about him to barter with Sauron.
The party stepped out into the underground kingdom of the Oath Breakers, making their way to the center of the smooth, stone floor. They left the mists behind them.
Legolas stepped back nervously as the glowing green figures of the unsubstantial undead came to life from nothing. His arrows passed right through them. But as Aragorn began to speak of releasing them to fulfill their oath, something in his mind seemed to wander; scream out a warning. Something was wrong!
Legolas started as Aragorn moved from the room, the undead legions following him in a green flow. They faded into invisibility but he could still feel their presence there.
"Let us make haste to Minas Tirith," Aragorn said. "We will take the river. But first one small task . . ."
Only man and dwarf emerged from the pass, bearing many cuts and bruises from their fierce battle but the elf lay dead behind them in the mists.
Aragorn's army sailed down the river, and arrived at Minas Tirith. It quenched the hope remaining in Middle Earth to the last straw. It left the armies of Gondor and Rohan devastated, and Minas Tirith in the secure hold of Mordor's fist, an island in the middle of a sea of bodies. The son of Arathorn departed for Mordor with Gimli at his side.
"We come bearing a gift for Sauron," Aragorn declared, looking up at the guards of the iron gates. "Let us pass; we stand on your side. Have I not aided your effort to win the war and left you standing on the edge of victory?"
The red beam of Sauron's eye turned to Aragorn, piercing through him and slithering over the desires of his heart in one sweep. And the gates creaked open at his silent command, the black metal moving back slowly.
"Come forth," Sauron said, his voice a low hiss. "And bring me your gift."
Gimli's fingers closed over his axe handle. "Why should you share in the gain Aragorn? You are but a mere human who cannot even hold the Ring! It shall all be mine!"
The glow of Sauron's eye seemed to intensify in pleasure as he watched human and dwarf turn on each other out of mere greed. The battle lasted a long hour and at last the might of man failed.
Leaving Aragorn splayed out on the black land of Mordor, the son of Gloin completed his quest: the One Ring for the seven rings of the dwarves.
Holding the seven rings in his grasp, Gimli marched forth to rebuild the Dwarven Empire, lording over all beneath Middle Earth while Sauron ruled over all above.
Thank you for reading. It may not have been what you were expecting but an evil Aragorn and Gimli might as well go all the way. I hope you will forgive me for doing a total party kill!