Forget me not
By Firniswin and Linwen
A/N: OK! I am so excited because this is my first LotR co-authored fic! I did one with Pirates of the Caribbean called Piracy, but as a lot of you know, that is not finished yet, and may not be finished for a lone while. I am kinda in the middle of a few things. But if you like, my friend Vernier is writing also, in her style. So look up Piracy on Fanfiction.net and you might find it.
Also we do not own most of these characters…..the ones you do not know or have not heard of before…..those are our characters, and we would be happy if you would ask before thinking to use them. Otherwise, if you have heard of the characters, they are most likely not ours.
Please forgive us any grammatical mistakes, or names spelled in correctly. My friend Linwen is not very familiar with LotR . But I think she has most of them down, and she has read FotR and is continuing onto TTT. I will do my best to correct any names that she may spell wrong. But remember I am impatient and imperfect, so we will try our best.
And believe it or not, this idea started out with the movie The Lion King, I just got the special edition, and had a great idea. Along with Linwen, who helped a lot.
Oh and before we start, this story has NO ties with any of my other stories! None what so ever! I may later one make it part of my rapidly growing collection, but as of now, it is a very long vignette.
I think that is all, oh and we will try to include elvish translations. But some we may forget.
Please read and review! And be positive, but if you need to correct us….be kind. J We are but young little [cough] hooligans [cough] ones, and would not want our spirits wounded.
Oh and last but not least, if you read and kindly review our story. One of us will try and read and review yours. I try to do that each time, but if none of your stories appeal to me…..I will sincerely try and read it. But if I can not do not make it a bad mark on me. I get distracted easily and do not have many things I like. So thanks! And enjoy!
Chapter 1
Can't Let Go
_________________________
One more mile till I rest
I have put myself through this rigid test
But the mile has never ended
No distance has been gained
I do not see the greatness I wanted to obtain
- Audio Adrenaline
___________________________
The sun was setting behind the mountains, there blue and white tops covered in a beautiful gold. Above, in the cobalt sky, the stars peeked from there resting places. They twinkled, trying to bring comfort to those who had none, but Aragorn son of Arathorn had no comfort.
The young ranger raced through the trees and bushes in the forest, jumping logs and sprinting away from up coming trees.
Tears ran down his cheeks and mixed with the last rays of the dying sun.
The man let out a raged sob as he tripped a log and fell hard to the muddy ground.
The muck splashed in his face, and all over his tired body.
'I have to get away.' he thought, as the last strength in his emotionally worn out body pulled him up out of the messy mud. He continued on, trotting at first, then faster, and faster. Faster till he had no time nor mind to look for the right direction.
He ran ever on, he did not care where he went right now. He just had to get away.
Strider gulped back the tears as he trekked onward through the forest, his silver gaze scanning the ground for a certain herb.
He turned his head to see the sun dip farther down near the mountains. The order echoing oddly in his ears.
"Hurry Aragorn, or Mithdil will die!" it echoed, ringing and he remembered.
The sight of his friend upon the bed, pale and dying. The sight of his fever flushed cheeks and his cries of pain.
Mithdil was his best human friend, the only friend that he had within twenty miles.
He had named the younger man Mithdil, because he so wanted to be like Aragorn. He had wanted to be a ranger. He wanted it more than anything, saving the lives of others, that was what he had told Estel.
So since the boy was far to young, he had given him an elvish name. Mithdil, roughly meant "Gray ranger"
The boy had taken the term a bit literally in Aragorn's opinion when he had told his mother that from then on he would only be wearing gray.
To cut his mother some slack, the ranger had given his best friend a suit of gray, it was the color that rangers normally wore and of the same make.
Mithdil ad loved this, and worn it only when Aragorn came.
So Strider kept his promise, that he would do all he could to find the herb that Mithdil so needed. It was a rare thing, this herb. And a strange sickness that Mithdil had caught. It was like the flu, but not so. It made the victim unable to eat or sleep. Whatever they ate did not stay down long. And with this, there body just became weaker and weaker till nothing was left but an empty shell.
As the sun began to dip farther down into the crimson sky, the man's keen eyes rested on what he had been looking for all along. He dropped down to one knee, pulling out his elven dagger, he touched the tip of the plant and jumped slightly when he felt small spikes inject into his skin.
It hurt so horribly he almost cried out.
But he had to get the herb, so he switched to his gloved hand and grabbed the herb with the gloved hand and cut with the other.
Finally he stowed the herb in his pack and began to run at full speed back in the direction he had come.
Strider stopped a moment as he felt the sting renew in his fingers. But decided to ignore them, and kept going on. Trying to run from his problems.
He stopped at the door, in the cottage was his friend.
He knocked and the door was opened by Mithdil's mother. Her eyes were horrible red and puffy, her cheeks pale as snow.
She stepped aside and watched as Aragorn entered, he looked to the bed where Mithdil lay, unmoving. Not even drawing breath.
As he stepped closer, he saw the boy had a blue tinge to his skin, the man stepped back as tears flooded his senses.
"No," he whispered as a sob broke the air. "No, I-I, no. I am too late."
Morael , Mithdil's mother, put a hand on his shoulder trying to comfort him, but Aragorn shook it away.
"You can not help what happened Strider." she whispered.
Estel only backed away, he quickly turned and fled through the door. No one bothered to go after him, he would get over it they said. They had before.
His breath came out in short ragged gasps as he passed the path that led to Imladris. He would not go back.
His heart weighed down in his chest and he did not feel as if he could face anyone. Not his father, his brothers, not even Arwen.
He raced through the bushes, as he did he passed the last path to Rivendell, making all clear. He would not go home.
By Firniswin and Linwen
A/N: OK! I am so excited because this is my first LotR co-authored fic! I did one with Pirates of the Caribbean called Piracy, but as a lot of you know, that is not finished yet, and may not be finished for a lone while. I am kinda in the middle of a few things. But if you like, my friend Vernier is writing also, in her style. So look up Piracy on Fanfiction.net and you might find it.
Also we do not own most of these characters…..the ones you do not know or have not heard of before…..those are our characters, and we would be happy if you would ask before thinking to use them. Otherwise, if you have heard of the characters, they are most likely not ours.
Please forgive us any grammatical mistakes, or names spelled in correctly. My friend Linwen is not very familiar with LotR . But I think she has most of them down, and she has read FotR and is continuing onto TTT. I will do my best to correct any names that she may spell wrong. But remember I am impatient and imperfect, so we will try our best.
And believe it or not, this idea started out with the movie The Lion King, I just got the special edition, and had a great idea. Along with Linwen, who helped a lot.
Oh and before we start, this story has NO ties with any of my other stories! None what so ever! I may later one make it part of my rapidly growing collection, but as of now, it is a very long vignette.
I think that is all, oh and we will try to include elvish translations. But some we may forget.
Please read and review! And be positive, but if you need to correct us….be kind. J We are but young little [cough] hooligans [cough] ones, and would not want our spirits wounded.
Oh and last but not least, if you read and kindly review our story. One of us will try and read and review yours. I try to do that each time, but if none of your stories appeal to me…..I will sincerely try and read it. But if I can not do not make it a bad mark on me. I get distracted easily and do not have many things I like. So thanks! And enjoy!
Chapter 1
Can't Let Go
_________________________
One more mile till I rest
I have put myself through this rigid test
But the mile has never ended
No distance has been gained
I do not see the greatness I wanted to obtain
- Audio Adrenaline
___________________________
The sun was setting behind the mountains, there blue and white tops covered in a beautiful gold. Above, in the cobalt sky, the stars peeked from there resting places. They twinkled, trying to bring comfort to those who had none, but Aragorn son of Arathorn had no comfort.
The young ranger raced through the trees and bushes in the forest, jumping logs and sprinting away from up coming trees.
Tears ran down his cheeks and mixed with the last rays of the dying sun.
The man let out a raged sob as he tripped a log and fell hard to the muddy ground.
The muck splashed in his face, and all over his tired body.
'I have to get away.' he thought, as the last strength in his emotionally worn out body pulled him up out of the messy mud. He continued on, trotting at first, then faster, and faster. Faster till he had no time nor mind to look for the right direction.
He ran ever on, he did not care where he went right now. He just had to get away.
Strider gulped back the tears as he trekked onward through the forest, his silver gaze scanning the ground for a certain herb.
He turned his head to see the sun dip farther down near the mountains. The order echoing oddly in his ears.
"Hurry Aragorn, or Mithdil will die!" it echoed, ringing and he remembered.
The sight of his friend upon the bed, pale and dying. The sight of his fever flushed cheeks and his cries of pain.
Mithdil was his best human friend, the only friend that he had within twenty miles.
He had named the younger man Mithdil, because he so wanted to be like Aragorn. He had wanted to be a ranger. He wanted it more than anything, saving the lives of others, that was what he had told Estel.
So since the boy was far to young, he had given him an elvish name. Mithdil, roughly meant "Gray ranger"
The boy had taken the term a bit literally in Aragorn's opinion when he had told his mother that from then on he would only be wearing gray.
To cut his mother some slack, the ranger had given his best friend a suit of gray, it was the color that rangers normally wore and of the same make.
Mithdil ad loved this, and worn it only when Aragorn came.
So Strider kept his promise, that he would do all he could to find the herb that Mithdil so needed. It was a rare thing, this herb. And a strange sickness that Mithdil had caught. It was like the flu, but not so. It made the victim unable to eat or sleep. Whatever they ate did not stay down long. And with this, there body just became weaker and weaker till nothing was left but an empty shell.
As the sun began to dip farther down into the crimson sky, the man's keen eyes rested on what he had been looking for all along. He dropped down to one knee, pulling out his elven dagger, he touched the tip of the plant and jumped slightly when he felt small spikes inject into his skin.
It hurt so horribly he almost cried out.
But he had to get the herb, so he switched to his gloved hand and grabbed the herb with the gloved hand and cut with the other.
Finally he stowed the herb in his pack and began to run at full speed back in the direction he had come.
Strider stopped a moment as he felt the sting renew in his fingers. But decided to ignore them, and kept going on. Trying to run from his problems.
He stopped at the door, in the cottage was his friend.
He knocked and the door was opened by Mithdil's mother. Her eyes were horrible red and puffy, her cheeks pale as snow.
She stepped aside and watched as Aragorn entered, he looked to the bed where Mithdil lay, unmoving. Not even drawing breath.
As he stepped closer, he saw the boy had a blue tinge to his skin, the man stepped back as tears flooded his senses.
"No," he whispered as a sob broke the air. "No, I-I, no. I am too late."
Morael , Mithdil's mother, put a hand on his shoulder trying to comfort him, but Aragorn shook it away.
"You can not help what happened Strider." she whispered.
Estel only backed away, he quickly turned and fled through the door. No one bothered to go after him, he would get over it they said. They had before.
His breath came out in short ragged gasps as he passed the path that led to Imladris. He would not go back.
His heart weighed down in his chest and he did not feel as if he could face anyone. Not his father, his brothers, not even Arwen.
He raced through the bushes, as he did he passed the last path to Rivendell, making all clear. He would not go home.