Welcome, welcome! This is where it gets hard for me, because I no longer have dialogue for every character other than Aramir all set up. May the universe not stomp me into the ground.
Here is The Frozen Dúnedain Chapter 3: The Wizard.
Well, if you have even a basic ability for interpretation, you may know who I am referring to.
Aramir stood off to the side while Elsa made an ice rink. It still didn't entirely make sense to him how people could go from wanting her head on a pike to loving her in such a short time. There were, of course, some people who would still have her head on a pike given the chance , but they were a small minority. Today was a first in that he was not wearing Anorthil on his belt. ("You should stop being so paranoid." Elsa had said.) He hadn't expected to be pulled into the rink and given a pair of ice ice skates. (A/N Not a typo.) "I don't know how to skate!" He protested. "Now's a good time to learn then!" Elsa responded. An infuriating little smirk was on her face while Aramir struggled to keep on his feet, ultimately failing. "This is not funny!" Aramir said while Elsa helped him up.
Over about two hours Aramir struggled, fell, got up, and repeated until eventually he finally got the hang of it. "I still don't think it's a sound means of crossing frozen rivers, as some people here seem to think." He said when he, Elsa, Anna, and Kristoff headed back into the castle. They'd asked if he would be leaving soon. He had told them that he would love staying there when he wasn't being called away for something. They had been the first true friends he had made since... well, Adgar! They had happily accepted, and so he had been here for the last two months. It was Fall now: Aramir's favorite season. Not too cold, not too warm.
It was dinnertime, and the four had opted to eat together in a private room. They'd just finished when Kai, the butler, entered. "Excuse me, your majesty, but there is a very old man at the gates asking for Prince Aramir here." Kai said. "Did he say his name?" Elsa asked. "Ah, yes. He said he had many names, but that he was most often referred to as Gandalf, your majesty. Should I tell him to leave?" Kai said. Something clicked in Aramir's head at the name. "No!" Aramir proclaimed to everyone's suprise. "I have never heard the name before, I think. But I feel like I do remember him. Invite him in here, if the Queen will allow it." Aramir said. Elsa nodded. After Kai left, she turned to Aramir. "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine." She said. "I literally just said that I've never met him before, and that the name-" Aramir stopped when he heard the door open. In it, framed by the doorway, stood an old man with a staff, wearing all gray clothes, except for a powder blue pointed hat with a wide brim, a silver scarf, and immense black boots. The most interesting thing about him was probably the finely crafted sword at his side. He had an enormously long gray beard, and long gray hair, with bushy eyebrows. Anna spoke first. "Good evening!" She said in her usual cheery tone. "What do you mean? Do you wish me a good evening, or do you say it is a good evening whether I like it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel 'good', on this particular evening, or that it is an evening to be good on?" The old man, presumably Gandalf, asked in a voice that suggested great wisdom. "All of them at once!" Anna exclaimed, still quite cheery. "Now, I am here for young Aramir here. It is time for him to return to his people." Gandalf said. "Mom and Dad need me back at Arëador already?" Aramir asked. "No, they do not need you. Indeed, I have already spoken with them, and they agree that it is time for you to know. You are not, as you have been told, the sixth son of King Arahad and Queen Diane of Arëador, Aramir. You are of an even more noble bloodline. You are a Dúnedain. I am not suprised that you do not know the name, for your foster parents kept your heritage secret from you. They are descended from the Nùmenorians. The land of Númenor was so great that even here you have heard of it. You in this world refer to it as 'Atlantis'." Gandalf said. "Gandalf- you are Gandalf, correct?- you said 'in this world', unless I heard wrong. Are you not of this world?" Aramir asked, his head reeling from this revelation. He was an Atlantean, or whatever the word Gandalf had used for them was. That is, if this man could be believed. "No, I am not. I am from another world called Arda. You were born on a continent called Middle-Earth. And you were in great danger from your conception. For the forces of Evil sought to destroy the Heirs of Isildúr. You are not the Heir of Isildúr, but you are also a direct descendant of him. You are the youngest and second son of the previous Heir of Isildúr, Arathorn the Second, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and brother to the current heir, Aragorn the Second, who like you was hidden away, he with the Elves, you here in this world. You are twenty-three years of age currently, and as a Lord of the Dúnedain, you will be more or less the same physically until about your eightieth birthday, at which point you will age normally again, passing at around one hundred and thirty years, bar any unfortunate circumstances. And it is time for you to become a Ranger of the North." Gandalf asked.
Aramir was speechless. A short while later, he finally spoke. "Listen, Gandalf, I can't go. This world is my home. I'm sorry, but goodbye." Aramir said. Gandalf looked disappointed and exited the hall. "I need to go." Aramir said. He exited the room.
The following day, Aramir stayed in his room. He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice Elsa had entered until she started talking. "I hope you weren't planning to hide in here for the rest of your life. Trust me, it does not help." She said. "I don't. Just deep in thought, is all. About how all of your world can come crashing down around you so easily, so fast. About how one thing can completely alter how you see the world. Or, as we've just learned, worlds." He said in reply. "No more staying alone in a dark room for thirteen hours, Aramir. It turns you from a rougeish prince into a melancholy philosopher." Elsa said, sitting down on a chair. "No more staying in your room alone for thirteen years, Elsa. In turns you from a young girl into a gorgeous woman who is afraid of herself." Aramir said. Elsa looked a bit suprised. "You really think that I'm that pretty?" She asked. "Yes, I do. Now, I know you probably think that I'm either a coward or a fool for rejecting this, or both. But-" Aramir was cut off by Elsa. "I don't. It doesn't change my opinion of you in any negative way." She said. "Well, I had a long speech prepared to defend my choice, but I apparently was wasting my time. I suppose that if I want to deliver a speech to you it'll have to be about your beauty. That was a joke." Aramir said. Actually, it wasn't. He had actually been about to confess his feelings for her. He mentally punched himself for chickening out. "Well, you convinced me to come out. But I am sure you have some queenly business to attend to." Aramir said. "..Yes, I do." Elsa said.
They both left the room, and went their separate ways. Aramir found Kristoff in the courtyard. "Hey Kristoff! You open for a time at the tavern?" Aramir asked. "I was going to have a picnic with Anna, but she's fallen ill. So, HECK YEAH!" The sound of the mountain man's shout shocked Aramir. "Come on. I found one the first time I came to this city that brews a mean ale." Aramir said.
"I truly feel sorry for any man who has never tasted the ale of The Drunken Giant. What's going on over there?" Aramir looked at a group of men around a table with several kegs atop it. The pair headed over there. One of the even was filling a load of mugs and talking. "Rules: No spills, no pauses, no fainting. And no regurgitation." He said, adding extra emphasis to the last, and eying a short man as he said it. "Ah, so it's a drinking contest?" Aramir asked. "Yessiree! Will you be the man added to the Wall of Tolerance this year?" The man asked. "Wall of... Tolerance?" Aramir asked, puzzled. "Tolerance, as in alcohol tolerance." The man said. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Kristoff asked Aramir. "Yup." Aramir said.
Aramir woke up in his bed with a pounding headache. The thing was, he had only a few, very fuzzy memories of the previous day. He remembered getting into a drinking contest. "You finally woke up, then." Anna's voice floated in from the doorway. Slowly, Aramir put two and two together. Drinking game, headache, and he had previously been unconscious. "Did I win?" He asked. "Apparently, you and Kris were in the final three. Kris passed out, and you finally did too after about forty more mugs. The doctor was amazed you didn't die from alcohol poisoning." Anna said. "He sure I didn't? I feel like I have." Aramir said, groaning and clutching his head. "Just stay in bed and you'll be fine!" Anna said. "All right. Now close the door, please." Aramir said. At least he hadn't done anything to regret. Wait, didn't he do that already by getting this massive hangover?
He woke the next morning feeling much better. Today he wore a mostly green outfit. He headed down for breakfast. And found the worst possible sight he could have thought of.
Hans and about thre dozen men occupied the throne room. Anna, Elsa, Kristoff, were up against the wall. Olaf wasn't there, he had taken to wandering around the city and forest most of the time.
(Play Isengard Unleashed here.)
"Ah, the young prince of Arëador! One more of the people who ruined me, about to be executed!" Hans shouted at Aramir from his position atop the throne. "Get him!" He ordered the men- the 'minority who still wanted her head on a pike', by the looks of it. The men charged with clubs raised. Aramir had no weapon. His unarmed skills couldn't beat this many fighters. But he could give the others a chance to escape. He readied himself to fight to the last.
It wasn't long before he was overwhelmed and on the floor. "Come come, bring him to me, I'll kill him personally." Hans said. "The deal was that we took the Man-swine alive, back to HIM!" Somebody said. "The deal is off! Your master was a fool to bargain with me!" Hans shot back. "Oh, you'll regret insulting HIM, you Tark piece of shrahk!" The voice shputed. A few... things, emerged from the shadows. They wore some armor, and carried wicked looking scimitars and knives. They ran towards Hans, threw him to the ground, and brutally murdered him. By the time they were done the only thing recognizable about Hans was the remains of his white clothes. His organs were on the floor, his face was mutilated, and his left leg was completely severed. The treasonous men fled the castle in horror. Some of the beasts then went after Aramir, probably to capture him, if the snippets of conversation he had heard were correct. The other creatures cut up Hans' body some more, even as he lay dead. Aramir an aged to knock one unconscious but he was on the ground, and so couldn't use most of his techniques. While four of the creatures held him down, another group kept Kristoff down. The rest were discussing what to do with Anna and Elsa. "I say we have some fun with them!" One said. "Fun? What do you mean, fun?" Anna asked. Oh, how woefully innocent she was! "Aye, I heard that there's a reward for any Orc who helps to get HIM another Uruk-hai bred. " Another said, totally ignoring the Princess's question. At that the two women's eyes went wide with horror. "Come on, help me get them out of their threads!" A third Orc said. The two screamed and struggled all the way while the vile monsters tried to get them undressed. The two men tried to get free, but they were pinned. Aramir and Kristoff could only look on in horror as the Orcs prepared to rape the two.
Then, there was a bright flash of light, and out of it emerged... Gandalf?! The old man had his staff in one hand and his sword in the other. He leaned on the prop no longer, and he stood tall. All the Orcs were knocked off their feet by the explosion. The Orcs screeched in terror. "HE WIELDS THE BEATER! BRIGHT AS DAYLIGHT!" One screamed, pointing a crooked finger at the sword. Most fled right there and then. But two, either the bravest or most foolish, stayed behind. Aramir hadn't expected such skill to be displayed by the the old man. Gandalf quickly dispatched both, using sword cuts and crushing blows from his staff both to lethal effectiveness. It was then that Aramir noticed that a light seemed to fade from the blade a few moments after the Orcs were dead.
(Play The Last Goodbye.)
"Aramir, the Enemy knows where you are. You must come with me!" Gandalf said. "I can't leave them unprotected!" Aramir objected. "Your presence here is what places them in danger!" Gandalf countered. A long moment of silence later, Aramir made his choice. There really wasn't anything else to do about it, really. "I will go with you." Aramir said. "Very well! Now, go and gather only your most basic belongings. You'll be needing to get used to a life of few possessions." Gandalf said.
A few minutes later, Aramir returned with Anorthil and a few other belongings. "I'm ready to leave." He said. "I suggest you say your goodbyes. You might never see them again." The old man said. A few heartfelt farewells later, Aramir and Gandalf left Arendelle.
There will be a time skip next chapter, as otherwise I would have to come up with just under sixty-seven years of story.
