Disclaimer: This is all Tolkien, not a single thing that's non-Tolkien.
No OC's, no slash, not even an original situation. Nada. Another author
on Fanfic (who's nic I forget, Frodo Baggins something, I think) has done
some impressive "thoughts of the characters" stories, and I was inspired to
try my hand at it. If that author is reading, notify me so I can give you
the proper appreciation by name. Thanks.
In My Time Of Dying
"They took the little ones." I cannot speak well. My injuries are too great for that, but I must try. Aragorn must know.
"Be still," he commands gently. I cannot be still. Merry and Pippin, so cheerful, so dear to me, have been captured by Orcs, and I could not stop it. I tried, oh, how I tried, but my efforts were in vain. Perhaps my failure was retribution for my weakness with Frodo. That reminds me…
"Frodo? Where is Frodo?" I must know. I must know how much damage I have done to our Fellowship.
"I let Frodo go," Aragorn replies.
"Then you did what I could not," I say. Aragorn tries to hush me, but I will not be silenced. He must know the extant of my failure. "I tried to take the Ring."
He pauses before he speaks. I can feel the depth of his disappointment in that short silence. "The Ring is beyond our reach now."
His tone is soft, sad. Frodo must be dead, to cause such pain in Aragorn's stern voice. Perhaps I will meet that merry soul when I have completed my own journey?
"Forgive me," I beg of him. "I did not see." I cannot say more yet. I am too weak to tell him how truly blind I was. I honestly thought I would be strong enough to wield the Ring, and use it to save my people. I can see now how it played on my arrogance, as I could not then. "I have failed," I manage to confess.
Aragorn looks at me. I cannot read his expression. "You fought bravely," he says at last. "You have kept your honor."
He moves to take the arrow from my shoulder. I stop him. There is no use to his actions. I know I am dying. "Leave it," I command. "It is over. The world of men will fall into darkness, and my city to ruin."
The thought pains me. I did not expect it to end this way. I believed the White City would endure forever. I thought I would succeed my father, and the son I will never have after me. Faramir will be steward now, if my city is still standing after my father dies. Poor Faramir. I hope you will not grieve overmuch, Little Brother.
"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail," Aragorn is saying. His voice sounds distant to my ears, yet his words hearten me.
"Our people," I manage to gasp. A realization strikes me, and I say it again. "Our people." It dawns on me only now, at the end, that this man, this Ranger, is truly the King Returned. I am gratified to know this at last, and to have known him, if only for a little while. I must pledge myself to him, while I have some small strength left. He must know. "I would have followed you……my brother……my captain……my King."
There. I have said it. I would say more, give messages to my father and brother, but I cannot. My strength leaves me. My vision fades, leaving only a white glow. I can barely feel the touch of Aragorn's lips on my forehead, bidding my spirit farewell. Very dimly, as if through a tunnel, I hear a whisper, "Be at peace, Son of Gondor."
Oh, I am, My King. At last, I am.
In My Time Of Dying
"They took the little ones." I cannot speak well. My injuries are too great for that, but I must try. Aragorn must know.
"Be still," he commands gently. I cannot be still. Merry and Pippin, so cheerful, so dear to me, have been captured by Orcs, and I could not stop it. I tried, oh, how I tried, but my efforts were in vain. Perhaps my failure was retribution for my weakness with Frodo. That reminds me…
"Frodo? Where is Frodo?" I must know. I must know how much damage I have done to our Fellowship.
"I let Frodo go," Aragorn replies.
"Then you did what I could not," I say. Aragorn tries to hush me, but I will not be silenced. He must know the extant of my failure. "I tried to take the Ring."
He pauses before he speaks. I can feel the depth of his disappointment in that short silence. "The Ring is beyond our reach now."
His tone is soft, sad. Frodo must be dead, to cause such pain in Aragorn's stern voice. Perhaps I will meet that merry soul when I have completed my own journey?
"Forgive me," I beg of him. "I did not see." I cannot say more yet. I am too weak to tell him how truly blind I was. I honestly thought I would be strong enough to wield the Ring, and use it to save my people. I can see now how it played on my arrogance, as I could not then. "I have failed," I manage to confess.
Aragorn looks at me. I cannot read his expression. "You fought bravely," he says at last. "You have kept your honor."
He moves to take the arrow from my shoulder. I stop him. There is no use to his actions. I know I am dying. "Leave it," I command. "It is over. The world of men will fall into darkness, and my city to ruin."
The thought pains me. I did not expect it to end this way. I believed the White City would endure forever. I thought I would succeed my father, and the son I will never have after me. Faramir will be steward now, if my city is still standing after my father dies. Poor Faramir. I hope you will not grieve overmuch, Little Brother.
"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I will not let the White City fall, nor our people fail," Aragorn is saying. His voice sounds distant to my ears, yet his words hearten me.
"Our people," I manage to gasp. A realization strikes me, and I say it again. "Our people." It dawns on me only now, at the end, that this man, this Ranger, is truly the King Returned. I am gratified to know this at last, and to have known him, if only for a little while. I must pledge myself to him, while I have some small strength left. He must know. "I would have followed you……my brother……my captain……my King."
There. I have said it. I would say more, give messages to my father and brother, but I cannot. My strength leaves me. My vision fades, leaving only a white glow. I can barely feel the touch of Aragorn's lips on my forehead, bidding my spirit farewell. Very dimly, as if through a tunnel, I hear a whisper, "Be at peace, Son of Gondor."
Oh, I am, My King. At last, I am.