A/N: Sorry this has been so long, but I am just getting over a cold/flu thing (it was horrible…), and I hadn't had a chance to write any of this. This story has skipped around so much, that it's not even funny. Some of the dialogue is directly from the books, and some of it I modified, because I am writing a fanfiction, not the Lord of the Rings all over again. :o)
Disclaimer: See author's bio.
Thank yous go to: Evening Nightshade (I'm really glad you like it. Lol, first reviewer. *grins* Yup, you were), Dragon (Sorry I haven't reviewed any of your stories yet, but I've been busy. I'll try to do that today), and Kawaii BlueBear (Nope, I don't have the heart to anything mean to Estel).
Innocence: Part Two
Nine years later…
A lone figure crept out of Rivendell, looking back only once, before passing through the gates, and out of sight of everything he loved, and was familiar with.
***
Fifty two years later, a weather worn man by the name of Strider, Aragorn to those he trusted, quietly walked the trails near Rivendell. He stopped to breath in the fresh air, and smiled softly. Home. For the past fifty three years, he had not had a home, not really. He had spent his time wandering the wilds, and a few years he spent with the Rangers, but his home, his real home, he had not been to.
The Ranger's smile faded slightly, as he thought about why he had left. Partially to become accustomed to the life of a Ranger, and partially to try to forget. He could not forget. He could never forget. She was one of the most beautiful Elves he has seen, and he was in love, though he knew it could never be. He shook himself out of the memories, and paused to look back at the four Hobbits. He was worried; the Hobbit Frodo had been pierced by a Morgúl blade a while ago, and he was fading.
Suddenly, Aragorn froze, as he heard the clip-clop of horse's hooves.
"That does not sound like a Black Rider's horse, Strider," Frodo commented.
"Nay," Aragorn said happily. "It is not." A brilliantly white horse came into view, but the horse was nothing compared to the rider, a fair Elf, with golden hair. Strider sprang from his hiding place and ran towards him. "Glorfindel!"
When the rider heard Aragorn, he leapt from his horse, and ran to meet him, calling, "Ai na vedui Dúnadan! Mae Govannen! [O, it is at last Dúnadan! Welcome!]"
Aragorn quickly embraced Glorfindel, grinning.
"I have been looking for you for nine days," Glorfindel said. "Your father sent me out to find you when he heard something was amiss from our kindred. They said that the Nine were abroad, and that you were out here astray, bearing a great burden. Arwen wanted to come, but your father thought it would be best if I went."
Aragorn nodded seriously. "I understand. We have met the Nine, and one of my companions is wounded from their blades. Come, we must get him to Imladris." He led the elf over to where the Hobbits were. "This is Glorfindel, from Rivendell. Glorfindel, this is Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin."
"Hail, and well met at last!" Glorfindel exclaimed.
"There are five Nazgûl tracking us. Where the other four may be, I do not know," Aragorn said.
Suddenly, Frodo swayed, clutching at Sam's arm.
"My master is sick and wounded, we need to get him to Rivendel," Sam said angrily.
Glorfindel caught Frodo as he sank to the ground, his face grave. He looked up at Aragorn. "Do you have it, Aragorn?" he asked. Wordlessly, Aragorn pulled out the hilt of the Morgúl blade. Shuddering, the elf took it. "There are evil writings on this, blade, though you cannot see them." He handed the hilt back to Strider. "Keep it until we reach the house of Elrond."
Aragorn nodded grimly, and put the hilt away.
Glorfindel examined the wound, and his face turned graver. "We must get him to Elrond quickly, or I fear the worst will happen." Then he spoke to Frodo. "I will put you on my horse, and he will take you to Lord Elrond."
"No!" Frodo cried. "I shall not ride him if I am to ride to safety, and leave my friends in danger!"
"I doubt very much that your friends would be in danger were you not with them, young hobbit," Glorfindel said, smiling slightly. "It is you, Frodo, and that which you bear that draws danger to us all." He leaned down, and picked Frodo up, to place him on his horse.
The moved on, though they eventually had to stop, because they could go no further. The next morning, the Hobbits were still very tired, though they kept going.
"We must hurry, for our danger will be highest at the river," Glorfindel said. "My heart warns me that we are being pursued." Then he paused, and listened intently for a minute, then leapt forward. "Fly! Fly! The enemy is upon us!"
The white horse bounded forward, followed by five Black Riders. But Frodo paused.
"Why is he stopping?" Sam asked, horrified.
"It's the ring," Aragorn breathed.
"Ride on! Ride on!" Glorfindel called, and then in a loud and clear voice, "Noro lim, noro lim, Asfaloth! [Ride on, ride on, Asfaloth]" At once, the white horse sprang away.
They watched Frodo speed off on Asfaloth, the Black Riders following. "Come, we must follow!" Glorfindel cried, and ran after Frodo, Strider and the Hobbits following.
When the neared the river, a horrible sight met them. Frodo was on the opposite bank, all five of the Black riders were in the water, and one of them was almost to the other shore. Then they heard a shrill voice call, "By Elbereth and Lúthien the Fair, you shall have neither the Ring, nor me!" There was a great rushing of water, and the Black Rider's were swept away.
"Frodo!" Sam yelled as he saw Frodo falling off Asfaloth.
Glorfindel and Aragorn ran across the river, and knelt beside the fallen Hobbit. "He's unconscious. We must get him to Lord Elrond," Aragorn said, lifting Frodo.
"Do you remember how to get to Elrond's?" Glorfindel asked.
Aragorn stopped, and looked back, giving Glorfindel a look. "Yes, I remember."
"Is he alright?" Sam asked.
"Will he be alright?" Merry asked anxiously.
Pippin just stood there, his eyes wide.
"He will be alright, but I need to get him to Lord Elrond as soon as possible," Aragorn said. "Stay with Glorfindel, he will keep you safe." And he rushed off. In no time, he had reached the courtyard. Several Elves greeted him there.
"Lord Aragorn."
"Hello Erestor. Where is my father?" Aragorn asked calmly.
"He is coming."
There were soft Elven footsteps, and Strider turned around, to find his father running towards him. "Aragorn," he said by way of greeting. "I see you have the Hobbit. What is wrong with him?"
"He was stabbed by a Morgúl blade," Aragorn said. "I am surprised he has made it this far."
"Quickly," Elrond said. "Follow me." He led Aragorn to the room that was always prepared incase of emergencies. "Lay him on the bed," he said as he gathered the herbs he would need. "Will you get Gandalf for me?"
"No need," said a voice from the door, and Gandalf walked in. "What has happened?"
"Morgúl blade," Elrond said shortly, and looked up at his adoptive son. "Aragorn, I think it would be best-"
"Yes, I know," Aragorn said, smiling. "It would be best if I left. I will leave it to you then." He closed the door quietly behind him, and was suddenly embraced tightly from behind by two Elves.
"Estel!"
"When did you get home?"
"You rascal, why did you not tell us you were here?"
"You could use a bath."
Aragorn was released, and he turned around, laughing, to see his two brothers Elladan and Elrohir. "I only just arrived, so I could not have told you I was here, and yes, I do need a bath. I know that, but do you know how many opportunities there are to bathe in the wild? Not many."
"Still, you might have been courteous enough to-" Elladan began.
"Alright, Elladan, I will go tack a bath now," Aragorn said, laughing still harder. "Ah, I have missed you two."
We have missed you too," Elrohir said, ruffling Aragorn's hair, than he stopped, and looked at his hand. "Go take that bath. Now! You are not fit to be seen in our company!" He gave Aragorn a little push towards his room, chuckling.
***
Elrond quietly closed the door to the Hobbit's room behind him. Gandalf would tell him if he was needed. In the meantime, he wanted to see his son. He walked to his study, and found Aragorn sitting in a chair. He rose when he saw Elrond enter, looking decidedly nervous. *Does he think that I will be upset with him?*
"Father," Aragorn said stiffly.
Elrond stepped forward, and embraced Aragorn, and felt his son relax. He noticed with amusement that Aragorn was wearing one of his better Elven tunics, and not the Ranger clothes he had worn before. "I see you did as Elladan and Elrohir said," he remarked, pulling away, and motioning Aragorn to sit.
"You heard?" Aragorn asked.
"Yes," Elrond chuckled.
"They can be very persuasive when they want to be," Aragorn said ruefully, sitting down.
"Yes they can." Elrond sat back in his own seat, and surveyed the human before him. His dark hair was streaked with gray at the temples, and his eyes were filled with wisdom, compassion, and something he couldn't name. He realized sadly that his son was no longer the innocent boy who had just entered into adulthood that had left him, but a man who had seen many hardships, and lived through many things a lesser man never would have survived. "How are you? We got word that you had been in Lothlorien for a while a few years ago, but other then that, we had no word of you."
"Gandalf did not say anything?" Aragorn asked, brow furrowed. "For I traveled with him for a while."
"No, he did not."
"Once I had found the rangers, I spent some time with them, before going to Rohan and then to Gondor…"
They talked late into the night, catching up on everything that had happened, and everything that was going to happen, but then Aragorn excused himself, because he was tired. Elrond stayed a while longer, mulling over the things Aragorn had told him, before getting up, and departing himself.
The End
A/N: I know, the ending was really abrupt, but I stink at endings, and I felt that the ending was already dragging on. Sorry!