Misgivings, Part 2
"Tyel Elena (The End)"
by Kati + Laur
Disclaimer: Eh, we don't own any of this. We just play.
Summary (Part 2): Upon the arrival and announcement of Sam and Frodo, Aragorn learns of the horrible truth befalling Middle-Earth and seeks the assistance of Rohan.

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"There you go little one." The rag in the nurse's hand cleared the sweat that covered Sam's face. The small and tired hobbit lay there, eyes half closed, squinting from the bright sun light that flooded the room. "Try to get some sleep now."

Sam's pursed lips muttered something the nurse couldn't quite make out and his eyelids slid down and soon he was asleep. The nurse gathered her items from around her and gathered her skirt. She turned towards the door but stopped in her tracks. She looked down at Sam, sleeping innocently in the glow of the day. Her long fingers removed a few stray pieces of curly hair from his damp forehead. A smile spread across her face and she gathered herself once again to leave.

A soft click signaled to Sam that the nurse had finally left the room. His eyes popped open and he quickly looked about the room to make sure that the nurse had finally left. He had been waiting for hours it seemed so that he could go see how Frodo was doing. The other hobbit was lying in a bed next to Sam, covers up to his chest, his sleeves rolled up, and a white rag
was placed on his forehead.

Sam slowly slipped out from under his covers, his furry hobbit feet hitting the cool floor. He walked silently over to the pale Frodo and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached his hand out and gripped Frodo's frozen hand. Frodo's skin was ice blue and cold to touch. To an on-looker, it would seem that Frodo was no longer alive, except for the small gasps of air that
would rise from Frodo's lips every few moments.

Small round tears formed in the corner of Sam's eyes. He looked upon his best friend, who looked as if death had seized and shaken any sign of life out of him.

"Why Mr. Frodo?" Sam squeezed Frodo's hand even tighter. "Why did it have to end like this?"

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"You can't be here! I'm sorry, my Lord, but it's quarantined!"

Aragorn stood in front of the hefty nurse, who was short in stature; she could be very intimidating if he were an ill man, but he stood nearly two feet above her. "My Lady, we must see if--"

"No."

"But my Lady--" The anger was rising in Aragorn's voice. He was not trying to lose patience with the nurse, but he was losing this battle.

"You don't listen well, do you, Lord Aragorn? King Theoden has ordered the infirmary to be closed off to anyone who was not ill or injured. We are full with both -- near-dead soldiers and... and ill little hobbits." The nurse took a deep breath, determined to keep the dark tall lord out of the rooms behind her. Gimli waited loyally at Aragorn's side. She was red
faced, her cheeks flaming, and her eyes burning. But while she focused on Aragorn, she did not see the blur of an elf sprinting past her.

Legolas went past the walls of beds, hundreds, maybe thousands of aching, moaning men injured at Helm's Deep. He kept his attention away from them and scurried to the furthermost door. Before Legolas himself could open it, it swung open, revealing a hobbit, who had come to see about the voices.

Legolas's expression changed as his eyes rested on the hobbit, and Sam's face lit, revealing the hope he now felt to be reunited with Legolas. iWhat of Strider and Gimli?/i he thought quickly. Sam, in that moment, forgot all his troubles of Frodo and his exhaustion and once again became like the joyful hobbit from the Shire. He did the first thing that came to
mind: he ran to Legolas and threw his arms around his waist and hugged the elf tightly.

Legolas turned to the others and shouted to the other end of the infirmary. "Aragorn! Gimli! It's Samwise! It's Sam! Sam!"

Sam looked up at the elf and smiled. Strider and Gimli were both here! Tears of happiness formed in the corners of his eyes. It was all too good to be true.

Gimli, upon hearing Legolas's announcement, ran around the nurse's short legs. Aragorn pushed past the nurse, who spun and stamped her foot. "Now--"

They both ignored the nurse, and ran towards Legolas and Samwise. Their feet pounded on the stone, and Sam left Legolas and met them half way. Gimli got to Sam first, and the two embraced long and hard as the dwarf laughed merrily. When they separated, Sam nodded towards Aragorn, and after a moment's awkwardness, he threw his arms around the Ranger's waist.
Aragorn, moved by this sentiment, returned the hobbit's embrace. He looked over Sam's head back at Legolas, who was now glancing into the room Sam had came out from.

"Aragorn, you must come quickly." Legolas said, looking back at his companion. Aragorn moved the hobbit's arms and walked towards Legolas. The fear in the elf's expression worried the man. Sam's eyes fell on the two tall warriors, as they looked upon his ill friend. The light in his eyes when he first learned of his friends had gone out. He watched as the tall
heir of kings looked onto Frodo, a mixture of grief and confusion flooding his features. Sam started to step towards them.

"Strider," Sam said solemnly, walking up behind him, followed by Gimli. "There's something of great importance I need to tell you. Great importance."

As he said that, Aragorn glanced away from Frodo back to Sam. He knew Samwise intended to tell him what had happened to Frodo. Aragorn nodded, and followed Sam into the room. The nurse, who had been trudging her way over to the man, the elf, and the dwarf, shouted one last time, but Legolas shut the door to leave Aragorn and Sam, leaving he and Gimli to defend
themselves against the tyrant nurse.

Inside, the late afternoon sun warmed the ill feeling room, yet Frodo's pallor dampened the splendor of the light. Samwise Gamgee took his seat back at the foot of Frodo's bed and looked upon Aragorn with sad troubled eyes. "Mr. Frodo is more sick than he's ever been, Strider."

Aragorn took pity on the small hobbit; before, whenever Frodo was in peril, Samwise was not the only one to carry the burden. Yet since he followed along Frodo's path, headed for Mordor, he alone felt responsible for Frodo Baggins of the Shire, nearly heavy as the responsibility Frodo carried.

Aragorn lowered himself down onto one knee, eye level with Sam. "I'm sure the infirmary of Rohan will help him, young Samwise."

Sam's eyes shot up, meeting Aragorn's gaze. "They don't know what's wrong with him. But I do. And no one's listening to me. They don't believe me!"

Aragorn raised his hand, signaling Samwise to calm himself. "I understand it's upsetting, but tell me outright, Sam. What happened to Frodo?"

"I should have never let Mr. Frodo out of my sight." Sam mumbled, then looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't."

"Maybe would what not happen?"

Sam's face drew a blank, then slowly crumpled. The sheer force of what he was going to say cause so much distress that the hobbit found silent tears running down his cheeks. He looked down at his feet, trying to hide them from the Ranger.

"Sam, what happened? Did you get to Mordor? What's wrong with Frodo?"

"No, no, no." The hobbit shook his head, not wanting to say it. He couldn't. He had failed. He looked down at the cold stone floor and wiggled his toes, trying to figure out how to formulate what he had to say. Simply, Sam said, "It's gone."

Fear washed over Aragorn's mind, hoping he was misinterpreting what Sam was saying. "What? What's gone?" said Aragorn, in a low, quiet voice, eager to find out what it was. Sam fell into silent sobs. "Answer me, Sam. What is missing?"

"The ring, Strider. It's gone. Gone."

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"How dare you!" the nurse huffed. "Under no circumstances is anyone--" She had been shouting for several minutes and whatever attempts made by the elf and dwarf to stop her rant proved fruitless.

"In all my years, I have never--" as her rant continued, the sudden clamorous opening of Sam's door startled the small group. Aragorn's heavy boots stomped out of the room and echoed against the large empty hallway. The expression on his face was stone cold and eyes filled with a mix of anger and fright, undisturbed by the activity around him.

"What--" Gimli's words were met by a gust of wind from Aragorn's cape as he rushed past the trio and headed out the door into the warm morning air. Gimli and Legolas stared at one another for a moment before quickly following their leader out the door to the City on the Hill.

Outside, the two scanned the city for view of their friend. His dark figure had disappeared from their sight. "What's going on?" Gimli asked, with a gruff innocence. He pounded the handle of axe in the ground as some way to let out his frustration. Aragorn was not known to leave his companions in the dark about any situation as he had this time.

"I don't know. Something's wrong. Terribly wrong." Legolas fell deep into his thoughts trying to sort out the events of the past few moments. iWhat could possibly have happened in there? Aragorn is not one to act so irrationally. Especially towards--/i His keen eye sight caught something heading up the hill. He turned to see Aragorn, heading into Meduseld,
still with a fury in his eye and a quick pace to his steps.

"Up there, Gimli!" Legolas pointed to the Golden Hall and raced up the hill. Gimli started up, trying to keep with the speed of the elf and the man but his small legs proved no match to their agility.

Aragorn passed the two guards who had given him the information of the hobbits arrival, still holding guard over the Golden Hall. "Everything all right, Lord Aragorn?" asked one of the guards.

"Not now." His voice hard and held a twinge of anger within it. He stared forward, eyes unwavering. He hit the doors to the hall with a hard slam of his fist and continued his entrance into the Hall.

Legolas was only a few paces behind him, carefully but quickly retracing Aragorn's steps. "Master Legolas, what of--" Legolas placed his hand up as a sign for them to stop and he scurried past them, trying his best to keep up with Aragorn.

Almost a hundred feet behind him, Gimli lumbered up the steps, panting heavily from running up the steep hillside. He bent over, holding his stomach, trying to create a greater flow of oxygen to his tired lungs.

"Master Gimli, what of Lord Aragorn and Master Legolas?" The guard was beyond puzzled by the out-of-character actions of the two warriors. Never in all the days that he had been with them in Edoras had he seen either of them act in such a manner.

Gimli rolled up, placed his heavy gloved hand on the blade of his axe, and heaved a sigh of exhaustion. "Why are you asking me? I'm just the dwarf!"

Past the wooden tables laden with fruits and wines and the burning torches of the Great Hall, Aragorn walked with a quick step.

iI should have never let them leave. I should have never let Frodo go off on his own. Not without the proper protection./i

He turned the left staircase just past Theoden's throne, empty at the moment. He raced up the winding staircase, dragging his fingers across the wall to keep his balance as his heavy steps continued up loft of the Hall. Moving down the corridor, he heard many voices of laughter coming from behind the closed doors on either side of him.

No smile or mirth spread across his face. His mind was racing with the here and now. Then moving forward to the future and what that would hold. He was unsure. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. If something like ithis/i could happen...

Aragorn continued down the hall to the last door where his sleep quarters were. He crashed through the room, nearly knocking the door off of its hinges as he headed to his bed, covered in furs and blankets. Underneath his mattress, he pulled a beaten brown leather satchel, looking almost as worn as Aragorn did. Some random articles of clothing were picked up from the surrounding area and thrown quickly into the bag. He paced frantically around the room trying to jog his memory as to what else he would need on the journey he would soon embark on. To the right side of his bed, he saw his dagger: the one given to him by Celeborn when the Fellowship parted from Lothlorien.

His head was swimming with memories -- of what he had done and what he had to do. Aragorn wrapped his fingers around the handle and unsheathed the dagger from its scabbard. The bright metal had not dulled since the day he received and it still glistened in the sun, the light shining into the room from a small window in the far corner of the room. The elvish blade lay flat against his chest, as Aragorn stared gravely up at the ceiling.

iHow could this happen?/i

The dagger from his grip and landed on the floor with a loud clang. Aragorn's heavy, down-trodden body lowered to the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest and his hands were folded in front of his hands.

iThis is the end./i

"Aragorn." He jumped with a startle with the sound of the voice.

Legolas stared from the doorway, looking down upon his friend huddled on the floor in front of the bed. Aragorn face had gone pale, and in the past five minutes, it looked like he had aged 100 years. "What's going on?" Legolas asked innocently. For the first time since he had joined the Fellowship, he felt like that he could be of help to Aragorn. Helplessness was
a feeling that Legolas had a distaste for.

The elvish words fell blankly on Aragorn's ears. His face has still buried in his clasped hands, and he muttered silent elvish to himself, trying to calm himself. Legolas could see that his speaking had had no affect on Aragorn. He kneeled before his leader and looked for any kind of response that would show that his friend was still present.

"Aragorn. Something's the matter. What did Sam say? Is Frodo all right?"

Aragorn chuckled slightly from Legolas's questions. His words sounded exactly like the one's Aragorn had asked of Sam only a short time ago. But his demeanor quickly reverted back to one of coldness and determination. He was unsure of how to answer Legolas. Should he follow the bluntness of Sam's delivery? Or should he try to explain it so Legolas would not have
the same reaction that he had?

Aragorn rose to his feet and continued the throw the items into his satchel, returning to the task as if he had never stopped. Legolas still knelt on the ground, his perplexed expression still lingered upon his face. He also rose and waited for an answer to his questions. Aragorn had his back to Legolas but he could sense the tension that filled the room. But he
chose to ignore it.

After seeing that all he could fit into his tiny satchel had been stuffed inside, Aragorn threw it over his shoulder and headed for the exit. But he misestimated Legolas elvish speed and reflexes. Legolas rushed to the door and braced himself against the doorframe with both arms to cut of Aragorn's attempt at an escape. "Aragorn, mani marte? [iWhat happened?/i]" His voice was angry and forceful, definitely a break from his usual subdued mannerisms.

Hearing the anger in Legolas's voice, Aragorn realized that he should not leave his companion in the dark any longer, no matter what kind of reaction would follow. He raised his hand and removed Legolas's arm from the doorway and squeezed his way into the hallway. He stared down at the satchel at his side, playing with the buckle to try and avoid eye contact.

"It's the ring, Legolas." Aragorn looked away from his bag and turned to Legolas whose own expression faded from puzzlement to pure fear. "Gondor has taken it from the ring-bearer. It is in their possession now."

Without waiting for any words to be exchanged Aragorn adjusted the belt and sword at his side and made his way back down the corridor. As he stomped down the stone hall once again, Gimli passed by him. Gimli looked up at Aragorn's expression, no longer cold, but instead full of hopelessness. Aragorn continued past Gimli, only placing a hand on the dwarf's shoulder
to acknowledge his presence.

Legolas leaned against the wall inside Aragorn's room. His own mind starting to be filled with despair.

iIt has come. The end is near./i

He raised his trembling hand to his forehead and rested it there to try and ease the constricted muscles around his eyes. Gimli popped his head into the cold, but bright room and squinted, looked around, then saw Legolas. He stared up at the defeated elf.

"What happened?"

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"I forbid it!" King Theoden declared, standing from his throne. He stepped to his nephew, his heir, Eomer. Aragorn stood behind Eomer, an on-looker to -- and as most would say, the reason of -- this family dispute. "You are not to go on such a mission. You are my heir -- my remaining heir! -- to Rohan, and I refuse to let you be jeopardized because you want to go
and fight."

"There is great importance behind this, Theoden. You have failed to see such--"

"Do not talk back to me, my boy! My sister-son!"

Eomer stood tall, paying respect to the King, his uncle. But he could know longer stand in the silence that was expected of him. "Theoden, great uncle, I must leave. If I shall die in this war--"

"You will not go to war!"

"If I shall die in this war," Eomer repeated, his voice booming over his aging uncle, "You are not without an heir. You have my sister, your sister-daughter, Eowyn."

"Eowyn? She knows nothing of governing people. All she knows is of their love and hopes, and holding that is not enough to give them peace. Eowyn is strong, but she is no king." Theoden spoke bitterly, then took Eomer aside. Aragorn looked on, not actively in the scene, as the King of Rohan tried quietly pleading with Eomer, trying to talk some sense into him. All the while, Eomer had a look of rebellion in his eyes, ignoring what the King said.

Aragorn, feeling like an intruder, turned to leave, bowing silently. Eomer, seeing this from the corner of his eyes, interrupted the king. "Why do you think you'd be leaving without my company? No worries, Lord Aragorn," he said, looking back at the king with spite in his eyes, then faced Aragorn. "You shall have my assistance." Eomer then turned from the king, and met with the heir to the throne of Gondor.

"My boy!" Theoden cried out in desperation rather than anger.

Eomer stopped, and looked hard upon the king, drawing his words further away from the king's hope. Quietly, and with no room for question, he stated, "I am leaving. I need not your blessing nor your permission." He turned away, nodded to Aragorn. Eomer was to get ready to leave for Gondor.

Aragorn bowed to the king, and went to follow Eomer. Theoden lowered himself into his throne, bitterness stitched across his features.

"Tell me, Aragorn," Theoden said suddenly, tired and saddened as he sat upon his mighty throne. Aragorn turned on his heel to face the king. "Tell me what you intend to accomplish here? By asking of my heir's assistance?"

Aragorn thought long and hard before he said anything, not wanting to give the wrong impression to the mighty King of Rohan. "To deliver Middle-Earth from Darkness, my Lord. The grasp of Sauron and Saruman is growing everyday. The old alliances, as you once said, are broken." Aragorn stepped fast and shortened the distance between himself and the king. In a low voice, he continued, "The ring has left the ring-bearer, my Lord. It is now in the hands of Gondor."

Theoden sighed heavily, a sigh of deep burden. He nodded ever-so-slightly. "Hope is dead, then. Hope is dead."

"No, it is still there," Aragorn said, even though he felt the same as the King, darkened with grief. "Understand, my lord. Eomer wishes to defend that hope, and it is that for which he leaves."

Theoden's forehead folded, nostrils flared. With his hands on the arms of the throne, he tried to push himself to his feet, to meet Aragorn, but his strength had given out from such news, and he sunk back into his throne.

Aragorn bowed. He then turned and left the Golden Hall, leaving Theoden to his thoughts. The heir of Isildur quickened his pace; he needed to join the others before night fall, and the sun hung low in the horizon.


[end part 2]