Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, although I wish they
did. They all belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, one of the greatest literary
geniuses of our time. Legolas may belong to my friend Erin though, as she
has a life-size cut out of him and knows just about all there is to know
about him. (jk – he really does belong to Tolkien, not Erin!)
Summary: What if Aragorn hadn't miraculously recovered on his journey to Helm's Deep after falling off the cliff in The Two Towers (movie)? What if Arwen had only been able to heal him enough to get on the horse and be carried back?
Without further ado....
The Grace of the Valar Chapter 1
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"May the grace of the Valar protect you." Her words reverberated in his ears as he slowly returned to consciousness. He felt his horse nudge him and kneel to allow him to mount. He slowly rolled himself onto Brego's back and slumped over, exhausted by the effort he had put forth. His horse galloped away in the direction of Helm's Deep, the fortress of Rohan.
Brego rode for two days without rest. Aragorn slipped in and out of consciousness the whole time. When they got to the end of one clearing, the horse stopped. Aragorn opened his eyes and looked out, surprised at the abrupt stop. He stared in awe at the sight before him. There were uruk-hai. Thousands and thousands of them. And they were all headed towards Helm's Deep.
"Noro lim!" he cried to Brego before passing out again. The beast went into a full gallop towards the rocky fortress, knowing that his master's life depended upon him.
The next time Aragorn awoke, he knew he was getting worse. He was sweating hard, even though he was high in the mountains, and freezing wind was whipping around hi. He knew that a fever was raging and his many wounds were sure to be infected, since he hadn't been able to clean them properly. Blood still flowed steadily from his shoulder and he ached all over. He knew that the next time he lost consciousness, he would probably never wake again. He had resigned himself to the fact that he was going to die already. The only thing keeping him awake was the thought that he needed to get to Helm's Deep. He could see it ahead, looming ever nearer. His head pounded and he longed to sleep, but he needed to warn them.
Finally, after what seemed like many days, although it was truly only a few hours, Aragorn arrived at the fortress gates.
"Open the gates!" came a cry from inside the walls as he approached. Legolas, Gimli, Theoden, and Eowyn ran forward in disbelief at their friend's return.
"Get him off the horse!" cried Legolas after a moment of shock. "He's badly injured!"
Together with the help of Eowyn and Theoden, the elf carefully lifted Aragorn off his mount and cradled him gently in his arms.
"Uruk-hai," groaned the Ranger softly. "At least ten thousand. Coming this way. Prepare...for...battle...tonight..."
Legolas felt the man go limp in his arms.
"Aragorn?" he said tentatively, listening for the man's breath. None came. "Aragorn! Someone get the healers!"
A young boy took off down the hall at top speed as Legolas began to attempt to revive his friend.
Summary: What if Aragorn hadn't miraculously recovered on his journey to Helm's Deep after falling off the cliff in The Two Towers (movie)? What if Arwen had only been able to heal him enough to get on the horse and be carried back?
Without further ado....
The Grace of the Valar Chapter 1
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"May the grace of the Valar protect you." Her words reverberated in his ears as he slowly returned to consciousness. He felt his horse nudge him and kneel to allow him to mount. He slowly rolled himself onto Brego's back and slumped over, exhausted by the effort he had put forth. His horse galloped away in the direction of Helm's Deep, the fortress of Rohan.
Brego rode for two days without rest. Aragorn slipped in and out of consciousness the whole time. When they got to the end of one clearing, the horse stopped. Aragorn opened his eyes and looked out, surprised at the abrupt stop. He stared in awe at the sight before him. There were uruk-hai. Thousands and thousands of them. And they were all headed towards Helm's Deep.
"Noro lim!" he cried to Brego before passing out again. The beast went into a full gallop towards the rocky fortress, knowing that his master's life depended upon him.
The next time Aragorn awoke, he knew he was getting worse. He was sweating hard, even though he was high in the mountains, and freezing wind was whipping around hi. He knew that a fever was raging and his many wounds were sure to be infected, since he hadn't been able to clean them properly. Blood still flowed steadily from his shoulder and he ached all over. He knew that the next time he lost consciousness, he would probably never wake again. He had resigned himself to the fact that he was going to die already. The only thing keeping him awake was the thought that he needed to get to Helm's Deep. He could see it ahead, looming ever nearer. His head pounded and he longed to sleep, but he needed to warn them.
Finally, after what seemed like many days, although it was truly only a few hours, Aragorn arrived at the fortress gates.
"Open the gates!" came a cry from inside the walls as he approached. Legolas, Gimli, Theoden, and Eowyn ran forward in disbelief at their friend's return.
"Get him off the horse!" cried Legolas after a moment of shock. "He's badly injured!"
Together with the help of Eowyn and Theoden, the elf carefully lifted Aragorn off his mount and cradled him gently in his arms.
"Uruk-hai," groaned the Ranger softly. "At least ten thousand. Coming this way. Prepare...for...battle...tonight..."
Legolas felt the man go limp in his arms.
"Aragorn?" he said tentatively, listening for the man's breath. None came. "Aragorn! Someone get the healers!"
A young boy took off down the hall at top speed as Legolas began to attempt to revive his friend.
