Disclaimer, I own none of the characters in this story, with the
possibility of any elves that I may introduce later on depending if I can
find the names of any that Tolkien created and lived in Mirkwood.
Summary: The tale of what happens to Aragorn on his hunt for Gollum before the War of the Ring.
Aragorn bent closer to the ground looking for any sign of the creature Gollum.
He and Gandalf had been tracking the creature for years. Through Rhovanion, across the Wilderlands and even within sight of the black gates and the mountains of shadow but still they had seen no sign of the creature.
Finally Gandalf had given up on the search and had left it in the hands of Aragorn while the wizard himself had gone to study the ancient scrolls of Gondor.
And now Aragorn himself was tiring of the hunt. Gandalf had left him at the lonely mountain as the trail there had been very old and he had lost hope of finding the creature. The ranger hadn't given up though; he had tracked the creature back through Mirkwood and had come to the Misty Mountains. He had expected the trail to lead to the Shire, but it hadn't, instead it had turned south at the mountains and now Aragorn was tracking it towards the Dimrill Dale, at the moment the tracks were very old and he was stuck for where to go next.
"Damn" he swore as he stood up again, at a loss for where to turn now. Finally he decided to give up for the night and go to bed, meaning to have another attempt the next morning.
Sadly the wargs had other ideas.
No sooner had the tired ranger settled down for some rest than a loud howling came to his ears. Groaning and muttering something like
"Why does Ilúvatar hate me?" he grabbed his sword, got up and waited for the approaching threat. He didn't have to wait long; soon he could see the shadowy shapes of at least five wargs coming towards him.
With a growl the nearest shape leapt, only to impale himself on the point of Aragorn's sword. Spinning quickly Aragorn turned to relieve a second beast of its head, only to have another of the creatures slam into his side.
Turning with great difficulty under the dead weight that had just landed on him, and was attempting to relieve the ranger of several of his body parts, Aragorn managed to thrust the blade into the animals open snarling mouth. With great difficulty he heaved the evil wolf off him, just in time to dodge the last two of the hounds that had leapt at him.
Ducking under the jump of one of the leaping animals he ran his sword through the creature's stomach and turned, panting slightly to the last, and unfortunately, biggest warg that was snarling fiercely at him.
Sighing slightly Aragorn waited for the warg to attack and he was not disappointed. As the wolf leapt at him, he dodged to the side and quickly stabbed the foul beast in the side. Leaning on his sword he looked around the camp for any signs that there were any creatures left, luckily they were all dead and the ranger could breathe again.
All thoughts of sleeping gone, the man quickly searched for a likely tree, and on finding one that seemed ideal he quickly built a makeshift flet and pulled himself up the tree keeping a sharp eye out for any more impending danger. He could not stay awake for long though, and fell asleep in mere minutes, fortunately no more danger approached that night and when morning came he was refreshed and ready for another day of probably futile tracking.
Looking quickly around the campsite Aragorn quickly picked up the old tracks, and whether it was due to the nights sleep, or his desire to get away from the apprehensive peace of the Dimrill Dale he finally found where the trail led. Smiling to himself, pleased at finally finding the way to go, the ranger quickly picked up his belongings and left the area before any more creatures of darkness saw fit to attack him. And knowing his luck, the human thought, that was really quite a likely event to occur.
As he tracked the beast he found his thoughts getting stranger and stranger as he got more and more bored. At one point he found himself wondering what it was like to be grass.
//I don't think I'd like it really, imagine people walking all over you all day, it must be very painful.\\
Stopping his thoughts to crouch down and check the direction of the large splay-footed prints that he was following he changed his bearing slightly, then picked up his train off thoughts where he had left off.
//I wonder what Gandalf's doing right now, typical, he leaves me to track elusive creatures all over the place but I bet he's sitting in Gondor, eating or smoking right now.\\
Mentally kicking himself for his bizarre thoughts he looked around as he reached the edge of a stream, trying to determine which way to go. The tracks definitely went into the water, he thought, but did the slimy creature cross the stream or did he walk down it?
Walking to the other side of the shallow water he looked both ways trying to decide which way to go. As he looked to his left he thought he saw a slight indent in the mud in that direction.
When he reached it he saw indeed that it was another of the webbed footprints, encouraged now that the chase was becoming easier he once more picked up the trail. Several hours later though he kicked himself physically this time for tempting fate so badly. He had reached the borders of a wood and the trail vanished at the foot of a tree.
//Damnit\\ he swore to himself, yet again, //how on Arda was he going to find the creatures tracks now; it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack\\
Searching for a tree that was both tall enough to show him his surroundings, and large enough to support his weight he climbed one that seemed suitable and glanced around the countryside for anything that could help him.
As he spotted a nearby village he started to climb down, meaning to leisurely approach the settlement to see if they had seen any signs of his prey. Unhappily though the fates still seemed to be against him having an easy life as, on reaching the ground he heard a scream and another all to familiar howl coming from the direction of the hamlet.
Breaking into a sprint he ran towards the sound of the disturbance, drawing his sword as he went.
(A/N, well that's the first chapter done, please review, I know some people were complaining about my falling into M.E story being crap, and although I disagree as I'm having fun writing it, I wanted to write something more serious now and then I had this idea and so here is the result. I hope you like it.)
Summary: The tale of what happens to Aragorn on his hunt for Gollum before the War of the Ring.
Aragorn bent closer to the ground looking for any sign of the creature Gollum.
He and Gandalf had been tracking the creature for years. Through Rhovanion, across the Wilderlands and even within sight of the black gates and the mountains of shadow but still they had seen no sign of the creature.
Finally Gandalf had given up on the search and had left it in the hands of Aragorn while the wizard himself had gone to study the ancient scrolls of Gondor.
And now Aragorn himself was tiring of the hunt. Gandalf had left him at the lonely mountain as the trail there had been very old and he had lost hope of finding the creature. The ranger hadn't given up though; he had tracked the creature back through Mirkwood and had come to the Misty Mountains. He had expected the trail to lead to the Shire, but it hadn't, instead it had turned south at the mountains and now Aragorn was tracking it towards the Dimrill Dale, at the moment the tracks were very old and he was stuck for where to go next.
"Damn" he swore as he stood up again, at a loss for where to turn now. Finally he decided to give up for the night and go to bed, meaning to have another attempt the next morning.
Sadly the wargs had other ideas.
No sooner had the tired ranger settled down for some rest than a loud howling came to his ears. Groaning and muttering something like
"Why does Ilúvatar hate me?" he grabbed his sword, got up and waited for the approaching threat. He didn't have to wait long; soon he could see the shadowy shapes of at least five wargs coming towards him.
With a growl the nearest shape leapt, only to impale himself on the point of Aragorn's sword. Spinning quickly Aragorn turned to relieve a second beast of its head, only to have another of the creatures slam into his side.
Turning with great difficulty under the dead weight that had just landed on him, and was attempting to relieve the ranger of several of his body parts, Aragorn managed to thrust the blade into the animals open snarling mouth. With great difficulty he heaved the evil wolf off him, just in time to dodge the last two of the hounds that had leapt at him.
Ducking under the jump of one of the leaping animals he ran his sword through the creature's stomach and turned, panting slightly to the last, and unfortunately, biggest warg that was snarling fiercely at him.
Sighing slightly Aragorn waited for the warg to attack and he was not disappointed. As the wolf leapt at him, he dodged to the side and quickly stabbed the foul beast in the side. Leaning on his sword he looked around the camp for any signs that there were any creatures left, luckily they were all dead and the ranger could breathe again.
All thoughts of sleeping gone, the man quickly searched for a likely tree, and on finding one that seemed ideal he quickly built a makeshift flet and pulled himself up the tree keeping a sharp eye out for any more impending danger. He could not stay awake for long though, and fell asleep in mere minutes, fortunately no more danger approached that night and when morning came he was refreshed and ready for another day of probably futile tracking.
Looking quickly around the campsite Aragorn quickly picked up the old tracks, and whether it was due to the nights sleep, or his desire to get away from the apprehensive peace of the Dimrill Dale he finally found where the trail led. Smiling to himself, pleased at finally finding the way to go, the ranger quickly picked up his belongings and left the area before any more creatures of darkness saw fit to attack him. And knowing his luck, the human thought, that was really quite a likely event to occur.
As he tracked the beast he found his thoughts getting stranger and stranger as he got more and more bored. At one point he found himself wondering what it was like to be grass.
//I don't think I'd like it really, imagine people walking all over you all day, it must be very painful.\\
Stopping his thoughts to crouch down and check the direction of the large splay-footed prints that he was following he changed his bearing slightly, then picked up his train off thoughts where he had left off.
//I wonder what Gandalf's doing right now, typical, he leaves me to track elusive creatures all over the place but I bet he's sitting in Gondor, eating or smoking right now.\\
Mentally kicking himself for his bizarre thoughts he looked around as he reached the edge of a stream, trying to determine which way to go. The tracks definitely went into the water, he thought, but did the slimy creature cross the stream or did he walk down it?
Walking to the other side of the shallow water he looked both ways trying to decide which way to go. As he looked to his left he thought he saw a slight indent in the mud in that direction.
When he reached it he saw indeed that it was another of the webbed footprints, encouraged now that the chase was becoming easier he once more picked up the trail. Several hours later though he kicked himself physically this time for tempting fate so badly. He had reached the borders of a wood and the trail vanished at the foot of a tree.
//Damnit\\ he swore to himself, yet again, //how on Arda was he going to find the creatures tracks now; it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack\\
Searching for a tree that was both tall enough to show him his surroundings, and large enough to support his weight he climbed one that seemed suitable and glanced around the countryside for anything that could help him.
As he spotted a nearby village he started to climb down, meaning to leisurely approach the settlement to see if they had seen any signs of his prey. Unhappily though the fates still seemed to be against him having an easy life as, on reaching the ground he heard a scream and another all to familiar howl coming from the direction of the hamlet.
Breaking into a sprint he ran towards the sound of the disturbance, drawing his sword as he went.
(A/N, well that's the first chapter done, please review, I know some people were complaining about my falling into M.E story being crap, and although I disagree as I'm having fun writing it, I wanted to write something more serious now and then I had this idea and so here is the result. I hope you like it.)
