"'We teeter on the brink of darkness, you and I, alone in the midst of the flood.'" These are Legolas's words to Aragorn one night as they camp on the Field of Pelennor. Little does he know how true they will yet prove. An AU where Frodo succumbs in Mordor, leaving Sam alone to bear the Ring and brave Mordor alone. Character death, angst, dark themes.

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Pippin sighed, sitting next to Merry's sickbed. Aragorn had come up late last night and seen to him and Faramir, as well. Pippin knew that the Gondorian had awoken, but he was now sleeping peacefully again, his fever thankfully broken.

Legolas and Gimli had also visited the bedside, apparently just to say hello to Pippin. Both laughed and shook their heads when he asked them if they happened to have any food on them. But something wasn't right.

Pippin usually didn't catch much; nor, come to think of it, did he use his mind that much either. But, seeing as he was a hobbit, he supposed that was at least partially excusable. But now that Merry, his constant companion (and much of the time fellow troublemaker) was...unavailible, Pippin had had a lot of time to think. And he had caught many things that most people would not usually catch.

Legolas and Gimli's visit, for example. When they laughed, it didn't sound...true, as laughter should. Their minds were preoccpied. Pippin could say the say the same about his own mind's state. Thoughts of Frodo and Sam, or their quest, swarmed down on the minds of the Fellowship like the plague. And as much as Pippin tried to shake it, he felt the continuing feeling that something had gone desperately, desperately wrong.

And Pippin had sat and smoked and thought all night. He had thought of the Elves, of Men, of wizards and darkness. He had thought of the war coming, of what he had seen. How everyone acted as though the greatest battle had been fought. Pippin had heard Strider speaking to Gandalf and Gimli, speaking in Common for the Dwarf's sake; Strider believed that Sauron had even larger forces still at his command!

Remembering Strider's words sent chills down Pippin's spine. Horrors worse than this earth has seen in the time of Men... What horror could be worse than the Oiliphaunts? The Nazgul?

Pippin didn't know.

But whatever it was, he knew he would not like it.

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Aragorn sighed deeply as he stood outside on a balcony. He took a deep breath of night air, somehow heavey with death and despair. So many men lost...so much hope gone...

The city was filled with sobs as women lowly realized that their beloved, their husband, would not be coming back. Children hid under the covers as screams of despair filled the night, as horsemen rode through the streets with hooves as loud as thunder to small ears. Torches were hung by every doorstep, chrysanthemums scattered all through the streets, the flower of mourning.

Inside, weeping women would be rocking their baby to sleep. Mothers would be trying, between sobs, to explain that Father was not coming home.

Aragorn ran a hand through his already-touseled hair. He strode to the dge of the stone balcony and rested his elbows on it. Placing his chin in his hands, he sighed again and closed his eyes. A sound of singing drifted toward him from the streets.

Young boys, women, warriors, all were gathering in mourning. Aragorn opened his eyes as he heard an Eleven song fill the air as the song ended. Legolas was singing, a sad final tribute to the dead.

"A glaer oear an-neinor, da tuin, ai cirith.

A ber, saer eim dold, na cuil ah-cost.

Na aore cuil gel

Eim glior oear tuin

Ai baro-ed ah-gwanno-ed

An-tuin hain melo-ed ah-meleth.

Amrun bo, idoh-midh,

Minas Anor, glinno!

Baro-an tuin

Aiom garo-oear

An-le." 1

Even those who could not understand wept, wether for beauty, for love, for loss, or perhaps all three. And before Aragorn knew it himself, he felt a tear fall onto his finger. His heart, too, was singing a lament for those souls now with their fathers.

The singers were gone now, all inside their homes once more. They were probably boarding others from the lower levels whoose homes had been destroyed who did not go to the castle.

"Too much contemplation is not good for you, mellon." Gandalf's voice floated over his shoulder. Aragorn turned to see the wizard appraoching him. His white robes were clean once again, his staff gleaming. A breeze wafted through his thick strands of white hair.

"Yet there are times such as these when it is only the wise who can contemplate at all." Aragorn replied.

Gandalf chuckled. "Feeding yourself compliments, Estel?"

"Who else is there to do it if no one else will?"

"True enough, Estel. True enough indeed."

Gandalf and Aragorn became grim as they looked out once more over Gondor. "Half the city destoryed, two-thirds of your men dead, and the majority of Sauron's forces fresh and ready to battle? You have on your hands what you had when you started. Those too old or too young. Those too kind or too mean. Those too weak or those too strong. Some will listen to well to orders and not think for themselves; others will not heed orders at all. They are even more frightened than at the begininng, and they are turning to you for answers. What say you now, King of Gondor?"

But Aragorn shook his head and turned away in response. "I be not King yet, Mithrandir. I can only hope that I shall come into my own before I die."

"Hope is you name, Aragorn."

"Perhaps; but what does my name matter if it is not true?"

"Hope will not desert us."

"It is gone."

"Nay, it is not gone; only in hiding."

"If that is so, then why has it not come out?"

"No one is looking for it."

"Yes, no one is looking; but many are calling from want of it."

"It finds those who look; those who sit and dream of days of peace will be destroyed."

"Destroyed?"

"Denethor, for example. His city, which he had been charged to take care of, was left to rot for all he cuold care; once Boromir was gone, his life mattered not to him, nor did any others. He sat, day by day, and gazed into an object which was corrupted. It, in turn, corrupted him. It drove him to insanity, Aragorn; thus, his death came about. Not by his own thoughts, nay, but thoughts which the Dark Lord had planted since Boromir left."

"But Denethor...Denethor was driven mad by the loss of his son, was he not?"

"Which son? The loss of Boromir awakened a deep, heavy grievance; truly, when he felt he had lost his last son, when he felt his line ended, he was pushed off the fine line of sanity."

"I see."

"Estel, you should sleep. I am going to retire now; there are guards. In the morning we shall gather and council once more."

"Aye, Gandalf. Goodnight, mellon-nin."

"Queldu, Estel. Tenna' tul're, quel kaima." (goodnight, hope. until then, sleep well.)

Gandalf left, closing the door to Aragorn's rooms behind him.

Aragorn looked out of the window facing the battlefield. Looking down, he saw the marble courtyard. Legolas sat underneath the White Tree. He was singing. Aragorn opened the window and laid down in bed.

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel
Silivren penna miriel
O menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-diriel
O galadhremmin ennorath
Fanuilos, le linnathon
Nef aear, si nef aearon!"

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