Chapter Sixteen
The first the people of Minas Tirith knew of their impending doom, it was too late. The army of one million Uruks had somehow crept up on Osgiliath, tearing it down into a smoking ruin in a matter of hours. After that they had marched upon the white city with aggressive confidence and quite frankly no one could blame them. They were, with Nargz, their leader, at the front, inspired in their ferocity. The meagre ensemble that the King could muster at such short notice would be no match for them. Their only hope was to keep the army at bay long enough to allow for the arrival of King Eomer and the Rohirrim, summoned by lighting of the beacons. The swiftest riders in the land had been dispatched to the far corners of Middle Earth too seek out all and any help that could be found, be it from Dwarves, Elves or Men.
The Doctor stood in his room, his back to the door. At the moment the door opened and Aragorn entered. He saw the Doctor, this strange man whom he trusted implicitly without any inkling as to why, framed by the setting sun that was filtering through the window in the far wall, and was struck by how lonely this man was. A sadness he had never experienced before crept over him and he turned to leave, but the Doctor heard his breathing and turned to face him.
"My friend," he beamed, straightening his bow tie. "How can I help you?"
"By taking up arms, Doctor," sighed Aragorn, knowing exactly what the Time Lords reply would be. Sure enough the Doctor's face fell.
"I can't do that," he replied, serious all of a sudden. Aragorn lost it.
"I get that you won't defend my people Doctor, but you won't even protect you self?" he asked incredulously. "Your life is threatened and you sit in here, thinking it's all going to go away? What are you so afraid of?"
"Myself," replied the Doctor, deadly quiet. "I was once better at killing than the Master. I would manipulate people into taking their own lives. It infects you after a while and if I start again then I'm petrified I won't be able to stop. There are people in this universe and others that view killing in certain situations as morally acceptable. For me that's not an option. I will die before I take another life." Silence fell as he finished. A tingling sense filled the air, something Aragorn had only felt once before in his life. It was pity, for a man greater than himself. All of a sudden another feeling hit him like a train and he flung himself forward, tackling him like a rugby player. Almost a fraction of a second later, the wall exploded as a chunk of rock smashed through the wall, slamming into the floor exactly where the Doctor had been standing a moment earlier. They landed in a heap on the bed, stunned. Clearly the war had begun.