Hidden Power

There is something strange about this man, a hidden power that belies his rough appearance. He is one of the Dúnedain it is true; yet somehow different to any mortal I have met before.

He captured this foul creature in Mordor and journeyed here at Mithrandir’s behest. Who is he that he would go where Elves fear to tread? Who is he that Mithrandir would trust him with such an errand?

‘Estel’ he names himself and speaks our tongue as one born to it. As I approach him he looks up, and his eyes seem to pierce my very soul.

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A/N: Written as a birthday present in answer to a request for a drabble about Legolas and Aragorn.

Disclaimer: Tolkien’s world and all his characters belong to Tolkien Estates, New Line Cinema, etc. This is done for the purpose of enjoyment only and I receive no money for playing in such a wonderful sandbox.

Strange Vessels

From the rocks about me, pours almost overwhelming sorrow. Such a strange and grievous thing I deem it! The affinity of my people is with the living things that grow; yet the trees here are strangely silent and they will not answer me.

It is the stones themselves and the ground beneath them that speak to me. It is here that great power was wrought and wielded. From the earth were gathered metals and precious gems to form items of great beauty. Trees were hewn; fires built, and now only distant echoes remain of those who fell into unwitting folly.

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A/N: A 2004 birthday drabble for Ainae, who requested a Legolas drabble based on this quote:

"But the Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the silvan folk, and the trees and the grass do not now remember them. Only I hear the stones lament them: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone. They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago."

Rampant Desire

Pippin looked at Aragorn hopefully, “have you finished with your portion of the stew?”

Aragorn carefully moved his bowl behind him and shrugged innocently, “stew, what stew? Are you sure it is not just a figment of your imagination?”

The rest of the fellowship watched in amusement as Merry carefully retrieved Aragorn’s bowl whilst Pippin kept him occupied.

Merry sat back down next to Pippin, saying, “Here Pip, would you like some of my meal?”

Aragorn lunged for his bowl and knocked it into the fire, which flared up and swallowed the food, amidst gales of laughter from the fellowship.

TTT – The White Rider

The search for the Hobbits leads the hunters into Fangorn Forest. A hidden power approaches, an old man - they are wary. A flash of white, weapons are brought to bear, then fall.

Beyond hope, beyond death, he returns: Gandalf, grey no longer. He has passed through fire and the abyss, and now brings council from the Lady of the Wood. At the path of the oath breakers doom awaits, and the salvation of many.

Time now grows short, and there is danger on all sides. Their horses return, led by Shadowfax, and they ride on. To Edoras, battle and war!

Despair

It is often said that the best, the only, gift you can give to a dying man, or woman, is the knowledge that they are not alone. The manner of their passing differs, but in the end the ties between body and spirit are severed, and where it goes we know not. We are left with naught but an empty shell, the remains of those once held dear.

The days grow ever darker, the heir to the throne is dead, and my uncle’s mind is poisoned - he even turns upon his own kin.

My brother’s life hangs by a thread.

ROTK – The Battle Of the Pelennor Fields

As darkness broke, Théoden led the Rohirrim onto the field. The black serpent he slew, but was brought low by a dart of the enemy.

Fear descended, but two knights of the King remained. One stood defiant: Éomund’s daughter. Courage awakened and a small halfling let fall a mighty stroke. Seeking death Éowyn found it, but did not die. So by a woman’s hand the Nazgûl fell.

When Éomer beheld his sister a fey mood took him, and the Rohirrim's song came even unto the city. Yet foresight proved true: out of despair came Hope, and the battle was won.

Third Line

The voices of the slain call out to us, mere whispers on the wind. For none of us remain untouched by this war. We have all lost kin, or those we hold as dear as kin. Yet pride and honour demands that we put grief aside. Until the time comes, if ever, in which we can allow ourselves the luxury of remembrance.

Those of us left may never have the chance to grieve. We go now to the lands of the enemy, and my men march to their deaths.

I shall be the first and last king of my line.

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For the HASA Drabble Decisions Challenge.

The End Has Come

Foul beasts swarm about me and the evil of Mordor fills the air. We have failed. I have failed. Adar forgive me - first for departing without your leave, and now for dying.

Aragorn fights beside me, as always; but this time there will be no sudden respite. We knew that here we would meet our end, but it was to be in hope. Now Frodo has failed and our futile hope has been shattered. Sauron will regain the Ring, and his victory will be complete. The world will end in darkness. I will live only to see my friends fall.

Foreign Customs

She gasped and lurched to her feet, clutching her belly as the babe kicked. Then she felt a rush of wetness as the birth-waters came forth, darkening her forest green skirts until they appeared almost black.

She called for Aragorn, and he came to her side as one of her ladies hurried to fetch the midwife. He held her close, whispering words of comfort as she turned to rest her head against his shoulder.

Aragorn would remain with her throughout, despite the midwife's disapproval. He would give of his strength, and together they would bring their babe into the world.

New Year With the Rohirrim

Éowyn gathered her skirts around her knees and climbed onto the bench to sit next to Faramir, who was swaying slightly. She laughed as she took a mouthful of his drink, savouring the bitter taste. “You’re not used to matching drinks with the Rohirrim, are you my love. I am glad we decided to come here to celebrate New Year, even if you can’t hold your drink.”

Faramir grinned sloppily at her; then stood on the table, “Come,” he shouted, “let us toast those who are no longer with us. Mothers, fathers, brothers, friends!” The hall resounded with drunken cheers.

Morgoth’s Hammer

“Do you yield?” Morgoth demanded.

“I will never surrender, foul spawn of the dark!” replied his enemy, the power of Valinor gleaming in his naked blade.

Morgoth raised his mighty black hammer above his head and rushed his opponent: throwing him to the ground.

Elboron sat up, rubbing his head, “You should get your history straight, fool! You can’t kill me yet; I have to stab you three times first. Then Fingolfin dies.

“That is no way to address your future king,” said Eldarion snootily. Then he giggled. Besides, you should have seen your face when you hit the ground!”

Beyond Death

We stand with you cradled in our arms and you laugh up at us. Mother and Father named you well. Little sister, the stars shine in your name.

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We could not prevent your father’s death, but you we will protect. Darkness will not be your end.

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Forever is too long a time for mortals to comprehend. You have both passed beyond the boundaries of Arda and there is no longer anything left for us here. We go now to join our parents, to wait for the ages to pass and for forever to come.

Eru willing, we will meet again.

A/N: This was written for Jay, in answer to her 2004 birthday request for something about the twins.

The Last Battle

The earth trembles violently. Screams rend the air.

Valinor that was both of Arda, and not of Arda, is gone. The Straight Road is destroyed, and Aman suddenly part of the world-made-round.

Power beyond mortal comprehension shakes the world. Nations end their petty feuds, as the sun flames fiery red and molten rock assaults the earth. Night is no more: a perpetual sunset mixes with the smog of dying cities. Riots, death and desperate love echo around the globe.

In Valinor-changed, some lingering power remains. In their untouched realms, the Elves watch the dying lands. The Last Battle has come.