eachdraidh | {Video/After the Feast: Open to Seelie & Unseelie}

There is a magic here that I have never encountered in all of my journeys across Middle Earth. I do not know what to call it or even where it originates. {His anger over having been taken from the final battle at the Black Gate has diminished. In its place, Aragorn looks solemn and paler than usual.} I can only ask that it returns me from whence I came. It is of the utmost importance that I do not -

{For the first time, his voice cracks and he falls silent.}

There is a battle. It will decide the fate of my world. If I do not fight within it; if I do not lend my strength to my men, more of them will perish. {Perhaps they will lose heart. Perhaps all of them will die in the face of their greatest fear. All of the possibilities are incredibly grim.} I must return.

My name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn and I am the rightful heir to the throne of Gondor. My place is with my people and my friends.

{No feast can distract him; food is naught but a texture against his tongue. Now isn't the time for joy and festivities. Rather, his entire attention is fixed upon that which he can't see anymore.

The Black Gate.

How far has he been transported? And by what sorcery? He holds onto his sword - the reforged Narsil - tightly, ready and waiting to draw it free from its sheathe.}

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{Bloodlines are hard to ignore - particularly when the path laid out at your feet leads you to the seat of your ancestors. Aragorn has wrestled with his destiny for many years - oftentimes ignoring it in favor of being a Ranger. However his time to rule is upon him and he will not shy away from it now that he has fought beside the men of Rohan and Gondor.}

I can only offer my condolences for those in similar situations, but it seems we are beset with a greater problem.

{He isn't one to cool his heels and wait for change.}

I have been told that time is inconsistent. There is one I call a friend who is from my future.

You will find yourself in no shortage of problems for as long as you remain here, then again perhaps no more dangerous than it would have been back where you come from.

[ It serves little comfort when one is taken to another world entirely, much less so when one was at a crucial point. A battle, a quest, a dragon - all things which otherwise would not wait, yet they do against all reason. Or so they are told. ]

That is true as well. I, for instance, am from days long past your own, I would wager. Gondor has seen no king for nearly a hundred years, at the time I come from.

I have never lacked in complications. {Amusement makes his lips curve for a brief moment.} There is no choice but to move forward.

{And discover the company he currently welcomes.}

Long past? {He questions that statement merely because Gimli has painted such a bright future for Arwen and himself.} You speak of an era I too have experienced.

{Through the eyes of a child.}

Isildur is my ancestor. He was the last to hold the throne until he succumbed to his own darkness. {Thanks to the Ring.} May I know your name?

[ Mirth crosses Thorin's face as well, though it is a brief thing. ] Then you will fit right in.

[ He nods only at the following remark. ] Indeed. The last king of Gondor that I myself remember was Eärnur, though that is the start and the end of my knowledge.

[ He never did learn much about other kingdoms, other lands - much less so those so far away from him. ]

My name is Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.

How encouraging. {That mirth is mirrored on Aragorn's face.} King Eärnur passed some eight hundred years before my birth.

{His curiosity transforms into wonder.}

Thorin Oakenshield? {Forgive the hoarse quality of his voice. He is speaking to a legend.} It is an honor, truly. I know well your battle with the great dragon, Smaug.

[ Thorin's brow arches at the remark. Plenty of people he has met so far who have met him, but remember him from days long past, though none shared what is yet to be his future - though he would rather not learn it, to be true. Perhaps it is confidence that he will succeed - worse yet, fear that he himself is all too unwilling to accept. But he has never asked.

Which isn't to say he is not curious - of course he is. ]

Then you already know more than I. [ He regards Aragorn thoughtfully. ] What is this battle that you spoke of?

{It isn't his place to reveal over-much. Not unless Thorin asks. Aragorn takes a seat before he continues, weighing his words so as to let the Dwarf keep hope.

Everyone deserves at least that much.}

It is called the Battle of the Five Armies. On one side, there were Goblins and Wargs and on the other were Men, Elves, Dwarves and the Eagles of the Misty Mountains.

I see. [ Before any of this, before the Drabwurld, he would dismiss that with some derision, the notion of Elves fighting alongside them entirely unbelievable. Yet now, he has a little less difficulty in seeing that possibility.

Still, he keeps a healthy amount of skepticism regarding it all, even as he proceed with careful curiosity. ]

We win, I take it. [ Or as much as one can win in a battle. ]

{Video/After the Feast: Open to Seelie & Unseelie}

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video; let's pretend he said 'hundreds of years ago' so I don't look like I failed completely.

video; hey timelines are complicated in tolkien. I don't blame you. <3

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