Aragorn II Elessar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rangerandking) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eachdraidh2014-10-01 12:12 am
rangerandking) wrote in eachdraidh2014-10-01 12:12 am
{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.}
{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.}
(he's got a protective aragorn now. >8( )
{His eyebrows raise and he blinks. Dryads? A remarkable race, it seems.}
The love of nature is strong within them no doubt. But what of their physical might? Would they be allies worth having in battle?
{It saddens him that they must consider such traits. He rubs his thumb against the stubble on his chin, concern easy to see in his eyes. The well-being of his friends is number one on his current list of priorities - and he already feels miserably behind.}
My blade is ready to confront any foe. I need not know a name to silence them.