Title: Doom of Men
Author: Leiasky
Synopsis: Aragorn is badly wounded in the battle of the Palennor Fields.
This is an AU story that does not follow the book. This is not a happy story, so be warned….
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: No.
Pairing: Not really. Aragorn / Arwen possibly.
Disclaimer: I'm not Tolkien. I don't own these characters. (darn!) I make no money. Done for fun.
Additional Info: Movie-verse.
Archive: If you like, just tell me where.
1 Doom of Men
The stench was overwhelming. Death was everywhere. Bodies, cleaved in two, littered the ground. Blood, black as night, soaked the grass-covered fields and mingled with the red of the fallen Men.
The Men of Rohan and Gondor fought bravely in the defense of the White City, determined, to their last breath, to take as many of the enemy into the dark lands of death as was possible.
The arrival of the black ships, bearing the noble standard of the king of Gondor, had come none to soon.
Eomer surveyed the bloodied field as the un-crowned king of Gondor settled into the saddle beside the king of Rohan. "We shall ride into battle together. If this be our last stand, we will make it here, on this field, before the very gates of the White City."
Eomer nodded, his eyes widening at the flash of steel that glittered before his eyes. The sword that was broken had been re-forged and was wielded now, possibly into its last battle, by the rightful heir to the kingdom of Gondor.
Eomer raised his own blade and glared at the enemy that relentlessly pounded their lines. "If this be our last," Eomer said, "Rohan and Gondor will end it together!"
The walls of defense were strengthened by the arrival of Aragorn and his men, but they were not enough to withstand the relentless pounding of the Orc armies. They continued to file out of the woods and onto the field of battle like moths to a flame. Hill trolls and dark men led strikes against the weakest links of the line and one by one the defenders of Gondor fell to the relentless onslaught.
The armies of Gondor and Rohan backed against the crumbled city gates, making their stand with their backs to the wall of the White City. People hid in their homes or fled to the inner circle of the city as fireballs crushed the outer structures. Fires burned the outer circle of the city and were spreading quickly. Women, and children not old enough to raise a blade, dumped buckets of water over the flames, hoping to douse them before they could spread.
Aragorn stood beside Gandalf, cutting down Orc after Orc as they attempted to cut a path through the barely holding line of Men. Aragorn panted with exhaustion, his arms heavy, his body weak with loss of blood from various wounds he had received during the battle.
As all hope waned, a light shown atop a small hill toward the west, thunderous steps could be heard in the distance and Aragorn's heart plummeted into his stomach.
More Orcs. Reinforcements had arrived to replace the fatigued, battle-worn enemy of Mordor. Aragorn breathed deeply, whispering an elvish goodbye into the wind. He looked to Gandalf then to the stars that had not shined favorably on them this night. The line of Isildur had failed once again and Middle-Earth would be thrown into permanent darkness. Aragorn shuddered at the thought, at once grateful that he would not live to see the times that were to come.
Heralds of Gondor cried out as the hosts of horseman crested the hill and descended from the western road. Foot soldiers, armed with tall shields and even taller scythe's, followed at a run behind the mounded men. Standards were bared for those far away on the field to see. Standards not of Orc, or Uruk, Hill Man or Troll, but of a once great and numerous nation - One who had once before come to the aid of the Men of Gondor and its White City.
Eyes widened as the evening moon reflected on the golden armor of the elven army. Orcs trembled in fear but were pressed on by their Uruk overseers, determined to break through the last crumbling line of Men and charge into the unprotected City and to victory for the Eye.
A resounding cheer echoed across the fields as the men of Gondor and Rohan found renewed strength at the sight of the elven army. Even at a distance, the army numbered more than was left of the combined forces of Gondor and Rohan.
"Please get here in time," Aragorn breathed just as an Uruk blade came crashing down on his arm, nearly knocking Anduril from his grasp. Mail screeched and broke beneath the blade, and Aragorn fell to his knees.
Off came the offending creatures head as Gandalf swung Glamdring in an arc that took out his opponent and the one that threatened to cleave Aragorn in two.
Gandalf shoved a hand beneath Aragorn's arm and yanked him to his feet before the would-be King could be seen on his knees. The mail had taken the worst of the blow, but blood still flowed down Aragorn's arm where the blade had impacted with flesh.
"Thank you, my friend," Aragorn breathed. He sidestepped another misshapen blade aimed for his heart and thrust Anduril into the neck of the oversized Orc. Busy as he was with the battle before him, Aragorn didn't notice the figures who waited atop the hill as the elven army advanced on the White City.
Elrond sat atop his neighing steed, Galadriel and Celeborn on either side, Arwen behind, watching the battle take place on the sprawling fields below. Elrond searched for his sons, and finding them alive, his eyes moved to Aragorn. He shouted a few commands to the group that had stayed behind as escort to the elven Lord. Half the number rushed toward Aragorn to ensure the protection of Isildur's remaining heir, the others remained as guards surrounding Elrond and his family.
Arwen's heart leapt into her throat as a hideous winged creature dove onto the field , clutching at men with its claws and rending the flesh from their bodies. It dropped to the ground and it's rider dismounted, clutching its long, deadly blade in armor-covered hands. All who came up against the creature in black fell to horrible deaths to its superior strength and skill.
It passed where Merry and Eowyn lay, the only two who had ever dealt a death blow to a Nazgul. Its disgusted hiss toward the fallen warriors would have sent shivers up the spines of the strongest man.
The un-dead creature sliced a path through the elves, through the men of both Gondor and Rohan until, at last, it came upon its intended prey.
Aragorn stood before him, dirty and bloodied, wearing the leathers of the kingdom of Gondor and its legendary white tree, on his chest.
The creature hissed as it raised its blade, "The line of Isildur will be broken this day." The deadly Morgul blade came crashing down toward Aragorn's head and the man barely had enough time to bring Anduril up to block the fierce blow.
Tremors reverberated down his arms from the contact and Aragorn ducked beneath the next swing, rendered off balance by the last hard blow.
Soldiers battled around them leaving no man able to free himself long enough to come to Aragorn's aid. He was left to battle this great Nazgul alone, to destroy the vile creature or be destroyed himself.
Aragorn blocked each swing aimed at his head, his chest, his arms, his legs. But with each refusal, his repost would slow, giving him no chance to break through the defenses of his opponent. He was exhausted and injured, and the Nazgul was fresh off his mount.
Elrond, seeing the battle below, ordered those who remained as guard, to ride to Aragorn's aid. The captain of the guard refused. "We will not leave you unguarded, My Lord."
Elrond's eyes flashed in anger and he took up his stallion's reins. "Then I will aid Estel myself!"
"Wait," Galadriel's calm voice echoed in his ears as she reached forward and held fast the reins of Elrond's steed. "Gandalf will aid him."
They looked on as Gandalf cut his way toward Aragorn, leaving no Orc or Uruk standing in his path.
Once more a strong blow knocked Aragorn off his feet, his tired arms finally giving way to the increased pressure from the Nazgul blade. Gandalf was there to block the steel as it sailed toward Aragorn's head and the elven company watching from the far away hilltop breathed a collective sigh of relief.
"Mithrandir," the Nazgul hissed. "Since when do Istari interfere with the affairs of Men?" Their blades clashed, steel on steel, the Nazgul still the stronger of the two.
Aragorn gained his feet quickly, drawing on whatever strength left within his arms to wield the re-forged blade of kings to victory over the creature in black.
Indur drove Gandalf into a crowed of oncoming Orcs, hissing its pleasure as they surrounded and attacked with animalistic ferocity. Gandalf, now occupied with the fresh wave of Orc soldiers, was unable to aid Aragorn as the Nazgul slowly turned its attention to the advancing would-be-King.
Their blades clashed once more, Aragorn gritting his teeth against the pain of his injuries. He swung with all his remaining strength, pushing the Nazgul back, hoping to trip him on the black cloak that fell in waves around its body. The Nazgul hissed its laughter at the man so valiantly struggling with exhaustion. "Give up, heir of Isildur. You cannot win."
--------------------------------
"Father" Arwen steered her stallion beside her father. Her eyes darkened as she watched the sight far below.
Elrond ignored her, choosing, instead to focus on his twins who were being pushed back by a fresh wave of Uruk. Elrond muttered to the stars, willing his armies to reach the battle in time. Before those that he loved were killed, or worse, enslaved.
"Father," Arwen's eyes widened as she watched her beloved furiously battle the black Nazgul.
Galadriel turned her attention to Aragorn and gasped. "Elrond! Ride, ride quickly!"
Arwen turned wide-eyes on her grandmother and nodded, "Estel needs help. He hasn't the strength..." They watched helplessly as Aragorn tripped, Anduril flying from his grasp.
Without waiting for her father, Arwen dug her heals into Asfaloth's sides and slapped his reins. Drawing her blade, she cried, "Noro lim! Noro Lim!"
"Arwen!" Galadriel, Elrond and Celeborn cried in unison.
Elrond and Celeborn raised their elven blades and charged down the hill after Arwen, their stallion's leaping gracefully over the fallen bodies that littered the field.
-----------------------------------
Aragorn rolled away from the sharp steel as its point sailed toward his chest. The tip sliced through the leather tunic and bounced harmlessly off the chain mail the man wore beneath the leather. The Nazgul hissed and whirled around to impale a Gondorian soldier as he rushed to assist Aragorn. This gave Aragorn time to regain his feet and reclaim Anduril. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arwen on Asfaloth, galloping toward him. Elrond and Celeborn were on her heals but his heart sunk into his stomach at seeing his beloved riding willingly into the heart of the battle.
"No!" Aragorn yelled toward her, motioning her back with his raised blade.
"Aragorn!" Gandalf cried as the Nazgul turned his attention back toward Aragorn and lunged at the man's unguarded back.
'Behind you!" Arwen cried, eyes wide.
Aragorn moved to dodge the Nazgul but his forearm was caught in the creature's iron grip and roughly twisted. Anduril fell from his grasp as the creature snapped his wrist like a twig. Pain blocked his vision as he fought from crying out in pain. Another armor-clad hand fell heavily to Aragorn's shoulder, fingers digging into the skin to hold the would-be-king from whirling out of the Nazgul's grasp.
Legolas' keen eyes were the first to see Aragorn locked in the Nazgul's tight embrace. He called to Gimli, whose eyes went wide with fear at the sight. Imrahil sliced through his opponent and rushed toward the king but was stopped by a fresh wave of Orcs. His immediate support was halted and he called to his kinsmen for help.
Legolas wove through the combatants in an effort to reach his friend but the distance was too great. Gandalf fought his way through the Orcs but had been thrown too far to be able to reach Aragorn in time.
"And so falls the last heir of Isildur!" Indur hissed loudly. He released Aragorn's useless wrist and thrust his blade into Aragorn's back.
Author: Leiasky
Synopsis: Aragorn is badly wounded in the battle of the Palennor Fields.
This is an AU story that does not follow the book. This is not a happy story, so be warned….
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: No.
Pairing: Not really. Aragorn / Arwen possibly.
Disclaimer: I'm not Tolkien. I don't own these characters. (darn!) I make no money. Done for fun.
Additional Info: Movie-verse.
Archive: If you like, just tell me where.
1 Doom of Men
The stench was overwhelming. Death was everywhere. Bodies, cleaved in two, littered the ground. Blood, black as night, soaked the grass-covered fields and mingled with the red of the fallen Men.
The Men of Rohan and Gondor fought bravely in the defense of the White City, determined, to their last breath, to take as many of the enemy into the dark lands of death as was possible.
The arrival of the black ships, bearing the noble standard of the king of Gondor, had come none to soon.
Eomer surveyed the bloodied field as the un-crowned king of Gondor settled into the saddle beside the king of Rohan. "We shall ride into battle together. If this be our last stand, we will make it here, on this field, before the very gates of the White City."
Eomer nodded, his eyes widening at the flash of steel that glittered before his eyes. The sword that was broken had been re-forged and was wielded now, possibly into its last battle, by the rightful heir to the kingdom of Gondor.
Eomer raised his own blade and glared at the enemy that relentlessly pounded their lines. "If this be our last," Eomer said, "Rohan and Gondor will end it together!"
The walls of defense were strengthened by the arrival of Aragorn and his men, but they were not enough to withstand the relentless pounding of the Orc armies. They continued to file out of the woods and onto the field of battle like moths to a flame. Hill trolls and dark men led strikes against the weakest links of the line and one by one the defenders of Gondor fell to the relentless onslaught.
The armies of Gondor and Rohan backed against the crumbled city gates, making their stand with their backs to the wall of the White City. People hid in their homes or fled to the inner circle of the city as fireballs crushed the outer structures. Fires burned the outer circle of the city and were spreading quickly. Women, and children not old enough to raise a blade, dumped buckets of water over the flames, hoping to douse them before they could spread.
Aragorn stood beside Gandalf, cutting down Orc after Orc as they attempted to cut a path through the barely holding line of Men. Aragorn panted with exhaustion, his arms heavy, his body weak with loss of blood from various wounds he had received during the battle.
As all hope waned, a light shown atop a small hill toward the west, thunderous steps could be heard in the distance and Aragorn's heart plummeted into his stomach.
More Orcs. Reinforcements had arrived to replace the fatigued, battle-worn enemy of Mordor. Aragorn breathed deeply, whispering an elvish goodbye into the wind. He looked to Gandalf then to the stars that had not shined favorably on them this night. The line of Isildur had failed once again and Middle-Earth would be thrown into permanent darkness. Aragorn shuddered at the thought, at once grateful that he would not live to see the times that were to come.
Heralds of Gondor cried out as the hosts of horseman crested the hill and descended from the western road. Foot soldiers, armed with tall shields and even taller scythe's, followed at a run behind the mounded men. Standards were bared for those far away on the field to see. Standards not of Orc, or Uruk, Hill Man or Troll, but of a once great and numerous nation - One who had once before come to the aid of the Men of Gondor and its White City.
Eyes widened as the evening moon reflected on the golden armor of the elven army. Orcs trembled in fear but were pressed on by their Uruk overseers, determined to break through the last crumbling line of Men and charge into the unprotected City and to victory for the Eye.
A resounding cheer echoed across the fields as the men of Gondor and Rohan found renewed strength at the sight of the elven army. Even at a distance, the army numbered more than was left of the combined forces of Gondor and Rohan.
"Please get here in time," Aragorn breathed just as an Uruk blade came crashing down on his arm, nearly knocking Anduril from his grasp. Mail screeched and broke beneath the blade, and Aragorn fell to his knees.
Off came the offending creatures head as Gandalf swung Glamdring in an arc that took out his opponent and the one that threatened to cleave Aragorn in two.
Gandalf shoved a hand beneath Aragorn's arm and yanked him to his feet before the would-be King could be seen on his knees. The mail had taken the worst of the blow, but blood still flowed down Aragorn's arm where the blade had impacted with flesh.
"Thank you, my friend," Aragorn breathed. He sidestepped another misshapen blade aimed for his heart and thrust Anduril into the neck of the oversized Orc. Busy as he was with the battle before him, Aragorn didn't notice the figures who waited atop the hill as the elven army advanced on the White City.
Elrond sat atop his neighing steed, Galadriel and Celeborn on either side, Arwen behind, watching the battle take place on the sprawling fields below. Elrond searched for his sons, and finding them alive, his eyes moved to Aragorn. He shouted a few commands to the group that had stayed behind as escort to the elven Lord. Half the number rushed toward Aragorn to ensure the protection of Isildur's remaining heir, the others remained as guards surrounding Elrond and his family.
Arwen's heart leapt into her throat as a hideous winged creature dove onto the field , clutching at men with its claws and rending the flesh from their bodies. It dropped to the ground and it's rider dismounted, clutching its long, deadly blade in armor-covered hands. All who came up against the creature in black fell to horrible deaths to its superior strength and skill.
It passed where Merry and Eowyn lay, the only two who had ever dealt a death blow to a Nazgul. Its disgusted hiss toward the fallen warriors would have sent shivers up the spines of the strongest man.
The un-dead creature sliced a path through the elves, through the men of both Gondor and Rohan until, at last, it came upon its intended prey.
Aragorn stood before him, dirty and bloodied, wearing the leathers of the kingdom of Gondor and its legendary white tree, on his chest.
The creature hissed as it raised its blade, "The line of Isildur will be broken this day." The deadly Morgul blade came crashing down toward Aragorn's head and the man barely had enough time to bring Anduril up to block the fierce blow.
Tremors reverberated down his arms from the contact and Aragorn ducked beneath the next swing, rendered off balance by the last hard blow.
Soldiers battled around them leaving no man able to free himself long enough to come to Aragorn's aid. He was left to battle this great Nazgul alone, to destroy the vile creature or be destroyed himself.
Aragorn blocked each swing aimed at his head, his chest, his arms, his legs. But with each refusal, his repost would slow, giving him no chance to break through the defenses of his opponent. He was exhausted and injured, and the Nazgul was fresh off his mount.
Elrond, seeing the battle below, ordered those who remained as guard, to ride to Aragorn's aid. The captain of the guard refused. "We will not leave you unguarded, My Lord."
Elrond's eyes flashed in anger and he took up his stallion's reins. "Then I will aid Estel myself!"
"Wait," Galadriel's calm voice echoed in his ears as she reached forward and held fast the reins of Elrond's steed. "Gandalf will aid him."
They looked on as Gandalf cut his way toward Aragorn, leaving no Orc or Uruk standing in his path.
Once more a strong blow knocked Aragorn off his feet, his tired arms finally giving way to the increased pressure from the Nazgul blade. Gandalf was there to block the steel as it sailed toward Aragorn's head and the elven company watching from the far away hilltop breathed a collective sigh of relief.
"Mithrandir," the Nazgul hissed. "Since when do Istari interfere with the affairs of Men?" Their blades clashed, steel on steel, the Nazgul still the stronger of the two.
Aragorn gained his feet quickly, drawing on whatever strength left within his arms to wield the re-forged blade of kings to victory over the creature in black.
Indur drove Gandalf into a crowed of oncoming Orcs, hissing its pleasure as they surrounded and attacked with animalistic ferocity. Gandalf, now occupied with the fresh wave of Orc soldiers, was unable to aid Aragorn as the Nazgul slowly turned its attention to the advancing would-be-King.
Their blades clashed once more, Aragorn gritting his teeth against the pain of his injuries. He swung with all his remaining strength, pushing the Nazgul back, hoping to trip him on the black cloak that fell in waves around its body. The Nazgul hissed its laughter at the man so valiantly struggling with exhaustion. "Give up, heir of Isildur. You cannot win."
--------------------------------
"Father" Arwen steered her stallion beside her father. Her eyes darkened as she watched the sight far below.
Elrond ignored her, choosing, instead to focus on his twins who were being pushed back by a fresh wave of Uruk. Elrond muttered to the stars, willing his armies to reach the battle in time. Before those that he loved were killed, or worse, enslaved.
"Father," Arwen's eyes widened as she watched her beloved furiously battle the black Nazgul.
Galadriel turned her attention to Aragorn and gasped. "Elrond! Ride, ride quickly!"
Arwen turned wide-eyes on her grandmother and nodded, "Estel needs help. He hasn't the strength..." They watched helplessly as Aragorn tripped, Anduril flying from his grasp.
Without waiting for her father, Arwen dug her heals into Asfaloth's sides and slapped his reins. Drawing her blade, she cried, "Noro lim! Noro Lim!"
"Arwen!" Galadriel, Elrond and Celeborn cried in unison.
Elrond and Celeborn raised their elven blades and charged down the hill after Arwen, their stallion's leaping gracefully over the fallen bodies that littered the field.
-----------------------------------
Aragorn rolled away from the sharp steel as its point sailed toward his chest. The tip sliced through the leather tunic and bounced harmlessly off the chain mail the man wore beneath the leather. The Nazgul hissed and whirled around to impale a Gondorian soldier as he rushed to assist Aragorn. This gave Aragorn time to regain his feet and reclaim Anduril. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arwen on Asfaloth, galloping toward him. Elrond and Celeborn were on her heals but his heart sunk into his stomach at seeing his beloved riding willingly into the heart of the battle.
"No!" Aragorn yelled toward her, motioning her back with his raised blade.
"Aragorn!" Gandalf cried as the Nazgul turned his attention back toward Aragorn and lunged at the man's unguarded back.
'Behind you!" Arwen cried, eyes wide.
Aragorn moved to dodge the Nazgul but his forearm was caught in the creature's iron grip and roughly twisted. Anduril fell from his grasp as the creature snapped his wrist like a twig. Pain blocked his vision as he fought from crying out in pain. Another armor-clad hand fell heavily to Aragorn's shoulder, fingers digging into the skin to hold the would-be-king from whirling out of the Nazgul's grasp.
Legolas' keen eyes were the first to see Aragorn locked in the Nazgul's tight embrace. He called to Gimli, whose eyes went wide with fear at the sight. Imrahil sliced through his opponent and rushed toward the king but was stopped by a fresh wave of Orcs. His immediate support was halted and he called to his kinsmen for help.
Legolas wove through the combatants in an effort to reach his friend but the distance was too great. Gandalf fought his way through the Orcs but had been thrown too far to be able to reach Aragorn in time.
"And so falls the last heir of Isildur!" Indur hissed loudly. He released Aragorn's useless wrist and thrust his blade into Aragorn's back.