Lord of the Rings: An Outlaw's Redemption

…

Chapter 1: A Stranger in Middle-Earth.

Pitch black was all Arthur could see. An inky pitch black void as he floated slowly downwards, surrounding him from all sides. Flashes of what happened in the last few hours played out in Arthur's head. He remembered his last plea to Dutch to see the snivelling rat Micah Bell was, how he held off the Pinkertons while telling John to be with his family, telling him to be a man for him. Those last few moments raced through Arthur's mind as he slowly descended into the dark void. Arthur began hyperventilating as he came to the realisation.

I'm dead, ain't I?

As his feet felt something solid to stand on, Arthur touched his chest, feeling for any of the wounds Micah inflicted. To Arthur's surprise, his chest no longer felt like it was full of blood. Blinking rapidly, he realised that he was no longer in any pain of any sort, in spite of his rapid breathing. And strangely, he could see his own body, fully clothed, as though he were illuminated, even in this dark abyss.

"Is… is this Hell?" Arthur whispered as he looked around and took a step forward, feeling solid ground, even though there was none visible to the naked eye. Looking upwards, Arthur was greeted with the same darkness.

"Hello?" Arthur called out and his voice did not echo. Arthur felt a little unsettled by this, to say the very least. But then again, Hell wasn't meant to be pleasant for anyone who deserved it.

"Well… this ain't what was I expectin' to be Hell…" Arthur remarked.

"That's because it isn't, Mr Morgan," said a calm voice. Arthur spun around, his hand reaching for his gunbelt, only to find his gunbelt nor were his guns there at all. Not even his hunting knife was there.

A man who Arthur would swear wasn't there a moment ago was seated at a wooden desk. He was dressed in a black suit with a long stove pipe hat atop his head. A large dark brown handlebar moustache sat above his lips and his dark eyes were focussed on some papers on the desk he sat at.

"What the hell…?" Arthur muttered cautiously as he approached the man. A single light shone down on the stranger, as though he were on a theatre stage.

"As I just said, Hell is not where you are, Mr Morgan," the stranger said with a small smirk on his lips. "Sit. We have much to discuss," he suggested.

Having no other alternative, Arthur cautiously took a seat at the desk facing the man.

"I… uh… can't exactly say this is what I thought the afterlife would be like," Arthur said making a feeble attempt at a joke. "Is this… uh… judgement before I go to… wherever I'm going to?" he asked the stranger.

"No," said the stranger in response. "This is something of a special case area," he added, dipping the tip of his quill into the ink bottle in front of him before writing again. "People who the Big Man upstairs feels are worthy of redemption," he then said.

Arthur blinked in surprise. "Redemption?" he repeated. "I think the Big Man mighta made a mistake," he said slowly. His eyes drifted down to his feet and the void below. "I dunno if God made the right choice in that regard. I mean… I tried to do some good before the end, to make my exit a little more… dignified, but I wasn't expecting to get through the pearly gates."

"And they haven't," replied the stranger. "But that doesn't necessarily mean you aren't going to be given a chance at redemption," he said with an amused chuckle. He set his quill down and locked his fingers together in front of him and smiled in a way that unnerved Arthur deeply. "No. God has special plans for you. Plans, that if you play your cards right, might get you a ticket into the penthouse. And maybe a chance to live a little differently than you did before."

"I… I don't understand…" Arthur said in confusion, his eyes narrowing in confusion and disbelief.

"It's not for you to understand," said the stranger. "At least, not entirely just yet," he added. "Just know that you'll be able to put the skills you have to good use for something far less than unpleasant," he explained.

"My skills?" Arthur uttered in confusion. "I don't have anyh skills that ain't fer robbin' and killin' folk. Those skills ain't much use for… whatever it is God plans for me to do," he said.

"It all depends what those skills are aimed at, Mr Morgan, even skills such as yours," the stranger countered wagging his finger at the veteran cowboy. "A lot of good can come from those skills if they're pointed in the right direction," he said.

The stranger stood from his seat, his hands folded behind his back as he walked around to the front of the desk to stand directly in front of Arthur. "Or, if you want, you could just use those skills of yours to do what you always did," he said casually. "Killing and robbing innocent people. It would mean damning your soul again, but it's your choice," he added.

Arthur looked at the stranger in disbelief and asked, "Ain't you supposed to be working for the Big Man? Why tell me somethin' like that if the point of this was for to get into heaven?"

"Oh, make no mistake, Mr Morgan. I do work for the Big Man, but my outlook on life is bleaker than his," replied the stranger as he leaned on the desk. "If I'm being honest, I admire your work. All of it, in point of fact. But I wonder: has that old gunslinging, murdering thief changed? Or is being on my doorstep making him sentimental?" he asked as he smiled once more.

The smile the man was sporting sent chills down Arthur's spine. Whoever this man, despite his mannerisms, terrified Arthur to the bone and there wasn't much that Arthur was afraid of. But this man? He filled Arthur with a sense of dread he had never known before.

"Who… what the Hell are you?" Arthur asked.

"I'm called many things, Mr Morgan," replied the stranger. "But enough about me, let's get you moving along, shall we?" he suggested helpfully as he walked back to sit at his seat again. Arthur felt the pressure of the man's presence be lifted off his shoulders, but he was still unnerved.

"O-Okay then, so what's gonna happen to me in my new life?" Arthur asked. "Am I gonna be reborn as a kid back home?" he half-joked.

"No. Your time in your world is over," replied the stranger as he picked up another piece of paper to write on. "We're going to be sending you to a different one," he said. "Although we will take a few years off of your life. Ten years should be enough," he added.

"Huh? The hell does that even mean?" Arthur said.

"There are many worlds besides the one you called home for all your life, Mr Morgan," said the stranger, smiling slightly as he looked at Arthur. "Worlds much like the places your friend John reads about to his son. Places full of wonder beyond imagination," he added.

Arthur gave a slight chortle of disbelief and said, "So you're gonna send me to a world full of knights and dragons?"

"Something like that, but a little different," said the stranger with an amused chuckle. "But as you know all too well, not all stories are as glamorous as they seem. Some are full of darkness and terror. Terrors you've yet to know or experience," he added. "You've seen the evil men are capable of, but you've yet to see what True Evil is." The stranger licked his thumb, picking up another page and writing again.

"What does that mean exactly?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowing.

"Now where's the fun in telling you?" replied the stranger. "That's for you to find out. You have much to see and learn about the new world we're sending you to," he said with a chuckle as he stood up from his seat. "But don't worry, despite the medieval status of the world we're sending you to, we won't be sending you there with nothing," he added as he walked around the left side of the desk and tapped it.

Sliding out from the desk was a drawer full of things Arthur recognised. It was all the guns he had collected prior to his death in a large panel. "You… you're gonna give me all my guns?" he asked the stranger hopefully.

"Not all of them, we don't want this to be too easy for you," replied the stranger. "About four will do, so I thought it'd be best if you chose ones you were familiar with," he said, waving a hand at the guns presented. "You can take two long guns and two handguns, about what you'd carry on foot, correct?" he asked.

"Yeah… I guess," Arthur muttered as he looked at the selection of guns on offer. "but if this place you're sending me to is full of knights and all that, what are good are my guns when I ran of ammo?" he asked.

"Don't worry about that," the stranger said. "Once you've made your choice, I'll give them a little tweak to help you out," he added vaguely. Arthur chose not to press any further and looked at the selection of guns that he had collected. The first gun that caught Arthur's eye was Calloway's Schofield Revolver; it was among Arthur's favourite trophy guns he had taken from the gunslingers and it was a very good revolver with power, range and accuracy rolled into one, Arthur placed the revolver in his sidearm holster. The next gun Arthur chose was his Lancaster repeater, it having served him very well in many shootouts with bounty hunters, rival gangs and lawmen; slinging the Lancaster over his back, Arthur looked for his next choice. Running a finger on the sawed-off shotgun, Arthur picked it up and tucked it away in his offhand holster figuring it would come in useful if anyone got too close for comfort. The last gun was a difficult choice for Arthur; deciding he wanted something long distance, he chose the rolling block rifle having put down quite a bit of game with it during his time and he slung it over his shoulder.

"Have you made your choice?" the stranger asked Arthur who nodded in reply. Taking out some pieces of paper, the stranger drew a circle of strange runes on each piece before laying them out on the desk. "Place each of your guns on each paper please," the stranger instructed.

Curious and wary, Arthur placed his guns on each piece of paper and waited. The stranger then stamped the corner of each page with a stamp and the runes on the papers glowed brightly, illuminating each gun. Arthur took a cautious step back before the light faded and he noticed that each gun now handle a small pentagram on their handles.

"What did you do?" Arthur asked as he gingerly picked up the Schofield and examined it.

"I solved your ammunition problem, Mr Morgan," replied the stranger. "You'll figure it out as you go," he said calmly patting Arthur on the shoulder. "In fact, as you progress throughout the new world, your guns will grow and have unique features to them. You'll learn them over time," he added.

Placing his hands behind his back, the stranger looked at Arthur and asked, "So, how are you processing all this, Mr Morgan?"

Arthur put his guns on and shrugged. "Barely. I can't believe where I'm at, or who you work for, or what's going on. I just… I don't know. I wasn't expecting this when I died. Not in the least."

"Don't think about it too much," said the stranger. "Others have said much the same in your position. Can't say I blame you," he added before clapping his hands. "But, try to see this as a new opportunity. One not unlike the chance you gave John before departing from him. A fresh start to live how you see as fit."

Arthur tugged the brim of his hat nervously. "I-I suppose… so, is there anything about this new world you can tell me about?" he asked cautiously.

"Quite a lot, in fact, but none of it I'll be telling you" replied the stranger. Arthur looked at him in confusion. "Think of this as a start of your trials to come. A baptism of fire, if you will," he said.

"That doesn't fill me with confidence," Arthur said scratching the bristles on his jaw.

"It'll be a little shaky for you, but you'll learn to adapt and overcome," the stranger said. "Word of advice: don't tell anyone you're from another world, they'll think you're mad," he warned.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Arthur admitted. "So… now what?" he asked.

"Now? Now off you go," the stranger said. "Enjoy your new life. Oh, and one last bit of advice," he added and Arthur looked at him questioningly. "Be careful of a golden ring," he said cryptically.

"Uh… okay," Arthur mumbled and when he thought to ask another question, he felt his body go limp and he blacked out.

…

Arthur woke up with a sharp gasp and intake of air. Breathing rapidly, he looked around; it was night time and the stars shone overhead while the moon gleamed like a shining silver coin in the sky. Another look told Arthur that he was not in Roanoke Ridge, so what he thought was a dream was very real. Standing to his feet, Arthur brushed himself and looked ahead of him. In the distance, he could see a large dilapidated ruin and the distant glow of a fire. Cautious, but hopeful for the sight of possibly human company, Arthur strode forward towards the ruins and the distant fire, looking to find some answers as to where the hell he was.

Then as Arthur was within a short distance of the ruin, the frantic yelling of someone was heard. "Put it out, you fools! Put it out!"

Then another voice was heard. "Oh, that's nice! Ash on my tomatoes!" the voice complained to which Arthur raised an eyebrow; someone thought it would be a good idea to have a fry-up when it was clear they were being hunted. Then a loud shrill blood-curdling screech rang out into the night. Arthur's hand reflexively drew his Schofield; whatever made that sound didn't sound friendly at all. Then Arthur spied five black hooded figures, each armed with swords which made Arthur raise an eyebrow. Then some frantic yells were heard; for a moment made to turn around and walk away from this, but some nagging feeling told that those black hooded strangers weren't friendly, and whomever it was they were hunting needed help.

"Ah, shit," Arthur cursed lowly as he began to search for a way up to the ruin. The black robed men had already found a way up. Cocking his Schofield, Arthur prepared to face whatever it was that awaited him.

As Arthur ran up the spiralling stairway, he could hear the yell of "Back you devils!" followed by the ringing of steel. Urging himself faster, Arthur neared the top of the steps when he heard a yell of pain and agony. Gritting his teeth in anger, Arthur reached the top of the steps to witness the scene.

Four children, at least that's Arthur thought them to be were scattered. One had its shoulder pierced by a dagger wielded by one of the black robed men. Looking at the black robed men, Arthur was surprised that there was only a black void where their faces were. Deciding not to question, Arthur aimed his Schofield at the one that had stabbed one of the children and fired.

A loud crack and bang broke the night sky, drowning the screams of anguish from the wounded child. The bullet hit from Arthur's gun hit the dagger wielding… man… thing in the shoulder causing it to give an inhuman screech. Its fellows all snapped their heads to where Arthur stood and Arthur swivelled his aim towards them. Time seemed to slow down as Arthur held his Schofield at the hip and fanned the hammer with his offhand, firing four rounds into the robed figures. Each bullet hit them in the chest or shoulder, knocking them back, staggering them. Swivelling his gun back at the dagger wielding figure, Arthur fired his last round at where the thing's heart would be.

This staggered the robed figure back making it screech again. Arthur opened his gun to reload but the strangest thing happened. As he opened the Schofield to expel the used cartridges, the used round only popped halfway before each one glowed slightly, pushing themselves back in one at a time. Arthur felt the weight of fresh rounds in his gun again before closing up the Schofield and prepared to aim again. But one of the robed figure seemingly recovered, no worse for wear but appeared to be extremely annoyed as it stalked towards Arthur with its sword raised.

"Shit!" Arthur cursed as he avoided an overhead swing from the robed figure's sword, a sharp clang ringing out as the blade hit the stone ground. Slamming the handle of his Schofield into the figure's head, Arthur then prepared to fire a round into the thing's face when another of the robed figures grabbed him by the arm and threw him to the side. Arthur grunted as he hit the stone floor, his Schofield knocked from his grasp. The robed figure who threw Arthur to the ground raised its sword, the tip pointed down towards Arthur's heart. A feeling of panic filled Arthur's heart as he realised that he was about to die again. When a loud yell broke Arthur's train of thought and leaping over Arthur was a man with dark flowing hair, wielding a longsword in one hand and brandishing a flaming brand in the other. Suddenly realising he wasn't about to die just yet, Arthur grabbed his Schofield and quickly stood to his feet. The man who rescued Arthur was clashing his sword against the robed men, swinging his burning brand into their long black robes, setting them, making them scream, fleeing and dropping over the sides of the ruin.

Arthur watched in awe as his rescuer took care of the robed figure, but one of the remaining robed men approached the four children. Without missing a beat, the stranger spun around and hurled his brand like a throwing knife and the burning end stuck itself firmly into the robed figure's face, setting alight and scream as it fled.

Arthur sighed in relief and holstered his gun. When he turned around, he saw the tip of the man's sword pointed at his face.

"What the hell?"

…

Strider looked at the stranger before, his eyes hard and unrelenting. The stranger was garbed in a manner different than most men, but his skin tone didn't suggest he was from the East. Then there was the man's weapons; they didn't match anything Strider knew of and he had briefly witnessed the man use one of them on the Nazgul; the loud cracks of thunder were made every time the man used his strange little weapon, appearing to injure each Nazgul when they were hit by something. Some kind of projectile, although what kind, Strider could not ascertain.

"This how you greet folk around here?" the stranger asked in a slightly annoyed tone. The man's accent was clearly foreign, it was almost a drawl. Strider prepared to ask the stranger who he was when Samwell shouted.

"STRIDER!"

Looking to the Halflings, the Dunédain ranger saw Frodo was injured and in great pain, clutching the wound on his shoulder. Running over to examine the Halfling, Strider spied the weapon that caused the injury. Holding the dagger up to examine it, the blade crumbled to dust but it was enough to tell Strider what it was.

"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," the Dunédain said grimly and tossed the hilt aside and picked Frodo up. "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs elvish medicine if he is to survive," he stated. Looking back at the stranger, Strider said to him, "Thank you for your aid, stranger."

"You need any more help?" the stranger offered. "pretty sure those… things will be comin' back," he said.

Strider silently debated on what to say; on one hand the stranger had come to the Halflings aid, but on the other they had no way of knowing if this stranger was a friend or not. Deciding to risk it, Strider said to him, "Very well, but if you seek to harm us, I will not hesitate to kill you!"

The stranger gave a chuckle before saying, "Well, let's get goin'!" he said.

"What is your name, stranger?"

"Arthur. Arthur Morgan."

"Come, we must get to Rivendell!" Strider said hefting Frodo into his arms.

"We're six days from Rivendell!" Samwise cried out. "He'll never make it!"

"Hold on, Frodo," Strider whispered to the Halfling in his arms while Arthur Morgan kept pace with him, holding one of his strange weapons in his arms.

…

The group stopped in the forest near a ring of giant stone statues of strange looking creatures after Frodo's condition appeared to worsen. Arthur looked at the injured boy before looking at the man, Strider, and asked him, "Is the kid gonna be okay?"

"He's not a kid, Mr Morgan, sir!" protested one of Frodo's companions. "He's a hobbit!" he exclaimed.

"A what?" Arthur's eyebrows widened in askance.

"Halflings? Shire Folk?" said Frodo's friend as though it were obvious.

"Ain't heard anything like that before," Arthur replied shrugging his shoulders. The distant droning call set Arthur on edge as he looked down the scope of his rolling block.

"Is he going to die?" one of Frodo's other friends asked Strider who said, "He's passing into the shadow world. He'll soon become a wraith like them."

"Like who?" Arthur asked feeling a little out of the loop.

"Ringwraiths. The ones you fought before," Strider clarified and Arthur nodded in understanding before glancing at Frodo whose eyes were becoming a milky white colour. Leaning to whisper to Strider, Arthur said, "Listen, if the kid is becoming one of those… Ringwraiths, maybe we oughta, well I think you know."

Strider had a grim look of understanding and said, "Let us hope it does not come to that." Turning to look at the one called Samwise, he said, "Sam, do you know what Athelas is?" he asked the Halfling.

"Athelas?" Samwise said in confusion.

"Kingsfoil."

"Kingsfoil? Ah, it's a weed!" Samwise said in realisation.

"It may help to slow the poison," Strider told him before they set off into the woods to search for the plant.

Arthur made to go with them but he realised two things. The first being he had no idea what Athelas/Kingsfoil looked like and the second being it would be better if he stayed to guard the others. Leaning against one of the statues, Arthur looked at the other two hobbits and said to them, "So, I gotta ask: whose idea was it to have a cooking fire at night?" he asked accusingly.

The two hobbits, Merry and Pippin, both looked embarrassed and ashamed but neither wanted to own up to it. Arthur sighed irritably before saying, "Just dandy. I could see your fire miles away and those wraiths did as well," he said.

"We-we were hungry," Pippin said in a small voice.

"I understand that, but you coulda had food that you coulda eaten cold, couldn't ya?" Arthur said to him, raising an eyebrow. "It's common sense to not have a cooking fire at night when you're being hunted or on the run," he stated.

"We didn't think there was any danger," Merry said ashamedly, his head hanging low as he realised the weight of his and Pippin's mistake.

"Trust me. Whenever you think there isn't any danger, guarantee there is danger!" Arthur rebuked him sternly. "Next time, don't do anything stupid like that again, or else it'll cost ya everything you got!" he said coldly.

Merry and Pippin both looked suitably ashamed of themselves. Sighing to himself, Arthur went back to keeping a lookout. Then the neigh of a horse and the sound of cantering hooves alerted Arthur who readied his rolling block. Then riding into view was a woman of breathtaking beauty with long dark hair, wearing a dark blue riding outfit, long curved sword hanging on her hip astride a snow white horse. Strider and Samwise were running beside the mounted woman who dismounted gracefully and seemed to glide over to Frodo and spoke to him in a language that Arthur did not recognise.

"Who is she?"

"She's an elf!" Samwise said in hushed reverent awe. Arthur then saw the pointed tips of the woman's ears as she spoke to Strider in her strange tongue.

…

Arwen cast a curious and cautious glance at the man who was standing beside the other hobbits. His garb was foreign but not that of the East. A large broad brimmed hat made of stitched leather sat atop the man's head. Then there were the strange weapons he possessed, one of which he held in his hands.

Looking at Strider, Arwen asked him, "Who is that man?"

"He calls himself Arthur Morgan," Strider answered. "I don't know who he is or where he came from, but he helped fight off the wraiths with those weapons of his," he said.

"What are those weapons? I've never seen them before," Arwen said.

"I don't know," Strider said calmly. "But they seem to shoot some sort of projectile and make sounds of thunder when they do," he added as he lifted Frodo into the saddle. "I'll send horses for you," he then said to Arwen.

"I am the faster rider! I will take him!" Arwen protested.

"It is too dangerous!" Strider argued.

"If I can get Frodo across the river, the power of my people will protect him," Arwen said. Placing a gloved hand over Strider's, she said, "I do not fear them."

Strider nodded, conceding before saying, "Ride hard. Do not look back." Arwen mounted her horse and spoke in elvish to it. The horse snorted before setting off into a fast gallop.

"What are ya doing?!" Samwise shouted angrily. "Those wraiths are still out there!" he said.

Arthur watched in helplessness. He had not known what Strider and the elf-woman said during their exchange as they had spoken in that strange language, but there was not much to be done about it now.

…

Three days later, the group marched exhaustedly toward the ford. Dark rings circled Arthur's eyes as he breathed hard from the forced march with little to no rest. The worrying thought that the Ringwraiths had managed to capture Frodo was all on their minds as they made their march across plains and forests to reach Rivendell. As they came to the ford, a group of elves on horses came riding out to meet them.

"Lady Arwen sent us here to await your arrival," said one of the riders.

"Frodo? Is Frodo alright?!" Samwise called out anxiously.

"He has been through much, but he is on the mend, young master Samwise," replied the lead elf. "Gandalf awaits by his side," he then said.

"Gandalf is here?" Pippin asked in obvious excitement and the lead elf nodded before noticing Arthur.

"And who is this?" the elf asked.

"Just a friend who helped these fellers out," Arthur replied calmly. "Don't mind me," he said.

The elf narrowed his gaze at Arthur and Arthur uttered a quiet curse. "If you'll come with us, Lord Elrond expects you all," the elven rider said before fixing Arthur with a stern glare. "You will come with us. We need to ask you some questions," he said in a tone that brokered no argument. Arthur sighed in resignation as they were lead across the river. Arthur didn't have much to take in the scenery as he was relieved of his weapons and taken to a small holding cell. Strider had spoken with the elven rider who spoke in his strange language; clearly Strider was arguing for Arthur to be shown leniency, but it seemed the elf was not having it.

Arthur lay on the cot, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn't expecting any of this and now it seemed that it was very likely he'd end up with a noose around his neck. Some way to start his new life in a new world.

Feeling the need for sleep overcome him, Arthur closed his eyes and surrendered himself to sleep.

…

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: There! The first chapter of this done and dusted! I hope it was good enough to pass the grade and I'm surprised no-one has ever thought of doing a crossover like this before. I guess it may have been lack of interest in the crossover, or perhaps no-one thought it worth the time. We'll see if this story gets any views/reviews and if they're good, we may just see another chapter and maybe more after that.

So, a quick briefing on Arthur's weapons, I wanted to give him weapons that would be versatile and reliable, so I gave Arthur the Lancaster because of its versatility and also because it's my go-to weapon in RDR2. The Calloway Revolver I gave to Arthur because it looks pretty cool and it's a decent gun to have and the sawed-off shotgun In think would be useful for situations where an enemy gets up close and lot of enemies are gonna get up close in Middle-Earth. For the Rolling Block Rifle, I wanted something that would be long range/distance for Arthur's weapon, I mean the Lancaster could easily fill that role, but the long range scope and stopping power of the rolling block rifle in comparison to the Lancaster was a better choice in my opinion.

For other weapons, I could have Arthur bring a bow along with him for silent kills and hunting and all that. For close-up/melee weapons, I'm still deciding because on one hand Arthur isn't a trained swordsman like Aragorn/Strider or Boromir, so a sword might be out of the question, although I could have Arthur learn how to use one with help from Aragorn and Boromir. A hatchet would be useful given its multiple functions in that you can swing it and throw it, so a hatchet is the most likely melee weapon Arthur will use in melee combat. A knife would be useful also, but it'd only be good silent kills and hunting. Throwing knives would be useful as well, I'm thinking.

But other than that, I haven't got much more to say, so I'll just leave this here and see what you all think of it.

Be kind to one another,

Angry lil' elf.

EDIT: to everyone who pointed out I copied Mugiwara N0 Luffy's story intro The Gunslinger, I fully admit I copied the intro of that story, but I was honestly struggling with the start of this story. If everyone wants this chapter/story rewritten into something different, I will do so. I contacted Mugiwara and apologised to him for essentially plagiarising his work and he's willing to let it slide, but I will say to everyone here I did not have any ill-intentions, I simply wished to create a new story and I took the lazy way out. Again, I am sorry about this.