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An Argetlam meets Aragorn

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Summary: An LOTR (books) and Eragon (Inheritance Series) crossover. Happens post the events of Eldest.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Lord of the Rings > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories(Past Donor)JamieTFR18623,3290153,4177 Jun 0817 Feb 09No

Chapter 2

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I do not own the rights or characters to the Eldest Trilogy or to the Lord of the Ring’s Trilogy. The eldest Trilogy is the work of Christopher Paolini and the Lord of the Ring’s Trilogy is the work of J.R.Tolkien.


Chapter 2:

The shadows had lengthened while he sat; the last few hours of daylight were drawing to a close. The long shadows of the trees had crept steadily across the grass and still the man had sat, hunched on a fallen log, lost in thought. Across the clearing the grey figures of his companions waited patiently, two gray shapes beneath the tree’s shade, tending to the lifeless figure of a third. Every now and then one of the other figures slipped into the woods, barely visible in his gray raiment, to return shortly. Each time he shook his head, each time the other lowered his axe, and returned to his vigil of the third.

Of their original nine there remained but four companions, one of whom was gravely wounded. And of the rest? One lost into darkness, beyond theirs or any mortals help. Two captured, who would no doubt suffer cruelly without urgent aid and rescue. Two missing, now across the river and into wild lands, unprotected and unguarded. He had sworn to protect and help one of them, had seen the relief in his eyes, yet now they were gone, alone.

He sat on the log, and turned the facts of the situation over and over in his mind, searching for any possibility he had overlooked. He knew there was none, but still he sat, wracked with indecision and self doubt. Now more than ever did he miss the council of his friend, wishing he could share this heavy burden with another. So many times in the past had the old man shown him some previously unseen path, some other course of action in a crisis. Yet he did not think that there was any easy solution to his problem, simply the choice of one bad road over another.

A choice then; to aide two innocents in clear and present danger, or to forsake them and help two others, in no less if not more danger, but in better present circumstances. He rose swiftly, and crossed the clearing with long strides, his boots sinking into the soft turf at each step. His two companions rose as he drew near, their faces anxious, curious.

He gave a wan smile, and dropped to a knee beside the third still figure. The man’s face was very pale, his breathing shallow and stained. Drawing back the blanket that covered him, he gazed with concern at the bandaging beneath. He and the others had drawn the arrow from the shoulder easily enough, but they had not yet touched the shaft in the chest. He could feel the stub of it still, beneath the thick layers of linen.

All three had seen many wars, knew the danger of an arrow in the chest or thigh. He hadn’t dared remove it, fearing that sudden fatal rush of bright red blood he had seen too often before. He had resorted to snapping off as much as the shaft as was safe, and cleaning the wound as best he could, though they had dared not kindle a fire to boil water. The slain corpses scattered at the far end of the clearing served as a visible reminder of what enemies might lurk still nearby.

He looked up at the short bearded figure beside him, “has he stirred at all?” he asked.

The dwarf shook his head, then looked at Aragorn intently, his fingers slowly stroking the haft of his axe.

The man waited, guessing what the dwarf was about to ask.

The question came. “So what do we do now then Aragorn?”

When the ranger did not immediately reply Gimli went on.

“I’ve been sitting here for close to a half hour, puzzling out what’s to be done, and I still can’t decide.”

The words suddenly poured out of the dwarf with all the anger and rage of a man who is backed into a corner, forced to choose between two equally unwelcome choices, and liking neither.

“I don’t like the idea of those poor little hobbits heading off to Mordor alone, but at the same time I don’t think I could live with myself if we didn’t try to help Merry and Pippin. Unless I miss my guess, they’re being taken to Saruman, and who only knows what cruelties they will suffer in that nest of dark wizardry. That’s assuming they’re unhurt or even both still alive.”

“We found no sign of them, save their swords and some confused tracks” broke in Legolas “but I doubt Boromir would have fought here all alone, save if he was protecting someone, or something.”

Aragorn nodded in agreement, “beyond the trees there are traces of hobbit footsteps, running in this direction down the hill. The ground here is heavily trodden but I imagine that here they met Boromir, when we heard his horn the first time.”

He walked the turf, imagining it all. “He fought them here, Bowmen and Uruks. He probably told the hobbits to run for help, while he tried to hold them off, too many foes for him alas.

“And Merry and Pippin?” said Gimli “what do you think happened to them?”

Aragorn paced lost in thought, his knuckles clenched white upon his sword hilt.

“ I imagine they were seized, bound and taken. Carried off west by Orcs before we arrived. There are many tracks south of her, near where we found their weapons.

One of the blades had blood on it, so they may have tried to defend themselves, but with little success I guess.”

“Let us hope they did not pay to dearly for their bravery,” muttered Gimli aloud.

“I do not think they will be harmed Gimli, not yet at least, Saruman will not want his goods spoiled before they can tell him anything.”

The dwarf grunted agreement, “So do we go after them Aragorn? You lead this company, now Gandalf’s gone, the decision is yours.”

Aragorn shook his head “such a decision is not for one man to make, and indeed I think I have lead poorly until now. I do not know what Gandalf intended, but I know it was not for me to go to Mordor, but to Minas Tirith.”

He sighed, “If it were not for Boromir, I would already have gone after Merry and Pippin, their need is greatest now.”


A low moan was heard from behind them, the sound of a man in pain.

As one they hurried to the litter of their companion and clustered anxiously around him.

Gimli and Aragorn knelt while Legolas took up a waterskin, pouring water into a beaker which he held ready in case it were needed.

Boromir's eyes flickered a few times. He mumbled some indecipherable words, moaned softly, then was silent once more.

In the silence, the soft splashing sound of water on dry earth was heard as loud as a beat on a drumskin. As Legolas let the beaker fall, hands faster than the eye could follow already had an arrow on the string of his bow, the tip pointed behind them at the dark tree line.

His two companions reacted fast, though not as fast as the elf. Aragorn’s sword was out of its sheath in a flash, the blade glittering in the dying light, while Gimli held his axe with a fierce double handed grip that promised slaughter to any foe that came. They stood around the helpless Boromir, prepared to defend him from any sudden attack.

The three of them faced the opposite tree line expectantly. Their grey elven cloaks seemed to blend into the falling shadows as they waited, silent.

From within the tree line stepped a figure clad in silver mail, a long white bow in one hand, a white quiver over his shoulder. He made no attempt to put arrow to string, in fact judging by the way his left arm hung limp at his side, he could not even if he wished.

His short hair was dark brown, his features strong but smooth, and his ears curved into gentle points.

In short, the figure in mail appeared to be an elf, but like no elf Aragorn, Legolas or Gimli had ever seen.
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