| Subject: Fevered sleep |
Author:
Aragorn
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Date Posted: 16:11:31 04/12/02 Fri
The clash of sword against sword. The ring of axes swung against metel helms. The sounds of war.
He stood in the middle of choas, leading his troops into battle, but where was he? Then he turned and saw the fire of Mount Doom. The battle of Pelinnor Fields.
But this was six years ago, it had already happened. Struggling Aragorn tried to hold on to the present but the past swept him up in its soft embrace.
"Onward men!" he found himself yelling, just as he had all those years ago.
Drawing Anduril from it's sheath at his side Aragorn led the way across the famine stricken ground. An orc charged at him, its replusive face set in an evil grin. Without thinking Aragorn raised the weapon and beheaded it.
He was being watched.
The eye of Sauron, red and lidless, contemplated him from his dark abode, weighing him up and the king shivered. Except he wasn't the king.
Pulling away from the serpant promises the eye offered Aragorn returned to the battle.
The White Rider, Gandalf, galloped through the rows of men, inspiring all who gazed upon him. But Gandalf was gone, Aragorn thought furiously, gone to the Grey Haven's.
A rouge arrow flew from the ranks of the orcs into the mass of elves and Gandalf fell.
Crying out Aragorn tried to run towards him, but the press of his allies held him back.
"This isn't right!" he yelled. "It didn't happen like this!"
Then he woke.
A throng of servants gathered around him, trying to soothe their agigtated king. He thrashed around trying to escape, to reach Gandalf. Murmers of "it's all right your majesty" penitrated through to his tired brain and Aragorn allowed himself to be lowered gently back onto the bed, the covers pulled up to his chin.
Closing his eyes he heard the whispers of the doctors.
"Is he asleep"
"Yes"
"The fever's getting worse. I fear we may loose him."
"He's the king!"
"Don't you think I don't know that?"
"He can't die."
"We've nothing left. The fever's too strong, he's already hulluinating. No one here has the power to heal him. The queen might've done it but nobody knows where she is."
One gave a wry chuckle, "he could've healed himself if we'd caught it fast enough."
"Don't blame yourself. There was no way to tell it would become infected and it probably wouldn't have worked anyway."
"Let's leave here. This place depresses me."
"Agreed. Nurse? Tell me if anything changes."
The left quietly.
So he was dying and Arwen was lost.
The wind swept up and the battle started again. Once more he lead the first charge...
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