So it is Aragorn - - and three. .no four, four Hobbits that make their way to WeatherTop.

| plan is to write a solo tonight bringing this Aragorn up to where I am in Two Towers

The whisper in the south turns true. And the merry become un-eased, and the shadows travel forth to hold deathly to the light.

Rumors grew of a shadow in the east.

| okay so i finished my reading of Fellowship on 10/14. I’m about 9 chapters into Two Towers. Need to write up a solo of putting him at that point. Mhm.

The Ranger’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes. Her tutting, her words that twined mockery with promise, clung to him like mist. Yet he did not flinch, nor turn aside.

** Getting close to The Council of Elrond in my reading, feel like I’ll be a little more active once there 🙂‍↕️

Strider’s jaw set, though his hand lingered a heartbeat longer in hers. The word she had spoken —- Mellon, rippled in his chest like an old song. A friend’s word, but twisted now, dressed in a tongue that was not wholly hers.

The Ranger’s eyes linger on the script blooming across her flesh, his breath slow, his jaw set. He had seen foul bargains struck in darker places than these. Yet Gollum’s trail was perilous, twisting, near lost in the tangle of river and mire.

“I know well the bouquet of ruin. It clings not only to me, but to all who’ve lived long beneath Sauron’s shadow.”

The hood stays drawn. Only the glint of his eyes can be seen, sharp and unyielding. His hand lingers near the sword at his hip, though he does not draw it.

A days ride left.

“Anníron amarth rûdh, dan athradim i bedithon aníron, an boe mânad lín.” (“Troubling times [are] ahead, but we can make it if we stay true to each other.”)

“Something indeed.” He himself was unsure, since finding Gollum —- Gandalf had asked him to wait for certain 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 things. To protect those who could 𝑛𝑜𝑡 protect themselves —- and although he did, and often, this was the first time he had seen something that he believed. . .𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙.

“Strider.” He says, watching closely —- “No síth, Brego.” He spoke to the horse, running a hand along its neck. “I’ve heard tragedy has stuck this nest. .you should not go alone. I’ll 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 with you. Brego can handle the weight.”

Many times has this been said about dark things. Many times has this been proven wrong.

** I’ve started my reading a little early (teehee), I plan on referencing him as Strider until I get to the point of reveal within the book. Or if our characters come about it naturally. Such a wonderful book, forgot how cozy it feels to read it.

Strider did not 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡 often —- beyond Gandalf and the men of old when they called him 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑙. But something with this others smile. . .it was disarming to say the least. Like a friend in need of a long 𝑎𝑙𝑒. “Brego can hold you.” He says, offering a nod to the other.

Then whatever fate that finds you is deserved.

“You seek to go up?” The stranger points with a finger wrapped in leather. “By foot will take you sometime.”

That it does —- and so do messes and violence. Do you intend to keep spreading them?

Seems everyone has met that Dragon.

Making his way, his horse gently moving with a click —- clack. Gear hangs from its saddle, a sword on his hip hidden beneath the lengthy cloak he uses to cover himself. Bree is a three day ride from here. The Pony awaits.

To Bree he goes. As the words of Gandalf ring in his ears still, and the look for four, yes four, Hobbits begins.

Aragorn steps from the shadow of an ancient trunk, the hood of his weather-worn cloak drawn low. His hand rests, not yet drawn, upon the hilt of the blade at his side. His voice, low and steady, cuts through the restless clicking of mandibles and the rustle of skittering limbs.

Wanderer.

** Only a couple more days until the reading begins teehee

A wicked thing that is.

❝ That was their way, their heathenish hope; ❞ » A man remembering himself » Crusader, defender, combat healer ❝ ...deep in their hearts they remembered hell. ❞

The Last Watch Before the Road Long years had the North known peace, yet seldom were its borders free of shadow. In the empty miles between Bree and the Brandywine, in the wooded vales and windswept downs, dark things moved again.

Mirkwood —- @istarivanta.bsky.social A fog lifts at his ankles —- it 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑠 each step like a common swarm. There are whispers of darkness here, returned or never left. That was unknown to him. But there was one rumor that 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑 thick like the fog.

𝑆𝑂𝐿𝑂𝑆. The Fellowship of The Ring.

He did not say a word —- for he 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜. He watched as the dragon flew, pushing the very land at its feet into a whirl of wind. His horse shook, but his firm grip upon its reigns stowed any nerves.

I think this dragon may eat me.

“I do not know.” He says without shame —- and the thought of evil passes through his mind. His destiny, a lineage that so many would seek but he 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦 ran from. “I’d like to think I am not better than my 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠. That we are equal in our faults.”

Finally his gaze breaks —- but only to look at the sword within its sheath. The dragon was right —- it was 𝑛𝑜𝑡 his sword. His sword lay restless in Rivendell. A memory of triumph, that was stained with 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑡.

“I have plenty need.” He says, not sternly, but as if there were no 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ in his voice. As if the first at the others foot simply drowned it out. Strider lets his hands fall from behind his cloak —- shown to the other in an act of 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙. “I merely travel these lands.”

Those eyes, so reminiscent of tales in the 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘. Unfathomably so, as if 𝑒𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 knelt before him to stare into his soul. But again, 𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 stood tall. Not wavering to the gleam of the dragons 𝑔𝑎𝑧𝑒.

** Also like this if you wish to plot up a storyline here :) and also basically anything I post (if not a solo) is intractable for all :O

Words that flow like The Rivers Bend. A dragon no less that spoke of 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 and the struggle of it all —- to be a keeper of this world, and the world to come 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟. Strider dismounted his horse, taking a step between the space of he and the creature.