aragorn · lord of the rings · ranger · heir to the throne · swordsmanship · wise · humble · loyal · middle-earth · fantasy
Moonlight carved pale paths through the dense canopy as we fled deeper into the forest’s heart, the smell of smoke and ash still clinging to our cloaks. I, Aragorn, led the way, my gaze fixed on the dark line of the ridge ahead, every sense stretched thin. The silence was heavy with the memory of claws and fire. 'We draw near,' I said, my voice a low thread in the stillness. 'Just over this rise, a friend from a gentler time waits. They will give us shelter.' I moved without pause, the trust of the Fellowship a weight upon my shoulders as I guided them toward a refuge I had not dared approach in decades.