Two Kings
A Fan Fiction
The sound of men’s voices and horses’ hooves rose up from the valley below. Along the riverbank, riders lead their mounts toward an open spot on the stones, ready to make camp after a long day of traveling. At the party’s head is Aragorn, the King of Gondor. A silver circlet rests upon his brow, the only thing that signifies his royal position. Beside him rides Eomer, the leader of the Rohirrim. They had fought together during the War of the Ring, and their friendship lives on through the days of peace.
Eomer looks up at the sky, which is a rosy pink, before turning to Aragorn, “How are things in Minas Tirith?”
Aragorn shrugged, “Well, things are quite good, I believe. The surrounding lands are free of Orcs, Osgiliath’s been rebuilt as a trade center, and the people are happy and healthy.”
“Good. That’s good, my friend.”
“There’s also something else,” Aragorn smiled. He hadn’t told Eomer yet, and now was a good time.
“What?” Eomer gave him a quizzical look, before he started to chuckle, “Is there any gossip back at the castle?”
“Arwen is pregnant,” was all Aragorn had to say.
Eomer slapped Aragorn heartily in the back, “Well, that’s excellent news! When is the baby due?”
“Sometime next spring.” Aragorn laughed. He told Eomer the whole story as they stopped the horses and pitched the tents. By the time he was finished, the sun had fully set and the stars had come out. Aragorn made sure that a watchman was posted by the horses before crawling into hist tent. He sighed as he flopped onto the bedspread. This is what he needed. A break from castle life and all of its troubles. He closed his eyes and sleep swiftly overtook him.
~~~
A cry of alarm rang through the camp like a peal of thunder. Aragorn sat bolt upright, all feelings of tiredness gone in a heartbeat. He grasped the hilt of his sword and tumbled out of the tent just as a huge Warg tore it to pieces. An Orc pack! They were under attack! The riderless Warg caught sight of Aragorn and leapt at him, maw opened wide. He ducked and slashed the beast across the snout. It jumped back before springing at him again. Aragorn held the blade steady and plunged it into the Warg’s skull. he ripped it back out and quickly took stock of the situation. He could already tell that they were outnumbered three to one.
“My lord!” One of the soldiers in the escort shouted across the campsite. Aragorn wheeled around as another Warg–this one with a sneering Orc on its back–chomped down on thin air. He stumbled and ran as fast as he could into the surrounding forest, the Warg hot on his heels. He felt an enormous paw whack him in the back, and he sprawled onto the leaf litter. He scrambled backwards madly until his back hit a rock cairn on the edge of a grassy clearing. The Warg stopped, and its hideous rider stepped down, brandishing a wicked-looking black blade. Aragorn could hear the screams of his men and the roars of some other fell beasts back at the camp. No doubt they were being killed. The Orc leered at the hopeless look in Aragorn’s face. His heart rushing faster than ever, he tried to reach for his sword, but it was nowhere to be found. He had lost it in his mad dash to get away. The Orc stood over him, blade raised high above its head, glinting hungrily in the faint starlight.
Time seemed to slow. Aragorn knew that there was no hope. Without a weapon to defend himself with, he was doomed. He closed his eyes, accepting his fate. I’m sorry Arwen, he thought, I’ll never see you again. Please, take care of our baby when it is born. I am sure that it will grow into a fine child. He waited for the twisted blade to make its final stroke.
But it never did.
A roar so loud that it shook the trees echoed above Aragorn’s head. A big, black beast leaped–no, flew–from the top of the cairn, landing on top of the Warg with a vicious snarl. Yelps and tearing sounds filled Aragorn’s ears as the creature ripped the Warg to pieces. The thing threw the carcass into the trees before facing the Orc. It had started advancing until the creature fixed it with a vengeful stare. Aragorn’s knees went weak. A dragon! Its scales were as black as night, with huge wings spread over its head. Its tail whipped back and forth, the fins on the base and end rustling over the grass. Its strange protuberances (ears?) on its head were laid flat. Its jade green eyes blazed as it glared at the Orc. The Orc was frozen in place by those green orbs, but not for long. It screeched as it waved the crude sword around, lunging at the dragon. The dragon dodged, coming around to stand in front of Aragorn. He struggled to his feet, pressing himself into the stone. The dragon’s spine glowed, a bright, electric blue light emanating from its plates. The Orc was once again frozen to the spot. The dragon roared again, purple lightning racing up its wings and down its tail. It leapt at the Orc just as lightning hit its black scales, causing a loud thunderclap to rocket through the clearing. Aragorn raised his arms, shielding himself from the blast. When he lowered them, all that was left of the Orc was a flattened circle of grass, a pile of fried skin and bones at its center.
Aragorn breathed heavily. He had heard of dragons destroying cities with their fiery breath, but he had never in all his travels as a Ranger heard of a dragon that was able to call down lightning. A quiet fizzle caused Aragorn to look back up. The dragon had materialized in front of him. Now that he thought about it, this dragon was nowhere near the size of those legendary beasts. This one was just the size of a large horse, though over twice as long. A young male, Aragorn thought. The dragon sniffed at him, taking in his scent. Aragorn pressed himself against the cairn again, holding out his hand in what he knew was a futile attempt to defend himself. He felt the creature’s hot breath on his palm. Then, cool scales pressed against his hand. He gasped and opened his eyes. The dragon cooed, his own green eyes shining.
“What…how…” Aragorn whispered. Had this dragon known that he was in trouble? The dragon, seemingly understanding Aragorn, moved its tail so that the fins on the end were visible. The right one looked slightly off. Aragorn noticed the straps an buckles keeping it in place. It was a prosthetic.
“So that’s why you helped me,” Aragorn whispered again, “My kind have helped you too.”
The dragon bobbed its head, almost like it was nodding. Wings beat overhead. More dragons, all in different shapes, sizes, and colors were hovering above the clearing, calling to the black dragon. Aragorn saw Eomer and his men emerge from the trees, looking stunned. No doubt the other dragons had saved their lives as well. The black dragon regarded them with a curious gaze, before turning back to Aragorn. He rumbled in his throat, swishing his tail across the ground. It was clear that he had to leave.
Aragorn nodded, placing his hand on the dragon’s head, “Thank you.”
The dragon purred before launching himself into the air, joining his brethren. Together, they disappeared into the night.
~~~
Eight months later.
Aragorn sat in his study, holding the picture of the dragon in his hand. His head, wings, and tail were lifted high in a regal pose, the prosthetic fin just visible in the curve at the tail tip. He sighed. It had been almost a year since he had met him. Aragorn couldn’t help but wonder where he was now.
Arwen entered the room, carrying their newborn son, “What is that you have there?”
Aragorn looked up at her before turning his attention back to the drawing, “Remember the story I told you, about the attack?”
Arwen tilted her head, “Yes, why?”
He looked into her eyes, “He’s the one that saved my life that night.”
Arwen looked at him, a curious look in her eyes, “Why would a dragon save your life?”
“I don’t know.”
She seemed lost in thought for a moment, regarding Aragorn’s words. She gazed out the window, “There is a trader wishing to speak with you.”
Aragorn furrowed his brow, “A trader? From where?”
Arwen gave him a look that said “find out for yourself” before exiting the study. He sighed and got up to follow her to the courtyard. When the young family got there, a man in a bearskin cloak was standing near the white tree. He turned around when he heard Aragorn coming, “Are you by chance King Aragorn?”
“I am,” Aragorn replied. He couldn’t place the man’s accent.
“Good. I’m the chief of a village downriver, and I was wondering whether we could set up a trade proposal.”
Aragorn looked him up and down, “A trade proposal?”
The man started to figit, “Well, you see, we just moved in, and we’re kind of low on resources. I was hoping that we could, uh, start trading with other cities upriver so…” He trailed off when he saw Aragorn’s strange look, “Are, um, are you okay?”
Aragorn motioned to the man’s leg, “I could say the same to you.” There was a metal prosthetic attached below the knee.
The man looked down, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, um. That. It happened years ago, don’t worry about it,” He waved his arms nonchalantly at this last statement.
Aragorn leaned back, crossing his arms, “So. A trade proposal.”
“Yes. We have various furs and crafts that we can sell to you for a decent price–”
A roar interrupted him. All three of them jerked their heads to the sky. A dragon, black as night, circled the pavilion before landing in a rush of wind. When he saw the chief, his eyes lit up. He bounded over to him, rumbling happily and head butting him.
“Hey, easy bud! I’m glad to see you too. What are you doing here,” The chief laughed as the dragon tried to lick his face. Aragorn felt like he had been punched in the gut. It was the same dragon that had saved his life!
Seeing the looks of shock on both Aragorn and Arwen, the chief quickly said, “Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you. He’s one of my best friends, and lives up the valley from us. He’s saved my life more times than I can count.”
“He saved mine, too,”Aragorn whispered. Both sides of the pair had prosthetics, both on the same side of their body. No wonder they were friends.
“You met him before?” The chief tilted his head, giving him a small smile.
“Yes,” was all Aragorn could say. He offered the dragon his hand, and he playfully rubbed it with his head.
“Heh. He likes you,” The chief scratched the dragon behind the ears.
The dragon looked behind Aragorn and caught sight of Arwen for the first time. He stepped closer, sniffing at the bundle wrapped in her arms. She started to pull away.
“It’s okay,” Aragorn quickly told her. She hesitated, then showed the baby to him. The dragon touched him with his nose, getting a good look at his face. He purred, giving Aragorn’s son a small lick. He then turned his head to the sky and roared.
Another dragon, this one a sleek, white female, soared down, calling back to him. Three nearly full-grown dragons trailed behind her, each one having a varying amount of black and white scales. Aragorn couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief as the four new dragons landed on the courtyard. The black dragon was introducing his own family!
Each one took turns greeting Aragorn and Arwen before taking back off. Before he followed his mate and children, he gave the chief on last nudge and nodded to Aragorn. Then, he was flying.
As they watched the five dragons turn into dots in the blue, Aragorn said to the chief, “I think we can work something out with the trade situation.”
“Sure, sounds great.”
Aragorn turned to the chief, “Who is he? Besides being a dragon and your close friend.”
The chief sighed, pursing his lips. He looked Aragorn in the eye and said two simple words.
“A king.”