𝐈𝐋𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄̈ || A.

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟑

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.·:*¨༺ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 3 ༻¨*:·.
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FLAME OF THE WEST

Aragorn spots the beacon alight and runs into the Great Hall. He bursts through the door shouting. "The beacons of Minas Tirith!" he yells, "the beacons are lit!" Theoden and his generals turn to him. "Gondor calls for aid," he breathes. Theoden stands silent for a small moment, before answering. "And Rohan will answer! Muster the Rohirrim."
     Eomer bows to him and leaves. The bell rings out to gather the Rohirrim together.  Theoden leaves the hall hurriedly in full armour. "Assemble the army at Dunharrow,  as many men as can be found. You have two days," Theoden speaks to Eomer as he walks at his side. He gets a hold of his shoulder to bring him face to face. "On the third, we ride for Gondor, and war." "Forward!" Eomer calls. "Very good, sir." "Gamling," Theoden calls. "My lord!" Gamling salutes. Theoden walks over to him. "Make haste across the Riddermark.  Summon every able-bodied man to Dunharrow," he commands. "I will," he says and leaves.
     Theoden watches over the mustering of the men.

"Do you ride with us?" Aragorn asks, tending his horse as he sees Eowyn tending her horse as well. "Just to the encampment," she replies, "it's tradition for the women of the court to farewell the men." Aragorn moves a blanket to reveal Eowyn's sword. She snatched it down back over it and looks at him. "I want to follow lady Iladya into battle," she mutters, "the only female in battle. I would follow her to victory. To death."
     "Lady Iladya is not here, my lady," Aragorn says, which seems to catch her off guard. "Where is she off to?" she asks. "She rode with Gandalf and Pippin to Minas Tirith." With that said, he leaves Eowyn stunned behind.

Merry holds his sword out in both hands. "Excuse me!" Merry asks, "I have a sword. Please accept it!" He kneels before Theoden King, "I offer you my service Theoden King." Theoden moves over to him and raises him up. "And gladly, I accept it — He smiles at Merry — You shall be Meriadoc, esquire of Rohan." Merry smiles gleefully and turns away.
     "Horsemen," Gimli grunts, "I could muster an army of Dwarves, fully armed and filthy." "Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear war already marches on their own lands," Legolas breathes.

Theoden looks at the standard flying in the breeze. "So, it is before the walls of Minas Tirith the doom of our time will be decided." Aragorn mounts his horse, spending a small moment missing the presence in front of him. "Now is the hour, Riders of Rohan. Oaths you have taken. Now fulfil them all, to Lord and Land! Hah!" Eomer shouts. The Riders gallop from Edoras. Merry gallops along with them too.

It had become dusk when they arrived at Dunharrow. Aragorn was fast asleep as he was dreaming. He sees Iladya in a dark place, chained. She had her head hang, as if she'd given up. An Orc walked up to her, with a whip in his hand. Aragorn wakes and draws his sword. A soldier stands in the doorway to his tent. "Sir? King Theoden awaits you, my lord," he says and takes his leave.
     Aragorn follows him to Theoden's tent.  Theoden looks at the hooded figure, then at Aragorn. "I take my leave," Theoden says and leaves the tent. The figure turns and removes the hood. It is Thranduil. "King Thranduil," Aragorn bows. "I come on behalf of one whom I love. Iladya will be dying. I have seen her futures. Her life is now tied to the fate of the Ring," he speaks. "It will not be our end, but his," Aragorn assures. Thranduil looks at him in mockery. "You ride to war but not to victory. Sauron's armies ride on Minas Tirith, this you know. But in secret he sends another force, which will attack, from the river. This what lord Elrond has told me. A fleet of Corsair ships sails from the South. They will be in the city in two days. You're outnumbered Aragorn. You need more men." "There are none." "There are those that dwell in the mountain," he smirks. Aragorn sees a vision of the King of the Dead. "Murderers, traitors. You would call upon them to fight? They believe in nothing. They answer to no one," he answers. "They will answer to the King of Gondor!" Thranduil claims, pulling out a sword from inside his cloak and holds it out in his hands to him. "Andúril, the Flame of the West, forged from the shards of Narsil." Aragorn takes the blade from him.
     "Sauron will not have forgotten the sword of Elendil," he breathes. He draws it from the scabbard. "The blade that was broken shall return to Minas Tirith," Aragorn says. "The man who can wield the power of this sword can summon to him an army more deadly than any that walks this earth. Put aside the Ranger. Become who you were born to be. Ónen i-Estel Edain. Elrond gave hope to the Dunedain." "Ú-chebin Estel anim," Aragorn whispers, feeling the void inside of him. He sheaths the sword.