Prequel to my version of The Lord of The Rings trilogy

The Lighting of the Beacons

At the edge of the great cliff that loomed over Minas Tirith, Pippin Took scrambled up the steep, stone steps, his heart pounding with anticipation. The air was crisp and filled with the scent of smoke, a promise of the perilous task that lay ahead. Reaching the summit, he paused for a moment, gazing out at the breathtaking view of the city below, where life carried on unaware of the brewing darkness beyond the horizon. But the call of duty was clear; the beacons of Gondor needed to be lit.

He climbed onto the beacon itself, the towering structure standing sentinel against the sky. The sun began to dip low, casting long shadows across the stones, and Pippin could feel the weight of the moment pressing upon him. Gandalf, standing below, watched with keen eyes, ready to offer guidance but trusting in the courage of the young hobbit.

"Come on, Pippin!" Gandalf called up, his voice steady. "You can do it!"

With determination, Pippin grasped the oil container, straining against the heavy rope. His fingers fumbled, adrenaline coursing through him as he tugged harder, trying to reach the lamp that hung just out of reach. Suddenly, with a sharp crack, the rope gave way beneath his grasp. The container slipped from his hands, tipping precariously and spilling oil in a dark stream that cascaded down onto the dry straw below.

Pippin's heart raced as he finally reached the lamp, snatching it from its perch. He felt a surge of triumph as he dropped it onto the beacon, watching in awe as the flames erupted with a fierce crackle. The fire leapt to life, flames licking hungrily at the straw, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to glow with hope. But that joy was short-lived; a wave of panic washed over him as he realized the danger he was in. The heat surged, and he quickly scrambled off the beacon, ducking away just in time to avoid being engulfed in flames.

Startled, the soldiers on guard caught sight of the fire, their eyes wide with disbelief. "What's happening?" one shouted, rushing toward the blaze. The men gathered, their astonishment morphing into awe as they beheld the beacon blazing forth, its light piercing the dimming sky.

Gandalf, his heart swelling with pride, broke into a broad smile as he witnessed the beacon's flame. "The beacon is lit!" he exclaimed, his voice ringing with joy. He dashed out over a parapet, his gaze sweeping across the horizon, seeking the signal that would unite the kingdoms of men. The flames danced on the mountains, a flickering promise of alliance against the encroaching darkness.

As the soldiers looked on in amazement, the fires of Gondor ignited one by one, their bright flames reaching into the heavens. "Look! The beacons are lit!" another soldier cried, pointing toward the distant peaks. The lights grew brighter, illuminating the shadows that had long threatened their lands.

Meanwhile, in the darkened chambers of the citadel, Denethor stood by a window, peering out at the light. His expression twisted with disdain and worry as he beheld the signal of hope. "Foolishness!" he muttered under his breath, retreating from the sight, an air of defeat hanging heavily about him.

But Gandalf's voice rang out clear and strong, echoing across the city and into the hearts of the soldiers. "Hope is kindled!" he declared, each word a rallying cry that surged through the ranks.

And so it continued—the beacons flared across the mountains like stars igniting the night, each fire a testament to the unity of men against the gathering darkness. Finally, far off in Edoras, Aragorn stood atop a hill, the light of the distant beacon flickering in his eyes. A smile broke across his face, understanding the significance of the signal that had spread across the land.

With a newfound resolve, he turned toward his companions, the fire reflecting in their eyes, a shared recognition of the peril that awaited them but also the hope that burned brighter with each beacon that lit the night. The flame of Gondor was alive, and with it, a spark ignited in the hearts of all who stood against the shadow.