From Wyoming, to Middle-earth

Chap. 38 - The Falling Eye

~ALEX'S POINT OF VIEW~

I limped down the hallway, in the direction Aragorn went. Gradually, I could stretch my leg out all the way with out it hurting too much. Tall doors opened near me, and Aragorn walked out, flustered. His hands were clenched around my locket. His eyes were wide, but confident.

"Aragorn, are you alright?" I asked, concerned. He turned to me, and embraced me. I stumbled back a little, surprised.

"The closer Frodo gets to Mount Doom, the more I fret for your safety," Aragorn said, his voice muffled by my hair.

"Frodo. I hope he and Sam are alright," I said into his shoulder.

"As do I," he said, and looked back at the Palantir, "You should rest. We are departing for the black gate soon. And I'm sure, if I asked you to stay, you would not stay."

I laughed, "That's true."

We pulled away from each other, and Aragorn offered me his arm. I took it, and he walked me to the Houses of Healing. I sat down on my bed, and looked at all the wounded men being brought in. Some had to stay on the floor.

I grabbed my helmet, and tried to stand up, "I don't need a bed. Is there any chance I could get my own room?"

Aragorn pondered my question, and nodded. He led me to a hallway, and opened up a door.

"My room is across the hall, and everyone else's is in this wing as well," he said. I nodded, and I walked into the room. Two windows gave me a view of half the city, and the valley towards Osgiliath. I set my helmet down on the bed, and turned back to Aragorn.

"Where's the armory?"

He laughed, and led me outside. We walked past guards, and people bowed as he passed through. The armory was being guarded, as Gandalf said. Inside, my bow and quiver were hanging on the wall and my quiver was replenished with fresh arrows. My sword and daggers were hanging in their sheaths near my bow. Happily, I limped over as fast as I could and I put them on. I felt complete. I wanted to visit Arroch, but Aragorn told me to rest.

I laid on my bed, my chest-plate chafed against my neck. Aragorn said he would come and wake me up once we were about to leave. I shut my eyes, and took forever to fall asleep. Once I did, Aragorn woke me up by his usual 'shake-my-shoulders-gently' routine. He was dressed in the armor of Gondor. His was a little more elegant than mine, not to mention his wasn't even used yet.

"We are leaving any minute. How is your leg?" he asked me quietly.

I moved it, and it felt a little better. I stood up with surprising ease, and gently put weight on my injured leg.

"I can walk on it!" I yelled, a little too excited.

Aragorn chuckled, and walked with me out to the throne room. Pippin and Merry were in armor as well. I put my helmet on, and looked at everyone around me. Èomer asked if my leg was okay, and everyone else asked me that as well. I was growing nervous for this upcoming battle. I will die, or go home. I didn't want to do either.

Legolas clapped a hand on my shoulder and led me to the stables. Everyone seemed nervous. We all knew that it meant death for protecting Frodo, and the freedom of Middle Earth. And I knew my mom would be freed, and as for me...

Arroch gleefully nodded his head up and down, glad I was with him and glad I was alive. I saddled him up solemnly, and rode out to meet the the others. The remaining troops of Rohan and Gondor were lining up outside Minas Tirith. Arroch sensed my nervousness, and nervously pranced around. Aragorn led us out of the city, as the citizens of Minas Tirith threw flowers in our path. Like when I first rode out with Faramir.