My King: An Aragorn Love Story

Chapter 1: Magic Exists

    I plunge my blade into the Uruk-hai's stomach with a mighty roar and shove its body to the side before running again. The wall had just been breached and now the army is pouring in, with Aragorn slightly unconscious in their close path. Where is Gimli?!
    Fear takes hold of me when Aragorn has yet come to, and Gimli is nowhere in sight. I run faster, dodging blades and Uruks. "Aragorn!'' I don't even think as I jump off the ledge right into the hoard. I hear his voice scream my name over the noise....

    Beep beep! My eyes fly open in startlement. As I wake, I'm ripped away from the world within my dream and back into reality where I stare with great irritation at my ringing phone for a moment. I finally reach over to turn it off, then set it back down onto the bedside table. I then groggily sit up where I run a hand through my hair as I begin to recall my dream. It felt so real...as if I were really living in that moment. The adrenaline, fear, courage and even love, that was coursing through me as I fought and struggled to reach Aragorn was so strong that I believed it was real.
All my dreams should I be awake or asleep, matters not in diminishing the rawness of what I imagine. Every day for the past I don't know how many years, I have fantasized of what it would be like if I were in J.R.R. Tolkien's, "The Lord Of The Rings." Since the first time I had watched the phenomenal trilogy, it had instantly captured my heart, placing desire and want within. The adventures I would get to experience, the friendships I would get to build and of course, Aragorn....
    I admit that in all my scenarios, Aragorn and I fall deeply into passion. He's the one character that drew me in above all others. I've never had such luck with men in the real world. The last guy I dated left me for another woman, and he sure could have done it in a nicer way. But I suppose it was my fault... I mean I paid more attention to a man that wasn't even real.
Why can't they be like Aragorn though? Ugh. I decided I'd be better off just to stick with him. There's just something there that makes him unable to leave my mind...but alas, his heart has always belonged to Arwen.
    After reminiscing in what I could remember of the dream, I set out to get ready for a long day's work at my job as a waitress at a popular restaurant a couple blocks from my small apartment. As soon as I had become an adult, I left the foster care system with what money I had earned and looked for low-priced living and job positions nearby that I could start up on. I was grateful to have found this apartment housing for it was in the price area I could afford. I found a job not too long after that pays decent enough. Although it's nowhere near comfortable as it just barely covers my rent, supplies and food where I sometimes have to skip breakfast, I can't find anything more suitable at this time. I have no support and no other family members that I know of to help me, which makes it all the more tough; but I work very hard and put all my effort into each day placing what I can into my savings for a better future. The tips I earn at the restaurant prove to give me much aid in that.
    With an apple stuck between my teeth, I grab several protein bars as well as a water bottle and place the items in my leather satchel before leaving my apartment. I eat my apple as I go down the several flights of stairs within the building until I reach the bottom, pushing open the exit door and stepping out into the early morning sun. My slightly damp hair from the shower I took sticks to my neck and face as I begin to walk in the humid weather that is Florida's summer. Even though I'm used to the effects of the humidity, that does not make it any less unpleasant.
    While en route to work, I come to a local bakery that is owned by an elderly woman who is my favorite person and probably only real friend. I still vividly remember the first time I walked into her bakery shortly after moving here; where our friendship took off after I was having a tough time picking something from the display case. I asked her what she recommended, for most of the baked items and pastries were ones I had never even tasted before. She was surprised when she learned I had never even had an apple strudel before, which led to chatting about my childhood. She was sympathetic, but then it turned into praise when I assured her that my experiences made me who I am, and I couldn't be more thankful for what it had taught me.
    I ended up leaving her bakery that day with a bag consisting of several pastries I had never tasted; an amazing apple strudel included. It was all on the house and no matter how much I tried to decline, she basically shoved the bag into my hands! From that moment on I became very fond of her and now to this day, think of her as my grandmother.
A few of her early morning customers fill the shop and are seated at the tables as I step through the threshold with the jingle of the door behind me and move to stand in line. A smile makes its way onto my face as I watch the wonderful lady who wears an apron that looks as if it has been attacked by flour and many other ingredients, servicing people from behind the counter. She's a lovely, slightly rounded woman and the kindest person you will ever meet.
I continue to slowly make my way up until she hands the person in front of me their order, bidding them a good day. I walk up and her face morphs into a happier one, if that were even possible, when she sees me.
    "Good morning Mrs. Baker!" I lean over the counter and give her a hug which she immediately returns. I couldn't help but laugh when I first learned her name due to how much it matched with her profession.
    "Octavia my dear! It is always a joy to see you. You're the best part about my Sunday morning," she says in a sweet voice.
    I place my hand over my heart whilst giving a shake of my head. "You honor me Mrs. Baker." A carefree chuckle naturally leaves her and then proceeds to ask how I'm doing as she begins to move around arranging things from behind the counter.
    "I'm doing alright," I answer vaguely with a turn of my head to see if anyone was standing behind me waiting to be serviced, but none were. I hear her hum deeply in a doubtful manner which makes me let out a weary sigh. "It's my dreams...lately they've been feeling more and more real. Not just when I'm asleep, but also when I'm awake. I can't seem to get out of my head where I daydream. I know if I shared this with anyone else, they'd tell me I have an obsession...and maybe they're right. A woman who constantly imagines herself within a fictional world. It's pathetic!" I say in disgust, before cursing in French and fixing my head downwards. Learning another language at the orphanage I grew up in was a good way of passing the time; and now I can swear in French without offending most people since they don't know the language.
    A long moment of silence passes before she voices, "If you glare any harder you're going to bore a hole through that poor muffin."
    My eyes snap up to meet her kind ones. "Honey there's nothing wrong with loving something or someone so much that they or it fills your mind every second of everyday," she continues. "Why, I'm going through the exact same thing as you."
    My eyes widen in shock at the instant thought of her sharing my dreams before they narrow in question and disbelief. She couldn't be.... No of course not! That's crazy.... Crazy as the woman who's consumed by her desire to be in a fictional world with fictional characters? I feel myself slowly begin to freak out internally as I scrutinize her face searching for any indication of a lie.
    "With Mr. Baker of course," she quickly finishes, and I'm instantly brought out of my uncomprehending stupor releasing a scoff which then turns into a laugh. I have to give it to her. She got me.
    "So how is the love of your life?" I ask resting my elbows upon the counter wanting to change the subject.
    "Good. Really good. He's in the back helping me with inventory as of this very moment." She gestures behind us and I grin when I see the body of Mr. Baker moving about back there.
    My attention is drawn back to Mrs. Baker when she sets a bag onto the counter. "My famous beignets for Mr. Howard," she announces.
    My eyes light up as I open the bag smelling the contents. She makes a batch for her friend who is the owner of the restaurant I work at.
    "And there's another bag inside with something strictly just for you," she adds firmly, and I reach over hugging her tightly whilst saying thank you before gesturing behind her. "You'll tell him I said hello?"
    "Of course," she answers, and I take the bag wishing her goodbye before heading to the door just as someone walks in.
    "Excuse me," I voice to the nice looking fella before stepping back out onto the sidewalk into the sunlight where I continue onwards to my destination.