When Two Worlds Divide (On Hold)

Chapter 4 - Return To The Wild

Just as a warning I think this is going to be a pretty short chapter, I hope you enjoy!

The Sun had just set and the shadows lengthened beneath the trees. Darkness  surrounded a small figure crouched against the roots of a great oak, rocking slowly back and forth. How long he had crouched there, Aragorn didn't know, didn't care. What was the point of caring anymore? He had left Rivendell a few weeks ago, he couldn't be sure when. Since leaving, he had travelled as fast as he could in any direction that brought him away, eventually ending up to the East and North of Imladris.

It had been raining for a long time now and Aragorn was soaked. Shivers and uncontrollable sobs wracked his body, and his teeth chattered in between desperate gasps for air. He could feel himself beginning to fall ill from the long exposure to the cold, and already a headache has formed behind his eyes, and his throat felt raw and painful. His gasping sobs did nothing to help his steadily deteriorating condition, nor did the fact that he had given up on building himself any form of shelter about a week ago.

In a weak, half-hearted attempt to escape the chill of the rain and wind, he pulled his sodden cloak tighter around his shoulders, and pulled his hood down further. Exhausted from walking so far and so swift, he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Estel sits high in the branches of a tall tree. The sun is shining and Rivendell is spread out before him. It's many windows sparkle in the morning sun, and Estel can hear the elves laughing and singing inside, or hidden in the gardens. It is beautiful, here in his home. Suddenly, Estel catches sight of a very familiar elf-lord walking towards him. Scrambling down through the thick branches, he reaches the ground just as the elf wanders past. Estel runs after him, calling, "Ada!" He shouts. The elf-lord stops, and turns. But instead of a friendly welcome for his son, he frowns deeply. Sneering at a confused  Estel, he draws his sword. "Come for justice, murderer?" He spits. "Well, here you shall find it."

Aragorn awoke with a jolt. It was just a dream. He told himself. Sîdh, Estel. Pân natha mae. Only, it wasn't. And he wasn't Estel anymore. He was Aragorn, outcast from Rivendell and alone in the wilds. And he was a murderer, or at least he might as well be. Murderer. Sighing, Aragorn stood and looked around him. He should keep walking. He couldn't stay here. That same dream had plagued him constantly since... since it had happened. And he couldn't risk it becoming more than that. A dream. So he kept moving, further and further North, further and further East. Lost, confused, and unable to care about the world in which he had found himself, he did not realise just where his path was leading him. Did not realise just how much worse his seemingly insurmountable situation was about to become.