EPIC: A Demigod's Tale by Frodo Baggins

Chapter 20

In the dim gloom of night, Aragorn was seated on a bench, situated on a landing with a railing that overlooked the walkway below. Stairs led up the platform to a narrow hallway graced with the presence of a statue holding the platter with the shards of Narsil. Opposite the statue was a painting of the epic fight of Isildur defeating Sauron. Aragorn stared moodily at the statue. The book Romeo and Juliet was open in his hands, and he usually read that story to still and clear his mind, but right now he couldn't manage to focus on the tragic love story before him. His mind kept returning to his fight against the Nazgul. He hated the fact that he had been forced to use his bending powers, and secondly, he hated the fact that he had had such a close brush with the Nazgul. If the League of Heroes hadn't shown up to assist, he would be dead and the Ring would be in the enemy's hand. Aragorn let out a heavy sigh and slumped against the pillows buffering his back. Abruptly, he noticed a figure in the shadows moving up the stairwell. He tensed and stared warily as the visitor approached. 

The newcomer halted in front of the painting of Isildur defeating Sauron and studied it. His hair hung just above his shoulders, and Aragorn discerned from the lightsaber hanging at his belt that this man must be a Jedi. 

The man studied the painting for a moment, before he turned abruptly to look at Aragorn, as if he had felt Aragorn's eyes on him. "You are no elf," he said by way of greeting. 

"Members of the League of Heroes are welcome here," Aragorn said pointedly. 

Deciding to ignore the cold response, the man nodded and smiled. "Of course. My name is Boromir. And who are you?"

"I am a friend of the League of Heroes." 

"Then we are here on a common purpose, friend," Boromir said. "I am a member of the League. Are you not a member then?"

Aragorn slowly shook his head.

"Then you should join. The League always welcomes those who would fight to protect all from the evils that assail this galaxy."

"Please spare me the recruitment spiel," Aragorn said, his voice full of annoyance.

"Right," Boromir said. He gazed around the area as though looking for something else to talk about. His eyes landed on the statue holding the silver sword shards. "Wow, is that Narsil? He walked over to the statue and picked up the hilt of the sword. Only a few inches of the sword remained, the rest had been shattered in the battle against Sauron thousands of years ago. Boromir gazed at the sword hilt and hefted it as though imagining how the full sword would look in his hands. "This is so cool. I've heard stories of this sword since I was a kid." He swept the sword hilt through the air as though its invisible blade were killing invisible enemies. Aragorn gazed on expressionlessly. When Boromir finished, he touched the edge of the blade, and looked amazed when it pierced his skin, causing a drop of blood to flow. "It's still sharp," he muttered as if to himself. He looked over at Aragorn as though remembering he were there. "But it just a broken heirloom. It's not like an old sword would do any good in Gondor anyway." He shook himself as though he had been spooked and hastily returned to the hilt to the statue's platter. In his haste, he set it near the edge, and the hilt fell to the ground with a dull clank. Boromir had already turned to walk away and didn't return to put the sword back in its place.

Snapping his book shut, Aragorn gently returned the sword hilt to the tray, looking solemn as he did so.

"Why do you fear the past?" a gentle, soothing voice asked. "You are Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself. You are not bound to his fate."

Eyes fixed on the sword, Aragorn answered Arwen. "The same blood flows in my veins." He turned to face Arwen. "The same weakness."

"Your time will come. You will face the same evil and you will defeat it." She began speaking in the elvish tongue. "The shadow does not hold sway yet. Not over you, not over me."