The Night's Wanderer

30. The Last Stand

Watching as the two elves ended their heartfelt embrace, Legolas pausing as he gazed into the unique eyes of the Night Wanderer, Aragorn wore a joyful grin while his eyes showed another emotion.

Overall he felt glad and joyous that Morel had her sight returned to her, no longer reliant on their teasing observations when needed. But the undeniable love between the couple is what pulled at his heart strings.

Now in the land he should call home his mind plagued itself with thoughts, torturing thoughts, of how his life could have come to be. Arwen a queen at his side, a few children running around with her dark as the night hair or flawless skin and slightly pointed ears. Causing harmless havoc within the Kingdom while Aragorn sat upon the throne, heavy crown upon his head, but content with the life forced to his name. And his people would have been safe from the pain and torture faced in the last few years. He would have ruled as fairly as he could, giving them all a chance of life and freedom.

What a time that would have been.

Instead dark forces fought for control of the land, and Aragorn ignored the namesake for himself.

"I led Frodo and Sam to their deaths," Gandalf murmured to himself in realisation, pulling those around him from their thoughts.

Aragorn took a moment to push his torturing thoughts backward and focusing on the task at hand.

"There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that." Aragorn deemed, a glint in his eyes at the idea he had. 

Morel gave an agreeing nod, already knowing what had to be done. She had heard much for her Council and Lady when nights were cloudless, now not being one of those nights, but the rule enforced since she first became a Wanderer for the Night Council still remained. 

She could not leave her task incomplete. 

Failing the Night Council was not acceptable. 

And with a task as important as the destruction of the One Ring, she could only imagine the pain of the consequences to failing. 

"How?" Gimli spoke up, still comfortably lounging on the steward's chair. He hadn't seen the determined glint in Aragorn's eyes. 

If he had, maybe he would have realised the plan of the uncrowned King would be just like the others he had during their travels, insane and dangerous but successful. 

"Draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands. Then we gather out full strength and march on the Black Gate." Aragorn explained. 

Gimli choked on the smoke from his pipe. 

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms." Éomer protested. 

Morel shook her head in disagreement of the Horse Lord. 

"It is not victory for ourselves," Aragorn clarified, offering Morel a small nod in thanks of her agreeing with him, "But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

"A diversion." Legolas nodded. 

"If it is his attention you wish to hold, I am one who can do that." Morel spoke up, voice calm and confident in her words. "My Lady has told me many scenarios for how the past few days might have gone. And this, Aragorn's plan, I have heard no other option with as much success as this holds."

Gandalf sent Morel a stern glance, scolding the small child he still saw. She was signing herself up for her own demise, he would not allow her to do that. Not after everything he had done to keep her safe and from the hands that killed her people and parents.