Lord of the Rings Imagines

The Hardships of Love - Aragorn x Reader (angst/fluff)

The Trollshaws had always been a dangerous place, filled with Stone-trolls who came down from the north looking for people to snack on. Luckily, most of them stayed within the confines of the woods, only eating those dumb enough to trespass on their territory.

However, for the past month or so, the Trolls had been venturing out of the woods, terrorizing the many villagers and halflings who lived on the East-West Road. The situation had escalated to the point where several townsfolk got together and asked the Rangers of the North to intervene.

In (Y/n)'s mind, their plea for help was indicative of the severity of the situation; under normal circumstances, most people were too afraid of the Rangers to even mention them in conversation, let alone willingly talk to them.

You'd been sent out from Rivendell with Aragorn to diffuse the situation by whatever means you saw fit. Though you did not want the confrontation to escalate to violence, you knew it was nearly impossible to bargain with a Troll.

The two of you had ended up fighting a cohort of twenty or so Trolls, killing a few and chasing the rest back into the Trollshaws. You'd returned to the town you'd chased them out of to help dispose of the corpses and offer suggestions on how to deter the Trolls in the future ("Building some fences would not hurt," you'd said sarcastically, grinning as Aragorn stifled a laugh).

The sun was already beginning to sink beneath the horizon by the time you and Aragorn had begun your trek back to Rivendell. You'd both agreed to travel for an hour or so before setting up camp and getting some much needed sleep; you'd hopefully return to Lord Elrond's domain sometime tomorrow afternoon.

The ride was almost completely silent, save for the sounds of your horses' hooves hitting the dirt road and the crickets chirping in the woods around you. You were both extremely tired, and when Aragorn noticed a small patch of moss nestled between a cluster of trees, you'd gladly agreed to stop.

Aragorn was beginning to light a fire in the middle of the small grove, and you were making sure the horses' reins were tightly secured to a fallen branch. You tossed them both some carrots from a sack you'd brought along with you, then turned back to where Aragorn was piling wood onto a steady orange flame. You grinned, relishing in the warm feeling the fire provided.

"Thank you, Aragorn," you murmured, sitting down across from him and holding your hands up to the flames. He hummed in reply. It was early fall, and though the cooler air allowed you to fight without producing copious amounts of sweat, it was now too chilly at night for your liking. Aragorn looked up and noticed you shivering slightly.

"Would you like a blanket, (Y/n)?" he asked, gesturing to where your bags sat behind him. You shook your head and Aragorn chuckled, standing up to grab one anyways.

"Aragon, that's not necessary," you whined as he rummaged through your bag.

"If you catch a cold, the Elves back in Rivendell will tease you relentlessly for the rest of the week," he replied as he walked over to you, blanket in hand. "I'm saving you from that rather unlikable fate."

You laughed, grabbing the blanket and draping it over yourself.

"Thank you for sparing me from certain Elven humiliation, then," you said, noticing the corners of Aragorn's mouth tilting upwards into a small smile.

You'd never understood why Aragorn, or Strider as he was more commonly known, had a reputation for being serious and unfriendly. You'd known him since you were a teenager; he'd been your mentor and close companion as you trained to become a Ranger. You were used to seeing him smile and laugh, though it seemed the majority of the common folk thought he was incapable of doing so.