Lord of the Rings Imagines

Home (Aragorn x reader, angst/fluff)

Thunder was booming in the distance as Aragorn made his way towards Bree. It had not yet started raining, but he knew the storm was little more than a few moments away and did not care to end his day soaking wet.

Elrond had sent him to the South Downs, a small mountain range west of Rivendell, to deliver a message to an old friend of his. It had taken Aragorn longer to reach his destination than anticipated, and by the time his visit was done, both nightfall and this storm were fast approaching.

And so he had decided to spend the night in Bree, rather than spend the next several hours trekking back to Rivendell both tired and drenched.

He could not fail to acknowledge the swell in his heart when he saw the gates of Bree in the distance, for within the small city lay one of his closest friends.

He had known (y/n) for many years, and visited Bree whenever his busy and dangerous schedule allowed. Sometimes his visits were short, and he stayed just long enough to check in and make sure all was well, but on other occasions his visits lasted upwards of a week or two.

It had been a good while since he had seen her last. He had been sent to monitor some possibly dangerous activity southeast of Rivendell, which was in the exact opposite direction from Bree. And yes, they sent letters to each other constantly, but that was quite different from seeing her in person.

"Strider! 'Tis good to see you!" the gatekeeper called cheerfully. Aragorn smiled slightly and raised his hand as means of greeting.

"It's good to see you as well, Harry. How is everything?" Aragorn said as Harry opened the large gate.

"All's well, all's well," Harry stated, poking his head out to look at the road before ushering Aragorn inside the gates.
"Haven't seen you around here in a long time, how're you doing?"

"A little tired, but I'm well," Aragorn replied, helping Harry pull the large gate shut.

"That's a mighty good thing to hear," Harry said. "Where're you oft to, if you don't mind me asking?"

"To see (y/n), then to the inn," Aragorn stated. He noticed the shadow that seemed to cross the old man's face.

"Ahh, she would enjoy the company just about now," he said mournfully. Aragorn tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"What do you mean by that, Harry?"

"Her parents passed away just a week ago from yesterday, haven't ya heard? Oh, you wouldn't have known, never mind," Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. "'Tis a real pity, both came down with a fever one night and were gone before sunrise."

Aragorn's heart dropped. He still vividly recalled the sadness and overwhelming grief he felt after his mother passed away, and he knew the pain you were facing was bound to be worse.

"Do you know where she is, Harry?" he asked urgently.

"I'd bet the Prancing Pony, (y/n) hasn't left there since the funeral four nights ago."

"Thank you Harry," Aragorn muttered, grabbing a few coins out of his pocket and slipping them into the old man's hand.

"Sonny, you don't have t-"

"Keep it," Aragorn insisted. "Buy yourself something warm to eat before the storm hits."
...
"(Y/n), go home," Barliman said. "You've been here for two days straight, you need to rest."

You shook your head, wiping down the table in front of you more vigorously. Barliman sighed and grabbed the rag from your hand.

"Rest," he said.

"I'm fine," you grumbled, reaching for the rag.

"You are not. I've seen you nearly doze off three times within the last hour!" he exclaimed.

"I'm...I'm..." you yawned, covering your mouth with you hand.

"You're tired," Barliman said gently. You nodded. You were tired and upset and so,  so lonely, and it was getting harder for you to distract yourself.

"Oh no, (y/n), don't cry," he said, noticing your eyes beginning to fill with tears. He wrapped you in a massive hug, and you couldn't help but let out a sob.

"Go home," he said, pulling away and looking at you seriously. You nodded again.

"Thank you," you said softly as he handed you your jacket. You felt sick as you walked out of the tavern's door and into the street.

You didn't want to go home. Home. It didn't really feel like home anymore. You were young, and you lived with your parents, and now they were gone and you lived alone.

You would never come home to find your mom cooking dinner in the kitchen, or listen to your dad tell his ridiculous stories for the millionth time. Just the thought of that had pushed you over the edge again, and you were crying in the street.

"(Y/n)!" Your head shot up at the familiar voice.

"(Y/n)!" Again. You spun around, vigorously wiping the tears out of your eyes to make sure you weren't seeing things.
His heart ached at the sight of your red rimmed and watery eyes, and he sprinted across the street and wrapped you into his arms.

You started crying into his strong embrace.

"Hey," Aragorn said soothingly, pulling the hood on your cloak over your head as it started to rain. "I'm here, it's alright."

"You're here," you repeated, your voice quivering as you looked up at him. "Why are you here?"

"I'll always be here when you need me," he said softly. He had reached to hold your hand and was rubbing small circles into your palm with his thumb. His kindness touched you.

"My parents-," you started, letting out a loud sob. Aragorn held you tighter to him.

"I know, I know," he muttered, looking up into the rain, and then down at you as you shivered. "Come on (y/n), let's get you home."

And suddenly the thought of home, snuggled up with Aragorn by the fire, didn't seem so bad at all.