An Unexpected Fanfiction: The Hobbit & LOTR One Shots

Misconception

(requested by the splendid Eleftheria01! Thank you so much for the request!)

Type: One-shot

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Hope you like!

"The sky bodes well this night. We should walk with ease."

I nod, draw the straps of my pack a little tighter on my back, then do the same to my thin gloves. The seasons are changing across the world; cold seeps into every evening and most dawns these days. Daylight fades faster and we have heard news of travel up North being slowed by wind, sleet, and snow. Time for rest and relaxation is rare to the Dúnedain and those traveling with them- in this case, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, rightful heir to the Throne of Gondor, and myself. Aragorn is also, to my neverending delight and affection, my fiancé, as of about a month ago, though I have loved him from the first, and he has long felt the same. Eight years have passed since our first meeting, and I cherish every moment, the good, the bad, and everything that comes in between.

 We have not long known we would need to make this journey- to Bree, that is -for it was only a week since we learned of the Nazgûl's reappearance in the Free People's lands and determined we must track their evil purpose. To our good fortune, it seems, the air tonight has retained the sun's warmth, at least for a little while longer, and so our travel is pleasant. As we walk, I hum a tune Aragorn taught me a few years back, the song remembering the love of Beren and Lúthien, and he joins in after a minute, and we harmonize, at peace together for just a moment.

Having been tipped off by an old friend of both of us, Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood to the East, of the Nine making haste toward the West and knowing of Frodo Baggins' possession of the One Ring through Gandalf's careful deductions, we began our journey as soon as we knew which way to head: South. Here in the North, barren, frigid wastelands are roamed and inhabited by the Dúnedain, which is where I first met Aragorn. A Ranger not entirely by choice, I was not prepared for the harsh conditions and loneliness this life would bring, and Aragorn saw this and took me under his wing. For that, I am forever grateful.

"See anything down there?"

I grunt, swat his arm. Peering above the tall grasses, I move swiftly, Aragorn keeping stride right beside me, as always. He can run much faster if he so chooses, but in all of eight years of knowing him, not once has he gone ahead. It is a subtle gesture, yet endearing. His mild teasing of my short stature, however, is still affectionate, but not quite as sweet.

"If there's a goblin nibbling at my knees, you'll be the first to know."

I glance at him and see he is smiling, though barely, his lips quirked up just enough to express his mirth to no one in particular. I like his smile, as small as it may be. It is often the only thing that can bring me joy after a rough day. Even after all this time, seeing him smile never gets old. 

"Wyn."

He touches my arm, abrupt and urgent, and at this motion and the whisper of my name, I freeze in sync with him. There is a light up ahead, in the brush, I see it a moment after he has. A rustling swishes through the grass, echoed by the sheer rock scattered upon the earth in this marsh-like plain.

"Bandits?" I ask, knowing they are common in the area just North of Bree, though unsure of how their numbers have grown (or, perhaps, diminished) in the year or so since we've last come down this path.

"Stay low to the ground."

A scream pierces the air, mixing with the crackling of the distant fire and the rustle of the grass in the twilight breeze. Instinctively, I make a move forward, but Aragorn grabs my arm, halting me.