The Hobbit/LOTR Imagines (Requests Closed)

(Aragorn x Reader) Make It All Slow Down

(Imagine your time as a Ranger with Aragorn is beginning to wear down on you)
~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•

"Sometimes, I wish we could find a moments peace." You mumbled to yourself as you walked away from the bloody massacre of orcs behind you. It was the third attack of the day, and you were tired. Lord Elrond had sent you and Aragon out to keep the orc threat at bay and tame any danger to Rivendell. You were both Rangers after all, who knew Rivendell as a home and played your part in protecting it.

"We will get there, one day." You did not think Aragon had even heard you to be honest but as he stepped beside you you turned to give a weary smile. You weren't sure if his optimism was enough to convince you, but it was nice to believe it could maybe be true.

"Don't you ever get tired of all the fighting, Aragorn?"

He paused for a moment, thought crossing his face. "I think I would if I hadn't been raised to see it as a way of life."

You let out a small chuckle of understanding. "You are certainly a stronger person than me."

He was about to say something, most likely in protest, but you cut him off when you passed him a stale piece of bread from your pack. "Our supplies are of questionable quality." You cringed, grinding your teeth against the crust. "I can't wait to eat a good piece of steak."

Aragon let out a short laugh before biting into his share. "Oh but that is nothing compared to a full tankard of ale." He mused.

"Don't even get me started, Ranger." You sighed playfully.

Night was falling when you finally reached your next camp. You were relieved. You could do with a rest.

"Elrond will expect us back after the next two sunrises." You reminded Aragon as he stirred the broth over the fire. The warm scent filled your lungs and comforted you as you breathed in the flavours.

"And not a day later." He replied. "Or lest we face the wrath of the fearsome Lord Elrond."

You rolled your eyes and smiled. "He just worries. But then again he does send us out on these scouts to begin with."

"Because he knows we are the only ones who can be as successful in combating the orcs."

You nodded knowingly. Setting up two bowls from your pack, you passed them to Aragon to pour in the steamy soup.

When he went to pour the last one you shot him a look and he froze. He knew you had sensed something. You motioned your eyes to the left, behind the trees. He nodded carefully, placing down the bowl. Slowly rising, Aragon followed. As soon as you stood, an arrow flew past your cheek, grazing it slightly before hitting into the tree. You noted the dark red ribbon attached to the fletching. Bandits.

Your anger rose and Aragon couldn't miss it in your face. You were weary and exhausted from the constant fighting, and now you were angry.

Aragorn had his sword drawn before you could even comprehend the next arrow flying past, him hitting it away with his steel. You did the same, unsheathing your curved daggers and placing them by your side when an assembly of dark robed figures charged forward, shooting their arrows. You dodged each one and often shielded the odd one by crossing your blades on top of one another in front of you for the arrow to fly into the centre and stammer back to the ground. Each time you did it, the metal rang. It was a satisfying cling that made you even more smug when the figures tensed at their failed shots.

Running forward, you started to get to work. Your daggers danced and wounded the robed figures. One of their hoods fell down and a woman with dark painted eyes smirked as she unveiled her sword and started to push you back. You could see Aragon out of the corner of your eye weaving his sword through the threat.

You wince when you saw one of the bandits boots make it's way into your bowl of broth, spilling it every where. Honestly, them ruining your meal made your body tense more than them trying to take your life.

The woman in front of you fought back hard. Her swings were powerful and resilient but your ability to twirl around her and avoid most of them started to anger her. Before she knew it, your dagger dodged another swing and pierced her side as she rose to strike again. She fell.

You joined Aragon.

"Come now friends, we only want a little fun." One of the bandits sneered.

You ignored him and continued to fight. Suddenly you felt a cold metal place it's self by your throat and your body shivered. You had not seen it coming. How?

"Put the blade down or your woman gets it." The man growled. You saw Aragorn's face twitch. He was scared. It wasn't obvious to them but you could see his hands shake a little. You could feel your heart pounding and you hated that your capturer probably could too. As the others were beginning to walk forward with drawn swords to take Aragon after he laid his sword down, Aragon gave you a look of his own, something crossing his eyes. You dared him not too, but he did. Lifting his sword again he strikes towards the man holding you before the others got to him, but the blow never came. Instead, in the moment of hesitation, you intervened when the man lifted his dagger instinctively, grabbing his wrist and twisting him around so that his dagger now faced yours. "Place your weapons down or your man gets it." You growled, your face burning red.
They did not hesitate. But then the man reached up, trying to twist the knife back on you. You clicked then. He had threatened you, threatened Aragon. You instantly pushed his hand back to him, allowing the metal to sink into his skin, blood pooling from his lips. The other warriors backed away, their, what you supposed was their leader, now dead. You glared and they hesitated, faces of anger, before they turned back with gritted jaws.

Aragon ran to you. "(Y/n)? Are you alright."

You didn't say anything, instead you collapsed to the ground and let your blood stained blouse do the talking. He had managed to slice your flesh when he had tried to turn the dagger on you.

Aragon's eyes widened. "(Y/n), I must tend to this wound. It must be painful I-"

"I don't care about the damned wound Aragon. I have suffered worse." Your eyes started to well and you absolutely hated it. "What I care about is how endless this appears to be. Why, for one moment, can't we have peace why..." your words trailed off as you let out the held back tears. You were tired. So very tired. Aragon did not protest for a second but instantly leaned forward and embraced you. "Make it all slow down Aragon, please. I cannot go on living like this, endlessly fighting." Something about the way he held you was not just comforting but knowing. He kept silent and let you cry. Somehow, you knew he understood.

Once you had settled, you listened to his voice through his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry we don't get to live the life we both dream of. I'm so very sorry."

You stilled, looking up at him. "I thought fighting was all you knew?"

"It is," he whispered, "but it does not mean that it is all I want."

Allowing your brows to uncrease, you gaze at him feeling something. Guilt? Yes, guilt. "Aragon I-I have been so caught up on my own burdens I did not take the second to review yours."

"No, (Y/n). I don't think either of us have ever chosen to discuss this truly. We are the only Rangers of Rivendell. I fear we believe we must keep up an image so that the elves continue to have comfort in trusting that we can protect them. I think that image bleeds into our own friendship."

Suddenly, a smile touched your lips.

"What is it?" Aragon asked.

"I don't know. I think I'm just relieved to finally break down in front of you."

Aragon let out a soft chuckle. "Don't worry, it will no doubt be my turn soon." You released a small chuckle as he squeezed you again and then turned to tending your wound. "We will get through this, together. Ranger to Ranger."

You gazed at him and then nodded. "Ranger to Ranger."