𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

Aragorn, the heir of Isildur, was a man burdened with a destiny heavier than his sword.
His heart had long belonged to Arwen, daughter of Elrond—an Elf whose eyes held the light of the stars.
Their love had crossed the boundaries of mortality and immortality.

To destroy Sauron’s Ring, Aragorn set out with his companions:
Legolas, the sharp-eyed Elf of the forests;
Gandalf, the Grey Wizard;
Gimli, the steadfast Dwarf with his loyal axe;
Boromir, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin.

Their path led them to the lands of Isildur, where fate never rested.
But along the way, Frodo chose to bear the burden of the Ring alone and parted from the group,
for some paths must be walked in solitude.

And that was where you were.

You were a simple village girl, working in the castle.
No magic. No legendary blade.
Only a heart that had quietly, hopelessly fallen for Aragorn.

He knew.
And with painful honesty, he told you that this was not true love,
because his heart belonged to another.
You accepted the truth—
even if your heart could not.

Then the battle began.

Orcs poured into Isildur like living shadows.
The ground trembled with screams and steel.
Arrows flew from every direction, and Aragorn stood in the heart of the battlefield,
unbroken—
like a king who had not yet claimed his crown.

When you saw the archers aiming at him,
you did not think.
You did not hesitate.
You ran.

You placed yourself between him and his fate.

And the arrow—
struck you.

You fell into Aragorn’s arms,
the man you loved,
the man who could never be yours.

For the first time, fear filled his eyes.
He called your name.
His hands trembled as he held you.