Fool of a Took!

A/N: Reader is HEAVILY based on Turin Turambar, that’s why you have an OP sword and a somewhat tragic past. There are some changes though, Beleg, who was sadly unintentionally killed by Turin, doesn’t exist here. A character based on Nienor doesn’t exist here, so you won’t get involved in incest, don’t worry. Sorry for the lack of originality. 

This is a female reader, I’m really sorry to any male readers out there, but I find that I relate to Turin personality wise, so I just inserted myself in this. Still, anyone can read this if you wish, gender and race is just specified.

This is a favorite of mine, so I hope you feel the same, or at least enjoy reading this. I’ve been having writer’s block for days now.

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Everywhere you went, danger followed.

It was a complete surprise to you when after weeks being in the Fellowship, you still haven’t done any harm to them, intentional or not. If anyone knew who you truly were, then they have certainly heard of your deeds, both great and evil.

During the council, you were the third to join, assuring Frodo he has your sword. The sword you wielded served you well ever since you kept it in your possession. It was a unique sword, not like the others, not even Narsil, which was almost nothing more than an ordinary sword, or in the words of Boromir, a broken blade, if you come to think of it, could compete.

The sword of yours has done amazing and terrible things. It was a black sword that could cut through iron, glowed at the most random times, it really stood out whenever you unsheathed it. It also spoke when needed, which terrified you at first, but you dealt with it, luckily the sword only spoke to you whenever everyone else was asleep or you were alone.

You saw joining the Fellowship as a good chance to possibly redeem yourself and run away from the past. However, after arriving in Lothlorien, Galadriel looked into your eyes and forced you to relive all of your horrible deeds. You had realized you could not ignore your past, no matter how much you desperately wanted to, but you wanted to abandon it, to prove that you are no longer the unbearable impulsive person you once were.

Those memories were what kept you up at night. And if you were able to get some sleep, it was filled with nightmares that only repeated what happened during that fateful day.

One particular night, you refused to sleep, blankly staring down at the glowing black sword of yours. It was not always yours, it once belonged to your brother then it eventually came to you.

It was the same sword that claimed your brother’s life.

Your younger brother that you swore to protect with your own life. Ever since your home was overrun by orcs, your father was captured and killed. Your mother sent you far away from home, promising she would follow, but she never came, that was the last time you had seen her.

As the oldest, and with no one else around, you took it upon yourself to take care of yourselves, putting your brother first, always saving his life and even risking your life when necessary. You defended him from anyone who dared to cross him, to the point that your devotion cost someone’s life.

From a distance, Aragorn stood, keenly watching you. In your stoic expression, he noticed a faint hint of sorrow. Wanting to comfort you, he made his way to you.

“What troubles your mind?” Aragorn sat beside you, interrupting your thoughts, making you glance at him. “You are barely getting any sleep. Something is keeping you up.” He was trying to make sure he wasn’t pressuring you into telling him in case it was personal.

You shook your head at him. “It’s nothing.” But he saw right through you. The slight shaking of your hands that suddenly gripped tightly on your sword, it betrayed you. He correctly deduced that the sword had to do with it, but he wasn’t sure what about it could make you so upset.

“That sword of yours, it is more than just a black sword. It holds malice in it, does it not?” Aragorn asked. All his assumptions were correct. He could rarely be fooled, not even you, the most closed off person in the Fellowship, could hide secrets from him for long.

Maybe letting out all of your feelings and opening up to someone was actually what you needed to do all along. You couldn’t keep everything a secret anymore, you have been desperately wanting to tell someone, but you were afraid of the backlash you would get for everything you have done, that was the last thing you needed at the moment. 

“This sword does have malice in it. It was forged by a Dark Elf long ago. You may or may not believe me, but I am not lying by telling you, this sword speaks to me occasionally.” Much to your relief, you noticed Aragorn was listening word by word.

“This sword was not always black, nor was it always mine. It belonged to my brother once. It was passed down to me when he died.”

Aragorn saw the expression of yours drastically change as you spoke of your brother, and he thought he shouldn’t have brought it up, it was getting personal already. “There is no need to tell me if-”

But you interrupted him. “I know I don’t have to tell you, but I want to. I can’t keep this to myself, I have been shutting everyone out who has been asking me my own past or the history of this sword I now own. And you are the only one that is willing to listen.” Aragorn nodded as you sighed, preparing yourself to confess every evil deed you have brought upon either yourself or others.

“When I was 9 years old, my father had been captured by orcs and tortured to death. We knew instantly, because when we slept that night, all of us had seen what happened in our dreams. I suppose my mother figured out the orcs were making their way to our home, maybe to end our bloodline, as she sent me and my brother away. That was the last time I ever saw her. She told us she would follow us, but she never came.”

“Ever since, I swore to myself to protect my brother from absolutely any harm that could get in our way. He was younger than I am, he couldn’t take care of himself as well back then. It only grew when years passed, I was still as protective of him as I was the day I took on the responsibility to care for him.”

“Little things such as mockery were not tolerated by me. I had a temper then, which I eventually learned to control, but I used to have a difficult time handling it. One day, an elf had compared my brother and I, who were humans, to animals. I saw in the eyes of my brother how hurt he was, in a rage, I threw a glass right at the elf, and injured him. My brother and I left as quickly as we could before the elf could do anything else.”

“The next day, while I was alone in the woods, the elf had attempted to ambush me. But I was faster than he could ever wish to be, and I caught him. My anger from the previous day had not fully diminished, so I thought it would be a great idea to humiliate him by stripping him off of his clothes. I had threatened him, and in embarrassment, he fled, unaware of his senses, he ran all the way to the edge of the cliff, then fell to his death.”

“That was when I began to realize how much of a monster I really was. I ran far away, not letting anyone know where I went, so I was deemed missing by those who knew me. But I had gone to a place filled with orcs, and fell right into a trap. I was ambushed and badly wounded, and bound me to leave me to my death. I had fallen unconscious from my injuries.”

“My brother traveled far to look for me. He’s not ready to lose his sister, his only family left. It took a while, but he did eventually find me. He tried to untie with his own hands, but saw that the orcs tied the ropes too tight, so he used his sword to remove the bounds.”

“Unfortunately, the sword slipped off his hands and cut my flesh. I awoke in an instant, but my vision was poor at that moment, I felt a presence right by me. I thought it was orcs executing me, so in an instant, I grabbed something closest to me, the sword that cut me, then swung at whoever was right in front of me. I heard the figure fall to the floor, so I knew it was dead.”

“I rubbed my eyes after that, then my vision became clear. I looked at the ground trying to see the orc, but to my horror, it was not an orc at all. It was my brother, who was trying to save me, and I murdered him in response. I noticed the sword was feeling weird, so I looked at it only to see it gradually turning black, as its previous owner had just been slain by the sword. I remember crawling over to his body and holding him close to me, mumbling broken apologies, begging him to come back, but all of it was useless. He was dead, nothing could change that.”

“I buried him myself, in a more peaceful place somewhere. I was defenseless, my own sword had broken when I was ambushed by the orcs, so I took my brother’s sword for myself. It was too powerful to be left without an owner. Just owning it reminds me of what I had done, I don’t want to think about it because I carried a heavy guilt, it was my biggest regret, my worst mistake.”

Not bearing to look at the sword, you let go of the sword, allowing it to fall to the floor, making a loud noise that would’ve woke everyone up had they been in the place where you and Aragorn were. You broke down, not caring if anyone else was watching, you were grieving over the death of your brother, which you haven’t done in a long time. You were covering your face with your hand as tears ran down, then you looked down in shame.

Aragorn was stunned. He felt ridiculous because he related to you when it came to hiding from something, but the reasons were different. He was running away from his lineage, trying to ensure he would never have to rule Gondor as the king, something Elrond used to reprimand him for. His relation to Isildur made him very hesitant, he knew very well what his ancestor had done, failing to destroy the One Ring when he got the chance.

But you? You were going through something completely different. You were running away from your past. You were a different person then, you knew very well the Fellowship wouldn’t like you at all if you never tried to change into a better person. You had led someone to their death, and even committed kinslaying.

His own story was absolutely nothing compared to yours. He had never committed anything as terrible as you have, fearing his own bloodline seemed like a joke.

You felt a hand land softly on your shoulder. Slowly, you pulled your hand away and looked up at Aragorn. You were expecting to be judged by him, but instead, you saw his face was full of pity. Your jaw dropped, it was not the reaction you were expecting at all, however, you appreciated it as he was listening to everything and remained calm to the end.

“I do not think you are a monster,” said Aragorn, “you may have done horrible things, but you are genuinely trying to become a better person. That is more than enough, and your attempts are working, you are a different person than you once were, you have changed for the better. But your dark thoughts are what makes you think different.”

“I was horrible then, and I still have the potential to be during this journey,” you said looking away from Aragorn, “I made someone jump off a cliff, and worst of all, I am a kinslayer. I am not called a kinslayer by others for nothing.”

“You are not who you think you are.”

At those words, you turned to look at Aragorn again, who was beginning to speak again. “Your past does not define you. It is a fact that not everyone will take your confession as well as I did, nonetheless I am glad that you chose to open up about this, even if it is just to me only, it is a sign of trust. I will be with you if you need if you wish to tell someone else, and I will even stand up for you if any of our companions belittle you for your past mistakes.”

For the first time in Lothlorien, you smiled. Those words touched you, you were grateful to have Aragorn by your side, and you made sure you were going to do the same, to be there for him whenever he begins to feel insecure about his bloodline, his relation to Isildur, or when he doubts his leadership abilities for becoming a king.

“Thank you, Aragorn. I did not know it until now, but I needed those words of comfort. I thank you again for your compassion.”

In that moment, Aragorn began to realize that if your past does not define you, then his own bloodline definitely doesn’t define him as well. He also realized that he had overlooked the great achievements Isildur accomplished in his lifetime, even if he failed to destroy the One Ring, he was the one who cut Sauron’s fingers off which was enough for Sauron’s defeat in the Second Age.

Then eventually, the unthinkable happened. Aragorn was proud to have the same blood as his ancestor’s run through his veins. 

He was proud to be Isildur’s heir.

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