The Return of the King

"Who dares to enter the land of Gondor, all without the phrase of the dead?"

All has been continued since the dawn of time, and without further instruction to be breed onto our hearts, the more we bite our lips in anguish, turning from the men in the hall, and patiently skipping out of the hall. Only then, there are little kids looking for hope, looking and searching for their parents who were lost in the battle. Aragorn looked briefly toward the ceiling as if in deep penetrating thought. He returned, tapped the handle of his mighty sword, and broke free from his distractions, leaving the hall with the remainder of the men built in attired armor. As he entered the outside of the world, the wind was quiet and stood still in nature. The echos from the battle could be heard across the mainframe of its entire constructive phase, passing on the waves and waters of the river, becoming louder than the distance prescribed.

“Here am I, standing clear of the battle that continues in the distance, and hearing great swords clang against the burning sun,” said Aragorn in high fashion. “They fight, and without traveling hope to occupy them. It should seem I should entertain myself with battle, only to suffer loss,” he unsheathed his sword, and holding it clear before the waters, he announced a name and the waters passed between his surface, spreading upwards toward the heavens in mighty thrones. “Bring forth the dead, as we might fight to survive another round of anger and possibility,” onto that instance, the dead, which bore swords and axe came forward from the ship he held his line against. The spirits of the dead entreated the orcs with power, and caused them to suffer and fell with astonishment.

Loud cheers came from behind the walls of Gondor, and, as the men watched the ships enter the stage, the black curtains sailed perfection without timid entertainment. Long black sails showered and over treated with stars positioned to the west, and upward toward the north their bears a moon sickle clammed in trust. Aragorn released the sails, and was able to show surprise to the men of Gondor, fighting for their final battles across the stretch of a memory.

“And now,” announced Aragorn in leadership and subtle change, “become true to the manner of the living, should they be falsely accused of living!” the spirits rose more and more, leaving trails of slaughtered orcs laid bare in the destruction of the battlefield. The mountains shivered in the East, and decided to build an alliance with the men, but soon would false into dead alliance. “No alliance shall be made to concrete evidence,” Aragorn said to Legolas and Gimli, standing beside him in true form. “The land of Mordor has searched for alliance with users of this world, but we are far from this world and live in more plausible places.

“Come closer, bearer of Isuldur, champion of Gondor, born to release fragments of the dead int the living,” said the leader of the spirits, banning his words to short sentences to find exact measure of good structure.

“As I should be,” said Aragorn in defense. “We shall now leave to use war against the enemy, you, on the other hand, might return to the place where you might rest and be assured of good will.”

“Just as it may,” replied the spirit. “We shall go, continue on and dissuade the lives of those who are impatient against you, my lord.”

“Indeed,” he replied, and with a wave, the spirit returned to the sea, into the lower bits of mountains, and vanished with the rest of his army.

Author's Note

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