A Letter To Arwen by Ashley Kong


To my beloved,


As you may have noticed, I have grown weak. The silence of our chambers being a constant companion to me for the past few days. I fear I am losing, Arwen. I fear that I am beginning to fade.


I have decided to write you a letter. Time has begun to slip through my finger tips, too quickly for my words. A letter seemed the only way for me to get my thoughts out in the short amount of time I have left. You will not see these words until I have already passed though, I have asked for the letter to be given to you then.


It is in the most sorrowful times that we begin to wonder. Wonder what life would be like if we chose a different path, if we never met certain people. I wonder these now while writing this to you. Do not fret, they are not of us. That is one thing I would never wonder, never regret. You are the light of my life— you are as beautiful as freshly fallen snow, as the brightest of stars. Even as I age, and time takes its toll on my body and soul, you remain the same, unchanged by the hands of time. Forever you remain beautiful … no. . not beautiful, but something more. You are so beautiful that words cannot even properly describe you. A radiant sun you shine in the sky for all to see, for all to bask in your warmth—the most brilliant of sunsets and sunrises not being able to match your glow, your shine.


The times we’ve spent together have been the best in my life, even if it has been short. Through the shadows and back our love has survived … and I thank you. I thank you for believing in us, even when all seemed lost. I thank you for the life you have given me. And I thank you for remaining by my side.


Please do not cry for long, for even in death, I cannot bear it. When you shed tears, it is as if the sun has died and the world has fallen to utter darkness. But when you smile… when you smile it is like the most gorgeous of nights, when the sky is filled with stars. So smile. Smile for all to see, smile when you read my words, smile to remember me. Through your smile I will live on.


It pains me to write this … in knowing that these will be my last words to you. Just know that my love will always be with you. In your dreams I will wait. In your memories I will linger. In your heart I will be, forever.


Namaarie, Melamin (Farewell, my love.)


~ Aragorn





















Orcs by Ashley Kong


They were surrounded. Orcs crowded around them, not too close, but just enough to be a threat. No one moved, only stared. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as the man gripped the hilt of his sword. Behind him stood the midnight haired elf, her own weapon in her hand. The icy blue eyes of the ranger never left the many Orcs as he stepped backwards. Orcs were not a worry to the man when they were in small packs… but when they were in such a large group such as this, who knows what would happen.


With his sword out at the ready before him, Aragorn turned his head slightly in the direction of his love. “You must leave,” he hissed, knowing very well that such a thing would be difficult. But she was quick, and she was swift. If she left before anything began, she wouldn’t be caught.


Before he could say anything more, the Orcs charged. Aragorn turned his attention to the crowd, his mind torn between the fight and the safety of his companion. He lunged forward, penetrating the armor of an Orc’s through the stomach.


With fluid movements he slashed and dodged, his eyes every so often searching for the female. At times he would catch sight of her, but just as quickly he would be distracted once more. In his heart he knew she was doing well— she was a skilled fighter after all. And yet, he worried.


Distracted by his thoughts, an enemy was able to lay a hit on him; the sharp feeling of a blade slashing his arm jolting him from his mind. A small cry escaped his lips and he whirled around, slashing the Orc’s neck, cutting his head clean off. In that instant, he noticed the two of them had defeated a majority of the enemy forces. Only a few lingering Orcs remained. Aragorn continued to finish off the remainder of them, Arwen too ending their lives.


Just when he thought it was over, he noticed a movement in the corner of his eye. From behind a tree, an Orc stepped out,  a bow in his grasp. It raised and aimed at the dark haired elf whom was currently preoccupied with her own fight. Eyes widening, a cry came from the ranger’s throat— quickly he darted towards Arwen. There he ran, so quickly he felt he was floating, that any moment he would kick off from the ground and glide away.


With wide arms, Estel stepped in front of Arwen, shielding her from the line of sight of the Orc. Without even realizing it, the said Orc fired, the arrow slicing through the air at an alarming rate. A silent gasp escaped the mortal’s lips as the arrow pierced his stomach. There, the world stopped. Everything went silent. No leaves fell from the trees around them, no wind traveled past, nothing. Wide eyes fixed themselves on the Orc, whom was fairly pleased with his shot. The sword, which was still being held by the man, was raised. Even though an arrow protruded from his stomach, Aragorn knew that if he did nothing, Arwen would still be in danger. Even if he knew that she could take care of herself. At that thought he dashed forwards, thrusting his sword into the throat of the archer. With a gurgling cry, the Orc collapsed.


There Aragorn stood, blood seeping through his clothes. The world seemed hazy, though he tried to stay awake and aware. He turned, facing Arwen, but not a second after his knees buckled and he collapsed.








Burn II: The Destroying Of Laketown by Ashley Kong


“Hurry! ” To his siblings did he direct the command, turning his head around quickly— only to notice a blur from the sky. Quick was the movement, an instant of midnight dusted dreams and immense terror. His heart raced as he placed his hands on his sibling’s arm, who was holding the hand of their youngest sister. From there the three of them ran, through the docks, across the now burning woods of the ground, over the lake of ice and bitter night. Flames licked the edges of the town, slowly engulfing the lake in an uproar of orange and red. Screams and the sound of hurried footsteps echoed throughout as the townspeople fled the wrath of the winged fiend.


Distracted by not only what was going on around them, but also for the safety of his sisters, and his father. So much so that he hadn’t even realized how close the flames were to the three of them. For not even a moment did they pause, searching for a route to escape by. Bain took a step forward, his sisters already running towards a boat they had spotted. From behind, did the building collapse— soundless, any noise it would have made masked by the conflagration.


Across his back, the lad felt something strike him. Though he did not know, a slab of wood dropped from the collapsing building at an alarming rate, eventually slamming into him. In an instant, he fell, once again seemingly soundless. Though his sisters did not notice, continuing to rush off. From his lips did he cry, an empty soundless cry. He gasped his sisters’ names, pleaded, begged to be helped. Pinned to the planks of the ground, he remained virtually motionless. The feeling of heat snaking up his leg, slowly scorching his left side. Tears stung his eyes as he struggled to get free, but to no avail. His heart and mind raced as his eyes darted around him, to the rubble and burning wooden remains pinning him, and to the sky. His world grew hazy and distant after a few minutes of his fruitless struggle. The last thing he heard was a roar from the jaws of their destroyer, the feeling of flames nipping the left side of his body, and then all went black.







Sleepless Night by Ashley Kong


His arrival to Imladris was like any other visit. Calm and collected he was as he greeted the friendly faces, especially his Arwen. For nearly two years he had been away, and although this time may be short for elves, for the man it was a lifetime. He couldn’t bear being away from his beloved any longer. But things were… different. The ranger’s eyes held a strange look to them— sorrow filled his once cheerful gaze. Perhaps something happened during the time that passed, something, anything that would affect him. He had been through much over the past two years— the usual Orcs, wandering alone, finding refuge in a small town…

Aragorn smothered the memories for now, not wanting to dwell on them for the time being. Sleep was something he needed, something he deserved. But as he lay there in his bed, the room silent and the door shut, his mind could not find safety from his thoughts. They haunted his every waking moment. In his dreams they would undoubtedly find him as well. As he opened his eyes, he turned to lay on his side, his back facing the door. Dark brown strands fell into his face as he succumbed to his memories.









The Sweet Arms Of Sleep by Ashley Kong



The kindness the hobbit had shown the ranger was one he would never forget. She had offered him a place to sleep, though he did not ask. She knew he had no where to go, and for this, he was grateful. 


The home in which she called her own was small, to him at least, but also very cozy. He could see why she enjoyed it a lot. Strider had expected to sleep on a couch of sorts, so when she led  him to his own room, he didn’t know what to say. Thank you, of coarse, but he felt as if it wasn’t enough. None the less, he accepted the room and eventually went to sleep there, the door closed. 


That night, when the sweet arms of sleep wrapped themselves around his fatigued form, he dreamt. Of darkness and mist, towering trees and a chilling breeze. Alone he stood, eyes wandering the area, a feeling of being watched consuming him. No weapon was by his side, causing him to feel vulnerable. His cloaked form began to creep through the forest, his eyes having a strangely difficult time adjusting to the night. And that’s when he saw it. A distant form of a body, head down and hair covering the face. Aragorn couldn’t make out who it was, so he crept closer. Silently, the only sound coming from the crunching of the leaves around him. As he neared, the form became clearer, but the face did not. He was curious, and foolish, for the curiosity distracted him from the feeling of eyes on him— until it was too late. A sharp object, undoubtedly a sword, was thrust into his stomach from behind. A silent yelp escaped his lips, and then everything went black. 


A small cry escaped his throat as he jolted awake, his body shooting up. He grabbed for his sword, which he placed beside the small bed, quickly unsheathing it. The force of basically jumping from the bed and unsheathing his sword caused the ranger to fall and land on the ground with a loud thud. He gasped, dropping the sword to the side with a clang. For a moment he sat there, catching his breath, realizing he was still in the house of his hobbit companion. He hung his head, small beads of sweat trickling down his neck, his hair falling in his face. 


The knock startled him, to say the least. Aragorn stood from where he sat, brushing the imaginary dust from his clothes. “… all is well… ” he replied, his voice obviously strained. He bent down, quickly grabbing his sword, and moving to sheath it.








A Letter From Aragorn by Ashley Kong





To the one whom I swore to protect, to the Hobbit who knew nothing more than his home, to my friend,

While writing this letter to you, I cannot help but wonder where you may be. How far along your journey you are, and if you are well. Beside your side a specific valiant hobbit follows, that I do know. Never lose sight of him, Frodo. For he cares for you, we all do. The days may grow dim throughout your travels, and the nights may grow long and bitter, but never lose sight of those who care for you. They are your beacon, your star, your savior— they are there for you when all hope may seem lost.

You may wonder why I write to you now, of all times… Such news that I must share with you is not easy to bare…

but I am dying.

By the time this letter reaches your grasp, I will be long passed. Suddenly this seems, yes I know. And I am sorry. I regret not being able to follow you until the end… to help you and to protect you… But it is my time to go. A fatal wound is something one can not reverse, but only halt for a moment. Long enough for me to write this to you. Long enough for me to ask for your forgiveness.

Although I cannot be by your side when the new days of hope and life fill the land, I hope you will think of me. I know you will make it, Frodo. There is a light in you that shines through the darkness. Others may not see it, see your strength, but I do.

Just continue to ride forward, my friend. May you never lose sight of life, love, and all those pure and good in the world.


~ Aragorn






Strider by Ashley Kong

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“Strider! Oh my goodness, its been so long.”

Clouds hung heavy in the sky as the ranger stood at the halfling’s front door. He wore his usual attire, the hood up, though he was soaked. Rain fell from the sky, not as heavy as before, but not yet a drizzle.  

“That it has, my friend. ” He offered a small smile. A part of him wanted to ask if he could come it, but he did not want to insist or make her feel like she was obligated to. If she was  busy, he would just return at another time. And yet, that was the problem. He wasn’t sure there would be another time. Which is the subject in which he wanted to discuss with her.





Long Live The King Of Gondor by Ashley Kong

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This was not goodbye, no, for he would live on in the hearts of his children, of his wife. He would only truly die once the last whisper of his name was spoken, if all had forgotten him. But he would survive in the tales of his life, of the deeds he had completed. ” all things must come to an end… my daughter. in the realm of the living we may fade… but death is merely a new life, a new beginning” he smiled weakly as he stroked his daughter’s cheek, wiping the tear from her fair skin.And with those words spoken, he looked towards his wife, taking her hand in his own. They shared their last kiss before she stood back up, their hands still intertwined.

aa’ menealle nauva calen ar’ malta (may your ways be green and golden) ,” he spoke softly, towards his family. Their glances broke his heart, knowing that this ended a short life he had with them. But he could no longer fight the fatigue, the sweet lull of the end. So he closed his eyes slowly, the last exhales of breath leaving his lungs. His hand fell from his daughter’s cheek, the other went limp in his wife’s grasp.

There marked the end of a ranger, a husband and father, the King of Gondor.






Focus On My Voice by Ashley

Trinity McCall Ashley Kong 1




“Focus on my voice.”


Focus on my voice.


And that, he did. Or in truth did he try. The world around him spun, though he was still as the most motionless of stones. Upon the ground he lay, unmoving, his breathing shallow. Pain pierced through his abdomen where he had been speared. Though the forces of Sauron had been defeated long ago, a few Orcs still wandered about in small groups. What they did was beyond him— most likely bandits of sorts. The King, older than he was during the War of the Ring, grabbed his sword and headed towards the Orcs. Deemed unwise it may have been, he did not care.


Elessar defeated them with ease, even at his age. When his daughter approached, and a hidden Orc with a bow and arrow showed itself, he panicked. Kicking off from the ground, running towards her as quickly as his legs could carry, he shielded her. His form jerked as the force of the arrow slammed into him. Where the Orc disappeared to, he did not know, for everything became still. The world froze, and his form collapsed— to his knees first, and then to his back. The wound was deep, life threatening, but not completely hopeless. If he received help now, if he was bandaged and healed now, he would survive. Time was of the essence.

For many a day…by Ashley Kong

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For many a day the man had been bothered. He kept his worries and thoughts to himself, slowly eating away at his mind. Stressed and in need of rest, he found himself wandering towards the library. There was a specific elf he knew would be there, and he greatly yearned for her company. Being with her relaxed him and soothed his mind beyond words.


Slowly, he entered, each step making but a slight tap against the floor. There she sat, the flickering of the fire illuminating the outlining of her form, her midnight hair pooling around her shoulders. The mere sight was breathtaking.


The King approached her, his fingers lightly grazing her upper back, his face emotionless except for the slight twinkle in his eye.





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