Secret Journal of Aragorn Elessar during the Fellowship of the Ring

Secret Journal of Aragorn Elessar during the Fellowship of the Ring Dear Journal, Gandalf has asked me to go help the hobbits—a certain Mr. Underhill and his companions. I’ve never cared much for the name Underhill myself, but we can’t all have names like Aragorn. I don’t mind much because he asked me to wait at the Prancing Pony. That inn rocks! I love its ale, and it’s a wonderful place to blow smoke rings. Gandalf says I don’t pay enough attention to serious matters when I’m there. Who’s he to talk? I know for a fact that the reason he let Gollum escape that first time was because he was busy blowing smoke rings! Dear Journal, So I found the hobbits. They weren’t too bad, I forget their names. Yikes, I’ll have to try to remember before they find out I failed my history class because I mixed up the name Sauron with Elrond. Hey, it was a perfectly excusable mistake. Anyone could have made it. Elrond, however, overreacted beyond all reason. I wonder why. Meh, anyway, we made it to Rivendell. It wasn’t so bad, except for that one tricky bit where what was his name again—Fraudo?—slipped on the One Ring. He got hit by a knife, and for some reason he isn’t getting better. The little one, the one who keeps messing things up, I think his name is pipsqueak, asked me why. I can’t let them know I failed my medicine class too! I looked wise and muttered some nonsense about magic and weird blades, and he swallowed it. Sucker. Now I’m so tired, I could…zzz… Dear Journal, Guess what? Turns out I was right about that blade business! Yeah, go me! Elrond was really surprised and impressed. It’s a little insulting how he was so shocked I’d gotten it right for once… Anyway, there was this council business. They all wanted to know what to do, and for some reason they all looked at me! Why me, for cripes’ sake? So I just looked wise and mysterious and blurted out something about destroying the One Ring, and they all immediately congratulated me on my genius and began making plans! Sometimes I fear for the fate of Middle-earth… Dear Journal, That’s it. We’re on this journey, and there’s absolutely no way I can back out now. Great, just great… The weather sucks; it’s absolutely freezing, and the snow! Gandalf came up with some half-brained notion about trying Moria. Gak! He knows I’m afraid of the dark! I immediately said to try Mount Caradhros instead. Now I’m up to my waist in snow and wondering why I didn’t take up a nice peaceful occupation like lawyering or something. Wait, I failed English too, didn’t I? The cooking stinks. I’d complain, but I can’t for fear that they’ll ask me to do the cooking. Of the party, only Gandalf knows that I failed home ec too, and I intend to keep it that way. Yikes, the number of Elrond’s classes I failed is rather embarrassing. I’ll have to see if I can get him to erase the record; they might be a little inconvenient to my plans to take over Middle-earth…must remember to erase that last line. Dear Journal, Caradhros didn’t work, and now Gandalf is taking us to Moria. I can’t say a word, since he let me try my way and it didn’t work. It usually doesn’t…sigh… It’s really dark, and Frodo—I finally got his name right, go me!—almost got taken by the Watcher. Not only that, I’m at the way back! Gak…. I think I hear something behind us. Must remember to take medicine or something, I’m obviously hallucinating. Wonder if I can ask Gandalf to fix me something…on second thought, the last time I drank one of his concoctions, I turned into a snail. Never mind. Dear Journal, Gandalf is dead! He fell off a bridge into Moria! I knew there was something wrong with it! Now we’re at Lorien. The queen Galadriel is really pretty, and really very nice. Plus she’s the grandmother of Arwen! So I tread rather carefully around her—I mean, hey, she could be my future grandmother-in-law! Boromir was really annoying, making rude remarks about her and so on. He’s really getting in my hair, the way he acts. You’d think Minas Tirith belongs to him! It may be stuffy and people there may be overly melodramatic, but it is mine! Plus he keeps making jokes about the way I forgot about Frodo and Sam back there. Okay, so maybe it slipped my mind that they were wounded. So what? Anyone could forget that, they’re so small! It’s no excuse to call me Aragorn the mentally challenged! Dear Journal, Someone slipped a bunch of spiders into Boromir’s bedroll. ( No, I will not admit that it was me, not even to you, O Journal of mine.) He screamed like a girl—not that you need to tell Arwen that. She’s really strong. We left Lorien, and now we’re at some kind of weird river called the Anduin. How embarrassing! Frodo discovered that Gollum has been trailing us all the way from Moria, the nasty sneak! I’m supposed to be the high and mighty tracker, so I murmured something about having known all along. He took it hook, line, and sinker. Go me! Dear Journal, Boromir tried to make off with the Ring! I knew there was something fishy about him! He’s dead now, the orcs finished him off. Now Frodo and Sam have gone and taken a boat and supplies and are off to Mordor, and Merry and that annoying pipsqueak have gotten themselves captured! I opted to follow Merry. For one thing, they’re going to Rohan, and I absolutely love their horses! For another, I can’t stand Mordor. It’s creepy and so dark! Thanks to nimras23 for story idea.