Chapter 202: Aragorn, May Humanity Write a New Epic
The man who stood in the doorway was clearly very wary. He held a long, weathered sword—a blade that had seen countless battles—and his eyes darted around the room with the precision of a hawk hunting in the brush.
His cloak was stained with the mud of long travel, his boots worn, and his face etched with the exhaustion of a man who had run for days without sleep.
He observed everything in the shop: the gleaming polished counters, the strange lights that flickered without fire, and the two beings standing before him. Only after his ranger's instincts sensed no malice, no shadow of the Enemy, did he slowly lower his sword.
However, his grip on the hilt remained tight, his knuckles white.
Ren, wiping a glass behind the counter, offered a calm, disarming smile. He said softly, "Welcome. This is a restaurant from Another World. Don't worry, Aragorn-san. There is no danger here. The Shadow does not reach this place."
The man, Aragorn, blinked. The tension in his shoulders dropped an inch, though his gaze remained sharp. He nodded slowly, then frowned, his voice rasping from dehydration.
"Friend... I know it is very warm and bright here. It feels like... like Rivendell in the spring. But this safety is not something we can enjoy right now. The hunt is upon us. So, please, tell me how to get back to the plains, no matter the cost."
Ren placed the glass down and leaned forward. "It's not as complicated as you imagine. You just need to walk back through that door to return to exactly where you were. But, Aragorn-san, you look very tired. And hungry."
Ren's eyes scanned the Ranger's condition. The man was running on fumes, sustained only by sheer willpower and Numenorean blood.
"Won't you stay and rest for a while? Even a drawn bowstring must be unstrung, or it will snap."
Aragorn closed his eyes for a brief moment, the weight of his burden pulling at his features. He shook his head, a sad smile touching his lips.
"Friend, you are a good person. I can feel the light in this place. Thank you for your kindness. I am very fortunate to have come here after such a long journey, to see how friendly and happy the people of Another World are... truly."
He opened his eyes, the steel returning to his grey gaze. "But... I cannot stop. My friends—Legolas and Gimli—are waiting. We are three hunters chasing a pack of Uruk-hai. Two little ones... two Halflings... are in their grasp. Every second I waste here is a second they move closer to Isengard."
"It's also night where you are, right? A cold night on the plains of Rohan," Ren noted, his voice gentle but firm. "I don't know the specifics of your hunt, but I think there is time for a glass of water. You know, hunger, thirst, and fatigue can affect one's sharp judgment and extraordinary ability to act. If you collapse, who will lead the hunt?"
Hearing this, Aragorn hesitated. The logic was sound. He sighed with relief, the fight momentarily leaving his body as he sheathed his sword. He spread his hands, looking at the dirt under his fingernails.
"You're right... My friends and I are chasing the Hobbits... We've been running for three days and nights. No rest. No fire."
He looked up at Ren, his eyes filled with a desperate gratitude. "Friend from Another World, what is your name?"
"Ren."
"Ren..." Aragorn tested the name on his tongue. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Could I... could I trouble you for a glass of water? No... fill up a bit more. My waterskin is empty, and my friends are parched. Thank you."
Ren nodded and said with a smile, "Of course. Please, take a seat. I think those four Hobbits you mentioned would want you to be at your full strength to save them."
"You're right, but the responsibility they carry is too great. We must find them as soon as possible..."
Gurgle...
The sound was loud, echoing in the quiet shop. It was a groan of protest from a stomach that had known nothing but dry Lembas bread for weeks.
Aragorn froze, a flush of embarrassment coloring his weather-beaten cheeks.
Ren chuckled softly, turning to the refrigerator. "It seems, Mr. Aragorn, that even with your strong physique and royal blood, you can't withstand basic biology. Hunger is the one enemy no sword can defeat."
"It must be the sudden rest," Aragorn admitted, clutching his stomach. "The body realizes it can demand sustenance. Ren... do you have any food here? Anything will do... But it needs to be quick. Hand-held. We don't have much time to sit and dine."
Ren thought for a moment. Quick, portable, filling, and suitable for a Ranger and his companions.
"I have just the thing," Ren nodded. "Can both of your friends eat meat? After all, meat is the best thing to restore energy and fill one's stomach for a long march."
Aragorn swallowed, the thought of hot meat making his mouth water painfully. "One is a Dwarf... he will eat anything with legs. The other is an Elf... a vegetarian. If possible, just some vegetables and fruit for him."
"No problem. I can make something suitable for all of you."
Ren turned and walked into the kitchen, tying his apron tighter. "It seems your world is undergoing a great change, Aragorn-san."
Aragorn sat on a chair near the counter. The moment his body touched the soft cushion, he nearly groaned aloud. The comfort was alien to him after sleeping on hard rocks and cold earth.
"Ren," Aragorn called out, his voice thick with emotion. "Your restaurant is very warm. Although I haven't seen anything in this room before—these lights, this music—I truly envy you..."
Lucifer, who had been sitting quietly by the window sipping her tea, finally spoke. She crossed her arms over her chest, her crimson eyes studying the Ranger with a mix of curiosity and imperious judgment.
"Envy?" Lucifer asked, her voice deep and melodic. "What are you envying, human? The stable life here? The food? Or simply the absence of war?"
Aragorn looked at the silver-haired woman. He sensed a power in her, ancient and vast, yet she sat there eating a sweet dessert.
"Both, my lady," Aragorn replied respectfully. "Middle-earth... the place where we live... it was once very beautiful. But now, the Shadow lengthens. Mordor stirs. We must destroy the One Ring, or all lands will be covered in a second darkness. There is no time left for peace."
Lucifer nodded blankly, taking another bite of her cake. "Oh~ So your world is basically a mess right now."
"Are you trying to say chaotic?" Aragorn asked with a dry chuckle.
Lucifer nodded. To her, chaos was a familiar neighbor. She managed Hell, after all. But this man's weariness touched a chord in her.
"Middle-earth sounds troublesome," Lucifer said softly, her eyes softening. "But looking at you... I see a noble character. Neither Saruman nor Sauron are unconquerable existences. They are just tyrants hoarding power."
She looked Aragorn in the eye. "Resilient character is no worse than violence. A king who bleeds with his people is stronger than a dark lord who sits in a tower. Middle-earth will usher in a new era, simply because men like you refuse to kneel."
Aragorn was stunned. He hadn't expected such profound encouragement from this mysterious, otherworldly woman. A genuine smile broke through his exhaustion.
"Are you Ren's wife?" Aragorn asked. "You two are really alike... You both speak with a wisdom that comforts the soul. Thank you for your blessing, my lady."
"W-Wife?!"
Lucifer's face exploded into a brilliant shade of crimson. "I... I am not... We are not...!" She stammered, completely losing her queenly composure, looking frantically toward the kitchen.
Just then, the aroma of baking pastry and searing meat wafted out, silencing her protest.
In the kitchen, Ren was moving with the speed and precision of a master.
For the "meat eaters," he had decided on Rustic Meat Pasties.
He had taken a slab of high-quality beef—rich with marbling—and hand-chopped it into rough, substantial cubes. He didn't mince it; a Ranger needed texture, something to chew on. He mixed the beef with diced onions, swedes (rutabaga), and potatoes. A generous seasoning of black pepper and sea salt was added to cut through the fatigue.
He encased the filling in a sturdy, buttery shortcrust pastry, folding the edges into a thick crimp—a handle that could be held with dirty hands and discarded if necessary, though he doubted they would waste a crumb.
For the Elf, Legolas, he prepared Wild Mushroom and Herb Galettes. He sautéed a mix of forest mushrooms—porcini, chanterelles, and shiitake—in butter and thyme, wrapping them in the same flaky pastry but adding a layer of caramelized onions and goat cheese for protein.
The oven blasted them with high heat, turning the pastry golden brown and filling the air with the scent of butter and savory gravy.
Ren walked out, carrying a large, insulated paper bag. The smell was intoxicating.
"A very wonderful story," Ren said with a smile, ignoring Lucifer's flushed face. "Your world will usher in peace, I am certain of it."
Aragorn stood up, his nose twitching as he looked at the bag in Ren's hand. "I can smell it... by the Valar, that is a fragrant smell. It smells like the kitchens of my childhood foster home. What did you make?"
"Meat Pasties for you and the Dwarf," Ren explained, handing him the heavy bag. "They are self-contained meals. Beef, potatoes, and gravy inside a crust. And for your Elven friend, Galettes filled with mushrooms and herbs. I also added some fresh apples and a few bottles of revitalizing mineral water."
"Although I don't know what 'Galettes' are, they feel very good. Thank you, my friend."
Aragorn took the bag. The warmth radiated through the paper, thawing his frozen fingers. He reached for the pouch at his belt, intending to find a coin or a gem to offer.
Ren gently stopped his hand. "Just as Lucifer said, your world will usher in peace. I felt noble character in your narration. That is payment enough."
Aragorn paused, then bowed his head deeply. "Thank you. Thank you and your... your partner... for your blessings. I wish you happiness. Cherish a peaceful life. It is a rare treasure."
His expression darkened slightly as he looked at the door. "But our road is still very long. Although I know we must win, humanity... Men are weak. The blood of Numenor is all but spent. We are easily corrupted, easily broken. It will not be so easy this time..."
Ren leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "Aragorn-san, do you know what humanity's greatest advantage is?"
Aragorn blinked, surprised by the question. "What? Our stubbornness?"
"No," Ren shook his head. "It is because humanity is the weakest. This is humanity's greatest advantage."
Aragorn and Lucifer both looked puzzled. Lucifer tilted her head, her earlier embarrassment forgotten. "Weak? Ren, usually people want to be strong. Why would weakness be an advantage?"
Ren smiled, his eyes looking past them, as if seeing the countless humans across the multiverse who had defied odds.
"Humans don't have the natural magic of Elves, nor the stone-like endurance of Dwarves. We don't have all-knowing wisdom or extraordinary technology given by gods. Humans only have a fragile physical body and a soul that knows fear."
Ren stepped closer to Aragorn. "But because of this weakness, humanity's potential is limitless. Because we are weak, we must learn. Because we are fragile, we must band together. Because we die easily, we burn brighter."
Aragorn's eyes widened. "My friend... are you trying to say that because they are weak, they must become strong to survive?"
"Exactly, Aragorn," Ren said firmly. "A human's body, no matter how sturdy, is still just flesh and bone. It breaks. But they can make their soul resilient. When an Elf despairs, they fade. When a Human despairs, they find a way to climb out of the pit."
Ren placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "Humans have no retreat. We have no Undying Lands to sail to. We have only this earth. At this time, let the soul lead the body forward. Aragorn, you can succeed, precisely because you know fear and weakness. This is something Sauron in his tower and Saruman in his pride do not possess."
Aragorn stood silently for a long moment, absorbing the words. The doubt that had plagued him—the fear that he would fall to the same weakness as his ancestor Isildur—seemed to lighten.
"The soul leading the body..." Aragorn whispered.
He looked up, a renewed fire in his eyes. He patted Ren's shoulder, his grip strong and assured. "You have given me more than food, Ren. You have given me perspective. If we succeed... if we are still alive when the Shadow passes... I think we will meet again."
"Next time, remember to bring your friends," Ren laughed. "Humans are a species that needs to huddle together for warmth precisely because they are weak~ When you come again, just find a door, think of this place, and you can come."
"I will, my friend. As for the price..." Aragorn hesitated again.
"As a human, Aragorn, your victory is the best reward. I'm sure you won't be short a few coins when you are King," Ren winked.
"Although I've said it many times... thank you."
Aragorn adjusted his cloak, securing the bag of food carefully. He gripped the hilt of his sword, but this time, not out of fear, but out of resolve.
"Go back," Ren said softly. "Your friends and your people need you. If you reclaim the throne, Aragorn, I hope you remember the principle that he who wears the crown must bear its weight... but he need not bear it alone."
Aragorn nodded, a kingly grace returning to his posture. He turned, walked to the door, and opened it.
The cold wind of Middle-earth howled on the other side, a stark contrast to the warmth behind him. But Aragorn did not flinch.
Looking at the soft white light of the restaurant one last time, he whispered, "I hope Middle-earth can also be as warm as this place in the near future..."
After saying that, he stepped through the threshold, closing the door firmly behind him. He vanished back into the mist to hunt Orcs, to save his friends, and to claim his destiny.
Ren looked at the closed door and began to wipe the counter again.
"It will..." Ren murmured to the empty air. "May your world be one where humanity writes a new epic..."
Lucifer sat in silence for a moment, finishing the last crumb of her cake. She looked at Ren, her red eyes gleaming with a complex emotion.
"You really know how to talk, don't you, Ren?"
"I just spoke the truth."
"Hmph. 'Wife'..." She muttered the word again, touching her cheek, which was still faintly warm. "Stupid human king... getting people's relationships wrong..."
Ren just smiled, the jazz music playing on, waiting for the next traveler to find their way to the door.