[ EU ] A Gondor soldier tells his child a tale about the mighty warrior Aragorn , son of Arathorn .

This is perfect, I'm literally reading the Return of the King right now: 
 
 `` It was over 10 years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday,'' the man said as he gazed over the city walls into the vast and open plains of Pelennor. 
 
 `` What happened that day, father?'' 
 
 He could see the glitter of wonder in his son's eyes. He held back tears thinking how a future, like this, filled with peace and happiness, even a son of his own, seemed non-existent only a few years back. The despair and sadness from those days had yet to settle like a thunderous storm raging on his heart. 
 
 `` Well son, Gondor stood at the brink of disaster, at the walls of this very city. Evil orcs and Urukhai, beings extinct that you are blessed to never lay eyes upon, and from a place darker than a moonless night laid waste to the city, intent on mindlessly ending the lineage of Men. 
 
 `` Darker times have never been seen. Denethor, the steward of Minas Tirith, had given up all hope, eventually setting himself ablaze in the anguish of a fallen city and loss of his last son.'' He looked at his son once again and put his hand on his shoulder, understanding the past grief of Denethor. 
 
 `` But in the darkest of times, the last glimmer of hope shines brightest of all. Theodon, King of Rohan, from a neighboring land rich in lush plains for horse riding, a place I will take you one day, came to the aid of Gondor. With the help of his men, Minas Tirith was able to regain some stability, however the Nazgul, reapers on winged beasts, had rained fire upon the city, leaving our defenses shattered. The Rohirrim's efforts only would have postponed our imminent destruction.'' 
 
 `` Then how does Minas Tirith stand today, and the tales of Men still continue,'' asked the boy. The father laughed, a heavy weight lifted from his mind as he again realized these tales were only legends. 
 
 `` Patience my son, good things come to those who wait, especially in the case of Gondor.'' He stared up at the seventh level of the city, the white tree glistened in the sun's radiant rays. `` For our King, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the Savior of Gondor, had a weapon unknown to both men and orcs. For long ago, lived a people who swore an oath to Gondor, to Isildur, an oath that had yet to be fulfilled. This oath bound the dead to a state of limbo, neither dead nor living, but existing as spirits. And only the heir of Isildur, the true King of Gondor, could reclaim this oath and release them from their earthly bounds eternally. And so, in the midst of battle, to the South, arrived a battalion of ships. The Enemy had mistook them for their own reinforcements, when Aragorn, with the sword that had previously defeated Sauron, a sword he still carries today, led the army of the Dead to battle in Pelennor flanking the Enemy. And the rest, they say, is history, forever passed down in song and lore.'' 
 
 `` King Aragorn saved us!'' 
 
 `` That he did, son, that he did. Now go play with your friends in Osgiliath. That is enough story for one day.'' 
 
 As his son ran off towards the fields, he was vividly reminded when Osgiliath served as an outpost for the Enemy's breach upon the city, a sea of blackness had once covered these fields. And as he again looked towards the citadel, he saw the King, majestically standing atop the city looking down on Minas Tirith with a humble smile. 

