The idea for this story came one day while watching Peter Jackson's Extended Edition of The Fellowship of the Ring. Aragorn is at his mother's grave when his foster father, Lord Elrond of Rivendell tells him the following line, "In her heart, your mother knew you be hunted the rest of your life that you would never escape your fate. The skill of the elves can reforge the sword of the king. Only you have the power to wield it."

So I decided to write the story of Aragorn's life. Thanks to the late Professor J.R.R. Tolkien for writing such a rich tale and leaving enough open for inklingers to continue the tale.

Prologue

The Dùnedain were the people who lived in the northern reaches of Middle Earth. They were among the last of the great people of Numenor, of where kings came from. But there had been no King for thousands of years, but many still clung to the hope that someone would come to claim that title and many believed he would come from the Dùnedain.

At this time, the chieftain was Arador. His son's name was Arathorn. Arathorn was a proud man and among the best of the Dùnedain in character and skill.

Arathorn sought to marry the fair Gilraen, but her father, Dirhael was opposed to such a union for she was not yet of the age at which Dùnedain marry. Dirhael explained his opposition to the marriage further by saying, "Arathorn is of age to become a greater leader. I believe he will become chieftain sooner than most would have expected; yet my bones feel his rule will be short-lived."

Ivorwen, his wife said, "Then, we have all the more urgency to approve this marriage! Great things are to come, but the days are becoming darker. If these two wed now, hope may be born for our people; but if they delay, it will not come while this age lasts."

At this, Dirhael consented. The Dùnedain lived for hope and maybe this marriage was the key to preserving that hope.

Several months later, the couple was married before the chieftain, Arador. He too saw into the future, and though there was hope, there would be many hard times ahead.

Arathorn and Gilraen had grown up around each other and had formed a small friendship over the years. Arathorn was twice Gilraen's age, but they did not care, for they learned to love each other as their bond grew.

Then, it happened that after they had been married only a year, Arathorn's father, Arador was slain by hill-trolls. He had been returning from a visit to Rivendell, where many of the Dùnedain took refuge for the Elves of Elrond's house were friendly to the Heirs of Isildur. Outside of the borders of Rivendell, he was attacked and taken. The Elves found his mangled body a week later.

Word was sent to the Dùnedain and just as Gilraen's father had predicted, Arathorn became chieftain much sooner than tradition.

Several months later, Gilraen informed Arathorn that she was with child. The chieftain and his wife were overjoyed. The months soon became harder for Gilraen as she was gaining a lot of weight and had a hard time walking around. So, it was that she went to live with her parents until the time came closer for the child to be born.

This time also took an emotional toll on her. For while Arathorn wanted and wished with all his heart to be with his wife constantly, there was simply no way that he could. It was the chieftain's main job to organize the hunts for food or scouting parties to stop orc attacks. But, he was always by her side when he came back to the camp.

Arathorn truly loved his wife for it didn't matter who was around, he would always greet her with a kiss. "I love you my sweet." Then, he would bend down and wonder at her stomach. "Goodnight, my little hunter. Sleep well. There are many great things laid before your feet I feel. We already love you. Grow up strong for me."

Soon, the time was drawing nearer to when the child would be born and Arathorn removed himself from the hunts and put his Lieutenant in charge.

"Gilraen, have you thought of a name yet for our Little Hunter?"

"Occasionally I have, but I can not think of anything worthy of such a treasure. Why do you ask? Have you come up with a name?"

"I believe that I have. In memory of my father and several combinations I had seen in the libraries at Minas Tirith, this child shall be called Aragorn."

"Oh, Arathorn. I love it." Gilraen looked down, "Do you like that name little hunter? Or should I say, Aragorn?" Gilraen smiled at Arathorn. 'Yes, Aragorn fits nicely,' she thought. Suddenly, Gilraen grabbed Arathorn's hand and exclaimed, "He approves!" Arathorn smiled in wonder as his child kicked in his mother's stomach.

A/N: This is the end of the prologue. I thought that it would be fitting to add more to Aragorn's parents; they aren't around together for very long.