Prologue

The sun was bright in the gardens of the citadel and Eldarion ran around and dipped his hands into the water of the fountains. His mother and father, in one of their rare moments of quiet together, sat on a rug and could see the boy playing happily. His hair was dark, changing from the fair blond of childhood tothe samecolour as that of his father.

"He grows so quickly," whispered Aragorn, "But a few months ago I am sure he was a babe in arms."

"Our son is eight tomorrow, dear one. Perhaps you should spend less time ruling and more time with your family," retorted Arwen. Aragorn smiled at his wife and took her in his arms. He lightly brushed the hair away from her face.

"You my dear, are not much better. But you are right I will spend more time with the children. Perhaps a family trip to Ithilien to see Faramir, Eowyn and their little ones?"

"I don't believe you are really suggesting a family outing? To leave Minas Tirith all together? But when?" replied Arwen.

"Soon. I think the effect of Legolas and Gimli is well balanced by the calmness of Faramir! I will speak with my court about it presently. In fact I will go now!" Aragorn stood and kissed her on the forehead. As he stood Eldarion lost his balance and fell over. He began to cry and clutched his knee with his hand.Aragorn hurried over to his son.

"Eldarion, cry not. It is unbecoming of the Prince of Gondor. Now let me see the wound," spoke Aragorn. At his words Eldarion clearly relaxed and the boy stopped his crying. He moved his hand to show a nasty graze – peppered with gravel from the path. Aragorn smiled at his son.

"I have seen Orcs do less damage! Come follow me inside and I will clean it for you as I would a warrior's wound!"

Aragorn took his son, who had now stopped crying, by the hand and lead him inside. Arwen smiled at the retreating pair and mused that Aragorn truly was a great father.

I

It was night in Minas Tirith. The city was exceptionally quiet – a few guards patrolled the walls but in the times of peace it was more due to tradition than need. Though Mordor had been destroyed the remnants of its armies still existed in the dark places of the world and had been known to sally forth. The lands of Ithilien, for years uninhabited, were now blossoming under the delicate leadership of Faramir of Gondor and Eowyn, the White Lady. This was the first defence against any evil which still remained in the east.

The city had been rebuilt to the glories of old. Every house was filled and the stonework had been made by dwarves to the highest standard. Yet the city was made even more beautiful by the wonderful trees and plants – planted by Legolas and his kin. The city gleamed in the moonlight, whiter than ever. It was pure and at the heart of a great land.

Gondor was in a time of plenty, ruled by a king for the first time in an age. It reached new glories and heights that for hundreds of years had been unattainable. King Elessar travelled often about his kingdom and was greatly loved by the people. The Queen, Arwen, also often graced them with her presence and was known to walk freely in the city with the Prince Eldarion. The peace had lasted ten years since the Wars of the Ring and children who knew nought of the shadow of Mordor were born. The shadow that existed had been driven to far and dark places, out of sight of many.

Elessar slept. The bed was soft and comfortable and he dreamt of recent happy times. The dream was a simple one – he was picnicking with Arwen and their first son Eldarion in the gardens of Minas Tirith. He felt much joy and the sun was bright in the sky. The dream reminded him of an afternoon only a few days ago and he smiled in his sleep. Yet suddenly from the north a shadow came and it fell greatly dark in the garden, however all the rest of the world still appeared bright. He felt fear, confusion and turned to find Eldarion. Elessar looked and his first born son had disappeared. Fear rose higher in him and he heard a dark laughter. As the dream grew darker his face in the real world drew gaunt and pale. A mocking voice taunted him in his dreams.

"The kings of Gondor shall not return. Your house will fall and your great deeds will be for naught. Aragorn – you are still weak and in your heart you know this. You are doomed."

With the final word the laughter continued and Elessar was left alone. He could feel it get colder and darker, Arwen slowly fell away from him and out of his reach. He was alone and lost. Then he felt pain.

Aragorn awoke with a start – his hand went straight beneath his pillow to find his elven hunting knife. It was not there. Then he came back to the present. Arwen had told him he need not sleep with a blade beneath his pillow with guards protecting him. The conversation felt like it had only been yesterday, despite being years ago. Legolas had once said to him that whilst the ranger could be taken from the wilderness, it would always haunt him. Aragorn always felt scared by this feral instinct that he still felt. Though it had carried him through many battles it was not becoming of the King of Men.

The events of his dream came back in a flood filling his now awake mind with fear. Aragorn quickly checked his wife, who lay serenely next to him. In sleep she appeared even more beautiful and calm than awake and he restrained his urge to stroke her face, fearful of waking her. He felt a shiver run down his spine and rose from his bed, aware of a sudden danger.

In a bound he reached the robe in which his clothes were kept. He reached into a draw and picked up his knife. The cold steel reassured him and he threw on a cloak hiding the weapon in a pocket. Aragorn stole one last glance at his beautiful wife and then left the room.

The marble halls of the citadel were empty and totally silent at this hour and Aragorn moved as a shadow through them. Years spent in the wilderness had taught him much about stealth and despite not using it for years he still had some of his abilities. Aragorn reached a cross point in the corridor and turned left. Two steps later he saw the door of his son's room slightly open. Panic filled him and he quickly opened it fully.

His son's bed was empty.

Fear took hold of Aragorn like never before. In the past he had cared little for his own life and Arwen could easily protect herself, but his son. Eldarion was but a child not even old enough to look after himself. Eldarion knew how to fence and had been taught the bow but had been protected from the outside world properly. His innocence was still intact and he was now in danger. Aragorn dashed from the chamber into the corridor caring little for stealth any longer.

As he raced through the citadel he thought of where his son could be. The only place Eldarion was found when he wandered was the throne room – standing quietly looking at the throne as though a sense of destiny compelled him not to move. It was an outside chance as Aragorn already believed that his son had been kidnapped. He ran to the throne room – his footsteps echoing through the empty corridor.

-

Eldarion looked slowly at the throne of Gondor. He had seen his father sit on the throne only twice. Eldarion wondered why he always looked so uncomfortable whilst seated there. It appeared so exciting to him and every part of his being was channelled towards the day when he could rule the kingdom of Gondor with the same strength and skill as his father. Eldarion heard footsteps and turned to see one of the citadel guard, clad in the armour of the king, enter the throne room. Though he was in theory of higher rank he knew well enough that this guard would take him back to his bedroom on the instructions of his mother.

He turned and walked slowly towards the guard accepting his punishment. Yet as the guard approached something about his walk made Eldarion nervous. The guard stepped into the line of the moonlight streaming through the upper windows. The light showed a grim smile and a dark face which the boy did not recognise. Something was wrong and Eldarion decided that the best option was to run and find his father. He turned to escape.

"Eldarion, stop! I must escort you back to your chamber," shouted the guard. His voice sounded wrong, a hint of anger resonating in it. As the guard spoke he began to move faster forward. The boy then made his decision and ran towards the door.

-

Aragorn ran towards the throne room wishing he had over-ruled Arwen and insisted on guards on the rooms of the children. The dream had scared him in a way which nothing had in the past. He had faced Sauron through the Palantir, lead an army of dead men, fought a troll single handed and fought for many years in the fleets of Gondor before the War of the Ring. Yet then it had been only himself in danger, now he perceived a threat to his son. The Dúnedain had the power of foresight and Aragorn had perceived that the dream was no idle threat and that he faced a mighty enemy, now without the aid of Gandalf. His pace quickened as he neared the throne room.

-

The guard grabbed Eldarion and lifted him into the air. Eldarion kicked at the guards arms and tried to escape from his grasp. The boy nearly succeeded but the strength of the great man proved too much. Eldarion took a breath to scream and found his mouth covered by a hand. A second man appeared and together bore him away.

-

Tired from running even the short distance, Aragorn dashed into the throne room, cursing that he had not trained recently. As he entered the room he felt something was wrong, that there had been a struggle here recently. Aragorn looked around and saw the chain which Eldarion wore. He ran to it and picked up the silver chain, noticing it was broken. He knew immediately that something was wrong as his son would never leave the chain here by accident. A mark on the marble attracted his attention – it suggested a struggle and that Eldarion had been kidnapped. He pocketed the chain.

Aragorn ran out of the arch which the track faced and found himself with a choice of three corridors. One lead to the royal apartments, one to the guards quarters and one to the stairs which lead to the stables. The choice was clear and he gave chase towards the stables, hoping that he was close behind.