Hello lovely people! This is a little LOTR short on Aragorn's... never addressed family. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think in the reviews, every comment helps:)
Forgotten Blood
Arathorn smiled at the two sparring children in front of him, their wooden play swords flying through the air with practiced ease. One girl, one boy, both his, both so beautiful and full of untapped potential. The girl, Adarein, is the older of the two at thirteen; her dark hair and large sparkling eyes of green and silver were a mirror image of his wife. The boy, Aragorn, was eight, with dark hair like that of his sister, and grey eyes like his own.
"Watch your footwork!" He admonished the girl as she stepped an inch to far forward during a lunge. The girl made a determined scowl as she adjusted her stance, not moving her eyes away from her brothers, something Arathorn noticed, and silently praised her for. He sat atop a fallen pillar of marble, which was cracked and worn from age. The sparring ground sat in a large clearing in the woods they called home, and standing among the aged trees were various crumbling structures of stone. They were the remnants of a Dunedain settlement from ages past, a time when his kin had held power, wealth, and wisdom to rival that of the Dwarves, and even Elves.
"Ouch! You did that on purpose!" Aragorn yelped as Adarein struck him on his sword wrist with a painful crack.
"You weren't watching your guard! It's not my fault I tapped you!" She retorted, slashing her stick across her torso in a defensive gesture.
"Tapped?! You 'tap' me as hard as you can any chance you get!" Aragorn shouted, his face red with anger.
Arathorn sighed, his face adopting a stern look, he understood why, they'd been practicing most of the day, which had made the two tired and irritable. His children were each others best friends a majority of the time, they had to be, as there was no such thing as a normal life as an heir to the Dunedain.
"Alright you two, that's enough practice for today. Come, let's see what your mothers cooked up for tonight hmm?" He said calmly, grinning at the instant change in the two's expressions.
"Alright!" they chimed together, forgetting their qualm to run to his side.
They took his hands, one on either side, and together they walked back to the heart of their camp. His mail shirt clinked quietly against his soft leather undershirt, a green cloak hung over his shoulders and fluttered in the calm breeze that passed between the trees. The patter of his children's small feet on the mossy ground lulled him into a contented state, just happy for the peace that lingered around the two.
The trio passed between scattered dwellings composed of brown, green, and grey tents that sat low to the ground. Cook fires and forges lay here and there, each surrounded by a host of familiar faces. Some sharpened swords or axes, others polished tarnished chain mail or helms, while still others prepared meals for their comrades. A song hung on the air, a ballad of heros and wars. Adarein joined in, her voice reminded him of a summer song bird, airy and cheerful.
Oh here we have a young lad who comes from fertile fields.
Dress him in mail and hand him a bow, oh sing his tale of woe.
Oh here we have a pretty lass, who reaps the golden wheat.
Her boa is from the fertile fields, she prays for his steady arm.
And so she went on to tell the tale of a famed archer who never missed his aim, and how he suffered in war, and how he grew old and returned to his lass only to find she had married another while waiting for him.
"Why do you think she didn't wait for him father?" Adarein asked after she finish her song, her large eyes looking up at him in question.
Arathorn glanced at her, "That's a difficult question Kit." He said, using his pet name for her. "It's hard to know what drives another to make a certain decision. I suppose in the lass' case… she valued security over loyalty, she couldn't see a future in which he would return, and she would remain happy waiting."
Adarein considered his explanation for a moment, "It just seems like she was only thinking about herself." She said, her tone accusatory.
"Well, I don't think you're wrong, but one could argue that the archer too was selfish, don't you think? For abandoning his lass to go to war." Arathorn challenged, enjoying the exchange of wit. Adarein may be young, but she was sharp as a tack, and could debate an issue with ease.
"But he wasn't going to war for selfish reasons, it says so in the story! It says that he wanted to protect his home, and his lass, so that he could return to marry her." She countered, briefly letting go of his hand to step around a fallen log.
"True," He conceded, "But your point is still an opinion, formed as a result of your perspective."
Adarein furrowed her brow, "What do you mean?"
"Well," he said, nodding at one of his captains that sat around a cook fire, "You were raised by a warrior, you were a fighter from an early age, both of you were." he said, ruffling Aragorn's hair so the boy did not feel left out. "Most need another to lean on for security, like the lass, who needed a man to depend on for her livelihood."
Adarein huffed, "She should've gone to war alongside her boa, that way she didn't have to wait. She could've been by his side all along."
Arathorn chuckled, "Oh my dear Kit." He said, placing one large hand on the girl's head, "Where you wield swords most take up a plow or butter turn. Do you understand?"
She glanced at him suspiciously before giving in to his ending the debate, "Yes, father."
His children left his side at the sight of their tent, which was the largest in the camp. The two rushed past the entrance, straight to their mother, who was preparing supper. Even after all the years they had been wed, she still took his breath away. Her pale skin, long waves of dark hair, and mossy eyes entranced him even now. She laughed as the children clutched at her skirts, peering at her and the cook fires spread as they bombarded their mother with questions and boasts of the day.
"Oh my little ones, one at a time!" She cooed, Her voice like a soft spring breeze, "Now, how did practice go?" She asked as they quieted.
"Good! I've been practicing my lunges!" Adarein stated proudly.
"Indeed." Arathorn confirmed, grinning at his family, "She's almost got it down too. And Aragorn," He said, scooping the small boy into his arms, "Is a natural at the mighty slash." He exclaimed, tickling the boy with his stubble, who laughed and struggled to free himself.
"How lucky I am to have such fine children." Said his wife, stroking her daughters hair. "You'll make fine heirs."
Arathorn nodded in agreement, "Of course they will, now how about supper? I'm sure we're all famished."
The two children nodded enthusiastically, turning hungry gazes to the fire.
"Ah! Not yet, I need you two to fetch the plates from Eldwin, he finished fixing and polishing them for me today." Their mother said, shooing them out the door.
Arathorn chuckled, hooking an arm around his wife's waist, "So what's for dinner?" He asked, kissing her fragrant hair.
"Bread, cheese, some wild grapes I found by the river, and dried beef." She replied, standing on her toes to kiss him. They remained like that for a moment enjoying the privacy.
"Good to know our supplies are holding." He said as she pulled away, returning to her place at the fire.
"Indeed, but it won't be long before we will have to move elsewhere. Whisperings of ill fortune and bloodshed are beginning to unsettle our kin." She replied, stirring the fire coals with the end of a blackened stick.
"Aye, you're right, as is usual. We'll begin to rally our brothers and sisters in a fortnight, till then, we must remain watchful." He replied, taking a seat on the cot opposite the entrance.
"Arathorn?" His wife asked after a moment of silence, peering at him from over her slight shoulder.
"Yes?" He mumbled, working to pull one of his battered leather boots off his aching foot.
"What think you of Valnir?" She inquired with a mock air of casualness.
"My newest Captain? Valnir Baneson?" She nodded, so he continued, "Well, I suppose his achievements are impressive, considering his age, the boy hasn't even lived his second decade yet. Why do you ask?"
She shrugged, a troubled look crossing her face, "And do you trust him?" She pressed quietly, gazing at him steadily.
Arathorn eyed her suspiciously, "I'd say I trust the boy to some degree, given I promoted him to captain." He replied, trying to peel back the layers of her hidden thoughts as he studied her. "Why do you ask love?"
She sighed, setting the stick aside as she shifted the position of the kettle overhanging the fire, "I…" She scoffed shaking her head as if frustrated with herself, "You'd think me a fool if I gave you the reason."
"Nonsense," He chastised her, standing so he could kneel by her side, "Tell me what troubles you." He said gently, taking her hand in his.
She smiled at him, squeezing his hand she replied, "I had a dream." She paused, swallowing as she averted her gaze, "Of you and that boy at your side. A battle was on the horizon, and our kin were set to face it with you at the head. Just as you were to engage, Valnir… he turned on you, stabbing you in the back before fleeing to meet with the enemies hord. Without you… our people fell." She finished, her tone somber.
Arathorn was quiet for a long time, considering her words. His wife was incredibly wise, and she would not worry needlessly. Her family's women were also known for their gift of prophecy, she had saved him and his people many a time from a surprise attack, or famine.
"So you think the boy is a danger to me?" He asked at length, studying her small hand in his.
She nodded, "I would not say this if I thought it was merely a fleeting suspicion on my part."
"I know." He said soothingly, patting her hand, "and you know how I value your counsel, I'll look into it, you have my word."
She turned a relieved look on him, her lovely green eyes moist with tears, "I love you." She said, burying her head of dark curls in his chest. He held her in his arms, stroking her hair as she leaned on him, not crying, but just taking in the comfort of his embrace.
"Come on Aragorn! It's not much farther!" Adarein urged as she dragged her little brother behind her, weaving between tents and soldiers as they went. It was a beautiful sunny spring day, the scent of pine needles and honeysuckle lingered on the cool breeze.
"Slow down! Your legs are longer than mine! And why am I coming anyway? You never want me to hang around when you're with Talion!" He complained, tripping over a rut in the ground.
"Mother told me to look after you, so you'll come with me, maybe Talion will let you hold his sword and shield if you behave." She replied cheerfully, ignoring his protests. "And as for your legs," she said, pulling her brother onto her back, "You'll soon be bigger than me, just you wait."
"Oh! Pardon." A man exclaimed as the pair ran headlong into him as they rounded a tent.
"Sorry!" Adarein apologised, looking up at the soldier with an smile. She recognized the man as Captain Valnir, he was tall, broad shouldered with short choppy brown hair, and hard steel eyes. He wasn't much older than her if she remembered correctly, too young for a Captain she had heard many say, mostly the old crows that clung to their elder ship, looking down on everyone else.
"Ah, Adarein," He peered behind her to glimpse her brother, "Aragorn. And just where are you off too this morning?"
"We're going to spar with Talion! And maybe pick some berries for supper." Aragorn answered with a grin, licking his lips at the thought of food.
"Is that right?" He mumbled, his eyes darkening slightly at the mention of Talion, yet the change was so slight, that Adarein wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been standing so close.
"Yes, um… Are you two still bitter then?" She asked curiously, taking a step back for good measure.
Valnir crossed his arms over his chest, "If you're asking if I like him… no. As for the reason, that is something I keep to myself." He cocked his head slightly, "Why do you ask?"
Adarein shrugged, "Well, whenever I mention you to him or him to you, you two always react as if the name leaves a sour taste in your mouth."
Valnir chuckled, "You're very observant, but I promise there is a good reason for my reaction." He straightened his vest, "Well I should be off, your father has asked to meet with me, be safe won't you?" He said casually, stepping around the siblings.
"We will!" Aragorn replied, waving at the retreating Captain, who returned the gesture.
Adarein watched him walk away, he was limping, his left leg hitched slightly as he went. She wondered what that meant, they hadn't had a conflict in a long while, perhaps he had just stepped wrong and rolled it. Valnir had always perplexed her, he was mysterious, carefull, guarded, she could never get past his defensive features, which… bothered her. Aside from his personality, she would often catch him peering at her when he thought she wasn't looking, with a look that she couldn't quite describe. The only thing she could compare it too was a time when she and her father had gone hunting, and encountered a pack of starving wolves. She would never forget the look of fury and fire in their eyes, the desperate hunger and pain, she shivered at the memory. She continued walking, changing the subject in her mind. She would soon be fourteen, and in two short years, sixteen, finally of age to be considered a woman. Many of the elders wanted to marry her off as soon as she came of age, paired with a man of standing, but, more importantly, of their choice. Her father on the other hand, put off their demands for the most part. He wanted her to choose her partner in her own time, or not at all if she so wished, he really didn't care, a fact that she had always been grateful for. She herself chose not to think about marriage and the like, saving those worries for a later date.
"Adarein?" Aragorn asked, drawing her from her mudle of thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Do you like Valnir?" He asked, laying his head of messy brown curls on her shoulder.
She glanced back at him suspiciously, "What do you mean?"
"Do you like him? He seems kinda funny."
She nodded, "I can agree with that, but… I'm not sure what I think, he seems like a secretive sort you know?"
She felt him nod, "Yeah, I guess that's true." He replied, sounding troubled.
She twisted to look at him, "Is something wrong?"
He was quiet for a long time, before whispering softly, "I don't like the way he looks at us."
A shiver crept down her spine at his words, and she chose not to answer as they crossed into the forest.
They were nearly fifteen minutes into the woods when a boy shouted "Ah!" as he popped out from behind a tree to frighten the two siblings.
Adarein jerked back, a high pitched squeak escaping her lips as she dropped Aragorn, the poor boy landing hard on his rump.
"Talion!" She cried, kicking him in the shin as the boy howled with laughter.
"Ouch! Ok, ok… I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself." He said breathlessly, wiping tears from his eyes. Talion was tall for his age, and well built, with a lean frame that bespoke swiftness of limb. His hair was long and dark, framing his grey eyes that were nearly silver.
Adarein turned her back on him, hauling Aragorn to his feet as he rubbed his sore backside.
"Sorry kiddo, are you ok?" He asked, offering Aragorn an apologetic smile.
"Yeah I'm fine, just won't be sitting for a while that's all." He replied with a pained grin.
"You're a fool sometimes Talion." Adarein betrayed him, wagging a finger in his face.
"So you keep reminding me." Talion replied dismissively, swatting her hand away from his face. "A fool, hypocrite, scoundrel, I even recall the more colorful name of bastard at one point. Now, wouldn't your mother be disappointed in your mouth Lady Adarein." He teased dodging the left hook aimed at his cheek.
"Oh shut up." She growled, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared up at the taller boy.
Talion chuckled, "Fine, fine. So, shall we head to the clearing?"
"Let's." Adarein stated flatly pushing past a still bemused Talion who followed behind. A comfortable silence hung in the air as they made their way to the clearing to practice swordplay, Aragorn trotting to keep up with Talion's long strided gait. The old oaks that composed a majority of the woods were lined with bright green moss, and blue lichen, while red, orange, and white mushrooms clustered about their roots. Leaves the size of a grown man's head lay strewn about, creating a spongy mattress of earthy smelling compost; their brothers lay framed against the ceiling, an emerald glow edged by the blue sky.
"First!" Aragorn proclaimed proudly as he rushed passed Talion and Adarien, stumbling into the clearing. Lush green grass and wildflowers spanned the space between trees, split down the center by a clear stream.
"I didn't realize we were racing." Talion said, reaching up to unclasp the cloak around his shoulders. He hung the garment from a branch before slowly stretching his arms in various directions.
"Everything's a race or competition to him, he thinks it'll make him stronger, trying to be the best." Adarein explained, placing her cloak next to his, before copying his movements.
"I don't think everything's a competition…" Aragorn mumbled as he plopped down on a flat topped rock near the edge of the treeline.
After Adarein and Talion had finished their preparations, they both took up wooden practice swords, before facing one another in the center of the clearing.
"Ready?" Talion asked, a cocky smirk fixed on his lips.
"Ready." She replied, returning his smug expression with one of her own. She knew she was not as skilled as the older boy, but that fact wouldn't stop her from giving Talion all she had.
Quick as a striking serpent Talion flew at her in a bold lunge, aiming for her hip, a mark that if hit, would be incredibly painful. She caught the tip, and glanced the blow to the side in an attempt to take advantage of his forward momentum throwing him off balance. He recovered quickly, dodging her upward slash with apparent ease, his eyes locked with hers. For nearly a whole minute Adarein was able to keep Talion's blows at bay, but her defense soon weakened as he forced her to take a step back with yet another savage lunge. Talion landed blow after relentless blow, continuing to drive her back, slashing and stabbing at any opening she exposed. A flash of panic seized her heart as she felt her foot slip, and her body begin to fall backward in open air. She opened her mouth to cry out as she flailed her arms in an attempt to right herself.
"Got you!" Talion exclaimed as he caught Adarein by her leather jerkin, the tough material holding her in place, suspended above the shallow stream. He pulled her back to her feet before releasing his hold, a look of concern mixed with amusement coloring his features.
"Thanks." She stated breathlessly, holding a cool palm to her forehead, feeling the sweat of her brow. "You don't know how to hold back do you?" She asked after a moment, one eyebrow raised at the boy.
He shrugged, tapping the shaft of his sword against his calf, "I prefer to practice as realistically as possible, would an enemy hold back?"
Adarein sighed, "No, you're right." she admitted, pulling her boot out of the stream, where it had slipped on a slick rock. "How about we work on form for a little while? It's hard to read your movements when I'm so focused on my own."
Talion nodded, "Alright, probably a good idea, I don't think you could handle another attack anyway." He replied with a grin.
Adarein glared at his back as he walked away from her, smiling suddenly, she called, "Oh, you're probably right." Her voice was sweet and overly feminine, causing Talion to pause. As he turned, a suspicious look in his gaze, Adarein scooped a handful of dark mud from the river bed, holding it behind her back.
"What are you-" He began, stopping short as she hurled the substance at him, hitting him right in the face, the glob exploding on impact, splattering over his clothes. He stood frozen in place, arms out to his sides as his mind processed what had happened. Talion ran a hand across his eyes so he could open them, a fierce look of anger glinting in his gaze.
Adarein laughed, the sound mimicked by Aragorn who was only a short distance away, "Got you!" She exclaimed, a bright smile fixed on her lips.
Talion blinked, the motion slow and deliberate. He tossed aside his practice sword, before he took a step forward.
Adarein swallowed, taking a step back at his threatening action, "Talion? It was just a joke.." She said nervously, realizing at that moment she was backed right into the creek, a detail she had overlooked in her quest for revenge.
"It was a good joke." He replied flatly, a wicked smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
She felt the edge of the stream meet her boot heel, the shelf of soft earth crumbling under her weight. "I know what you're thinking! Please don't!" She stuttered, holding her arms up defensively.
"Ah come on, you love swimming." He responded mercilessly, "All you need is a little nudge." Saying this he reached out and lightly shoved her backward, toppling her into the stream with a loud splash.
Adarein sat up sputtering, her long hair plastered to her face, she was completely soaked. She ran her hands through her tangled mess of hair, gathering it away from her face as she struggled to stand up. She straightened, shivering with clenched fists as she glared up at a Talion's looming form.
He was gracious enough to not outrightly laugh at her plight, he instead settled with a smug smirk. "Feel better?" He asked.
She shivered, "No." She growled, feeling a chill creeping across her skin, her wet clothes stuck to her, heavy and cold.
"Well at least you've cooled off a bit." Talion replied, looking slightly apologetic. "Here." He held out his hand to her.
She eyed the gesture skeptically, before an idea formed, and she reached to except his hand. She smiled sweetly at him, before yanking on his arm with all the strength her small body possessed. Talion fell face first into the stream, a painful slapping sound resounding around the clearing as he met the water's surface.
"There, now you're all washed up." Adarein giggled as Talion surfaced, gasping for air.
He glared at her, "You always have to have the last word don't you?" He asked, slowly standing to his feet.
They stared at one another for a moment, before grins broke out, and they fell into peels of laughter.
Valnir threw aside the tent flap, his long stride carrying him fast and far from the tent in which he had spent the last hour defending himself in. Why in the Valor's names had his Lord suddenly become suspicious of him, to accuse him, him! Of all the Dunedain in this camp, had he not proven himself a loyal warrior? He had even saved the man's life! Granted, the Lord had saved him on a few occasions as well, but still! Not that he had outrightly accused him of anything, but he wasn't a fool. He knew better than most the signs of suspicion, and his Lord could not have been broadcasting accusations more clearly if he had been shouting.
"Something wrong sir?" An older man asked, instantly taking to his side the minute he left the tent. He had a crooked nose that had been broken and reset several times, long muddy brown hair, and drooping black eyes like that of a rat.
"Mind your business lieutenant!" He snapped, flashing a furious glare over his shoulder at the man.
The lieutenant flinched, "Beg your pardon captain, I was only curious." He muttered, his frame hunched in a defeated manner.
Valnir rolled his eyes, a feeling of disgust welling in his gut, "How go preparations for the move?" He asked, quelling his wrath for the time being.
"Everything's been goin smoothly so far. All the major equipment is all packed up in wagons, while everything else is ready to be stored away right quick when we need to be off. The Hunters have gathered a good haul of meat and are setting it up in smoke houses as we speak."
"Good, good." Valnir mumbled to himself, clasping his hands behind his back as he continued to walk. "Go, see to the preparations, I need some time to gather myself." He stated dismissively, shooing the man from his side.
"Of course sir, I'll see that it's done." The lieutenant replied, bowing slightly as he left.
Valnir walked to the edge of the camp, his stride slow and measured, eyes wandering from place to place, observing every little detail from the fluttering wings of a butterfly, to the low tone deaf singing of a soldier. The song was a favorite of Adarein's he recalled, remembering the night he had supped with her family at Lord Arathorns request. She had sang for him, such a sweet voice, delicate and soft like a birds, Aragorn had joined in, he was not so polished as his sister but… together they sounded like a pair of angles. Adarein would be of age soon, all the young men in camp would be after her hand, not that'd she'd pay them any mind. The girl was as free spirited as a falcon, loath to be tethered to anything, save her family. Even he had considered courting her when she came of age, doing so would mean he would be the next heir to the throne of Gondor. The prospect was tempting, and he would even wager he'd stand a good chance of winning her over if it wasn't for that flea bitten coward Talion.
He muttered a curse under his breath at the thought of him, kicking a large pebble with the tip of his boot as he continued to walk. As he entered the woods, a sense of calm washed over him, tempering his dark mood. He tilted his face to examine the lush canopy of green, the golden sun felt good on his face after standing in that stifling tent for so long. He walked for a time, admiring the emerald forest, the song birds, and the rich smell of the earth under his boots. Then it hit him, the foul smell of decay and rot, it filled his nostrils with such pungency that it took every ounce of his self discipline not to gag.
He pulled his sleeve over his mouth, before commanding, "Show yourselves, I am alone." His command was met with silence, complete and utter. He noticed how the birds no longer sang, and the wind had become hostile and biting.
"You stink of horses and men, Youavh." a sick, gurgling voice spat from behind a distant tree.
"You're one to talk, Ukavalkas." He replied, watching as an orcs gnarled and twisted form slinked out from behind the tree. His skin was black like pitch, his shoulders hunched like a vultures, and his hands and feet were tipped with talon like nails. No hair, nor did he wear a hat or armor, just a simple cloak and loin cloth, no doubt he concealed a dagger in their folds.
"Spare me boy!" The orc barked, his yellow eyes sparking with pure malice. "Tell me, does everything move in our favor? My Lord grows tired of your inconsistency."
"They are set to move within a fortnight, so tell the Lord that he will soon have his victory, on my word." Valnir replied confidently.
"Be it on your life!" The creatures tongue darted out like a fat, red, and dry worm, licking at his torn lips. "For if you fail us again, Youavah… you will pay with blood."
Valnir stifled a growl of disdain, "I will not fail, he will have the last souls of the Dunedain, and the blood of Isildur's heirs."
Ukavalkas took a few shuffling steps forward, before stopping inches from the Captain's face, his breath rife with the scent of rotting flesh.
"Bring the young blood alive… if you can. The Lord is curious how royal blood would serve him." He laughed, it was a harsh, choking sound that make Valnir's skin prickle.
"Very well."