Author's Note: I do not own Tolkien's universe. Any names and locations you recognize are not owned by me. This is the prologue to a "much needed" story about the daughters of Aragorn and Arwen that were not fully described. Later characters will include several members of the Fellowship from the original Trilogy.
Prologue
I, Aeariel, daughter of the King Aragorn and the Queen Arwen, be neither elf nor human, but some blissful purgatory of a minute eternity to spend my days. Not the prince my mother doted upon, nor to be the king my father would be succeeded by, I lazily spent my days wandering the glimmering alabaster halls of the palace at Gondor. The immediate heir to my father's throne was not lusted after, for that would mean the Good King Aragorn would die, else he should make my sibling Eldarion is co-regent.
For years, my life was a mystery to my gaggle of sisters, my mother, even. And while she was loving and perpetually young, I resented her polite distance from me. My brother was the object of her eternal love, a projection of the love she had for my father. I was a daughter, a failed attempt at another flourishing leaf to my father's tree, one that would keep him thriving long after his imminent death.
I bided my days in the cavernous libraries of my home, my mind lost to wander the worlds of old created by the bound, yellowed pages of my father's books of warfare, and my mother's Elvish books of lore. My mind was able to unsheathe my sword to fight alongside my father during his infamous battles, turning quickly when my mind was bored to the silver falls of Rivendell, where the sunlight would paint my cheeks and the dusk contour my spirit. I was a traveler of many lands, although I never had left the sanctuary of the palace. While the dusk and dawn fought and fell each night, for years I roamed like a moth from lands unknown to dreams unspoken.
It was not until my later years that the yearning for true ventures nagged at the edges of my mind. That insatiable craving was aroused when a former companion of my father had entered, gracing our halls with his presence. Never before had I truly longed to abandon the luxuries of home, dismiss the routine lifestyle that would cheerily await me every morning. Or at least I hadn't until our acquaintance was met and tales of wonders fed to my young ears. It was then I hungered for more than words on aged paper could provide me….