Chapter One:
1 The King's a Hunting
Here it goes! If you haven't read the notes, please go back and do so! They will hopefully cure any confusion.
"…Next case, sire, is a peculiar situation in which…" Faramir's voice drifted through one of the King's ear and out the other, which was unfortunate for the man who was up next for royal justice. Now, Aragorn Elessar was a just and noble king, but one who was rather over-worked, and had many pressing matters on his mind. Debt issues, city health conditions, and problems with corrupt provincial officials were just some of the things that were eating away at the realm and throne he had worked so hard to maintain.
So dealing with petty squabbles at weekly public court was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He had already taken over two hundred cases, but knew he couldn't take much more, not today. He motioned for Faramir, his seneschal, to come close. The russet-haired seneschal ascended the dais, while a commoner holding a bandaged arm and a squawking chicken waited impatiently for the king's advice.
"Faramir," Aragorn asked wearily, rubbing his aching temples, "How many more this afternoon?"
"Well, sire…about sixty-three." Faramir whispered, looking down at an unfurled scroll.
Aragorn sighed, "I am much to tired to devote any more attention to the cases; it would be better if you would take over."
Faramir's brow creased in concern, but he nodded, turning to address the court and the visiting commoners. "Mi'lords and Ladies, and those who come to seek royal judgment, I must announce the King is to retire for the day, as he has other matters he must attend to. Do not be concerned, for I shall finish today's session".
A light murmur rippled through the great hall, but all quieted and bowed as Aragorn stood and handed his scepter to Faramir. The King bowed back, before leaving through a door just behind his throne.
As he heard business resume behind him, Aragorn stretched with relief and escaped up a stairwell to his chambers, loosening the ties on his heavy and ornate tunic and robe, tossing the stiff, royal blue velvet on the floor of his bedroom. The King's apartments were large, but moderately decorated, lacking the obvious finesse and tastes of a Queen. The bed was dressed with thick, dark gray linens and silks, and white curtains hung from the tall posts that marked the bed's four corners. A large armoire holding the royal garments rested against the west wall, near the entrance to the balcony, which led to the door of Aragorn's private study and library. In the wall across from the balcony was the door of the King's bathing chamber. Apart from the necessary pillared candles, the only other decorations in the rooms were the elaborately woven tapestries that blanketed and warmed the stone walls. They told the tales of the kings that had come before Aragorn, and were woven by Aragorn's mother, a lonely queen who had little other to do once her only child was grown.
Aragorn took off his crown and laid it upon the bed, then opened the armoire to search for his hunting clothes. After pulling on his old brown jerkin, doeskin jacket, and the leather arm bracers that had been worn by his late father, he strapped on his sword and slipped a dagger into a secret boot-sleeve. He slung a quiver of arrows on his back and grabbed his bow, then left his rooms and quickly made his way to the stables.
Just as he was about to head out into the afternoon sun, he ran into his Head Guard, Faramir's older brother Boromir, who regarded his King and friend with a disapproving scowl.
"Not now, Boromir. I must have some time away from this place." Aragorn said shortly, brushing past the younger man. "I am going hunting".
"Well, since it will take awhile to have your horse readied, pray tarry with me awhile." The guard responded, knowing that he had him.
"Damn your wit, Son of Denethor." The King retorted, but with a sigh, halted his steps and signaled for a stable hand to prepare his stallion, then turned to face his friend. "If this is about my going off alone, you know it is battle you will not win."
"Nay, Sire, I have a more…delicate…matter to discuss."
"Why do I not like the sound of this…"
"Aragorn, you are fast approaching forty, and have yet to take a bride, let alone produce an heir. There are several suitable maids around the kingdom, if you would just meet them. For example, there is Rhiannon, daughter of the Duke of Pendur, or there is lovely Malian of-"
"Yes, all young and happy maids, who have never laid eyes upon me. And I will keep it that way for as long as possible." Aragorn turned away, his face bitter. "Better for them to remain in the homes of their childhoods than to waste away in the royal bedchamber, like my mother did".
Now it was Boromir's turn to sigh. "For you and Gondor to remain without a queen is a possibility that will soon cease to exist. If you die without a son, chaos will feed upon the land. I know you intend to appoint my brother as successor, but jealous and powerful members of court will not accept it."
Aragorn was silent for a moment. He knew Boromir was right, and he loved his kingdom and people far too much to let it go to waste after his death. He would soon have to choose a bride…
A loud, furious neigh broke his thoughts, and with a grin he watched the poor stable boy attempt to guide a tall, black stallion into the courtyard without getting kicked in the head. Stepping forward to calm his steed, Aragorn spoke to Boromir under his breath. "It is a matter that I shall consider, but not today. I remind you, old friend, that your concerns are with the affairs of my armies, not my personal life." With that, the King swung himself up into the saddle, taking the reins from the attendant and securing his bow to his back. With a kick, the stallion carried the King out of the courtyard, through the city and out into the wild, and Aragorn did not look back once. Which is why he missed the anger and strange glint in Boromir's brown eyes, before the Head Guard turned and disappeared into the palace.
Several hours later, the sun had sunk to rest upon the ridges of the mountains, infusing the sky with twilight colors of lavender and coral. Evening birds sounded their mournful warbles, and a light breeze stirred the feathery branches of the trees, cooling the air.
Aragorn rode swiftly through the woods, but paid little attention to where his horse was going. He had been lost in his thoughts for quite some time, never realizing that he was further away from home than he had ever been. The joy and triumph of the hunt and soon given way to brooding over the troubles that faced Gondor, and the many hares that hung in bag near his stirrup did little to cheer the King.
The stallion, even in his powerful canter, was skittish in the dark and unfamiliar territory. He raced on even faster, hoping to escape the woods and its precarious root-gnarled floor. Suddenly, a slim green snake darted out right before his burnished hooves, and with a piercing squeal, the frightened horse reared up sharply, throwing the stunned King from his back. Aragorn shouted, but when his head glanced off a rock, he crumpled silently to the ground, his mind falling into darkness as the moon rose high above him, blinding him with its silver glow.
A/N: Like it? Hate it? Let me know! I'll try to post more soon…but reviews may help fuel my writing ^_^. Thanks for reading!
1 The King's a Hunting
Here it goes! If you haven't read the notes, please go back and do so! They will hopefully cure any confusion.
"…Next case, sire, is a peculiar situation in which…" Faramir's voice drifted through one of the King's ear and out the other, which was unfortunate for the man who was up next for royal justice. Now, Aragorn Elessar was a just and noble king, but one who was rather over-worked, and had many pressing matters on his mind. Debt issues, city health conditions, and problems with corrupt provincial officials were just some of the things that were eating away at the realm and throne he had worked so hard to maintain.
So dealing with petty squabbles at weekly public court was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He had already taken over two hundred cases, but knew he couldn't take much more, not today. He motioned for Faramir, his seneschal, to come close. The russet-haired seneschal ascended the dais, while a commoner holding a bandaged arm and a squawking chicken waited impatiently for the king's advice.
"Faramir," Aragorn asked wearily, rubbing his aching temples, "How many more this afternoon?"
"Well, sire…about sixty-three." Faramir whispered, looking down at an unfurled scroll.
Aragorn sighed, "I am much to tired to devote any more attention to the cases; it would be better if you would take over."
Faramir's brow creased in concern, but he nodded, turning to address the court and the visiting commoners. "Mi'lords and Ladies, and those who come to seek royal judgment, I must announce the King is to retire for the day, as he has other matters he must attend to. Do not be concerned, for I shall finish today's session".
A light murmur rippled through the great hall, but all quieted and bowed as Aragorn stood and handed his scepter to Faramir. The King bowed back, before leaving through a door just behind his throne.
As he heard business resume behind him, Aragorn stretched with relief and escaped up a stairwell to his chambers, loosening the ties on his heavy and ornate tunic and robe, tossing the stiff, royal blue velvet on the floor of his bedroom. The King's apartments were large, but moderately decorated, lacking the obvious finesse and tastes of a Queen. The bed was dressed with thick, dark gray linens and silks, and white curtains hung from the tall posts that marked the bed's four corners. A large armoire holding the royal garments rested against the west wall, near the entrance to the balcony, which led to the door of Aragorn's private study and library. In the wall across from the balcony was the door of the King's bathing chamber. Apart from the necessary pillared candles, the only other decorations in the rooms were the elaborately woven tapestries that blanketed and warmed the stone walls. They told the tales of the kings that had come before Aragorn, and were woven by Aragorn's mother, a lonely queen who had little other to do once her only child was grown.
Aragorn took off his crown and laid it upon the bed, then opened the armoire to search for his hunting clothes. After pulling on his old brown jerkin, doeskin jacket, and the leather arm bracers that had been worn by his late father, he strapped on his sword and slipped a dagger into a secret boot-sleeve. He slung a quiver of arrows on his back and grabbed his bow, then left his rooms and quickly made his way to the stables.
Just as he was about to head out into the afternoon sun, he ran into his Head Guard, Faramir's older brother Boromir, who regarded his King and friend with a disapproving scowl.
"Not now, Boromir. I must have some time away from this place." Aragorn said shortly, brushing past the younger man. "I am going hunting".
"Well, since it will take awhile to have your horse readied, pray tarry with me awhile." The guard responded, knowing that he had him.
"Damn your wit, Son of Denethor." The King retorted, but with a sigh, halted his steps and signaled for a stable hand to prepare his stallion, then turned to face his friend. "If this is about my going off alone, you know it is battle you will not win."
"Nay, Sire, I have a more…delicate…matter to discuss."
"Why do I not like the sound of this…"
"Aragorn, you are fast approaching forty, and have yet to take a bride, let alone produce an heir. There are several suitable maids around the kingdom, if you would just meet them. For example, there is Rhiannon, daughter of the Duke of Pendur, or there is lovely Malian of-"
"Yes, all young and happy maids, who have never laid eyes upon me. And I will keep it that way for as long as possible." Aragorn turned away, his face bitter. "Better for them to remain in the homes of their childhoods than to waste away in the royal bedchamber, like my mother did".
Now it was Boromir's turn to sigh. "For you and Gondor to remain without a queen is a possibility that will soon cease to exist. If you die without a son, chaos will feed upon the land. I know you intend to appoint my brother as successor, but jealous and powerful members of court will not accept it."
Aragorn was silent for a moment. He knew Boromir was right, and he loved his kingdom and people far too much to let it go to waste after his death. He would soon have to choose a bride…
A loud, furious neigh broke his thoughts, and with a grin he watched the poor stable boy attempt to guide a tall, black stallion into the courtyard without getting kicked in the head. Stepping forward to calm his steed, Aragorn spoke to Boromir under his breath. "It is a matter that I shall consider, but not today. I remind you, old friend, that your concerns are with the affairs of my armies, not my personal life." With that, the King swung himself up into the saddle, taking the reins from the attendant and securing his bow to his back. With a kick, the stallion carried the King out of the courtyard, through the city and out into the wild, and Aragorn did not look back once. Which is why he missed the anger and strange glint in Boromir's brown eyes, before the Head Guard turned and disappeared into the palace.
Several hours later, the sun had sunk to rest upon the ridges of the mountains, infusing the sky with twilight colors of lavender and coral. Evening birds sounded their mournful warbles, and a light breeze stirred the feathery branches of the trees, cooling the air.
Aragorn rode swiftly through the woods, but paid little attention to where his horse was going. He had been lost in his thoughts for quite some time, never realizing that he was further away from home than he had ever been. The joy and triumph of the hunt and soon given way to brooding over the troubles that faced Gondor, and the many hares that hung in bag near his stirrup did little to cheer the King.
The stallion, even in his powerful canter, was skittish in the dark and unfamiliar territory. He raced on even faster, hoping to escape the woods and its precarious root-gnarled floor. Suddenly, a slim green snake darted out right before his burnished hooves, and with a piercing squeal, the frightened horse reared up sharply, throwing the stunned King from his back. Aragorn shouted, but when his head glanced off a rock, he crumpled silently to the ground, his mind falling into darkness as the moon rose high above him, blinding him with its silver glow.
A/N: Like it? Hate it? Let me know! I'll try to post more soon…but reviews may help fuel my writing ^_^. Thanks for reading!