Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the reviews! :-D This is a really long chapter..well in my point of view haha. I was going to make it into two chapters, but I decided to tortue you! :) haha! Please continue to review about things you liked/didn't like about the story. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings--just thought I'd say it once more for fun. But, guess what? I do own Cilcyn, Eafea, Freosefa, Felan, Bilengel, Gilphnis, and Bysmor..and the plot. :)
Woot! I love names in Old English! Did anyone guess what Eafea's name means? (Waits to hear the answer come out of the speakers then realizes she has no life and eats string cheese) Okay..guess not! Well, it means little son-- since he is the littlest son out of the family. Yeah..ok it is kind of dumb. And Freosefa means free spirit. Isn't that pretty? Go names! Find out what all those other names mean next time..on Child of the King! haha I am such a loser!!
Read & review!
Chapter 3
Aragorn rode across the Citadel on Roheryn, the rough-haired horse that Arwen had given him many years ago. Roheryn's hooves were pounding against the stone as Aragorn rode past the White Tree, blooming in all its glory, that stood before the Tower of Ecthelion. Aragorn hadn't been able to fall asleep as he lay tossing and turning in his bed as the moonlight poured onto his sleeping wife, so he decided to ride Roheryn out of Minas Tirith and through Pelennor Fields as a way to calm himself. He had been feeling overwhelmed with himself lately, but he was not entirely sure why. There was complete and utter peace in Gondor, however, something had been sinking his heart lately, so King Elessar took off on his horse that morning to ease himself. He never went riding for pleasure that often, so he was left with a feeling of serenity as he dismounted Roheryn in front of the King's House, where he, Arwen, and all of his children lived.
Entering the beautifully decorated entrance hall in the King's House, Aragorn immediately sensed that something was utterly wrong. The early morning sun was pouring in through the windows onto the long, wooden table on the opposite side of the hall, however, his family was not sitting down enjoying a lovely breakfast and awaiting his arrival. It must have been nearly seven o'clock, so Aragorn thought that maybe his family had overslept, which was all too common during the long, summer days.
He walked down to the end of the hall, glancing around for any sign of his children hiding behind the large, stone pillars, prepared to jump out and startle him. When a surprise attack did not come, he made his way towards the right end of the hall, preparing to awaken his children for a new day. However, he thought he should wake up his lady first, so he drifted towards the left end of the hall where a wide, yet short, corridor was revealed behind a pillar. Dimming candles decorated the stone walls as Aragorn walked down the corridor, finally reaching his destination of the wooden door leading to his bedroom.
He placed his callused fingers on the silver handle of the door and pushed it lightly so that the door would open quietly and slowly as to not awake Arwen's slumber. Aragorn slipped in through the door and into the large, darkened bedroom. He saw just the outline of his bed that was in a nook in the left wall due to the small amount of light seeping in through the thick curtains.
Arwen was as still as the air as Aragorn lay down beside her on the bed, the darkness allowing him to only see the outline of her perfect body that lay motionless beneath the thin sheet. He gazed at her in the darkness for a few moments, not able to see her clearly, but since he had seen her everyday for what seemed like eternity, Aragorn could see in his mind the gorgeousness of Arwen even in the shadows. He let out a relieving sigh and a smile passed his lips since he was just so happy to be lying beside his queen. He didn't want to wake her since she seemed so lovely even as she slept.
Aragorn stroked Arwen's dark hair with his hand, its softness feeling almost odd on his rough fingers. He brought his finger to her pale cheek that he could somewhat make out in the darkness. But, he did not feel the warmth of her face as he traced his finger along her cheek. Immediately, he drew himself back from her, and darted over to the window, and tore back the thick curtains that had allowed barely any light to pass through. He spun around, and nearly choked on his heart as it leapt up from his chest when his eyes locked on Arwen.
Aragorn stumbled back over to his bed, nearly collapsing as he knelt beside Arwen. She was lying motionless, a gash so deep in her chest that the blood had soaked the entire sheet that was covering her body. Aragorn's breathing was staggered as he took her hand, as cold as ice, and pressed his lips to her white skin. A single tear left his eye and traveled down his cheek, and landed on her lifeless hand. He looked up to her face, and saw her eyes closed, as if she had been at peace when she had been murdered.
No words could describe the pain he felt in his heart and in his soul. The tears that emptied from his eyes explained everything, and he needed no words to describe the pain he felt. Aragorn brushed the hair from her face as he put both of his hands on her cheeks. His tears traced down his face and dripped onto hers. He wept for many moments, not even realizing that her blood was spreading over his clothes. He could not understand how the one he loved had been so brutally murdered, and his silent cries began to become louder, until soon he let out an ear-piercing scream that echoed through every corridor in the King's House.
Getting up from his knees, he stared down at his murdered queen, grasping her icy hand in his. Suddenly, the thought of why his children hadn't appeared in the hall as well passed through his mind, and feeling helpless, he looked towards the door and back towards Arwen. He did not want to leave her side even though he knew that death had taken her, but he knew that his children could still be in danger.
He dashed out of his quarters and down the same stone corridor, and out into the empty and silent hall, Arwen's blood on his clothes and on his hands. He darted down the corridor that was opposite the one he had just come from, where two doors mirrored one other along both sides of the walls. He burst the first door on his left open, which was the door to the quarters of his only son, Eldarion. The curtain was drawn in Eldarion's quarters, and Aragorn wished that it hadn't been. The early morning light shone onto Eldarion, who was lying on the stone-cold floor in a pool of his own blood. Eldarion had been stabbed in his heart, in the same place that Arwen had been attacked.
Aragorn stood in the doorway in horror, nearly passing out from the insanity. He ran to Eldarion and scooped him up in his arms, tears flowing freely from his eyes, having trouble believing what had just happened. He stroked Eldarion's hair, and brought his face to his chest in agony. He couldn't tear himself away from his child, but he needed to see if his three daughters were all right.
Aragorn stumbled out of Eldarion's quarters, the blood of both his son and wife blending in with his tears. The door next to Eldarion's quarters led to his eldest daughter's room. It was closed shut, but Aragorn thrust the door open with a faint hope that maybe his daughter, Felan, had not been murdered. The curtains were closed as he entered the room, so Aragorn prayed maybe Felan was still sleeping. However, as he drew the curtains and turned around to face the bed, he saw a scene exactly like what he had seen in his own bedroom.
Felan was drenched in blood that seeped through the sheets from her wounded chest. Aragorn ran to her side, nearly fainting from the gruesome sight. His beloved daughter; his sweet child of only thirteen years, was dead. He backed up to the door, trying to get rid of the terrible image in his mind. He shook his head in disbelief while his insides churned and emotions whirled through his mind.
"No…" Aragorn whispered, "NO!" he screamed louder and fell backwards, the stone wall catching his fall. He leaned against the wall and shut his eyes tightly, hoping that if he couldn't see his loved ones murdered, then it had never happened. He used all of his strength to walk across the corridor to the closed door that led to his youngest daughters' quarters.
He opened the door slowly, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. He stumbled over to the curtains and drew them back, preparing to see the worst as he spun around. Immediately he sunk down to the floor in agony, nearly ripping out his hair as his cries echoed throughout the King's House.
Bilengel, Aragorn's six year old daughter, had fallen out of her blood-stained bed and onto the stone floor, while his ten year old daughter, Gilphnis, looked much like Arwen in which she was still in her bed covered in dried blood. Aragorn honestly didn't know what to do. He had experienced the death of ones he had cared for before, but never had he expected to see his children or his wife murdered, especially in his own home. Completely at a loss for words and actions, he sat there, completely dumbfounded, his sight clouded with dreaded tears. His head dropped between his knees, and he ran his hands through his hair while the images of all of his children and of his wife ran through his mind.
Elboron, his strong-willed and kind son, who, at only fourteen, was already showing promise for when he would have taken the throne, was lying on the ground of his quarters with a gigantic gash through his heart. Aragorn too felt as though someone had stabbed him in the heart as he thought of Elboron, Arwen and his three daughters; Felan, Bilengel, and Gilphnis. His daughters all carried the presence and beauty of their mother, but were all determined and proud like their father. Aragorn could not believe that his three little angels were dead.
Had he not left that morning on his ride, his four beautiful children would not be killed and neither would Arwen. Aragorn cursed himself as he wept and wished with all of his heart that his children were all alive, and that Arwen was beside him.
oooooo
"King Elessar," said Bysmor, trying to help Aragorn come out of his daze. "King Elessar," he said loudly, and Aragorn immediately looked up from the ground. He had been thinking of the morning's events, leaving him with a heavy heart and clouded eyes, and had not noticed Bysmor enter the grand hall in the Tower of Ecthelion.
"Yes, Bysmor," Aragorn replied while clearing his throat.
"I have come to express my condolences, King Elessar," said Bysmor, Aragorn's closest friend in Minas Tirith, and somewhat of an advisor to him. The two were alone in the empty hall; Aragorn sitting on his throne sulking, and Bysmor standing before him.
It was nearing nighttime and the people of Minas Tirith had not yet been informed of the tragedy that happened that morning. The only people that knew of the devastation that had happened that morning were Bysmor, and the ones who carried out the bodies to prepare them for the funeral. Aragorn knew that he must inform his people, but he worried that he would not be able to speak of the tragedy without breaking down in tears. He knew that his people would be in mourning if word spread through the city that Queen Arwen and his four children were brutally murdered by an unknown enemy. Some would be frightened that war would develop, but others would just be extremely saddened by the occurrence.
Aragorn had not spoken to a single soul ever since Bysmor had found him weeping beside Arwen's body several hours before. Aragorn was too torn apart inside to figure out who had killed his loved ones, so he went into the Tower of Ecthelion to be completely alone and not be bothered by anyone or anything.
"I understand that you do not wish to be bothered," Bysmor started, and Aragorn nodded slightly, "And I do apologize for coming to you in your time of grief, and I realize that you would appreciate for me to leave and for you to be left alone. However, the events that happened this morning could be seen as an act of war and I believe—"
"These events happen to be the unfortunate murders of my family! No country would attack Minas Tirith through the killings of my wife and children!" Aragorn shouted, completely outraged.
"Could it be then that it was an attack from the inside?" Bysmor asked quietly after a stretched silence, hoping not to anger Aragorn even more.
"I have no enemies," Aragorn said coldly.
"It may seem as though you have none," Bysmor began, "but the circumstances prove that—"
"Prove what?" Aragorn asked angrily, "That I am disliked by my own people? That the line of my family shall be destroyed to prevent my predecessors from ruling?"
"I am afraid that it is entirely that, King Elessar. Now that Eldarion has been…has passed on…you have no heir to the throne."
Aragorn stared silently at Bysmor for several minutes, realizing that his friend's point could be the answer for the murder of his family; to stop Eldarion from taking the throne in the years to come.
"The Steward of Gondor shall take the title of ruling Gondor after your death, I assume," Bysmor said truthfully, "That is unless you wed again."
Aragorn looked at Bysmor mysteriously. Why was Bysmor pressing the matter of heirs so soon after such a terrible event? Bysmor, though he was a faithful friend for those many years that they had know each other, was being preposterous. Aragorn had just lost his wife and children, and Bysmor was already speaking of finding another queen! How Aragorn wanted to be left alone, and not bothered by Bysmor's annoying truths.
"Why would I wed after such cataclysm has been instilled upon my family?" Aragorn questioned sharply.
"Because you need a heir to the throne, King Elessar," Bysmor said urgently, "Unless you have an unknown child that resides in Middle Earth, you are to be in great peril in the years to come if you would like to continue your line of rulers."
"An unknown child…" Aragorn whispered quietly to himself, pondering what Bysmor had just said.
"Excuse me, King Elessar?" Bysmor asked, confused to as what Aragorn had said so quietly.
"I do not wish to be spoken with at this time," Aragorn said shortly.
"Before I leave you to be alone, my friend, I would like to remind you to be on your utmost alert and attentiveness. We shall increase the guards around Minas Tirith, but if the enemy is indeed someone from the city, then you still may be in danger of death."
"Then bring death onto me, Bysmor, for I would rather be dead than living through this," Aragorn said with the harshest manner that Bysmor had ever heard.
Bysmor stared into the chilling eyes of Aragorn. They pierced through Bysmor's heart, leaving him with an understanding of the pain that the king of his land was feeling. Bysmor turned slowly around, breaking the gaze between them, and began to walk towards the large door at the opposite end of the hall. Aragorn rubbed his rough hands together in deep thought as the door to the Tower of Ecthelion closed shut.
"An unknown child…" Aragorn repeated as he remembered the day when Eowyn told him that she was going to have his child…