Disclaimer: All characters in this first chapter belong to JRR Tolkien
Chapter 1: Isildur's Heir
And thus it was...that the throne of Gondor passed from the line of Isildur... Those who claimed his blood in their veins had been killed, forcing the true heirs into hiding...Slowly, the great empire that Gondor had once been fell into despair, for none but th miserly line of stewards claimed the throne...Yet the wise ones that still remained spoke of another...One to continue the blood line, and carry Narsil to Minas Tirith...They knew the day would come not soon...But the boy was already growing...And one day he would return to the city his ancestors had long forsaken...
Aragorn was his name. Aragorn of the Elendil.
But he was not one of the wise and fair elves, nor would he ever be. He had lived within the realm of Loth Lorien with his mother for as long as he could remember.
He often felt awkward when he looked upon the grace and wisdom of the elves, because he was human, and therefore, doomed to every kind of fault. He had been told by his mother long ago never to speak his father's name to anyone. On pain of death.
Whenever the ranger reflected on his past, he found that he remembered almost nothing of his life before the age of 11. It was as though someone had torn out the first few chapters of his life story. And he knew that without knowing the beginning, he could never hope to finish the book. His mother never spoke of his birth, nor his childhood, so he was left to pick up clues of his past from the best beginning he had.
It was that day, his 11th birthday, that Lord Elrond visited their home. Aragorn had, of course, seen the great elf when Galadriel, queen of Loth Lorien, had invited her son-in-law to her home.
The tall and graceful king of Rivendell glided in as though he were walking on air, but his look was a stern one. "A word alone, Gilraen." Elrond addressed his mother. This put the boy on his guard.
No one ever called his mother by her name.
Aragorn tiptoed over to the doorway that led to his mother's favorite balcony. He had always been good at being quiet, and it had helped him to learn many valuable things. He heard Lord Elrond say:
"You must understand...now that his father is dead, the boy must be prepared for his life. He must learn to fight. I shall give him all the care in my power, as if he were my own son. He shall learn the ways of the elves, and dwell in the forest of Imladris. I have already noticed something of his forefathers in him...quick thought, dark features, stealth, the ability to sense another's feelings...You have seen it too, and that is why you have come to fear this day..."
Aragorn heard a sigh that could only have been his mother's. He pulled his dark hair away from his ears, wanting to hear more.
"Indeed I have. The characteristics of the true line. The same ones his father-."
Aragorn heard her stop short of mentioning the man he had never known...and could never know. The elf moved, his silky tunic making a swishing noise.
Elrond spoke gently "You are not without hope. When it is time, Gondor will have Isildur's heir on the throne once more."
"Gondor!" Aragorn's mother spat angrily, "It has already taken my husband from me, but now you would let it take my son? Its people will not recieve him as king! Did you not see what their steward did to Arathorn?"
"Indeed I saw." Elrond breathed. "You are forgetting that I went with him, and it was I who watched him die."
The elf king spoke evenly, but the boy listening outside the door noted the sadness that Lord Elrond felt. After a brief silence, his mother spoke, her voice breaking with emotion.
"Then take him. Raise him into the man he is meant to be. He will not ask any questions, for he percieves everything."
Aragorn slipped back into the other room and sank down against the wall. He had heard far too much. Why didn't he ever listen to the little nagging doubts in his head? Despite what his mother had said, he was now filled with questions. Why must he go? Where? What was his destiny? Could he really sense another's feelings?
And that was the first of many times that he hated being who he was.
That evening at dinner, after Lord Elrond had left, Aragorn sat in total silence with his mother. He felt strong surges of anger coming from her, though her face remained as peaceful as it had been all day. She was welling up her anger inside of her, wanting to burst out "It's not fair!"
And the boy agreed. It was not fair....
It was not fair that he had to leave her all alone in Loth Lorien, not fair that he had been given no choice. It was not fair that his father had been killed, not fair that Aragorn had never known him. It was not fair that he felt his mother's sadness, not fair he could feel her pain.
Worst of all, he knew that his mother had never even intended to tell him of his departure until the last possible second. She had packed his belongings without letting him know. Aragorn realized that she didn't want to make their parting any more sorrowful, but the least she could have done was tell him that he was to leave at dawn. She acted as though it were just any other day in LothLorien.
The next morning, as his mother woke him, he sat up in bed and asked her:
"Why weren't you going to tell me?"
His mother broke down sobbing. Suddenly, he didn't want to comfort her. He found that he couldn't take the secrets that she had kept from him. The boy felt the salty tears falling down his cheek, but he gave no notice. He dressed quickly,
grabbing the bags that his mother had packed from a hook by the door. He raced outside, and halted.
Lord Elrond sat upon a magnificant horse, smiling sadly down at him. Aragorn looked up at him with a tear-streaked face. The elven king gestured to a small chestnut mount by his side.
The boy turned back to look at the home of his youth. With a determined look, he tore his eyes away from the cottage. He climbed up onto the saddle of his steed.
As he settled himself upon his horse, and strapped his bags to the creature's saddle, he glanced at the home he had known for so long, searching even though he knew the truth: She was not coming to say goodbye. 'No matter' he thought...If she did not care then he did not.
And without a further glance, Aragorn spurred his horse to face the rising sun.
AN:It starts pretty slow and depressing, but it'll get faster...Review, please