Foundations of Stone

The King Elessar gazed out over the white city from his high place on the balcony that overlooked the plains below and the far off silver ribbon that was the river Anduin. The pale moonlight cast an ethereal haze over the vast lands and shimmered in the depths of the distant waters. There were no clouds to veil the moon and stars, which flickered in the black abyss above him. A slight breeze rippled through the long, silver grasses and caused wisps of his dark hair to shift on his shoulders.
His slate eyes searched the shadows as they blended with the sky at the peaks of the far away mountains. He searched for something he knew he would not find. Could not find. Something that had gone many years before, but had not yet vanished from his memory. The war had ended long ago; in the minds of his people it was but a distant memory. No more than a shadow of a thought. Though as he gazed towards the mountains that had once been the border between his realm and the Shadow, he saw, still, the black tower of Barad Dur. A pinnacle of ebony, rising into the night. Darker than its surroundings, an impenetrable gloom that no light could pierce.
He sighed and turned away from the veranda, away from the past. A maelstrom of memories whirled in his mind, threatening to surface and shatter what strength he still had. He had once been the person who entire armies had rallied to, the thread by which they hung in times of great despair. Though now that all had passed, he had no one to follow. In truth, he knew, he was at heart still the young boy who would follow his older brothers into whatever trouble they might lead him, and the only grown man who had the nerve to call Lord Elrond adar. Those days were long past, though. The Lord of Imladris and his twin sons had long ago gone into the West, and now where he had played as a child was empty and echoed no longer with laughter. The gardens were overgrown and the foundations which had once seemed unbreakable to the young child of Men, crumbled. Nothing remained.
His reverie was shattered suddenly by a small voice behind him. "Adar?"
Aragorn turned to see his son Eldarion standing in the doorway. He seemed so vulnerable between the large tree-like pillars, and the King was taken by a sudden urge to take the young boy in his arms. Perhaps not everything good was gone, after all.