Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction ❯ Days of the King ❯ Council of Aragorn ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
*I am in no way associated with J.R.R. Tolkein’s LORD OF THE RINGS, and I do not profit by this. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
***WARNINGS***
O/C, slight blood, citrus, and anything else which comes with PG-13….
Yea my first fan fiction attempt…Please, if you just NEED to flame me, TELL ME WHAT YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT IT!!!!
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
It has been ten years since the war for Middle Earth had ended. Remnants of the vast armies of orcs, Uruk-Hai, trolls, wargs and other servants of Sauron and Saruman still roam, many fewer than before. Masterless and in small bnads, they nonetheless terrorize small villages and hamlets, and homesteads on the fringes of the bigger towns and cities. But as of late, plan and purpose seem to be arising from their predations.
The nations of Gondor and Rohan bear the greatest burden of restoring order and a sense of safety to the peoples of the land. Without the Elves, Man now rules supreme over this ravaged land. In spite of the travails of the wars, old rivalries, intrigues and greed did not take long to surface again, and King Aragorn finds himself more adminstrator and arbitrator than warrior.Although he has regained the throne, the kingdom and the honor of Isildur, the crown is far heavier than he ever would have dreamed...
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
Aragorn surveyed himself in the oval mirror in the antechamber to the bedroom he shared with Arwen. It was another of those dammed formal council meetings, the fourth this week. The purposely staggered arrivals of vassals from outlying provinces , allowing him to give each group special attention, getting a real sense of their issues and giving each a sense of their Kings’ concern.
He tried to reach down the front of his breastplate and scratch at one of his many scars, this one just below the breastbone.
He had to have help getting into his formal armor. All the ties and leather lacings were impossible for one person to do alone. Unfortunately, he had dismissed the young knight that acted as his squire and valet. He’d need his help to get this damned itch.
He could think better with just clothes; maybe some simple leather over townman’s tunic and breeches, or better yet, his Ranger’s black gear, so comfortable and familiar.
The spring day had dawned so bright and clear. He could imagine taking a ride across the plains on his horse Darakar, a two year old stallion as free as he once was. He was a splendid dappled gray, a gift from Eomer, now King of Rohan.
It was almost an hour till the council. Perhaps time to see Darakar in his stables, and bring him a treat. He walked to the window and leaned out far for a breath of air and perhaps a glimpse of the stables.
“If we hurry, we can slip away unseen by any of the council or the nobles. I know a secret way…”
As long as he had known elf-kind, and as long as he had been a Ranger, he could still not hear his wife’s footsteps when she wished to conceal them.
Aragorn smiled to himself. “I was not contemplating a permanent escape, just a ride out of the city on such a beautiful morning”.
Arwen slipped next to him, placing silken arms around him, leaning on the polished silvery breast-plate of his formal armor. She surveyed his image in the mirror also, running her fingers through his shoulder length hair, now showing gray at the temples, and pushed errant strands away from his face.
“Why do you dread it so? It has been almost 10 years of rule, my love. And there are many old friends among the council members. Why so unsettled when these affairs of state are required?”
He turned her to him, and planted a warm kiss on her cheek. She was as unchanged as the evening stars, Undomiel her informal title among her people, now departed from these shores. She still looked a girl of her early twenties, while he now looked more like her father than her husband.
“I grow weary of these petty squabbles for land and rights. I don’t like levying taxes, but I know they are necessary. And almost a decade past the fall of Mordor, we are still plagued by his pests. Fewer now, but every new attack is an assault on our peace and security. And the Southrons, the Haradrim! I fear a new war may be upon the Realm!”
He sat heavily upon an ornate chair, emblazoned with the White Tree of Gondor.
“It is one thing to win the war, another to win the peace and the trust of the people. Warrior to King was not as hard as King to Steward. For that is what a good King really is…a steward of the land and her peoples, its future, its culture, its wealth…”said Aragorn.
Arwen smiled her knowing smile. “You sound like my father did, in times of strife. These thoughts trouble all rulers of good conscience. Be content, my husband and my King. You are loved; and all who care to judge you fairly know you are a just and kindly king. No better ruler, King or Steward, ever sat on this or any throne.”
He looked into her storm sky grey-blue eyes. “You are biased. You say such things because you love me”.
“Not really. I say such things because they are true”. She slid slowly into his lap, and wriggled seductively against him. “I say this because I love you”. Arwen smiled. “I have spoken to one of your local wise women. She has an intriguing recipe for conceiving a child”.
Aragorn guffawed.
“Different from the usual method?”
“Don’t scoff, my love. She is said to be very successful in these matters. Tonight is the night of the full moon. She says to make love at dusk and again at dawn”…
Aragorn chuckled. “I’m sure we’ve done THAT before…”
“Don’t laugh! And as much as we can in between. AND we must be in the highest point of your place of power. I would say that it certainly is that little guard room at the top of the tower above the throne room”.
“But there are guards in the guard tower”.
She placed his hand on her breast, soft and yielding under the velvet forest green dressing gown she wore.
“There will be none tonight. The queen has arranged it. There will be wine, soft linens and furs, and a woman who wants you badly will be waiting. Impatiently”
She kissed him fully and deeply, making it a promise of a night to remember.
Aragorn exhaled a shaky breath. “Now I truly cannot stand the thought of this council.” He held her to him tightly.”Must we wait until dusk?”
A knock at the antechamber door was followed by a gruff and familiar voice.
“Aragorn! I have news! Can I come in, laddie?”
***So I’m going to stop here for now. Tell me what you think, please. And again NO flames unless you tell me what you don’t like about it!!!***
***WARNINGS***
O/C, slight blood, citrus, and anything else which comes with PG-13….
Yea my first fan fiction attempt…Please, if you just NEED to flame me, TELL ME WHAT YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT IT!!!!
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
It has been ten years since the war for Middle Earth had ended. Remnants of the vast armies of orcs, Uruk-Hai, trolls, wargs and other servants of Sauron and Saruman still roam, many fewer than before. Masterless and in small bnads, they nonetheless terrorize small villages and hamlets, and homesteads on the fringes of the bigger towns and cities. But as of late, plan and purpose seem to be arising from their predations.
The nations of Gondor and Rohan bear the greatest burden of restoring order and a sense of safety to the peoples of the land. Without the Elves, Man now rules supreme over this ravaged land. In spite of the travails of the wars, old rivalries, intrigues and greed did not take long to surface again, and King Aragorn finds himself more adminstrator and arbitrator than warrior.Although he has regained the throne, the kingdom and the honor of Isildur, the crown is far heavier than he ever would have dreamed...
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
Aragorn surveyed himself in the oval mirror in the antechamber to the bedroom he shared with Arwen. It was another of those dammed formal council meetings, the fourth this week. The purposely staggered arrivals of vassals from outlying provinces , allowing him to give each group special attention, getting a real sense of their issues and giving each a sense of their Kings’ concern.
He tried to reach down the front of his breastplate and scratch at one of his many scars, this one just below the breastbone.
He had to have help getting into his formal armor. All the ties and leather lacings were impossible for one person to do alone. Unfortunately, he had dismissed the young knight that acted as his squire and valet. He’d need his help to get this damned itch.
He could think better with just clothes; maybe some simple leather over townman’s tunic and breeches, or better yet, his Ranger’s black gear, so comfortable and familiar.
The spring day had dawned so bright and clear. He could imagine taking a ride across the plains on his horse Darakar, a two year old stallion as free as he once was. He was a splendid dappled gray, a gift from Eomer, now King of Rohan.
It was almost an hour till the council. Perhaps time to see Darakar in his stables, and bring him a treat. He walked to the window and leaned out far for a breath of air and perhaps a glimpse of the stables.
“If we hurry, we can slip away unseen by any of the council or the nobles. I know a secret way…”
As long as he had known elf-kind, and as long as he had been a Ranger, he could still not hear his wife’s footsteps when she wished to conceal them.
Aragorn smiled to himself. “I was not contemplating a permanent escape, just a ride out of the city on such a beautiful morning”.
Arwen slipped next to him, placing silken arms around him, leaning on the polished silvery breast-plate of his formal armor. She surveyed his image in the mirror also, running her fingers through his shoulder length hair, now showing gray at the temples, and pushed errant strands away from his face.
“Why do you dread it so? It has been almost 10 years of rule, my love. And there are many old friends among the council members. Why so unsettled when these affairs of state are required?”
He turned her to him, and planted a warm kiss on her cheek. She was as unchanged as the evening stars, Undomiel her informal title among her people, now departed from these shores. She still looked a girl of her early twenties, while he now looked more like her father than her husband.
“I grow weary of these petty squabbles for land and rights. I don’t like levying taxes, but I know they are necessary. And almost a decade past the fall of Mordor, we are still plagued by his pests. Fewer now, but every new attack is an assault on our peace and security. And the Southrons, the Haradrim! I fear a new war may be upon the Realm!”
He sat heavily upon an ornate chair, emblazoned with the White Tree of Gondor.
“It is one thing to win the war, another to win the peace and the trust of the people. Warrior to King was not as hard as King to Steward. For that is what a good King really is…a steward of the land and her peoples, its future, its culture, its wealth…”said Aragorn.
Arwen smiled her knowing smile. “You sound like my father did, in times of strife. These thoughts trouble all rulers of good conscience. Be content, my husband and my King. You are loved; and all who care to judge you fairly know you are a just and kindly king. No better ruler, King or Steward, ever sat on this or any throne.”
He looked into her storm sky grey-blue eyes. “You are biased. You say such things because you love me”.
“Not really. I say such things because they are true”. She slid slowly into his lap, and wriggled seductively against him. “I say this because I love you”. Arwen smiled. “I have spoken to one of your local wise women. She has an intriguing recipe for conceiving a child”.
Aragorn guffawed.
“Different from the usual method?”
“Don’t scoff, my love. She is said to be very successful in these matters. Tonight is the night of the full moon. She says to make love at dusk and again at dawn”…
Aragorn chuckled. “I’m sure we’ve done THAT before…”
“Don’t laugh! And as much as we can in between. AND we must be in the highest point of your place of power. I would say that it certainly is that little guard room at the top of the tower above the throne room”.
“But there are guards in the guard tower”.
She placed his hand on her breast, soft and yielding under the velvet forest green dressing gown she wore.
“There will be none tonight. The queen has arranged it. There will be wine, soft linens and furs, and a woman who wants you badly will be waiting. Impatiently”
She kissed him fully and deeply, making it a promise of a night to remember.
Aragorn exhaled a shaky breath. “Now I truly cannot stand the thought of this council.” He held her to him tightly.”Must we wait until dusk?”
A knock at the antechamber door was followed by a gruff and familiar voice.
“Aragorn! I have news! Can I come in, laddie?”
***So I’m going to stop here for now. Tell me what you think, please. And again NO flames unless you tell me what you don’t like about it!!!***