Chapter 1: Default Chapter
The hall was dark except for the reflected light from the great hearth. The fireplace held logs longer than a man and blazed with an intense heat that barely touched the chill that filled the room. Part of the chill was from the coldness of winter, but only the physical portion.
Aragorn, King of Gondor slouched on his throne and stared absently into the flames and fiddled with something in his right hand. His privy counsel stood before him and waited, each one hesitant to fill the silence of the room with more than the deceptively merry popping of the burning wood.
After what seemed to be an eternity the king brought his hand up and displayed what he held. Suspended from a silver chain wrapped around callused and scarred fingers hung the Evenstar. The firelight danced upon the silver and gems, giving it almost bloody sheen.
"My Queen", said Aragorn in a low voice, "is gone. She departed Middle- Earth a fortnight ago from the Grey Havens. She has gone to join her family in the Undying Lands." His eyes never left the pendant as he spoke. "She wrote a letter explaining her reasons, the contents of which will remain known only to me. Suffice it to say she was not happy here and is not returning."
He caught the pendant again in his hand, brought it slowly to his lips and then held it to his heart. Straightening his back, he raised his grey eyes first to his chancellor, Arnlaug.
The old man bowed slightly to his king, and stroked his neatly trimmed beard for a moment. It was obvious that he had much to say.
"Out with it, wise one", Aragorn sighed, "Although I can already guess what you will say."
Arnlaug took a step forward and bowed again to his king. "Let me be the first to express my sorrow, my liege." There was a slight pause as Aragorn acknowledged this with a nod. "And as much as you do not wish to hear this, I am bound as your adviser to tell you. You must find another wife. And quickly. Your hold on the throne of Gondor is not as secure as you or I might wish."
Aragorn studied his chancellor closely. The man was almost sixty years of age, but looked not a day over forty. The blood of Numenor still ran in his veins as it did in many of the noble houses of Gondor. Arnlaug's hair shone as a steely grey in the firelight, his stature was tall and noble and his body was still strong and muscled. The man was as valiant in battle as he was wise and honest in counsel, and that made him the most valued of all Aragorn's advisers.
The king raised his eyebrows and looked at his chancellor inquisitively. "But I am Isildur's heir, descended directly from him. No one has a clearer claim to the throne than I." This discussion had been played out many times between the two of them, and they knew each other's arguments and moves intimately.
"Yes. But you have no heir. And with no heir, your throne is not secure." Arnlaug bowed again, this time in apology for what he was about to say. "My Lord, while your lady wife was certainly beautiful to look upon, she refused to provide you with what was most needed. Your people have waited for the past three years, watching for some indication that she was going to produce an heir. The people of Gondor lived in stability for many years under the stewards. If you die without issue, the stability that the stewards and you have brought will be gone. The people of Gondor cannot allow that to happen." The chancellor then shook his head sadly. "And now she is gone, My Lord. And while my heart breaks for you and your sorrow, my head tells me that we must act quickly before your throne is lost to some upstart rival with a house full of brats."
Not responding immediately, Aragorn moved his gaze to the tall, thin, and colorless man at Arnlaug's left. "What say you, Lord Gilby? Do you also feel that I have been remiss in my duties to Gondor?"
Gilby stiffened slightly at the question, but met Aragorn's eyes steadily. "I feel you have carried out your duties to Gondor with distinction and honor in all but this matter, my liege. But I agree that you must have heirs and you must have them soon." Gilby reached a pale hand inside his voluminous sleeve and pulled out a small roll of parchment. "I have taken the liberty of compiling a list of all the eligible maidens of noble birth and legal age in Gondor for your perusal." His bloodless lips compressed themselves into a mirthless smile as he bowed in apology. Lank blond hair flopped over his face and then back. "I fear that we suspected that the Queen would not return from her visit to Ithilien."
Aragorn winced for a moment, but then schooled his face to neutrality and addressed his entire counsel. "I have also put much thought into this, My Lords. I have already decided as well that I must take another wife as quickly as possible. I have also determined that while the blood of Numenor runs in our veins, it also begins to thin. I therefore will take to wife another elf, one of impeccable bloodline and breeding. The addition of one of the fair race into my bloodline will not only strengthen my claim and the claim of my sons to this throne, it will also add to the stability and renown of our fair land."
Eyebrows raised, Gilby bowed and nervously clasped his hands. "My Lord, I am glad that you appreciate the urgency of what must be done, but I feel that this may be impossible to do. I am told that the elves have been leaving Middle-Earth in such great numbers that there are few left at all, and only a handful of those of noble descent. Those that remain are all male. There are no elvish princesses left in Middle-Earth."
The other members of the counsel nodded in agreement. Regin, portmaster of Gondor stepped forward and touched his forelock in reverence. He was of common stock, but his honesty and wisdom could be always counted upon. Aragorn appreciated such things. "It's true, Milord. The elves have left in droves since the war ended. I'm told that Mirkwood, Rivendell and Lothlorian are deserted, and even our elves from Ithilien are leaving. In fact," he leaned forward to give his words more impact, "I understand that in many places up north, the humans think that elves are legends and never existed." He shook his head sadly as he spoke.
Arnlaug spoke up, "Lord Kelsig has a lovely daughter, and just the right age. And that family is well known for being prolific. With proper time for courtship, we could have an heir by harvest."
With steely eyes, the King of Gondor shook his head. "No. I will not wed a human girl."
The chancellor took a deep breath and tried again. "Of the elves that are left in Middle Earth, I can think of only three of noble birth. Two are your foster brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. And the other is Legolas, son of Thranduil. I sincerely doubt that any on them can fulfill your needs."
It was then that Davyn stepped forward. The mage had only recently been admitted to Aragorn's counsel but had proved to be resourceful and wise. With a nod of his head to the chancellor, he spoke. "The question is not whether they can fulfill your needs, my liege. With the application of enough power, any creature can fulfill any need." His sleeves fell back from tattooed arms. The snakes there seemed to writhe in the firelight with a life of their own. "The question is if you're willing to expend the power and make the sacrifices necessary to get your desired results."
Aragorn looked quietly at the mage for a long moment, and then down at the pendant in his hand. Lifting his eyes again to the tattooed man, he spoke but one word. "Explain."
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