Aragorn was walking through the citadel of Minas Tirith. His hair blew in the wind. He happened to be standing on the edge of the tall outlook of the city. He could see everything. Rohan, the plains, and even what was of old Mordor. The mountains were ever quiet and still. The sun never shined on Mordor. It was a wasteland. After the Ring was destroyed, Mount Doom had never erupted again. Out of the corner of his eye, Aragorn thought he saw a flicker of movement inside its borders. He shook his head.

  He saw his son, Eldarion, riding on his horse across the plains. It made Aragorn smile. Eldarion looked so much like himself. Long brown hair, tall and lithe. But he had his mother's facial features, those of an elf, and tapered ears. He was the only child that had those attributes. His younger sisters were playing in the courtyard behind Aragorn. They all had long, dark, almost black hair, and flawless skin, like Arwen. Their faces were long, and their eyes full of kindness, like their mother as well. They had Aragorn's eyes, silver-blue. The royal family, so peaceful, their reign so prosperous.
  Arwen walked up to Aragorn. She hugged him. They both looked at their daughters and son with love. "Mother!" Linnriel, the youngest, cried. She hugged Arwen. The mother laughed. Despite all the happy tidings surrounding Aragorn, he was troubled. Eldarion had not seemed himself as of late. Mirima, the second-eldest daughter, must've noticed a look of worry in his eyes. She walked over to him, brushing her hair out of her face. "Father? Are you alright?" she asked. Aragorn nodded. "I am fine, Mirima. It's just..." Aragorn trailed off, not wanting his daughter to worry. Mirima looked over the edge. She gave him a look of understanding. "It's Eldarion, isn't it, father?" Alya, the eldest daughter, was listening intently.
  "You have a talent, my daughter, for understanding others." Aragorn said. "Elves and Rangers alone can do that. You are a very lucky girl." Mirima smiled. "I have seen it, too." she commented, watching his horse gallop, so free-looking. "He fights with the strength of a thousand Rorrihim. But he is loyal to us." Alya said, entering the discussion. Alya spoke little, and learned much. A true elven-child.
  "Even the wisest would not be able to read his face after battle." Alya said. "It has so many emotions. Fear, hate, anger, guilt. But what scares me the most is one expression-passion."
  "He is merely passionate for protecting Minas Tirith." Mirima defended her brother. "He is the Son of Gondor. He fights bravely, but wisely. You've seen him in battle, right father?"
  This was true. There had been a mere skirmish with the dwarves about Rohan men mining into the Misty Mountains. But that was all. Eldarion had fought like there was no tomorrow. Aragorn had almost been frightened. Not even he fought like that...

  He broke out of his daze as the sound of hooves and boisterous shouts echoed across Minas Tirith. Eldarion was back.
  "Go talk to him, Strider." Arwen said, smiling. Aragorn kissed her cheek, and went out to meet Eldarion.
  Eldarion's hair was a mess, his face was in a wide smile, and many young women were giving him flowers. Aragorn laughed. Eldarion heard him, and turned to face his father. A mixture of grief filled both men's eyes. They last had met with yells and anger. That was why Eldarion had rode out.
  "Father." he began. Aragorn held out his hand for silence. What would Arwen do? he asked himself. "Eldarion, I forgive you. I was wrong to yell." Aragorn hoped this was sincere enough. In the past few weeks, his son had been increasingly harder to reach out to. Eldarion, to Aragorn's relief, nodded. "All is as dust in the wind, father." But there was something strange about the way he spoke. It was distant, mature. Sad, even. Father and son walked up to the courtyard silently.

()()()()

  He found Arwen singing in her chambers.

Even when the storms wash my home away
Even when there is nothing more to say
I will remain in your arms
I will remain in your arms

  Aragorn smiled. She had a beautiful voice, like all elves. Aragorn sat next to her. "How was he?" she asked. "Could you get him to talk?"
  "Of course" Aragorn said, not wanting her to worry. "I'm his Ada." Arwen smiled. "But he has not been himself as of late. He will not speak to us how he used to."
  "All part of growing up." Aragorn said. "I do not know if he will be a Dunedain yet. But he is my son, nevertheless." The mood in the room seemed to change. It was somber, like when a prized possession has gone missing. "Mellon nin." Arwen said. "Do not worry. He will be fine." As usual, Arwen saw right through his lies. 

  ()()()()

  Aragorn walked through the throne room. Boromir had once walked these halls, as had his father, and Arathorn before them. Aragorn saw Alya come out of the shadows. She hugged him. Aragorn hugged her as well. Just then, two girls knocked Aragorn to the floor. They had caught him off guard!
  It was a game of Eldarion's creation. 'Catch the Ranger.' It had been played in these halls since Eldarion was a small child. Now, all four were laughing. Aragorn play fought Linnriel. They were happy. Eldarion pulled his little sister off. Mirima laughed from his side. Arwen came in, smiling as well.
  Nothing could even corrupt this family of peace. Eldarion was laughing and smiling, his long hair swaying. Aragorn almost forgot how his son had been acting.
  "I have to get up!" Aragorn groaned, sitting up from under the pile of children. Linnriel fell to the floor with a thud. She was laughing so hard she did not notice.
  As Aragorn left, he heard Arwen talking to Eldarion, gently.
  "You should wear it. It was once Galadriel's. It is an honor, Dunedain."
  "Mother, we all know I am no Dunedain. It is not mine to wear. The Evenstar is yours. Reforged from when it was shattered. Like Ada's sword."
  "Be that as it may, you will wear it." There was the soft clink of Arwen placing the necklace into Eldarion's hand. "Mother, give it to Alya. She deserves it more than I."
  "No. Eldarion, son of Aragorn, you shall take the Evenstar."
  "As you wish, mother." Then they both departed.
The sun was setting over Minas Tirith.

()()()()

  Aragorn had a restless sleep. He saw Orodruin erupt again and again, and Eldarion was at the heart of the volcano. But he was not harmed. Arwen's cries of anguish rang out in the dream. Aragorn could not find her. His daughters screamed.
  He woke up, knife in hand. "Aragorn! Awake!" Arwen cried. her cries had been real, and so had the children's...
  Aragorn was running as fast as he could to his daughter's rooms. Everything was still and quiet. Faramir came to Aragorn with a troupe of solders behind him. "My Lord Aragorn! We heard screams! What is the matter?" Faramir asked.
  "That is what I'm going to find out." Aragorn almost growled the words.

  ()()()()

  He found the door askew. They all rushed in. The girls were in the center of the room, laying on the floor, dead. Aragorn knelt beside them. He could not speak. Blood covered their chests, staining their white sleeping robes. Their hair was tangles, and their eyes open, in looks of terror.
  "No, no, no!" Aragorn cried. He looked at Linnriel. She had been seven. Mirima had been twelve. Alya had been fifteen. Aragorn held their limp, frail bodies in his arms, their hair touching the floor in sable cascades.
  The sound of grief that the king made was a sound never before heard in all Middle-earth. People in the inner city were awoken by it. And in the shadows, a hooded figure slipped away, a glimmer of silver in his sleeve.