Well, after rummaging through my old hard drive, I stumbled across some LotR fan-fics I wrote about five years ago. They were GOD awful, I must say. Then again, it was the work of a 13-year-old. So after reading them over I decided to utilize the plots (somewhat) and begin another work.

This is a WIP. I'll continue based on what feedback I receive. I'd like to know what you think of the plot I reveal in this "opening chapter". It's been some time since my last multiple chapter work.

Thanks in advance!

P.S: This is primarily movie-based. I read the books when I was about twelve, so much is a blur. Bear with me. Also, it is post-film.


'You once claimed to see the fright in our eyes, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of the fervor in yours. You said we were brothers; men of Gondor, of the west. That we were the protectors of this age of men. And I recall for that moment a hunger in my soul. A blazing desire to stand by your side, just you and I. To defend you from whatever passed through the obsidian gates that lurked before us. But then everything began to move so fast, and I lost sight of you..'

It was nearly dawn when he awoke; breath quick and heart rapid. Calloused fingers wiped at dampened cheeks, and he realized then that he was coated in a fine sheen of perspiration. He ran those fingers through his chocolate locks and heaved a sigh, glimpsing the slumbering maiden that lay vulnerable at his side. The very sight of her calmed his nerves, relaxed his tense demeanor.

He adjusted his posture, lying on his side to gaze at her sleeping form. He placed a gentle hand to the fairly swollen belly that rested beneath her silken robes, seeking further comfort from the child that slumbered within. Heaving yet another sigh he closed his eyes, envisioning himself cradling his son. It comforted him.

Mild flutters caressed his palm for a few fleeting moments, as if to coax him back into a restful state. And coax it did, as the king soon found himself drifting off once more.

'How I yearn for you in these dark hours. My hands tremble with each word, craving to be set in prayer to see you again. But I know, oh how I know, it is not so simple. Prayers are for the feeble-minded. No, it is dedication I must give. Sacrifice. A pursuit that will bring us together one day, you and I. We must have patience, my love. Patience. I know you sense it too. You spoke to me that day on the battlefield. When your eyes sought mine for that single moment, I knew you spoke to me. With every measure of my being, ever fiber of my will, I will seek your company. And perhaps one day your gentle caress will linger along my cheek, and we will be allowed our devotions. But we must have patience. Yes, patience..'

A haze rose from the dew-laden grass over the valleys of Minas Tirith. What rains had fed the earth passed sometime in the night, leaving the kiss of sunlight in its wake. A faint breeze brushed through the silken tresses of the king as he set his eyes upon a new day. From the balcony he examined absently the goings-on about the uppermost level of the city. A man dusting off his cart; a woman adjusting her hair. A group of delegates making their way toward the palace gates, strolling regally past a crowd of children admiring a puppet show.

A group of delegates..

Aragorn cursed himself as he burst into his chambers, hurriedly clothing himself in his finery. So heated was he that he almost did not notice his queen's giggle from the bed. Her musical laughter lightened his heart, and for a moment the matters at hand were forgotten.

"Did we forget an important date?" Her voice was liquid gold to his beggar ears. With a bit of effort she propped herself up, running delicate hands in soothing motions along her belly. With a roll of the eyes Aragorn looked to her, lips pursed. She was right, as per usual.

"Not forgotten. Simply diverted." He smoothed his hair, placing the coronet upon his head. A knock sounded at the door, a soft voice expressing wishes to enter. Arwen swung her legs alongside the bed, standing on rocky feet to snatch a robe from the bedpost. The satin fabric hung gracefully about her form as those elegant fingers clasped the hooks together.

Once decent, the door was opened, revealing a tea-cup of a woman garbed in a simple woolen robe. Red hair was pulled into an intimidating bun, face taught and creased. She stepped aside, making way for a rugged man with leathery skin. His eyes glimpsed fierce blue beneath the ebony curls upon his head which bounced with every step. He walked with purpose toward the king, placing a hand to his heart in greeting.

"A good morning to you, my lord. The ambassadors from the south have arrived to discuss the trade commissions, among other things." His voice was thick, laden with an accent that seemed fitting. Aragorn pressed his lips together as he meticulously fiddled with his tunic.

"Of course. Inform them that I will be present shortly. In the meantime, offer them what accommodations they need." He nodded to the petite woman by the door. The two departed swiftly, leaving the king to his queen.

"I trust you will entertain yourself whilst I deal with this?" His voice held a teasing undertone. Arwen giggled once more.

"I shall pickle myself in a hot bath." A gleam shone in her eye.

"Pickle, you say? I would rather not be king to a vegetable." Her laughter once more filled him with a child-like glee. He sauntered over to her, kneeling and placing sweet kisses along her abdomen.

"I will not be long."

'My dearest, the wait will soon be over..'


Short, but as I said, simply a glimpse into what hopefully will turn out to be a long and fulfilling experience for both author and reader.

Let me know what you think so far!