Chapter 1:

The sunlight spilled over the walls of the palace; dappled rays casting morning shadows over the stone blocks laid hundreds of years ago by the past generations of men who served the family who now occupied the old home. Creepers grew around the support beams of the buildings, the grass overgrown and weeds trailing through cracks in the pavement. Crumbling pillars attested to the passing of time, the lintels covered in gold engraving that had started to flake off and spread on the ground.

However, the decaying palace still had the one thing that may have saved the place before the inevitable happened – life and hope. Banners swung easily in the wind, the sound of speech echoing through the halls of the ducal palace. In this forsaken place lived the family of the Dunedain chieftains, hereditary heirs of Isildur and heirs to the throne of Gondor and Arnor. The banners were of rich scarlet and green hues, overlaid with gold leaf and intricate embroidery of the elven type. For the heirs of Elendil’s line were of much kin with the elvish peoples, having lived in Rivendell for at least the first few years of their lives. The elvish blood of their forefather Elros still mingled in their bloodline, still sang out as each drop was spilled on the ground as they died in bloodshed.

As the sunlight sparkled, the clear, high laughter of children could be heard as the pitter patter of quick footsteps sounded on the stone floors of the palace. A flash of silver and purple, then the quicksilver form of a child could be seen as it ran out into the gardens and onto the overgrown grass. Long, glossy black hair fell down the back of the female child, curls and waves flying every which way around her as she laughed. The sound was like bells or the bubbling of a brook, the pureness of her voice a refreshing sound in the relative silence of the castle. Dressed in an elvish-style dress of purple cloth with the edging and embroidery of silver thread, she was barefoot and the sleeves flooded out like waves of silk as she moved her arms. Around her neck hung a delicate pendant of silver and mithril, the pendant hanging just above the neckline. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, like the colour of the sea on a clear, calm day.

Then, the sound of footsteps came again as another child ran through the archway of the palace. Black eyes sparkled in his face, his shirt and trousers also of the elvish design. Short black hair curled around his chin and then bounced as he raced after her. The family resemblance between the two was uncanny, both sharing the same looks and facial characteristics. Turning, the female child raced off with a chant in the common tongue.

“You’re getting slow, little brother!”

The male child pouted and chased after her, his chubby legs slowing him up so his older sister was always a few steps ahead of him. Her purple frock sparkled and flapped about her legs prettily, as she led him a merry dance around the garden before sticking her tongue out at him and running into the maze at the centre of the garden. Fleet-footed as the deer, she pushed past branches as her brother tried to follow but fell farther and father behind. Soon, he found himself lost and began to wail in the normal way for a two year old as his cries echoed through the maze.

“Silme!” he wailed loudly. “Silme, come back! Don’t leave me here!”

Then, the mischievous head of the raven haired Silme popped up from behind a corner as she laughed. “Oh, poor Aragorn’s lost his way...” she teased and then took off running in the direction of the entrance. Tears forgotten, the young Aragorn son of Arathorn chased after her again as they burst out of the maze in a blur of childhood energy and chased each other around and around the palace estate.