[150 powerstones bonus chapter]
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In the wake of the upheaval in the Ettenmoors, Kaen's armies readied themselves for war. While the other realms of Middle-earth reveled in their long season of peace, the Kingdom of Eowenríel stood upon the brink of conflict once again, much as Gondor in the South once bore alone the burden of guarding all free peoples against the shadow of Mordor.
Yet in those quiet years, when war still lay on the horizon, Kaen devoted his hours not only to matters of state but also to the women who shared his life and his crown.
Tifa, Ameliah, Cathril, and Joanna—each held high office within the kingdom, each resided within the royal palace. Together they governed, advised, and soothed the weight of rule. But his elven companions lived as distant stars—beautiful, untouchable, and bound by different laws.
Arwen, the Evenstar of Rivendell, had long since returned to Lothlórien four years prior, for she would not remain in Kaen's kingdom before their fates were truly entwined.
Yenistriel, the Princess of the Caladhîn Elves in the East, was the younger sister of Lord Yenagath. She was a being of pure heart and gentle spirit, whose affection for Kaen had deepened through the years like spring water seeping into stone.
And Tauriel,the first of the Caladhîn Elves, adopted daughter of Thranduil of the Woodland Realm,remained the most steadfast of all. Her loyalty to Kaen was as fierce as her love; her devotion, unwavering.
Yet both Yenistriel and Tauriel dwelt mostly within the forest of Ashenwood, emerging only at times to visit Elarothiel.
Knowing the storm that would soon descend, Kaen laid aside his burdens for a season and journeyed with them to that forest haven, spending a few precious days amid peace and laughter. But peace, as ever, was fleeting.
...
One morning, beneath the leaves of the Sacred Tree, a messenger arrived—a youth from Rivendell whose coming would change much.
His name was Aragorn.
Born in the year 2931 of the Third Age, he was the son of Arathorn, fifteenth Chieftain of the Dúnedain, slain by orcs in the Ettenmoors when the boy was but two years old. To protect the last heir of Númenórean blood, his mother had carried him to Rivendell, where Lord Elrond fostered him and named him Estel—Hope.
In the original tale, Aragorn would not learn his true lineage until he was twenty, when EElrond revealed his true lineage, gave him the heirloom Ring of Barahir, and the broken sword Narsil, bidding him to claim his destiny as theHeir of Isildur. He would wander Middle-earth as a Ranger, serve in Rohan and Gondor under false names, and earn renown as Thorongil.
But now, because of Kaen, fate itself had shifted. The boy who should have come of age in secret had arrived years too soon.
...
Kaen received him in the Hall of the throne. The youth stood tall, nearly two meters, lean and hard as tempered steel. His hair was black streaked faintly with silver, his eyes a piercing grey. Though pale from the northern air, his face was resolute and his bearing noble, as though the blood of ancient kings burned quietly within him.
Kaen regarded him with keen interest. Nineteen years old, yet already bearing the air of legend. Truly, he was the son of the Dúnedain, of the line that once ruled both Arnor and Gondor.
And Aragorn, for his part, stared back at the man before him.
From childhood he had heard Kaen's name whispered with awe. He knew the stories,the young pupil of Elrond who became the uniter of races, the warrior who led the free peoples in the Battle of the Five Armies, who commanded 8,500 riders to strike Gundabad in a single night, who beheaded the Witch-king of Angmar and scattered a hundred thousand orcs in the North.
He knew of Kaen's march upon Dol Guldur, where he had faced Sauron himself and cast him into shadow.
He knew of the Sacred Trees that had restored life to the Elves, of the Rune Cores that had saved the Dwarves from ruin.
Kaen had created a new race of men, the radiant people of Eowenríel,and forged a bridge between mortals and immortals.
Aragorn had grown up on these tales. To him, Kaen was not merely a king, but the living legend of his age.
And now that he stood before him—the tall, golden figure wrapped in a soft, unearthly glow—he could not help but bow his head, overcome by reverence.
Falling to one knee, he declared in a voice clear and strong, "Estel pays homage to the Great King of Eowenría."
Kaen smiled faintly and lifted a hand. "No need for such formality. Rise. You and I share the same teacher, after all. I've heard of you, though we've never met. Tell me, did you come here by your own will—or were you sent by our teacher, with some purpose?"
Aragorn rose and drew from his cloak a sealed letter. One of Kaen's guards took it to the king's hands.
"Elrond, Lord of Rivendell," said the young man, "bade me come to you. He said you are a king beyond kings, one who surpasses the glories of the Elder Days. He told me that you would show me the road I am to walk."
Kaen broke the seal and read. The handwriting was unmistakable—Elrond's firm, graceful script.
Kaen, when you read this, Estel will have reached Elarothiel safely and met you in person. His true name is Aragorn, sixteenth Chieftain of the Dúnedain—the last royal blood of Númenor, heir to both Gondor and Arnor.
You will find much of your fate entwined with his, for many of the Dúnedain who once followed his fathers have sworn themselves to you. This is no fault of yours, they have merely chosen to cease wandering and find a home.
As my foster son, Estel is your brother in learning. But as Aragorn, he is the rightful heir of two thrones. I entrust him to you, Kaen. Teach him what it means to be a king.
In this, you will lose nothing and gain much. Think of it as a gift, from your old teacher.
Elrond of Imladris.
When Kaen finished, he folded the letter slowly, thoughtful. So, Elrond had decided to place the boy's future in his hands—to let Kaen shape the king that would be.
After a pause, Kaen looked up. "Aragorn," he asked quietly, "do you know who you are?"
"I do," the young man replied.
"Then tell me,are you ready to bear the weight of your blood? To carry the burden of restoring Arnor and reviving Gondor?"
For a long moment, Aragorn said nothing. His eyes flickered with uncertainty, and Kaen could read his heart easily.
He sighed softly. "I can see your answer without hearing it. Not yet. You are not ready."
He stepped forward and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Then stay here. Serve under me. You shall lead my King's Guard. Watch, learn, and grow. In time, you will find your own answer."
Aragorn's eyes widened. Then he dropped once more to one knee, voice ringing firm and bright. "Yes, my lord!"
There, beneath the shining boughs of the Golden Tree, Aragorn swore his oath.
Until he found the courage to embrace his destiny, he would serve Kaen Eowenríel with his life,body and soul.
And in that moment, beneath the sacred light, the destinies of two kings, one born of the ancient blood, the other crowned by divine radiance, became intertwined.