Arran stood on the cliff, staring out at the sea. The cold wind blew his raven black hair into a frenzy and chilled him, causing him to wish he had brought a warmer cloak.

He could hear his half-sister, Lorien, scolding him and telling him he would catch his death.

But what did that matter? But then, yes, it mattered a lot. After all,  he was second in line for the Eirunian throne. And what with war on the horizon, the more he mattered.

Couldn’t a prince stand on a cliff at dawn if he pleased? Any peasant could, that he knew.

Oh well. As his uncle often said, he thought about the differences between princes and peasants far too often.

Lorien hardly paid any attention to them. Nor did his cousins. They weren’t exactly snobby; they just never thought about the world beyond the castle much. And they usually stayed in the castle, or went in large groups with servants at attendance.

The sea was still gray, as was the cloud-covered sky; mist lay over it, and the castle, and also in tatters around the mountains behind. The sun was hardly visible.

Arran sighed, and turned and began walking back down to the castle.

Already it was beginning to drizzle; a drop of rain fell on to his forehead, and then his cheek.

He drew his cloak around him and ran.

By the time he got back, the rain was pouring, and he knew the castle was up and about .

“Who goes there?” one of the guards called.

Arran stopped and stood before them. “It’s only me, Ferth!” he replied.

“Ah, so His Highness has gone on another one of his walks, has he?” said Ferth, grinning at him. “Such a fuss the Princess will make over her littlest brother!”

Unlike the other members of the royal family, Arran often acted familiar with the guards, servants, everyone.

Most of his relatives thought him strange, but his family was used to it. But of course, Lorien would never stop telling him that he ought to socialize only with those of his rank. Winning the hearts of their subjects was all and well, but in her opinion Arran was going too far.

Arran would simply nod and say, “Yes, Lorien,” but he never really paid much attention to her lectures. He knew she meant well, but that was going a bit far.

Both he and Lorien looked a lot like their father; black hair, fair skin, and a somewhat ancient air about them both, and an air of pride and grace. The only difference was while Lorien’s eyes were a dark brown that once in a while looked black, Arran’s eyes were most definitely black.

Many admired Lorien for her beauty, and, being seventeen, she had already received many marriage proposals. Her father, however, was still taking his time on deciding who to accept.

Their brother, Aerin, on the other hand, looked a lot like his and Arran’s mother, King Darran’s second wife; golden hair and sparkling blue eyes, so totally unlike his siblings. At first glance he looked like an angel.

It was he who would be crowned King of Eirun should their father die in battle.

Although they were only half-siblings, as soon as Aerin, then Arran were born, Lorien took the responsibility of elder sister quite seriously, so that she was like a second mother to them. It must be said that she was certainly more protective of the two than her stepmother, Queen Catrin.

When asked why she hardly ever scolded her sons and merely doted on them and in some people’s opinion, spoiled them, the queen smiled and answered, “Because I know Lorien does it for me. At times, it seems they’re really more her children than mine.”

Overall they were a happy enough family, with none of the usual sibling rivalry that arose among most royal families.

In fact, when Lorien was fourteen,  Aerin twelve and Arran eleven years old, they had sworn never to argue over such petty things, and to help Aerin once he ascended the throne, and Arran if such an unfortunate thing should happen. And should Lorien be married to someone who turned against Eirun – she must denounce her husband and bring her children with her to Eirun. If she could not do so, Aerin and Arran would come to rescue her.

He walked up the stairs, his clothes dripping on the stone floor and his hair plastered to his head.

He heard a cry above him, and looked up.

“Hello, Lorien ,” he said.

“Arran,” Lorien repeated in an exasperated tone. “One of these days you really are going to catch your death! Look at you, you’re drenched! I couldn’t find you, and then I saw it pouring outside! Honestly, Arran, where have you been?”

“The cliff,” Arran answered promptly.

Lorien sighed. “The cliff, always the cliff nowadays. And in the morning, when it’s freezing.”

“Morning, all,” said Aerin, coming up the stairs.

“Ohhh,” Lorien groaned.

“Why, dear sister, are you not happy to see me?” Aerin asked in a hurt voice. But Arran saw the twinkle in his eyes and grinned. They had exchanges similar to this every morning, ever since Arran had discovered the cliff. It had become his special place, and he always went there every morning, rain or shine.

“Oh, I am, it’s just that every time you appear I know that somehow I’m going to lose the argument,” Lorien said.

“An argument?” Aerin said, his eyes widening. “What quarrel has come between my dear siblings, greatest of all siblings, without whom I could ever survive? Those who I love dearest?”
“Oh, stop it, Aerin, all that honey in your voice doesn’t fool me,” Lorien replied. “As always, Arran has paid a little visit to his beloved cliff, and most likely will catch his death because of it.”

“Good Lord!” Aerin said with mock rage. “Arran,” he ordered pointing at his younger brother, “Go to your room at once and change your clothes! This is no way for a prince of Eirun to behave! I shall tell Father about this!”

Lorien folded her arms resignedly and simply watched the two.

Arran shrank against the wall, feigning fright, then whispered. “Yes, brother,” and ran up the stairs.

Lorien shook her head and smiled.

“Lighten up, Lorien,” Aerin said, grinning at her. “You know there’s no stopping our dear little brother.”

“I just worry about him is all,” said Lorien, staring after him. “Sometimes I have the feeling that one day he’s going to carry the world on his shoulders.”
“Carry the world?” Aerin scoffed. “He should try carrying a kingdom first, then he could start worrying about the world. And what about you, with your elegance and grace, and coldness? You do seem so to anyone outside the family, you know.”

A/N I know, I know, it ends so abruptly, for no good reason whatsoever, and some things don’t make sense at all. I only wrote this story fragment because Arran just popped up in my head, and wouldn’t leave me alone till I wrote something about him. In fact, he’s still pestering me right now, and one of these days I’m going to write a real story. I just felt like posting this, and seeing how people would react.

By the way, is anyone or anything in Lord of the Rings called Lorien? The name really rings a bell, but I can’t remember where in Lord of the Rings I’ve heard it. If it’s really in one of the books please tell me, so I can change her name before I get accused of plagiarism!!