3. Dynasty - Gwynnyd
Hurrying across the deserted courtyard, Eldarion still paused to give a moment of reverence to the White Tree. Something rustled overhead. Cursing the sword left behind, he drew breath to summon the guards.
"Eldarion!" Aragorn's voice hissed down. Moments later, the king swung from an upper branch and slid down the trunk.
"Look." Resting on his father's palm, a nut shone silver by moonlight. "I saw it from the tower, gleaming in the leaves. There is hope."
Eldarion laughed. "So there is… grandfather."
Grinning, Aragorn dropped the seed into his son's hand. "You should be the one to plant this."
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