Title: Too lost in you
Author: B-witched83uk (bwitched83uk@aol.com)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Arwen watches Aragorn sleep.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the rings the whole of Middle Earth belongs to Tolkien
Dedication: Cassie The Converted because she is such a star, she has worked her butt off creating my website and I am extremely grateful to her for it. It looks great hon.
A/N: The best thing by far to come out of my venture in to fanfiction is the close friendships I have made. Thank you girls for listening to my ramblings and for encouraging (bullying) me to write more.
Inspiration: Viggo Mortensen's poem To Sleep. I listened to it on CD and thought how nice it must be to be the woman he talks about in it.
Too lost in you
Arwen watched intent as Aragorn's chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his breathing. His bare chest, moist from the summer heat, moved up and down in a strong, steady motion. Her glistening eyes took in her sleeping husband's form, laying on his back, content and yet afraid. She knew now more then ever that she could not live without him, that to know a moment on this Earth without him would be as harsh as a blade to the heart. His heart, that wonderful sound.
Drum, drum, drum.
The sound she fell asleep to every night, the sound that assured her he was still alive, still hers. He took in a deep breath beside her and turned his sleeping head to face her. She smiled as she examined ever line, every imperfection which just made him all the more handsome. His eye lids, melted, free from stress in the land of dreams. She wondered what he was dreaming of, wondered if it was her that caused the faint smile on his lips. She couldn't help herself, she could not resist feeling those lips. She slowly moved her hand to his mouth and gently ran a single finger over it, first the top lip then the bottom.
Aragorn's response was to breath in deeply and twitch his nose softly. A smile broke out over her face as she listened to the soft growl escape from the back of his throat. Her hand snaked away from his mouth, but no far. His strong arms, sculptured and firm. Her eyes closed briefly as she remembered how it felt to be in those arms, how she wished she was now.
They had been having the same argument for the past two mornings. It frightened Arwen how something so stupid and small could keep her out of his arms for a second night. As usual it all boiled down to the fact that, like it or not, Aragorn was the King and he had certain Kingly duties. Lately, more and more, he was away from her and the children. The children had noticed it also, ever since the great storm last year Aragorn had been unusually busy and had no time for his family.
It pained him as much as it did Arwen, and of course she knew this, she just wished she could stop being angry at him for something that was not his fault. This morning had started well enough. Nothing was spoken of the night before, but then it never was. It was not their style to raise their voices and become aggressive. They would simply voice their disagreement then spend the rest of the day in silence.
"Good night." He had said to her, before getting in to bed and turning so she was presented with his back.
She studied his arms, oh how she missed them. She missed the security she would feel beneath that carved strength, as soft as pillows but as hard as stone. His body was tanned all over, it always was. So unlike her Elven skin, so pale and fair. Aragorn was a man, a truly beautiful man to look upon. She missed him, despite the fact that he was right next to her. She wished he would open his arms and beckon her to him. Her hand slid over the broad shoulder and slowly down over the hot skin. She shuddered at the sheer power beneath her fingers.
The thin sheet was barely covering him, it was pushed down to just below his stomach, his leg kicked out from under it. She felt a sudden rush of heat flood her as she looked at his leg. Her eyes watched his feet, sturdy and proud. She felt a pang of loss take her as she moved her eyes up his leg to the part of him that was hidden from her view. Her hand left his arm and began sliding over his chest, his heart beating strongly. She moved her hand in teasingly slow circles, wanting to linger there as long as possible.
When her hand began to recoil, back to her own side of the bed, Aragorn's hand flew out and grabbed her wrist.
"Don't stop, it feels nice." His eyes opened and he turned his whole body to face her. "I have missed your touch."
Arwen felt a sudden wave of relief and love run through her heart. She moved her hand from his grasp and set it on his cheek, stroking down it slowly, relishing the feel of his stubbled chin.
Arwen watched his steely grey eyes gaze at her with nought but love and she slid closer to him. Pressing her lips against his, her hand ran over the smooth of his arm once more. His own hand slid in to her hair, pulling her mouth on to his to deepen the kiss, his tongue stroking hers. She noticed the slight disappointment in his eyes as she pulled away from him but knew that it was far too late at night to exhaust the King, when the following day had him needing all of his energy.
She turned over so that her back was against his chest, sighing at the feel of his heat against her. His arms wrapped themselves around her and pulling her tightly against him he nuzzled in to her scented hair.
"I'm sorry." Arwen breathed, her hand covering his arm.
"I'm sorry too." He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes once more.
As he lost his whole being in the scent of her hair he moaned softly, causing a shiver to vibrate down her back.
"Tell me again." Arwen's voice was a mere whisper.
"That I'm sorry?" His voice was muffled but still strong. "Or that I love you."
Arwen giggled and turned in his arms so she was facing him. "Well they are both nice to hear, but that wasn't what I was talking about." Her hand reached up to stroke over his bearded chin. "You know what I want. Tell me again."
Aragorn's face broke in to a wide grin as it dawned on him exactly what his wife was asking for. He mockingly rolled his eyes and sighed with over the top exasperation. This only proved to make Arwen press harder against him, until his smile was replaced by a slow gasp. He looked down at her with such tenderness that she no longer remembered what they had been fighting about.
"Tell me again." She whispered hotly against his lips.
"But you know the story better then I do."
She pouted slightly, causing Aragorn to desperately resist kissing her again. "Please my darling, it sounds better when you tell it." Her eyes were filled with utter innocence. Aragorn wondered at it, a woman who was more then three thousand years old, who had seen and done everything and she could still manage to brake his heart with her unfaltering trust in him.
"Very well." He snuggled down deeper in to the covers, holding her in his arms.
"A very long time ago, in the deepest forests of Middle Earth, lived an immortal maiden, Elven wise. Luthien was the name given her, and where she danced flowers awoke. Yet beauty and lineage could not make her happy. It was on a warm spring night, as she danced below the full moon, her silver gown twirling like stars, that she heard her Elvish name being called to her by no more then a mortal man. Beren was his name and so their tale begins." Aragorn smiled as he looked in to his wife's lovely face. His heart leapt with love as he heard her breathing slow to a steady pace and her eyelids, melted with sleep.
She usually fell asleep before the end of the story but she usually made it further then 'and so their tale begins'
He leant forward, gently pressing his forehead against his wife's, and closed his own eyes, waiting for sleep to take him and reunite him with his own Tinuviel in the dream world.
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