Title: The Yearning Moon

Author: B-witched83uk (bwitched83uk@aol.com)

Rating: R

Summary: The full moon has a strange effect on the Elves. Arwen finds it hard to be around Aragon when all of her senses are heightened.

Warning: This is rated R for a reason. Do not read this if you are underage.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. The whole of Middle Earth belongs to Tolkien

The Yearning Moon

It was cold outside. Arwen's dress was a thin, silver material mirroring the shine of the ripe full moon. It had been raining for seven long days, leaving the ground fresh and the trees clean. Rivendell was hosting a party, a feast for the returning heroes. Aragorn and the other rangers had been away, fighting in the ongoing battle of Middle Earth.

Arwen was standing in one of the gardens of her father's home, the meal long over. She had desperately needed the cold night air to soothe her. Her skin began to prickle as the moon cast its teasing glow. The full moon. The time when Elves senses were at their highest. It was when the women were most fertile; their bodies' way of telling them to procreate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aragorn had been away for such long months. He ached to go to her but he knew the state she was in and he knew that his presence would cause her more discomfort. Their earlier meeting had been brief and strained. The moon did not affect Aragorn. He was constantly in an excited state around her already, no matter where in her cycle the moon be. Lord Elrond had left to tend his guests long ago and Aragorn was now standing alone. He watched her from inside, her dark long hair whipping in the wind. Her skin, usually pale and cool, now flushed red with her wanting. He noticed the pink tinge of her delectably pointed ears, and had to remember the promise he had made to her father.

Arwen could feel his eyes burning right into her flesh, the steely grey surging fire through her lions. Her eyes closed and she imagined him behind her, his body pressed firm against hers, his mouth whispering love against the nape of her neck. She sighed aloud into the night. She wished more then anything that they were already wed so that she could go to him, so that he could lay her down and make sweet love to her the whole night through, until she was utterly spent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aragorn reached his chambers with haste. He could not be near her again this night; she would be cooler when morning came. Inside his room, he walked across to the window only to find that Arwen was no longer standing in the garden. His large, comfortable bed called to his weary body but he resisted. Instead he slumped to the beautifully carved wooden bench to catch up on his reading. The night was consuming the day and the heavy moon's ethereal light flooded his room; there was no need for candles. He read the words of his book but they did not stick. Aragorn's mind was most certainly wherever his betrothed love was. Arwen. His beautiful Elf maiden. She was completely his yet he could not completely have her, not until their wedding night. A knock at the door brought his mind back to him.

"Arwen!" Aragorn was surprised to see her at his door. Whenever Aragorn was in Rivendell, they usually fell asleep in one another's arms, but given her current state, he assumed this night they would not.

"What are you doing here? Arwen, you should not be here!" Aragorn let go of the door and walked back over to his bench. He sat down, desperately fighting the urge to kiss her, and creating as much distance between them as he could muster.

"I have not seen you in months my love. The moon will be ripe for the next two nights. I'll not go that long without your company." Arwen walked slowly toward the bench, coming to stand before it.

She risked a glance at her betrothed: his dark hair falling into his face, his bright eyes watching her with lust and affection, his tight body imprisoned by his white cotton shirt, begging to be touched. She wondered if it had been a mistake to come here. Her eyes hungrily drank in the sight of him, and as their eyes locked she desperately fought the urge to beg him to take her. She could be strong. She was an Elf, a powerful being. A princess. She could resist giving in to such carnal longings. His hand slid up to hold hers, his rough thumb stroking over her skin.

Their eyes never left one another's as he rose to stand before her. His free hand reached to cup her flushed cheek, accidentally brushing past her overly sensitive ears. She moaned aloud at his simple touch, making Aragorn remove his hands and step away.

"Arwen, I really think that you should go now. If I cannot even touch you without-" his words were cut off by her mouth pressing hard against his own. A similar moan escaped his lips as her hand reached down to force his manhood to swell.

He broke the kiss and backed further away from the impetuous Elf. She watched him as though stalking her prey.

"Arwen, I am asking you nicely to leave here. Do not make me use force." Aragorn backed right against the far wall as she moved closer and closer.

"But my love, I do not mind you using force. In fact, I quite welcome it." Her voice was low and wanting, her eyes sparkling with desire as she placed both her hands on the wall on either side of Aragorn's head. She knew she was not thinking clearly; her body had completely taken over her senses. Aragorn remembered the last time this had happened when he had been here. He had barely been able to fight the urges she created inside of him.

"Arwen, I love you. But I will get rough with you if need be." His hands flew to her waist, ready to push her away.

"I believe I would like you to get rough with me."

Aragorn pushed the insatiable woman away from him and quickly walked to the door before him. "You really must leave, Arwen. If your father knew where you were he would have my head." Amidst all her longing, she suddenly had a worrying thought. She walked to the bench and lowered herself down. Arwen stared, helplessly, at the floor; her eyes welling with tears.

"You don't want me!"

Aragorn's own eyes flew to her face. He could not believe she could ever think such a thing. He wanted her so badly he could literally feel his blood boil.

"If you question my want of you again, I shall strip bare so that you may see the effects you have upon my body."

At this Arwen smiled greedily. "Very well." She stood and flew towards him, desperately wishing he would make good on his threat. She could not control her more human cravings any longer. Arwen grabbed Aragorn by the collar of his shirt and, with a strength he never knew she had, threw him onto the bed. She flung herself on top of him in one fluid motion and ripped his shirt open to her heated gaze.

"Arwen, I beg of you to cease," he pleaded with her, unsure of how long he could resist. He batted away her roaming hands as best he could. She heard no protests, however, as her hand pressed firm against his hardness. He couldn't stop himself from growling her name, her mere touch making him rigid. He tried to get up but she pushed him back down with her mouth, her lips practically bruising his. She tore open his breeches to release the obvious strain her touch had caused.

"Estel, if you do not take me I fear I may die!" Her breathing was quick and her tone deadly serious.

Aragorn's senses returned to him in a flash. He slid out from under her just as her hands were about to work their magic.

"You are in as much need of me as I am of you!" Her eyes then swooped south. "Your body has betrayed you!"

Refastening his clothing to hide himself from her shameless eyes he answered her. "Your fault woman! I am only a man. I cannot control the effects your touch has on me" Aragorn grabbed his sword from behind him and held it, shakily, in front of him. "I am begging you to leave before I lose all control."

Her breathing slowed a little and her wits regained. Arwen, cautiously, slid off the bed and stood in front of him with a mischievous smile playing upon her luscious lips. "Very well, I shall go. But not before you grant me a kiss," her eye's fluted.

It was a trap, he knew it; yet what could he do? How could he deny his love a kiss? Aragorn lowered the sword to his side and moved closer to the delirious Elf.

"One kiss. Then you must go!" Arwen nodded, innocently. He smiled at her with such love, she felt she might faint.

He dropped the sword, close enough to grab if need be, and took her in his strong arms. The lust seemed to be for now dormant, a more gentile kind of loving now between them. He brushed his lips against her own, the sweet taste of her filling him. His hands were in her silken hair. The kiss was sweet and tender, until all of a sudden her tongue pushed hard against his and her hands flattened against his backside, pulling his rigidity hard against her. Aragorn pushed Arwen away from him once again feeling for his weapon.

"Relax love." He stopped his hand from grasping the sword and looked upon her with caution. She laughed at the incredulous look upon his face.

"My ploy to seduce you has clearly failed. But every full moon you spend here, I get a little closer to your undoing." Arwen smiled at him, still filled with so much lust she could not bare it. She walked past him, biting down on her lip, and straight out of the door without a single word.

Aragorn was now alone and feeling extremely uncomfortable by the state she had left him in. As he let himself fall down onto the bed there was only one thought in his mind:

'There would be another two night of this.'