Chapter 34:

She's Like the Sunrise

Author's Note: First things first: WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT! If you want to skip it, feel free to jump down to Aragorn's POV. A softer warning: I don't make it a habit of writing sexual content, so if the prose is clunky and/or poor, well, that's because I'm not used to writing it. Feel free to offer suggestions :)

On a more entertaining note: happy National Novel Writing Month! As it stands, it seems to be the case that I'll finish a chapter every two days, so it's highly likely that I won't be able to finish thins monstrosity before the end of the month, but a good chunk will be written. Don't get used to these frequent updates. They aren't the norm.

Enjoy! See you in two days (or sooner!)!

12/24/2020 Edit: I'm using my self-imposed Christmas break to go through and edit this sucker. Chapter 34 is the first casualty of my "break" because it's the chapter I'm dissatisfied with the most. As I said above, I don't make it a rule to write sexual content, so upon the first re-read I realized there was a lot (and I mean a lot) of content I could have added. The earliest chapters are next.

What precipitated this crazy investment of mine was this: I'm practicing compiling, formatting and editing long ass novels. While I don't have a fully finished novel at my disposal I do have a half-a-Sanderson-novel length fanfiction at my disposal, so I'm taking advantage of the opportunity by practicing all the things I'm still unsure of.

The elves of Lorien enjoyed starlight. Everything important was done under the guise of night in sight of the stars or at the moment of twilight - the time between the day and the night - where the elves of Arda seemed to find most their solace. Aracasse's wedding had taken place in the late afternoon and ended at dusk. The following festivities lasted hours, with the last rays of the sun long gone and the sea of stars blanketed the night's sky. There was dancing, singing, and feasting. All of these things were the four hobbits favorite pastime and Ara found herself laughing hysterically while Merry and Pippin sang a particularly well-crafted tavern song accompanied by a springing jig. The elves looked on with no small amount of amusement while Artemis broke out her fiddle - Ara couldn't get the woman to tell her how she managed to bring the thing with her no matter how artfully she prodded - and cheerfully with them. Boromir and Gimli appeared to enjoy the elven wine a little too much and currently participated in the grand art of loudly boasting about one sort of accomplishment or another. Ara couldn't keep track of what they were saying through their drunken slurs. Her uncle, Legolas, looked on vaguely amused with the occasional shake of his head. The Lord and Lady of Lorien had taken their leave early.

As the night wore on, Aracasse found herself gazing up at the unfamiliar night scape as the merriment went on around her. The four Hobbits were singing together this time - as seemed to be their natural state - next to her was Aragorn. Her husband, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, scion of Isildur, and true born heir to the Throne of Gondor.

I guess he can add King of Elves and Magic to that list of titles, she thought wryly.

Maybe if she repeated all of that consistently enough it would seem more real than it actually did?

Aragorn currently held conversation with Glorfindel who'd appeared in front of them at their table to give the two his respectful congratulations. Ara hid a smile as she watched Glorfindel's eyes stray to where his betrothed, Arwen, danced with Merry and Pippin. It didn't take long before Glorfindel took his leave and joined Arwen in her fun. The raven haired maiden turned a beautiful grin in his direction that could have outshone supernovas as she took his hand and allowed him to twirl her under his outstretched arm.

"Arwen has taken to the hobbits," Aragorn observed as he lifted his pewter goblet to his lips.

"Unsurprising. Our little friends are far too likable for their own good. I suspect they'd charm themselves out of danger more often than not," Ara said, smiling.

"Aye, that they would."

The conversation lulled as the moon rose above the tree canopy. Boromir and Gimli both sprawled on the ground, cups clutched in their hands, passed out from the effects of the wine. Artemis ended her playing and put away the fiddle while the hobbits crowded at the base of one of the Mallorn trees singing soft, wistful songs of the Shire. Arwen and Glorfindel departed hand in hand.

Aragorn squeezed their joined hands, startling Ara from her thoughts. She met his grey gaze with a raised brow. An almost shy smile dusted his lips and he leaned forward.

"Shall we leave them to their merriment?" He whispered into her ear.

She smiled and nodded. They stood as one. No one of the remaining party turned in their direction. All remained in their own little world and Ara found herself grateful for their obliviousness. It was better for them to depart in secret considering the hours to come. With her head bowed to her own thoughts, Aragorn led her out of the garden and up the steps of one of the great trees. The trek seemed to take forever as they wound their way up into the tall tree and into one of the houses built on it.

"I didn't think you had a room," she remarked.

"I was sure to procure one for the duration of our stay," he sad.

"Ah. I suppose it's best not to be among the Fellowship for our wedding night," she said with a cheeky smile.

Aragorn pulled her to a stop in front of a door and fixed her with a heated gaze. Her heart seemed to warm as her cheeks flushed pink under his smoldering eyes. He rested his forehead against hers.

"I would rather keep you to myself for as long as possible. Once we leave, there will be no privacy," he said.

"Yes, wouldn't want to make them uncomfortable."

"Indeed not."

He pressed a short kiss to her lips then opened the door to their room with his free hand. When he pulled away, Ara allowed him to pull her in. He closed the door behind him. They slipped through a canopied entryway and stepped into a room with a modest-sized bed that was just big enough for them. Reality crept up and she glanced nervously at Aragorn who'd stepped away from her for a moment to remove his outermost tunic and mail. A cotton doublet and undershirt remained along with his pants.

"So…" Ara began, but fell silent.

How did one broach the topic? The professor covered much in their conversation, but had been quite evasive about how to engage in the act itself. Aracasse was left with the distinct impression it just happened. One hundred and seventy years and she still didn't know what to do when it came to sex despite the fact that sexuality was a commonality in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

"Yes?" Aragorn asked, eyebrow raised.

She swallowed and pushed on, "We're going to… make this official in the… er…"

"We will consummate our marriage, you mean?" He concluded, clearly taking pity on her.

Ara felt her cheeks burn as she nodded. She hugged her waist and walked to the open window to obtain a better view of the moon.

"We need not begin immediately, my love," Aragorn said.

She smiled, "I'm not particularly concerned about actually doing it, I'm just a bit… new."

"Oh?" He asked. His tone conveyed amusement.

"I might not be a nun, but I haven't had the… inclination to further my experience."

"You're a virgin," he stated, smiling.

Ara didn't know why she couldn't meet his gaze. There was something particularly vulnerable about this conversation and she hadn't been prepared for that feeling. She supposed she should have known such would be the case. He averted his gaze and a small frown crawled across his face.

"I fear that I haven't applied the same restraint," he said, voice as soft as the breeze.

Ara merely shrugged, "One of us should know what we're doing."

She lived in the twenty-first century Earth and was born in the nineteenth. It was considered normal for men to have prior experience with the fairer sex. Even if pre-marital sex wasn't encouraged by her people, it was known to happen. Hunters and huntresses in particular were freer with their sexuality because of the particular life they led. Ara had managed to avoid the necessity of keeping up a particular persona because she'd left OLYMPUS for several years. Needless to say, her opinion on the matter was regarded with incredulousness by her new husband. Ara laughed and moved to the other side of the room. She started to unlace the bodice of her dress and, once finished, shrugged it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a heap of silk.

"It was during my less honorable moments," he said.

Ara glanced over her shoulder at him while she reached up to her head and began undoing her braids. Aragorn walked to a small table where a crystal decanter and two goblets rested innocently in the silver moonlight. He smiled at her and lifted the decanter towards her in question. The purple hue of elvish wine glittered in the light.

"A bit, if you would?" She said, smiling.

Aragorn poured. He didn't look at her and Ara noticed his posture seemed to fold into itself.

"I was in Gondor as Torongil to help Boromir's grandfather, Ecthellion. A harlot in a small village had been accosted by orcs. I saved her and she showed me her… gratitude. I was heartsick and lonely, so I accepted her attention to my regret," he held out a full glass to her and she took it silently and began to sip at it.

"No others?" She asked.

"No. While I'd initially enjoyed my brief time with the woman, the months following brought perspective to my situation and I came to accept it," he met her gaze, blue eyes burning. "There is only one woman for me and I hadn't found her then. To continue seeking barely a shadow of love that was to come would have brought me to the brink of despair."

He reached out and cupped her cheek with his large, calloused hand free of his own glass of wine, "Then you had the decency to fall from the sky and land on top of me."

Ara smiled and said, "How else was I supposed to get you attention?"

"I don't know," he said, returning her smile. "I doubt you'd be the woman I love if you weren't as dramatic. You forced me to notice you. Had our meeting been different, I fear it would have been many years before I'd have accepted what you are to me."

"I would have done the same," she admitted. "I'd spent years keeping people I considered as friends at arms length because I believed I placed them in danger - which I do. I had to not only earn your trust, but figure out how to trust you… which never would have happened if circumstances were different."

She blushed once more and looked away from him. The wine suddenly became very interesting as she continued to avoid his gaze. With a sip, she discovered it was a different vintage than the wine served during her wedding feast.

"I never believed you existed. I loved twice before you and they were taken from me, one by violent torture and the other in battle. I'd given up and then there you were and here we are. I still don't know what to make of it," she said softly.

Aragorn gazed at her for a long while before he set down his goblet and knelt before her. The action startled her from her reverie and she looked into his eyes once more.

"Whatever comes know that I love you and always will. I can't promise I won't meet the same fell fate, not with this war, but I do swear to love you through it, my Rillariel*," he said.

Aracasse cupped his cheek with her free hand. The feeling of his beard against her palm lit a fire deep within her and she stepped closer to him. He allowed his forehead to rest against her stomach and she closed her eyes while breathing through her desire.

"Rillariel? Is this a creation of Bilbo's?" She asked.

A moment passed before her tilted his head back to look at her. Aracasse placed her free hand on his temple and brushed her fingers through his hair. It was softer than she would have guessed. Long black strands curled through her fingers and spilled across the back of her hand. His eyes smoldered and she felt the heat of his intentions spark a hot flush up her neck and across her cheeks.

"It is mine," he replied. "As Beren named Luthien, Tinuviel, so I name you Rillariel."

He stood, cupped her cheeks in the palms of his hands, and kissed her. Ara dropped her barely touched goblet to the floor and twined her hands through his dark hair as she responded. Aragorn's hands moved to her neck and the small of her back.

"I love you," Ara whispered into his lips.

In response, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed where he proceeded to carefully lay her on the sheets and unlace the linen string that kept her shift closed at her bosom. He lay next to her, lips never leaving hers, and cradled her head in the crook of his arm. Long fingers teased apart the opening of her shift and slowly slipped it over her shoulders and down her arms and torso. Feeling adventurous, Ara began to explore his clothed body and marveled at the feel of his muscles underneath his loose layers. Her fingers drifted to where his shirt was tucked neatly into his breaches and began to pull at the fabric in an attempt to slip her hands under it. This proved surprisingly difficult. His breaches didn't need his belt in truth and were held tightly together by thick leather lacings. This held his shirt in place rather well and made it difficult for her to easily pull it free.

As if guessing her intent, Aragorn pulled away from her for a second and tugged his remaining layers over his head. Ara followed suit by pushing her shift over her hips, down her legs, and kicked the garment to the floor.

This act left her fully naked while Aragorn's breaches remained. The unequal status of their clothes was lost on Aracasse. She gaped at her husband's naked torso and the lean muscle that lined his arms, chest and abdomen.

In the early days of their meeting, she hadn't thought much of his appearance. A wild man who barely bathed and clearly never bothered to take a knife to trim his hair and beard hadn't seemed promising as far as looks were concerned. Rivendell had softened his general appearance, though he never met the beauty of the elves or the rugged good looks of his own traveling companion, Boromir. Even so, his face was angular and adorned with a thick black beard he kept trimmed close to his chin when not traversing through the wilderness. Still, the House of Elrond relieved him of the stress he'd clearly felt while on the road and brought forth an inner light that was otherwise closely hidden.

Lothlorien proved there was more to be revealed. In retrospect, she figured it should have been obvious the man was fit. He lived in the wild, fought many foul creature and walked for miles in a day. There was no possible way he wouldn't have a well-sculpted physique. There were visible scars - one on the left side of his chest and another curling around his right side - and they cut across his skin as jagged blights on his otherwise perfect skin.

She tore her eyes from admiring him and beheld his own expression which turned heated the longer his eyes roamed her naked body. Aragorn remained silent while he studied her and the longer he kept his own council the more her hands twitched with the desire to pull the visible sheet off their bed and wrap it around her body.

Aragorn traced his fingers across her collarbone and down over her breasts to her stomach. Ara shuddered and closed her eyes. She heard the bedding shift as he leaned forward and kissed her earlobe.

"Open your eyes. Let me see you," he requested.

She did and angled her head so her seeking lips met his. They kissed for several long moments. His hand moved to her bare hip and traced circles along the bone and then traveled to her rear. He pulled away and caught her in the heat of his mesmerizing blue eyes. Aracasse felt his hand dip to the crease of her thigh and gently pushed her legs apart only to dip between her legs and cup her womanhood a moment later.

She gasped and arched her back. A slight breeze blew through the window and caused goosebumps to erupt across her flesh. The sensation felt strange, but in a way that made her draw closer to him.

Aragorn chuckled and kissed her once more while his hand lingered. Pressure built deep within her. She moaned into him as he continued to explore her. Her own fingers danced across his skin and found the lacings of his pants. Ara eagerly pulled at them until the fabric became loose around his hips and boldly slipped her hand in. Aragorn grunted when her hand discovered his hardened member.

She smiled and caught her lower lip between her teeth. Ara looked into his eyes and cupped his cheek with one hand while the other grasped the hilt of his member. Aragorn continued to rub her bringing her to the brink where she bucked against his hand wanting more. Then she gasped and shuddered as she came. Once her orgasm subsided, Ara lay on the bed limp and flushed while Aragorn propped himself on his elbow and watched her.

"Nalyë míra, Aracasse," he said gently.

A gratified smile etched itself across her lips. She didn't need to fully understand elvish to know what he meant. Tentatively, Ara reached out and cupped his cheek - feeling his rough beard against the palm of her hand.

"As are you," she replied in the common tongue.

He flushed and broke their gaze to look at the creases on the top sheet. Ara tilted her head and pulled herself upright. This reaction was curious. Even when speaking of a past indiscretion, he hadn't seemed as vulnerable.

"What is it?" she asked.

Several moments passed before he answered, "I am not fair to behold and hearing you say you think so is... You speak the truth of your heart, I can tell, but I've spent many years amongst those who think differently."

Ara let out an airy laugh and said, "You certainly don't appeal on first acquaintance and you aren't what I would call fair. That's not what makes you beautiful. There's a light in you, my love, and when you let it show it enhances anything seemingly lacking."

Aragorn looked at her once more and she was gratified to see that whatever part of him felt unworthy of her because of his appearance no longer seemed to trouble him. His good humor returned and the easy confidence he seemed to have throughout the night along with it.

"I don't appeal on first acquaintance?" he asked, chuckling.

"Yes... the smell of a man who spent many weeks in the wild is quite... ripe," she said and wrinkled her nose.

He rested his head in the crook of her shoulder and laughed. She joined in with her own laughter. The absurdity of their meeting seemed long ago, though only a few months had passed.

"Do you mean to say," he asked when he regained control of himself, "that the first thing you noticed in the moment of our meeting was my smell?"

"I'm an elf and you hadn't bathed!" she said.

He shook his head, still grinning, "I held a sword to your throat."

"Yes, dear, you are quite skilled with the blade. Might I suggest learning to bathe in the wild while you're at it? That skill would be most appreciated by the next poor elf who meets you on the road," she quipped.

His expression turned serious, "I think I may need to further prove to you my skill with the blade if you hold that bathing in the wild is a more important skill."

Aracasse shivered under his intense stare. The innuendo was quite plain and she found that it both frightened and thrilled her. She ran her fingers through her hair and couldn't think of any way to respond. That intense expression of his softened with a smile and Aragorn cupped her cheek.

"I'll be gentle," he promised.

"Oh? Do you think I'll need you to be gentle?" she asked more out of a need to continue their banter then actually needing to know.

She wasn't that unfamiliar with the subject!

"At first, I think," Aragorn said, humoring her. "Though I hear it becomes easier as you grow used to it."

"Ah."

Ara blushed and cast her eyes to his bare chest. She placed her hand on it, traced the outline of his muscles and played with his dark chest hair. His fingers carefully grasped her chin and tilted her head so she couldn't escape the gentle expression in his blue eyes.

"We need not rush this, my love," he said.

She laughed, "It's not a matter of rushing. I'd heard sex reveals our vulnerabilities and accepted the notion, but I don't think I quite believed it until now."

He moved over her and kissed her sweetly. Once parted, Aragorn slid to the floor and cupped her slightly spread knees with his hands. Ara's breath caught in her throat at the particular expression in his blue gaze.

"Permit me to share in your vulnerability as I will my own?" he asked.

Wordlessly, she nodded and he opened her legs and descended.

All thoughts of how vulnerable she felt were forgotten. At first, Aracasse looked on with incredulousness. Surely he wasn't going to do the very thing she'd read about in novels? The feeling of his tongue and the incredible things he used it for waved away her incredulousness on her part.

She did; however, curse the closer she came to ecstasy. When she hit her peek, Aragorn's name fell from her lips in a ragged cry. Aracasse lay on the bed a trembling hormonal mess and watched her husband rise from the floor. His fingers grasped the rim of his already loose breaches and tugged them over his hips. They fell to the floor and revealed him in all his glory.

Aracasse took all of him in and appreciated every inch of his tall frame. He moved between her legs and into her eyes. Aracasse felt flushed, hot and heady. The expression in his eyes invoked a desperate need within. She wanted him and, from the way the tip of his manhood pressed against her entrance, he clearly wanted her as well.

"Are you ready?" He asked, smirking while Ara gaped at him in a daze.

She glared at him before lifting herself to his chest and smashing her lips against his. Point made, she stretched her legs wide and Aragorn slowly slipped in. The deed wasn't as painful as Ara'd expected. She'd felt a slight sting and a snapping sensation as he filled her. Still heady from his foreplay, her body convulsed as she came after a short time. Aragorn groaned and bucked further into her. All thought left her and all that remained was the two of them. After several minutes, Aragorn expelled his seed into her and curled against her once he was finished.

He chuckled.

"One could never accuse you of patience," he teased.

"Hmmm… no, I suppose not," Ara replied as she buried her head into his shoulder and inhaled his earthy scent.

She felt his lips press against her hair and smiled against his skin. Ara tilted her head so she could look into his eyes. She kissed him, slow and inquiring. Aragorn answered by pulling her on top of him.

The moonlight barely streamed through the open window in the early hours of the new day. Darkness quickly blanketed the room in its sheer shroud casting inky shadows across corners of the room. Despite the darkness, a soft glow burned on the single bed in the room. A feminine body, naked, slept tucked under his arm. Aragorn gently ran his knuckles across her shoulder blade. A content smile played on his lips. He breathed in her scent and revelled in the smell of sweet lavender.

During their time in the marshes, Aragorn suspected the elf he'd known as Brianna did emit a sort of glow in the darker hours of the night. Dirt and grime coated her skin at the time and he suspected she'd taken steps to hide the more brilliant aspects of her elven heritage. Rivendell had allowed her to show the woman instead of the warrior or the queen. Seeing Brianna, whom he came to privately refer to as Aracasse, in the Room of Fire had merely revealed a truth he'd come to suspect near the end of their journey.

He'd come to trust her at Weathertop. He knew he loved her shortly after.

It had all seemed a hopeless case at first. Ara revealed herself as elven queen from another realm, stated her purpose, and her intent to leave quickly to accomplish it. There didn't seem to be a chance their paths would meet once more. The fact that they had come to see each other once more astonished him. A mere week later they were married and Aragorn had been allowed to love her in both heart and flesh.

He grinned and lifted his free hand and pushed away a few stray strands of bronze hair from her face. Ara had proven to be quite the adventurous little minx as they consummated their marriage. He'd thoroughly enjoyed the experience and found himself craving more. She'd fallen asleep after the third time he'd entered her which didn't surprise him. She'd never engaged in intimacy meant for the marriage bed before that night. Even with his brief experience, Aragorn felt tired, yet he couldn't quite bring himself to give into his body's urge to slumber. The peaceful beauty of his new wife was too glorious to ignore.

A soft moan escaped her lips and Ara shifted closer if such was possible. Aragorn chuckled and pressed his lips to her brow. Love. Love that would enable him to protect her. Declaring that love in the way they had would hopefully strengthen the bond of destiny they shared, but he had his doubts. It was his experience that there was more in love and marriage than love and lust. Both were important, but he feared it wouldn't be enough. Aracasse was a brash person who charged into battle without regard for her personal safety. She hadn't the time to come to properly trust him with her life, though he suspect that a majority of her did. He suspected that she didn't trust him not to get killed. She didn't trust he could protect her.

Truly, how could she trust him in such a matter as her protection when she could turn mountains into rubble with a wave of her hand? Ara possessed raw elemental power and whatever power Aragorn possessed paled in comparison. What protection could he give her that she couldn't give herself?

Other than the obvious - that their union could keep the curse of this Aries character from taking hold of her - he couldn't think of anything else.

"I will protect you," he muttered to her sleeping form. "Even if you fight me in this, I will protect you. This I swear on my ancestors."

She didn't stir, such was her deep sleep, and for that he was glad.

The night waned and Aragorn kept his vigil until the sky grew grey and sleep finally claimed him.