In spite of being used to the luxury of living at a court all her life, the detailed work that had gone into the feast told Arwen immediately, how many people indeed had put arduous efforts into the wedding. In addition to the continuous congratulations coming from all sides, she rightfully heard many voices praising the banquet as well, and the opinion that there had not been such a party in any Kingdom for half an eternity.
In fact, the last similarly opulent event that she could remember was spending a turn of the year in the Elvenking's Halls of Eryn Lasgalen's – a thought dimming the joy significantly for a moment. There wouldn't be any cheerful dancing with the Crown Prince tonight.
Said elf had only just brought himself to give Arwen a pretty but extremely trivial piece of jewelry from his realm earlier, along with an equally neutrally worded congratulation. No hug, not even a look into her eyes, and certainly not one into Aragorn's. And then he'd already been gone into the crowd again.
And though the day did actually belong to the royal couple, Arwen could hardly spot her husband anymore after the three elaborate meals either, although he'd only meant to have a few short conversations with a few old friends. More and more guests wished to pay their respects to the King, and Arwen was being engaged in conversations by one court lady after the other as well.
Then, finally, all the light in the hall except for a few candles was put out. The uplifting music became calmer, quieter; the center of the hall was cleared out, and two she-elves from Imladris joined the musicians together with Glorfindel to support their efforts with their voices.
Touched by a gesture that especially in the light of current problems, neither of them did take for granted, Aragorn led Arwen there and took her in a close basic stance. Prince Imrahil approached them, his tall figure lit by the flickering glow of another white candle that Aragorn and Arwen were now holding up together, a gift of the Prince's people in the nearby located peninsular realm Dol Amroth.
Another ribbon was wrapped around their hands. In a 3/4 time dance that they had dutifully rehearsed in the last few weeks, Aragorn and Arwen lit every corner of the room one by one, just like their love was supposed to do henceforth, under the well-wishing words in Sindarin of three old friends.
not worth a shred of coin
pondering your fate
when your heart surrenders
to one glimpse at her
resting in each other
falling into each other's arms
following her trail in the night
through every open door
the rush in your veins
no sweeter yet known
falling only at her feet
losing yourself only to her
blind by her light, deaf by her song
the clear mind lost in hers
off the ground, off the shores, off your life
every day ends with her
no morning bright without her smile
losing yourself only to her
blind by her light, deaf by her song
the clear mind lost in hers
until Eru calls you home
After a few minutes of the flawless performance that had belonged only to Aragorn and Arwen, other couples entered the dancefloor.
Arwen used the minute when the attention wasn't resting on them anymore to put her head on Aragorn's shoulder. "I would like to be alone with you now, Your Majesty."
"I think that can be arranged." Aragorn gave her an invisible kiss on her ear which made her feel even dizzier than their little presentation had and finished the dance by spinning her around on the spot for one last time, before he started to say his thanks to the people, asking them to celebrate within the Citadel walls tonight for as long as they liked.
Gimli who – in spite of his quarrel with the elf – had ended up next to Legolas of all people at some point, hazy with wine, was visibly having a hard time, biting back a lewd comment. Only a well-aimed kick to his shin under the table had him pause and answer it with an equally harmless nudge in the ribs. It was good to see that the two Companions seemed to have reconciled a little. It gave Arwen hope that the relationship between North Ithilien and Minas Tirith would improve in the foreseeable future as well – another reason for optimism this night. Gimli was even trying to get Tarisilya drunk by now, with whom he had hardly managed to get along in the beginning.
In any case, they wouldn't be missed here. Without hurry, Aragorn made for the door, trying to have a few short words of goodbye to spare for everyone they met on the way.
Fortunately, it was only a few persons at this point. Instead, a few of the women watched Arwen leave with curious and partly very envious expressions. It wasn't the first time, of course, for her to go to Aragorn's chambers, but today, she would see the bedroom from the inside, for the first time since the assassination by the Stewardaides.
One of the guests had kept a few petals from the afternoon and threw them on the couple now which distracted Arwen quickly from any resentment. She wouldn't let anyone spoil what she had been longing for so long.
The memory of what was to come next, unfortunately, brought back the nervousness as well, and even a hint of fear that she couldn't deny, in spite of all her affection for and especially her trust in her husband. Seeking help, she looked back at Tarisilya. Since tradition strictly demanded that she had to be parted from her husband once again for a little while now, Arwen didn't want the handmaidens to take care of this embarrassing, useless task, even if that would breach the etiquette once more and cause whispers.
Fortunately, the other she-elf understood and got up immediately, probably glad for the chance to escape the noise and the stuffy heat of too many people in the hall herself for a while.
They didn't talk on the way, and even when they arrived, Arwen needed a moment to find her voice back. It didn't sound as firm yet as due to her new role as a leader, it was actually supposed to. "Go, all of you."
That missing determination was probably why the handmaidens hesitated to obey and raised the objection that they were being needed here. Who should comb the Queen's hair, prepare the aromatic oil for her body and do all those other things that had been custom for weddings in Gondor for centuries?
Arwen cautioned herself to remain calm. She didn't want to vent her anxiousness on the women who had stayed by her side so loyally recently, especially not on Ranír. "You better go to the celebration hall. You deserve it; after all, you've been busy with nothing but preparations day and night lately. The Princess of Eryn Lasgalen will help me with what's left to do now."
The objection that it would all take much longer then, Arwen also ignored with a slightly forced smile. "After all this time, the King will be able to wait for me for a few more minutes." She decided to ignore the slightly presumptuous quiet laughter of the younger handmaidens when the servants finally left and looked at the nightgown spread on the bed with a sigh.
The precious white fabric sported a small under-bust lacing that would make sure, the piece of clothing was skintight. Not exactly the style she preferred. Not that she thought, she would be wearing that thing for long … She stroked the soft silk indecisively and lifted one of the wide sleeves.
Tarisilya came to stand next to her with her head tilted, eying the garment doubtfully as well. "Do you think, Aragorn insists on using such formalities?"
"He won't but if I don't go to his chambers in that dress, the guards might deny me access. Men believe that only by abiding by all rules, the connection established at the wedding is under a good star." Arwen held the nightgown to her body. "Given the fear that Gondor might soon be without a King once again, we shouldn't risk that the Valar don't want us to have children. Our chances at that are bad enough as it is."
"Come on, hurry." Tarisilya pointed at the antechamber impatiently, sparing Arwen further consolation that she couldn't have accepted right now anyway. For now, all Aragorn and she had was hope.
When Arwen came back, her friend was already sitting at the dressing table, armed with a comb, and immediately started undoing Arwen's braids as soon as she was sitting next to her. "The King is surely wondering already where you are." With relentless strokes, she started to comb out her hair until it fell down her shoulders completely straight.
"With the way you're smiling today, even such a simple garb brings out your beauty. He won't be able to take his eyes off of you." The other she-elf's expression looked dreamy. Regardless of how often her husband had annoyed her lately and especially today, with – except for at dinner – always making sure to keep his distance to her … The memory of her own wedding in Imladris put every problem in the background for a moment.
Silence was spreading. Actually, Arwen had enough questions, she just didn't dare to ask any of them. At last, she grabbed one of the bottles with flower extract intended to be used on her hair. She wanted to give it to Tarisilya but it slipped from her hand that was trembling worse by the minute and shattered on the dark wooden planks. With a quiet curse, Arwen bent down, trying to save as much of the costly liquid as she possibly could.
"Let it be. You don't need any of these things anyway. You're so much more beautiful the way you are." Tarisilya gently held her tight and straightened her up again. Instead of letting go of her hands, she caressed them soothingly. "I can hear your heart racing from here. What scares you so much? The King is a kind and sensitive man, and you're the best Queen and wife by his side he could have wished for."
"I know, and Aragorn would never hurt me on purpose. It's just …" Now at the latest, her words failed Arwen. Embarrassedly, she let her eyes wander about in the room. "What if he doesn't like it with me, or if I do something wrong? Or if …"
"Will you listen to yourself?" Tarisilya interrupted her leniently. "Do you really think he has so much more experience with all that than you? The King is a man who always placed duty above all else; you should know that even better than me. Even that couple of adventures he's had, that your brothers sometimes talk about when they've had too much to drink, happened ages ago. Aragorn will never ask more of you than you can give. And I'm very sure that there are lots of experiences that he's never made before himself. Learning such things together is part of a marriage." Again, that dreamy grin, her cheeks turned a deep shade of red.
"Stop thinking so much. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful night." She rested her hand on Arwen's face for a moment, her smile grew. "The way you laughed for him today, that's far more important than anything else. Go to him and trust yourself to him. He will take care of you like he always does."
Arwen embraced her friend tightly. "Thank you." She blinked a few times.
"It's days like these that I realize how much I still miss nana. She should be here to help me right now." She gave herself a few respectful seconds to allow the burning pain in, at the thought of her family that soon not even a single member of would dwell on Middle-earth anymore. Then she tightened her shoulders.
"Thanks for always being there for me when I need a friend."
"Just like you were always there for me, especially at our wedding back then," Tarisilya just put her off.
"Were you also that excited in Imladris back then, before …?"
"You should rather worry if that wasn't the case. But Legolas and I were lucky in that we didn't marry as early as many other elves. With the centuries comes the inner peace you need to approach this experience without fear." Tarisilya paused and scrunched her nose in embarrassment. It was visibly not easy for her to talk about these things.
"Of course, a bit of nervousness remains. In your case, it's your husband's job to take it from you. After all, he's the one who has at least an idea about all this."
"Shouldn't my husband be making me even more nervous?" Arwen eyed the utensils on the dressing table with a chuckle. "You're right. Aragorn can surely do without five different perfumes on my neck alone." She pushed the vials a bit away from her, reaching only for the scent that she long knew to be Aragorn's favorite but settling for a small amount under her ear of that, too.
Then she took the dark red cloak that lay ready on the bed too, threw it elegantly around her shoulders, and winked at Tarisilya from under the edge of the large hood. "Does that fit me at least?" Suddenly she felt downright giddy.
"So well that he will probably not even want to take it off." Arwen's laughter seemed to be infectious.
"Well, I sure hope he does. Thank you for everything." Arwen pulled back the hood again and gently grabbed Tarisilya's shoulder. "I'm unbelievably glad that you came to Imladris back then. Even though my family will soon follow my mother into the west, I will still have a sister in these realms."
Without giving her friend a chance to answer, she left the room.
At least there was only a single guard waiting in the hallway to be her escort. Arwen got a vague suspicion about the purpose of that cloak that she had thought to be completely exaggerated at first. At least no one saw her cheeks glow.
Upon arrival at the doors of Aragorn's chambers that were adorned with elaborate carvings, she released the man and smoothed down her nightgown once more before signaling the soldier posted here to knock.
Aragorn opened up so quickly as if he had waited by the entrance and stepped aside so she could stride into the antechamber on her suddenly very unsteady legs.
"You can go." Aragorn didn't let it show how little he liked it that even at this hour, there were still two female servants standing in his living room, busy with last-minute preparations, with spreading flowers, carafes of wine and food – as if there hadn't been enough of it at the feast – and with cleaning up everything for the least time.
"Of course, Your Majesty." The two women hurried to curtsy and then closed the door behind them.
"I'm sorry. They just mean well." Shrugging, Aragorn shed his crown, usually, the first thing he did when he was being alone; Arwen had seen it often enough. Pure self-preservation if you didn't want to suffer from a headache 24 hours a day.
"Do you want something to drink?" Now it was he though, demonstrating unnecessary hospitality. They both had to laugh, especially about the memory of what had happened in Imladris when they had last got drunk together. Though the direction that this evening back then had developed in for a moment, had indeed been interesting: They didn't plan to numb their senses now of all times, after they had arduously prevented people from refilling their mugs all night.
Arwen slowly approached the dresser and looked at her tiara that one of the handmaidens must have brought here, placed next to the crown on a cloth embroidered with a silver tree. She traced the jewel with her fingertips in awe. So far, she hadn't had a chance to take a closer look at it. Only once she'd memorized every detail, she stepped back.
In her embarrassment, she let her eyes wander to the paintings of Aragorn's ancestors on the wall, but there was nothing new to see there. By now, she knew this room so well that she could blindly have drawn the embroidery on the sofa fabric or the heavy curtains, and could have named the number of candles. More than once, she had stood at one of the big windows and looked outside to the garden. That was where Aragorn mostly retired to when he needed to recharge his energy. In the conversations they'd had there, Arwen had learned much about the last few decades that they had not often been able to meet in. He'd also taught her a few new tricks with her dagger there, and trained Tarisilya in the art of close combat a little – a not so nice memory.
Arwen forced herself to shake off the melancholy and started by getting rid of her cloak and her sandals. While those might look nice, wearing them all day hurt an Imladris-elf who had preferred going barefoot her whole life, apart from going to battle and on journeys. It was a blessing to feel the dark red carpet under her feet when she sauntered to Aragorn, taking his wine mug from him and putting it down next to the carafe. "Maybe later."
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she nestled firmly against him. Caressing from his cheek down to his neck, she rested her hands on his chest, leaning in for a long kiss. "Now I can finally do that without one of the court ladies clearing her throat."
"In here, you can do whatever you like, Nauriel. I'm all yours." Aragorn seemed to realize only belatedly how ambiguous that remark did sound. Well – they were married now. They were alone and had dutifully respected the etiquette the whole time. In these rooms, ambiguity was not only allowed, it might even be beneficial.
"Wait a second." He withdrew only for a moment to get a small box from a dresser drawer. Taking Arwen's hand in his, he put a glistening bracelet on her. "I asked ada to have it forged in Imladris and bring it here. I didn't want to take the risk of a local smith again."
"It's so beautiful." Arwen eyed the jewel in fascination that was akin to the other bracelet at first sight. Taking a closer look though, one could make out the far more detailed work of the elves.
And it was a piece of home. "Thank you." With another kiss, she showed her husband how happy he was making her with such gestures again and again.
That was giving them other ideas quite quickly then. When Aragorn's hand was already on Arwen's behind though, he seemed to remember that she was basically standing before him without any experience here. And that they had wanted to take it slower than in Imladris when they'd almost slipped.
Arwen grimaced when he put his hand back on her waist with an apologetic smile, deciding to put his energy in kisses to her neck for now, but then she closed her eyes appreciatively anyway. Her body started to shake under that first bit of tenderness. Her arm sneaked under his cloak, wrapping itself around his hip. All she had ever been able to do was dreaming about this moment so far; now she was craving this all the more, badly enough for her to start fidgeting with the clasp of her husband's cloak until she could strip him of the heavy fabric.
Still timid, she let the tip of her tongue nudge his, exploring the texture of his soft lips, and let the rising heat in her body run its course.
That she had made the first step quickly ruined her husband's forced composure. The uncomfortable armor was next to fall to the ground with a rumble. Now Aragorn could finally pull Arwen close to him properly. This time, he didn't try to get under her clothes in haste, though today, she wouldn't even have minded. For now, he was content with a massaging touch on Arwen's behind still covered by her nightgown, that had attracted his eyes more than once in moments when he'd thought to be unwatched. His right hand meanwhile made its way to her chest. Only now, all that fabric between them really began to bother them, and Aragorn didn't seem to want to waste any time with finding out how to open this dress at a record time.
"Take your clothes off, Nauriel." He interrupted the kiss by softly nibbling on her lower lip.
Arwen had to catch her breath first before she could follow the request. Until she was done unlacing, her pulse had slowed down again, but the trembling remained. Aragorn had seen her dressed sparsely before; one or two times, he'd even seen her wearing nothing on her upper body. But that had been when she had lain in the sick camp of Cair Andros, seriously injured, and he had looked at her in a whole different way. Now she could clearly see the aroused glistening in his eyes when she pulled the delicate cords apart. More nervous than ever, she shed the sleeves and allowed the dress to slip down her body, resisting the urge to cross her arms. After a moment of hesitation, she pulled the nightgown all the way down over her hips and stepped out of it.
She was only ashamed about the unfamiliar nakedness in her beloved's presence until he lifted her head by her chin. "Do not lower your eyes when you stand before me, Nauriel. You have no reason to hide." He brushed back a few last strands of her hair that were hiding her bareness, then his hand found its place on Arwen's behind again. He firmly pressed her against him, so that she could feel exactly what the sight of her had done to him.
Her own ever-growing arousal guided Arwen's hands, made her unbutton Aragorn's tunic. She let a couple of curious fingertips stroke through the shadow of dark fuzz there, looking so very differently from the bared, hairless bodies of members of her own kin that she had seen on miscellaneous occasions. Her fingertips tracing the lines of his muscles next – still quite well-built, in spite of a missing workout routine that endless meetings caused –, she quickly found a few quite sensitive spots. She watched her husband's reactions closely while she was teasing these hardened patches of skin further, scratching it ever so tenderly.
She didn't have much time left for it because Aragorn suddenly lifted her in his arms and approached that one door that Arwen had gone through for the first time in that night of deadly terror back then. Since then, there had been reconstructions more than once, and it had been newly decorated, and neither of them would have been surprised if there had been servants waiting even in the bedroom, to make sure that everything was really ready for the big event. But fortunately, they were being alone with a broad white bed, the large carved eagle soaring above the headboard and the silver cloths wrapped around the bedposts.
Arwen found herself sprawled on the thick mattress before she knew; her hot-blooded husband didn't lay down next to her immediately though but took a moment to just look at her. His eyes got caught by her long legs especially, but judging by how his fingertips kept on caressing along her side, he also seemed to like the shape of her breast and her hips, neither being very distinguishing as was the case for most female members of her kin.
When Arwen's impatience won, she knelt down at the edge of the bed so that she could look Aragorn in the eye. Stealing some more deep kisses from him, she let her right hand stray to his behind, the left one cheekily brushing his loins before her touches focused on his nipples again.
Returning his favor from earlier, she kissed her way up, from his neck to his ear. Finally being able to be so close to him, to breathe in deeply his beloved scent with its fine earthly note, made rational thoughts impossible, except for the wish to feel even more of him. Surprised about Aragorn clearly startling when Arwen whispered to him that he should finally come to her, she started to explore his earlobe by nibbling and sucking on it.
That did the trick. A throaty sigh on his lips that was mixing with moans with increased regularity, he dropped down next to her. He even brushed a few strands of hair away so that she had better access. She could have sworn, her amused look made him blush. "It might be due to limited experience, that I have made decades ago no less as you know, but I can't remember any woman or man ever caring so much about me in bed. That was always my job."
"Just forget the others then. They no longer count." After this quiet admonishment, Arwen nestled closer to her husband and explored his strong neck with her lips further. Every now and then, she sucked a little firmer on his skin or used her teeth on him a little which her husband was audibly enjoying. "Because I want to give you back what you're doing to me." She went back to fondling his ear and listening to his sighs before letting go of that spot with a last kiss. "Besides, I'm much too curious to just lay on my back."
Scooting down on the bed, she turned to his upper body, all inhibitions gone. Her lips grazed his muscles until his chest was rising and falling faster and faster. How much this was turning him on had her own face flush as well. Following her instincts, she pressed her thigh against the growing hardness between his legs, closed her lips around a nipple, and let her tongue play over it. This time, Aragorn couldn't suppress a far deeper moan. Tempted by the reaction, Arwen firmly sucked on that spot and then changed to the other side.
Now he did stop her after all, reluctantly, as she could tell from the uncontrolled shaking in his body. "You deserve your name, Nauriel. Your fire is already consuming me." He made up for the interruption by gently pushing her down on the mattress, doing his best to give every inch of her skin the same attention. Her firm bosom in particular inevitably attracted his lips again and again. That every smallest nibble was setting her body on fire, too, her skin now deeply flushed, seemed to encourage him to go further.
It didn't take long until a strong hand pushed her legs apart. After a teasing caress on the insides, it touched that spot for the first time that reacted to it with noticeable moisture.
Arwen gasped in surprise; her body tensed under the entirely alien sensation. She was keeping her eyes closed, had one hand buried in the covers that it clenched down on again and again. With every of Aragorn's caresses, she lost control over herself more, did she thrust her hips down harder.
When her husband took his lips off of her upper body, she regarded that with a protesting growl, a sound that was silenced quickly though when he knelt between her legs and replaced his fingers with the tip of his tongue. While he covered the heated skin of her folds with kisses, and his tongue found its way inside her body, again and again, his hands massaged her butt cheeks, slipping between them every now and then, grazing hidden, most sensitive spots on their way to where more and more traces of what he triggered in her were showing.
It didn't take Arwen long to lose control over her body for good. By now, she was all but writhing with lust, so that Aragorn had to hold her down. The burning inside of her had stolen her voice, had made it rough from moans. Though Aragorn was already getting her that far, Arwen wanted more from him, wanted to be even closer to him. Just thinking about what was to follow soon had her murmur his name and take his hand.
That barely hidden request apparently had him notice that he was wearing far too much himself, a condition that was immediately being remedied.
When he was nuzzling against her with his whole body then, Arwen felt just too clearly that it had turned him on just as much, touching her, feeling and seeing her growing desire. He avoided her kiss cleverly though. Now he was the one taking some time to play with her ear, tracing every spot with his tongue. "What do you want, Nauriel?"
Growling, she pressed her body against him, opening up for him, consciously enjoying his hard cock rubbing against her groin. At that moment, Aragorn could have done whatever he wanted with her, as long as he just didn't stop touching her. Her breath was going so fast that she was feeling dizzy when her trembling hand reached between her bodies. Only very softly at first, she let her fingertips wander over his cock, finding a few first traces of lust on the tip, hearing his uncontrolled sounds of approval in her ear. She liked how was thrusting into her hand and tightened her grasp a little. "I want you," she somehow managed to say.
Aragorn had to visibly force himself to back away from her far enough so that he could touch her again, targeting the very spot that had her react to it the most until she was pressing down against him that instinctively again. Only then did he go even further, looking at her closely when his fingers carefully found their way into her tight opening, ever until her lust-addled expression let him know clearly enough that she wanted all of him now.
When he laid down on top of her this time, he didn't bother with rubbing his hips against hers shallowly but went straight for the right spot. Not giving her any time to possibly become nervous again, he entered her in a single thrust.
He had to feel her startle, had to see the pain in her little grimace as he remained in that position unmoving for the moment. Braced on his elbows, he caressed her cheeks with his fingertips and let his lips graze her forehead, on his face, a frown of regret. "I'm sorry, mîl nín."
"I guess that's part of it." Arwen forced a smile on her lips and tried to relax, waiting impatiently for the unpleasant sting to subside. The interruption had triggered some insecurity in her again now after all that she first had to shake off.
Aragorn helped her by giving her a passionate kiss – allowing her to taste herself on his tongue which drew an aroused moan from her –, then murmuring to her that she should signal it to him when she was ready to continue before he covered her lips with his again.
Fortunately, the intimate distraction had Arwen's muscles give in quickly. Suddenly she had to laugh. "With all that handmaiden gossip, I was actually afraid it would hurt much more."
She carefully moved her hips against his which immediately brought back all of her arousal. Now that her body had adapted, feeling him inside of her was even more intensive than all the prior experiences on this evening. It felt right; she didn't want to have to miss this sensation of being one with him like that ever again. And not once did even the thought about disappointment enter her mind, about their unification not ending with a connection between their souls as it happened with elvish couples. This life was not hers anymore, but that didn't mean, she wanted the one with Aragorn that had now finally really begun, any less. "I love you so much …"
Judging by Aragorn's interested smile, he would want to know more about the kind of conversations that handmaidens were having at some point.
He quickly became serious again though, caressing Arwen's cheek so that she would look at him and be able to see how honestly he meant his next words. "Le melin, Nauriel."
Only now he fell into the still quite slow rhythm that Arwen was dictating until he could be sure that he wasn't hurting her anymore. Then he took the lead again, with all the more determination. With the way, his hands on her hips were holding her tight, it was only him who decided the speed and intensity of their act. He was losing control more and more which was clearly mirrored in his unchained expression. His body was shaking again and again, but somehow, he could hold back a little longer every time, though it was visibly difficult for him.
Arwen did hardly notice that little fight. She was much too caught up in her own lust. Wrapping one leg around his, she nestled her body even closer to his, gasping when her most sensitive spots were being stimulated more. At first, she wanted to move away, surprised by the intensity of these sensations, but Aragorn lovingly grabbed her thigh, kept her close until her arousal exploded with her small scream and she reached her height.
Only now, Aragorn lost the restraint that he'd maintained so well and came as well, nestled against Arwen's trembling body, completely out of breath.
Arwen had to close her eyes for a few seconds, as the world was spinning around her and her body didn't obey her anymore. When she finally managed to beam at Aragorn again, she had to hold back tears once more, but this time, it was tears of happiness. "Now I am truly yours."
"Forever, Nauriel, as I am yours." Aragorn slowly seemed to be getting himself together again.
Exhausted, he slipped down next to Arwen, breathing so deeply for a few minutes, with his eyes closed that it seemed as if he'd fallen asleep already. But his hand never stopped caressing Arwen's side, her arm, her hips. Again and again, he placed kisses on her neck and shoulder. Finally, he looked at her for a last moment, a content smile on her lips, before sleep got the better of him.