She ran through the trees, feeling the soft wind tangle her hair. "Your
slow," she said, hiding beneath the quiet starlight of the trees. "Arwen,"
he grunted, annoyed. "It's not right for you to tease me so," She grinned,
her face appearing from behind a large tree. "If you catch me, it will be
no tease," she said in a singsong voice. He ran to her, his swift tan legs
catching her more quickly than she had anticipated. He knelt, one knee
upstanding the other upon the ruddy earth. He took her in his arms, and
her lower body draped over leg like a trophy, one arm cradling her head.
"So, I have caught you my princess, what is my prize?" he asked, smiling.
She lifted her head from his tender touch a chastely touched his lips with
her own. Then, rising, she moved away from him.
She smiled and then averted her eyes. His dark lashes shielded his desire for her, but she knew how she affected him. "I do believe your tired, my lord," she said with a soft smile. "I am, you tease me more than is right, Arwen," Aragorn said, and it was true. In their youth teasing had been a part of their every meeting it was of amiable terms. But now, the world seemingly torn apart, she knew she should not entertain such childishness anymore. "I play games for they are less dark than the future ahead," Now it was his turn to avert his gaze. "You are going into much peril, so I do, as I so often have done. I wish not to dwell on loosing you," she said and drew her lip into her mouth to keep from weeping.
He covered the distance between them almost instantly. His one arm wrapped comfortably around her waist while the other softly stroked her cheek. "You could never loose me, you are part of my every breath. Your name is inscribed upon my heart, I live only for love of you," he gently kissed her temple and drew her closer to him. He felt soft, and smelled sweet like the woodland flowers that grew on the edge of Lorien, ever comforting. "You must leave soon, I know this," she said and pressed her face to the soft velvet of his cloak. She could feel the movement of his head, silently telling her that she was indeed correct. "I wish for one thing before you go," she said. She broke free of her embrace with Aragorn, turned to look at him, and said "I wish for you to lay with me tonight,"
He hesitated a moment, then smiled. "I stay with you every night Arwen, I shall be by your side tonight as well," She nodded, and took his hand. "You have laid next to me as a brother, or as friend, but tonight I ask you to lay by me as husband," It was brazen of her to ask, especially in such a way as she did. A crimson blush filled her cheeks, but her gaze did not waver. "Arwen," he began lowly, releasing her hand. She silenced him with a kiss, before he could continue any further. "Please," she said and urgently pressed her body to his. This was not fitting, not fitting of her to do, certainly not fitting of one of her stature, but in this moment it felt perfect. "Do you not feel me near you, calling for need of you," she whispered.
He closed his eyes, and felt a sensation raise him. He had known women, he had known the ecstasy of passion, yet never before had he felt so surrounded in it. She covered him like a blanket, making him feel warm, loved, and most of all safe. Aragorn was a brave man, but all the valor in the world could not make one feel completely at ease. Here, her arms around his neck, and her breasts near to his chest he knew no fear, only love. "This is not right. You deserve higher than this," he said. She only clung to him with fervor. He knew naught she possessed such unbridled passion. "Don't push, Arwen. For soon I will be unable to refuse you," he said, breath catching in his throat.
She rocked her hips against him, and she heard him elicit a groan. He breathed her name and she smiled, covering his lips again with her own. She felt a need for him, unmatched by any she had known before. The night before she had dreamt, dreamt of a woman clothed in white. Her face was fair, and her manner high bred. She walked with a lilting step, and her steps seemed to follow her lord wherever he roamed. Her yellow hair billowed in the wind, and she wept for him, much as Arwen had wept for them (though he had never heard her) "Stay with me, hear me calling for you?" she said and buried her face in the hollow of his neck. He heard her call, her own longing, and before now he had never realized her want of him matched his own for her.
He had always envisioned their first meeting to be different somehow. He had imagined great yards of silk, the only material near to the softness of her skin, and fire light. He had never thought of this: dirt as their marriage bed stars as their canopy. He used his strength to stop for one moment. "I love you Arwen, as my wife, and into my heart I take you," he said and she became still for a second. She removed a hand from behind his neck and trailed it down his chest until she reached his heart. "Aragorn, sun upon my earth. Forever emblazed in my heart," she said and then she looked upon him, silver tears upon her face. "My love, and my life," she said and while one hand lingered on his chest, she used the other to urge him on top of her.
He placed his hand behind her head, as he so often did. He tangled his fingers in her hair and she laughed. He knelt between her legs, his body atop the material of her thin dress. She took her hand from his heart and placed it on his back. "Head to my call," she said, "I am not made of glass, I shall not break," and he smiled. Indeed, in times of sorrow, he thought she might. He remembered in their first meeting he thought her a dream, too slight and too dainty to truly be real. She was not a dream; the Valar made her real. Realness he could feel ever so near to him. He placed his hand over her eyes, rough fingers caressing eyelids of satin. He trailed that hand down between the valley of her breasts, and down further. Beneath his touch her hips arched, and he knew she was ready for him.
With one hand he fondled her breasts, easing them into his hand and soothing them with his touch. He moved the thin material that kept him from his conquest away and lightly kissed her clavicle before moving lower to partake of the fleshy mounds. With the other hand he began to move the material that served as a barrier between them. He wondered what was going on in her head for she looked not at him, but into the midnight sky, moans dying into the cool night.
She felt him move towards her, almost with her completely. Strangely she had looked at him many times, indeed earlier in that night, but now closer that she had been to him before she could not bring herself to look at his visage. The stars were calling to her, telling her tales of other lovers they had seen. They were weakness despising things, those stars, and part of her wondered if she was so in need of him for fear of loosing him. Weakness, fear, and doubt all surged through her like a lightening storm. The stars would not let her be with him, without debating with her the consequences. I sky spoke to her, but soon she forgot to hear them, and then without her knowing she looked at him. "I am with you now," she said.
He ran his hand lazily over her stomach. "And where were gone to, my lady?" he asked, kissing her neck. "I was with the stars before I found you, I had to leave them to their own," she said and a realization hit him as her legs encircled his hips. She had been one with the stars once, but now she was his. His. She wrapped her arms about his neck and as he plunged forward she met him with a thrust of her own. A perfect union bathed in the blood of her virginity and the sweat of two glistening bodies underneath the sky. He held her hips within his hands and together, in each other's arms, they rose and fell. She knew no pleasure before him. He knew no love before her. The Evenstar, shining brighter than the highest star, and the man born to a legacy of kings, were making love. It was their first time with only the sound of their voices and the wind moving their mutual bliss.
She smiled and then averted her eyes. His dark lashes shielded his desire for her, but she knew how she affected him. "I do believe your tired, my lord," she said with a soft smile. "I am, you tease me more than is right, Arwen," Aragorn said, and it was true. In their youth teasing had been a part of their every meeting it was of amiable terms. But now, the world seemingly torn apart, she knew she should not entertain such childishness anymore. "I play games for they are less dark than the future ahead," Now it was his turn to avert his gaze. "You are going into much peril, so I do, as I so often have done. I wish not to dwell on loosing you," she said and drew her lip into her mouth to keep from weeping.
He covered the distance between them almost instantly. His one arm wrapped comfortably around her waist while the other softly stroked her cheek. "You could never loose me, you are part of my every breath. Your name is inscribed upon my heart, I live only for love of you," he gently kissed her temple and drew her closer to him. He felt soft, and smelled sweet like the woodland flowers that grew on the edge of Lorien, ever comforting. "You must leave soon, I know this," she said and pressed her face to the soft velvet of his cloak. She could feel the movement of his head, silently telling her that she was indeed correct. "I wish for one thing before you go," she said. She broke free of her embrace with Aragorn, turned to look at him, and said "I wish for you to lay with me tonight,"
He hesitated a moment, then smiled. "I stay with you every night Arwen, I shall be by your side tonight as well," She nodded, and took his hand. "You have laid next to me as a brother, or as friend, but tonight I ask you to lay by me as husband," It was brazen of her to ask, especially in such a way as she did. A crimson blush filled her cheeks, but her gaze did not waver. "Arwen," he began lowly, releasing her hand. She silenced him with a kiss, before he could continue any further. "Please," she said and urgently pressed her body to his. This was not fitting, not fitting of her to do, certainly not fitting of one of her stature, but in this moment it felt perfect. "Do you not feel me near you, calling for need of you," she whispered.
He closed his eyes, and felt a sensation raise him. He had known women, he had known the ecstasy of passion, yet never before had he felt so surrounded in it. She covered him like a blanket, making him feel warm, loved, and most of all safe. Aragorn was a brave man, but all the valor in the world could not make one feel completely at ease. Here, her arms around his neck, and her breasts near to his chest he knew no fear, only love. "This is not right. You deserve higher than this," he said. She only clung to him with fervor. He knew naught she possessed such unbridled passion. "Don't push, Arwen. For soon I will be unable to refuse you," he said, breath catching in his throat.
She rocked her hips against him, and she heard him elicit a groan. He breathed her name and she smiled, covering his lips again with her own. She felt a need for him, unmatched by any she had known before. The night before she had dreamt, dreamt of a woman clothed in white. Her face was fair, and her manner high bred. She walked with a lilting step, and her steps seemed to follow her lord wherever he roamed. Her yellow hair billowed in the wind, and she wept for him, much as Arwen had wept for them (though he had never heard her) "Stay with me, hear me calling for you?" she said and buried her face in the hollow of his neck. He heard her call, her own longing, and before now he had never realized her want of him matched his own for her.
He had always envisioned their first meeting to be different somehow. He had imagined great yards of silk, the only material near to the softness of her skin, and fire light. He had never thought of this: dirt as their marriage bed stars as their canopy. He used his strength to stop for one moment. "I love you Arwen, as my wife, and into my heart I take you," he said and she became still for a second. She removed a hand from behind his neck and trailed it down his chest until she reached his heart. "Aragorn, sun upon my earth. Forever emblazed in my heart," she said and then she looked upon him, silver tears upon her face. "My love, and my life," she said and while one hand lingered on his chest, she used the other to urge him on top of her.
He placed his hand behind her head, as he so often did. He tangled his fingers in her hair and she laughed. He knelt between her legs, his body atop the material of her thin dress. She took her hand from his heart and placed it on his back. "Head to my call," she said, "I am not made of glass, I shall not break," and he smiled. Indeed, in times of sorrow, he thought she might. He remembered in their first meeting he thought her a dream, too slight and too dainty to truly be real. She was not a dream; the Valar made her real. Realness he could feel ever so near to him. He placed his hand over her eyes, rough fingers caressing eyelids of satin. He trailed that hand down between the valley of her breasts, and down further. Beneath his touch her hips arched, and he knew she was ready for him.
With one hand he fondled her breasts, easing them into his hand and soothing them with his touch. He moved the thin material that kept him from his conquest away and lightly kissed her clavicle before moving lower to partake of the fleshy mounds. With the other hand he began to move the material that served as a barrier between them. He wondered what was going on in her head for she looked not at him, but into the midnight sky, moans dying into the cool night.
She felt him move towards her, almost with her completely. Strangely she had looked at him many times, indeed earlier in that night, but now closer that she had been to him before she could not bring herself to look at his visage. The stars were calling to her, telling her tales of other lovers they had seen. They were weakness despising things, those stars, and part of her wondered if she was so in need of him for fear of loosing him. Weakness, fear, and doubt all surged through her like a lightening storm. The stars would not let her be with him, without debating with her the consequences. I sky spoke to her, but soon she forgot to hear them, and then without her knowing she looked at him. "I am with you now," she said.
He ran his hand lazily over her stomach. "And where were gone to, my lady?" he asked, kissing her neck. "I was with the stars before I found you, I had to leave them to their own," she said and a realization hit him as her legs encircled his hips. She had been one with the stars once, but now she was his. His. She wrapped her arms about his neck and as he plunged forward she met him with a thrust of her own. A perfect union bathed in the blood of her virginity and the sweat of two glistening bodies underneath the sky. He held her hips within his hands and together, in each other's arms, they rose and fell. She knew no pleasure before him. He knew no love before her. The Evenstar, shining brighter than the highest star, and the man born to a legacy of kings, were making love. It was their first time with only the sound of their voices and the wind moving their mutual bliss.