The boat rocked casually over the calm sea as Arwen continued to fight the nausea that threatened to bring up her meal. But determination to not be seen as a weak-willed woman propelled her to down force the sick feeling that had built to near un-ignorable proportions since setting foot on the ship.
Tears stung the corner of her eyes as she lay unmoving atop the cushions, her body bruised and battered from the invasion of the Southron Prince.
Eyes open or closed, she could not displace the image of the man above her, forcing himself onto, into her. She fought the sinking feeling of despair that had settled into the pit of her stomach in the aftermath of the man's assault. The feeling of his heavy arm draped across her stomach was enough to make her ill, yet she feared to move, lest he wake and take her again.
Her body ached but her soul ached even more. She could not even bring herself to think of her husband. Of the dishonor that she'd brought to the man she loved with her entire being. She couldn't bear the thought of his beautifully expressive eyes when he discovered how she had been violated. Would he see her as a dirty, filthy woman, having lain, however unwillingly, with another man? She couldn't bear the thought and so she forced her love from her mind, along with all other rational thought.
Tears continued to slip out of the corner of her eyes, but she remained silent, until an uneasy sleep, plagued with horrific dreams, claimed her bruised and battered body.
Many hours later, a dark-clad figure slipped into the room, clicking the door shut without even the smallest sound. The intruder bit back a shocked gasp as his eyes fell on the Southron Prince lying soundly asleep beside the elven Queen. The Prince' arms were wrapped firmly around her body as she lay unmoving, eyes staring at the ceiling.
Her hands were still fastened above her head, wrists now bloodied from the times she had in vain struggled to get free. Her bottom lip was bruised, where she had been struck numerous times in vain efforts to silent her protests.
The shrouded man stood stunned into immobility as a surge of intense anger welled in his chest. His eyes flicked to the Queen, the bruises that covered her body and the cuts that marred her wrists where she had obviously struggled against her captor. The shrouded man reached for the knife at his waist, drawing the sharp steel from its sheath with a quiet ting.
Arwen slowly turned her unemotional gaze toward this new intruder. Her eyes widened as she stared in desperate hope at the dark figure, ebony eyes pleading with the man who was completely shrouded from her view. Whoever it was, she didn't care, as long as he was here to free her.
She watched with unblinking eyes as the figure slowly crept toward the bed. He was tense, she could see the muscles straining beneath the well-worn material of his shirt, coiled like a serpent as if to strike. When he was close enough, she gasped as she recognized the intense crystalline eyes that stared unbelievingly back at her. The ranger garb he wore was unmistakable, as was the elven blade gleaming in the flickering candlelight. Arwen bit back a gasp of shame and lowered her gaze.
When he leaned down and pressed the knife to the sleeping man's throat, the Prince woke and swallowed a gasp of surprise when the elven-forged steel cut into his neck.
"You will tell me of your plans and your end will be swift." The cold, steely voice sent shivers down Arwen's spine. "Otherwise-"
"I will do no such thing, assassin." The Prince growled, stretching his neck as much as he could to get a better look at the man who dared enter his private chambers. He made a mental note to have his personal guard executed.
A gloved hand pressed tightly against the man's throat and his eyes widened when the elven knife, faster than the eye could see, sliced neatly through the bonds restraining the Queen.
Arwen quickly launched herself from the bed, seeking to put as much distance from this man as she could. She groaned as her body protested the quick movement and she faltered, stumbling to the ground as her legs gave out beneath her.
The shrouded man flinched but before he could react further, Arwen had pushed herself to her feet, willing the bruised and battered muscles to work at her command. She quickly gathered a large tunic and slipped into it, securing it closed with a torn piece of her gown.
"I can share my prize with you," The Prince coed, eyes flicking from the trembling Queen to the shrouded man. "Release me and you may take her. Ravage that sweet, tasty flesh as I have done many a time tonight."
Arwen stepped back and grasped the wall for support. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the knife the shrouded man held begin to shake. She could see his breathing change and the knife tremble in his grasp. What she could see of his knuckles, were deathly white. Arwen stepped toward the man but a partially gloved hand came up to halt her steps.
The man angrily pulled the shroud from his head and the Prince stared in disbelief at the steely eyes of the King of Gondor. "You are in no position to give to me what is already mine."
The Prince blinked disbelievingly until his eyes fell on the sheathed Flame of the West, the famed sword of Westernese, resting at the man's hip.
"How did you-" He trailed off, sensing the tension so thick that it could not even be sliced by the sharpest blade. He could feel the anger radiating from the King, could see it in his rigid stance, in the iron-clad grip with which he held his blade. The garb the King wore was a startling reminder of exactly who this man standing before him truly was; an Arnorian Ranger - skilled as the most prized Haradrim assassin, in tracking and stealth.
"Arwen, bind him." Aragorn instructed and his wife quickly complied, not daring to look at her husband. The shame of what had been done to her, how she had been taken against her will, flooded her thoughts. She would have rather died than have her beloved see and know, without a doubt, that she had been violated in the worst way imaginable.
As Arwen worked to gather the necessary bindings, the Prince scowled at the King. "She may belong to you. But I have sired a son on her tonight! The heir she bears will be of Southron blood, Elessar. Remember that when you look into his face!" Arwen quickly shoved silk linens into the Prince' mouth, silencing his stinging words. She didn't dare look at her husband. She didn't want to see the betrayal in his eyes, the pain, the disbelief.
When the Prince' arms were firmly tied to the posts of the bed, Arwen moved to stand beside her husband. Her mind was swimming but she had no time to think before her husband pulled her against his body, and embraced her so tightly, she nearly cried out from the pain. He gazed down at her with an apologetic look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, indonya. I'm so sorry."
She stifled a sob and leaned into his embrace, lifting her lips in an invitation he could not refuse. "Kiss me. Please." She begged. The memory of the Southron's touch sent tears once more streaming down her cheeks. "He told me you were dead. I didn't believe him. I couldn't give up hope that you would come for me."
"There is always hope." Aragorn whispered, frantically pressing kisses across her bruised cheeks before settling his mouth firmly against her trembling lips. "And I would travel alone into the very depths of hell to find you."
"My Estel," Arwen whimpered, returning his kiss and gripping him so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
Aragorn sheathed the knife and cupped his wife's cheeks in both hands, gently smoothing the soft skin with the pads of his thumbs.
The Southron watched as their lips met and the memories, for the moment, melted away beneath her husband's gentle caress. When they parted, Aragorn turned steely, cold eyes on the bound man and once more, slowly, drew the elven knife with which he intended to end the Prince' life.
When Arwen's hand slid around her husband's wrist, gently coaxing the knife from his grasp, he stared at her, reluctant to release the blade. She met his questioning gaze with a steely look that immediately sent tremors of fear down his spine.
He reluctantly released the knife and gently rested his hands at her waist, offering comfort, stability and support for what he feared she was about to do. Arwen raked her eyes down the man's naked form lying tied to the bed in a fashion similar to what he had done to her – however, this time, she had bound his legs.
"It is not a comfortable position, is it?" Arwen's voice was a cold as she stared down at the man - who began struggling the moment Aragorn had released the knife into his wife's hands.
She dropped the tip of the knife to his waist and his eyes widened, realizing with a jolt of terror, what the Queen of Gondor was about to do. "You will never violate another."
Aragorn watched in strange fascination as Arwen slowly dragged the tip of the knife to the place that had invaded her so violently. Without a second glance at the Prince' horrified gaze, she sliced down the flaccid length, drawing the man's hips sharply from the bed, and muffled cries of pain from his gagged lips.
Arwen quickly turned her gaze to his face, watching as the man writhed in pain. His head tossed and he screamed into the gag. When Aragorn slid a gentle hand down to reclaim the blade, she released it without hesitation.
Aragorn, ignoring the man's pitiful moans of pain, drew the flat edge of the knife down the trembling man's arm, "You will pay the price for this violation. With your life." With a quick flick of Aragorn's wrist, the blade slid across the Prince' belly, spilling the contents all over the soft furs. The man tried in vain to scream, but Arwen had gagged him too well.
Arwen closed her eyes and stood behind her husband, refusing to watch as Aragorn took her violator apart piece by piece.
When the King was finished, he wiped the blood from his blade on bed linens and turned to envelop his wife in his arms once again. After a few moments, gloved hands reached up to unfasten the elven cloak from around his shoulders.
Arwen whimpered as the soft, familiar material was wrapped securely around her trembling frame, and secured at her neck. Shaking fingers reached up to touch the mallorn leaf that secured the cloak closed and Aragorn caught those fingers and quickly brought them to his lips.
Arwen whimpered when he stepped away and tore at a piece of silk that rested atop a nearby table. He ripped it into small shreds and dipped it into a basin of water nearby. Gently, he washed the cuts at her wrists, dabbing at them with such care and compassion, that Arwen glanced down in shame. When he wrapped her wrists with still more silk, he again brought them to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to the now bandaged cuts.
After pressing a quick kiss to her trembling lips, Aragorn clasped her hand and made for the door. "Lets go."
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The Corsair Captain scowled at the large army marching toward the fallen City of Lossarnach. "He promised that the soldiers of Gondor would remain in the City! The attack must have been thwarted!" He motioned for his men to retreat, seeing that there was no way that he would be able to hold Lossarnach from the force currently riding toward him.
"To the ships!" His herald cried and as the horn of retreat was sounded. His men currently in the interior of the City were lost now if they did not get out before the soldiers of Gondor arrived. He turned his back on Lossarnach and rushed with his remaining men back to the docks – and took the boats back to the ships that waited out at Sea.
As the Captain returned to his ship, Aragorn pressed Arwen against the bulkhead. Aragorn recognized the bright heraldry of the leader of the Corsairs, having fought and defeated them more times than he could remember. The King of Gondor slid his elven blade from its sheath and leapt at the Corsair Captain's back, resolving to kill him before any further men reached the ship.
His death was quick as a twist of Aragorn's wrist slit his throat. Aragorn disappeared into the darkness before any of the Captain's men could see what happened. The King pulled Arwen around the corner and he took them as far down to the water level as he could without being seen. "We'll have to swim to shore. I don't risk taking a boat. Can you manage?"
Arwen shot him an annoyed look which she immediately regretted. She flattened a soft hand against his cheek and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "If I can endure what that devil did to me, I will find the strength to swim back to land and to our freedom."
Aragorn nodded and caught her hand before she could remove it. Turning it over, he pressed a lingering kiss to the bruised wrist, his eyes tender and apologetic. Her heart twisted but they voiced no words as he lifted her over the edge and dropped her quietly into the water.
Before joining his wife, Aragorn procured a torch from a wandering soldier, snapping his neck with a quick wrench of his arm, and tossed the flame into the lower decks. He waited to make sure they caught fire before joining Arwen in the chilly sea.
As more boats reached the ship, the soldiers became horrified to not only discover that their Captain had been murdered on his own ship but that said ship was being burned from within.
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When Aragorn and Arwen reached the shore, Gondorian soldiers had reached the city of Lossarnach and were routing the Corsairs not quick enough to make it back to their ships. A Gondorian Captain recognized the sopping wet King and Queen and immediately dismounted his horse and offered the animal to the royal couple.
"Majesties!" He bowed quickly. "Please take my steed. I know not how many more of the enemy lurk about. It will be safer on horseback."
"My thanks, Captain." Aragorn swung Arwen into the saddle and did not miss the slight gasp as she landed on the steeds back. He leapt behind her and wrapped a protective arm around her waist.
"I've set fire to one of their ships. Their Captain is dead. You should have no trouble routing them."
The Captain stared at Aragorn in awe, until the King glanced toward the City and the Palennor fields that seemed to be alight with fire. "Something is attacking the White City." Aragorn turned to the Captain. "Leave a garrison of soldiers here to assist with the damage to Lossarnach and the routing of the Corsair's. The rest I need to return with me to the White City."
Arwen glanced uncertainly up at her husband and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It may be safer to leave you here than-"
"No!" The fright and terror in Arwen's voice caused even the Captain, who had turned to issue orders to his second, to take pause.
Aragorn tightened his arms around his wife and nodded. "No. You're right. I won't let you out of my sight again."
Arwen settled uncomfortably into her husband's embrace as he urged the borrowed stallion toward the head of the gathered soldiers, waiting for his command.
Aragorn set his jaw and steeled his eyes ahead. Raising his hand, he motioned for the soldiers to fall into rank behind him and off they rode, into an unknown battle that they could see, even from Lossarnach, was raging across the fields of the Palennor.