Title: Luthien's flute
Author: B-witched83uk (bwitched83uk@aol.com)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Aragorn, Arwen and the family travel to Lothlorien after receiving a mysterious letter from Celeborn.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. The whole of Middle Earth belongs to Tolkien
Chapter 5
Lost and Bound
Eldarion gazed at the small, silver ring that rested on his middle finger. Taking it off and twiddling it between his finger and thumb, it caught the dying sunlight. He was on a bridge, listening to the beautiful river below. Every so often, his mind would wander to Ithiliwen and his heart would lurch to the pit of his stomach. The ring was a band with two serpents and an emerald stone. It had belonged to his father, a coming of age present that had been passed down when Eldarion turned twenty.
"Ithiliwen."
How could he describe the feelings he had for her? Their whole lives they had fought and hated one another. She wasn't very nice; a spoiled brat at the best of times. So then why could he not stop smiling?
Thinking of her forced emotions that he had never before felt to bubble up inside him, causing a pain in his chest. He had no way of releasing the emotions other than to laugh or scream. Did he love her? How would he know? What was love? His heart raced when she touched him. His breath caught in his throat when she walked by. His skin got hot when she looked at him. Was this love? What other word could describe her? She was love, his love, and he wanted her like no other.
Eldarion had confided in his father late in the night. He had gone straight to Aragorn after walking Ithiliwen back to the hall. Aragorn had laughed with happiness at his son's confusion.
"Well, it is about time. You could never hate anyone that much without secretly loving them!"
It was his father who had first used the word love. Eldarion hadn't considered it before.
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Aragorn watched his son, standing on the bridge. His heart went out to him as he remembered having a similar dilemma many years ago. He noticed the ring in his son's hand and his head flooded with memories, bitter sweet memories.
It was Estel's coming of age, the day he turned twenty. Lord Elrond had called him to his study and looked upon the man he had raised with naught but pride. It was on this day that he first called Estel by his rightful name, Aragorn son of Arathorn.
"Here is the ring of Barahir, the token of our kinship from afar." He had also that day been shown the shards of Narsil.
With his true heritage playing in his mind, he wondered the wilds of Rivendell as he had done so many times before. It was on this day that first he beheld his love, his Arwen. He had thought he had strayed into a dream, for surely before him stood the Lady Luthien Tinuviel of whom he was now singing. Her hair, so dark and silken, flowed down her back. Her eyes so bright; as though they hid the secret of eternal spring. It was from that day forward that his life changed. How different everything was now, how right life was now that she was in the world.
Aragorn took leave of his stand, silently wishing his son luck as he went in search of the woman he was blessed to call his wife.
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"Galadwen, you would not lie to me would you? You would not say you are well enough to travel if you truly were not?" Arwen had done naught but fuss over her daughter since the moment she reached Edoras. Upon morning of the next day, Aragorn was eager to be on their way.
"Naneth, I would never lie to you. I am quite well; and keen to see Lorien." Galadwen, along with her two sisters, began packing away their things.
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Aragorn and Eomer walked together through the hall. The two great Kings of the West. They were talking of memories old, such as the time they had fought together, side by side. The men were in high spirits and Aragorn was reluctant to approach the subject so fresh in his head. He knew that he owed it to his old friend to tell him the truth about the Prince of Gondor and the Princess of Rohan.
As Eomer learned about the building relationship between Eldarion and Ithiliwen, he sighed aloud.
"I have known this was coming for quite some time, yet it does not make this easier to hear." Eldarion was a fine man, a good man who would make a splendid King. He would ensure Ithiliwen's happiness. Surely that was all that mattered. Reluctantly he told Aragorn
"I will give my blessing should they ask for it, even though it would mean Ithiliwen's eventual departure from Rohan." In Rohan tradition, if no son was bourn to the King, then his closest relation shall become his heir. Eomer would leave the throne to his nephew, the eldest son of Faramir and Eowyn. Aragorn felt for his old friend. How would he feel if it were one of his daughters?
"They are both still young. There is no need to worry on these matters yet. We will deal with it if and when it comes." Aragorn clasped his hand onto Eomer's shoulder and silently wondered where his son had got to.
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"Ithiliwen!"
"Ithiliwen!" Eldarion had climbed the vines along the wall that led to the Princess's balcony. He had to see her. He had to know how she felt before leaving the next morning. Her doors were closed and her drapes were too. He tapped lightly on the window, trying to get her attention. It worked, and soon the drapes were opening.
"Eldarion! What are you doing here?" She stepped out and joined him where he stood. She was in naught but her night dress: a thin, low-cut white gown. The wind blew at it revealing her legs to the cool night air and to Eldarion's heated gaze. If she were aware of how improper this was, she did not show it. She walked closer to him, uncaring of her flesh that was on display.
"If my father finds you here, he will put a blade to your throat!" Eldarion looked down at her, a fluttering feeling dancing in his stomach.
"I had to see you. I could not leave tomorrow with things so unclear." He slid both of his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "I must know how you feel about me, Ithiliwen, I must hear you speak."
Ithiliwen looked up at him in wonder. How could he not know how she felt? His mere touch was torture.
"I feel for you like the flower feels for the sun." Her hand reached up to smooth across his handsome face. "Without the sun, it would wither and die, its beauty sucked away, left to live its whole life in winter."
Eldarion's heart lurched at such an open and honest admission. He pulled her closer and held her tightly against his chest, his head resting atop her head, and her breath warm against his neck. She could feel the firmness of his body, his heart beating fast, near her own. She loved him, she was sure of it. It felt so right to be so close. She knew she could live for a thousand years and never grow tired of his arms. Did he feel the same? He had not said so; she had confessed her heart whilst he had held his tongue. She pulled out of his embrace and backed away from him.
"Ithiliwen?" Had he done something wrong? "What is it my love?"
Love, he had called her his love. Ithiliwen relaxed and stepped closer to him, a little more confident now.
"Eldarion, I have spoken of my feelings, now I long to know yours, for if you do not feel the same then you are torturing me, cruelly, with your touch."
Eldarion closed the distance between them in one step. He held out his arms for her to step into, which she eagerly did. He wrapped one of his arms around her whilst his free hand stroked her hair.
"Ithiliwen, with a simple kiss you have bewitched me. I am completely under your spell. I would dive into the fires of Mount Doom if you would but ask me. I would kill for you!" He lowered his mouth so that it was very near hers. "I would die for you!"
Her eyes closed as she let the love wash over her, her whole body filling with joy. His mouth stole the very breath from her lungs, his tongue quite possibly the most wonderful thing in the whole of middle earth.
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The morning came and the sun was waking. The horses were ready and growing impatient. Gondor's royal family were all set to take their leave and proceed to the city of Lorien. Aragorn was saying farewell to Eomer with promises of sooner visits. Celebriel held onto her mother's hand, disappointed that their stay was so short. There were still so many trees, rivers, and woods that the young Princess had yet to explore.
"Worry not little sister. I feel we shall be back here soon, if Eldarion has his way!" Galadwen was highly amused with the fact that her big brother had fallen in love. Her heart was lightened by the fact.
Arwen looked around. "Where is Eldarion?"
Aragorn simply grinned at his wife lovingly. "He is saying goodbye, Mela."
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The sun was rising behind the hill, its soft orange glow illuminating Ithiliwen's beautiful face. A tear fell from the corner of her eye and Eldarion kissed it away, enjoying the salty taste on his lips.
"I will be back," he promised her, "The second we get back from Lothlorien, I will ride here without rest."
She looked up at him with such hopeless love that his soul began to weep. It was at this moment that he gazed at her and had a moment of clarity. He loved her. He truly did. How could he leave her with no promise of the future? He knew not enough words to comfort her, to ease her aching. He wanted to be with her in every way. He knew what he had to do in order for them both to find some peace.
Eldarion took both of her hands in his and spoke these words.
"Ithiliwen, I love you more then I knew I could. My hands constantly hunger to touch you. You are under my skin and in my heart." Eldarion took the ring of Barahir from his finger and gave it to her.
"I am yours and yours alone my darling. I give you this ring, which is sacred to me and my kin, and with it I bind myself to you." He dropped to his knees, still holding her hands tightly.
"I am asking you to be my soul mate, my lover, and my wife."
