Title: Taken

Author: Crimson Coin

Summery: Aragorn yearns for the life he has left behind. But his desires are fulfilled in a way he never imagined.

Rating: PG13. R in later chapters

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters within. They are from the mind of Tolkien and are borrowed.

Archiving: Ask first, please.

"Where are you leading me?" Aragorn called to his wife as she galloped just ahead of him. He did his best to keep up with her, though he was much heavier on his horse than she on hers. The gruff panting of the stallion beneath him echoed through his ears.

Arwen simply glanced back over her shoulder, but for only a moment. She flashed him a mischievous grin before quickly turning her attention ahead and to the path she had chosen.

Tall forest trees greeted him ahead and he followed his wife's lead as she slowed her horse to a steady walk. As he spurred his horse to her side, he could hear her faint delicate voice, whispering gentle words of praise and love to the stallion that had run so far.

"We are going in there, My Lord." She finally said to him, her voice steady and calm.

"But what is in there?"

She cocked a single brow, her face an expression of gentleness and affection. "A secret. One that I discovered as a child, when I visited this white city long ago. I only hope that it has not changed."

"Changed?"

Arwen chuckled, sitting proud and regal on her horse. "Do you forget how old I am, Estel?"

"Nay," he responded with a deep laugh. "For you will forever appear younger than I, my Queen."

"I do have another secret," she admitted, guiding her horse through the dense forest. "Faramir also spoke of this place when I first arrived and I inquired to his vast knowledge of these lands." She glanced over to him under full lashes. "He can indeed rant for hours once given the freedom and the perfect topic."

Aragorn only laughed again but chose not to respond to his sweet wife. Though he yearned to hear her speak more, his desire heightened at the prospect of listening to the realm around him. He extended great gratitude to his wife for understanding and she kept silent as well. But he could not help but believe she, as well, yearned to absorb the smells, sights, and sounds of the forest around them.

Sweetened and flower bathed air whisked through the trees, caressing his hair and his body. The horse beneath him walked slowly, steadily, its body slightly wet from the sweat of such an exhausting run. He had pushed the poor beast to immeasurable lengths in order to keep up with his wife.

He inhaled again, a strange crispness in the air. Autumn would soon fall but summer was not yet over. That beautiful sweetness enraptured him and Aragorn was unsure whether the scent was from the wild, his beautiful wife, or quite possibly both.

Birds sang luxurious melodies. Trees billowed with the fresh air. Branches extended to the clear sky, embracing the sun and the final warmths of the season. Despite the beauty of the forest around him, Aragorn could not deter his eyes from the delicate graceful form of the Elf at his side.

It seemed to him that with each day, her beauty magnified. Every breath, every movement, he could barely contain himself. Her skin so pale and perfect, her hair a dark raven, her eyes swirling with the passion of the sea, her frame so regal, so slender and her pointed Elven ears, his weakness. How he adored those ears.

"It is not polite to stare, My Love."

Aragorn shuddered, her soft words waking him of his daydream and he quickly focused his eyes on the road ahead, then staring absently to the forest canopy.

Arwen simply laughed, her gentle chuckle melodic. "You do not feign innocence well, my King."

He cracked a smile, glancing up at her as a scolded dog would his master.

"And still you do not," the Queen replied then spurred her stallion a little harder, urging him forward.

Aragorn kept up with her pace, his eyes focusing again on his wife. So proud, so tall, so slender, so voluptuous, so beautiful.

"You should mind your tongue, My Lord. It is not becoming as it waves about in the wind."

His eyes widened in shock at her explicit comment and he shivered as her laughter echoed through the wood. Laughing with her, he spurred his horse again, riding at her side.

Aragorn sighed contently as he took in the sight before him. A peaceful clearing, the grass green and rich, a few rocks scattered here and there and the canopy parted, allowing the warmth of the sun to shine brightly. To one end, the trees extended a bit farther, allowing for a peaceful shade while a small stream gurgled, twisted, and curled like an elegant serpent.

"Is this not beautiful, My Lord," Arwen whispered, her voice filled with awe and pride at the glade she had discovered.

"Aye," he responded, quickly dismounting then rushed to her side, reaching up to help her dismount as well. His eyes beaming with affection, he outstretched his arms to her. "Though its beauty pales in comparison to you."

"You always did have the gift of a silver tongue, Estel." She said soothingly, accepting his chivalrous actions. Allowing him to help her, she quickly spun away from him the moment her feet touched the ground.

Aragorn chuckled as she swirled in the grass, her hands outstretched in the air as her eyes closed. He hadn't seen her so carefree in ... he couldn't remember how long. His heart swelled at the happiness etched on every feature and his love for her flourished as she swiftly kicked out of her riding boots, pulling the offensive shoes from her feet.

She sighed in absolute delight as her feet touched the tickling blades of grass, her toes curling at the sensation.

His heart soared at her overwhelming glee. It had been too long since he'd seen her smile so. After their marriage and the weeks wore on, he could only watch helplessly as his wife slowly diminished, succumbing to the inevitability of mortal life and the cage of the white city walls. She was unused to such restrictions and her nature yearned for freedom.

In a way, he was jealous that Faramir and Eowyn would be residing in the lush region of Ithilien, where the trees grew tall and the wild still reigned supreme.

"Why such sorrow, My Lord?"

He broke from the trance, his eyes focusing on her again and his heart raced at the sudden worry reflected in her gaze. "Indonya, I am sorry. There is nothing wrong. I was simply thinking."

Unable to meet her eyes any longer, he quickly turned, reaching into the saddlebag on his stallion's side. Searching for anything to distract him, he pulled out a bundle of berries then a flask of sweet wine. He willed his heart to calm, his mind to stop the dizzying race and once confident with his composure, he faced her again.

To his surprise, Arwen stood across the glade, her hands brushing along her stallion's mane, caressing him and speaking in mumbled Elvish. Slated by her seemingly cold behavior, he tentatively stepped closer to her, awaiting her acknowledgement.

When none came, he ducked his head and placed the objects in his hand on the ground. Unclipping his riding cape, he spread the long fabric along the grass, creating a comforting blanket. Dropping to his knees, he picked up the wine flask and those berries before sprawling on his side, facing her.

Aragorn licked his lips, his eyes scanning the succulent curves of her feminine form, the heat of his need beginning to flicker in his core. Trying his best to ignore the sensations, he opened the bundle of berries, picking one up between two thick fingers then popping the juicy berry into his mouth.

The sweet flavor washed over his tongue and with sheer delight, he savored a second then third berry.

"Do you plan to save any for me?"

Guilty, he cast a pleading gaze upward, knowing she was standing before him. And just as he suspected, she stood at the edge of his cape, a single brow cocked.

"And what is this?" she asked, her hand gracefully motioning to his make-shift blanket. "The great King of Gondor is too mighty to lay in the grass with his wife. Your station no long allows you to enjoy such pleasantries?"

He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, withholding the hiss at the predatory glance she offered and he quickly gathered the berries and wine before scrunching up the cloak and tossing it away. Stretching out, this time on the soft grass, he beckoned her with his delightful eyes and an extended hand.

Her delightful laughter resounded through the glade, her eyes slightly squinted as her smile widened. Not wasting another moment, she slipped her hand into his, allowing him to pull her onto the grass and into his arms.

Sighing with purest contentment, Aragorn lay back on the grass, looking up at the sky, the swirling clouds and rustling leaves of the forest canopy. His lady love cuddled into his side, her palm splayed on his chest, her head nestled into his shoulder as she nuzzled close.

Aragorn smiled when she snuggled closer still and in response he tightened his arm around her, pulling her flush against his side. "You have no right to accuse me of not wishing to lay with you in the grass. Especially when you did not wish to lay with me in the stables."

The Queen smiled sweetly, her hand beginning a wonderful caress along his leather clad chest. "That is untrue. I never said I did not wish to lay with you. I said it would be improper and far too often have I forgotten myself in the reserved stuffy Gondorian society."

He laughed heartily. "Ah, I was worried at first that some plague had befallen you. I thought it odd that you say such a thing about lying in the stable. Do you not remember ..."

"I do remember," she chided with a gentle slap on the chest. "And if my Father had found out, certainly you'd have felt the edge of his sword."

"But your honor remained in tact, My Lady."

"Aye," she responded then pushed up just enough to look in his eyes. "But I still do not believe he would have liked his daughter kissing the young mortal boy in the stables."

His smile brightened and he reached out, brushing the tips of his fingers along her cheek then through her hair before swirling around the tip of her ear. "It was not only kissing, Melda, for you lay in my arms in the hay. Oh, how I yearned for more than a kiss and a gentle lover's caress that night. But I could not dare ask, nor pursue."

"Do you know what I would have done would you had asked?"

Aragorn felt his heart race, his body tensing slightly and he had to remind himself to continue breathing. Swallowing hard, he willed himself capable of an intelligible response. "I know not, My Lady, for a man of my valor and etiquette expects naught of a lady but what she would give willingly."

"Ah, and yet again you reply with the skill of a poet, My Love."

"And though my gift may excel that of many men, I am afraid that there is another who succeeds my own skills."

Arwen nodded slowly, her smile gentle as she laid her head back on his shoulder, snuggling fully into the arms of the man she adored. "Aye. Faramir does, indeed, possess a great talent with words."

He shook his head, though the smile did not leave his face. "It was a sad day when the Steward of Gondor wed the White Lady of Rohan and his vows exceed his King's in beauty."

"That is not true, my Lord," she said softly, her voice floating on the wind. "I was moved by your silence."

"Silence," he sighed. "The man who is called the greatest of men was struck silent on his wedding day. Through orcs and wraiths, trolls and every other fearsome beast born out of Mordor, I have kept my composure, still yelled orders to my men. And yet when the day finally came for me to prove my courage, to declare my unbound love to you before all the people of this land ... I failed."

"And again, I must correct you." She lifted her head, staring sweetly into his eyes, her own eyes reflecting the purest love. "Your silence had spoken more than any poem ever uttered."

"My beautiful Evenstar," he muttered, his eyes awed at the ethereal perfection before him. "If only I could have spoken the vows that you deserved to hear. But I was stunned and in my foolishness had to utter the only words that came to mind. The traditional vows to wed."

"Oh, Estel."

Aragorn averted his eyes, unable and undeserving to gaze into their depths. "Faramir had shocked all, including his bride when he chose to utter his vows in her native tongue. And although his accent was abominable ... his words moved her to tears. I never thought to see the brave Lady of Rohan shed a tear, but the Steward of Gondor accomplished the unattainable."

Arwen smiled. "Aye. I am only glad that she said her vows before him. I feared after he spoke that she would faint. And I am only pleased that in Gondor, the vows are the finality of the ceremony."

"Faramir was so happy that day," he continued. "And when the ceremony was finalized ... he wiped the still flowing tears from her eyes. Their kiss was so pure ... so ..." he sighed. "Did our wedding make you happy, Melda?"

She leaned in the final distance between them, carefully and reverently capturing his bottom lip between hers. Holding the kiss as long as possible, she pressed against him even more. Finally breathless, she pulled back only the slightest bit. "Look in my eyes, Melmë."

Aragorn obeyed.

She twirled a single finger through his hair then traced down the length of his jaw before teasing the facial hair on his chin. "I would not be happy were we apart. Tell me, Ellesar. Tell me your vows now. What would have you said had not you been struck dumb?"

"I could not help it." He responded. "Your beauty ... your elegance ... the thought that you were finally mine. The rush of emotions as I couldn't help but visualize our first night together as husband and wife."

"Tell me, Estel." She repeated, continuing her slow torturous tease of his chin, cheeks and jaw before tracing that finger up to his ear to play with the soft flesh of the shell.

Aragorn shuddered, his eyes fluttering for a moment before he regained himself. "There is much I had planned to say to you that day. But you stood before me so beautiful, I was speechless. I just ... my mind erased and I simply could not take my eyes off of you."

"Tell me what you would have said,"

"I have been to each end of this earth. I have seen great horrors and great beauties. Yet nothing but you drove me forward. Your faith, your love gave me the strength I needed to face the dark Lord. My love for you knows no bounds. I would have stormed the Black Gates of Mordor alone if it meant your happiness ... your safety. I love you, My Darling Evenstar, forever. I am yours."

Arwen's smile broadened, her eyes flickering with a most intense love yet there was still a hint of playfulness. "Was that so hard, My Lord?"

"Nay," he answered, ashamed that his wife could best him so. "For you already knew all of which I spoke. You know that you need only breathe the word and I am at your command."

Teasing, she brushed her lips across his, adoring the shiver that wracked to his very bones. "And what of now ... with a simple ..." her lips brushed his again. "Tantalizing ..." she sealed their lips for a moment. "Kiss."

Aragorn could only groan.

"Come now, My King," she taunted with a lustful eye. "Is that how I can so easily diminish you?" She reached to the side, picking up a plump berry between two delicate and slender fingers. Presenting it to him, she traced the curves of his lips, offering him the sweet delight of their flavor.

He bit through the berry, purposefully only taking half, knowing the juices would pour across his lips and chin. Savoring the bite, he watched her, knowing she would eat the other half. His body shuddered when she did. He did not lick his lips nor make an attempt to clear the juices from his mouth. He knew she would never let the sweet juices linger.

Arwen licked her lips, leaning down to kiss him, gathering the juices from his lips, jaw and chin.

As her lips trailed along his beard and even slightly down his neck, Aragorn sighed. "Ah, you never fail me, Melda." Wrapping an arm around her back, he rolled them over, settling on top of his wife as his lips met hers for a feverish embrace.

A delicate whimper escaped her as the kiss intensified and she wiggled and squirmed beneath her husband as his hands traced intricate and delicate patterns along her sides then stomach. His lips eventually released her mouth only to trace the length of her jaw then down her throat, finding the spot he knew so well.

She shivered as his one hand trailed lower still, weaving to her legs to caress her thighs. Her control dwindling, she mumbled in Elvish, her words coated with affection, and tender endearments; her words coaxing him further.

Aragorn lost himself in the moment. Finally he beheld his beautiful wife. She was submitting to him, allowing him to display his utmost desires. Too engrossed in his task, he did not notice when she stiffened, her eyes opened and ear perked in alert.

Arwen listened carefully, ignoring her husbands roaming lust. "Estel, listen."

He grumbled a series of inaudible syllables, his mouth working down her throat to the tendons at her shoulder.

"My Love," she whispered. "We are being watched."

His torturous lips wandered up to her ear, teasing the tip a moment before placing a warm kiss on the full shell. "Then they shall watch me take my wife in this forest glade." His voice husked, laced with purest lust as he slipped his tongue into her ear.

She could not withhold her moan of satisfaction, her eyes fluttering at the sensation. "Estel ... my Love ... ah..." she licked her lips, willing herself to maintain control. This was so mortal of her, this reaction. She should have more control than to simply seep into helpless oblivion from only his touch ... his kiss.

"Arwen, my need ..." he trailed off, pressing his hips against her to make sure she could feel his desire.

But she shook her head. "Be it only one man I sensed, I would care not." She exhaled a shaky breath, her arms tightening around his shoulders, her nails digging into him. "But I sense others. A ... a man to the ... to the east. And ... and something else to the north."

Aragorn slowed his actions, still letting his lips linger on her throat. His eyes were open as his hands moved slowly, trying to signal they knew of another's presence. He listened carefully, his lips sealing at random intervals along her throat.

"Do you sense him, My Love?"

"Aye," he responded, deeply. "I believe that to the north is nothing more than a stag. But the man is to the east. Look his way, Melda, in feigned passion. See if your Elven eyes catch sight."

Arwen sighed, releasing a soft moan as her head fell to the side, her eyes half lidded as she gazed into the wood. "I see him, My Love. But I doubt if you will." Her arms tightened around his body, pulling him closer. "But I can only see the glimmer of his armor. Where is your bow?"

"Foolish," he chided himself. "It is in my saddle." He sighed, shaking his head. "As is my sword and I forgot to strap my dagger to my belt."

She smiled, turning to place a soft kiss to his ear. "Then you are lucky that I did not forget mine." She shifted against him slightly. "There, Melda, my waist. Take it."

He grinned, cheekily, flicking his tongue at her lips for but a moment. "And a lovely waist it is, My Dear." Caressing her side, he carefully wrapped his fingers around the handle of the small blade then sealed their lips one final time. "Wait here for me."

Aragorn did not wait for her response. He quickly unsheathed her dagger and leapt to his feet, racing into the woods. His senses alert, he knew exactly where their voyeur was. His eyes widened when he felt a fast wisp of air brush past his ear and only when he heard a man's cry did he startle.

Meandering through the brush of the forest, he squatted to the ground, stealthily working his way closer, around some trees. The intruder should be just ...

The king furrowed his brow. Standing tall, he recognized the Gondorian armor of the man before him and his eyes narrowed as he cocked his head.

The boy was no older than twenty, only the faint scruffage of a beard along his jaw. His hair a luscious golden blond, his eyes wide and deep honey brown. "My ... my king ..."

Aragorn scanned the young soldier, a smile pulling at his lips as he noted the arrow just above his shoulder, pinning the cloak – and in turn – the boy to the large ancient tree. The king glanced back over his shoulder as he heard another approach and his senses did not fail him as his wife reached his side, his bow clutched tightly in her hand.

Her breaths fell delicately from her lips, despite the exertion to sprint quietly through the woods. "He is a man of Gondor."

"Aye," Aragorn agreed, grabbing the man's tunic quite roughly. "Leather." His eyes wandered to the man's arms, noting the intricate linking. "Mail." Finishing their scan, he met the eyes of the guard before him. "You wear greens and browns. A Ranger?"

The young man nodded, quickly, his fear shimmering in his eyes.

The king shook his head. "A poor ranger you be. So far away and yet still detected. How long have you been in service?"

"Not long, My Lord," the younger man answered with a shaky voice. "But I had not made a sound. I ..." he bowed his head. "Forgive my intrusion but I ... I was only following my orders."

"And what of the orders I gave." Aragorn stated.

"I know naught of those orders, My King," the boy responded, a bit more strength to his voice. "The Chamberlain bid me to follow you and should something happen, I am to blow this horn."

Aragorn followed the boy's movements, his eyes falling on the warning horn at his belt before looking at the ranger's face again.

The young ranger licked his dry lips again, his heart fluttering high within his throat. "He ... the Chamberlain feared for your well-being. He feared that ..."

"He feared that I would corrupt their king?"

Both men turned surprised eyes upon the Queen.

Arwen stood proud and tall though she withheld any emotions from marring her features, her eyes, however, could not hide. "I hear their words behind closed doors. I hear what they mumble. I am Elven; do they not realize I can hear, see and sense things I mere man cannot." Her voice laced with venom, accenting the word 'man' with deep malice.

Aragorn watched with worried eyes as his wife seethed. He had never seen her anger, not like this. Ignoring the presence of the other man, he took one step towards the raging elf. "Arwen?"

She jerked away from him, her head shaking in dismissal. "They believe I am to corrupt their king. That I am to poison his mind with Elven ways, the ways of my people. They fear that I am to simply tug on his strings and control him in governing. They fear that which they do not understand. They do not understand what I had willingly given up for my love of men and my love of this man. They do not understand all I have lost ... all that I shall never regain. I am but an enemy of the kingdom of men for no other reason than because I am of Elf-kind."

Rabid with emotion, the Queen took two steps closer to the young ranger, her eyes glaring, her passion aflame. Her voice fell to but a soft husk, though the anger and intensity could easily chill. "They forget so quickly that my people died for their salvation. They forget so quickly that it was not the weakness of Elves, but the weakness of men who allowed for Sauron to survive. It is the weakness of men who are to blame for the war that so recently passed. I was mistaken to believe the hearts of men would ever change."

Aragorn watched silently as his wife turned and purposefully walked back through the forest in the direction of the glade they had so recently left. His passionate anger burning with cause, he turned furious eyes upon the ranger before him. He barely noticed how the boy shuddered and did not withhold anything. Reaching out, he grabbed the arrow and yanked it forcefully from its place, releasing the boy.

The king's eyes narrowed, his teeth clenched. "You will return to the Chamberlain immediately. You will inform him of my wife's detection, her accurate arrow and the anger of your king. You will inform him that the moment I return, I wish his company ... alone. You will not tell him what you have heard my wife say. And you will not tell him of anything else you saw. Is that understood?"

The young man nodded.

"Good," the King pointed, his voice oddly calm. "Your name, Boy." When he received no answer, his tone rose. "Your name!"

"D ... D ... Dorythan."

Aragorn nodded, his every feature tensed. "Leave us. Now."

Dorythan stumbled, quickly skittering off through the woods, running as fast as he could.

The King watched the man race off and once content the intruder was gone for good, Aragorn turned back to the glade, walking slowly. The anger had quickly drained from his body, replaced by only sadness and sorrow. He had been foolish. He had been so blissfully happy that he was blind to see the obvious problems between the Gondorian court and his choice for an Elven wife. He held no regrets except the thought that he could not keep his wife happy. Despite all his attempts, her heart will forever be heavy.

Reaching the glade, his eyes scanned, but instantly worry set in. "Arwen?" he called, his eyes quickly searching. He ran further into the glade, stopping by his cloak and instantly noticing her boots were missing. "Arwen!"

She was gone as was her horse.

Desperate, he gave a sharp whistle and his stallion obeyed, trotting next to him then giving a snort of recognition. "Where did she go?" he asked the horse, quickly sweeping up his cloak and fastening it. He shoved the berries and flask of wine into the saddle bag and with perfected agility, he mounted then spurred his horse, racing through the wood as fast as he could. "Where is she?" he asked the horse again, leaning down close to the neck to allow for an easier run. His eyes constantly scanned, willing his ranger tracking to search for the tracks of her horse.

As he immerged from the wood, he saw her. Her lithe figure, mounted on the most graceful of stallions. She peaked the hill far in the distance and just as he saw her, she galloped from his sights down that grassy hill. She was headed back to Minas Tirith.

(I love the positive response to this fic of mine. I love every review and would love more. I like to know what everyone thinks. I care not if it's good or bad. Please review and let me know.)