Title: Taken

Author: Crimson Coin 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.

Faramir sighed heavily, his feet dragging as he slowly approached the quarters he shared with his wife. Everything that day had happened so fast, he could not sort through the events.

The day began with council meetings that even brought sleep upon his politically savvy mind. And then the Queen interrupted and dragged the King off for a romantic afternoon. Faramir shivered at the remembrance of the embrace he shared with his wife in the market place and then all of a sudden the Queen was kidnapped. And now he had to prepare to ride to battle.

'Go ... Make love to your wife.'

Aragorn's words weighted heavily on Faramir's heart. Why would his King say such a thing? What interest did he have in the actions of the Steward and his wife? Lest the King wished it was he in Faramir's stead.

Faramir viciously shook his head. No, such a connotation was impossible. And highly improbable. The King loved Arwen. They had loved each other longer than Eowyn had been alive.

He slowed his pace as the doorway neared. Perhaps Eowyn truly wished him to be Aragorn. Perhaps she never desired the poetic romantic. Perhaps she yearned for the passionate warrior, the roughened ranger to whisk her away. A fire burned brightly in his usually calm and pensive eyes. Was it passion his young wife searched for? Was that why she held such reserve for him?

There were two answers to this question that Faramir had deduced. The first was that Eowyn did not love him and could not bring herself to be more than reserved in their moments of intimacy. That she still loved Aragorn and felt guilty acting in such brazen passion with a man with whom she did not love.

The second possibility was that she believed him incapable of such torrential emotion. She believed unrestrained passion did not exist within the calm demeanor of her weak-hearted husband.

He had to win his wife's affection. Faramir felt the surging pain of second-best searing through his heart. He would not yield her so easily. If a passionate lover was what she yearned for, then Faramir would deliver. He could not ride to his death at dawn, knowing he had failed to give his wife what she needed. Though he was not her Aragorn, Faramir would see to it that any other thoughts of their King be driven from her mind permanently that evening.

Eowyn smoothed the cotton shift down over her body then with a heavy sigh, she sat in the chair in front of the fire. A cushioned and comfortable chair, she relaxed into the warmth and the feel of fur from the carpet beneath her feet. A chill raced through the room that evening and she enjoyed the slight contrast between the cool breeze and the warm fire.

Gathering her hair, she picked up her brush and slowly began working the day's tangles from her long tresses. Her day had been unexpected though not all together unpleasant. Her conversation with the queen had perturbed her but Eowyn knew that the Queen was wrong.

Why would she think such a thing about Faramir? Eoywn did love him and after spending a long few hours debating in her mind, she knew without a doubt that she loved him. The marriage wasn't caging because Faramir did not imprison her. She was free to roam as she wished. She wasn't forced to be as the other ladies of court; she was free to be who she was.

Perhaps the Queen's words were not meant for her. Did Faramir really not love her? No, that was not possible. The way he acted and treated her was as if he were a lovesick fool. Though, he had always been so reserved. Perhaps the Queen spoke of their formal relationship. Though Eowyn interacted with Faramir on a very personal level, it was a bit reserved and even cold. Almost a game or a tease.

She had yet to open completely to Faramir, possibly not at all. She knew much about him. About his family, his brother, his past. And yet he knew nothing of her. Is that what the Queen spoke of?

A few flickers of realization burned inside Eowyn's head. Perhaps the cage was not marriage or Faramir or the courts of Gondor. Eowyn had erected a cage around herself, an impenetrable cage that none could break through.

Her hair free of tangles, Eowyn slowly lowered the brush, her eyes focusing on the crackling fire. Yes, that was what the Queen meant.

A loud bang startled her and Eowyn leapt to her feet, her eyes focusing on the door. "Faramir?" she asked gently. "Goodness, you frightened me."

Faramir said nothing, his gaze intense as he flicked the lock on the door. His head bowed slightly, his hair somewhat tangled and he gripped the hem of his tunic, tearing the offensive garment from his body.

Eoywn licked her lips, nervous at his actions and the unfamiliar expression on his face. She took a few steps backwards, unsure why she felt intimidated under his animalistic predatory scrutiny.

His eyes scanned her body, focusing intently on her slender waist and the ample hips upon which her entire centre rested. His gaze lingering his eyes slowly caressed up her body, along every line and every curve before falling on her lips.

She shifted her weight, her body tensing under his unwavering focus. She swallowed hard when he yanked his shirt from his breeches. A soft whimper escaped her lips as he dropped the shirt to the floor, his chest bared to her eyes. He truly was a beautiful man.

He watched her as she took another few steps away from him and though her body spoke of fear and uncertainty, her eyes screamed of lust and desire. That lust was not for him and he knew she could never see him with such passion. Was it Aragorn that she saw borne before her?

His eyes darkened as he took a step towards her and then one more. "You will think of no other but me," he said in a deep and husked voice and from the look of confusion that crossed her features, he knew she heard his words.

"My Lord?" she questioned, her eyes unsure. This was the only man to evoke such a feeling within her.

"No formalities," he said with restrained desire as he continued to approach her, circling as a predator before the pounce until stopping before her. He roughly grabbed her arms, jerking her towards him and in turn, forcing her eyes to meet his.

Eowyn refused to back away, her head tall as she gazed up into the face of her husband, a man she hardly recognized.

Faramir smiled at her pride and courage. "My name will be the only name you scream this night." And he muffled any response she would have, crushing his mouth to hers.

What did he mean? She had never called out another name. He was her only desire. She remained tense at first, unresponsive to his immediate need but as his hands quickly roamed and his tongue slipped into her mouth, she could not resist. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she clutched him close, her hips rocking into his in the most wanton display of seduction.

He growled into her mouth, his body eager as he matched and surpassed her passion. She had never responded so lustfully. She had never been so passionate even in their most intimate of moments. She truly must not be thinking of him.

Angered, furious, he ripped his mouth from hers only to trail his lips down her neck, forcing her to tilt her head. His lips traced her collar bone and then up to her jaw before traveling the distance to her ear.

Eowyn collapsed in his arms, her head lolled to the side as he nipped and bit at the sensitive flesh of her neck. He always knew her every weakness. "Ah, My Love," she moaned in a breathy whisper, her fingers digging into his scalp as she tugged at his head and hair.

Still her words were not enough. My Love? That endearment could be for any and Faramir easily convinced himself that her pleasure was not because of him. She wished for Aragorn, his heart knew. He could not bear it.

She gasped, her knees buckling as he tugged her even closer, her hips crashing against his with the gruffness of his actions. This was so unlike him, so out of his character and yet she adored it. She never knew he harbored such intense passions, never knew she could evoke such an uncontrollable fire.

Faramir trailed his lips up to her ear, placing a long and lavishing kiss on the shell. She shivered when he bit on her earlobe, tugging a moment before pulling back from her, panting onto her lips. He suppressed a growl when she ran her hands down his back and he forced open his eyes to look at her. He'd know for certain if he just looked in her eyes.

Her eyes most certainly must be deceiving.

He didn't respond at first, his expression a mask of confusion and uncertainty. He was correct about her eyes for they displayed every emotion from within her soul. But if Faramir didn't know better, he could see love and love for him. Her eyes were glassed and calm yet still burning with ignited passion as she gazed deeply into his eyes.

Eowyn smiled, brushing her finger across his cheek before tucking a few stray strands of deep midnight black hair behind his ears. His hair always thrilled her so. Unlike the golden locks of the people of Rohan, Faramir was dark as night. His eyes, his hair, his body slightly tanned from his life as a warrior and he possessed the scars to prove every battle.

He waited for words. He wished to hear her voice, hear her whisper his name or speak of any of the love that he could see. The love and desire reflected in her eyes stirred at his core and he released a heavy breath, his body shuddering with passion. He could not wait for her. He cared not who she thought of or who she ever would.

He told her once that he would love her if she were the blissful Queen of Gondor. He had betrayed her by not keeping to his words. Not this night. Not any other night. He was a fool for denying her love. If she could not feel love from the man for whom she yearned, then she would feel the purest love and desire from him. He would show her his truest desire. He would show her the extent of his passions and no longer rein them.

Eowyn shuddered as her husband tightened his arms, his hands splayed across her back.

"I need you, My Love," he moaned, his eyes falling shut. "I need you tonight."

She asked no questions when his mouth descended upon hers.

Aragorn pressed his ring into the melted wax, sealing the letter closed. "Make great haste to Edoras." He commanded, handing the letter to the courier before him.

"Your Majesty," The courier respond, bowing his head in respect before taking the letter.

"Deliver this to the hands of Prince Imrahil directly. Inform the King of Rohan that I had not the time to write to him separately, as we are preparing to ride. The Prince will inform him of everything he need know."

"Majesty," The courier bowed again before quickly leaving.

When the door closed, Aragorn was left alone in his study. He sighed, his eyes focused on the grain of his wooden desk, the fire crackling from its place to the side. The flames illuminated the various shadows of the room, casting an ethereal glow over the regal furnishings.

Leaning back in his comfortable desk chair, Aragorn tilted his head back, staring up at the high stone ceiling. Sleep would not grace him that evening and he did not seek it. How could he rest while his wife ...

His thoughts refused to finish. He would not think of her in peril, in danger, in pain even though that was probably her condition. It was his fault.

He failed to serve his wife, his love as she deserved to be. He failed to see to her needs, failed to see her distress. And because of his blindness, she was gone. Tears threatened his eyes but he refused to let them fall.

Blinking furiously, he willed his body to ease, his emotions to still. His attempts futile, he allowed his eyes to fall close and his breathing slowed. Focusing on his breathing, his mind cleared, his heart ceased to race.

His world faded into white, his body light and afloat and then the comforting white turned to midnight black. Filled with a chill, he shivered as the blackness engulfed him and soon the blackness lightened.

He couldn't open his eyes, so weary and tired from the day and he sunk back into the comforting velvet covered chair. He inhaled a deep breath, the sweet fragrance of lilac and lavender filling his lungs mixed with the fresh moisture of dew, the musk of soil and the crispness of running water.

A soft voice echoed through his head and he couldn't help but smile at the sound.

"I am asleep," he breathed in response.

There was no answer to his words but a strange sense of peace filled his weary heart. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips and his eyes fluttered. He could not see everything but the silhouette of a woman, he deciphered.

"Arwen," he sighed, his eyes falling closed again as he realized where he was. "This is a dream."

He tensed when moist soft lips hovered over his, her breath soft and warm as she spoke in whispered tones. "Then it is a good dream."

His breath escaped him as her lips met his and his body sank into the couch upon which he lay - his energy drained, his soul complete in that one moment. Oh, how he loved her.

She smiled, her breath dancing across his lips. "We have been here before, Estel."

He chuckled against her mouth, his one hand reaching up to rest on her cheek. "Aye we have, Love. Many times. But ..."

"Shh," she silenced him, pressing a delicate finger to his lips. "Silence, Melda, My Beloved. Do not speak."

"What would you have of me?"

"Peace, Estel," she answered in hushed words then stood.

He forced his eyes open, watching as she walked away from him, looking out the balcony at the lush forest growth. The deep greens blended with the grey and brown, the cycle of life and death ever present in its existence. He did not like it.

"I would not have you worry."

Slowly, Aragorn pushed to his feet, walking to stand at her side. Wrapping a protective arm around her waist, he tugged her close, pressing his forehead to hers. "How do you expect me not to worry? For the first time in my life ... I am lost."

"You are not lost, Estel."

"I am," he insisted. "I failed you. And now I ... I don't know where you are or where to go or what to do or ..."

"Estel," she breathed, her voice floating on the wind as she caressed his cheek with a most delicate touch. "You know what it does to me to visit you like this."

Aragorn nodded. Though he wished she did not use so much of her strength to visit him, he was selfish. He would not wish her anywhere but in his arms, in his mind.

"I do not have much time. I am tired and weary." She sighed, nuzzling him as she enjoyed his touch. "I just wanted to see you, My Estel." She cupped his face, her thumbs stroking his cheeks and along his scruffy jaw. "One last time."

His eyes flew open, his shoulders tense and he viciously shook his head. "No." He gripped her roughly, his large hands wrapping around her upper arms. "No, you will not speak like that. I order you. As your King, I order you to stay alive. You will not leave me yet, Arwen. I have fought too hard. We have endured too much."

Arwen wobbled slightly, her body already showing signs of weakness. "I know not where they take me. I barely saw their faces. I know we travel North, Estel."

"Do you recognize anything?"

"I am blindfolded and bound. Estel, I see nothing." She brushed her fingertips along his brow. "Do not come for me."

"What?"

"I beg of you, Love," she pleaded, her eyes shining with tears. "Do not risk your life. You have risked far too much to be where you are. Your destiny is with your throne and your people. You know this."

"I will not leave you." Aragorn pledged. "You are all I have ever desired. And if you think now that I finally have you that I will let you go ..."

"Your life ..." Arwen slowly shook her head, her one finger pressed to his lips to silence him. "Your life is not worth this risk. I feel amiss. All will not end well if you follow."

"Do not think for one moment that I would sacrifice you ..."

"Estel." She silenced him, her hand covering his mouth to cease his words.

"No," He commanded, his large hand gently wrapping around her wrist as he pulled her hand from his lips. "I will come for you."


Arwen sighed, a small smile pulling at her lips as she met his eyes. "I know."

Aragorn cupped her face in his hands. "I will not rest until you are safe in my arms again."

The energy flowed from her body, causing her to sag against him, her head against his as she released an airy breath. "Estel, I'm weary."

"Do not lose hope, My Love," he begged of her before sealing their lips, his kiss passionate and full of longing love. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his body, encasing her in the safety he offered.

She responded to him, her kiss equal, her one hand on the back of his head as the other clutched at his arm. Breathless, the kiss broke and she opened her eyes to look upon him. "Our last. Forgive me."

"No!" Aragorn cried as she faded, the darkness encasing him again.

His eyes flew open as he looked hurriedly around the room. In his study. In his chair. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Reaching up, he touched his lips, noting how sensitive they were.

Forgive me

Aragorn startled, leaping to his feet as the words echoed on the wind, soft and billowing through the night. His heart ached.

Faramir tightened his one arm, pulling his slumbering wife even closer. She lay with her head pillowed on his shoulder, a hand placed at the center of his chest, her other arm draped over his hips. Lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, he released a sigh.

Sleep would not come to him.

Guilt flooded his mind over the previous hours. He had viciously taken his wife in a heated passion that had never resided within him, at least not to his knowledge. Such raw unabated need filled his every fiber and he released it all in her that night.

How could he have been so foolish, so careless? How could he have lost such control? Claiming his wife as if she were a tavern wench, simply for the purpose of release. But that was not it. It was not simply release for him.

Turning his eyes upon the woman in his arms, Faramir licked his lips. She smiled. She was smiling in her sleep, a placated satisfied expression on her beautiful face. He wondered if she dreamed of Aragorn.

Eowyn snuggled closer, her fingers brushing through the tuffs of hair on his chest, her palm soft and smooth as she caressed him. Of course she dreamed of Aragorn. No other man could put that smile on her face.

He closed his eyes a moment, unable to watch his wife in such blissful slumber. Forcing his gaze to the window, he sighed as the night slowly began to brighten. It would be dawn soon.

Untangling himself from his wife's embrace, Faramir slipped out of the bed and to the out of the room, where his armor lay in a neat pile.

Eowyn could not keep the smile off her face. In the realm between sleep and awake, her mind drifted to the evening events. Any other woman would blush thinking about the occurrences between she and her husband but not a Shieldmaiden of Rohan. She never knew such passions resided within her, much less her husband. He had ignited the most primal of needs, the most animalist desires. She never knew want until she met Faramir.

That was the word. Want. Was it truly possible to want a man so much? Eowyn shivered at the remembrance. She had never felt such pleasure, such release. His beautiful body, his warm roaming hands and those thick pouting lips, her breath caught just thinking about him.

Oh, how she adored his mouth. His kisses blazed fires within her core, her knees weakened from merely the thought of their touch. His sweet mouth had left a warm wet trail along her body, his lips claiming and possessing every inch they touched. His wandering hands warming every part, his body hot and heavy, his skin slicked with their exertion.

Faramir was an attentive lover, always seeing to her needs and pleasures but never before had she been overwhelmed. That evening he had seen to her pleasure again with ardent vigor. His hands and mouth combining to see she reached her peak not once but twice and then, to her surprise, a third time.

He kissed her with passionate need as his hands roamed down her body, finding her and she screamed into his open mouth. He had never touched her with such urgency; she had never felt the rush of pleasure overwhelm her senses.

His kiss never ending, his mouth muffled her cry of pleasure as the first wave washed through her. He did not give her time to recover, his lips blazing a trail down her body and she gasped, arching off the bed when his mouth took the place of his hands.

Eowyn shivered at the memory, cuddling closer to her husband's warm body. He'd never kissed her there before and the pleasures had quickly taken her again, her body still quivering from its last release, she had found her peak again.

She remembered panting helplessly as he moved up her body, his mouth sealing to hers. He tasted strange, of a different musk and soon she realized she tasted herself on his lips. Again, he gave her no chance to recover as he drove into her and moved relentlessly.

Eowyn could barely react to him, so spent from her two previous pleasures. But she responded as eagerly as she could. She wanted nothing more than to feel him so perfectly, so pleasantly. He perched above her, balanced on his arms so as not to crush her, his eyes open and dark, dripping with lust.

Shuddering with desire, she shifted her body, wantonly wrapping her legs around his waist, a bold display she had never done. He growled at her, his eyes aflame as his lust overpowered them both.

Gasping and rocking with his motions, Eowyn reached up and grabbed his head, tugging him to her. She arched up, her lips seeking his, but his movements so harsh, she had not the strength and was tossed back onto the bed.

Faramir clenched his teeth, her fingers clawing down his chest and he watched as her pleasure rose, her breaths coming in short pants, her body undulating and rocking perfectly with his. His body quivered, yearning for the most powerful of release, but he refused to relent. He would see her pleasure one more time.

Eowyn gripped his arms, her nails digging into his flesh as the coil inside wound tight. He watched as her pleasure neared and her eyes dimmed one last time before he captured her mouth, swallowing her unyielding cry. Her body twitched and shuddered in rapture.

His control broke.

She had never before felt such bliss, such splendid bliss. She continued to kiss him as his body sagged against her, his weight released as well as his tension and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him deeper still.

Eowyn smiled at the memory and squirmed closer to her husband. Her hand caressed his chest with slow languid circles, her fingers teasing and tangling in the hair before moving down to his abdomen.

Her thoughts filled with pleasures. How beautiful and wonderful a husband was he.

She felt him move, untangling himself from her embrace and the sudden cold enveloped her as he slipped out of the bed. But she didn't want to open her eyes. Opting for the warmth of her bed, Eowyn tugged the covers back up around her and rolled over onto his side of the bed. She sighed as his warmth pooled through her and with her head on his pillow, his familiar male scent filled her lungs.

Soft walking and clacking forced her to stir and she opened her eyes. Adjusting to the sudden light in the room, she glanced over her shoulder. The fire alight and blazing, she shifted, rolling onto her other side. Why did Faramir light the fire?

He stood before the fire, unclothed. Her breath caught high in her throat, her eyes wide as she took in every inch of her husband's lithe form. "Béma, you are a beautiful man," she breathed.

He did not hear her. Faramir reached for his breeches, pulling them up over his slender hips before reaching for a white cotton shirt.

Eowyn smiled, snuggling into the mattress as she watched her husband walk out of the room. When he didn't return, she sat up, pulling the sheet to her chest. "Faramir?"

The door to their chambers opened.

Eowyn stood at the sight of her husband in full armor, his sword hanging from his waist. Quickly wrapping the sheet around her body, she approached him with worried eyes. "Faramir, what is the meaning of this?"

He stood tall and aloof, his eyes not leaving hers though his manner was cold.

She instantly felt the chill and quickly averted her eyes a moment to gather herself.

"I must leave," he finally said with little emotion. "I ride with Aragorn at dawn."

Eowyn turned his eyes to the window, the beginning rays of the morning sun peeking over the hills and fluttering into the room.

"Arwen was kidnapped. We don't know who or where or ..." he sighed. "I ride with him."

She met his gaze. "I ride with you."

"No," he responded quickly with a heated gaze and he took a step towards her.

Unsure if she heard him, she cocked her head. "What?"

"I said, no." He repeated then sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "It is not your place."

Her eyes widened, her shoulders square. "Not my place?" She tilted her chin up, her head high and proud. "Perhaps you do not remember, My Lord, but as you lay in the House of Healing, I slew the Witch-King of Angmar. Do you doubt my ability?"

"No, I doubt fate." He snapped, stepping to her, so close he could see the flecks of grey in her eyes. "Eowyn," he hooked a single finger under her chin. "I do not doubt your training or your ability. I believe you were destined to earn glory and honor and your deeds will be in song till the end of days. But I would not have you tempt fate. You have no need to prove your valor any longer."

She pressed her thin lips tightly together. "And you would have me stay behind, the ever doting wife. The proper Gondorian woman. Is that what you wish? You want me to duck my head and avert my eyes. You would have me sit in the gardens to embroider and knit. You would have me learn to ride side-saddle and dress in intricate elaborate gowns."

"Silence, woman."

"Do my words sting you, My Lord?" she questioned him, sarcasm lacing her voice. "Perhaps it is the truth in their statement. Nay, you are not the man I thought you were."

"That is where you are wrong." He accused, his head high. "I am the man you thought I was. I simply am not the man you wish me to be."

Her brow furrowed, her tension diminished.

Faramir reached up with a shaking hand, his fingers brushing her cheek. "Would I were he ..." he sighed, leaning in to press his lips to her forehead. He had to close his eyes at the emotion he felt.

Eowyn shivered at the feel of his lips, her mind racing when he pulled back to look in her eyes. She forced her gaze to meet his, their eyes locking.

He smiled sadly at her utter confusion. But was it really confusion? Did she truly believe that he did not know? Leaning down, his mouth covered hers in the softest most sensual kiss. "Perhaps, if I return ..." he trailed off as he kissed her again.

She quickly shook her head. "If? Faramir ..."

He turned from her, walking to the door.

"Faramir," she called, rushing after him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Wait, please."

He sighed, glancing back over his shoulder.

"If? Would you were who?" She walked in front of him, her eyes meeting his. "My Lord, I do not understand. You speak in riddles."

"There is no riddle, My Lady," he responded. "You know your heart. And you know mine." No words left, he stepped around her and left.

(I know it has been long since my update, but school has kept me so busy. I promise to keep updating, I just need time. So here was a nice long chapter. I know this is listed under Aragorn/Arwen, however their will be multiple couples playing up to equal importance. But Aragorn/Arwen are still the main focus, as one could see from the main conflict. Review me and let me know what you think.)