Beneath the Mallorn Trees – Lord of the Rings fanfiction part II
Many years had passed, but Lothlorien remained unchanged. Arwen walked beneath the golden boughs of the mallorn trees, the faint sound of elven music echoing in her ears as she moved silently towards Calas Galadhon.
The lady of the golden wood awaited her, a small secret smile playing about her lips. "Arwen," Galadriel greeted her warmly. "Come with me."
Arwen followed her grandmother higher into the canopy of the tree. Upon the talan a man stood, his hands clasped behind his back, dark hair reaching down to his shoulders. He was clad in elven grey, and a slender circlet of silver was bound about his brow. At their approach, he turned, and in his eyes she beheld the wisdom the years had granted him, but still, deeply inside, but still there, the man she had loved so long ago.
Aragorn looked at her, unchanged by the years, and truly realised the breach between their peoples.
"My lady, it has been a long time."
Arwen struggled for words as she stared at him. His hair was silvered at the temples, and his face was grave, lined with many sorrows, but beneath that she still saw the younger man; the love she thought she had long cast away rushed back, colouring her ivory cheeks with a blush.
And as she looked at him, she saw the love thinly veiled in his eyes, and she knew then that nothing had really changed.
For many days they walked in Lorien, talking, growing closer together than they had ever been before. The time came when their lips met, cautiously, as though for the first time, and the relationship they had lost was remade.
It was before dawn when Arwen came to Galadriel. "I would look in the mirror."
Her grandmother looked at her steadily, her eyes filled with a depth of knowledge and compassion. "You may not like what you see."
Arwen cast her eyes down, and Galadriel placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come," she said gently, and led her towards the river.
As Arwen gazed intently at her own reflection, the water began to ripple. As if from a great depth, images began to appear, rising to the surface.
Galadriel watched in silence as the ethereal light flickered on her grand-daughter's face, her mind filled with the images in the mirror.
When Arwen finally drew back, she spoke. "You do not know which path he will choose," she warned.
But the hope gleamed in Arwen's eyes. "I trust him," she replied simply.
That night, Arwen sat beneath the shadow of a mallorn tree, watching the stars between the branches. Aragorn sat beside her, his hand enfolding hers, just as he had so many years ago on the day he left.
Slowly, he turned and kissed her, his lips warm and demanding against her own. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, growing faster as their kisses grew more urgent. His fingers slid down her shoulders, playing in her hair, then toying with the clasps of her dress. For a moment, she nearly stopped him, but then her fingers nimbly found the buttons on his shirt. She slid her fingers beneath the material, tracing her hands down the smooth skin of his back. His shoulders were powerful, knotted with muscles, and she ran her hands down slowly, across his chest.
Her dress had come loose, and he slipped it off her shoulders, shrugging out of his shirt. Although his movements were gentle, she could sense the urgency coursing through his veins.
Then somehow their clothes were gone, flung away in the darkness, and he was naked beside her, his lips tracing down her neck as he moved down her body.
She felt a brief moment of pain as he entered her, then a joy beyond anything she had ever known, again and again as he moved inside her until she cried out in ecstasy and longing, the sound breaking the darkness like a knife.
She knotted her fingers deep in his tangled hair, feeling the sweat on his brow, then gripped his powerful shoulders, feeling the muscles shifting under her hands and gasping at the spiral of pleasure that filled her whole body.
Then it was over, and he lay panting at her side, his shoulder pillowing her head. Their naked bodies were bathed in the dappled shadows of the tree above them. She could feel the night air cooling the sweat on her body and her tangled hair fanning out on the grass as she closed her eyes.
Aragorn held her as she slept, the starlight dancing on her pale skin. He felt a twinge of sadness as he looked at her, for he shared the affection in which she held her father, and he knew that now, Evenstar had surrendered what she could never regain.