After the usual sharp look around Arwen's living room to make sure, everything was alright, the first thing Aragorn did, as so often, was get rid of the heavy insignia of his office. Already busy tugging open the buttons of his vest with one hand, he quietly opened the bedroom door.

He paused in surprise when he found the bed empty that had just recently been built new, with the headend shaped like a huge, silver star. The covers hadn't been touched; even the bedspreads were still on them. With a hint of worry that he just couldn't turn off, not yet, Aragorn already moved to leave the room again.

Only then did he spot his wife in the corner by the window, sitting sideways on her chair. A book lay on her lap as so often. She had apparently dozed off reading, wearing her light, dark blue nightgown already. A few of her long strands of hair had fallen into her face; every now and then, she murmured something unintelligible in the language of her people. On some days, it was still an unfamiliar sight that she used to sleep with her eyes closed by now, as most Secondborn did, and still more than she'd used to in the past.

But she was really recovering more by the day. Her cheeks were still lacking some of the healthy red that Aragorn had already fallen in love with decades ago, and you couldn't ask too much effort of her yet. But nothing reminded of her dangerous condition anymore, of her being on the brink of death after the birth. A light smile curled on her lips, and Aragorn wondered what she was dreaming about.

Being able to kneel down before his wife after an evening like this was almost like having just come home from a long journey. Yearning for holding her in his arm, he slightly leaned forward to kiss her pretty, full lips.

Arwen startled a little, then put a hand on his neck to pull him close for another kiss. "Actually, I meant to wait for you. I hoped you'd be back earlier …" More awake by the second, she nestled her face against his neck and slowly kissed up to his ear. Turning to him to be able to move more freely, she reached for the last buttons of Aragorn's vest. "Admit it, you just couldn't get enough of dancing with all these beautiful women." Feigning a pout, she let her lips wander to his other ear, nibbling on it playfully, the way he loved it so much.

"Why should I do that, seeing as the prettiest of them all is waiting for me here?"

Aragorn reluctantly backed away a little. "Are you feeling well enough …?" He'd been yearning to finally share such closeness with his wife again for a while now, but there had always been the subtle fear of overwhelming her or of her not feeling comfortable.

Unlike Tarisilya's body, for example, hers just wasn't able yet to function again like before the birth. Healing from the bad injuries that the delivery had left, had used her reserves. She was being too thin; she had a hard time, gaining both her weight back and gaining the strong muscles of a warrior again. And at some point, one got sick of being treated like being made of glass; Aragorn did understand that.

"I just want a piece of normalcy back, mîl nín. Let me free you of at least a bit of the worry that you're holding me tight with at night when you think I'm asleep already."

When he startled, caught out, she got up and pulled him up with him. "This is the first night in a while that we have all to ourselves and that we won't get woken up in by the children needing something again and again. I don't know what you wanted to do with this time, but me, I didn't plan to go to bed early."

"In this case, you're definitely wearing too much, though." She couldn't have told him any clearer, so Aragorn picked her up without much ado and sat her back down on the chair to kneel before her again. His hands caressing her thighs, he tugged on the hem of her beaded nightgown. "Pull that up." He was instinctively using this certain commanding tone again that he liked to regard Arwen with in such nights since he'd realized that she sometimes enjoyed that very much.

This time, too, it was enough to have her cheeks flush immediately. She had to feel his hungry gaze on every milky white inch of skin that was revealed when she followed his order.

"Further up." Aragorn didn't let her stop halfway through in embarrassment but waited until the nightgown was bunched around Arwen's waist, revealing a tempting view of her bare loins.

Again, he let his fingertips wander over Arwen's long legs, this time without obstacles. Reaching for her knees, he pushed her thighs further apart and scooted closer to the chair for his lips to follow his hands' example. A quiet sigh from his mouth sent visible shivers over Arwen's skin. A brief kiss to the inside of her thigh ended with him sucking on the same spot while his hands came to rest on her behind, pulling her forward with a jerk.

With her eyes closed in delight, Arwen let herself sink even deeper into the chair, willingly placing her legs on the armrests to signal Aragorn how glad she was that he had forgotten his worries for now.

Aragorn paused his caresses shortly before they could reach her loins though. For a moment, he did nothing more than stroking her leg and her most sensitive spots, just lightly with his fingertips, until an impatient growl came from her lips.

Only now, he kissed her folds playfully, caressed them just as teasingly with just the tip of his tongue before he suddenly thrust his tongue deep inside of her and ran his thumb over her most sensitive spot as if a wild animal had been turned loose. His other hand was buried in Arwen's behind harder and harder.

Before he could lose himself to his efforts completely, he backed away with a hint of a bad conscience because his lover was trembling a little too badly under him. "I'm already devouring you again. There's no hurry today. Tell me what to do for you."

Arwen slipped down onto the dark, soft fur in front of him. A passionate kiss drew another of these arousing hums from her as she could taste herself on him.

"Why don't you show me what you like best instead?" Her eyes were filled with a combination of lust and nervousness when she looked past him, at a small cupboard where a few of her scarves were stored.

Aragorn fought with himself, unsure about how well she was really doing already … But imagining what she was offering him there finally did the trick.

"Undress and lay down on the bed." Compared to earlier, his voice was still sounding a little too quiet but when Arwen eagerly obeyed, a tremble went through his body. He hurried to get rid of his own clothes that landed carelessly on the ground.

Pretending not to hear Arwen's impatient sighs, he took much time to search that cabinet, staring at his wife lustfully again and again to eye her body.

But at some point, she started to writhe lasciviously on the mattress and looked at him from under long lashes in provocation. Her fingertips danced over her bare breasts, wandering deeper and deeper … And that was the end of teasing.

Aragorn let himself fall onto the bed next to her and lay three different folded scarves on her chest, two bright ones and one very dark one. He lovingly let his fingertips wander over her arms, keeping himself from starting immediately with a lot of effort. "Hands up."

Arwen trembled harder by the second, but before Aragorn had to start to wonder if she was maybe doing this whole thing only for him, she reached out her hands to him. She was visibly fighting the reflex to pull on the fabric immediately when he'd wrapped it around her wrists and then around the bed frame. Aragorn had made very sure not to tighten it too far and to stretch her arms only so much that she would still be able to lie comfortably. That left her only with the unfamiliar sensation of being restricted in her movements, of being completely in his hands; and that seemed exactly what she liked very much, given the challenging look she was regarding him with now.

"Close your eyes." Aragorn gave her light kisses on her closed lids.

He took his sweet time, starting to spoil the sensitive tip of her ear with caresses of his tongue while his hand caressed her breasts in turn, carefully enough to not irritate the skin that was still sensitive too much. Only when Arwen moaned out loud, again and again, he took the dark cloth and put it over her eyes without tying it.

Arwen slightly lifted her head in surprise. Seeing the corners of her mouth pull down, Aragorn knew that she wasn't feeling completely comfortable. Firstborn usually didn't appreciate it much, not being able to make out anything. If she didn't want to try this, he would stop immediately, not least because he couldn't tell if the memory of the forced darkness during her kidnapping by the Stewardaides back then wasn't still too strong.

But then she forced herself to lay back. Her trust in him was bigger than her doubts. When he covered her neck with tiny kisses, it immediately made her pulse race again. Every touch had to feel a lot more intense now as Aragorn knew from experience; again and again, she leaned into his hands and lips on her body.

The next touch had her startle again instinctively since it had to feel foreign, different than usual before she realized it was the third scarf, the feather-light fabric of which Aragorn let wander over her body, only a random caress for now.

Only the stimulation had Arwen's dark nipples harden. Aragorn bent down to her and started to nibble on them lightly in turn, just enough to have her press herself against him, then he backed away again. Next, he tickled her stomach and her sides with the scarf while his lips were back on her ear to play with it at length.

If the scarf hadn't been there, Arwen would without a doubt have tried again to convince Aragorn with seductive looks to stop playing with her like that. As it was, she could only try to suspect where the cloth would touch her next time and squirm so that she could guide him a little.

That she was still asking for more had Aragorn's arousal quickly grow as well. "I think we need to start working on your patience again." With that, he put the cloth flat on her belly so that one edge came to lay between her slightly spread legs. Then he slowly tugged it upwards so that it was grazing Arwen's conspicuously glistening folds, irritating her even more instead of bringing satisfaction.

She couldn't keep her hips from moving against the touch and grumbled disappointedly when Aragorn only started to caress her legs again, then her stomach. "You're not exactly making that easy." Carefully, she felt Aragorn's leg with her foot, slowly caressing upwards, letting out that purr again that he liked so much.

"That's the idea …"

But Arwen's offended pout had him put the cloth away and nestle closely to her, with half of his weight on her, to give her a deep kiss. Enough for one night. He also took the cloth on her head away to be able to look into her eyes, to let her see the arousal on his face. His fingertips tenderly traced hers. "Today, you're lucky. I've been missing this too much."

Since she still didn't seem to be averse, he made no move to untie the restraints though. He lay down on top of her completely to make her feel what that game had really done to him already, and took her hands tightly in his. "You're always testing the limits of my composure far way too quickly, Nauriel."

"Then why don't you just let yourself go completely for once? I …" Her last sentence was drowned out by a small moan when Aragorn moved his hips against hers and his arousal grazed her most sensitive spot just for a moment. Moving against him, she explored his ear with her lips and the tip of her tongue intimately, pushing the tip of her tongue inside again and again until Aragorn's hands clenched around hers.

"Or do I have to get you really drunk again before I'm allowed to see you go wild?"

"If I ever lose control over myself that way again, you should rather have me leave office immediately." He couldn't appreciate her joke half as much as she'd surely hoped. For a moment, pain and guilt marked Aragorn's expression, just like on that evening in Imladris, then he tried to smile and got his hand between her legs to prepare her, quickly but gently as usual. This was in the past.

Only when Arwen's eyes were almost pleading, he slipped inside of her just as carefully.

Arwen crossed her legs over his back, pressed her body against his as firmly as she could. Her eyes closed on their own accord when she murmured something to him with her breath racing. "More …"

His movements quickly became more determined, harder, which made her pent-up arousal lead her to an intense height. Arwen yanked on that scarf more than once without even wanting it. Finally, she threw her head back with his name on her lips.

The sight had Aragorn's hands clench around hers tightly once more, made him press his hips against hers firmly one last time before his passion overwhelmed him as well.

Out of breath, his wife remained lying next to him when he finally managed to back away from her and free her from her restraints. At the first moment, she was completely unable to stir, but on her lips, there was a detached smile.

The celebration of this so very special anniversary couldn't have ended any better.


"I'm sorry, elwen, have I been too loud?" Guiltily, Legolas turned around to Tarisilya when he heard her stir on the bed, yawning away and stretching as if it was morning already, not the middle of the night.

Actually, they'd sauntered to their usual chambers in the guesthouse with something entirely else than rest on their mind. But after he'd taken a moment to freshen up, Tarisilya had already been breathing so deeply and calmly that he hadn't had the heart to disturb her.

"No, this mattress is too empty. Even if I'm too exhausted to hold you, there's no need for you to start fleeing again. Or can you not sleep?"

"My rhythm has been a mess since we have Cyron and moved onto the talan for good. Give an old elf from Eryn Lasgalen a little more time to get used to a treehouse." Legolas quickly snapped the book shut that he had been writing down in, in the last few minutes when he noticed Tarisilya looking at it curiously. That was a gift, she was not supposed to see yet.

He put it away in his traveling bag without bothering to hide it; that didn't even enter his mind. There was no reason for him to think, she would look at his stuff, especially not when she realized exactly that he was trying to keep something secret from her. Without a foundation of trust like that, their marriage wouldn't have a base. Sometimes he wondered how some Men could do without something like that.

"Old. Right. You sure it's just that? Or are you still having these bad dreams?" Worriedly, Tarisilya sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, her long, bright nightgown stretching. That Legolas wasn't always in a mood to talk was something she'd had to learn painfully first.

"Eventually, it will stop." Legolas packed away the quill he had been using to work on the poem as well and cleaned his fingertips of the rest of ink in the wash bowl before sitting down next to his wife, legs crossed. "It will take some time to get rid of these images in my mind. Sometimes in my dreams, I'm back in the middle of one of the battles, with people falling around me ... That's a kind of pain that can't go away so quickly."

"It's not just the battles, Legolas, is it?" Tarisilya reached out to him pleadingly instead of scooting toward him, the offer to say no when he really didn't feel like talking, but he wasn't going to hurt her with that again. Sighing, she traced the admittedly slightly harsh lines of his cheeks with her fingertips. "Don't you think it's about high time to chase away these other demons in your heart, too, before they continue to haunt you at night?"

"I thought you and I had done that together already." It was hard not to sound dismissive again immediately, in the face of a subject Legolas had decided a year ago was no longer worth any increased attention.

"Not even close, elwen." His wife knew better than anyone how to stop such convenient escapes from the inevitable with a sympathetic smile, a delicate touch of her fingertip to a scar on his shoulder barely visible by now.

"You've only gotten better at cutting off that part of your soul. And that's my fault, too. I showed you how to do that myself, back then in Helm's Deep, because I knew that without your unbroken warrior spirit, the Companions would not have been able to complete their quest. But war can no longer rule our lives."

"It hasn't for a while." Gasped Tarisilya's hand, Legolas guided her away from that one spot that was still a little tender. His fingertips lingered on her wedding ring, as a gentle reminder that actually, they both had much more pleasant things to do than weep over the past. "You and Cyron and our settlement, this realm ... That's what is defining my life now. That's what I want to dedicate our last time on Middle-earth to, with all the strength that would be drained from me if I tried to face my nightmares even during the day."

"How much strength do you think you'll have left when next a crisis like the Stewardaides shakes Gondor and your soul becomes unbalanced again? You know what happened the last time you claimed to have everything under control." Tarisilya pulled him close, allowing him to hide his face against her shoulder, her hands buried firmly in his hair, offering him the retreat from her ruthlessness that he needed, and the support at the same time, but no way out. Not anymore.

"This sadness in you, elwen, this fear, this hatred ... They are like a feverish wound beneath the surface, in a place that can bring even us Firstborn to our knees if that disease breaks out at the wrong moment. No one, not even me as your healer, can erase from your memory what those two men did to you in the war. But I can help you come to terms with it, instead of pretending forever that nothing happened, until the next time you stand before the debris of that wall of defense. Will you let me do that, Legolas? Will you let me help you this time?"

He nodded against her neck before he had even thought about it, because he didn't want to hurt her again by not trusting her fully, and because she was right, of course, as much as he hated it ... But also because, in a way, his own words hadn't been wrong either. He really was feeling a good deal better than he had been right after the war. He now had many things to hold on to when the darkness inside him, or perhaps one day the one in front of his eyes, would return. If there had ever been a good time to face this whole thing, it was probably in these years of newly strengthening peace.

Doing it all at once, however, was still not possible, and in that regard, he had to slow Tarisilya down a bit after all, before what had actually supposed to be a very nice night could turn into something else entirely. "But not today, alright? Not after nightmares like this. Otherwise, I'll start to hate the night at some point, and we're both feeling too much at home in it for that. After such dreams, I'd rather sort out my thoughts and make up for lost sleep some other time."

Tarisilya accepted his decision without any objection, letting her lips rest tenderly on his forehead for a moment, then on his cheek. "Then please do that more often. You're exhausted, elwen. It shows."

"I'll try, I promise." His own loving kiss grazed her palm. "I'll just stay in bed longer than usual tomorrow and hope the daylight keeps all the demons away."

"And I'll stay with you," Tarisilya smiled. "You know how much I like being in your arms when you sleep. Then nothing out there matters. Just the two of us, our love, and your heartbeat against my ear." She let her hand slide down, between the half-open halves of his sleeping tunic, placing it on his bare chest.

She had to be able to not only feel but hear his pulse begin to race almost immediately. The doubts they had both felt for a while about physical closeness for more than one reason had faded by now. By now, the thought of Legolas' tormentor back then was, fortunately, indeed mostly far away even in such moments. And that of the child they had once lost no longer left only stabbing pain, but also a small, warm flame inside them, for which they were both infinitely grateful. Their little family was finally complete, and perhaps one day, they would even learn if the innocent little soul of their first child wanted to return to them from the Halls. Either way, the loss no longer brought them to their knees. It had become respectful melancholy.

And right now, Tarisilya visibly managed it well to suppress that, too. Since Legolas did nothing to stop her, she slowly caressed his chest, starting from the spot above his heart before drawing teasing patterns with her fingertips and nails, all of that without ever stopping to look into his eyes. She always liked to take her time, watching him in such moments, seeing how much he enjoyed her touch, how he closed his eyes again and again and tilted his head back until he leaned back on his arms at last to give her more space for her explorations.

The idea of interrupting her, of maybe getting her to undress immediately or trying to touch her himself, even kissing her, never even entered his mind. Elves took a lot of time for regular sex, centuries sometimes, and this flame of passion wouldn't even go out completely an eternity later. There was no reason to become impatient. In spite of many a night that they had spent together by now, there was still an endless lot to try and discover for them.

Which didn't mean Tarisilya hadn't already found out a few things though. For example, how sensitive Legolas' nipples were, that every smallest teasing touch of her nails there caused acute shivers. And she always made good use of that. Once she'd got him to shed his tunic, she gently pushed him back onto the mattress all the way.

His wife had been forced to treat Legolas often enough to know every spot of his body, even with her eyes closed, to know exactly where the few scarred patches of skin were that she should avoid. Except for these, she covered every inch of his upper body and his arms with loving kisses, sucking on particularly sensitive spots like the insides of his upper arms and his fingertips. Ever until his breathing was going faster and faster and pulsating hardness under the rough fabric of his night breeches nudged her arm when her lips casually went deeper.

She paused only for a moment, waiting for him to open his eyes questioningly. Then she lowered her head mischievously, hurriedly pulled down his breeches, and took the sensitive head of his cock between her lips. After many months of waiting for such caresses, it didn't Legolas long before he started writhing under the skilled movements of her tongue. Especially when his wife's fingertips made their way back up, sliding along his waist, to his nipples, continuing to torture him with her nails a little until he had to stop Tarisilya gently.

"You're getting me there again already, elwen." Smiling embarrassedly, Legolas pulled her close so that she came to lay on top of him and had to feel his cock throb against her lower belly in desire before they had even really got started.

"Let me look at you." He pressed a soft kiss to her cleavage, right above the hem of her nightgown. In his eyes, there was deepest admiration for her body when she discarded the piece of clothing, woven from precious fabric, with her hands trembling.

He made a move to sit up, to be able to spoil her in return now, but Tarisilya took his hand and guided it until it came to rest on the smooth bright skin between her legs and he could feel the warm wetness there. "My body is already longing for you as well. It's been too long." She gave him a long, deep kiss, moaning into it quietly when Legolas accepted the invitation and caressed her right there, his determined movements causing even more wetness before his fingers finally pushed inside of her carefully, to make sure that she wouldn't tense up.

He didn't need to worry. "Don't make me wait, Legolas," Tarisilya murmured to him hoarsely.

"Never, elwen." He hurried to get out of his breeches as well and moved to lean over her already, but then paused when Tarisilya turned to her side with a nervous smile.

"Since we've already failed to take some time to get to know each other's bodies better …" She nestled against him with a quiet sigh when he lay down behind her, following her clear signal. The head of his cock, covered in wetness, nudged her waiting hole, but when she pressed herself against him, the unfamiliar position had it slip away.

Tarisilya reached for him tenderly, enjoying Legolas' unrestrained moan, and held him tight this time, ever until her warmth engulfed him firmly and their hips were in an intimate embrace.

His fingertips quickly found her most sensitive spot again, and all it took was a few single, firm movements before she screamed out, surprised by the overwhelming, intense stimulation of this position and her body trembled, experiencing the height of her lust.

"Go on," she whispered to him when he paused, enjoying the look of pure ecstasy on her face when she turned her head to him. "I want to feel it when the sensations will overwhelm you … When you give me all of you …"

Legolas let his lips wander over her ear, a spot where every small nibble caused extreme reactions. Now as well, Tarisilya moaned out immediately and matched the movements of his hips so tightly that he didn't need to worry about her possibly getting tired or even being in any kind of pain.

And when next he closed his hands around her breasts, it was her who started to decide the speed, smiling mildly at his brief surprise about her activeness.

Right. As if he didn't know her better by now. He could feel her muscles clench, even much harder than before, how a twitch went through her, and that was when let himself go at last. He only heard her next quiet scream faintly while moaning his own height in the darkness of the room, the essence of his body mixing with the sweet scent that they were both creating with their act.

Not for anything in this world did he want to let this wonderful, intimate feeling end sooner than necessary, and Tarisilya felt the same.

Only when tiredness filled them both and his hardness abated, she turned around to him carefully and let him take her in his arms. She didn't need to ask if he would be able to sleep now because his breathing already started to be calmer.

The new Age, their last Age on Middle-earth, couldn't have started any more beautifully than with this evening.