Arwen woke while Isil still hung high in the night sky, obscured by dark stormy clouds. And the pitter patter of the unending rain created a beautiful song against the tiled rooftops. The fire had burned nearly out and was flickering to dying embers even as Arwen glanced at the waning light. She sighed and turned her attention to her sleeping husband, nuzzling his chest with her cheek as she settled back into his arms.
It had been a long time since they’d had such a relaxing and passionate night and Arwen couldn’t help but smile at the memory of their loving.
She lay for a long time, simply listening to the rise and fall of her husband’s chest, his steady breathing as he slept. Outside, the thunder clasped and the lightening flashed, occasionally illuminating the room in a striking white glow.
Before long, she was quite awake and unable to sleep. Disappointed that her husband was still asleep, but not wanting to disturb his slumber, Arwen disentangled herself from his arms and stood. A satisfied smile spread across her face as she gazed down at him. Even in the waning firelight, the shadows and light that played across his prone form were enough to make her groan with awakening need. Shaking her head, resolving again not to disturb him, she padded to her dressing room and gathered a silk chemise in which to cover herself.
Casting one last look at her sleeping husband, finally convincing herself that she would not disturb him, she slowly made her way to a small door that led to a very close, private garden. Arwen cared not about the weather, she simply stepped outside and lifted her face to the stars. Lightening flashed across the sky and the rain pelted her face as if in welcome. Her chemise was immediately soaked but she cared not about the soon-to-be-ruined gown.
She breathed deeply of the fresh spring air and raised her arms, twirling like a small girl in a bed of flowers. It was like she was a child again, playing in Rivendell during the rainstorms that fed the beautiful falls surrounding the elven haven.
She bent to pluck a flower from the garden and brought it to her nose, smelling the fragrance even as the rain continued to fall around her. It was dark in the City now and there was no one awake that could see her atop the royal house, in the rain, her clothing soaked through to leave nothing of her body to the imagination. If the gate guards noticed, it would remain a secret until their dying day.
As Arwen continued to walk through the small garden, she did not notice the pair of crystalline eyes that danced as they watched her from the open doorway.
He watched her for a time, until his eyes grew dark with growing passion. The wet silk left nothing to his imagination and soon he felt the all too familiar heat begin to spread through his loins.
A faint movement caught the twirling woman’s eye and she stopped and favored her King with an alluring smile. If she was surprised to find him standing there watching her, she gave no indication. Instead, she licked her lips, absently brushed a few droplets of water from her eyes and said, “Are you going to stand there and watch me all evening.”
“The sight looks good from here,” He smiled, eyes dancing as he crossed his arms.
Arwen sashayed over to her husband and raked her eyes down his body. The disappointment in her eyes was evident when she noticed the waistband of his leggings clinging loosely to his hips.
“Would you like to play in the rain with me?” Arwen batted her eyelashes at her husband, her intentions clear.
Lightning flashed and he glanced up at the sky before answering, "And risk being struck down by an errant beam of light?"
He choked back a small laugh as she pressed herself against him, the wet brushing against his bare chest and sending shivers – of desire, rather than cold – down his spine.
"Coward." Arwen muttered hotly into his ear.
Crystal eyes dropped to stare at the silk clinging evocatively to her body and he suppressed a groan as he uncrossed his arms and flattened his hands at her hips. “What makes you think I wish to play in the rain like some small child? Do you think we will not be discovered out here - playing”
"Since when do the gardeners tend to their duties in the rain, in the middle of the night?" Arwen asked as she twisted out of his arms, and bounced into the center of the small garden.
Aragorn swallowed hard as he watched the moonlight glint off her delicately rounded body, at the droplets of water that cascaded down her face. It was true, they rarely were afforded such private time, and certainly none outside the walls of their own chambers – even in their private gardens.
When she turned brazen eyes on him, he nearly came out of his skin. The intense desire that burned in the darkening orbs was unmistakable and when pale fingers reached for the simple lacing of her gown, he was unable to suppress a groan.
Their eyes caught and locked as she slowly, teasingly drew the wet silk down her body. He gulped when she stood bare before him, the moonlight glinting off the pebbled drops that pooled on her skin. Her nipples stood erect, waiting, begging for him to take one in his mouth and suckle like a babe. He grunted and stepped into the rain, grateful for the momentary relief as the cold droplets hit his burning skin.
Lightning flashed behind her, casting her pale body in a glow that he could not even begin to describe. Desire burned through his veins while the rain pelted them, chilling already overheated skin.
The hungry look in his eyes could not be mistaken and Arwen backed even further against the one small portion of wall that was not covered by hanging vines. She glanced at him coyly and made motion to cover herself.
“Don’t you dare,” His hands slid around her wrists and lifted them over her head, “cover yourself in my presence.”
“Yes, my King.” She answered shyly, glancing at him through thick eyelashes.
His hands came down to frame her face, brushing slowly across the tips of her ears before cupping her cheeks. She sighed when he tilted her head and lifted her lips to receive his burning, desperate kiss.
Her arms fell to his shoulders as his hands cupped her cheeks, pulling her lips into his, bruising them with the intensity of his kiss. Large, callused hands slid down her chest to cup each delectable mound. When the rough pads of his fingers brushed across the hard pebbled peaks, she slid her fingers into his soaked hair and tugged.
The rain fell in large drops as they stood pressed against one side of the wall, hands sliding across one another’s bodies in the darkness. When Arwen’s hands dropped to the waistband of his leggings, she fought with the wet ties, grunting in frustration when she could not pull them free. Aragorn chuckled when she turned exasperated eyes on her husband.
“It will be far more pleasurable for the both of us if you lose those leggings, Estel.” Arwen leaned close and whispered in his ear before taking the bottom lobe into her mouth.
“Mmmm, Yes,” Aragorn answered and released her breasts to work at the ties holding his leggings closed. Arwen’s ministrations did nothing to cool his hunger, and desire for this last remnant of clothing to be tossed aside. After several minutes of struggling with them, he finally lost his patience and snapped the ties apart.
Arwen giggled as the sopping leggings pooled at his feet and he stepped out of them. He pinned her against the wall with his body, his arms wrapped tightly around her to shield her from the rock at her back.
After a few moments of delicious petting, kissing and caressing, Aragorn’s eyes
narrowed, searching desperately for something to lean Arwen against. His lips
parted into a small smile when he noticed the small marble table resting
beneath an overhang made of vines and blooming flowers. Arwen bit back a small
gasp as he lifted her into his arms and sat her backside on the edge of the
nicely polished table. The cold stone did nothing to cool her raging desire and
when she lay back across the table, she was rewarded with a rather large groan
from her husband.
Dark eyes stared wantonly at the man above her and when she opened her arms – and legs- it was an invitation he could hardly refuse. There was no delay, no testing her readiness – as he so commonly did - he simply lifted her hips and plunged into her warm, welcoming body.
She needed no encouragement to wrap her legs around his hips, and when he leaned over her to suckle at her breast, her hands flew into his straggly hair. His warm, hot mouth on her breast created such a contrast to the cold droplets of water sprinkling down from above, she trembled from the contact. The sensations his mouth – and now hands, as they slid across her wet skin – created, caused the fire in her loins to spread throughout her body, burning away all rational thought.
Thunder rocked the building and lightning cast its quick beam of light across their joined bodies. The rhythmic sound fueled his thrusts and the intensity of the booming thunder heightened their pleasure.
Passion took them, and they cared not where they were, or who could possibly walk in on their little interlude. Even a private garden had a keeper. But the two lovers were swept away, crying out in bliss when one powerful release triggered the other, draining their strength.
Aragorn collapsed once again, pinning Arwen beneath him in an awkward position. She shifted her hips beneath him, whimpering slightly when she felt his softening manhood slip from her body.
The rain continued to pelt them as they struggled to control their erratic breathing. Aragorn pressed light kisses against her neck, in between drawing huge gasps of air to bring his breathing under control.
“Oh Estel,” Arwen whispered, turning her lips to his cheek to press a long, lingering kiss to his whiskered skin. “Such passion. You’d think we’d been separated for months.”
“You inspire me, melnya,” He whispered, voice still deepened with arousal.
She chuckled and threaded her fingers through his hair. “I think it is this place, my love. It sings to our elven blood.”
“Mmm,” He muttered, absently sucking at her neck.
“The last remnant of the lost kingdom of Numenor, Estel.” Arwen tugged his head up so that she could look into his eyes. “And it’s last King.” She trailed her hand down the side of his cheek and smiled softly.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her already very swollen lips. It was a kiss that she returned with equal enthusiasm and intensity.
“I think, after tonight, we won’t have to worry about that particular issue,” Arwen smiled, a light of hidden knowledge shining through her eyes. She was unsure exactly from where the knowledge had come but she knew….she knew their long wait was nearly over.
With a grunt, Aragorn lifted her into his arms and walked toward the still open door. Her legs tightened around his waist and she rolled her hips, seductively teasing his spent body.
“Would that you are right, my love,” Aragorn finally answered after he had carefully laid her down on their bed. He stared down at her body, glowing beautifully after their union, and slowly lay down beside her to pillow his head on her stomach. “One of these days we will have a little one.”
Arwen’s insides twisted, knowing in her heart that he wanted a baby as much as she, and had wanted one for a very long time. But before despair could grip her heart, she knew, without a doubt, that they would leave the rebuilt Kingdom of Arnor with a babe growing in her womb.
“What a more fitting place to conceive our son, Estel.” Arwen said, drawing a confused look from him as he lifted his head to stare at his wife. “The re-merging of the bloodlines of the old Numenorean Kings, with our son, created here in the last true Kingdom of that lost world.”
Translations:
Isil = the Moon