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.

Note: I have only currently begun learning Elvish. If my Elvish is incorrect, I will correct it as I learn more of the language. www.uib.no/people/hnohf/ has been most helpful.

Another Note: Movie-verse

Aragorn closed his eyes, his head tilting back as he breathed in the sweet summer's air. He stood on the balcony to his bedroom, the curtains drawn open. With a long sigh, he let his eyes flutter open and he gazed out across his private garden. The full moon illuminated the night sky, the stars and swirling clouds adding a certain ethereal quality. He inhaled again, his lungs filling with scent of flowers, grass and the beginnings of dew.

A warm breeze caressed his creased and weary brow, his stringed dark hair fluttering about his broad and bare shoulders. He scratched his pecs a moment then stretched, his back arching as a slight tired moan slipped from his lips. He licked his lips moist before staring down his body.

Taking but a moment, he adjusted the comfortable cotton breeches he wore to bed and then wiggled his toes, enjoying the feel of the stone floor against the bottoms of his calloused feet. It felt good to stand without his shoes. It reminded him of his times in Rivendell.

Another defeated sigh fell from his lips as he turned his gaze from the blossomed garden and into his house. The breeze now at his back, he watched as that same breeze brushed through the curtains and caressed the beautiful figure of his still sleeping wife.

A small smile pulled at his lips, his eyes glistening sadly at her slumber. He had slept little in the last many months since his coronation. He had not wanted to be king and to this day, the notion of ruler did not sit well with him. He had no qualifications to be king. He was but a ranger from the North, one who happened to be born into a bloodline of kings. But that in no way deemed him worthy of king. He was not raised as a king. He was not trained to be a king.

There was still so much he did not understand about ruling and kingly things. Often during council meetings, Aragorn found himself daydreaming of his times as a ranger. He would dream of his adventures and travels, the feel of the wind in his hair, the warmth of a horse's body beneath his as he raced through the trees in search of something and yet he never knew what. Though he always returned to the land he knew as home.

Again, his thoughts were drawn back to the sleeping elf-maiden before him. He would always return to her. The yearning to be at her side called to him, beckoned him at every moment. Not a day would pass where she didn't plague his mind. And at night when he would lay under the stars, he would find solace. He knew she was watching that same sky, thinking of him, dreaming of him. Just as he was her.

Aragorn chuckled to himself. For tens of years he dreamed of sleeping by her side. And now that the opportunity was always upon him, he could never sleep. They had only just been wed maybe three moons ago. He could remember that day by the second; he could close his eyes and relive every moment. Of the day and the night that followed.

The ultimate blissful pleasure that consumed him that fateful night, that sweet memorable night of love-filled passion, he never imagined it would be so wonderful. He never knew such sensations existed inside his body, in his mind. He never knew she could be so unabandoned, so lust-filled, so passionate

Arwen, his Evenstar, his beloved. She had always been so calm, so sedate. Even in their jesting, in their moments alone she never displayed uncontrolled emotion. He knew she was reserved; her Elven heritage raised her so. But that beautiful unforgettable night when they finally exchanged wedding vows, when they finally consummated their unconditional love for one another, he had seen a side of his beloved that he never knew existed.

But that was the only time he witnessed her to be so alive, so ... so mortal. Every moment since, she has maintained that certain Elven air that he adored. Yet sometimes he wished that passionate woman would return to him, would show the same lust for him that he still possessed for her.

Aragorn felt a sudden aching in his chest, his heart clenching and his stomach twisted. Maybe he looked for too much, expected too much from her. Maybe she regretted her decision. Maybe she wished to be with her father and travel across the sea. He knew how loud and how powerful the call of the sea was to elves.

Blinking furiously, he held tears back as that sudden realization pierced his very being. The burning stab of such a sorrowful thought penetrated his already broken heart. He had never deserved her in the first place. She was so good, so perfect, and she did not deserve to be bound to this mortal fate.

"Sérë, Meldanya." Arwen breathed, her eyes still closed.

(Peace, My Beloved.)

Aragorn's breath caught high in his throat, her voice caressing him in ways he never dreamed.

"Tula caimana."

(Come to bed.)

He sighed, glancing away from her for a moment and out at the window. He had heard her, though her voice was husked and laced with sleep. A smile pulled at his lips as her voice still lingered in his ears, in his mind. So deep and so calm, so gruff and so soothing. All she had to do was speak, and he was in love all over again.

seri indolye."

(Rest/still your heart/mind)

Aragorn still refused to look at her, his heart sang for the mountains in the distance, his desire to just run back to the life he so loved, he so yearned for pulled at his every string. He could feel her eyes on his back, those deep sea blue eyes pouring through his body, staring into his heart, into his soul.

His senses roused when he heard the sheets rustle and the soft padding of her feet cued him to her walking. She was approaching him. She was so soft on her feet, so light that he could barely hear her. But his ranger training still dwelt strong and he easily sensed her approach.

He shivered when a soft palm rested on his shoulder, her touch electrifying but her hand chilled.


(My Estel. Or My Hope. Take as you will.)

"Inyë tye-méla." He breathed, his heart and eyes fluttering.

(I love you.)

Arwen smiled gently, tilting her head slightly to try and meet his grey eyes. "I love you too." She reached out, cupping his opposite cheek in her hand and slowly she turned his eyes to meet hers. "Always, Estel."

"How did you know something was on my mind?"

Her smile somehow softened and she blinked slowly at him. "Because I know you so well, Aranya."

(My king.)

Aragorn returned her smile. "And I, you, Tárinya."

(My Queen.)

She reached up, stroking a gentle hand through his hair.

He sighed at the tender display of affection and leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. Desperate for more of her touch, he turned to face her, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close. He just couldn't let her go. Not yet.

"What troubles you, Melmë," She breathed onto his lips.


"My mind races and that is all," he answered calmly, nuzzling against her. He needed to feel her, to take in all the comfort she would give.

"Keep nothing from me, Estel," Arwen said softly, her eyes meeting his despite how close they were. "Why does your mind race?"

"I miss the wild," he admitted after a brief hesitation. "I miss the wind in my hair and the grass under my feet. I miss the run and the ride and the fight. I miss the air and the earth and the rivers and the trees." He sighed, staring at his kingdom and then into the room that was now his bedroom.

"Ah, the ranger is not gone from you yet, my Lord," she responded. "There are none here who stop you from returning to what you love."

He placed a warm palm against her cheek. "Arwen, I have always returned to what I love."

She smiled gently, her lips only slightly tweaking with the expression. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, her skin a radiant glow; she was indeed still Elven. "You first love was always the wild, Elessar. You and I both know that. It has always called you and always will." She turned her head from him a moment, gazing out towards the horizon. "Just as the sea will always call to me."

Aragorn frowned, relieved that she did not see the sorrow now on his face.

"But no, Estel," she spoke again, looking back to him to meet his eyes. She placed a hand on his cheek, brushing her thumb across his lips. "I do not regret my choice. Do you not remember my vow to you?"

"I am undeserving of such a vow," he responded with a slow shake of the head and with a defeated sigh, he turned from her and walked back into the bedroom.

"Aragorn," she called to him, turning only slightly to see him.

He withheld a wince at the sound of that name. She rarely called him Aragorn and to this day, he hated the way it sounded rolling off her tongue.

"Estel, why do you say such things?"

"Because they are true," he spat at her with venom, his eyes focused on her beautiful form and blazing with anger yet still sadness. "I do not deserve your love or devotion. I never did. I was weak, I doubted us and I doubted you."


"No," he shook his head at her endearment. "I do not deserve to be called such things. I have betrayed you, Arwen."

She merely cocked her head, eyeing him curiously and with an emotion far from anger.

"Why do you look at me like that?" he yelled, his voice booming through the lands. Everyone in the palace had to have heard.

Arwen's smile warmed as she stepped closer to him. "Inyë tye-méla, Meldanya."

"How could you love me?" he asked, his voice now more hurt than angry and he reached up to grab the pendant that hung from his neck. "I doubted your faithfulness, I doubted myself. I almost returned this to you because I was too foolish to see ..."

"Shhh," she hushed, placing her fingers over his lips to silence him. "Áva."


"But ..."

"Áva." She repeated a bit stronger. "Don't speak like that, my love."

"Caurë haryar nin."

(Fear possessed me.)

"I know," she answered, stepping even closer to him, willing their bodies to touch. "I know, Estel."

Aragorn shivered, his eyes fluttering for a moment. She was pressed so close, her soft body pushed to his, her silken nightgown leaving very little between his bare skin and hers.

She seemed to know exactly what she was doing and said nothing.

A smile pulled at his face, his lips tweaking with his chuckle. "You seem to be trying to distract me, my dear."

"Do I?" she replied in complete innocence.

Aragorn opened his eyes to gaze upon her and the smile remained on his face at the pleasing smile on her face. "My Evenstar," he said tentatively touching her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"Your doubts of the past matter not," she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her breath danced across his face, so warm and moist, so sweet.

"How can you say that?" he asked, his eyes focused intensely on hers. "I turned away your love. I tried to give you back the precious gift you gave to me. I lost all faith in myself, in you and us. I am weak, my Love."

"Nay, you are not." She responded with a slow shake of the head. "The man who led all of Middle Earth against the forces of Sauron is not weak. You united a kingdom, you defeated the greatest evil of all time."

"But when I was gone, you always remained so loyal to me."

"Are you saying you did not maintain the same loyalty?" Arwen's eyes blazed with overwhelming tenderness. "I would not hold it against you, my Lord, if you engaged in pleasures of the flesh or if you felt more than affection towards another."

"Never, my Lady," he breathed. "Never did I stray from you. I could not. Every night I was away, I was haunted by your touch, your sweet lips ... I could not even think of another after knowing their taste."

She smiled, her eyes beaming with love and affection, so bright and beautiful as they glistened with unshed tears. "Your words move me so, Vennonya."

( My Husband)

"They are true," he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. "My Dear Wife."

"Estel, be at peace," she whispered. "Come back to bed." She slowly traced her hands down his bare chest then arms before entwining their fingers.

Aragorn followed her and stood at the bedside as she crawled onto the soft mattress. He watched her settle into the comfort, the silken sheets appearing made just for her. She was exquisite.

Arwen reached out for him then. "Tula, Estel."

(Come, Estel.)

"Elyë nar anvanya." Aragorn sighed, his eyes soaking in the silken perfect form of his wife.

(You are most beautiful.)

She sighed with the most striking smile on her face. "You words make me blush, Estel."

He smiled, noting the slight pink tinge that rose to her cheeks and he sat down on the bed's edge, reaching out to run a hand down her smooth arm then up again. "I cannot believe that you are really here. I keep expecting to wake up ... lying on a tree stump and I'm camping outside this white city. I expect this to be a dream ... and you are here as you always were ... in my mind, comforting me in my times of need."

"I never abandon you, My Love." She tugged on his arm again. "Come."

Aragorn sighed, raking the hair from his eyes as he finally obeyed his wife and he crawled towards her. With a content sigh, he settled into her soft body, pillowing his head on her shoulder, his face turned into her throat so his lips could brush the sensitive silken skin. He hummed in a desired response when her arms wrapped around him, cradling him, protecting him.

Arwen brushed her lips along the shell of his ear, a continuous series of mumbled Elvish endearments slipping from her tongue.

He moaned, his entire body shuddering at the sensations her mere voice sparked within him. That familiar tingling coursed down his spine, sending shivers from his head to his toes. He had to bite back another groan as she began to kiss his ear, mingling hot wet kisses with her words.

"You are calming already, My Love," she breathed, her hand caressing his back before tickling up to his hair. She smiled, adoring the way he sighed with pleasure, sinking even further into her. She knew he was relaxing. "That's it, my Love. Find peace in me."

Aragorn laughed, his chest rumbling against her with the sudden outburst. "That is not all I find in you ... My Dear Wife." He smiled as she nuzzled into him, her face pressing against his ear and from the heat radiating from her cheeks, he knew she must be flushing.

"Such a filthy mind, Estel," she chided playfully though didn't push him away. "The activity of which you speak does not bring peace."

"On the contrary," he said, his voice dropping in tone and growing slightly husked. "It brings me great peace ... afterwards."

Arwen laughed, her soft and deep laughter not uncommon to his ears, but rare none-the-less. She was always so controlled and reserved, it wasn't often when she outright laughed. And yet, he prided himself in being the only one who could bring such a laughter from her delicate Elven lips.

"I do love your laugh," he said quietly, nuzzling against her throat before sealing his lips in a soft kiss. "I love many things about you."

"Mmm, is that so, Estel?" her voice soothed and caressed him, her hand in a slow circular massage of his shoulders and back. "Only many? I expect you to love everything about me."

"And I do, Melda," he cooed, brushing his nose against her throat then down to her collar bone. "I am not the only one. Do you know how the court and my council feel?"

Arwen sighed, tilting her head on the soft silken pillow. "I still do not believe your court approves of your wedding to an elf. I believe they wished you marry a mortal."

Aragorn pushed up from her then, balancing on his arm so he could gaze into her face. His smile remained warm and inviting as he reached over to brush his fingers across the porcelain skin of her cheek. "I have married a mortal." His heart swelled at her small smile. "And my council is jealous beyond words. As is much of the kingdom. You are truly a great beauty to behold."

Her smile brightened and she leaned up ever so slightly, her eyes falling half-lidded as she brushed her lips over his. "Thank you, Melmë."

"I know that you are trying to be accepted by the peoples of this kingdom," he said slowly, his voice a gentle whisper. "But I wish you would not abandon who you used to be."

"I do not understand."

"Just because it seems that men are more modest about displaying affection and that my council frowned upon it that first day ... does not mean that I wished it to stop."

"Estel ..."

He silenced her with a soft kiss, his lips only brushing over hers and he nearly died as she shuddered beneath him. "Remember the first week we were wed. And you came into my council chambers ... and all the advisors and men sat in that room as we were discussing a new trade route through the east. And you came into that room only to cup my cheek and kiss me."

Arwen flushed a light pink, her eyes averting to stare at a darkened corner of the room.

"Ah, you do remember it, my Darling Wife."

"Of course, I remember it, Estel," she answered in a low and slightly embarrassed voice. "I have been nothing but reprimanded since that day."

"I have never reprimanded you," Aragorn breathed. "In fact, I do believe that I kissed you back with equal, if not more passion."

She managed a small smile and even a shy chuckle. "I also do believe that was the day I concurred that I had never felt anything as rough as your beard."

"You do not like it, my Love?"

She tickled a single finger down the side of his cheek and along his jaw, her eyes following the trail intently. "I did not say that, My Lord."

"Then tell me, Dear Wife, exactly what you are saying. If you wish me to shave it off, I will ... but only for you. Though I must admit, Faramir will not let me hear the end of this. They will call my but a boy on the thrown should I not have a beard."

"And I would not put you through such torturous processes." She responded with a sweet smile. "But I simply mean to say that although I cannot always feel your lips, I embrace the sensation of so rough a contrast."

He cocked a single brow, unsure of what she was speaking.

Arwen's eyes fluttered for a moment before she swirled a single finger on his chin, adoring the flickering lust that sparked in his eyes. "For when I kiss you, Estelnya, I know I am not kissing an elf ... but a man."

Aragorn laughed, his eyes closing for the moment as her words sent joyous sensations through his body.

"I am pleased to see you smile, My Love," Arwen said softly to him, her fingers still caressing his tired face. "And I am glad I have rid your mind of your earlier grievances."

"Not rid, My Love," he sighed, his eyes sad but still bursting with tenderness and affection. "Merely distracted."

"I wish there was something I could do."

"There is," He answered in a deep voice. "It will not quench my thirst for the wild ... but ... it will satisfy my hunger for something else."

Arwen eyed him curiously, her gaze filled with confusion. "What do you mean your hunger for ..." her eyes flashed then with immediate realization and she swatted playfully at him. "Estel!"

Aragorn chuckled, his eyes twinkling for her and in the pale moonlight of the darkened bedroom, he was close enough to see the stars in her deep blue orbs. "I see it in your eyes, Undomiel, you yearn for me too."

"I yearn for many things," She said with a hitch in her voice, a restraint to hold her desire in check. "But tonight is not the night." At his hurt and rejected expression, she placed a warm palm against his cheek. "I do want you, my Love, but it is very late. The sun will soon rise and you are overtired. There will be a long council tomorrow with the new negotiations for the North and you must be rested. Please, Elessar, sleep."

He leaned down then, his eyes closed as his mouth claimed hers, his hunger and desire more than obvious in his kiss. His lips massaged hers, his head moving and coaxing her lips to part and when they did, he sighed, sliding his tongue into her mouth.

She pushed him back, her hands to either side of his head. A wide smile spread across her face and she chuckled at the desperate look he flashed her. "Melda, though how wonderful that is, it most certainly is not sleeping."

"But it is much more fulfilling then sleep," he breathed then closed the distance between them again. He let out a groan of frustration when her fingers pressed to his lips, stopping him. "Arwen, My Love, would you deny your husband from his needs?"


He moaned again, rolling his eyes. "And how many times have I seen to your needs without question? Yet my Queen still denies me."

"And is that all the Queen is to you, my Dear Estel?"

His eyes flew to hers at the seemingly hurt tone and he quickly softened his gaze and his touch. "No, Melmë, no. Not at all. I am sorry that I have offended you. You, my Darling Wife, My Beautiful Queen, My soul ... my heart ... my ... Oh, Undomiel, don't cry." He brushed his thumb along her cheeks, wiping away the tears that dripped from her eyes. "Please, don't cry, My Love."

Arwen licked her lips, willing her emotions to control.

"Shh," he hushed, caressing her cheek then brow. "My Darling, please, do not cry. I never meant to hurt you in any way. What I do ... we do ... physically when we ... when we engage in ..." he stumbled over his words. He sighed then, looking to the ceiling a moment to gather his thoughts.

Then just as quickly as he looked away, his eyes returned to her. "You are everything to me, Arwen. You are my love and my wife and my queen. I yearn for you, My Evenstar, but it is because I love you ... that I desire you."

Though his words were awkward, she knew what he meant, what he was trying to say. Swallowing hard, she nodded and pulled his head down, forcing him to rest his weary body against her.

His head pillowed on her shoulder, he wrapped his arms tightly around his slender wife's body. "I will sleep here in your arms, where I find peace ... and rest ... where I am home."

As she felt his breathing slow, Arwen blinked the final few tears from her eyes. She knew of her husband's love and truly felt foolish to doubt his motivations for physical pleasure. However her mind was plagued with worry for the man she loved. She knew that no matter what peace he found at this moment, she was no competition for his duties as king or his desire for freedom.

Maybe ... she could change that. Maybe she could find a way to offer him the freedom for which he so desired. A small smile pulled at her lips as she sighed, relaxing into the bed and in turn, her husband's embrace.

(I love reviews. I do plan for this to be a long story, but I want to know what everyone thinks. Good ... Bad ... Ugly ... I accept all reviews with happiness.)