Revenge

Chapter 1

Day 1


Candlelight lit the dark room where they stood, creating shadows that flickered across the walls as if they had a life of their own. Summoned out of their beds by a horrible dream, the men stood around the war room table, fear widening their eyes and waking their weary bodies faster than would a mug of cold water dumped down their backs.

As the Captain of the guard of Rohan stepped beside his King, Eomer gave the order. “Rohan will match the number of men that you send.”

Faramir shook his head. “You cannot leave your borders defenseless. Not with the-”

Eomer raised his hand. “We are far from defenseless. Rohan has long been united with Gondor and we will lend our aid when it is needed.” He cast a worried look in Imrahil’s direction. “And it is needed.”

Faramir nodded reluctantly. He had known Eomer long enough to know when was a good time to cease an argument with the larger man. “We will welcome your aid, King of Rohan.”

Eomer rested a hand on Faramir’s shoulder. “He is my friend as well as the King. He has my respect and admiration, of myself as well as my people. Were I not in command of the army of Rohan, I would find men to march beside those of Gondor.”

Faramir smiled. “Thank you. We will accept your aid and our Captain’s will have dual charge of the army,” Faramir nodded toward his second. “Ready a legion to ride at first light.”

The captain of Gondor’s guard nodded and bowed. “To where do we ride, my Lord?”

“Pelargir,” Faramir said. “You will take the vessels waiting for you and travel up the sea to what the elves call the Grey Havens and make your way to Annuminas from there. Gather your men and inform them of what they are to expect. Then return to me, I will bade you bear a message to the King.”

Imrahil turned to his Captain. “Take my guard and ride with the King's soldiers. Send a messenger to Dol Amroth with this news & have him inform the council I will return in a few days' time.”

Eomer turned from speaking with his Captain and turned to Imrahil and Faramir, a worried look etched into his features.

“They will reach Arnor in time,” Faramir dropped a hand on Imrahil’s shoulder. “They must.” Faramir, having had such real dreams in the past, knew not to discount the Lord of Dol Amroth’s nightmare when he arrived in the middle of the night demanding to see the acting Regent of Gondor.

Imrahil lifted his eyes and muttered a silent prayer. “Ulmo guide them and send them on swift wings to Annuminas.”


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Day 3


Aragorn tightened his arms around his wife, pulling her protectively against his chest. He nuzzled her ebony hair with a whiskered cheek, breathing deeply of the freshly washed and scented locks. Her audible sigh was muffled into his tunic.

They sat in an overstuffed chair, beside a large window that overlooked the rebuilt City. Unlike Gondor, most of the inhabitants of Arnor slept during the night hours and the City was quiet. Usually. There was activity this evening along the walls as the guard was doubled. There was still some one or some thing out there that had ordered thetureture of the King and the soldiers of Arnor would let no one so easily remove their beloved ruler from his home.

When he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, Arwen glanced up at him in concern. “Indonya, you have a head wound, regardless how mild you think it to be. Come to bed.”

When she moved to stand, his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her more securely into his lap. “Just a few more moments.” He whispered, his voice barely audible.

Arwen leaned against his chest, snuggling closer while long arms wrapped themselves around her body. Arwen sighed her displeasure at his statement but indulged him – for now.

They had spoken very little of their ordeal since retiring for the night. Aragorn had been treated for the wounds he had sustained at his captors hands, and he had stood over the healers as they examined Arwen from head to foot, making sure every bruise was checked. Bed rest had been ordered of the King, but he had been hard-pressed to heed those concerns. He was too eager to question those responsible for their abduction. He agreed to a day – and no more – before he would set foot into the dungeons.

Once sequestered within their chambers, they’d simply sat in each other’s arms, taking comfort from their closeness.

Guards had been posted outside the royal bedchambers and sentries watched every entrance into the city. No one would enter or leave without being seen.

If there was still trouble looming out in the wilds, the Rangers of Arnor would intercept it before it reached the King and his wife.

“All is well in the City,” Aragorn whispered into her hair and smiled when slim hands covered his own where they rested against her waist.

“For now.” Arwen answered, eyes searching the sky. “I can’t help but feel that a danger looms over this City. Something that no one has foreseen and preparing to take action no one can prevent.”

“We will be safe. You will be safe. I will not let another lay his hands on you ever again.” Aragorn’s words were firm, his voice unwavering in his determination. He reached around his neck and unfastened the pendant that she had given him before their marriage. Removing it, he carefully placed the Evenstar around her neck and trailed his fingers down the miniature wings.

“It has always comforted you.” He smiled, his eyes glowing with love for his elven queen. “Let it do so now.”

Arwen smiled and gazed over her shoulder into her husband’s crystal eyes. They sparkled in the moonlight, the stars using the sea-colored orbs to reflect their brightness like a mirror.

He knew she was truly troubled when she did not immediately return the pendant. “Yes.” She whispered so low he barely heard the words. “But this feeling. All of a sudden, since they-“

“It is but a memory now, my love.” Aragorn’s arms tightened protectively around his troubled wife. “We will learn what we want to know from those being held in the dungeons.”

She simply nodded, lost in thought, taking what comfort from his embrace that she was able.

“We will remain here for a few weeks, to catch whoever masterminded this plot,” Aragorn continued, his voice low. “We will not leave here until I have found the evil that sought to divide us.”

“Well, you wanted to stay in the North for a while, this investigation will give you an excuse.” Arwen smiled slightly.

“ell ell protected as Arnor is, Gondor has a much larger army, I would prefer to have you safely within the White City walls.” Aragorn settled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to the tip of her ear.

“Your Rangers held this land from Angmar for generations and protected the heirs of Isildur. They can protect us.” Even as she said the words, the feeling of foreboding returned and she shivered before continuing. "Perhaps if you do not trust your royal guard, then you should have a company of Rangers return with us as escort to the White City." Arwen said, her mind completely turned from the earlier events of the day. "They can train the Gondorian soldiers to your satisfaction."

Aragorn smiled and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her head. "The skill the Rangers of Arnor employ cannot be taught. It must be learned by years of wandering the wilds." He chuckled. "It is not that I do not trust the royal guard. I trust them with our lives. I would simply prefer to have a much larger distance between this new foe and my Queen."

When Arwen didn't reply, Aragorn sighed. “You are my life, Arwen. I will not lose you. I was powerless today as I watched those filthy men nearly take you from me. I was afraid - truly afraid.”

Arwen cupped his cheek in her hand and brushed her thumb against his lips. She understood, with painful clarity, how difficult it had been for him to make such an admission.

“I won’t lose you. For now, until we can leave, you will be safe here within these walls.”

When he bent to press a gentle kiss to her lips, she leaned back into his arms, and returned his kiss with an urgency that both excited and unnerved him.

They kissed and nuzzled for a long while, simply enjoying one another’s closeness. Slim fingers delved into his hair and tugged as large, callused hands wrapped around her waist and turned her to face him.

“Let me rid the terror from your mind tonight.” Aragorn whispered against her cheek before placing a steaming kiss to her lips.

“Yes,” Arwen whispered and wrapped her arms around his neck as he stood.

He carried her to their bed, where he laid her gently into the silken linens. She lay quietly, eyes darkening as he disrobed for her, baring his tanned skin to the moonlight shining through the window. A small smiled played across her lips as the tightly coiled muscles in his lean body flexed with each movement. When he reached down to remove her nightshift, he could feel her body tense. His touch reminded her of her near violation at the hands of those filthy brigands.

Aragorn could feel as well as sense her apprehension and simply settled into the cushions beside her. He took her hands and brought them to his lips, laving each delicate finger with a sensuous kiss. His hands roamed down and over her body, gently massaging, relaxing the tense muscles.

When one hand slid away to brush across the hardening nub of her nipple, a small whimper escaped her, drawing a smile from his lips. He leaned her over and pressed a kiss to each covered bud smiling at her sharp intake of breath. When his mouth closed over the soft mound and began to suckle gently, her fingers delved into his hair, tugging, pulling him close.

“Yes, my love,” She whispered, her voice a mere whisper as a searing heat began to spread throughout her body, carrying her willingly along its burning flames. "Love me."

When his hands slipped beneath her night shift, she gasped and glanced into the crystal eyes of her husband. Her hands slid from his hair to cup his cheek and bring his face down to hers. She pressed her lips to his in a gentle, searching kiss and by the time they parted, they were breathless.

At her urging, he moved over her and slipped the night shift from her shoulders, baring her porcelain skin to his hungry gaze. She felt a momentary pang of panic as he lowered his weight between her legs but it was quickly replaced by an unexplainable longing as his fingers trailed down her stomach to test her readiness.

When she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him into her embrace, he pressed a long, sensuous kiss to her lips. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his hips as he pushed gently into her warmth.

He tested her, moving slowly, at first, then as she began to respond, meeting him, he quickened his pace. They moved as one, their bodies dancing to the ages old rhythm. Her hesitation faded into memory as her husband moved slowly, gently, within her, driving thoughts of the abduction from her mind. As their passion grew, so did the intensity of his thrusts. A thin sheen of sweat covered their skin as they moved, the stars the only witness to the pleasure of their union.

With a final thrust, driving her deeply into the bed cushions, his release overtook him and left tre trembling in its wake. Arwen whimpered beneath him as life-giving warmth spread throughout her abdomen. He collapsed onto his forearms and pressed heated kisses to her cheek, lips, eyelids.

“With all my heart, Arwen, Amin mela lle {I love you}.” He whispered against her lips.

“And I you, Estel, my husband,” She brushed a few damp strands of hair away from his eyes and smiled at the exhausted look on his face. “My King.” She whispered before pulling his head down to pillow it on her chest. She began to hum an ancient lullaby and she could feel him smile against her breast.

“My mother used to sing that to me.” He smiled tenderly up at his wife as the song reminded him of his mother’s soft voice singing to him as a child.

“As did mine,” Arwen whispered and nuzzled the top of his head with her cheek. “One day, I will sing it to our children.”

His heavy sigh was unmistakable and she tightened her arms around his shoulders. “Soon, love. Gondor will have its heir.”

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A roar thundered across the sky, shaking the very walls. Aragorn groaned in disturbed sleep and Arwen's eyes flashed open in the darkness, wide with fear.

Flashes of lightening lit the room for a quick moment before disappearing behind tark ark clouds. The havens opened and rain spilled from the sky, splattering and exploding against the stone walls of the castle.

Arwen shivered as a chill swept through the room. She burrowed into Aragorn’s embrace in an effort to still the fear creeping in on her senses. She could feel him reach for the coverlet that had been discarded earlier in the evening, and drape it across their shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, sensing, in his slumber, her discomfort. His embrace warmed her skin but nothing could warm the chill closing in on her heart.

“Sounds like a storm has rolled in from the west,” Aragorn mumbled sleepily as another crack of thunder split the sky followed by a quick burst of light.

“The lightening is close.” Arwen whispered, shivering.

Aragorn mumbled, unconcerned. His senses had been dulled in the false sense of security that the castle afforded. There was something out there, something dark and evil. Something just out of reach of her well-tuned elven senses.

Suddenly, Arwen bolted upright, clutching at her stomach, eyes wide as she stared out the window at the swaying trees and the falling rain. “Something is coming.” She whisperher her voice hoarse.

Aragorn sat up and wrapped his arms around his wife, pulling her protectively against his chest. “What do you mean?”

Arwen shook her head and rubbed at the nervousness that had settled in the pit of her stomach. “I don’t know. It's - a cloud, an ever changing flicker in the back of my mind.”

Aragorn settled her back into the cushions and slipped out of bed. He pulled on some loose-fitting breeches, and grasped a sheathed Anduril, as he padded to the window. The breeze ruffled his mussed hair and the pitter patter of rain on the stone tossed droplets into the room.

Far in the distance, a faint movement caught Aragorn’s eye and he strained to see the image more clearly. But, as he tried to focus sleepy eyes on the shadow, it was gone as if it had never been. Crystal eyes narrowed as he looked around the sleeping City and into the forest. The only movements below were the swaying of the trees in the strong wind and the guards quietly pacing atop the castle walls.

“What is it?” Arwen asked, eyes dark as she searched her husband’s face.

Aragorn shook his head and pushed shut the panes on the window to keep out the rain. “It was nothing, just the wind and the thunder combining to create something out of nothing. Go back to sleep.”

As Aragorn padded back to the bed, and pulled his wife into his arms, a screeching could be heard in the distance, carried on the wind. Neither of them spoke of the sound, but Aragorn’s body tensed with a fear he had not felt since a Nazgul dropped out of the sky on its winged steed. The sound – it was inhuman - as its voice cut across the sky like a razor-sharp knife.