The Price of Pride

A/N: Arwen is coming, I promise, but not until chapter 53.

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Elvish translations

Aniron – I want
Cuaren – my archer
Cuivië – awakening
Isildurion – Isildur’s heir
Pen-velui – beautiful one
Melethron – lover
Tolo – come


Chapter 51


I prepared as carefully for Aragorn’s birthday feast as I had for any of the other feasts I had ever attended in Imladris, for never before had the outcome of the feast been so uncertain. I knew, at Arwen’s Cuivië and every other time I was there with her, that she would choose me at the end of the evening. Or earlier. Aragorn had made no such promise. He had asked me to stand beside him, to support him, but as his friend. I would have preferred to stand there as his lover.

To my surprise, Elrond had me seated at the head table with the family. I was not sitting next to Aragorn, where I would have preferred to sit, but Elladan was good company. Aragorn sat to Elrond’s left. To Elrond’s right, as there had been since she left, was an empty place where Celebrian would have sat had she still been in Arda. This time, there was a second empty place, for Arwen. Elrohir sat between Aragorn and his twin. I conversed lightly with Elladan during the meal, but I was prey to a curious tension. I could feel the eyes of the Imladris Elves on me as we ate, perhaps wondering why I was sitting with the family that night, perhaps wondering at the gold ribbons without the lover’s braids, perhaps wondering at my presence during Arwen’s abse Ar Aragorn

When the feast was over, Elrond rose to propose a toast. “We celebrate a birthday tonight,” Elrond began, “one that we have celebrated for eighteen years. Many of you wondered at my reasoning when I welcomed Gilraen and her baby, but you trusted that I had a reason. You welcomed her and her child, helped me raise Estel as my son. Together, we taught him everything he needed to know, from history,” a nod toward Erestor, “to swordplay,” one toward Glorfindel, “to healing. Two years ago, we celebrated his majority in the ways of Men and Elves. Many of you expected an explanation that night, but none came. For two years, Estel and my sons have wandered Arda, exploring its beauties and fighting its evils. Those two years were a test, though none of them knew it at the time. Could Estel take everything we had taught him and use it, not just in Imladris, not just with Elves, but with any he encountered? My sons tell me that he can and did. Therefore, tonight, I can finally explain the decision I made all those years ago. Tonight I give to you, not Estel, but Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Isildurion and the hope of all Arda.”

Together with all the Elves present, I raised my glass in tribute. I studied faces as I sipped my wine. Glorfindel and Erestor were nodding in agreement. This was obviously no surprise to them. The twins, too, gave no indication of surprise. Aragorn had probably confided in them as he had in me. On the other faces, I saw reactions ranging from pleased surprise to outright shock. There were even a few that might have had disgust on their faces, though I could not tell for sure at such a distance. Many here remembered Isildur and his weakness. Some might now expect the same weakness from Aragorn. I resolved to speak with Erestor, to see if he had found in all his studies any way to increase one’s resistance to Sauron’s evil. Though none had said it at the time, we all knew that the One Ring had not been destroyed and that the only way to completely end the influence of the Shadow was to find and destroy it. Perhaps it would not happen in Aragorn’s lifetime, but if it did, I wanted him to be armed against it as fully as possible.

When the toast had ended, we all moved to the Hall of Fire. It was too cold still to dance outside in the gardens so the party would happen inside. Elladan, Elrohir and I flanked Aragorn as we made our way to the great hall. We remained silent beside him as others came to speak to him, offering our moral support. Most of the comments were friendly, encouraging. After all, these were Elves who had known Aragorn for eighteen years. A change of name did not mean a change of personality.
The more pointed comments were actually directed at me. At the ribbons in my hair. “Your fidelity to the Lady is commendable,” Berianir commented after speaking to Aragorn.
I could feel Aragorn grow tense next to me upon hearing those words, but he said nothing. After two other Elves made similar comments, Aragorn drew me aside. “Is that what they are all thinking, seeing the ribbons in your hair? Do they think you are pining over her?”
“It is certainly possible that they are,” I replied. “We were lovers for many years and never tried to hide it.” The tension gripping him increased.
“You are the one who has avoided telling them that we are lovers now,” I told him. “I have always been willing to be your lover openly, Aragorn. You pulled away from me when we arrived.”
“You know why I did.”
“Do not blame their misconceptions on me. I would have told them, every one of them, as much as I could. Will you let me show them tonight, melethron?”

He nodded. For once, jealousy was good for something. I would tell Aragorn, when I could, that he had no reason to be jealous of Arwen. I would bind to him as I could never bind to her. He would be the one I would spend my life with, for as long as he lived. I could not change my past, but that was where Arwen would stay, except as my friend. Aragorn was my future.

The dancing had begun while we talked in the corner. I led Aragorn into the dancing, guiding him through the familiar steps, smiling and flirting, trying to bring a smile to his face as well. He followed me through the motions of the dance, but did not immediately give me the rest of what I wanted. Still, I cajoled and teased his senses, using the movements of the dance to trail my hand across his neck, to brush my shoulder, my thigh against his. Soon enough, he had abandoned his reserve and was responding. When the dance ended, we returned to the sidelines to watch. I threaded my arm through Aragorn’s, keeping contact with him even as we spoke to others. I felt him tense every time a young or attractive Elf spoke with me, but I did not relinquish his arm, and everyone respected the gold ribbons in my hair. I danced with him several more times, always using the opportunity to ruffle his senses.
When the celebration finally ended and we were walking inside, Aragorn turned to me suddenly. “I have been difficult to live with these past months, have I not?”
“It has not been easy,” I agreed, “but you had your reasons. I understood. I only wish you could understand me as well. I made a promise, E… Aragorn, and I cannot make another until the first is fulfilled.”
“You are right. I do not understand. Not really. I would never keep you from your responsibilities, to your father, to Mirkwood, to this Elf, so I do not see where the problem lies, but I will try to be patient for a few more days.”

I was loath to bring it up, but I felt I had to. “What about your responsibilities, pen-velui?”

“I am an uncrowned King who is unlikely to be crowned. Nor do I want to be. What responsibilities doave?ave?”

“To make sure that there will still be an uncrowned King when you die. I cannot give you that. I cannot give you an heir.” That thought had occurred after Aragorn had left me that morning and had haunted me ever since. Estel could take any mate he desired. Aragorn needed an heir.

“Tonight I do not want to think about responsibilities,” he said flatly. “Tonight I want to think about you. I need you, cuaren.” They were the most beautiful words he had ever said to me. Then, he leaned in and kissed me, the first time he had initiated a kiss since our fight in Rohan. I responded with all the pent-up ardor in my heart. He had consented, over those months, to my kisses, my caresses, but it was not enough. This was what I craved, this meeting of equal desires, equal needs. Of equals.

“Tolo,” he whispered, taking my hand and leading me to his suite of rooms in the family wing. I followed willingly, eager for whatever the night would bring.
When we reached hi rooms and he pulled me into a tight embrace, rubbing against me passionately, I drew back. “Do not rush, melethron. We have all night. Savor the moment.”
He looked at me as If I had lost my mind. “It has been weeks since we last lay together.”
“So it has. That is no reason to do this in haste. Draw this out, melethron. Make love to me as slowly as you can. Make me wait until I am begging for you. Then, make me wait some more. Use your imagination, pen-velui.”
“You want me to…”
“Te, melethron. Aniron.” Oh, how I wanted. His hands, his lips, his body. I wanted it all, offered freely, rather than taken as it had been for so many months. I wanted him to take me. He hesitated still. “Think of it as revenge,” I suggested. That totally scandalized him, judging by the look on his face.

“You were upset with me when you realized that others thought the ribbons referred to Arwen. Make me pay for that. Give me just enough to whet my appetite without giving me what I truly desire. Hold me on the edge for as long as you can.”

He chuckled softly. “That will torture me as much as it will you.”

“But you will have the power to end it, whenever you please. I will be reduced to begging, dependent on your whims.”

“We both know you could take what you want from me at any time.”

“I probably could,” I responded, “except that what I want is to give in to you. You have not said it, but Iw thw that you feel like I have made the decisions about us. I cannot change that, but I can give you this much control, at least. If you will take it.”

“I will take it,” he replied. He glanced around the room appraising the seduction value of different settings and items.