tagChain StoriesLord of the Rings: Arwen's Dreams

Lord of the Rings: Arwen's Dreams

bysimply_cyn©

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The story is al fictional parody - it's not true, nor is it approved of by the celebrities named in the stories. Authors write these fictitious stories about famous people for the same reason that Larry Flynt made fun of Jerry Falwell, because they can. The Supreme Court of the United States, the country where this site is located, has ruled that parodies involving famous people are perfectly and totally legal under the United States Constitution. The specific case law on this was decided in the case of "Hustler Magazine, Inc. et al. v. Jerry Falwell" in 1988. No harm is intended toward the celebrities featured in these stories, but they are public figures and in being so, they must accept that they are fair target for parodies by the public. We believe in the first amendment, and more broadly, in the basic principle of free speech and this section may push the boundaries of that principle, but the United States Supreme Court has approved of this type of material. We believe that the Supreme Court was correct in their decision.

In the year of the Fall of Sauron, the year 3019 of the Third age or otherwise known by Shire reckoning as 1419, Arwen Evenstar wedded her beloved Aragorn Elessar on a Mid-summer's day. They had realized their dreams and put an end to their grievous partings over the multitudes of years after Aragorn had finally been named King, ruler in all the realms of Arnor and Gondor, save only Rohan where King Eomer fought in battle alongside him. But in the meantime, Arwen's parting from her father Elrond had much troubled her over the years and she was found many nights in tears amid her dreams. When he had grown weary and forsook Middle Earth, they had been sundered from each other by the sea and a doom beyond the end of the world. If it had not been for Aragorn, she might have fallen into despair.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the whispering winds of the night even pressed between silken curtains that hung about her window, Arwen's raven hair twitched in her sleep. The flutter of lashes against porcelain cheeks was the only indication of the lovely elf's slumber and the dreams that accompanied her thoughts. She was illuminated in the silvery mist of the moon's light that wafted in through the open window that lulled her deeper into her memories, like an ancient elvish medicine ...

She found herself once more upon the white stallion, its thunderous hooves beating out the rhythm of her heart as she was swept away by its strength once more. Her robes lost in the horse's gray mane that struck repeatedly at flushed cheeks that were kissed upon Arwen's countenance, her own raven locks intermingled in the wind that was left behind. Where she was going she could not remember and within the dream itself, it mattered not ... only that she was swept away, in a timeless hurry to get to her destination. The pounding of hooves, the rush of the wind that stung at her eyes only served to invigorate her as the sun began to settle on the distant horizon.

And then the dream shifted as she moved in her sleep and she found herself in the bed chambers of Aragorn, gazing down at his sleeping form as if she had appeared suddenly in a vision of soft light. Her heart thudded noiselessly beneath her slightly heaving breasts, so great was his power over her, even in his sleep. She wanted to wake him and beg him to take her once again but there was something ethereal about this moment that she gazed upon him and despite herself, slender fingers reached out to smooth his long hair. A soft moan erupted from her lips as she simply touched him. Where her fingers caressed over his skin was like an electric shock that moved through her entire being, settling in a pool of desire between her legs. She had never been so drawn to a human as she was to this man. Her fingers moved as if caught in a mindset of their own, memorizing the strong contours of his face, the wrinkles that both the wars of Middle Earth and hard times had set upon his countenance, the strong lines of his lips that left her trembling in want.

Arwen reluctantly pulled away her fingers only long enough to slowly loosen the ties on her cloak, its shift from slender shoulders to pool upon the floor at her feet like a wanton caress over heated flesh. Soft moist lips parted reflexively with a soft murmur of his name as she stood in the moonlight at his side, her visage like a ghostly image in the columned room. Was this real? She could reach out and touch him it seemed but then again, she seemed shrouded in an ethereal glow and the thundering hoofbeats of her stallion seemed to still be reverberating in her ears ... or was that her heart?

Moving to stretch out next to him in the bed, her hand slid over his body upwards until curling her fingers around the thin material that separated them, pulled downwards in a languid motion as if by the sheer movement of the sheet, her love ignited a fire in the man that had captured her entire reason for being. She could see the catch in his breath even as he slept and the rise and fall of his chest as her fingers pulled the material lower until it moved over the rise between his chisled legs, proof of his desire even amongst his own dreams. Arwen pressed closer, trembling lips touching lovingly to his temple and then lower below his ear as her fingers released the sheet and slid upwards along his inner thigh, bringing a shift beside her and a flutter of eyelashes until suddenly she was drawn into his gaze, a moment of confusion followed by the sweep of strong arms drawing her into his warm embrace.

Like liquid warmth did their lips meet, lowered lids unnecessary as her fingers and tongue already knew him like a well-traversed road in time. Bodies molded through the passage of time met once more like the meshing of the rainbow's colors after a sudden downpour and once again Arwen was restored through her lover's embrace, his passionate kisses that branded her to him despite their differences in mortality. For this she would give up an eternity of elvish magic and time spent with those that called her family beyond the sea.

And then it was gone ... dusky eyelashes fluttered open beneath the wispy film of curtain that bellowed in like a lover's caress over her exposed form and she suddenly sat up in a myriad of tears that left her voice hollow as it resounded out even in a whisper, "Aragorn ..."

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