A/N: Welcome to 'The Light of Arwen's Love'. This is the first fanfiction I began writing, years ago now when I was thirteen. As you can tell from the dates, I finished it several years later when I was eighteen. Subsequently the quality of my writing is significantly better after the first ten or so chapters. Though I have since edited them to improve them somewhat, I urge you to PLEASE bear with me in the first few chapters because I promise that the story gets many times better from about chapter eleven onwards! I hope you like the story and please do leave a review at whatever point you finish reading, it means so much to me to hear your comments and your feedback is invaluable to help me improve in the future, however many years on. Thank you and – enjoy :-)

The Light of Arwen's Love

Chapter 1 – Arwen's Secret

Arwen sighed deeply and her eyes watered slightly. She lightly touched Aragorn on his emerald-cloaked shoulder, but he instantly felt the faintest touch. He turned round to smile at her, a little worry in his expression. Whilst he finished talking to Faramir, she gazed up at the tall windows set along the stone walls of the great hall. The darkness out there was in powerful contrast to the flames of the flickering torches that were scattered throughout the hall.

There were still a fair number of people there at the feast, but it had long ago officially finished, and now most of them were eagerly huddled round one of the long tables where there was a contest of seeing who could drink the most and stay up the longest. Arwen sighed again and smiled – such simple amusement! There was a huge roar as one of the contestants toppled off the table, landing with a thud amongst many empty flagons.

As the raucous laughter erupted, Aragorn stepped away from their friends.

"Tired already?" he laughed, then took her hand. "Come on, let's go up. They will be fine," he added, as Éowyn and the Steward moved over to the ale-consumed men.

He chuckled to himself again, and then led Arwen slowly up the hall, round his high throne, to a beautifully carved archway. They stepped under this, and then climbed up a few steps, the roars soon fading away. The couple came to a strong oak door, which Arwen gently pushed and they came in together.

Their circular room in the white tower was softly lit by three small flame torches, and this night there was no need for a fire in the grate. The bed covers were smoothed out and there was fresh water in a pale blue jug on a low wooden table. The light airy curtains over the windows flew in the air movement of the door, and then were still.

Arwen quickly twisted a small silver key in the lock, and then turned back. She found that Aragorn was watching her every move with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Arwen smiled and looked down at the soft sheepskin rug tickling her bare feet, and, slowly coming closer to the bed, started to take her light sky-blue and well-cut dress off, which Aragorn himself had always thought was rather attractive. Now he watched her with complete fascination and only absent minded began to unfasten his elven cloak and pull off his trousers.

Arwen went over to her pillow and lifted it up. Underneath it there was something white, and when she took it out it unravelled itself to reveal it being a long flowing nightdress. She then approached Aragorn, who had hurriedly taken his top off and pulled his deep red nightshirt on. He took the nightdress from Arwen, and as she lifted her arms up he gently put it over her and tugged it down. When it had fallen and hung on her perfectly, like a princess of dreams, she brought her deep eyes up.

Aragorn nearly melted on the spot. He looked like he had seen the fairest thing in existence (which could be argued as true). Luring her closer, she slid her arms over his broad back, and suddenly Aragorn pressed a very intimate kiss to her soft lips. They cuddled together, feeling each other's warm breath on their cheeks, letting their eyes close and see places only they knew, far from anyone else, away from the distant talk in the hall, away from Minas Tirith; up in gardens of the moon lit by stars, and they walked together under calming sounds of the trees, and water lapped at their ankles, and jewels shone in their hair.

But suddenly Arwen drew away, and moved her hands down onto his heaving chest.

Aragorn was worried, it was clear in his gaze, and he soothingly fondled her silky hair. Yet Arwen still seemed unsure, and she did not look into his eyes, rather she kept hers fixed firmly downwards. Aragorn breathed out noisily, trying to think of the best thing to do. He didn't want her to be like this; he had always known her as a brave but sweet elf-maiden, full of hope. It was very peculiar for him to see her chewing her lip and not smiling when they were in such close proximity, disturbingly frightening. As he watched her, he saw that she seemed to be deciding whether to say something to him or not.

Then she moved her lips closer, though this time past his own. His hair brushed his face, tickling him and giving him a brief smile.

"Aragorn," she whispered in his ear, so quietly that not even had another elf been in the room could he have heard. "…I have something to tell you."

He was slightly puzzled, but Arwen bit her lip again, and before he could question her she suddenly ran to a little door next to them in the north-east part of the wall, and leapt up the spiralling stairs, running round and round and round, until finally she came out onto the top of the tallest tower in their realm. The white stone under her feet was freezing, and a slight northerly breeze was blowing, yet she wasn't cold, but still rather warm.

She walked a couple paces over to the eastern wall and held each of her arms. Standing so still she felt her heart pumping strongly and it began to unnerve her. She was already worried, scared of what Aragorn would think, afraid that he would not be happy. Her eyes started to water and her heart was beating faster and faster. She was breathing heavily and, although she tried to soothe herself, she couldn't stop trembling. Thoughts flew through her head, but none of them helped her and she looked helplessly around. Then she looked up. Her quick sight turned to a gaze, and her body softened out.

There was the moon in its full beauty, the beacon of the night, so bright and perfect. The silvery white was the purest colour Arwen had ever seen. It was set up there in the deep night sky, a heavenly jewel shining with reverence and love. She had often fixed herself to it in the troubled days not far gone, and it had given her subtle strength, and she had learned to love its glistening, swirling mists.

And even now the Lady Evenstar felt peace wash through her body, and her mind was cleansed by her ray of hope. The wind blew in her hair, and immediately the veil that had shrouded the sleeping city fell away, and she could see many things below which gave her memories of joy and happiness.

A hand gently came to rest on her left shoulder, and she turned round to see Aragorn's concerned face.

"Estel," she called him softly, and she smiled whilst giving him her hand. His face relaxed a little, and he took her away from the edge of the tower and into the middle. They brought their hands up and held them between their two chests, as if linking their hearts together at that exact moment.

They were very close now, and if any had seen the couple from below, they would have thought them as one. Arwen moved one hand up and held it lightly against Aragorn's head, seeing the ripples of his dark hair flowing on her hand and feeling the short bristles under her palm.

Then she sensed that he was moving one hand slowly down her body, starting from her chest, and exaggerating her seductive figure with his healing hands. Aragorn knew this enticed her and she just could not resist, and whilst she felt sexier, he appeared in her eyes more attractive too.

Nevertheless, then, as he moved his hand over her stomach, she felt a very curious tingling sensation and she shuddered, taking her hand from his face. But Aragorn mistakenly took it to be a shiver, and that his heart's most dear treasure was cold. So he wrapped his strong Ranger arms around his maiden and brought her closer.

Arwen gazed up into his eyes, and to her great surprise found that, although his face had softened, there was a deep fear for her there, and she felt moved.

Just as she was about to look away, he gave a small sigh, which he did often, and quietly said simply, "Arwen." He touched her face and felt the long sleek hair he knew so well.

Arwen breathed shakily, getting ready to tell him. She blinked, and still saw those curious, yet understanding eyes pouring into her soul.

She took a breath, and said, in that voice which Aragorn loved, "I'm pregnant."