Author's Note; Hey guys :-) Just thought I ought to address a lil grammar I'm usin' here (thank you EbonyBeach for mentionin' it) In my stories, you may notice I use the spelling 'elfs' and 'dwarfs' instead of 'elves' and 'dwarves' – this is because somewhere (I think on an extended LOTR DVD) I heard that's how the language professor JRR Tolkien, wished that those be the spellings in his world of MiddleEarth. I'm not fully sure if I've got it the wrong way around or not, so if anyone can enlighten me, I'd be more than happy. THANK YOU all so much for reading and a special thanks to my reviewers – it means a lot to me!

EbonyBeach– Your review has introduced me to your excellent your and fab homepg, and may I just say WOW!

Lia – and your bother of going to read my other story and praise has left me with a huge smile :-) You've made my day!

BubbleSheep – Thnx for takin' the time to review and I really appreciate your encouragement. Hope ya enjoy the ramblin' I've unleashed below (You have been warned – LOL!)

SportsNightNut – Well my darlin', it's so good to hear from you, and my mail will be workin' on Fri – Woohoo:-) I have not abandoned my TKAM fic, just slowed down a lil on it…. The first chapter will be up as soon as I get to my own comp., so that'll be soon, and it'll be for you xxxx

Chapter 2

"ADAR!" all three children cried at seeing the dominant figure at the door. They leapt from their dwellings and ran towards him with the greatest urgency. In turn, the King's dry smile turned to a wide beam and he stood with open arms. Of course, Sadriel, being the baby, was lifted into a spinning embrace of her father before the other two grasped each leg.

"Ada, you are soaking!" the toddler exclaimed in surprise.

"So I am," Aragorn replied in a gentle mock, kissing her forehead, "I apologise daughter." Sadriel was released from the secure grasp, saved from any extra dampness and she opted to hold his large cold hand instead. After each were greeted and had received their kiss, Elraen, adopting her usual role of leader, led the crew forward into the nursery.

There was a pause as the King saw what might have been a battle-zone in front of him. "Well…It certainly looks busy in here…." he pointed out in his rich low voice, glancing around at the 'colourful' array. "Tell me – what have you done since morning?"

No sooner had he finished his sentence, the three high voices squeaked unanimously, each bursting to tell their adventures of the day. Aragorn could only make out them telling him it was 'raining since early', something of a broken village and 'extra-bad' orcs. He however, in good manners, smiled and nodded diligently before lifting his head to meet his wife's glittering eyes across the room. She smirked slightly in reply as she made a start on Bell-Bell's arm.

Her husband did not look so regal in his drenched attire, but rather dishevelled. The elements of the outside had mussed his wavy chestnut hair into tight strands. His state of clothes seemed as if he had been undressing. Aragorn was donned only in an open dark brown waistcoat, with a rich green garment under it. The light, cotton piece had a withered collar and half-rolled sleeves. It's bottom was barely tucked into his trousers, falling out and nearly covering his leather belt. It was only when he went to the stables or whilst attending to any labouring duty that he wore black trousers, and Arwen noticed he had them on him today. They too, were severely wet. Upon further examination, she saw Aragorn had discarded his footwear. She rolled her eyes in defeat. No wonder she found it difficult to hold her son responsible for his similar habit.

"What beautiful paintings!" Aragorn remarked kindly upon having to return to the attention of his offspring with colourful pages being placed into his hands. "Is this yours, Elraen?"

The 8-year-old hid her bashful face, "It is only the city – and Sadriel dropped some water on it, so it is rather smudged."

He admired her attention to detail as he counted all seven tiers of white stone. "This is excellent, daught……

"Look at mine, Ada, look at mine!" the small chirpy voice interrupted. Sadriel hopped up and down, impatiently awaiting her turn for her father's praise.

Aragorn lifted the top page to find another, full of various bright shapes. So busy was the picture that he was not sure what he should be seeing. However, he did not want to deprive his youngest of encouragement. "This is very lively, Sadriel. I especially like….this bit here."

"Your holding it upside down, Ada!" she interrupted again in correction. She stopped her bobbing and reached for his hands to make the required adjustments.

Though there didn't seem to be much change in the content, the King was desperate to redeem himself. "Ah, how careless of me. Now I see….I believe you may have invented some new colours!"

It did the trick as the toddler grinned with delight.

"I shall have them displayed in my office quarters for all my guests to see!" The King was denied a longer response with the sudden impact of a wild five-year-old growling boy jumping onto his back. Given little choice but to partake, Aragorn entertained the playful lad, "Ohh, what's this! There seems to be some sort of orc on top of me – Elraen, Sadriel, lets take him out!"

Instead, the sisters chose to side with Eldarion and they too joined in on the attack on the King of Gondor. Arwen found herself giggling along with the joyous squeals that filled the room. The three younglings managed to stumble their father onto the large, cushioned arm-chair which stood against the far wall. The man's cries of mercy did little help as the relentless children proceeded to squeeze and smother him,

"Will the Queen not assist her husband?" he barely heeved amongst the madness, waving for his wife's aid. For a minute, she continued to sit in silence, only giving a sinister smile in answer. She enjoyed the playful act she witnessed, and believed it done the King some good to indulge in some light-hearted fun. With his rigid schedule and heavy duties, it wasn't often in which Aragorn could forget the weight of royal protocol. Though he was a just, fair and most praised King, Aragorn's nature was often more reserved and serious in his role. As she watched him engage openly with Elraen, Eldarion and Sadriel in carefree laughter, she saw a side to him that none of the court would ever see.

Unable to let him be tortured any longer, the elegant elf put aside her sewing and made her way to the action. "Come on now children, you've bruised your father enough for one day."

After some more enticing, the worn foursome lay spread across the chair. Arwen eased the reluctant children from on top of their father and succeeded in her rescue. "Come and tidy the nursery before you get dressed for dinner. It shan't be long."

"You are lucky Naneth saved you, Ada!" Eldarion panted. The mischievous glint in his eyes boasted his pride in his victory. In most cases, the King would be more than a match for all three, somehow able to restrain them all at the same time with an iron grip.

Aragorn openly agreed, "Yes son, I am. I'm sure you know of the women's stubborn ways by now, and it was wise of you to cease when she asked….Never fight against a lady – instead, let her believe she has won!" he teased in a whisper, lifting himself to the large fireplace and walking a safe distance from his wife.

Aragorn squatted at the opening and threw some sticks onto the nearly faded embers whilst Arwen and the children hastily cleared the mass of toys into neat boxes. Once they had finished, he overheard his wife desperately trying to send the trio to go to their chambers and prepare for dinner. They made any excuse in which they could think of which might allow them to delay in the nursery. Though dinner was not due for another two hours, it took them such a length to get ready. In return for her previous aid, however slow it may have been, it was now the King's turn to help his wife.

"I request someone would run to the kitchens and find for me what we will be eating for dinner – does any of you think you could fulfil my important task?" he said, finally getting the flames to blaze. As he looked slightly over his right shoulder, he saw the children run to his side

"I will, I can!" each of them cried eagerly.

It worked perfectly. "Since it is quite a big kitchen, perhaps you can all go….if it is not too much trouble?"

No sooner had he completed the sentence, Elraen had grabbed her little sister's hand dashed for the door. Eldarion, not to be outdone by the girls, was just behind them.

As the echo of hasty galloping and high-strung frivolity eventually faded through the large corridors, a serene silence enraptured the room.

Finally, pleased with his fire, Aragorn brushed his hands, straightened and turned to a now significantly transformed nursery. To his surprise, the place was neatly cleaned in a matter of minutes. As he took in the tidy scenery, he couldn't help but look upon the refined figure that stood quietly over near the narrow window. He kept his gaze on her as he moved forward to sit in the large cushioned chair.

She too kept her eyes locked on him whilst she watched him fall back into the seat. He looked suddenly worn as he sprawled limply across the comfortable furniture and placed his heavy head into his hand. He gave a half-hearted smile before outstretching a lazy hand in her direction. It was a call that needed no words.

Arwen crept to him to meet his invitation and she eased herself into sitting across his lap before melting into his secure arms. She placed a mild hand below his shoulder as he sighed in reaction. His breathing was laboured due to the biting cold of outside and he was cold and weathered, drenched from the rain.

Her eyes stayed with his, and continued to do so in the radiating heat of the fire before them. They had long gone beyond the point of needing conversation to communicate. Looking deep into his crystal stare, she saw his weary state. She saw the noble King of Gondor, the brave warrior, the lonely ranger, the mortal man, the wonderful husband and doting father. She saw Aragorn. Arwen's full rouged lips turned into a subdued smile as she moved her delicate hand to place a stray strand of wet hair back into place.

He loved her unearthly touch. Looking into her large, olive eyes, he saw the unlimited warm love and support she always provided. He saw the fair Queen of Gondor, the beautiful Evenstar Princess, the pristine Elf, the dedicated wife and loving mother. He saw Arwen. In every situation, the hope she possessed never failed to pass onto him. She was an eternal light, to him and all of Middle Earth.

"They never listen to me," she finally spoke.

Relaxed in the lulled room, the King had not the energy to realise the obvious. He looked to her in confusion, "Whom do you say?"

"The children," she half-smiled, "I had pleaded with them countless times before you had to speak only the once for them to do as they were told." The obedience and conduct of the prince and princesses with the presence of their father never ceased to amaze her. He hardly had to utter a word before they'd do as he wished.

"Ah," he waved his hand, "let it not worry you. After all, you are not the one who wields a sword all day." Aragorn light-heartedly consoled, suddenly wincing and shifting uncomfortably beneath his wife. He lifted slightly and adjusted himself as he pulled out a small toy soldier from under him.

"Perhaps we should change that," the elf giggled as she saw one of the familiar metal figures. "Your son has a liking to taking advantage of all the space that is available to him – and the space that is unavailable….he caused some upset earlier with his sisters."

"What trouble has he made this time?"

"Oh, it was all solved. A doll lost an arm, but that is the only injury. Tell of your day then, my Love." Arwen rested her head against her husband's cheek and relaxed into his sturdy supporting arm. She was also rather tired after watching three toddlers for the day. As she lay bewitched in his embrace and listening to the crackling blaze before her, there was nowhere else she'd possibly rather be.

"We had planned a meeting with the city's defence units, but it was too wet to have them travel up to the palace. Instead, I suggested some of us might go out into the stables and tend to the horses. The hay roof could not sustain the heavy rain and it severely leaked, so we did what we could to repair it."

Arwen only smiled to herself at his reply. The King was very passionate about nature and animals, and he especially loved his horses. They, in turn, appeared to love him as a rare rapport developed between them and their master. "I'm sure your son would have liked to have joined you. He's as bad as you for his care of horses….You know, he loves his toy versions," the Queen coyly remarked as if out of the blue.

"Yes, he has quite a lot."

"Yes, a lot. He has so many that he could…..perhaps……enact big significant battles."

Not knowing where his beloved was going with her dangerous smirk and conversation, Aragorn warily agreed, "Yes…that would sound somewhat normal to me, my Love."

"Well, Eldarion was having such a game today….." She stopped for silence, taking her time in her torture. Aragorn was looking usually nervous and she cruelly decided to take full advantage of the situation. "He had a big army of 'super' orcs fighting against a smaller army of the 'wonderfullest' King of Gondor."

Her husband smile proudly, "I should like to have joined in the game with him….It sounds entertaining."

"The men were defending a large stone fortress under siege."

His grin suddenly fell thin. He was caught!

"Would you happen to know where he heard about the battle Helm's Deep?" she quipped, her eyes dancing with a victorious mischief.

It took some time before her husband could answer. He did not need to speak, as his guilty demeanour did so for him. But, of course, Aragorn, son of Arathorn and King of Gondor, never gave up even the smallest thing without trying. "I…he…..it..he.. it must have been Gimli! Yes – he and Legolas constantly recall the battles gone by, telling them to Eldarion," he remarked, his words gradually speading with confidence, "I have asked them to wane their unnecessary storytelling, but you know dwarfs and el…those two. I shall speak to them of the matter."

"Be sure that you do," Arwen said, raising her brows in the entertainment of his fable. "And don't forget - you still have to bring Eldarion on a ride-around. He's getting more and more restless with the simple toys. Perhaps if you bring him soon, some dolls may be saved of poor 'Bell-Bell's' fate. "

"As promised, I will - I expected it was far too wet to bring him outside today," Aragorn answered matter-of-factly, staring at the blistering fire.

"But not for you, of course," Arwen mocked, lifting her head, "I had guessed you ventured outside - you're absolutely soaking!"

"So Sadriel has told me," he smiled, extending his right arm to survey his damp, wrinkled sleeve. The material was not strong and it became flimsy in its contact with water.

Arwen squeezed his collar in estimating just how saturated his garments were, "You cannot stay in these much longer," she said, using her authoritive voice as she lowered her hand to discover his trousers were as bad, if not worse, "You'd better change, you'll become ill before long if you remain in those for much longer…."

Aragorn made no indication of getting up from the cushioned seat. He just moved his limp head to her and gave his mischievous smirk, "Hiril nin (my Lady), since when did you need an excuse to undress me?"

She could not help but gaze upon his rugged face as she giggled. The orange glow of the flames highlighted the small glittering droplets which fell from his gorgeous dark locks, down upon his bristled cheek. Some ran past his chin and onto his partly displayed firm chest, and it was a sight in which enchanted her. "Just as I have requested the children must change their clothes for dinner, it seems I must apply this to you also."

"You know," he replied in a hushed tone as he pulled his blushing wife closer, placing his free hand across her silken-covered legs, "I was in the middle of changing before I decided to visit the nursery – I came as I figured you do a better job of undressing me than I myself do…."

She raised a single slender finger to trace a falling bead of water that trailed down his strong jaw, and followed it delicately along his rough neck before it came still upon his collarbone. Arwen then flattened her soft hand and rubbed slightly further south, moving inside his quarter-open top and continued along his defined muscular chest. "It comes from years of practise, my Lord," she teased before leaning forward to meet his cold, moistened lips for a second. "You should really go change…..If you become sick, I shan't attend to your whining as I did last Spring. You are not a good patient!"

"I will not fall ill – I've lived through much worse than some rain…," The King impatiently countered, before he leant close to her again, adding in a devilish whisper, "And, I hope to be rid of my attire soon." Unable for further restraint, his lips covered hers, and Arwen was denied a spoken reply.

Their mouths moulded together in slow, seamless movement, and he sat forward to deepen the kiss. He turned his head in a bid for dominance and as he came forward in the chair, he eased his wife into the seat. Keeping a secure arm around her, he did not dare break the embrace. Their sensual engagement harmonised as she returned his deepening passion with a firm hand grip and massage his solid shoulder.

God, he loved her touch. The heat emitted from their connection surpassed easily that of a roasting fire. It was so rare for him to have her all to himself, as either he was too busy, constantly under watch of the palace security or they were surrounded by three significant children. This much welcomed opportunity to claim his wife as his own was a treat he most definitely wanted to indulge in.

Her porcelain skin tingled with his tender strokes along her back and her heart beat rapidly against his hungry, yet tame, broken kisses. He moved her ebony waves carefully behind her shoulder and trailed his warm mouth from her full lips down along her bare neck. Her eyes remained shut in deepening pleasure as she limbered under him in order to fully appreciate every touch. Too often was she denied his desirable, intimate affections.

Alas, as the first button of her elaborate dress was opened, it was to be the last. All sensation and movement stopped as Aragorn suddenly sat himself rigid and upright above her. Arwen became bemused with his quick cease. Her original sense of rejection, however, was replaced with more addled thoughts as she watched her husband crouch his shoulders and tense his whole body.

His face became winced and his breathing turned from short breaths into heavy heeves. His nose then began to twitch and of it's own accord, his head arched back before darting forward in a rapid shot, "AAATCCHOOOOOOOO!"

He blinked and sniffed as his face stretched to find it's more regular shape. No sound was made at first, incase he was to sneeze again, but when the preceding seconds safely passed, his frame relaxed. His head had already begun to feel a burdening weight.

Arwen's disappointment turned into sympathy upon meeting his apologetic eyes and she pulled herself out from beneath him and up from the comfort of the chair. She fixed her gown and kept an examining gaze upon her ill husband. Despite expelling the role of nurse earlier, she could not help herself. "I shall firstly go get you some new clothes, and then fetch you a blanket."

"I'm fine…." He began before a delicate hand pressed his burning forehead in interruption.

"Then I'll make my way to the kitchens and request a hot soup for dinner," she said. Though she made it sound like a logical idea, Arwen's suggestions were always an order.

He sniffed again and nodded in defeat. The King watched her turn and make her way across the glowing room to the large wooden door. She attempted to pull the chunky circular clasp, but instead, she paused for a moment before turning her head back to see him.

"Y'know, I hate being always right!" she sighed.