The moon glinted in through the windows and shone off of Aragorn's dark hair. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his sleeping breathing. The light of the moon cast a pale silver glow on the arching and curving design of his room and on the white bedsheet. He turned over and his lips moved slightly, speaking in some unknown dream. The door creaked slowly open and closed softly. Feet moved across the floor, and a white gown brushed along the floor with a sound like the whisper of a lover.

Arwen glided across the room and stopped at the bedside, her face serene and her pale skin illuminated with a silver-blue glow of the moonlight, her thin gown covered by a light cloak down which her dark hair cascaded, loose from braids. She let her eyes run over what she could see of his body like a caress, longing to touch him, to love him. She glanced around her and moved closer to him, her long, pale hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. Then she trailed her fingers gently down his cheek and onto his chest, and left them there. She leaned down and brushed her lips over his, and turned to leave. But she found herself turning back to look at him, to watch his chest rise and fall with gentle breaths.

She loved him so much – ever since she had first seen him, weary and already careworn. Her father had attempted to dissuade her, but she would have none of it. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was the only man she would ever love, even if it meant forsaking immortality, forsaking her father, forsaking everything she knew. She would be his wife, even if it meant death.

She bent her knees and gently lowered herself onto the bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling. Her fingers found his hand and held it gently as she closed her eyes and listened to his breathing. After a few moments she rolled over and rested her head on his chest, listening to his heart beating steadily, releasing his hand and resting both of hers on his shoulders.

"I love you, Aragorn," she whispered softly.

After several moments, she felt his hand on her head, stroking her hair gently. "It feels so nice to hear you say that at last," murmured Aragorn sleepily. Arwen started and nearly pulled away, but his hands looped around her and pulled her close again. "Don't leave, please," he said. "I need you here."

She smiled to hear his voice, so low and soothing, and rested her head on his shoulder once again. The night was cold, and the heat of his body was welcome. His hand moved down her back to her waist and held her close to him. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips briefly to hers. She hesitated a moment, then returned the kiss deeply, her arms pulling him closer. His hands moved to undo her dress, and it fell away easily as she leaned into his welcoming arms, her body melting into his.

Tonight, she would pass the night in his arms. Just for tonight, she would give herself to his love.

The moon shone on her pale skin as Aragorn slept in her arms. Her desire for him sated, she dreamed of marriage, and the son that would one day be hers. Tonight, Arwen Evenstar had left her immortality behind.