Written in response to a Christmas fic challenge.Aragorn/Eowyn goodness.Forgive me for the corny title, and enjoy. :)

Under the Mistletoe

The holiday cheer had simply been too much for the shieldmaiden. The Witch-king had been difficult, but this...

Fighting serious holiday depression, Eowyn had taken a long, long walk away from the warmth, happiness, and utter annoyance of overly celebratory mortals. She had come to a stop here, outside, where it was oh so blessedly quiet, calm and peaceful.

She sat down, not caring about the dress she was wearing and observed her surroundings with a relieved tranquility, until the sprig of leafy greens tied about with a scarlet ribbon caught her eye. It was hanging up, and she cocked her head to one side, pondering why, in fact, this particular vegetable was so honored.

"Aren't you cold?" came a voice that was deep and dark like a burgandy wine from behind her.

Resisting the urge to sigh a little, she replied, "No snow has yet fallen upon the ground, my Lord. It is not so cold."

"Indeed," said Aragorn, king of Gondor and Arnor, "But it will not be long before the snow falls."

"Then, I may re-locate myself. But sitting through a blizzard seems more pleasurable to me than walking down the halls and being blinded by excess amounts of garland and holiday goodness," she said, just a tad bitterly.

"Why, my Lady...you sound...unhappy."

She whipped her head around to see him laughing at her. She suppressed the urge to smile.

"Nay, my Lord, do not deny that is not the reason you are here as well."

"I like it outside," he said simply, and sat down next to her. "What were you staring at?"

Eowyn motioned to the hanging plant. "I was simply wondering what in Eomund's name that was."

Aragorn chuckled. "Merry calls it mistletoe. He has insisted on putting it up everywhere. It is one of the traditional holiday customs in the Shire, it seems."

"Ah. Well, it's...very...pretty," said Eowyn lamely, grinning slightly.

"Mistletoe, however, is not meant to be appreciated by the eye, but by the lips," replied Aragorn suddenly, and Eowyn felt her neck blushing slightly. Oh, hellfire.

"My Lord?"

"Ancient hobbit lore states that young lovers exchange...favors beneath this lovely plant," finished Aragorn, who, by some talent or the fact that he was ninety, did not grin like a little boy.

"How sweet," the shieldmaiden said with a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

They sat there for a long moment in comfortable quiet, breathing in the crisp air of the evening as the sun began to fall. It was Aragorn who first noticed peculiar white precipitation.

"Ah...snow," he said in a satisfied manner. He stood up, looking up at the darkening sigh as the said snow fell like whispers upon the land. Eowyn smiled, and then shivered. He turned to her.

"My Lady," said Aragorn very seriously, "it is not my wish that you actually sit out here and freeze to death in a snowstorm in order to avoid other cheerful humans."

"I confess, that upon seeing this snow, it is not my wish either," she replied, standing up. She took a few steps towards the mistletoe and reached up, softly pulling it down.

"Eowyn?"

"It seems a shame to waste such a...token here where it will only be buried by snow," she said, fumbling with it a little.

When she finally had yanked the mistletoe down, it had occurred to her that he was very, very close to her. She fingered the leaves in her hand nervously as he stood behind her and his voice reached her ears.

"It is only wasted if you make it so."

She slowly turned, clutching the sacred plant, until their eyes met, and Eowyn saw nothing in those eyes that would make her doubt. There was snow all over him by now, on his shoulders, on his shirt, in his hair. It made her smile.

And then he kissed her, softly cupping her face in his hands and then running them through her hair. She dropped the mistletoe on the ground in surprise, letting her hands rise to his arms. It was such a warm kiss, filled with fire that burned in the most exquisite way and left her longing for more long after his lips had been taken from hers.

He held her so close she could feel his heart beating next to hers, and she thought that the snow must be melting off her such was the warmth she felt.

"My Lady, I've a confession to make," she heard his husky whisper against her hair.

"Yes?" She wondered where she found the breath to speak.

"It seems my affection for the outdoors is not my only reason for coming here."