TITLE: Forever in the Palm of Your Hand
AUTHOR: Tha Wrecka
EMAIL: thawrecka@hotmail.com
RATING: PG-13 max
PAIRING: Arwen/Aragorn
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the wonderful characters. They all belong to Tolkien -- and he deserves them more than I do.
FEEDBACK: To the above email address...
SUMMARY: On an early winter morning Aragorn and Arwen look out a window.
NOTES: This is my first LotR fanfic and it's kinda short and possibly a little crappy. [Editor's note: Uh, no...] Aragorn POV.

*

The early morning light touched upon her features, giving her skin a pearlescent glow. Her smooth skin looked paler than ice against the dark waves that tumbled down her back. Her frozen blue eyes looked onto the wintry morning outside through high-arched windows. Despite the white sheet wrapped elegantly around her body she looked cold.

"Come back to bed, love," I said.

She gently moved her face towards me, subtly shaking it 'no', then turned back to looking out the window. One pale hand delicately touched the window, her fingers moving in a mysterious pattern over the glass. Her eyes continued to stare out the window into some neverplace only she could see, graceful tears forming at their edges.

I shifted out of the bed, moving to stand behind her, putting a battle-worn hand on her soft skin, the colour of the glowing moon. I rubbed small circles on her shoulder, hoping to ease. She sighed with all of her being and leaned back against me.

"What is it, love?" I asked.

"'Tis nothing," she replied.

I wrapped my arms around her and she flowed into my embrace, her head coming to rest against mine. Looking through the window, I tried to see what she saw that saddened her. I saw the reconstruction of battered walls and working men scurrying about before their working day. I saw the smoke of industrial chimneys that mingled with the grey mist of the early morning. I saw the endless dusty plains, blackened and charred beyond the city walls. I saw the many volunteers guarding the gates until the soldiers were fully healed.

I looked down to where her milky-white fingers intertwined with mine, our rings gleaming in the light.

"It's beautiful, in it's own way," she said, wistfully.

Looking back up to the window I replied, "Yes, it is."

I turned my face towards hers, dropping a kiss on the high arch of her cheek. She nestled further against my body, a feint smile playing on her lips.

"Come back to bed, love," I said, and this time she smiled, a soft, warm smile that called to the very blood in my veins.

Still, a soft tinge of sadness remained in her eyes, always.

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