Chapter Text
"Ouch!" Arwen yelped, wriggling helplessly at the sharp swats landed unfaltering on her bottom. "Is so much enthusiasm really...OWWW...NECESSARY?!!"
Aragorn didn't pause. In fact, he just tilted his beloved further over his knee, revealing the still-pale undercurve of her bottom, and beginning to direct his firm smacks to the white flesh, rapidly turning it a bright pink. "You know it is," He told his betrothed, regret mixed with lingering worry and affection in his voice, "You know enough of a soldier's trade to know not to go rushing into an engagement like that! Eru, I could have LOST YOU!" At that last, Aragorn smacked his hand down especially firmly on the tender undercurve of Arwen's bottom.
Arwen Undomiel yelped indignantly, arching her back and wriggling fiercely enough to escape, if her beloved's hold on her had been any less an iron grip, his muscular arm around her slender waist. "I...thought that...YOU...were...in danger!" Arwen complained, scissoring her legs, and then yelling, "Aaah!" as that only seemed to expose new spots for the attention of Aragorn's hard hand.
"I was the bait!" Aragorn snapped back, continuing to smack his future wife's reddening backside. "Halbarad, Elegos, and I are the fastest runners, that's why! The rest of the force was waiting, ready to intercede when the Enemy was over-committed! The twins were with you, and they knew not to come rushing into our AMBUSH!"
"I KNOW!" Arwen yelped, "I KNOW, I MADE A MISTAKE! It's been a long time since I was a soldier! That doesn't mean I have a hide of iron!" As Aragorn's hand continued it's relentless assault, alternating between either cheek, undercurve, and then spending extra time on her sit spots, Arwen burst into tears, "You're...being...." Arwen couldn't think of any polite words strong enough to adequately convey how unimpressed she was with her future husband at this moment, so she used a very bad word. Several of them, actually.
Almost growling in male frustration, Aragorn retorted, "Just because I worship you, does not mean that I'm willing to let you make a mistake like that with no consequence! If you're going to join us in battle, EVER AGAIN, you will be MUCH MORE CAREFUL." Each word was enforced with a stinging smack to Arwen's already flaming bottom.
Arwen gave up arguing, and just sobbed. For a few moments she didn't even realize that her ordeal was over, then she was cuddled oh-so-carefully in her love's arms, and his gentle hand was wiping her tears away.
"I'll start....practicing...regularly, again." Arwen offered, hiccuping, "And listening more closely, when Glorfindel, Halbarad, Elegos, Ethiron, you and the twins talk strategy."
Aragorn leaned his forehead against hers, grateful, so grateful, to still have her, "Arwen, I don't care whether you're more careful, or whether you just don't fight again. I know you have been a warrior, and a good one, in the past. But you know I'd prefer that your sword stays hung up."
Arwen pinched him, and it was Aragorn's turn to yelp, and then Arwen's again, as Aragorn smacked her throbbing bottom gently.
"Quiet, meleth." Aragorn half-pleaded, "I'm trying to explain how I'm feeling, and I'm not eloquent."
"Well," Arwen retorted, "You're not above saying that you're not, to lower expectations. But go ahead. I'm listening." She was entirely too well-spanked not to be a somewhat obedient future wife, at least in this exact moment. Although Aragorn might well be sleeping in her brothers' room at the inn tonight. Arwen still hadn't decided yet.
Aragorn cupped Arwen's luminous face gently in his hand, and told her quietly, "You are my faith. Without you, I...don't think I could continue. So, keep that in mind. Whatever you decide."
Eyes widening, Arwen leaned forward, her lips meeting his. When they parted, breathless with hope and tears and relief, she told him, "That's too much, meleth. Too much to ask of me."
He smiled back, bittersweet, he who had never been given a choice, in having too much asked of him. Arwen's heart went out to him, again, and she promised, "As long as you live, I will stay out of the conflict, unless my sword may make a difference."
It wasn't the promise Aragorn would have wanted. It wasn't the result Arwen would have wanted, either, even starting out from her weak, and rather rosy-bottomed, position.
Seeing the amusement in one another's eyes, Arwen, who really was the more eloquent of the two of them on most days, murmured softly, "Compromise and laughter are the soul of a good marriage, or so I'm told." Her cousin-by-marriage Minaethiel had said that once, and her father Elrond had agreed, more recently. When he stopped hating the idea of her and Aragorn together. Sighing deeply, Arwen added, "I suppose this is one of our first compromises, meleth-nin."
Aragorn laughed softly, "Oh, so I'm not 'an orc fornicating with his own progenitors in a cesspit,' anymore, as I was but ten minutes ago?"
Chuckling, and putting a hand back to gingerly rub her still burning bottom, Arwen apologized, "No, you are my own dear love. Even if you have a hand of iron." Arwen refused to make the comparison between the spanking she'd just gotten from her future husband, and the many she'd received as a younger elleth from her father and brothers. She was not going to think of that.
Stroking her hair, Aragorn comforted, "I don't blame you. I gave you a thorough enough lessoning to merit some cursing. I actually called Adar that once, while he was strapping me, one of the first times he'd used a strap on me. I didn't know what it meant, which is the only thing that saved me from an even more memorable bottom-warming. As it was, Elrohir got in a lot of trouble."
Arwen huffed a laugh, because she'd first learned those words from Elrohir, too. Then she caught her betrothed's wrist in a firm but not cruel grip, stopping Aragorn's hand before it could join her own in trying to soothe the fire he'd lit on her bottom, not fifteen minutes ago.
"No." Arwen said firmly, "Or at least not yet. You go take a walk, or something. I may...may, welcome you back in an hour or so. But not yet."
With that, Arwen got up off of his lap, carefully toeing off her leggings. Standing in just her tunic, she shook her head at her future husband's pout. "No, meleth. I do not dispute your right, as the leader of the men whose ambush I nearly ruined, or as my future husband, to have called me to account in such a fashion this night. But I will be your wife, not your dog, and I need some time to myself, just now."
Aragorn sighed, pain fighting with desire and lingering relief in his eyes, "I don't want you out of my sight." He argued.
"Tough." Arwen Undomiel replied, pointing to the door, as she ordered, "Out."
Aragorn crossed his arms, still sitting on the room's narrow bed, then stood up, arms going to his sides, and tried another tactic, "You look incredibly desirable with a bright red bottom. And I want to kiss it better. Let me stay, and give you comfort. Please."
"Out." Arwen repeated, "You can come back in an hour. If I'm feeling better, I'll let you share this poor excuse for a bed with me, and, of course, its native inhabitants." Arwen wasn't fond of fleas, but this time in the spring, sleeping outside they were just as likely to be bitten by insects, or even rained on.
Aragorn sighed, and obediently headed for the door, saying in parting, "I'm glad that you're not a fragile elleth. Even if you gave me the greatest fright of my life this night."
Arwen huffed, amused again despite herself, "You're glad I'm less of a female than Elladan and Melpomaen, who would complain more than I do about meeting you in towns too small to have a decent inn, or even in swamps, or wherever you are."
Grinning, and hoping for a reprieve, Aragorn complained, "Aye, they DO complain more." It was true enough, anyway.
"Out. Back in an hour." Arwen repeated, but her eyes held more of a smile, and Aragorn felt better about his chances in an hour.
Walking towards the inn's small common room, Aragorn was more than a little surprised to note a dark shape approaching stealthily behind him, but he immediately whirled to engage it.
As he did that, a second, unseen shadow tackled him, and he found himself over Elrohir's shoulder, as the older twin crowed, "'Dan, muindor-laes saw you!"
"I know," Elladan agreed with mixed pride and insult, "He's growing up."
Aragorn groaned, "I'm nearly four times my majority, you ..." Aragorn used the phrase Arwen had used earlier, to describe both twins, annoyed by Elrohir's carrying him into the stable, as if Aragorn himself was a bale of hay, or a sack of potatoes, rather than the Chieftain of the Dunedain of Arnor.
Elrohir chuckled, "Tut, tut, muindor-laes. What did Ada say he'd do if he heard you say that again?" Elrohir tipped Aragorn down, but used his own body to hold his young human foster-brother in a bent-over position that was glumly familiar for Aragorn.
"No!" He protested vociferously, "I didn't do anything wrong! Arwen deserved to be smacked, and we all agreed that it was my place!"
"This isn't about Arwen," Elladan reproved, as he yanked Aragorn's trousers down.
"This is about baby brothers who didn't listen to their fellow rangers, about it being a bad idea for the Dunedain's one-and-only heir of Isildur to play bait, even if he is such a very fast runner." Elrohir added, as Elladan lifted Aragorn's tunic, baring the heir of Isildur's bottom to the cool night air.
"Elegos talks too cursedly much." Aragorn complained grumpily.
"Hmm, Halbarad said much the same." Elladan noted with a half-sympathetic, half-reproving grin, "But he was good enough to gather you a birch at the same time he made his own. I'll warm you up first, so it won't hurt as much."
"Oh, thank you." Aragorn said dryly, bracing himself for Elladan's firm hand, which wasn't long in landing on his bottom. Soon enough, the heat in Aragorn's bottom was such that he'd stopped noticing the chill of the air. Not much after that, he felt a birch rest lightly, in warning, on his already sore bottom. He knew it was going to sting like a swarm of bees.
"Two dozen, muindor-laes." Elladan warned him, before flicking the birch to land the first of the relatively mild strokes. Aragorn yelped, because it was just his brothers and the horses, and none of them would think less of him. And because the birch stung exactly as much as he'd feared it would.
Yelping and wriggling at least as much as Arwen had over his lap, just a little while ago, Aragorn endured his birching. By the time he'd counted the tenth stroke, Aragorn was quite grateful for Elrohir's firmly but gently holding him in place. When the last stroke fell, the twins gave their young foster-brother a moment, then helped him to right his clothing, and pulled him into a three-way embrace.
"We have to tell Adar." Elladan informed him.
"But we'll tell him that we took care of it." Elrohir assured him, with a gentle kiss to Aragorn's brow.
Sniffling manfully, Aragorn asked, "About me, or about Arwen rushing the count?"
The twins both winced, "We vote for not telling Ada, about Arwen." They said, at the same time.
Aragorn stared. Such a united front was rare, from his twin foster-brothers.
"We don't want to worry him. Ada's family has this...history, with stupidly locking up their beloved daughters, despite said daughters being powerful and dangerous ladies in their own right." Elladan explained.
"Plus, lock Arwen up and keep her out of things, and she's liable to do something..." Elrohir paused, as if searching for words to adequately convey how bad of an idea he thought that would be.
Elladan reminded Aragorn, "It is important that you remember, muindor-laes, that Arwen was named Undomiel not just for her beauty, but for..."
Elrohir contributed, "for a certain aura of power about her. It's not just you that Arwen reminded of Luthien Tinuviel. Daernana Galadriel says that there's a resemblance, too. Something more than skin deep."
Elladan said intently, "Elrohir and I, and Daernana, for that matter, think Arwen the most potentially dangerous of all of our Adar's children."
Elrohir continued,"Tonight, well, everyone makes mistakes, muindor. And 'twas nearly a thousand years ago that she last bore arms into battle a-purpose."
Aragorn winced, "That long...and yet she nearly made it so that we didn't need the ambush." Arwen had required rescue, 'ere the end, but she'd been devastatingly effective, a beautiful whirlwind of death. Though she routinely lost practice bouts to the twins with good cheer, tonight she'd been the equal of the two of them, and more, all by herself.
The twins nodded solemnly, and Elladan tried to explain, "And that's not even what we mean, really. You call Arwen your faith, and...she can be that, because she does believe in you, and you need that."
"But, muindor, if you fail..." Elrohir paused again, seeking words, and at last saying, "If matters work out as we fear rather than as we hope, Arwen may well be Sauron's fate."
"Not by herself," Elladan hastily elaborated, as Aragorn's expression grew panicked at the thought that if he died, Arwen might go after Sauron herself, "She's not stupid, but...she can organize, muindor."
"Mostly Arwen has never truly committed herself to anything for very long." Elrohir agreed, "But when she does, she is..."
"Impressively, scarily effective." Elladan supplied, "If you fail, most think there's no hope, and probably that's true."
"But Daernana likes contingency plans. And Daernana's fall-back plan is Arwen," Elrohir explained, "Though we don't know much more, and I don't even know if Daernana has mentioned it to Arwen."
"Probably not, actually." Elladan speculated, "Arwen is sure that you're going to win, Aragorn. Too certain of your success to have a rational discussion about contingencies. We think you will, too. Win, that is. But either, way, um, locking Arwen up, it's a bad idea. And Adar might, if he heard about what she did today."
"No telling Adar about the ruined ambush." Aragorn murmured, a bit overwhelmed with the night's revelations, but nonetheless believing that his elder brothers were steering him rightly, "Agreed."
The twins nodded, and Elrohir went off to check on Halbarad, while Elladan pressed a small pouch into Aragorn's hand.
"Salve," the younger twin told Aragorn, patting his hand over the pouch in Aragorn's hands, and kissing Aragorn's cheek in a brotherly fashion, before explaining, "For you and Arwen. Have some fun together, tonight. Life can be too cursedly short." Elladan stepped away before Aragorn could thank him.
In the morning, the two who would someday be the Queen and King of Gondor and Arnor, if they won their impossible struggle, were smiling and casting happy, loving looks at one another again. The twins departed, going off on their knight errantry, but Undomiel stayed with Strider and his men for a season. She did not fight beside them, save when they were taken unawares, and needed every blade. But she met her beloved's people, who would be her people. And she helped them to organize.