It had taken them two days, but Enguina, Erumar, and Arwen had finally made their way to the market. The two of them were finally settled in and decently rested, and Enguina had been so excited to see what had changed in the market in three years. It was not only this that excited her, of course; she fully intended to purchase several things for the child today and have a wonderful time doing it.

After three hours or so, Enguina finally realized that she more than likely was not going to have to purchase a single thing. From bakers to doll-makers, it seemed almost every person in Minas Tirith had a gift for the child. Rejoicing with her wherever the trio walked, people were grasping her hands and congratulating her, some of them even laying hands on her womb and praying aloud! She was astounded; she knew many of these people, even if not by name, but this was something she had never experienced—people were excited for her and Legolas, and even more than their wedding celebration. Oh, how she wished Legolas were here to thank them as well as she was!

Arwen laughed. "Oh, Mintan, you are too kind!" she said to an old man who held out a blanket from his shop. "Did your wife make this?"

"Oh, it is beautiful!" cried Erumar, stroking her hands along the colorful fabric. "And soft!"

"O'course, milady!" he laughed with her. "She wants 'er to 'ave it. Wouldn't 'ear a thing about it, neither. 'For the Lady Enguina's new babe,' thas watchee said to me this mornin'!"

"Oh, no, please," Enguina began again with much chagrin. "I could not possibly—"

"Now, now! No ifs or buts! Me wife'd be beside 'erself if ya didn't accept 'er gift."

"Thank you so very much," said Enguina, humbled, as Arwen collected it under her arm for her. "Please, tell your wife that I am so filled with joy at her gracious gift. The Prince and I will use it for the cradle."

The man grinned at her and nodded. "Yer more than welcome, milady, and you couldn't be more blessed! I've got six children and ten grandchildren meself!"

Enguina smiled. "If my husband has anything to say about it, our family will be just as large as yours. I can only pray I would be so blessed." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, a thousand times!"

The trio moved along, Erumar still marveling over how wonderful a blanket it was and Enguina sighed, looking at Arwen. "I feel terrible about all of these people giving us things! How can you stand it?"

"This is their way of celebration, Enguina," Arwen told her honestly. "Please, just let them dote on you."

"A blessing on you, Lady Enguina!" called a seller from across the street and she lifted her hand, smiling.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said, and then startled as an old woman clutched the hand she had been holding up.

"Oh my dear!" she cried, reaching over and laying a hand on Enguina's womb. "Let me bless this little one! Let me pray over you!"

Arwen's stomach lurched oddly again, but once again, she shook it off. It had happened several times today; she wondered if there was something wrong with her. The woman, in the meantime, was jabbering on with Enguina about something, and Erumar was looking around at the other stands in the market. She smiled to herself, happy that Enguina was receiving some attention, even if she did not want any.

Erumar, little known to Arwen, was not looking around at the food stalls as she thought.

She had first noticed that there was something…peculiar…about the way some of the people of Minas Tirith were watching them. At first, she thought it was just a simple sea of onlookers, people looking to see Enguina and congratulate her on the birth of her first child. But then, she began to notice more and more that some of these people, after their congratulating, were returning to their stalls or their homes and…staring. And not at Enguina. These were not looks of joy; they were looks of pity, some even of anger and jealousy. At first, she was confused, but then when she realized they were not looking at Enguina with those pitiful eyes, she realized just who they were looking at.

Most were delighted for Enguina, but they were terribly saddened for their Queen—the Queen whom they adored was still without a child. The anger, well…that was just the corrupted hearts of men displaying their corruptness. After finally realizing what was happening, she tried to ignore them, to not pay attention to the looks, but they were extremely distracting—and obvious. Part of her wondered how in the world neither Enguina nor Arwen were noticing these looks that were happening all around them. Part of her wondered what would happen when they did notice, but she was not about to say anything. This situation was in no one's control but Ilúvatar's.

There was a man in the shadows near one of the stalls who caught Erumar's eye. He was an angry-eyed man, his arms crossed over his chest and hands balled into fists. This was the type of situation where Erumar got worried; a lone man controlled only by rage. Subtly, she stepped forward, sliding into a position that blocked Enguina entirely from the man's view. He scowled at her, took half a step forward, and then stepped back into the shadows at the look that crossed Erumar's face.

"Erumar? Did you hear me?" Enguina asked, touching her arm. Erumar turned, surprised at the touch, and Enguina tilted her head and looked in the direction she had been staring so intently at. Erumar glanced, too, and was relieved to note the man had disappeared. "What were you looking at? Your face was so severe." Her voice was worried.

"No, it was…it was nothing, Enguina," Erumar replied, turning back to her and Arwen, who was also looking at her, but there was something in her eyes that made her feel Arwen might have seen the man. "I lost myself in thought for a moment. What were you saying?"

"It is about lunchtime. I was asking if you were hungry."

"Yes," Arwen interjected, "Enguina is trying to gauge your hunger to make up her mind about her own."

Erumar looked puzzled. "Dearest, you cannot decide of you are hungry?"

"Oh, stop, both of you," she chided. "I am sorry I am so indecisive."

"I shall be happy to make it for you, then," she said, slipping her arms behind the backs of both Enguina and Arwen and turning them back the way they had come. "What say both of you to putting some of these gifts in the guesthouse, and then heading to the stable for a picnic in the hay?"

"Oh, I like that!" exclaimed Enguina. "And we can bring some apples for the horses as well."

"Asfaloth will like that very much," Arwen agreed with a smile. "Good work, Erumar."

Erumar and Enguina sat in the hay, taking out the bread, cold ham, lumps of cheese, and fruit they had brought. Chattering just between the two of them and organizing what they were removing from the basket, Arwen slipped into Asfaloth's stall. He swung his head towards her and let out his breath in greeting, and she extended a hand and rubbed his forehead between the eyes as she smiled at him. The smile slowly faded as she reflected on the morning.

She knew Erumar had seen Vändir standing off in the shadows of the market. Did Arwen know why he was scowling so? Not really, but she could guess; he despised her, so it would not surprise her in the least for him to be irritated at her presence drawing so many eyes and people to the market. Oh, how she wished he would just leave, leave Minas Tirith, even the realm, so that she never had to lay eyes on him again. Every time she saw him, he made her think back to that time and then her recent dream about that dark-haired woman…she hated thinking about it. She in no way wanted to dwell on the time that she had spent in grief over her loss, so she pushed that away. Instead, she set her forehead upon Asfaloth's as he sighed and closed her eyes.

"I have been feeling strange, Asfaloth, these last two days," she whispered, laying a hand on her stomach. "I do not know what it is, but I keep…pushing it away. I am not sure what it is." She was puzzled, but not worried. Whatever it was would either go away or she would work it out. "And I saw someone in the market today who…makes me think of the past."

He snorted.

"No…they are not pleasant memories."

He raised his head gently from hers and then set his head over her shoulder; he nickered softly.

She smiled then, rubbing her hand along his muscular neck. "I know you care for me. I love you, too." She really did not understand him, but she knew him well enough to figure out this exchange.

"Arwen?" called Erumar. "Are you coming, dearest?"

She slipped her arms around Asfaloth's neck and hugged hard. "Thank you." He sighed and she released him, slipping out of his stall and taking a seat in the hay with her friends. "Forgive me; I wanted a few moments with Asfaloth."

Enguina smiled. "You and that horse. Whatever would you do without him?"

Arwen shook her head. "Lose my mind."

"You always did seek the solace of the stable," Erumar said, handing her a sandwich. "You have always had a connection with them that I did not understand, and then there was Aragorn."
Enguina laughed. "Oh, I thought he was positively mad when I first met him and he spoke with Lómë. Sometimes I am still in disbelief that he can communicate with them in that way."

"Do not misunderstand," Erumar added, "Rûnving and I get along, but I do not know her as you do Asfaloth, or even Brego. No, you and Aragorn certainly have a special bond with your horses."

"If you spent more time with her, you would probably understand her better," Arwen said softly. "But do not feel guilty, Erumar. We all have our passions. I have loved horses since Elrohir picked me up and put me on his horse before him." She smiled. "I still remember mother furious, but I more remember the feel of the black's mane between my hands and his warm body."

"How old were you?"

"Oh…very, very young."

Enguina smiled. "I remember when we all met for the first time in Lórien," she said. "And I cannot believe how far we have come." She took a bite of her lump of cheese and laid her other hand over her womb. "Is this child the reason why I am so hungry?"

"You are, as they say, eating for two," Erumar pointed out. "We would never say anything to you though; please, eat!"

Enguina smiled and then looked down at her belly again. "I was so…moved today," she said. "The people of Minas Tirith are so kind and generous. I…never expected there to be so many people with such words of kindness and blessing for the baby and myself, even Legolas. And their gifts—"

"Oh, yes," Erumar laughed kindly, "it was difficult to carry them back!"

"I hope everyday will not be like this," she said, embarrassed. "I may have to hide indoors."

"Or simply keep to the gardens and the Citadel," Arwen said with a smile. "But do not be so embarrassed, Enguina; the people loved celebrating with you today. Even though it made you feel awkward, you were glowing."

"Yes, you were," agreed Erumar. "It was lovely to see."

"Stop it, both of you. You are embarrassing me!" she chuckled, and proceeded to take a bite of the sandwich Erumar had cobbled together for her. "The only thing I simply could not stop being startled by was people just…coming up and touching me."

"Oh that first one was a bit awkward," Erumar laughed and Enguina buried her face in her hands in her humiliation. "You did not mean to shove her hands off you, Enguina."

"I did mean to," she replied and she felt Arwen's hand on her arm. "I just did not know why she had touched me and I reacted."

"There was quite a crowd around you," Arwen comforted her. "You did not know what was happening. You should not blame yourself. In fact, if you wish to blame anyone, it should be me. I suppose I should have made you aware that something like that was possible."

"I should have known she meant no harm," she mumbled. "I felt terrible."

"You did much better…the next thirty times it happened," Erumar teased with a grin.

Even though Enguina was not looking at her, she groaned. "I hate you."

The other two laughed out loud. "It will get easier," said Arwen. "Even if you do not want all the attention, it is nice to have so many wish you well."

"I received enough blessings today to make it through the next four years of my marriage, I can honestly say that." She lifted her head and sighed. "As long as I am not walking alone in the City, I think I will be all right."

"I cannot imagine why you would be walking alone when there are two of us here," Erumar said, rolling her eyes. "And when Legolas finally comes, there will be three."

"Oh," laughed Arwen, "it will happen all over again when Legolas comes."

"Please do not say that!"

Aragorn entered the King's House just as the bells were tolling one in the morning. This had not been a late night council meeting, but a late-evening ride back across the Pelennor. It had been a little over a week since Enguina and Erumar had arrived, and he had finally been out to see the new construction on the outer wall. The men had wanted him to remain with them, but he was intent on returning home and Captain Mennev was his sole companion. He was scheduled to go back in another week to see what needed to be done with the gates. The wall had looked incredible, and he had enjoyed his time with the many soldiers.

There were candles burning in the sitting room and in the bedroom, but Arwen was in neither place. She had, at some point, been in bed; the sheets were in disarray. He removed his boots and sword belt and then turned back to their porch, thinking she might be outside. At the corner of his eye he caught sight of a reflection in the mirror of a candle burning in the bath. He turned around again and then headed inside, pausing to rest his shoulder on the doorframe.

She was leaning forward upon the dresser, her hands spread out supporting her weight, completely still; it was clear she had no idea he was there. Her head was lowered, her hair a mess, eyes closed tightly. He walked in to her and reached over for the brush in front of her. Scooping her hair back in one hand, he began brushing through it, untangling the knots carefully. She did not startle, nor did she lift her head. She knew who it was.

When he had finished brushing, he tied a ribbon in her hair, keeping it back off her face. He laid a hand on her back and rubbed it gently along her spine, trying to soothe her. "You had another dream," he said softly. "Please, beloved…what is troubling you?"

He was worried; she could hear it in his voice, and he should have been. Something was not right…and she had no idea what it was. These were strange dreams, but she could not tell him of them. She did not want to tell him of the woman with the dark hair, the nameless dread she was feeling, the strangeness going on in her stomach at odd times during the past week that she was trying to chase away. But what could she tell him? She felt his hands turning her body toward him. She was a little stiff, as she had been in that position for…well, as long as she had been awake. When she did not meet his gaze, he tilted her chin with one hand.

"Arwen…what is causing you such distress?"

A sudden and desperate need for his comfort came over her and she shook her head. "It is a feeling…something I cannot place." Her voice was a whisper in the darkness, the candle lighting her confused eyes.

"Will you speak of it?" he asked softly, and she slipped her chin from his hand and pressed her face to his chest. There were several moments of silence between them, her hands found their way around his waist, holding herself to him, and his made their way around her back and head.

"Can you leave it be?" she finally said without any emotion.

"Another time," he said. "Soon." It was not a question; this was not something he was going to let pass, and she was not going to be able to move him on that, either. She gave in, nodding. "How was your day?"

That feeling again, in her stomach, sudden and irritating. She forced it away. "I was visiting some families today, and Enguina and Erumar stayed in until I met them for lunch. I had a sense of…disquiet today among the people. It was so strange. I am not sure what the matter was. How was your ride?"

"It was well," he replied. He did not tell her that he spent the majority of the morning thinking about several snide comments made by some citizens near the gate that he had overheard, and he did not tell her that the ride back he spent the time thinking of several well-wishes for them to have a child of their own. Oh, he knew he should tell her, but why bring all of it back? Why force her to relive that pain? He wanted to cheer her, not make her sadder. "Brego was pining for you, and envious that you visited the stable and he was not there to receive your love."

That made her smile a little bit. "I can only imagine."

He could not let this go…she was quiet, sad; she felt 'off' in his head. It was bothering him that perhaps she really did not know what was affecting her so badly. That worried him more than her knowing; though he had some idea that she had some idea. Her dreams were definitely troubling, and if he could not discover what they were, well…he would have to do the only other thing he could think of to do. He stroked his fingers along her hair, rubbing her scalp. He felt her sigh—she loved it when he did that.

"I cannot let this go tonight," he said suddenly. "I cannot let your dream, your worries go; you need something…tell me what to do. What can I do?"

She did not stiffen, as he expected. Instead, she lifted her head and he brought his down to lay his brow against hers. "I need mercy," she whispered, and he knew what she was asking for.

"Father," he prayed, his voice soft, "I come before you with concern for my wife." Her eyes filled with tears as he continued. "I know she is troubled; I know she is struggling with something that may or may not be defined in her heart. I do not know; she cannot speak of it yet. But you see all hearts; you have known us since before time began. Therefore, I ask you for your mercy and grace tonight. Give her peace in the midst of whatever darkness she is facing. Help me to be here for her, to love her with your understanding and compassion. Oh Ilúvatar, I pray that whatever this is, may your hand rest upon us filled with your comfort, just as it has in the past. You are the great Healer, and your time is unknown to us; keep our eyes on you and walk with us, I pray. Amen."

"Amen," she whispered, and she felt him kiss her forehead as the words resonated within her. "Thank you so much. How do you always know what I need?" She felt tension release in her shoulders; the dream beginning to fade. She felt drained, but not tired; her heart felt heavy inside her. She wanted to fill the void; she rubbed her forehead against his, her hands tightening on his tunic.

"I am glad that you spoke the truth," he murmured. "I only know what I feel from you, and what I feel for you."

"I needed you to come back at that moment," she told him. "I needed you to bring me back to reality by brushing my hair. I…needed you to pray for me…"

He shifted in her embrace and she released him, thinking he wanted her to let go. He did, but not for the reason she was thinking. He reached over and snuffed out the candle and then scooped her suddenly into his arms and her hand pressed to his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "I am going to carry you back to our bed," he stated, his voice still low.

"I…need that as well," she admitted. He sat her down upon their bed, leaning over her, his hands on either side of her, his face so very close to hers their noses were touching. She ran her hands along his back and held his shoulders, her fingers rubbing those familiar scars even through his tunic.

Was it wrong to desire her instantly when her hands were on him like this? He had been thinking about Nardur's comments, the councilmen, the talk, the well-wishers; with all this weighing on him, was his motive still only to love her? Or was there something more? Did he truly believe the speech of Nardur, that the more they were together the higher the possibility there would be a child? Oh Ilúvatar, only you know my heart. I desire her…and it has nothing to do with having a child. You have given me this woman to love…let me love her!

"Do you need me?" he asked, rubbing his nose against hers, then her cheek before capturing her lips gently. Her eyes closed and her hands tightened on him.

"Of course I do," she whispered back into his mouth, but before he kissed her again, he pulled back slightly.

"Do you need me?" he asked again, and she could hear his heart beating. She opened her eyes and something in his ignited within her. She could read the part of him that was her and she could feel him burning…an intense longing to be with her physically and share himself with her emotionally. Leaning on his left arm, he raised his right to brush a stray lock of hair across her cheek and behind her ear, running his fingers along it as he moved. His touch was like a jolt during a lightning storm, communicating so much in that instant that her heart caught flame.

Her skin flushed to see so much desire in his eyes, to feel it in one touch; she pushed the dream to the bottom of her toes. To the hells of Morgoth with the dark-haired woman! To the hells of Morgoth with dreams and dread! I alone am the woman he adores! It was intensely wonderful to forget everything and focus on him.

"Yes," she murmured, "yes, I need you, Aragorn." He took her face so gently between his hands that he watched her eyes close, her lashes fluttering sensuously against her cheek.

He lovingly sighed. "I love it when you whisper my name."

"Aragorn…Aragorn…Ara—" He captured her lips again and she gave to the kiss, trying to slide her hands up and around the back of his neck as she continued the whispering of his name within his head. It was a challenging position, being bent this way, so he knelt beside the bed, lowering his hands to graze her ears, her neck, her shoulders, so slowly. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he cupped the back of her neck with his hands, dragging his thumbs along both of her ears at the same time. The voice in his head cut off abruptly as her body trembled, and he slid himself between her knees, pressing his upper body against her and kissing her through his little smile.

Again, she gave herself to his kiss, but this time she breathed him in, opening that place inside herself where she felt him so strongly, his passion filling her. He gasped into her mouth as her hands slid back around his neck and drew along his throat to his collarbone to slip inside the front of his tunic. She felt his hands pause against her ears, and she kissed him intensely, pressing into him and pushing her advantage. Oh, if he could stun her, she would give it right back; draw him in, surprise him…

Every button on his tunic came undone as she let her hands wander downward, pressing him back to sink to her knees on the floor before him. She dragged her nails down his long frame, playing her fingers over his breast, his ribs, his stomach, all the way down his legs to his knees and then back again. His fingers were fumbling around her ears, and she trembled again, but this time, did not lose her single-minded focus. She pushed his tunic off his shoulders, letting it fold from his frame until his hands released her face to let it spill to the floor behind him. She pressed into him hard, his breath catching as the two of them fell, him backwards onto the tunic, her against his chest, continuing to kiss him. His chest was heaving against hers; he was not in control of himself, and his breathing could not hold out like hers in a situation like this. His hands came up her back and blundered along her shoulders, searching for the straps of her nightdress; if she had not been in such a state she may have laughed at his complete lack of coordination.

Her fingers now roamed his chest, her nails like feathers causing him to tremble beneath her. She pushed her limits, pressing her body against him and then finally tugging her lips from his and giving him half a moment to breathe as she forced her lips along his jaw and then beneath his chin; all his hands could do at this point was grip her shoulders. Her lips showered him with love from his chin to his throat, along his jaw, and then back to his ear where her tongue and lips focused on smothering his earlobe. He knew what that was…retribution from the stable though she was not biting. But two could play there, and even though he could hardly think straight, he was not about to let her have all the control. One hand came up to draw her hair away from her back and then stilled when she pressed herself hard against him and dragged one hand down to his knee again, spinning her fingers seductively around his kneecap.

He could not remember when she had discovered that about him, but his knees were so sensitive to her, he was momentarily unable to piece together a single, coherent thought as his eyes closed in pleasure. His lips stuttered around her name, though he was murmuring it in his head, and she suddenly lowered her mouth to his again, obviously content with their momentary stages of undress. Pulling away slightly, she trailed fire down his chest with her mouth as her hand spun around his knee. He felt so hot that he tried to squirm out from underneath her weight pressing down on him, but she was not about to let him. She was not letting him up; she was not cutting him loose at all. Arwen, Arwen!

His breath was coming out in harsh gasps when she captured his lips again and he tried to free his hands from beneath the straps of her nightdress and struggled with the possibility of tearing it. As lost in the fervor shared between them as he was, he dragged his hands down her arms; uninterrupted with her kisses against his mouth, she slipped her arms from the nightdress fluidly, moving against him with such grace that he wondered if she had not been planning it from the beginning. It fell to her waist, and some comprehension returned to his brain and hands so he could bring them along her back. She leaned forward and pressed herself against him, the feel of their skin together fueling their passion.

His very vocal groan told her what she already knew and she smiled, kissing back down to his jaw. She felt him lift his chin and she went from his throat all the way to his ear again, but this time behind it, rubbing her lips back and forth against the spot. He jolted beneath her, dislodging her weight enough to lift his trembling knee from beneath her hand and press it to her hip, pushing her onto her back. He was completely provoked now, and pulling his head back he dove in against her ear as his hands pulled her into him, pressing their breasts together hard. His lips were almost bruising her skin, his mouth was so forceful against her neck as he was nearly growling, making sounds low in his throat. She knew what he was reaching for and she allowed him his revenge, tilting her head and putting her ear well within reach—she wanted it, wanted him. His teeth caught the top of her very sensitive ear and her body pushed into him as she cried out.

Perhaps that first bite had been a bit too rough, but she was too filled with him to care; she probably should have reined him in as his teeth and tongue were finding other sensitive areas behind her ear and along her throat. Her hand found his knee again as his leg trembled against her and she trembled against him as he returned to her ear, pressing it over and over between his teeth and lips. Her nails caught his rib cage; she had not meant for them to be there, but him being half-over her when he was doing that, he had brought it on himself. Her eyes rolled closed now, her breaths panting as his other hand came up to lightly pinch the tip of her other ear. She whimpered, her hand in a sudden spasm around his knee.

He had let her so lovingly arouse him, and now was going to let him make her pay for it. Wonderfully, overpoweringly, passionately pay for it.

Lay your love on me, Aragorn…lay it all on me!