This moment was bliss in her mind; she had been waiting for it for nearly two months now. Legolas's fingers and hers intertwined. She lay on her right side, her back propped up against several pillows, Legolas facing her as she basked in the wonderful warmth of making love to him. He was nowhere near her face of course; instead, she had her other hand rubbing the back of his neck and shoulders as she watched him bring his lips to her womb. Such tenderness was in his expression that she was in wonderment at the beauty of it! And once again, as always, she was smitten by how strong and beautiful his body was, and that he was hers and she was his. She loved him so.

"Oh chên nîn," he whispered, "I am sorry that it took so long for me to come down and really greet you, but…I was desperate to love your mother first." He released her hand and laid his on her belly, taking the other to her hip and down her long leg. "You have grown so much in the last few months that I hardly recognized you," he continued as Enguina giggled at his words. "Your ears are so small, yet I know you can hear my words. I know you cannot understand them, but I love you. Your mother and I can barely wait to hold you in our arms. A little over two more months, and you will be here for us to hold and love." He pressed his lips to her skin again, feeling her hand running over the back of his head and shoulders.

"I mela le," she whispered and Legolas lay his cheek against the side of her belly, looking up into her eyes. They both felt the child move within her and she smiled. "He loves the sound of your voice, just as I do. I think he likes it even more when you lay your head there; it is almost as though he can feel your love for him, for me."

"I hope he can," Legolas whispered back. "I am so sorry I was not here."

"I cannot believe you are here," she said, stroking his hair again. "I was praying for you this morning, and dreaming of you last night."

"I know," he said, giving a long sigh. "You have no idea how many of those dreams you sent me. Aragorn never told me that could happen."

She blushed, embarrassed. "Maybe he did not know. Forgive me?"

He laughed. "Not in the slightest," he replied, rubbing his thumb against her hip. "I am going to make you pay for every single one. I do promise that you will enjoy it though; does that make you feel better?"

"Mmm," she said, and he watched her skin flush with pleasure.

He gave her a smile with raised eyebrows. "I can tell that it does." He rolled to a sitting position and let his hand trail down her leg as he leaned back away from her, reaching down to capture her toes in his hand. He bent her leg so he could reach all of it fairly easily. She had some idea of what he was doing, but she wanted him to say it out loud.

"What are you doing?" she asked him softly.

"Massaging your beautiful foot."

"Arousing me, more like," she murmured and he smiled.

"Whatever way you wish to say it; it remains the same." He reached over with his other hand and laid it on her ribs. "You need to tell me what happened here," he said. "And your hip…and your back. Sooner rather than later."

She closed her eyes; this would be better said bluntly with no dancing around the subject. "A few of my ribs are broken," she said, "but they are healing."

His hands stalled on her foot. "Broken? And I—"

"I did not tell you because I wanted you to love me," she continued. "I did not want you to hold back; I was fine for everything except at the end where you…got a bit carried away."

"I…you should have told me." He rubbed his thumb gently against her body, his hand returning to massaging her foot. "I would not have held you so tightly. It must hurt for you to breathe."

"I wanted you to hold me; that was not your fault. As long as I am careful when I breathe, it does not hurt as much as you think it does."

"Guin…look at me." She opened her eyes, knowing what was coming. "Tell me."

"Three men on the fourth level, more than a week ago now—"

"Three men?" he asked, his eyes looking dangerous as his hand stilled again.

"They were angry because I was pregnant and…their Queen is not," she said softly, sighing pitifully. "They…stoned us…Erumar and myself."

"What?!" She should have prepared herself for his anger; she knew she should have.

"Legolas, please—"

"What the hell—who were these men?" he demanded.

"Legolas things have been difficult here since I came," she said softly. "For many reasons. The people of Gondor have been delighted for us, but sad for their King and Queen. Arwen remains without child and it has been a difficult time for her as well with numerous comments made about her being barren and…it has been a trial by fire for her. These men were angry, and they took it out on us."

"Who were they?" he asked again. "Do not tell me they were council—"

"One was Gildion," she said, and he recognized the name of the man he had hit in the face for slandering Arwen and her at the time. His jaw set and Enguina swallowed, looking away from his eyes.

"Look at me," he said, and she did. "Who were the others?"

"One was named Felof…the man who cast the first stone was Vändir."

"Vändir?" his voice snarled out. He dropped back onto the bed, holding her foot in his hands. He wanted to storm, to rage across the room, to kill him. "Those filthy…they deserve to burn in the all the hells of Morgoth." He sat up, but his fingers began rubbing her toes now, not only her foot. He was furious, but he was trying not to take it out on her. His eyes were staring at her broken ribs, bruised skin. "For touching you, for laying a hand on you—" His voice raged in her head; he was too angry to speak aloud any longer. He did not want their child to hear the anger in his voice.

My wife…my wife carrying our child…hit with stones? Stones that broke bone? That could have taken the life of our child? Of you, my precious dove? Ilúvatar forbid it!

"Aragorn sentenced them," she said softly. "He was so angry—"

"He should have been," he said abruptly. "Vändir was the same man who brought a woman from Dol Amroth to become Aragorn's mistress."

"What?" she asked, stunned. "You mean—?"

"Yes," he said, nodding as he switched to her other foot. "Six years ago, they tried to bring in a woman for Aragorn to take as his mistress, nearly forcing him into it. It was…it was awful…terrible. Their marriage was nearly torn apart by it and it took Faramir hitting Vändir in the face at a council meeting to teach him a lesson. Aragorn was completely distressed and I cannot even speak of Arwen. The man had troubled them for far too long. Gildion, well, you know what he did, slandering her. He should have had them all killed," he said, distress on his own face. "If he had then, this would not have happened."

"Gildion is dead," she said softly, now understanding more of the weight upon Arwen to bear Aragorn a son. "Arwen said he was hanged the following morning for killing the silversmith in his anger. Felof has been exiled from Minas Tirith. Vändir…is in prison for life."

Legolas shook his head. "Why should he still be alive? He should have been hanged as well, strung up right beside Gildion."

She reached out and touched his face. "Let it go. What is done is done."

"He hurt you; he threw rocks at you. He could have killed you, Guin, and our child. He—"

"Let Aragorn's sentence be enough," she whispered, rubbing her stomach. "I do not…I do not like to see you so angry. Your temper is so fierce…so like your father's."

His face softened and he looked away. "Forgive me, please. I just…I was not here…and you were hurt…and…there was nothing I could do. And you…you called me. I was in a panic and I rushed to the house and you were not there. There was nothing I could do; I could not get here fast enough to protect you." He looked back at her. "Do you know how terrifying that was? To be unable to reach you when you are in pain? Do you know what sort of memories that brings back for me?

"Oh my dearest, come here," she whispered, and he released her foot and went to her, lying down beside her. She pulled him close and he slipped his arms around her as she looked into his eyes. She knew what he was thinking of, being tied to that tree, so close to her and unable to rescue her, both of them in unbearable pain…oh, yes, she knew. "Forgive me…for leaving you that note and coming here without you. I…did not remember, when I called for you, that you would not know where I was. I am so sorry that I caused you such pain."

"Do not be sorry," he said, sighing. "That is not your fault either. I am glad you came here with Erumar to be with Arwen. I wish that nothing terrible had happened to you while you were here. I am sorry that I was so angry. My temper…my overprotectiveness…"

"You did warn me," she said, and he nodded. "I was telling Arwen of Gimli and your father at the house, do you remember? How angry he was…how terrifying…" She stroked his face. "It is all right to be angry," she continued, "but can we try not to be angry in front of the baby? Not with each other."

"I was not angry with you," he said, wounded that she thought he was. "I did not mean—"

"I know," she said. "I just want the words he hears to be love…not anger. I have been thinking about it a lot since the stoning, how frightened he seemed. I do not know if it was because I was afraid or…" she shook her head. "I do not know, but if we are angry with one another or others, let us not be angry in front of him."

A little smile came on his face as he thought about her words. He laid his hand over her womb beside hers. "You know…it is going to be quite difficult over the next two months to be angry with you if I cannot be angry in from of the baby."

"Oh you…" she whispered, rolling her eyes and kissing him. "I love you, you know."

"I love you," he said back. "That was why I was so angry. The thought of anyone hurting you, ever again, makes my blood burn within me." He shook his head, trying to let it go. "Tell me what you have been doing since I have been away."

"Erumar and I traveled here at the end of July, and we have been making things for the baby and spending time with—" Her mouth formed an almost comical 'o.'

"What? What is it?" he asked, and she stared at him.

"I completely forgot about Arwen," she said, stunned. "She was sitting by the tree…reading..."

"No…" he said, trying to think back. Had he seen her himself? "She could not have been…"

"She was there! We were talking before you came and…oh, Ilúvatar, I am the most horrible friend! Dear heaven, I do not deserve her." She dropped her head back against the pillows, and he lowered his head to her neck, pressing his lips there.

"You were focused on me," he murmured, "and I on you. She will understand, trust me."

"Do not try and make me feel better." He kissed her along her neck until she sighed. "Stop that, Legolas. Really, I feel so very guilty."

"She will understand," he said. "What made you come to Minas Tirith, Enguina?"

"Arwen never received my letter," she said, feeling him continue to kiss her. He did not listen very well, and part of her was glad for it. "The first she heard of our child was when it came out of my mouth. She and Aragorn were away to Dol Amroth, making peace with the Haradrim. Do you know she actually touched a Mûmak?"

"Really?" he asked, intrigued, thinking of the gigantic creature he had killed during the War.

"Yes, and she said they are very gentle creatures as well. But I find it amazing that she never received our letter when our kinsman said for certain that he delivered it. Someone must have taken it from the messenger."

"That is strange, indeed." He then gave her a sheepish smile. "So…what are these living conditions to be like, now that I have arrived? Is Erumar—"

"Oh no, she is not here," Enguina said, dragging her hands down his back. "Neither is Aragorn."

"Aragorn is not…?" She saw a light fade in his eyes.

"I know," she said soothingly. "They only left a week ago, and they do not know when they will return. There were reports of trouble on the Northern borders near the Sea of Rhûn. Aragorn headed that way with a war party…and Erumar decided to go with them to travel to Eryn Lasgalen."

"Did she?" he asked, amazed. "What hand did you and Arwen have in that?"

"We all encouraged her, really," she admitted. "Even Aragorn, in the end. In her heart, she knew she wanted to go and see it, but she needed to realize it, and she needed our blessing as well. She simply does not know it yet, but…you know how she is with him."

"My father?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I know how he was with her. Attentive, kind…" he nodded. "Perhaps I would go so far as to say besotted."

"Excellent word choice," she whispered, kissing his nose. He smiled, but then titled his head.

"It is good that she went, though I will miss her. She kept you good company and told many hilarious stories of you that I would never have heard otherwise."

"Honestly?" she chided him. "Did you need to bring those up?"

"Yes," he stated, drawing his hand slowly down her side, careful over her ribs. "That was the reason I enjoyed her company so much. Do you think Aragorn will return in time for the birth?"

Enguina winced. "I do not know. He was full of regret about it, but it was necessary for him to go. He clearly did not want to leave me or Arwen either, but he had no choice. As I said, things have been difficult for Arwen—people talk, their looks…she has been hurting. Leaving her alone with this…brood of vipers was very hard on him." She sighed. "She was sleeping here since Erumar went away; I do not know if it was because she did not want me to be alone, or she did not want to be alone. Either way, it served a purpose. She had a dream the other night that she would not explain to me."

Her eyes closed at the feel of his hand and he smiled. "Are you all right?"

"More than all right," she whispered in reply, her nails scratching his back. "Please tell me about Gimli. How is he? What is his new home like?"

"Oh, the dwarf sends all of his love to you and congratulations. His kin were quite merry and celebrated the life of the child at least three times while I was there," he told her, watching her face as he traced her skin over her back and down to her thigh. "The reason it took me so long to get here was that they gave me a cart laden with gifts pulled by mountain goats."

"Goats?"

"Yes, and a pony for our son."

"Truly?" she asked, astonished at the outpouring of love they were receiving from Gondor and the Glittering Caves. "I cannot believe the number of gifts that people wish to give. I know it is our first child, but…I am incredibly moved by it."

"There was so much that I had to give much of it away," he admitted. "But there were some gifts only for us, and I will show them all to you when we get home."

"You can see all of the things that we received from the Gondorians before we go to the King's House later for dinner."

"If we make it for dinner," he said seductively, raising his eyebrows as he leaned forward to kiss her again. "The Glittering Caves are stunning. One day, when the child is old enough, we will take him there to see his Uncle Gimli. You should see his gift of the pony," he added as he lowered his mouth beneath her chin again. "Radost is her name."

She closed her eyes again but this time in response to his wandering hand, not his lips. "Radost? What is she like? Oh, a pony for our child…"

"She is as hardy as Firgenwine, but a bit more athletic-looking, not quite as stout. But she is nearly roan I would say, with tufts on her feet. She is every bit as fiery, and perhaps a bit grumpier."

She giggled as she shivered under his lips. "How was your journey here?" Oh…that feels…

"Mmm…tedious without you." His lips were making their way lower and down her chest.

"You could kiss me like that all day," she whispered, "and I would beg for more. I have missed you so much, Legolas."

"When I saw you this morning," he said, resting his forehead against her chest, "it was as though I was seeing you for the first time. You and the lilacs confounded my senses. You are still doing it. Forgive me if you want me to stop, but I cannot seem to stop touching you. I cannot keep my hands from your satiny skin."

"You know…I was going to try and pretend that I was angry with you," she said, swallowing the whimper that suddenly came to her lips. "I was going to play hard to get…"

"You? Play hard to get?" he murmured incredulously. "You enjoy this far too much. How long did that thought last?"

She let out the breath she had been holding at his teasing of her with his fingers massaging the back of her knee. "Three days…and then I laid eyes on you." She dragged her foot along his leg, leaving her knee hooked over his thigh. He smiled as he followed the inside of her thigh and her eyes rolled back into her head. His lips were coming down to her breast again, and he could feel her heart pounding against his mouth. She gasped and writhed once at his hands. "It is…too difficult to stay angry with you for taking so long to come home," she said quickly trying to get the words out before she lost track of them. Then she did moan aloud, making him smile. "And it is hard to do anything that requires focus when you are touching me like that!"

"A pleasant surprise for me, to be sure," he whispered, beginning to use his tongue on sensitive places. He felt her hand grip his back. "Did I disturb any plans that you had for the day, my love?"

"Um…" Her brain was fuzzy with arousal, and he knew it very well. "No, there was nothing. Dinner…that I am too lazy to care if we miss."

"Lazy? Making love is not laziness," he whispered and she groaned softly, dragging her hands up and down his back again before winding one in his hair. "Enguina…do you want to have this child in Minas Tirith?"

"Is that what you would like?" she asked breathlessly. He planted a kiss in the center of her chest.

"I am willing to let you make the choice," he said, returning to kissing her breast between muttering, "I would prefer, of course, that if the child is to be born at home that you will not travel at nine months and fall into labor on the return home. I do not want to bring our child into the world on the side of the main road…or a field in Ithilien."

"Oh…not…even our beautiful field in Ithilien?" Her eyes were definitely rolling into her head; she could hardly believe that she had formed a coherent sentence.

"Not even there."

"I have no intention of—" She gasped and writhed once more beneath his hands. "Legolas!"

"No intention of what, my Guin?"

"Legolas…"

"No intention of what?"

"Ah…of waiting that long." She moaned, low and soft as she felt him nibbling at her skin. "I think we…need to travel in the next few weeks. I would rather have the baby born at home." She finished quickly and held both of her lips between her teeth.

"A plan it will be, then."

She trembled as his hands and mouth continued. "If…if we are meeting Arwen for dinner…you are going to have to stop that…"

"Stop which part?" he asked, smiling wickedly as he pressed his lips beneath her right breast.

"All of it," she groaned. "Or I will never let you stop."

"Can I not give you a massage?"

"God, Legolas!" she cried out, her body pressing into him beyond her control. "This is not a massage," she groaned breathlessly. "This is purposeful arousal…I hope you are…going to do something about it." She hissed when she felt his teeth in a very sensitive place.

"You are right," he admitted. "This is purposely arousing you. And I have full intentions of doing something about it and no intention of either one of us ever making it to dinner tonight. We can meet at the King's House for breakfast; I want to stay focused on you."

"Arwen—"

"Will completely understand," he said again, and she found his mouth against hers for a slow, wonderful kiss that swallowed his name that she had been about to call aloud again. She was his forever; she did not think she would ever be physically capable of telling him no or restraining him without his desire to restrain himself. At the moment, she was already so far gone that she did not care.


It was very early morning. Unable to sleep or feel as though she wanted to remain in the King's House any longer, Arwen had gone to the stable, followed by her personal singular guard, and found Asfaloth whinnying with joy at the sight of her. She had ridden quietly down to the lowest level of the City, Asfaloth's plodding hooves upon the stones and the few people's cries of good morning not allowing her to think about much of anything. There were not many on the streets, but those who were appeared glad to see her; she was humbled by it, as always. When she was with Aragorn, he was respected, revered, and loved, but she was always in awe when they treated her this way. Children awake on the first level hurried forward to touch Asfaloth, their mothers touching her hand in greeting while men bowed their heads in respect to her royalty and beauty. She was continuously humbled by their admiration. It both pleased and embarrassed her; she knew that not all of them thought about her what she had been feeling they had. Many of them simply wanted the best for them.

A single figure stepped in front of her at the gate; the old man, Hallamegil, had been reassigned from Rammas Echor to gatekeeper at Minas Tirith and was quite serious of his new position.

"My Lady Evenstar!" he exclaimed. "I would've thought my eyes deceived me. You're here awfully early this morning!"

She smiled at him. "Good morning, Master Gatekeeper," she greeted him. "Asfaloth and I are out for a run this morning. I understand the hour is early, but he wanted to go." The big grey snorted, tossing his head with energy and dancing sideways before the closed gate.

The old man held up his hands. "It's been quite a while since you've been on the Pelennor on your own, my Queen. The Lord of the City or the Princess are usually with you."

"Did you not watch the Prince enter only yesterday?" she teased him.

"Oh, my terrible memory!" he said, striking himself once on the forehead. "Forgive me!"

"And of course, my Lord is away."

"It's dangerous to be out on your own," he said, concerned, and he nodded to the guard a pace behind her. "You should've at least the one guard with you; it's just common sense, my Lady."

"Asfaloth will only outrun him," she said as the horse raised his head imperiously. "Though Celdar is more than welcome to trail along behind us at a distance. And I do not mean to turn aside your concern, but…I have been riding longer than you, your father, or your father's father have been alive. I shall be perfectly fine."

"Well," he said, looking down, "the King'd never forgive me if I let something happen to you. It's not safe outside the City, Lady, and—"

Asfaloth pawed the ground and the guardsman stepped back. "Please, Hallamegil, I am the best rider," she said; she just wanted to be free from the City, free from all of it. "Let me pass."

"Even better than my Lord, the King?"

"Even better," she replied. Hallamegil laughed.

"Very well, my Lady. Please be careful and ride safely; I'd never be forgiven if something went wrong." He signaled to the men waiting nearby. "Open this gate!"

"Thank you, my Lord," she said, and the moment the gate opened, Asfaloth walked out to stand on the open road. The big grey tossed his head and pulled his nose all the way into his chest. He then proceeded, every muscle twitching in anticipation, to piaffe in the center of the road, and several farmers who had paused to lift their heads at the opening of the gate were transfixed by the beauty of him.

Arwen glanced behind her and looked to Celdan who stood still as well, his horse disciplined and still. She gave him a little smile. "Why do you not ride up the center of the road to the far gate? We can meet there."

Celdan frowned. "I should not let you travel alone."

She shook her head. "I am afraid your sorrel shall not keep pace with Asfaloth. You shall be far, far behind us anyway. I will meet you there, and we can finish the other half of the loop of Rammas Echor together. Please." He sighed, clearly frustrated, but knowing that she was right, he asked his horse to move forward, whereas Asfaloth remained slowly piaffing near the gate.

She reached down and stroked his neck as he snorted. "You and I, Asfaloth, we know each other too well. I know what you want, and you know exactly what I want." He snorted, and she lifted her head for a moment and stared out across the open Pelennor, the sun just beginning to peek its head far off to the east. She tapped him gently with her right ankle and he spun on his haunches toward the left, lifting his feet off the ground to turn on the spot. He remained, his weight on his haunches, waiting for her to ask him for lift-off.

She would never have denied him; she wanted the run much more than he knew. Asfaloth felt her hands loosen on the reins and he was gone in a flash of silver, dust from the road spewing out from beneath his hooves. Putting the voices behind them, the grey bolted down alongside the wall, staying far from the farms and villages that surrounded the Field. He thundered along, racing the wind and tearing up the ground. She delighted in his speed, the power in his body, the way his head surged forward and his ears flipped about, listening to the wind, listening for her voice. Her hair whipped back from her face as he thrust himself along, running flat out.

She let him run; the only thing she wanted right now was to escape everything, and this was the way to do it. She had been worried about her back, but it seemed to finally be completely healed. Thinking of nothing all the way from the sixth to the first level was fine, but now she was forced to think of it. Last night had been unbearable; she had no idea why she had attempted to sleep in their bed. She had known since before Aragorn left that it would have been impossible without him; he had been gone only a week, and even clutching his pillow, breathing in the scent of him, had not helped her one bit. The nightmare, the dark-haired woman, haunted her, and this time, she had held a babe in her hands. She had been unable to wake up from the dream—it had gone so far…this woman pleasuring her husband, even the thought of it brought hot tears unbidden to her eyes and bile to rise in her throat.

Upon waking from this nightmare, she went to the divan, where she also tried to sleep. Within an hour, she was screaming in agony, this time from the child. Ailan, who was the acting Captain, had stationed Liakas at her door at night; security was stricter within the City now. Liakas had entered at once; woken her from shaking on the floor. Gasping for breath and trying to rein in the nightmare was nigh impossible, and the guard did not know what to do for her; several times he tried to leave and get help, but she refused him, telling him not to worry when she could get the words out. Finally, when she was able to breathe at least a bit normally, she had apologized; he had told her he was glad that she was all right and after urging from her, he returned to his post.

But she was not all right; he would not know this. The moment he walked out the door, she spent the better part of an hour weeping, forcing herself not to cry for Aragorn and reach for him. There was nothing he could do for her now, and she would only hurt him. In her agony, she knew there was no way she was going to sleep. She finally went out to the porch and sat, staring out into the night as she prayed fervently for a miracle, and that Ilúvatar might take her pain from her. Finally, when at least some of her pain had receded, she reached out and touched her husband, desperate for him. She knew he was asleep, but even the blessing of the peace she felt from him as he was resting was enough. Then she had headed for the stable, Liakas following her.

She found herself there for some time, lying beside Asfaloth in the hay; somehow, he always knew when she was sad. She had curled up against him, laying her head on his smooth coat, winding her fingers in and out of his mane. Then she had brushed him and given him treats…and then had saddled him up at his urging and was gone into the City before any sort of decent hour, and that was when she was joined by Celdan.

She should be back for breakfast if Asfaloth continued running at this pace, but she was unworried. If Enguina wanted, she and Legolas could easily cook and then wait for her to return. Part of her was desperate for some comfort from her friend; she could easily tell her about the dream and what had happened last night, but…Enguina had enough worries of her own with the child and now Legolas had returned. No, she was not about to burden and trouble her with them.

Asfaloth began to slow his pace to a normal lope, smooth and comfortable. He wanted to prolong their time along the wall as well it seemed, and she reached down again to pat his neck. He was sweating; the day was quite humid. Her thoughts were jumbled, upsetting, but the ride was serving its purpose; she needed something to take pleasure in, something to take her mind from the madness that her life had been so full of. It was in that settling that she felt him touch her mind. It was a soft touch, full of a calmness that she wished she felt herself, a crisp morning somewhere near the Anduin. She could almost hear the birds chirping as she closed her eyes, the river running… It was a caress from him, and she closed her eyes. It was too far; there were no words, of course, but it gave her peace in knowing that he was reaching for her, too. Whether he was doing it for her benefit or for his, she did not know, but it made her feel so suddenly loved that her eyes filled with tears. She reached back with her love, so glad that she was taking this time, that Asfaloth had urged her.

Father, I thank you for the many gifts you have bestowed upon me. I thank you for this blessing of my connection with my husband, that even though we are far apart, we are still close. I praise you that I can seek your face and enjoy your creation with a good friend. Help me to be strong because of you; I cannot do this alone. I…I see that now more than ever. Please, take care of my husband; I miss him so much.

She let Asfaloth run, and she lifted her face to the sun and soaked it up for the first time in what seemed like ages.