Breathing hurt.

Aragorn did not move when he became conscious. He lay very, very still, unsure if he was awake or half-asleep. His right arm and chest were wave after wave of agony, every breath excruciating, stabbing pain. He was shirtless and sweating, the latter from the throbbing of his body. Was he alive? He had to be…heaven was not a place where he imagined there would be pain or that he would be unable to move.

He carefully opened his eyes and saw white blurring. He blinked. And blinked again. Finally, the image became clearer—a tent canvas. He was inside, no longer on the battlefield where he had been attacked by the…oh…no wonder his right side was in such pain; the warg and the orc…he could remember that now, and screaming and…that familiar brush of Arwen before he lost it completely.

"Aragorn?"

That was Erumar's voice; she must be sitting on his left side. He made to turn his head and gave up almost immediately, the first from pain firing down the muscles in his neck to his shoulder, the second from an exhaustion he did not think he could ever feel. Part of him did not believe he was actually awake—he was in such incredible pain that he had thought that if anyone were in this much pain, they would faint. That clearly was not the case. He felt her hand on his forehead as he blinked again, her thumb rubbing his skin, and then he saw her blurry face as she leaned over him.

"Look over here," she said gently. "This way, mellon." He blinked again, trying to clear his head and drag his lazy eyes to meet hers. "There you are. I have water for you."

She did not attempt to lift his head, but he did drink carefully, first wetting his lips and then his severely dry mouth and throat. It was painful to swallow, but that was nothing compared to the roaring in his chest. As she leaned back, he attempted to curl his left fingers. He could do it…but he felt as though his hand was made of stone. He heard the tent flaps move.

"Erumar, how is he?" That was Hildanir.

She turned to smile at him. "He only just woke."

There was another brushing of the tent and yelling outside, "The King is awake! The King is awake!" There was a shout from those around and cheers of joy and gratefulness to the One.

Aragorn did not feel like shouting for joy at the moment, but he did thank Ilúvatar that he was alive. "Where are we?" he murmured, his lips barely moving. Because there was no other sound, she heard him. Gently wiping his face and then neck with a wet cloth, she leaned back over him.

"We followed the Celduin back to the Easterling camp," she replied. "You are in a tent within the tree line. The men have been taking turns guarding you. It has been three days since the attack; you have been unconscious and unmoving for all of them."

Three days? "That is…a long time."

"You scared us all half to death," she said honestly. "You lost so much blood, Aragorn. In fact, you are still pale, and certain to be very weak."

His eyes closed and opened slowly. "I can barely move."

"You almost lost your arm," she told him softly, honestly. "It took me nearly an hour to remove all of the broken chain mail from your shoulder and chest."

"I did not…expect to be alive…" he admitted slowly. She gave him a little more water.

"When that warg picked you up and swung you around as a chew toy…" she stopped and looked away from his eyes, biting her lip. Finally, she whispered, "I thought for certain I was going to be forced to return to Minas Tirith and bear the news to Arwen myself."

"Thank Ilúvatar for…his miracles."

"Do you want something to eat?"

"No," he said and he slowly took a breath. Again, she laid her hand on his forehead.

"Are you in much pain?" she asked worriedly.

"Terrible," he said, and she watched the agony cross his face.

"Perhaps I can get you some tea," she replied, and Hildanir reentered the tent.

"My Lord, we are so grateful to Ilúvatar that you are awake!" he said immediately. "Is there anything I can do for you? Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you, Hildanir," he replied, delighted to see the man but so exhausted he could not put much feeling behind the words.

"Tea, I think," Erumar said, and Aragorn attempted to lift his hand but it fell.

"No…just…rest," he said, his eyes beginning to flutter. He could barely keep them open.

"Are you going back to sleep?" she asked him. He knew he did not have much time before he was unconscious again, so he asked a question instead.

"Ghashbûr?" Aragorn asked.

"Tauriel and the Easterlings have not yet returned, and Thranduil has not yet arrived." He tried to smile at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Please! You are half-alive and still have enough presence of mind to tease me? You are ridiculous."

Behind them, Ethring poked his head through the tent flaps and no one even noticed him.

"The Easterlings," Aragorn began, "are they…"

"They are safe and their people are so grateful for what we have done," Erumar replied. "The peace you have orchestrated and fought for is going to be accomplished. Many of the Gondorians are offering to travel with them and help them rebuild, by your leave, of course. There is to be a celebration tomorrow night."

"Though it is doubtful you shall be able to attend," Hildanir added.

Aragorn actually did smile then. "What…no dancing?"

Hildanir smiled back. "And I was worried you would not be yourself when you woke. Why was I worried?"

"Why were any of us worried?" Erumar asked wryly. Aragorn's eyes closed and she knew he was fading fast.

"Hildanir," he attempted, "did you—"

"All of our soldiers are accounted for," he replied, knowing what he meant. "Most of the bodies are burned, but we were so worried about you that we left many orcs on the field of battle. I am afraid now that they are carrion for the vultures and wolves."

"You did what…you could."

Erumar stroked his face as Hildanir nodded. "There will be time to talk about such things later when you are recovered. For now, heal and rest."

He was already out. Ethring cleared his throat and the two of them swiveled around to look at him, Hildanir's hand on his sword hilt. Ethring held up his hands in a mercy gesture. "I heard the announcement. How is the King?"

"Tired," Hildanir said, relaxing, "but alive and himself. He is already asleep again."

Ethring sighed, his eyes worried. "That was not long."

"No, but he needs rest," Erumar said with a smile. "Did you need something, Ethring?"

He shook his head. "I only wished to see that the King was well for myself." His eyes caught on Erumar's hand stroking his face. "Will you be staying at his side, my Lady?"

"For now," she replied, "until night falls or someone more skilled than me can take my place." She lifted her eyes to Hildanir. "I think it might be a good idea, while the King is resting, to change these bandages. Can you please find Eldarn for him? I could use his help."

"Of course," he replied. As he stepped back outside the tent, he caught Ethring's arm. "Will you remain on guard for the King as I search for Eldarn? I should not be long."

"Of course," he replied, and he took up the post.

There could have been no one more perfect than the man who was searching for ways to get close to the King. Oh, he had a plan…a devious plan. If he could be on guard at night, he would be able to find a way to get Elessar and Erumar to inhale the drug, thereby making both of them mad for each other. Obviously, it was not the greatest idea to do such a thing when Elessar was so sorely injured, but when else could he possibly have the amount of time or be in a place where the King would be lying prone for several hours? If he waited until he was healed, who knew what could interfere by that time? This was perfect! All he had to do now was get Hildanir to allow him guard duty at night for the King, and everything would be ideal. After that, he would make his move. The two of them would be in bed together before they could blink, injury or not.

Four days after Aragorn's injury, Enguina found herself at the King's House half-lying on the divan while Arwen sat on the floor, several wrapped packages between them. Legolas had been asked to get some fresh baked goods from her favorite seller, and he was happy to allow the two friends the time to talk without him. Enguina was opening the first one and rolling her eyes at Arwen.

"Honestly, I told you we have enough," she said as Arwen shrugged. "Truly, I was serious. We have so much stuff I will have to pack it all on a donkey to bring it home!"

"Enguina, all of these were things I already was working on. I did not buy any of them," she stated. "And beside that, he is a Prince…he should be the best dressed little babe." She smiled. "And what does it matter if you need to get a donkey to carry it back? There will be a donkey for your little baby."

"We already have a pony for him from Gimli," she said and finished opening the package. "Oh, these two are simply beautiful!" She held up two outfits, the little yellow dress and the tunic and little pants for the boy. "You finished them!"

"I told you that nothing was new."

She laughed and set them aside as Arwen gave her another. "You did, but I never believe you. You are so giving when it comes to things like this. I do not know when you made the time, Arwen." The second package held the pull-toy that Arwen had carved out of wood; it was a mûmakil, with a long trunk that moved when dragged. It was not painted, but that made it all the more beautiful and Enguina marveled at it.

"This is like a drawing," she said, "or a painting; it is so beautiful!" She turned it around in her hands a dozen times, looking at it from every angle. "Arwen, I had no idea you were so skilled a carver!

"On small things," she said, shaking her head. "The bigger they are, the detail is lost. I hope that he or she will enjoy it. Cirgon helped me with the moving trunk."

"How wonderful! I am sure they will play with it every day!" Enguina said.

"Here, this is a toy as well," Arwen said, smiling, and she handed Enguina another.

"You said these were supposed to be gifts I knew about," she added as she began to unwrap it.

Arwen shrugged. "Well, you did not know about this, and you are simply going to have to accept it anyway. Think of it as a celebration gift for being eight months pregnant." A soft and squishy lamb rolled out of the paper and she squealed, scooping it up and pressing it to her cheek.

"Oh! I love it! Can I keep it?" she laughed. Arwen laughed, too.

"What do you need it for? You have Legolas!"

Enguina rubbed it against her cheek. "Oh it is too soft! Too wonderful! What is it, lamb's wool?"

"Alpaca," she replied. "It came from Dol Amroth."

"Oooo," she said, rubbing it through her hands. "I have a blanket made out of this wool from there; Legolas bought it for me on our wedding celebration. It is far too warm, but it is so soft and delightful." She grinned. "Legolas and I have made love on that blanket a number of times! I wonder where that great idea came from."

Arwen laughed. "Well, I hope your babe enjoys the lamb as much as you." She leaned forward and set the last package in Enguina's lap. "This one is not from me."

Enguina gasped. "Is this the story?" Arwen smiled as Enguina began immediately unwrapping, Aragorn's book falling out onto her lap. "Oh Ilúvatar…this is…" She was speechless as she flipped through the pages, Aragorn's drawings on every page, his beautiful script in the language of the Eldar.

"He asked me to wait to give it to you until you were going home," Arwen added, as Enguina studied the book in silent awe. "When I found out you were not leaving, I decided to wait until I was finished with my gifts. He worked so many late hours on it and any spare time he could."

"There is…there is more than one story?" Enguina's voice squeaked out in surprise, tears in her eyes as she saw who was featured. "It…it is about me?"

"The first story was supposed to be a fairytale," Arwen explained. "The second was the truth of your story, how you and Legolas came to be—obviously, not told exactly as it happened, but with similar elements. The last is a story about a boy and his horse. Aragon wanted an excuse to draw horses, I think. I hope you like it."

"I am…I am speechless," she replied, swallowing. "It is so beautiful. You are both so talented! I hope that when you do have a child," she said, "I can take the time to make them something wonderful as you have done for mine."

"Speaking of children," Arwen said, "I do have one final gift. I would like you and Legolas, when you do finally travel to Ithilien, to take the rocking horse with you."

"No."

"Before you refuse, hear—"

"No, no, no." Enguina shook her head forcefully. "That was a gift from Faramir to you both before I even knew him. Legolas and I will not accept it. Leave it here for your child, please."

"Aragorn and I want it to be used, treasured and loved by someone who will enjoy it. Please, Enguina, it is not permanent." She looked at her seriously. "I want you to have it so your child will play on it. Until we have our own, it could be yours."

"Arwen—"

"I know what you are thinking," she said, and Enguina could tell she was not pretending, "but I am not being rid of it so that I can stop looking at it, though that would be an added benefit, I will not lie. Aragorn and I do believe it should be used, not collecting dust."

"When did you talk to Aragorn about it?"

"Before he left," she admitted. "Why do you ask? You do not believe me?"

"Of course I believe you!" she said, rolling her eyes. "But it does not matter anyway. I am sorry, Arwen, but no, I could not possibly. It was a gift for your child. I cannot accept it."

Arwen nodded. "I understand." Enguina was quiet as Arwen began picking up the paper.

"Are you…angry? Upset?" she asked and Arwen laughed.

"No, Enguina," she said, rolling her eyes. "I really did want your child to have it for a while. It is a rocking horse; it should be used."

"Well…when we come and visit you," she said, raising her eyebrows. "He could ride it then."

Arwen nodded. "That sounds like a fine idea."

"You mentioned Aragorn…" Enguina began and then hesitated, unsure how to continue.

"I have felt him," she said softly in response. "Today, in fact, for a brief moment. He was in pain, but he sent me…peace. He is unwell, wounded…but he is recovering."

Enguina sighed and relaxed visibly. "Oh, praise Ilúvatar. I know that you as well as Legolas and myself have been praying continually the last few days. I am so glad to hear that he is safe, out of danger. I hope Erumar is with him."

"I…am sure she is." Arwen's stomach turned over and she shoved that thought away. One snake's words were not going to play on her mind; she was not going to let it. She lifted her head and gave Enguina a smile. "So, are you and Legolas going to celebrate that you are eight months?"

"Arwen, I have been eight months for two days now," she laughed.

"I know," she replied. "But are you?"

"He is buying me muffins…" she said, and then she smiled. "But I am hoping to have a more…private celebration, if you know what I mean…at some point when I am not so tired and the baby can sleep through the night." Arwen smiled as she sighed. "This past month has been very long, indeed."

"How are you feeling now, by the way?"

"A little better. The baby has been pushing around in the last few minutes. I feel a constant need to relieve myself." She laughed, blushing. "It seems like I was only just there!"

Arwen smiled. "That is the way of something trying to take space in your body when there was not space for it before." She studied Enguina's belly, allowing herself to imagine for just one moment what it would have been like had she been able to reach her eighth month. Then she forced the thought away and continued to smile. It was too late.

Enguina reached out and covered her hand, looking at her seriously. "Are you still all right with this?"

Arwen appeared confused. "All right with what, Enguina?"

"Legolas and I staying here to have the child. You can tell me if it would be easier on you to—"

"No," she said firmly. "That would be a thousand times worse."

"Because you would feel guilty," Enguina said for her, but then she kept going. "Arwen, how do you think I feel? Sometimes I feel as though I should not talk about the baby around you, or that Legolas is…sometimes inappropriate when he…talks to the baby…" Arwen knew she was referring to him kissing her.

Arwen looked away from her eyes, feeling absolutely miserable. "I do not want you to feel that way…to feel uncomfortable because of me, to feel awkward around my feelings. I want you to be happy; you should be happy. Anything less is wrong, and I know you feel that way because of me. I am so…sorry."

"It is not because of you," she said, squeezing her hands more tightly even as Arwen sought to pull away. "It is because you are hurting; I do not want to cause you more pain. That is not your fault."

"I survived the birth of Éowyn's child," she said softly. "I should be able to…handle this."

"Aragorn was here then," Enguina said gently.

Arwen lifted her gaze. "It would be worse if I sent you away. You and the child would be all I would be thinking of, and I would never forgive myself. No, in Minas Tirith you will stay." She smiled. "Just…try to ignore me. I will be all right."

Enguina looked horrified. "I will not try to ignore you. Stop that! As if you ignored me when I was in pain!"

"You are right, of course," she replied. She had nothing else to say.

"Have the dreams been less? You still look—"

"Sometimes," she said, "and yes, I am still tired. This has been a tough month for both of us." She gave her a smile. "I believe things will be better soon though. I must believe, yes? Yes! We shall both get more sleep this month."

Enguina grinned, but rolled her eyes. "Why does that seem like wishful thinking?"

Hey Ho! I see her dancing there!

Hey Ho! Not a worry or a care!

Barman, lemme have more ale on tap!

Hey Merry Mary come dance on my lap!

The celebration was in full swing and Easterlings and Gondorians were carousing together, very much enjoying themselves. There was loud inappropriate music though no drink, which the elves that were present much decried. However, all rose above and enjoyed themselves, except the King of Gondor, who was nearby resting in his tent and Garm, who was his guard at the moment. Ethring was to be the guard for the King in two hours, so everything had to be in place by then. He was prepared; he had already begun his plan for the King, unbeknownst to Garm and Hildanir. The unsuspecting King was already inhaling the drug as he lured Erumar a bit of a distance from camp. Like an incense, he was burning it within the King's tent; when Erumar woke him, it would already be in his mind. Her seduction would take moments. The burning was a longer way for it to work, but that was good. He needed time to get Erumar to do exactly what he needed her to and when. He had convinced her away from the party where she had been enjoying the company of Hildanir, Eldan, and several other Easterlings. After drawing her out under the guise of speaking with her in some quiet, they were among the trees alone, not far from his own tent, and little did she know, the place where he had been leading her.

"It was nice to speak with you for a little while, Ethring," Erumar said with a smile. "I was thinking of looking in on the King one last time before I turn in. Today was long, and it is quite late. I should probably turn back."

"Not yet," he replied. "Besides, this is far enough, I think."

She thought that a strange thing for him to say, but when he turned toward her there was a look in his eye that she could only recognize as ominous. She shifted her weight back involuntarily.

"The rest of the group will be looking for—"

"No one will look for us," he said, and he drew closer to her. She took a step back, but she realized as soon as she did that she should have run first. His hand closed around her upper arm, only tight enough to keep her there. "I needed to speak with you, Erumar."

He had dropped the 'Lady,' and that should have worried her. "I thought we were already speaking, Ethring," she said, her voice full of distrust. "What was so important that we needed to come away from the others? And…why are you holding my—"

"Gondor has need of your services."

"Gon…what?" she asked, and in her confusion, he could sense that she was preparing for flight.

"Let me explain," he began, making sure his hold on her was tight enough to prevent escape but not tight enough to make her fear him. "I am a citizen of Gondor, a Lieutenant with the guard, and a liaison with the High Council of Minas Tirith. I have sworn an oath of fealty, allegiance, and service to the Reunited Kingdom and her King, to do anything necessary to preserve and protect her in the time to come. Have you ever taken such an oath?"

She shook her head. "I am a citizen of no kingdom now as Lórien has faded, and I owed it no allegiance, as you speak. I am no soldier."

"I have come to understand in my time serving as a soldier of Gondor that my oath often means I may have to do something that I do not wish in order to see the glory of Gondor preserved. I would do anything to ensure the safety of the throne and the King Elessar upon it." He looked directly into her eyes. "Do you understand?"

"I understand that statement, but I…am confused by it. Why are you telling me this? Do you perceive me as a threat? I assure you, Ethring, I—"

"You are no threat, Erumar," he stated. "You told me not days ago that you would do almost anything to repay the debt that you owe the King. Did you mean that?"

She hesitated, her mind racing. "Of course! Though I—"

"Then, I tell you that Gondor is in need of a great service from you," he stated.

She stared at him. "If Gondor is in need of a great service, then why are you telling me?"

"I should correct myself. The King is in need of a great service of you."

"Why would Aragorn not ask me himself?"

"There are moments when even the King cannot see that he requires some aid to accomplish the ends that both he and the Council wish. Elessar, especially in this case, does not realize that he needs this service done for him, instead of by him." He sighed. "In fact, I know he does not wish it, but he truly has no choice in the matter. Someday, he will see that; for the good of Gondor, it needed to be done." He looked into her eyes again, and his grip tightened on her arm in his fervor. "You are uniquely placed and perfect for this duty. Come with me."

He half-led, half-dragged her in the direction of his tent; she followed unwillingly, still confused. When she figured out where they were going, she planted her feet. "Ethring, I will not go one more step until you give some clarity on this matter. How am I perfectly placed for this duty? What are you talking about?"

"Your friendship with the King is close, warm; you have known each other for years. You are also perfectly made, an elf originally from Rivendell. Nothing could be better planned or more perfect; the King will be unable to refuse you."

She shook her head, staring at him. "I am more confused than I was before! What exactly is Gondor asking me to do that involves the King agreeing to something he would not normally agree to? I will not convince him of something that is against what I believe, what I feel he believes."

"It is not a question of asking," Ethring told her, pulling her closer to him, "it is something he must do. Elessar needs this, he knows he does, yet he will not do what is necessary to make it so. Therefore, you are going to help him do what needs to be done. This very night, you will seduce the King, and lie with him; he will be intimate with you, aiding both him and Gondor in one night. You will have saved the Reunited Kingdom from slipping back into the darkness of a realm waiting for a king."

The muscles in her arm flexed as she blinked once…twice. Her brow furrowed. "Forgive me, Ethring…I must be stupid. I think I misunderstood—"

"No, you heard correctly. You will go to his tent and seduce him, lead him to bed you—"

Disbelief was her only defense at the moment. "What? Why would you think I would ever—"

"Erumar, you must have noticed the lack of a child! Our Queen is barren; even the Healers in the Houses have said as much. The King desperately needs an heir; there was nothing more visible than when he almost lost his life four days ago from the warg! He must have an heir. His honor towards his wife is commendable, but he must see reason. This is the only way. Only you can give him an heir."

Her eyes went wide and the muscles in her arm hard-coiled as she began to pull away. "Are you mad? You must be mad! To think that I would—"

"You must!" he snapped at her. "For the sake of the Reunited Kingdom and King Elessar—"

She snarled in disgust and tried to break his hold on her, yanking on his fingers. "Let go of me! How dare you!"

"I dare because I must! Gondor needs an heir!" He held on more tightly.

"Gondor needs!" she spat. "Who are you? Your senseless council says the Queen is barren, but they are wrong. Foolish men cannot seem to understand other races; elves have difficulty bearing children! The Evenstar is no different! It will simply take time! Let go of me, Ethring!" She yelled the last and yanked hard on her arm, stabbing down into his hand with her nails.

"The King has no time! You must see sense yourself, Erumar," he replied as she tussled with him. "The Queen is barren; even the King—"

She struck him across the face suddenly, hard; his grip broke on her as his chin snapped to the side and she yanked back, pulling her arm free and attempting to bolt between the tents. She made it exactly three strides before Ethring grabbed her elbow and twisted her left arm towards him fiercely, up and behind her back. Her shoulder and arm had healed from the stoning, but this brought back the memory of that pain. She made to scream for help and he wrapped a strong arm across her throat, cutting off her breath. She clawed at the arm around her throat but he ignored her, towing her backward into his tent as she stumbled along.

"You listen to me, Erumar," he growled in her ear. "No one expects you to become the King's new wife. The expectation is that you submit to the Reunited Kingdom and bear the King a child; I did not expect you to come along willingly. I knew you too well for that." She struggled and he lifted her elbow in a position that made her shoulder scream. "I dislike this," he added, releasing her throat a bit now that they were inside, "but know that if it is necessary, as a soldier of Gondor, I can seriously hurt you.

"Now, all you need do is simply bear him a child that he can return to Minas Tirith with; the Queen will go into seclusion and pretend it was hers all along. A perfect solution. You and the Queen are so similar the people will never notice any difference. Your sacrifice is required; what is a bit of the loss of your honor in the grand scheme of the world?"

If she was facing him, she would have spat in his face. "Go to the Pits of Melkor, you selfish—" Her rant was cut short by her shout of pain as Ethring twisted her arm.

"I will do whatever is necessary, Erumar," he said in her ear, "and so will you. Repay your debt to Gondor."

"I owe Aragorn a debt; I owe Gondor nothing!" she snarled through her pain. "Even if you forced me to do this, which you cannot, Aragorn would never betray Arwen! And I would die first! I will not commit adultery for the council's whims!"

"There is no need for anyone to die," he told her. "The Council knew that you would not willingly do this, so they provided a way. You are going to voluntarily inhale an aphrodisiac; so will the King, though he will do it unknowingly. You will then easily submit to him, or have him submit to you; either way, he will not be able to resist you…and both of you will enjoy it immensely."

She wrenched forward at his words and he pulled up harder, her muscles screaming; she had to stop trying to get away before he broke her arm.

"I will not!" she choked out, tears springing to her eyes.

"Yes, you will," he said with a laugh, "because the drug you are taking will make you follow my instruction, and I will send you into the King's tent…and you will seduce him, as aroused as you will be. Trust me," he laughed again, finally frightening her with his words, "I have seen this drug in action. You will not be able to control yourself. Which could be very interesting indeed for me, were I interested in committing adultery myself. I have been sorely tempted to try it out on you…" His breath touched her ear and she turned her head away, disgusted and terrified. "But I wanted to save you exclusively for the King. If you are to be his child-bearer, than that is what you should be."

"You do not know the consequences…" she stuttered, and he felt her breath catch. "You cannot know what you are doing! You will destroy them both, destroy her!"

"They have seen darker days," Ethring admitted, though Erumar began to cry openly then. "The Queen will understand that this is the only way for Gondor to survive. Everyone must make sacrifices, Elessar's his vows to his wife, and yours your honor, the Evenstar's the fidelity of her husband and a child of her own, and mine freedom." He knew this was what would happen; Erumar would not be silent after she came to from the drug.

"Please…please, I beg you!" she pleaded brokenly. "Please you cannot understand; this will kill her! The purity of their love is all they have!"

"Do not be afraid," he said to her, ignoring her words, and he forced her to her knees as she cried out when he dragged her down by her arm. She tried to pull away but his grip was so tight. He had released her throat and was doing something with his other hand. She tried to claw him, grab him, but he just yanked hard on her arm, causing her to squeal with agony.

"Please, Ethring! Let me go!" she moaned aloud.

"No, I cannot do that unless you agree to take this of your own free will."

"No! No!" She wrestled with him, tears on her face, and this time he released her arm and wrapped his around her throat. She struggled, now with both hands free, trying to get enough leverage. When he realized that she was much stronger this way, he cuffed her across the face twice, knocking her to the side and then leapt atop her, crushing her beneath his weight. He held her down with his legs and torso, holding her arms down with his knees. She wrenched back and forth underneath him, but could get nowhere; even slamming her knees into his back he could not be budged. He clamped his hand down over her mouth and her eyes bulged in fear; in his other hand was a vial of greenish powder.

"The councilman said that inhaling it is the fastest way, straight into the brain," he said. "You will not know what is happening until it is already over, so consumed by the power of the arousal you will feel, so you might as well just breathe." She thrashed beneath him, but the hand over her mouth held her head too still. Instead, she simply would not take a breath. Even in fear, she was defiant, and he could see it in her eyes as they fluttered with her lack of oxygen. She would sooner faint than betray them.

He rolled his eyes. "I knew you were stubborn, but this is bordering on the ridiculous. Well, if I must, I must." He slipped the vial between the fingers on his other hand, keeping it up against her nose. He raised the other and brought his fist down incredibly hard in the center of her chest. Her breath came out with a huff and then she could not help but gasp through her nose, the powder shooting through her sinuses.

The effect was nearly immediate; her eyes fluttered with the shock of the drug to her brain and she breathed in again, gasping on the double dose. He pulled back from her, corking the vial as she rolled onto her side, panting through her mouth as her hands began tearing at her eyes and cheeks, coughing, wheezing, and choking. She was writhing on the ground, her hands moving to her throat and chest, clutching and tearing at the same time.

His wife had not done that, though he had not had her inhale the drug but drink it, the slowest way into the bloodstream. He watched her, and was almost surprised at how crudely her body was moving, almost as though it was fighting for relief already. Watching her was almost like watching her dance for him, the provocative way her body was jolting on the ground was more intense than even he had expected, her breath was coming out in wheezes. He waited it out, unsure when she would stop or if she would—perhaps inhaling it so directly had been too much…

"What the hell!" he exclaimed as she began retching violently, her eyes rolling back into her head. He immediately leaned forward and dragged her back, noticing her hands and body were shaking forcefully as well. When he thought she was finished, he pulled her upright, her head lolling on her shoulders as though she were half-drunk. "Erumar, sit up," he said, now really worried. He could tell that she tried to respond to his command, but the drug in her brain was simply too much. One of her hands found his hip and he jolted back. "None of that," he said, shoving her hand down, "not with me." He pushed her back against the center pole of the tent and held her there.

Even though she was not speaking, it was clear that the powder was having an effect other than arousing her. Her skin was flushed, yes, but she was also trying to tear at her throat and chest, clear signs of distress, perhaps even pain. She had scratched her face and nose as well, and as she was against the pole, she was also trying to alleviate her arousal, trying to pull him towards her, trying to touch herself or him. After two minutes of trying to control her hands, to make her sit still, he gave up and tied her to the post, making sure her hands were tied as well. She was completely out of it as he tried to get her to respond to his statements, his words; she could not. Erumar was blind to everything but what she was feeling through the drug.

His wife had not responded like this. He needed her to snap out of it. This was his one chance to get her with Elessar, and he only had little more than an hour before he needed to be at his post. Elessar would be ready, but as she began groaning, he wondered if Erumar would make it, her body breaking out in a sweat as she battled the effects of the drug, her breath coming out in pants. He was not sure if that was arousal or pain, even panic; he would have to wait her out, and pray that whatever was happening to her would not get any worse. He could not fail. His perfect plan could not backfire.