It had not been an easy rest, and with her face hot and dizziness making her head swim, Arwen came back to her own mind and found herself lying in bed. She was trembling, freezing, but she did not have the presence of mind to figure out why. Her fingers moved, reaching about on the bed for the warmth of Aragorn's hand or body, the form that had been there, but she could not find him.

She swallowed and opened her eyes, worry and anxiety creeping up on her quickly. He had been here…she knew it was true! She could not have imagined it. She could not have! Panic and despair began to set in; her breathing grew heavy and ragged, her heart pounding and chest aching with physical pain. She closed her eyes tight.

Please, Father! I beg you that you did not allow me a moment of peace only to make it not real! You could not be so cruel as to do this!

She tried to get her breathing under control, but she could not; so instead, she focused on clearing her blurry eyes—and that was when she saw him. He appeared ragged, weary, the sleeves rolled up on his wrinkled tunic, but it did not matter. What mattered was that he was real, and she could not keep the tears of relief out of her eyes. Her heart was still racing, and she was certain he could hear it over where he had come in and that he must have seen the look of panic on her face.

He could and he had, of course, so he limped toward her, reaching out immediately for her left hand as he attempted to lower himself with a little bit of poise to her bedside. He did not fall, but it was not graceful either. He noticed instantly that she was trembling from head to toe.

"Easy," he said gently, "I am here." Her eyes closed and tears slipped out when they reopened to meet his.

"You—" she began, but her voice was a croak and her breathing was heavy. She attempted to swallow and tried again, but he laid a finger on her lips to quiet her. Then, after he helped her drink some water, she tried once more. "You frightened me…you were gone…" she said, though her voice was no stronger than before.

"I frightened you?" he questioned her softly. "You stopped breathing too many times, my love," he murmured, rubbing a finger across her lips and then lowering the hand to her heart. "Beloved, I did not think I was going to get you back." He gave her more to drink.

I thought… She could not say the words aloud. I thought I had imagined you, as I had before…that I was dreaming again…

Her words in his head, although still so weak, struck him. He lowered his eyes, staring at his hand and hers over her heart. "I could never beg you enough for your forgiveness," he replied aloud and his whisper spoke to her of his grief. "For leaving you here, for abandoning you…"

"You had no—" She meant to say 'choice,' but her voice cut off as she coughed a few times before groaning in pain, her chest aching.

"You should not try to speak," he reminded her quietly. "You need to rest, Arwen."

"You…need to rest…" she continued, her eyes half-closing. Her chest pained with every breath; her back was aching; her head felt hot; her lungs were heavy. Was she ill? "I feel…so weak…"

He lifted a tired hand and laid it against her face; this time she did not flinch away and he was very relieved to see it. "How long were you out in the weather?" he asked her gently, feeling for her forehead then. Her eyes closed all the way and she tried to wet her lips again. He helped her drink a little more water and she caught his eyes only for a moment before he looked away.

"The…the look you give…"

"I am worried for you," he told her honestly, locating a blanket within reach to cover her shivering form to her waist. "Ilúvatar brought you back from the grave, and now you must heal; you must recover, regain your strength. And I…am not well enough to heal you." The guilt in his voice was overpowering, and she gave him a little smile, barely dragging her hand up high enough to touch his wrist. He caught her hand and held it gently, laying it back down at her side while keeping his fingers in hers. The wrist was broken, and it would do her no good to be moving it. Yet another thing to be grateful to Hildanir for—he had set it.

"Your…presence is enough," she said in the same soft voice, half-opening her eyes again to see him. He returned her little smile. She coughed again, her face contorting with the agony of her chest and ribs. Her heavy breathing returned as she tried to catch her breath, and Aragorn released her hand to lay one hand on her ribcage and forced the other to lie between her breasts. Her tunic was unbuttoned down the front, exposing her battered, bruised, and scrawny figure. She could feel heat through his hands and she shook her head. "No…" she muttered and he frowned at her.

"Several of your ribs are broken," he stated. She had been too exposed, he thought, and perhaps if he were lucky he could force away whatever illness she was getting if he worked quickly. She was too weak, too injured, to survive something such as that now. Her condition…it appalled him. He could hardly think of what she had suffered; it made him sick, bile rising in his throat. He swallowed and continued, "You are in pain."

"And you…are exhausted…" she whispered back. "In no condition…to heal…when you…need healing yourself…"

Sudden, unbidden and unwanted tears flooded his eyes and he had to lower his head so she would not see. How she wished she had the strength to comfort him physically! Instead, she settled for caressing his presence with hers, though even that was a struggle that left her drained.

"Let…it be," she whispered.

"I…I cannot," he told her brokenly. I look at you, and to my everlasting shame I see what he has done…and what I could not stop…If only I had been here, Arwen!

Lie down beside me again…forget for a little while…tomorrow we will speak of it.

Tomorrow?

Yes, tomorrow. For now…I only need you.

He did as she asked. First, because it was true that he was exhausted and could never have done anything to heal her. Second, because she had told him to and he needed to obey; he did not want to fight or argue or even have a slight disagreement. He needed her as she needed him. With difficulty, he stretched out once again behind her. Part of him desired to tell her of the birth, but the other part was so exhausted that he could not bring himself to tell the story when he knew she so obviously needed to rest. He closed his eyes, sighing as he breathed her in, as grateful as she was that he was there beside her.

She forced her hand to his face to trace the tired skin around his eyes. Dark circles had formed there, just as they had upon hers. Silver was lining some of his hair as it had not been. He was lying in such a way that she knew he was wounded. They would have to talk about that as well, though she thought now perhaps the warg had been real…if the rest of it had been…

But no. She did not want to think of it just yet. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they would deal with the tragedy their lives had become in the last two months. Not now. Now, she only wanted to feel the joy of touching his face, and being at peace beside him, and nothing else.

Aragorn was asleep in a moment at the gentleness of her touch, and after several minutes, Arwen, too, joined him.


Legolas lifted his head and blinked his eyes to erase the sleep from them. Rubbing his neck, he looked upon his wife with loving eyes, seeing the baby stretched out between her breasts, wrapped tightly in a swaddling cloth to keep him warm. Staring at him, so tiny, so fragile, Legolas knew there was nothing else that would ever come close to the moment he had first held his boy in his arms. It was a different feeling, a new feeling of protectiveness and love he had never experienced quite the way he had earlier. He loved Enguina and wanted to protect her, but this was different in an extreme way. He remembered Faramir's two children and what it had been like to feel awe over them…but this…this was their son.

He had to be the most blessed elf this side of Valinor, the Holy Realm. And it was not only this, but he was so lucky to still count his friendship with Aragorn among the blessings of his life for he had come once again to his aid in time of desperate need. Arwen, too, was safe and would heal; this was also a blessing. And then for him to look down and see the lovely mother of his firstborn lying before him, even in restless sleep, was such a blessing. She had worked so hard through the labor, and he could tell she was in stress because she was blinking rapidly, even in sleep. Nearly seventeen hours of labor had taken a toll on her, and she had been under terrible stress before that time; she would need time to recover from this ordeal.

He rose soundlessly and moved to her feet. She was covered with a sheet to keep her warm, but he wanted to add another blanket just to be sure. Before he did, he made sure that the blood was taken care of, noticing that once again, Aragorn had done everything possible to make her comfortable. Here he was, far older than the man, and yet there were so many things that Aragorn knew that he knew nothing of. He could not have been more grateful. He laid a hand on her ankle, stroked her skin once, and then looked up at her face. She was still resting, and the child had not moved from his position on her chest.

Slipping from the room, he made his way to the guestroom, looking inside at his sleeping friends. There was Aragorn, lying beside Arwen, their heads so close they were touching. He could see from the doorway that she was covered up now, so her bruises and wounds were hidden. There was no sign of Hildanir. He listened to them breathing for a moment.

Thank you, gracious Lord and Father. Thank you for repairing their love, for returning him to her side. Thank you for not allowing her to give up her life. I praise you.

He smiled and then turned back to the hall and entered the kitchen. There was no sight of Hildanir, but there were signs of him—a warm fire in the hearth, a new stew heating over it, along with a pot of tea. There were also freshly baked loaves of bread sitting on the table, and Legolas blessed the man in his head as he collected some food for the two of them. Enguina needed nourishment, and he wanted to be back at her side. First, he filled the water jug in Arwen's room and left them a loaf of bread as well, knowing that when they woke they would be hungry, too. He returned to the kitchen to bring Enguina's food to her.

As he entered the room, Enguina's hands were moving, rubbing the baby's back gently. He smiled and took a seat beside her on the bed again, setting down the food he had collected on the chair and then reaching out to stroke a hand through her hair.

"Hello," she whispered, a brilliant smile on her face.

He gave her an equal grin. "Good morning, my ray of sunshine," he said, and he leaned over to kiss her soundly. She gave to the kiss and ended it with a sigh of delight as he leaned his forehead on hers. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she replied easily and honestly. "Sore, as well." He ran a hand over the child's back and then settled over Enguina's belly where he began to gently massage her again. She groaned. "Not that again."

He smiled. "Aragorn told me that it helps."

She rolled her eyes. "You would leap from a tower if that man told you it was safe."

He hesitated and then nodded. "You are probably right." He lifted his head and then brushed his lips against the back of the babe's head. "Our son," he whispered.

"Yes," she said with a little sigh. "Our son."

"I am still in awe," he said, staring down at him as his hand continued massaging her. "I never could have imagined anything such as this."

"A baby?"

He shook his head. "Any of it, Guin. Our marriage, a home…a child…feeling love like this. It is an incredible blessing much more than I could have ever hoped for." She smiled as she watched him watching their sleeping little boy.

"I did not know I could love two people the same way," she said honestly, and he turned his head to meet her eyes. "I did not know that what I feel for you I could feel for another. He is ours, Legolas, in every way. And we must raise him."

He nodded, smiling. "I am looking forward to every moment of that."

She suddenly looked to the chair and her eyes grew wide. "Oh, is that food?"

He laughed. "Yes, courtesy of Hildanir. The man is a blessing."

"The man is a saint," she corrected. Then, with her eyes she begged him. "Can you take him and then help me sit up? He is not going to wake yet."

Legolas thought the babe would wake as soon as he lifted him, however, he had no problem at all lifting him and laying him in the nearby cradle. Then, as gently as he could, he helped Enguina sit up; it was uncomfortable, but she made it.

He shared the bread and stew with her, letting his hand stray back to her belly now and then to rub it gently. The tea was the most helpful, as it had been brewed with pain-relieving herbs for which Enguina was very grateful.

She glanced over at their son to be sure he was still asleep and then over to Legolas as she took another spoonful of stew. "So…" He met her eyes.

"Yes, moina?"

"Tell me about him."

Legolas smiled ruefully. "I know that was not what you wanted to happen at all, but—"

"It was awful," she admitted. "It was the worst possible scenario I could have imagined, and yet, it happened. And I am grateful, even if I may not seem it, not wanting to live in the man's debt." The last she grumbled and he had to chuckle, passing her some more tea.

"I will try to explain as concisely as possible. Aragorn came to Minas Tirith and when he arrived, he immediately explained what had happened. The councilman Nardur had plotted with one of the Gondorians to force Erumar to seduce him so that she could bear him an heir. He did it so well that he poisoned the two of them with an elixir that made them desire one another, to nearly lose their minds to it. When that happened—"

"So he did do it?" Enguina questioned bluntly, fierce anger behind her voice though she tried to control it.

"He was consumed by the drug, they both were," he said gently. "That was what Arwen felt. It seems that when Arwen reached out to him, she was his salvation—it made him come back to himself. He had to injure Erumar to stop her, but they did stop. He…did not make love to her."

Enguina's eyes narrowed. "Are you certain? He was not lying? There was truth in his eyes?"

"He was…more than distraught over what he had done," he told her. "There was more than truth in his eyes. He meant every word, and Hildanir and Mennev told the story true as well."

"If you left for food," she said, "you must have seen them. How is Arwen?"

"Warm and recovering. Probably not as quickly as we would like," he admitted. "Do you remember when Arwen told us that she thought Aragorn had been injured?" Enguina nodded, eating another spoonful of stew. "He had been attacked by a warg and rider. His wounds were severe, and he still has not fully healed as he has been running for weeks to get here, to save her. Those few times I left the room while you were in labor, he was fighting for her life. She…was fighting him."

"She did not want to be healed by him," Enguina stated, but her words were soft, tears in her eyes. "She wanted to let go so badly; she tried to kill herself the other night before you came. She wanted to die; she hoped for it, prayed for it. So I can imagine it would have been very difficult for him to call her back." She shook her head. "I cannot imagine what was going on in her head all that time; I know what was going on in mine during labor."

"I could not have done it without him. What he said…he was right," he murmured softly. "If I had not done what he asked—"

"I know," she interrupted. "What I mean is that all of what she felt cannot simply go away. Not even after the truth is known."

"Arwen has forgiven him, it appears," Legolas added. "He sleeps at her side." The baby made a noise in his sleep and Legolas looked over at him, watching him for a moment or two. "He is so perfect."

When she made no response, Legolas looked up to find her still gazing at him with serious eyes. "Legolas…" she began, and then she stopped. "I…should not continue. Forget it."

"Tell me what is on your heart."

She frowned, suddenly looking very hollow, and he wondered at it with concern. "You will think ill of me," she whispered. "You will think me hard and…unforgiving."

"Talk to me," he said urgently, leaning forward and touching her face. "I promise I will not judge you for your thoughts. Tell me, Guin, for anything that burdens you, burdens us both."

She sighed and looked down at her hands holding the stew. "How can she just…forgive him? Just like that. One 'I am sorry' and it is over?" She shook her head. "How can that happen? She was so…devastated; she would not sleep, would not eat, attempted to kill herself…how can she just forget all of that? It is not possible." She lifted her head and looked at him. "It simply is not."

He met her gaze. "I would think," he replied slowly, "that she must have good reason to have believed him."

"What if he is lying? What if he is deceiving us?" she asked, swallowing hard and feeling more awful by the moment. "What if he really has slept with…with her? How can she forgive him, and Eru forbid, let him touch her, let him lie in the same bed with her?" She let her mouth fall open in shock at even thinking it. "When I first met him, I questioned how a man, just a man could love as we love: forever, eternally, without bounds and without time. I still do not know if my question can be answered. Can they? Can he? Has he loved only her those long years they were parted? Truly? Has he loved only her, even now? In the face of everything that has happened between them can he truly never think about other choices he might make? After all, he is only a man whose time is fleeting." He listened to her carefully as she shook her head. "I feel awful…I hate to think this way…

"And I worry terribly for her. To go through this, to suffer this way…I worry for their future, for her future with him. I worry that I am unforgiving, for I do not think that I could forgive you so readily…or so easily for causing me such pain." Tears formed in her eyes. "I do not know if I could endure it." Legolas looked down at their son for a few moments as he thought about what she had said. Enguina was relieved that he had not dismissed her musings outright, but his long silence also worried her. She twisted her hands together. "What are you thinking? I cannot tell."

He reached out and slipped his hand between hers. "Enguina, your concerns are valid, but you are not Arwen."

"She has always been stronger than me," she said with a sigh. "She has such strength, and she has always trusted Ilúvatar, but this was different. She lost all hope, Legolas; you saw her! You were the one who told me that I needed to prepare myself, that she was going to leave. If it were me—"

"Yes, she lost who she was," he agreed, "but you must also understand that you do not fully understand the heart of Aragorn, or their history as well as you think you do."

She flushed a little, but then said, "You doubted him, as well. You were angrier than I was."

He nodded. "Yes, I saw no way that what Arwen had felt was untrue, but there was no way to deny the truth from Aragorn's lips."

She eyed him intently. "Tell me, then.

"Arwen told you of how they met in the birches of Imladris, but they had not seen one another for thirty years before they pledged themselves to one another in Lórien. All that time, Aragorn was not even tempted to have eyes for another woman. I should know…I am the one who tried to convince him to love anyone other than the Evenstar."

"You?" questioned Enguina, surprise on her face. "But you were one of her closest friends! And one of his, were you not?"

"Selfishly, I wished to protect her and save her life from the death of men, just as her father did," he replied. "It mattered not; he would not even look at another woman. He used to sing to her at night, staring at the stars." He shook his head. "I never understood it until I met you. And after they were together again in Lothlórien, he did not see her for another twenty years, roaming in the Wilds for defense against Sauron's spreading evil. And then it was the same; even more so, knowing what he shared with her…" He looked down at their joined hands. "It is…impossible for Aragorn to betray her. He loves her so much his heart would burst; he will literally stop at nothing to be beside her. He does everything for the sake of her love. He will never leave her. Not before death takes him."

Enguina thought about Arwen miscarrying the child and how gentle Aragorn had been with her. That was all true…but when there was no child, could he still feel the same way for her? When she could not give him what was necessary? The questions remained in her head, but Legolas could see them behind her eyes.

"As for the matter of her forgiveness," he added into her silence, and he gave her a little smile as he stroked her cheek with his free hand, "I do not know the depths of a woman's heart, nor the certainty of her convictions, nor how deep the bond that she shares with the man she loves—this I only know of what I have found with you. Though I can say this: if I was proven wrong in such a way, and I was on the verge of death only to be called back to life after trying to destroy myself, I would immediately take refuge in the arms that had sheltered me all of my life." He continued seriously, "I have always trusted Aragorn with my life, and I…am determined that for as long as I live, I will try to never believe wrongly of him or distrust him again. I have no excuse."

"Arwen believed he had done this terrible thing," she said softly. "That excuses you of blame."

"I am ashamed to say what I felt against him. I wrote him a letter, while you were away, that described my hate for him." He frowned. "It was wrong of me. To hear his words of how he felt that he had betrayed her, that he felt he had committed adultery with Erumar even though the deed went unfinished…he was undone by what had happened. To think that he had even thought about her the way that he thought of Arwen, was unfathomable to him. He said that he will never find enough ways to beg her forgiveness, to prove himself."

Enguina sighed. "I imagine that he does feel terrible," she said. "I hate to think badly of him, Legolas, but I…am so worried for her. To see her the way she had been these past weeks, to watch her ride along with no sense of life at all, to watch her try to sleep and dream of him…I have spent too many hours almost losing her. It is difficult for me to think of her walking off to her death again. I do not think I could bear it." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Perhaps, if I…try, I will forget this time of grief. I…need to pray that I make peace with this situation, that I can forgive him as you have." Her eyes were sad. "I want us all to be a family again."

A muttering came from the cradle at that moment, which made both of them turn to look. Their son was looking at them, clearly listening, attentive to the tones of his parent's voices. Enguina smiled as Legolas reached down and lifted him up. He cooed to him softly, and the little one simply looked back at him, his mouth opening and closing.

"I think someone is hungry," he whispered, leaning over to rub his nose on the babe's.

"Here," Enguina said, "let me take him." He traded the baby for her bowl of stew and Legolas helped her get comfortable and then watched him latch to her breast, a bit awkwardly, but he made it. She looked up to find Legolas smiling at her. "A family again," she repeated. "I did not think it would be possible ever again."

"Nor I," he agreed. "But I am so grateful that we will be."

"He is so beautiful," she said, sighing with love. "We have thought of so many names, Legolas. How shall we choose one?"

"Perhaps we can name him for what he will be," Legolas replied softly, stroking his finger along the baby's arm as his hand tried to tighten on Enguina's breast. "What about a name for a perfect bowman? Perhaps Lúvatan?"

"What about Arnil, for noble prince?" she said with a giggle.

"Or Palanil, for friend of far and wide?" he offered.

"Oh, I do not know…I am not sure I want him to be too much of a wanderer," she said thoughtfully. "What of Dúthon?"

"That is handsome. How about Ninniach?" he laughed. She smacked him on the arm.

"Now you are being silly, and I was trying to be serious! If you are going to offer ridiculous names, then so am I. What about Naurpaur or Rochdol?"

He burst out laughing and grinned. "I like Minyorch."

She gave him a horrified look and then laughed as well. "'First Goblin" is awful! It is so good that he cannot understand you yet! That was so mean!"

"Yes," he scoffed, "because 'Horse Head' is so much better!"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Whatever it is, whatever we choose, he has to have it the rest of his life, so…we need to make sure it is good."

He smiled, stroking her face for a few moments as she looked down on their son. "Your eyes are about ready to close again, moina." It took her a moment to reply, and in that moment he leaned over and pressed his lips to the babe's temple and then over her heart before pressing his lips gently to hers.

She laughed suddenly. "I feel exhausted, as though I have not slept in months; perhaps that is because I felt as though we were sleeping at attention all the time. That I always needed one ear tuned to…well, Arwen."

"We were," he admitted. "Now you shall be sleeping in the same way, but with an ear tuned toward our son."

"Thankfully, I have you for that as well," she murmured and he smiled and kissed her again…and again…

"Once more…" he said, his voice hushed, and she rubbed her nose against his as he leaned back a bit from her.

"I love you," she sighed, her voice a whisper. "I…I never thought I would ever be here, holding my own child in my arms. I would have never thought it possible for me. For nearly four years I have loved you, and I feel as though it has been my whole life. It is as though that other me…she never existed. As though I never lived until I found you."

He smiled. "The other me existed but…it was a very different existence." He kissed her again, and she helped the baby switch to her other breast, trying not to jostle him too much. They were quiet for several long minutes, listening to the baby when Legolas softly chuckled at him, stroking a finger along his cheek. "He is almost asleep again as well. He is barely eating."

"Will you sing to us?" Enguina asked, suddenly shy, and when he lifted his head he noticed her eyes were already half-lidded. Laying one hand beneath the baby, he reached the other up to gently stroke her face, back and forth, back and forth.

"What shall I sing, moina?"

"Anything…" she whispered. "Your voice is so soothing." He smiled, and began his lullaby.

The day fades into night and the stars come out to glow

Little eyes are closing soon for I know

It is time for sleeping and getting into bed

Laying down every weary head

My little one yawns and yearns for a dream

Father sighs though his eyes are a-gleam

Waiting for Mother to lay babe to rest

Into a cozy and comfortable nest

As the dove gathers her chicks under her wings

The crickets chirp, the nightingale sings

All creation sleeps at evening's break

And you and I sleep also must take

So lay your head once more near my heart

Let love surround you in the dark

Eru watch over my family I pray

As we rest after another glorious day

Even after he finished the song, Legolas continued to hum the melody; he knew that both Enguina and the babe were asleep. He watched them both, still in awe over the little one and the thought of being a father. Looking on the babe, he realized that his whole life up to this point had been preparation for this moment without him knowing; it was mind-numbing and humbling. He could not seem to stop thanking Ilúvatar for the safety of the two of them, for the joy they had brought to his life, for every moment he would spend teaching and loving his little boy. He once more brushed the hair back from his wife's face, tucking stray strands behind her ear, and then kissed her lovingly once more.