Shortly after the coronation, a few of the elves had retreated, Tauriel and Camhanar starting it whose thoughts were surely constantly with their baby since their return from Emyn Arnen. Therefore, Aragorn and Arwen had been able to politely say goodbye for the moment as well.

Aragorn was still amused by Legolas' slightly awkward expression when asking them if they wanted to spend the night in the guesthouse or on the guest talan which was not as soundproof by nature. While Aragorn was being used to houses of course, during his stays in Lórien, he had definitely learned to appreciate the advantages of a talan.

While the accommodation was a lot smaller and equipped with less furniture than Legolas' talan, Arwen and he were being welcomed by comfort when they closed the door behind them. A number of candles lit the room with a pleasant glow. The soft carpet allowed being barefoot, the bed was big enough for two people, and a plate with fruit stood on a round table, next to a big, white washing bowl, in case they were still hungry. Thanks to heavy, dark blue curtains on each of the big windows and also in front of a small hole leading outside, to a tiny terrace, privacy was being ensured. And thanks to the remote location, the songs and conversations of the elves still being awake dissolved into a background noise easy to ignore … something that didn't necessarily apply the other way around though if they weren't being careful.

"I hope you don't mind a small lack of discretion," Aragorn grinned at Arwen as he took off his crown.

"As someone who used to live in Lórien? Oh please. I know more about the nightlife of some of my friends than I ever wanted to."

All the more curious, Arwen sauntered outside to the balcony, letting her eyes roam over the woods, then looking up to the stars. Probably lost in memories of all the time she had spent in the Golden Wood, she tried to get rid of her own tiara. Without a mirror, that wasn't exactly easy though, since Ranír had worked it into her do.

In the end, she gave up and went back to her husband, rolling her eyes a little. "Can you give me a hand? You've got it much easier with your crown."

"At least you don't have to wear that heavy thing half of the day. Maybe your handmaiden should stop always trying to create a piece of art."

"She's a little overeager, yes. She just always wants me to look good."

Free of the jewel, Arwen undid her numerous hair clips as well, one after the other, then the loosely fitted, broad belt around her waist. When she caressed her belly in delight, Aragorn realized how little time the two of them had once more had in the last few days, to finally deal with the pregnancy unburdened. He'd spent the days since the kidnapping either nonstop with government matters or in the Houses of Healing, or in his bed. Arwen had often not even realized when he had entered her room at night, since she'd already been fast asleep herself.

"Mîl nín, look. I'm already starting to show. Elves usually never do so early."

"As I've been saying, we need to see the advantages of your decision for mortality more often." Smiling about this enthusiasm, Aragorn put his hand on the tiny curve and caressed Arwen's cheek with the other. "I'm glad that you can beam again, Nauriel."

But although he was honestly happy, he couldn't completely leave the evening behind yet, the silence that had been prevailing again and again. Their baby was safe; they could look forward to the birth more by the day, while on another talan, one of Aragorn's closest friends had to fear for his family.

"It's just … I can't stop thinking about the whole thing regarding Ilya. This man has already brought about so much … The Galadhrim wouldn't even let him get anywhere near the border of East Lórien. Lady Galadriel would rather personally drag Ilya all the way to Caras Galadhon and build walls all around the city. But if he does find a way … I almost wished he would have come after me again instead. I'm the one he hates but I'm the only one of us who's never even ever met him consciously. I couldn't bear it if he harms someone else dear to my heart."

"Glorfindel is the greatest warrior you can find in the legends of Elves and Men. And the two of us have personally seen what Langhour is capable of. In the end, Barhit can always just run and hide. And whether we like it or not: Erestor has learned to know how he thinks. If there's someone who can find him, it's him. Trust them, Aragorn. That's all you can do right now."

Arwen tenderly caressed his cheek and down over his throat, his chest. She seemed to feel that he was trembling a little and that his breath was still going heavy because of the bad cough he had caught in the Stewardaides' dungeon. "Come on, lay down. I need to change the bandage."

Aragorn was actually not in pain as much as bothered by his injury still needing care, but he didn't resist when Arwen carefully freed him from his tunic. He was staring into nothing, hardly even reacting when Arwen soaked another cloth in the herb tonic the healers had given them and wrapped it around the only slowly healing wound.

His wife had obviously had enough of his brooding. Leaning forward, she breathed a few kisses on his throat, moving upwards to his ear, starting to explore it extensively with her lips and tongue. "Better?" she whispered, running her feather-light fingertips over the bandage and nibbling on his earlobe.

Instead of an answer, he kissed her passionately, accepting the distraction gratefully. In his everyday life, Aragorn always had to retain his composure and put himself into the background. All the more faster he usually forgot every restraint when they were being alone and the mood was right. Pulling Arwen close, he buried his hand in her hair and tried to push her back on the bed with the other one but quickly had to lower his arm again, with an irritated grimace. "I'm afraid, you'll have to take the lead today."

After a yearning look at her dress, seriousness was quickly back in his expression though. "Are you sure you're feeling well enough? Because of the baby, I mean. I don't want you to ask too much of yourself."

"I allowed the healers to wrap me in cotton wool voluntarily for days so that I can recover. You can be at ease."

With a brow raised in challenge, Arwen went to sit on his legs. "Is that thought so horrible, that I'll be allowed to decide for once, that you're not in the mood anymore?" A broad grin on her lips, she leaned forward, going back to use her lips the way she just had before being stopped. Her hands caressing his upper body slightly impetuously, she covered every inch of his neck with her kisses.

It had been long since they'd last had a chance for something like this. Being allowed to feel Arwen so close to him now and hearing her quick breathing, had the desire grow fast in Aragorn.

His wife visibly had to force herself to slow down in spoiling him a little when she felt his chest start to tremble more and more. "I'm more worried about your cough."

When he put her off impatiently, it took her only a second before her fingertips were busy gently massaging one of his nipples and her lips started to wander over his still tense chest. "Let yourself fall, Estel … I'll take care of you."

Aragorn did his best but that he didn't feel completely comfortable if he wasn't in control was not news to his wife. And today, he couldn't just do what he usually did, getting what his body needed, without ever neglecting Arwen of course. Sure, he could just have asked her for what he was yearning for, but his pride regarding this didn't let him. He would rather hold back half of the night and draw the game out. He was just too fond of this dominance that helped him find complete relaxation and some distance to everything in bed.

While he had to keep his injured shoulder as still as possible, he could at least direct Arwen with his other hand a little. With gentle pressure on her neck, he let her know that it wasn't just her fingers he wanted to feel on these certain spots.

Already about to give in, Arwen suddenly fought back and glared at him in challenge, much like she had in that one night back then when he had got her to talk about her wishes …

She promptly bent down to him again to explore his other ear with the tip of her tongue as well. "What is it that you want, mîl nín?" Her voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper.

Torn between the pleasurable but not very satisfying stimulation and slight irritation, Aragorn tried to move away but then surrendered to her efforts anyway. He tried to bribe her by caressing her neck, teasing the sensitive skin there and opened as many buttons at the back of her dress as he could reach. But Arwen was still only busy with his ear.

"Is it the pregnancy that makes you so playful?" he gasped between his increasingly faster breathing. At the next moment, a moan escaped his lips because the tip of Arwen's tongue was cheekily pushing into his ear. She just knew his weaknesses far too well. So much for the good intentions regarding keeping it down so that such sounds wouldn't reach certain elvish ears …

What she was doing there felt great, there was just definitely too little of it. He reached down to open his pants before they could get too tight but regretted that immediately because an irresistible new image formed in his memory that made it hard to not follow Arwen's request. He wasn't used to talking about such things; it had never been necessary. He liked it a lot when Arwen did it but realized only now how much effort it took. At last, he gently pulled her close to him and tried it with a deep kiss, pressing his hips against hers, hoping that would be enough.

Arwen quickly backed away and slightly shook her head. "Later. First …"

Her mouth was right back on his chest, she was still avoiding his nipples though. Her fingertips grazed his arms, the sensitive insides, before moving to his upper body again. She let them wander down his sides, repeatedly teasing especially sensitive spots, and then proceeded to trace the muscles in his loins. Arwen put her nails to good use as well, again and again, while her touch slipped lower. She stopped at the waistband of his pants and moved her hand up again.

"Tell me what I can do to make you forget the last few months," she asked quietly because he was still fighting himself. "You're usually not really giving me a chance for that." Opening the last buttons, she pulled her dress down, then bent forward again so that her face was right in front of Aragorn's. "How do you want to feel me, mîl nín?"

Aragorn resisted for another moment, but Arwen had apparently really decided, she wanted revenge. It had been too long to hold back for long right now. And after all, there was always next time to turn the tables, once he wouldn't be suffering from any kind of impairment anymore ...

He tenderly traced Arwen's sensual lips, enjoying the feeling of her tender skin against his. His eyes closed on their own when Arwen circled one fingertip with the tip of her tongue and finally started sucking on it ever so slightly. "Do you know how much I love your mouth? I could spend hours just kissing you. I love it how you taste and all those other things you can do with your tongue …"

He had to pause for another moan when Arwen's hand moved closer to his hard cock, still without really touching it, while her lips closed harder around his fingertip, showing him what he could have if he could bring himself to say it.

"Not like this." Reluctantly, he pulled his hand back. Play, they could another time. Now he finally wanted to feel Arwen in a way again as it had not been possible recently. "Let me feel your lips on my body, Nauriel, until I'm completely in your hands." Before she could possibly keep on asking, he reached for her right hand and pushed it deeper into his pants.

Arwen's meaningful grin probably meant, she wouldn't let him off the hook so easily next time. But now she did start to slowly caress Aragorn's cock with her fingertips, watching, with a smile, when he thrust his hips upwards, how the up and down movements of her hand had him get continually harder.

Never breaking eye contact, she turned to his chest again. Closing her lips around one nipple, she sucked on it firmly until the reward was another moan. She used her teeth on him, too, carefully enough, always making up for it with tender kisses when she'd irritated his skin too much.

Only when Aragorn's still battered lungs were giving a protest, he had to stop Arwen. Not to mention the tension in his loins that also spared him asking for something else – no matter how great it would have been if she'd have continued this further below, it would have meant a premature end of the night.

He fleetingly touched Arwen's lips with his but backed away before she could return the kiss. "You have exactly ten seconds to get out of the rest of that dress, or I will try to help you." Feigning a threat, he let his fingertips wander down, circling one of her nipples very softly.

Thanks to the sensitivity of her breasts that her pregnancy caused, that touch alone was enough to make Arwen obey. Noticing that Aragorn didn't take his eyes off her for even a second, she stepped out of the fabric, brushed back her hair with a smile, and kept on standing there consciously for a moment. The hungry glance he was regarding her with had her cheeks flush with arousal already.

"Much better." Only after Aragorn had enjoyed the sight in detail, he pulled Arwen close, in a way so that she ended up standing next to the headboard. "Kneel over me, please. I want to touch you."

Confused but without hesitation, she followed the request, lowering herself onto the bed, above his head, bracing herself on the bed frame so that she was being right above his face, with her hips close to his lips.

Her brief doubts audibly vanished very quickly when he rested a massaging hand on her behind and pulled her down even further until his breath grazed the damp skin between her legs.

That one stimulation was all he gave her for now, his lips moving from the smooth, bright skin of her groin to her slightly reddened labia without ever really touching her, ever until she pushed her hips down. Only now, Aragorn followed the same pattern with the tip of his tongue, without pressure, until he reached Arwen's most sensitive point which was being granted more attention. When he was rewarded with a noticeable moan, he replaced his tongue with his fingertips, stroking the spot in circling movements while he covered Arwen's center with tender kisses, nibbling on the sensitive skin a little before slipping his tongue inside of her.

Arwen immediately pressed down against him and surrendered completely to his touch. The movements of her hips quickly became faster, with every thrust of his tongue into her heat. Soon enough, she had to rest her forehead against the headboard, seeking purchase. She was trembling so much that she almost lost her tight grip around the wood, sighing his nickname when the tension in her body became unbearable.

He instinctively grabbed her behind harder so that she couldn't twitch away unintentionally when her lust would overwhelm her. She had to be able to feel his slightly too deep breath against her folds once more when he paused for a second to gasp for air, past the annoying scratch in his throat. Then the tip of his tongue danced over her most sensitive point even faster and harder, repeatedly supported by a short sucking or nibbling.

The orgasm following soon took Arwen's breath away for a change. For a moment, she couldn't do anything but let herself sink back down on the mattress and curl into Aragorn's arms as her body didn't seem to obey her anymore. Aragorn played with a few of her soft strands of hair until she came down from that high, with an extremely satisfied look on his face that had his wife blush.

Bracing her hands on the pillow, next to his head, she gave him a needy kiss, sighing quietly when she could taste herself on him. When he tried to maneuver her body back over his again though, Arwen untangled herself from him. "Wasn't there another wish you had? If you don't want it anymore, you are welcome to stop me, but I doubt it …"

Her lips made their way down his body and had Aragorn forget quickly what he had just had in mind. At the latest when Arwen was kneeling between his legs, her kisses reaching his loins and her firm breasts pressing against his erection. A sigh turned into a loud moan when her lips closed around the tip of his cock and she licked the first proof of his arousal away before starting to suck on him carefully. More confident than last time, Arwen swirled her tongue around his hardness, this time daring to take it deep inside her mouth immediately. The way, Aragorn's hand was clenching down on the pillow under his head more and more, made her even braver.

Her fingertips caressed from the back of his knee up, finding his tense thigh, his groin, finally his balls. The twitching of his hips had to reveal to her that she had just found one of his most sensitive spots. Her hand lightly circling and massaging, she lingered there while keeping on caressing his cock with her tongue and nibbling a little on the reddened skin before her lips finally slipped down towards his hips even further.

Aragorn's moans that sounded almost like a scream, the way, his body arched up, uncontrolled, was clearly making her ambitious. She gave even more pressure downwards although something in her throat spasmed for a moment, taking him in even deeper, trying to make him come with this still very new, exciting way of spoiling him, just like he had done it to her a moment ago.

Aragorn's hand on her neck stopped her before it could happen. She had to see it in him how hard it was for him, stopping now of all times. With clenched teeth, he tried hard not to give in to the pent-up lust just from the touch of her hand. The wish of being even closer to her dominated his thoughts and feelings, every caution completely forgotten.

"Not today. I've yearned for you too long for that. Come to me."

There were requests that Arwen liked to follow only too gladly. With a broad smile, she knelt over him again and held his gaze when she put her lips on his, teasing his tongue with hers, and their usual fight for the dominance of their kiss started. He indulged her while his hand slipped between her widely spread legs, preparing her for what was to come with quick, tender movements.

Only when his impatience had faded a little, she lowered her hips onto his and took him inside. Aragorn's hips shot up again immediately, towards hers. With a deep sigh, Arwen leaned forward, grabbed his hand, and started to move against him, slowly for now. Timid movements quickly became faster, harder when Aragorn's hand slipped back to her behind, caressing her thighs, again and again, pressing her closer to him to decide both their speed, while mirroring her movements with such good aim that her arousal increased more and more as well.

Again, Aragorn couldn't hold back a throaty moan when his lust reached its height and he could finally let himself completely go. He instinctively pulled Arwen closer so that he could feel her tremble when her muscles clenched around him firmly once more and she moaned his name into his ear.

When he had his body back under control again at some point, opening his eyes and turning to his side, Arwen was already lying beside him and moved to cuddle up to him immediately. "Wait … I want to look at you."

Ignoring her surprised expression, he signaled her to lay down on her back, then traced the small curve of Arwen's belly, pressing a kiss to it. "It really does grow every day."

With his eyes half closed, he started to murmur a few words in Sindarin, painting elvish letters onto her belly with his fingertips. A blessing of her people for a new life that Arwen's father had taught him at some point during his healer training.

"Which one is it?" She tried to make out the letters upside down, but Aragorn's hand was moving too fast for her to be able to memorize everything.

"The most beautiful one I know." Arwen lay down beside her again, pulling her close lovingly once more, with his hand still yearningly on her belly. He repeated the words slower but still so quiet as if no one but the two of them would be allowed to hear.

"Grow, like a young flower in the first sunlight until it blooms for the first time. Give warmth, like one of the first rays of the day. Shine, like a star on its first day in the sky, glistening brighter than all the others. Live, bring joy and give love, like those waiting for you impatiently do. Live and become stronger, protected, and sheltered. Live, gift of the Valar. Live and bloom."

He was right: It was really the most beautiful one. Arwen blinked, visibly moved, and covered every inch of Aragorn's skin that she could reach with her lips. "Le melin, mîl nín."

Before her tiredness could get the better of her, she chuckled dreamily. "I still hope a boy will have your eyes."

No matter what kind of problems would be waiting for them in Minas Tirith once more on the next day, tonight at least, everything was alright. No one could take that from them.

"It would be nice if you would say goodbye to the others at least." Thranduil had not expected his son to track him down before he could make it out of the camp furtively; Legolas noticed it in the way his father stopped abruptly in his movements, how he held his breath for a moment. He had suppressed thinking about his condition well the whole evening, but now he wished more than ever to be able to see what was going on Thranduil's face.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not." Smiling audibly, his father continued saddling his horse. Now that they were being alone, he didn't have to show that much restraint anymore but could talk to him much less formally. "You know me. I'm not good with things like that. Besides, I'm just as worried about Ilya as you are. I rather check on her personally."

"But …" Legolas swallowed his protest arduously. What good was it, whining now, insisting on getting active himself when he couldn't even find the way to the damn paddock without falling on his face three times? He had to rely on the people he had sent, no matter how much he hated it to stay idle.

That he had suspected Thranduil to get on his way soon, couldn't change it that he was suddenly feeling very lost. No matter how annoyed he'd been initially about his father's meddling: Suddenly, he realized, there wouldn't be anyone to tell him left if he was doing everything right from now on. His father trusted him to know it himself.

He didn't want to disappoint him and instead addressed something that had been on his mind since the argument in Emyn Arnen. "You wanted to tell me about nana."

Thranduil interrupted his work and came to him, standing opposite of him like on the evening before so that only the fence was between them. Without having a real clue, Legolas instinctively felt that his father was being irritated. If you'd known each other for so long, you developed a sense for the other's emotions, all without any kind of bond.

He wasn't prepared for Thranduil's next words anyway. "Why don't you tell me about your child? The one that died?"

"Ilya told you?" Why was he so surprised? He knew best how hard it was to convince Thranduil of anything, no matter how many facts you were stating. While Legolas didn't agree with how his wife had gone about this whole thing, at the bottom, she had done the exact right thing.

The worry for her and their – second – baby was enough to deal with right now. He didn't need a relapse of that other thing on top. That was only Tarisilya's and his business. "Ada, I don't want to …" No, he didn't want to talk about it. Because it was hurting too much. But he was asking his father to summon his deepest pain? A pain the pure mentioning of which was already causing such anger, so much deeply rooted grief that he thought to be able to feel it in his own soul? And on a morning when they both had enough to deal with no less?

Sighing, he stepped back and nodded. "Another time."

Thranduil didn't allow him to distance himself completely. He took his upper arms, like yesterday but didn't stop there this time. Taking the chance of them being alone, he pulled him into an embrace across the fence, until neither of them was trembling anymore

Legolas knew his father's gestures of gratitude and didn't expect any big words, but he was being surprised once more. "One of my advisors has surely kept some paintings of her. We'll look at them when you come to Eryn Lasgalen next. When all of you do."

"That would be really wonderful." Legolas had to fight treacherous tears once more and was glad that his father held him tight again, ever until they'd dried up. So that was how easy everything suddenly could be.

Maybe he should see that as a good sign. He had been ready to die for his mistakes, and he very almost had. The Valar couldn't be so cruel and let Tarisilya suffer from that now.

When his father had mounted his horse already, he thought belatedly of the last matter that he'd actually meant to bring up far earlier already but had never quite dared to. Embarrassment painted his face red when he stepped closer to the animal, clearing his throat. After he had renounced his heritage so unbelievably dramatically not too long ago, it was actually not for him any longer to still try and claim any possessions of Eryn Lasgalen.

But given the surprisingly big tenderness and care that Thranduil had used to talk about Tarisilya in the last few days, Legolas hoped, in this case, it wouldn't take much to make his father empty his vault, that was completely cluttered anyway, a little.

Turned out, he was right.

Thranduil's slightly amused but certainly not hurtful, quiet laughter, in fact, one rather filled with pride, still echoed in his ears when his father had long vanished behind the next turn.

"That same dream again?" When Celeborn saw the deep gratefulness in Tarisilya's eyes about him having woken her up, he caressed her shoulder calmingly.

Given these terrible pictures in her head that were making her talk, cry, even scream in her sleep, apparently not even her most loyal chaperon was so sure anymore by now if it had really been such a good idea, keeping her body in constant hibernation. Although Tarisilya could see it in the deep lines on his rough features and in his slightly messy silver-white hair that he didn't have any good news for her, she was glad to be in control of her senses again. Just for a moment, she nuzzled against this hand and tried to forget.

Why did you do all this?

I didn't want hate to be the only thing remaining from that encounter.

"Ilya?" When she didn't react right away, Celeborn shook her a little, impatient to learn if everything was alright. In all these days they hat spent in East Lórien together, they had grown so close that he probably felt almost like a foster father already.

I'm the watcher now. Know that I won't even look away when it's about you.

"I'm alright." She didn't sound like she was and she was not. Especially not if these recurring dreams, as it had happened before, represented visions. But now that she slowly feeling really awake, something else became far more important? "News?"

She sat up abruptly when she spotted the parchment in Celeborn's hand. While it had already been opened, she could still make out the seal of the House of the Golden Flower, wrecked by a long journey, wind, and weather. Within seconds, the last hours' healing effect vanished. Her heart started to race; only now did she realize, her hand had already been laying on her belly protectively the whole time. After being pregnant for half a year, that had become an instinct, even when there was no reason to assume, something was wrong with the child.

This time, it wasn't about the child. Why had she let these people keep her from riding to Gondor?

"Talk!" She didn't care about snarling like this at one of Middle-earth's realm leaders. He knew exactly how much she was worrying and still tortured her even further by silently staring at the ground, looking abashed.

Before she could just go and rip the parchment from his hand, he gave it to her voluntarily, with his eyes half-closed and his hand trembling. Sometimes you just couldn't keep yourself from doing something wrong, no matter how much you feared the consequences.

It was only two sentences, written down hastily, in sloppy handwriting – by a hand that hadn't quite mastered yet to take over duties from the other, paralyzed one –, and blurred by rain. And yet it was enough to have Tarisilya get up immediately. In her head, she was already being far away from this safe fortress that should have become a refuge for her and the child.

‚Come back, milady. Your husband needs you.'