Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

It seemed we had been forever riding. As much as I loved Dori, with her sure step and wonderful ride, I was very ready to reach my destination. When we had been traveling a little over two weeks, the twins informed me that we were about a week out of Imladris. I almost kissed them! However, since Legolas was standing right next to them, I was not so sure he wouldn't expect like treatment, and I knew I was not up to kissing him just yet. Or—perhaps I would make the mistake of thinking he expected it and do so, and he would whip out one of those wicked looking white-handled knifes he wielded so expertly and gut me where I stood! I decided to keep my lips to myself.

No one ever mentioned the disturbance I caused on the night I had that horrible nightmare, much to my relief. In the first place, it was terribly embarrassing to have made such a scene, and in the second place, the fewer reminders I had of that night—and of that dream—the better. It was such a jumbled mess, but the images were clear enough, and whenever they came to mind, the anguish they caused made my heart race. My family still died and in the same manner. Even the daughter that didn't exist, unless she existed inside me right now, had been taken from me. Just thinking of it caused chills to chase each other up and down my spine as I rode.

Shaking my head to dislodge the thoughts of fire and death from my mind, I urged Dori faster, until I passed the Elves and Gimli in front of me. Overtaking them would no doubt be seen as a challenge, but so be it. Better that than have my mind languish and fester.

Would you not know it? Before I could count past five, the other three horses had overtaken me again. Males! Their competitiveness knew no bounds. I laughed, and one of the twins evidently heard. His head turned toward me, and when he saw my smile he smiled in return. He drew back on his reins just enough to join me behind the others. We were going too fast to speak coherently to each other, but the companionship was nice, and I found it somehow chased the evil thoughts from my mind. I was becoming rather fond of having Elves in my life. At least some Elves. I knew not if I would ever get used to Legolas. There was something about the Elven prince that confused and irritated me. If I said 'black', he said 'white'. When he led right, I went left. We were two opposites, that was all there was to it.

Oh well, for now I could enjoy the ride. I rode atop a glorious Rohirric black mare, and there was an end to this journey after all.

Thanks be!

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

By this time we were traveling along a river the Elves referred to as the Bruinen. It was beautiful country—rich green woodland mostly, with some rolling countryside here and there amid the trees. But ever present was the singing of the river, and Elrohir explained to me that the river's name—Bruinen—meant Loudwater in the common tongue. And the river certainly lived up to its name. Its voice flowed constantly in the background and could get quite loud at times.

We stopped fairly early this day. It seemed the twins wished to hunt. Gimli had voiced a particular craving for pheasant, if it could be found. They assured him that if it could be found, they would be bringing it. I laughed at their boastfulness, but in reality it was no such thing. They were every bit as good with the bows as Legolas was, although I had been assured I had not seen the best shooting any of the Elves could accomplish. It seems their speed as well as their accuracy was also a sight to behold, but they had thus far not had the need to use such quickness to accomplish their goals. I simply nodded and smiled, allowing the males to strut for the female as they wished.

After the horses had been tended to, Gimli and I set up camp. Legolas had gone with Elladan and Elrohir on their hunt. We had devised a system by now that accomplished the deed efficiently. Gimli cleared the ground for a fire, and I gathered wood for it while he did so. Before long, we were sitting together before a cheerful crackling blaze, talking quietly together, as friends should do from time to time.

"Gimli," I asked, "will you be staying in Imladris for long after we arrive?"

"I think not," he replied. "Legolas and I will stay on a few days at the most. Then we will be off to that appalling Fangorn Forest. Aule curse me for agreeing to such a thing!"

"Gimli," I began hesitatingly, "if I might ask, what is so dreadful about this Fangorn Forest, that you wish not to go there? If it is so terrible, would not Legolas be wary of it?"

"That stupid Elf has not the good sense Iluvatar endowed upon him at birth, in this case lass," he replied testily. "It is said—and mind you, I have been in this forest before, so I know it is more than just said—that this forest has eyes and ears; and things that should not be able, can walk and talk. Even Lord Celeborn, of Lothlorien—the Golden Wood, where the fairest of all that lives, the Lady Galadriel dwells—warned the fellowship not to tread amongst the twisted trees that grow there, if you can indeed call it growing. For some reason I do not recall, I promised the Elf to visit this becursed place, and I will not go back on my word, even though going to such an unholy site is well against my better judgment."

"Well then," I said with exaggerated seriousness, "may Aule go with you."

"I give you my thanks for that, lass," he said with like brevity. I smiled at him then and he chuckled good-naturedly.

The Elves fairly burst in on our quiet scene, scaring the life practically out of us, as usual. They so delighted in doing that. One of these days, I would get my revenge on them all, and it would fit the crime. They would know they'd been had—and Jonas would not need to help me, either.

They had indeed bagged a pheasant—two of them actually. I could already see the bird flying in all directions, so to speak, from around Gimli's person as he ate, and that brought a smile to my face. I would miss my dear Gimli when he did finally take his leave of me. However, it was inevitable. Life went on, and it wasn't as if I would never see him again. I would make him promise to visit me, wherever I may ultimately land. I could not bear the thought of not having him in my life. It was unthinkable.

Along with the pheasant, they had brought quail and grouse; enough it seemed, to feed a small army. We all set about preparing the poultry, and before long we were sharing a meal. Gimli looked lonely, sitting as he was at one end of the fire, but he had gotten used to it during the journey. We had all learned that to sit beside Gimli when dining, meant wearing bits of his meal. Besides, he was oblivious of our desertion of him. He was so engrossed in his eating he cared not if he had company.

After all was eaten, cleaned up and stored again, we talked and told stories, something we did almost every night. I generally listened to the 'men' talk of battles won, foes killed or weapons used or admired. At times they pressed me to speak of my home and family. I disliked doing so. It brought homesickness up to the surface of my heart, and the tears that waited behind the dike there, would rise and threaten to pour over the edge.

Tonight, however, it wasn't me speaking of my home that unsettled me, it was Elrohir and Legolas speaking of Aragorn and Arwen that bothered me. Had they simply been speaking of the couple's love for one another, or their marriage, it would not have mattered to me at all, but they were wondering just how long it was going to be before the pair would be parents. I know they did not mean to be making me feel uncomfortable, but it was having that effect on me just the same. I quietly excused myself and left the fire, finding my bedroll across the clearing a few short feet away.

I had not meant to cause a disruption, but I truly could not stay and listen any more. I felt awkward enough about my circumstances as it was; these sorts of reminders did not help me at all. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when I glanced up and found Elladan crouched before me, startling me yet again.

"Eru!" I said irritably. "You scared the life out of me! Would you please stop doing that?"

Elladan didn't say anything; he took my hand in his and led me into the thicket. We ended up beside the rushing water of the Bruinen. He sat down on the riverbank and I followed suit. The shore of the river gently sloped down to the water, and it invited one to lie upon its soft pallet of grass and find rest. However, I remained sitting, drinking in the cool dampness of the riverside.

The night was peaceful; only the crickets and frogs seemed to be restless, calling to mates scattered up and down the banks of the river—and of course the river itself, living up to its name, was, as always, singing its never ending song. The moon was not full, but it gave enough light to reflect off the water, making it look as if small pieces of glass were floating by quickly atop the swiftly rushing stream.

I let my chin drop to my chest in consternation, as I realized that eating my evening meal had taken up too much room in my expanding abdomen, and I had to loosen the string, which held my leggings closed at the waist. I could not let my vanity override my need for comfort for one more minute.

"Pretend you are not seeing me do this," I said, as I turned slightly away. There was no way he could not know what I was doing, but I had to keep some semblance of decorum about me.

"My lips are sealed," he replied. I glanced up to look at him. His expression was one of wonder. "You are growing," he added, as if mystified.

"Are you not the one who likened me to a kine not long ago?" I asked facetiously.

"Of course not," he said indignantly, "that was Elrohir!"

"Certainly it was!" I said with sarcasm. "I have learned to tell the two of you apart now, and it was indeed you who compared me to an ox."

"You are accusing me wrongly," he insisted, but he started laughing, so I knew I was right. But I'd had no doubt from the start.

"What a horrid woman I am," I said, "accusing an innocent man."

"Call me not a man," he said, looking as if he had swallowed a bug, "now you are insulting me."

"In that case," I said as I rose, "you surely must not want my company. I am but a female of the species."

Elladan quickly got up and grabbed my hand, halting me where I stood.

"Do not go yet, Mae. There is something I wish to tell you," he said.

Did he just call me Mae?

"And what might that be?" I asked.

"Will you listen and be quiet for once?" he asked, sounding just a bit put out.

"I am listening," I replied, confused by his words.

"I asked you to be silent. I am still waiting," he said. Again, that feigned irritation.

"I told you I would be quiet and I—"

"—I can see that asking you and then telling you is doing no good," he said, interrupting me. "I am just going to have to make you be silent."

He pulled me to him fluidly and kissed me. I had no time to be shocked. I was marveling at the fact that not only had his hands made my skin tingle before, when he had worked his Elven magic on me, apparently Elven magic extended to his lips also.

But the realization hit me suddenly that he had to be playing with me—he knew I was carrying Aragorn's child, and I must, therefore, be an easy mark.

I shoved against his chest with all my might. The thought that he was just using me enraged me. The shock on his face showed just how great he thought his irresistibility. Venom must have shown on my face. He frowned as if confused.

"I'm not some harlot, in spite of what others may think," I said angrily.

"I never thought that," Elladan said, and his expression was such that I might have believed him. But it was so ludicrous to behold—that he would wish to kiss me because he felt some sort of attraction between us. He was an Elf, and by definition beautiful beyond words, while I was a plain Human woman. What could he possibly see in me?

My skepticism must have shown on my face. He turned defensive, which was to be expected.

"Is it so without the realm of possibility that I might want to kiss you?" he asked. "That perhaps being around you these past weeks, I have grown to know somewhat about you, like what I know, and now want to know more?"

I answered quietly. "Is it so without the realm of possibility, that you know Aragorn obviously had an easy time with me, and you thought to perhaps have one, too?"

If an Elf ever rolled his eyes, I think Elladan might have done so now. But what he said almost shocked me.

"I suppose it would also be without your realm of possibility that I might wish I'd seen you first—before Aragorn ever saw you? You would not be in this predicament now."

I didn't know whether to kiss him again, or slap his face. I knew not how to take that remark. Now I was confused.

Elladan closed his eyes and shook his head, as if to clear it from all the disorder.

"Forget about all the realms of reason, and come back and sit with me," Elladan said. He held out his hand for me to take, so I did. We sat again beside the river.

"Now," he said, taking charge of our wayward conversation, "why do you not tell me about your life? I wish to know—and I have no ulterior motive."

I looked at him, searching for what in his face, I didn't know. I could tell by his tone that he meant his comment; it wasn't some sort of jest he planned to use against me at some other time. He seemed genuinely interested.

I did not want to tell him of my life. There was too much heartache, and the chance that I would start the crying again was just too high. I was unsure of what to tell him, or how much I should say. He had been my rescuer the other night when I'd had the nightmare. Perhaps that was the reason for his curiosity now.

"I know not what to tell you," I said vaguely.

"Well," he said, obviously unsure as to how much to push me, "have you been married before? Is this your first child?"

He certainly got right to the meat of the issue, did he not?

"Perhaps Aragorn or Arwen has told you about my life, prior to living in Minas Tirith?" I asked.

"Somewhat," he said, "but I would like to hear your story from you."

Now came my dilemma. Did I tell him or didn't I? He sat there waiting expectantly, so I decided I might as well get it over with.

"I was married at fifteen to a man named Dustin, and we had a son named Tristin the following year. When Tristin was twelve—three years ago—they were both killed in a fire in one of the stables in Edoras." Elladan had been sitting close to me, but not touching me. However, at the mention of the deaths of my loved ones, he took my hand gently in his and held it on his knee.

I continued, still strong and not weeping. "My little family was the world to me, Elladan. I loved my Dustin fiercely. It would scare you how much I loved him. It certainly scares me. I don't think I will ever love another again."

"And why is that?" he asked me. "Why should one fear to love and be loved so much?"

"Because it can all be taken from you in an instant! And the pain is unendurable when it is."

"So you are saying you would rather have never loved your husband, nor had your son, if you would have known they would be taken from you?"

That wasn't what I was saying! Was it?

I guess in a way, it was.

"Of course I would never give up knowing and loving Dustin. And Tristin was a part of me—"

"'Tis none of my business, Maeren," he said as if in apology. "How you feel is a personal matter."

We sat there in tense silence. I did not like it, so I sought to lighten the mood.

"You said before that you wished to tell me something," I said quietly. "Was that simply a ruse, or was there really something you wanted to tell me?"

He smiled his killer smile. "No, it was not a ruse. I wished to bid you goodbye. Elrohir and I are leaving on the morrow, and even though I had planned the kiss as a part of that goodbye, I had planned on using words too."

His smile faded and his face became solemn. "I am sorry about your family, Maeren." His other hand joined the first on his knee, and together their thumbs began brushing the back of my hand. "You are of much too tender an age to have suffered such misfortune."

"Tender an age?" I asked incredulously, almost laughing. "Have you any idea how old I am, Elladan?"

He looked shocked by my outburst, so I suppose my attempt to lighten the mood must have worked. I really did not want to weep again. The repeat episode of it recently—after the nightmare—had reminded me just how much I hated it, and were we to continue with the present conversation in the same tone, I would have been in tears very soon.

"Yes, tender in age!" he answered, irritated. "You must be what? Perhaps twenty-five?" Elladan asked a bit annoyed at my sudden shift in mood.

"I am ancient, by Rohirric standards," I informed him. "Thirty, Elladan. It is a wonder I conceived at all. Just my luck, one might say." So I was fibbing about Rohirric standards by a decade or three. What difference did it make? He knew no differently.

Now it was his turn to be frustrated with me for a change. Males so hate to be wrong—and told of it, no less! But victories—whether real or feigned—are sweet, for seldom do they come to me. I savor every single one of them.

"I refuse to engage in an argument with you about age, my lady," he said condescendingly. "You would most assuredly lose."

"Aren't we high and mighty of a sudden?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"I could show you high and mighty if you wish," he said, with a dangerous glint in his eye. "Arwen said I had the most wicked of tickling fingers that have ever graced her ribs!"

"Do not even think of such a thing, Elladan," I said, inching my bottom up the riverbank. "I will make you pay if you lay even one finger upon one of my ribs."

I had made it a few feet up the bank when he reached up and grabbed one of my legs around the knee and pulled me back down to him, pinning me beneath his chest. He had the most sinful of grins on his lips. I closed my eyes and grimaced, bracing myself for the onslaught of tickling, but it never came. I slowly opened my eyes, only to see his smiling face still beaming down at me.

"Well?" I asked. "What are you waiting for?"

"What?" he asked incredulously. "You want me to tickle you?"

"No I do not want you to tickle me!" I exclaimed. "But I would like to know if you intend to keep me flattened here the entire night."

He relaxed his hold on me somewhat, although I would still not be able to rise without his leave to do so. His face softened and I dreaded what he would say next.

"No, I do not intend to keep you flattened here the entire night," he repeated. "I intend to kiss you again—farewell—that is all."

"Elladan," I said skeptically, "I do not think it a good idea to get involved—"

"Who said anything about involvement?" he interrupted me. "You have no need to fear me. I merely asked for a kiss. I did not ask to bed you, Maeren." The smile on his face bespoke of his teasing. There was no meanness or acrimony in his tone. But there was challenge there, and I rarely backed down from a challenge. And I didn't now, either.

I relaxed in his arms this time, and since I expected the electricity I was not startled by it. I was concentrating on giving as good as I got, meeting his challenge and, hopefully, not letting him know exactly how much this was scaring me.

The contact of the skin of his lips against mine took my breath away, and at the same time, warned me of the tremendous mistake I had made.

It was not just the Elven tingle any more; it was my need that had been awakened that left me breathless. During my marriage, I had always been well loved. Dustin was a man of hearty appetites, and I was a woman no less so. When I had been heavy with Tristin—and very self-conscious about my size—I had balked at his suggestions to partake in the pleasures of the flesh. Dustin would have none of it, claiming he could not resist me, portly or no. I smiled as I thought of my husband's description of my girth before Tristin was born, and Elladan drew back, wondering what I found so humorous. I pulled him back to me, refusing to answer, and let our lips resume making love to each other.

He tasted sweet, unlike any of the men I had ever kissed before—which were two, by my count. I had to stay my hands from his tunic. They wanted to unfasten it and pull it from his shoulders. He seemed unmoved, which cooled me a bit, though not much. I suppose in his eyes, women were lacking when compared to Elven females; we had not that 'zing' in our touch, that was for sure. I certainly wish I found him lacking, because I was not going to be able to take much more of this sweet torment without ripping some piece of his clothing, to my everlasting shame.

It was then that he became more insistent, shifting up on one elbow, lifting off of my body enough so that he could place his hand beneath my jaw. His hair—soft, satin, sheets of it—fell down around our faces as our lips continued to caress each other, not yet sated. His hand was getting the very same idea mine had been contemplating earlier, and I knew it was time to put an end to these tantalizing games. Eru, how hard it was to tear myself away from this delicious Elf, but it had to be done.

Only I could not do it! Not just yet. I allowed him to unfasten the buttons on my tunic, which were only two, since the others would no longer meet the eyes they were supposed to fit into on the other side. Besides, I still had my shirt beneath it; what harm could it do?

He pushed his slender hand between the cloth of my shirt and my tunic, directly beneath my breast. How I ached for him to touch me where I craved it, but I knew it would be better if he did not. I contemplated shifting, accidentally on purpose moving my body so that my breast rested beneath his palm, but he finally made my scheming unnecessary, when he touched me of his own accord. I was coming apart at the seams, unraveling like a fraying rope stretched taut. I was approaching the point of no turning back—and I so did not want to turn back.

I was startled when he spoke.

"You are killing me," he whispered hoarsely. "You know not how close to death I am."

Funny—I thought he was torturing me.

"We should stop this now, or there will be no stopping," he said breathlessly, continuing to rain small, sweet kisses around my mouth, waiting for my answer.

I knew he was leaving it up to me. He was more than willing to continue; his arousal was apparent, with his body draped over mine. I wanted more than anything to forget all that was sensible, and make love to this Elf in my arms; but I knew it was wrong. Not only that, but I would have to be completely out of my mind to make this same sort of mistake twice, in less that six months! How I ached to be crazy, if only for this one night.

I closed my eyes, trying to gain control over my voice. Clearing my throat I said, "You are right, we should stop. I want not to, but it is the right thing to do. Oh, but you are tempting, my fine Elf!"

At first he smiled at my ridiculous comment, then he fell onto his back and chuckled quietly.

"I think you might be insane, Maeren!" he said.

"Well then that makes two of us, does it not?" I asked quietly.

He said nothing he simply rolled back over to me and held me once more. He didn't kiss me or touch me suggestively, he only held me. It felt very nice. We stayed this way, holding each other on the riverbank for only a few minutes more, just enjoying the closeness we felt to one another. It would be soon enough when we—or at least I—would be alone once again.

"We should be getting back to the others, you know," I said dreamily.

"There is no hurry," he said. "The night is still young." I began to wonder if he had decided to challenge my latest decision. The night was indeed growing old.

"What will the others think?" I asked.

"Who cares what they think?" he asked, as he began to nibble down my neck.

And then he was kissing me again.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was not the thing I should be doing. Simple logic pointed out the negative aspects that presented themselves as a result of this situation. I was already with child, by someone who was not the one kissing me now. The one kissing me now had a very fearsome Elf lord for a father, and I definitely did not want to get on his bad side again. Simple logic told me to extricate myself from this very handsome, very sensual Elf and run for my life. However, right now simple logic was butting heads with very strong Rohirric physical desire. One would think that I would have learned my lesson, for a hard lesson it had proved to be, but I found myself melting again in Elladan's embrace.

No, this could not be. It would not be. I was going to be living in Imladris until my child's birth, and this sort of thing would not be allowed to occur.

Reluctantly, I tried to pull away. The current flowing from his lips to mine was like a magnet, and it was very difficult, in more ways than one, to break its sweet hold on my mouth. In the first place, it was like telling myself I'd had plenty of sustenance—even though I was starving—and I must not partake of what was offered freely to me now. In the second place, Elladan's hold on my body was such that I could feel his need matched my own, which did nothing to douse the embers he was fanning in me. However, I had a sudden vision of Elrond flash past my mind's eye, and that put a definite damper on those embers that I had felt just seconds before. Reluctantly I bid goodbye to Elladan's tongue one last time, kissed his lips quickly two or three more times, until we lay nose-to-nose, lips untouching.

"We must not do this," I whispered. Elladan continued kissing my neck, pausing where the pulse beats, to sink his teeth lightly into my skin.

As much as I liked Elladan, I had never in my life given any thought to having only a physical relationship with a man—excuse me, man or Elf—with no real love involved. First it had been Aragorn. Now this Elf. How had I become so corrupted? When did it begin and what started it? I would have to ponder these questions sometime, but not now. Now, I had to get myself out of this predicament, gracefully if I could.

"Elladan—"

"Tell me again, why you think we should stop?" he asked, his voice sultry with desire.

"Legolas already thinks me a whore, so I suppose I should care what the others think," I replied.

That was certainly graceful, was it not?

It got his attention, anyway. He stopped his nibbling and looked at me strangely.

"He told you that?" he asked in an astonished voice.

"Let's just say," I said innocently, "the foliage has ears, at times."

He looked perplexed. When it was apparent that he was not going to get the meaning of what I was saying, I told him what I meant.

"I was eavesdropping, for crying out loud!" I whispered harshly.

He propped himself up on one elbow and said, "I sense a story I may have to torture out of you."

Startling him, I quickly sat up, pushed him back down, and said, "You'll have to catch me first!"

I ran back to the campsite, and burst in on the others, who were sitting around the fire. They were trying to best each other in stories of who killed the most Orcs, and in the most gruesome of ways, in the battle before the Black Gates—as if they weren't all too terrified to be counting at a time like that! What men won't dream up to compete over!

I went around the fire and plopped myself down beside Gimli, even though I had to 'butt' my way in beside Legolas. I cared not. I needed the comfort of my best friend right now. I was confused and physically frustrated, and I needed the presence of a friend to anchor me to the real world.

All the banter they had been engaging in had ceased the minute I sat down. I wanted to scream. Were they all wondering where I had been and what Elladan and I had been up to, or were they afraid the gore of their stories would offend my womanly sensibilities? In which way should I address the group? I knew they were waiting for me to say something. Drat!

I plunged in, uncaring, going for the least embarrassing of the topics.

"Why did you all stop speaking?" I asked innocently. "I have not only heard worse stories than these, I have dealt with the very wounds of which you are speaking. Do not mince words on my account."

Leave it to Elrohir to come to my rescue.

"Maeren," he said with a smirk, "were you partaking in a bit of exercise that involved rolling about on the ground? You are covered in leaves and dirt and can barely catch your breath!"

"If you must know," I returned without batting an eye, "that mischievous Elf of a brother of yours is scandalous. We were talking on the riverbank, when of a sudden, he attacked me, threw me on the ground and had his way with me."

There were wide eyes and slack jaws on all three of my companions seated at the fire, not to mention the Elf just joining us. So I took my cue, thanking Eru my ruse had worked, and burst out laughing at my own 'supposed' joke. I could only hope Elrohir had not a keen memory and pick up the question he had posed before I had given my ridiculous answer. The tension broke with an almost audible snap, and the others began laughing as well. I caught Elladan's eye over the others' heads, his look telling me I had best be on the lookout for some sort of retribution.

If these people only knew how close to the truth I had come in my description of what I had been doing. Only Elladan had definitely not attacked me. No indeed.

If that was an attack, well, I would never survive it if he made love to me.

A/N: I hang my head in shame. I wish to thank Isilwen from the bottom of my heart for pointing out to me that I had spelled Fangorn incorrectly in this story. I imagine I have misspelled it in previous chapters as well. I will go and check, you can be assured. I have corrected the misspellings in this chapter (I believe I caught them all). Again, you have no idea how appalled I am that I misspelled the wonderful home of Treebeard!