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A/N: I know this is super short, but forgive me, and please don't flame me, like "Oh my freakin God, you freakin suck at writing and I wish you would drop off the face of the earth", just please give me constructive criticism so I can finish this up like you guys want it to be, okay?

Luv always

Meg AKA DramaQueen

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)Maranwë(

Damn it. I had way too much to drink last night. My head was throbbing uncontrollably and I felt like I was about to vomit, yet it wouldn't come. After lying still for a minute, my head felt considerably better than it had, so I was at least able to sit up. I froze as I did so, watching in horror the section of bed next to me.

Boromir lay beside me, his bare chest exposed over the sheets. I studied him intently, noticing numerous lipstick marks all over his face, neck, and chest, recognizing it as the same shade I had worn the night before. I looked down at myself and noticed that Boromir was not the only one whom was not wearing any clothes. Looking around, I wasn't even in my own bedchamber. It appeared like the Gondor guestroom, yet I had been there so infrequently that I barely recognized it. And everything in that room was knocked over as if in a frenzy.

The comforting heat around me instantly transformed into frigid cold fear. Please no, I thought to myself frantically. Please say I didn't do what I think I did.

"What the hell have I done?" I whispered to myself. It stirred Boromir who looked like he was about to wake, yet he turned and fell back into contented slumber.

I quickly hopped from the bed and dressed into my light gown and slippers before opening the door and racing to Larien's room.

)Larien(

I was forced against a wall, although around us it was so dark I did not know where I was or who was before me. All I knew was the one in front of me was the one I desired had his one hand was on my waist and the other on the side of my neck. My pulse began racing. His fingers grazed the sensitive hollow of my throat. I wasn't able to breathe.

I begged, "Please, don't tease me like this any longer. I can't take it."

I could not see my lover's face, but I heard a familiar voice reach my ears. "But Larien, you cannot deny you have yearned for these kind of moments with me almost as much as I have."

I smiled sheepishly. "Well-" He did not allow my continuation, silencing me with a long, passionate kiss. I clung to the back of his neck, moaning into him. He was pulling me against his body, having lowered his hands, one now on my shoulder and his other on my-

Slowly, we released each other, but his lips were still nearly against mine in their proximity. "Éomer," I murmured.

The sunlight slowly danced across my face and I awoke reluctantly. The sheets were so warm, the pillow so soft, the dream so intoxicatingly sweet, I never wanted to leave that comfort. Yet I opened my eyes nonetheless and speedily submerged into shock.

My room was infested with golden roses.

They bordered the windows, sat in vases on my night tables, were thrown across my sheets, even lay scattered across the floor. There had to be at least one hundred of the flowers

"Larien!" Maranwë yelled as she ran into the room, abruptly stopping in shock herself as she surveyed it.

"What?" I asked quickly. She had escaped reality, still looking at all the flowers. "Maranwë..." I said harshly.

"What on Middle-earth..." she whispered, still in her trance.

"Am I still dreaming?" I asked myself aloud, going into my own reverie, giving up on breaking my sister out of hers.

"Apparently not," she replied. "Because if you are, then I must be going mad or something."

At once, I understood. "Éomer."

That snapped her out of it quickly enough. "What?"

"Nothing," I said, catching myself. "So, ready to go to breakfast?"

"Um, yeah," Maranwë said, apparently forgetting, or avoiding, to tell me what she had come in to say.

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