AN: Hello, again!

It appears that I have developed a serious addiction to this site and posting and updating. So here you'll find a set of one-shots to fill in some gaps my story Family Complications left behind, or just provide some additional scenes that I have in my head, but couldn't fit into the story. (That means that I'll keep on this shameless advertising all along, because I need to define when these scenes take place in the confines of the main story)

Everything is owned by J.R.R. Tolkien.

I hope you'll like this, if you read Family Complications and if you didn't, you can still check it out, if these one-shots hook your attention. No-one is forcing you though, if you don't like it, feel free to stop anytime :) I'd be most happy to receive your comments and reviews and thank you for reading in advance.

Okay, so it has turned out that my most productive periods are the ones during which I am actually supposed to do something else (by something else, mean school work). And thus, even though I was supposed to be writing essays this week, I ended up writing he newest Scene. Whatever. This is a pretty short piece, but I didn't want to make it any longer, that would have also meant POV problems, so that's all for now.

SCENE No. 9

- set on the night before Gilraen's fatal encounter with a straw bale (Family Complications Chapter 2 - Just Another Manic Monday) -

The Old Guesthouse was crowded, as always. He did not usually visit this inn, he preferred more quiet places, those for the citizens of Minas Tirith, which weren't stuffed with foreigners all the time. The only reason why he fought himself through the crowd this time to get a glimpse of the hidden tables of the cozy and most peaceful corners was because he hoped to find a certain person sitting at one of them. After two steps a copper skinned merchant squire crashed into him balancing a pint of ale in his unsteady hands and muttered a half drunk 'Pardon m'lord' with thick southern accent. That was why he hated the Old Guesthouse. With an annoyed grunt, he headed for the counter and browsed the crowd impassively. It was in one of the corners he finally caught sight of a familiar figure sitting by a smaller table, gazing into his goblet with a pensive expression.

"You know what men are usually thinking about when they sit over a drink like that all alone?" he grinned as he walked up to the table.

"What?" a pair of amused eyes looked up at him, utterly unsurprised to see him, apparently.

"Women" Barahin said sitting down.

Torundir gave a snort. "Aye, that was what I would have guessed…"

"That boy, I forgot his name, the one you currently have as a squire told me I would find you here" Barahin said waving for the serving wench to order a goblet of wine. "Another drink? This round is on me" he turned to his friend.

"Another drink is always welcome, especially if it's on you."

"Anything for that troubled face" Barahin grinned teasing and his friend rolled his eyes.

"So you wanted something in particular?" Torundir asked, once they both had full goblets in their hands.

"No, just a drink" Barahin shook his head. "And of course I can't live without your ever so amazing company" he added with an ironic chuckle.

"Ah, and whatever I would do without some sarcasm and a free drink?" his friend chuckled too and they clinked their goblets.

"So what are you doing here all alone?"

"Didn't you figure out the moment you arrived so humorously?"

"Were you really thinking about some woman?" Barahin raised an eyebrow ready to burst out laughing any minute his fried would nod or give a positive response. That was so unlike Torundir.

"Aye" he said and Barahin almost choked on his wine laughing. He never thought he would live to see the moment when a woman gives Torundir a headache. "It's not funny…" his friend shook his head with a glare. "I really have no idea what to do with this… situation."

"What situation? Have you finally found a woman you like?"

"It's not as simple as that" Torundir grimaced. "I'd be the most happy if it was as simple as that. But she is not somebody I'm allowed to like."

"Who says so?" Barahin raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"My better judgment and moral standards" Torundir grinned.

"Why, is she somebody else's wife?"

"Not yet."

"What's the problem then? Go ahead and get her. I don't see anything wrong with that. Nor did your father when he had done the same" Barahin said emptying his goblet. "The next round is on you."

Torundir waved for the serving wench and ordered a flagon of wine. "That was the other way around, what my father did. It was him, who broke up his own engagement after he met my mother. And she is not even betrothed. The woman in my situation, I mean."

"Not even betrothed" Barahin echoed. "Then I honestly can't see the problem."

"The problem is I can't have her. But I want her so bad, you have no idea how fucking bad I want her. Every time we speak I have an urge to grab her and kiss her and eat her, she is so sweet. But I tell myself I can't do that and I don't. When I wake up hard in the morning, she is the first thing to come to my mind. But I tell myself it will never be more than a fantasy. And that was all working well up until a week ago."

"What happened a week ago?" Barahin found himself hooked. Last time they talked of women, more seriously than tit size and butt quality was back five years ago, when he had been betrothed to Ëlyel.

"The moment came when I couldn't resist the urge and did grab and kiss her" Torundir chuckled torn between a bitter grunt and a smug smirk. "And since then it's so bloody fucking hard not to think about all the things I still want to do to her."

"You already bedded a number a women you shouldn't have. Why not another one?" Barahin spread his arms. Torundir never made a fuss about anything like this.

"Because…" he started with a frustrated sigh. "Because I don't want to do that to her. She is not that sort of woman who just goes to bed with anybody because he asks nicely. We are friends, in a stupid way. And I'm not sure that a good fuck would be worth as much as to throw that away by treating her like any slut."

"But the waking hard every morning thinking about her symptom will only pass if you bed her, I hope you know that" Barahin noted with a chuckle. Friends… Torundir had only ever been friends with women who were either his or Beregond's or the Forlan borthers' wives; or who had been wives to his father's friends who were usually out of his age group. But to be friends with a young woman who he even wants to fuck was simply odd.

"I don't know. In fact, I'm not sure it would. What if I bedded her and it all gets worse? And I'll end up still wanting her, even more than before?"

"Or you can forget about her and bed somebody else…" Barahin offered.

"Nobody is sweet like her… or has bust like hers, or lips and skin like hers… She smells like a peach."

"Smells like a peach? You take a smell at her or what? That's really something friends would do" Barahin burst out laughing.

"She smells fucking good, 'right? Of course I smell her. I smelled her when we kissed…" Torundir laughed shaking his head. "Aw, fucking hell, how good she smells… She has this beautiful bust" he went on with a chuckle. "You know, I'm talking to her and the next thing I know is that it's not her eyes I'm looking at."

"Something any nice tits will do to you" Barahin grinned.

"Ah…" Torundir let out a frustrated sigh as he throw his head back in agitation. "I'll just drop it and try to forget about her" he decided straightening.

Barahin had lost track of the thread of this logic long ago and just shrugged in response. He had never been in a situation like that. If he wanted a woman, he seduced and bedded her and a day later all this misery passed. That was the receipt. Torundir had taught him that. Well, true enough that these girls were usually commoners, or of lower birth and thus the moral standards were not so strict. He never bedded a highborn girl whose father would know his father so things could get ugly. But Torundir bedded that slut of a daughter of Lord Galador with no regard to the moral issues and got bored with her after two nights, like he always did. Ah, but this woman was not that kind and she was even his friend, whatever that meant…

"I'll tell her that we should just stay friendly and keep a three-step distance" Torundir mused and drowned his wine. "I have no idea how I'll be able to do that…"

"I told you. Get another woman to draw your attention away" Barahin gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"I should" he agreed.

"Find someone who is prettier or wittier, then you'll forget this girl more easily."

"There's no such" Torundir grinned. "She is the prettiest, smartest, sweetest woman I have ever seen. Ah, fuck it, Barahin, I so want to see what's under those satin skirts of her…" he broke into a bitter smile.

"Just make up your mind" Barahin shook his head smiling. "If you decide that you'll let it go, stop fantasizing about her. Draw your attention away. With somebody ugly then. What of her, by the way? Would she even let you under her skirt?"

"I can't stop fantasizing about her. If I could, I would have already stopped" Torundir glared at him. "About her…" he mused. "She knows that we shouldn't be in this situation. She wants it too, but knows that we can't do this. But somehow she never really tells me to stop. She has always been unable to deny me anything. I just… I don't feel comfortable with taking advantage of that."

Barahin looked at him incredulously. "Since when have you been so considerate of the situations and feelings of your women?"

"Since she is… my friend, for the want of a better word. She is sweet woman, a kind person. I can't do that to her, what I always do. Bed her without giving any thought to what she'll do or feel after I take my leave in the morning and never speak to her again. That's fine to do with all the cheap sluts I meet on the street or in an inn or at some feast, but not with her. And if I don't get bored with her and want more? I'll just drag her down with me? Such a fucking mess, this is…"

"Well then just drop it, and get a slut to take her from your mind" Barahin sighed with a sympathetic nod and filled their goblets.

"Aye… I'll do that… I'll tell her we should stop as long as we can and keep a safe distance..."

"Then look around and find yourself a consolation wench" Barahin gestured at the counter with an encouraging smirk as he patted his friend's shoulder.

"Tomorrow" Torundir chuckled eying the tavern wenches. "I'm going home now. I need to get some sleep, I'm leading a patrol at daybreak" he stood up. "Thanks for listening to my shit" he gave him a light slap on the upper arm and Barahin rose to stand too.

"Any time, brother" he laughed and saying their goodbyes, they both headed home.

Yeah, well man proposes, god disposes... His plan was to tell her they would stop. Better judgment lost yet another battle against instincts and emotions.

Update will come next weekend, or anytime afterwards because my semester will be over soon and exam period means a hectic schedule.

Question is: would you people like to see a flashback on Aragorn and Arwen's wedding? Because if yes, I'll do an eleventh chapter on that. However, it'll not necessarily focus on Aragorn/Arwen fluff, though surely I'll include such too. (It'd be Arwen's flashback, so I won't 'abuse' her)