It was not too long afterward that the fellowship had broken up, each returning to their own respective houses to ensure they had packed all the provisions they knew they would need. Arwen was readying the bed as Aragorn changed his clothes and then she sat down on it, tucking her toes under the covers, but pulling her knees up to her chest, her legs covered by her gown. She watched him for a few moments, eyeing his figure: tall, strong…even the scars that never healed.

She remembered the night when she first discovered them; the very night they were married. She had slipped off his tunic and stared at his chest, the long stripes along his back, and smaller welts from burns…from stories she would never hear. How surprised she had been, and how horrified at the truth that there had been so many. His journeys, his trials, his battles, had been to fight for his Lord and for what he knew had been right…and for her. And that when she held him that night, it was the first time he was truly at peace; when he could be himself and be still and calm. Yes, Ilúvatar had blessed her when He had given her Aragorn.

"Why do you watch me?" he asked softly as he pulled his tunic over his scarred back, interrupting her thoughts. He was not facing her at the moment, and she just kept on staring.

"I was only thinking," she replied, just as softly. She waited, debating her words; it was difficult to choose them. Aragorn drew near to the bed then, leaving the candle on the side table lit. Sliding onto the bed, he, too, bent one knee and leaned on it.

"What were you thinking, beloved?"

She tilted her head, laying her cheek on her knees, her hair cascading down her back as she did so. "Why did you offer to take Annî?" she asked softly.

He did not flinch at the question or at her gaze. Her tone was quiet, but it held no rebuke. "They could not take her with them…and she loves us…and…" Then he dropped his eyes, even if only for a moment, and she knew what was coming next. "And I…thought perhaps—"

"That I might be ready," she replied softly, thinking of their conversation near the Anduin yesterday. He looked into her eyes with compassion.

"…that you might be ready," he agreed quietly. "I thought it might…bring you some peace."

"I do not know if I will ever be ready," she whispered. "But you are right; you are always right. You see in me a desire to hide, to cower from the world, to hide in my grief, and you return me to life." Her voice grew hoarse and her eyes filled with tears. "You think that I would be well by now, but no. And I need that, Aragorn. Sometimes, I need you to remind me to live."

Aragorn reached out and stroked her face with his fingers. "There are times I need it, too."

Her eyes closed; she was embarrassed that she was still grieving. "It is…torture. When I think of what might have been…my heart breaks. And then you offered and I wanted to take her so much, and then I thought of—" her voice cut out, "—and how lonely I feel sometimes…and what everyone must have felt for us when Faramir asked the question…"

Her grief cut his heart. "He was our son, beloved," he whispered. "Of course they feel for us." He hesitated and then frowned deeply. "Forgive me…for making you so sad."

She shook her head. "There is nothing to forgive," she said, but he could see the tears running down her face, and he reached for her. As he brought her to him, she rested her head against his chest. "This grief is not of your making; I have prayed for this pain to be removed," her voice caught and she hesitated. "I do not know why He took him from us, but I know that it is something we must overcome…and I must find a way to heal." He remained silent as he held her, gently rocking her against him. "Maybe having Annî will help," she added though he could hear her doubt. He could feel the agony that threatened to overwhelm her, but she forced it away. She suffered a few more moments in silence, and then whispered, "I envy you the peace that you have found." She spread her fingers against his chest and over his heart. "I wish I could find it, let it reach my heart, but…"

He held a hand over both of hers, holding them tenderly. "Ilúvatar has given me this gift so that I might give it away," he said gently, and he rested his cheek against her forehead. "Let me be His peace for you. Let me be His light in your darkness. It is why I am here…" She lifted her head from his chest, and looked into his honest eyes.

"I trusted Ilúvatar…and he gave me you. Even in my darkest moments," she whispered, "when I think perhaps he does not hear me, when I think he does not see how hopeless I often feel, he is answering my most fervent prayers." Her eyes changed from despair to faith, and she gently whispered, "He has answered them with you…and with your hope, I will hope."

He tilted his head and looked into her wet eyes, and spoke thoughtfully. "Now…where have I heard those words before?"

"Mmm," she murmured as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"You have decided," he murmured to her, "even though you are worried, to trust."

She tilted her chin up toward him and nodded. "I trust you," she stated, running a hand gently through his long hair, "and Ilúvatar. You have never brought me to a place where I could not trust in His strength to hold me. Even with this difficult burden, you are always taking it, shouldering it for me." Her face was so serious and so full of devotion, it brought tears to his eyes. "I love you," she whispered.

"I believe in your heart," he told her softly. "You have always been stronger than you know." She returned her head to his chest as he continued. "We will let Annî love us both for a few days; we shall spoil her terribly, and then send her home to Faramir." He chuckled. "That should serve him."

She laughed softly at his words, and he thought it was good to hear it as he rubbed one of his thumbs gently beneath her eye, wiping away the last of her tears. "I love you," she said tenderly, and her words filled his heart.

It was Glosbrethil who stomped his foot upon the stones first; the stallion was more than ready to go, and he tossed his head, nudging Morlómërog into a bit of a frenzy as well. The black shoved Brethil with his shoulder, and tried to grab a chunk of the skin on his neck, to which the grey responded with a squeal and a partial-rear.

"You two!" scolded Enguina, tugging Lómë's reins. "Stop acting like two-year olds and be gentlemen!" Both looked a bit subdued, but she could see a gleam in Lómë's eye; he had not finished with Brethil yet. She shook her head; if they did not head out soon, there might be a fight between the two of them.

They were nearly gone as it was. Arwen and Aragorn, along with Annî, had seen them all to the front gate of the Citadel. They stood, mounts in hand, beside the horseman statue in the courtyard; even though they knew they would only be gone a few weeks, the good-byes were not easy.

Aragorn hugged Enguina, and held her arms before he let her go, looking down into her face. "Enguina, take this time to relax," he said gently. "You need time to gather yourself. Find some peace; talk with Ilúvatar—"

"And tell Legolas, I know," she added, rolling her eyes at him a bit. When he did not release her, she looked back up at him.

"I was not going to say that," he said a bit firmly, "but now that you mention it, it would not be a bad idea." He frowned at her. "Give him a chance. All he wants in all the world is to help you."

"I know," she said, and this time, he could tell that she meant it.

"Good." He released her and reached for Legolas's arm. "Take care, mellon nîn," he said softly, and the elf nodded in return.

"Shall I be your sort of careful?" he asked, and Aragorn reached up and tapped him lightly on the side of the head.

"Wretched elf, you know of what I speak. Simply keep your ears and eyes attuned to the road as well as the riders beside you."

He nodded again. "You have my word a thousand times and again that I shall. I would never let any harm come to her that I could prevent. I would quickly give my life to prevent injury to her," he replied, his tone now more serious than Aragorn had heard him speak for a time. Aragorn's gaze grew concerned, and he rested a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Legolas…this is simply a short journey; there should be no danger to you or anyone with you, aside from the general challenges of traveling. You should return immediately if you believe something is amiss. Short journey; relax; take things slow." Legolas smiled.

"Faramir and I shall do our best to keep them from any harm, whether dangerous or not."

"A nice, leisurely stroll through the woods," Aragorn said his lips turning with a smile. "It should be good for you all, and the break shall be a happy one before the wedding to take place."

Legolas looked over his shoulder and nodded towards Arwen. "It is good that I have kissed the Queen farewell; she already has her hands full." Aragorn glanced over his shoulder as well and saw his wife holding Andúnêiel who was now kissing her father. He smiled, and Legolas met his eyes. "I was worried for a moment or so last evening. I thought perhaps she would refuse the child," he said softly, unsure if the subject was one he should even mention. "I thought perhaps you both would."

Aragorn nodded in understanding. "I know…but we will be all right, and we will enjoy our time with Annî. She is a sweet child."

Legolas laughed softly. "It is you I believe we shall now have to worry about."

"Indeed," he said in approval, and then, glancing back towards Arwen, he smiled almost wistfully, Legolas noted. "Would she not be a vision with seven children about her?"

The elf looked towards Arwen, who was now being held tightly by Enguina. "Seven is a high number, Aragorn," Legolas said softly, grasping Aragorn's shoulder. "But there is not one more equal to the task!" Aragorn smiled back at him, and then Legolas lowered his voice. "While we are away, friend, you should try and manage more time alone, even if you should take the child with you. The Anduin is a small escape from your demanding life."

It was Aragorn who now looked serious. "Do not worry about that," he replied. "I am never allowing that to happen ever again." Legolas nodded, agreeing, as Aragorn reached over to clasp arms with Faramir.

"Watch over my little one," the younger man asked softly, a truth in his eyes that Aragorn remembered as grief from a previous time. "I think the parting is very hard on Éowyn, but I know that she is confident that our love is safe with you."

"She is still too young to travel on the open road on such a journey," Aragorn agreed, "but she will be safe with us, as you well know." He smiled at the man. "As if she were my own."

"I know it," Faramir replied. As he swung up into the saddle, he smiled down at him, his seriousness leaving him in the light of returning to teasing. "And that is good…because I would hate to have to worry on my little holiday."

"A very little holiday," said Legolas as he gave Enguina a leg up onto Lómë's back.

When all of them were upon their mounts, they smiled down to the couple they left behind. "We shall see you in no less than two weeks," Enguina said as she laughed, feeling more free than she had in months…perhaps even years. "Then we shall return for the last minute wedding planning!"

"It shall seem as though you have been gone too long by the time you return," said Arwen with a smile, holding Annî close. The little girl was waving and crying goodbyes to each of them by name, and blowing kisses left and right.

"Oh stop that," Éowyn laughed, "you shall not even miss us!"

"Good journey," said Aragorn, laying a hand over his heart and spreading his arm wide, "May Ilúvatar bless your steps and watch over you."

"And you!" replied Gimli. All of those mounted covered their hearts as well, and then Gimli and Firgenwine were the first to travel outside of the Great Gate, all the while Annî was shouting goodbyes. When the group had faded into the morning sun, the three finally turned back to the City. Aragorn wrapped an arm around Arwen's waist and looked down into Annî's eyes as she hugged the elf's neck tightly.

"So they are coming back now?" she asked, and Arwen laughed softly.

"Soon, child, but not right this moment. You will see them soon enough."

The little girl smiled, her new teeth showing, and even Aragorn could not help the smile that came to his face. The grin was infectious. "Good! I want to have fun with Tiriel and Tirion!"

The tears that came to Arwen's eyes, Aragorn found, were tears of joy, and there was no mistaking that he knew this had been the right decision, for both of them. He thanked Ilúvatar.

The elf would have sworn he had never seen a night so silent and dark. There was hardly any light at all, and the moon was veiled in dark storm clouds. He was already in a gloomy mood, and if he was soon to be drenched, his feelings would become positively miserable. The last few years of his traveling had not been kind to him; they had only served to darken his temper, for he trusted in no one but himself…he could not afford to trust anyone but himself. His fuse, then, was too short, or so his comrades, if he could even call them that, would say. He would snap in return that they were too stupid to understand.

Soronar, as he was called, was one of the many elves who turned from Caras Galadhon when the Lord and Lady had departed, only he had traveled more quickly; instead of choosing the Havens, however, he chose to wander in Middle Earth. He no longer had light in his heart, and all his hope had left him, for it had already been torn by the grief of the loss of his family to orcs. Before the Lady had even departed, they had received ill tidings from messengers of the falling of the March Warden, Captain of the Golden Wood. Haldir had been his closest friend, and he had been the one to comfort his grieving widow. Even worse, it had been to his everlasting shame when, in Haldir's stead, he had been named March Warden by the Lady just before she had journeyed from Lórien.

Needless to say, the promotion did not last very long. Soronar, too injured with grief, spoke his goodbyes mere weeks after the Lord and Lady had traveled to the wedding celebration in Minas Tirith. He said only a few words to the elf he knew would take his place, and then hurried from Lothlórien with naught but his bow, his mount, and some lembas. With sorrow would he always look back on this parting, for he had never had the heart to speak farewell to Haldir's widow, and he had loved her dearly. Perhaps that had been the reason he could not say goodbye.

Upset and furious over Haldir's death, Soronar found that the rage in his heart could not be quelled until he avenged the elf. The fury burned in his heart to this very night as he sat looking up into the stormy sky. Finally, after traveling with this often vile band of elves, they had received some word of the murderers, nearly four years later. Would he ever find Haldir's actual killer? No; but he would hunt every last Uruk or orc until they had been wiped out. Their extinction was his ultimate goal…or to die trying. Finally, he would avenge the death of his closest friend, and bring himself peace.

He sighed softly, and then he heard a rustling off to his right. He knew, without even a word or another sound, who it was.

"I thought you were sleeping," muttered a soft female voice. He turned his head only slightly to meet the shadowed, hazel eyes of the elf who had been lying nearly ten feet from his side. He studied the dark features of her heritage; she, unlike him, had been from Rivendell. He rolled his eyes back into his head, turning his back to her.

"Why should you care?" he asked nastily. "I am always on watch; you know this. I have never trusted any pair of eyes but my own…I have never trusted the guard you set."

"You are shrewd," she said in reply, "as well as distrustful. They protect us well enough for the others. I do not understand you and your strange philosophies."

"Vilyath," he said, rolling onto his back with a frustrated sigh, "I could not care if the others approve or disapprove. You have never been a warden, a guard…you have no idea what it means. The responsibility alone was a great—"

"Soronar, you are not in Lórien anymore," she said simply, shaking her head as she propped herself on an arm. If they had come from anyone else's mouth, the words may have rung with some kindness. "You have not been for nearly five years. It is time to put it aside."

He frowned deeply. "I cannot; after so many years in the guard, it is ingrained in who I am. Go to sleep if you wish, but do not expect me to do the same."

"You know," she added, "you are not the leader here. If you continue to act like it, when we have accomplished our work, you shall be put in your place. You are not that necessary." She said the last with a bit of a sneer, and he sneered right back at her, sitting up as well.

As soon as this mission is accomplished, you little witch, I am long gone.

Instead of speaking those words, he said, "You think you know so much, Vilyath, but you really know very little. The Messenger is not—"

"He tells me everything," she snapped. "Girith always brings word from him." He cringed at her as the words left her mouth; he despised the thing, but something about her smugness brought him quickly back to reality.

"You are only in his confidence because you sold yourself to him, snagfëa," he returned easily, and she glared at him. He knew he had wounded her with his words; he had become very good at that these past years.

But he should have been more careful; as bitter and angry as he had become, he was no match for her defensive nature. Vilyath smiled nastily at him, angry. "Well, at least I have someone who cares for me…no one cares for you. The only beings that did were killed in the Raids in Lórien, but…you could not protect them. Some guard of the Golden Wood you are—"

That was the end of their uneasy conversation. He lunged at her, his hands grasping for her throat, and were she not an elf they would have easily found their mark. She rolled away to her feet, but not before he had seen the flash of fear in her eyes.

"Calm down, both of you!" snapped a voice from Soronar's left, and a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. "You two never refrain from injuring each other, whether by word or deed. Enough already."

Soronar shrugged his hand off and sat back on his mat while Vilyath stalked away towards the fire. "One of these days, Omarom," he muttered, flexing his fingers, "I am going to have her throat in my hands."

"Save it for the Uruks," the elf replied. "No use in wasting the effort on her. Anyway, the reason we need to be quiet is that I have heard something. I was trying to listen; our messengers from Gondor might be on their way. It has been some time since we heard from them."

"We have been camping here on the outskirts of Ithilien, dodging Rangers for what seems like an age," Soronar grumbled. "If they bring word they have found the last stragglers of Uruks and orcs in this region, they will probably have slaughtered them already themselves."

"If they come from Gondor, then our odds are more likely to find the men who have been joining with them, hiding them," added Vilyath, rolling her eyes at him. "They would not be able to hide from us so easily if they were not being helped; orcs are not intelligent enough."

"If I were a better tracker, I would not have any use for any of you," Soronar said bitterly. "I would have found them already and killed them myself."

Vilyath laughed at him, her dark hair shimmering in the moonlight. "You would be deader than one of the men we killed in Rohan a month past."

"Was it entirely necessary to bring that whole incident to mind?" Omarom asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "It was rather terrible, and there are some who would rather not remember it. And I should think," he said, looking at Soronar, "that some of us have not offended you so much that you would be so unfriendly." The other elf looked sufficiently subdued.

"We had no choice, Omarom," Vilyath stated. "You know they would have forced us to stop from journeying out here to Ithilien, filthy alliances between men that there are in these times," she muttered under her breath, and then sniffing, continued, "Besides, they had it coming to them. One of them called me—"

"A whore?" Soronar interjected. She glared at him, looking as though she was going to tear his throat out, but he just shook his head at her. "If you could accept the truth, perhaps you would not have killed them."

"Soronar—" Omarom began.

Just as Vilyath was about to snarl at him, they heard hoof beats in the darkness, and riders drew near. The horses came out of the darkness quickly, converging on the lightless camp. Omarom lit a fire so that the newcomers would have some light and could warm themselves. They could hear the horses breathing hard after a long and hard ride, and both men and elves dismounted from them, uncloaking.

As they began to care for their horses, one tall, long-haired Gondorian with hazel eyes came toward the three as they were now sitting on the ground near the fire. "Good evening," he said with a light laugh. "I bring tidings from Gondor."

"And what is this news?" Vilyath asked eagerly as Soronar crossed his arms. "Dragsúl, is our prey close at hand?"

"Indeed, he is," the man replied, and he and the she-elf shared a look that Soronar did not understand. "His party was heading for Ithilien nearly three days ago, and they should be nearby within the week. We have been preparing for so long…I am relieved the time has finally come. Our luck has held out!" Soronar felt the rush of adrenaline flood through him; at last! Dragsúl smiled at him and nodded. "Your eyes have given away your thoughts; I see you cannot wait to engage them, friend. You shall have your sport."

"Not sport," he muttered, his eyes dark, tired of people who misunderstood him, "vengeance. Who is this mysterious 'he'?"

"He is one of the men who has been secretly providing refuge for our foes," Dragsúl explained. "We will capture him, kill his men, and force him to take us to them. They will all be ours, and the last remnants of Haldir's killers will be no more!" He shouted the last part, shaking his fist. "Death to the Uruks! Death to the orcs!"

"Tell us more, if you can," Vilyath said eagerly, her eyes a bit wider now, like an enchanted child. It made Soronar sick to his stomach to see a woman so besotted with someone. "Is there any news from our Lord?"

Dragsúl shook his head. "I regret to say no, but there is a little more I can tell you. A few of the elves have remained in the city to track them at a distance. Those we trail are wise; certainly they would know if they are followed to closely."

"Even by elves?" questioned Soronar looking into the fire. As Dragsúl opened his mouth to reply, Vilyath shot him a silencing look.

"They are men experienced in the Wild," the man replied hastily, "and we must attack them as swiftly as we can and so that we might successfully bring them down with as little trouble and losses on our part. Remember, these men have been harboring Uruks and orcs for years from the Great War; they are not to be trifled with."

"We are elves, Dragsúl," muttered Omarom, "even if they were elves, they would not be expecting an ambush. But I am glad to hear news that we shall be on the move soon. We have been waiting for far too long."

"Have you seen Girith?" she asked Dragsúl. "Our Lord would be much pleased to hear the news that our strike is close at hand."

"No," said Dragsúl with a frown and a shudder, "and in a way I am glad. I hate the thing; better you deal with him than me."

"I will," Vilyath replied with a smiled. "I am also looking forward to the end of this mission, so we can all be back together again." Soronar looked over at her; again, there was that child-like gleam in her eyes. It would not be long until they would be moving out with their plan, and Vilyath would be unbearable once more, love-sick over her Lord. By that time, Soronar hoped to be long gone.

"Ithilien is far more beautiful than I remember," Enguina said with a smile. "The last time I was here, I did not have much of an opportunity to enjoy it…and it was covered with snow." She turned to look over at him for the thousandth time, unable to keep her eyes off him for any longer than a few moments. It was too difficult because he looked so wonderful to her—he was so tall and handsome, so charming. Glosbrethil was prancing along with utter happiness. The stallion appeared almost ridiculous to her eyes, but Legolas was not even shifted in his saddle by his antics; he sat perfectly straight. Lómë was glad to walk beside Glosbrethil, but he made no attempt to act as happy as the grey was to be out.

"You know, I have traversed Ithilien six times," Legolas replied softly as he remembered. "On the way to war and back, a year or so after the War with Gimli, and on the way to find you. Both times, I paid much more attention on the return trip; I can assure you of that, love. But there was something about the trees here that spoke to me, and I told Aragorn that I would like to make my home here." He looked over at her. "Do you think you will enjoy living here, Guin?"

She smiled at him. "Do you want me to answer that question honestly, Legolas?"

"Of course," he replied, meeting her gaze. "We should always be honest with each other."

"I will live wherever you are," she said gently. "Yes, Ithilien is beautiful and I like it very much. But if you were to change your mind, I would follow you. You…have become my home, Legolas."

He gave her a smile and reached over to take her hand. "And you are mine." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "When I first rode through the forest here, it was my vision to live among these trees and fields…and gentle rivers. I told Aragorn and Gimli about it at the time."

"Did Aragorn say then that he would permit you to live here?" she teased him.

He smiled. "Nay, he left that for the Prince of Ithilien to decide."

"Yes," Faramir called back over his shoulder, "and I told him absolutely not!"

"Stop eavesdropping!" Enguina called up to him, just as Legolas laughed.

They had been traveling through Ithilien slowly, on the road nearly four days now. They had simply been taking their time, enjoying the ride and the beautiful weather. They stopped often, taking care of Éowyn as she was very pregnant; she did not wish to stop, but Faramir insisted, of course. She was an excellent rider, and Enguina was amazed at her stamina. When complimented, Éowyn only laughed and told her that she had lived on the back of her pony, Lisith, when she was young, and that she and her brother would ride all day, every day. It made Enguina long to meet this 'Éomer' that was both Legolas's friend and Éowyn's brother; he would be attending the wedding.

"Actually," Legolas laughed, interrupting her thoughts, "what Faramir told me was that it would be well if the elves would come and remain close to men, and he is right; we should not segregate ourselves from the world of men any longer."

"The Lady used to say that because the Elves are now diminished, this Fourth Age is now the dominion of men, and that our power will continue to wane," Enguina added. "You have integrated yourself quite well, Legolas. The people of Minas Tirith love you, and the men of Ithilien will love your kin as much as they love you."

"I do not know what my Father intends, or if he has even spoken to some of my kin settling within this land. I told him, when Gimli and I had visited after the War, of my intentions, my plans, and though he acknowledged my wish, I do not think he believed me quite serious. But I know this: I would rather us not live alone any longer."

"So where do you believe might be the perfect location for a home in this beautiful landscape?" she asked. "Did you have a particular place in mind?"

He laughed. "Oh, no! It is the Ranger Faramir who knows his way inside and out of these woods. He has spent many years here on foot. Though," Legolas lowered his voice conspiratorially, "I hope he does not get us lost; upon horseback, many things seem different."

Enguina laughed and Gimli snorted from behind them, nodding at Faramir and Éowyn up ahead, who had their heads close together as he held her hand. "Even though the lad doesn't have his eyes on the woods ahead of us half the time, I still think he can find his way. He practically grew up in these woods! Though, he should stay on the trail."

"I thank you, Gimli," called Faramir, turning in his saddle, "for your vote of confidence." He leaned over and took Éowyn's hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss. "And why should I keep my eyes on the trail if I know where I am going? Moreover, there are sometimes more beautiful things to look at than Ithilien." Looking back at Legolas, he grinned. "Are you afraid of getting lost, elves?"

Enguina laughed softly, and whispered to Legolas. "Even things that are whispered can be said too loudly in this open country." She called ahead to Faramir. "Not Legolas, but I am! I suppose that if I am to be lost, there is no better place, and no better people to be with."

"That's right!" said Gimli. "And besides, Lómë knows his way back to Minas Tirith; he'd take you there before you were lost out here forever."

"Unless he was trying to spite you," Faramir pointed out. "He could wander around out here and eat grass forever and never return to Minas Tirith." Éowyn shoved him in the shoulder and he rubbed it, pretending to wince.

"Ah, ya rascal!" called Gimli. "Don't go scaring her!"

"Brethil wants some time to run, I think," Legolas said to Gimli. "Are you interested, Gimli?"

"I know Lómë is," Enguina said with a grin and the black tossed his head.

"Does our fearless leader mind a livening of the pace?" the elf called as the three of them trotted up alongside the couple. Dwimor tossed his head, and Windfola nickered softly, nudging Firgenwine.

"Let me answer for him," Éowyn replied, turning to smile at Enguina. "Please ride on ahead and enjoy yourselves." She sighed a bit wistfully. "I wish I could join you, but…I probably should not."

"We have traveled far today already," Gimli said. "Perhaps we should take a—"

"No, no," Éowyn refused, shaking her head. "I am fine, Gimli," she said. "Go, and we will meet you in a few miles for supper. Find us a good camping spot."

Enguina frowned. "We did not mean that we wanted to go without you."

Faramir laughed. "Do not sound as though you think we are wounded, Enguina! Go and enjoy yourselves. We will catch up in a few hours; we can follow your trail easily enough, and we have no set place we have to end up. Continue heading northwest and we shall find you."

"Be safe," Legolas said easily, giving them a grin. He spurred Brethil, and the grey quickly broke to a smooth lope. Enguina laughed as Firgenwine scrambled after him, but only Lómë's ears pricked forward. Enguina reached down and patted his neck.

"Well done, Lómë," she said, and Éowyn smiled at her.

"He is much better behaved, I take it?"

"Yes," she replied, and then she looked seriously at the woman. "You really do not mind?"

Éowyn reached over and shoved her arm. "Go," she said with a mischievous grin, and she leaned close to Enguina and whispered, "I could use the alone time with Faramir."

"What are you two saying over there?" he asked with a grin as he watched Enguina sit up with a blush on her cheeks.

"Oh!" she said, a bit embarrassed that Éowyn had been trying to get rid of them and she had not even noticed. "We will see you in a few hours then."

"Yes!" she chuckled as the elf asked Lómë for a lope. Within seconds, she let him loose and he leapt forward, racing after Brethil and Firgenwine. Shaking her head, she turned and reached out to take Faramir's hand.

"What was that all about, Éowyn?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Oh, I was chasing Enguina away so we could be alone for a little while." She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow, and he smiled back.

"You are so very clever, my wife," he said. Then he became a little more serious. "Are you sure that you are—" She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and yanked him into her, roughly dragging his lips to hers and nearly pulling him from Dwimor's back. Quickly dropping his own reins, he caught himself by putting a hand down on her leg and another behind her saddle.

Breathless after a few moments, she rested her forehead against his and he chuckled. "I suppose you are feeling just fine, dearest."

"Right as rain," she whispered.