Enguina knew that Arwen had told her, over and over again, that Gondor was beautiful country, and she had seen much proof in Ithilien the past six days of their travel. No words of Arwen's could have prepared her for the beauty that was Henneth Annûn. She would forever remember this moment; sitting in Legolas's arms out in the starlight on the edge of the outermost rocks where flowers were blooming just out of the cliffside, where the water tumbled down the rocks and into the pool below. How beautiful it was; how it moved her heart! She was completely lost in this moment, her head resting upon his shoulder, with his head resting upon hers.
They had watched the sun fade in all its glorious splendor, the sky tumultuous shades of reds, purples, and oranges. There had been little talk between the five of them, as it had been some time since even Faramir had set foot in this place, and they were each enjoying it in their own way. Gimli had gathered a dinner for them, and so they had eaten outside as Faramir told stories of his days as a Ranger in Ithilien and his brother. Legolas enjoyed hearing him weave those tales as much as everyone else had, and the place they sat now held special significance for the man. It amazed him that a place he had judged to simply be a bit of stone and a tunnel underground could hold so much beauty. He reminded himself to stop judging places simply because of the way that appeared at first glance.
"I am amazed," Enguina whispered to him, and he was happy to have his thoughts interrupted by her voice.
"As am I," he replied, glancing over at Faramir, "my friends continually surprise me." Faramir sat, staring out into the starlight just as they were, leaning against the side of the cave wall, Éowyn lying enclosed in his arms, fast asleep against his chest. His arms held her against himself and she seemed warm and safe.
"Never before had I ever worried what the world outside of Lothlórien was like. Now, the more I see of it, the more I wonder why I never thought to look before," Enguina continued. "Even Gondor astounds me." She lifted her head to turn and look at him. "Each time we ride into the City, I still find it hard to look up and not be amazed when I see the gorgeous white stone glittering in the morning light. And so tall, so full of grandeur! I cannot believe that men actually took the time to make something so beautiful, and to carve it out of a mountainside!"
"Ah, Minas Tirith; a fine picture of stonework, lass," said Gimli from nearby, as he smoked on his pipe. He, too, could not help but gaze out upon the stars. "Gondor is a picture of a beauty; a fine tribute to what men and a few pick axes can do."
Legolas laughed softly, and turned to smile at his friend. "You would know, my good friend. Your kin did some fine work restoring the outer walls. I cannot even begin to imagine what the Glittering Caves shall look like when they have completed their homes."
"Dwarves from all around shall be amazed to come and see the work we've finished there," Gimli stated with pride, "and they shall want to live there, too! What a beautiful place to spend the rest of your days!"
"I am not certain I could live underground," Enguina said softly. "I struggled to not hold my breath through the front entrance here, and sometimes I want to close my eyes when I walk through the passage from the stable to the Citadel. I appreciate the open air too much." Legolas nodded and Gimli thought about that for a moment. Silence fell between them for a few moments as each one thought about her words.
Just as Legolas was about to speak, Gimli said abruptly, "Well…caves are probably overvalued."
Legolas stared at him with surprise. "Gimli, do not say that you are having second thoughts about returning to the Glittering Caves with your kin?"
Gimli shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. "Of course I'm not," he insisted gruffly. "I'm just saying that there are many wonderful places in Middle-Earth to live, not the least of which are caves, there is beauty to be found in forests as well. That's all." And there was silence, as he said no more on the matter.
"Gimli—" Legolas began, but he felt Enguina's hand on his arm. He looked down at her and saw in her eyes that she asked him to let it go for now. He was confused, but he obeyed her. "What did you think of the sunset?"
"It looked like the Caves do in my memory," he said, nodding appreciatively. "All the colors all blending together…it's quite a vision."
"Is that what the Caves look like?" said Enguina with a bit of wonder.
"Oh yes," replied Gimli, puffing on his pipe, "colors of every shade, stalactites building from the ceiling in reds and oranges and whites…such as the most colorful sunrise. Ah, what glory to live there!"
Enguina smiled. "It sounds so lovely. Perhaps one day, if I could convince myself to enter, I would love to see it."
"You'll see it, lass," Gimli laughed, "when you and the lad come and visit with your twenty children!"
"Twenty!" exclaimed Faramir softly, careful not to wake his wife. "You are making some rather large assumptions there, Gimli."
"Twenty is such a lovely number," stated Legolas, and Enguina looked up into his face with eyes as large as saucers.
"Twenty? You are both mad! It is a completely unreasonable number, and you know it. Whatever would we do with twenty children?"
Legolas laughed. "Corral them."
She rolled her eyes. "That…that is simply…that is utter nonsense. And we do not even know if we will be lucky enough to have children."
"Oh," Legolas replied, shaking his head, "it is guaranteed."
"How is that, exactly?"
"I…am not at liberty to say, my love." But he waggled his eyebrows at her and she blushed crimson. Thankfully, her face was hidden by Legolas's shoulder from Gimli, so as she ducked it away she tried to change the subject.
"It was quite wonderful of Faramir to bring us here," she muttered.
"Indeed," said Legolas, and he laughed softly, "perhaps we should come here upon the celebration of our marriage. It would be a beautiful place to celebrate."
"I do not think my men would much appreciate that, though they might take it as a hint for a holiday," Faramir replied softly. He ran his fingers through Éowyn's hair and Legolas laughed softly.
"You are probably right, my friend."
"You may want to avoid areas with many people," muttered Gimli, thinking about Legolas's comment about the twenty children, and Legolas burst into laughter. Embarrassed now by someone else other than Legolas, Enguina thought it time for some payback. Reaching out, she snatched up her fork and threw it at the dwarf, whacking him in the shoulder. He shouted, and then insisted, "I was only trying to say that you might want some privacy!"
Faramir nodded, full of humor. "Certainly, Gimli…we all understood exactly what you meant." Gimli turned to look at him, caught the little gleam in the man's eye, and burst into a belly-jolting laugh. This sound woke Éowyn, who opened her eyes to hear all of them laughing. She looked towards the other couple and watched Enguina bury her flushed face into Legolas' neck and Legolas shaking his head.
"You all are too cruel," he said, but with good humor. "It is not as though we will create such a ruckus—"
"Legolas, please!" cried Enguina, her face heating up even more.
"What did I miss?" Éowyn asked softly, a smile on her face. She felt Faramir's hand stroke her hair and she looked up at him. "Why is Enguina so embarrassed?"
"Just a tease, love," he said with a short laugh. "You know that our dwarf is quite good at those."
"Me?" cried Gimli indignantly. "You're the one who made it out that I said something that I didn't say! Or that I did say something but that it wasn't meant to sound as you made it sound to be!"
"We all knew exactly what you meant, Master Dwarf," replied Faramir flatly, "you simply tried to say it in a more civilized manner than the rest of us probably would have said." He nearly snorted with laughter, "And you were right to speak it!"
Éowyn shook her head and returned it to Faramir's chest. "You are all too silly for the tired."
Enguina kept her head in Legolas' neck, but muttered, "I agree."
"You only agree, love," whispered Legolas, "because you wish to leave the subject."
"Now leave her be," said Éowyn, coming to the elf's defense but with a smile on her face. "I think she has had enough."
"Thank you, Éowyn," Enguina replied, rubbing her face against Legolas's tunic.
He became a bit more serious, and tucked his head down close to hers so that his lips brushed her ear. "Do you not wish to be alone with me…as I wish very much to be alone with you?"
She trembled, and she could hardly identify if it was out of fear or desire. "Oh, Legolas…" came her breathless reply. Desire…definitely desire… She could barely function, feeling his breath on her ear, the way his words were murmured with such effectiveness. Fire coursed through her veins and her hands tightened on the arm that held her against him.
"I take it that is a yes," he continued, still far too close to her. She was so uncomfortable in that moment; she did not know what to do. She certainly could not answer him, and yet, how could she remain silent? Was he not expecting a response? What should she—
"Enguina, how are you enjoying Ithilien?"
Saved by Faramir! She was so surprised by someone else addressing her in a rather loud voice instead of Legolas's hushed whisper that her body jolted in Legolas's arms. He chuckled, and she blushed crimson, but she pulled her head away from his and tried to respond to the question.
"Very much, Faramir," she replied. Everything within her screamed to get out of Legolas's arms, to take revenge on him for putting her in this position, but instead she remained.
"It is wonderful," Éowyn added softly, her voice still tired from riding all day. "Ithilien is a beautiful place to be out together, enjoying each other's company, riding and camping…" She drifted off, clearly thinking, and Enguina watched as she laid her hands over her womb.
"But you feel something's missing?" laughed Gimli. "What could possibly be missing?"
"Our little pearl," said Faramir, and Éowyn looked up into his face as he smiled. "Yes, I miss her, too. I wonder how she is behaving at home. I bet she is giving Aragorn and Arwen a run for it."
Legolas grinned. "I would bet, even if that were the case, that they are enjoying every minute of it. Even if she is trouble, I am sure the time together is well-spent."
"You aren't worried about her, are you?" asked Gimli, a bit surprised.
"Of course we are worried," Éowyn said, sighing. "She is not at my side; I cannot see her. Therefore, I worry." Faramir covered her hand with his own. "I trust them with my life, with Faramir's life…but it is hard to trust anyone with your baby." She looked over to Enguina, and then Legolas and Gimli, her face sad. "You cannot…you cannot understand, you are not a mother and neither one of you are fathers. But if you were, you would understand the anxiety of my heart."
"And it is not only that," Faramir said gently, looking a bit guilty. "No one ever lays blame on us for what happened with the elves that attacked the Citadel in January, but if I were Aragorn…I would not be able to help myself thinking about it every time I looked at Annî."
"Peace, Faramir," Legolas began, holding up his hand. "No one would blame either one of you. You would have given your lives if you could have, just as Arwen or Aragorn would give theirs for Annî."
"There are moments when…I feel as though I…" Éowyn hesitated, meeting Enguina's gaze. "There are moments when I think Arwen may never heal. I grieve for her. I can hold my daughter," she added, rubbing her belly gently, "and I know what I would be like if I…if I lost her."
"You're right, Éowyn," Gimli stated, "Arwen may never heal. A loss like that can break a heart. But you know what? She'll eventually learn to live with the grief; all of us will face loss in our time. It's sad and terrible, but they've still got each other."
Enguina looked at him sadly. "But Gimli, you do not understand. That is not the way of our people, to find a way to live with great grief," she spoke softly, and she felt Legolas's hand on her back.
"Well, what do they do then?"
"Leave Middle-Earth," Legolas said softly. "Elves find everlasting peace in the Undying Lands when grief or pain or suffering threatens to overcome them. That is our road; our place of peace."
"So…what're you saying exactly?" Gimli asked. "That if Arwen's grief is great enough she'll go over the Sea and leave us all here?"
"That is the point of what Enguina is trying to tell you, Gimli," Faramir stated. "Arwen cannot do that; she can never seek peace in Valinor; she gave up her immortality to be with Aragorn."
"So this loss that she feels…she will feel forever?" Éowyn asked softly, her heart aching for her friend. Everyone was silent for a moment, thinking.
"Yes," Enguina whispered, thinking of her own pain. "Elves feel things very deeply. It is likely that there will always be times she will experience that pain again." She knew how that was; thinking about her nightmares made her stiffen in Legolas's arms, and she felt him hold her more tightly.
"That's…miserable," stated Gimli.
"Did we make the wrong decision then, asking them to watch Annî?" Faramir asked, looking directly at Legolas as he spoke. The elf met his eyes evenly.
"No, it was a good decision. They will rise to the occasion, and everything will be just fine. Do not fret, Faramir, Éowyn…Annî is very safe. You know very well they take the titles of Tirion and Tiriel very seriously."
It was not long after that when Faramir took Éowyn inside to sleep, and Gimli only stayed long enough after them to chastise them to come inside and take some rest. Enguina was ready to follow that order, but she did not find herself being released from Legolas's arms. So she sat there until Gimli had gone, and then she gave a little tug against him.
"Legolas—" she began as a warning, her voice level.
"A moment of your time, my Lady," he murmured. "We have an unfinished discussion that we should have, and another I would like to begin."
"How about," Enguina interrupted him, embarrassed, "we pass over the first subject all together, touch briefly on the second, and then get to bed so we are ready for the morning?"
Legolas leaned back against the rock, meeting her eyes as he tilted her chin up and raised an eyebrow. "There is no escape from me. You should know this already."
"You are a bit relentless."
"Indeed," he said with a grin, "a strong word, but true. So…the first subject." She groaned, and his grin grew. "You want to be alone with me as I wish to be alone with you, yet you think it a bad idea?"
She stared at him a moment. "I…Legolas, I do not think we should be having this discussion."
"We are having it already."
"We are alone, right now," she replied flippantly, and she saw his eyes darken…but not with anger.
"That is not what I meant, and you know it. Stop avoiding me; you are always running."
"There is a reason for that, you know," she said wryly, and then she sighed. "Legolas, if I were to be honest…"
"Yes?"
"If I were to be honest, I would never leave your side, ever. I would never let you be without me, not even in sleep." Her face looked a bit guilty as she said it. "Can you not see it in my face? That I want to be alone with you? Come now, Legolas, you know very well what your words and expressions do to me…what your love does to me," she told him, her voice dropping to a whisper and she shook her head. "Do not pretend you do not notice."
"Oh, I notice," he whispered back. "But I cannot help the way I feel about you, the way I feel when I am around you." He stroked her cheek and held her face in that hand, looking into her eyes.
"I…have never felt for anyone what I am feeling for you," she said seriously. "This is completely new, Legolas…and I…do not know what to do with these feelings. Part of me does not even want to be alone with you anymore….and the other part of me only wants to be alone with you." She blushed, embarrassed, and turned her head away, covering her cheeks with her hands. "Ilúvatar," she muttered to herself, "why am I telling you this?"
"Guin, I am feeling much the same way," he told her gently. I need to marry you. I want to hold you in my arms all night long; I want to touch you all over; I want to kiss your neck and press my lips to your shoulder and lay you down on your bed and learn your every curve, what your uncovered skin feels like under my hands…feel you tremble with love for me as I tremble with the force of my love for you…
But he could say none of those things. It might be time for her to be honest, but he was not ready to be honest about how he was feeling. How could he tell her that he wanted to make love with her when they had not even been wed? He wanted so badly to give himself to her; she was the first woman in his entire life that he wanted to share himself with. He had been attracted to other women, but he had never felt that he wished to spend his life with them. Enguina was his match, his heart, his mate. He knew; he could feel it…and part of him desperately wished he could talk to his father. How to deal with these feelings? How to address them? Should he tell her? Should he limit himself to being with her around others? He only had a little over a month and a half until they would be wed…could he restrain himself for so long? But how could he not? Did she want him, desire him, as he desired her?
"Legolas?"
Her voice yanked him out of his very inappropriate thoughts and he swallowed hard. "You know I simply say things to tease you, yes?" he asked, but the way she was eyeing him told him that he was blushing just as much as she had been.
"I think you just changed the subject to avoid telling me what you were thinking," she said suspiciously, and he gave her a sweet little smile.
"I promise you that if I thought you wanted to hear what I was thinking, I would absolutely tell you. But I swear you do not want to know."
"That good, hmmm?"
"Yes," he stated, and he felt her sigh as she leaned her shoulder against him. Part of her wanted to know what he was thinking, was desperate to know…but the rest of her did not wish to be embarrassed again, and so she let it go.
"We should go inside," she said softly, but she felt him curl a strand of her hair around his finger and she could not help but look up into his face again.
"Love, can we talk about your dream?"
She flinched. "I do not want to even think about you dying, Legolas. No, we cannot."
He shook his head, and she realized she had misunderstood his question. "I do not want to talk about your dream from two nights ago. That was something that bothered you once and has gone away. I want to talk about the recurring dream you have had."
His voice was gentle, but it did not matter. She had not thought of the dream in days and he was going to bring it up now? Her eyes closed, and her voice was low, annoyed as she replied, "I…I have had six days…six days of blissful sleep where I have not dreamed at all…and you want me to talk about it now? No."
She had been so relaxed against him and now she was about as responsive as a rock; he refused to back down. The moment could not be returned to what it was, so there was nowhere to go but forward. "Would it not be a better time to talk now? When they are not fresh in your mind, when you are not hurting yourself or pushing me away? Would it not be better—"
"I said no," she said firmly, pressing her hands against him and getting to her feet. "I will not, Legolas." He made no attempt to hold her there, but he also did not follow her. She did not go anywhere; she was not angry enough to do that, and she did not want to leave him. But if she had been, he would have let her go.
"The night is quiet and still," he said, his voice soft, and he watched her stiff shoulders come together even more. "It is a good night to be at peace, moina quén; it is a good night to find peace. It is a good night to talk for a few more hours and lay things to rest for good. Come back down here and let me help shoulder your burden."
"No," she said, gritting her teeth. "I do not want to talk about it; I do not want to say one more word!" Her shoulders were so tight now she appeared like a branch pulled too taut. "I cannot tell you, Legolas…I will not."
"Ever?"
"Maybe not ever," she growled, looking out into the night. "You cannot bear it; no one can. I have thought on it for days. No, no, no; there is no way I can ever tell you. No way…no way to find the words, no way to tell the truth…just…no way—"
"Is it really that terrible?" he whispered, and she startled a bit when she found his voice was so near. He stood just behind her now; so close she could feel the warmth of him. "What happened…is it really that awful, so terrible that even when you can choose to be calm about it you cannot speak of it?"
"I will not, Legolas!" she cried, and she felt the angry tears form in her eyes, her hands ball into fists. He had to let it go; he had to.
Legolas could not help it—he pushed her. Ignoring Aragorn's counsel to be patient with her, he took Arwen's encouragement out of context and threw away all caution. "Enguina, what is your dream about?"
"Legolas—" Both of them could feel the tension between them; it was like the air before a thunderstorm. Her voice saying his name was almost a warning, a threat.
"Is your dream about the past?" he asked, stepping forward, invading her space. She turned back and nearly ran into him. With him being that close, her anger fled, and she was left with a chill that cut to her bones.
"I-I—" she stammered, so uncertain how to respond.
"Is it about the past?" His voice was still soft, but it was urgent, almost demanding.
"Yes," she answered, nearly choking on the word.
"Does it take place in Lothlórien?"
"Y—yes…" she stammered, her arms crossing to keep the warmth in her chest, her hands now felt like ice even though it was a warm spring night.
"Was Arwen there?"
"Legolas—"
"Enguina, was she there?"
"Yes." She felt the tears begin to fall. She could not tell him; she simply could not!
"Does the dream focus on your brother?"
"No…" she whispered brokenly.
"Someone else?"
"Legolas…please…I cannot…" Her words were a whisper, bordering on a whimper.
"Someone else, then," he stated; he was closer then, his face so close, yet he did not touch her. "Is it a man? Is there a man in your dream?"
She choked on her tears, her nails digging into her biceps. "No, no…no, Legolas, please…"
He had the answer to that question, too…and this conversation was killing him, tearing him up inside. But he had to know; if he could just get her to talk to him! He swallowed hard, yet he still did not reach out to hold her, no matter how desperately he wanted to; if he touched her, all her words would end, not just her denials…and even then he could see through the lies.
"Is it…is it something you did? Or…was it something that was done to you?" he asked gently.
"Some…something I did?" came her whispered words, horrified, stunned. Her heart cracked, her breathing becoming difficult. "Something I did…my fault…" She lowered her face to her hands and the hot tears spilled through her fingers.
She had accepted that: Arwen's words that it had not been her fault, Aragorn's firm belief that a cruel man had done a cruel thing and that she had not done anything to lead the man to her, that he wanted what he had wanted and was going to take it no matter what. But at Legolas's question, the penetrating thought of what could she personally have done differently came burning through her consciousness. Could she have stopped him if she had fought harder? Had she led him to believe at some point that she had really loved him? Did any of that even matter?
"My fault…" she sobbed. She felt Legolas lay his hands on her arms and she let him; she needed him to hold her, needed him to tell her everything was all right, that she was going to be all right, that even if she could not tell him he would still love her, that he did still love her.
He knew wrapped his arms around her, pressing his cheek to her head and her into his chest; guilt taking over his heart. "I am sorry…" he whispered, knowing he had hurt her; yes, him…this time, it was all him. "I never meant to…I never meant to hurt you; I am so sorry. It was not you; it was not…none of this is your fault. Easy, moina quén…it is all right…shh…"
She did not say anymore; she could not. But he knew at least one thing from that moment: the pain that was gnawing away at her, her nightmares, her dreams, were not of her doing, but she blamed herself for them. And he had just taken her fears and cast them back into her face. The reign of peacefulness that had been for six days was at an end—because of his own impatience. He cursed himself and his faults, thinking that it was inevitable now. The dream would return.
Aragorn sighed softly to himself, his attention sporadically on the councilmen before him at the table. He appreciated them, but he did not want to be here tonight. Just now, he wanted to be at home, playing on the floor with Annî and enjoying their time together. He would find himself drifting off, thinking of the child he should have been watching right now, and then his mind would drift to Arwen, thinking that she was fully capable of watching the child on her own. Then his thoughts would turn to holding Arwen in his arms these last few nights and how the silences were growing longer between them when Annî was not with them. It was not good, and he knew they needed to talk.
His attention returned with renewed interest for half a moment as he shook himself from the stupor he felt he was in. It amazed him immediately that just as he had been thinking about her, she was standing in the same room! He was startled, but her soft knock did not go unnoticed by the men of the council and all of them rose to their feet. There had been more respect among them in the past four months than there had been since she had been named Queen.
"My Lady," said Noldore with a bow and a smile as she curtseyed and the other men at the table bowed to her. "What brings you to the Council this evening?"
"Good evening, my Lords…please forgive my intrusion," she said, in her soft tones but she had a smile for them. "If you would take an interlude from your important business, I would speak with the King for a moment."
With how nicely she spoke, how could they refuse her? Dintîr held out his hand and took hers, planting a kiss on the back. "My Lady, the Council would never deny you the pleasure of speaking with your husband."
She laughed with some of the councilmen. "Dintîr, you are too kind. You know I would normally not interrupt you, but—"
"There is no need to explain, your Highness," said Nardur from across the table. As Aragorn began walking towards her, his palms were sweating. Nardur continued, "We were involved in a serious discussion, but it can wait until tomorrow. I am certain everyone would like to call it an evening."
There was much agreement from the men around the table. Arwen gave Nardur her most sincere of smiles and curtseyed again. "Your kindness is appreciated, my Lords."
Aragorn stepped over to Arwen's side and she smiled at him, taking his arm. He could read nothing in her eyes, and that worried him a bit. Arwen never came to speak with him here; she never entered the council chambers simply because she wished to avoid many of the men altogether. She had only been in the council chambers one time for every year they had been married.
"My Lord, your documents?" asked Noldore, pointing down the end of the table.
Aragorn nodded. "Thank you, Noldore, but I will return and get them in a few moments," he replied. "Have a good evening, gentlemen. We will see one another in the morning."
"Oh, and might I add," Nardur said as they were headed to the door, "that it is very nice to see you so well again, my Lady."
After their calls of goodnight, the couple went out the door. When they had stepped from the doorway and were almost down the hall from the meeting room, Arwen finally stopped. He turned to look at her, and he could not help the furrow of worry that appeared in his brow. Over her shoulder, he saw two guards come out of one of the rooms nearby and go down the hall. Startled again, he looked down into her eyes.
"Arwen, what is the matter? You almost never come to the meeting room. Why are there guards searching the rooms? What has happened that—"
She placed her fingertips over his lips as a little worry appeared in her eyes. "They are helping me search for Andúnêiel."
"What?" he asked, pulling his head back from her fingers, his eyes widening with instant alarm. She shook her head quickly.
"Before you drive yourself mad with panic," she said, fairly amused at the expression on his face, "it is not as worrisome as it seems. Andúnêiel and I were playing hide-and-find; I am certain you understand the premise: she hides, I find her. However, the game would be so much lovelier if it was going as planned. I cannot find her now, and I have been searching for nearly an hour."
Aragorn looked exasperated. "Let me fully understand this: you were playing a game of hide-and-find, with Annî, Faramir's daughter, in the Tower of Ecthelion?" he asked for clarification. "Please tell me that you simply were not thinking…that it was not your idea to do this? Tell me it was hers and she forced you, but do not tell me that with all of the rooms in here you thought that she could not hide for hours and hours and you would never be able to find her."
She smiled at him very sweetly—almost too sweet. "To be honest, melda, the problem is not that she ran and hid in one of the rooms." She raised her eyebrows at him. "The trouble is that I do not believe she understands the whole idea of the game. I believe she is moving before I actually catch her. She thinks that she is supposed to run and hide again when I get close." She laughed softly. "And it was my idea. You were late for dinner and Annî wanted something to do, and I thought it would be perfectly wonderful to wait for you here and pass the time with a game of hide-and-find."
Aragorn rolled his eyes heavenward and lowered his head into his hands. "You are going to be the death of me, Arwen. Now what?" Ilúvatar, grant me strength!
"Do not worry so much!" she laughed softly at him, pulling his hands from his face and squeezing them in her own. "She will be found. I simply did not want you to worry if you saw several guards continue to pass the meeting room. I will find her momentarily."
"Well, you made quick work of the rest of that meeting," he added as he watched the councilmen heading towards the stairs to the first level of Ecthelion. "I must thank you in any case for that." He looked back at her. "What if she is trapped somewhere?"
"She is not, Aragorn," Arwen said with patience. "I have heard her giggling all around these halls. Trust me."
He simply looked at her. "You know that I trust you completely, Arwen; it is the two year-old girl that I do not trust!" He turned, and as he did he could have sworn he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. His eyes flashed back over her shoulder, and he thought he might have just caught the sight of the hem of a little yellow dress fleeing up the stairs.
"There," he said, and released Arwen to run up the stairs as the little girl's giggling fell on both of their ears. Arwen turned and watched him run, laughing at the antics a little girl could bring out in them.
"Lady Arwen," Hildanir said, coming to her side as she turned at the sound of her name, "we have searched all the rooms and we still have not found her. Should we—"
"Thank you, Hildanir," she said, smiling, "the little one just ran up to the next level." She could hear Mennev mutter something under his breath, but she only smiled at him. "I thank you both for your help, but the King is right on her tail and I am certain that she will be caught within a few minutes."
Hildanir shook his head. "She is a little stinker, is she not?" he laughed, as Arwen nodded, and Mennev rolled his eyes.
"She isn't that funny, Hildanir," he groaned. "We've been looking for nearly half an hour for her. You know what we'll do, my Lady? We'll stand just outside the Tower steps, just in case she decides to come down and you miss her."
"That would be very kind of you, Captain," Arwen said. "I know the King would thank you for your efforts."
"Come on, Lieutenant," Mennev said to Hildanir, and the two men headed down the hall as Arwen, laughing to herself, lifted her skirts and hurried barefoot up the steps after her husband.
"She is fast," Aragorn panted, bending over and resting his hands on his knees, trying to regain his air. "The little bugger is fast."
"Too fast," agreed Arwen with a giggle, leaning against the Tower wall. She looked down at him and smiled. They had been chasing Annî higher into the Tower over the past hour, and still she had not given up; they simply could not lay their hands on her fast enough to stop her. "At this rate, she will take us to the very top levels of Ecthelion." She glanced up the stairs. She could not believe the little girl was so quick to slip past both of them; perhaps one of them, but both? Unheard of! She thought for sure that Aragorn would have been able to catch her, yet she continued to slip past them so quickly that he had no time to reach out and snatch her. She rested a hand on his back. "Can your old legs handle this much exercise?" The humor in her voice turned his head to meet her eyes.
"My legs are not old, ageless one," he returned easily, "and you are quite cruel in your assessment. You are just as out of breath as I am, and if there weren't so many stairs, you know very well we would have caught her by now. There are simply too many places to hide in this Tower! And were it not for you, she would not be lost at all."
"Me?" Arwen said indignantly. "It is hardly my fault—"
"Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Was it not you that brought her in here?"
"To wait for you—"
"Was it not you that chose to pass the time playing this silly game?"
"Silly—?" The look on her face grew more incensed as he cut her off again.
"Was it not you that led her to believe the rules were different?"
"That is a rude assumption!"
"You are to blame, love," he said with a bright smile as he poked her in the nose, "and you can hardly deny it." Her arms crossed and she glared at him.
"You are unfair," she said nastily. "Annî and I were simply waiting for you, and she was aching with boredom. I hoped to pass the time with this game, but obviously, like you, she lives a very sheltered life and has never played it before."
"I did not lead a sheltered life," he said adamantly, if it was possible to say anything adamantly half upside-down. "And I have played it before! Your brothers and I used to play it all the time, but I actually understood the rules before we played…unlike someone else I know who never made sure she understood them," he finished, half-muttering.
Arwen sighed with frustration and threw her arms in the air. "Well, we cannot catch her, and we cannot find her, so then what are we supposed to do?"
He straightened and sighed as well, crossing his arms. "Honestly? I have no idea, but I cannot imagine doing this until all hours of the morning."
"Perhaps," Arwen began thoughtfully, and Aragorn looked closely at her, convinced there was something in her countenance that seemed almost sly, "if we asked her to come out instead of chasing her—"
He snorted and then laughed outright. "That will never work. Children do not come when called!" He thought about it for a moment. "At least, I never did."
"So the rebellion of your youth comes out," Arwen teased him, sticking a finger under his nose. "Honestly, Arwen," he sighed, "in hindsight, you must admit that the Tower of Ecthelion was not the ideal place to have a game of hide-and-find, even if our little darling had understood the rules in the first place."
Before he could blink, Aragorn felt his back flat up against the wall, and Arwen's body pressing against him. His breathing halted; he was a little stunned, and he stared into her sparkling eyes that were so close he could brush noses with her. He moved to take her arms in his hands, but she slipped out of them and beneath his guard, and he felt her every curve.
"If you had not been busy, love," she said, her hands tugging his arms away from her, "the child could have been watched by both of us…"
"Arwen…" he muttered, but he was completely thrown off guard by this sudden change in her. His mind was a blur, in a panic; there were maids in the upper levels of Ecthelion and he did not want them murmuring about them behind their backs if they saw them in such a public display. But…if he was honest with himself, he was forgetting about anything that he was supposed to be thinking of. She was far too near, she was his wife, and he was very much just a man in this moment.
"…or she could have been sleeping…" she whispered, her eyes almost closed, her nose brushing his, her breath on his lips, her hands on his face, her fingers on his ears.
"Arwen," he murmured, but it was a lost cause. Her name was not said with caution or anything that might have resembled worry; he had clearly lost himself to her in a matter of seconds. He had murmured her name with desire, and all thought of a lost child they had been searching for left his mind as she pressed forward and brought her lips to his.
That was when Arwen heard it: a softly uttered tone of disgust. The little girl who knew they were no longer searching for her came to see what the reason was, and had found them kissing.
"Got you," Arwen muttered and Aragorn opened his eyes in confusion just as Arwen released him suddenly. She whirled and let out half a growl of laughter as she lunged for the girl who screamed and tried to run away, laughing hilariously.
Aragorn stood trying to put himself back together as Arwen scooped Annî up and began planting kisses all over her face while the little girl went into fits of laughter. It had been a very good trick, and it had paid off…even if it had been abominable to treat him that way. He stood up straight slowly, letting out the breath he seemed to have not been able to catch.
He found himself grinning at Annî as she giggled and reached for him. "You are so quick, Annî!" he said to her and she laughed. "I thought we would never catch you."
"You couldn't catch me! Neither of you!" she cried with more laughter. He leaned over and roughly kissed her forehead.
"Well, Tiriel has you now."
"Now what?" the little girl asked, wrapping her arms once more around Arwen's neck. "Can we play again?"
"No," Arwen and Aragorn said together, and then Arwen laughed. "We are so tired from chasing you all over the Tower!"
"Maybe I can find you this time!" she suggested.
Aragorn was getting them out of this without delay. "You know what? We are going to go up to the very top of the Tower, and we are going to look out all across Gondor and see what we can see. What do you think of that?"
"Yea!" cried Andúnêiel, turning in Arwen's arms and pointing. "Let's go!"
"I will take her," Aragorn offered softly, and Annî scrambled into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck now. Holding her weight in one arm, he extended his other hand to Arwen. She smiled and took it and together, they walked towards the stairs.
She was lying in his arms, Andúnêiel in hers, and had been that way for some time. The sun had set and the stars had come, and now the moon was out. It cast light down upon them tonight, and the amazing sight was laid out before them. From this place they could see nearly all of Gondor, Osgiliath, and Mordor and even beyond to the edges of Rohan. The sight was positively breathtaking, and the night had begun to grow cold around them. The little girl had fallen asleep in Arwen's arms, and she was grateful that she had Aragorn's to warm her just as Annî had hers. She felt his breath warm on her cheek and smiled.
"It is so beautiful up here," Aragorn said softly in her ear, "with you."
"And to think there are some who say there is no beauty in Gondor," Arwen whispered in return, stroking the little girl's hair.
Aragorn smiled, pressing his lips to her ear; her eyes fluttered closed. "And I am holding all of that beauty in this moment. Am I not the most blessed man in the world?"
"Mmm, I have no doubt of that, my Lord," she said gently, and he kissed her ear again. She turned her face toward him, and opened her eyes, their noses brushing and her eyes looking deeply into his. "Ú-henio i naur ú-eglechle, Aragorn, [Do not begin the fire that you cannot put out, Aragorn,]" she said, her voice warm and low, "ú-si…[not here…]"
His face grew warm, and he smiled crookedly as he looked away from her eyes. "Edhored nin, melda; ensiar ú-reniant ninmen. [Forgive me, beloved; sometimes I forget my place.]"
"Lá, meleth, ú-matho foeg. Mel ú-hena i thenid geramet. [Nay, love, do not feel ashamed. Love does not comprehend the bounds we must have.]"
He laughed softly. "Cenich mel echedimet ormen? [Can you see us making love up here in the open?]"
She smiled at the thought. "Tancave," she replied, and he raised his eyebrows at her as she continued, "ananta ennas na heniath. [Yes, but there are too many eyes.]"
Annî was dead asleep in Arwen's arms, and so he lapsed back into the common tongue, shaking his head. "You did not seem to have any qualms about that a few levels down."
"Oh, Aragorn," she whispered, smiling as he rubbed his chin against her temple.
"You used me," he murmured, but she could hear the smile in his voice, "most dreadfully. Your kissing I might have been able to withstand, but your wandering hands and your body pressed against mine? Sometimes I am just a man, Arwen…only a man."
"No, Aragorn," she sighed softly, "you are never only a man." She reached up and stroked his hair, her arm tilted back behind his head, and he raised a hand to rest against the underneath of her arm as he turned his head, kissing it tenderly. He felt her turn her head into his neck and sigh longingly. "That felt so…wonderful." He brushed his lips there again and she tangled her fingers more deeply into his hair.
He held her arm there still, but he turned his head so he could touch her forehead with his lips. "Perhaps I should end," he teased gently, "before I begin the fire again."
"Nothing can come of it now," she whispered back, "and not with a child in my arms. Perhaps later, behind a closed bedroom door…"
He chuckled softly, kissing her forehead again. Then, he laid his cheek against her head. "Can we talk for a moment?"
There was a short silence. "About what, beloved?"
She already knew; she knew his heart, could feel his worry for her even as he asked the question. "Did we do the right thing…taking Annî into our care?"
"Of course," she whispered, "of course we did. You said yourself that they could not have taken her with them. Who else would they have found?"
"Arwen, these last few nights you have cried yourself to sleep," he reminded her as he took his hand up her arm and brought it down from his hair, laying his hand across hers and Annî at the same time. "You are hurting."
She was silent as she stared down at their hands, at Annî, and then she said, so quietly he more felt the words than heard them, "I want you to be a father, Estel…and I do not know if it will ever happen."
He lifted a hand and stroked her face. "It will…and you will be a mother. When I see you with her, I look forward to the day when we will hold our own. It makes me hope, Arwen, not despair."
"When I watched you, singing her to sleep last night," she said, her voice thick, "I could not help but remember when you held me in your arms and laid your head on my womb and sang softly to him, to our baby. Oh, Estel…sometimes the pain is so sudden…and strong. It takes my heart and I grieve…I want him here with us, in our arms, just as she is." She looked up into his face. "Do we have to give her back?"
"We must, beloved."
"I have spent the last few days in the market, in the streets with Annî, and though everyone sees her and loves her…I can see the…the…pity in their eyes," she whispered. "We lost our child, and the whole city sees that and their faces…" She had to stop, unable to continue for a moment. "There are times when I imagine what it would have been like to hold him in my arms," she whispered, her voice so melancholy. "How he would have reached up and touched my face with his little hands and held strands of my hair in his fist. How you would have rocked him to sleep in your arms and laid him down. How we would have sang to him and blessed him with our love. Estel, Ilúvatar knows I was not ready for him to leave us." She swallowed hard. "I do not know if I will ever heal."
"It is all right," he whispered. "I was not ready. I wanted to hold him, and love him, and rejoice over him. He was our son, Arwen." He slipped his hand over her womb. "And he was alive, and he was loved, and he grew inside you." She choked back a sob at his words, covering her hand with his and gripping it tightly. "But someday, there will be another," he said firmly, pressing his lips to her forehead. "There will, beloved, because Ilúvatar is good and gracious, and he will remember us. And we will not forget our little one, but we will be able to love another."
"Estel," she whispered, and she waited until he responded.
"Yes, love?"
"If…if we…if I…"
"Stop," he warned, knowing what she was about to say, "do not ask it."
"If I cannot ever bear you a child," she whispered quickly, but there was fear in her voice as she continued, "will you…can you still love me? Can you still look at me the way you do, knowing that I…I can never…we can never…?"
After everything that had happened, still she feared the future. He sat up straight and slid her away from his chest so she could not hide in his neck. He reached down, took Annî from her arms and laid her down on the pillows she had been playing with from the room nearby. Arwen reached for her, but he caught her hands and turned her into him to face him, and with one hand he held hers to his chest and with the other he cupped her face.
"Look at me, Arwen…right now," he said, his voice firm and she opened her eyes, her lips trembling. "Nothing, not height, nor depth, nor death, nor anything on heaven or earth can separate me from my love for you. I will love you forever, no matter what." The words made her flinch, but he continued. "If we are never able to have a child, if you were scarred beyond recognition, if you were sickly and ill for the rest of your days, if you went mad and lost your mind and I had to care for you forever and you did not even remember my name—"
"Please…enough…" she said, shaking her head, clasping her hands around his wrists.
"Not enough; it will never be enough. Arwen, you are my life," he said, "and I will love you beyond the end of it. Please," he continued, leaning forward and resting his forehead against hers, "do not ask me that again."
"I…forgive me," she whispered. "You are the one constancy in my life. I should never question you. Never. My fear overpowers the truth that you are. Ilúvatar, forgive me."
"Do I not…do I not tell you enough? Show you enough?" he asked. "Please, what can I do to make you believe that I will never leave you? Not ever."
She tried to smile. "I will try to be better; I will try to be—"
"Do not make promises like this," he said gently. "You are better, and I will ever be here to help you, to hold you…but do not hide from me." He kissed her softly and then met her eyes again. "Let me be your shelter; hide in me instead. And…believe my words. They are true."
She nodded, and then they both turned when they heard Annî making noise in her sleep. She smiled. "Let us take her to bed." She looked back at him and rested her hand on his arm. "And then you can hold me all night?"
It was his turn to nod as he began scooping the little one up into his arms.