Author's Note: There are three songs in this chapter. The first two were written by me, but the last is, "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee," which is a traditional hymn and was not written by me, nor do I own it! Enjoy!

Aragorn slowly opened his eyes, and found that it was morning. He blinked again and found Arwen sitting beside him; he heard no other sounds, but he could feel that the entire right side of his chest and arm ached like…well, like nothing he had ever felt before. There were other times when he had been stabbed with a knife or a sword, but he guessed that being impaled on a dirty, great stick was a bit different. He could hardly turn his head without agony, but he did it anyway, taking in the vision of Arwen in the morning light, and wondering why in the world she had not greeted him yet. Arwen's right hand was on his chest, her shoulders slumped slightly, the fingers on her left hand trembling, her forehead beaded with sweat. What is she doing?

"Ilúvatar, please," she whispered, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her, "please help me take away his pain, heal him. Use my gifts, however weak I am, and let the healing power of your spirit enter him. Save him, Father," he heard her breath catch, "please, I beg you…I am so afraid…"

He lifted his left hand and rested it over hers. "Arwen," he said softly, and she took a breath slowly, turning her head to look into his face, "good morning, beloved."

Her left hand went directly to his face. "You scared me half-to-death," she told him, and he saw tears in her eyes. She could see his pain in his.

"You look exhausted."

"I was…" she blushed, embarrassed, and looked away and he tightened his hand on hers. "I was trying to make you more comfortable." Her voice was a whisper. "My gift is nothing like yours."

He stared at her. "Have you been awake all night?" She would not look at him.

"I…could not rest, not with the memory of your pain in my head." Arwen lifted a cup for him. "Here, I made this for you…when you woke. I followed your recipe; everyone has had some, but you need it most. This, at least, I can do."

"Arwen—"

"Please," she said, her voice pained, and he simply looked at her for a moment. Very suddenly, he realized that this was the first time when she had seen him seriously injured, Lothlórien notwithstanding. This was the first time, as her husband, that there was something terribly wrong and she had been helpless to aid him. She was clearly afraid for him.

"It is all right," he told her gently. "I am going to be all right."

"The wound is…it is not small," she whispered, her voice sounding very small. "I do not know if you are going to be all right."

"I am," he said. "I can feel it. You and I shall look at the wound together later."

She nodded, unable to speak for a moment, but he moved to sit up and found that he could not. She slipped her hand beneath his head and helped him drink the cup. She watched him solicitously, and then he grimaced and smiled at her. "Ugh…you can always tell when it is made correctly." Then he laughed, reaching out to touch her face with his left hand. "I am going to be fine. I promise you."

She closed her eyes at the touch of his hand. Good…perhaps I can breathe again.

He heard the words in his head, clear as day. This only happened when they were close to one another, when they shared everything—thoughts, feelings, words; the relief she clearly felt was audible in his head and his ears. He smiled again. "Enguina?" he asked softly.

"She is…all right. She was with Legolas last night while Gimli and I were with you," she told him, and he suddenly saw Enguina rise from beside Legolas from over Arwen's shoulder. "She feels—"

"Awful!" Enguina cried out, coming over to him and lowering herself to her knees beside him. "By Ilúvatar, I am so sorry! I did not mean to—"

"Enguina," he said, smiling gently, "none of this was your doing, and it most certainly was not your fault. Can you control the current of the river?" Arwen slipped her leg underneath his head, holding him a bit more upright so that he could talk to her. She did not want him sitting up.

"I should have known it was you, all of you," Enguina said firmly. "When Legolas told me what I did—"

"What you did?" he asked, irritation creeping into his tone.

"Her words, not mine," Legolas insisted. He had limped over to stand behind her, and Aragorn looked up at him. "When she found out you had been so terribly wounded, she, of course, internalized that it was her fault. You know how she is."

"Indeed," he said softly, looking back to her as she looked away from his eyes. "What were some of my first words to you, Enguina?"

She winced and then sighed softly, looking down as his hand covered hers. "That we cannot control how we react to our dreams."

He nodded. "Good, now tell yourself that and lay no blame."

"You protected me," she said softly. "Again…again you choose me over your own safety and—"

Aragorn laughed softly, squeezing her hand. "Oh, Enguina, Enguina, will you never learn? You are my family, and I would no sooner allow you to be smashed to bits over a log than I would Arwen."

"Thank you, love," Arwen said dryly, and Legolas laughed.

Enguina smiled and looked down, becoming serious again. "I…cannot stop thinking about what you all have done for me. I do not know how to thank any of you."

"We have done nothing that you would not do for every one of us," he said, "if you could." He looked up at Legolas. "Is everything all right?" he asked softly, and Enguina watched the exchange as Legolas nodded slowly. "You were limping," he stated, his voice a bit stronger, and Enguina knew that the first question had nothing to do with the accusation that he was limping. It probably should have made her angry that Aragorn was referencing her, right in front of her…but instead it simply made her see their concern for her.

The elf smiled in return. "Awake not even five minutes and your eyes miss nothing. Yes, I pulled most of my wounds again running through the water…and swimming out to you." He rolled his eyes. "My ribs are not enjoying themselves either this morning, but Arwen was kind enough to make us all some of your delicious tea, and therefore, we have been feeling a bit better. My chest is not as tight today, so perhaps the cold water did me good surprisingly."

"So, we should be able to ride a few miles today, then, hmm?"

"Absolutely not," Arwen said immediately, and Enguina stared at the man with wide eyes.

Aragorn laughed. "This is a tough crowd."

"I know," laughed Legolas as well.

"Perhaps tomorrow then," he said holding up his hand to ward off their irritated stares. "We need to get on the road or we will be very late returning home. Where is the dwarf?"

"Hunting. He was hungry again, and he wanted to prove that he was just as skilled with his throwing axes as Arwen was with her bow a few days ago."

"As if he has anything to prove," Enguina said softly. "He helped me kill several wargs with those axes; I would never doubt him."

Aragorn shook his head with a smile. "He was simply trying to make a good argument for going hunting, and make himself scarce for a little while. When he returns, I am sure we will all be feasting on squirrels and the like." He paused a moment, and then grew a bit more serious again, "And how is the morning light finding you, Enguina? Has the dawn chased away some of the shadows from your dreams?"

She looked at him a moment and nodded slowly. "Some of them. Some of them…linger."

"Give it time." His voice was gentle.

"I told her she needs to spend more of it with me," Legolas said, his voice with a lilt to it that made Enguina blush. "She wonders if I am not still ill and the fever has not addled my brain."

"You are always teasing her, Legolas," Arwen chided him, but with a smile.

"I live but to make Enguina blush."

"And I must live but to fulfill your desire to see my face redden, I suppose," she said softly, with a teasing tone herself, looking up to meet his eyes. He flashed a most delightful smile at her. Aragorn smiled to himself before touching Arwen's chin again.

"And how are you, Arwen?" he asked, his voice even quieter still.

"Wonderful," she replied, covering his hand with her own, "you are breathing." Several unsaid things passed between them, and Enguina was embarrassed, feeling as though she was spying on an intimate moment not meant to be seen. She looked away and studied Legolas's bare feet; he was studying hers, not that she knew it.

Aragorn suddenly smiled at her, trying to make light of it. "You give me no credit, beloved."

She looked at him seriously as Legolas drew Enguina to her feet from beside Aragorn. "You could not see yourself breathing last night. You worried me."

He knew that was an understatement. "You should rest," he said. "You have exhausted yourself all night long. More rest today means more miles tomorrow."

"And she probably injured her knee further by running along the river," added Legolas.

Arwen scowled at him, and Aragorn sighed. "That is, if I am allowed to sit up by tonight."

"We shall see," Enguina said, shaking her head. "That is a serious wound."

"We have to begin heading home, no matter how weary we are," Legolas said softly. "We have only four weeks before the wedding, and much to do."

"Is it really that soon?" Enguina asked, worried. "What if we do not make it back in time?" She paled a bit, but added miserably, "We may have to think about delayi—"

"No," Legolas said firmly, adamantly, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I refuse to delay the wedding. We will ride out tomorrow and we will get there whenever we can, but I am not waiting any longer before I marry her."

Aragorn smiled at the look on Enguina's shocked face. "Well, you made that very clear, Legolas," he said. "No one would even dream of challenging that statement."

He laughed softly. "Forgive me, I just…I do not want to wait any longer than I have to."

"Tomorrow morning it is."

Things were very quiet in Henneth Annûn. Faramir walked slowly along the stone stairs, Galen beside him, and the man could sense his lieutenant was ready to grab his arm if he lost his balance. He was struggling to recover. His wounds had been severe, and he had nearly died. This was the second time that he had been blessed by Ilúvatar and been given his life back by Aragorn…and he had not even been awake to thank the man. He had spent the first four days since their departure lying around and playing hooky with his daughter, and it had given Faramir a bit more perspective on the more important things in life. Annî knew he had been injured, but she did not dwell on it, as she was a child, and she put the sunshine in his day. Éowyn, however…she was a different story entirely.

He had to take a walk without her today; she was driving him mad with her worrying. Yes, he was sore…yes, he was in pain…but there was nothing he could do about any of those things. Galen was worried for him as well, but at least he did not voice it, ask him constantly if he could get him something or…and now he felt guiltier than ever. He had only begun to start walking about three days ago, and though it was uncomfortable, it had to be done. The first day he walked a few steps and nearly collapsed; the second he had taken numerous trips but was exhausted in between them. Today he was a bit better. He needed to return to the land of the living; Éowyn had been at his side for every moment. That was fine. He wanted her there as much as she wanted to be there. She was clinging to him right now, and after nearly eight days of it, he was tired of her staring at him. He tried to be understanding; he was a worrier as well. He knew very well what he would be like if their situations were reversed—he would be annoying the hell out of her, and he would continue to do it.

But, thankfully, she had given him his space tonight. He had taken an evening walk with Galen instead, and he knew that she knew that he was grumpy. Now, he simply felt guilty. And he was worried. They had no word of Legolas, no word of Enguina and Gimli, and no word from Aragorn and Arwen. They could all be dead, though he thought that unlikely. And there had been an attack on Arwen right here, in Henneth Annûn! He could have shaken his head at the thought; it angered him that so many things had gone terribly wrong on this journey. Now it was four weeks until the wedding, and no one was even in Minas Tirith!

He sighed as he reached the door to the little cavern that overlooked a part of the waterfall; this had become their home for the last few days. Galen touched his arm.

"Captain Faramir," he said softly, "are you well?"

"I am getting there, Galen," he said. "Do not worry for me. I just need a bit more time to heal. Thank you again, for walking with me."

"I cannot tell you, my Lord, how good it is to know you are recovering." The man bowed at the waist and walked away, and Faramir turned to the door, opened it, and went inside.

And stared about. The cavern was lit with burning candles—dozens of them—that caught his eye everywhere he looked. They lit the walls and then waterfall behind, casting the most beautiful silhouettes, including one of his wife, who stood in the center of the burning lights. Éowyn was standing with her back to him, brushing her long golden hair, and it appeared had not even heard him enter over the sound of the rushing water. He could see the tired slope of her shoulders that gave way to the lingering fatigue she was feeling; she had not been sleeping well, so worried was she about him. This journey, though he had no idea what was going on with anyone else that was missing, had been wounding for him, but had been a nightmare for her. From the long, exhausting ride, to the search for him, to the endless worrying, to the caring for Annî, to the carrying of their child, she had been bearing so much, and he…suddenly felt as awful as he should.

What in the world had he been thinking earlier when he had 'escaped' her presence and watchful eye for an hour? How dare he? What sort of husband was he, when she had been so dreadfully worried for his safety and had stayed at his side and cried over him, as Galen had told him? He felt every bit as awful as he felt tired…and rightfully so. He watched her some more, and found himself thinking that there was nothing more beautiful in all the world than Éowyn, her figure by candlelight, standing before the waterfall, the telling bulge of her graceful body that showed her eight months with child, and the way her hands reached up to continue brushing through her hair. Guilt struck him; he should have paid more attention to her…and he had no idea where his daughter was.

He stepped slowly towards her, more out of taking it easy on his body than because he had to, and he took her arms in his hands. He wanted to say a hundred things, but instead, he simply whispered, "And how are you this evening, my beautiful?" She did not startle, so she must have been expecting him or at least hoping for him. As she tilted her head, he could only see the side of her face.

"How are you this evening, my Lord?" she asked, her voice equally soft. "How was your walk?"

"It was quiet," he replied, and he gently took the brush from her hand and then turned her towards him, allowing it to drop to the floor. As soon as he turned her to him, he could see a flash of worry on her face that disappeared. He sighed, reaching up his hand to lay it upon her face, "I am a little tired. Perhaps I should not have gone so far." He saw her fingers tighten and he frowned. "I am fine, Éowyn. You need not worry."

"I need not worry?" she repeated, a bit of irritation in her tone. "How…how could I not worry?"

He realized, of course, that it had been the wrong thing to say. Of course it had! She had not left his side for days, worried sick over him, and he was telling her that she did not need to worry because he was with Galen? The last time they had been apart, he had nearly been killed! "Forgive me," he told her quietly. "Sometimes I am such a fool. I…the last thing in the entire world that I wanted to do was hurt your feelings."

"You have…you have only been feeling better for three days," she said. "You almost hurt yourself yesterday and fell. I know you do not want to hear me, but you have to be careful."

"Where is Annî?" he asked, and she looked down, her cheeks growing red.

"She is with Tandaarin, fast asleep," she whispered. "I just…I needed…"

"A little quiet?" he said gently, and she nodded slowly, tears filling her eyes. Worried that there was something wrong, Faramir titled her chin up, concern filling his features. "What…are you all right, Éowyn?"

"Oh…Faramir…" she whispered brokenly, and she gently dropped her head forward, burying it against him without harm to the wounds on his chest. He slipped his arms around her, his concern even heavier now. "I…I am so sorry…so sorry…"

"Éowyn, Éowyn, for what? What are you so sorry for?" Stroking her hair, keeping her tightly to his chest, his heart was even racing.

"I have been so…so worried about you! I have been thinking of nothing else except you these past days. I can still see you lying there on the stones, barely breathing, on the doorstep of death…I thought…I thought…"

He kissed the top of her head, hearing the unspoken words clearly—I thought you were going to die! I thought you were going to leave me! He could see her face in his head as he had looked up at her from his position on the mat, her head bent, praying for him. This pain she was feeling had been building since he had not come home. "I know, I know. It is all right. I am safe; thank Ilúvatar for Aragorn."

"I thought…I thought I was going to have to tell Annî her father was not coming home. And I thought I was going to be a widow…that I would lose you." The words were coming out in a rush now. "And I was so afraid! I was so afraid that I would be alone with two children, and I would not have my strength, my rock, my love, my life. How could I live…without you at my side?"

His breath caught as she spoke, thinking of how she could do this alone, thinking of how broken she would be, of what the loss of him would do to her. He remembered how her strong arms held him as he lay there; he remembered hearing her weep over him, even when she thought he was asleep. "I am here," he said. "I am so sorry. I would never abandon you to raise our children on your own, alone…I will always be here to care for you, my love." He lowered a hand to her womb and rubbed her skin gently through the thin fabric of her dress.

He heard her try to stifle another sob, and he shook his head. "It is all right to cry," he whispered, pressing his lips to her hair. "It is all right to be afraid…I was afraid, too." She clutched him, her hands on his shoulder blades as she began to cry in earnest, thinking of having fatherless children and being without the man she loved, adored. He could feel it in the way she held him, her hot tears pouring into the front of his tunic, and he wanted desperately to make it right, to take the pain back. But how could he? He had nearly died, and she had nearly lost him. Why did he think she would not feel that so keenly? That she could simply forget and thank Ilúvatar that he was still with her now.

"I still am afraid," he told her gently after a time as her tears began to quiet a little bit. "I am so worried for Legolas and the others. We have no idea where they are, what is going on, how much longer they will be gone. We only know from Soronar that they intended to use the elf to gain land. Did they succeed? Did Aragorn and Arwen find them? Are Enguina and Gimli all right?" He shook his head. "This journey has become a disaster."

He heard her sniff gently. "I have been praying for them, as well as for you."

"And you," he said, gently taking her arms in his hands again and holding her back from him, "you must be exhausted. Having to care for me and worry about this and care for yourself and the baby. You are exhausted. You even sent Annî to someone else so you could rest; this was a good idea."

Her eyes fluttered closed, as though she were embarrassed to look him in the eye. "I…I needed…" she stuttered over the words again, the same as before.

"You need rest," he said gently, reaching one hand to her stomach and the other to stroke the hair from her face and lay a hand there, brushing her cheek with his thumb. "You shall get some tonight."

"R-rest?" she whispered, her voice hanging up on the word.

Faramir nodded. "Yes, my love, real sleep. Where there is nothing to interrupt you, no worries, no children…nothing that…" His words faded off as he realized that there were tears on her face again and he felt her fingers tighten on his back, her nails pinching his skin. He looked at her more closely.

"Rest is not…no," she whispered. "I do not wish for rest, Faramir. I feel…I want…I…"

"What?" he said, staring down at her. "What is the matter, Éowyn?"

"I need you…" she whispered, her voice breaking, and she could not look into his face.

"I am right here, love," he said, confusion on his face, cupping her cheek in his hand and feeling her swallow. "I am here."

"I…" Hot tears poured down her face and she choked on them. "Oh, Faramir! I need you tonight, Faramir. Please…please…" The words came out of her mouth as she begged him, her fingers tightening on his back as she began to pull herself closer to him, her pulse beginning to race beneath his fingers. Her voice was hoarse with pain, and, he abruptly noticed, with something much more obvious…desire.

And suddenly, he realized what a fool he had been. Here he was, thinking that she was exhausted, that she needed time, that she was completely upset and afraid and she needed to send Annî away for a few hours for some peace of mind when…when…all this time she had been hoping to get him alone. To be alone with him, to hold him, to give herself to him, to shove back the fear she had been feeling since she thought he was dead. Her whole body was suddenly against him, as close as she could get with the baby between them, and he took her face between his hands and she stared into his eyes.

"The candles," he said softly. "Forgive me…I can be so…"

"I need to feel your arms around me," she whispered. Her skin was hot beneath his hands; she was embarrassed by what she felt. She was embarrassed by how badly, how desperately she wanted him. "I need to have your skin pressed against mine…just…just for a few hours…I…please..."

"You need explain nothing to me, love, nothing," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "Ilúvatar, Éowyn, how I love you."

"I know you are tired, exhausted," she said, beginning to cry outright again. "It does not have to be long; you can sleep, rest…but, please…please…Faramir, I need to feel you…" Her voice had become a whimper, and he could bear it no longer.

"Oh god, do not beg," he whispered, and he lowered his head, crushing his lips to hers, feeling her raw passion consuming him. Then, he scooped her from her feet, ignoring the sharp pains he felt in numerous places reminding him of his injuries, and carried her swiftly to the mat where they were to sleep. As he lay her down, he could not break his lips from hers, and he refused to release his hands from her burning skin. If it was the last thing he did, he would show her he was alive…and that he loved her with everything within himself.

The first day of the return home, Brego was leading the way. Confident and sure, he walked ahead, Asfaloth a pace behind off to his right. The bay knew the way back more easily than his rider, who was unsure of the quickest route home. The grey told Aragorn not to worry, and so here they were. Today was a day of walking; every one of the five of them were injured, some worse than others. Legolas and Enguina rode together on Morlómërog, who was more than happy to carry the both of them. Gimli had offered for Legolas to ride with him, for propriety's sake, but Legolas's reply was that he was more than happy to be improper, which caused Enguina to blush and Arwen to smile. Aragorn had turned to Gimli then to make a comment about Legolas's legs dragging on the while riding Firgenwine which everyone had to laugh at, and so the dwarf swore he was not going to speak to any of them on the ride home. This only lasted for as long as he remembered—which was no longer than a few minutes.

They had traveled for several hours when the conversation died to a comfortable silence. Arwen rode close enough to Aragorn to keep an eye on him without letting him know that it was what she was doing, knowing that his wound was certainly the worst of the company's wounds. Her shoulder was sore, but her knee was still the worse and she rode with her right foot hanging from the stirrup so she could rest it. She had reached over, moment's ago, and laid her hand over his on his leg, their knees bumping as they rode along together. Their mounts were bumping shoulders and breast collars, but they did not care, keeping in close conversation with each other. Their fingers intertwined and though Aragorn turned his head to look at her, her eyes were on their hands. For a moment, everything in the world was right, and quiet. They were together, and everyone was safe.

Behind them, Enguina laid her head back on Legolas's shoulder and smiled as he rested his temple against hers. He settled his arms about her more comfortably as he rode directly behind the saddle. Lómë continued to walk quickly behind the bay and grey, Firgenwine not far to his left, and Legolas had found that he was not uncomfortable at all in this position. He was quite lucky to be able to be holding her; he could be dead, she could be dead.

"Ilúvatar is so good," he whispered in her ear.

"Hmm?" she said, turning her head a bit towards him.

He smiled, lifted his head, and kissed her temple. "Ilúvatar is good; I get to hold you in my arms the entire journey home. We are together. He is good."

She smiled and turned her eyes forward again. "They are so beautiful together," she said softly, and he knew she was speaking of Aragorn and Arwen. He nodded. "Their love is so…quiet…they are one another's hiding place." She paused, and he waited for it. She obliged easily, "Unlike the way you love."

He laughed aloud. "What is loud about the way I love you? Is it that I want to shout how much I love you from every rooftop in Gondor, from every treetop in Ithilien? Is it that I cannot help but tease you? Is it that I do not write you as much poetry as I should? I have another if you—"

"No," she stressed as she laughed. "No, no…did I not tell you I cannot survive your poetry?" She glanced back forward as he laughed at her words. "Do you think we look like that? To others, I mean."

"To some," he said softly. "But I will admit that I am…a bit more open with the way I love you. A bit more…"

"Improper, Legolas?" she teased him and he stroked her cheek.

"You do nothing to help me, moina quén. You make me suffer daily," he admitted. "This wedding cannot come soon enough."

"Forgive me," she laughed, shaking her head and sitting up a little bit, "but I agree, even if it were tomorrow."

"If it were tomorrow, we would we miss it ourselves," he teased and she slapped the hand around her waist.

"Troll," she stressed and he began to laugh again. As he watched her face, a sly little smile came across it. He wondered at it.

"What? What are you thinking about?"

"Are you certain you wish to know?" she said with a smirk.

"Without a doubt."

"I heard a story about you…"

"From who?" he asked suddenly, and she gave a wicked little grin. "Wait, it was the dwarf was it not? You know, not everything the dwarf says is true. What lies is he telling you about me? What further untruths does he spread? What deceptions and—"

"Ugh, Legolas, please!" she laughed. "Never you mind…I am not saying another word."

He turned her chin towards him and looked most seriously into her eyes. "Enguina, if you do not tell me, I will take you from Lómë's back and I shall tickle you until you cannot breathe."

She stared at him. "I am not, in the least way, ticklish at all."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? I seem to recall—"

"I was pretending," she said flippantly.

He did not believe her for one second, but he gave her a slightly sinister smile that had the effect of making her swallow rather hard—the exact one he wanted. "Well…everyone has at least one spot that tickles them…" he murmured to her. "I will just have to start at the top and work my way around until I find it."

Enguina felt as though she should have startled at his words; she should have felt, that after the last few days with thoughts of Bragolaur running through her head, appalled perhaps even afraid. What she discovered instead was a head to toe sensation of pleasure, that he would devote that much time in finding her, discovering her, and she could not help shivering in his arms as his face was far too close to hers. And that shiver was far too telling for Legolas as well—pulling back would be a good idea, but he struggled with it. He was struggling with desire for her. Keep yourself in check, Legolas!

"I think," she said, a bit breathlessly as she tried to focus, "that if I tell you, you must tell me if it is true."

His brain trying to move away from the moment of desire he had felt coursing through him, he thought about her words. What if Gimli had told her a story he neither wanted to confirm or deny? The odds were that Gimli had simply made something up…and really, what did he have to hide from her?

"Tell me," he said, "and I give you my word that I will tell you if it is truth."

She smiled, sitting up straighter in his arms. "Did you really walk into the apothecary's sign because you were so distracted by me?"

A flush came over his cheeks and he rolled his eyes to the heavens. That of course was confirmation enough, but he had made a promise to her and if she knew nothing else about him, he kept his promises. "To my overwhelming shame, it is true." She laughed and he continued, unable to help himself. "It was that first morning I had fallen asleep in your home, in the chair, and I could not get you out of my mind. We left the guesthouse; we were walking through the City, headed for muffins, and Gimli joined us. You were walking a little ahead of us, and I…I looked up and was blindsided by you…" She heard him sigh and she blushed, but he continued, honest to a fault. "I can still see it, in my head: the sun was shining down through your golden hair, making it shimmer in the morning light, your skirt was blowing in the spring breeze, and you were like a sunflower…like a sunflower with its green stem, dancing with the wind and I…" He smiled sheepishly, and could not meet her eyes, "I was so transfixed by your beauty in that moment that I walked headlong into the sign."

"You…are far too honest."

He shook his head, laughing softly at himself. "I did not mean to embarrass you; you asked the question. I…am unable to hold back my words around you…even if I should."

"Even if you should?"

"Even when I should," he said honestly and she blushed again.

Thankfully, they were distracted by Gimli humming a bit of music as Lómë had slowed a little to allow Firgenwine to walk nearly beside him. She was chewing a mouthful of grass as Gimli was not paying her any attention, and Enguina turned her head to look at him.

"Gimli, what is it you are singing?"

He looked suddenly at her and laughed aloud. "I didn't even know I was singing out loud! It's a bit of a traveling song I heard a few years back. Thought it was quite funny."

She smiled. "It is not the one about the drunken stupor, is it?"

"Or that evil one?" Legolas said darkly. Enguina raised her eyebrows.

"That—?"

"Never you mind," he said, staring at Gimli. The dwarf hmpfed.

"I'm insulted! Whaddya think, I only know two songs?!" he laughed then. "A person can't sing the same two songs all the time, you know!"

"Then out with it!" Legolas laughed as Gimli cleared his throat. "We could use a good traveling song; particularly one of yours, Gimli."

There once was a lad…

Oh, he was quite a cad!

And he had

A soft dimple in his chin,

And when he was bad,

All the lasses were sad

Because they liked to look upon him!

For though he was cute

He gave ladies the boot,

And would loot

All the town's treasuries

A fine wandering suit

Made him look like a fruit

A silly lad in all of his fineries!

But alas! One day

This wandering jay,

This fool would pay

For all his dastardly deeds

For on his way

To the church, said they

The chief's men caught him near the reeds

The ladies all cried

Oh my, how they sighed

To see the ride

Of the foolish thief

For he finally died

At the noose beside

The treasury owned by the chief!

Legolas and Enguina both burst out laughing, as did Gimli. The two of them could barely control themselves for a full minute, as they had to keep it to themselves the entire time that they had listened, for fear that they would miss something in the weaving of the madly amusing tale.

"That was the perfect song," called Aragorn from up in front of them. "Excellent work, Gimli!"

"I think I may have heard that one before," said Legolas, still laughing. "It is still hilarious, my friend."

"You know, we don't do enough singing as a group," the dwarf said firmly. "We all have great voices, and yet we don't sing together! We should." His eyes widened as he turned towards Legolas and Enguina. "I've got it! We should all sing together at your wedding! Perhaps we can sing about the Green Dragon, or—"

"No," both Legolas and Enguina answered seriously, holding up their hands, and Gimli laughed.

"It was only a thought! Just a thought!"

"Sing something else, Gimli," said Arwen, turning to look at him in her saddle. "Please?"

"Why don't one of you—"

"Gimli, please?" asked Enguina, and he sighed, thinking. "If you do not mind, of course."

"Anything for a request," he said, his ears turning red. He was not certain he would remember all of the words for the song he was about to sing, but he figured he would give it a go anyway.

Over field and fen,

over meadows far and wide

We march from long and tiring journeys

To Middle-Earth's other side

This path we walk is timeless

It has been here long before

We will walk and not be faint of heart

If we believe our hearts will soar

Why is it that we walk this road?

Why do we toil so hard?

For love, and joy, and hope

And to heal that which is marr'd

We give our lives for this dream

For each heart that walks this way

Bound together are we all to go

And to leave this eternal fray

And still our heart's cry is to journey on

Further and further towards our lore

Until our eyes see and ears hear

That glistening, snow-white sandy shore

To the Sea! To the Havens!

This is our soul's very cry

We will walk this path together

In unity those souls will sigh

Finally we shall be at peace

On a ship sailing to the west

For in a land of sparkling green

Our hearts will be ever blessed

There was silence all around; even the horses had stopped their speaking. It was as though Gimli's song had either lulled them all to sleep or had silenced them in anger. He was not sure which, and so, being the self-conscious dwarf that he was, he thought he should ask. He began to wonder if he was stupid to have sung an Elvish song to them; how silly! Had he offended them all by singing about the Havens? Was it completely disrespectful and bold for him to be singing this song; was he in over his head?

"I'm sorry if you didn't like it," Gimli muttered self-consciously.

"It was beautiful, Gimli," replied Enguina, and as he glanced her way, he caught her staring at him. He blushed quickly, and she shook her head. "Do not be embarrassed."

"None of us were expecting you to sing something so…something Elvish," Legolas said, his mouth half-open in disbelief. "Wherever did you hear that before that you were able to repeat it?"

Gimli's ears turned even redder, stunned that they actually liked it and were not angry with him. "Uh…the Hall of Fire—"

"Imladris," Aragorn said softly, and he squeezed Arwen's hand gently as she lifted her other hand to wipe tears from her face.

"At the time of the Council?"

"Yes," Gimli agreed. "It was such a beautiful song! I only heard it once, but it was the first time I'd ever heard anything sung by the elves, so I made sure I memorized it. Bilbo helped me a bit! I suppose it's a bit bold of me to sing a song of the Havens when I know nothing about them."

"Gimli, it was wonderful," Enguina said. "I have been to the Havens and heard the gulls crying and the sea crashing."

Gimli looked even more embarrassed when he realized Arwen had been crying. "I'm sorry, Arwen."

She shook her head. "It has been…many years since I have heard that song; not since I last stood in my Father's house, when the last of the elves set forth to the Havens and we set out for Minas Tirith. They would sing it often. It is not your fault."

"Perhaps someone would like to sing another?" Enguina asked softly, looking at Legolas, but he shook his head.

"Another time perhaps. Gimli's is in my heart right now," he said with a smile, leaning forward to kiss her temple. Lómë and Firgenwine easily caught up with Brego and Asfaloth, and now all four of them were walking in a line.

"I think I do agree with Gimli," Arwen said softly. "I do not think there is enough singing in Minas Tirith."

"Come now," Enguina laughed from beside her, "do not tell me that Aragorn never sings you to sleep? You must be sung to sleep every night by that sweet baritone riding beside you."

"I wonder if she is saying you have a sweet voice or if you are sweet," teased Arwen, looking over into Aragorn's face.

"Both!" Enguina interjected with a joyous laugh, and she leaned to look around Arwen as she saw Aragorn roll his eyes at her. "Arwen, your sweet baritone is rolling his eyes at me."

Arwen laughed. "Could you expect anything less?" she asked, studying Aragorn. "It was a compliment, you know."

"I know, and it was very nice of her to say."

Legolas smiled, squeezing Enguina in his arms. "I have a solution to this 'lack of singing.' Why do we not all sing a hymn together? Something we all know and can sing together in chorus."

"That's a wonderful idea!" cried Gimli. "Who will start?"

"Arwen," Enguina said immediately. "Perfect pitch."

She blushed and Aragorn chuckled. "You cannot pretend that is not true."

"Let me think," she shushed him, and the four of them waited in anticipation. It brought more stress on her than she cared to admit, but her thoughts finally came to the first hymn of praise she ever learned. It was a hymn of joy she had sung many times, and she could only think that it would be hard to imagine that one of them might not know it. She took a breath and began the song, alone, and each of them joined into the melody; Enguina taking the soprano, Arwen switching to alto, Legolas to tenor, Aragorn to baritone, and Gimli to bass.

Joyful, joyful we adore Thee, God of Glory, Lord of Love

Hearts unfold like flow'rs before Thee, opening to the sun above

Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; Drive the dark of doubt away

Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day!

All Thy works with joy surround Thee, earth and heav'n reflect Thy rays

Stars and angels sing around Thee, Center of Unbroken Praise!

Field and forest, vale and mountain, flowery meadow, flashing sea

Chanting bird and flowing fountain call us to rejoice in Thee!

Thou art giving and forgiving, ever blessing, ever blest

Well-spring of the joy of living, Ocean-depth of happy rest!

Thou our Father, blessed Brother, all who live in love are Thine

Teach us how to love each other, lift us to Thy joy divine!

Peoples join the mighty chorus which the morning stars began

Father love is reigning o'er us, brother love binds man to man

Ever singing, march we onward, victors in the midst of strife

Joyful music leads us sunward in the triumph song of life!

Nothing could be more beautiful than their five clear voices ringing out together on that morning as they rode. Each one of them sang with the full knowledge of Grace, every word coming from their lips direct from their hearts as each one thought about the words they were singing. It was not simply a song; it was praise. Their hearts soared with worship, and when it was all done, there was silence as each thought about what they had just experienced.

"Amen…" whispered Aragorn, and Arwen squeezed his hand.

"How absolutely beautiful we sound together," said Enguina softly, letting her head fall back against Legolas' chest again. "And how amazing are the words to that song? Stars and angels sing around Thee, Center of Unbroken Praise? How beautiful!"

"Amazing what the hearts of people can put into words," Legolas agreed, his voice as soft as hers, barely wanting to break the silence between them all. "Ocean-depth of happy rest? Driving away the darkness of doubt?"

"And we are certainly victors in the midst of strife…" added Arwen with a smile.

"And we are singing!" laughed Gimli, and a resounding Amen came from each one in the party. And they continued to travel onward, delighting in the presence of one another, and sharing their return journey in happiness and joy, and hoping they would continue to find it through song.