Author's Note: The song used in this chapter is "Hope Has A Place" by Enya with a few minor edits in lyrics by me. I did not write the rest of it, nor do I own it! And there is a reprise of "Need You Now" by Plumb, which I also do not own, nor did I write it! Enjoy!

Arwen combed her fingers through Enguina's hair, carefully separating the strands into groups so that she could braid them. Enguina sat just as she had when Aragorn and Legolas had left the camp, her chin on her folded arms and her arms on her knees. Her eyes were closed, yet she was not resting; every time she closed them, she saw a flash of a nightmare…though at the moment, she did not. Arwen was humming softly, and it was very soothing to her. She was able to slow down her breathing and calm herself from the chaos of the night. The morning light gave her peace as well, and she let out a long breath. But with the nightmare so close about her, she could not speak of it yet, and she knew very well that Arwen would hold her silence until she said something…she was so good at that. So patient…it drove her mad sometimes. But she would not say anything about the dreams.

"Do you remember, when we were younger? I used to love it when we would sit in the grass together in Lórien, and you would braid my hair. Do you remember?"

Arwen smiled to herself. "Yes, I remember."

"It always made me feel special…it still does; that you were, and are willing to take the time to make me feel that way. Thank you, for I never thought to thank you before."

She continued twisting the hair through her long fingers. "You are welcome, of course. I remember when we used to climb the trees; Grandfather would be so angry—"

"And Haldir," Enguina added. "Do you…do you think Erumar will come to the wedding?"

Arwen hugged her from behind, resting her head on Enguina's. "I do not think she would ever miss it if she could help it."

"I do not even know if she remains yet in Lórien. She may have already left," she said quietly. "The last time we saw one another…we did not say many kind things."

Arwen did not know what to say to that statement. There was no way of knowing where Erumar was, but Arwen could only hold out an irrational hope that she would be there. "Let us hope she will be there. Are you excited to finally meet Thranduil? He will certainly be there."

"King Thranduil," she whispered. "Ilúvatar, that sounds so…surreal."

"Yes, and you shall be a Princess," Arwen reminded her. She felt Enguina stiffen in her arms. "Do not worry about it. It is nothing more than a title, at least for now."

"A title?" she echoed. "As yours is only a title?"

"My case is…a bit different," she admitted. "But perhaps I am wrong and you will inherit a kingdom at some time if Thranduil chooses to—"

"Do not say anything of the kind," Enguina said firmly. "I am not suited to be a Queen, nor am I worthy of the title. And I have…terrible fears…of Thranduil."

"Fears?" Arwen asked concerned, finishing off the braid. "What of?"

"What if he…what if he does not like me at all?"

"What is there not to like?" Arwen scoffed. "He will love you upon the first meeting, I guarantee it." Enguina rolled her eyes.

"Please, you are making me ill."

Arwen laughed. "He is a pleasant elf, though he can be a bit intimidating as he is a bit taller and wider in the shoulder than Legolas. In years past, when I knew him, he had much humor. He has become a bit more serious in these more recent years…but he is good."

She smiled. "Is that where Legolas gets his goodness from?"

"And his temper."

Enguina nodded slowly. "He…can have quite a temper, can he not? I hope he never becomes angry with me."

Arwen laughed softly. "Oh, Enguina, you will make him angry, at some point…marriage is not all bliss. It is wonderful, but it is difficult, too. Sharing your life with someone, sometimes your every waking moment, can be stressful from time to time. You will not always be happy, but you will always be in love."

Enguina rested her head back against Arwen's shoulder. "Is that all the matters in the world, Arwen? To be in love?"

"Yes," she said definitively. "A most resounding yes."

"That is why you did what you have done with your life."

"Yes, and why you will marry Legolas and have at least five children of your own—love."

Enguina sighed. "Focus on one thing at a time, Arwen…we have to get home first. Then, I will think about this wedding." And be as terrified as is necessary. Her fingers tightened around each other and she felt them begin to twist—how many weeks had it been since she had done that?

"It is going to take time," Arwen said softly in her ear, and Enguina flinched, knowing she was talking about the nightmares. "Do not despair, Enguina. You will recover; you will heal. But you have to give yourself time."

I do not have any time! "The wedding is—" her voice cut off and she shook her head, worry encasing her heart. "There is not a month before the wedding." Her lips began to tremble and she swallowed hard. "I have no time, Arwen…" she whispered, her voice so full of hurt. "Every time I wake in a nightmare I hurt Legolas…I can hardly stand it. He loves me, yet I fill him with pain every time I shy away, I flinch. I know it is not Bragolaur, but I feel him.

"And he went off with Aragorn," she groaned, "and I know he is speaking of me. Legolas is talking to Aragorn of me and—"

"Of course he is," Arwen interrupted gently. "He is worried for you…more than you could ever understand." She laid her head upon hers again, her arms tightening around her. "He loves you so much, and when you dream—"

"Four times," Enguina whispered and tears flooded her eyes. "Four times the nightmare came, and the last was…it was so terrible. My heart is so terribly heavy, so full of fear. I cannot speak of it, Arwen, let it be."

"You should talk about it. You are hurting," she said, touching the side of her face, her ear. "I wish…I wish there was something more I could do."

"You can help me sleep," Enguina said, a bit desperately. "I am so exhausted. My hands are aching, my ribs are aching, and I am…I am so full of despair that I can see nothing but darkness." Her voice trailed off, so full of pain. She felt Arwen's arms hold her so tight, and leaned her head back against her shoulder. "So much darkness..."

"I canhelp you sleep," she whispered gently. She smoothed her hand along Enguina's hair, and the older elf pressed her face into Arwen's neck, turning her body so she half-lay against her.

"Just for a little while," she begged. "Even an hour…"

Arwen's heart broke for her, and she cradled Enguina in her arms, resting her cheek against the elf's forehead. "I will do what little I can, sweet one. Close your eyes," she whispered, and Enguina did as Arwen began to hum again softly, closing her own and letting her healing power enter her. It was not much, but if she could take away the ache, the hurt, she would try.

"Arwen," she murmured, her eyes filling with tears, "how can Legolas still love me…when I am so broken, when I am in so much agony, when I wound him so much? How?"

"Because he hopes in you," she replied, rocking her gently. "His love is stronger than your pain, deeper than your hurt. He trusts in Ilúvatar…that he will heal your hurts and make right your suffering. Legolas will not leave you or abandon you to fear. Trust him…and give yourself time to heal. Your despair will heal," she said, kissing her forehead, "and you will find peace again. Shhh…and sleep."

Arwen lulled her to sleep with this gentle song along with her small gift of peace.

One look at love and you may see

It weaves a web over mystery

All raveled threads can rend apart

For hope has a place in the lover's heart

Hope has a place in a lover's heart

Whispering world a sigh of sighs

The ebb and the flow of the ocean tides

One breath, one word, may end or may start

A hope in a place of the lover's heart

Hope has a place in a lover's heart

Look to love you can dream

In your heart it lives, it gives you wings

And if such love is meant to be

Hope is home and the heart is free

Under the heavens we journey far

On roads of life we are wanderers

So let love rise, let fear depart

Hope has a place in a lover's heart

Hope has a place in the lover's heart

Look to love you can dream

In your heart it lives, it gives you wings

And if such love is meant to be

Hope is home and the heart is free

Yes, you are home and forever free.

It was nearly nightfall, and the small band rode along quietly in the fading sun. They had ridden several more miles after Enguina and Legolas had a bit more rest. With a grateful heart, Arwen praised Ilúvatar for allowing Enguina to sleep without dreams. Aragorn had taken a look at the wounds on her hands as she was resting; he had found them open and bleeding, as she had torn them after her nightmares. Even exhausted, Aragorn took some time to sing a low song over them as Legolas rested as well. Today, Legolas rode in the saddle on Lómë's back with Enguina behind him, her arms around his waist and her head resting upon his back.

Enguina had been quiet during their ride, though it seemed everyone was as Legolas looked about. Arwen appeared hawk-like to him, watching Aragorn in quick glances and then looking about at each of them. She was assuming the mother role of the group at this point, trying to assure herself that they were all capable of traveling. It was drawing towards night, and it would soon be time for their riding to end. Part of Legolas wished for this, but part of him was already having anxiety about Enguina having more dreams. He was certain she was dwelling on it, too, for as the night was drawing near she had grown even more pensive and silent.

"Enguina," he said suddenly, though softly, interrupting her brooding thoughts, "I have a question for you."

She lifted her head and settled her chin on her shoulder. "What can I answer you?"

"Do you remember the night we threw snowballs at each other and stood in the King's House trying to dry before dinner?"

He could almost feel her confusion. "Of course I remember," she said softly. "It was the first night I thought what I felt for you might be something more…might be something I wanted. It was the first night that Aragorn encouraged me to let you pursue me instead of making a decision right then. And…I think, when I looked into your eyes by the fireplace as we were drying off, that it may have been the first time I felt…drawn to you."

"I felt that, too," he said, and then he bumped her head gently with his, unable to help teasing her. "So…Aragorn told you that I would pursue you?"

She actually smiled, one of the first of the day. "I am not certain it was that night, but he told me that all men enjoy being in the pursuit of a woman. He was right, though…was he not?"

"Oh…he most certainly was right," he said, reaching up to curl her hair around his fingertips. "Yet, that was not the reason I mentioned the evening. The reason I mentioned the evening was for what Arwen had said."

"Arwen? And what did she say?"

"She reminded you that you did not like being wet. I have been thinking about this for months, and I never remembered to ask you. So I thought I might ask while I am thinking of it…why do you hate the water so much? Do you simply not enjoy it? Do you not know how to swim? Is there a tale that I am missing—"

"No," she denied firmly, and it only confirmed it for him that there was a story to go with her feelings about water. "There is no tale; I simply do not enjoy the water."

Legolas was quiet for a moment and then she felt him smile as he turned his head and kissed her forehead. "You are a terrible liar."

She groaned. "I…do not wish to tell any stories about myself."

"Are you afraid of water?"

"Yes…and no…and I do not want to tell it."

"What if I agree to tell you a story about something that frightened me?"

"Please do, but I am not saying anything about the water."

He laughed. "You are so secretive! Does Arwen know the story? Could she tell it?"

"No, she cannot!"

"I can actually," Arwen said from a few feet in front of them. "But I will not tell it without permission."

"You were there when Enguina decided she did not like water?"

"Oh, tell it, Enguina," Arwen said. "It is a fair enough question."

Enguina groaned again and pressed her chin into his shoulder. "Fine…but I am not pleased."

"Noted."

"I had never been much of a swimmer," she said, sighing. "Everyone knew that. My brother would often swim, especially in the fast current of the Celebrant, in places where it was quite steep, as it was a challenge and he was very strong. This was several hundred years ago and before Arwen came to Lórien for the first time…so, understand that my hatred of water occurred very long ago indeed. When I was…well…quite a bit younger than I am now, I wanted to be able to swim like my brother. So…one day I followed him out there.

"I waited, of course, until he was finished; I needed to watch him first. It did not appear difficult, so I…leapt in."

"Into the Celebrant?"

"That was what I said when I first heard the tale," added Arwen.

"Which part? Certainly not where the bridges are and the water is fast-flowing?" he asked, and she nodded against his back.

"I was very foolish, and I assumed I was a much better swimmer. I could hardly fight the current and to make a long, rather involved rescue tale where my brother was very much the hero short, that is the reason I do not like water. I had never been afraid of it until that day. Shallows, putting my feet in the water, fine…swimming…deep water…" she shook her head. "These are not for me."

"Do you know how to swim?" Legolas asked her gently.

"Not very well," she admitted. "I…never thought it appeared difficult, as it always appeared effortless with Haldir." She sighed, a bit embarrassed. "But I…nearly drowned. I was unable to keep my head above the water, and I swallowed so much of it; he was so very angry. I do not know what frightened me most about it. Being unable to touch the bottom, having the water cascading over my head, makes me ill thinking of it, but it is not only that. There is something about water all around me that just…" She shivered against his back. "Ugh…I do not wish to think of it anymore."

"The ocean would not be a very good place to take a quiet journey, would it?"

"Not if you were asking me to swim in it," she replied wryly.

"What if I offered to teach you?"

"I am afraid that knowing how matters very little anymore. There is already enough fear…moved along even further by this journey," she ended softly.

"If I taught you how to swim, you would not have to be afraid of drowning," he said easily.

"Can you teach me to swim in the tub? Because that is about as deep as I am going to get."

Legolas laughed and so did Arwen. "Oh, Enguina!"

"Well…we shall see, hmm?" he said. "You never know what I will work to convince you to do. I have my ways…and I shall be your husband, so you will have to listen to me."

She laughed outright, flicking his ear with her forefinger. "Oh really?"

"Well, yes," he said, pretending to be serious and trying to maneuver away from her fingers.

"And where, pray tell, is that written?"

"Come now, Guin, it will be in our vows."

"I think," Aragorn interrupted, tugging on Brego's reins, "that this appears a good camping place before it gets too dark…and Enguina strangles Legolas, or knocks him from Lómë's back."

Enguina laughed again. "Oh, the man knows me far too well."

"Can I not tease?" asked Legolas, looking a bit sad as Enguina used the stirrup to dismount. She rolled her eyes and watched him carefully dismount. "The leg feels a bit better," he said to her, raising his eyebrows, "I do not wish to ruin a good thing."

"I understand," she replied, and she glanced over to watch Aragorn dismount even more slowly than Legolas. "He is exhausted, is he not?"

"He is going to go right to sleep. Guaranteed." He slipped his arm around her and pulled her gently to him, slipping a hand up beneath her hair and raising his eyebrows. "I was unable to kiss you all day long," he whispered, "and I did not like it at all."

She smiled as he pressed his lips to hers, cupping her face with his hand. "I was comfortable against you," she told him. "But…this is nice as well."

"Before we part," he said as she began to pull back, "I have a thought tonight."

"A thought?"

"A plan, as it were…I have something I want to try for keeping the nightmares at bay." He stroked her face and then smiled at her. "You are going to fall asleep in my arms tonight. There will not be my mat and your mat…they will be ours. You will sleep in my arms, not only beside me."

She blushed and then began to pull away. "Legolas, that is not—"

"I think we should try it," he said, keeping her with him. "I will hold you, and keep the nightmares away. I believe it will work." Enguina felt her throat go dry. She had slept in Legolas's arms before, but it had not been when they were engaged…when they were weeks from the wedding. He sighed very softly, and took her face in both of his hands, her hands now resting on his wrists. "Guin, do you not trust me?"

"Of…of course I trust you," she whispered. "With my life, with everything I am."

"Then," he said even more gently, "if you trust me with this, will you trust me with your heart?"

It was the most serious question he had ever asked her, more serious than asking her to go with him to the Anduin, more serious than asking her to tell him about her dreams…more serious even than marrying him. This was different. She could pledge her life to Legolas and love him beyond a doubt, but did she trust him…completely? Knowing he loved her, knowing he cared about her more than his own life was clear to her…and she wanted with all her heart to trust him, to believe that every word he said was true. She searched his eyes for something that would turn her away, that would cause her to shrink back, but there was nothing but sincerity, nothing but love.

"I…I will trust you, Legolas," she whispered, resting her forehead against his. "I will trust you with my heart," she whispered. "It belongs to you…just as you said yours belonged to me."

"It has…it does…it will," he said, his thumbs gently rubbing her cheeks. "I promise to take care of you; I promise I will not fail you." His eyes were full of devotion and she finally straightened.

"I…always hope that I can be for you what you are to me, Legolas," she told him, her voice soft, hurt. "Sometimes I feel as though I have nothing to bring to you."

"You need bring nothing. You are enough of a gift."

"But…it cannot be that way," she whispered, disbelief in her voice. "I do not deserve you."

"You deserve to be loved," he stressed. "You deserve everything I have to give. Let me hold you tonight, my love. Let me be your wings and chase the shadows away." He kissed her forehead and she breathed out a sigh of relief.

Thank you, Ilúvatar…for giving me Legolas. Without him…without a light in all of this darkness…I would be dead.

Legolas opened his eyes, the night still dark; everything was silent and still. The horses made no sound, and there was no one moving about the camp. He breathed...and smelled Enguina's hair. Tightening his arms around her, he lifted his head so he could see her face. Her eyes were open and glazed as she was still asleep, one hand curled up underneath her throat and the fingers on her other hand interlacing with his. It was clear that both of them had been asleep for several hours, and yet, still no nightmares. He tugged her back even a bit more closely against his chest, and pressed his lips against her hair ever-so-gently.

Father, Great One! I call out to you tonight and I thank you. I bless your name! Thank you for helping Enguina and being at her side; one night without a nightmare is a step toward every night, Father. Help me, to continue to be her shield, her candle against the darkness. You have given her to me not only to love, but to protect. Help me, Father, to protect her even from herself. Only you can give me strength enough for her. Do not make me let her go; I cannot bear to be parted from her now. Give me time so I can reach her, time enough for her to heal. I cannot live without her; I do not know how I have for so long.

"Legolas?" The word startled him even though it was spoken so softly.

"Yes, moina?" She must have known he was awake as soon as she woke. Either that or she expected him to wake to the sound of his name.

There was quiet for too long; he thought perhaps she had either fallen back to sleep, or she had been asking for him in a dream she was having, but then her hand tightened on his and he heard her whisper, "Legolas, hold me." Confused, even worried, he drew her closer, but it wasn't enough for her. She twisted in his arms, pressing herself to his chest, her face to his neck, her hands curled against her throat, trapped between their bodies. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her very close and pressing his face to her hair.

"Is everything all right, my Guin?"

"Sometimes," she whispered with a tremor in her voice, "the night is so dark and cold." He felt her shiver against him, and he knew very well that she did not mean she was cold or that she thought it was cold.

"Did you dream, moina?" he asked her, and she shook her head.

"No, but I woke and I...I needed you…this..." she said, "your arms. It was so very dark."

"I will not let the dark harm you, touch you," he told her, and he brushed his hand to her face then, hugging her to his chest. "Just sleep...sleep..."

He felt her drifting, listened as her breathing evened out...and worried. What would happen when they returned to Mina's Tirith with barely three weeks before the wedding and he could not be at her side in the night, facing the darkness? He was going to worry for her every moment they had to be apart...every moment until they were sleeping beside each other, where if a dream came, he could comfort her. But he had to trust that Ilúvatar was going to figure this out. He had to; his faith had to be greater than his fear.

Enguina stood, watching the first rays of sun beginning to brighten the sky. It was a cold morning, and for a moment, she wished she had stayed on her mat; that wish drew her eyes to the elf in whose arms she had slept the last two nights. She turned away; if she stayed a moment more she would be driven back to his arms, and she needed some distance. Quietly, she untied Lómë, and walked him to a tall rock that happened to be nearby; normally, she could vault into the saddle, but her ribs were still healing. Hopping on his back a bit ungracefully, she turned him towards the woods.

"We are not going too far, Lómë," she said, when she noticed the black looking back to Firgenwine. As soon as the words were spoken, Lómë immediately looked ahead, now excited about where they were heading instead of worrying about leaving the group. She smiled and rubbed his neck.

As she had said, they did not go far. A little glen was her destination, and she headed there. The morning was so quiet and still except the birds and squirrels chattering to each other in the trees. Upon arriving, she slipped from his back and let Lómë wander a bit and nibble the grass. She took a seat in the dewy grass and watched the sunrise, her arms wrapped around her knees, her chin resting on them.

This was not how she had intended to be spending the month before her wedding. She had thought they would be in Mina's Tirith, preparing. She had another dress fitting to attend to make sure it was perfect; they had not planned the wedding feast yet; she had a plan to set with Arwen that she had not even mentioned to her yet; and they had not even found a home in Ithilien, which had been first in Legolas's plan for the trip they had made. No, what it appeared was that the elf's intent of releasing her stress before the wedding had done the complete opposite, even if it had been unintentional. Instead, everyone on the journey except Éowyn had been wounded in some way, yet was she not nearly ready to have her child? Even there, this had been a disaster! At the moment, Aragorn was in the most pain, though the man tried to hide it well.

She looked down at her hands. She did not even know how she was functioning right now, let alone sleeping in her betrothed's arms. Shivering with pain, she could not understand why she had not dissolved into tears already...and then she realized she had. Sorrow threatened to overcome her; even when she had slept quietly for two days with no nightmares, it was still undoing her. Even now, she could feel his hands crawling over her shoulders as she laid her forehead on her arms and cried, desperation filling her. Had Bragolaur not told her he would haunt her forever? That he was the only man who could make her feel this way, so full of terror and fear that she simply wanted to run away and never look back?

She lifted her head as she suddenly found herself throwing her body to her feet, staring out across the glade to the green forest...and then beyond. She found the edge of the woods drawing nearer as she realized she could do it; she could get on Lómë right now and ride out and no one would ever find her, be able to follow her...not even Aragorn. Not where she would be going. She felt as though she could see the Havens, stretched out before her, and she was running toward them at full speed...and then she came to a halt at the edge of the woods.

Legolas... As much as she wanted to run, as much as she hated what had happened, what she had been forced to suffer through, how could she just leave him? She loved him far too much; it was a gift and a curse...and it drew her to her knees there. She hurt. What was worse was that it had happened just as she had dreamed it would; she had dreamed that he would come for her, just as he had said, and then he had and had tied her down just as he had in Lórien. And to be right in front of Legolas, to be there just before him where he could watch her being taken, his betrothed... She was so impure now; he deserved someone whole, someone who was pure for him, who had saved themselves for him. The thought tore her up inside. He had said it did not matter, but the truth was that it mattered hugely. It affected them both in ways he could not possibly begin to comprehend.

What was she to do when Legolas went to lay her down? How in the world was she to lie with him when all she had ever known was terror? She would be so afraid, she would not know what to do; she might freeze or even worse go mad and start screaming or wrenching away from him. This was what she was most afraid of. Part of her desperately could not wait for the wedding so that she could understand what real love was, what physical love was really like with a person who adored and cherished her...and the rest of her was so afraid that instead of seeing Legolas, she would see him. The last thing she wanted in the entire world was to be loving Legolas and seeing him. Was there a way to fight these feelings she had? If there was, she did not know how. Lying with him should have been easy, something she desired, looked forward to, instead of something she feared. It was not that she feared Legolas, though that may have been true too; did she fear his hands on her…or want them? How would she know? Or was it fearing the act of love-making...afraid it would hurt as it had with... Her hands found her abdomen, the phantom pain filling her, and she gasped crying out to the sunrise:

How many times have you heard me cry out:

God, please take this?

How many times have you given me strength

To just keep breathing?

Oh, I need you!

God, I need you now!

"How many times have I asked you to take this away?" she cried out, tears pouring down her face. "Where are you?! I am desperate, Father...desperate for your presence, your healing. What in heaven's name are you doing to me? What is your plan? Where are you? Can you not hear me? Do you not care? I have begged you to rescue me, to save me from this pain, and yet here I am and it is worse than ever.

"He came," she sobbed, gasping for breath and clutching her chest. "He came; did you not see?! Could you not see what he did to me? He touched me; he forced himself against me, before the man who is to be my husband! Who you gave to me! What are you doing? I do not understand! Why would you let him do such a terrible thing, and then continue to haunt me! He is in every dream, every thought…I cannot escape him! I can feel him inside me, even now. I am in so much pain. Can you not help me? Will you not help me?"

Something, suddenly, touched her hair, and she yanked away, turning her head and bringing up her hands to protect herself. A black nose hung directly in her face, and she cupped her hands around it, realizing exactly what had been prodding her gently.

"Oh, Lómë," she whispered brokenly, and he reached forward and touched his nose to her chest. Curling his legs beneath him, he laid down in the soft grass, and she immediately pulled herself to the warmth of his body, laying against him and running her fingers through his mane, crying softly. She stayed like this for some time, accepting his comfort, a part of her alive enough to feel a bit in awe of him, so grateful that he understood her desperate need.

"Lómë," she said softly, rubbing her hand along his neck, "thank you. I...needed this." He reached out and touched his nose to her hands, and she rubbed his forehead. "I am not very good company...I am not...well." And the moment the words were out, she felt as though they were as close to the truth as she could get. What had happened to her, what was still happening to her, made her that way...it was the only way to describe how she was feeling. Unwell. "I would like to sit here a little while longer...until the sun is fully up." She brushed his long foremane out of his eyes and he breathed out heavily. "Thank you, for being willing to share it with me until we return to camp."

And she had decided she would go back. She could do nothing else; she was not brave enough…and she knew she would never be able to admit that to anyone.

Arwen sighed, stroking her fingers through Aragorn's hair as he slept on beside her. She was angry with him, though she was not going to tell him that. He had not told her the truth about the wound and how much it had been paining him, and tonight after he had fallen asleep, she had found he had a slight fever. A fever? He was supposed to be recovering! She had used her gift to keep him asleep throughout her ministrations on the wound. He gave so little thought to himself; though Aragorn could not simply mend broken bones, every wound was healing quite well except the broken ribs Legolas and Enguina were still favoring and Gimli's broken fingers. She knew he had to do this; he wanted to see them all safe and cared for...but when he was weak himself, this made her worry like nothing else.

To top that off, Enguina had woken with another nightmare...a bad one. Their small company was one day's ride short of Henneth Annûn, and the dreams would still not let up on her. Three nights Enguina had slept soundly without them; tonight she had been sleeping in Legolas's arms again, and Arwen could not help but question Ilúvatar closely; why had the nightmare come? Her friend had not woken up screaming this time, but when she began whimpering aloud and shaking, Legolas had woken her immediately. He was holding her now, as she was half-asleep, half-crying in his arms; but Arwen would not disturb them. She worried for Enguina enough. Just yesterday morning, she had woken to Legolas nearly frantic with worry, though he tried to hide it. He had seen Lómë missing and was in a state of sheer panic-where was Enguina; why had she taken Lómë; was she intending to leave him? Arwen had been equally worried about her, but then Enguina had come riding into camp upon Lómë as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Legolas had tried then to hide his desperation. He tried so hard not to crowd her, but it was difficult when he had every reason to be afraid, for both her safety and that she might suddenly leave him. Arwen frowned at that; Legolas and Enguina should be secure, there should have been no reason for Legolas to doubt. That upset her as well.

And even worse, ten minutes before Legolas and Enguina had woken, she had woken from an awful dream herself. She shivered, stiff with pain; it had been about the baby…again. Oddly enough, she had not woken screaming or screeching for Aragorn in her head. If she had, he would most certainly be awake. So why now? Why tonight? She had no idea, but she lay still beside her beloved, holding herself tightly to him without getting near the wound. She had been so distracted for the past month with Annî, with worry over Legolas and then Enguina and Gimli, that she simply had not been asleep with nothing to think of. Yes, that must be the reason for the dream tonight. Again, the memory of it made her shiver, the pain as fresh this moment as it had been four months ago. At least tonight she had not woken wailing. Ugh...the last time she had the dream she had been screaming in her sleep so loudly the guards had thought she was being attacked. Aragorn had not been there, but Captain Mennev had rushed in to protect her, completely unaware she was dreaming. It had not been pretty, and he had been scared to death, reacting to her and then sending someone immediately to retrieve the King as she had been inconsolable. Aragorn had arrived and tried to calm things down a bit, but she had felt so guilty she had apologized to Mennev the following morning and thanked him for his quick response to her distress; he had been embarrassed by the acknowledgment, but she had been grateful.

"You are awake," came Aragorn's sleepy voice from above her head.

"You are supposed to be sleeping," she said, her voice low. He could hear soft crying and the gentle, spoken words of Legolas. It made him want to cry out with grief. Ilúvatar, is there nothing you can do to give her peace? She is struggling so much, Father!

"Did Enguina wake you?" he asked, laying a hand over her back. He could feel her trembling and that woke him up directly. "Are you—"

"Enguina did not wake me," she replied, her voice even softer than before. ""It was something else." She felt him open his mouth to speak, but she quickly moved ahead and interrupted him. "Why are you awake?" she whispered back. He grunted and she lifted her head to look at him. "What? What is it?"

He laughed softly. "Why awake? I am in serious pain."

She frowned at him. "So serious it woke you? Aragorn—"

"You cleaned it, did you not? I can tell," he sighed, letting out half a gasp of pain.

"You were feverish," she said, and she watched him close his eyes.

"I am sorry."

A scowl flashed across her face for a moment and then it was gone; he did not see it. She knew she was on edge from the dream, so she tried to have more patience. "I was worried. I did not think I had cleaned it too roughly. I should be sorry."

"No, I should have told you, my caretaker," he laughed softly as he looked in her eyes. She sat up and he tried to catch her to make her stay beside him. "Arwen—"

"I do not want to talk," she muttered, and he watched her wipe her left eye before rolling him gently onto his back and opening the front of his tunic. He knew then, what had woken her. He covered her hand, but she pulled away. "Stop, Aragorn...can you simply let me do this?"

He laid his hand back on the ground and stayed very still so that she could look at the wound, and he did not look at her face, feeling downright miserable. Closing his eyes, he waited her out; her hands on his skin felt good, like ice against the pain. She blinked, three, four, five times against the wetness she felt filling her eyes. It did not make it go away, and she felt the tears fall, her frustration building. She needed to pull herself together. There were so many others who needed her right now...and yet, she had needs, too, did she not? Can you not simply keep it together, Arwen? What is wrong with you?

Her hands stilled on his shoulder, and he heard her whisper brokenly, "I have been angry with you, and it is not fair to you. I-I do not know what is the matter with me. I do not mean to push you away; I know you only want to help. I know I have been so...so difficult at times, and this has been hard on you as well, and I am sorry...so sorry...I have no excuse..."

He looked at her, listening to her babble hoarsely, her face turned away from him, tears on it. "Beloved, I forgive you, though I feel that there is nothing to forgive. You are not difficult; you are hurting, and you are trying to find a way to cope on your own without me pressing in on you and trying to help all the time," he said softly.

"But I need you," she said, reaching a hand up to wipe her eyes again. "Even just to press myself against you and feel you beside me. I feel so selfish sometimes, as though you do not understand, but then I remember you do and I need you all the more." She began to re-cover the wound, but much more gently this time, trying to take the pressure from his arm. "I am not alone..." she whispered.

"No," he agreed gently, "you are not alone, but I understand why sometimes you feel that way."

"I...am not ready to cope with this on my own," she whispered. "I do not know if I will ever be ready; if I can ever be ready."

He covered her hand with one of his, the good one. "That is all right, you know."

She looked tiredly into his eyes. "Is it? I was thinking of Mennev and what he must have thought that night when he had to enter the House...he thought me mad."

"No, he did not," he said firmly. "He was terribly worried, and afraid you were seriously wounded." He squeezed her hand. "Why did you not wake me?"

She looked down. "You needed the rest."

His eyebrows lifted. "And you do not? You, who cannot stop worrying for me, who cannot stop worrying for Enguina, who cannot stop thinking about their relationship and praying it will get through this trial they continue to face, who cannot stop thinking about the baby—" she flinched, "—and you take all of this on yourself. You cannot carry all the burdens of the world and expect to make it through every night unscathed." He sighed. "How does the wound look tonight?"

"Better since I cleaned it," she said and he brought her hand to his lips. "You still have a slight fever, and I would feel better if not for that. It must mean there is infection somewhere."

"We will be in Henneth Annûn tomorrow, and the Healer there will have the herbs I need. Do not worry, Arwen." He tilted his head. "I no longer hear Enguina." Arwen turned her head and looked over to them.

""She has fallen back to sleep against Legolas; he holds her still," she said softly. "I am not even sure he knows we are awake." She frowned and said sadly, "I am so worried, Aragorn. I am so afraid this will be too much for her; too much strain." She made sure that the wound was covered and well-tended. Lying back down beside him, she let him hold her close. "I know Legolas spoke with you a few days ago..."

He nodded. "And I listened to your beautiful song when we returned; you had Legolas in tears. I did not wish to disturb you both, and Enguina slept for a few hours, so it was worth it. He is worried that he should postpone the wedding and that she needs more time to heal, to recover. She...he told me that she wished she was dead."

Arwen's head shot up. "What?"

"Shh..." he said, and he tugged her back down. "She did not mean it; she had woken from that last nightmare and was in pain. She is all right."

"No, she is not," she murmured. "I wish you had told me."

"And what would you have done?"

"I need to talk to her."

He hesitated. "Perhaps she simply needs time, Arwen. With time, the dreams will lessen. With time, she will trust Legolas with her heart."

"She needs to do that now," Arwen whispered, "before it is too late."

"Too late?" Aragorn felt his heart plummet. "What do you mean?"

There was silence for a moment. "I…I do not know…"

"Yes, you do," he said a bit more firmly. "What is it?"

"I think she is going to run..." she whispered. "Or do something equally terrible."

He shook his head. "It is dark, and night changes many thoughts, including yours. Why would she do that? Legolas will stay with her and she will be safe. She has no reason to go, not if Legolas is willing to stay with her, willing to do whatever it takes."

"He is willing, yes?"

"You did threaten his life," Aragorn pointed out, trying to tease her, to lighten the mood a bit. "I am not certain he has a choice."

She smiled for the first time since dinner. "I did, did I not? When a man says he is serious, he had better be serious."

"Oh, believe me, he is serious."

"Because she will be gone otherwise," she stated. "A heart can only take so much." He thought about her words and they made him sad again. No matter how many times she told him that she loved him, had given everything for him because of that love, he still felt at times that it was a heavy price to pay. He brushed his fingers over hers and she shifted her body so he could not do it; it was almost as if she read his mind. "I did not say mine, Aragorn," she said sternly. "I am here for good."

"I am glad to hear it," he whispered, "because my life would be completely empty without you beside me."

"I know," she replied. "And I would be dead without you."

He did not respond to that; how could he? He knew it very well; she would die of a broken heart. Elves felt things in ways that humans could not comprehend. He ran his fingers through her hair. "Do you think Enguina realizes that she needs Legolas as he needs her? That he will lose his heart if she does not stay?"

"I think she does know...but she is in so much pain right now, she cannot see through that blindness. I pray she will find her way."

"You need to rest," he said gently after a few moments.

"You first," she told him. "And if you feel feverish again, you need to tell me. Stop hiding."

He nodded. "How is your knee?"

"Fine...and stop asking me about it."

"Do not be so grouchy." She rolled her eyes.

"That strain pales in comparison to your wound, beloved. Let us focus on one thing at a time. Right now, the focus is you."

"I hate when the focus is me."

"Well, the next time you decide to leap into a river to save someone, think before you smash yourself into a tree. Then, you will have no injuries and you will not be in the focus."

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "As I told Legolas, I could not control what happened to me, only what happened to Enguina. If she had hit, she would have been dead."

"And everyone is very grateful," she told him, fingering his chin. "Thank you."

"You are welcome." He tightened his arm around her. "You will be all right?"

She sighed. "Just keep holding me," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I will be fine."