As they rode within five miles of Henneth Annûn, the first ranger met them on foot, hailing Aragorn and as thrilled as anything to see them all alive and, it appeared, quite well. He was more than happy to escort them to the Forbidden Pool, but as Aragorn knew his way and the man was on foot, he relieved him of the duty and let the man remain at his post. It did not take them very long to cover the last few miles, and they heard the calls of the Rangers' horns, letting those near the Pool know they were returning. When they came upon the hidden entrance, Aragorn had to grin when he saw Éowyn and Faramir hurrying out to greet them, Annî leading the two of them with Éowyn a bit behind.

Tiriel! was the first word out of Annî's mouth, and Arwen was the first one on the ground, reaching out to scoop her off her feet and into her arms. Aragorn dismounted carefully and grinned at Faramir, full of gladness to see him hurrying anywhere.

"You look wonderful, my friend," he said, and they clasped arms as Éowyn rushed past, wrapping her arms around Legolas in a hurry.

"Thank Ilúvatar!" she cried, tears in her eyes. "We were so worried about you! We have thought of nothing but all of you since Faramir was healed."

"That was honest!" said Gimli with a grin, hopping from Firgenwine's saddle.

"Well," Faramir interrupted, giving Arwen a one-armed hug, "she was thinking of me first, naturally."

Legolas laughed softy. "I am all right, Éowyn. Everything is all right. You look—"

"Very pregnant!" laughed Faramir. "We know!"

"I was not going to say that," Legolas insisted, but Éowyn was on her way to hug Enguina and Gimli as Legolas grasped Faramir carefully in a hug. "I am so glad you are well and walking, Faramir. I thought neither one of us might make it home."

"We were both very lucky," the man replied, nodding. He looked around him. "Should I assume those to blame for this mess are dead?"

"Very dead, indeed!" called Gimli. "And even though we may look like hell, you should've seen the others!"

"There are a few broken ribs and fingers between us; most of our other wounds are nearly finished healing," Legolas told him, "and Aragorn needs to see the Healer, but we are doing well."

"Of course Aragorn needs to see the Healer," Faramir replied, rolling his eyes. The man was in the process of holding Annî so he could not retaliate. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"It should not," replied Legolas with a smile as Éowyn was hugging Enguina tight. He watched her a moment and it was clear that Éowyn knew something was not quite right...that something had happened while on this journey.

"Enguina," she whispered in her ear, "I am so glad that you all made it home safely. Thank Ilúvatar!" Enguina could not speak for a moment, and Éowyn felt her stiffen beneath her arms. "Is everything all right?"

"It is fine, Éowyn," she replied softly. "How are you?"

"Ugh...fine aside from feeling a bit like a bloated cow." She grinned at her as Enguina shook her head. "I may or may not look it, as Faramir tries to tell me every morning, but I feel it."

"Legless! Legless!" Annî cried as Aragorn put her gently on the ground. She ran into Legolas's knees full-tilt and nearly bowled him over as he laughed. "Gimi! Eguina!" The little girl was so glad to see them all that there was little time to talk and no time to do anything but hug each other, and another round of hugs were soon issued, as no one could let each other out of their sights.

"Come inside," Faramir said, taking Enguina's arm as she was nearest, and Legolas took Éowyn's. "Take some rest, we will prepare some dinner, and Aragorn can make a quick stop at the Healers. It is so good to have you all home!"

Enguina stood on her own in the same cavern that she, Gimli, and Éowyn had stood in before they had discovered the disappearance of Faramir and Legolas. The water over the falls continued steadily, and the sound drowned out her thoughts. She was alone at the moment, but she was unsure if she wanted to be. Part of her felt that was a pleasant surprise...and part of her felt that was the most foolish thing any of them could do right now. It was just the way she felt; in fact, she was not even sure how she felt. Did she want to be alone? Did she want to be surrounded by people? A million things poured through her mind, but she could get a handle on none of them. It was frustrating, to have these thoughts and lose them as suddenly as they arrived.

Dinner had been a happy affair. Faramir was in good humor and had all of them laughing; Annî was so excited to see them all that she had worn herself out. When dinner had ended, it was not too late in the evening, but every one of them was exhausted from the traveling. They would rest here until tomorrow and then journey home. Messengers had been sent by Faramir to Minas Tirith to announce the return of the King and the safety of his comrades. They would be journeying out of Henneth Annûn tomorrow, so at this time, everyone in their party was taking some much needed rest.

As much as her thoughts were in turmoil, what irked her even more was the moment that she heard Legolas's boot scuff behind her on the stone-she had not even known he was there, and normally, he would have touched her to let her know. But because of all the chaos he could not even touch her as a surprise and let her feel his fingertips and know it was him. No, no; he knew very well how she would react—startle and lash out to defend herself. And suddenly, she realized it did not irk her...she was depressed. She did not turn towards him, tears filling her eyes, and he reached up and placed a warm and loving hand on her left arm, and then the other.

"Love, are you tired?" came his whispered voice, and it made her want to sigh. Instead, she nodded slowly, feeling miserable and unable to boost her own spirits to respond in a way that would lighten the mood. He rubbed his hands along her arms, stroking her skin gently. "It is all right to be tired," he told her. "We have been traveling hard for many—"

"It is not that," she mumbled, and he could hear the tears in her voice. She was so sad…and she was not even sure of the reason for it tonight. Was it simply memories of Bragolaur? Or was this something else? "I do not know what is wrong with me."

He brought her back against his chest and slowly crossed his arms around her, pressing his face to the top of her head. "Can we talk about it?"

"What is there that we have not talked about before?" she replied, her face scrunching up in the effort of controlling her emotions. "I cannot…I cannot stop this…this…"

"What?" he asked her gently.

"These feelings. Of insecurity…of despair…of terror…of nightmarish pain. They follow me like a shroud of shadows, like a great weight over my heart. I feel as though…every time the thoughts press in he wins, because it is killing me and tearing us apart."

"We are not torn apart," he tried to encourage her. "I am here; I am not going to leave."

"Why?" she whispered, her voice broken. "You should leave…I am…I am pathetic."

"Stop demeaning yourself," he said, his voice a bit more firm. "You have been hurt, Guin—"

"Do not make excuses for me," she insisted bitterly. "There is no excuse for the way I am behaving, but I cannot…I cannot overcome this despair I feel. I…I do not know what to do." He could feel the tightness in her chest, the tears that fell on his arms. "And I cannot understand why, when I am so changed, you could possibly want to love…this."

"I love you." He released his hold on her and turned her toward him, the moonlight shining through the water to strike their forms as they stood there, silhouetted against the falls. "Did I not ask you to marry me?" he questioned her, cupping her face in his hands. She did not answer at first, assuming he was not seeking an answer. "Enguina?"

"Yes," she whispered. She knew what he was going to say; he had told her a thousand times already. Why could she not believe his words?

"I was well-prepared for everything that meant, everything that goes along with the commitment of pledging myself to become your husband. I will continue to love you, even were the stars to burn out, even through the worst trial we will ever know, even in the most awful circumstances, even when we are so angry with each other we wish that we could walk away and never look back. I will love you, forever and ever. I am not going to leave you. Not ever." He felt as though he was repeating this daily. Why could she not trust him? Why could she not take him at his word? He was desperate for patience when it was not his strength; he was upset that even now, after he had professed his love a thousand times, she still did not trust his word. But he tried to hide it from his face; he did not want her to know that it hurt him for her not to trust him still, after all this time.

"I want to believe you," she whispered, and the words she spoke were true—she desperately wanted to believe him, "but this despair takes my heart and I…and I am…I cannot understand why after everything that happened, after everything you have said, I am still in this place. It has been...what? Almost two weeks since Aragorn and Arwen came to rescue us? Why—" she swallowed hard, downright miserable, "why am I no better? Why have the nightmares not lessened? Why, when I have asked Ilúvatar for healing, has he not answered?"

Her eyes flooded with tears. "Legolas, when I look at you, I do not want to see him. When you touch me, I do not want to feel him. But I do…and I do not know how to stop it! My despair tears me up inside—"

"Guin, you have to…we have to give it some more time. Healing takes time, moina."

"We have barely three weeks before the wedding," she replied miserably, her breath catching as she tucked her hair behind her ears. "We do not have any time. The nightmares need to stop. How can I stop them? I have tried everything!" And she found, as suddenly as the words left her mouth, that she wanted an answer; she was desperate for one. Her eyes pleaded with him to tell her something, to find a way to help her fight him. What could he say?

"Sleep in my arms again tonight," he whispered to her gently, reaching down to draw her hands to his chest. "Before you sleep, we will pray…and then we will talk of wonderful things, like Ithilien and ponies and flowers and sunshine…and perhaps you can forget before you sleep. Perhaps you can leave him behind tonight."

She looked at him incredulously, and her voice reflected her disbelief. "You really think that talking about sunshine is going to prevent a nightmare?"

"I believe it could," he replied, his voice still very soft, "if we are determined to make it work."

"You said the same thing about sleeping in your arms," she whispered back. He leaned his forehead against hers, tightening his hands.

"And it worked for three nights," he insisted. "Do not be so negative. Believe with me that this will work, and keep your mind from him." He smiled then, reaching up one hand to twist the strands of hair from behind her ears, curling one around his fingers. "Think about me instead."

"About you?" she murmured as she watched him nod, hearing that tease in his voice and feeling his fingers winding in the hair she had tucked away moments ago. "What are you doing?"

"Setting the captives free."

"What?" she stuttered out, suddenly blushing. "Stop that…"

His smiled widened. "Why? Because I am sufficiently distracting you? It is my goal for the evening."

"I…I just put them there."

He nodded. "They are too nice to allow them to be tucked away. You should wear your golden hair down more often." He reached up and released the pins that held her hair up.

"Legolas—" she began to protest, embarrassed again.

"There will be less tension in your shoulders and your neck when your hair is down," he told her softly, sending his fingers up into her hair to massage her scalp gently. "Let me rub the tension away." He watched as her eyes closed. "You cannot tell me it does not feel good."

"It is…more than good," she admitted, and he smiled.

"Let us sit here by the falls for a little while, and I will ease your trouble as much as I can," he told her gently. "Come with me." He drew her slowly down by his hands in her hair and against her head. She followed him willingly, because there was no way she would deny herself something that felt so good and comforting. She could only pray that he was right about keeping the memories at bay.

Enguina tried, rather desperately, to trust him.

She sat trembling before the falls where she had been standing only hours before. Her arms wrapped around her knees, head down, shoulders shaking with tears both shed and unshed. She had never felt more alone…and it had been of her own doing. She had chased him away; Legolas had tried everything to remain at her side and she had shunned him, shoving him back and crying out at him, begging him to leave her alone to stop touching her skin.

Trying to tear off her skin in the middle of her dream had frightened him; he had been trying to hold her back from tearing herself apart when she finally came back to her own mind. After screaming and then trying desperately to contain the sickness and terror flooding through her and the memories of Bragolaur, she found she could not do it. Instead, she wept, crying, retching, so shaken she could barely hear him, see him; but she could feel him, and she could not bear it.

As soon as he had turned, she had nearly wanted to beg him to come back and hold her…but she could not do it. She could not hurt him more than she already had, and it hurt to admit that she was in serious pain. So he had done as Enguina had begged him and left her side, left her alone at the falls, staring out into the night, her heart as dark as clouds covered the moon in shadow. Yes, she was alone, and she felt the misery, the darkness sweep over her and she buried her face even harder in her knees and began pulling her hair.

How could she bear to fight something she could not see? This was in her memory, in her head, and she could not get it out no matter what she tried. Thumping her hands against her head and moaning in agony, she sobbed, miserable because of the dream, miserable because she could think of nothing else, and miserable because yet again she had torn Legolas's heart out with her words and actions.

Throwing herself forward onto her knees, she crawled towards the very edge of the rocks, looking down over the falls. As she stared, tears pouring down her face, she studied the rushing drops, the long way down, the sharp rocks that were sure to supply a fast ending. All she had to do was simply let herself go—all she had to do was drop off, fall, and land in that bit of shallow water, and it would all be over. There would be no more dreams, no more misery…just emptiness and darkness.

She hated herself for the thoughts but they came, unbidden; her tears continued.

"Come back from the edge, aiwë."

The words entered her as if through a fog, quiet and whispered. She knew whose they were and what was said, what the words required of her. Looking down over the edge again she suddenly realized how close she really was; all she had to do was lean forward. Lean forward…and she would not have another nightmare. Turning her head, peering out at him through her fingers, she caught sight of his grey eyes. Hers were full of agony; he could see in them how easy it would be.

"Come back from the edge," Aragorn repeated, and he lowered himself to one knee, extending a hand to her as if she were a wounded animal needing to be encouraged not to fear.

She came. As she came to him, she recognized that there had been no request in his voice. It had been a command, albeit a softly spoken one, and she had obeyed him. How could she do anything else? He took one of her arms in his large hand and held her still, but he did not draw her to him and hold her. The part of her that could think was grateful; she could not bear that right now. Her nightdress and hair were wet from the spray of the water and her tears, and she was shivering from cold and the lasting terror. Aragorn reached over and wrapped a heavy blanket around her shoulders and shaking form. Then, he sat down beside her, rubbing warmth back into her back and arms. She did not speak; what could she say? How had he known to come? Had he heard her? Did he have a sixth sense to danger? Did he think that after she had sent Legolas out that she would think of ending it all? Her sobs were heavy; she could not hold them back.

Enguina cried for a long time; it seemed like hours though she had no idea how long it had been or how many times Aragorn had rubbed the blanket to warm her. She sniffed softly, finally getting herself under control, but she still could find no words. That was all right; Aragorn spoke first.

"You need to stop chasing Legolas away." Again, the words were soft, but serious, blunt. She swallowed hard; his hand still rested on her back. It angered her that she could handle Aragorn here, and not Legolas when all the elf wanted to do was comfort her; it angered her that Aragorn had come as Legolas's emissary. If the elf was not allowed, why was the man?

"He sent you." An accusation.

"No," he answered, and she heard no lie in his voice, "but he came to me. He is worried sick over you."

"I would be, too," she whispered.

"He was so distraught," Aragorn continued, "that he was in tears."

That surprised her. "What?"

"Enguina," the man said, and she had to lift her head at the tone of his voice, "have you ever seen someone in agony?"

"I…" she had to think. Agony? She could hardly focus, but then she remembered. "Yes."

"Remember what it was like."

She stared at him; was he angry? His words were clipped, precise; his tone curt. But he did not appear angry…was it concern she was seeing? She had never seen him this way; this was a different Aragorn, and she was unsure how to respond. "It…it was awful."

"Why."

Why had it been awful? She thought back to the moment in the guesthouse not four months before—Arwen had been waiting for her to return with Legolas and had fallen asleep on her divan. They had returned to find her wide-awake and wailing in pain, clutching her chest as though she could tear out her heart, and Enguina had tried to comfort her; Legolas had run for the White Tower.

"There was nothing I could do," she whispered. "I could not make it better by sitting with her, but I could not leave. I was trapped—I could not leave her, but I could give her no comfort."

"Imagine that feeling ten thousand times at least," Aragorn continued and watched her face turn to horror. "Yes…that is what you made Legolas feel tonight…and then you broke his heart."

"Wh…what?"

"You have no idea what your turning him away does to his heart, Enguina. You may, for some reason, wish to be alone, but turning him aside when he is beside you, ready and willing to simply give you the comfort of a presence that aches for your pain…that is entirely unfair." She tried to look away, tears filling her eyes again, but he would not let her, tipping her chin up with his hand.

"How many times has he confessed his love? How many times has he told you that he will never leave you, that he will love you even when there is difficulty? He is hopelessly in love with you; he knows of all your dreams now, there is nothing more to hide from him. You cannot send him away and expect him to be at peace with it."

"I…I did not know what else to do!" she cried out, crushed by his words. "I do not mean to hurt him! He cannot sit by and watch me like this; he cannot touch me!"

"Then let him sit, and when you are ready, let him give comfort. Enguina, if Arwen had sent you from her side, had pushed you away and told you to leave her, how would you have felt? With her in utter misery and you had to turn your back and abandon her."

"No, that is not—"

"It is entirely the same," he interrupted her, "made all the more worse by the knowledge that you are to share your lives together and you are chasing him away at full speed. He knows now; there is nothing left to hide! He wants to help you face it; he wants to help comfort you, even in your worst moments; he wants to care for you when you cannot do it alone. You must share this burden, Enguina. You must."

She choked back tears. "How?" she pleaded with him. "How can I share this? There is no way."

"Let him carry it, as much as he can bear. Tell him about the dream; talk. Sometimes that will be impossible; other times it will be easier. Let him ease your mind, reassure you of his love, of Ilúvatar's love, of the bright morning to come. Let him shelter you from the darkness; see his arms as a refuge, not a prison. But to send him from your side in your moments of weakness is not something you should ever do. You are crushing his heart, Enguina."

Enguina lowered her head, crying openly now, and this time Aragorn did take her in his arms. She gripped his tunic, holding tight to him as she buried her face into his shoulder. Painfully, he held her for a few moments, but he did not let her go.

"He loves you more than anything in this life," he told her gently, "and he would lay himself down at your feet. Let him be beside you, if for nothing else than to give you that presence of faithfulness, of devotion, even when it is hard. It is in our own weakness, Enguina, that we can find our strength. He will be your strength, but you must let him remain at your side."

There was silence for a few moments, and then she felt him begin to draw back from her. "He is here," he whispered, so only she could hear him. "Now…let him come to you, and do not be afraid, but give your fear to him."

Aragorn stood suddenly, releasing her, and she smelled Legolas before she opened her tear-filled eyes to see him. He stood only a few feet from her, and Enguina did not even notice where the man had gone—he may have been a figment of her imagination the entire time he had been there for all she noticed his absence. Her crying increased and she reached for him, crying his name.

"Legolas! Legolas!" she moaned aloud, and he fell down beside her, wrapping her in his arms and holding her tight. "Forgive me! Forgive me! I never meant…I did not mean…I am so sorry!"

"I forgive you," came his whispered words, his voice breaking.

Unable to speak then, she clutched at him, pushing herself to him as though they could become one person simply by the press of their bodies together, and he held her, content to be of some use to her even though it was little.

The delight of Annî was the best distraction on their return journey from Henneth Annûn. Her laughter and joy filled everyone's hearts with peace as they rode through the woods of Ithilien on the second day of their ride. This time, there was no hurry. Éowyn was very heavy now with child; Faramir, Legolas, and Enguina were still recovering and even Aragorn was now flooded with herbs to drive away any last infection. The last Arwen had looked upon it was this morning and it finally was healing quite well.

She found herself spending an awful lot of time thinking on these last few days in their journey. With regret, she had discovered that Soronar had departed Henneth Annûn when he had fully recovered from his wounds—they were unlikely to ever see him again—and those who had known him were sorry they had not even been able to say goodbye. She hoped that Soronar was finally content, that he might find peace instead of danger as he hunted the last of the orcs, and that he might find himself, finally, in the Undying Lands.

She thought of Enguina. The nightmare of two nights ago was a thing of the past, but Enguina's quiet disturbed her. Arwen knew very well that the joy of Annî penetrated even Enguina, but in the evening she became quiet, worried about the long night to come. It bothered her more than she could say; she knew Aragorn had spoken with Enguina and encouraged her again to remember that Legolas loved her, that he would never leave her. She hoped it had been enough. She personally had not spoken about the dreams with Enguina since before arriving in Ithilien, and she hoped that she would not need to do so again. Her hope was that Aragorn's talk and Legolas's hurt had made her realize that she needed to rely on the elf. She hoped. Aside from that, she could not say.

She looked out ahead between Asfaloth's ears and far off she could see the White City—another day's ride. They would be home, and they would be thrown into the turmoil of the finishing of plans for the wedding. Arwen knew that Enguina was probably looking forward to and dreading the planning, but she would do everything she could to make it easier on her. As much chaos as this journey had been, as much worry and hurt had happened along the way, she was a bit sorry to return to their duties.

Aragorn's hand covered hers as it rested on her thigh. She looked over at him and he gave her a little smile. "A kiss for your thoughts?" he asked softly, and she laughed when he brought her hand up to his lips.

"I was only thinking of home," she replied. "I will miss the freedom of being here, of riding…or having the freedom to travel with you."

He smiled. "Yes, I was thinking of it, too." Squeezing her hand, he continued, "We will simply have to make more time for one another, yes? That should not be too difficult."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "No, when has that ever been difficult, Aragorn?"

"Tiriel! Tiriel!" came the cry from behind them, and the two of them turned as Dwimorisen drew up alongside Asfaloth. "I saw a bufferfly!"

"A butterfly?" asked Arwen, grinning at her. "What color was it?"

"Black and blue!" she said, climbing over onto Asfaloth's rump and startling Faramir.

"Annî!" he said, exasperatedly but Arwen just smiled as she felt the little girl's arms encircle her waist as she dropped down behind the saddle.

"It is perfectly fine, Faramir."

"Yes," he sighed, but he reached over and tapped Annî on the shoulder. "Annî, I want you to ask Daddy before you get off his horse."

She nodded very seriously. "Yes, Daddy."

"All right."

"Tiriel!" she cried immediately, turning her head back to Arwen. "I see another bufferfly!"

It went on like this for the next few minutes. Back a few lengths behind them, Legolas, Enguina, and Gimli rode side-by side. Legolas now was riding Brethil who had completely recovered as well, but was watching Enguina at the moment, and he heard her sigh.

Remembering her shunning of him two nights before, he had been keeping watch on her without allowing her to feel caged. He was so worried that she was going to do something completely ridiculous…or run away and never return. If she did the first, he could only hope to be about to prevent it; if the second…he would have to let her go. His heart tightened at the thought, and he knew for certain that he would not be around much longer after that if it was her choice. She had continued to reassure him in small ways about their upcoming wedding, and he knew as well that she was thinking about it as much as he had been. He had no idea what Aragorn had said to her that night, and he was not sure he ever wanted to know. There was no doubt that for the moment at least, whatever he had said had moved her to be a bit more open with him.

"I know what you are sighing about," he said, and when she looked at him, he had quite a twinkle in his eye.

"You cannot possibly know," she replied, knowing that a tease was coming, "unless you have the hidden talent of reading minds."

"Only yours," he answered, raising an eyebrow.

"I think the lass was just sighing about going home. If I was her," Gimli stated loudly, "I'd still be asking you where that house is you promised you were gonna build her."

Enguina raised her eyebrows. "The dwarf has an excellent point."

"Being taken is a good excuse," Legolas complained, and then snorted, "and that was certainly not what she was thinking."

"Oh really? Then what was she thinking, elf?" Legolas looked over at Enguina and gave her a sly little smile. She tried to look away, but she could not for very long.

"Oh no," muttered Enguina.

"If I am right, then you must give me something."

She groaned. "Legolas…I am not bargaining with you."

He completely ignored her. "If I tell you and I am right, you must let me do what you were thinking and you must tell Gimli and me a story of yourself for you keep far too many secrets."

She glared at him. "Fine," she said a bit waspishly. "If you cannot tell me what I was thinking, then you have to tell me every possible thing you can remember about the youngest years of your life and the dumbest things you ever did—"

"Done," he said immediately, and even Gimli's eyebrows shot up.

"I was not finished," she stated, staring at him evenly. "And you have to tell me every last gory detail about your father."

"My father?" asked Legolas incredulously.

"Yes," she said. "You must tell me everything about him and leave nothing out, so I will have nothing to fear when he arrives in all his impending glory."

Legolas sighed, wincing. "Everything?"

"Everything."

He raised an eyebrow. "You are that worried?"

She blushed. "He is not going to like me…and I will not ever be good enough for you, so—"

"Stop that," he interrupted. "You are perfect for me, in every way." His voice was firm and he would not let her look away. "And frankly, my dear, I could not care one bit what my father thinks of you."

"Legolas—" she began, her voice soft, even hurt.

"No," he continued, "I mean every word. I am going to marry you no matter what his personal feelings, because my personal feelings are more important. But I will accept your terms, and I will tell you anything you wish to know." He paused and tilted his head. "It will matter little—you were sighing and wishing that you and I were not separated on horseback, and that I was still seated behind you so you could rest your head upon my shoulder…and that I would hold you again." He smiled, lifting his head. "I am correct, yes?"

Her deepening blush as she looked away was enough of an answer for both the elf and the dwarf. Legolas easily swung himself over onto Lómë's back, lighting gently behind the saddle, sliding one of Brethil's reins through one of the ties on Enguina's saddle, and slipped his arms around her. It was so sudden, she had not even known he was doing it until he was already there and startling her.

"Legolas," she chided in surprise when his hands folded around her waist.

"You made a bargain."

"You never keep yours."

He laughed. "Fine. I shall, due to my clear lack of holding up my side of all of the bargains we have ever made, promise that I will tell you anything about my father that you wish to know within reason. And you," he muttered in her ear, "still owe me a story."

She groaned. "Ugh, I thought you had forgotten." Her mind began racing for a story that would not cause her too much embarrassment before he could think of one that he would demand from her.

"I never forget a bargain, my Guin."

Sighing, she leaned her head back against his shoulder. "I both hate it and love it when you are right." He smiled as she closed her eyes, breathing him in. A sense of peace that she had not been feeling all day came over her and she felt more at ease. Night was drawing near. "My story shall be one of Lórien and Arwen…and Haldir…and his wife."

"Haldir?" Legolas said with a twinkle in his eye. "How does he fit in?"

"Let me tell it, please," she said dryly and he sighed impatiently. "When Arwen first came to Lórien, the very first time, Haldir was…completely taken with her. He knew of her, of course, we all did, and when she arrived with her father, brothers, and Erumar, there was a great feast held in their honor. When Elrond and his sons departed Lórien, Erumar and Arwen remained, and it was then the three of us became good friends.

"Erumar, Arwen, and I would often spend evenings at our home; Haldir would stand in doorways nearby simply to watch us. At first," she laughed, "I thought he was spying on me! I told him off once for bothering us, but it was his embarrassment about anything that dealt with the subject of Arwen that made me notice it was fairly certain he was in love with her. Of course, he thought himself below her and could hardly speak with her when we were together, and he never said two words to Erumar. He was part of the guard at the time, but the three of us were completely carefree.

"One afternoon, I had the most brilliant idea—"

"There was a serious amount of sarcasm in that sentence," Legolas offered and she nodded.

"Indeed! I thought it would be a wonderful idea to follow along the Celebrant further than we had ever traveled before. Erumar and Arwen did not know Lórien as well as me and so I thought it would be nice to share the beauty of it with them. We were delighted to be out and enjoying the summer day when a storm came up."

Her voice grew hushed then as she continued, "It was so fierce and we had been ill-prepared for it, but we took shelter as best we could. I felt awful about it, knowing that there was no way we could travel home in the weather such as it was, but Arwen, always the positive one, kept us all in good spirits. The storm appeared to be clearing, so the three of us set out for home. The river crossing was swollen from the deluge, but we managed reasonably well, in that case as well thanks to Arwen. There were many trees down and branches hanging from them, so we began snapping them off and dueling with each other." She laughed softly, remembering. "Oh, we were such fools. When we were about three or so miles from home, I very vividly remember a resounding crack.

"I remember laughing, half-turned towards Arwen as we were dueling along, and then that sound and I startled. I remember wondering what it was, and then there was a sharp pain in my back, a scream, darkness." She shook her head. "I do not remember if the scream was mine. The next thing I remember was a hand on my face, Arwen saying my name as I was lying face down in the mud. When I opened my eyes and looked at her, I was horrified; the left side of her head was slick with blood, and she was shaking me gently with hands that were coated with mud. I tried to sit up and was immediately sick, perhaps from the blood…I am still unsure."

"Or a head injury." He frowned at her. "I do not like where this story is going."

"You asked me to tell a story," she said, "but you were not specific about which one I chose. It was difficult to gather my wits, to hear what she was saying, but I finally pieced it together: that an old tree had collapsed from the ferocity of the storm. Erumar had seen it too late and shoved both Arwen and myself free from it. The huge thing had fallen on her and she was trapped, unable to move. One of us would have to stay with her while the other went for help. Arwen thought perhaps I had hurt my head as I had been ill, but she was bleeding more heavily than I was, so I offered to go.

"When I came around the tree, I could see Erumar was half-buried beneath it from the waist, her body six inches deep in mud, laying facedown. She was unconscious, mud splattering her face, but Arwen had dug around her with her hands to clear a place so she could breathe. There would be no moving the tree at all or digging Erumar out; it would have been impossible for the two of us. As I turned to Arwen, I realized that she was more wounded than I thought as she also had a leg wound that was bleeding freely.

"I had no choice; I took off as fast as I could for Lórien. I ignored any aches and pains of my own, especially the one in my head. Erumar was in serious danger, and I had no idea how badly any of us were injured. It took me almost half an hour to arrive in Lórien, and I was lucky enough that my brother and the guard had only just returned. There had been several wounded in a lightning strike outside Caras Galadhon. When my brother saw me, he was furiously angry that I had been out in the storm, but when I explained briefly what had happened, they took to the woods. They followed my trail while Haldir forbid me to follow them and left me rather alone at the Healers."

"I bet that didn't last long," Gimli stated, but Enguina shook her head.

"He was so serious, I had no choice but to obey him. I had never seen him in such a state, and I was in no condition to rush back to Arwen's side. I found, upon their return, the price of my amazing journey. Myself, head injury, broken ribs, busted lips, a few broken fingers; I received the least bit of it. Arwen, a head injury, a massive leg wound, and a twisted ankle. Erumar, a broken hip, nearly crushed legs, a shoulder puncture wound, a broken foot and a fractured wrist." She shook her head. "I heard from Arwen that when they arrived, she was moved from Erumar's side and they spent over an hour digging her out and lifting the tree—it took every guard they had. When they finally lifted her out, she was coherent and in pain. Haldir carried her home." She smiled then, and he felt it. "And I did not know it then, but the only good thing that came of that day was that Erumar, in little over two years, would become my sister."

"And ya learned never to do anything so foolish ever again," interrupted Gimli. "Isn't that what you're supposed to end those stories with?"

Legolas shook his head. "Gimli, you know these ladies, with the exception of this Erumar, quite well. Does that sound like my Guin?"

Enguina nudged him in the stomach with her elbow and he winced, lowering his hand from her waist to his ribs. "Oh!" she cried out, half-turning in the saddle. "Legolas, I am so sorry!"

He laughed softly. "I am fine, Guin," he began. "I was only teasing." She glared at him, and he immediately threw his hands up to block her blows towards his shoulders. "Stop, stop! I am sorry!"

"You had better be."

"I am," he said again and leaned forward, quickly kissing her temple. "You live life far too dangerously for my heart," he whispered, looking pointedly at her. "Please, can we be more careful in the future?"

She looked into his eyes and raised one of her eyebrows. "Are you careful, Legolas? Have you ever been careful? If I were to ask, how many stories of your exploits would I have to hear before we would reach the end of those where you had been wounded?"

He winced and frowned. "We were not speaking of me, you know, so I need not answer that question…at least not honestly. Though I will say there are possibly less than you." She snorted and he gave her a little smile. "Remember though that you can ask me anything you wish about my father and I will answer those honestly." She opened her mouth to ask a question and he covered her lips with a finger. "Just not…now. Wait until we are alone," he told her gently. "I wish at least some stories to remain between us."

"All right," she said. Legolas glanced behind them and saw Éowyn still riding along quietly alone. He noticed she was watching them, but did not glance away when he met her eyes. Instead, she smiled; it was clear she was tired.

"Time for lunch, Éowyn?" he asked softly, and he slowed Lómë so they could draw alongside her. Enguina turned at the sound of his voice and looked at Éowyn herself.

"Are you all right?" she asked, a bit worried.

"Tired," she admitted. "I want to drive as you do to get home as quickly as possible, but…" She shook her head. "The contractions are continuing—"

"Contractions?!" Both Enguina and Legolas appeared completely alarmed and they shouted the word, causing everyone ahead of them to turn their horses about and return to find out what was going on. Faramir spurred Dwimorisen into a lope and was at her side before she could respond.

"What contractions?" he asked urgently, drawing the grey up next to Windfola and reaching out to touch her arm, his eyes fixed on her stomach. "Are you all right? What is the matter? Are you in labor? What can I—"

"Faramir!" she said exasperatedly. "See what you two have done? I am not in labor!"

"But they were yelling—"

"Yes, because they do not understand!" she complained, shaking Faramir off. "Honestly, Faramir, I am perfectly all right." She rolled her eyes and looked back at Legolas and Enguina, all of them stopped now around the conversation. "Contractions are very frequent in the last month of pregnancy; I am not in labor."

Legolas appeared abashed and Enguina relieved. "Thank, Eru, I was worried!" she said, placing a hand on her heart. "We were afraid that you were not all right."

"Are they stronger?" asked Aragorn, but Éowyn shook her head, reaching out and laying a hand on Faramir's arm.

"No, they are the same, but sometimes they snatch my breath away. I am fine…I am simply very ready for this baby to come."

"Not here!" cried Legolas, looking a bit panicked, and Faramir even had to chuckle.

"You could not be in better hands, Legolas. Aragorn knows what he is doing."

Éowyn squeezed his arm. "I am sorry I was…a bit catty."

He smiled. "I love you anyway." She laughed as he pressed his lips to her golden hair. "And I overreacted a bit."

"Even I would prefer to have her safe at home," Aragorn interrupted wryly. "Giving birth in a field in Ithilien is not my idea of a perfect birth."

Éowyn laughed. "As if it will be perfect."

"One can always hope, Éowyn."

"Well," Faramir sighed, "given the complete chaos of the first, I would be much relieved if everything was quiet this time around."

"We shall keep praying, of course," Arwen added, and then she nodded at Éowyn, "and I think it would be a good time to take rest. We could all use the stop, and I would like to see my husband's shoulder for a few moments."

"I'm sure the lad would like to avoid that!" laughed Gimli, and Aragorn sighed, being the first to dismount. No one complained about the stop, which said more than anything.

"To be honest, I am glad she is willing; it is paining today, and she is right," Aragorn replied. "We have covered ten miles already today, and Éowyn should rest."

Enguina stretched her legs and then slid down from Lómë's back, Legolas there to half-catch her as she leaned into his arms. "Ugh…too many hours in the saddle," she groaned, and Lómë squealed and shoved her with his head, pressing her even more tightly into Legolas. "I am sorry, Lómë; it is not you, friend. I am simply not used to it."

"Care to take a brief walk with me before lunch?" Legolas whispered in her ear, and she looked up into his eager face. She could hardly respond in the negative, so she nodded, and after tying their horses they left the group. Everyone watched them go…and no one asked or said a word.

They walked along in silence for a little while, weaving in and out of the trees, Legolas leading a step or so ahead of her with her hand in his own. She looked about a very little, and then focused on that hand for a little while before she found her voice.

"It is so quiet out here," she whispered, her voice sad. "Sometimes I feel as though the world is so loud. I fell as though it will sweep me off my feet if I do not pay attention." Legolas remained quiet, but lifted her hand to his lips and then resumed swinging it gently as he led her onward. "Legolas, I…can we stop?" she asked him, tugging his hand.

He drew to a halt and turned to face her, and she could not meet his eyes. She fixed them on the scuffs on his boots, and he murmured, "Can we talk?"

She hesitated and held her shoulders in a shrugging motion. "I honestly do not know."

"Guin—"

"No, listen," she whispered, her voice soft, hurt. "Legolas, I…trust you. I do…but you have to understand how difficult this is for me. No matter what anyone says this is not easy. I…love you; I do. But sometimes the pain and fear overwhelm me and I am left holding nothing. I want to walk away from this; I want to forget it—"

"Then why do you not?" he interrupted her softly. "Why not just let it go? Why not focus on living instead of the past and forget him? Forget it ever happened. Forget he even existed. Begin again, and start your life again…with me."

His words were pleading, a request for her to just pretend nothing ever happened.

"I…I do not think I can do that, Legolas," she whispered, her eyes closing. "He haunts every thought when I am quiet, alone. My skin crawls with the memory of his hands. I…how can I forget something so awful? How can I forget that you were there? That you saw?" She shook her head. "No, that is something I cannot do."

"Enguina, when I look at you, I do not see you lying on the ground in that clearing." She flinched suddenly at his words and he cupped his hand around her chin and cheek.

"Yes, you do," she groaned bitterly, "and how could you not?"

"Why can you not take me at my word?" he replied, frustrated. "I do not see you there. In fact, I do not even think of him in connection with you. He is gone, dead. I want to spend my time with you enjoying your company, enjoying you. Why, in Heaven's name, would I wish to see him?"

Tears sprang to her eyes so suddenly she gasped. "I do not wish to see him!" she cried, trying to pull away even as he tried to hold on. "I cannot escape! I try! I try!" She pulled back again and he gripped one wrist in his hand, trying to hold her. "Let go!"

"I cannot," he said, and the quietness of his voice brought her a moment's pause. "I love you too much. I cannot do what I did in Henneth Annûn, and you and I must confront this somehow, Guin." His face was full of pain. "We must."

"Please…" she begged, tears spilling over. She hated herself for them falling, but she could not stop them. "Please…not now…"

"When?" he said, frustration evident. "Enguina, what…how can I help you? When I try to speak of this, you grow distant, upset. I want to help you; I want to be at your side."

"You…you are," she gasped, and the hand that had been trying to push him away tangled long nails in his tunic-front. "You are here, where I need you. And I…I need you…so desperately, Legolas." Her breath caught on the last words.

He did not know what else to do, where else to turn. How could he do anything else but lean forward slowly and take her gently in his arms? She was shattering…he could see it. How much longer before she was not there to hold? How in the world could he talk to her, make her see? How could he reach her within this depression and heartache? How could he break Bragolaur's hold on her heart?

That was what this was. He recognized it now for the truth of it. No matter what Enguina said about not loving Bragolaur, about his hands on her, his lips…she blamed herself for what had happened. He owned a piece of her, as she had said, in a way he could never understand. He, who had never given himself to another living being, could not understand the sacrifice, could not understand what he had taken from her. She blamed herself for Bragolaur's loss of control; his body against hers, pressing himself to her, forcing himself inside her. The way her hands, every once in a while traveled down to her abdomen without her knowledge—when she did not realize she was gripping her body in phantom pain, in memory of him. And he, Legolas, had promised that the fear she had been dreaming of all this time would never own her…and it had. He had not known what it was at the time, but it had come and taken her, just as she thought it would.

And perhaps that was the truth of it: he had asked her to trust him…and he had failed her. No, he had not broken her heart, but the evil had come and snatched her right out of his arms…she did not feel safe with him. She could not…even if she said the words aloud; he knew she did not believe them. How could she?

The thought broke his heart more than any words ever could.