The porch of the King's House had been quiet enough for the four of them to sit and gaze out over the City after their supper. Dinner had been a quiet affair; Éowyn and Faramir were still recovering from their journey and Gimli had been invited out with his kin, so the table had been set for the four of them only. They had discovered that Aragorn had been lucky enough to avoid the Council for another day, and at least they had appeared rested; Legolas could not say the same for Enguina. The conversation had been very calming, very good for both of them after the day they had, and the peace of Aragorn and Arwen only served to help that along.
On the porch, they had enjoyed the setting of the sun together and spent an hour or so talking about nothing, which had been perfect. Enguina had spent the hour with him on the settee, her head laid back against his chest, her fingers wound in his. Arwen had again seated herself at Aragorn's bare feet, her head against his knee, his fingers in her hair. Legolas had felt it was good simply to be together, but when Enguina began to drift away, he thought it a good time to walk her home. He would have carried her asleep, but she would have none of that. Instead, he had seen them out, leaving Aragorn and Arwen to each other on the porch.
Now, the lamps were lit and the night was cooling; there was a misty rain settling over Minas Tirith. Enguina walked beside him, their fingers laced together as they had been on the porch, her eyes full of him. He smiled down at her as he realized her gaze was on him, and she gave him a little smile in return.
"I cannot believe we did not speak of the wedding," she said softly. "I thought that would be the topic of the evening."
"Perhaps if Éowyn had been present," he laughed. "These two were more concerned with our peace of mind. They knew we were to talk today; perhaps they did not want to rush it with talk of dresses and flowers and tricks—wait, only you and Gimli are allowed to talk of that."
"I have no idea what you are referring," she said innocently, and then added, "They were probably glad you did not have any injuries."
"Were you intending to hurt me today, moina?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "The worst you would have done would be to grip me too tightly. I could have done the same to you."
Her hand tightened in his. "Legolas, you could never hold me too tight."
He smiled. "I am glad to hear that." They walked slowly a little further along the path. "Aragorn and Arwen were good company tonight. Their calming presence, their hope in the One…I feel that through them even when we do not speak of it. It is soothing to me; I hope it was as soothing to you." He smiled. "Arwen's face looked much better this evening."
She tsked at him with her tongue. "Oh, do not even mention time I looked at her I saw my handiwork. I was surprised Aragorn did not have words with me about it." Enguina looked down at the stones as they walked. "And I thought perhaps you would try and get Aragorn alone…so you could speak of me. I thought, at the very least, you would have words with him."
"Aragorn is an excellent reader," Legolas admitted, "always has been. If he thought we needed to talk, he would have found a way to get me alone. I think he could tell that you were all right for the moment; that we had spoken."
"Arwen has no secrets from him," she said softly, and he smiled.
"Is that a source of discomfort?"
"It was," she acknowledged. "When I first found out that she had told him what had happened I was so angry with her I could hardly speak. I could not stay mad for so long, but I…" She shook her head. "But I realize she was right. What…what good does it do to keep things from you?" Looking up into his eyes, she smiled sheepishly. "You who are to be my husband. That is what Arwen was feeling…and she was right. I should know, at this point, that she usually is."
He laughed. "You know, I generally feel that way about Aragorn. Sometimes, I think he knows me better than I know myself. Annoying."
"But useful," she added, and he made a face as they reached the bottom step before the guesthouse. She turned to face him. "You are coming in?" she asked, and her voice trembled a little despite the past lightness of their conversation. He stroked her face.
"My dearest Guin," he told her gently, "there is nowhere you could run from me now. Where you go, I shall follow, barely a step behind. And if you pretend you do not wish me to stay, I would never believe you."
She laughed at him, shaking her head. "Please…please stay."
"You need not plead with me." He led her up the steps and held the door for her; she passed him to enter, but held his hand to bring him inside behind her as he shut it. He tugged her to a halt and studied her. "You were unable to find sleep last evening," he whispered, and his hand tucked free strands of hair behind her ear. "You need to rest. Do you want to talk or—?"
Enguina leaned forward and into him, releasing his hand as she slipped both of them behind his head and interlocked her fingers; she felt his hands come to rest on her waist. "I think I have talked enough today," she whispered. "But if you have anything to say, I would like very much to listen."
"I love you," he told her, kissing her gently. Then, he leaned his head back from hers and sighed softly, running his hands along her back. "Why do you not change into your nightclothes, and I shall wait patiently here for you. Then, you shall rest."
She released him and then smiled as she turned away to do as he asked. Knowing that he had plenty to say and was choosing not to say any of it was interesting to her. She was going to have to be patient, though she had hoped her telling him the truth would help him along with the secrets he had chosen, for one reason or another, to keep. She entered her bedroom and began to dress.
Legolas stood, staring down the hall, remaining motionless where she had left him. He was uncomfortable with the silence. It almost felt as though he did owe her something for spilling her heart out to him, and there were only a few things he had kept to himself. He had his reasons. He sighed softly, and then spoke.
"My father and I…do not get along as well as we should."
His Elvish hearing picked up immediately that the shuffling of clothes had stilled. He had to smirk; he had surprised her by telling something that she never would have expected. He could almost imagine her irritation at being unable to see his face.
Her irritation was clear in her response; he did not need to imagine it. "Legolas, you had to choose this moment to say that?"
"I…just decided to tell you," he said honestly.
He was met with a moment of silence and then her voice came from the bedroom. "Why do you not get along?"
"It is…complicated."
"I am complicated. I am used to that, love."
He gave a wry smile at her response and then moved on. "The King and I are too much alike. We are both overprotective men who struggle with our tempers and love our wi—worlds too much." He had been going to say something else; she could tell.
"That does not seem so complicated," she replied softly, opening the door and leaning against the frame. "Is he really all that bad? You keep making me feel as though he is not going to like me."
"He is not bad," he replied, walking over to stand in front of her. "He is serious, as I told you before. And no matter what your worries, no matter what I say, he is going to love you. There is nothing that he could find fault in."
She raised an eyebrow, and the little smile she gave him was worried. "Nothing? Bragolaur is not nothing, Legolas."
"My father has no need to hear that story," he said firmly. "And still, he could find no fault there. If anything, he would feel awful about what had happened. He would not think you, unlike how you find yourself, unworthy of me, of my love. Which, by the way, is utter nonsense."
"Oh, Legolas—"
"So, he is simply more…serious."
She smiled. "Then it seems you are different."
Legolas looked a bit wistful. "He was not…always that way. He was content, happy even until…" His voice trailed off, and she could tell he wanted to speak; something was holding him back. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."
"Come and sit with me," she said gently as she took him into her room. He sighed as he followed her.
"Enguina, you are supposed to be resting, and I cannot find a way to talk about this subject," he finished bitterly. She was surprised to hear his tone.
"Then you are talking to the right person." She led him to the bed and sat him down with her. "You did promise to tell me anything about your father I wanted to know," she reminded him, and when he looked up to meet her eyes, his wary, she said, "but I am not going to make you tell me if you do not want to."
"I…want to. It may help you understand him; he can be a difficult person to understand.
He paused. "Perhaps tomorrow morning, when you have had some rest?"
It was a question. "Legolas, whatever this is haunts you. Each time you try to speak of it, your eyes become sad, your voice hardens…tell me why this hurts you." There was such a stretch of silence that she thought him incapable of telling her. She was not about to push him, and then his voice startled her.
"My father," he told her suddenly, "has always been a brave man, a warrior. He fought alongside Elrond in the great wars of old; drove back Sauron in the dark times along with his father. He is a strong elf, proud, broad-shouldered. He is not a delicate man; and though he has few real passions, they can seem quite trivial. He has always loved his Realm, his family, with his whole heart. He has always given everything for the good of his people. King Thranduil is well-loved by them—"
"And his son?" she asked softly.
"Yes," he replied, his voice grim. "I love him, but…I lost him. Well, we lost each other, I suppose. Some things change life forever, Enguina, as you well know."
"I do."
"Yes," he agreed, "so this will not be very difficult for you to understand, and perhaps it will give you insight. Our relationship changed forever when my mother died." He shook his head. "I am not ready to talk about her yet, to tell the story; it is…for another time, perhaps. But my father…he was forever altered." He said the words sadly, and she reached up to stroke his face. "I have no idea how he survived her death; I have no idea how he made it through those nights. I have no idea why he did not escape to the Undying Lands. We have never spoken of that time since it happened." He shook his head, looking into her eyes. "But losing my mother cost him something…everything. After that, he devoted himself to defending the Greenwood, protecting our lands, protecting me as much as he could."
"You were his only son," she said gently.
"As much as he wanted to protect me, my father could hardly look into my eyes without seeing my mother," he told her. "The first…few years were very hard on both of us, and I tried to stay away as much as I could. Since then, he has become far grimmer than he ever was. I could never blame him…I do not think I blame him," he corrected miserably, "I do not know! But I look at you and I see how I could never live if you were gone, and even now I understand his terrible grief over my mother, even over my own. Still, I do not know how he—how he lives without her, how he remains."
Enguina closed her eyes, unable to think of anything except the fact that she had nearly killed herself this morning. If it had not been for Arwen… Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to hold them back. "Legolas, I am so sorry," she whispered. "I am so sorry about what happened."
"One day, I will tell you about my mother," he whispered, but shook his head slowly. "But not tonight, Guin. I do not think I could tell the story under cover of darkness; my heart becomes too heavy." She gently stroked his face with her fingers and studied him.
Enguina was sorry for his mother's death, but she was sorrier for the truth he did not know. That she would never be able to admit to him; she hoped he never found out. He leaned forward and tugged her forehead to his as he sighed. They both closed their eyes.
"That is my story for now, and all I can think of to say for tonight," he told her. "Just a…caution and an apology when it comes to my father."
"You do not need to apologize for him," she replied. "I will help cheer him before the wedding. Everything is going to be so much better than you think."
He raised his eyebrows. "That, coming from someone who is afraid that she will not be liked?"
"Your story gave me insight. I am less worried," she reassured him.
He laughed softly. "It is far past time for you to take some rest," he told her. "Lie down in your bed and…perhaps I can sing softly to you, soothe you to sleep." She obeyed him, knowing how heavy her eyes were. They both shifted about on the bed, her getting beneath the covers, and he rose to pull up a chair beside her. She caught his hand and he looked down into her eyes.
"What is it?" he asked gently.
"I…" she began, and then he noticed her chewing on her lip, "nothing."
"Say what you need to say. Do not leave it there, moina."
"I am embarrassed." She lay on her side facing him with the sheet up to her shoulders, her head on her pillow.
"What? By what?"
"My request," she whispered, and he knew then what it would be. "Will you…will you please lie down with me?" The fingers of the hand that held his trembled, the fingers of the other gripped the bed sheet. She was embarrassed of course, but did she honestly think he could say no?
"Did you think I would refuse you?" he asked her softly, and her face tinged red. "Do not be embarrassed. I would hold you in my arms at the slightest look, Guin." He smiled. "I can hardly stay away as it is."
He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed and she watched his back as he began to remove his boots. Standing, he turned back to her as she raised the sheet so he could slide underneath and lay close to her. He took the sheet from her hand—and tucked it down around her. Surprised and a bit ashamed, her blush deepened when he stretched out beside her…on top of the sheet.
"I…" she stuttered, but suddenly realized that she was not sure why she was so embarrassed! Was it because she thought he would have wanted to lie next to her? Was it because she wanted him to lie next to her? Was it not appropriate for him to do so? She felt awkward now, unsure what to say or do; it appeared he understood. "Forgive me…"
Legolas propped his head up with his arm and then began stroking her face with the other hand. "Enguina, your honor is one of the most important things to me," he said gently, giving her a little smile. "I…am trying not to compromise it."
She stared at him and then suddenly looked away, unable to meet his very serious eyes. "Nothing is going to happen, Legolas," she whispered. "You would…you would never…"
"Enguina, what I told you today is the absolute truth," he said softly. "I do wish we were married at this moment. If we were, I would love you all night long with no hurry." He could not be embarrassed by the truth when he spoke, but her blush deepened even more. She felt something in the pit of her stomach and could not decide if it was worry…or something that made her even more worried because she did not understand it. He stroked her hair back from her face. "I do not want you to think that I am only seeking to physically love you," he whispered and she had to look in his eyes. "It is only that I have…I have…" he hesitated, and she could see the fight behind his eyes about whether he should filter himself or not. It was obvious which won out. "I have so much desire for you right now, I do not want to tempt myself and hurt both of us with my carelessness. I honor you, Enguina, and I want to love you that way and give myself to you completely…but…"
She could hear the words he did not say, and so she said them instead. "It would be wrong."
"Yes," he sighed. "Now…it would be wrong. We are not yet married, and even though we have pledged ourselves to one another…no matter what I wish I could…" He sighed, frustrated. "Ignore me."
"I…can barely understand what I am feeling for you," she admitted softly, in awe of the way she felt…odd, off, her palms were sweating. "Maybe I should stop speaking." Her shyness made her look away from him.
"It is all right," he said, and then laughed. "Perhaps I should stop speaking before I say something to offend you."
"Nothing you could ever say in love would offend me. I just…I never thought I could possibly want this, you…perhaps that is why I am so terrified. Perhaps it is because I do want you…d-desire you," she stumbled over the word that Arwen had used, that he had used, "that I feel so…strange."
His face flushed with pleasure, not embarrassment, and he smiled ruefully, withdrawing his hand from her face. "Yes, we should definitely stop talking about this."
"Arwen told me that it was…right…to desire you," she murmured, unable to take her eyes from him. "Is she wrong? In the beginning…just weeks ago…I felt ashamed of these feelings—"
"No, no," he disagreed, "you should not feel ashamed of them. In fact, I am rather…is it quite inappropriate to say that I am pleased to hear that you desire me?"
"Ilúvatar, I feel like my head is on fire," she whispered, placing her hand on her cheek and feeling the burn of her discomfiture. "What I must look like! Yes, Legolas, that is inappropriate!"
He gave her a wicked smile. "I told you we needed to get away from this subject. Now is not the time to be talking about it, especially when we are in your bed."
"That…is an excellent point." She paused and then moved her hand to lay it over his heart. "Legolas…it is not only my feelings I cannot understand…it is yours."
"You cannot figure out why I desire you?" He shook his head in disbelief. He felt such a sudden heat rush through his body, but he forced himself not to touch her. Lord! Give me strength. "Guin, I am sorry that I cannot possibly describe to you all the reasons why, or the ways, I desire you. In fact, it would not only be completely inappropriate, but...I would very much embarrass you and myself…and I think on that, you should go to sleep."
"Will you tell me once we are married?" she asked softly, fingering the ends of his hair.
"Yes," he reassured her, struggling with his own self-control. He did not want to risk it; he did not want to risk frightening her.
"That will have to be enough; two weeks?"
He groaned. "Thirteen days." Legolas stared down at her and closed his eyes as she stroked his jaw. Torture…Ilúvatar, do I need to go and stand out in the rain? "Time for bed."
"Are you all right?" She had felt his jaw tighten beneath her fingers.
"Perfect," he said, rolling his eyes beneath their lids. "Go to sleep, moina."
She tucked her hand beneath her chin and smiled at him. "I love you."
"I love you," he repeated, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, and trying to shove away his feelings as far as he could get them.
It was not too long after Legolas and Enguina left that Aragorn and Arwen had made their way inside to dress for bed. Standing in their bedroom, Aragorn began changing, Arwen in the bath sitting near the mirror. He could hear the brush running through her hair and it made him smile. It also made him think that he would like to be the one doing that…but with his fingers…preferably while planting kisses all along her bare shoulders and collarbone.
He shook his head, nearly laughing at his own reckless thoughts. They had been so exhausted last night, but he knew they had been better rested today as they had slept later. Aragorn avoiding meeting with the Council completely had thrilled them both, and she had remained sleeping longer with her head on his heart. Tonight…he could not help feeling as though he wanted her to hear her own blood pounding in her ears. Picking up a button-down tunic, he swallowed hard and headed towards the bath. Was he wrong to be thinking this way tonight? But no, they had not made love for some time, and what, pray tell, was wrong with desiring your wife?
When he arrived, he rested his shoulder upon the doorframe and watched her quietly brushing. His shoulder felt in fairly good condition today, and he could not help as he stood there, to be utterly distracted by her beauty, her gracefulness. He desired her tonight…the way she had leaned back against his legs outside, the way the moonlight had glistened off the skin of her throat as she laid her head across his knee, her hair flowing down behind her as he ran his fingers through it. He swallowed again. These thoughts were not helping him regain some calm!
"I do not think we will see Enguina tonight," Arwen said, continuing to brush and completely oblivious to his obvious distraction. "Legolas is bound to spend every minute of every night with her until they are wed. And he should."
He nodded. "He will. I do not think he would have last night either if Faramir had not made it clear it was a bit improper."
"It is not as though he is taking her to bed," she spoke more softly. "Legolas would never lay harm to her honor." She shook her head. "She is too afraid anyway."
"That comes as no surprise," Aragorn said with a bit of a smile, "with everything that has happened to her and that she has no knowledge of love-making in general. We would not know anything about what that last feeling is like." She could hear the sarcasm in his voice.
"Thank Ilúvatar we got past that barrier," she groaned softly, raising an eyebrow. "God, what an awful feeling—"
"It was not awful," he said defensively, standing straight to walk over to stand behind her. "It was…a learning experience."
She met his eyes through the mirror, her chin tilted up and to the side. "Oh…I learned quite a lot." She took in the sight of him, impossible not to notice the strength of his body, or the fact that his tunic was still unbuttoned, showing every muscle in his torso.
"Still learning," he murmured, and he lifted a hand to run it along her arm very slowly, moving up towards her shoulder. He felt her hold her breath and watched as she closed her eyes, his touch causing her skin to flush with pleasure.
He could not help himself; it was simply too tempting. He slowly bent over her shoulder and kissed her throat, below her jawbone…and continued planting kisses, feeling the blood now pulsing through her neck. She dropped the brush to the floor and her fingers found his hair as she raised her arm, combing down through it and dragging her nails slowly through his beard. Even with the chair between them, she could feel the heat of him against her back, and his desire was so loud in her head that she could not help but smile.
Feeling him slip the nightdress from her left shoulder and continue the inevitable kissing, she was right there with him. It felt as though it had been months since they had made love, and even so, she would not have ever wanted to stop what she was feeling for him right now.
"What more is there for you to learn?" she asked, nibbling her lower lip at the press of his kisses on her skin. "You are so good at this already."
"I…wanted to sound as though I had control over this situation," he whispered into her shoulder, but then shook his head, his lips and nose brushing back and forth against her skin. "I do not."
If you do not, who does? She meant to speak it aloud, but the words never came out her mouth, only echoing in his head. Instead, she found herself maneuvered from the chair and into his arms, pressing herself against him, slipping her hands around his ribs and beneath the tunic as her lips moved to his. The nightdress lay on the floor behind her; she must have knocked the other shoulder off as she moved.
He was not about to complain. Groaning softly as she pressed against him, he wound his hands into her hair, drawing her even more tightly to his mouth. She trembled hard when the edges of his thumbs brushed her ears.
"Ilúvatar…" she whispered, "you undo me."
She moved forward herself and kissed against his skin as he had hers, but she was so tangled up in him already that she stumbled, pushing him backwards until he was flat against the wall. He wanted to laugh, but he could not, so moved, so distracted by her hands on his skin and how much he wanted to be with her. His hands ran down her back, massaging her bare skin; he did not want to stop touching her.
"We should move to the other room," he murmured, her lips beneath his chin, "before—"
"Before what?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him. His eyes were dark and intense, much like hers. She nudged the tunic from his shoulders and the smooth fabric slipped from his skin. "You have a few layers of clothing that are unnecessary," she whispered, her voice low.
"We are going to end up here all night," he told her, nearly certain of it now.
"Not all night," she murmured back, capturing his lips again in hers for a long kiss. When they were breathless, she broke it off to speak. "Just now…I do not want to stop long enough for the walk and my knee is sore. You started here. If you had wanted to move," she teased him easily, "you should have waited until I came in our bedroom."
"You completely distracted me, vanimelda," he protested as she pressed herself against him again. "What can a man do?"
She ran her hands from his ribs, up his chest, and past his heart to his neck. "Continue to learn, I suppose," she whispered, tilting her head down to kiss his neck near her hands as she lifted his chin with her thumbs. "There are times I think I know your body better than my own." Her left hand made its way down to his shoulder, studying the new wound from the branch with her fingers.
"I know yours," he murmured, dropping his hands even lower to the small of her back. "I have memorized every bit of you. Let me lay you down and show you."
"I welcome that. What did you have in mind?" she asked, still kissing him, her hands traveling as his were. She looked into his eyes and his were shining, full of his devotion to her.
"Loving you until I have no strength left," he replied honestly, and she laughed softly, deciding to give up on conversation and eagerly give in to him. Pressing herself against him again, he growled low in her ear and she laughed. "You undo me," he whispered passionately, running his hands up her back to curl his fingers up and around her ears, brushing the tips and making her tremble. "Perhaps I should stop now…and we should sleep," he teased her.
"As if you could," she breathed out in his ear, her voice grew tight as his fingers toyed with the ends of her ears and he chuckled. She could hardly control herself, her hands tightening on the back of his neck. Her eyes were dark with passion and the pleasure of his touch as she murmured, "But stop now, and you will rue the day you scorned me."
He laughed as his hands swept down to her hips.
Legolas knew it was happening before it happened. He had expected it; from all their talk of Bragolaur today, there was no way she was not going to have a dream.
"No…please…no…"
She was muttering in her sleep, but in his head he could hear her whispering for him. That was what had woken him; he was grateful that the dream had not progressed far enough that she was to the most painful part—he might still be able to wake her. Her body began to tremble, and he reached out and slipped his arms around her, tugging her to him.
The tightness constricting her woke her immediately. She gasped and lashed out once, hitting him square in the chest with her fist before she realized what was happening. "Oh…" she huffed out, staring at his throat, the collar of his tunic. Then tears flooded her eyes and she closed them tight, lowering her forehead very slowly to his collarbone.
"It was just the dream," he whispered. "Everything is all right."
"You are here," she breathed out slowly, as she felt Legolas's hands caressing her back. "You are here, not him."
"That is right."
"And it was only the dream," she whispered.
"Yes," he replied, his chin bumping the top of her head.
"And…I am safe."
"Very."
Forcing the blanket aside to free her hands was a chore, but she successfully managed after three tries, tucking herself ever closer to him. She focused on breathing and slowing her racing heart. "I am probably going to have several more of these tonight," she whispered.
He swallowed; it killed him to see her this way, and now to know what she was seeing was even worse. Did she relive that same experience every time? Did he always come for her the same way? Did no one ever rescue her? "Do you always see him?" he asked her gently, bringing his warm hand up beneath her hair and resting it against her neck.
She nodded. "It is always him now, Legolas," she said tiredly, and he felt her lashes brush his throat as she closed her eyes. "He is always waiting there…ready to have me." Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "Any way he chooses."
"I swear," he promised, kissing the top of her head, "that I will be here forever to stop him."
She was silent for a moment. "Thank you," she sighed, and he could hear she was nearly ready to fall back to sleep. He said no more, and she finally drifted back to sleep in the comfort of his arms.
"Aragorn, you have to let me get up," Arwen laughed as she tried to roll away from him. Thinking he was going to be exhausted, she thought this would be easy, but it was proving difficult; his hands kept touching her, prodding her to stay. They had to get up; the two of them had spent the morning out with the Council, but then returned to the House to prepare for dinner. She never should have agreed to come back this early; she never should have allowed him to return them to the state they had been in last night; and she never should have let him keep her here for half-an-hour longer when she had told him the last time they needed to be moving. She tried to move, but his hands were still holding her tight, one hand behind her knee, the other—Ilúvatar, forgive me! "Aragorn—" she half-squealed, half-moaned.
"Arwen…"
"You have to let me get up," she insisted, groaning. He was kissing her ears, his face buried in her hair, and she was having a hugely difficult time convincing herself of a desire for him to stop. How many times had they made love between now and last night? She was going to be so sore tomorrow she would barely be able to walk, her knee, her back—forget it and curse her whole lower body! What did she care if they were late, if every muscle in her body ached from giving herself to him—what did she care? His shoulder would be stiff from holding her, but he did not seem to mind. What difference did it make?
And then the bells rang out and she realized how late it truly was. God, your hands, your hands! Stop, Aragorn! That is driving me mad!
With desire… "Mmm," he murmured into her throat now and her head fell back; she was breathless.
She shifted her body, trying to slip away, the half of her mind with a sense of propriety and common sense trying to win out. "You have to stop that!"
"I do? Why?"
"We promised our friends they could always have dinner here!"
He lifted his head, but not far enough so that she could look at him, just so he could kiss her jaw. "It was not a fair promise," he murmured. "I cannot let go of you."
"We have not…" she lost track of her thought, exhaling hard. "We need to be sensible."
"You are asking me to think rationally, which I believe myself incapable of at this moment."
"What if Enguina and Legolas were to come here now?" she pleaded softly. "They would not understand. They would go hungry."
"I think they are intelligent enough to make sense of a locked door, beloved," he teased her, finally lifting his head. "Even the dwarf could understand that."
"We must bathe yet before we are dressed," she said, and then laughed when his beard tickled her. "Oh, Aragorn! We will not have enough time to bathe and dress!" He knew there was no returning to the mood when she was so focused on their friend's imminent arrival. The teasing was done.
"May I help you bathe at least, then?" he asked and she looked pointedly at him, feeling the touch of his hands and biting her lower lip.
"What do you think?"
"Yes." His voice was full of hope.
"I will let you try again."
"What about helping you get dressed?"
Her nails tightened in his shoulder. "My patience has worn out, Aragorn."
He chuckled and released his hold on her so she could slip out of bed to her feet, stretching her back and groaning. "Ugh…my back is sore," she muttered, and he laughed.
"I can help with that—"
"No!" she yelped, hopping away from his reaching fingers and holding out her hands to stop him. Then she reached down and grabbed her knee, hissing, and only setting her toes down on the floor. "Honestly, have you not done enough damage for one day?"
He gave her a wicked smile. "The day is not yet done, love. I could rub your knee as well. You are sore," he said, looking a bit guilty as he stretched out across the bed the wrong direction, his feet hanging from the one side. He stared at her, unable to look away.
"Your shoulder will be shortly," she replied, gathering fresh clothes and trying to avoid meeting his gaze. "Now, go and get your clothes and be ready to bathe in five minutes."
"Five minutes?" he laughed incredulously. "That is the fastest bath that I think you have ever taken."
"That is all the time we have!" she cried, leaving the room without looking back at him as he continued to chuckle. "Legolas will probably be here any minute and—"
"Calm down, calm down. We will be ready for them," he said soothingly, getting to his feet as well and following her orders.
In truth, Aragorn heard the knocking and the voices just as he was getting out of the bath and it was certain that it was the elf and his betrothed as well. He came into the dining room easily when he was ready, and seeing Arwen's cheeks flushed, he assumed Legolas had been teasing her. Enguina however, clearly noticing they were running late, had immediately began helping Arwen prepare for dinner. Arwen glanced at him, a clear I-told-you-so, and he felt…reasonably guilty, as he supposed she had hoped he would feel.
"You are a bit wet, my friend," Legolas said on the side to him, and Aragorn smiled comfortably and leaned in towards him, eying him carefully.
"Legolas, when you have wed Enguina, and your experience is as my experience," he whispered, "you will know what it is to be late…and not worry about what anyoneelse thinks, especially your friends."
"Cannot even be properly embarrassed, can you?" the elf asked with a smirk.
"I cannot wait to see you three or four mornings after your wedding," Aragorn replied dryly.
"Three or four—?"
"We will not see you before then," he stated with confidence, and then turned away to see what Enguina was doing. Legolas shoved him gently, but then began to prepare the table for dinner. "Enguina, how are you both today?"
She glanced up at him as she was chopping some celery, trying to smile. "We...our sleep was a bit broken."
Arwen covered her chopping hand. "Are you all right?" she asked worriedly.
"Legolas was with me," she said softly, and Aragorn stepped closer to her. "He kept reminding me that I was safe. He would wake me before…before things could get too ugly."
"She did not injure herself last night at least," Legolas said in the same quiet voice. "I think this is a step forward." Enguina forced a laugh.
"There was no—running?" Arwen asked, her eyes full of worry, and Enguina shook her head, her eyes widening in caution toward her. No, Arwen! Do not mention that!
"Running?" Legolas questioned immediately, understanding that there was clearly something he was supposed to miss in that exchange. "Where would she have been running to exactly?"
"You…" Arwen began, frowning at her, "you did not tell him?"
Enguina groaned, dropped the knife, and rested her forehead against the back of one hand. "Not about that, Arwen! You are supposed to be my friend! Why would I tell Legolas such a thing?"
"Is this need to know?" Legolas asked, a bit miffed as he crossed his arms. "Because I have every right to know anything that pertains to you."
Enguina raised her eyebrows and turned to look at him. "When did you acquire that right?"
"When we agreed to wed, moina," he replied sweetly. "Just as you have every right to my secrets—not that I have many, mind you."
"I think it is all right if Legolas does not know," Aragorn said softly, and Legolas turned his head so fast to look at him that he thought his head might fall from his shoulders. "I am not saying she should not tell you, I mean that I feel as though it is over already. She would not ever do something like that again."
"That was very unhelpful, Aragorn," Legolas complained. "One of you needs to speak of it."
"Because of the dream, Enguina headed for the Embrasure," Arwen told him. Legolas felt his breath catch and his heart plummet to his toes; he noticed Enguina could not meet his eyes.
"Wha….wha…how close did she get?"
Arwen looked at him pointedly. "Close enough," came her reply. "Legolas, I do not believe that it will happen again," she added quietly, "but you need to be aware. To just be ready to—"
"It will not happen again," Enguina said immediately, and Legolas looked to her, worry plain upon his face. "I promise," she swore softly, cursing Arwen for her honesty. He covered her hand briefly and then moved away, saying nothing else. She knew that it meant there would be a conversation later. She would have no escape from him when they were alone in the guesthouse.
Legolas and Aragorn made their way to the table and were seated tearing apart some meat for the stew when Enguina made her way to stand beside Arwen again. "What the hell is the matter with you?" she whispered angrily, and Arwen gave her a woeful look.
"I am sorry you are so angry," she whispered back. "I cannot lie about what happened. I came back here that morning and cried for over an hour. I was afraid you would do it again."
"Not after our conversation!" she growled. "Why would I when I had already spoke to Legolas and told him the truth?"
"Because the dreams are not gone, Enguina," Arwen said, exasperated. "Who knows if you may have one again that becomes too much?"
"It will not," she said determinedly, and suddenly her cheeks seared with color. "Legolas is sharing my bed; there is no way he would let me run from the room. I would never get to the door without him catching me." Arwen was silent for a moment, as though absorbing the thought of the two of them in bed together before the wedding; at least that was what she appeared to be doing and it only fueled Enguina's irritation. "You know," she said waspishly, "you would have had no trouble before with that if—"
"Peace, Enguina," Arwen interrupted her with a voice overloaded with long-suffering. "You do not even give me a chance to speak and then you immediately leap to the wrong conclusions. I have no problem with you and Legolas making whatever choice is best for you, in fact, I am thrilled about it." She glanced up and met her eyes for a moment, and her face remained serious when she said, "You need to stop lunging for my throat. I am not here to hurt you or feed you to the dogs, and I am sorry that my worry for your well-being overrides my worry for your anger at me."
Enguina realized that Arwen was right. A few hours ago, she had been feeling guilty that she had been nasty to Arwen, and here she was doing it again. She lowered her chin and looked suddenly sad, even though Arwen was not looking. "I am sorry," she whispered. "Sometimes my…temper…gets the better of me. I do not mean to be so…rude and ungrateful. I only…I cannot stop thinking that Legolas does not need to know everything about me every waking moment, and that you all seem so intent on telling him everything. He did not need to know that."
"Aragorn took your side," Arwen replied. "You can take comfort in that, I suppose."
Enguina rolled her eyes. "Well, you did say you did not think it would happen again, so I should take comfort in that. You do not think me so mad as to try and take my life when Legolas is right before me."
"You are not mad at all," Arwen began to insist, but she did not continue. Instead, she moved to the table to collect some of the meat Legolas and Aragorn had cut so she could dump it into the stew. Enguina watched her. When she had arrived, Arwen had seemed revitalized, refreshed…as she had several months before. Now, she seemed tired, almost sad again…depressed. She was determined that she would set things right through this meal.
Gimli sat at the table now, laughing with Aragorn and Legolas as Arwen finished grilling the pan cakes they were to have with their meal. Éowyn would be pleased, she thought, as they were one of her favorite foods; she was cooking them especially for her as she had not been feeling well and they were coming tonight with Annî.
"Lass, those smell mighty good!" laughed the dwarf. "When can I eat one, eh?" The sparkle in his eyes at the delight of getting a cooked meal by her made her forget to worry about Éowyn and smile at him.
"As soon as they are finished, Gimli," she said with a laugh, "which will be very shortly." She shot a glance over her left shoulder, "Why do you not eat some of the fresh fruit on the table?"
"It'll taste better with the cakes," he said, but then he shrugged and turned around. "What about the stew? Can I eat some of that?"
"No, Gimli," said Legolas, rolling his eyes. "You can wait with the rest of us to say grace and until Faramir and crew decide to arrive."
The crew arrived shortly. Éowyn was considering herself two now, since she kept saying she ate as though she was two people. That was always said with slight embarrassment where Faramir always reached over and rubbed her back in a consoling sort of way. There was some color in Éowyn's face tonight, and they were all pleased to see that. Faramir drew a chair to the table for her as Aragorn held Annî; she was laughing in his face and he kissed both cheeks. He brought her over to Arwen so the elf could give her a kiss and then he set her down so she could run and give hugs to the rest of their large family.
"She is growing so fast," sighed Faramir and Aragorn nodded with a laugh.
"Indeed," he replied, and then felt Faramir give him a light punch to the arm.
"Éowyn and I heard about that excitement you got our little girl into. Be careful at the Anduin, my friend."
Aragorn gave him a mock frown. "Ah, she told you? The little sneak; and Arwen and I had worked so hard to teach her to keep a secret."
Faramir smacked him in the arm, but then grew serious. "Éowyn's heart nearly failed when Annî told the story. Thank Ilúvatar that Brego was there, that you and Arwen were able to protect her." He clasped his arm. "I finally understand what the Elvish word for guardian means."
"You understood before," Aragorn acknowledged softly, "it is only that it was used, put in play, that you see it. Arwen would have died to protect her…we both would have."
"I know," Faramir replied, and Éowyn covered her ears.
"Please, speak of it no more, both of you," she murmured. "I cannot stand the thought of it. If either one of you had done such a thing, I would never have been able to forgive myself."
"You would have had nothing to do with it," Aragorn told her, and he reached out and touched her hair, "and nothing to say about it if it had happened, I am afraid, Éowyn. But fret not; you are here now, so there is no reason why your husband cannot give his life instead." Faramir shoved him in the shoulder.
"Please," Éowyn begged, "stop teasing me."
"Yes," Arwen added from the stew pot. "Leave her be and let her rest, both of you." She placed the cakes on a plate and set them on the table as everyone began to take their seats. "The cakes are done."
"Food!" cried Gimli, and Faramir laughed as he watched the dwarf fill a plate.
They said grace and began eating and Faramir leaned in closer to Aragorn and away from his wife, as Enguina inquired after how she was feeling. "Éowyn has not been feeling very well these past few days. She is not due for a few more weeks, so I am…worried."
"It might very well be nothing," Aragorn replied in a low voice.
"Yet it is enough to keep me worrying," he sighed. "Annî was difficult enough; I worry so for her." He flashed a look over his shoulder, and then looked back at Aragorn. "I tried to talk her into stopping at the Houses this morning, but…you know how that went."
"She would have none of it. I am not surprised," Aragorn admitted, and then he rested a hand on Faramir's shoulder. "Try not to worry, Faramir. Women understand their bodies better than we do. She will go if there is something wrong or something feels off…she would never let any harm come to that child."
Faramir smiled. "Yes, that is my Éowyn."
"Faramir, what are you saying about me?" she asked from behind him, tugging on his ear.
"Ouch," he said, and titled his head so she could not reach him. "Nothing dearest."
"How could it be nothing when I heard my name?"
"Come now, Éowyn," said Enguina with a laugh, "I am sure that Faramir was complimenting you to Aragorn. Were you not, Faramir?"
"Oh indeed!" Legolas laughed as well. "Please, Faramir, tell us all what lovely things you were saying about your wife."
"Oh, I think I will keep them to myself, thank you," he said, leaning back in his chair.
"Probably not appropriate for our ears!" hollered Gimli, and Annî laughed at his loud, booming voice. Faramir rolled his eyes as Gimli made some silly faces at Annî, causing her to continue giggling and make them back.
"Oh Gimli, do not teach her that," groaned Éowyn.
"I think it unlikely Gimli will teach her anything that has not already been taught by your husband," added Legolas with a grin.
"Legolas, when is your father arriving?" asked Arwen softly. "It is only eleven days before the wedding and he is not here yet."
"I have no idea," he glanced at her and gave a nervous little smile, a bit out of place on his face. "Perhaps he is not coming and I simply assumed he would be here."
Enguina laid a hand on his arm. "Of course he is coming," she assured him. "As if he would miss his son's wedding!"
"And what of Éomer?" asked Gimli. "He isn't here yet either!"
"Who is Éomer again?" questioned Enguina. "Forgive me, there are so many names I do not know."
"My brother," Éowyn replied, thinking of him fondly. "I have not seen him now in several years." She frowned. "He and I were always very close. It makes me feel guilty."
"You do lead separate lives now, my love," Faramir reminded her, "with very different responsibilities."
"I suppose Erumar is not going to come," Enguina said with a bit of a sigh. "I was so hoping she might just…show up."
"She may yet, Enguina," Arwen murmured. "Do not give up on her yet."
Faramir realized that Éowyn was really only moving the food around her plate. He was not the only one who noticed. "Are you not hungry, dearest?"
"I was," she said softly, staring down at the food turning her stomach, "but…" She shook her head. "I am not feeling very well at the moment."
"Mommy, are you sick?" asked Annî.
"Mommy is tired, sweetheart," she replied with a weak smile.
"You do seem a bit pale," Legolas pointed out, and Éowyn nodded.
"Please excuse me; I am poor company for this evening." She sighed and swallowed. "I should have stayed home and let Faramir and Annî come."
"We would not have left you at home," Faramir insisted, but worry creased his brow. Aragorn stood and went to stand beside Éowyn's chair.
"You can rest in the other room, Éowyn, if you would like to lie down. You are more than welcome."
"No, no, I am all right," she murmured, but she rested her head against the back of her hand, and then Arwen stood as well.
"Let me get you a pillow, Éowyn, and you can lie on the divan."
"We insist," Aragorn said, and Faramir stood to help her to her feet. Enguina watched her carefully as Faramir began to walk with her, Aragorn only a step ahead. Arwen came in and took Éowyn's arm, stepping in front of Faramir.
"Go, eat," she said. "Let me take her." Faramir hesitated, but Éowyn nodded.
"Listen to her," she said, reaching up to touch Faramir's face. "I will be fine." He kissed her palm and then turned back to the table to catch Annî at his feet.
"Daddy, can I go with Mommy?" she asked and he smiled.
"Of course you can. She is going to lie down; do you want to stay with her?" She nodded and Faramir stepped out of her way.
"Follow Tirion, all right?" Faramir watched her run from the room and then took his seat at the table. He groaned as he sat, saying, "Ugh…women can be so stubborn."
Legolas smiled, but Enguina's features remained concerned. "She does not seem well at all. Is she all right, Faramir?"
"Neither one of us slept well last night; Annî was awake with several…odd…dreams. We took turns trying to get her to sleep, but it was a very long night." He shook his head. "If I knew anything about birthing children, which I seriously do not…I would say this child is going to be early."
"Is that all right?" asked Enguina.
"What are your thoughts, Aragorn?" Faramir asked as Aragorn returned to the room and resumed his seats again. "You know a bit more than I do. Do you think the child will be early?"
"A bit," Aragorn said softly. "We will not know yet if she will be early, though she seems to be larger than she was with Annî and she is carrying the child lower—"
"And she has been under more stress than she was with the last," Legolas admitted.
"That is also true," Aragorn replied and Arwen entered the room. He looked up at her. "Éowyn is resting comfortably now?"
"She was asleep in moments," she replied, taking her seat as well. She looked up and caught Enguina's eye. "Enguina, do you have plans for Wednesday morning?"
"Um…no?"
"How about swimming in the Anduin?" Arwen asked her. "Tomorrow, Aragorn and I are in the City, but on the following day I am free. I know we were speaking of riding there and swimming the horses. Would you like to come?"
"Would I ever," replied Enguina, grinning. "Yes! That would be wonderful."
"But you don't like water!" cried Gimli, confused. "Why would that interest you at all?"
"It is different," Enguina tried to explain. "On horseback, everything is different."
"I still don't get it," complained Gimli, shaking his head.
"If I may," began Legolas, "is it possible I can invite myself?"
"No," laughed Arwen, "you may not! I want to take Enguina to the Anduin; consider it a ladies' day out…with no male interference."
Legolas laughed and raised his hands. "Fine, fine! Exclude me."
"We did," Enguina giggled and nudged him with her elbow.
"It probably is not the greatest idea to go swimming down there alone—" began Faramir.
"Do not worry," Arwen said softly. "Asfaloth and Lómë will keep watch over us."
"And Arwen will keep watch over Enguina," added Aragorn, clapping his hands together. "There now! Nothing to worry about."
"Honestly?" asked Enguina, narrowing her eyes at Aragorn. "I never forget a teasing comment that I would like to exact revenge for."
"She is not lying about that," Legolas sighed, leaning back in his chair. "She never forgets."
Enguina slapped him with the back of her hand in the stomach and he flinched and laughed. "Where is that perfect Legolas posture?"
He shrugged. "I am trying to relax, moina. You should try it sometime."
She rolled her eyes. "How am I going to put up with this every day for the rest of my life?"
"The same way you are doing it now," said Faramir, "and because of some delightful twist of fate and for reasons even you cannot fathom, you adore and love the mad elf."
Arwen laughed and smiled. "Oh, it is nice to be home, is it not?"