Legolas was very quiet, and it disturbed her. He clearly did not want to speak, but there were many things on his mind as he sat by the window looking out into the night. She felt guilty that she had heard the end of their conversation when it had been private, when she had not meant to. No, she needed to talk to him, to draw him out. She had seen him sullen like this only a handful of times, and every time she hated it more. It was so unlike his personality.
She came up behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders.
"Legolas," she murmured, drawing out his name in a sing-song voice.
He gave a little smirk, though she could not see it. "That is a voice I have not heard before. I think I like it…quite a lot.
"I could sing to you," she offered, unsure where the suggestion came from or why she was suggesting it to begin with.
He turned his head. "You are trying to make me feel better," he accused, his eyebrows raised.
"I know you are upset."
Legolas sighed and closed his eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair and then rested her hands on the sides of his neck. "I…" He had no intention of telling her, of talking to her about it, but here he was. "Thranduil thinks I am acting dishonorably towards you."
She stared at him, stunned, and he opened his eyes. "Why? How could you be?"
"Oh, he saw us…or at least what he thinks he saw," he said bitterly. "He thinks I am taking you to my bed out of wedlock. He saw me take you here last night and not come out until morning. He thinks we are bedding each other."
She was silent for a moment, thinking. "I…hate that he thinks you would even think of that when you are such a gentleman, but…we did know that people would talk." She looked guilty, and his eyes became full of irritation.
"Not my own father."
"Perhaps if I just told him—"
"No," he interrupted firmly. "We should not have to explain anything. We are doing nothing wrong; we are together for several reasons, all of them important. What is more, we are going to be wed in eight days; that is what matters, not whether we are sleeping with each other."
"Legolas, it does matter," she murmured. "I would hate to think that you were the most honorable man imaginable and then you gave up those principles because you met me. That is what Thranduil is probably thinking. He does not understand—"
"Exactly," he stated. "He leapt to conclusions. After all this time when I have never, ever taken another woman to my bed, he thinks I would betray your honor?"
"Would it be betraying my honor if I gave myself to you? Or asked you to have me?" she asked, shaking her head. "No, therefore, it is a possibility that he thinks—"
"That is even worse!" Legolas cried, horrified. "To think something like that of you is—"
"But your father does not know me as you do," she reminded him.
He reached up and covered his ears. "I will not think of you this way. I will not." He stood and turned away from her, crossing his arms in agitation. "Stop speaking of it. It disgusts me."
"I do not like it when you are arguing with someone," she said softly, feeling awkward speaking to his back. "Your father is only here for a short time. Can we not simply explain—"
"We do not need to explain anything," Legolas repeated, shaking his head. "We are doing nothing wrong." There was silence behind him, and then he felt her hands on his arms.
"How did your mother enter that conversation?" she asked gently, and she felt the rigidness leak out of him.
"I…was angry," he whispered. "I did not mean to…" He shook his head. "No, I meant to wound him. I was angry, and I was wrong to mention her." He sighed, and lowered his head. "My greatest fault. I knew that bringing her into the conversation was wrong, and I was too volatile to prevent myself from doing it. Temper and words. My greatest faults."
She slipped her hands up his arms, up under his hair, and towards the back of his neck. "And your greatest strength," she whispered. "You can make it right with your words, too. Give it tonight; speak with your father tomorrow." She felt the tension within his neck and slowly pressed the pads of her fingertips into his muscles. "I believe your father has a strength that he passed to you."
"What is that?"
"Forgiveness."
He chuckled softly. "That was not passed to me at all, and if it had been, it would not have been from my father. I do not forgive easily, Guin. There is much proof of that in our conversation tonight. If it was easy to forgive, that conversation would never have taken place." He sighed. "But I will speak with him tomorrow; I do thank you for that encouragement." Legolas turned about to face her and brought her hands down from his neck. "You really need to stop doing that," he murmured, and she leaned a bit closer to him.
"Why?"
"Because…" I am feeling a great amount of desire for you right now…and your hands on my neck are fueling that desire the more you touch my skin. "My neck is fine, now," he told her. "And it is time for sleep."
She smiled at him. "It is a night for sleep," she replied. "We should turn in early; we have training with Aragorn tomorrow." She touched his face and lowered her voice. "In spite of what your father said, will you stay with me?"
He refrained from kissing her though he wanted to. "I am not leaving your side now," he reminded her. "Even if my father were to forbid me to see you, I would disobey. You are forced to be with me from here to forever; no separation. I am here for good."
She sighed. "Thank Ilúvatar," she whispered. "I thought I might have to beg."
"No begging required," he said with a little smile.
Within a few moments, she was curled up against his chest; again, the blanket was between them, but this did not hinder her from getting as close as she could get. She pressed her lips beneath his chin and whispered to him, "Just think, Legolas…only seven more days as of tomorrow."
He chuckled as his arms tightened around her. "I can hardly wait." But he made sure to keep everything else to himself.
"These are the most delicious muffins I have ever eaten, Legolas," Enguina rejoiced as they walked along together. They were on the third level now, making their way to the church so that she could show Legolas what they had worked on the day before and how beautiful it looked. Meeting Aragorn around the lunch hour to practice sparring left them with some time to waste.
"They are the same muffins we have eaten before, moina," he teased her.
She sighed. "I know, but I could really get used to this. Walking with you, eating breakfast with you every single morning—"
"Waking upto me every single morning," he murmured, a sparkle in his eyes. "I know that is one of the many things I look forward to about you. To be honest, I am already enjoying it. Seeing those lovely eyes when I first open mine? How could I not look forward to that?" He leaned over and kissed her temple, and she popped another piece of muffin in her mouth, eyeing him shyly.
"It would be improper if I were to agree with you."
"There is no reason to be proper," he complained. "It is only the two of us."
She shook her head. "I will not admit to it. By the way, I was wondering where you were before dinner yesterday. I know you had your tunic fitting, but I thought you were going to come to the church afterwards and yet you never arrived."
He smiled. "Never you mind."
She grinned, leaning into him as they walked. "Did it have anything to do with gifts?"
He raised his eyebrows at her. "What would make you think a silly thing like that? Am I not present enough for you? Unwrap me, Guin; I am all yours."
"Hold your horses, Greenleaf," she said wryly, but the blush on her face was enough to make him grin. "Honestly, the dwarf may have slipped a bit."
"What? He used to be such a loyal friend…and then he met you."
"Well, do not get taken next time," she explained matter-of-factly. "Nearly two weeks of travelling with someone will do that to you; you should understand that."
He shook his head. "I shall have to have words with him."
"Do not be too harsh. He only slipped because I was weaseling, and he was distracted by Thranduil. I easily took advantage of him."
He laughed. "You know, I almost forgot of something I wanted to speak to you about," he said. "I was thinking last night, as I was watching you sleep, about the woods of my homeland. I remembered something that…well…there is a tradition. It is an old tradition of the Woodland Elves, that…" He shook his head and chuckled softly. "I do not know if I even want to tell you. You might laugh in my face."
"A tradition? What sort of tradition? A wedding tradition?"
"It is more a ritual, I suppose, than a tradition. But it is…sort of a secret tradition."
"Well if it is so secret," she laughed, "how do you know about it?"
"You are laughing at me."
"No I most certainly am not!" she replied with a grin on her face. "I really want to know!"
He sighed, blushing a bit. "My mother told me of it many, many years ago. I think she had a feeling I would marry outside our own Realm; she was a bit strict when it came to tradition."
"Tell me."
"A few days before the wedding, the bride's mother would tell her all about the tradition so she could perform the ritual. The bride would then bathe in a special concoction of herbs and dirt and then rinse clean. It was an act that would prepare her for marriage."
She raised her eyebrows. "And I need to be prepared? To do this for you?"
He raised his hands in the air. "Not for me!" he laughed. "I have nothing to do with it!"
"Right, right…tradition."
"Yes," he said, blushing.
"I do not think I have ever seen you more embarrassed about anything," she said with a giggle. "I am all astonishment! Pray, what is in this 'blend' I am supposed to bathe in?"
"Are you sure you want to—"
"I am certain. If it is tradition, I want to do it," she told him firmly.
"You get some dirt—it should be enough to cover your whole body—and mix it with water—"
"That is mud, Legolas," she giggled. "You cannot simply say 'mud?'"
"No, this is not just any mud," he told her, poking her in the nose. "You have to mix it yourself. After you have done that, there are several special things you have to stir into it before you spread it on your skin." He tried hard not to imagine her spreading anything on her skin. It was difficult.
"Yes?" she asked, a slow smile spreading across her face. "And what are these things?"
He swallowed, shaking his head slightly, blushing more at his inappropriate thoughts and wondering where in the world they were coming from. "The first are mushrooms…these are to ward off the ill-effects of quarrels or strife in our—"
"Does that mean we will not have any quarrels?" she asked, her eyes sparkling. "I did not know bathing my skin in mushrooms would prevent that!"
"You are mocking me," he said with surprise, and she smiled at him.
"Go on."
"Another are dandelion herbs and birch leaves. These are to be ground separately and then combined, to represent you and me, the coming together of two different people, of our separate ways to be joined together. Poured into the mixture along with some honey."
"Honey? At least I will smell good," she said with a giggle.
"Without a doubt," he muttered before clearing his throat to continue. "Essence of lavender, coriander, and sage are added for health and protection and comfort. Then, you must add some moss from a favorite tree—to help us through the slippery times in our marriage."
She burst out laughing. "Oh Ilúvatar! You have to be making this up, Legolas!"
"Go ahead and laugh if you want," he stated, laughing as well. "But you should not question it."
"Because it is tradition, I suppose?"
"Exactly. Just go with it."
She rolled her eyes, and leaned into his shoulder, popping the last bit of muffin into her mouth. "Please, do finish. What are the final ingredients that would please your mother?"
"You must crack an egg for strength in trouble." He smiled. "Then ladybugs for love."
"Ladybugs? Ooo…where can I find a jar full of those?" She slipped her arm through his, really leaning into him as they neared the church. "Perhaps several buckets-full, if they are indeed for love."
"Lastly, you need strawberries…crushed strawberries for childbearing."
She stopped him and slipped her arms around his neck, crisscrossing her fingers. "Legolas," she whispered, her tone completely serious, "there will be more strawberries in this mud than there will be mud. And ladybugs…lots and lots of ladybugs." He rested his hands on her waist and she leaned into him. "I mean that, you know. With all of the chaos that happens with our race, we will need all the luck we can get."
"I do not think we need any luck," he whispered. "We only need you and I…and that will be enough." He closed the distance between their lips and kissed her soundly with her leaning into him.
Enguina leaned her forehead against his. "Mmm…you know, I may laugh at your tradition, but I will probably be doing it later."
He chuckled. "Later…later when?"
"Never you mind," she teased. "I am sure you will know when I do it…you shall certainly smell that particular combination of scents." He lifted the edges of her hair in one hand, curling them around his fingers.
"I cannot wait."
She laughed, kissed him briefly, and slipped out of his arms. "My, you are bolder, are you not?"
"You invited me," he pointed out, unashamed. "Therefore you are to blame."
She grabbed his hand and tugged him along behind her. "Yes, well, as I cannot have a serious conversation with you, let us get to the church where you cannot possibly be bold."
"And why is that?" he chuckled as he followed her up the front steps. "Because it is a church?"
"Exactly," she agreed as she entered, releasing his hand, but he paused at the door instead of following her in. He stood, framed there in the doorway, watching her walk slowly up the aisle, flowers hanging all around bringing out the beauty in every corner of the sanctuary. He sighed.
"Oh…it is so good that you have not an inkling of what I am feeling right now, my lovely Guin."
She turned and glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Coming, my prince?"
In the east the sun is rising
Towards the light I lift my eyes
The dark of night is passing over
The morn will sweep all grief aside
Yet o'er the meadow still and warm
Returns a breeze of memory
The coming haunts and chills the heart
The sun goes dark and cold
Alone, even the light is dark
Alone, the shadows grow
What is this woe that will not turn?
What is this woe that clings to me?
There is no shelter from its grip
It holds, it pulls, it tears
But I, though oft in vain, I try
I fight, straining toward the light
And forget, forget the grief,
The awful ache you bring
Arwen stood on the edge of the garden, listening to the song softly sung in low, precise Elvish. She felt the ache in her heart at the words, knew she should not intrude, even chastised herself that it was not her place. She thought of the many things that had never been her place to say, to ask probing questions, to step in when she should not have…she had no choice. If Ilúvatar had placed her here, should she say nothing? Should everything that she felt go unsaid? Should everything he felt go unspoken, unheard? Father, give me an ear…and give me words.
She stepped quietly around the edge of the bushes and came into view of him, standing before the blooming flowers, a small knife in one hand, a pale blue blossom in the other. Barefoot, she barely made a sound as she drew closer to him. He looked up slowly, as though he had known all along she was there, gave her a brief smile, and then returned to the flowers.
"Good morning, Evenstar," he said, deftly pruning back a few weeds with his knife so the flower stood out to the sunlight. She stopped beside him and watched for several moments before she spoke.
"Good morning, Thranduil," she replied gently. "I was beginning to get worried when you did not join us for breakfast. I thought perhaps if I came looking for you I might find you walking here."
"It is quiet," he replied. "To be honest, I did not think Legolas and I were ready to meet yet. I thought it best to avoid my son this morning. If I know my son, he is not ready to apologize and I…am not ready to have the conversation he feels we need to have." He sighed softly. "I do not know if I will ever be ready."
"You have not slept."
He turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow. "Ah, you know this look, do you?"
"Yes," she said, her voice full of compassion as she laid a hand on his arm. "I have seen it in my own mirror, staring back at me, and on the face of a dear friend on many occasions. I am familiar with the look of the haunted."
"You would be," he said, lowering the knife. "And you are right."
"I know it is not my place," she whispered, "but I would listen if I could help you. You are so…sad, Thranduil; the words of your song wrench my heart. Is there nothing I can do? Is there nothing you can say that will ease your heart?"
He gave her a smile full of sorrow. "My child, you are so young. I know more about grief than you will ever…no…" Thranduil sighed. "I would be remiss if I were to say that, would I not?"
"Yes," she replied gravely. "You would."
He sighed heavily again, and then reached out, took her arm, and led her to the grass beneath their feet. There, the two of them sat across from each other and she looked into his handsome face. He was so full of strength but so full of sadness; it made her heart ache.
"I cannot speak to Legolas of his mother," he whispered, looking down into the grass. "Do you understand why?"
"I know that you carry the heavy weight of grief with you always, Thranduil. I know that you have for a great many years. Legolas came to visit me once in Imladris after she had been taken, and he said that you and he were struggling. I was thinking that you simply cannot think of her; it is too painful."
"It is so painful," he replied, his soft voice full of distress, "that my heart feels as though I repeatedly stab it with this blade. Legolas loved his mother, but I…I worshipped her." He paused for a moment, thinking about those words. "That was wrong, but that was what I felt for her; it was blasphemous. I felt that Ilúvatar had put me on this earth for a single purpose—to love her, and nothing else. I do not know if you know the story of how she and I met, but it is a thrilling tale." He gave her a sorrowful smile, though his voice was strong. "She was the other half of my heart, as Aragorn's is yours, as Enguina is Legolas's. Your father should have understood that you would never have been able to leave Aragorn…he was a fool to try to make you," he scoffed, "and yet, we are speaking of me, are we not?
"When…Glosvana was taken," he whispered, "my whole world came apart. I sacrificed everything I could to find her, to search for her captors. When we finally found her—" His voice cut out; he could not possibly finish. "What they had done to her…Legolas and Fânrim slaughtered every last one of them. But it was the time after she had been murdered that was the most difficult for Legolas. I was…" He shook his head. "I was unfit to be a King during that time. I could not even bear to look at him, to see her eyes in his face…the pain was too much. Legolas spent as much time out of the Greenwood during that time as possible; I seldom saw him, and it was easier on the both of us.
"And it was wrong, my dear…terribly wrong. My heart is full of shame even now, guilt. It was in those few years that I questioned my existence; why in the name of all things holy was I still there?" He looked at her and gave her a small smile. "I begged for it, you know; I asked Ilúvatar to take me. I did not eat for days at a time…and still, I did not die. I felt as though my heart stopped beating, but it was still. After so long a time, after begging for death, after trying to reunite with her that way and not succeeding, I thought there must be a reason. There must," he said, closing his eyes. "So I live. At times I feel as though I survive, not live, but there it is. I continue to live, with no purpose."
He looked up at her with sad eyes. "And that is why I cannot speak to Legolas. How can I tell him that I wanted to die, that I wanted so badly to be with her that I would give up my life, my kingdom, my only son, to find her again? How could I dare? He could not…he could not possibly understand. No matter how much Legolas missed her, he would not take his own life to be with his mother." He looked down at the grass beneath his feet. "He would never have tried to take his own life; not as I did so…so many times."
Arwen reached over and wrapped her hands around his. "I think that he might understand that more now," she whispered. "Knowing how changed his life is with Enguina in it, knowing that it hurts to be away from her, he might understand the thought of it being impossible to live life without her. I think he would empathize now, where before he could not."
"That is probably true," he said softly. "Legolas has never looked at another creature the way he looks into her face."
"Does that upset you?"
"Does it…upset you to see other children?" he asked gently, and she sighed.
"Sometimes," she replied honestly. "Sometimes it is the most awful feeling in the world, but I try to press it away. At night," she added, acknowledging his song, "that is when the demons haunt."
"Yes," he agreed. "Night is always the worst. But I can honestly say, Evenstar, I…have no idea why I am still here. All these years I have lived in…bitterness? Pride? Grimness? I have tried to find love in other things; I find peace in flowers, in the beauty of them; I was a bit thoughtless of other peoples for a time, focused on defending the Greenwood and forgetting about the concerns of others. But why am I here? There is nothing to answer that question." He sighed. "Sometimes I think Ilúvatar lets me live out of spite for trying to take my life."
"Thranduil, it is…so difficult to choose to live," she agreed. "I truly believe that some nights the only reason I do not wake screaming is because Aragorn is beside me. I know you do not have that blessing, but to continue to face this task as you have has made you stronger. Legolas loves you; even though Enguina has been nervous about meeting you and Legolas has been nervous about you meeting her, there has been nothing he has wanted more. He has been yearning for your approval of Enguina for months, to show you what he has found in her, for you to be proud of him."
"I am," he said. "Legolas is a better man than I could ever hope to be, and Enguina is more precious than gold."
"She is," Arwen agreed with a teasing smile. "I am glad you see that."
"How could one not notice? I know that Legolas will be a trustworthy, caring husband, and an excellent father. It is clear that she adores him as much as he, her. I could not be happier for him than I feel. I…always wanted the best for him, for him to find happiness as I had found in…her. He loves her, he will treat her well…she could not ask for a better man."
"No, she could not. That was what I kept telling her," she told him. She squeezed Thranduil's hands. "And do not worry about your purpose, Thranduil. As you said to me, Ilúvatar will show all to us in his time. We must be patient, yes?"
He gave her a little smile at the gentleness in her voice. "I needed to hear your encouragement. It has been…many years since someone told me that I not completely mad. That eventually, things are going to work out for good…even when I cannot see it."
"You told me that," she said kindly. "Perhaps we both needed to hear it from someone else."
There was a comfortable silence between them and then Thranduil smiled. "Your compassionate heart reminds me so much of your mother, but the reason in your voice, the wisdom…that is your father. I do miss him, his friendship."
"Thank you," she whispered.
"I think," he said, getting to his feet, "that I might continue to prune some of these blooms for a bit. When are Aragorn and the soon-to-be-weds headed this direction?" She smiled.
"About the lunch hour. Do you think you will prune that long? I can sit and keep you company; I brought a book with me."
"My dear, I could be here forever, and then begin again. I am…a bit passionate when it comes to flowers and things that grow."
"Then please, let me sit near you as you cut away?"
"You would be most welcome."
The city of Minas Tirith was even more beautiful than Éomer remembered it. It was a sheer delight to be here among the Gondorians again. Many of them he knew quite well and was looking forward to spending time with them, but he was most especially looking forward to seeing his old fellowship of friends, his sister and brother, and his new niece. He was so very lucky that he had made it in time; the wedding was in only a few days, and he was relieved when he had come over the rise and seen Rammas Echor, the outer wall of the Pelennor.
Riding up through the City alone held many benefits to Éomer; he had left his entourage near the inner gate as two of his men's horses had thrown shoes. For once, he was able to greet some of the citizens he knew on the streets and ride at his pleasure. Firefoot, his dappled mount, took his time and greeted the smaller children as Éomer looked around the fourth level. Aragorn, though he had barely wanted to be King, had done quite well here. He was eager to see the child he knew was to be born to the two of them; with Arwen being the Evening, the child would be a special blessing. He just knew it.
Éomer himself had been named King before he had quite been ready, but he, too, had taken to the job as though it had been meant to be. With Théodred gone, Théoden had no heir aside from him, and Éowyn had to go running off here to marry Faramir. The duty of kingship now fell to him. Then he, himself, had fallen in love with Imrahil's daughter Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, and they had been happily married for nearly five years themselves. He smiled just to think of her, though several young women he was riding past thought he was smiling at them.
"Still making the ladies swoon, brother?" Éomer heard Faramir's voice even through the giggling of several young women, and he grinned broadly, tugging Firefoot to a halt so he could dismount. "I would have thought Lothíriel would have squashed that out of you years ago."
"Faramir!" he cried, dropping his helm over the pommel of his saddle as he reached for his brother-by-marriage. "By Eru in Heaven, it is good to see your face, hear your voice! It has been too long since you have called me brother!"
Faramir hugged him and Éomer laughed as he glanced around behind him. "Where are your men? You certainly did not ride here all on your own! And where is Lothíriel? Did she not come with you?"
"I left my men at the gate; we were tired of each other. It is with a massively heavy heart that I must only bring tidings from Lothíriel. As you know, Elfwine is far too young to make a journey like this, even in springtime, and you know only too well what it is like to travel with a woman and child."
Faramir stared at him. "Why did you not send word? Éowyn is going to go into hysterics when she finds out that you are to have another child. You two are quick!"
"Dear heavens, no," Éomer denied. "Lothíriel is not pregnant again, she only just had our first, Faramir! What are you, daft?"
Faramir shrugged and laughed. "Forgive me, Éomer, I forget the time! When was your son born? I cannot even recall when we received your last letter; so much has happened since then."
"Elfwine was born not a month ago. Lothíriel had a…difficult time," he murmured, "and she is not yet fully recovered. A long trip on horseback would not be suitable for her." His eyes grew tired. "She was long in labor and very, very weak. We had to find a wet nurse for Elfwine; Lothíriel was unable to take care of him."
Faramir looked worried. "Is she all right? My Lord, Éomer, we had no idea! Why did you not send word? Éowyn and I could have—"
"No, she is recovering. The first week was the most difficult; I thought I might lose her. And she forbid me to stay with her, telling me that I must visit you and bear her good will and that I must attend Legolas's wedding! Where is the lucky elf, anyway?"
Faramir nodded up towards the higher levels of Minas Tirith. "He is with his bride and I believe Gimli and Aragorn at least should be there as well. King Thranduil, Legolas's father, has arrived already—I do not know if he and Arwen were supposed to be there today, too. It seems though that everyone is up there but me—work and work and work, Éomer; you know how it is," he ended flippantly.
"Oh, right," the horseman snorted, "as if that is all you do. You are such a fool, Faramir."
"Come now, brother," he said softly, leaning in closer to him. "You must admit that life is too short to work all day. Time is better spent on…other things."
Éomer laughed. "Yes, I remind myself of that every time I waste a few extra minutes watching my newborn sleep." He shook his head. "I honestly never pictured myself a good father. It is so difficult to be away from him now…and Lothíriel, of course."
Faramir nodded. "I find it difficult to be away from Éowyn, and she is not three levels away from me." He took the man's elbow and nudged him forward. "Come, let us walk as we speak."
"And how is my dear sister and niece? Behaving, I hope?"
"Annî is the most wonderful thing that ever happened to our lives," Faramir admitted. "But I am as worried for Éowyn at this time as you were with Lothíriel. She has not been feeling at all well, and she has nearly another month yet. She has been ill, tired, many headaches, not much patience." He frowned and Éomer smirked.
"She wants to boss you around, hmm? There is only so much of that a man can handle."
Faramir shook his head. "No, no, the bossing is fine. It is the rest of it that is…unnatural. Normally, she is so strong. I am worried for her, though yesterday and it seemed today have been better. She was to meet Legolas and Enguina at the church early this morning, but I am uncertain of her agenda after that. She might still be there, but she may have headed home since Legolas and Enguina were to be at the gardens about this hour."
"I am wounded that no one but yourself showed up to greet me," he teased, and Faramir shoved him. "You know, you seem different to me, Faramir. Not too different, but…different nonetheless."
Faramir gave him a brief smile. "A brush with death alters many things, Éomer." He knew that Éomer was about to ask him fifteen questions about that, but he shook his head. "Perhaps later when we are sitting with Éowyn, we will tell you the story. That is if Annî will permit us and she does not spend her time telling you about ponies and kittens and her dolls, and then climbing all over you and all that. You know Annî, boisterous since the moment she was conceived."
"Like her mother."
"Just so. So what are your thoughts? To Éowyn? To the gardens? To food?" He laughed. "You have been travelling all morning; you must be famished!"
Éomer looked thoughtful. "All right, then. Here are my requirements. Let us visit the garden to see my old friends, then whoever is interested shall come with us to the nearest tavern for a drink and some lunch on myself, and then to Éowyn and the little one for the afternoon. How does that sound?"
"Exceptional plan; so long as I get to buy us a round!"
"I shall let you get two! You owe me a celebratory drink for Elfwine's birth!"
"Oof!"
Legolas exhaled sharply as he rolled across the grass and out of Aragorn's strike range. He rotated onto his knees and held Eldarnar upright, leaning heavily on his left arm. Aragorn stood not three paces from him, Mennev's balanced sword in his hand; he felt Andúril was a bit much for training purposes, and he would have been right. None of them were ready for the hand-and-a-half sword coming ploughing down onto them yet.
"Get that smile off your face," Legolas groaned. "I want my knives."
The elf already knew how much he missed the lightness, the spinning, the easy maneuvering that made the white knives he had once carried so special, so fun. So deadly, so accurate; they were extensions of his hands. Eldarnar, even though it was such a light blade, felt awkward and heavy in his hand, making him feel clumsy…like a little child learning to swing a sword for the first time.
"There shall be no whining while training!" called Arwen, a gentle tease in her voice from the hedgerow where she sat with her back against the bushes and a book in her hand.
"Then you come out here and get knocked around for a few minutes!" he called back, agitated.
"Get sparring, Legolas," said Thranduil, waving a hand. "You are boring Enguina." He, too, sat against the hedgerow, but unlike Arwen he held no book. Instead, he held a smile knife and was pruning the roses around her.
Enguina giggled. "Tired yet?" She knew that Legolas and Thranduil had not exactly 'made up' yet, but at least they were communicating with each other. She was glad that the two of them could still be cordial.
"A bit," grumbled Legolas and Aragorn laughed.
"That is not the elf I—"
Legolas lunged to his feet and Aragorn spun aside, allowing Eldarnar's blade to glance off his sword. They traded several blows and Legolas watched the man closely, even as he fought him. There was something exceptional, something astonishing in Aragorn's footwork, and even Thranduil and Arwen paused to watch the two of them battle it out. Legolas had to give ground a time or two, but then finally, Aragorn's footwork was his undoing.
"Watch!" cried Enguina, her hands flying up to cup her face in worry as Aragorn dove beneath Legolas's lunge and spun out his foot, dropping to one knee and taking Legolas out at the ankles before he could think quickly enough to leap over them.
THUMP!
"Damn!" huffed Legolas, trying to catch his breath while laughing at the same time. He dropped his head back into the grass, staring at the steel of Aragorn's blade resting near his throat. "Well, I am dead this time."
Aragorn laughed as he withdrew the sword and extended his hand, pulling the elf to his feet as he clasped his arm. "Watch those feet, Legolas."
"Yes, I know, you arrogant—"
"Do not resort to name-calling!" called Arwen and Legolas rolled his eyes.
"Ooo," Aragorn whispered to him, raising his eyebrows, "you were yelled at."
"And no taunting, either," Arwen reminded him, looking up and giving him 'the look.'
"Ha!" said Legolas, shoving Aragorn gently.
Aragorn grinned at him. "Ready to go again?"
"Not quite. Why do you not take on Enguina for a few moments while I catch my breath?" he said honestly, and Aragorn nodded and stepped back, glancing over to Enguina who had already been on her way over.
"Up for that?"
She nodded. "Sure." She looked at Legolas and then reached over on his back and brushed some grass and twigs from his tunic. "That did not look nice. Are you hurt?"
He smiled at her. "Only my pride. Please, kick his ass for me, will you?"
Aragorn burst out laughing and turned away as Enguina blushed. "I think that is highly unlikely if you cannot best him."
"If I had my knives—"
"But you do not!" Thranduil pointed out. "And you asked him to teach you, you know."
Legolas groaned. "I know." He kissed Enguina on the forehead and walked away, throwing himself down beside Arwen who was still reading her book. She did look up at him when he was seated just as Gimli came through the rows.
"What'd I miss? Aw, ya started already?!" he grumbled. "Aragorn's winning, I suppose?"
"I am sure no one expected any less," Enguina said softly, and Arwen shook her head.
"Why is this suddenly about winning?" she asked, looking towards Gimli who took a seat beside Legolas, Thranduil still trimming. "I thought the idea was to learn? You did do quite well, you know."
Legolas sighed. "I am making amateur mistakes. I should know better, but it has been too long since I have wielded anything but those twin blades. He is too good…but in a fair fight, in an actual duel—"
"Stop groaning!" laughed Enguina, drawing the lone knife. "You are simply irritated that he kicked your behind." Eldarnar was far too heavy for her and any other sword simply would not do. The knife was light, and if she learned how to use it well, it would serve her just as it had served Legolas for many years.
"If you want to take me out," Aragorn called to him, "then come out here and take me out."
Legolas raised his eyebrows. "I thought you were on my side, Guin. And honestly, I would like to see Arwen take you out."
Arwen rolled her eyes and lifted her book. "My knee is still sore, and there would not be anything to see."
"I think she was saying she could take you," laughed Enguina, but Aragorn ignored them and nodded to her.
"Begin," he said gently, and she approached him slowly, working at feeling the blade and working on focus, trying to ignore that everyone was watching her.
Arwen sighed. "There would be no point because I would lose, quite horribly, I am sure. I have no intention of ever crossing blades with my own husband."
"What about you, Thranduil?" asked Gimli, looking up. "How about you and Aragorn?"
"No, I think not," he said softly, looking down at the dwarf. "I think I would prefer to prune these roses."
Enguina smiled and then shook her head. "It is just as well, Thranduil. Though perhaps you will change your mind after I fail miserably."
"Confidence, Enguina," Aragorn stated after the two of them had crossed blades through several parries and moves. "Do not focus on them; ignore them and keep your mind here."
"It is difficult," she said, sighing, a bit embarrassed.
"Yes, stop looking at me!" laughed Legolas, and she blushed furiously.
Aragorn glanced over at Legolas and called out, "And no commentary from the bushes or you can come back out here and be the pincushion."
"I am not that bad!" Enguina scoffed. "I should teach you a lesson for that!"
"Please do."
They sparred back and forth as she moved from offensive to defensive and back again, sometimes more quickly than before. She switched suddenly to offensive and slashed low, causing him to block in front of his waist.
"Oh-ho!" they heard Gimli cry from the bushes, and Aragorn's eyebrows rose at her.
"That was a bit below the belt," he said, and he saw her little grin even through the sweat on her face.
"I was trying to catch you off guard."
"That would not have been kind had you hit me."
"Aside from the simple fact that my knife will never get close enough to actually touch you," she laughed. "I doubt you would ever let me get that close."
"Not with that blade," he laughed. "I would knock you on the ground before I would let Legolas's knife poke me."
"But I am a lady!" she laughed indignantly. "You cannot simply knock me on the ground!"
"Watch me if you try that again."
She burst out laughing and went on the offensive again, spinning the light blade into his blade and he smiled as they crossed swords back and forth, him pushing her back across the lawn. Once again she tried ducking beneath his block, going below the belt, and he knocked her away as she gave a chuckle. She was not laughing three seconds later when she found herself rolling across the grass in the same maneuver Legolas had, except Aragorn had come right after her. She turned back to one knee and raised her arms in a two-handed defensive block; Mennev's sword crashed into the knife, the blades locked and he raised his eyebrows at her over the swords.
"Ouch," she said softly. "You hit pretty hard."
"You look good covered with grass."
"I do not know if my knees will ever be the same."
"Give them a few more times to fall on them," he teased. "You will learn quickly to stay on your feet." That set a fire in her, and she pushed him back, unlocking their blades and giving her room to get up. She glared at him for his comment, though he seemed unfazed, and they began again, knocking each other back and forth across the field. It was decidedly more heated, and Thranduil and Arwen stopped to watch as they began to hear Gimli's commentary.
"Oh, that was a close one!" the dwarf exclaimed.
"Move your feet!" Aragorn said to her as he advanced. She actually listened, even though she was still irritated with him. Good…you are learning. There was a moment of break, and Aragorn smiled at her. "Want to take a breath?"
She shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "I am finally warmed up."
He nodded, and she came at him again.
At the hedgerow, Thranduil crossed his arms. "A bit more intense than your bout, Legolas," he said softly, and his son nodded.
"Yes," replied Legolas, watching them intently. "I do not know what your thoughts are, Arwen, but I do not desire to see Enguina in the Houses of Healing today."
Arwen shook her head. "He is testing her, I think. How can he teach her if he does not learn what she knows? He will stop her before she gets too full of heat."
"We should trust him, I suppose," Legolas mumbled. "I would think that he would protect her from herself." But his eyes remained fixed on them.
Enguina's arms trembled when their swords finally crossed after another five minutes of pushing back and forth and spinning about to be in reversed directions; Aragorn was now in the position where Enguina had begun. She was beginning to tire, and she knew it was obvious to both of them. She did not however, want to give in yet. She had not been 'killed' yet, so she was not quite ready to be done.
"You…are…tough on me," she whispered, breathless, and he grinned at her over their swords. "Tougher than you were on Legolas."
"How will I know what you know if I am not?" he returned. "Do not hold back, Enguina…we are nearly done." He smiled at her even though he was breathing hard as well. "One final push, whatever you have left—full strength. Do not hold back."
Do not hold back? All right then, Aragorn!
She tried to think of a way that was going to make him eat those words, and with a hard shove towards his right shoulder, she propelled him backwards and away from her. She fought him back, trying to corner him against the rosebushes, pushing on the offensive—but suddenly, she was on the defensive as he whirled aside and came back, reversing positions with her. She knew immediately he was pushing her weaker side; she felt the pressure on her body of having to fight nearly backhand, and the fury it brought since he was doing it on purpose fueled her. She lunged at him, swiping in a smashing backhand with the force of her blade, knocking his aside and bringing the hilt down sharply into his shoulder. It was a glancing blow, but only because Aragorn had time to twist away to make it a glancing blow. Arwen's book fell from her fingers as she sat up straighter, and though Legolas did not turn, he knew what she had seen.
"Was that his—"
"Yes," she replied, her eyes fixed on her husband. Enguina went after him again and he twisted away from her, his jaw clenched as he switched the blade to his left hand. Arwen came to her feet when he took the next hit full on the blade, Mennev's sword angled to the right across his chest to protect that shoulder as Enguina's arms vibrated with the force of the impact. Her eyebrows rose at his gritted teeth as she grinned at him.
"I will take you yet, Aragorn!" She pushed him away yet again, forcing him on his guard as he backed away half-a-step; he was not left-handed, but she had never paid attention to it. She saw him glance over her left shoulder and his eyes widened slightly. Do not get distracted! She lunged for him as he raised a hand up, even as she tried to score that winning prod that would make her the victor.
Everything after that happened in a blink. He blocked her knife, ducked under her guard and grabbed her shoulder, yanking her to the right and away from him. Her left hand caught his shoulder at the unexpected move, causing her to fall towards him. Startled, she tried to prevent it, felt herself tripping as she went even further into him felt a sharp pain in her hand, the hilt of the knife suddenly gone from her hand and felt the cold steel of another blade following her throat in her descent to the ground. There was suddenly a torrent of sound that breached her ears; she could make out nothing distinct and then a THUNK! Her head knocked hard against the ground and she fell hard onto her side. Darkness swam across her vision, and she was so dazed she could barely think.
At the same moment, Arwen had darted forward, followed closely by Legolas, Gimli, and Thranduil. Three seconds before Enguina lost her own knife, the roar had reached them as if from far away and they had all lunged forward, yelling at the top of their lungs in panic and terror. Aragorn, luckily, had seen the man before anyone else, and was able to react much more quickly than the five seconds it took them to reach her from the hedgerow. He brought his sword to bear and knocked the blade from Enguina's throat before she even touched the ground.
"No!" he shouted sharply. That brought the man's attention up and he raised the sword immediately from Enguina as her head knocked against the ground. A half-second later, there was another loud yell as Legolas's arms took the man down to the ground, knocking him back from Enguina. Aragorn got on his knees beside her, checking her throat.
"Wait! You foolhardy, reckless son of an orc! That was Enguina!" Legolas snapped, leaping to his feet. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"
"Is she all right?" asked Arwen, leaning over Aragorn and looking worried.
"I think so, but she is out cold."
"What're ya, blind lad?"
"What the hell was she doing fighting—"
"They were sparring, Éomer! It is not as though you have never seen people spar before!"
"I thought she was trying to kill him! I thought he was under attack! I did not mean to—"
"You could have killed her!"
"Aragorn was under attack from a single she-elf? Come on, Éomer, that'd be ridiculous!"
"What the devil happened? Who are you?" demanded Thranduil, pushing Éomer back a bit from Enguina's side so that Legolas could kneel beside her.
"I am King Éomer of Rohan," Éomer introduced himself, sheathing his sword. "You must be King Thranduil, Legolas's father."
"That I am."
"I am so grievously sorry; I thought the King was in danger."
"Is she all right?" Legolas asked Aragorn, touching her face. He nodded.
"She hit her head, but I think once she wakes up she will be all right."
Faramir shoved Éomer. "You are such a dolt! Wait until Éowyn hears what you did—"
"Eru, do not tell her, Faramir! You are supposed to be on my side, brother!"
"How could anyone be on your side when you act so stupidly!" he cried. "You could have killed her." He repeated Legolas's words from earlier.
"She is very lucky that Aragorn reacts quickly," added Thranduil softly.
"Faramir, go and fetch some water before you start hitting someone," Arwen said wryly, and the man immediately turned and headed for the Fountain to wet a cloth. "Aragorn—"
"Yes," the man replied, already knowing what she was thinking. "Legolas, take her over there to rest by the tree." By the time they reached it, Faramir had come back with some water. It only took a few minutes to know that Enguina's head appeared to be fine aside from a bubble appearing on the back of her skull.
Before she knew it, Enguina felt something hard against her back, something cold against her neck, and a warm hand in hers. She squeezed the something warm in her hand and it squeezed back. "Enguina?" It was Arwen's voice, and she sounded worried. Enguina did not open her eyes yet as the searing pain lancing across her head was terrible. She could hear voices all around her.
"I cannot believe you, Éomer! I do not know whether I should hug you in greeting or beat you with my fists! Of all the mad—" That was Legolas.
"You realize you nearly slayed the bride?" That was Aragorn, a definite chuckle in his voice now that everything was mostly all right.
"Are you all right, Enguina?" Arwen again.
"I am so grievously sorry!" She had never heard that voice before—deep, a different accent that told of a different land.
"I still cannot believe it! Even if you thought Aragorn in danger, you nearly killed her!" Legolas whispered aggressively.
"What is going on?" Enguina muttered, trying to quiet their loud voices in her ears. Arwen replaced the cloth on her head with a colder one; it felt refreshing and good.
"How is your head, sweet one? You hit it very hard," she asked.
"It hurts," she replied softly.
"I did not know she was Enguina!" she heard a voice cry, that same strange one.
"You daft fool," laughed Faramir, "I told you they were in the garden! Who did you think it would be?"
"Gentlemen," Arwen said a bit loudly to overcome their speech, "she has returned to us." She looked down into Enguina's face and the elf opened her eyes to see Arwen and Legolas, and felt Legolas's hand in her own.
"I heard Aragorn; is he all right?"
Legolas rolled his eyes. "She asks about you," he said aside to Aragorn.
"He is fine," Arwen answered. "You, on the other hand—"
"How long was I out?" she asked, blinking slowly.
"A few minutes," Thranduil replied from somewhere off to her left. She cursed under her breath at the pain firing through her head, and there was some laughter at her language.
"That's the way, lass!" Gimli laughed, cracking up.
"You really must have hit it hard," chuckled Legolas. "Watch your mouth, love."
"Close your mouth," Enguina grumbled. "If your head ached like this, you would be cursing as well." She lifted her head and rested her hand against the back of it. "What happened anyway?"
"Ilúvatar and the Valar and all of heaven forgive me!" she heard that very different voice cry and she opened her eyes to see a fair-haired man standing over Legolas's shoulder. He was wearing a red tunic…he was quite handsome and looked…well, rather ashamed of himself. "I am so grievously sorry, my Lady!"
"Éomer, my brilliant brother by marriage," Faramir began, "thought you were attacking the King. Therefore, he attacked you—"
"Without thinking," added Legolas, giving Éomer a dirty look.
"And I feel absolutely terrible about it," Éomer said, still looking ashamed.
"Please, do not trouble yourself," Enguina said, but the man got down on one knee and took her hand.
"How are you feeling, my Lady? Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?" he asked, but his worried expression was too much for her. There was three seconds of silence before she burst into giggles.
"Oh, who are you? You are so handsome and such a gentleman!" she exclaimed, still laughing, and Arwen laughed as well. Legolas shook his head.
"I think you hit your head a bit too hard, Guin."
"Enguina, meet Éomer Éadig, Éowyn's brother and Lord of the Riddermark, King of Rohan," introduced Aragorn as he settled a hand on Éomer's shoulder.
"Who is so dreadfully sorry," Éomer added, and Enguina laughed again.
"I will be well! It was not your fault."
"Indeed, I think it may have been," stated Thranduil, crossing his arms.
"The Elf-King is correct," Éomer repeated. "I have no excuse."
"What would you have me say?" Enguina asked, looking amused. "Shall I declare you a punishment? No, you are Legolas's friend and are here for a happy occasion. Consider yourself forgiven, but take care where you swing your sword, my Lord!"
"Yes, you oaf," said Faramir, giving him a shove.
"Please, let me make it up to you—"
"Apologize no more," she laughed. "You are forgiven, Lord Éomer." She smiled at him as he released her hand and held the side of her head. "I really will be fine."
Éomer could not help but smile then. "I like her already," he said, and Legolas shoved him as well.
"Only because you begged her forgiveness and she forgave you, unlike Lothíriel would have." He leaned in close to Enguina and she could still see the worry in his eyes. "Are you certain you are well? I could knock him around a bit, if you desire."
"As much as I would enjoy a show of your strength and masculinity tussling about in the grass," she said with a grin, "and as much as I think you would both enjoy it—"
"Yes," Éomer jumped in, giving Legolas a bit of a shove back, "it has been too long since I hit someone."
"Perhaps some other time," she finished. "My head is hurting something fierce."
"You should lie down and rest," Aragorn said softly.
"I will," she sighed, looking at Éomer. "You have traveled far, Éomer; Legolas and I are pleased you were able to come, and Éowyn will be delighted you are here. She was asking only yesterday after you and when you would arrive. Was it a safe journey?"
"Indeed," he replied. "Faramir brought me here first, so I have not seen to Éowyn yet, though I will be glad to see my sister. I dropped Firefoot at the stable and Brego would not silence himself. They were as old friends!" He smiled at her. "But I think, if I may be so bold, Lady, that you should lie down as Aragorn said. We will have time to get to know one another later."
"Here's a thought," said Gimli. "How about Legolas takes Enguina to rest, you visit with Éowyn, and then we can all meet for—"
"A drink!" laughed Faramir.
"Yes, that is exactly what we were planning, Master Dwarf," said Éomer with a grin.
"And dinner in the Great Hall tonight, I think," added Faramir. "It might be a bit too close for comfort at the King's House."
Arwen nodded. "I will head over to the Tower and make sure there will be something planned."
"Excellent," Éomer said. He winked at Enguina. "By that time, you will be as right as rain, my Lady."
She smiled at him. "Enguina, please."
Éomer dipped his head and smiled. "Enguina, it is a pleasure to meet you."