Arwen had taken care of everything to plan the evening meal, and was thrilled that Éomer was here. He was a good, solid man, and she knew that Éowyn would also be feeling better now that he had arrived to cheer her. Legolas was supposed to leave Enguina in the guesthouse and then the men were all gathering at The Boar's Head for drinks. She personally thought it was nice to have them altogether, and to give them time to be alone was a great idea. Everyone knew the dinner time, so they would be there. Enguina and Éowyn were resting and all of the men, including Thranduil, were at the tavern. Arwen was very glad that Enguina was taking it easy for the afternoon.

She was personally in the process of cutting apples to bake for a pie. It was a moment when she could stop and catch her breath, take time to reflect on everything that had been happening in the whirlwind that had been the past few months. It was nice to be alone to think, but in the next instant she was reminded of a time when Aragorn had been standing behind her, rubbing her shoulders and trying to steal apples out of the pie. The memory warmed her from head to toe, and then she shook her head with a smile.

"Make up your mind, Arwen," she chided herself. "One moment you are content, the next you are thinking about how quickly you can get Aragorn here."

There was a sudden banging on the door and the sound of Enguina crying out her name. Startled and confused when the elf was supposed to be resting, Arwen dropped her knife onto the table and dove for the threshold. As soon as the door was open, Enguina practically fell into her arms, crying, nearly hysterical.

A moment of sheer panic flew through her as she stumbled backwards into the House, taking Enguina with her. "Enguina?" she cried as she staggered back, holding her arms tightly around the older elf. "Enguina, what the hell—"

"It is horrible! Horrible!" she sobbed, catching Arwen's dress in her hands as she cried into her shoulder. Arwen noticed that Enguina was wearing a dark cloak, which was completely unlike her.

"Enguina…shhh…calm down, calm down. What is the matter? What happened?"

"It is so awful…" she sobbed, but Arwen could tell she was trying to get a hold of herself.

"Tell me, tell me what happened," she whispered, touching her lips against Enguina's hair. "Come on now, calm down and tell me what happened."

"I…I tried to…I…" Enguina swallowed hard, gasped for breath, and then let it out slowly. She raised her head to look at Arwen, tears staining her cheeks, her face red from crying…or was it something else? Arwen gazed at her confused. "Legolas told me of a tradition when we were walking this morning; he said it was something the brides of the Greenwood would do, that his mother had told him about it, so I thought that I should—" She lost herself to tears again and Arwen grew even more concerned.

"Enguina, you must take control of yourself so you can explain to me what happened! I am so worried about you. What is this tradition Legolas told you of? I have never heard of such a thing."

"I was to bathe in a concoction of different herbs and fruits and things that Legolas said would build our marriage, make us stronger, give us love—it was a tradition! An innocent tradition!" she cried, more tears spilling down her face. "And now…and now…" She undid her cloak and let it fall away, leaving her clad in a tunic and leggings that did nothing to hide the angry, red blotches that had spread out and were covering her skin. In horror, Arwen stared, and she had to assume they were everywhere based on how Enguina was uncomfortably standing in her kitchen. Her arms were scratched, even bleeding in some places because of how badly she was itching her skin.

Enguina looked to her, eyes full of tears. "What am I going to do?" she begged. "It is unbearable! I am so itchy everywhere and they are so ugly and—" She dropped her face into her hands and began to cry again, but became distracted by scratching her nails against her scalp.

That will not do. Arwen reached out and took Enguina's hands, holding them tight. "First, you are not going to scratch them anymore. Just look at what you have done to your arms!"

"I know but I cannot stop!" she cried out, trying to yank her hands from Arwen's so she could scratch at her body again. "God, Arwen…it is unbelievable!"

It took her a split second to remember what she needed to do. Arwen held onto her hands tightly and began towing her into the other room. "You are going to get undressed right now and get in the bath. In your haste to perform a tradition, I fear you may have forgotten that you are very sensitive to certain things."

Enguina's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh! Ilúvatar! The strawberries!"

"You put strawberries in the—you are such a fool!"

"I was trying to uphold the traditions of Eryn Lasgalen!" Enguina said when Arwen released her in the bath and she began undoing her dress, her hands shaking because she was so upset. Arwen reached over and began running water into the tub and lighting the coals to heat it. "I just wanted to make Legolas happy; I just wanted to honor his mother's memory!"

"Tradition my ass," muttered Arwen, knocking her hands away. "Let me do that before you hurt yourself." Enguina was too distracted to hear what she had said.

"Arwen, please…this is unbearable," she groaned, beginning to scratch her hands again.

"I said to stop that," Arwen told her exasperatedly. "Distract yourself and tell me what else was in this bath you took."

"Mushrooms, dirt, birch leaves, dandelion weeds—"

"You are very sensitive to those too!" she cried as Enguina stepped out of the dress. "Oh, Enguina, what were you thinking!" She lowered her head into her hands as Arwen stared at her bright red and irritated skin that seemed to be swelling right in front of her. Enguina had not been lying, she had literally bathed in the stuff. "Ugh, just do not scratch; please do not scratch! I will be back in a few seconds."

Arwen was true to her word and came back to shut off the water and dumped some sort of mixture into it. It smelled bread-like and looked absolutely awful, as though someone had coated the water with a mud-like consistency. Enguina covered her mouth and Arwen began stirring the water with one hand as she dumped more of the stuff in.

"I do not even want to know what that is," Enguina moaned, beginning to scratch her stomach with one hand and her arm with the other.

"Stop scratching," Arwen growled, and then stepped back and pointed. "Get in."

"What?" she asked, horrified. "No!"

"You just came from a bath that had mud and mushrooms in it and you are refusing to get in this?" Arwen asked incredulously. "Get in right this instant!"

Enguina obeyed, climbing into their tub, and the effect was almost immediate. "Oooo…"

"These are oats taken out of the husk," Arwen said, taking Enguina's hair in one hand. "It will calm the itching. In the meantime, tilt your head back so I can spread it on your scalp, and tell me what else was in that bath you took." Enguina obeyed this time without question.

"Lavender, coriander, sage…oh Heaven, Arwen this feels so good…"

Arwen actually smiled though Enguina could not see it. "And you did not wish to get in it."

"I take it back," she groaned, rubbing the mixture up to her shoulders and neck as Arwen's fingers combed the mealy mixture through her hair and massaged it into her scalp. "I will never disagree with you again."

Arwen snorted. "What else?"

"Honey…and crunched up ladybugs…and the strawberries." LADYBUGS!? Arwen stared at Enguina as though she had four heads and shuddered. Legolas was going to get a piece of her mind tonight at dinner. "My face is still burning," Enguina said softly, "and I feel as though there are huge bumps on my arms and chest."

"There are," Arwen sighed. "After you have finished here, I need to go to the Houses and see if there is something they can give you for them. The oats will soothe, but they will not take care of the bumps."

"Will they be gone by dinner? I cannot go to—"

"It would be best to avoid dinner tonight, I think," she said as she took a handful of the stuff and rubbed it gently along Enguina's ears and face. "Ilúvatar bless you, you really did put this everywhere, did you not? At least you did not swallow any."

"What would have happened if I had?"

"With how bad this reaction is, Enguina, you could have stopped breathing had you eaten any."

She was silent for a moment. "I am sorry I was so foolish. I just wanted to honor Legolas's mother's memory. When he said that it was tradition, I thought that perhaps if she were here she might have told me about it before I wed her son."

Arwen bit her lip before she cursed something awful as Enguina could not see her. Oh, Legolas, you rat. "Yes, you were foolish. By Elbereth, do not do something like this again, or at least think before you do. You were so eager to please him that you did not even think."

"I promise I will," she whispered back. "The strawberries were for children and good fortune in childbirth, so I had to put lots of them in." She appeared embarrassed and Arwen flinched, knowing very well that of course Enguina would do it. The example of herself and her situation was too glaring. Enguina looked over at her with tears in her eyes. "Do you think I will still have them for the wedding? That would be awful."

Arwen laid a hand against her cheek and shook her head. "I think the Healers will have something that will make them fade, but you cannot scratch them." She shook off her hands from the oats and stood. "You stay right there at least until I get back from the Houses. Then you are going straight home to bed." She shook her head as Enguina laid her head on the side of the tub. "You have had one hell of a day, Enguina. And what in the world were you doing anyway? You were supposed to be resting!"

"I was, but then I could not sleep and I thought I would get this done and…oh, it all went wrong from there…and my head is starting to hurt something awful."

"That is from all the crying you were doing when you arrived," Arwen said gently, sighing. "Yes, you are definitely going home to bed. I will send Legolas with a plate for you."

Enguina opened one eye and looked at her. "You are...angry with him?"

"A bit."

"He could not have known that I would have a reaction, Arwen," she said reasonably, closing her eyes again. "It was not Legolas's fault that the tradition called for these things."

Arwen was silent for a moment, fuming at Enguina's defense of him, but unable to say that the tradition was a lie, unable to irritate Enguina when she already said her head was aching. "Stay in the meal, please. I will be back shortly; then we will get you cleaned up and home."

"Thank you," she replied, catching her hand before she turned from the tub. "Thank goodness you knew what to do."

"Rest your head, and do not fall asleep in there," Arwen chided her as she wiped her hands on a clean towel. She heard Enguina's non-committal response and smiled to herself as she left the bedroom and headed for the door.

Raucous laughter sounded across the Boar's Head as the six friends sat gathered around a corner table, pints of ale in front of them. They were having an excellent time together, even though they knew it was nearly time to head for the Tower and dinner and that their ladies would be waiting for them to arrive.

Éomer turned half-way around towards the bar. "Gelyle!" he hollered. "Get us another round! The dwarf is still thirsty!"

"Hey!" cheered Gimli and Faramir, raising their mugs. Aragorn threw back the rest of the pint he had been drinking, chuckled at the two of them, and set it down hard on the table.

"Another!" laughed Legolas with a huge grin, enjoying the sight of his friends celebrating.

"There is no way I am having another," Aragorn said, shaking his head. "Arwen will kill me if I come home like a drunkard. Once was enough, thank you."

"Ah, what is a little ale between friends?" hollered Éomer, and Gimli cheered again, raising his mug and spilling ale on the table in the process.

Thranduil shook his head. "Dwarves."

Legolas laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come now, Adar, Gimli is the life of every party."

"You know what, Éomer?" began Faramir with a straight face. "You are a terrible influence. We have to be home in an hour," he said, beginning to laugh as he pointed and the barkeep deposited another round of mugs on the table, "and it is the middle of the day and we are going to be sloshed before supper!"

"Ale all around!" Éomer yelled, and he raised his glass. "To celebrate the birth of Elfwine!"

"Elfwine!" they all called and drank, Aragorn shaking his head as if there was nothing for it before he, too, took a sip.

"To the new little one!" called Gimli. "The son or daughter of Faramir!"

"To children in general!" laughed Faramir.

"To Legolas!" yelled Éomer, holding out his mug to him, and Legolas grinned. "May he be ever in love with his bride to be, may he discover the glories of marriage and the enjoyment of having the woman one loves in the same bed as himself at night!" Faramir cracked up laughing as Legolas blushed.

"Éomer—"

"And may he be blessed with much desire for…his wife—"

"Hoho!" cheered Gimli and Legolas covered his face with his hand.

"Éomer—" he groaned.

"—and for children! For that is where a man's heart truly lies—in family."

"Thank you," the elf said sincerely. Éomer winked at him.

"To Legolas." They all echoed, toasted, and drank.

"Wait," laughed Éomer, reaching across the table and grabbing Aragorn's arm. "We did not toast to your little one!"

"Um, no, Éomer, that is—" Aragorn began, holding up a hand.

"To the King's little one!" he laughed and there was an awkward second where no one knew what to do. Thranduil jumped in, leaning across the table and clinking his mug against Éomer's.

"Indeed!" he said, and the rest of them echoed even as Legolas glanced at Aragorn and the man shook his head. Thranduil shrugged. Why spoil the mood at the moment?

"What else can we toast to?" Éomer asked, looking at them all.

"I think you might want to stop there, friend," laughed Thranduil, and he set a hand on Éomer's shoulder. "This toasting is getting a bit out of hand."

"You know, Legolas," Faramir said, "we need to have a party for you some night before the wedding to celebrate your last night of being, well, unattached!"

"Is this not enough?" he asked spreading a hand. "We are all here, together, enjoying ourselves…"

"No, no, no," Éomer disagreed. "These things have to be done properly, Legolas. How many days have we got before the blessed event?"

Thranduil smiled—Éomer was nearly as drunk as Gimli. "Seven."

"Well, I say that we need to have this celebration in six."

"What is the purpose of it again?" asked Legolas, confused.

"Tell you wild stories, drink ale, give you advice, you know! All the good stuff!" Éomer laughed, waggling his eyebrows at him.

"Definitely not the night before the wedding," Legolas refused easily. "I forbid it."

"Whoa, all right!" laughed Faramir. "How about three days from now? We will come here and celebrate and tell Legolas all the stories we want."

"Assuming the women are fine with it," Aragorn said, "which they may not be if we miss dinner entirely tonight." Éomer shoved his shoulder.

"We will make sure the wives are fine with it!"

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Advice, hmm?"

"Yes, lots and lots of advice, Legolas," said Faramir with a grin.

"Am I invited to this celebration?" laughed Gimli, leaning forward on the table and spilling more ale on the table.

"If you have recovered by then!" teased Éomer.

"Perhaps we should be heading for the Tower," suggested Thranduil. "Dinner is waiting and—"

Suddenly, Gimli knocked over the candle in the center of their table and it lit up the table top like a bonfire, flames licking the ceiling. Éomer, Faramir, and Legolas leapt back shouting, ale spilling everywhere from their pints. Gimli roared, flying to his feet as the end of his beard caught on fire, flames shooting towards his face.

"Eru!" yelped Éomer. He grabbed his mug.

"No, Éomer!" cried Aragorn, trying to snatch it from his hand, but it was too late. The ale splashed Gimli's beard and the flames shot out as though the dwarf was breathing fire. Gimli hollered in terror and Éomer yelled, jumping backwards and knocking Faramir and Legolas onto the ground. Other patrons in the tavern were screaming and yelling in alarm.

Thranduil spun around from the nearest table and flung a huge pitcher of water into the dwarf's face. "Gelyle, more water!" he called towards the bar, but at least the fire on the dwarf's face was out. Aragorn pulled Gimli back from the table, Faramir and Legolas got to their feet, and the six of them stood staring around at the bonfire burning in the alcohol on the table. They looked at each other as Gimli felt what was left of his terribly singed beard.

"Gimli, are you all right?" asked Legolas, reaching for him.

"Always knew that shoulda been a bit shorter!" Gimli yelled and then raised his mug. "Hey!" Everyone in the tavern raised their glasses and yelled as well.

The friends began to chuckle and then to laugh as Aragorn clapped the dwarf on the shoulder. Soon, they were all doubled over as Gelyle put the rest of the fire out, holding onto each other as they laughed hilariously, struggling to even stand upright.

"Everything all right, Master Gimli?" the barkeep asked, chuckling himself. "You six aren't going to be allowed in here anymore if you're gonna set the place on fire!"

"One more round, Gelyle," laughed Éomer. "Just one, and then we'll be on our way, but make it for the whole place!" A cheer went up from the tavern.

"And put it and the table on the King's score for the afternoon!" shouted Faramir.

The second cheer was even louder, and Éomer thumped his mug on the burnt table.

A mug of beer in my hand, me boys!

And a celebratory grin!

A rousing song to strike a dance

And a fair maid I can spin!

"Oh god, Éomer, don't!" laughed Gimli. But Éomer continued as the fiddler in the corner struck up the tune on his instrument. In the meantime, everyone around them began thumping to the rhythm of the song as Gelyle began filling up drinks, and one by one everyone in the tavern had joined in the old and well-known song:

A mug of beer in my hand, me boys!

A shout of gladness ring!

Play a tune on the fiddle and celebrate

For all now join and sing:

Hey! Ho! A jolly song!

A song of celebration!

Hey Ho sing a song of the heart!

You've worked hard, me boys!

Won victory, me boys!

Shout HEY and dance and sing…

And DRINK 'till the morning!

Arwen and Éowyn sat with Annî at the wooden table in an adjoining room within the first level of the White Tower. The table was set and the food set out, waiting for those who were present to be eating it. At the moment, they were waiting. It was fairly quiet, except every few moments when Annî would randomly ask:

"Where is Daddy?" And Éowyn would respond with:

"I am sure he is on his way, dear."

After the fifth time, Éowyn turned towards Arwen while Annî played with her potatoes and fairly snarled, "You know, it would be awfully nice of them to show up. I mean, look at all this food gone to waste! And we are sitting here waiting for them when we could be eating and—"

"Éowyn, Éowyn," Arwen said soothingly. "Do not get yourself riled up. We knew they were going for a drink; I am sure they forgot the time. You know how Gimli and Éomer are when they are together—"

"And Faramir! And I gave him a strict warning this afternoon!"

Arwen smiled. "And when has that ever mattered?"

"Did you not say the same to Aragorn?"

She sighed. "No, I assumed they were going out to spend time together. They have not all been together in several years and I thought that…it would not be a terrible thing if they enjoyed one another's company."

Éowyn sighed. "Why do you have to be so reasonable? You make me look like a bear."

"Stop that," she said. "Perhaps it is because I am an elf, though one would think that you would understand the needs of men more than I, having known your brother for years."

She snorted. "My brother. You know what? I would not be surprised if Faramir and Éomer were passed out at the house right now." Her eyes narrowed. "I will kill them when we get home."

Arwen laughed softly. "Oh, Éowyn."

"The maids worked hard on this meal, to prepare it for so many!" she exclaimed. "And I think it is simply—"

"Rude?" asked Thranduil from the doorway as he entered. Both of their heads shot up. "You must have been deep in conversation if you did not hear us coming."

Éowyn stood and crossed her arms. "Where have you been?"

"Daddy!" yelled Annî, trying to see behind Thranduil.

"I am sorry, Andúnêiel," Thranduil said as he came closer and Legolas entered behind him. "My Lady, you should be seated and—"

"Do not dare say resting, Thranduil," she said a bit waspishly. "I have been sitting here for the past twenty minutes. Where is my husband?"

"At home, Éowyn," Aragorn said as he walked in behind Legolas. "We are late."

Her eyebrows rose in irritation. "A bit. And where is my brother? Sleeping it off as well?"

Arwen wrinkled her nose as Aragorn drew closer and he smiled apologetically. "Along with the dwarf."

"Well, at least you, it seems, have some self-control." Éowyn frowned and sat down. "Honestly, what is wrong with them?"

"You cannot blame them, Éowyn," added Legolas. "There was much to celebrate, you know."

"Did you set fire to something?" Arwen asked Aragorn as he took a seat and Thranduil chuckled. "That is not pipe-weed I smell."

Legolas snorted. "Gimli. We ignited Gimli."

"What?" asked Éowyn.

"Well, to be truthful," Thranduil added, holding up a hand and resting one on Legolas's shoulder, "Gimli set himself on fire." Annî giggled.

"That is true," Legolas agreed.

"I thought Elves did not feel the effects of alcohol," Éowyn asked suspiciously.

"Actually, Éomer made it much worse and Thranduil was the only one with the presence of mind to put it out, as Legolas and Faramir were on the floor at the time," Aragorn admitted.

Éowyn laid her head in her hands. "I am not hearing this."

"Just eat your meal and forget we said anything," Aragorn said, waving it off.

"Did you get into any fights?" she asked, her head still in her hands. "Are you lying to me about them being at the house and they are really in the stocks? I know how Éomer can be sometimes—"

"Everything was fine. They simply had too much to drink," Legolas stated, reaching over for some bread. "We did enjoy ourselves, but we do apologize for being late. Aragorn did try to tell us, if that makes you feel better, Arwen."

Arwen gave him a wry smile in return. "I believe it does."

"Éomer and Faramir were probably buying everyone another round," groaned Éowyn. "Ugh…why did I marry him?"

"Because you love him," said Aragorn, "and Éomer…well…you cannot choose your family."

She laughed. "Thank you."

"I like him," said Thranduil thoughtfully, filling his plate. "He is amusing."

Legolas looked about and tilted his head. "Where is—"

"Legolas," Arwen said a bit sharply, and the elf looked at her immediately, as did everyone else.

"What is the matter?"

"What sort of nonsense did you feed Enguina this morning about the traditions of Greenwood?"

"I was just going to ask you where she was," he asked innocently. "I have no idea—"

"Do not play coy with me."

"What in the world did you do?" asked Thranduil, studying Arwen's irritated face.

"Clearly something she did not like," he muttered under his breath. Then he grinned at her. "Did she really do it? Because if she did, she is the most gullible—"

"Oh no," groaned Aragorn, leaning his chin on his hand. "You did not play a trick on her."

"It was an excellent one, too," he admitted, grinning from ear to ear. "I told her—"

"I know what you told her," Arwen interrupted, "and it might have been funny, too, if she had not become red, swollen, and almost ill because of it."

Legolas dropped his fork. "What?"

"Enguina is severely sensitive to strawberries and dandelion weed."

His mouth fell open. "But w-why would she—"

"So willing to please," Arwen sighed. "She did not think. She was only thinking about pleasing you. She never thought about what would happen; in fact, she forgot about her sensitivity to those things completely."

"Oh, Legolas," sighed Éowyn, shaking her head and cleaning off Annî's hands from the potatoes she was digging into on her plate.

"You are so very fortunate that she did not ingest any of it; she would have been terribly ill."

He got to his feet. "I must go to her immediately."

"She is all right at the moment," Arwen said, trying to temper his clear distress. Even though she was still irritated with him, she saw no reason to make him over-anxious. "She is resting, but you should certainly go to her, and you should certainly apologize."

"I will," he said, looking extremely guilty.

"You are going right now?" asked Thranduil.

"I caused this."

"You might want to take dinner for both of you," Arwen said. "I promised her you would take her a plate. And Legolas, I would not mention that there is no such tradition."

He blushed and looked very guilty, and his father looked up. "What in the world did you tell her, boy?"

His son sighed as he began filling a plate with some food. "I told her there was a ritual that females would perform before their wedding and it included some of the…items that she was clearly sensitive to." He groaned. "I never meant for her to do something so foolish! I thought it would be hilarious."

"A ritual?" asked Éowyn, intrigued. "What sort of ritual?"

"She had to take a bath in certain items," he stated. "Obviously, she fell for it. Please, do not let this leave this room. If Faramir or Éomer hear about it, I will never hear the end of it."

"This is Enguina," Aragorn sighed. "Foolish is part of her name."

Thranduil smiled. "It was a clever plot, but you should have assumed it would come back to haunt you. Those things usually do."

Legolas nodded, his head low. Aragorn sighed and rested his forehead on his clasped hands. "Dear Father, bless these two so that we might live in harmony and peace."

"Come now, Aragorn," Legolas complained. "If you had time before your wedding, you would not have played a trick or two on Arwen?"

"I doubt it very highly."

"It has been quite clear to me that she has been plotting with others, especially you and Gimli," Legolas accused Éowyn. The woman covered her heart.

"What? Me? I have no idea what you are talking about."

He shook his head as he finished filling the plate he was taking. "Do not lie, Éowyn; it does not become you at all. I know that is what you were doing the day Faramir and I were attacked. There is something dreadful that she is going to do to trick me and you are both in on it." He sighed. "It is almost certain that she has all of you in on something or another."

"This is too much strain for my head right now," muttered Aragorn and Annî patted his arm.

"It's fine, Tirion," she said. "You are good." Aragorn could not help but smile.

"It serves you right," Éowyn pointed out. Then she looked back to Legolas. "And it would serve you right, too, after what you did to her."

"I only did it because I knew she was planning something!" he cried. Then he shook his head. "Forget I said anything." He turned to his father. "Adar, would you walk out with me?" he asked. "I have…something I want to say." Thranduil nodded and stood as Legolas turned to them. "I wish you all a good evening. Éowyn, please thank Éomer again for today, will you?"

"He will not be awake," she sighed. "You can tell him in the morning."

"Will we see you for breakfast?" asked Arwen.

"Possibly, though I might spend the day trying to make up with Enguina."

Thranduil and Legolas walked out the door together and just outside in the throne room Legolas stopped and turned to him. "Adar…I want to apologize for my behavior last evening."

"You do not need to apologize, Legolas," Thranduil said softly. "It was I who—"

"No," he said firmly, "that will not do. I will not have you covering up my apology with your own. Apologize if you wish, but I will say what I must say."

Thranduil stared at him a moment and then bowed his head. "Then speak, my son."

"I should never have been so angry with you. One of my greatest faults is my temper; I sometimes still struggle to control it. Because of that, I hurt you. I should not have brought mother into the conversation." Thranduil flinched and looked away, but Legolas set his hand on his father's shoulder. "I do it even now when I am trying to seek your forgiveness. I know that was unfair of me and it was wrong…very wrong. I…should have been more patient. Moreover, I know the pain it causes you when I mention her, and I was wrong."

"I am sorry for what I said to you," Thranduil said softly. "Even if it had been my place to question you, it was done in a way to accuse you…and that was not what I meant to do. In any way, it was not my place."

"When I am ten thousand years old," Legolas said, looking into his father's face, "you will still be my father. If you did not question me, who would? I should be grateful, that you still care about who I am, what I become, the choices I make; instead, I have been angry and resentful. I am sorry." He sighed. "When I have my own children, I know I will understand, though now I struggle."

"You are forgiven for your words," Thranduil replied. "I am sorry that it has taken this long for us to apologize to one another."

"It was a long day." He looked at his father. "I will, however, respond as I should have when you asked me."

"You do not need to explain yourself," he said, shaking his head. "I have no right—"

"I have not taken Enguina to my bed," he interrupted softly. "I am still the man I always was. Her honor, her innocence, her love…these are the most important concerns in my life. I would never dishonor her; I love her too much."

Thranduil reached up and set his hand on Legolas's shoulder. "I am glad to be reminded of that, to be reminded you are a man of great character, of virtue. I am sorry that I thought otherwise, even for a moment. My mind simply ran away with me. I should never have assumed wrongly of you."

"There are…some things that you do not understand," Legolas continued in the same, soft voice. "But I cannot explain them. The tale is not mine to tell, not mine to share. Shall it suffice to say that Enguina and I need to be together?"

"It is not necessary," Thranduil stated. "I should trust your judgment; I do trust your judgment. Whatever you are doing, you must have a good reason."

"I do," he replied. "And I…" He away from his father's eyes and sighed. "One day, Adar...do you think we could…do you think we might ever talk about mother?"

Thranduil let out a long breath and crossed his hands slowly behind his back; still, Legolas could see even in his father's control, the pain that he hid in his heart. "I do not know, my boy," he murmured. "I wish I could give you a better answer; I know it is not the one you hoped for."

"No, but it is the one I expected. I wish you could trust me," he said sadly.

Thranduil shook his head. "It is no matter of trust, Legolas. It is a matter of ability—mine. I do not want you to ever know the pain I have felt. To tell you, to share it with you, would bring you great sadness. You are just beginning your life with Enguina; let your focus remain on her, not on the past. If Ilúvatar is good, you will never know this pain. I pray…I have been praying ceaselessly and I will continue to pray, that you and Enguina will live forever together."

Legolas's face grew pale and he whispered, "If I ever lost her—"

"I cannot, Legolas," Thranduil said a bit suddenly, taking a step back towards the dinner room. "Please…understand." His eyes pleaded with his son, begged him to let the subject go.

Legolas lifted his head and looked at his father, as if really seeing him for the first time in years. "I…think I do. Good night, Adar; until morning."

"Until morning." He turned and went back inside as Legolas headed through the throne room towards Enguina.

When Legolas entered the guesthouse, he went directly to where he figured Enguina would be. Assuming that she might not be asleep in her bed, he headed for the sitting room where he found her lying on the daybed there. She was looking at him when he came over and set the plate of food on his lap when he sat on the edge of the table across from her.

"A peace offering," he said softly, and she smiled when he reached over and dragged his fingers very gently along her cheek. He could see the red lumps along her collarbone and the guilt of what he had done increased a hundred-fold.

"Arwen got to you already, I see," she said a bit sleepily. "It was not your fault. It was my silliness that led to what happened. I was not thinking."

"I…could not have known about your sensitivities, but I wish I knew that before. I will never give you strawberries or run you through a field of dandelions. I am so sorry."

"It is all right," she told him gently. "You never could have known, and it was fun to do…until the itching started."

He chuckled, unable to help himself. "By the look of you, we are going to have many, many children."

"One for every bubble on my skin," she whispered, and he outright laughed. "I think I may have counted five and twenty."

"Well, we have forever," he told her. "I am sure we could make that work."

She smiled. "I am not very hungry at the moment, but if you are, you should eat. What time is it? It seems light out."

"Dinner," he said. "How is your head feeling?"

"It was pretty awful this afternoon," she said honestly. "At the moment, I feel better; just a bit tired. I think that is from the reaction. At least I am not scratching my skin all off at the moment."

"When Arwen told me, I could not help but feel terrible. I will say though…" he whispered, leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead and she heard him deeply breathe in the scent of her hair, "you smell unbelievably good."

When he made to pull back, she slipped her hand around the back of his neck and tilted her face up so she could kiss him. It was long and sweet, and she did not want it to be over. In fact, she had a desire in her mind to pull him right down beside her…but she resisted. "Mmm," she muttered. She closed her eyes again and kissed him again and she felt him smile against her mouth.

"You are tired," he whispered.

"How can you tell?" she murmured back against his lips.

"You usually do not let me kiss you this many times in succession," he continued, and she felt his hand drag down her arm to her shoulder, his fingers slipping beneath the sleeve of the tunic. The touch against her flesh set her on fire, goose pimples came out on her skin, and she trembled in his arms. A thrill of fear went through her…or was it something else?

"Hold…slow down," she whispered and released his neck so she could slide back from him. "Too far…too much, too fast."

"How do you know?" he asked softly and watched her swallow hard. "We were only kissing."

"No," she replied in the same soft tones. "You did not feel the difference?"

"I felt the difference in you," he replied, his other hand reaching to touch her face.

"Why can I not…" she began, frustrated, and then sighed. "Why can I not kiss you and feel nothing else? It makes me feel…as though I am doing something wrong."

He smiled, stroking her cheek with his fingers. "Because we are to be wed in seven days. Because I…have been looking at you a bit differently the last few days," he sighed honestly. "And because you are feeling differently."

"I…have more anxiety," she said softly. "And what do you mean you have been looking at me a bit differently? I have not noticed you looking at me differently."

"I have tried not to be too obvious," he told her lightly. "In any event, I have a question for you." She tilted her head at him.

"You are changing the subject," she accused.

"I am indeed," he admitted. "I cannot possibly explain myself. Now, the question."

"It has nothing to do with kissing?" she asked and he chuckled.

"That depends…there could be kissing."

"Mmm. What is it?"

"I feel very responsible for what happened to you today. I would like to make it up to you by taking you riding near the Anduin tomorrow."

She blinked and was quiet.

He frowned. "What are you thinking? I…hate not knowing what you are thinking, and it seems to me that you do not like my idea."

"I…do like it. I only…" She slipped her fingers through his and held his hand. "Legolas, we will be as you say, six days away from being wed. Should we…should we tempt ourselves?"

"Tempt—? What can you mean?" he asked, giving her a small smile. "Are we not tempting ourselves already? Am I not spending every evening beside you in your bed?"

"Legolas…"

"Nothing is going to happen, moina," he told her gently. "We are only going for a ride in the springtime, a few hours away from Minas Tirith before we return to the decorating and the entertaining and everything else we need to worry about. We can be in control of our behavior. At least…I will be." His eyes sparkled with humor for a moment and she wondered if it were possible for him to be serious about their conversation.

She tilted her head at him and reached up to touch her shoulder. "Did you know that you were touching my skin? That you were sliding your hand beneath my tunic?" she asked him seriously. She was not chastising him for it; she was wondering if he had even known what he was doing.

"The tips of my fingers were touching the perfect skin of your shoulder. How could I not know?" he asked, his voice low and soft, still stroking his fingers along her face.

"You do not even have the decency to be embarrassed," she chided him.

He sighed. "Guin, I do not have any embarrassment because we did not do anything wrong. Nothing is going to go wrong. Ride with me tomorrow."

She closed her eyes. "I do not know. I want to; I want to spend every waking moment with you but I…still feel that this is not the best idea right now. Perhaps surrounding ourselves with people is."

"Being alone would be a great idea," he said, kissing her fingers. "I do not need someone standing beside me to remind me of the lines we have drawn." He frowned at her. "Are you saying you would prefer I do not touch you?"

"Legolas…"

"Agree to come with me," he pressed and she laid her head back against the divan. It had begun aching again under the stress of their conversation.

"I am tired," she murmured, her eyes closed.

The silence told her more than he realized. She felt awful that she was hurting him, but how could she say yes to his request? Something was not right in the pit of her stomach. It was not the slight change in Legolas that bothered her, though she knew very well he felt the heaviness of the desire he held for her grow ever heavier as the wedding drew nearer. He did desire her; should she not fear that desire? She felt that it should have frightened her, it should have made her more nervous. Instead, what she worried about was being completely inadequate, even panicking on their wedding night. Arwen could give her every encouragement known to Middle-Earth, but Enguina had no idea how she was going to get through that night…never mind how she was going to get through every day until then.

"I do not mean to hurt you," she said softly.

"Do you not trust me?" he asked. "Are you nervous about being alone with me?" She could hear the wounds she was creating in his heart even as he spoke the words.

"I do trust you," she said, opening her eyes and laying her hand along the side of his cheek. "I do not trust my response. It is not yours; it is mine. I wanted everything to be normal, but how can it be when I am not normal?" She wondered this aloud, not intending him to reply. "Legolas, I am so frustrated by the feelings I have that I cannot…understand? Suppress? I do not know what to say."

He stroked her face. "You do not have to suppress them," he told her gently. "We love each other, Guin. We should feel a certain amount of desire toward one another." He grinned at her. "At least I hope you desire me even a quarter as much as I feel toward you."

She blushed. "I…do not think it would be appropriate for me to express that right now."

He laughed. "You need to stop worrying and just…let it be. Everything is going to be fine. You said you were tired…shall we get you to bed?"

"Mmm," she murmured, closing her eyes and rubbing her fingers along his cheek, "I do not think I have the energy to go over there."

"Perfect." Before she could say anything, he set the plate down on the table, stood, and slipped his hands underneath her. Scooping her into his arms and curving her into his chest, her head rested against him.

"You did not need to do that," she said into his tunic. "You are supposed to be eating."

"I will, once you are tucked in bed."

She smiled. "You are going to be such a wonderful father someday. You will tuck our children in every night, read them stories, and sing them songs…and I will adore you from a distance as they love you…"

"You…did hit your head very hard, did you not, love?"

"I am perfectly serious."

He laid her down on the bed which had already been turned down, brought up the sheets, made sure her pillow was just so and she was comfortable, and then rested his hands on the bed on either side of her, leaning over her face.

"I know…and I love you for the image," he whispered, bending low to kiss her gently.

"I cannot wait until we are married," she said as he began to lean back. It made him pause a hair from her lips again. "I wish it was tomorrow. Can it be tomorrow?"

"The food is not even prepared, love," he said. "Everything is not yet ready."

"I wish we were married right now," she murmured, but he noticed her eyes were still closed. He nuzzled his nose against hers and pressed his lips several times against her cheeks, lips, chin—she felt his breath a bit lower on her throat, and felt a tingle that had nothing to do with fear. "Legolas…"

He pressed his lips to hers and immediately straightened. "Good night, my love," he said gently, and there was half-a-second where she wanted to grab him and pull him down beside her and beg him to touch her, to chase her fears away…but it was a fleeting desire, and fear followed it. She sighed.

"Good night, my Prince."

The endearment made him smile.