Author's Note: :O) If you are enjoying the story, great! The song in this chapter is "Not For A Moment (After All)" by Meredith Andrews and was not written by me or owned by me! Before this story ends, I promise a wedding! LOL
"I am going to catch you!"
"No, you are not!" Legolas laughed out loud. "I am the fastest there is!"
"You watch me!"
The ride had been splendid; Brethil and Lómë were delighted to be out and about the Anduin again, eating fresh grass and romping in the plentiful sunshine. It had not taken the two of them long to begin a race and shortly thereafter Enguina and Legolas found the perfect place to stop and have their lunch. One of the many things Enguina loved about Legolas was that when he planned a day with her, he actually planned. It was so pleasant; he showered her with love and affection and made her feel as though she was the only one in the whole world who could make him feel this way. Perhaps she was, but if felt good to know it, to be told, to be shown. She was so in love with him!
She was gaining on him at the moment and she knew it. He had once again been teasing her, and then he had splashed water on her from the river and that simply could not be tolerated. When she caught him—and she would catch him, it was only a matter of time—she was going to kill him.
She pounced, grabbed his shoulder and dragged him around and down with her to the ground, laying half on him to hold him down. Breathing hard, he stared at her as she grinned triumphantly down at him. "Ha."
"That was impressive."
"You are not as fast as you think you are."
"No," he disagreed, reaching up to stroke her face, "I am just as fast as I always have been. It is just that no one has been able to catch me before you." She smiled and closed her eyes as he explored her face with his fingertips.
"This is a first," she laughed. "You actually seem to be all right with the thought of me catching you." She raised her eyebrows. "Interesting."
"Well, we are now sitting still and I have my hands on your face, so that always helps," he teased. She sighed softly,
"That is nice." He studied her face, the way the sunlight reflected from her beautiful golden hair and how absolutely stunning she was, like a jewel…and she wanted him. Who was he that she should desire to be with him? He wondered if he was strange; he wondered if it was normal to enjoy the position he was in, to be pinned down by her, to be studying her this way.
"By the Valar…" he whispered, "you are so beautiful." He felt her skin heat up beneath his fingers, and he continued to slowly run his fingertips over her eyebrows and eyes, her lips and nose. "The way the sun strikes your skin, the way you move, the way you smile, the way your lips form the words you speak—"
"Legolas."
"The way you say my name. I am completely serious, Guin," he told her, beginning to draw her down towards him. The grass was soft and comfortable, and even though she was only half-lying in it and half-lying on him, she knew how good it would feel against her bare skin. It would be too easy to lie down right beside him, right there, right now. She knew it was becoming too serious; they had been teasing each other only seconds ago…and then he had to go and say something serious… "I am the most fortunate man in the world," he whispered, letting his hands drift back towards her ears. "You are an angel and you love me? And you have accepted me, to marry me…to love me and only me, forever—"
"Oh, Legolas," she whispered, and she let him draw her face to his as she braced her hands against his chest, leaning heavily on him as he brought her lips to his in a loving kiss. His fingers still keeping her near, tracing her face, exploring her skin, and then allowing them to roam back through her hair when she stayed near his lips on her own accord. He planted kisses along her jaw, and then beneath her chin. They were gentle, loving kisses, and he came back to her mouth after three or four. "That…tickles…"
"Good to know," he murmured, sowing more kisses, even as she attempted to turn her head away. His pursuit was relentless, raining kisses on her nose, her chin, her cheekbones, and jawline…whatever was within his reach. "Do you have any other secrets left, my love?"
"A girl…should keep…a few…" She found herself breathless, unable to even think about what she was saying to him. Should she feel this way? Was this normal? She tried desperately to think about Arwen's words from their trip to the river, but her mind was blank except for the pleasure of his mouth. Composure…what was that? Did she have any? He kissed her eyelids, and she felt his hands slip past her hairline and drag slowly down her back.
He felt her intake of air beside his ear, a gasp of pleasure when he pressed his lips directly below her ear, just behind her jawline. To Legolas, it was a final warning; a sound of control that was lost, a sound of the desire within both of them that she had no way or want to fight. He heard it, and for a full three seconds lost his mind to delight in the fact that he was the one who was bringing her bliss. His hands held her more tightly against him, pushing into her back, and pressing her into his chest. He was so wrapped up in every bit of her that he struggled to return himself to the real world. His lips found the sensitive skin beneath her ear again, and this time, she shuddered against him, almost completely unaware of her own reaction to his touch. He heard nothing but her heart one moment, thudding against his chest, and in the next there was nothing but his own blood pounding in his ears.
And that was the moment Legolas came back to himself. Over the blood thundering through his veins, he could suddenly hear her rapid heartbeat again and could feel her unsteady breathing. She felt his desire for her through his hands, his lips—she had to feel it, because she was trembling beneath those hands. Time slowed for him and he was able to think about how much he wanted her…and how wrong it would be if they stayed this way until nightfall. Yes, he wanted desperately for her to be his wife…and he knew immediately that he should have been more careful, that she had been right last night about coming here, and that he was ashamed of what he had been planning in his subconscious. It was right to wait…and he was wrong to be doing what he was doing right then.
"Guin…" he whispered, stilling his hands on her back and loosening his grip on her body. "I need to let you go…I need to stop." She did not open her eyes, but he felt her face warm near his cheek. "I may do something that we will both regret and…" He shook his head. "I want to give myself to you…right now…and that is not proper."
Oh, Ilúvatar, save me! Just listening to his words sent shivers down her spine, and she felt him react then. He knew that maneuvering the two of them was the best idea, even if it was awkward. Slipping his foot beneath hers and rolling her from him, she landed lightly on her back in the grass, his knee over hers, his upper body above her, his hip bumping hers, as his hands rested on either side of her to brace himself, though his chest still touched hers for a single moment.
Every muscle in Enguina's entire body went taut like a wire; her mind went black by just the feel of his hip, the touch of the weight of his body over her, the way his head was silhouetted by the sunlight behind him. With his face hidden in shadow, her heart nearly burst with terror as the flashback of Bragolaur came upon her. She lashed out with both her hands and her feet, bringing her knee up to try to shove him aside and her fist hit him square in the side of the face as a scream tore out of her throat. Scrambling to get out from beneath him as he nearly fell on her with the impact of a fist he had not been expecting, she dug furrows in the ground with her fingers, trying to drag herself away, her breath catching, sides heaving. Realizing what was happening even though his ears were ringing from the impact, Legolas was desperate to free her, to release her from the terror she was feeling. She twisted and lunged as he tried to get leverage and push himself away from her, but it was so difficult when she was thrashing from halfway beneath him. He took another hit from her knee to his hip which dislodged him and then an open palm to the chest, which flung him completely from her as Enguina rolled to her side, half-moaning, half-sobbing, covering her head with her arms and curling into as tight of a cocoon as possible.
"Nononononononono…" She lay whimpering, visions of Bragolaur and his hands and his body thumping against hers reigning in her mind. Trembling with the force of her vision, her body jerked with spasms of memory and she wept into her arms.
Ilúvatar, what have I done? What have I done? Legolas lay on his back, stunned and trying to regain his breath. He covered his face, closing his eyes in his own pain, tears filling them. How wrong! How ridiculous! What had he been thinking? Did he think she would have laughed? Had he been thinking that she would not have reacted? Had he been thinking she was well? She was fine? That he was in control? What a fool! What a fool!
He sat up, breathing hard and forcing back his emotions. She did not need him to be in tears! He was so unbelievably ashamed of how thoughtless he was! What a fool! What was he thinking to be above her? Idiot! Ass! He went to her side and reached for her, listening to her crying broke his heart. Her pain was piercing, stabbing him over and over again in the chest.
She flinched like he was knifing her and cried out as though she had been burned by his hand, but he could not stop and he could not let her be alone, not like this, not because of this. He brought her into his arms and turned her face into his neck, tears on his own face, unable to prevent them now.
"It is Legolas," he whispered over her weeping. "Legolas…Legolas…forgive me…Guin…god, forgive me..."
She forced herself to try to relax against him, to melt into his body, to uncurl a little. Her hands came down to clutch together between their chests and she began shaking full force against him, crying in pain.
Time passed. Neither one of them knew how long; it may have been hours. The sun was hidden in the sky that once had been bright and beautiful, so Legolas could not tell what the hour was. He simply held her, unable to move, unable to beg her forgiveness, unable to know what to say to soothe her. There must have been quiet for some time.
"Oh, Legolas," she whispered painfully, her voice thick with tears, with emotion. "This is so wrong…so wrong. There is nothing that is not marred by his awful presence." She choked on her tears and he felt her hands tighten into fists. "Why…why must I think of him? Why must that bastard always win? He hides in my thoughts every waking moment and then I feel him, so real, so there…so much pain. I have begged Ilúvatar to make this right, to make me forget. What can I do? Where can I go to escape him?" She broke down again; he felt the tears spill down her cheeks. "I do not want him, Legolas!" she cried aloud, begged him, her fists now pressing hard against his chest as her fingers untwined from each other and gripped his tunic. "I do not want him! I want you! I want to feel you! To see you! It hurts! Please! Help me; help me!"
"Shhh," he whispered, pressing his bruised face to her head and rocking her gently in his arms. "It is not your fault, moina quén. I should not have ever placed you in that position. I was not thinking; I am the one who hurt you, my love; I made you remember. I hurt you."
"Nonono," she whimpered. "Not you…not you, him. It is always him. It is the mere memory of him that haunts me, that brings me pain. Eru," she moaned, "how long? I want to feel anything…anything but this! I want it to be your hands, your lips, your breath on my skin!" She released his tunic and dragged possessive fingers along his throat, her nails scratching without control as she gripped him, curling her fingers around the back of his neck as she struggled to breathe evenly. "But what—what can I do? How can I fight a memory? How can I fight what I cannot see? The fear is so intense, so real, so painful that I am blinded by it, consumed by it. Oh Ilúvatar, Legolas, how? How can we fight what we cannot see? How can…how can you still love this utter mess before you?"
"Shh," he soothed her, holding her even more tightly. "Oh, my love, I do not know how we will fight. I do not know…but Ilúvatar will find us a way. He will make a way."
"How?" she whispered brokenly, and he knew he could not answer. He had no answer.
"Let me pray," he replied, and he felt her tightening around him, clinging to him as though he as her lifeline, the only thing that kept her anchored in this storm of agony. He closed his eyes and reached out with his whole being to the only One who could bring her peace.
"Father," he pleaded, "Father, she is so tired." He heard her break down again, felt her body shake with the jerks of grief, of fear, she felt. "She is tired of running, of fighting; she is broken, Lord,and is lying at the feet of your grace, begging for mercy. How much longer will this go on? Fear, grief, the memory of pain, these are the things that haunt her. You brought us together, Lord; you put me here to help bring her peace. Help me. We are here on our knees before you. We are begging for you to take us over. We lay everything down, every hope, every dream, every desire…we ask for your mercy, we ask for your peace. Fill her with the strength to face these demons, the strength to trust you to answer, the strength to trust you to heal and believe that you are beside her, holding her each step of the way. We surrender all to you…everything…take us over…and make us whole again."
"I surrender, Father," she whimpered into his neck. "I need you…every hour I need you."
She clung to him, and he simply held her, whispering the prayer, the plea over and over again. And then, after a time, he sang softly, to encourage, to bring her peace.
You are reaching through the storm
Walking on the water, even when I cannot see
In the middle of it all, when I feel you are a thousand miles away
Not for a moment, will you forsake me…
After all you are constant
After all you are only good
After all you are sovereign
Not for a moment will you forsake me
You are standing in the dark
Whispering your promise, even when I cannot hear
I am held in your arms, carried for a thousand miles to show
Not for a moment, will you forsake me
And every step, every breath, you are there
Every tear, every cry, every prayer
In my hurt, at my worst, when my world falls down
Not for a moment will you forsake me
Even in the dark when it is hard…
After all you are constant
After all you are only good
After all you are sovereign
Not for a moment will you forsake me
Thranduil, Arwen, and Aragorn sat beside each other on the front porch of the King's House, the night beautiful and quiet. It was nice to enjoy it. Thranduil sighed softly, looking up at the stars. The afternoon had been cloudy, but the night had cleared to shine in all its glory.
"It is so clear tonight," Thranduil said quietly, "that you can see every star. What a beautiful evening." He looked over at Arwen who sat not far from him, and Aragorn, who sat on the rail of the porch, smoking his pipe for the first time in ages. He smiled at them. "Thank you both for sharing it with me."
"We welcome your company, Thranduil," Aragorn replied. "It is good to see you. Living such wide distances apart does not welcome visiting."
"And we have our own realms to care and provide for. A very important duty we cannot neglect." Aragorn nodded once, looking down at his pipe for a moment. The Elven King tilted his head, glanced at Arwen again, who had her knees pulled up to her chest with her chin resting upon them, and looked back to Aragorn. "This suits you both very well, you know."
"What is that?" he asked.
"Being the Lord and Lady of this City. You were always worried about it," he stated, "becoming a King. Anyone could see that, even when you never mentioned it or appeared to be. I remember the time you spent in Mirkwood—"
"You were a bit…grimmer then," Aragorn said and Thranduil nodded slowly.
"I do not feel any less grim, though perhaps I may appear that way as I am out of my Realm and spending time with my son…and looking forward to his wedding." He nodded back towards the man. "You are worthy of the crown. You have always been worthy of it."
"Always," Arwen whispered, and Aragorn bowed his head again.
Thranduil smiled. "Your humility has always been one of your defining traits and one of the most pleasing things about you; it draws people in, even when you do not expect it." He raised an eyebrow. "It seduced even the Evenstar."
Aragorn rolled his eyes and drew on his pipe, shaking his head as Thranduil looked over to Arwen. She remained looking out over the front rail towards the sky, quiet.
"You are distracted tonight," Thranduil said to Arwen, reaching over to touch her arm. It startled her because as Thranduil had thought, she was not quite listening to their conversation. "What is the matter?"
"Legolas and Enguina," she said, turning her head to look at him. "I am worried about them."
Aragorn lowered his pipe. "Knowing Legolas, they lost track of time." She nodded slowly, but he knew her too well to know that there was no way she believed that. "They are most certainly on their way home. They will be here soon."
"You sound confident," Thranduil commented.
"They are together," he replied simply in his calming tones. "Everything is going to be—" The three of them raised their heads at once and looked towards the street. Legolas and Enguina were not ten meters away, and as they drew closer, Arwen got to her feet, as did Thranduil. Aragorn remained where he was, watching intently.
There were two things that were immediate upon their step-up to the porch, Thranduil noticed. The first was that Enguina looked…exhausted. She was very nearly leaning on Legolas as the two of them made their way over, and upon arrival and the stairs, she looked close to collapse. There was no chatter between the two of them as they came either. Thranduil knew something was wrong; something awful had happened. And secondly—
"Legolas, your face!" gasped Arwen just as the thought registered to Thranduil as well. Enguina reached up with one hand and stroked Legolas's cheek from temple to chin just once. Then, she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, saying nothing. Thranduil could see the bruising near his eye that stretched across his cheekbone.
"What happened?" Aragorn asked softly, taking Legolas's shoulder in his hand.
He shook his head. "Everything is all right," he replied, looking at Arwen and she stepped to Enguina's side, resting her hand against her friend's head. It was quiet enough that the four of them heard Enguina's little sigh at the touch, a clear comfort. Arwen fought the inner battle of taking her friend into her arms.
Thranduil stepped forward and opened the door to the King's House. "Enguina, you are unwell," he said gently. Then he directed his words to his son. "Legolas, you should take her inside and let her lie down."
"Only for a moment," Enguina whispered. Her voice was so weak, Thranduil wanted to reach out and carry her inside himself when Legolas did not. They followed them directly inside, Aragorn bringing up the rear as Legolas walked her into the other room to lay her down on the divan. Arwen diverted immediately to brew some tea, but Aragorn and Thranduil both followed Legolas to the sitting room.
Legolas sat her down and then helped her stretch out, reaching down to lift her legs up onto the divan. He unlaced the top of her boots and tugged them slowly from her feet. Despite the heat in the room, she looked chilled. Reaching up for the blanket that sat in the window, he took a knee and gently covered her with it, tucking the edge beneath her bare feet. Her eyes fluttered closed, but the three of them clearly heard her murmur, "Just a moment." Legolas laid his hand against her face, fingering her golden hair. Then he stood and backed away directly into Arwen. He turned and she reached up towards his face.
"For your cheek," she whispered, and lifted the wet cloth to it, pressing it there gently. He covered it with his own and gave her a hesitant smile.
"Thank you." Arwen moved past him and took a seat on the edge of the divan, smoothing Enguina's hair and looking carefully into her face.
"Ilúvatar in Heaven, Legolas," Thranduil muttered in a low voice, trying not to disturb Enguina, "she is clearly unwell! What happened? Did you fight someone today? Did you fall from—"
"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I would…rather not say," he replied.
"Is she injured?" Aragorn asked setting his pipe down on the fireplace mantle.
"No," he replied, shaking his head. "No, everything is all right. She is just…tired."
Thranduil stared at him. "You would rather not—" he cut himself off; he could feel the stern, thunderous voice he used in his throne room returning, his temper flaring. He needed to be calm, not agitated. "You could at least tell us what we can do to—"
"You are doing it, thank you," he said, glancing over Thranduil's shoulder to give Aragorn a rather pointed look before meeting his father's eyes. "I cannot explain, Adar, therefore, it is best to simply…let it go." He frowned at his father. "Let it go," he said even more gently.
Thranduil suddenly realized what it felt like when he told Legolas he could not explain. But Legolas was a fool if he thought Thranduil did not know something was going on that he personally knew nothing about. Clearly, Aragorn and Arwen knew; perhaps Enguina had a strange illness…but then why would Legolas not explain that to him? If anything, perhaps he could devise something to help her, being well-learned in lore and the forest. He yearned to know the truth.
"Is she truly all right?" Thranduil asked out of frustration. "Will you at least confirm or deny that, Legolas? Then I will desist."
Though Legolas did not want to admit it, Thranduil's worry for Enguina pleased him more than he could ever say. It proved beyond any doubt he may have had that Thranduil liked Enguina very much indeed; he felt as though he had underestimated his father. He should have believed him when Thranduil had told him she would be as a daughter to him.
"She will be," he said. "I need to take her home so she can rest."
"She could rest here," Arwen said gently from Enguina's side. Legolas knew she was offering for both of them to spend the night. He should have known that if anyone might have figured out what had happened, it would be her. "It would be no trouble at all."
"I think it would probably be best if she slept in her own bed," he replied.
"You should have been carrying her," Thranduil chided him, and Legolas nodded. "I thought for certain she was going to collapse when you came up the stairs. What were you thinking?"
Legolas looked over towards Enguina's lovely face. "I agree with you, but I could not. She forbid me to carry her. I could not…disobey her wishes."
"It was one time you probably should have," Aragorn murmured honestly as Legolas frowned.
"She did not want to stop here either," he added, shaking his head, "but I did not think she would make it to the guesthouse. This was closer. I will, however, carry her back, unless of course she wakes up."
"I could see to that," Aragorn said softly.
Legolas looked over at him with mournful eyes. "Would you, please? She needs to rest." The man nodded and moved to trade places with Arwen. She moved to Legolas's side and took the cloth from him.
"Let me soak that again. Would you like some dinner while you are here?"
"Nothing that takes longer to eat than it will Aragorn to finish," Legolas replied honestly as Aragorn took his place, laying his hands on Enguina. Thranduil watched him for a moment, and then followed Legolas and Arwen into the dining room.
"Sit down and have some soup," she said, pouring him a bowl and setting it in front of him. "Enguina can rest here for a few minutes while you eat." Thranduil took a chair beside him. Legolas laid his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes, as he waited for Arwen to give him a spoon. His father noticed how he avoided his cheek, which was clearly sore. It was on the edge of his tongue to ask him again, and when he opened his mouth and Legolas swallowed the first spoonful of soup, he lifted his head.
"I know that look," he said with a short, grim smile. "Do not waste your time asking. I am not talking about it."
Thranduil let out a breath. "You are upset about something," he probed gently.
"Stay out of it, Adar," Legolas warned, though not meanly.
"I am concerned for you and Enguina."
"You are nosy. I am not in your woods at the moment," Legolas reminded him. "You do not know everything going on here. You do not have all the information, and it is impossible to share it with you. Please, Adar…it is best to let it go." He gave him a humorless smile. "Sometimes, is it not better to lack knowledge of something?"
Thranduil sat back against the chair, his posture perfect. "Has that ever been our strength, my boy?"
"No, but there is no better time for us to practice with handling our disappointment."
"Legolas," chided Arwen, standing behind him to hold the colder cloth to his face.
"No, he is right," Thranduil said with a sigh. "Finish your soup. How was your ride?"
Legolas thought back over the morning which now seemed so long ago. "The ride was perfect. Lómë and Brethil were ideal gentlemen and the Anduin was as crisp and beautiful as I have ever seen. I was glad to be there with her. It afforded us some quiet time among the flashing hours that seem to be through and done leading up to this wedding. Though most of me wishes it were here already."
Thranduil nodded. "I remember feeling that way." He gave Arwen a little smile. "Did you feel that way, my dear?"
"I probably should not respond," Arwen replied with a smirk.
"I will field that question if you like," Aragorn said as he stepped into the room and leaned his elbows on the back of the nearest chair. "It was interminable. Worth it, of course, but interminable, especially when Arwen arrived on the Eve of Midsummer and we had to wait until the next day to be wed. I think we spent half the night out sitting near the wall studying each other's faces in absolute silence. Though, I will be honest and say that I have no idea about the time; I was a bit distracted." Arwen blushed but said nothing, and Thranduil smiled. Aragorn looked to Legolas and said, "She is asleep and should not wake for several hours, but you should take her home." The elf nodded and took another spoonful of his soup before sliding it back on the table.
"You are not going to finish it?" Arwen asked softly, and Legolas reached up and took her hand from his face as he stood.
"I am finished, thank you," he said. "It was good, but I am not hungry." He touched his father's shoulder as he rounded the table and headed back into the other room. Enguina was sleeping so peacefully that he was very tempted to let her sleep here and then stay with her. Would it not be better to have Arwen and Aragorn nearby? No…one day, she would have a horrible nightmare when they were nowhere near and he would have to find a way to reach her. It would be best for them to be alone. Leaving her riding boots behind, he scooped her into his arms, blanket and all, cuddling her against his chest. He looked down into her face, and she looked so vulnerable that he whispered another silent prayer.
Thranduil met him at the door and opened it for them. "Let me walk you at least to the guesthouse?" he asked, and Legolas nodded before turning to Aragorn.
"If you could grab her riding boots—"
"Of course," he replied, and went into the other room to retrieve them.
"Thank you," Legolas said to Aragorn.
"Do not mention it," he replied. "Take some rest, Legolas. I gave Thranduil some herbs; you should soak a cloth in them and lay it over your face. It may heal some of the bruising."
He smiled. "Are you trying to keep me pretty for the wedding, Aragorn?"
"The thought had crossed my mind."
"I thank you again. Good night." He slipped out into the night with Thranduil close behind. Arwen stood, centered back behind the doorway, watching intently, and Aragorn could tell as he leaned against the doorframe that she was nearly ready to lunge down the stairs after them. He closed the door slowly and when he turned, saw her try to lower her shoulders and drain the tension in them. She then busied herself in the kitchen, tossing the rest of Legolas's soup and removing the rest of the pot from the still-warm coals. He waited, leaning against the table until she could find nothing else to clean up; she sighed and then stopped to look at him.
"You are worried," he stated.
"How am I supposed to feel?" she whispered. "I…feel as though I want to rush outside and down the stairs and demand Legolas bring her back her to rest." She appeared ashamed as he reached out and drew her closer to him. "I want to be sure she is all right; she is my closest friend. Something awful happened today. Did you see her? And Thranduil…what he must be thinking. He knows that we are protecting her, that we do not want to tell him what we know. I do not know what to do."
"We have already done it," he said easily, tugging her close to stand beside him. "We have done what we can to help Enguina. Now we must trust Legolas to take care of her." She noticed his pointed expression.
"It…that is difficult for me."
"I know. I feel your conflict."
"I know she will not run for the Embrasure again; he would stop her first," she whispered. "I want to trust him with her life; I have to trust him with her life. This is what I wanted; I wanted them to be together. I wanted them to—"
"And they are going to be. In five days they will be wed," he told her gently. "You need to trust that he is going to take care of her. He will you know." She was quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond. He gently reached up and slipped his hand into her hair to cup the back of her head, massaging her scalp with his fingers. "Do you remember," he began tenderly, "the first few weeks after we lost the baby?" Her eyes closed in pain, in memory, and he wrapped his other arm around her. "Those first two weeks especially after their return, those nights when you would wake up screaming?" She swallowed, and nodded. "Did Enguina come to you? She knew what was happening; they were here every morning for breakfast and they knew very well we barely slept and that when they left we lay back down in bed just to catch a few more minutes. Did she come?" Arwen shook her head slowly, and Aragorn rested his forehead against hers. "Why do you think she did not come?"
"Because she trusted you," she whispered in reply. "Because she trusted you, not me. She trusted that you would care for me, protect me, shield me, shelter me." She sighed and tried to release her tension. "Just as I must do for Legolas; just as I must trust him to do the same for her."
"Yes," he agreed. "You need to let her go. Legolas is her strength now. Let him watch over her; let him be with her. If she needs us, they will come."
"But she will not," Arwen said softly.
"No…she will not."
"It is not easy, this…letting go. I have had to protect her for so long. When she is hurting like this, so obvious in front of me…I…"
"It hurts you; I know. It hurts me, too. But the nightmares are now Legolas's challenge. If they need us for anything more, we will be there for them in every way we can. All right?"
She nodded, breathing out slowly and then kissing him gently. "I love you."
"As I love you, beloved." He maneuvered his fingers in her hair again. "To bed?"
"To bed." She reached up and laid a hand against his shoulder. "How is that wound tonight? Yesterday it was not very well."
"It is better today. If I do not yank or smash it again—"
"You mean have someone else smash it again," Arwen pointed out and he nodded with a smile.
"Yes. It should be better…before the wedding."
She smoothed her hands over his shoulders and down his back. "I guess you will not be picking me up anytime soon."
"I could do it right now, but…I think it would be best to wait another night." She smiled, stepped back, and crisscrossed her fingers in his as she led him from the kitchen.
"To bed."