His hands were on her, his breath hot on her skin. Always the same feeling, the heavy pressure on her abdomen, his hips pressing down on her as he laughed at her sickness, at her disgust over what he was doing to her. The way his hands stroked her flesh out of wanton lust, the way she trembled with despair at the loss of what he was taking from her…oh, how she despised him even as she cried out in pain, in shame. His face lowered toward her, blocking the light so she saw nothing but him, even as he pressed down upon her.

"You are mine, fair love…mine."

Enguina woke suddenly from the dream, but this time, she did not even cry out. Shame gave way to furious anger; it ripped through her, tearing at her heart. She sat up slowly, dragging her knee to her chest; surprisingly, she did not wake Legolas, but his arm had not been over her. She remained there for several moments, breathing hard, fighting the desire to rage, to scream, to cry aloud. How she hated him! Bragolaur—the taker of everything, the one who could have ruined her entire life, had still stolen nearly fifty years of it! She hated him; wished she could rip his throat out. Holding all of those desires in, she closed her eyes and touched her forehead to her knee, cursing him under her breath. Her hands wound into her hair.

Why, Father? Why can this not come to an end? Why must I still feel him? Legolas is the one I love, the one I want to give myself to. How can I react this way to him? How can I feel as though he is like Bragolaur? He is nothing like Bragolaur! Legolas's hands are so soft, so tender…his eyes so full of love…every muscle in his body bears the signs of his restraint so that he will not cause me pain. He is the most thoughtful being on the planet. So then why can I not trust him? Why can I not have him touch me and see only him, not the bastard who took me? Why must I experience the fear? I want to experience love! I want to experience pleasure, the pleasure that Arwen spoke of, not pain! Did you not give me to Legolas for love, and him to me? Then let me feel it! Let me feel it now! Enough pain! Enough agony! The angry tears flooded her eyes as her hands tightened in her hair. I am done with these evil dreams!

Her desire for Legolas, to beat back Bragolaur and his awfulness won out in her mind. She shoved back the fear, the terror, the pain, and the sheets. She never gave thought to what she was doing; driven by the darkness of the dream, desperate to defeat Bragolaur's hold on her, she turned to Legolas and urgently shook him awake.

He woke instantly, but it seemed as though he was coming out of a deep sleep. "Guin?" he asked, blinking nearly incoherently, worried at being so forcefully shaken awake. "Guin, what is it? A dream? Are you all right? What—"

"Shh…" she whispered, placing her fingertips against his lips and then reached out to stroke his face. Legolas struggled to sit up, trying to figure out what was happening. There was something in the way she quieted him, and then her voice, low and quiet whispered his name, "Legolas…" He swallowed, trying to say her name, and then she was on her knees on the bed, leaning down into him, her hands cupping his face as she desperately pressed her lips into his.

Guin…Guin… This was…different. Her hands clutched his face, her fingers tangled in the back of his hair; was he still asleep? She was kissing him, fiercely, forcefully, and his body responded with an enthusiasm it should not have. Every nerve was awakened in him in this state of part-waking and part-dreaming. Her lips were pressing against his, over and over, her fingers repeatedly tangling in his hair, her nails digging into the back of his neck. He reveled in the feeling.

Ilúvatar…this was what he had hoped it would be! No fear…no uncertainty…this was what he imagined her to be like, wanting him, desiring him…and he liked it, wanted it. He had dreams about the moment when she would overcome the fear, what she would really be like, what she would do, how she would respond to him. This was just another dream…he truly believed that once they had tackled her dreams, she would want him as much as he wanted her and love-making would be truly beautiful. He had saved himself for so long…for this…for those long fingers wrapped in his hair, the taste of her on his mouth.

It was a dream, but his hands found her shoulders and even within the dream he was uncertain; should he push her back? Even in this dream, he did not see a wedding band on her hand…but her kisses set him on fire. How could he deny her? It was clear she desired him. This was unbelievable…he could hardly breathe as her hands tumbled to his throat, his neck, scratching the skin they found…

"Legolas…Legolas…" she murmured into his mouth, fueling his desire for her. Her hands slipped below the neck of his tunic, finding a place on his skin near his shoulders, and the hands that had been in the process of pushing her away, to tell her it was a dream, suddenly forgot what they had been about to do. Should he…what? Should he…what had he been thinking? There was nothing but her, nothing but the bare skin of her arms in the nightdress she wore, and when their mouths broke apart, he began sowing kisses along her jaw, and her head fell back to allow him to do it.

He heard her breath leave her and felt her hands leave his body to take his wrists. His lips found a sensitive spot near her left ear and she trembled forcefully, still finding the presence of mind to tug his hands down to her waist. He gently took her sides in his hands, his hands acting of their own accord, fingers feeling along her ribs, thumbs nearly beneath her breasts. She wrapped her hands around his head and kissed him again as his hands dragged slowly up the back of her nightdress—up to her shoulders then down as she arched into him, feeling every sensation from each finger. His fingers located her spine above the line of the dress and she gasped when he shifted her hair aside and let the pads of his fingers focus on each vertebrae.

Enguina wanted to moan with pleasure; instead she was silent as she reached down and took one of his hands back to her shoulder. His left now moved to her side where it had been before, his thumb brushing the fabric of the gown just beneath her breast. Taking his fingers, she spread out his hand against her chest, keeping her lips pressed to his. He ran his hand out and along her shoulder, collecting the strap of the night dress with his fingers and brushing it away from her skin and off the shoulder. He slipped his mouth away from hers, kissing down her throat feather-light and then along the muscle between her neck and shoulder. She could not even take a breath; his kisses were the sweetest thing she had ever felt in her entire life. She wanted more…she wanted to be utterly lost in his embrace, in his touch. His hands wandered and she began to breathe again, but only raggedly and she began to undo the lacing on his tunic, slipping her fingers against his skin, along his collarbone, following the muscles of his chest.

Oh…heaven…this is what this is like? This is what it is like to have him touch me? Father, let me feel more! Let me feel his true desire for me! Legolas, Legolas! Please!

She trembled as the hand that had removed the strap collected her hair and shifted it aside again; his mouth came back to the base of her throat and Legolas began kissing his way along her collarbone. She let her head fall to the side, hardly able to breathe as his kisses continued up behind her ear and then back to her neck and out again to her shoulder. There was no control here, only desperation to feel the force of his love.

"Touch me…" she whispered, begging him, and he moved to obey her. "Touch me, Legolas…touch me and make me forget…make me unafraid."

He froze. It was her words, the very words she spoke that made him realize this was no dream. This was Enguina, pleading with him to touch her—her own words! His mouth was on her skin, his hands were—where were his hands?! They were on her, touching her, in places they never should have been! He felt hot, so hot, shame filling him. He lowered his forehead to her shoulder, unable to breathe.

Enguina had no idea of the difference in him; she had no idea what he was thinking, feeling in that moment. She thought he needed a moment to collect himself; in the meantime, her hands slipped further beneath his tunic and began exploring the chest she had been longing to have the courage to touch. She heard him gasp and then muttered words.

"Oh…Guin…nonono," he whispered. No, no! This is not right! No, no! He yanked his hands back from her body as if she had burned him, and she recoiled from him suddenly as if slapped. Blindly, he turned away and stumbled, getting caught in the sheet as he tried to slip away; falling off the bed, he tumbled to his knees, staring at his hands. He had touched her…had his hands against her breasts as though he could simply do as he wanted! He was wrong, so wrong. He lowered his head in his hands and covered his face, shame filling him.

Enguina sat, staring at the back of his head, barely able to think, barely able to feel anything except what she had been feeling mere moments ago. Desire…she had wanted him, had felt his desire burn for her like nothing she had ever known. She knew, she could feel it in the…the…pleasure she had felt. This was…this was like nothing she had ever known…like nothing. Arwen had been right! She had been right all along. Oh god…the way he had touched her, the press of his mouth on her shoulder, at her throat, by her ear—where he had kissed her, but oh! The bliss she felt!—wherever he had touched her skin.

What—what was that sound?

Oh god…oh…god… What had she done?

Legolas was on the floor before her; she was still kneeling on the bed, half-flung back from where she had been, the nightdress hanging from her shoulder. She was hardly clothed? Legolas had—no, she had asked him to…she had practically begged him to… Enguina swallowed hard; what in the world had she been thinking? Then she realized, she had not; she had been reacting…and she could do no more thinking now without going to him. Pulling her dress on appropriately, she slipped off the bed on weak knees and onto the floor beside him. Reaching out slowly, she touched his shoulder, thinking that he might very well pull away from her hand. Legolas could not, but…oh, he wanted to!

"Ilúvatar, Guin, do not comfort me…" he gasped, continuing to hide his face from her. "I am…I am ashamed…"

"No, no," she whispered and then touched the hands that covered his face, "this was me…this was me, my fault…mine, not yours."

"No," he choked out, shaking his head rapidly. "I thought…I thought…" He could not finish those words, unbelievably embarrassed, ashamed at what had happened. "I was touching you…I had my…my hands were on you! I should cut them off!"

"No! It was because I wanted you to," she said, as ashamed as him. "Legolas, look at me."

"No," he groaned. "I swore I would never—I promised myself I would not—Why did I—"

"Look at me." She was just as upset as he was, but she was responsible this time; she would not let him run.

"I cannot…I cannot see your face. Not after what I just…did."

She stared at the side of his head, her fingers clutching his. "Legolas, we cannot sit here like this; we need to speak to one another. You cannot run from me."

He dropped his hands and, looking at her, his face wet but with no tears in his eyes, said softly, "You cannot use my words against me." Enguina clutched his hands in her own and looked into his face.

"This was my fault," she told him seriously. "I…I wanted this. I asked you for it; this was me. I was dreaming, Legolas. I was having a nightmare that did not wake you and when I woke I-I felt different. I wanted to fight him, to rage, and I…" She shook her head. "So I ran to you…to feel what I wished I could have…what it should have been like."

"I should not have touched you that way," he whispered. "I should have realized—"

"But I wanted you to…and I…yes, we were wrong," she agreed in that low voice. "I was wrong."

"I was dreaming," he admitted, and his face burned with shame. "I have been dreaming about you, being with you for days now…that was why I did not wake when you had the dream."

"You have been…"

"Yes, dreaming…about what loving you will be like," he said, and he shook his head. "I am so ashamed; I thought…I thought…what you were doing…"

"You thought you were still dreaming," she said, realizing what had happened, and he nodded, lowering his head. She had been acting on her dream, and Legolas had been thinking he was in the middle of one. He was more ashamed about dreaming about her in this way than what he had actually done. "Oh, Legolas," she whispered, "I am so sorry." She laid her hand on his shoulder, but he looked away.

"May Ilúvatar forgive me," he muttered. "I should not sleep until the wedding…or I should cut off my own hands and have them thrown from the Embrasure. I cannot believe…I should never have—"

"We are a pair, are we not?" she asked, sighing, "I who have terrible dreams and just tried to seduce you, you who have wonderful dreams and feel terrible guilt over what I almost asked you to do." Then she wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head. "Legolas, how I wish I would dream about you as you have been dreaming about me."

"I am ashamed of them," he whispered. "Do not mention them."

"Why are you ashamed? You are the one who told me that desire is natural. What you feel for me, what I feel for you is not wrong—"

"But acting on it is."

"We said that we were wrong," she agreed, "and when this conversation is over, we will seek forgiveness. I was wrong. I wanted the dreams to end so badly I thought that if I begged you to touch me, I could beat him back, I would feel what your love was really like."

"Do you not already know? Do you not already feel it?" he asked quietly and she laughed softly, sitting back on her heels and releasing him. She covered her mouth, and he stared at her.

"God, Legolas, not like that…I had no idea. None at all…" She laughed, a near giggle, and he blinked.

"How can you be…how can you be laughing?"

"I do not know!" she cried, shaking her head as she then blushed. "I feel so…I want to be with you…I want it now, and it is new and different and wonderful. I want to give myself to you, not just because I love you, but because I want you, too. This was real, Legolas…I desired you." And for the first time ever, I was happy about it! I wanted you, Legolas. Please understand!

"I know that," he whispered. "I felt it."

"Even though a part of me is still afraid, terrified, I know that a part of me is going to be feeling like that: desperate for you, for your touch. I cannot even…I do not think there is a way to express what I felt when you touched me. I should never have asked that of you, but I did not think. I am so sorry."

"I…you are not angry because of my dreams?" he asked softly. "I was afraid they would frighten you, having me dream about…well…"

"No," she whispered, "because you love and adore me, as I love and adore you. If that was the only reason you wanted to be with me, then you would be as bad as Bragolaur. But you love me, and because of that love you want to give yourself to me. There is a difference. I know you desire me, Legolas…"

"Enguina," he said firmly, "I cannot have that happen again." He looked down at his hands. "I would never forgive myself if I…broke my vow to you. I said I would protect you…even if it is from myself. We need to wait; I need to wait…it is what is right."

"I know," she whispered back. "And I am sorry. I should never have put you in that position when I know very well what you feel for me. I know I was reacting to the dream, and that is no excuse…but…I…" She could not say it in front of him. She could not say she was not sorry; it would not be true. She was sorry that it had gone so far…but she was not sorry he had touched her, and she wished him to do it again…even right now. The fear in her of their wedding night was drowning in the part of her that could not wait, that desired to now give herself to him. She knew that in the morning light things might feel different, that the feeling might fade. Might she feel guilty for what she was feeling right now, for what she had felt?

"Do you want to—"

"No, Guin," he whispered, shaking his head, "I cannot lie back down beside you. Not when I…" His face burned again with shame. "Please…" She stroked the back of his head.

"I am so sorry," she said again, laying her head upon his.

"So am I."

They prayed together; after that, it was the longest night they had ever spent in the same room but separate. When the morning came it found her in the bed and him in the chair, and they finally decided that there was no sense in pretending to sleep any longer. He left the room to change; she changed into her day clothes and met him outside in the sitting room as he was pulling on his boots, his head down. Dawn had changed nothing; Legolas felt every bit as awful as he had the night before. She stood silently for a moment, and then went to his side.

She extended her hand before his face and waited. He lifted his head and looked at it; then he took it and she tugged him to his feet. "Come with me," she murmured, and as she turned away and left the guesthouse behind, he followed her willingly…but silently.

Enguina had taken him to the mountains, to the place where she knew he felt closest to the One. She wanted to comfort him, but did not know where or even how to begin. Once they came to the particular rock face where Legolas enjoyed sitting, she sat down and made room for him. He paused, staring out across the Pelennor, seeing but not seeing. She knew that face, for she often saw it on her own.

"Legolas," she began, and he glanced down at her, "if you…if you need to be alone for a little while, I understand." He looked guilty and she squeezed the hand she had been holding since they left the guesthouse. "Please…I understand."

Legolas nodded and then he gently squeezed back. "I need to be alone…just a few moments," he said seriously, and she nodded, feeling guiltier than she had ever felt about anything as he walked away, higher into the mountains. She sat, staring at his back as he disappeared from sight, feeling as though she had done the most awful thing she could have ever done to him. She lowered her head to her hands, the skin along her left shoulder burning where he had pressed his lips.

Legolas climbed as high and as far as he dared to go without getting himself killed without rope. He had never been this far up the mountain and out onto the ledges, but he was determined to seek a place that no one but he would ever go. What he found was a tiny patch of grass with a single dandelion growing out of it; quiet, secluded, and completely sheltered in by rock—it was perfect. He hopped down inside the space and dropped to his knees, resting his head against the rock face and groaning aloud.

"Oh, Father…what the hell have I done? The one thing in my life that I love with all my heart and I could have ruined everything. I could have hurt her, damaged our relationship beyond repair! What if I had touched her and she had…no, she was the one who had wanted it. What in the world was I thinking?

"Oh, no, I knew what I was thinking; I was thinking that I desired her and it was a dream so it did not make any difference. But I am wrong! To be lustful, to lust after her is wrong, even in a dream! And to think that it was all right to touch her that way in a dream, without us being wed, is also wrong. I know that I have teased myself about loving her; I have even teased her, but I never meant to touch her that way until we were wed. I should not be so lustful!" His hands tightened into fists and he pounded the grass and the dandelion. "I love her, so of course I desire her! But where is it written that it is my right to act on lustful thoughts? Why can I not fight these thoughts?

"I told her desire was natural, but acting on that desire is wrong. How can I lie beside her, protect her these next few nights and not dream about her that way, not desire to touch her like that? You know my thoughts, the most secret, quiet places of my heart; you know I have been thinking about what it will be like to make love to her, to show her what love is really like, to show her my love. I have even told her of my desire to change her perception of love. I even spoke to Aragorn of what I should do to make her more comfortable! Are all of these things wrong? What can I do to prevent hurting her? What do I know of love-making?" he asked, venting out his frustration by slamming his fists against the ground again.

"To touch her skin was like heaven; to feel that what I did made her tremble! You have made me to love this woman! I know it; I have known it since I saw her! She has awakened something in me that nothing else ever has—I am alive in her! You have had me wait, all this time, so that I could be the one for her now, so that I have ever known another woman. Teach me how to handle these feelings I am desperate to show her! Let me learn with her; let her trust me.

"And yet, she wanted it, she wanted me! What does that even mean when she has been so hurt and unsure? I know she said she was trying to push back thoughts of Bragolaur, and she seemed so different! Teach me how…teach me that I can make love with her and not make the destruction of him the focus of our love-making! I do not want to be thinking of him, but how can I avoid it when I am with her and she might be? Should I talk to her?

"And what of this desire I feel? Should I stay away from her until the wedding? But then what of her nightmares? What should I do?" he moaned aloud, digging his fingers suddenly into the earth. "I am so confused! So conflicted! Guide me, Ilúvatar!"

Enguina sat alone on their rock, feeling miserable. Legolas had been gone for some time, but she knew enough about him not to worry. She also knew that he needed some time alone…perhaps she should have realized that she needed the same? With only half her mind functioning, she reached up thoughtlessly and traced along her collarbone, then her neck, her jaw, back to the sensitive spot behind her ear that he had found…that he had cared to find. She immediately felt hot, almost feverish, and her hand trembled as she pulled it away and lowered it into her lap. What was wrong with her?

She should have known very well what was wrong with her—there was nothing wrong. This was a natural feeling directly related to her discovery of how much she really did want to be with Legolas! How in the world could a few kisses and touches have done this to her? Well…more than a few, and they had been serious. Legolas had been so full of passion…her fingers brushed against her lips…so had she. And then, for Legolas to tell her he had been dreaming about her—dreaming about making love to her! And she had told him that she wished she would dream about it? What in the world had she been thinking, to say such a thing? She tried to give herself some excuses—it was so early in the morning; Legolas had distracted her by what he was saying; she was thinking about the terrible nightmares she was used to having—but none of these even came close to atoning for the inappropriate comment she had made.

"Ilúvatar, father in Heaven…what have I done?" she whispered, rubbing her face with her hands. "Have I hurt him so deeply that he cannot bear to be with me; is that why he has not returned? I never meant for it to…" Her voice cut off as she growled low in her throat, pulling her head out of her hands to glare out at the sky.

"You know, this is your fault," she snapped, shaking her fist. "Everything could have been just fine if you had not allowed this to happen to me in the first place! Legolas tells me to trust you, and then I react this way to those stupid dreams you keep letting me have and then I hurt him! I am always hurting him. When will it stop? Why did you let this happen?" she groaned. She was silent for a full minute.

"Legolas's words," she continued, her voice soft and miserable, "his beliefs, are that you are constant, faithful, good…that I can trust you forever for everything…and everything Arwen says has always agreed with that. They trust you, and I…I know I trust you… I just lose sight of what is good, what is right. I wanted Legolas last night, not just because I desired him, but because I am so tired of the agony and despair, that comes with dreaming of Bragolaur. How was I supposed to feel? Yes, I wanted him to touch me! Was that so bad?" She was quiet for a moment, and then she suddenly buried her face in her hands again. "It was wrong…it was wrong, and I am so…sorry. Father, I should never have sought that out…we have but four days until the wedding—I must have been out of my mind!"

She looked back up into the sky. "Father, you must help me, please. I promise, I pledge, that I will not touch Legolas that way again or seek him to touch me that way again. I know that whenever I am with him, from this point forward, I am going to be thinking about the way he touched me last night. Please help me! I need you to calm this desire down. We are to be married in four days, and I want to do what is right. I want to give myself to him after we are wed.

"And because of that, I…is there any way at all that I could ask you for something?" she begged closing her eyes. "Please…let me feel his love pour over me in such a way on our wedding night that I feel nothing but him, that I am so sure it is him that I can enjoy every moment. Please, make it so that I am unafraid, that I can trust his every touch, every kiss, every word. Please, I do not want to be afraid…and I do not want to hurt him. I want to marry him, give myself to him in every way possible. I want Legolas to be the one I choose to love and to let him love me. Help me, Father."

She heard footsteps among the rocks higher on the mountain and knew that Legolas was coming down. Instead of turning and looking for him, she remained where she sat—let him choose to come to her. He did, of course, and came and took a seat quietly beside her and reached out to take her hand, holding it within his own and stroking the back of it with the other. Immediately, her mind flashed backward to last night, those fingers on her spine. She swallowed and watched his hand, but she smothered the feeling of desire.

"Can we speak, Guin?" he asked softly and she nodded.

"Of course. Are you all right?"

"I…am…but that was not what I wanted to say."

"Go on," she replied gently.

"What I did last night, touching you the way that I did, was wrong," he stated. "I was so focused on what I was hoping for eventually, a time when you might be bold and unafraid, a time when we have learned one another and…" he shook his head. "I could not think. I was so overcome that I wronged you. For that I am truly sorry."

"I wronged you, too," she replied. "I was so tangled in my reaction from the dream I never thought of the repercussions of what I was asking of you. It was wrong of me, and in any other circumstance I would have realized, and remembered, that you and I were saving ourselves until marriage to each other. I am sorry, too." He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.

"We need to make a promise to one another."

"Yes," she agreed. "Legolas, I promise that I will not touch you in a way that produces intense feelings of desire for me; I will not seduce you again."

He blushed. "That is a…strong word."

"But it is the truth. You are a good man, Legolas," she said gently, "and you have worried so much about compromising my honor that I gave little thought to yours. Shame on me. I pledge to you I will not tempt you again…until there is a ring on my hand and we have been wed." At any other time, she knew Legolas would have teased her or laughed, but he was totally serious. She knew that this was an important moment for both of them and he looked into her face.

"Guin, I promise you that I will not tempt you to lie with me before we are wed or touch you in a way that is desirous or luring you to stray. I pledge that I will continue to protect you from myself and from your dreams. I…even promise to stop my dreams—"

"Stop," she interrupted him. "I accept your first two pledges, but the last I will not accept. Legolas, how many times have you, Aragorn, and Arwen told me that we cannot control our dreams? I am glad you dream about me. I was serious when I told you that I wish I could dream about you. I love you, and I am going to share my life with you. Please do not stop dreaming about me."

He gave her a little smile. "I promise that I will wait four days until the wedding...after that, I will tempt you to the utmost of my abilities."

She smiled back. "I promise that I, too, will wait four days until the wedding. I look forward to being tempted." Looking into his face, she asked him, "Legolas, this past evening was one of the most uncomfortable of my life. I…have become so used to sharing my room with you that to have you not be there…I do not know…"

"I will remain at your side," he told her honestly, "but I will not cross the threshold of your bedroom again until I am your husband, until we are man and wife. I would consider that too much of a temptation at this time."

"You are right," she mumbled. "Every time we would see that bed I would think about it."

"Yes."

"Perhaps we can sleep on the divan? It would not be as comfortable, but at least we would have room to rest."

"Would you not prefer your own bed?" he asked and she shook her head.

"I would prefer to be with you."

He nodded. "The divan it is."

She reached up and touched his face. "I love you, Legolas. I cannot wait to share my life with you." He took her hand in his and pressed his lips over her engagement ring.

"I love you; I honor you. Shall we make our way slowly back in to town? We must find our rings today." She nodded and smiled.

"In a little while," she replied softly, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. "I want to stay here for a bit in the quiet." She hesitated, and then asked him, "Is this all right?"

"Yes," he agreed, and he gently wrapped his arm around her, holding her other hand in his.