Torn Alliances

From within the cover of bushes, he watched. His archers had been correct. Interlopers were far too near to his borders and he was in no mood to be the least bit hospitable. So, the golden warrior had saw fit to cross the path that led into his borders once more and with a companion, no less? Vhaelvyrn’s lip twisted into a disdainful sneer. Bold was this elf. Bold indeed. . .and foolish.
Vhaelvyrn had been alone within the cover of the woods for several days now as he often did when the memories of his past haunted him. He could not tell Saelbeth the truth. Not yet. Not when he had just begun to know and love the son he never knew existed. There would be time enough for revelations of the past and talk of the future as well. If Saelbeth knew of his deeds too soon, it could destroy the fragile bond that the two shared, for both had been strangers to the other until a short time ago. He would not risk the destruction of his new “family”, for Arwen carried his grandchild and Saelbeth would make a fine father. Of this, Vhaelvyrn was certain.

He followed at a discreet pace behind the pair of pale-haired elves, knowing that Taur Eglan would ser her his presence from them, for the wood obeyed his every whim.


The two were obviously mates or lovers judging by the way they touched each other from time to time. Vhaelvyrn snorted. He had no need of mate, or a lover for that matter. The forest took care of his needs and desires and although there had been a time when he took many to his bed, it had not been as such for centuries. Maidens and males alike sought his affections, yet he would have none of them. Rarely was his interest piqued. Sharing the beautiful Arwen with Saelbeth had been a stirring experience, yes, but he had sought to teach his son more than he had need to satisfy his own desires. If he took a lover at all, it was more at the request of the one he took rather than his personal ardor.

Closing his eyes, he called out to the watchers within the treetops with his mind, for it was a gift that all within the forest shared. Opening one’s mind was easy once the direction was shown and Vhaelvyrn made certain that all who dwelt in Taur Eglan possessed this ability.

Feredir, the head archer, appeared barely visibly within the embrace of a towering mallorn crossbreed, locking his gaze with that of Vhaelvyrn who nodded only once. The descent was soundless and swift, the band of archers instaneously appearing to surround the unsuspecting duo, but not before the one with the silvered braid had drawn his bow and pointed it at Feredir, but the ebon haired archer did not flinch, and merely snarled defiantly, his aim drawn closely upon the intruder’s heart.


Glorfindel’s hand was upon his sword in an instant, drawing it with a singing slice through he air. Asfaloth reared back at the sudden appearance of the dark archers almost throwing the golden Lord from his mount. A quick glance to Haldir confirmed that the Galadhrim was daydreaming no more.

Haldir’s lip lifted in a defiant sneer that the bold, ebon-haired elf who stood cockily pointing his arrow at the March Warden as if assured of his victory. Had it not been for the circle of elves, Haldir would have shown him just how sorely mistaken his assumption was. . .

“The golden hair breathes so loudly, we could have shot him in the dark,” came a smoothly purring voice from somewhere behind Haldir and Glorfindel’s mounts.

Haldir’s sneer of contempt melted suddenly into a look of what could only be described a mix between horror and disbelief. Turning to Glorfindel, he swallowed hard, the color having drained from his already pale complexion.

Glorfindel’s eyes snapped wide at the familiar slithering voice from behind him. The soft sensuous intone of the words creeping across the back of his neck making the hairs stand on end. He knew that voice. Even in the foggy pain filled corners of his memory, that voice could not be easily forgotten.... or ignored. Glorfindel did not dare take his eyes from the arches that surrounded them. Actually he quite dreaded to do so for he knew who held them at bay.

“Meleth. . .I’m afraid there is something I have not told you. . .” Haldir whispered as the crunch of approaching footfalls neared the shying horses.

“Well, well, golden hair. . .so you brought your lover this time, did you? Yes. . . too bad he can not save you from. . .”

“That’s enough. . . “ Haldir barked, “Father,” he hissed through clenched teeth, the word scraping his tongue like acid.

Vhaelvyrn’s steps halted just inches away from the stallion, his coldly smooth demeanor faltering. “What did you call me, whelp?”

Haldir ripped the leather thong that held his thickly plaited hair away and shook the silvery mane loose with a rake of his hand before whipping around to glare seethingly at the elf that stood behind him.

“Do you not recognize your own son? Or has it been so long that you have forgotten me?” Haldir spat scathingly, his eyes gleaming like brittle chips of cobalt beneath the departing rays of the sun’s last light.

Vhaelvyrn gasped, wanting desperately to bolt, because for the first time in centuries, fear wrapped its icy fingers around his heart. The young March Warden’s arrow had turned upon his chest and a contemptuous snarl curved his lips threateningly.

“Away, all of you!” Vhaelvyrn commanded, waving his hand to the rogues that stood awaiting the word to loose their arrows upon the strangers.

Feredir cast him a look of confusion, his oddly light green eyes bewildered. “But my Lord, they are. . .”

“I said away! NOW!” Vhaelvyrn bellowed.

Feredir flinched at the frigid rake of the silver elf’s tone and nodded, giving the command for the others to depart, melding into the wood as silently as shadows in the hazy afternoon mists.

“Give me one good reason why I should not cleave your heart in twain with my arrow. . .” Haldir growled.

Vhaelvyrn did not wince nor did he shrink back when faced with impending death, especially from the son that he had loved more than life itself.

“I have no reason, Haldir. End my life, if it will ease your suffering.”

The arm which held the arrow so steady had begun to tremble as Haldir drew the string tauter still, his gaze locked with the icy blue familiarity of his father’s gaze, wanting to make him suffer as he himself had for so many hundreds of years. Wanting to turn the arrow upon his own heart and end the decision for all eternity.

Bow and arrow clattered uselessly to the ground and Haldir’s shoulders sagged as he slumped forward onto the neck of his nervous stallion, gripping the beast’s mane with a shuddering sob of anguish.

Glorfindel' s felt the fingers upon the hilt of his blade tighten. Golden hair......!!! This arrogant elf had shown him nothing but disrespect since their first meeting. He would take little more of this insolence. The archers had him surrounded He could not move even if he wanted. In particular, an exceptionally tall, dark Elf kept him within his sights at all time.

Then he heard it....... at first he had thought it was trick of the wind, or perhaps a whisper from within the forest, but then he heard more. FATHER! Haldir was calling this elf his sire! The same elf that had watched as Saelbeth tortured and humiliated him.

Glorfindel’s thoughts were a muddled mess. So caught up was he in sorting through the shock of this revelation that he failed to notice the archers had withdrawn, until the unmistakable sound of a bow being drawn spun him in his seat. Haldir had his weapon trained upon the chest of Vhaelvyrn, who although now at a huge disadvantage, still remained calm and superior.

Sliding quickly and quietly from his horse, Glorfindel raised his weapon, slowly advancing on the tall Elf. Perhaps , he thought, his eyes narrowing with disgust, together they could hold this arrogant fool long enough to sort out the issue of kinship.

Glorfindel halted when he caught the look of hatred that flashed across the March Wardens face. He had seen Haldir battle before, but this battle was indeed personal, and the Elf was quite frighteningly hostile.

And then, without warning Haldir melted, crumpling to his horse amid anguished sobs, his weapon clattering to the ground, his body threatening to follow. Glorfindel was upon him in seconds, not heeding or caring whether he had made a fatefully foolish move, just knowing that he had to reach Haldir.

His sword still before him, the golden Lord reached up with his free arm and wrapped it around Haldir’s waist, supporting his weight against his body. Yuale was not being very cooperative and as Glorfindel grabbed a hold of the Elf he felt the horse shift away causing the March Warden to slip from his mount and fully in to the golden Lords embrace.

“Meleth...." Glorfindel whispered desperately into the limp Elf’s ear, his eyes never leaving Vhaelvyrn. "Are you all right? Can you stand?"

Haldir clung to Glorfindel’s tunic with both hands, burying his face in the soft flaxen of his lover’s hair, tears streaming unabated down his pale cheeks to soak the material beneath the golden mane.

“Kill him, Glorfindel. He does not deserve to live,” Haldir muttered brokenly.

“Come now, Haldir,” Vhaelvyrn said, reaching a hand towards the unsteady March Warden, “let us discuss what has happened. . “

“There is nothing to discuss!” Haldir snarled, snapping his head around to glower malevolently at his estranged father. “Do not touch me or I will. . .I will kill you! You abandoned me! You abandoned US! Do not seek to make amends, for you are nothing to me!” Haldir spat with scathing bitterness, his body trembling with barely contained rage.

Glorfindel raised his sword, Haldir swaying unsteadily against his arm. If his love needed him to do this , he would. Planting his feet firmly, Glorfindel prepared to fight as the tall Elf advanced, smarmy words of entreaty spewing from his blaspheming lips.

Glorfindel pulled Haldir closer to him, his rage rising with every passing second. It was enough that this gypsy castoff would dare to accost him and hold him with in this wretched wood, but now he was after Haldir as well.

Haldir's stomach contorted in a heaving knot and knew with sinking dread that he was about to become indecently sick at Glorfindel’s feet if he did not hasten to move. He shoved past Glorfindel suddenly and stumbled to a patch of rather thorny looking bushes where he fell to his knees and became violently ill, his body racked with spasms of uncontrollable retching and gagging until he nearly collapsed.


Kill him.......


The golden Lord started to push Haldir behind him when the Elf broke from his embrace stumbling and gagging in the bushes. Glorfindel backed protectively to shield the vulnerable Elf from any further advance, his blue eyes flashing a warning at Vhaelvyrn, that could have froze the Elf’s blood in his veins.

Raising his sword and grasping the hilt in both hands, the golden Lord all but dared the tall Elf to approach, his tolerance for the situation completely used up.

“Step aside, you foolish golden hair. . . do you not know that I could have you dead where you stand?” Vhaelvyrn sneered, yet his own hand rested upon the hilt of the curved Galadhrim sword he had never disposed of, for it had seen him through too many a battle to be cast aside.

The bristling elf before him had called Haldir “meleth-nin”. . .how could his son, the Warden of the Lorien March have chosen one such as this. . .this. . .poncy pretty one for his mate??

“This is between my son and myself,” Vhaelvyrn continued, “now, move aside!”

Haldir had risen shakily to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. “I. . .am not your son,” he rasped harshly. “You are dead to me.”

I shall not step aside, son or no son!!!" Glorfindel drew himself up to his full height, his jaw clenched in seething anger.
" Move one step closer to him and I shall split that tongue like the snake you are... and continue till you lay in two!."


The golden Lord assumed a defensive posture, his eyes darting , searching the trees for an signs of the returning archers.
Haldir moved behind him and spoke, his voice speaking clearly of the anger and pain he felt.
The golden Lord felt the blind fury rise in his belly and he tremble from the sheer need to lop the sneering head from this Elf’s body.

Vhaelvyrn drew his sword from its scabbard and examined the blade with what appeared to be bemused indifference.

“How quaint. Here you stand defending my son as if he is a maiden in distress. Funny, I do not recall raising him to be such a piteous coward. Sad, really. . .” Vhaelvyrn yawned as if bored and swept his weapon lazily before him.

" Indeed...." replied Glorfindel his anger coloring his eyes a deep indigo. " The only coward I see is the one thr threatens his son, and intimidates those who might happen to care for him. He is my life and I will die to defend him, now step aside before I severe this father and son reunion rather abruptly!"

Glorfindel steadied his arms, the familiar weight of his weapon ready at his disposal.

The silver elf blinked once. “Admirable sentiment,” he snorted. “I should kill you for that, golden hair...” Vhaelvyrn said coolly, unimpressed by Glorfindel’s declarations.

Glorfindel stepped forward the blade of his sword quaking slightly with tension.

" That is quite the over confident assumption.....Vhaelvyrn" The Elf’s name rolled off the golden Lords tongue like a curse. " I should like to see you try...." Glorfindel brought his sword before his face in a mocking salute.

Vhaelvyrn snorted. “You are not worth the lifeforce of one vine in Taur Eglan, lirimaer.” With a sweep of his cape, the silver elf turned as if ready to leave, but not before he threw a glance to Glorfindel. “Perhaps I shall kill you after all. . .” He tossed the sword to the other hand and lunged mockingly at the golden Lord with a sneer.

Glorfindel was blinded with rage for a mere second, before he caught the Elf’s movement out the corner of his eye. With a quick parry to right, he blocked the others advance, the force of the blow taking Vhaelvyrn by surprise as he stepped back to regain his footing. Not wasting the opportunity Glorfindel advanced on the staggering elf.

Vhaelvyrn stumbled away, righting himself in just enough time to absorb the brunt of Glorfindel’s blow with one arm, surprised by the quickness of the lithe elf before him. His recover was short-lived, for the golden Lord was nearly upon him once more before he could even get a decent strike in edgewise, the fury of the other’s emotion lending him strength that Vhaelvyrn strove to match. With a slice of his sword, he ripped a gaping hole in the elf’s tunic, barely nicking the skin, for he did not wish to kill him outright. . . unless of course, he had to. . .

Glorfindel arched his body instinctively away from the swords blade as it sliced through the thin fabric of his tunic. Planting his feet , the Golden Elf continued his body motion, turning to the side ,sending an elbow to collide with the tall elf’s chin; the impact numbing Glorfindel’s arm to the tips of his fingers.

Stunned by the impact of Glorfindel’s unexpected strike, Vhaelvyrn wiped away a trickle of blood that ebbed from the corner of his lips, for he had bitten into his own lip. Better to knock this one down. . .

He crouched low, intending to rap Glorfindel upon the kneecaps with the hilt of his sword in attempts to disarm him, but suddenly felt the cold steel of new blade upon his throat.

“Enough!” Haldir bellowed, his hand upon Glorfindel’s chest and the tip of his scimitar tickling the pale flesh of his father’s neck. “You will cease this foolishness! NOW!”

Vhaelvyrn froze, for the look of threatening redemption glittered within Haldir’s dark eyes stayed his hand where he would otherwise have taken Glorfindel to the ground if he had been able.

“I shall not have you squabbling like elflings!” Haldir snapped. Turning a particularly icy glare to Vhaelvyrn, he said, “I shall speak with you, if that is your desire, but I will promise nothing more. You are my sire, regardless of how much I loathe you at this present moment.”

Vhaelvyrn wisely chose to say nothing, but merely nodded his head once in acknowledgment, sheathing his weapon.

“I will speak with my father alone, Glorfindel,” Haldir said, letting his hand fall from the chest of his lover. “I must do this on my own.”

Glorfindel backed away from Haldir, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his sword hanging limp in his other. The effort had caused the Golden Lord to lose his breath and he struggled to calm his racing heart.

Swallowing hard he forced out a snapped reply though a clenched jaw.

"You are doing what?" Glorfindel stabbed his sword into the ground with such force it buried itself almost halfway into the soft forest floor. " Haldir......do not do this......he....." The frustrated Lord turned and raked his hands through his hair, biting back his anger. " Meleth....." he continued, his voice softer, more familiar. " he cannot be trusted.”

Haldir drew his chin up to gaze at Glorfindel, his voice clear and strong. “He is. . .my father, Glorfindel. There are things we. . .I. . . must know. I must go,eth.eth. I must.”

Unable to bear the pain and confusion that glistened within the beautifully limpid eyes of his mate, Haldir turned and touched his father upon the shoulder, indicating that he was ready.

The bushes that edged the path had begun to rustle silently and the forms of several archers appeared once more, dark haired one with the oddly light eyes leading the entourage. With swords crossed, they came to stand before Glorfindel, preventing his passage should he even consider following the slowly departing forms of Haldir and his father.

“I am sorry, mellon, but we cannot allow you to accompany them,” the lead archer said, his voice somewhat apologetic and heavily accented with the tongue of the Gypsy Elves. “Come, we shall take you elsew unt until they have resolved their differences in private.”

Glorfindel watched as Haldir melted into the wood with his father. Ever fiber in his being told him to follow, but Haldir had bade him stay ,and against his better judgement he would. He didn’t have to like it.

With a growl , the golden Lord yanked the sword from the ground sending divots of dirt flying to land at the feet of the archers that surrounded him.

Hrumph....., thought Glorfindel, wiping the soiled blade on his breeches....Where did they think he was going to go?

As the frustrated Lord shoved his weapon back into his bet, a tall dark, and oddly familiar looking Elf approached him.

Glorfindel’s glare all but dared him to speak, but speak he did, and with such a honeyed lilt, the golden Lord tilted his head with interest. Glorfindel brushed off the dirt that clung to his breeches and replied rather roughly to the tall gypsy. " Well I guess anywhere would be better than here!....Lead the way."

The dark elf smiled and placed a comforting hand upon Glorfindel’s sder.der. “Do not anger yourself so. He shall return.” With a toss of his nearly ebon mane he said, “I am called Feredir. Surely your name is not Golden Hair, is it? I fear that my Lord can be. . .how does one say. . . ill-tempered?”