My Heart's Desire - Part 1. To Wait for you.

Warning:WIP
Thanks to: Katherine – for answering my stupid questions on the English grammar. Robin – for trying to improve my style. Orchyd – for the elvish names and phrases. Gross – for the consultations on male psychology. Jilly and Laurelin – for the invaluable help, enthusiastic encouragement and kind support. Thank you all! All the mistakes and faults still to be found in the fic are mine, my own.
Dedication: to my dear friend Laurelin for everything she has done for me. You know how much I owe you, honey!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I promise to give them back as soon as the story is over.

My Heart’s Desire – Part 1. To Wait For You.

Chapter 1. The Lady’s Kin.

Haldir looked down from his balcony at the city of Caras Galadhon, bathed in the silver light of Ithil. It looked beautiful and peaceful, as always. No, Haldir shook his head. Not as always. It was different now that *he* was gone. Where once there had been peace, born of happiness and contentment, there was now the quiet of a lifeless void. But the elves he watched walking and laughing in the glades beneath his talan, did not seem unhappy. So then, he mused, the emptiness he sensed around himself must be only an echo, a mirror reflection of his inner void. Yes, he felt hollow and cold.
‘Is a wound caused by the Ice Blade as deadly as one caused by a Morgul sword?’ he wondered with sad irony.
He saw Glorfindel cross the clearing side by side with two elves of the Lady’s Noldorin guard. Haldir sighed and brought to his lips the goblet of wine he was holding in his hand. He did not want to think where *he* was and what *he* was doing at this hour. Instead, he let his thoughts wander back to the day he’d seen the elf for the first time, when he just emerged from the wood on the border of Lothlórien.

* * *
From the cover of the lower branches of a mallorn tree, Haldir and his brothers heard the thud of hooves on the ground and then two riders came into the glade right in front of the guards, as if they knew they were there. As most likely they did, for one of them was Glorfindel, Lord Elrond’s seneschal, and a frequent and welcome guest in the Golden Wood. As the guardians stepped or dropped down out of their hiding places to greet the guests, Haldir took a proper look at Glorfindel’s companion and nearly gaped.
Even for one of the Fair Folk he was dazzlingly beautiful. He was very young. Heatueatures were delicate and perfectly formed; and his hair, even against Glorfindel’s golden mane, looked somehow more golden and shining, almost like sunrays spun into silken threads. It wasn’t braided; it just fell in bright lustrous waves down his shoulders and his back. There was a white flower stuck behind one of his pointed ears; and to Haldir’s utter surpriundeunder the pale soft petals a small earring flashed at times, as it caught the sunlight. No one in Lothlórien, at least no one among males, wore such adornments and it looked foreign and a bit barbaric to the Marchwarden. But he had to admit that combined with the flower it made the young one look even more attractive; both innocent and seductive at the same time.
His eyes, the colour of the first green leaves, were slightly slanted to his temples, giving him a bit feline look. The rein of his horse lay loosely on the saddle as he went on picking at a handful of berries at will while Glorfindel talked to the guards. As if enchanted, Haldir’s eyes followed his hand to his bow-shaped mouth, and when he saw the tip of his tongue lick the juice from his lips Haldir’s heart missed a beat and he felt his leggings grow a little too tight for him.
“Has nobody ever told you it’s not polite to stare?” Haldir suddenly heard an amused voice.
With a start he came to his senses. He darted a glance around and was relieved to see that nobody paid him any attention. All seemed engrossed in the conversation, and Glorfindel giving the news from Imladris. So, deciding it had been only a trick of his imagination, he let his eyes return to the slender figure of the young elf. He was clad in the blue and silver of Imladris. He wouldn’t be too tall, Haldir reckoned. And he looked very exquisite, every inch from head to heel.
‘A lover, not a fighter,’ Haldir smiled to himself.
But at that moment the youth turned a bit and Haldir’s bewildered eyes fell on the silver inlaid hilt of a sword behind his shoulder. It did not look right. He couldn’t be possibly wielding such a weapon, could he? But Haldir did not have time to ponder on the idea as the conversation was came to an end his brothers stepped aside from the path so that the riders could continue on their way.

“I’m sure the Lady Galadriel will be glo seo see her cousin,” Orophin said politely.
Haldir noticed a shadow of a smile curve the elfling’s lips and wondered at the meaning of it.
Glorfindel bid them goodbye and the riders left, the younger one never touching the rein. The guardians all followed them with their eyes.

“Did they make love somewhere on the way or what?” Rúmil asked softly. “Look at their hair! I’ve never seen Glorfindel’s without a single braid.”
As if he had heard the words the young elf tossed his head back and shook his golden mane, making sunbeams dance upon it. He said something to Glorfindel, which made him laugh. Haldir suddenly felt a sharp pang of jealousy. He desperately wished to be there, by the golden beauty’s side, looking into his face and laughing at his jokes. He was only too aware of the fthatthat he hadn’t heard the young elf’s voice and that during the whole encounter he hadn’t given him even the shortest glance.

Rúmil jabbed Orophin in the ribs with his elbow and nodded his head at Haldir. Both brothers grinned mischievously.
“Look! He’s been turned into stone by the Lady’s fair kin!”
“Aye, like a troll in the sunlight!”
Haldir glared at his siblings but his dark look was lost to them as they went on teasing him.
“Struck deaf and dumb, I thought he’d pass out!”
“I think he’s sick with love.”
Hr knr knew from his long and sometimes painful experience that he had to do something really fast or it would go on like this for hours.
“I may be sick,” he snapped back, “but with something more primitive and less foolish than love. “
He spoke with his usual bravado though he felt somewhat funny. He did not know what to make of the feeling yet, but knew for sure that he couldn’t afford his brothers to get even a slightest suspicion about it, lest he should become a target for their ridicule for months to come. So he went on with his best “the-arrogant-bastard” air.
“He’s delicious, like a ripe fruit ready to be plucked. Why not by me, then?”
Haldir’s performance seemed to be a convincing one.
“Haldir, no!” Orophin at once grew serious. “He is cousin to Lady Galadriel and she is sure to disapprove of your ill-using her kin.”
Haldir gave him a wicked grin.
“I can promise to use him well. And he may like it after all.”
“Oh, indeed,” Rúmil sneered. “And the Balrog Slayer will just smile indulgently and step aside for you to ravish his mate.”
“You cannot scare me with Glorfindel!” Haldir snarled at him.
“Haldir, for the Valar’s sake, be sensible,” Orophin tried to reason with his brother. “Glorfindel isn’t the only problem. That elfling is the Lady’s kin, meaning that he too is a Noldo. And the Noldor are not people to be meddled with painlessly. Have you seen his sword? Do you earnestly believe he carries it just for show?”
That was a mistake. Orophin knew it the moment he uttered the words. Haldir was sure to take them as a challenge. And that he did.
“It makes it even more interesting, don’t you think, brother?”
Noticing Orophin’s doubtful expression, he narrowed his eyes.
“Would you care to wager?”
Rúmil grinned, willing to accept, but Orophin gave him a severe look and he kept silent. Orophin once again turned to Haldir.
“I wish you could leave him alone, little brother. I’ve got a feeling that there’s more to that stranger than he may seem.”
But Haldir was already past reason. He looked in the direction in which the riders had left with only one thing vexing him at the moment. He could not start his hunt at once because he had two more days of the border duty ahead of him.

Still, all things come eventually to an end; and so did the last two days of duty. A fresh patrol came to rotate their shifts and Haldir was at last free to start for Caras Galadhon. As he was walking through the forest with his brothers Haldir lost himself in thoughts.
Usually he did not have any problem getting elves he wanted, of either sex, into his bed. But this time it could be different. The golden-haired stranger was jaw-dropping beautiful. No matter how naïve he might look, he was no doubt aware of it. Surely, someone had already taken the trouble to enlighten him on the fact. For all Haldir knew, the youngster could turn out to be quite spoilt by the knowledge by now. Besides, there was the issue of Glorfindel. Though he had brushed aside Rúmil’s argument with seeming carelessness, he had no suicidal tendencies in his nature and he understood only too well that to confront the Balrog Slayer spelled certain doom. Especially, in love matters, he reckoned. So he would have to first learn if the golden beauty really was Glorfindel’s mate. And Haldir earnestly hoped that he was not. But if he *was*, then he would have to think of some way to give it a go with the youth and to survive the venture. The hunt was going to be thrilling. And, doubtlessly, rewarding. Oh, yes…

He was brought out of his reverie by Rúmil’s voice.
“I wonder how close a kin he is to the Lady?”
“Who?”
“Oh, come on! You fairly well know who I’m talking about!”
Haldir sighed. “Well, and what about him?”
“I think he isn’t a Noldo after all.”
“Why?” asked Orophin. Haldir did not look interested.
“Surely, the Lady does not have any Noldorin cousins left on this side of the Great Sea by now? Besides Glorfindel, I mean. At least I ot tot think of any. Can you?”
Orophin pondered on it. “Then perhaps he is a Telerë and a cousin on her mother’s side.”
“Or may be he is kin to Lord Celeborn,” added Haldir in a bored tone.
Rúmil looked at him in open amusement. “You really did not hear a word of our conversation with Glorfindel, did you, little brother? He quite definitely said ‘my kin and a cousin to the Lady.”
“Oh, all right! Does it matter so much?”
“Well, I do not know. I was just curious.”
“If you’re so interested in his background, why don’t you ask him about it when we’re in Caras Galadhon?” smirked Haldir.
“Maybe I will, little brother,” Rúmil returned the smirk.
But they got an answer to the question much sooner than they had expected…

At the city gates they were overtaken by a rider. He was member of the Lady’s personal Noldorin guards. Long ago they had come to Lothlórien with her, and they took orders only from her. They had not been mingling much with theadhradhrim, not that the latter regretted it. The people of the Golden Wood still found the Noldor alien and rather eerie, though they loved and respected their Lady. But this one, Narmacil, was the friendliest of them, and Haldir was on fairly good terms with him. The Noldo left his tired horse to a groom and exchanged news with Haldir and his brothers as they walked together to the centre of the city. Narmacil said that he was returning from Mirkwood having delivered a dispatch to the king from Lord Celeborn. And Haldir told him about the visitors to the Wood. When the Noldo heard about the Lady’s kin he looked at him with sudden interest.
“What is his name?”
But at that moment they saw the person in question. He was talking to the Lord’s advisers.
‘And Glorfindel is again at his side,’ mused Haldir silently. ‘I wonder…’
But he did not have time to finish the thought as Narmacil gave a joyous exclamation and cried out: “Nairalindë!”
The young elf whirled about, his face lit up. “Narmacil!”
In one swift motion he was in the Noldo’s arms and gave him a hearty hug. They spoke in Quenya and their voices flowed joyfully and rapidly like the waters of two springs, happy to join in the song of their meeting.
Those shreds of Quenya that Haldir knew did not help much and he lost the stream of the conversation from the very beginning. He stole a glance at Glorfindel to see how he was taking it all. The Elda was smiling. So either he did not mind it or was able to hide his feelings well.
At last the Noldor seemed to come to some agreement and with one more hug to Narmacil and a nod to the Silvan brothers the Lady’s cousin danced back to Glorfindel.

“You seem to know him quite well,” Rúmil remarked nonchalantly.
“Aye, I do,” Narmacil replied, his eyes still on the golden figure.
“How long has he lived in Imladris?” Rúmil took the chance to pursue the matter.
“From the very beginning.”
“The very beginning of what?”
“Why, Imladris, of course!”
Narmacil turned to look at them. The three brothers were staring at him in mute bewilderment. Rúmil was the first to recover his voice again.
“Are you joking? He’s hardly of age!”
“He surely *looks* like that.”
The Noldo did not try to hide his amusement. Haldir’s eyes searched the glade for the sight of the elf in question but by now he was nowhere to be seen.
“If he’s lived in Imladris for that long,” came Orophin’s composed voice, “how is it then that we haven’t heard about him at all?”
“But I’m sure you have.”
“We’ve never heard of anyone called *Nairalindë*!” Rúmil stepped into the argument.
“You may have never heard the name of Nairalindë but I think the name of Gildor Inglorion is not unknown to you?”
Once again the three Geledhil found themselves bereft of their voices. Narmacil looked at them enjoying the effect his words had produced.
“You mean Gildor thegvelgveleg? Gil-Galad’s companion? That… that youngster...?” Rúmil refused to believe his ears.
“That’s him,” the Noldo smiled.
“But how can it be? He does not look *that* old! In fact, he does not look old at all!” Orophin shook his head.
Narmacil shrugged. “I do not know. He just goes on looking like that since the time back in Valinor. Maybe it’s because he’s a prince of the Vanyar royal house, his mother being the youngest daughter of Ingwë Ingweron.”
Rúmil looked at his brothers weakly. “I think I’m going to faint!” he moaned.
All of them laughed at the expression of mock awe on his face.
“I only hope,” Rúmil went on I the meantime, “that he is not of Fëanor’s blood in his father’s line. Or we, poor moriquendi, won’t even dare to raise our eyes on him, lest the light of Valinor shining from his face should blind us forever.”
“He is not,” Narmacil reassured him, still laughing. “But you’d better mind your eyes all the same. His father *is* of the Noldor and one of the Firstborn.”
Haldir looked at his elder brother. “Do you still feel like passing out, Rúmil? I think I’ll join you. You, Orophin?”
“No,” the eldest Galadhel shook his head, “not yet, at least. I’ve still got a few matters to clear up. If he’s a Vanya, how does he happen to be here, in Middle-Earth?”
“He came with the Valar army in the War of Wrath.”
Rúmil rolled his eyes and fell shamming a faint, to be caught by laughing Haldir. Orophin did not any any attention to his brothers’ pranks and asked his next questions.
“But why did he stay? Why didn’t he return to Valinor after the war was over?”
Narmacil’s face swiftly became cool and aloof.
“I’m sure he had his reasons but what they were I cannot say. I hope you’ll excuse me now. I have to report to Lord Celeborn.”
And bowing slightly he hurried away.
“What ailed him?” Haldir looked at Orophin in surprise.
“I do not know,” he answered softly, shaking his head.
“Well, little brother,” said Rúmil, folding his arms and surveying Haldir archly, “have you changed your mind by any chance? Or do you still want to bed a creature almost as old as Arda? It would certainly give *me* the creeps should I find myself in bed with him.”
“You never will,” Haldir replied evenly.
“Feeling possessive already?” Rúmil smirked and turned to wink at Orophin.
“Stop it,” the eldest elf sighed.
Rúmil once again looked at Haldir.
“You know, pen-neth, there’s really no way out of it for you. You cannot win and you certainly won’t survive the defeat. “
“Rúmil!” came another warning from Orophin but Rúmil ignored it again and grinned.
“I wish I’d taken your bet, brother. For then, I would soon have been wearing your new tunic, the silver-blue one, you know.”
A swift cuff on his nape caught him unprepared.
“Ouch! Why?!” Rúmil spun around to face Orophin.
“I’ve told you to stop! He doesn’t need your instigation. He’s reckless enough as it is to attempt this suicidal pursuit. Haldir, won’t you listen to reason now? The Elda can eat ten of your like for breakfast and ask for more! Don’t you understand he can really hurt you? Hurt you badly? Can’t you feel it?”
But Haldir only shook his head. He had to think it over, for sure. But he was not prepared to entirely give up the idea of conquering the mysterious golden creature. Besides, even with what little Quenya he knew he had managed to catch some familiar words: meet, later and public baths. This guess was worth checking up on.

Being of an old and noble family the brothers had been well provided for before their parents left for the West. Thus, each of them had a talan of his own. And though his house was not very large and on the same mallorn as his brothers’, Haldir was quite often grateful for the peace and privacy it gave him.
He had to spend some time trying to shake off Rúmil but at last he succeeded and sped up ts fls flet. There was a bathroom in his talan but this time he was not going to use it. He collected a towel, soap and a change of clean clothes and started for the hotspring, anxious to learn what or rather whom he would find there.

When Haldir arrived on the spot he was pleased to find that his guess had been correct.
Narmacil and Gildor were already there. And no one else. Haldir carefully hid his satisfaction and politely inquired, “I hope I’m not intruding?”
“Not at all! You’re welcome to join us,” responded Narmacil, his usually dispassionate face flushed and animated.
“After all, they are public baths, aren’t they?” added Gildor lazily, looking up at the Galadhel. He spoke with a hardly audible shadow of an accent, his voice flowing smoothly and unhurriedly like thick honey.
Haldir nodded in thanks and moved to the opposite side of the pool. Turning his back upon the pair in the water he took off his clothes and unbraided his hair. He heard subdued murmuring but it was so soft that even he with his acute hearing could not make out the words. Then there came a splash, Narmacil’s laughter and Gildor’s resentful voice, “Why not if I enjoy it?”
Haldir turned and entered the pool. He lay down at the shallow end of it and sighed contentedly as the steaming water enveloped his tense body.
“Behave, Nairalindë!” he heard Narmacil saying.
He looked at them from under his long black lashes. They were at the deeper end so the water reached up to their chests. Narmacil was leaning against the marble side of the pool and Gildor now stood facing him. His golden hair was gathered into a tight knot on his nape and fastened with long wooden pins, thus revealing his slender neck and the luring lines of his finely sculptured shoulders and back to Haldir’s hungry gaze. He craved for the full sight of his naked body though even what little that he saw made his own body react swiftly and acutely. He was grateful for the cover of the steaming water in the distance between them, masking his present condition.
In the meantime, the Noldor continued their interrupted conversation.
“He was delighted to hear you were coming, I saw it,” Narmacil said.
“I bet he was!” Gildor chuckled. “Did he ask if I was coming alone?”
“No, but the younger prince did.”
“I thought as much,” murmured the golden-haired elf.
Haldir stirred uneasily as he heard profound satisfaction in his voice. The ger ger prince? He did not like the sound of it at all! The next moment Haldir received yet another shock.
“I missed you,” said Narmacil huskily, tracing a droplet of water along Gildor’s arm with his finger.
“Why did not you come to Imladris for so long, nildo? Did your bossy lady keep you away from us on purpose?”
“I’m not in the position to question the Lady’s motives.”
Gildor moved to Narmacil’s side and now Haldir could see his fine profile. There was a look of genuine concern on his face.
“I thought you might have left for Aman.”
“I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you,” smiled Narmacil. “And of course I wouldn’t go before the Lady leaves Middle-earth.”
Gildor opened his mouth to answer but the next moment his perfect features were distorted by rage so hot that Narmacil recoiled from him. Haldir felt the power of the dark emotion and it raised the hair on the back of his neck. Instinctively, he started moving backwards closer to the edge of the pool. For several heartbeats the Vanya’s eyes became glazed and blank but then he was once again his former calm and charming self. He reached out a hand for his Noldorin friend and pulled him back.
“I’m sorry you had to witness it, Narma. You were not meant to. It’s a family squabble. But I hate her spying on people! Especially in such private places.”
He smiled apologetically at the still stricken Noldo.
“Will you mind touching me now?” he went on tentatively. “I’d like you to help me wash my hair.”
He raised his hands and took out the pins. His hair cascaded down his back and floated around him on the water like bright silken seaweeds.
“She won’t be watching us any longer, I promise,” he added softly.

The next half an hour was a pure torment for Haldir. As the Noldor moved to the shallower part of the baths he mirrored their motion, circling to the deeper water and keeping as much distance between them as the pool allowed. Of course, Narmacil could not deny the help he’d been so charmingly asked for. And Haldir watched with helpless jealousy as he touched Gildor – oh, so casually, so accidentally – while he went on with the washing of his golden mane. Haldir knew he would not be able to leave the baths before the Noldor quitted them because of his present state that was throbbing painfully between his thighs. So he gathered all his willpower and retained his detached and placid appearance.
Haldir suffered the longest of agonies as Gildor slowly moved out of the water, inch by inch revealing to his hungry eyes the breathtaking beauty of his naked body. When at last he stood at the edge of the pool to wring his hair, Haldir’s eyes flew open and he just gaped. He simply could not help it though he understood what a ridiculous sight he must have presented. Gildor was perfection given flesh. Golden, glorious, enticing flesh. The Marchwarden cursed inwardly at the sharp painful sensation in his groin.
‘It should be forbidden for him to undress when someone is around,’ he thought weakly. ‘It’s impossible to see him like this and not to crave him.’
But both Noldor seemed oblivious to the effect Gildor had on the Galadhel. They went on chattering on trivial subjects while they toweled themselves dry and got dressed. Then they wished Haldir a good day and left.
Haldir quickly took himself into his hand and with several forceful strokes reached the longed-for release. He shuddered and closed his eyes. He felt somewhat dizzy and exhausted. He was starting to realize now that the hunt was going to be long and even more precarious than he had previously thought, and would require all his skills and patience. But the prize was worth it! The prize was worth all the time and the effort, the trouble and the pain. Yes, *this* prize was worth anything.

Langveleg – Ice Blade
Nairalindë (Q)– the Sun’s music (Naira – Heart of Flame, the Sun)
Narmacil (Q)– Flame Sword
Moriquendi (Q)– dark elves
Nildo (Q) - friend
Pen-neth (S)– young one