ELANOR'S REVENGE

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We hope you enjoy this next chapter! I am not sure when the next chapter will be uploaded as I am going away next Monday for 8 days. Some of the chapter will doubtless be written before then, but maybe not all of it. Or maybe it will be, but I have to work on my elf costume the next couple days. Priorities! But the next chapter will be written sooner or later, never fear!Thanks for your reviews! It is nice to get them. We are working hard on this story. :) hugs from J & F

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Chapter Eleven

In the end, Elanor’s first day of archery was less enthralling than she expected, as dreams of achievement faded with each shot she took. At first she was extremely aware that Haldir stood nearby talking with the other elf, and the knowledge that he was behind her, perhaps watching her, had its effect. Not only did she fumble and drop arrows, she nearly dropped the bow once. And she was not hitting the target. Once he came over and adjusted the way she was standing, then he informed her that he was leaving. The other elf soon followed, and she was alone. Even then, she failed to hit the target.

On the second day, she fared no better. Haldir told her she was doing well and to be patient. An hour a day, he said. And left her on her own. She did not hit the target at all that day.

On the third day of her practice, she stubbornly decided not to leave until she hit the target once. Just once, to prove to herself that she could do it. Haldir had not come with her, and what few elves were there had tactfully left her on her own.

More than three hours later, an arrow finally embedded itself into the target, to Elanor’s enormous relief. Exhausted, she went and collected the arrows for what seemed like the hundredth time, stowed them carefully in Haldir’s quiver, and slung it over her shoulder. The shadows had grown long, and she suddenly realized that she should have started dinner long ago. She hoped Haldir would not mind eating late.

Elanor followed the deserted path away from the open field of the archery range and back under the shade of the great mellryn trees. Her back, arms and shoulders ached in a way that they had never done before, and Haldir’s quiver felt far heavier than usual. But at least she had hit the target, although at this point her elation was subdued. Haldir had said she had skill in her hands, but if so, it was not manifesting itself.

“Good evening, Elanor.” She heard the deep, sensual voice before she saw the golden-haired elf step out of the shadows. It was Lurien, and once again she was struck almost speechless by his devastating beauty.

Elanor nodded politely, pain shooting through the muscles of her neck. “Good evening, Lurien.” Out of respect for Doria, she felt an obligation to be cordial to her brother, though she remembered the warnings as well as the uneasy feeling he had given her before.

As before, Lurien stepped directly in front of her to block her path. “I’ve been hoping to see you again. I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Elanor echoed in surprise.

“For giving my sister the pleasure of your friendship,” he said simply. “She speaks very highly of you.”

“I find much pleasure in Doria’s company as well,” Elanor replied. “Please give her my regards.” She tried to step past him, but again he prevented it.

“Stay for a moment. Do I frighten you?”

Elanor gave him a brief, assessing glance—he was tall and broad, and with the fading light glowing behind him, he did look dangerous, though of course she was not afraid. Only a trifle nervous due to all the warnings she’d been given.

“I truly mean you no harm,” he said, as if he had read her thoughts. “I merely seek a chance to make your acquaintance.”

Elanor elevated her chin, unconsciously trying to imitate Haldir, and spoke with what she believed to be dismissive politeness. “No, you do not frighten me, Lurien. But I am weary right now.”

His faint smile told her that he was not put off, and his eyes moved from her face to the bow and quiver. “Yes, I see you have been learning a new skill,” he observed, his exquisite lips curving. “I find that most admirable. But I wonder if your heart is in it.”

“My heart?” she echoed him again, drawn to respond in spite of herself.

“Yes, your heart, lovely one.” His sapphire gaze seared her as it roved over her features. “Shall I be plain? I am wondering whether Haldir is forcing you to learn this skill. It would be so like him.”

Elanor gave him a cool look. “Haldir forces me to do nothing I do not wish to do.”

“Oh, come,” Lurien said with a soft laugh. “You are his ward, Elanor. He can make you do whatever he wishes, and he is a stern taskmaster.” He shifted closer to her. “As one who knows him well, I would offer you the protection of my friendship. If ever you need advice, feel free to come to me . . . as a friend. I know you ladies talk much amongst yourselves, but there are times when the advice of a male can be a great advantage.”

Elanor briefly considered what seemed to be a solicitous offer. “I thank you, Lurien, but I do not foresee such a need,” she replied after a moment’s hesitation. “If I require advice, I think it is best if I go to Haldir or one of his brothers.”

Lurien made a slight, rather ironic bow, his hair spilling over his shoulders like a waterfall of gold. “My offer stands. You may have heard that Haldir and I are not the best of friends, and he may have warned you against me.” He paused. “It is true that we had a falling out many years ago, and it is true that he does not like me. Just remember, my dear, that you are his ward, not his possession.”

“I need no reminder of that,” she said with a trace of irritation. She shifted the quiver where its weight dug into her shoulder, and wished he would let her pass.

“I do hope that you and I can be friends, Elanor.” His eyes captured hers, and she suddenly found she did not want to look way.

She could feel the seductive pull, as though he could plumb the depths of her soul at a glance. In that spellbinding gaze she saw an admiration and respect that caressed her wounds and lack of self-confidence, a balm to hurts she didn’t even know she had. She took a step forward, drowning in a rapturous blue sea, knowing only that he saw her as the most beautiful maiden that ever lived and that nothing else mattered. It was intoxicating and astonishing and . . . unreal . . .

With amazing difficulty, she tore her eyes free from his, frowning as she tried to recall what he’d been saying. Something about friendship.

“I suppose we can be friends,” she said vaguely.

“If Haldir allows it, of course,” Lurien added with a small laugh. “You must defer to him on such things, I am sure.”

Elanor put a hand to her brow, feeling slightly lightheaded. “Haldir has no say in it. I choose my own friends.”

“Good,” he purred, his smile slight. “I am glad to hear it. Haldir has enough sycophants already.”

“I must go now. I bid you goodbye, Lurien,” she said, still with courtesy although she could barely think. This time he stepped aside, and she hurried away from him as swiftly as she could. She shivered, realizing that for a mindless moment, she had felt drawn to him for no reason that she could remember or discern. In the future, she would be sure to be on her guard. Lurien did indeed have some kind of power. She had felt it.

Elanor reached the talan only to find it empty. Placing Haldir’s quiver carefully in the corner, she headed for the bathing room to wash, then gazed longingly at the tub. Her arms throbbed painfully from the archery, and she had labored hard in the garden. Haldir was not here and it was well past time for dinner so he must be dining with someone else, or had gone to the common dining area. A bath would lessen her aches.

She filled the tub and heated the water, then removed her clothes and stepped in, easing her stiff body against the sloped edge with a groan. She had been pushing herself too hard lately, between the gardening and the archery, and the other chores.

Ignoring the pain in her arms, she thought about Lurien, unable to shake the feeling that he had some ulterior motive in offering his friendship, something more than mere seduction as Haldir had suggested. Should she tell Haldir about her encounter with his former rival? She debated, then decided she would not. It would only put that cold look into his eyes, the one she detested. It was his warmth and his smile she longed to see.

Elanor exhaled a wistful sigh. Her friends’ talk of lovers had put wild fancies into her head, and it was difficult to let them go. For many years she had been secretly longing for masculine companionship, though she had not actually thought much beyond the romantic aspect to the physical relationship. It now seemed as though everyone else had someone, everyone knew what it was all about, even Doria who seemed so innocent. Everyone except young Elanor of Rivendell, who had only been kissed. And who wanted most desperately to feel beautiful and feminine and, above all, desirable.

She cared for Haldir, that was the crux of the matter. She cared for him a great deal, more than any other male she had ever met, and in a far different way than she had cared for, say, Telrion or Minden. She had known she cared the moment she saw the slashes in his clothing, the moment that the realities of how he spent his time, what he did with his life, were brought home to her. That was when she knew.

And she wanted so much to understand him. Their time together these past few days had been filled with such harmony, especially their evening talks while they strolled together beneath the golden trees. And yet since the first day on the archery field, the same day she had met Healea, a portion of his former aloofness had returned, like an invisible shield hanging between them. The Haldir who laughed with her, the Haldir who made teasing remarks about her ‘benefits’, the Haldir who suggested he could seduce her if he chose, that he could set her on fire . . . that Haldir had disappeared, replaced by one who was kind and patient and almost paternal.

And although the new Haldir was wise and wonderful, she missed the other Haldir, the one who could be playful and wicked and cocky and sensual, the one who filled her with contradictory desires and emotions, stealing her peace and replacing it with a heart-thudding excitement she had never known before.

Hoping for some signal from him that he felt what she felt, she had tried a few small tricks these past few days. Two mornings ago she had come to breakfast in her nightgown (letting the neckline droop just the tiniest bit), but he had gotten up and left. Yesterday, after dinner, she had brushed against him, but he had only moved away. This morning she had worn the new gown that Doria had made for her (with no chemise underneath) and twirled around to show him, knowing how it hugged her curves. He had assessed its quality, but had seemed not to notice the maiden inside it.

In retrospect, these actions seemed ridiculous and pathetic. As her new friends had pointed out, Haldir was not an elf who could be entrapped by ordinary feminine subterfuges. Not that she truly wished to resort to such things, but what did one do if one wished to attract a certain male? Elanor really had no idea at all.

She only knew she wanted to be touched, and held, and kissed, and cared for and possessed. And she wanted Haldir to be the one to do it. She now realized that she had never disliked him even when she had been furious with him, that the two emotions had nothing to do with each other. More than that, she had this powerful urge to take care of him, and fuss over him—as long as he wasn’t being a bully, she thought with a small smile. She could not let him get away with that.

Should she put aside her newly formed dreams or cling to them? Since meeting Healea, she had begun to believe that Haldir had very sophisticated tastes. Elanor knew she was not sophisticated, not in the way some of the older ellith were. Perhaps he had only kissed her so as not to hurt her feelings. In fact, his interest in her might never have existed outside her own imagination. Or else it had already faded, nothing more than a fleeting spark that had quickly died.

With a small grimace, she sank further into the warm water, her head propped comfortably, her dark hair cascading over the outer edge of the tub. The warm water and the woodsy fragrance of the soap swirled around her, the scent Haldir carried on his silken skin and in his beautiful silver-blond hair. So tired . . . she was so tired . . . and so achy . . . and just a little sad . . .

She drifted into a light reverie . . . dreaming of Haldir . . . of his face . . . his smile . . . his eyes . . . his kisses . . .

She came awake suddenly. What had startled her? The front door.

Haldir was home, he was walking through the bedchamber . . . in the direction of the bathing room. Her heart leaped and began to thud double-time, but before she could react, he was there, standing in the arched doorway. Looking at her.

“Elanor.” He seemed more taken aback than she had ever seen him. “I thought you were not here.” She saw his eyes drift downward, taking her in quite fully before returning his gaze to her face.

She could not fathom what was in his mind, nor did she know why she could not seem to move, why she just lay there and looked at him as if paralyzed. Belatedly, she crossed her arms over her chest and drew her knees together in a ridiculous and prim delayed reaction that embarrassed her even further. She felt simultaneously bashful and wanton to be naked in front of him, even though she knew he had already seen most of her on other occasions.

“I am sorry,” she heard herself babble, her voice whooshing out in a rush. “I am late with dinner. My arms were hurting so badly and I thought that—”

“Your arms hurt?” His dark brows snapped together. “How long did you practice?” He made no move to retreat or spare her from the comprehensive assessment of his steady scrutiny. He just stood there and glowered down his nose at her while she huddled in the tub.

“From mid-afternoon until dusk,” she said, and raised her chin. Somehow she had expected him to be impressed, or at least approving, but it was clear he was neither.

“That was far too long. Your muscles are not equipped for that much exercise. Your actions were unwise, and now you are in pain because of it.” He picked up the drying cloth and held it out, his head turned away from her. “Get out of the tub.” His tone was curt and critical.

“Not unless you close your eyes!” She was beginning to bristle now; he was back to his bullying, and she did not like it.

“I have already seen you, Elanor, but I am not looking at you now. Take this and dry yourself, then go and lie on the bed.”

“What?” She gaped at him as she snatched the cloth from his hand and quickly wrapped it around her body. “Why?”

“Facedown,” he added, his face still averted.

“You seem angry, Haldir, but I do not understand why. I thought you would be pleased.”

“I am not pleased that you have injured yourself, nor am I pleased that you failed to follow my directives. One hour a day, I said. I thought that was clear enough.” He turned back to her, the grey eyes glittering with an unspoken challenge. “Now go and lie down on the bed, Elanor.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. Instead, she moved quickly past him, trying not to betray how nervous he was making her as she did as he instructed. In her present rather vulnerable condition, she did not quite have the nerve to start a dispute.

He startled her yet again by rearranging the drying cloth so that it covered only her hips. Next he peeled off his over-tunic and removed his boots, then shoved up the sleeves of his black under-tunic. Her eyes settled on his muscular forearms as he reached for a small vial sitting on the table beside the bed. Elanor tried to control her breathing, her pulse racing as she strained to see what he was doing. He appeared to be pouring whatever was in the vial into the palm of his hand.

“What are you going to do?” she finally asked. She could not judge how annoyed he actually was with her, but she was not at all afraid, although her heart was thumping hard.

“I will do what I can for you,” he said curtly. “I am best with bruises and open wounds, but I will try to help. At least I can take away the pain, though it will take the muscles a day or two to heal.”

Her eyes widened as he climbed on the bed and placed his knees on either side of her thighs to straddle her. She barely stifled a gasp as he settled his hands on her back and began to knead, his thumbs digging gently and expertly into the muscles on either side of her spine in a way that sent a delicious warmth seeping throughout every part of her body. Incredible sensations stole through her, a sensual merging of relief and erotic delight that almost stopped her heart completely.

He did not speak, but over the next several minutes, he worked his way up to the region of her shoulder blades, then over her shoulders and down her aching arms all the way to her wrists. She sighed with pleasure, scarcely able to believe he was doing this for her. She felt him briefly encircle her slender wrists with his thumbs and index fingers, as though to measure their size, then he was working his way back up her arms, pausing over her throbbing upper arms, then onward, his hands cupping her shoulders for an instant, then massaging the muscles at the base of her neck. Tingles raced through her body, and she nearly moaned aloud from the pleasure.

“Why did you practice so long?” he asked abruptly, though without anger.

“I wanted to hit the target.” Her voice sounded soft and thready because of the pressure he was exerting.

“And did you?” His hands were halfway down her back now.

“Yes. Finally. But only once,” she admitted, her voice a bit stiff in an effort to conceal her mortification. “I do not think I have the knack for archery.”

“What you lack is patience,” he corrected. “You think to become proficient in three days. That will not happen, Elanor. Perhaps in three years you will be able to hit the target with consistency.”

“I will not be here in three years,” she retorted, a bit dejectedly.

His hands stilled at the small of her back. “You do not know that,” he said tonelessly. She wondered what he meant, but dared not ask.

Silence reigned for several minutes, then Elanor lifted her head. “What is that sound?”

“That is Haldir’s stomach wondering where dinner is,” Haldir told her dryly.

“I am sorry,” she said again. “I will start cooking as soon as you are done.”

“I will cook tonight.” He paused. “I used a healing spell on your arms while I was working. You should feel some better, at least.”

“Yes, I do,” she said a bit shyly. “Much better. Thank you, Haldir. You are more generous than I deserve.”

“You are welcome, Elanor. Now, I would like you to do the same for me.”

She felt his weight lift off her and she quickly got off the bed, drawing the cloth up around her, watching with a rising knot in her throat as he stripped off his under-tunic and stretched out on the bed. “The vial contains an exotic oil that helps relax muscles.” His head was on the pillow, his face turned away from her.

Elanor’s mouth had gone dry. “I should dress first,” she said uncertainly.

“That is unnecessary. I will not look at you. Just use some of that oil on my back as I did for you. I find it most pleasurable.” His tone did not indicate any interest in her at all, much to her disappointment.

Elanor swallowed hard and drew the cloth more closely around her. In essence, it appeared her state of undress had no effect on him. Perhaps this was his subtle way of letting her know it. She should be wise and take the hint.

She poured oil on her hands and rubbed them together as she had seen him do, her hands trembling slightly with the knowledge of what he asked her to do. Then she climbed on the bed, and straddled him just as he had done to her, her eyes on the broad expanse of his bare back. She could not reach his shoulders or neck unless she moved forward and sat directly on his hips, and so she inched forward, wondering if he would protest, but he did not.

Slowly, she pressed her hands to his flesh, just as she had been wanting to do for days. He was warm and hard and soft all at once, smooth skin and solid muscle beneath the slide of her palms. She worked her way around leisurely, exploring as she went, discovering where he was tense and where he was relaxed, tending to the places that seemed to need it as he had done for her. She gazed at the side of his face, his silhouette, the dark arch of his brow and the curve of his lips. He looked so beautiful and so peaceful that it moved her, made her want to say something to him, although what she did not know.

For some reason she thought of that moment more than two years ago, back in that Rivendell courtyard, when he had given her that bold wink. She had been utterly fascinated, compelled to glance back over her shoulder even as she hurried away from him. How many times after that had she thought of him? Of what might have happened if she had not run away? Of what might have happened if they had encountered each other a few days sooner? Perhaps that was why she had been so appalled when Lana had claimed him as her own. Appalled and bitterly disappointed. And then she had fooled herself into thinking she despised him when the reality was very different indeed.

Very gently, she shifted a long lock of his pale hair and began to massage the base of his neck. She wished she could bend down and press a kiss to his shoulder. He had beautiful shoulders, strong and exquisitely defined. He was so solid and perfect and male that her heart squeezed at the sight of him, yet she felt such a sense of loss.

What could she say to him? What words would be safe to utter? She could think of none.

“I will be going back to the border soon,” he said suddenly. “My brothers return tomorrow. We will have a dinner here for them, then I will go.”

“Oh,” she faltered. “How long will you be gone?”

“Only two or three weeks, I think. That is my plan. A little higher, Elanor. Yes, that is perfect.” He sighed slightly. “Perfect,” he repeated. “You see, you do have skill in your hands.”

“Haldir,” she said softly. “Why do you not call me Ellie?”

“Ellie sounds like a child. You are not a child.”

Her fingers stilled. It was not the answer she expected, and it pleased her. “But my friends call me Ellie. You must have noticed.”

“I am not your friend,” he replied. “I am your guardian.”

“And because of that you feel guilt for kissing me.” She had not meant to raise the subject, but the words somehow slipped out of their own accord. Stupid Elanor! Why had she said that?

“I feel no guilt, Elanor. You asked and I gave.”

His sudden coolness stung like a slap in the face, hanging between them for a long moment, a wedge driven into their newfound harmony. Would she never learn to hold her tongue? To be discreet and careful in what she said?

“I gave too,” she said unevenly. “But it has become clear to me that I do not affect you, and I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I should not have asked . . . what I asked. I will not trouble you again in such a way.” She knew her pain came through in her voice, but there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

For a tense moment nothing happened, then the mountain below her rose up suddenly, heaving her aloft as Haldir rolled over onto his back and stared at her with startling intensity. Elanor found herself sitting on a different part of him, and once again her heart nearly stopped. Then she started to tremble, unable to breathe or think as he reached for her wrists and held them loosely, as if to prevent any chance of escape.

“You do not affect me?” he repeated, his dark-lashed eyes smoldering. “Perhaps you may be able to feel how unaffected I am.”

Elanor felt almost faint. She could feel his state of arousal, very large and very solid and firmly pressed against that part of her that burned for him. A more intimate contact was hardly possible given the fact that he still wore his leggings; she could feel the heat of his desire through the thin layer of that single layer of fabric. She hung over him, instinctively wanting to shift her weight against him, but did not quite dare.

“We are attracted to each other, Elanor, make no mistake about that.” His voice was soft and husky. “I think you know now that it is mutual and powerful. But we will not act upon it for the reasons I already stated.”

“Honor. ” She barely breathed the word. “Do you think that you dishonored me when you kissed me? Is that why you walked away? Were you angry with me? Or with yourself?”

Haldir gazed up at her, his face taut, concealing whatever he was feeling with the strength of his considerable will. “My kiss did not dishonor you, nor was I angry. Indeed, it was you who honored me with your trust . . . and with your lips. But you must understand that I walked away from you because I wanted more. More of you, Elanor. And for me, there is a point beyond which it becomes very difficult and uncomfortable for me to stop. Although,” he added, “I can do it, when necessary. Right now is just such an instance.”

“Speaking of now, Haldir, what are we doing?” she asked, a small tremor in her voice. “Why are you holding me like this?”

“I am showing you what you need to know about me.” His grip on her wrists tightened as if to emphasize his words. “Elanor, you need not leave off your chemise or play games to make me notice you. I am aware of you at all times. I know what is on your mind, and I know that your actions spring from innocence. But too much is happening too soon, and we need time apart. When next we meet, all this may be behind us.”

Behind us? Did he think to recover from her as he recovered from a wound? With nothing left to show of what had occurred, no ripple in the smoothness of his life? Was that what he wanted to happen? What he hoped? It was certainly not what she hoped! But what could she say?

Elanor’s chest constricted, an odd, tight feeling, but she finally remembered what it was she had been wanting to tell him. “Haldir, Galadriel said it is not the action but the intention that defines honor.”

She saw Haldir’s gaze shift to some point over her shoulder, as though he was contemplating the implications of the Lady’s words. “The lady is wise,” he said at last. “Her words hold many layers of meaning. We would do well to consider that. As for my intentions, at present they are to leave my brothers in charge of you while I perform my duty at the border. You can put your full trust in Rúmil and Orophin.” He released her wrists. “And now, Elanor, as much as I enjoy having you sit on me, I think it would be extremely wise if you put some clothes on. I will prepare our dinner. You have done enough today.”

Orophin reached the appointed meeting spot and sat down on a stump, stretching out his long legs while he waited for Rúmil to arrive. The sun was just sinking below the horizon, its golden light highlighting the dark bark of the forest trees. The breeze sighed through the leaves of the mellyrns in a soft and pleasant whisper. A wayward golden leaf drifted to his shoulder, and he brushed it off just as he caught a glimpse of his brother striding toward him through the trees.

As always, Rúmil flashed a grin and clasped Orophin’s arm in greeting. “Mae govennen, brother. Two swift and rather dull weeks, and we are off to the city again. I wish all our marches were so short.”

Side by side, the two headed in the direction of Caras Galadhon, pleased as always to see each other, for they were very close. They had been separated during their time on the border, and now sought to catch up on a conversation that had been postponed due to the presence of others.

“Such a merciful punishment our brother gave us, quite contrary to what I feared.” Orophin shifted his bow, sliding it along his shoulder to rest behind his arm, available but not in hand. “What caused such leniency, do you think? He was not so forgiving to fair Elanor.”

Rúmil shrugged and brushed the long strands of hair over his shoulder as the wind teased the silky tendrils. “I know not. I agree, it is not like him to be so ruthless with a maiden. It is most odd.”

Orophin nodded. “I agree.” He stared off into the forest with brows furrowed in thought. “I have pondered deeply on the cause of this. What of you?”

Rúmil glanced at his brother. “I have not dwelled on it. I have been dreaming of more pleasurable pastimes than the dark secrets of our brother’s soul.”

Orophin rolled his eyes. “Pleasurable? Pleasure is all you think about.”

Rúmil stopped, facing his brother. “All I think about? What of you? Your passion for Doria has all but wiped clear sense from your mind! I seek pleasure, but at least I have a mind that functions with logic and reason.”

Orophin ignored Rúmil’s teasing. “I only debate how to approach Doria. I cannot speak of what lies in my heart as easily as you. She was always a friend, a lovely elleth I teased and flirted with . . . until the day she tumbled from a chair into my arms. And nothing has been the same since then. But I fear disappointment in love more than I fear Sauron himself. I have no words to tell her what I feel.”

Rúmil sighed. “Do you wish me to tell you what to say?”

“Nay, I will find the words.” Orophin glanced at him. “It is Haldir who should concern you. Do you remember his gloomy mood those last days Rivendell?”

“Indeed I do. What of it?”

Orophin stared up into the canopy of leaves. “I have been thinking. Could it be that he had already met Elanor? Perhaps he tried to speak to her and was rejected, and that was why his mood was so dark. Thanks to Telrion, we know about this business with the sister. Perhaps she threw that in his face.”

“Met Elanor? Where? I do not recall seeing her at any of the social gatherings we attended. If she was there, she hid herself well. Now the sister, I remember well. A lovely brat.”

Orophin punched him lightly on the arm. “Nay, but think, Rúmil. Elanor was furious at our brother, for reasons untrue, but still furious to the point of being unreasonable. What if she had already approached him with her accusations? You know how Haldir would react. He would have been the cold, intimidating elf we know so well. And that is what could have forced her to do what she did.”

Rúmil stopped dead and pondered this. “What you say is both logical and possible, so you must retain a portion of your mind. But what is your point?”

Orophin continued down the path, then glanced over his shoulder, waiting for Rúmil to catch up. “For one thing, this business about him getting loose from those knots. When I thought she had a romantic interest in him, I did not worry about it. But Haldir must have been furious with her, have you thought of that?”

Rúmil’s eyes met his. “He was furious. Do you recall I told you that I saw her in the forest with Galadriel, changing out of her wet gown? Her chemise had at some time been torn from neck to waist. She later admitted that Haldir had done it, poor little maid.”

Orophin scowled. “That concerns me, to think Haldir would do that.”

Rúmil bent down to pick a small purple flower. “I thought he would steal only a kiss or two, but that was when I thought her intention was, shall we say, to enjoy him. It is clear that sort of activity did not occur, and there was much anger on both sides. But I do not think he hurt her.”

Orophin glanced at Rúmil, who was twirling the flower between his fingers. “My point, Rúmil, is that I think Haldir was attracted to her, and that was the reason for his depression. And then what followed made it worse. If he has interest in Elanor, he will have bungled it completely by now.”

“I’ve always heard he is smooth with the ellith,” Rúmil said doubtfully. “They practically throw themselves at his feet, the lucky bastard.”

“But think what sort he chooses! None are anything like Elanor. He is used to another type. Like Healea and her ilk.”

“He seems contented enough with his choices.”

“Contented,” Orophin agreed, “but did you ever see him excited or nervous or thrown out of stride? Did you ever see him reluctant to leave an elleth when he set out for the border? I never have, not even with Healea!”

“I agree that Healea was wrong for him. She is too much like him!” Rúmil shuddered. “Too cold for my taste. Give me someone pretty and soft and charming like Gwirith or Nerwen.”

“He put Elanor in his talan, Rúmil. His talan. Do you not see the significance of that? Never before has he allowed anyone to share his living quarters.”

“True enough,” Rúmil concurred.

“Elanor is different. Unique.”

“You can say that again,” Rúmil said with feeling. “Imagine anyone else asking us to kidnap Haldir and tie him to a bed!”

“I like her,” Orophin said decisively. “She has courage and spirit.”

“Oh, I like her too.” Rúmil’s tone was affable. “A pretty and amusing maiden.”

“Rúmil, I think she may be the one for our brother.”

“The one?” Rúmil turned and stared at him. “You mean The One?”

“Aye, that is what I mean. And if it so, we will need to do all we can to help bring it about because he only has one year to repair all the damage he’s done.” Orophin glanced at his brother. “What think you of that business with the cot?”

“I did not think much about it at all. What think you?”

“It is obvious one of them will use it. Which one, do you think?”

“I think he has given it to her,” Rúmil said.

“And I think he has taken it for himself!” Orophin chuckled suddenly and wrapped an arm around Rúmil’s shoulders. “I have a thought, brother.”

“Yes?” Rúmil lifted an eyebrow. “I hear a note in your voice that alarms me.”

“What if you did court Elanor? Not seriously, I mean, just enough to stir up our brother’s jealousy. It might aid the cause.”

“It might get me killed too,” Rúmil shot back jokingly. “Why don’t you do it?”

“Because, dear brother, I am going to be courting Doria. I cannot court two maidens at once. You just said you liked her!”

“I do like her, and I would not mind kissing her either! Ha! Perhaps I will court her just to see Haldir’s reaction.” He gripped his bow, swinging it off his shoulder and into his hand. “But enough maudlin talk of love and courtship. I wager I can beat you to the city by ten steps!” He sprinted quickly down the almost invisible trail.

Orophin streaked after him, his long legs quickly eating the distance. “I will be settled in my talan before you even reach the gates!”

It would take them a day to reach the city, but they would run for miles just for the sheer joy of it. Side by side, the brothers disappeared into the deepening shadows of the forest.

By the time Haldir had prepared a simple meal and they had eaten, he had disciplined himself back to his customary state of composed control. He knew it had been imprudent to put himself into the position he’d been in, but the temptation to have Elanor touch him had been too great to resist despite the rock-hard consequence and the discomfort of self-denial. And it had been exquisite, for she truly seemed to have magic in her fingers.

He had not wished her to know how aroused he was, but her words had made clear to him that he owed her that knowledge, that she needed to know. It had been a mistake to think that concealing his desire was the correct and appropriate thing to do; it had hurt her, which was not at all what he’d intended, and he would not protect himself at her expense. Until that moment, he had not understood that she truly had no idea what she had it in her power to do to him, even though she had already seen him naked and erect. Hence, he had showed her in the clearest possible way he could think of, without disguise or pretense, though she could not know how much it cost him to simply lie there, burning for her, while she sat on top of him like that.

At least she now knew the truth. Or at least some of it. She did not know that each hour he spent with her, his desire grew more urgent, more hungry and consuming . . . he quickly controlled the thought, banishing it to that part of his mind where he kept his secret fantasies, walled off from his daily activities.

“Elanor,” he said, after the remains of the meal had been cleared away, “I have a gift for you.” He had been looking forward to this moment for several days and was not about to let anything spoil it.

She turned to him, her surprise evident. “For me? What is it?”

“I will show you.” He crossed the room and removed his gift from where he had hidden it a short time ago, watching her face as she set eyes on what it was he held in his hands. “You will need it while I am gone. I made it for you.”

With satisfaction, he noted the emotion in her face, and felt the ripple of pleasure that formed itself from his relief. She liked it. He had pleased her. He felt odd, offering this and waiting for her reaction, a laying bare of himself that was not ordinary for him.

“You made it yourself? For me? Haldir, it is beautiful.” With a dazed look, she reached out a hand to touch the soft leather of the quiver, a slightly smaller and lighter version of his own. He had spent much time forming the exterior design, a weaving of star-shaped elanor blooms interlaced with Lórien leaves, each delicately and meticulously pressed into the leather to form a complicated and attractive pattern. He had thought it would be pleasing to a female eye and something she might like. Attached to it was the strap and buckle so she might wear it.

“Yes, that is what I have been doing while you were otherwise occupied these past few days.” He kept his eyes on her face, watching each nuance and fluctuation of her expression. “There are sixteen arrows within, but I have left the fletching for you to do yourself. It will be good practice for you.”

She glanced up at him. “Oh, Haldir, you are so . . .”

He lifted a brow. “So what, Elanor?”

“So thoughtful,” she finished with a trembling smile. “And conscientious and practical. And considerate and kind.”

Haldir knew he was on the verge of flushing. “And insufferable,” he reminded her. “And arrogant and infuriating.”

“Only sometimes.” He was stunned to see that her eyes were moist.

“I expect you to practice while I am gone,” he said gruffly. “One hour a day, Elanor, and no more. And no practice tomorrow. Your arms need a chance to recover.”

“It has been a very long time since someone made me a gift,” she told him almost shyly. “I would like to thank you properly.”

He gazed at her, wondering what she meant, then was startled when she moved close and leaned up to brush his cheek with her lips. He was also absurdly, profoundly pleased. When was the last time a maiden had kissed him in such a way?

“There,” she said, stepping back. “I know that was a bit bold, but I think a ward might be allowed to kiss her guardian in such a way when she receives such a marvelous gift.”

“You are welcome, Elanor,” he said evenly. “Would you care to go for an evening stroll? It would be our last for some time.”

Elanor gave him one of her beautiful smiles, looking lovelier than he had ever seen her. “Yes, Haldir, I would like that very much.”

Feeling more bemused than he had been in a long while, he set the quiver down upon a nearby chair and offered her his arm. It was the first time he had made such a courtly gesture, and to him it symbolized the crystallization of the inevitable. Yes, he needed distance to put his thoughts in order, but he no longer believed that what he was feeling for Elanor was going to disappear overnight.

Still, he had been mistaken about love before, and it was ever his way to be cautious in such matters. He could be wrong. And she might easily find someone else she preferred. In fact, did he not owe her the chance to do just that? That was something else he ought to ponder. Unfortunately, the idea disturbed him very deeply.


[To be continued . . .] FEEDBACK GREATLY APPRECIATED!!