ELANOR'S REVENGE

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This chapter is very long, the longest one yet, and really could have been broken into two chapters. However, we are giving you the whole thing so please consider it two weeks worth of story because there is no way we are going to get a chapter written over the holidays!

Anyway, we hope you enjoy this chapter. As always, feedback appreciated, as long as you don’t start flaming us. Thanks! Happy Thanksgiving!

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Chapter Thirteen

True to his word, the very next time Elanor practiced her archery, Lurien walked on to the archery field just minutes after she arrived. She watched his easy gait as he approached, aware that Rumil, or Orophin, or both was likely to show up at any moment. Lurien must know it too, but he did not look concerned.

“I thought you had guard duty in the mornings,” she said when he came up to her. A few elves had come to practice, but for the most part the arena was empty. The wind was calm this morning, and the bright sun shafted down through the mellyrns surrounding the training area, dappling the leaves in golden light. Nearby, a butterfly fluttered at the edges of a sun ray, and the soft scent of grasses wafted on the air.

“The hours of my duties are open to change,” he replied with a devastating flash of white teeth, “and they do change just for you, my dear.” He stood quite close, gazing down at her with those hot blue eyes, yet he appeared to be keeping his word, for she saw no stirring of his power in them.

“I am still not sure what anyone can do for me at this point,” she said. “I know I need to keep practicing. One hour a day, Haldir said.” She glanced up at him, curious to see his reaction to Haldir’s instructions.

Lurien’s head tilted, and she saw the nostrils of his slim nose quiver at the mention of the March Warden’s name. “I agree you need practice,” he answered smoothly. “And an hour is a good time for a beginner. However, what is more important than how long you practice, is how much you believe in yourself. Let us start with your appearance.”

“My appearance!” she echoed. “Why?”

“Because when people look at you, you must believe that what they see is what you are-a work of art. This will help to banish your lack of self-confidence.” His gaze ran over her, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly with his smile. “Shall I tell you what I see when I look at you?”

Elanor tucked the bow beneath her arm. “Lurien, you are flirting with me, not giving me instructions.”

“You are not listening to me, Ellie.” His crisp tone seemed to have lost its silky charm. “Heed my words. You have beautiful eyes and lovely hair and pretty features. You are elegant and graceful from every angle that I have viewed you. And your arms and shoulders show to advantage when you hold the bow, which you do very nicely. You have no need to feel inferior to any maiden in Lórien. Even Healea,” he added meaningfully. “Yes, she is extremely beautiful, but there are times when too much perfection can be . . . boring.”

Elanor said nothing. She did not know what to make of this, but she suspected that Healea’s rejection of Lurien colored his opinion on this matter.

“Also, and very importantly,” he went on, “it is time you started using a training bow. I will bring you one tomorrow.”

“But I am using a training bow,” she said in confusion, and held out the bow Haldir had given her. She glanced around at the other few elves who had come to practice. None had one as small as hers.

“Did Haldir tell you that?” Lurien said, his lip curled with disdain. “It is a child’s bow. It appears I have more confidence in you than he does, for I think you are more than ready for a real bow.”

Deflated, Elanor looked at the bow in her hands. A child’s bow! Why had Haldir let her believe it was a training bow? Why had Rúmil and Orophin not told her the truth? Did they think she would not find out?

“Have faith,” Lurien said quickly. “You are ready. But for today, use the one you have. Now, show me your stance.”

Elanor did as he requested, moving her feet into the familiar pattern Haldir had shown her. She glanced at Lurien and saw him nod in approval.

“Good,” he said. “Now I want you to say to yourself: ‘I am perfect. My arrow always finds its mark. I cannot miss.’”

Elanor lowered the bow. “I feel silly saying that, Lurien. It is not true.”

“It can become true if you believe it. You must say it a hundred times a day. Nay, a thousand. When you start to believe it, that is when you will start to see a difference.” His gaze fell to her lips. “Just as I say to myself, over and over, ‘someday Elanor will let me kiss her’.”

She fought a little twitch of laughter as she envisioned Lurien standing before a mirror repeating such absurdities. “Please do not flirt with me, Lurien.”

She took a single step away, but Lurien caught her arm. “I am not flirting, Ellie. I am telling you the truth.”

Before Elanor could think of a reply, a movement among the far trees caught her attention. Rúmil was striding rapidly in their direction, and even from this distance she recognized the determined, angry set of his mouth. Never had she seen him wearing such a cold expression, as though he were about to do battle with an adversary.

Lurien released his hold on her arm. “Ah, here comes the first obstacle,” he mocked. “The self-righteous brother. I will deal with him, my dear.” He turned to face Rúmil, his posture stiff.

Elanor glanced at him, taken aback by his tone.

Rúmil arrived with his crystal blue eyes looking icier than usual. “What are you doing here, Lurien? You have no business with Elanor.”

“On the contrary,” Lurien retorted, “I am here at her invitation. I am helping her.” He glanced at Elanor as if demanding confirmation.

“I think not!” Rúmil turned to her. “Elanor? What do you have to say?” He sounded slightly accusing.

She gave him an apologetic smile. “It is true, Rúmil. I agreed to Lurien’s presence here.”

Rúmil caught hold of her wrist, leading her a distance away while Lurien’s smirk grew larger. “What are you thinking, Ellie?” he said in a low, soft voice that Lurien could not hear. “Did not Haldir warn you about this elf?” His fingers were strong, reminding her of Haldir’s grip. “He is dangerous to someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” she repeated. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean. Haldir does not wish you to associate with that particular elf, and with good reason.” Rúmil gaze flicked to Lurien, his jaw taut with displeasure.

“I will spend my time with whom I please,” Elanor said, rather indignantly. “Haldir has no say in it.”

“No?” Rúmil glared at her. “I would say that is untrue, but we will speak of that later.” His narrowed eyes fastened on her face. “Has Lurien tried his mind tricks on you? Speak truly, now.”

Elanor hovered on the brink of expressing her outrage at the inference that she might speak other than the truth, but at the last moment she saw the very real concern in Rúmil’s eyes. He cared about her well-being, that much was clear, and the certainty soothed her ruffled feelings.

She laid her hand on his arm and lowered her voice even further. “Do not worry about me, Rúmil. Lurien did indeed try his tricks on me, but I resisted him.” Quietly, she explained about the bargain they had made.

Rúmil’s frown did not noticeably diminish. “If this is indeed what occurred, then I suppose you are safe from his mind games. He would rather die than forswear an oath upon the Lady’s honor. Yet I know Lurien, and I cannot agree to leave you alone with him. Haldir would have my balls on—” He broke off, looking faintly embarrassed. “I mean,” he corrected, “my head on a platter if I did so.”

Long strands of Elanor’s dark hair wafted in the breeze, and she shoved them behind her ear with impatience. “You worry for naught,” she stated. “I believe Lurien truly wishes to help me,” she hesitated for a moment, “although I admit I am at a loss about the reason.”

“Exactly my point, Ellie. His motivations are what concern me. Hence, you will heed my advice and be on your guard, is that clear? Orophin or I will be near should you feel threatened in any way.” This last sentence was spoken loudly enough for Lurien to hear.

“You are no better than your brothers,” Lurien sneered, anger marring his handsome face. “Do not lay your paltry threats on me, warden, for I am unimpressed. Come, Ellie. Ignore that doltish prankster whose only claim to greatness is his ability to tell a joke.”

Disregarding Lurien’s taunt, Rúmil lowered his voice once more. “Heed my words,” he repeated.

Rúmil walked over to the arena fence and leaned against it, his muscled arms folded across his chest as he settled in to watch Elanor’s lesson with Lurien. His silvery hair glistened in the sun, giving him the appearance of an angel, but his face was set in forbidding lines most unlike his customary playful attitude. Elanor sighed as Lurien led her toward the target. She wished she could just go on practicing alone.

“What are we going to do about Lurien?” Rúmil asked later that night. He and Orophin sat on a branch outside Orophin’s talan, gazing moodily into the open space. Darkness had fallen, but the familiar twinkling lights of the city failed to soothe their concern about Elanor. At least from this vantage, they had a clear view of Haldir’s talan and knew that she was safe within.

Orophin’s eyes narrowed, his thumb rubbing absently against the smooth mallorn bark while he considered his answer. “I could speak to him.”

“I told you I have done that. It did no good.” Rúmil’s voice was frustrated. “He only mocks us. He is trying to cause trouble and I fear he will succeed.”

“We must be careful. He is trying to use Ellie to get to Haldir.” Orophin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees to lean his chin on his hands. He looked very uncomfortable.

Rúmil’s gaze slid sideways. “You could ask Doria to speak to him. It would give you an excuse to talk to her.”

Orophin shook his head, appalled by the idea. He twisted until he was leaning back against the smooth bole of the tree. “I will not have Doria dragged into this. Besides, Haldir would expect us to deal with it. He put her in our care, and I will not fail him.”

“Nor I,” Rúmil agreed, absently twisting a small twig in his hands. “Should we tell Haldir about Lurien? That is the real question.”

“Aye, I think we must, though it will cause him anger and frustration. Perhaps it will also speed his return.” Orophin drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them as he glanced down at the many walkways below. Only a few elves could be seen at this late hour, and none of them were Lurien.

Rúmil shifted his weight, balancing perfectly without effort as all Sylvan elves could do. “Do you think he loves her?”

Orophin shrugged. “Who can say? Haldir always keeps his cards close to his chest. Much tender care went into the making of that quiver. He never gave Healea such a gift. I think that says a lot.”

“I think she cares for him,” Rúmil said thoughtfully.

“What does she say?” Orophin glanced toward Haldir’s talan, his expression one of thoughtful consideration.

“She keeps her feelings to herself, but I learned that he is the one using the cot. You were right about that.”

Orophin looked smug. “Ha, I knew it! We should have wagered on it.”

“And he winked at her once,” Rúmil added casually. “It must have been that time Telrion spoke of two years past.”

Orophin’s brows arched high. “Indeed! I have never seen him wink! I find that quite incredible.”

“By the way, how progresses your own courtship?” Rúmil said with a nudge. “Found your courage yet?”

“I’m working on it,” Orophin said shortly. “Do not change the subject. We are talking about Haldir and Elanor.”

“And Lurien,” Rúmil reminded with a sigh. “From now on we will have to watch her even more closely than we have been. Lurien derives great pleasure from being a thorn in Haldir’s side.” He scratched his jaw, thinking this over. “Though I suppose he will hold to his word since he swore upon the Lady’s honor. But still I do not trust him.”

“Nor I. I suggest we send Haldir a message at once. He may have some instructions. Have you told him of her nightmares?”

“Aye, but in no detail. I think they are growing worse, but she will not speak of them.”

“And how does she view you? I noticed several others have been seeking her attention.”

“But I am the one she favors.” Rúmil flashed a grin at Orophin.

“Perhaps you woo her too ardently,” Orophin chastised with a frown. “Have a care, brother. You do not want to cause her pain.”

“No fear of that,” Rúmil confessed, abandoning his cocky attitude. “She only chooses me because I am Haldir’s brother.” He smiled slightly. “I flirt with her and she enjoys it, but she lets it go only so far. Not that I’ve been testing her, but . . . I find it interesting. I would like to kiss her, but I suppose I will not. If she is in love with Haldir, that is enough to quench my ardor.”

“Perhaps she will become our sister,” Orophin said wistfully. “It would be nice if at least one of us found a life-mate.”

“If you would but speak to Doria, that would increase your own chances! This foolish silence does no good!” Rúmil shoved Orophin’s foot off the branch, and the elf adjusted his balance without a thought.

“And what of you?” Orophin shot back in annoyance. “Will you never settle down? Is there no one in all of Arda whom you favor above the rest?”

Rúmil fixed his eyes on a far distant talan, barely visible from where he sat, and the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. “Perhaps,” he said.

“Who is she?” Orophin demanded in astonishment.

Rúmil turned his head. “It matters not,” he retorted. “There is no reason to speak of it. She will never have me.”

“I will not rest until you tell me!” Orophin declared.

“Then you will never rest,” Rúmil replied. He ignored Orophin’s expression and rose gracefully to his feet. “Come, let us go and compose a message to Haldir. Then I will go and check on Ellie.”

“Oh, very well,” Orophin said grouchily. “I have enough to worry about right now without being concerned with your love life.”

“Good!” Rúmil grinned and leaped from the branch back to the safety of the steps. “You dictate while I write.”

Haldir wiped black Orc blood from the blade of his sword, his mouth twisted with more revulsion than he normally displayed. He and his elves had successfully slaughtered what appeared to be a small scouting party that had mistakenly thought to slip into Lothlórien during the night. As the first light of dawn began to streak the sky, his wardens carried the carcasses away from the tree-line where they could be safely burned. Ignoring them, Haldir climbed rapidly into the closest tree until he reached the flet built into its sturdy heights. From here, he could see far into the distance; it was he who had spotted the Orc party, for his eyes were keen, even for an elf.

Right now he was furious, simmering with a rage of an intensity he had not felt in a very long time. He had intended to return to the city this day, but now he could not, not until he knew for certain how many more Orcs were out there. He could feel them. They were waiting, biding their time, but they would attack eventually. It could be days, or even weeks. And he could not leave.

Meanwhile, Elanor would be wondering where he was. Or would she? Rúmil seemed to be filling in very nicely for him. And now this latest message had aroused his fury to a fever pitch. Haldir’s hands itched to seize Lurien by the throat and throttle him as he had so nearly done to Beredain. Mordor take her, why did she not pay heed to his advice? He had warned her about Lurien!

Haldir ground his teeth together so hard it hurt. He had made up his mind some days ago that the wisest course of action was to move her out of his talan and into one of her own. Now, with Lurien in the picture, could he still do that? Rúmil said she had made a bargain with the obnoxious sentinel! Apparently she had resisted him successfully, and now she thought herself safe, the naïve little fool. Safe until Lurien concocted his next scheme, whatever that might be!

All at once, something she had said came back to Haldir, though why it should do so now, at this moment, he did not know. ‘I think I have more strength than you realize, and that you have your share of weakness that you think to hide from everyone. Including me.’ He could hear her saying this quite clearly, almost as though she stood beside him.

He released some of the tension in his jaw, forcing himself to breathe evenly and think rationally. Now that he had the leisure to consider it, he was surprised that she had been able to fend off Lurien. It appeared his little Elanor had considerable strength of mind. And wisdom, he added silently, if she had forced Lurien to swear upon Galadriel’s honor as Rúmil had written. It was likely the only oath that would tie Lurien’s hands, and she had somehow forced it out of him. Haldir almost found that amusing, the thought of Elanor bringing the sentinel to his knees. He wondered how she had done it.

Still, the idea of Lurien giving her archery lessons made his blood boil. The moment he returned, he meant to put a stop to it—a permanent stop. In the meanwhile, he would just have to trust his brothers to take care of her. Furthermore, he would have to trust Elanor. She was young and innocent, but she had untapped sources of strength. Look at what she had dared to do to the March Warden of Lothlórien! To have him kidnapped and tied to her bed, that took audacity! When faced with the unexpected shock of his nakedness she had not flinched, even though he was fairly sure it had been her first sight of male nudity, not to mention male sexual arousal. True, he had managed to trick her and free himself, then gone on to intimidate and humiliate her, but she had hidden her fear better than many others he had encountered. Yes, she was young and naïve, but she was also strong and brave and stubborn and willful and wonderful beyond measure.

And he missed her far more than he would have thought possible.

Elanor and Rúmil stood in Galadriel’s garden, very near the place where Haldir had kissed her. Rúmil could not have known this when he had chosen this spot to tell her of Haldir’s delayed return. She had been watching Rúmil’s face carefully as he explained the reason. Three weeks had passed since he had left, and she had been so excited, thinking he would be coming back soon, perhaps even today.

“What does he fight, Rúmil?” she asked. “Is it more goblins?”

Rúmil shook his head. “Not goblins, Ellie. Orcs.”

Elanor was silent, trying to imagine what an Orc might look like. “Are they larger than goblins?”

“Aye,” he said briefly. “A bit larger. Not much smarter though.”

She felt him watching her, his blue eyes patient while she absorbed this. “I’ve never seen one. Haldir told me they smell.”

“They reek,” he agreed. “Nasty, evil things they are. You do not want to see one.” He took hold of her hand and squeezed it. “You look worried, but there is no need. Haldir knows what he is doing.”

“I know.” She bowed her head. “I am not worried at all, not really. I have faith in his ability. I have seen him fight.”

“Good. A few Orcs are not going to get the better of him. We have fought them many times and we always defeat them.” He continued to look at her. “You care for him.” It was not a question.

She looked up, unsure whether she wanted to admit it. “Of course I do.”

“Sometimes he is away for months at a time,” Rúmil said. “Sometimes I am too, and Orophin. It comes with being a guardian of Lórien. Enduring such separations is part of what a couple must face. Some maidens cannot accept that and prefer to look elsewhere for a mate.”

Elanor turned away. “How foolish of them,” she said with forced lightness. “If one truly loves, one accepts the bad with the good.”

Rúmil said nothing for a moment. “I agree with you,” he said finally. “I am just telling you something you may not realize.”

“I do realize it,” she replied, gazing down at the flowers with a heavy heart. “And I also realize that you or Haldir or Orophin could be killed. I am not as stupid or as naïve as you think, Rúmil. But I also know that you are good at what you do. Just as I know that Lurien is good at what he does, else he would not be in the position that he is in.”

“Lurien is a skilled fighter,” Rúmil admitted, though his dislike of the sentinel came through in his voice. “Overconfident though, and too caught up in the idea of his own superiority. Of course they say Haldir is arrogant, and he is at times, but . . .” Rúmil shrugged. “It is not the same.”

She glanced up. “Why does Lurien hate Haldir so much?”

Rúmil wore a look of distaste. “For Lurien, it is always a question of jealousy and rivalry. I know not why he feels it so, this need to feel superior. They both competed for the same maiden . . .”

“Healea,” Elanor filled in, when he paused.

“But the rivalry was there long before that,” he said. “Perhaps Lurien looks at Haldir and sees what he wishes to become and cannot, for there is only one Haldir. Thank the Valar!” he added with a sudden, mischievous grin.

From there, the conversation grew less serious, due to Rúmil’s efforts to lighten her mood, Elanor knew. She responded in kind, for she did not wish to dwell upon her worries . . . or the nightmares that continued to plague her rest.

For Elanor, the next few days passed slowly. There was no word from Haldir, but Rúmil assured her this meant nothing. Very likely they were just standing around waiting for something to happen. Rúmil did not elaborate. He did not need to.

Her daily archery lessons with Lurien continued, and his advice did seem to be helping, at least some of the time. At first she had found the new training bow very difficult, but now she was doing better. And she was definitely hitting the target more often when Lurien stood there and told her that she could and would do it. Even with Rúmil or Orophin watching nearby, their handsome faces stiff with disapproval, she knew she was doing better. Her progress, however, was not consistent, partly because she was so tired and partly because she was receiving too much advice.

If Lurien told her to put her foot in one position, Rúmil or Orophin would tell her to put it in another. If Lurien told her to change the tilt of her head, Rúmil or Orophin said otherwise. If Lurien stepped too close, to adjust her stance in any way, one of Haldir’s brothers would walk over and glare at him. It was getting on her nerves, but she did not protest, mostly because she knew it would do no good. She also sensed it was what Lurien wanted, to turn her against Haldir’s brothers. And they were all excellent archers, so they must all be right. And where did that leave her?

After six days of nothing, the Orcs at last had attacked. They had chosen daylight, but the party had been smaller than expected, less than three score, and they had all been slain. One elf had been slightly wounded, and one Orc had been captured and interrogated before Haldir had ended its life with a single, merciful stab of his sword. He hated Orcs, but he did not enjoy cruelty, even to the most despicable of creatures. He was simply glad it was over. Experience told him there would be a respite from attack that would last many days, even weeks or months. What little information he’d extracted from his prisoner confirmed this. He was free to return to the city, for there were many other experienced Galadhrim left to keep watch.

Much of his rage had faded these past days, although he was still unhappy about Lurien. Unhappy was not quite the word for it, actually. He had slept little this past week, and was anxious to return home to Elanor. He was still of two minds about keeping her in his talan, though he was leaning strongly toward moving her out, mostly because he so greatly wanted her to stay. He knew he needed to consider what was best for her and not himself. This was the honorable thing to do. She might be his ward, but he was under obligation to teach her, guide her, show her how to improve herself. He should be encouraging her to spread her wings and soar, not chaining her to his nest. Her needs were more important than his own.

Such thoughts occupied him while he walked swiftly through the forest toward Caras Galadhon. And so the day wore on, the shadows of evening following his footsteps as the forest slowly darkened into dusk and then evening. The birds settled down, and only the owls hooted their greetings as he passed. His stride lengthened, the path widening as he neared the city. It occurred to him suddenly that he would be in time for Orophin’s begetting day, which meant that he could give him the gift, the tunic made by Doria. It was a thought that cheered him. The light of the stars rose high, glittering over his head in a blanket of frosty diamonds, pinpoints of light against a velvet sky. He strode up the embankment and stopped for a moment to gaze at the lights of the city before him, nestled in the safety of the trees. Only another hour and he would be home.

Elanor lay in bed, her eyes wide open, staring into the darkness. This past week had been the worst so far. Ever since Rúmil had told her what Haldir faced, the nightmares had grown more terrifying. She was not afraid for Haldir, not when she thought about it objectively. She knew he was strong, a skilled warrior, and that he would take no unnecessary chances. She had confidence in him.

Yet for reasons she did not understand, her mind played games with her while she slept, creating darkness and terror. She had not even dared to rest the past two nights, but now her body cried out with need for it.

She wished she knew when he would return. To distract herself, she imagined what it might be like to sleep cradled in Haldir’s arms. That brought sweeter thoughts to her mind, thoughts of pressing her lips to his and sliding her hands over his muscled shoulders and . . . as always she tried to stop here, but seldom succeeded. All too easily her imagination stumbled forward, envisioning what it might be like to touch him, really touch him, to watch his face as she gave him pleasure, to see him lose control in the throes of ultimate passion, to make his body burn and melt beneath her hands . . . she shivered in secret delight at the idea. Surely she could do this if she had the chance. Someday . . . perhaps . . . for now she pushed aside her doubts.

The aching warmth of the fantasy stayed with her for a little while, then began to fade as she grew sleepy. If only she would dream of Haldir making love to her instead of goblins. What a lovely dream that would be, of him covering her with his beautiful body, his mouth taking firm possession of hers. The tantalizing vision stayed with her as she gradually slipped into reverie . . .

By the time Haldir passed through the gates of his city, the night was half over. He shifted his bow as he nodded to the guards, his pace quickening with his eagerness to see Elanor. She would be asleep, and of course he would not wake her, but to see her face once more . . . he could hardly wait. He was even more anxious than he had expected, his pulse practically tripping over itself in anticipation. Just to stand there and look at her while she slept would be enough.

To his surprise, he found Rúmil sitting on the steps outside his own talan. “What are you doing here?” he asked with a frown. “Is something wrong with Elanor?”

Rúmil rose to his feet, appearing a little weary to Haldir’s perceptive eye. “Nay, she is well . . . except for the nightmares. We knew not when you would return so Orophin and I have taken turns sitting here while she rests. I wanted to warn you before you went inside. I think they have grown worse this past week.” Rúmil’s gaze flicked down to the black blood on Haldir’s tunic. “Did all go well?”

“They attacked and we slew them,” Haldir said, brushing this aside with a slight gesture of his hand. “It is over until the next time. What is it she dreams of?”

“Goblins, she says.” Rúmil shrugged. “She will say no more than that.”

“And what of Lurien?” Haldir asked evenly.

“He continues to teach her, but he praises her too highly. He tells her she is doing well even when she is not. He hovers over her. And he gave her a training bow.”

Haldir’s brows rose. “Was she ready?”

“Aye, I think so. I was about to give her one myself, but he did it first, then tried to make her believe we thought her incapable.” He rolled his eyes. “Fear not, she has not been left alone with him. Orophin and I are always there, watching him at every moment. He likes it not,” he added with a small grimace, “but he pretends he does not care. I know not what his scheme is, but he is up to something.”

Haldir moved forward and set his hand on Rúmil’s shoulder. “I thank you for your vigilance. Go now and take your rest. I will deal with our friend, the sentinel.”

Rúmil nodded and left on soundless feet, while Haldir turned and went into his talan. He would take a long, satisfying look at Elanor, then he would strip and wash, something he had not yet taken time to do since the battle.

Something woke Elanor, a small sound. A knock? No, a tapping of some sort. Light and quick.

She lay still, breathing shallowly, straining to hear. Had Haldir returned? Could it be him?

No more sounds. Nothing. Yet there had been a sound.

She should go and see what had caused it. Bidden by some extraordinary compulsion, she sat up and set her bare feet upon the floor. Slowly, she stood and began to walk . . . and found herself facing Haldir’s wardrobe. She stared at it, feeling strangely motivated to rearrange his clothing. Everything should be in order when he returned. Everything should be perfect.

She opened the wardrobe and looked at his tunics, which now shared a space with her gowns. She frowned. Despite the darkness, she could see that some had fallen. How had that happened?

A scarlet tunic lay in a crumpled heap. Where had it come from? He did not wear scarlet. Had Doria made a mistake? She bent and picked it up, bewildered by the color. She stood still, holding it in her hand, gazing at it, looking for holes or rips, but it bore no evidence of damage or blood. No blood. Just a scarlet woolen fabric. Soft and beautiful. Regal, even.

She stepped forward to hang it when she heard another sound. Not a tap.

A giggle.

Her heart stopped. Horrified, she saw the clothing in the closet begin to undulate, and then a pair of eyes appeared between the rippling folds of fabric. Glowing red eyes filled with malicious mischief.

With a gasp, Elanor dropped the red tunic and opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Whatever it was, it was crawling out of the wardrobe, its leering grin revealing pointed little teeth. She turned to flee, but there was another in the doorway, and another across the room. Terror seized her as more and more of them appeared, scuttling across the floor like drunken roaches, scampering and prancing in all directions, but where they came from she did not know. Eyes glittered in the darkness, the room filled with spidery shadows dancing in circles, twisting and babbling in some senseless language.

Misshapen humps lurched beneath the blanket on the bed, black faces peered from every corner, gazing down from the ceiling with eyes like red coals . . . Oh sweet Elbereth now they saw her . . . they were all watching her. Closer they came, inching forward with lewd grins spreading to reveal darting tongues. They crawled from under the bed and out of the wardrobe and from the direction of the terrace. Terrified, she took a step, but was blocked by groping hands with sharp, filthy nails, clawing and clutching at the hem of her nightdress, coming closer, ever closer . . . The mad giggles filled her ears and still she could not scream.

Wildly, she looked around for some kind of weapon, but saw nothing. She kicked at one of the small black bodies and heard a sickening crunch, as though she had stepped on a huge beetle, but it only rolled and shook itself, its lips pulled back in a grotesque grimace. How many were there? Dozens . . . and only one of her . . . Something grabbed her ankle, coiling around it, something slimy and wet . . . Again she tried to screech aloud, but nothing happened, no sound would come.

Now her bow was in her hand, but she had only one arrow. What good was that when there were so many? Her hands shook as she tried to aim at whatever had her by the ankle, but it was no use . . . no use . . . something was trying to creep beneath the skirt of her nightgown, tiny crablike hands were squeezing and pinching at her calves. Without warning, the bow and arrow faded into thin air. She kicked out frantically and ran toward the bed, leaping upon it, trying to get her back against the wall . . .

Goblins pursued her, scrabbling onto the bed and pulling on her legs, forcing her to lose her balance and fall on top of them. Now she was screaming, she could hear it at last, her own voice breaking through the stillness of the night. Their hands were on her, pulling her hair, ripping and shredding her nightgown, squeezing and biting at her flesh. In a mad frenzy she fought, kicking and punching violently while wild, mindless cries tore from her throat . . .

“Elanor!”

A huge goblin loomed over her, larger than all the rest. Was it an Orc? She tried to punch it in the face as it bent over her, but it captured her wrists, pinning them down. She kneed it as hard as she could in the groin . . .

“Oof . . . Elanor, wake up!”

“Leave me alone!” she cried, still struggling fiercely.

“Elanor!” Something was shaking her . . . someone . . . and suddenly the goblins were gone and Haldir was there instead. Even in the dimness, she could see his concern. “Elanor, whatever you fear, it is not real,” his low voice soothed. “You only dream. You are safe, do you hear me? You are safe.”

“Haldir,” she panted, taking in great sobbing gulps of air. “You are here? You are really here?”

His eyes searched her face as he leaned over her, his hair forming a silvery curtain in the dim light. “I am here, Elanor. I returned a short while ago. I thought to let you rest, but—” He released her and sat on the edge of the bed, lifting her up and into his arms.

Her teeth chattered as she huddled against him, her heart still pounding as she tried to form a coherent thought. “I am f-fine,” she tried to say.

“Yes, you are,” he murmured, rocking her back and forth as she clung to him. “Nothing is going to harm you. I am here. It was naught but a dream.”

“Goblins,” she disclosed, her body still shaking.

“I know. Rúmil told me.”

“Oh, I am so ashamed,” she confessed, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Ashamed?” He drew back enough to see her face. “Elanor, why?”

“Because . . . you and Rúmil and the others . . . you go out and fight Orcs and . . . and other horrid things . . . things that are real. You are so brave. And me . . . I have a dream . . . and look at me . . . afraid of things that are not even real . . .”

Haldir drew her close once more. “You are too hard on yourself. Dreams can be terrifying. I’ve had them myself.”

“I fought them,” she whispered, her mind full of dark images. “They came out of the wardrobe and—” She broke off and glanced nervously around the room, knowing it was foolish. “They weren’t real.”

“They weren’t real,” he agreed, and kissed the top of her head.

She shifted slightly, and all at once realized that his chest was bare, its pale skin smooth and comfortingly warm. “You aren’t dressed,” she said unthinkingly.

“I was about to bathe.” His voice was calm, which further helped to bring her back to reality.

She pulled away, suddenly and acutely conscious of his nakedness. “Oh, well, I am sorry I disturbed you. Do not let me keep you.”

He gave a small laugh. “I would not leave you except I probably stink. I will return very soon. Can you manage alone for a short time?”

“Of course.” She looked into his eyes, unsure what he was asking. He must have read her thoughts, for he added, quietly, “I plan to stay with you until you are calm. I am going to light the lamp. Its light will help to drive away the shadows.”

She realized he was warning her in case she wished to close her eyes, but she did not. She watched him attend to it, his magnificent body stunning and perfect and radiant as marble in the lantern’s glow. She saw him glance down at her, a peculiar tautness in his face, then he turned and went into the bathing room. A moment later she heard water running down from the storage drum on the roof.

Elanor closed her eyes and rolled to her side with a smile. He was coming back to her! The comfort of that knowledge chased away the lingering remnants of the horrid dream. Everything had shifted to the way it should be. He was here, with her, and nothing else mattered . . .

She felt the bed move before she realized he was there, slipping beneath the sheet with his usual grace and economy of movement. He had removed the braids from his hair, which spilled over his shoulders like molten silver gleaming with the iridescence of the stars. The woodsy scent of his soap clung to his flawless skin.

“Elanor,” he said softly. Just that one word, her name, but the way he said it seemed significant.

“Welcome home, Haldir,” she whispered. She gazed at him, feeling oddly bashful when but a moment before she had been excited. What would happen? What should she do? What was in his mind?

Their faces were close, their eyes meeting in a moment that seemed timeless and magical. She studied his features, and without thinking she lifted a hand and traced a fingertip over first one and then the other of his dark wing-like eyebrows. She saw his questioning look. “I love your eyebrows,” she explained shyly. “I have wanted to do that for a long time.”

His mouth curved into a smile so sweet it stole her breath. “I love your nose,” he said. As if to prove this, he leaned forward and kissed its tip. “And your lips.” He kissed those too, very lightly, then drew back, restoring the distance between them.

She smiled and began to relax. “Well, I love your eyes. And your eyelashes. I wish mine were as long.”

“My turn?” he said teasingly. He touched her chin, and she thought he was going to say something about it, but instead he leaned close and put his lips near her ear. “I love your breasts,” he whispered, his voice husky and seductive.

Elanor blushed with pleasure, and tried to ignore the sudden blaze of heat between her thighs. “Not too large?” she said, with a touch of anxiety, for she recalled how much bigger she was than Healea.

He laughed softly. “Utterly perfect. You are beautiful, Elanor.” She looked uncertainly at him, but he seemed sincere. To hear such words from him was like a dream come true.

“I love your nose,” she said, trying to match his playfulness.

“Not too large?” he replied, a little ruefully.

“Perfect,” she said, and kissed its tip. “You are beautiful, Haldir.”

He laughed again. “Shall we go on until we run out of parts? Although I will have you know that one of my most important parts is still recovering from that well-placed blow you delivered. It was not the welcome I had hoped for.”

“Oh no!” Elanor’s eyes widened as she realized what he meant. “I am so sorry!”

“Worry not, Elanor. I forgive you.”

Elanor’s blood strummed as she considered what might happen next, but he made no move to kiss her again or to come closer. Instead, he only gazed at her with that endearing little half-smile that made her want to leap up and dance.

“Haldir, do you respect me?” she asked after a few quiet moments.

“Of course I respect you, Elanor.” A tiny frown furrowed his brow. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Despite the dreadful thing I did to you in Rivendell? Even though I scratched you and slapped you when you were helpless?” Her voice quavered at the thought of her own despicable action.

“Despite that,” he agreed. Was there a smile in his voice?

“But it was a dreadful thing to do! Why do you respect me?” she asked, her voice small. “I do not understand.”

He covered her hand with his own. “Because you have many admirable qualities worthy of respect.”

“Such as?” She held her breath.

“Such as courage,” he said.

It was the last thing she expected him to say. “After the way I behaved tonight? Why do you think I have courage?”

“Because when the goblins were real, you were prepared to protect Galadriel.”

“How did you know?” She blinked at him with astonishment.

“The Lady knew. She told me. But there are other reasons, Elanor. You showed courage in the way you have adapted to your new life here. You show it each time you challenge me.”

“But you do not like it when I challenge you,” she protested.

“Sometimes I do not,” he admitted. “And sometimes I do not object. I would not have you be a mindless puppet with no will of her own.”

“Oh.” Elanor pondered this, feeling rather pleased.

He reached out and adjusted a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “And you have strength. Not so much physical strength, but inner strength.” He hesitated, as if about to say something else. “And loyalty. You showed that when you defended your sister with such . . . tenacity.”

“An unwise decision,” she sighed. “I was very foolish.”

“Perhaps, but if you had not done what you did, you would not be here now.”

Elanor’s heart leaped. “You are glad I am here?” she asked hopefully.

“Of course I am glad.” His tone suggested that was obvious. “Your stubbornness is another quality that can serve you well.”

Elanor opened her mouth to say that she was not stubborn, then thought better of it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you do not let yourself give up. It is what will carry you through the challenging times in your life. It is what will enable you to achieve that which you may find difficult. Such as practicing hours and hours on the archery field because you want to hit the target more than you want to rest your arm and your body when you are aching and weary.”

“I thought you disapproved of that!”

“I did. It was not wise. But I also admired you.”

“You admired me?” Elanor echoed in wonder, “even while you disapproved. Oh, Haldir, that makes no sense. You confuse me.”

“I could often say the same of you, Elanor. You are feeling better now?”

She felt him shift, and knew instinctively that he was about to leave her.

“Wait,” she said, reaching for his arm. “Don’t go. Stay with me. Please.”

Something between them changed; the air grew heavier and thicker the way it did before a storm. Haldir had stilled, his warm breath close to her cheek. “What are you asking, Elanor?”

“Kiss me,” she whispered. “A real kiss this time, not like the one in the garden.”

Amusement flashed in his eyes. “You didn’t call that a real kiss?”

“I know you can do better,” she said huskily.

“Better, eh?” He raised himself up on one elbow, looming over her like a deity in the lamp’s glow, so beautiful he took her breath away. His face was thoughtful and calm, but his pupils looked larger and darker than usual. “Sweet Elanor,” he said simply. And then, almost to her surprise, the distance between them melted away, and his mouth covered hers . . .

It began gently enough, a light touch, yet within moments his tongue was pushing between her teeth, insistently demanding entry, and she opened to him with a moan she made no effort to suppress. It was the most aggressive kiss she had ever experienced, full of hungry uncivilized power, a sublime seeking that awakened her body and battered her senses with waves of excitement. Her fingers burrowed into his hair, then slid down the strong arc of his neck and around to his chest, where she searched out his nipples, caressing them to a stiffness that drew a low, faint rumble from his throat. As if in answer, he rose up on one forearm and pressed her into the mattress, his mouth cleaving to hers while he plundered her mouth like a conqueror.

At last he drew back, his eyes dark with passion as he gazed down at her, each of them breathing heavily, then he retook her lips, exploring with gentle nips before driving deep into her mouth once more. Their tongues rubbed and stroked each other, mating in what seemed like a perfect duet, but something else was not right. Each time she tried to touch him intimately, he caught her hand and returned it to his chest. Each time she tried to press against him, to wrap her legs around him and bring their bodies more fully together, he forestalled her. In fact he had moved his knee forward to block her, to keep their lower bodies separated despite her efforts to the contrary.

At last the kiss ended. He raised his head, gazing down at her with a smile that held a shard of mischief. “Was that any better?” he said, a glint in his eye. He seemed almost composed, completely in control of himself, but his voice held a husky edge that told her otherwise.

“Much better,” she gasped, “but do not stop.” Again, she tried to wriggle closer to him, but to no avail. “Haldir, what is wrong? Why do you not let me touch you?”

“Elanor, we cannot go on,” he said gently. “We should stop here.”

In answer, she seized his hand and tried to tug it toward her breast. Too many nights had she lain here aching and yearning for him. And now he was here, she would not cling to pride when she knew she would regret it later. Surely he could not mean to end it here? To leave her burning for him in this way? It was too cruel.

“Touch me just a little more,” she begged. “Please. I know you have others you can go to . . . I have no one else. No one but you.”

“I go to no one else,” he murmured, his eyes holding hers almost fiercely. “Not since you have been here. Did you not know that? It is true,” he added as she gazed at him in wonder. He reached out to smooth her hair, and something in his face changed, as though he had just come to some decision. “Very well, sweet Elanor, I will touch you if that is what you truly wish?”

“Yes,” she said in a rush. “Yes, that is what I truly wish.”

He smiled tenderly. “Then it would please me very much to give you ease.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, followed by her brow and the tip of her nose. Did he not understand what she was asking? And then she knew that he did, for his hand came to rest on the underside of her breast, curving around its fullness through the thin fabric of her nightdress. Gently, he moved around and over her softness as if learning her contours, allowing his palm to press against her nipple in a slight circular movement that brought forth another gasp from her lips. Eventually he moved to the other breast and did the same, then his hand shifted to the new blue ribbon that secured the neckline of her nightdress.

He smiled, a wicked curve of his lips. “Now what’s this? A reinforcement against invasion? A bit late for that, my sweet.” With dexterous fingers, he untied her chaste little bow, his gaze fixed on the excited rise and fall of her chest as he stretched out the neckline. “You know, there was a reason why I did not order you a new nightdress,” he added teasingly. “I liked it the way it was before, when it was almost falling off you.”

He lowered his head and feathered kisses along her jaw, then nibbled his way down her throat while his fingers slowly pushed aside the fabric, the pads of his fingers heating her with their light touch. There followed several more of those deep, deep, soul-searing kisses, then the lazy downward sweep of his lashes told her what he intended next . . .

Excitement shot through her. Her breasts were still covered, but that did not prevent him from pressing his mouth against her, kissing her right through the nightgown. To her delight, his tongue found her nipple, his mouth drawing it against his teeth while she arched and whimpered in pure ecstasy. When she reached upward to yank down the fabric, he chuckled and took her once more in his mouth, suckling and tugging first one and then the other nipple while his hand roamed across her stomach and the curve of her hip.

The thorough exploration of her breasts occupied him for some time, until she thought she would go mad with wanting more, then he suddenly dragged up her nightgown, his breath harsh against her face. His fingers explored her bare hips and thighs, creating a tingling trail of fire, yet when she widened her legs, it was his wrist that he used, pressing it against her most sensitive area and rocking slightly in a side-to-side motion. It was exquisite, that rocking pressure, and she instinctively raised her hips and pushed back in order to increase the sweet agony of pleasure.

He gave another low chuckle. “You like that, Elanor?” he murmured, his golden voice as seductive as honey.

“Oh yes!” She lifted her lashes, her heart doing a little flip-flop at the sight of him. Never had he looked more beautiful than at this moment with his face so relaxed, his eyes filled with genuine caring and delight that he was pleasing her. His silvery hair draped loosely over his shoulder and onto hers, its softness a delicate touch with every movement.

All too soon his hand shifted, but her protest died on her lips as his fingers slipped lower and began to delve into her most secret places. She arched and writhed under his skilled caresses . . .

“Let go, Elanor,” he murmured soothingly. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I know how to take you where you wish to go. Let me be your guide. Trust me. That’s it, darling. Relax . . .”

Whatever he was doing, the feeling was intensifying . . . slow, sweet tendrils of sensation expanding outward like some huge, blooming flower with pure fire in its center. With vast expertise, he was stoking that fire, adding kindling with every deft movement while she panted, ragged whimpers coming from her throat as she strained to get closer to the flames. Her eyes were half closed, but she knew he was watching her intently, taking in her responses, interpreting each of her quivers and gasps. Somehow they seemed to tell him what to do, where to touch her, and how fast or slowly to caress in a perfect throbbing cadence of movement.

It was building, the pleasure, escalating higher and higher, and, oh sweet Elbereth, how she wished he were soaring along beside her, but he was not, he was only giving without taking. Even at this moment, she tried to stop and reach for him, wanting so badly to touch him, but he did not allow it, and she was lost . . . lost . . .

Her body convulsed, exploding in a series of powerful shudders that ran from her head to her toes. She cried out his name as wave after wave of pure pleasure rolled over her, pleasure of a thundering intensity the likes of which she had never known, nor dreamed possible. Very vaguely, she was aware that he was smiling.

“Good?” he asked softly.

“Oh, my!” she panted, a sheen of perspiration covering her entire body. “Oh, Haldir, that was . . . oh my! . . . so much better than . . .” She stopped, embarrassed to complete the sentence.

He gave a low laugh. “I know, Elanor. Much, much better. Believe me, I know.”

“It was wonderful,” she said dreamily.

He looked down at her with a satisfied smile. “I meant it to be wonderful.” He leaned closer. “And it can get even better than that. You have much to learn.”

“Will you be the one to teach me?” she asked daringly.

“Perhaps eventually, when the time is right.” His hand rested on her hip almost possessively. “That is entirely up to you.”

She studied him, taking in his expression. “You speak as though you think I might choose another.”

“Anything is possible, Elanor.” He leaned forward and kissed her, a mere grazing of the lips. “Now you must rest. You are very tired.”

“I am not that tired. Haldir, I still want to touch you.”

“No,” he said, his voice light but firm.

“I think you would enjoy it if I did.”

He smiled wryly. “I am sure I would, but that is not the point.”

“You told me before how uncomfortable this is for you, to be in a situation such as this and not to . . . to . . .”

“That is true, Elanor. However, tonight I made a choice and I intend to abide by it. I chose to give and not to take. It is not easy, but I will survive.”

“You have too much self-control,” she sighed. “And please do not tell me that one can never have too much self-control.”

He laughed. “Very well, I will not say it. Go to sleep, Elanor. You look exhausted. I will stay with you, if you like.”

“Yes, please stay,” she murmured sleepily. In truth, she was extremely drowsy, an aftermath of the overpowering sensations she had just experienced.

And so it was that she slept in his arms that night, her cheek pressed against the warm solidity of his chest. No goblins dared to come to her that night.

As for Haldir, it was a long while before he found rest, for he had to wait for his own fire to dissipate, using every ounce of his self-discipline to extinguish it through willpower alone. While he waited, stoically and patiently, he watched Elanor sleep, gazing at her face with a mixture of satisfaction and wonder while he thought about what he had just done.

He had not abandoned honor, he told himself again and again. He had comforted her and cared for her needs, which were very real and very important. He had taken little for himself except the vast enjoyment of watching her reach the pinnacle of pleasure, which she had done so sweetly and delightfully that even now he felt awed. To have been the first to have touched her like that, that was an honor. It was also a memory he would cherish forever.

“Rest, my love, my Elanor,” he murmured when he knew she could not hear. “Tomorrow we will talk.”

[To be continued . . .] Feedback appreciated!