The Ride of The Rohirrim

Beléniel ran lightly down to where Haldir stood. The blond Elf put hand to breast and bowed slightly in greeting. She inclined her head with ladylike grace, laughed, and holding the hem of her gown up to her ankles she ran through the woods. Laughing Haldir chased her, calling to her that when she was caught she would owe him a boon. Ahead of him he caught flashes of sunlight dancing off her rose and gold hair, and when they went deeper into the wood the laughter halted, and it was a game of stealth they played.

Using shadows and the skills she was honing to become a Ranger she flitted from tree to tree, and from rock to stream. Always listening and watching, wondering where he now was. Haldir moved more slowly, his eyes and ears keenly searching for hint of her whereabouts. This game lasted an hour, and a smug smile curled his lips as he sped ahead of her to intercept her path.

A frown began to knit his brows when she did not run into his arms as he had expected. “Fierce is your look, Haldir.” He twirled at her soft voice, and his gaze pierced her where she stood up on a low branch with her back resting against the bole of the tree. A laugh rang clear and true from her, and his frown disappeared at the glow of joy upon her face.

He sat below her on the cool thick mat of grass. She stretched out on the tree limb, upon her back. Her hair fell like a blushing golden sunset to one side, and on the other one slim leg dangled. Shutting his eyes he listened to her sing of a love yet to be known and yearned for. He knew the song well, but did not join in. It was enough to listen, and to hear the birds and stream around them. Sad and lonely was the song, and it pulled at his heart. Rising silently he ran a hand down the branch until his fingertips touched the warmth of her skin. Her voice wavered slightly, barely unheard to any but the keen-eared Elf, but she did not halt. He trailed his fingertips down the calf of her leg to her heel, and leaning forward touched her ankle with the softness of his full lips. The song died on a long indrawn breath, and Haldir listened to the music of her breathing as his fingers danced up to the underside of her knee, and his lips paid homage to her foot.

Beléniel had never before known such amazing sensations as the ones now flowing through her. Her skin tingled where he caressed it with softly whispered Elvish poetry, and burned where his fingers and lips touched. That feeling of falling overcame her once more, and she moved to slide off the branch. Haldir caught her before her feet neared the ground, and her heart sped at the feeling of her body sliding slowly down his.

Her eyes were dilated and dark, her face flushed, and her lips parted softly as she breathed hard. For a long moment he simply held her to him, his gaze locked onto hers. With effort he stepped back, bowed slightly with hand to his breast, and hurried off. For several seconds she blinked, startled, disbelieving he could leave her as thus, but as the haze of sensations lifted she heard the calling of the horn, and she knew all the warriors would gather to the Lord. Frightened now Beléniel ran, her skirts lifted to her knees, and found her great-grandmother gazing out past the borders of Lorien.

“What is it, my Lady? Why are the warriors called forward?”

Galadriel’s eyes moved to the younger woman. “Come, Beléniel.” She led the way to a stone pedestal where a large marble bowl rested. Using a silver urn she poured water into it. “Will you look?”

Partly afraid Beléniel stepped hesitantly to the pedestal, and tore her gaze from the lady’s to peer into the waters. The visions came, jumbled and quick, and then more slowly. Beléniel saw herself in the gray cloak of the Ranger, a quiver and bow at her back, and a sword in her hand. She saw Haldir, bowing to her, and she knew it was a final farewell. A man now appeared, and though his face was hidden from her she saw a golden halo about him and horses ran free at the foot of mountains. Her heart raced when she saw this, and she wanted to call to him, but no name came to her lips. The visions were done.

Galadriel tenderly wiped the tears from her great-granddaughter’s cheeks. “I have also seen this, and though my heart tells me to beg you to not go north I know it is the path you would follow, and must follow. Beléniel, daughter of my blood and of my heart, always remember that in our thoughts you shall be, and here you will be welcomed. When the road seems darkest remember your days here, and know of whence you came.” She kissed the top of the younger woman’s head, and shut her eyes a moment.

“My heart is not with Haldir,” Beléniel whispered. “I would wish it so, but a part of it remains untouched by him.” She glanced up at the beautiful Lady of Lorien. “And yet I felt the whole of it reach out when I saw the golden horseman, and I would have cried out to him but that his name is yet unknown to me.”

“It will be known,” Galadriel wisely told her. “A time will come when it will be known, and you will cry it out then.”

She found Haldir later that day, and he knew she was leaving. Clad in greens and grays to travel she bore a bow and quiver of arrows upon her back. With her were a handful of Elves to escort her. “You go to Rivendell.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I go north, and will meet with the Rangers.”

Anger snapped in his eyes. “Then you are a fool.” He turned from her, his chest constricting. “Go, Beléniel. May your path remain bright and clear.”

“Haldir…” His stiff back continued away from her. It hurt to leave, but her destiny did not lie in Lothlorien.

…

“You are miles away,” Legolas stood beside where she sat, his gaze scanning the far horizon. “I sense a melancholy about you, Beléniel.”

“I recall days long gone when innocence still tinted my vision, and laughter filled my days.” She rose slowly, offered him a small smile. “Do you often think of home, Legolas Greenleaf?”

“I think of my kin leaving these shores, and a yearning to taste the salt of the sea air fills my breast. I would go with them,” he admitted, a sadness filling the blue of his eyes. “But for this task I swore my bow to I would find the Undying Lands. And you?”

“My kin sail over the seas also, but my duty is here, as well as my heart. But for a twist of fate I would now stand here a widow, mourning a mate taken too soon.” She hefted up her sword and bow. “Come, Legolas of the Woodland Realm. Our choices we must now stand by. I follow Aragorn and my brethren.”

“Will you not say farewell to yon Rider of Rohan?” he teased her, a twinkle entering his eyes. “Ever upon you his gaze strays.”

“Our farewells must be kept short, and no privacy can be found.” She glanced at Eomer who was at that moment readying his men. She ran lightly and quickly to where he stood sheathing his sword at his saddle. “Eomer.”

He did not turn about. “You will not come to Rohan.”

“I cannot,” she replied. “Would that I could, but my place is with my brethren as yours is with your people. Would you forsake them to follow me?”

“I cannot,” he roughly whispered. Twirling he caught her shoulders in his large hands, his eyes darkly intent, and his lips pulled back in a thin and tight line. “I will find you, maiden of my heart. Do not fall.”

She welcomed the crushing kiss he gave her, tasting desperation and hope within it. Clutching at the leather in his armor she gave back to him all the fervor he did in the kiss. “Remember always where my heart lies.”

For a moment emotion choked him, and no words would form. Fear tightened his heart, and breath eluded him. He forced air into his lungs. “Do not fall.”

“Beléniel,” Aragorn intruded. She touched a tender hand to her lips and then to Eomer’s lips. Pulling from his grasp she forced a smile though tears blurred her vision, nodded, and ran to her horse, leaping upon it and setting it into a run after those she would follow. She did not look back.

Theoden put a comforting hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Come, Eomer, we must prepare. I know well the pain that stabs at your heart and would make you curl up into yourself.”

Eomer blinked, shook his head, and proudly lifted his chin. “I know my duty, Sire. It lies with you and Rohan.” Turning he called to his men to decamp and prepare to leave.

Theoden sighed. “Always your loyalty overshadows all else. I would see you happy, nephew,” he whispered for his own ears only.