Redemption

Author: Fianna
Title: Redemption
Rating: Nc 17 (mild sex)
Warning: Does not follow canon.
Disclaimer: I write only for my pleasure and those of my friends. I gain only satisfaction from expanding on the universe Tolkien has created.


Redemption
Part II

How easily it would have been to arrive in the elven land and demand what she sought. She was a Maia after all, higher than the first born surrounding her, stronger and with magic that would make them cringe at her feet in fear.

But no, Lebhieth reminded herself, she had promised. No magic this time, nothing to aid in what she sought.

It might have seemed odd to those not knowing her, to seek a Lórien elf within the realm of Imaldris. But she knew what she was doing, at least in the respect of her awareness of just where the elf she wanted was at this moment. She could use her magic for that at least.

She sometimes doubted her sanity anymore. After her release from the bounds of her prison, her thoughts had strayed only to him. How could she have thought to remain in Arda, a Maia among those she had once sought to capture? Had she been foolish, thinking herself immune to the very creatures she had lusted for, believing the desire for the one lone elf, so elusively taken from her, would vanquish the need for the others. That she would not be drawn to them nearly as much as the silver elf.

No, but she'd thought to have the strength to withstand the temptations. She'd thought her need for him would outweigh the desire for the others.

And so far she had held out; but not without a struggle and certainly not without a measure of reluctance. Surrounded as she was by elves of great beauty, in a city wrought of such grace that it made her sigh with pleasure, it had been challenging. Not to mention with a lord so handsome himself as to make her consider throwing her plans to the wind and leave herself open to . . . what?

Fate?

Was it not fate that had already played her hand?

A warm flush of desire flooded through her as she thought of the blond elf. She had not forgotten him. Nay, if anything, his image was now burned so deeply into her mind she could see him when she closed her eyes. His eyes, his mouth, the feel of his body against hers, the desire heated her blood even now. She struggled to push the image away, concentrating on the others. Did she desire them as she did the Lorien elf? Nay, something about the warden drew her as the others did not. What was it about him that clung to her senses, her mind? He had ensnared her as much as she had attempted to seduce him. But where she had used magic, a subtle glance to enflame, a touch; he had resisted and the very resistance had captured her as her magic had him.

Had anyone done so before?

Not that she could remember. Not willingly, nor with such strength of mind to overcome her potions, her magic, her very prison. She owed the elf her life, and had wanted his. With the elf as a slave she could have born the prison of her bleak world, with the elf to warm her bed, her heart. Yet what kind of existence would that have been for him? If she understood even a little about him she had to sense the powerful control of his will and had to admit that it would have been unlikely he would fall so easily into her trap.

She couldn't bear another loss like Elrion. Not this one.

But it mattered not.

She was here, waiting, hiding what she was from the elves surrounding her. Arriving in the midst of a caravan of elves from Minden she had slipped among them. Had Elrond noted her? She had wondered, even more so than late as she lingered among the handsome ellons.

Her wanderings had been noted, her meetings with the various elves marked.

She did not have long before the elves grew wary if not worse.

She could not wait much longer.

**

Haldir drew his horse to a halt before the main concourse of Elrond's house. Behind him, the four stout mares bearing Celeborn's latest concoctions whickered softly. The three elves riding rear guard dismounted at his signal, holding the pack horses as he leaped down, waiting as Elrond swept toward him on the wide veranda, his heavy silk robe trailing behind. Haldir bowed before the elven lord with a faint grin. “I bring word from Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel as well as gifts from my lord and lady.”

Elrond inclined his head as Haldir straightened. “Celeborn wants my opinion again, I see.”

Haldir smiled blandly. “Indeed, my Lord Elrond, you know him far too well.” He stepped aside as Elrond approached the pack horses. “Celeborn is so certain that this batch is his best that he felt it needed guarding on the journey here as much as the Lady herself might.”

Elrond sent him an amused glance, tapping the heavy barrels. “I anticipate your lord is correct. Celeborn's skills at wine making have grown to where his wine is revered most highly. And for me to receive not one, but four barrels, I am highly honored.”

Haldir bowed again to the lord, touching his forehead. “He wished only to be sure you had enough for at least a fortnight.”

Elrond laughed, but then immediately sighed in mock irritation. “Celeborn owes me a game of stones and he sends wine instead. But I accept the offering. Come, my fine warden, I have had your room prepared and have other guests that I am sure would like to meet the famed March Warden of Lórien.”

Haldir lifted a dark brow. “Indeed, my reputation has preceded me?”

Elrond's eyes twinkled with amusement. “Indeed, Haldir, it has.”

**

Glorfindel slid the heavy book back into place on the shelf, his attention seemingly the books before him. He slid his fingers along the bindings as if looking for a particular tome, but then he turned swiftly, sliding his hand into the folds of his robe, but found only Elladan and Elrohir standing before him. With a deep sigh Glorfindel scowled at the two ellon. “It is not wise to sneak up on me like that.”

Elladan grinned, inclining his head. “Indeed, had I been a balrog I would most likely be dead by now.”

Glorfindel snorted rudely and moved to push past the two elves, but found his arms gripped tightly by each twin. He frowned and sent a cold glare to Elladan only to find it returned in kind.

“We need . . .” Elrohir murmured quietly.

“. . . To talk,” Elladan finished firmly.

Glorfindel lifted a brow and both elves released him to step back. “Have I done something to upset you, my young lords? I fear such treatment is unwarranted.”

Elladan folded his arms over his chest. “Have you no ill sense of late, my lord?”

Glorfindel smoothed the folds of his sleeves, sending a discreet glance toward the tall elf. “What am I to sense, Elladan? Have you some intuition that I do not know of?”

Elrohir huffed loudly, running a hand over his hair as his brother grimaced. “Do not play games, Glorfindel. Father may be in danger.”

“Elrond?” Glorfindel suppressed a faint smile. “You fear he is danger? He is not, I assure you.”

Elrohir gripped Glorfindel’s arm again. “Then tell us why we sense such ill tidings?”

Glorfindel shrugged off the younger ellon’s grasp with a sigh. “Your father is fully aware of his realm. Elrond would be the first to sense any danger to him or to Imaldris.”

Elladan sent a frustrated glance to his brother. Glorfindel pushed past them to cross the study to a large wooden desk. He sat down, leaning back into Elrond’s chair, steepling his fingers to rest his chin.

Elladan sat on the edge of the desk, toying with a carved figurine. “So you feel nothing? I find that odd,” he muttered irritably. “Surely others sense the emanations we feel. Something is wrong and as guardians of this realm we should be aware of anything that might constitute a threat. Perhaps our father has been bewitched?”

Glorfindel stiffened slightly, but kept his expression bland. “I didn’t say I am aware of nothing. Quite the contrary, but I sincerely doubt Elrond has been bewitched. Who would have the power to ensnare the Lord of Imaldris?”

Elrohir bent over the desk, his dark eyes icy as he stared at Glorfindel. “This is no game for us, my lord. We are very serious. We find it unsettling.”

Glorfindel sighed and then rose slowly. “As well you should. But it is not my place to demand anything. I have my own reservations and have spoken of them to Elrond as has Erestor and his other advisors. Elrond bids us to wait, patience he says and all will come out in the end.”

Elladan stood next to Elrohir, so alike as to be one. “So we are right to be concerned?” Elrohir insisted.

Glorfindel turned to the row of books behind the desk. “Aye, I would expect no less.” He faced the twins again, aware of their anxiety, meeting the grim expressions with one of his own. “Be on your guard, but we can do no more.”

Elrohir folded his arms over his chest with a growl and Elladan shook his head. “Have you any idea what it may be?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “It could be anything. Little has changed of late.”

Elladan’s eyes narrowed suddenly. “We have visitors.”

Elrohir snorted softly. “Indeed, one to whom I would trust my life. Haldir comes rarely, but his presence is welcome here.”

Elladan’s gaze locked with Elrohir’s. “But there are others.”

Elrohir frowned. “Elves from Minden, half of them are female. I doubt they are anything to worry about.”

Elladan glanced at Glorfindel in time to see the doubt that was quickly hidden. “I am not so sure.”

**

Haldir set the pack on the bed and then crossed to the tall windows, floor to ceiling openings covered only by a sheer fluttering cloth, to admire the garden just outside his room. Surrounded by high stone walls, the tiny courtyard was yet filled with life. One small tree in the corner was heavily laden with blossoms, and underneath, a small fountain bubbled merrily. A stone bench beckoned one to sit and he smiled, remembering the many times he had done so, finding the small copse a welcome retreat from the boisterous company of Elrond’s sons.

But this day he allowed the curtain to fall from his hand, turning instead back into his room with a faint frown. Perhaps tonight he might find time to speak with Elrond. The past weeks had been filled with an odd sense that he had forgotten something important, an unsettling thought for him, but what or why remained elusive. He didn’t like the feeling at all.

Something seemed hidden from him, a memory he could not quite grasp. He had thought perhaps Elrond might pull the cobwebs from these recent thoughts. Galadriel had given him no indication she was aware of anything amiss. But Celeborn had frowned when Haldir had mentioned the feelings. The lord’s eyes had narrowed slightly with what . . .? Haldir had pondered that question for days. Celeborn’s words had only confused him more.

Some things were better left forgotten.

All in all, the whole thing was making him uneasy. It was as if a part of his memory had been wiped clean, leaving nothing but a shadow of what had been there. Was it his perception? Perhaps it was nothing, but Celeborn’s evasiveness made him consider it further. And just how had the memories had been erased, if they had? Very few had such powers. It put him on edge. He would speak with Elrond. Hopefully the elven lord might offer some answers. Haldir sighed faintly; he hated mysteries.

**

Lebhieth lifted the delicate glass to her lips, sipping the amber liquid slowly, savoring another taste that she had forgotten. The ambrosia slid down her throat, flavored with hints of honey and the crisp tartness of the golden grapes that even now scented the air with their perfume. She sighed with pleasure for it was yet another tiny gift that she was thankful for.

Her release from the grey bleak world by an elf still riddled her mind with questions. How had he known, who had aided him in his plans to rescue her, and most importantly, just why had he done so?

Had he known just what he risked? Had he not had the strength of mind to overcome her power of seduction, they might yet be within the dark walls of her prison. Her release was a boon she would give thanks for each minute she lived, forever into the depths of time. Morgoth had lost his bid to control her, to mold her into his likeness, and even she sometimes wondered, a second body to inhabit. Had he not been banished into the inky depths of the outer planes, she wondered what more the dark Vala would have done to her and to the world of the elves?

But her life had changed. Released to traverse the world once more she could not return to Valinor. Not yet.

All she wanted was one glance, to decide if he was what she remembered.

“Lord Elrond has asked if you would join him for dinner. We have a new guest.”

Lebhieth turned to the young elleth with a smile.

“Tell my lord I would be happy to oblige him. Can you tell me who his guest is?”

The elleth blushed suddenly, casting her eyes down to her feet. “It is the March Warden of Lothlórien. He has arrived with gifts for Elrond. It is a rare visit from one like he to Imaldris.”

Lebhieth drew her shawl closer, shivering slightly. “Indeed? I have heard of this elf and you blush, Ciernellë. Why is this? Does he stir your heart?”

The elleth lifted her gaze with a grin. “My heart? Nay, it is not my heart that throbs for such a one as he.” She covered her mouth with a gasp, blushing even brighter as Lebhieth laughed. “Forgive me. That was improper to say.”

Lebhieth grasped Ciernellë’s shoulders gently. “Nay, do not be sorry. If he is that handsome to stir your desires then he must be a fine elf.”

Ciernellë covered her red cheeks with trembling hands. “The March Warden is highly respected my lady, and though many of us find him very handsome and might wish a glance from him, he seldom allows any close, at least not while he is here.” The elleth cleared her throat and turned quickly to the door, but paused as she pulled it open. “But I have heard it passed among the elleths that those lucky enough to receive his attentions wish only for more.” She grinned wickedly, and then fled, blushing once more, through the door.

Lebhieth only nodded. “Indeed, my dear. His attentions are quite unforgettable.”

**


Elladan leaned back with his feet propped upon the trestle table in the kitchen, the blushing elleth firmly ensconced on his lap, nuzzling the maid’s neck as the cook grumbled loudly at Elladan's presence.

“So I hear you have spoken with one of our guests. Tell me what you think of her for she intrigues me. Father says nothing to either I or Elrohir.”

Ciernellë giggled, pressing a light kiss upon the handsome ellon's cheek. “You ask me to spy, Elladan, for shame. If your father tells you naught then why I should I say more? I am disappointed in you.”

Elladan sighed into her neck, ruffling the silken tresses of her hair as she shivered. “Such loyalty my father breeds among those of his realm. I should be proud yet my unease lingers. So you will tell me nothing. Should I dismiss my apprehension then young elleth? I have not fought enemies for a thousand years to shrug off such ill tidings my heart feels. And for my father not to sense this concerns me more.”

Ciernellë leaned back, pushing against his chest to stare at him worriedly. “You are concerned about Lebhieth? She is just a simple maid. I have nothing to tell of note.”

“She has not mentioned anything at all to you? Why she is here, perhaps?”

Ciernellë blushed suddenly, glancing away and Elladan frowned, grasping her chin to draw her gaze to his. “Tell me.”

The elleth grimaced with a faint shrug. “She speaks little, Elladan, but we did talk about the March Warden.”

“Haldir?”

Ciernellë promptly flushed a brighter shade of red, earning her a slight lift of Elladan's brow and a shake of his head. “That elf has more elleths blushing than a naked Elrohir running through the streets of Imaldris.” He chuckled and rose, setting the elleth on her feet gently.

“Why am I running about the streets naked, brother?” Elrohir asked as he strolled through the door, kissing the cook as she sighed loudly, and plucking a freshly made cake from the table.

“Only in metaphor to the blushing maids Haldir seems to leave in his wake,” Elladan explained with a grin.

Elrohir leaned against the heavy wood table and crossed his arms. “Indeed, the March Warden has but to glance at Ciernellë and she nearly puddles at his feet.”

Ciernellë scowled heatedly, and with a faint snort, fled from the room.

“She knows nothing,” Elladan murmured, drawing Elrohir from the kitchen. “She hasn’t been around the elleth to know much. Perhaps it was only idle conversation regarding Haldir, and I have no worries that he is fully able to defend himself. Yet I believe she still bears watching.”

Elrohir nodded faintly. “I agree. We shall sit and wait. I suppose father knows what he is doing, but his silence in this does not settle well.”

Elladan threw his arm around Elrohir's shoulders. “Indeed. Something stirs and not just the elleth's blood for Haldir.”

**

He wasn’t there. Frustration colored her cheeks as she paused just inside the pillared doorway into the dining hall, sensing immediately the elf was not in attendance. She hovered on the steps, undecided as to stay or leave when a hand gripped her elbow, guiding her firmly into the room.

“Come join us, my dear, “a silky voice whispered next to her ear.

She shivered at the musical tone; glancing back to find a tall elf leading her forward gently, but found his gaze was not so friendly. She suppressed a smile. So they felt something amiss. The elf drew her to a wide table near the center of the hall, helping her to sit at the low bench.

“We have not yet met, I think,” the ellon confessed with a wry grin. She turned to look up at him only to find another just like him behind her.

“Indeed, I would think we would remember meeting an elleth as enchanting as you,” the other agreed with a winsome smile.

Lebhieth was not fooled by their humor and eyed the two discreetly as they sat beside her. “Nay, I fear I am a loss,” she admitted.

“Elladan,” the first elf declared with a bow of his head, “and my brother Elrohir.” He waved a slim hand toward the elf on her left. “And you are Lebhieth. Welcome to Imaldris.”

She folded her hands into her lap, aware of the tingling of desire that dampened her palms. “I am and thank you. I am honored to meet the sons of Elrond.”

The two arched brows identically to her amusement. Her thoughts filled with images of the two in her bed, but she shook her head slightly, as if to toss them away. They would be interesting, but they were not who she sought. She accepted a thin crystal glass of wine, the goblet translucent with a pale golden liquid.

“It is wine from Lord Celeborn. It is said he makes the very best,” Elrohir pointed at the glass in her hand. “And we have been honored with the latest batch. It arrived just today, delivered by the March Warden himself.”

She smiled into her glass. “Indeed? The wine needed that kind of protection?”

Elladan leaned forward, his hands wrapped around a similar goblet with a snort. “There could be none better.” The elf took a sip of his wine. “Have you met Haldir?”

Elrohir sighed loudly from her side. “I can only hope not. The elf lures all the elleths away. You would not choose him over us, would you?” Elrohir looked at her hopefully.

Lebhieth grinned faintly. “How could I choose when I have just met you and the March Warden not at all?”

Elladan was tipping his glass back and forth, nearly spilling the golden liquid inside. “Of course, it is impolite of us to speak of such things so quickly. We are not usually so impertinent.”

Lebhieth laughed softly. “Are you not? From what I have heard you are both rogues in the elleth’s eyes. They can speak of nothing but you and your escapades.”

The two almost preened before her. “Indeed?” they said together.

“But you have not met Haldir,” Elrohir complained quietly. “All changes once that occurs. We shall compete fiercely for your attentions.”

Lebhieth smiled briefly. “We shall see, my lords.”

**

Haldir stood just outside the doorway to the dining hall, impervious to the elves passing by him just feet away, his attention riveted on the elleth seated between the twins with a rising sense of disorientation. Something about her seemed oddly familiar but yet he knew he’d not met her, he would have remembered. But yet she haunted him with an elusive memory that was just out of his reach. He frowned, ignoring the brief glances passed his way, settling back against the stone column to study the elf.

She was part of his misgivings; he was sure of it. Haldir noted the twins seemed guarded, evident in their very formality as they sat next to her. What made the Rivendell elves so wary?

He folded his arms over his chest, hidden from their view by the large plant filled urn in front of him. He tapped his fingers on his arm as he struggled to make sense of his feelings, covertly watching the scene before him. Had he met her before he was sure he would have remembered. The elleth was striking, young to the eye, yet something about her reminded him strongly of Galadriel.

His elusive memories troubled him. Was she involved? The idea seemed to settle neatly into place, his instincts telling him she was. But why would he not remember? He frowned again, earning him a worried touch from an elleth passing by. A murmured thanks and faint smile sent her on her way, but he smoothed his fingers over his lips as he stared at the table before him.

Did she sense the elves distrust? She leaned back from the bench as he watched; the faintly mocking smile that curved her lips told him she did. And also that she was not disturbed by it. She glanced up toward where he stood and he stepped back as she frowned, her brow creasing with frustration. She seemed to be waiting for someone.

A young elf passed beside her and for a brief moment she followed him with her eyes. Haldir straightened slowly at her expression with a flash of recognition. He watched the elf make eye contact with her with a grin and her responding smile. Haldir knew that smile. And knew it had held far more desire than what she revealed to the young elf.

The memory sent a flush of heat through his blood. Familiar, she was so familiar, fire and ice at the same time. He stepped out of the doorway, leaving the elleth with the twins. He would find his answers here, it seemed. He smiled grimly. It was always better to confront problems than hide from them. But this one seemed oddly dangerous.

**

Lebhieth rose gracefully, bowing slightly to the two elves beside her. “The evening grows late, my lords. I think I shall retire.”

They nodded faintly and she swept through the hall toward her rooms. He had not come. How frustrating. How she longed to see just a glimpse or even hear him speak. His voice was etched on her memory like the wind off the sea. It haunted her even as she remembered it. She clutched at her skirts irritably, striding quickly through the halls, startling several elves as they stepped out of her way.

It was not going as she had imagined. Her patience was thinning rapidly. She wished only for a glimpse. The elf could not be that exhausted from the trip from Lórien. So why had he not joined the elves for dinner? The lapse seemed appalling. She passed through a long hall, unaware of the beauty surrounding her, the carved pillars and intricate stonework gracing the building. She could see the door to her room, curiously open and frowned, passing through a narrow span of pillars when an arm reached out in front of her, wrapping her waist as she gasped in shock, dragging her against a hard chest, framed by strands of silver-streaked blond hair.

“Lebhieth.”

She pressed her hands against the immovable wall before her, quelling the rushing heat that filled her head at the sound of his voice, smiling, only to look up at the tall elf to find his gaze . . . she frowned as she stepped back, for his gaze was cold.

She had not remembered his gaze being so cold.

But it was now, grey ice that froze the blood singing in her veins. “March Warden,” she said stiffly, meaning to take another step back, but his fingers clasped her wrist tightly, on the verge of painful, to stop her.

“It seems you know me, yet I could swear we have never met.”

She wanted to lick her lips, staring at him for several moments until he arched a brow at her lack of response. “Your reputation precedes you. How could I not know the famed Guardian of Lothlórien?”

His lips curved into a smile that did not reach his eyes. “I see. Your welcome here seems a bit guarded.”

She twisted her wrist to no avail, feeling the skin tingle warmly from his touch, warmth that was quickly spreading throughout her body. She stepped closer, drawing her wrist to her chest, forcing his fingers to brush against her breasts and was amazed when he did not react. Cold, he seemed so cold. “I don’t know what you mean. I have not seen you at all. Has someone told you this?”

His expression did not change. “Nay. But I sense much unease within the halls of Imaldris.”

“And you blame me?” she demanded softly with a laugh. “I am just a simple maid, Warden. What could I do to endanger the elves of Rivendell?”

Haldir released her wrist suddenly. His nearness was distracting, his demeanor challenging and her body had reacted strongly to the feel of his fingers on her skin. She remembered those hands and their strength. The memory sent a shiver down her back and she brushed a strand of hair from her eyes to cover the movement, yet she knew he had noticed it.

“That is a good question,” Haldir murmured quietly.

She smoothed the folds of her gown, glancing up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “I find it odd that the March Warden of Lothlórien seems to find fault with me, yet Elrond does not.”

“Lord Elrond hides his concern well.”

She did not miss the rebuke. “Indeed? I have not been under guard. I find your treatment reprehensible. I am a guest here.”

Haldir smiled blandly. “So you are. Perhaps I have made a mistake. Forgive me.” She watched him step back with a touch to his forehead, fully aware he did not mean a word he said. “I am often suspicious of many things. It is my duty.”

She rubbed her wrist absently, struggling with a reason to keep him near. “Your duty can not be faulted, March Warden. Perhaps I should not be so hasty to condemn you. After all you only seek to protect your friends. I doubt that you would truly hurt me.”

Haldir nodded, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “Indeed I would not.”

She wanted to say he’d said that before. But he would not remember. Her magic was too strong. She bit her lip as she noticed he was frowning suddenly.

“I seem to remember your eyes, dark fathomless eyes that were filled with fire. Why is that, Lebhieth?”

She licked her lips, unable to stop the motion. His gaze followed her tongue and then rose to meet hers. “Fire,” she agreed breathlessly as the chill faded from his grey eyes to be replaced with heat. Sudden smoldering heat that lit the fires banked in her blood to flames. He slid his hand around her cheek in a soft caress, sliding it behind her ear to cup her head. She could only stare at him as he moved closer.

“You knew my name,” she whispered.

He bent closer and a length of his hair spilled over his shoulder to brush her hands which were pressed once more against his chest. “It seems I did.”

“It’s not possible that you remember.”

His hand tightened on the back of her head and she felt a faint whisper of concern as he pressed her back against a column. “Why is that?” His lips drew a faint line across her cheek leaving a trail of burning embers. She clutched the silken fabric underneath her palms, shivering as he breathed into her ear. “Tell me why I can’t remember,” he commanded softly, yet she felt the steel beneath the words, felt his free hand brush her waist to lock her into place before him.

“You said you would not harm me.”

His body pressed closer, thighs touching hers with only the thin silk of her dress and his leggings between them. The fabric seemed nonexistent. “I would not harm you, I am a guardian and my life is yours.”

She sank back as his words brought back the memory of him standing tied to the pillar. He might have been hers. Blessed valar! She breathed heavily as he kissed her ear. “Do you always greet new elleths this way?” She could think of nothing better to say, feeling an unmistakable twinge of fear settle in her stomach.

“Nay, most would say I am very reserved, arrogantly so.”

She had to agree, on the arrogant part, at least.

“You will tell me more.” The words were simple, yet distinctly commanding.

She wasn’t used to being ordered around. She was the one in charge. She was a Maia, he was only an elf. She was far more powerful, yet she could no more push him aside than if he were made of stone. She shivered faintly as his thumb rubbed the lobe of her ear. “There is nothing to tell,” she insisted.

“I don’t believe you.”

She thumped his chest, to no effect, with her fists. “I care not,” she whispered heatedly, her voice failing as he trailed his lips across her cheek again. This was what she’d wanted, his body pressed against hers, his mouth seeking hers. She closed her eyes, refusing to meet the gaze just above her. “Release me or I shall scream.”

He laughed softly, and then bent down before she could deny him, to press his lips against hers. Briefly. Too briefly. She wanted so much more.

“If you insist,” Haldir agreed, stepping away to leave her nearly panting with desire.

“I tried to warn you,” a voice spoke from behind Haldir, laced with amusement.

Lebhieth stepped away from the silver elf, trembling with the desire that engulfed her. She turned to the tall elf leaning so casually against the far wall. “Elladan?”

The elf grinned and shook his head.

“Elrohir,” Haldir corrected dryly. The warden turned to the elf as Elrohir pushed away from the wall. “Warn her about what?”

The Rivendell elf chuckled. “About you, Haldir. It seems you have yet another elleth to tuck under your belt.”

Haldir glanced back at Lebhieth with a faint lift of his brow. “Indeed, you think so?”

Lebhieth smoothed the silk of her skirt and lifted her chin as he stared at her for a long moment.

“I disagree, Elrohir,” Haldir continued. “I don’t think she likes me at all.” The warden touched his forehead briefly, and then spun to stride down the hall. Elrohir grinned at her for a moment, and then hurried after the Lórien elf, calling for him to wait.

Lebhieth rubbed her lips gently. Only a kiss, it seemed she could not get more from the elf. Was it enough? She sank back against the pillar with a sigh. Nay, it could never be enough. She gathered her skirts and hurried into her room, shutting the door gently. She had plans to make.

**

Elrohir caught up to the long strides of the March Warden, matching the length easily as he eyed the tall wood elf with a raised brow. “So you know the lass?”

Haldir frowned faintly, but Elrohir caught it as the elf hid the expression behind a bland glance to him. “Yes . . . and no,” he mused slowly, lifting a brow in amusement. The gray gaze narrowed in speculation as Elrohir caught his arm, drawing Haldir to a halt.

“Not the answer I expected from one such as you, Haldir. What is it?”

Haldir’s chin rose slightly and then he shrugged, an elegant lift of his shoulders as he sighed. “I know not, Elrohir. I would pledge to you on my honor that I have never met the elleth before today, yet I can also swear to you that I have kissed that elf before. Her eyes haunt me, but I have no memory of her at all. I do not like it.” Haldir’s frown returned, his gaze growing icy. “Something is not right.”

Elrohir sighed as well, folding his arms to rub them slightly to ease the sudden chill that ran through him. “We have felt the same uneasiness since the arrival of the elves from Minden, and your arrival as well. Glorfindel says we must do nothing, but I feel uncomfortable ignoring my instincts, Haldir.”

“Have you spoken with your father?”

Elrohir frowned. “Nay, Glorfindel seems to think he is fully aware of the danger we feel. And he does seem at ease. I grow concerned, perhaps, that some evil has drowned out his sense of danger.”

Haldir shook his head. “I cannot believe it. Galadriel and Celeborn would sense the danger as well, even from the distance of Lórien, through him. Nay, I do not think Elrond, nor any of you in Imaldris, should fear this.” The Lothlórien warden stiffened, drawing up to his full height, eyes slightly clouded. “I believe this concerns me, Elrohir. I will find the answers, my answers, here certainly.”

Elrohir rubbed his arms again with a slight shiver. “She seems to be interested in you, if what Ciernellë says is true. She asked of you.”

Haldir nodded faintly. “We shall see, Elrohir. But be wary; I may be wrong.”

Elrohir reached out to grip Haldir’s shoulder. “You must be careful as well, Haldir. If you have need of us you need only to call out. We will not leave the city.”

Haldir smiled. “If I have the need.”

**

Elrond leaned back into his chair, fingers pressed to his temples as he sighed wearily. The days had been long this past fortnight, emanations had barraged him for days, a feeling of danger that he had not ignored, yet could not seem to place or name. He was certain both Glorfindel as well as his sons felt it as well. Their very silence named their concern, their behavior as calm as he’d seen in some time. It did not ease his worry.

He had narrowed the feeling down to the arrival of the elves from Minden. He had known of most of them, if not personally, then through family, relatives known in his past, except for a few. He pulled out a sheet of parchment, searching for those he did not recognize.

Three, one elleth and two ellon, were not familiar. He drew a long finger over the names, smearing the still damp ink. It was the elleth. He was certain as the ink stained his finger. But why? He rose, wiping the stain on a small cloth that he dropped thoughtlessly on the desk. But why? What had she wanted? Respite she said. The journey she had undertaken had been long, and she had joined the elves coming to Rivendell when she’d crossed their path. Healing she had said, she would find healing here? From what? He’d not sensed anything ill from her, nay had sensed nothing at all. He drew up, pulling his robe together as he frowned. Nothing. He’d sensed nothing, and suddenly he found the thought sent a rush of uneasiness through him. He should have felt her weariness, her excitement or whatever emotions she had felt at the time, but he’d not felt anything, and had thought nothing of it. Elrond lips tightened, his dark eyes narrowed. Magic, but not elvish magic, to cloak themselves and the compel others to ignore normal concerns. The elven lord stalked to the window, leaning over the stone sill, gripping the coolness with his fingers. What had he done? What was she to wipe his mind free of any sense of danger? He drew his fingers over his temple, pushing against the throbbing there. He would remember, he inhaled deeply, he would . . . remember.

He stiffened, gripping the side of the window. Of course, he should have known immediately, should have recognized her for what she was. Elrond pushed away from the window, striding rapidly out of the study into the wide hall. Maia, how could he not have seen her for what she was? He scrubbed his fingers on his palm irritably. How easy she had led him aside, lulling him from his normal introspection of his visitors with the bright gaze and the soft lips . . . he stopped suddenly as the memory returned. He’d been startled by the flush of desire for an elleth he’d never met, disgruntled by the sensations. Had she caused that as well? He shook his head slightly. It was not good, however she had done it. He strode into the smaller office Erestor held, startling the younger elf as he looked up from the pile of manuscripts before him.

“Why did you not speak up, Erestor?”

The elf rose slowly, eyes studying him. “We were not sure if you knew, or even felt the disturbance. But we have been waiting, if warily. If you had not realized that something was afoot, I would have mentioned it tomorrow.” The elf smiled faintly, dark brown eyes twinkling. “But I know you my lord.”

Elrond sighed. “Indeed, and had anything happened while I was … unaware?”

Erestor shrugged carelessly. “But nothing has, yet. Haldir has arrived safely. The others have done nothing to draw any concern. So we wait.”

Elrond nodded. “Haldir’s plans remain the same?”

Erestor’s brow rose slightly. “Well, in fact he mentioned just a few moments ago that he would stay longer than he anticipated, but did not explain exactly why. He was with your sons, and only mentioned it in passing. I did not think anything of it, my lord Elrond. Should I have?”

Elrond turned back to the door. “If Haldir changes his plans there is generally a good reason. I will speak to the March Warden regarding it.” He waved to the elf behind him. Several hallways later he reached his rooms and entered them quickly, pulling off his formal robes. A few moments later he left the room, dressed as his sons, in tunic and leggings. His sons had haunts and Elrond had a good idea of just where he would find his sons… and Haldir.

**

“What will you do?” Elladan asked quietly, sipping golden wine as he tossed a small stone on the table.

“Nothing, as of yet.” Haldir drew two stones from the pile in front of him; stones they were called, yet the playing pieces were far from simple stones. He slid the pieces across the board without looking at them. “I will wait to see what she does.”

Elladan grimaced and glanced at his brother as Elrohir leaned forward, placing his own stone. “Father has to come around; I cannot believe he feels nothing.” The ellon’s fingers hovered just over his play, indecision coloring his expression, and then he sighed and leaned back only to watch Haldir smile blandly and move his stone around his, capturing Elrohir’s move. Elrohir sighed deeply and lifted his glass to swallow the rest of his wine. “I hate playing with you. I cannot remember the last time either of us has won against you.”

Haldir grinned briefly. “Patience, my impatient friend, you must learn patience.”

Elrohir grinned back and then rose to refill his wine. “But as for father. It worries me that he remains unconcerned.”

Elladan was rubbing his lips distractedly, his gaze distant. “Something has to account for it; he is never so unaware. I swear the maid has bewitched him.”

“Not in the sense you are thinking, my son.” Elrond pushed open the heavy wooden door of the small hut the three elves had taken over, eyeing the playing board with a slight lift of his brow. “I should have known you would be gambling. How much has Haldir won this time?”

Elladan laughed sourly, eyeing the tall march warden. “Too much, and not nearly enough yet. We have hardly begun.”

Elrond sat down and picked up several stones. “Then I shall show you how it is done. With your permission, Haldir?”

The Lórien elf merely lifted a brow and with a wave of his hand cleared the board. “I shall be honored, my lord.”

Elrond smiled and placed his stone. “So I have been a fool, it seems.”

Haldir leaned on his fingers, studying the board. “A fool? Not hardly. Distracted perhaps, as many still are.”

Elrond watched the elf set his stone without expression. “Perhaps. But not you?”

Haldir frowned briefly as Elrond laid another stone. A defensive move, yet also aggressive. Was he trying to tell him something? He slid his piece over the board, matching Elrond’s play. They were matched, the play even. “I have been aware of undercurrents of unease, especially from both Elladan and Elrohir.” He watched Elrond place his next play with another frown. “But I have not journeyed to Imaldris just to deliver Celeborn’s wine; I have other reasons, personal ones.”

Elrond lifted a brow. “I sense they tie in with our problems here.”

Haldir matched his expression with arched brow. “It isn’t a problem, as yet.”

Elrond moved another piece, capturing Haldir’s last move, and then sighed as Haldir moved another stone, capturing his. “Not yet. Do we wait for the eagle to strike or strike first?”

Haldir leaned his elbows on his knees, stones held loosely in his hand. “We cannot move unless we know what it is we face, and why.” He dropped the stones on the board to press a hand to his forehead. “I feel the danger lies more with me, Lord Elrond.”

The elven lord rose, moving around the table to rest his hands on Haldir’s forehead. “You have been worried; your mind is strained with the tension. What has you so concerned, Haldir?”

Haldir drew back from the faint tingling pressure of the elven lord’s hands. “I fear it may be nothing.”

Elrond stepped back to stare, head tilted slightly. “Nothing? From you I would find that doubtful.”

Haldir glanced at the two elves leaning against the wall. “I feel like I have had some part of my memory erased. What it is obviously I cannot remember, but when I saw the elleth Lebhieth I knew her, yet could also swear I have never met her.”

Elrond pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Perhaps she reminds you of someone else?”

Haldir shook his head. “Nay, I know her. But I do not know how.”

Elrond tapped his lips. “You have spoken with Galadriel and Celeborn?”

Haldir nodded shortly. “They have not . . . helped.”

Elrond frowned. “I find that unusual, to say the least.”

Haldir only lifted a brow.

Elrond nodded suddenly. “It may not be within their power to aid you.”

“That concerns me.”

Elrond waved faintly, sitting back in his chair. “Not in that respect. Perhaps they are not able to help you, or else they would, but not because they have do not have the ability. I should have recognized the elleth. I am getting too old, I suppose. But it’s been a very long time.”

All three younger ellons stared at the elven lord. “My lord?” Haldir inquired curiously.

Elrond looked at each in turn. “We are dealing with someone more powerful that most elves, perhaps more than Galadriel, or myself. Few have that power.”

The three elves stiffened, hands resting on swords. Elrond stood up and crossed to Haldir again. “Allow me.” He rested his hands on the elf, splaying his fingers over Haldir’s eyes. A low murmur and Haldir shuddered violently, dropping his head with a gasp as Elrond stepped back. “I cannot do much; the shield is more powerful than I. But you, Haldir, have already cracked it to feel your sense of familiarity. There are other ways to retrieve memories.”

Haldir smiled slowly as he lifted his head. “Indeed, my lord Elrond. I believe I may have a way to draw them back.” He placed one more stone on the board between them and smiled blandly. “Captured, Lord Elrond. I believe you owe me a new cloak.” He rose with a bow and touch to his forehead to the disgruntled lord. “Forgive me, but I think I will retire for the night.” He waved to the twins who were struggling hard not to laugh and retreated, followed by Elrond’s faint curses.

**

Lebhieth frowned, dropping the robe she carried in a heap before the fireplace, her mind whirling with frustration. Three days! Three horribly dull days after one searing kiss from the elf she wanted. She shook her head, biting the tip of her finger as the memory washed over her, heating her blood yet again.

She would not give him up. Not this time. Somehow he would come to her, magic or no. Somehow she’d get what she wanted. But how? And how long would it take? Already the elves had become suspicious; her story was unraveling faster than she could make up something new. The twin sons of Elrond had taken to following her, if distantly, or another ellon. Always she had someone nearby, always male, always armed of late, if only with dagger tucked casually at the hip. Her time was running out.

A familiar curse it seemed when dealing with the Lórien elf. Why was he so stubborn? He knew he was tied to her, or why would he have accosted her in the hall. She licked her finger, savoring the image of the elf. He was hers. He would be if she had to . . . she spun on her hee, reaching for the dagger in her sleeve, but then stepped back with a bow to the tall person standing before her.

“No magic, Lebhieth. You promised.”

She straightened stiffly, her chin high. “I have used none on the elf.”

The Vala frowned, brow creasing beneath bluish-white hair. “You walk a very thin line, Maia. You have compelled others with your . . . skills.”

She could not deny she had. “But I used only a little, nothing to harm them, nothing that would last but a few days.”

The Vala shook his head sadly. “But you have interfered in normal course of events. Elrond would have certainly recognized you for what you are immediately, and then questioned your motives.”

She pressed her lips together to keep from snapping back. She gripped the fabric of her skirts. “Had I not, I would have not gained entry.”

The Vala folded his arms over his chest. “That might have been best. What will come of this . . . desire you feel, Lebhieth. The elf will not leave Lórien for you. I can guarantee that.”

She pouted slightly, but knew the statement was true. The elf was loyal to his home to a fault. “I only wish for one night, alone with him.”

The Vala laughed. “One night will never be enough for you. Do you truly believe it so?”

She smiled sadly. “Nay, but I will take what I can get. Please, you must allow me to stay.”

The Vala’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I have no control over your actions. But know you have made a vow we expect you to keep.”

She bowed, touching her forehead. “I will not break it. I have promised.” She straightened to find the room empty and sighed. They would hold her. But there had to be a way. She stared at the door, some way.

**

Haldir slid through the garden, a shadow amid the greenery surrounding him, his cloak blending him into the garden so that occasionally, if one saw him, he seemed only a head or hands, the rest of him invisible. He drew back against the stone wall, the deepening shadows of dusk purple against the grey stone.

An agile leap and he caught the top of the stone wall, pulling himself over the barrier in a moment to land soundlessly on his feet in yet a smaller garden. A moment to orient himself, and he pushed quietly among the bushes toward the faintly glowing light before him.

The sound of glass shattering drew him forward swiftly, peering into the tall doorway from one side to see Lebhieth staring down at her feet, the remnants of crystal vase and flowers pooling at her feet. She was frowning, seemingly irritated, and then kicked the remains of the vase with her foot. Haldir smiled briefly at the show of frustration.

He watched her, studying the delicate planes of her face. How had he known her, and why, and how intimately? Kisses he was sure he’d taken, but what more he could not say. Taken without her consent or with? She certainly had not fought off his advances earlier. He knelt down, hidden in the shadows as she crossed the room to stare into a mirror.

“How long will you watch, March Warden, before you make yourself known?”

Haldir smiled and stood up, hand resting casually on the sword at his hip. “Your perception is excellent. Few would have known I was here.”

She turned to face him, eyes burning. “Indeed? But I did. Does that concern you?”

He stepped into the room with a bow. “Should it, my lady?”

She smiled faintly. “Do you not fear me, Haldir of Lórien?”

He moved closer, until only a few feet separated them. “Do you intend me harm?”

She shook her head wordlessly, lips parted slightly.

“Do you intend harm to any of those of Rivendell?”

Again she shook her head closing her eyes. “Nay. They are in no danger from me.”

“Why are you here?”

She opened her eyes to stare at him in amusement. “For you, Haldir, I have come for you.”

He frowned, tightening his grip on his sword. “It would seem odd to look for me in Imaldris.”

She smiled blandly. “I know many things, my handsome warden.”

“What do you want of me?”

“A kiss.”

Haldir stared at her for a moment. “You have had that.”

She licked her lips; he could not pull his eyes away. “Indeed I have.”

“Why do I remember you, yet I do not.”

She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

He moved to stand in front of her. “It does, if you want more from me.”

She pouted prettily, lips pursed delicately. “Oh, I would like much more from you. Can you not sense it?”

Haldir reached out to clasp her chin, lifting her gaze to his. Fire, her eyes burned with fire, and yet were ice, cold and calculating behind the heat. “Why?” he asked hoarsely, suddenly awash with a heat of his own.

“You have made your mark upon me, warden. I cannot forget it or you.”

“I do not remember.”

“No, and you will not.”

Haldir tightened his fingers, felt her stiffen as he drew her closer. “I will remember or you will have nothing. If it is I you truly want, then you will give me my memories back.”

“Perhaps I cannot,” she whispered, staring at him.

“I think you can.”

She pulled herself back, turning around to take in a deep breath. “They are not important.”

He gripped her arm, pulling her to face him swiftly. “They were mine. I will have them back.” He felt her tremble, yet her eyes met his fearlessly. What was she that she had such powers? He drew back as a thought came to him.

“You are Maia.”

She sighed. “A Maia? Truly, do you believe it?”

Haldir knew it for a certainty. “Why are you here? Few remain in Arda; there is nothing for you here.”

She laughed, and he stepped back at the familiar sound. “I fear there is, and he stands before me.” She moved toward him, gliding across the few steps separating them to rest her hands on his chest. “Such strength you have, Haldir. It impresses me, makes me shiver with delight to feel your hands on me. Stay with me tonight.”

He gripped her arms, setting her back a step. “No.”

She grimaced, turning away to hide the expression. “Such determination, you are so stubborn.” She crossed the room to pour a glass of wine, holding the goblet out to him. “Drink, or do you fear I have tampered with the wine?” She smiled and sipped the liquid. “I swear it is only the wine you have brought.”

He took the glass, but did not drink. “How long will you stay if I do not do what you wish?”

She sent him a mocking smile. “I will stay as long as you. And then I shall follow you to Lothlórien, or wherever you traverse. You will not be rid of me so easily.”

“You will find no entrance into the lands of Lórien.”

She grinned wickedly. “So you believe.”

Haldir sipped the heady wine. “I can have you detained with only a word.”

Lebhieth lifted a slim brow. “Perhaps.”

The glass rocked wildly as he slammed it on the table, crossing the room as she backed up against the wall. “Do you fear me, my lady?”

She was trembling, but he did not think it from fear. “Nay, aye.” He had not realized he held her wrists and loosened his grip. “I do not think you would hurt me. You swore once you would not.” She took a deep breath and stared up at him, those dark eyes flaming once more. “Yet I am afraid you will leave me, breathless, once again. Can you not see what I want?”

His blood was singing, a raging torrent suddenly coursing through his veins. A familiar burning that he held tightly in check. “I cannot give that to you.”

She scowled, if briefly. “Why not?”

He smiled, watching her flinch slightly. “Because I can’t remember you. I will not unless I do, and why you have touched me.”

She groaned softly. “You ask too much.”

“I ask only for what was mine to begin with.”

She pushed out of his embrace, breathing hard, and then turned to face him. “Have your memories then, Warden. Know what I am and what you have done for me. Would that your kin know you have saved one such as me they would not, perhaps, revere you so highly.” She threw her hand wide, almost caressing the air and Haldir felt as if a wave of air hit him, shoving him backwards to stagger against the stone fireplace. He dropped to one knee, clutching his sword as the memories hit him.

She was Maia, but one of shadow. Orcs, there had been orcs at her beck and call. She had caused him pain, and lust, a mind-blowing rush of desire that had nearly cost him his life. He stared at her, watching her eye him nervously as he regained his feet. “I will not be your slave, Lebhieth, never.”

She frowned, sniffing disdainfully. “As if you could bow to that. I knew it as soon as I saw you.” She rubbed her arms as if chilled by his gaze. “You fought my control, overcame my potions that none had ever done. How I do not care. But you released me. What would Elrond think of that, my fine warden? A Maia, kin to the one you hate so much, a shadow ruling the very creatures you hunt so well.”

Haldir drew out his sword and her eyes widened slightly. A clang and the blade clattered against the stone floor. “Indeed, but perhaps there was some good in the witch I was sent to save. Only the Valar know, but it was a choice I made. I was not forced to come to your aid.”

She backed away as he moved nearer. “Why you? Why an elf, to save one like me. Ulmo could have done it easily.”

Haldir smiled, backing her into a corner. She pressed her hands against the stone wall, but met his gaze evenly. “It was a test, Lebhieth. How far would you have gone had I not fought you?”

She was breathing rapidly, eyes wide. “I do not know. You overcame my magic.”

“Do you not feel some loss over Elrion? We know of him.”

She looked away, and Haldir caught her chin to force her to stare at him. “I would have kept him, loved him. He would not have known pain. It was his choice, yet he fought before I could make him understand. As I would have you.”

“I would have never agreed. So what then?”

She did not answer.

He groaned faintly, the urge to kiss her had him pressing her against the wall, his lips crushing hers in a swiftly passionate kiss that had her sagging against him. Was it his will or hers? He slid his mouth over hers, tangling her tongue with his, flooded with a burning he could not seem to quench. Her hands were in his hair, tugging, pulling him closer, her body arched against his.

This was what she wanted.

It was what he wanted, desperately.

He drew back quickly, narrowing his eyes as she shuddered.

“I have done nothing. What you feel is your own design.” She pushed past him to sit heavily in a chair, pushing back the long fall of dark hair that shielded her eye. She stared at him, almost petulantly.

“Why do you want this from me?”

She laughed. “Why not? You are handsome. I have been told you tuck elleths into your belt like knives. Your attentions, it is said, are unrivaled perhaps except for a few. Why would I not wish to have you in my bed? You know who I am, you know what I am. Always I have been drawn to your kind, but to you more than any.”

“I do not love you, Lebhieth.”

She rose slowly, pushing aside her hair to gaze at him with a frown. “No, I do not think you do. But must love be involved, Warden? Can you not feel pleasure without the encumbrance of love?”

“It will mean nothing then.”

She reached up to caress his face. “Nothing? Nay, Haldir. It means much to me. Pleasure to be had, to be given. I do not love you, but I would take you to my bed, if only for one night. Do this, and I shall trouble you and yours no more. So I have promised, so I will do.”

**

She was shaking, like a leaf in the wind, as she watched the emotions play over a normally expressionless face. Blond hair tinted silver glinted in the candlelight, the green silk of his tunic shimmering as he stepped away to stare into the fire. His hair was long, nearly to his waist, sword lying at his feet. Wide shoulders strained the fabric of his tunic as he leaned his hands against the mantle. She shuddered, sinking back into the chair.

“One night,” she whispered heatedly.

She could see his hands clenched on the stone mantle, fingers nearly white. Such control made her breathless. What would he be like? Loosed from his control, emotions and desire freed from that iron bound will? She breathed deep, palms damp with desire, her body flushed with heat.

What if he refused? What would she truly do? And if he did not, could she leave him as she said? She must. The thought was an icy reminder of the price she might pay. But at least she might have the memories. Would they be enough? She watched him straighten, releasing the mantle to run a hand through his hair and then he turned, as she held her breath, to stride rapidly toward where she sat.

In one movement he scooped her out of the chair, lips crushing hers, stealing her breath. He continued forward until she was falling, with him, to land on the softness of her bed, his body covering hers in a delirious weight, lips clinging to hers as he slid his hands into her hair, locking her to him.

It was glorious. Flame roared to life as his body melded against hers. She slid her hands into the waterfall of silky hair, locking her fingers behind his head to keep him close, tongues dancing as his hands slid down her sides, igniting fire and ice. He nipped her chin, tiny biting kisses down her neck, fingers deftly unlacing her dress. It was as she had imagined it, yet better. She could only arch against him as his mouth settled on her breast, silk dampening as he nibbled gently. Sweet flaring desire arced through her, spiraling down her body to her center. She was on fire, and he was only fueling the inferno that raced through her.

Hands swept the fabric from her shoulders, down and off her hips in one smooth movement, and then her shift, the thin gossamer fabric was gone, up over her head as his fingers slid over her, burning yet chilling her both. He kissed her again, mouth firm yet gentle, controlled passion that left her wanting more. She caught his ears, fingers caressing the tips to hear him groan, crushing her beneath his weight as he pressed her against the bed.

She had to touch him, remembering the sheen of skin, the feel of the muscled body against hers. She fumbled for the hooks that held his tunic closed, and then they were loose and she slid her hands beneath the fabric, drawing it up over his head. He sat above her, knees braced on either side of her hips, and pulled the tunic off to toss it aside without looking. He leaned over her as she pressed her hands against his chest, feeling the smooth skin with delight.

“You are a witch.”

She laughed heatedly, enjoying the feel of him beneath her fingers. “I am. What will you do, Warden, to this witch?”

His eyes narrowed and he bent forward, gripping her wrists to either side of her head. “Perhaps it will be you that will be enslaved?”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “It is already done. But I accept it willingly.” She gasped as his tongue ran over her nipple, making her arch toward him. “Do what you will.”

In response his arms slid behind her, rolling over so she ended up sitting above him. She held herself up over his chest, her hair falling to one side of his head. “Do what you will,” he whispered, hands gripping her hips.

She grinned, grinding her body against his beneath her to elicit a groan from him. “You may regret that.” She bent down to run her tongue over his chest, tasting the slightly salty blend of sweat and desire. She continued down, sliding off his lap as she pressed kisses along his side, his hips, feeling him tense as she moved lower. His leggings strained, damp with his desire and she slid her fingers into the waist, jerking the thin ties that held them securely.

“How much can you take this moment?” she whispered as she gripped his smoothness, feeling him shudder beneath her palms. She ran her tongue over the tip and then smiled as he gasped, hands gripping the bedding beneath him. “Desire is a fire that can be quenched more than once,” she breathed into his ear, sliding against him. He rolled over, pinning her to the bed, grey eyes lit with a satisfying heat.

“Indeed,” he murmured as he kissed her neck, biting her shoulder gently to leave her quivering. “What do you want, Lebhieth?”

She knew what she wanted. She was panting with it, flushed with the heat that he continued to build until she felt she would turn into ash. “I want you, Haldir, all of you.”

He laughed softly, fingers digging into her hips as he kissed her, pressing against her so she could feel the throbbing of his desire. A sudden shift and his knees pressed between hers and then he was there, hardly touching her but she could feel him, poised, teasing.

‘Only one night, Lebhieth. Are you sure.”

Blessed Valar, must he remind her? She pulled his head down to hers, biting his lip when he kissed her. She clenched her knees at his hips, holding him to her. “Do not tease,” she gasped, knowing she was arching against him, wanting him.

He thrust forward, a satisfying burst of pleasure as he filled her, lips crushed to hers again, fingers tangled into her hair as she shuddered. Deeper and harder, their bodies suddenly attune, only one thought, one desire. She was breathless, her body quivering on the edge until she was falling, rolling in the waves of delight as she gripped his shoulders, gasping for air as he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

She could feel him trembling, resting on his elbows so he wouldn’t crush her, head resting on her shoulder, his hair splayed over her chest in a silvery blanket. One night, she had only this night. She closed her eyes as she sighed, sliding her fingers into his hair to clutch him to her. Oh, that the night would never end.

**

Elrond stopped abruptly, startled to find both of his sons lounging against the pillars leading into the guest quarters. Both twins looked up at his approach and then toward each other with a grin.

“I respectfully suggest Father, that you go no further,” Elladan murmured as he straightened with a slight bow and touch to his forehead.

Elrond lifted a brow and looked at Elrohir, who smiled wickedly.

“And why should I not continue, my sons?”

And faint groan echoed down the hall and Elrond stepped back with a frown. “I . . .”

“It’s not what you think,” Elladan informed him quickly. “I think Haldir is busy finding his answers.”

Elrohir snickered softly. “Aye, lots of answers.”

Elrond folded his arms over his chest. “You do not seem worried about him.”

Both twins guffawed loudly. Elrond shook his head. He had felt the unease fade a few hours ago.

“It seems she wanted one thing,” Elrohir smirked.

“I don’t think Haldir felt like arguing, either,” Elladan finished.

Elrond sighed and turned around. He didn’t need to hear the groans that filtered down the hall to agree.

**

She watched him mount his horse from the far end of the veranda, unwilling to be near as he left, yet he turned to stare directly at her as he settled into his saddle. One night, one she would not long forget. It would never be enough, yet she had vowed it would be. The elf dipped his head slightly, eyes shifting from her as he bowed to Elrond, speaking to him for a moment as he leaned down.

Grey eyes, eyes she would not soon forget. Nor the silver hair, the strength of one she thought below her. How wrong she had been. Perhaps her trial was more than she had thought. Her test had not been finished when the elf had released her. The Vala had wrought more from her than a simple vow to leave these creatures be. They had forced her to see them as they were. Strong, graceful, if coolly passionate, they were to be admired for their loyalty to the land. Yet more.

He could very well have denied her, denied the desire that she had felt coursing through him. She knew he’d had the strength of will, the control to have walked out of her door. But he had not. And now he would leave to return to his home.

And so would she. A vow was a vow.

Even so, she watched him turn his horse, knees guiding the stallion as he motioned to his wardens to follow. Back straight, he began to move forward, horse’s hooves clattering loudly on the paving stones. She hugged her arms, as he moved away, biting her lip to keep from calling out. A few more steps and then he was crossing the high arched bridge and then slowly he grew distant, a small figure as he made his way onto the trail that led out of the city. But then he paused, even at that distance she saw him turn, knowing it was she he sought. She lifted a hand in farewell, knowing she would never see him again.

She turned to find Elrond behind her.

“Will he come to Valinor, Elrond?”

The elven lord lifted his eyes to gaze past her. “Who knows what fate has in store for the March Warden. But his heart is Lórien. He will die to defend her. Remember that.”

She nodded and turned back to the empty trail.


The end…..