ELANOR'S REVENGE

Authors: Fianna & Julie
Note: Special thanks to Mal (aka Malinornë), our Elvish consultant.


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Chapter Twenty-Three

The soft twitters of forest birds pulled Elanor from her dreams, drawing her to wakefulness in a manner both pleasant and new. Breathing evenly, she lay still and took in her surroundings, including the hard male body around which she had wrapped herself with startling abandon. It amazed her how natural it felt to wake like this, naked and in Haldir’s arms, and at the top of a tree far from the city and Haldir’s talan. How she wished they could just stay here forever, hiding away from the rest of the world, at peace and at leisure to do as they wished. But of course they could not.

A small sigh escaped her, very soft, but regrettably enough to rouse him . . . or perhaps he had been awake all along. His eyes met hers, the grey irises of his eyes looking almost blue in this setting, reflecting the early morning sky above them more than she was used to seeing. Or perhaps it had something to do with his mood.

His hand brushed against her arm. “Awake already?” he asked. “Are you not tired?” She assumed he referred to their wakefulness during the darkest hours of the night, an interval in which they had once more savored the sweetness of each other’s bodies.

“I am fine,” she assured him. “Not even sore, although I am sure that is a small miracle.”

“The flet was not too hard?” His brows arched in an inquiring manner.

“It is not the hardness of the flet that I am thinking of, Haldir. We have been rather busy, you might recall.” She blushed slightly.

“Ah, so we have.” His lazy smile seemed both teasing and tender. “This will make up for the long bout of abstinence I am about to endure. That is one of the more inconvenient aspects of border duty.”

Considering this, she stroked her finger along the muscles of his chest, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder. “Is it difficult for you?” she murmured softly. He was so sensual, so passionate, that she was sure that it must be.

“It depends on circumstances. This time it will be.” His gaze traveled over her face, but he did not elaborate.

Elanor debated the wisdom of her next question, but finally decided to ask it. “Haldir, do you ever sleep with any of your female wardens while you are at the border?”

Haldir hesitated. “It has happened, yes, but I do not make a habit of it. There are times when life is difficult and . . . one simply needs . . .” Amazingly, the look on his face was one of slight embarrassment, not the reaction she’d expected.

She covered his lips with her fingers. “You need not explain. I should not have asked. It is not my concern.”

The arm curled around her waist tightened ever so slightly. “It is your concern,” he said, very much to her surprise. “You have a right to know if I will be faithful to you when we are parted. The answer is yes, I will be.” His voice was matter-of-fact.

Touched, Elanor lifted her head and looked directly into his eyes. “And I will be faithful to you also,” she told him. *Forever*, she promised inwardly, though she did not say it aloud.

He gave a slight nod. “I am glad. I do not demand it, but that is the way I prefer it.” He paused. “Elanor, you know I must return to the fences. It was my intention to stay for a month, and that still holds sway. You will not forget that you agreed to have no more dealings with Lurien while I am gone.” The voice of her lover grew sterner, becoming more like the voice of her guardian.

She shifted her weight, reaching up to brush a mallorn leaf fragment from his pale hair. “I will not forget. But you know very well that if Healea takes over as my archery coach, Lurien is going to be displeased.” She paused, trying to envision this. “The fact remains that I made a bargain, and if I am going to break it, I really need to devise a new bargain that will satisfy him. I gave him my word.”

Haldir rolled to his side and raised himself on one elbow, his head propped against his hand. His other hand reached for hers and held it lightly. “But that requires that you speak to him, Elanor, which is contrary to my wishes.” She noticed he did not use the word ‘command’, but he was looking very displeased.

“I know, but I cannot break my word.” She squeezed his fingers and leaned forward to press an apologetic kiss to his cheek. “You told me you would speak to him yourself. Is that still what you intend?”

“It is indeed.” His voice was tight. “I will do so today before I leave.”

“You leave today?” Elanor could not conceal her dismay. “I was hoping you would stay a little longer now that . . . now that things have changed for us.”

Haldir’s face softened; he released her hand to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I am sorry, Elanor. Recollect that I returned to the city only for the archery competition and I did not intend to stay. That is now two days past. I lingered only because my dark-haired ward cast a spell on me.” He playfully flicked the tip of her nose.

Elanor caught hold of his hand and drew it against her heart. “I wish I could cast a spell that would keep you here longer.”

“But you have. My thoughts will be of you every moment we are parted.” Again his words surprised her. She realized with a thrill of delight that it was as he said; he really *was* wooing her. Until this moment she had hardly dared to believe it, or to think of what that might mean.

“My thoughts will be of you also,” she replied a bit shyly. “And my dreams as well.”

A slow smile curled his lips. “Perhaps we will dream the same dreams. I will make love to you that way, from a distance.”

“Not as satisfying,” she pointed out with a blush.

“Indeed not,” he agreed, his lips twisting. “And yet provocative. And just so you know, Elanor, in my dreams there will be no pantalettes.”

“Just for that remark, I will order a dozen more,” she teased.

“Do, and I will hide them throughout the Golden Wood and make you search for them.”

Elanor giggled. “You are cruel. I will retaliate by sewing all your tunics shut. All your leggings too.”

Haldir let out a chuckle and pulled her over on top of him. “You know what consequences that will bring, Elanor.”

“I certainly do,” she said, quite smugly, acutely mindful of all the places where their bodies touched. A little wriggling on her part could easily start the whole business up again, and the idea pleased her, making her feel rather powerful.

He laughed again, apparently reading her mind. “Lusty elleth,” he murmured. “Our bed activities plainly meet with your approval.”

Elanor bit her lip. “Yes,” she admitted, her cheeks going hot.

“I think we are very well matched in that regard,” he added, a glint in his eye. “And in other ways as well.”

She longed to ask him to elaborate, but at that moment he rolled her off of him and sat up, saying, “But no more of that right now, Elanor. We must dress and eat. After that, you are going to learn how to climb back down a hithlain ladder.”

She sighed. “Oh, very well. I don’t suppose it can be all that difficult.”

“No more difficult than climbing up.”

“That is another matter. You were laughing at me the whole way!”

“I was enjoying the view,” he corrected.

Elanor blushed. “Oh, Haldir.”

Haldir knelt beside her and gazed deeply into her eyes. “Elanor, I see you as far more than a bedmate. You know this, do you not? Last night, when our fëar blended for that moment, that meant something to me. It was the greatest intimacy I have ever allowed.”

“I . . . I see,” she whispered, her mind spinning with the implications.

“Perhaps it was wrong of me,” he went on, his eyes searching her face. “Perhaps I overstepped myself.” She had never heard Haldir sound unsure of himself before. What did it mean?

“No,” she said, quickly reassuring him. “No, you did not. I liked it. It made the moment very special.”

“I am glad.” He gazed at her a moment longer, but his expression was unreadable. “Come, put your gown on,” he said at last. “We will break our fast together, and then take our leave of this place.”

#

Túre walked alone along a path leading around the perimeter of the city. She had risen early, startled from her slumber by a dream so vivid it had seemed almost real. In it she had been visited by Iridor, the elf she had loved so long ago, the one she had lost to the brutality of the Orcs. Yet this morning, before the first light of dawn, it was as though he had stood before her once more, his smile gentle and his voice radiant.

“We loved, you and I,” he had said, “but I was not the one meant for you, Túre of Lórien. Here in Mandos I am at peace, and here I will remain for many long years to come. I still bear much love for you, but the one you wait for, the one to whom you will bind yourself forever, still lives and breathes the air of Arda. Do not despair, dear one. The time draws near when you and he will finally meet.” And then he had reached out and touched her, sending waves of jubilation searing through her essence . . .

What did it mean? So excited was she that her hands trembled, while her steps led her nowhere in particular. She had already met everyone there was to meet, at least here in Lothlórien. Did that mean that she must leave this place to find him? Or that he—whoever he was—would travel here? And how much longer must she wait?

In truth she did not care, as long as she knew that he existed. She was patient and could wait now that she had hope again. And yet, what if it were only a dream created out of wishful thinking? Who could she ask? Who could offer her counsel?

Frowning, Túre reached up to brush back a lock of hair from her cheek. Should she tell Healea? For some reason she was reluctant to do so, fearing that her pragmatic friend would dismiss the dream as meaningless. Healea would not mean to be unkind, but she had never been one to indulge in wishful fantasies or fancies. But who could she tell? In vain she searched her mind for an answer. Perhaps there was no one with whom she could share this tale.

Eventually she made her way to Galadriel’s garden, for of all the gardens in Caras Galadhon, it was the most beautiful and offered the most tranquil setting. Peace was what she needed in order to think this matter through. Without knowing why, she found herself heading to the place where she had spoken so cruelly to Elanor. Elanor was not here now, of course, but Túre sank down upon the spot where Elanor had been and placed her hands upon the grass.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Elanor. “I truly am.” She gazed at the flowers and bowed her head humbly, feeling remorse for the way she had behaved. “Eru grant me the courage to apologize. And to face whatever I must face until the time comes when I will meet *him*, whoever he may be.”

Almost magically a shadow fell across the grass, like an echo of that other scene where she herself has approached Elanor in an almost stealthy manner. Túre glanced up, half expecting to find the Rivendell elleth standing there, but it was not she.

“Good morning, Túre,” Lord Celeborn said gently.

Túre rose at once to her feet, respectfully bowing her head to the Lord of Lórien. “Good morning, my lord,” she returned, her voice subdued. A brief silence ensued during which Túre felt herself being examined.

“I am glad to find you here,” Lord Celeborn said at length. “You are just the person I wished to see. One might say this is an amazing coincidence . . . if one believed in such things.”

Túre’s head jerked up in surprise. “A coincidence?” she echoed faintly. “You wished to speak to me?” This was a rare occurrence indeed.

“Yes,” he said gravely. He lifted a hand to gesture toward the main path through the garden. “Shall we walk together?”

“Certainly.” Túre had no intention of refusing, for her curiosity was aroused. Why would Lord Celeborn wish to speak to her? And on this of all mornings?

Side by side they walked in silence for some distance before he spoke again. “Tell me, how long has it been since Iridor was slain?”

Túre started, astonished by the question. “Many years, my lord. More than three hundred by my count.”

“Yes.” The elf-lord’s eyes were on the path ahead. “I remember it well. A sad day it was for all of us, but most of all for you.”

Túre said nothing, yet her heart gave a painful jerk.

“Last night I was given a message,” he went on in a pensive voice. “From none other than Iridor himself.”

Túre gasped. “W-what did he say?” she stammered, her heart slamming hard inside her chest.

“Only three words. ’Speak to Túre’. Yet he did not say what it is I am to speak to you about.”

Túre knew. It was a sign, one sent by Iridor to let her know that her dream carried weight, that it *had* been genuine. “Oh!” she cried out, reaching spontaneously for his hand. “Oh, thank you, my lord. You cannot know how much this means to me!”

Lord Celeborn looked mildly surprised by her enthusiasm. “You are most welcome, of course. It means something to you?”

“Indeed it does,” she explained. “I too had a dream . . . or perhaps it was a vision, I do not know. He must have known that I would doubt . . . but thanks to you, I now know that it was real!”

“I see.” Lord Celeborn tilted his head as he considered this.

“I would explain more except . . . this is rather personal.” Túre knew that she was blushing.

The Lord of Lórien gave her one of his beautiful smiles. “There is no need to explain, young Túre. I know you have been lonely. If Iridor brought you comfort, I can only say that I am glad.”

Túre nodded almost shyly. “Yes, my lord. He brought me comfort . . . and hope. Hope is something I had lost.”

“One must never lose hope,” Lord Celeborn said quietly. “It is what gives us the courage and the resolution to go on. Hope sustains us, Túre. It is what enables us to live our immortal lives. Without hope, we elves would fade. You know this.”

“I do know it,” she agreed. “Iridor knew it too.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “He did love me,” she whispered. “He came to give me hope.”

“He did love you,” Lord Celeborn agreed. “And unless I am mistaken, it appears that your future path is about to take an unexpected turn.”

#

Elanor and Haldir made their way through the forest in silence. Haldir appeared lost in thought, and in fact had been uncommunicative ever since they had departed from the flet where they had spent the night. Elanor cast him a glance, wondering where his thoughts had wandered. Most likely his duties weighed heavily upon his shoulders and absorbed much of his attention.

At last he looked at her, giving her a sudden smile. “Forgive me, Elanor. I did not mean to ignore you.”

She reached out and touched his arm. “I did not feel ignored, Haldir. What were you thinking about?”

“Many things. You, for one. And Rúmil and Nerwen. And other things.”

Elanor looked at him, conscious of a small stab of worry. “Haldir, the last thing I want is to be a burden to you. ”

“A burden?” He looked taken aback. “How could you be a burden?”

“I mean . . . what is happening between us is so sudden. Perhaps I was wrong to push so hard for . . . for the closeness we now share.” She swallowed a slight lump in her throat. “You have so much responsibility. I feel wrong to add to it.”

He reached out to guide her around a tree stump partially hidden by leaves. “Elanor, you do not add to it. Perhaps you did during those first weeks, but not now. Now you are a ray of sunshine in my life.” His eyes met hers and in them she saw a warmth that told her he spoke truly. “You have greatly added to my happiness simply by being here with me.”

Pleasure rippled through her. “In that case, I am content. My greatest wish right now is to be your helpmate in all things. I do not want to be a distraction. What I mean is . . . the bad kind of distraction, the kind that keeps you from doing what you wish.”

“You are the best kind of distraction,” he said calmly. “The kind I need. You bring joy into my life, Elanor. A great deal of it.”

“Oh,” she said, and felt her spirits soar. She smiled impishly. “In that case, I will do my best to continue to distract you.”

He smiled. “I am counting on it.”

“But I do not want you to worry about me while you are gone,” she went on tenaciously. “I can take care of myself. I can handle Lurien.”

Haldir frowned.

“You never asked me how I resisted him when he tried that mind trick on me.”

His silver gaze met hers. “Tell me now.”

“I thought of you,” she explained. “I completely blocked him by filling my mind with images of you.”

“That was enough?” He sounded doubtful.

“Yes. Well, I had to reach for the most vivid images, of course.” The admission brought heat to her cheeks.

“Vivid images?” His brows lifted. “Should I ask what that means?”

“I’d rather you did not,” she said, averting her eyes from his. “I just want you to know that . . . I am certain I could do it again if need be. Not that it will because Lurien gave me his word.”

“It will not happen again,” he said grimly. “And not for that reason alone.” She could hear the threat in his voice and knew it boded ill for Lurien.

“May I ask you something?” she said timidly. “This is in no way intended to be a criticism of your Lady, but I am wondering why she does not tell Lurien to discontinue such behavior.”

Haldir was silent for a time. Finally he said, “Galadriel rules Lórien, it is true, but she will not intervene in such matters unless it is warranted. That she has not done so suggests much. That is all I can tell you. Apart from her opinion on matters to do with Lórien’s defense and its relationship with other realms, I do not know the Lady’s mind.”

“I see.” Elanor mulled this over with a sigh.

Coming to an abrupt halt, Haldir slid his arm about her waist and pulled her closer. “Enough talk of Lurien. I would rather speak of Elanor. I want her to know that when I return from the Fences, I will be impatient and eager for her company.”

Elanor smiled. “She will be waiting for you most anxiously, I promise.”

“I will hold her to that promise,” he said, more seriously than she expected.

Elanor reached up and laid her palm against his cheek. “Haldir, I am not going to leave you. You speak as though you think I will.”

He gazed down, his mouth quirked a little oddly. “No,” he said slowly, “I don’t think you will. But unexpected things can happen. I want you to know that I truly wish you to stay with me. You are no burden, Elanor. I . . . care for you greatly. And I am proud of you. I hold you in high esteem.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, amazed and moved. “I know not what I have done to make you feel this way about me—”

“You have simply been yourself,” he interrupted. “Your true self, I mean. My Elanor has unfurled into a beautiful, brave flower. I would keep that flower near me for a long time to come.”

Elanor reached for his hand and lifted it to her lips. “I will stay with you for as long as you wish,” she said emotionally, and kissed his palm.

“I am glad to hear it,” he said. Then he bent down and gave her the sweetest kiss imaginable to seal the bargain.

#

Orophin rolled over in bed and opened his eyes. As he did each morning, he immediately turned his head to look at Doria, lying so sweetly next to him still deep in reverie. Drinking in the sight of her, he could not help thinking himself the most fortunate of elves. How beautiful she was, and how wonderful! He was quite sure that no elf had ever loved the way he loved his Doria. He only hoped she would come to a decision soon about his marriage proposal.

He raised himself up on one elbow, taking in the delightful tumble of her pale hair, the sensual curve of her lips, the enchanting way her golden lashes lay against her cheek, the porcelain smoothness of her shoulders and . . . his hunger for her swelled as his eyes drifted lower. The only thing he wanted to do right now was to wake her and make love to her. Unfortunately, he had an obligation to fulfill. He had promised Nerwen that he would speak to Rúmil, and he had not yet done so. And he needed to do that before Rúmil left the city, which he might decide to do at any time. Orophin knew that he would not necessarily wait for Haldir to return.

Where was Haldir anyway? Last night Orophin had looked for him to return from wherever he had taken Elanor, but apparently the two of them had spent the night together in the Wood. Would Haldir have taken Elanor to his special retreat? If so, it was significant. To Orophin’s knowledge, Haldir had never taken an elleth there before. Haldir considered it his private place, and invited no one to share it, not even his own brothers. On the other hand, it did not seem very likely; they had probably gone somewhere else. Orophin dismissed the matter from his mind and turned his thoughts back to Rúmil.

With a sigh, he slipped quietly out of bed and pulled on his clothes, determined to catch Rúmil while he was still in his talan. A few minutes later he reached Rúmil’s door. He knocked lightly and entered, listening intently to be sure Rúmil was alone.

He found Rúmil fully dressed, standing on his terrace wearing a gloomy expression on his face. His brother barely glanced at him as he walked over to stand beside him.

“It is a little early for a visit,” Rúmil said indifferently.

“I wanted to speak to you before you left.”

Rúmil was silent.

Orophin cleared his throat. “Nerwen spoke to me yesterday. About you, that is.”

“Oh?” Rúmil’s tone grew icy. “Has she stumbled across more of my faults? If so, I am sure she could not wait to speak of them.”

“She is worried about you,” Orophin said quietly. “And so am I.”

“Why?” Rúmil’s hand swept out to catch a golden leaf that drifted through the air. He stared down at it as though he had never seen a leaf before.

“I do not know what you said to Nerwen,” Orophin said carefully, “but whatever it was, it led her to believe that you might be careless with your life if you were to take part in any kind of battle.”

Rúmil laughed bitterly. “She is wrong.”

“Is she?” Orophin looked at him intently. “I must be sure. If she is right, I cannot allow you to go back to the Fences.”

“You think you could prevent me?” Rúmil’s brows arched high, his haughty tone reminiscent of Haldir at his most arrogant.

“I know I could,” Orophin said calmly, “because I would have the aid of every other warden in the city. That is no bluff. You know what I can do if need be.”

“I am not going to endanger myself,” Rúmil scoffed. “Especially not for such a foolish reason. Nerwen grows ever more irrational.”

“She told me she cares for you.”

“Indeed, I know she does. As one cares for a younger sibling. Or perhaps a pet.”

Orophin rolled his eyes. “Do not be stupid, Rúmil. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and face facts. Nerwen is simply confused, and I cannot blame her. You have been an incurable flirt for so long. You have slept with half the maidens in Lórien. How could she take you seriously?”

“How could she not?” Rúmil countered. “Does she think I do not know my own mind? I am no youngling.”

“Nerwen is ruled by logic,” Orophin replied. “She looks at your past and sees an elf who flits from elleth to elleth, never giving his heart fully to any. Your drunken songs did not help.”

Rúmil sighed. “I know.” He was silent for a time. “What else did she say?”

The reluctant interest in Rúmil’s voice had Orophin concealing a smile. “She said for you to come back as soon as you can. By then the two of you should be able to talk. She also asked me to tell you to be careful with your life. She is concerned about you.”

Rúmil pressed his lips together, looking a little thoughtful. “Did she seem sincere?”

“Yes.” Orophin wished he could tell Rúmil about Nerwen’s wish to carve him a gift, but there was no way that he would betray her confidences. Rúmil would find out at the appropriate moment.

“Well, I suppose that is something.” Rúmil heaved a sigh. “I suppose my past behavior does suggest a lack of commitment.”

Orophin remained politely silent.

“Still, I plan to leave very shortly. Tell Haldir that I will see him at the Fences, whenever he decides to show up. Where is he anyway?”

“With Elanor. I think they spent the night together in the Wood. Does that surprise you?” Orophin knew his eyes were twinkling.

Rúmil smiled slightly. “Not at all. Our brother seems quite smitten.”

“At long last,” Orophin concurred. “And how very odd it is that all three of us should find ourselves in such a state after all these many long years.”

“Odd things happen.” Rúmil tossed the leaf in the air and watched it float down to settle at his feet.

“Indeed they do,” Orophin agreed.

#

Elanor and Haldir reached the city and, together, climbed the many steps leading up to Haldir’s talan. The few elves they passed either said nothing or greeted them pleasantly, although Elanor was conscious of the curious looks cast in their direction. Haldir appeared unfazed, treating the situation as if spending the night in the forest with his ward was entirely normal and natural. Nothing ever seemed to rob him of his legendary poise and self-control. Elanor smiled as she amended that thought. That was not quite true, was it?

Once inside the talan, Haldir washed and changed into his gray warden’s garb, and then assembled his weapons, inspecting his arrows carefully, although no one had touched them since he had set them down in the corner. Elanor watched him silently, knowing better than to ask him not to go. She understood he had a duty to perform, and even though she had no wish to see him leave, she was conscious of a sudden burst of pride in his behalf. Haldir’s responsibilities were weighty, yet he handled them capably and well. Could any other elf in Lórien take his place or do the job as well? Perhaps . . . and yet perhaps not. Elanor had her own opinion about that, but perhaps she was a little biased.

As if feeling her gaze, he turned to look at her. “Elanor, will you braid my hair?”

It was the not the first time she had done this for him, but it was the first time he had asked her in quite such a way. It was entirely a request, one she knew instinctively that she was free to turn down. Of course she would not have dreamed of doing so. It was a task she loved, although she was even fonder of the unbraiding part of it.

Haldir sat in a chair while she cared for him, dexterously weaving the silken locks of his beautiful pale hair back into the conventional warrior braids. She was careful to leave no strands that might cause him any inconvenience or mar his vision in any way. It was important that he be able to see everything he needed to see at all times.

“Thank you,” he said when she was done. He rose to his feet and took a single step toward the table where his weapons lay, then stopped suddenly.

He turned and walked into the bedchamber, and after a brief hesitation, Elanor followed. He stood on the far side of the bed looking at the wall, but when she entered the room he paused and looked back over his shoulder, his eyes resting on her thoughtfully.

Something in his posture made her wonder if he preferred to be alone. “Is there something you do not want me to see?” she asked. “I can leave.”

“No, Elanor. You may stay.” He returned his attention to the blank spot on the wall, touching it with his right hand while he murmured something she could not hear. What he did next she could not see, but suddenly a small portion of the wall sprang outward, revealing a tiny cupboard. Haldir reached inside and withdrew a small wooden box, then closed the door in the wall. When shut, no lines could be discerned; the wall looked as blank as ever.

Gesturing for her to follow, Haldir returned to the front room and set the box upon the dining table. “This belonged to my parents,” he said in a low voice. “I have not opened it since the day my mother gave it to me. It came to me because I was the eldest and also because she thought I was the one most likely to make use of it.”

Elanor looked at him silently, then glanced down at the box. It was intricately carved, inlaid with leaves, fruit and vines in a beautiful and complicated design.

Haldir carefully opened the box and reached inside the folds of soft fabric that hid whatever lay within. The object he lifted out was a small oval disk made of clear, flawless, rose-colored glass. It was smooth and flat and very lovely, but she had no idea what its function might be.

“What is it?” she asked, staring at it with fascination.

“It is called an ind-mir.” He gave her a cryptic look. “It is one of the heart-jewels wrought by the light elves of Valinor. It was a gift to my parents before they married.”

He laid the glass disk upon his right palm and then pressed it against his own heart for a few moments. “Now give me your right hand,” he instructed.

Elanor obediently held out her hand and felt the weight of the disk settle upon her palm. It was far heavier than she had expected.

“Now press it against your own heart,” Haldir directed.

Without hesitation, she did as he bade, exactly the way he had done, then offered it back to him. Rather than take it from her, he put his own right palm over hers so that the disk was completely enclosed between their hands.

“Now, Elanor, I pledge to you my devotion, no matter the distance between us. Will you pledge the same to me?”

She glanced up at him, feeling a bit light-headed as she met his steady gaze. “I pledge to you my devotion, no matter the distance between us,” she echoed softly. She did not quite understand what they were doing, but she trusted him implicitly.

With an odd smile, he lifted his hand and removed the disk from her palm. To Elanor’s amazement, the disk had separated into two slimmer disks, each as pristine and untouched as the original, with no sign that they had ever been connected in any way. She glanced up quickly and saw him watching her.

“One for each of us,” Haldir explained. “Once divided, the ind-mir is transformed into indwaedh, a heart-bond.” He set them both upon the table and reached once more into the box, withdrawing two long, tightly woven cords containing strands of gold as well as other substances. To her astonishment, he threaded each of them through the disks as easily as if the disks were made of water instead of solid glass. Lastly, instead of knotting the cord, he simply held the ends so that they lightly touched each other. At once they fused, forming a perfect circle without beginning or end. Two necklaces, each bearing one of the rose-colored disks.

“How did you do that?” she said in amazement.

“I did nothing. There is old Elvish magic woven into these cords and deep within the indwaedh.” Looking solemn, he slipped one of them around her neck and the other around his own. Reaching for Elanor’s necklace, he pulled the disk downward, stretching the cord until the disk nestled between her breasts directly over her heart. He then did the same with his own, adjusting the disk so that it lay over his own heart.

“I will wear this beneath my clothing,” he stated. “If you wear yours while I wear mine, we will be able to feel each other’s fëa. You will know that I live and I will know that you live. It should ease your mind so that you do not worry about me.” He paused, his gaze on her face. “I can feel you already.”

Elanor glanced down at the disk in dawning wonder. It was no longer heavy, but so light she could hardly feel it at all. Yet its power was easily discernable; a pleasurable hum floated just beyond the limits of her ordinary senses, a hum that contained a distinctly masculine flavor. In some way she could never have explained, it actually *felt* like Haldir.

“I can feel you too,” she said in a wondering voice. “It is almost like that moment when we made love . . .”

“Almost,” he agreed, his grey eyes glittering. “Not quite as nice, but still agreeable. This is the closest our hearts can be without being bound together in marriage. Once, long ago, my parents wore these during a period of separation.”

Elanor was starting to realize the enormity of the honor he was according her. “Oh, Haldir, thank you, but . . . but I feel unworthy of this.” She bowed her head, but he lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“I would not give you this gift if you were unworthy, Elanor. I will hear no more of such talk, is that understood?”

“Yes,” she whispered, peeping shyly up at him.

“Now I really must go,” he said in a gentle voice. “But though we will be parted, we are still together, linked by the indwaedh.”

Elanor smiled through the moisture in her eyes. “Yes, I understand.”

“No tears, Elanor. I will only be gone a few weeks. Not long at all.”

“I am not crying, Haldir. I am only touched by your gift and your thoughtfulness.”

He reached for her hands, lifting them to his lips. “Farewell, my Elanor.”

“Farewell, my Haldir,” she said daringly. His quick smile told her that her words pleased him. And then he pulled her close and gave her a kiss she would remember for many days to come.

#

Lurien sat in his talan, holding a goblet of wine between two fingers while he contemplated the advent of his day. He had stood guard all night, his least favorite time to perform his duty, although as always he had done it without question or complaint.

However, if he had been free to do as he wished he would have gone to Tarwë. Just lately he had begun to need her more . . . in a purely physical sense of course. Any other elleth invariably left him thirsty, his lust never quite satisfied, but not Tarwë. Never Tarwë. It was not only her physical beauty or her passion but the way every movement she made called to him, every caress of her hands, every kiss, every touch of her mouth. Every sound that passed her lips. When he was with her he almost forgot everything else while he drowned in the intense sensual experience of their coupling.

While he toyed with the idea of going to her right now, this instant, he heard the door to his talan open behind him. Something flared in his chest as, for a moment, he thought that she had somehow read his mind and come to him just when he needed her. Instead, it was a male voice that spoke.

“I would have a word with you, Sentinel.”

Lurien stiffened, then slowly set down his glass and rose to his feet before he turned and addressed his uninvited and much loathed guest. “Since when do you enter my home without permission, March Warden?”

“Since you have made it your business to meddle with my ward despite my warning. And to interfere with her archery training.”

Haldir’s voice was like the cold crack of a whip, but Lurien only smiled and crossed his arms, prepared to enjoy this opportunity to annoy his nemesis. “Interfere?” he drawled. “I have done nothing but aid and encourage Elanor. She did well in the competition because of me.”

Haldir’s haughty face hardened. “I am not here to bandy words with you. I will tell you straight out to stay away from Elanor. No more archery instruction, no more contact. None. Is that clear?”

The arrogance of his tone infuriated Lurien. “That is between Elanor and me,” he snapped. “You may be her guardian, but you do not own Elanor. If she wishes to spend her time with me, that is no concern of yours.”

“On the contrary, it is very much my concern.” Haldir strolled forward, his slate grey eyes narrowed to icy slits. “Do not force my hand, Sentinel, or you will find yourself in yet another situation you will regret. Do not make the mistake of thinking I speak idly.”

His oblique reference to their past confrontations riled Lurien as nothing else could have done. “You think you can best me?” he sneered. “I am quite willing to prove you wrong.” He stood balanced, prepared for any sudden movement, his sword within easy reach where it lay on the table. His fingers itched to seize and use it.

Haldir’s hand move to the hilt of his sword. “I have little time for this, Sentinel, but if you wish it, I will fight you now and be done with it. Do not flatter yourself that you will win. Twice before I have bested you, and I am well able to do it again.”

Filled with rage, Lurien nearly opened his mouth to accept the challenge, then thought better of it. He had a far more satisfying plan that he had scarcely begun to put into play. “You are as boastful and pompous as ever,” he said through his gritted teeth. “But the day will come when you are brought down, and it is I who will see it done. I will humble you, Haldir of Lórien, in a way that you have never been humbled. All Lothlórien will know you for what you are—nothing more than a sword wielding braggart whose skills have been greatly exaggerated.”

Haldir only stared at him. “So you refuse to fight. That is wise. I trust you will show the same wisdom regarding Elanor. I leave my brother Orophin here to watch over her, which he is well able to do. If he sends word that you are making mischief, I will come here and teach you a lesson so harsh you will never forget it.”

“Your threats are useless,” Lurien shot back. “Useless and empty.” He nearly said more, but instead he smiled, an action he knew would sit poorly with Haldir.

“You use words far better than weapons,” came Haldir’s parting insult. “Neither will avail you if you fail to heed what is my last warning.” He spun on his heel and walked out.

Lurien stood still after Haldir left, his body shaking with fury, his fists clenched at his sides. Every curse he could think of passed through his mind, yet his mouth remained clamped shut against his need to shout them. Control. He needed control. That had always been his downfall, and it was still his abiding weakness.

He gulped down the remainder of his wine and stared at the glass, barely resisting the urge to hurl it across the room. Valar help him, he needed Tarwë. Now. Wherever she was, asleep or awake, dressed or undressed . . . he would find her and he would take her. Tarwë would help him. He would take her hard, bury himself inside her until the rapture took him and made him forget his hate.

Yes, that’s what he would do. He would find Tarwë.

#

Nerwen huddled behind the tree, making sure she kept well out of sight. From her present vantage point, she had a clear view of the front of Rúmil’s talan. She had seen Orophin go inside, and she had seen him come out again. She knew that Rúmil was still within. She also felt foolish for spying on him, but not so foolish that she would stop.

She had no intention of confronting Rúmil; she merely wanted a glimpse of him before he left, just to assure herself that he looked well. Not that she would be able to tell very much from how he looked, she reminded herself. But for some strange reason she wanted, nay, she *needed* to see him one more time before he left.

Waiting with all the patience of which she was capable, she stood quietly, as though she were a part of the great tree itself. Time passed, and then at last she saw him, sailing through the doorway of his talan with his usual grace, and yet she could see that his jaw was taut and that his movements lacked their usual buoyancy.

Biting her lip, she watched him descend the steps, his long legs carrying him swiftly away from her. As always, he looked every inch the dangerous warden warrior, with his sword, his arrow-filled quiver and that huge elegant bow. A faint, wistful sigh escaped her lips.

“What are you doing?” asked a familiar voice.

Nerwen glanced over her shoulder at Tarwë. “Watching him leave.”

Tarwë stepped forward to stand by Nerwen’s side. “He will return,” she said softly. “Do not fear for him.”

Nerwen pondered this. “I suppose you are right. I am probably misinterpreting the entire situation. I am not usually so emotional. All my life I have been governed by common sense and reason. And now look at me.”

“You love him,” Tarwë reminded her quietly. “That changes everything.”

Nerwen said nothing.

Tarwë looked at her. “You spoke to Orophin?”

“I did. And Orophin spoke to Rúmil. So that is done.”

Tarwë nodded, her blue eyes thoughtful. “Hence, we continue to wait, you and I.”

“At least we do it well,” Nerwen said wryly. “Or at least you do.”

“Do I?” Tarwë smiled sadly.

#

Intending to visit the bathhouse, Tarwë returned to her talan for a few items, but the moment she stepped across the threshold, a strong pair of arms caught her about the waist.

“Tarwë,” Lurien murmured as he pulled her back against him.

Tarwë reached up to grip the muscular arm wrapped around her body beneath her breasts. “What are you doing here?” she breathed as his lips found her neck. Already the golden warmth was seeping inexorably through her limbs.

His soft laugh huffed against her cheek. “What do you think? I want you.” Dimly, she heard the privacy latch fall into place.

“Now?” Pride made her protest. “I was about to go the bathhouse, Lurien.”

“Then I will give you a reason to bathe.” His clever fingers were searching out the fastenings to her gown, expertly loosening ties and untying ribbons as he had done countless times before. “We will bathe together if you like.”

“It is too early. Only ellith are there now.”

“Later then.” He maneuvered her gown down her shoulders, spreading kisses over her face and neck, tasting and nipping and teasing while he steered her across the room toward the table. As they passed a chair, he scooped up a cushion and tossed it onto the table’s smooth wooden surface. With gentle hands, he turned her around. “Bend over, love,” he whispered.

He entered her from behind, swiftly, taking no time to prepare her, but it did not matter for, like always, she was more than ready for him. Tarwë moaned with each of his thrusts, loving the way he used his hands to enhance her pleasure, the way his mouth pressed against her shoulder, the way he filled her so completely with his maleness. Strong pleasure welled within her, growing ever more powerful until it crested into a magnificent bursting wave that encompassed them both.

Afterward, he carried her into her bedchamber and placed her gently on her bed. “Did you like that?” he teased. He stood over her, his mouth curved and his blue eyes holding a perceptive, victorious gleam.

“No,” Tarwë said crossly. “It was not what I had in mind for this morning.”

He laughed at her. “You are angry with me? Come now, I gave you great pleasure, Tarwë. Admit it. You cannot fool me.” His leggings were still open, his sex only half inclined to relax after its recent activity.

She lay there, looking up at him, making no attempt to cover herself. “You give me one kind of pleasure and another kind of pain. Does that not trouble you?”

Lurien’s smile faded. He turned away for a few moments, and when he swung back to face her, he assessed her in a way that seemed slightly altered. “Surely you know I do not wish to hurt you.”

“Then why do you do it?” she asked wearily.

“It is not my intention!” His tone was sharp. “I am selfish, Tarwë, but not so selfish that I would deliberately cause you pain. I have told you that I love you. Is that not enough?”

“It is not enough,” she whispered, “but it is enough for now.” She touched his arm. “Love me again, Lurien. Slowly this time. I want to feel your sweetness.”

Lurien leaned forward, his hands planted on either side of her body, his hair a long golden curtain that brushed her flesh. “That I will do, milady. That I will do. And this time it will be very sweet for you, I promise.”

#

After Haldir’s departure, Elanor spent the rest of the day working in Galadriel’s garden. Alone among the plants she was at peace, even more so due to the amazing indwaedh pressed against her chest. Normally when she sat here she simply felt the soft emanations exuded by the flowers and trees, but now the pure, low throb of Haldir had been added in, separate and recognizable, yet harmonizing beautifully with the quieter tones of nature. Rationally she knew that the distance between them was increasing with every step he took, but distance seemed to play no factor with the indwaedh. She could feel Haldir at every moment. It was almost as though he sat behind her just out of sight, which was comforting and uncanny and exhilarating all at the same time.

The following morning she received a message from Healea suggesting they meet on the archery field around mid-day. The long days of summer were nearing an end, but the weather was glorious, with a pleasant breeze that was not crisp enough to interfere with the trajectory of an arrow. As Elanor walked down the many steps to the ground level, she wondered if Haldir was thinking of her as often as she thought of him. She supposed he was not, for he had more important matters with which to deal. And yet the knowledge that he could feel her the way she felt him sent a sweet little shiver racing over her flesh.

Arriving before Healea, Elanor adjusted the straps of her quiver and waved shyly to two Geledhil who were making use of one of the most distant targets. They waved back and smiled. All of them recognized Elanor now, and most took the time to greet her in a friendly manner whenever they were near. She turned as the gates to the arena swung open and Healea walked onto the field. Elanor could not help noticing her air of confidence, the way she acknowledged those who greeted her with a cool composure that Elanor lacked. Had Healea always been this way? Or had she somehow trained herself to project that supreme efficiency and confidence?

Healea soon reached her and nodded a greeting. “Hello, Elanor. You look well today.”

“And so do you,” Elanor replied courteously, and saw Healea smile.

“Now that we have exchanged pleasantries’”--Healea’s gaze shifted to Elanor’s training bow--“shall we get down to business? Show me your stance.”

Despite her sometimes ambivalent feelings toward Healea, Elanor soon found that she was quite comfortable with her new archery teacher. Healea had a way of removing all emotion from her teachings, which meant that Elanor never felt either criticized or falsely praised. And although the same could be said of Haldir, Elanor had always been too acutely conscious of him to completely and absolutely relax the way she did with Healea. On the other hand, the indwaedh kept him continuously in the back of her mind, forcing her to work that much harder to keep her attention on her aim. Awareness of him washed over her anew just as she let the last arrow in her quiver fly. To her disappointment, it soared past the target and landed in the grass.

“Concentrate, Elanor,” Healea said calmly. “Do not let your thoughts stray when you aim. Were you thinking about him again?”

Elanor lowered her bow. “About who?” she said innocently.

“Haldir, of course. Who else?” Looking amused, Healea glanced at the corded necklace Elanor wore about her neck, following it down to where it disappeared inside Elanor’s borrowed practice tunic. “What is this ornament you wear? It is something new.”

“It is a gift,” Elanor replied. When Healea arched a golden brow, Elanor lifted her chin, trying to ignore the fact that her cheeks were probably turning pink.

“Oh, very well, keep your secrets,” Healea said amiably. “I am sure you have a right to them. Stay here and I’ll retrieve your arrows. I want to stretch my legs.”

As Healea walked off, Elanor touched a hand to the hidden indwaedh. Provocative thoughts of her night in the forest with Haldir slid through her mind, and for a few moments she closed her eyes, smiling at the memory.

“What are you thinking about, Elanor?” drawled a familiar, rather amused voice. “That smile you wear intrigues me.”

Elanor’s eyes flew open. Somehow Lurien had approached without her hearing him, and had propped his lithe body against one of the nearby posts designed to support spare long bows. His blue eyes glittered as he studied her, then his gaze shifted as he suddenly caught sight of Healea walking toward them across the grass. He straightened his pose.

“Go away, Lurien,” Healea said coolly as she came up to them. “You are not needed here. Elanor has a new teacher and no longer requires your services. Not that she ever did.” She handed the arrows back to Elanor, her eyes still on Lurien.

“A new teacher?” Ignoring Healea, Lurien cocked a brow at Elanor. “I thought we had an agreement, you and I.” Beneath the question lay an undercurrent that told Elanor he was not pleased.

Healea stepped between him and Elanor. “Yes, Lurien, she has a new teacher. Me. I saw exactly how helpful you were at the tournament.” Though he was half a head taller, she somehow managed to look him square in the eye.

“And just what does that mean?” he asked, his lazy smile looked a little forced.

Healea folded her arms, her bearing as confrontational as any warden’s or sentinel’s. “It means that Elanor would have fared better if she’d had proper training and advice instead of being used as a pawn between you and Haldir’s brothers.”

“A pawn? That is ridiculous. I only offered aid. I cannot help that Rúmil and Orophin had different methods.”

Knowing she had better say something, Elanor took a step forward. “I am sorry, Lurien,” she stated with more civility than sincerity, “but I think I may do better with Healea.”

He turned to look at her. “And what of our bargain, Elanor?” he said, very softly.

“Did Haldir not speak to you?” Elanor knew it was a craven way to deal with him, but surely it was also the most sensible response, to remind him about Haldir.

“Your guardian and I exchanged words,” he said, almost pleasantly. “But that does not solve our little problem, does it? I do not think I am prepared to let that matter slide.” With a smirk, he crossed his arms and looked back at Healea, his eyes taking on an odd glimmer as he did so. “As for you, lovely one . . .”

What happened next took Elanor completely unawares. One moment Lurien was simply gazing at Healea, and the next moment Healea was slamming her fist into Lurien’s chin so hard it knocked him backward to the ground. He fell over the post, landing in an ungainly heap amid half a dozen bows.

Healea flexed her hand. “Try your mind tricks on me again, Sentinel, and it will be a more tender part of you that meets my wrath.”

Lurien leaped gracefully to his feet and shot a black look at Healea, but before he could speak, she had grabbed Elanor’s arm and pulled her further down the practice field in the direction of the two elves Elanor had greeted earlier. Elanor glanced back over her shoulder at Lurien, who stood staring after them, his eyes narrowed to angry slits. Elanor repressed a shiver. Already she could see the slight discoloration on his chin that would soon become a conspicuous bruise.

“That should teach him,” Healea said in a satisfied tone.

“He will not soon forgive you.”

“He may harbor a grudge for as long as he likes,” Healea replied almost scornfully. “I do not fear him, Elanor, and neither should you. However, he is a master of manipulation and persuasion and you must be wary of him. Have you not realized how he has been trying to use you to get to Haldir?” She paused, her perfect face displaying no outward sign of emotion. “I must confess I have also been guilty on that count. That day in the garden when I told you of the tournament . . . I admit I thought you would fail miserably if you took part in it.” Her fair brows drew together as though she analyzed the situation anew. “Yet I also hoped you prove me wrong . . . if that makes any sense.”

“Truly?” Elanor studied the expression in Healea’s clear blue eyes, reminded once again of her mixed feelings toward Haldir’s former lover.

“Yes, truly. And you did prove me wrong. Despite your misfired shot, you rose to the challenge and did what you had to do. That was when I began to wonder if our proud March Warden has finally met his match. But it is too soon to say.” Healea’s contemplative gaze rested on the glinting cord of Elanor’s necklace, then her gaze shifted back to Lurien. “He is leaving, but he is not yet done with his intrigues. You must beware.”

Elanor glanced over her shoulder and saw Lurien stalking off through the trees at the far end of the arena. Despite Healea’s warning, she knew she still had to contend with him. What bargain would he accept in place of that other one? It consoled her that he had not broken his word and tried his mind games on her, nor attempted any dishonorable action of which she was aware. Yet he clearly had had no such scruples with Healea, and that chilled her.

“Come,” Healea said. “I want you to try another target.”

Elanor concealed a sigh and followed Healea, filled with a sense of disquiet.

#

Haldir’s turn at the watch had ended. Other wardens had taken over for those whose time had come to rest, wardens just as skilled and dependable as Haldir himself. Knowing this, he could relax for a time, and with a vague sense of relief, he leaped from branch to branch through the darkness, enjoying the chance for physical exercise as he made his way deeper into the forest toward another flet, one the wardens often used for evening gatherings and rest.

Once at the flet, however, he found himself alone, for all the others had gathered below around a small, friendly campfire. Voices and songs drifted upward, but his inclination was to eschew company and instead lie down here, on the comfortable furs, and let his mind wander to pleasant things.

A week had passed since he had left Elanor, a week during which he had worried that he had made a mistake, that the indwaedh would prove too great a distraction and hinder his battle instincts. Each day while he stood watch, the pleasurable awareness of Elanor floated like a pleasant scent in the back of his mind, yet only when he was off duty could he indulge himself and center his attention on it. He had not anticipated that it would be this strong or this distracting, but he was gradually growing used it. Still, he supposed that any warden who was bound in marriage carried around a similar distraction, and if they could cope with it successfully then of course so could he.

He had told no one about the indwaedh. He supposed there were very few of them, and those who possessed them kept them locked away or close to their hearts at all times. He knew he was very fortunate that his mother had gifted hers to him rather than take it with her when she sailed to the West with his wounded and war-weary father.

He stood at the flet’s edge and gazed down upon the other wardens. Rúmil was among those who sat by the fire, a peculiarly subdued Rúmil who was clearly harboring personal problems he did not wish to discuss. Haldir was certain that whatever it was that troubled Rúmil had to do with Nerwen, but he had not confided in Haldir . . . although he probably would in time.

Dismissing Rúmil from his mind, Haldir stretched his arms above his head and drew in a deep breath, his thoughts once more on Elanor. She had all but taken over his dreams, some of which had proven so erotic that he had almost embarrassed himself once or twice. He had actually thought himself immune to such things at this point in his life; certainly no elleth had ever affected him in this manner. Of course, he had never imagined anyone like Elanor. He smiled at this, but a moment later his smile faded as he at last faced what was really disturbing him.

Only yesterday tidings had reached him that Elrond of Imladris was due to arrive at any moment. Haldir had known this would happen and he had planned for it, but now he wondered if he had done all he could to lay a claim on her in this most awkward of situations. He had made sure Elanor knew that he wished her to stay, he had told her he cared for her, he had introduced her to the delights of physical love. And he had given her the indwaedh.

But was it enough?

Would Elrond seek to take Elanor away? What if her parents had protested, perhaps exerting influence on Elrond? Elanor would not wish to go, but she might find herself unable to withstand commands or entreaties from the Lord of Imladris, especially if Lady Galadriel or Lord Celeborn added their voices. The ruling couple might believe they were doing both him and Elanor a favor by granting her an early release from her obligations.

On the other hand, Haldir believed that the Lady of Light understood how things stood between himself and Elanor, even if he did not completely understand it himself. Would she consider a course of action that she knew would cause him pain? He narrowed his eyes as he considered this. Yes, if Elanor left him, it would indeed cause him pain. He would recover from it in time, but such pain was not something he wished to endure.

Haldir’s jaw tightened suddenly. They would all do well to remember that Elanor owed an obligation to *him*. *He* was the one who had been treated with indignity, and *he* was the one to whom she owed her atonement! Surely Elrond recognized this. Surely even Lord Elrond would not consider releasing her from her punishment without Haldir’s consent . . . which, by the Valar, he had no intention of giving! Besides, she had said she would not leave him. He would do well to remember her stubbornness and strength.

Reassured by these reflections, Haldir placed his hand over the indwaedh where it rested against his skin beneath the heavy warden’s tunic. The low throb of her femininity beguiled him, turning his thoughts to matters both serene and sensual. It was like being assailed by every sensory delight that had ever been conceived while drifting on an unimaginably soft summer cloud. Or perhaps it was more like flying, soaring on the wind against a blue sky with the rays of the sun on his back.

Stretching his long body out on one of the furs, Haldir linked his fingers behind his head and let his mind wander contentedly down pathways he had been struggling to keep at bay. Elanor’s essence enclosed him like an intimate embrace, evoking desire along with an almost euphoric sense of well-being. He gazed up at the rustling leaves, watching them dance on the currents of night air as if excited on his behalf. Sensation teased without logic or thought, just beyond reach, making him feel young and eager in a way he had not felt in millennia. All in all, this was akin to being pleasantly drunk on exceptionally fine wine . . . with a few delicious extras thrown in.


[To be continued . . .] Feedback always appreciated.

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ind-mir = heart jewel
indwaedh = heart-bond

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