Lá Aman

Title: Lá Aman [3/3]
Author: Silvertree
E-mail: megumi@elfslash.zzn.com
Rating: NC-17
Warnings [part 3]: Angst, tears, lime, NHE

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to write nice reviews, and to those who have been crass and vulgar... well, you know who you are and what I did to you.

This will be the final chapter for Lá Aman. However, I have been thinking about a series of things, and if there is enough interest, I will begin work on a small sequel. Please e-mail me at megumi@elfslash.zzn.com if you have an opinion on the matter, or add it to the review board.

It will, of course, have to wait for a while, as the next chapter of Tonight and Any Other must be finished, beta'ed, and posted. =3


Italics denote a flashback.

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Haldir's eyes opened slowly, almost lazily. He ached, and for brief moments he wondered why. Then he remembered what had happened to him, and winced. However, the pain was not the stabbing flashes of agony that he recalled. A brief glance at his own body revealed a series of poultices and bandages, and he seemed to be clean and well cared for. Where, then, was he? Haldir took a hesitant sniff at the air. It smelled of honeysuckle and roses, the aroma very faint, but still recognizable among the mingled smells of herbs of healing. This, then, was Celeborn's private chamber.

Lothlórien's march warden blinked and sat up slowly, careful in his movements. A look around the room revealed the Lord of the fair land. Celeborn was sitting in a chair of carved wood, his eyes cold and fixed upon the creature still half-swaddled in the soft white sheets and cream colored blankets. The elf drew in a short breath when he saw that Haldir had awakened, but made no other movement. Haldir bobbed his head in greeting, and when no answer was given, boldly made the first statement.

"Celeborn, I-"

"You should be disgusted with yourself, Haldir," came the terse reply, and Haldir was startled into dismayed silence. Celeborn rose to his feet and walked to stand over Haldir, arms folded across his broad chest. "You should be disgusted with yourself," he repeated, "as I am disgusted with you. We found you as an orphaned waif beside your brothers, your parents lying bloodied and slain, overpowered by the yrch (("orcs")). I took the three of you in against the wishes of many. They would have had you sent to Rivendell and Master Elrond, and yet I saw something in you. Instead of making that journey you stayed with us, and alongside your brothers you grew into maturity. I granted you the esteemed position of march warden and made you the leader of our defenders here." Celeborn inhaled deeply. "Whatever it was I saw in you then, Haldir, your brothers retain it. You do not."

Haldir choked upon the words that had been forming in his throat. "My lord?" he questioned, blue eyes wide with unexpected pain and shock. Celeborn shook his head, and continued to look upon Haldir as if the other elf were a dirty rag used to bathe an infected wound.

"You are pathetic, elfling," the Lord of Lothlórien sneered, "a fool too weak to protect himself. One with honor would have slain himself rather than be violated thus, would have died rather than live a life of the most unspeakable shame. You are despoiled, Haldir. Any value you once had is gone, and I will no longer have anything to do with you. You are hereby dismissed from your post as march warden. You may remain as an ordinary watchman, or you may leave our lands forever."

"Lord Celeborn..." Tears overflowed from Haldir's blue eyes and trickled in silent paths down his cheeks. He reached out a hand towards his lord in hope against all hopes that Celeborn had not truly meant his words. But the Lord of Lothlórien recoiled as if Haldir carried some vile plague.

"Be gone from my sight!" he cried. "I will have naught to do with you! Go!"

The silent tears turned into full-bodied sobs as Haldir practically flew from the bed. He took no care for his injuries, but seized a sheet and wrapped it around his body as he bolted for the door. He ran, faster than he could recall having run before. The incredulous looks of the palace's other inhabitants were ignored, and the distressed elf skidded around corners and dashed across deserted platforms. Finally he stumbled to a halt at the rear of the palace's highest level. A cruel breeze tore at his hair and stung his wounds as he stood there aobbeobbed loud and long. The sheet was torn from the slender body and flapped in the wind, held only by trembling hands. Haldir only stopped weeping when there were no more tears to be shed. The pain was replaced by a cold determination and resolve. Haldir inched over to the side of the platform and looked over the edge. It was a long way to the ground. Celeborn had been right; he had no honor. It would be better to end it like this...

Then there was a sharp gust of wind and he was falling, falling, falling. The sheet was billowing around him; he was plunging head first towards the ground. Then he was landing, and he could feel his limbs breaking, his ribs puncturing his lungs, his neck snapping and his skull cracking as all faded into...

Light. There was light, almost unbearably bright. Haldir's eyes snapped fully open and he gasped. He was still in Celeborn's bed, head propped atop soft pillows. A warm, soothing weight was resting across his chest and legs, and soft puffs of warm air met the side of his face at regular intervals. Haldir held his breath and turned his head slightly.

It was more than the elf had dared to hope for. Celeborn was not sitting in a chair, but was instead pressed against Haldir's side, his arm flung over the elf's chest, and one leg draped across Haldir's thighs. His soft breathing brushed the march warden's cheek like a gentle breeze, so different from the gale of the dream. The memory of the nightmare rippled through Haldir's mind, and the elf's body shuddered in response.

The spasms of movement caused Celeborn to wake, and the Lord of Lothlórien opened his eyes. He immediately propped himself upon one elbow, and looked down into Haldir's face with a worried expression.

"Haldir, are you all right?" His answer came in the form of a shaking, crying elf being pressed tightly against him. Celeborn pulled Haldir further into his arms and rocked him back and forth as he murmured nonsense words of reassurance into the pointed ear. Eventually, Haldir calmed down enough to explain to Celeborn the nature of his dreams. The silver-haired elf listened to the entire tale, but as soon as Haldir had finished he captured the full lips in a soft kiss.

"A dream is all that it was, Haldir," he said, "nothing more than that. Have you forgotten those promises we made to each other so long ago?"

Haldir unconsciously turned his mind back to a night over two hundred years in the past...

---


The soft night enfolded the two elves sitting in the treetops as would a velvet blanket, totally and completely. To the lovers it was as if no others existed, had ever existed. In that moment, the entire world belonged to them, for them to shape and mold as they desired.

"Promise me something, Haldir," Celeborn said softly, and brushed his fingers over Haldir's cheek. "No matter what happens, promise me that you won't die. Promise that I'll have you until the end of the world itself, and after, as we walk amongst the stars."

The roving hand was captured in a slighter one, but the voice that responded was deep and full, a voice that gave the barest glimpse of a concealed power that was not to be underestimated. "You may have my word," Haldir responded simply, "if I may have yours as well. I would not lose you, Celeborn, for if you were to perish I would follow you, either from grief or by my own hand."

Celeborn smiled, almost sadly. "It would be a crime to see one so young and beautiful and full of life perish for my sake. You have my word, Haldir." He rose to his feet and stood lightly upon the branch. "Though the same holds true for me. I would follow you unto the death, should you break your promise and die."

Haldir rose as well, and wrapped his arms about Celeborn. Lean bodies pressed together as they pair gazed at the stars, silent until Haldir spoke once again.

"omisomise. But let us not speak of death now. Let us instead speak of and celebrate the life that we have now, for however long it belongs to us."

Lips met and elven skin touched elven skin as clothing was discarded to hang upon lower branches. Fire raced from one to the other, and as the passion of the moment gained complete control, the promise was all but forgotten.


---

Haldir shook his head. He remembered the night very well, both the promise and Celeborn's response to a question Haldir had asked after their lovemaking. "No, Haldir," he had said, "I did not ask her. She knows about us, and she also knows my reasons for allowing myself to take you as my beloved, for my reasons and her reasons are the same. Though we care for each other still, our love it not what it was back then, in Doriath. We wed out of love, it is true, but like all quickly cultured loves it faded, as does a rose too soon clipped from its branch. But the love I have for you is as a rose carved painstakingly out of ruby and emerald. The beauty will never fade, for this love is one I have taken care to cultivate, that the roses will never cease to bloom."

"I remember," Haldir said quietly. "You said that you would always love me, no matter what happened. We swore our lives to each other."

Celeborn nodded. "And I hold to that, Haldir. Had you died last night, I would have followed." He stroked the guardian's soft blonde hair as he spoke. "Nothing that could happen to you would ever strip you of worth, Haldir. You will always, above anything else, be three things in my mind. A warrior, a lover, and, above all, my friend. Never forget these things, and never forget that it was Aragorn and Legolas who allowed you to fulfill your promise."

"I shall not forget," Haldir replied, "though I wish it were you I had to thank. I would rather have allowed you to burn me clean, for the touch of one known well can burn away the touch of one not known at all with the greatest ease." Celeborn smiled at the statement.

"I would still perform the ritual, if you but desired it and asked it of me. Though, I do not seek to see further damage done." Celeborn blushed as he spoke the words; surely the elf was in no condition to be taken a third time. But then, to his surprise, Haldir nodded and kissed him with unexpected passion.

"I do desire it, and consider it asked," the elf murmured against Celeborn's lips. "Though my kinsman and his own lover did what they could, it is your touch that will cleanse me completely and convince me that I have not been despoiled by the unclean touch of another."

Celeborn returned the kiss with equal passion, before he broke away from the soft mouth and lavished attention upon the golden skin. He was careful to avoid areas that were overly tender, but there was still a large amount of bare flesh to explore, familiar though it was. The Lord of Lothlórien felt tenseness ease from the tight muscles, and Haldir moaned softly as Celeborn's touches burned him like liquid fire. Then the elven-lord was gone, and Haldir felt a brief surge of panic until Celeborn returned, a bowl of cool water in his hands. The elf lay next to the guardian once again, the bowl within easy reach. One hand slid down Haldir's firm chest and stomach to cup the erection growing at the guardian's groin. The other hand dipped into the bowl, and, wetted thoroughly, was pressed against Haldir's face. A gentle kiss was placed upon Haldir's cheek, and then Celeborn spoke.

"Balanturwin a Balantur, echad-sen pen puig ah sen, i nen o muin a i naur o muin..." (("Mother Goddess and Father God, make this one clean with this, my water and my fire..." [lit. " ... the water of me and the fire of me..."]))

---

Haldir was conspicuously absent as the Company departed Lothlórien. Celeborn knew that for all the work he, Legoland And Aragorn had done to soothe the elf, it would be long before Haldir was back to his normal self. The elf was skittish, jumping if someone so much as touched him unawares from behind. No amount of pleading or requesting from Celeborn, Galadriel, Rúmil, or Orophin had been able to convince Haldir to speak any more of the events of the fateful night, nor to give them any further clue as to the identity of the one who had raped him. He maintained his tale of anonymity, and so the other four had to be content.

"Drink, Lord of the Galadhrim!"

The words startled Celeborn, though he did not show it. He did as Galadriel bade him, and as he drank the white mead from the cup of parting, his wife's next words pierced his heart to the core.

"And let not your heart be sad, though night must follow noon, and already our evening draweth nigh."

And so it was. The evening of the Elven-cycle was approaching, and the cycle of men was taking hold. Celeborn seated himself uneasily in a chair brought for him, though he would have much preferred to sit upon the soft grass with the Company. He watched with false interest as Galadriel presented each member of the eight remaining companions with a gift, given in both their names, though he himself had not been fully aware of her intentions. To Aragorn was given a scabbard and the Elfstone of the house of Elendil, which had been left in Galadriel's care. Meriadoc, Peregrin, and Boromir each received finely crafted belts of gold and silver, and to Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood was given a quiver of arrows and a bow of Lothlórien. Celeborn had been privy to this last gift alone, and he knew that when Legolas tipped the arrows from the quiver to examine them, as he undoubtedly would, he would discover the two packets of rare herbs of healing that Celeborn had placed in the bottom, one for the elf and one for Aragorn.

So the gift giving continued. Sam received earth from Galadriel's orchard, and while the halfling was still stuttering his thanks, Galadriel turned to Gimli. She had no gift for him, but granted his request for a single strand of her golden hair three times over. Celeborn was surprised at the grace and eloquence with which the dwarf spoke, and the promise of peace between Mountain and Wood was not to be ignored.

Finally, Galadriel presented Frodo the Ringbearer with what was perhaps the most precious gift of all. The light of Eärendil, imprisoned within the waters of her fountain. Only then was Celeborven ven leave to lead the Company out onto the Tongue, to where the boats that would carry the travelers along the Celebrant's course awaited them.

Celeborn left before the boats were completely out of sight, anxious to return to Haldir's side. Had he remained, his eyes might have seen what the eyes of Galadriel and the other elves did not.

One member of the Company did not look back.

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Concluded.

A sequel will be forthcoming if enough people are interested.