Arcane Dark

“Ah, so you have awakened,” the richly resonant voice intoned from behind him.

Haldir turned sharply, his hand instinctively upon his belted weaponry.

“Who are you?” he barked sharply, forgetting his manners in an effort to defend himself.

Exactly who or what he was defending himself from, he was not certain…nor did he care at the moment. Things were far too confusing and he was far too hungry to act rationally.

The elegantly robed figure stepped forward, the light of the hazy afternoon sun glinting off the jeweled circlet upon his head.

Haldir’s eyes widened in surprise, his fingers falling limply around the hilt of his scimitar. “Lord Elrond?” he stammered, the shadow of the massive oak door obscuring his view.

“No, Haldir. . .I am afraid that I am not your Lord Elrond,” the voice said, closer now than perhaps the March Warden would have liked. “I am the Kerne, my friend. You may simply call me Aeson for now if you wish.”

Blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. This was not a title that Haldir was familiar with. “Kerne?” he repeated, his tongue tripping over the unfamiliar word.

Another step closer. Haldir growled in much the manner of a feral animal, his lip curling into a snarl as he backed away, hands gripping the carved hilts of his twin swords once more.

“What is it that you want with me?” the March Warden growled. “Lord Celeborn will send the Galadhrim and you shall not live to see the light of the next dawn, I assure you.” The fingers curled dangerously around the blade’s handle once more, the wicked gleam of metal glinting keenly as the weapon came into full view followed by it’s brother, the points of both clearly marking a destination for Aeson’s throat. “I suggest that you release me. . .”

“Calm yourself, Haldir,” the dark haired ruler commanded the bristling Galadhrim.

The Elf was not going to make this easy on him and as much as Aeson loathed to use magick against him, it seemed the only defense available. Murmuring an enchantment in Gaelic, he waved his hand and with a simple flick of his wrist, the weaponry flew from the Elf’s clutching fingers and embedded itself into the nearest wall with a resounding thunk.

Far more startled than actually frightened, the March Warden backed himself into the nearest corner, crouching low, muscles coiled for a deadly spring if necessary.

“Coward!” the cornered Elf snarled vehemently. “You would use sorcery against me rather than your own strength!”

“Nay, Haldir. I wish only to speak with you if you would but listen,” Aeson said. “But not at the risk of having my throat slit.”

“I have no need for a blade,” Haldir snapped. “I shall strangle you with my bare hands!”

With a cry of outrage, the Elf sprang, hands at the ready to do exactly as he had foretold, but the fingers met only with empty air and the valiant attempt ended with a rather ungraceful dive onto the rug covered floor, sliding across the ornate tapestry on his belly and nearly into the adjoining wall.

Grunting with indignation, he rolled onto his side only to find the calm visage of the dark ruler regarding him with a rather amused air.

“Wizard’s trickery,” muttered Haldir.

A hand was extended towards him in an offering to help him right himself, but the March Warden ignored it, pushing himself upon hands and knees instead, glaring balefully at the looming figure all the while.

“I do not wish to harm you, Haldir of Lorien. Only to speak with you,” the man said again much to Haldir’s utter annoyance, for Haldir certainly wished to harm him regardless of his intent!

“So, speak then. . .” Haldir said, his voice calmer yet pitched with aggravation as he dusted the fine layer of newly acquired grime from the borrowed breeches.

Aeson took a seat upon one of the ornately carved chairs, his robes rustlingvilyvily. “I am afraid I am the bearer of rather trying news, Haldir,” he began. “You are no longer within the realm that you once knew, but rather, have crossed over into my own via a mistake by my apprentice, the Mage known as Keltcher. However, lievlieve that your coming here was no mere coincidence, my friend. Indeed, I am certain that it has a purpose, as do all things within the Great Realm of Existence.”

The March Warden cocked his head to one side. The man’s words made no sense. What did he mean “crossed over”? How was pos possible? Quite simply, it was not. Surely, this was some manner of new trickery meant to lure him into a false sense of. . .

“This is no trick, I assure you,” Aeson added as if reading his thoughts. “I speak only the truth and you are more than welcome to find out for yourself if my words bear the weight of reality. You need only step into the light. . .”

More riddles. What nonsense! This fool had partaken of too much wine. . .or too much sweetgrass. He was deluded. . .incoherently babbling. He must be!

Pushing past the wing-backed chair, Haldir stalked to the nearest window, hands gripping the stone edged rim as he leaned into the fragrance of the afternoon air. Unfamiliarity assuaged his questing senses. The trees. . .they did not whisper in the same tongue. . .the wind, it did not carry with it a single recognizable scent. . .and the rising moon. . .

Haldir squinted. Ithil did not look to be herself. . .it was almost as if there were two of. . .Elbereth help him, there were!

“By the Valar!” Haldir fairly shouted, stumbling away from the view, reeling from the image.

His head swam with disillusion, unable to grasp the conception of just what had transpired. It was not possible!

Suddenly, the room seemed considerably smaller. . . confining, the air stifling and thick. Nausea twisted his gut into agony as he gripped the nearest piece of furniture to steady himself.

A kind hand descended upon his shoulder, grounding him back into the reality of the moment.

“This will take some time, I know,” the gentle voice said. “But when your time here is finished, Existence Herself shall find a way to help you. . . but for now, it is best that you rest and settle your mind with the comfort of food and drink.”

The free hand gestured to the wall beside where the March Warden stood. “And Tala has mended your cape. It is most important to you.”

Haldir’s gaze followed the sweeping hand. The cloak was clean and seemingly untouched without a stain of blood or filth marring its dark surface. How had the man known what symbolism it held to him?

“You are a seer of sorts,” Haldir observed, fingering the coarse wool of the cloak absently as he draped its familiar weight around his shoulders.

“One could put it that way, yes. . .” Aeson mused rather elusively as he rose to his feet. “You will join us in the main dining hall, then?”

Haldir adjusted the hood of his cape so that his flowing tresses would not gather within its confines.

“Yes,” he agreed.

A glowing sphere of blue appeared within the left hand of the Kerne which he set before Haldir, the ball of light hanging in mid air.

“Excellent,” he said. “Tell the Air Spirit where you wish to go. It shall lead you through the corridors without incident.”

Haldir’s eyes followed the dancing swirl of blue as it flickered before him, reaching instinctively to touch the enticing shimmer of light.

A firm grip descended upon his wrist, drawing it away sharply. “Do not seek to touch the Air Spirit, Haldir, for they have quite a nasty disposition when addled by those unskilled in magickal arts. And apparently, some possess teeth as well!”

Casting the ruler a curious glance, Haldir mouthed, “teeth?!” before withdrawing curled fingers, unconsciously assessing all five digits to make certain they were still intact.

Aeson quirked a brow. “You have much to learn.”

* * * * * * *

“I do not see why he must dine with us,” Keltcher grumbled as a servant set a glass of wine before him. “Can someone not feed him in his chambers?”

“He’s not a dog, Keltcher,” Tala said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “And he needs to eat. There’s no reason why he can’t join us.”

Keltcher muttered a curse in Pictish, earning him a smarting slap across the forearm.

“Knock it off, asshead,” Tala warned. “Behave yourself.”

“Stop hitting me as if I am one of your pet wolves!” Keltcher snapped, rubbing his stinging limb gingerly.

“Then stop acting like one!”

“Silence, the both of you!” Aeson commanded, stopping the pair in mid insult. “Haldir is welcome in my home and you will both make him feel as such. He shall join us whenever he wishes and you will accommodate him. Do I make myself infinitely clear?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Tala murmured in chastened tone.

Keltcher merely grunted with a brief nod.

“Good,” Aeson sighed much in the manner of a parent weary of his children’s quarrels. “By the Goddess, how you tax my patience at times.”

Tala poked Keltcher beneath the table with the toe of one booted foot and glared at him.

This is your fault, her gaze clearly read.

He pinched her thigh. Hard.

The heel of the boot was about to grind into the toe of his own, but she was brought up short by the sight that stood suddenly before them.

Haldir appeared in the doorway of the dining hall clad in the thick, velvety tunic that hung seductively across his hips, the leather belt that secured the twin daggers across his waist slung low and tight. Generous slits on both sides afforded a view of his snug black breeches and the contours of the muscles ben the the soft leather. Although as tall as Keltcher and equally graceful, the Elven archer was visibly larger in stature, his shoulders and chest broader, causing the curvature of his body to accentuate the slim waist and muscular legs that were not as typical of what little knowledge Tala had of Elves. The icy blue of the material appeared to almost blend with Haldir’s flowing silvery locks in the low lit candle light of dining area, sharpening the planes and angels of his face more so than Tala had ever noticed them to be when he had been in less than presentable condition. The familiar dark red cape that she had carefully mended billowed behind him as he approached the table, head high, gaze unflinchingly calm. Until this moment, Haldir’s full beauty had escaped her notice, but now, it was glowingly apparent with every footfall of his graceful stride. Unconsciously, Tala wet her lips with a single stroke of her tongue, silently praying that the Elf was paying her gaping stare no mind.

Keltcher, however, more than noticed. Since he had found Tala, she had shown no desire for the carnal lust of the flesh. She simply had no need for it, she had said. It was a hindrance to her and one that she had sought to suppress for many centuries until it was, in fact, quite dormant. Thusly, her abilities in certain areas had increased ten fold where Keltcher’s had remained at a level of struggle at best. Aeson had often said that if Keltcher could master the desires of his flesh, that the desires of his mind would soon follow and this was when true magickal arts began. It was most infuriating. Keltcher’s need for physicality ran quite deep and he indulged it more often than he cared to admit. But it was that which he wanted most that eluded his grasp.

“Ah, so you have found your way!” Aeson said, smiling most grandly. “Come, sit!”

The Elf looked hesitant. . .out of place, his gaze carefully studying the faces of those seated as if examining their motives.

Aeson stood, inclining a hand towards Keltcher. “This is my apprentice, Keltcher, and to his left is the lovely Tala, a healer gifted with other. . .talents. And to my right. . .”

Haldir’s gaze locked with the one called Keltcher, the rest of Aeson’s introduction’s fading. The man’s stare was clearly challenging. . .almost threatening. Haldir drew himself up with a lofty lift of the chin, unintimidated by the other’s glare. He would not posture with a stranger.

Especially an apprentice to the one who. . .

**You are no longer within the realm that you once knew, but rather, have crossed over into my own via a mistake by my apprentice, the Mage known as Keltcher.**

Aeson's words resounding within his mind. . .

Haldir’s eyes narrowed slightly. So, this was the one who had caused this incident and taken him from his homeland. Mistake or no, his dislike for the man suddenly grew three fold, especially when he put a hand upon the woman at his side in what was clearly a claiming gesture.

The March Warden almost snorted aloud. As if he would seek to steal the man’s mate before his very eyes! With a practiced stare of indifference, he regarded the woman quickly.

She was dressed in garments the likes of which he had never seen. . . the bottoms resembling some manner of soft leather breeches without laces and the top. . .well. . . that was another matter entirely. It flowed like a tunic yet clung like a second skin. And it was shiny. Like metal. Red metal.

Her dark hair was pulled away from her head by something resembling a rather chubby length of gathered vine, save the fact for the hue exactly matched her shirt. And then, there were the earrings. Long, dangly. . .made of. . .something light. . .sparkling. . .like mithril. . .perhaps it was some manner of gold. . .but paler.

She regarded him as well and he found himself almost blatantly staring back in surprise. Her eyes. Ferally yellow-gold. Like those of a cat. Or a wolf.

This was no mere mortal. . .

For a mere moment, his eyes fluttered closed. . .

He saw. . .he saw. . .


***The grass was cool beneath her feet. . .the air….scented with the thrill of the chase. . .her blood, pounding in her veins. . .everything so alive. . .so vibrant. . .so. . .***

“Do have a seat, Haldir. We shall begin dining quite soon.”

And then, as quickly as it had come. . .the vision dissipated into the mists of his mind.

Much to Keltcher’s utter disgust, Aeson motioned to the seat between himself and Tala. The Celt grunted. He did not wish the Elf to be so close. . .

Haldir shifted his belt so that the scimitars it housed would not knock and rattle against the ornately carved chair and took a seat beside Tala. The archer winced slightly as his still bruised shoulders brushed against the back of the chair, forcing him to sit up a bit straighter to avoid contact with the wood.

“Are you in pain, Haldir?” Aeson asked, his voice tinged with concern. “I can have my healers give you something for it if you wish.”

“No,” the archer said a bit stiffly. “I am fine.”

“Your appetite has returned then?” Aeson asked as the chalice before him was filled once more.

”Only vaguely,” Haldir admitted,t I t I know that I must eat in order to speed my healing.”

Although Haldir’s outward appearance and composure boasted of elegant tranquility, Tala knew the archer carried himself in such a manner partially to conceal his many cuts and bruises as well as to present an air of control and well-being. None of this served to delude her into believing that Haldir felt as he looked. She had not healed him completely. Something within the Elf would not allow it.

“You are the healer?” Haldir asked, interrupting her mental assessment of his condition.

**Grass. . .so lush, so green. The wind. . so fragrant. . .thrilling….urgent. . .***


“Yes,” she said.

He paused for a moment and she could have sworn that he sniffed her as if to confirm an unspoken suspicion.

“You have my thanks,” he said sincerely, bowing his head once.

“Ah, it was nothing,” she said dismissively with a wave of her hand. “Happens all the time.”

His head cocked to one side most quizzically. “It does?”

“Well, no. . .not really. I mean, it’s not like tall pale dudes just fall out of the sky everyday with major battle wounds,” she replied with a laugh.

“Tall, pale. . .dudes?” His gaze grew even more confused. “What is this. . .’dude’?”

“You’re a dude. . .dude. . .” she said, poking him in the chest with one finger.

The pale brow furrowed. “And what does this make you?”

She shrugged. “A chick, of course.”

“Chick?” he repeated. He did not see any feathers on her. . .at least, none that were visible.

But then again. . .

From across the table, Aeson chuckled.

Keltcher looked less than amused.

“I guess I’ll have to teach you some lingo, Haldir,” she said. “Can’t have you wondering what the hell I’m saying all day long, now can I?”

One brow arched. “Indeed not.”

Before conversation could progress further, the meal arrived. Talk turned to lighter things, of things that Haldir did not understand and lands he did know, yet he listened with interest and just a bit of sadness, for the realization of his predicament was suddenly beginning to dawn upon him. Haldir engaged in very little conversation, mostly listening to the tales of others rather than telling his own. He feasted upon the roast boar and honeyed mead that was offered with a relish he had forgotten he possessed. At least the food was somewhat familiar.

Aeson sensed that he still had yet to embrace the reality of almost losing his life in battle as well as witnessing the loss of the lives of so many of his brethren. In fact, the archer showed very little emotion at all other than a calm pleasantry that Aeson felt certain he feigned as well as he covered his pain and sickness. But Aeson knew it festered in his heart. . . and that was troubling. Release of such feelings could quite possibly speed his healing dramatically, but he dared not suggest such a soul bearing act to the Elf just yet. If ever.

It was not his place, but rather the place of a skilled healer.

Soon. . .

Just what part the Elf had to play in trandrand scheme of Existence was a mystery to him, but as he watched the archer study those around him, he noticed that his gaze fell upon Tala more than once. He studied her. Watched her.

Could he see her for what she was? Even Keltcher had not known for all the years that he had been bound to her. None knew of it but Aeson. He had seen it firsthand more than once before even Tala herself fully understood what was happening to her.

But Aeson knew. . .

Even as he watched them, he could see the Elf was already fighting it. It confused him as it had once sought to befuddle Aeson.

Until he had seen it. . .

Haldir watched her eat.


**The grass was so soft. . .the water, so cool. . .**


Haldir blinked and shook his head, setting the chunk of roasted boar between his fingers down. The animal was cooked and thoroughly, but the rich, ripe taste of fresh warm blood was upon his tongue. . .

* * * * * * * * * TO BE CONTINUED....