Nienna

NIENNA

(See Prologue for standard disclaimer/author notes)


Chapter 2

Of Legend or Myth...

After receiving his orders from Lord Celeborn, a tall, powerful elf tread purposefully along the white-sanded shoreline. The frothy tide lapped against the supple leather of his tall, black knee boots, wetting the fine cord edging of the dark crimson cloak, flowing gracefully behind his massive body. Haldir was his given name. A great elven warrior known to many as the unwavering March Warden of the Golden Wood, the valiant Captain of the Galadhrim, and always the loyal and trustworthy servant to the two he treasured above all, the Lady of Light and her Lord.

With the midday sun behind him, the commanding figure of the Wood Commander quickly sought his three most reliable young charges to assist him in assembling the Lorien elves, and placing them in their appointed quarters in the palace's guest wing.

As soon as he neared the docking ramps, where only a short while before, he had first touched Cirana soil, he spotted his sentinels in the midst of an animated discussion. As he neared close enough to hear their chatter, for a moment, he stopped and frowned.

Yet, unawares, he continued to draw closer, shaking his head, his scowl only deepening. "Lord Celeborn has instructed us to get everyone settled in their quarters, Wardens, not to be mulling over the 'supposed'," emphasizing the word, "beauty of Princess Nienna."

Gasps and three guilty pairs of eyes suddenly turned toward him, wide and fearful.

"We were not mulling," Valin said, noticing Haldir's arched brow and crossed arms, he mumbled, "We were merely speculating."

Rolling his eyes, dropping his arms rigid to his sides, the March Warden replied curtly, "It is the same thing," his patience quickly waning. "Now, let us get everyone together and proceed to the royal palace at once. We have wasted enough time on this tired subject, and I would prefer to have all settled sometime before the eve of the first full moon," he grumbled, turning his attention to the visiting entourage, standing in several small huddles near the city's entry gates.

Thalos, Narien and Valin stared after his retreating form before glancing at each other smiling, and picking up their feet to follow. "Tell us, Haldir. Are you not the least bit curious to see the Snow Princess of Cirana?"

"No, Narien, I am not."

"Gandalf the Grey said that there were none which could compare. That she is as beautiful as the Lady and the Evenstar," Thalos said, stepping two paces back when the March Warden glowered at him, his lips pulled in a tight sneer.

Suddenly he stopped, turning to his wardens, snorting in disgust, his eyes, an angered stormy gray. He glared at them for dramatic pause, the corners of his mouth twitching, when finally, "How many times must I repeat myself?" Haldir drawled slowly and deliberately, "There are none fairer, or as fair, as the Lady of Light and the Evenstar. It is purely myth, and nothing more." Again, he started on his way, not waiting for a response.

Youthful and brazen, Valin's brow crinkled in confusion as he quickly fell back into step beside his captain. "But is Gandalf the Grey not to be taken seriously?" he asked in earnest, not yet fully realizing the thin layer of fortitude in which he tread upon. "He has seen her for himself, Haldir - with his very own two eyes. Surely he would not be mistaken."

"Oh?" the Warden smirked and slowed his hastened pace, amused, yet irked by the wardens' curiosities and persistence. He countered the young elves, clearly referring to the incessant drivel he had endured for the last three weeks of their journey there, "And did he turn to stone? Or did time stand still when he gazed into her eyes? No blaring trumpets sounded from the four corners of Middle Earth?" His ears met with silence, and once more, he halted in mid-stride, staring at the young charges as they brought up along side him again. Hard and challenging, his eyes scrutinized them until each looked away, shifting in the tracks of their footfalls, unable to meet the challenging icy gaze any longer.

Then, as if an afterthought might have occurred to him, he offered, "I will say this," and the abashed elves suddenly looked hopeful, "No doubt have I that she is beautiful - as are all elven maidens, but she is a princess and Lady of this isle," sweeping his arms outward. "Did it occur to either of you that she might take great insult to your discussing her person in such a disreputable manner? Not to mention the king himself?"

Again, the five humbled and lowered their faces, embarrassed and stewing over the March Warden's chiding, each turning to peer awkwardly at the guilty one beside him. "We are very sorry, Haldir. We truly meant no disrespect to the Ciranian King and his daughter," Thalos finally said and the other two agreed emphatically.

Haldir folded his arms across his broad chest, watching his three wardens, his face neutral and lackluster, unreadable as ever. "Very well, apology accepted, Wardens," he finally said, but as the younglings drew themselves back to their full heights, he coolly warned, "However, I want you each to think on this," punctuating such with his raised index finger, "Not often is it that King Cirdani welcomes visitors into his abode. For him to receive us is a great honor indeed," he said. "And as such, while we are here as distinguished guests of the King and his daughter, Princess Nienna, I will not have any of my charges disrespect her position as High Lady of this realm. No more such foolish rants and innuendo!" He turned to pace, clasping his hands behind his back. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Haldir," they answered.

************************

Across the hall from his Lord and Lady's apartment, he had been placed in an opulent suite used for visiting dignitaries - befitting of his own high station to the Lorien sovereigns as their emissary and sworn protector. Here in the closed confines of his rooms, Haldir finally afforded himself the opportunity to take a brief rest before preparations for dinner on the eve, the soft lull of the ocean called to him from the open terrace doors.

ectiecting his apartment, carrying in one hand a silver goblet of finely aged Ciranian wine, and a bowl of plump strawberries in the other, he wandered from the elegant sitting room to his bedchamber; this room, even more beautiful. Sitting the berries down, he sipped his wine, running his hand along the fine silken coverlet and soft pillows of the large feather bed. His body weary and needing rest, he found no will or intent to resist, sinking down on the billowy mattress, sighing and at last, closing his eyes. As he began to drift off, he laid his arm over his forehead to get more comfortable, noticing the salty grit that covered his skin and travel clothes with a dusty film. Groaning loudly, he pushed his tired body upright, quickly discovering the private bathing chamber and decided that cleaning the grime from his person took precedence over a short nap before dinner.

A good while later, he immerged freshly bathed and dressed. The water had rejuvenated him. Again, his eyes fell on the bed as he pondered his next course of action. On a small table near his pillow, he spied the goblet of half drunken wine, sticking his finger in the clear liquid to test its temperature and readiness to drink, satisfied it still held its crispness and flavor. He then plucked a strawberry into his mouth, savoring its tart burst of flavor, before washing it down with the fermented spirit.

From the open doors, a gentle gust of sea wind plundered inside from the terrace, whispering warmly against his sensitive skin, beckoning him to come.

Slipping out on the balcony, he leaned against the railing. The soft flowing breeze sifting through his damp hair like hundreds of tiny fingers, tingling and pulsating shivers ran the length of his spine. His eyes grew heavy. He peered back inside at his bed, once again contemplating a brief nap, but to his disappointment, the direction of the sun overhead told him that it was now late day, and no time left to meditate. Turning his attention back to the city, from where he stood, he could see a good part of Cirana, and its beautiful white marble palaces blanketing the hillside surrounding him, glowing like stars against the bright light of the sun. In the harbor, The Ardana sat alone and proud, a majestic vessel of richly hued wood and decoration, her standards billowing in the wind. He realized that its departed Queen had been as beloved by her realm as his own Lady was by the Golden Wood. A tinge of sadness suddenly filled him for the loss of the elven queen.

Chatter and a flurry of activity drew his eyes below. He could see that islander elves ascended into the courtyard in a steady stream and dispersed in several different directions, most inside the palace. Those that chose to linger outside around the many elegant statues and flower gardens, talked gaily amongst themselves. Though he could not hear their words over the rush of the ocean, it was plain to see their excited anticipation.

A small group of maidens had gathered close underneath him. Some peered up at him, smiling wantonly. He tipped his chin slightly to them, neither encouraging nor discouraging their brazenness. He turned his face away, hearing their excited peel of feminine laughter as he did.

The roar of the waves grew louder and more distinctive, and he could see that the tide was slowly making its way up the beach. With it, the wind grew closer to the city, carrying fresh salt air, mingled with dinner's various dishes of what he recognized immediately to be fresh venison and fish. Haldir inhaled deeply, crouching down lower, resting his elbows atop the railing, savoring his surroundings as he savored the fine wine in his hand.

The city was certainly different than that of the Golden Wood. It had a vastness to it that the forest did not, and unlike the compactness of the woods, Cirana was more spread open in appearance, even if, in truth, it was no greater than the reaching expanse of Lorien. Suddenly he found himself more relaxed and receptive to the stark change of the city from his own quiet wooded abode.

When a burst of female laughter reached his ears again, he withdrew from his reverie to notice that a number of his sentinels had entered into the courtyard, including Narien, Thalos and Valin. The she-elves stood in one circle watching the Lorien wardens closely, their hands hiding their mouths as they whispered and giggled. Every now and then, they boldly looked up toward him with their come-hither eyes. Seeing this, he shook his head in disinterest and loathing, retreating back inside to the privacy of his rooms, making note that he would have a talk with the younglings later about the politics of gentle discretion.

Gingerly, Haldir sat upon the canopied feather bed, marveling at its softness and rich textured bed coverings. He was tired. It was odd, he thought, that he could patrol the borders of his beloved land for weeks and months on end, without so much as breaking a stride, fighting any encroachments that dare to breach his walls, and yet, the journey to Cirana had greatly taxed him.

It was still a while before his services would be required. Maybe he did have time for a brief rest after all? Draining the last dregs of wine from the goblet and placing it on the bedside table, he hooked his toes onto the backs of his boots, sliding them off. Sighing as the cool air reached his tired feet, he turned and pushed his body up the mattress to lay his head on the pillow. For a few short moments he stared at the ceiling above him. It was so different than the airiness of his talan home with its rich coffer design and gold corded inlay trim; beautiful and pleasing to the eye, he had to admit, but it was cold and impersonal.

From the open balcony doors, lingering salty air reached his senses on the gentlest of winds. Void the quietness of the forest, the waves crashing into the shore grew steadily louder with the incoming tide - as did the maiden laughter, now mixed with the unmistakable mirth's of his warriors. He groaned inwardly. A long stay it would be, he dreadfully reminded himself, already missing The Wood and his brothers.

As his body slowly relaxed and became heavier, his thoughts settled on the earliest memories of his life, as it often did right before the last edgings of slumber claimed him.

Orphaned as a young sapling elf when his father was mortally wounded during an orc raid on his company's way to Rivendell, and thus, his mother's departure soon afterwards of a grief stricken heart. Haldir and his two younger brothers, Orophin, born a mere decade after the March Warden, and Rumil, the youngest by only two decades passing, became the foster sons of the Lord and Lady of Light.

As the eldest of the three siblings, responsibility had been heaped on Haldir from an early age, though true to his dedicated and loyal nature, he never rebutted nor complained. The loss of their parents had been difficult for all three elflings, despite the nurturing love given to them by the Lord and Lady. But it had been most trying for Haldir. His memories more deeply rooted and vivid than that of his two younger siblings, still lingered heavily in his mind. He had been father, mother, older brother, friend, mentor, punisher and protector. In turn, the weight of such responsibility hardened him, making him aloof and cold, detached and distant, and arrogant and haughty. However, thick skinned, he was not. His feelings, not indifferent than his deemed, more sensitive brothers, he felt loneliness, tribulation and despair, though his sense of duty and loyalty to those he loved and cherished prevented showing such weaknesses. He had been the strong one, even at the expense of his own contentment.

Slowly all sounds around him became hollow and distant - the last bright sun rays settled over the watery horizon, tinting the sky in calming grayish blues, soft pinks and lavenders, the onslaught of nightfall would soon be upon them. The light dimmed from his ever changing eyes, and Haldir felt the all too familiar, calming and yet, unnerving feeling of his body releasing itself into the heavy hands of a soft meditative sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tiny, elegant fingers reached for him, but yet never touched his skin, drawn to his person for another less apparent reason. His breath stilled in his lungs, and he fought to control the tremors rising through him. In her, he saw all of his dreams suddenly shape and take form, lifting off in glorious, enraptured flight.

No words did she speak, nor could he see her face. But the familiarity of her stunned him into freakish submission. She held her arms out to him, beckoning him to her, and he gladly obliged. Tears fell across his hands, swept from her face, a badge of her pain and despair, and to him, she bore them proudly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Outside in the entry hall, all came to attention and stood at their assigned positions as the Cirana party entered with a flourish of pomp and pageantry.

Surrounded by a maddening swirl of nobility, the elf lord stood tall in stature, as tall as the March Warden of Lorien, though his royal body made him lither, much less bulky, he emitted the very epitome of regal elegance. His dark hair swept behind him as he approached, falling about his shoulders and far down his back - the front strands woven through a silver circlet, clearly indicating his imperial status. Robes of rich royal blue encased him in a flurry of heavy velvet and silk, while his leggings and knee boots, onyx black, clapped against the floor in his hastened pace.

From his vantage point beside his Lord and Lady, Haldir watched with his usual scrutiny and expressionless face as King Cirdani neared. Though the king smiled appropriately enough, per the March Warden's observation, he was clearly aggrieved and in a foul temper.

With precise movement, mighty lord reached up and gave his outermost robe a quick jerk with his right hand, the hand in which he donned a silver crest ring, and with a slight clack, across his chest, swung a heavy jeweled chain. His attention fell to his Lothlorien guests, his eyes, a vivid green, could not hide his ill mood. As they fell on Haldir's per lustrate stare, they clouded and seemed to grow even harder, but he did not linger there.

Seeking first Galadriel, standing to her husband's left, the king smiled warmly, his gaze losing its edge as he enclosed her proffered hand in his own, kissing its delicate topside. His hand then swept to his heart and he tilted his head slightly in greeting to Lord Celeborn, who repeated the gesture in kind. Always the consummate host, he asked his esteemed guests if their accommodations were sufficient, to which they both responded very favorably.

Finding his view obscured, Haldir, who stood beside his Lord, craned his neck slightly to see the figure that stood slightly behind the King, already knowing it was Princess Na. a. All at once, the flood of drivel from his young sentinels came to mind, and he found himself anxious to see her face - to see for himself if the rumors were indeed true, though he knew they could not possibly be. There were none to even compare to Lady Galadriel rwenrwen Undomiel. It was pure folly!

Conversation around him died and he could only hear his thoughts and the pounding of his heart, racing wildly in his chest. Galadriel suddenly turned toward him with an odd expression on her fair face. Somewhere in his mind, his Lady's interest disturbed him. He nevertheless remained in his foggy stupor - until he heard a familiar voice in his thoughts, 'The moment of truth has arrived, my dearest March Warden.'

To clear his mind, Haldir shook his head and turned to meet the Lady's gaze, but she had already diverted her undivided attention back to the Ciranian Royalty. Her 'spoken' words filled the room harmoniously, as only she could, "Ah, Princess Nienna, I have been most eager to meet you, my dear."

Anticipation continued to mount in a fevered heat deep within the March Warden's being, as he listened next to Lord Celeborn's greeting of the royal maiden. "Your beauty is legendary among our Lorien kin, Princess Nienna," he said, placing a kiss upon her hand, before moving a steckwackward, and at last, Haldir could see.

Lost in the muddle of it all, the Golden Wood captain and protector stood dumbfounded and speechless, like a green youngling. Before him stood the fairest of the fair! If he had thought the Evenstar's raven tresses beautiful, he stood corrected and completely mesmerized. Like her father's dark as night, silky locks flowed down her shoulders and back, well past her hips, in sweeping tendrils, accenting the color of her skin, creamy and glowing with sun-kissed warmth. Surely his own eyes deceived him!?

Her expression was subdued, yet completely proper, first falling to the Lady, then to the Lord. She released her father's arm to pick up the folds of her skirted gown, the cool glinting shade of mithril. Careful of her jeweled headdress, she bowed in a graceful curtsy, holding her stance for only a moment before straightening. As she drew upwards, her penetrating gaze flitted on Haldir...

Full, rose colored lips tilted upwards in a guarded smile, not quite distorting the smoothness of her checks, or the creases of her eyes - eyes, he noted, though still held captivated deep under her bewitching spell, were the hue of freshly chipped emeralds, another trait inherited from her father. Only for a brief moment did she acknowledge him, but it was enough to boil him over.

A distinctive masculine voice drew Haldir's attention. It had a certain lilt to it. It was King Cirdani speakinghis his daughter. "Yes, she is very beautiful, as only could she be. She is the image of her mother," he said. Disconcerted, the March Warden suddenly realized he had not heard a word spoke - not until that very moment. He was rattled, and could feel the heat of Galadriel's eyes burning into the sif hif his head, though he remained outwardly indifferent.

"Oh, my Lord Cirdani!" a feminine shrill fed through the crowd of nobles,e fee festivities are absolutely magical!"

Haldir's eyes fell back on the princess when he heard her soft groan. Following her eyes, he discovered the source of this new voice. It was an elf maiden walking demurely toward the royal family. Haldir guessed her to be no older than the princess in years, but by the way she carried herself, much more mature in life experience. As she neared, she stopped at the king's side, almost directly in front of the March Warden. She glanced appraisingly at him from under long, batting lashes.

King Cirdani, who appeared most pleased with the arrival of the elf maiden, quickly introduced her to the Lord and Lady, his hand roaming causally fresh to her hip, drawing easy circles with his index finger. Haldir frowned as she looked at him again; her countenance greatly annoyed him.

As the soft aromas of the nightinneinner grew stronger, King Cirdani decided it was time to usher his guests into the dining hall. The royal procession began ilteilter toward the entry. The noble she-elf, Valkana, hooked her arm boldly though king's. "Would my King care to escort an unattended lady into the hall, as is only proper?" the strumpet asked, looking at the king hopefully through a toothy grin and crinkled eyes.

The March Warden began to shift his feet nervously, knowing that should the kacceaccept Valkana's offer, leaving the Princess without correct escort, then he, as a lone male elf and next highest ranking, w be be expected to walk her forward.

Clearly vexed, though she remained quiet throughout the whole exchange, Nienna watched her father intently, waiting for him to decline the maiden's bold request, and at that moment, another thought occurred to Haldir - only this, a horrible thought; should the king abjure the offer, then that would leave only him escort the noble minx. Shuddering inwardly, he held his breath.

Soon the decision was made when the king covered Valka han hand with his own, tucking her arm more securely through his. The princess drew a sharp incensed breath, and Valkana seemed to erupt in a grating peel of giggles when the king bent to whisper in her ear, turned her toward the dining hall - but not before realizing his daughter still stood rooted in her shoes, without proper escort.

Nienna glared at her father, yet nevertheless she remained quiet, and when it finally seemed to dawn on him - his foolish error, he wasa loa loss as to how to tactfully correct his mistake.

Tension grew between the two like the fires of Mount Doom, until finally, the Lady suggested, "My Captain may escort the Princess, Cirdani." Gladriel then turned once more to Haldir, smiling sweetly - and knowingly.

The king thought on this for a moment, unsure, then he too smiled, and replied, "If it pleases my daughter, then it would please me, Milady."

And Nienna, though she hid her feelings well, for a split second looked on her father in mortified anger and shock before quickly regaining her royal composure. Instead, she merely tipped her head, and looked toward the Lorien March Warden expectantly. "It would please me most," she said.