Haunted

Disclaimer: I wrote this strictly for my own enjoyment and will receive no monetary compensation. All elves and Middle Earth belong to Tolkien. However, the OFC in this story belongs to me
Warnings: None in this Chapter
Cast: Thandronen/OFC, Haldir, Ferevellon, Fereveldir
Timeline: Sometime in the midpart of the Third Age

Chapter 3 - A Dinner Guest

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley?
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in fields of gold
----Fields of Gold - Sting


The purple-blue haze of the night was silent. A few stars twinkled through wispy shreds of clouds and winked at him sympathetically. Sly whispers from the wheaten grasses as they moved touched by a vagrant wind were echoed by the mocking rasps of the trees across the small stream. Thandronen's eyes darted everywhere searching and found not a trace of the small female. Not even the dew where she'd stood was disturbed. Elves walked lightly and would leave no tracks that could be detected by others but none of the Firstborn could pass and not disturb the wetness that the coated the grass. "Where is she?" he murmured to his horse in irritation. "Or did I take a harder hit to the skull than I thought? Did I dream her?" No answer was forthcoming from the animal and another look at the hairline scar on its leg convinced him she had not been the figment of a addled mind.

The horse nickered softly. It shifted its weight from one hind hoof to the other and shoved him with its rump. It knocked him a little off balance and he patted it absently his eyes still seeking some trace of her passage. It returned to its grazing. Thandronen blew out a disgusted breath and stalked back to his camp. He rounded the sloping wall of tumbled gray stone with his thoughts still occupied with the elusive elleth.

She was sitting in the middle of his blanket.

The elf hesitated but a moment before continuing his predatory stride. She sat with his cup in her hands, rolling it between her palms. A surly look spoiled the beauty of her features and he was not left long to wonder at her thoughts. "I have not touched your wine." The darkly glittering eyes reflecting the fire found his. "The name 'thief' does not sit well with me though I have sometimes been forced into that role. I do swear to you I have taken nothing unless I was in great need and only then from those who could spare it." Her lashes dropped, "I ran out of things to barter long ago."

Sudden understanding gave him pause and stilled the acid comment on his tongue. His careless jest had been misunderstood and he had damaged her pride - a sensitive and prickly pride by the looks of it. And trapped out here alone for who knows how long, what else did she have but her pride? Saying nothing he added more wood to the fire and moved around it to sit beside her. When she would have gotten up he grasped her wrist to still her and almost released it in his shock. Soft and delicately boned beneath his grip, it was as smooth and as chill as the blue veined marble that made the columns in Lord Elrond's entry hall.

When she settled with a small huff he picked up the wineskin. She held out the cup but instead of taking it from her he covered her small icy hand - Valar it was cold! - with his larger warmer one to steady it. He poured a measure of wine into the cup. "Drink," he said. "I find it a little sweeter than I care for but you may like it." The sullenness vanished, replaced by a shy expression he could not decipher.

Pulling the disputed game hen to him, he unwrapped it as he watched her from the corner of his eye. She scrutinized the wine and giving it a cautious sniff she dipped a finger in it and took a taste. The pink tip of her tongue touched the corner of her mouth catching a wayward drop and he suddenly found the fire a little warm. He shook his head once chiding himself. He needed to focus on his hands. Slipping a dagger from his left boot - one he kept there for just this purpose - he dismembered the bird into manageable pieces then pushed it in front of her.

"It is little enough payment for what you have done for my horse," he answered the question on her face. She wavered but a breath or two before seizing a wing. It was soon stripped clean of its meat as she methodically picked it apart in bite-sized pieces. Watching her leisurely progress, piece by piece with unhurried movements, he was nonetheless struck by a sense of her urgency. "How long has it been since last you ate?" he wondered aloud. Her only response was a pause in her chewing. She gave him a quick smile before sipping the wine and taking another bite.

Thandronen continued ruefully, "If there is anything you can do for me I would greatly appreciate it. If you still have a mind to that is." Where was his caution? He pushed all thoughts of warning aside.

The smile she turned on him this time was blinding in its brilliance. "Oh, I do not mind at all." She set down the half eaten leg.

"No, finish eating. I can wait for a bit yet." She sighed in obvious pleasure and pulled off another bite and popped it into her mouth. "Perhaps then you will tell me who you are and what keeps you here."

She giggled at this and he was charmed by the dimple's reappearance. "You trust me without knowing who I am?" The elf raised a brow. Was the wine affecting her?

"I trust my instincts. They have served me well throughout the years."

"And your instincts tell you I am not dangerous?

He stirred the fire and watched it flare. He snorted, "Now that, I did not say."

With a sigh of obvious regret, she laid the last of the bones on the tiny heap. Her eyes half closed in bliss she sucked the grease from her thumb. Thandronen stared at the remains of the hen for a moment before tossing them into the fire. If there was more than a memory of meat clinging to those bones, he'd be surprised. He poured more wine into the cup and offered it to her. She shook her head so he took a sip himself. "I watched you sleep," she said softly. "I do not think you are at all dangerous," she offered generously.

Thandronen nearly choked on the wine. She continued, "I liked watching you sleep. I think you are very pretty." This time he did strangle. She took the cup from him and sat it down. A worried frown creased her forehead and leaning forward she peered into his face. "Are you well?"

He coughed and sputtered and his broken ribs, forgotten in the moment, made themselves viciously known. "No," he said, "You are killing me." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them and before she could blink he grabbed her arm. "I was not serious. Do not leave!" he wheezed. At last he was able to take a breath without coughing and looked at her. "I will be fine," he assured her and warily let her go.

Instead of withdrawing she leaned closer still and her faint spicy slightly floral scent filled his nostrils. Thandronen heard a night bird call and the pop and crackle of the fire as her eyes seemed to light on every part of his face studying and memorizing. He studied her in turn noticing the feathery fringe of dark lashes, the small, straight nose, and the fullness of her lower lip. He drew a breath and she closed the distance, pressing her lips to his. It was a soft kiss, simple in its sweetness and made no demands. When she broke away he found he was not ready for it to be over and followed her to capture her mouth, lifting his hand to cradle the back of her head. Molding his mouth to hers for several heartbeats he forced himself to break away.

"Forgive me. I did not mean to do that."

She sat back on her heels and gave him a quizzical look. "Well, I meant to and I liked it very much. But," she shrugged thin shoulders, "I guess that you did not." Before he could deny it, she went on, "No matter. I think we had best get you mended."

"What must I do?"

"If you will, lie down as you were when first I found you. I must touch the injury." She looked around and eyes alighting on the saddle pointed to it and said, "Why not prop yourself against that? And it is easier if I can touch the wound directly." Thandronen carefully stripped off his bulkier outer tunic finding that it was definitely more painful to stretch his arms overhead. Helpful hands aided him in removing it. She folded it carefully and held its warmth against her cheek for a moment as though reveling in the rough touch of the woolen fabric before laying it aside.

He gingerly eased himself down. The elf stretched out squirming a bit trying to make himself as comfortable as he could. "Will this take long?"

Kneeling beside him she carefully lifted and folded back the lighter under tunic. "It will take as long as it takes," was her softly distant response. She examined the large dark purple and blue abraded area on the left side of his midriff and made a compassionate hum in the back of her throat. She shot him a look, "I am sorry for this hurt."

"I've had worse," he grunted.

Sympathy touched her features. "I am sorry for those as well," she murmured. "I do not like to think of you suffering." The muscles of his stomach contracted when her chilled fingers brushed the skin. "Oh, I forgot!" She cupped her hands before her face and blew gently on them.

This time when she touched him the hands were warm. Thandronen tried not to let his astonishment show; a simple breath should not warm up frigid fingers that quickly. He held himself steady as she gently probed. One hand finally settled, fingers spread and palm flat, against the point of greatest discomfort.

She took a deep steadying breath and her lashes drooped veiling her eyes. "Be at ease, this will not hurt."

The glow of her golden skin intensified until she was shining brightly yet it did not so dazzle his eyes that he had to turn his head away. There was a sweeping downward motion of from her shoulder. The glow took form, rippling and flowing to her elbow before separating into tiny strands to creep towards her wrist. Thandronen felt his mouth drop open. They looked akin to the tiny web of roots found on flowering lavender harebell when pulled from the soft loam of its bed. The tiny threads covered the back of her hand and crept down her fingers. Just before they touched his skin he sucked in an apprehensive breath, shrinking from those little radiant questing tips.

Her lashes swept up at that and a corner of her mouth lifted. His misgivings increased when her strangely glittering eyes caught his in a gleeful gaze.

"*Come with me.*"

Her lips did not move. The words were not spoken yet Thandronen heard them as clearly as if she had voiced them quietly into his ear. He felt himself yanked into a falling slide, feeling much like when his horse slipped and spilled him down the ravine. Only this time there were no sharp stones to gouge and rip and bruise. His arms (What arms?) flailed for balance, which provoked an amused response. "*Cease struggling. I have you.*” He was firmly gripped and steadied.

A wall of pale tan was rushing towards him. Instinctively he squeezed his eyes shut and threw his arms across his face to shield it bracing himself for the coming impact. The jarring collision did not occur. Instead he felt like he was sinking into water and their headlong flight had slowed considerably. He opened his eyes (Where were his eyes? How was he seeing this?) and found himself surrounded by fibrous red roots. Thandronen's wondering eyes watched them part, revealing a long ribbon of white; they looked like curved logs or the tusks of an oliphant. Two appeared to have suffered damage; one was just cracked but the other one was splintered and a jagged edge pressed into a spongy sack below. It was with some shock that Thandronen recognized his own broken ribs.

They stopped and 'hovered' over the shattered one. How he knew this he did not know but she seemed to be considering. "*This one first. Can you take a deep breath and hold it as long as you can for me when I tell you to? *"Somewhere he felt himself nod. She began casting golden webs between the edges coating the interior. "*Now!*" Ignoring the brittle stabs of pain he inhaled deeply. Inflating his lungs as much as he could he watched in fascination as the jagged edges nearly met. "*A little more - Good!*" A thin lasso of gold mesh whipped out and around the section of broken bone and pulled it into place away from the spongy bag he now assumed was his lung. Tossing more luminous nets absorbed by the bone the break was rapidly mended. Critically she surveyed her work before giving him her approval, “*Slowly let your breath out.*" Gratefully, Thandronen cautiously exhaled feeling very little discomfort.

His perspective shifted and again he felt that curiously 'hovering' sensation as though he was suspended over the other cracked rib. "*This time breathe in slowly until I ask you to stop. Ready?*” At his nod she continued, "*Breathe. A little more - Hold it!*” Gossamer threads floated down and wrapped themselves around the rib. "*Done! You can breathe now.*"

Thandronen inhaled tentatively and was delighted at the near absence of pain. "*I will send you back now. I have a little more to do. I wish to take care of this bruising.*” Blinking rapidly he realized he was back in his body. (Had he ever left it?)

She still knelt by his side, lost in her work of healing. Her eyes were unfocused as she peered inward. The elf shifted his gaze downwards and had to stifle a sudden qualm. The hand she'd so gently laid on his injured ribs was joined to his own flesh with tiny threads as though she'd sprouted roots. He kept himself very still and as he watched the bruises faded and the abrasions vanished.

A sudden gasp and her glow diminished. The golden threads dissolved and she sat with her hand pressed to her forehead. A pleased sigh escaped her lips and she smiled at him. "How do you feel?"

Thandronen stood and took several deep breaths considering his condition. He savored the freedom from the nagging aches and pains that dogged him for the last day and he noticed he felt remarkably fit and invigorated. "I feel wonderful. I cannot thank you enough." Laughing he went down on one knee and cupping her face in his hands pressed a kiss to her lips. Clapping her hands together, she beamed at his enthusiasm. The captain focused on her with a renewed clarity as he tucked her hair behind her pointed ear.

Her oddly pointed ear. An ear whose tip was sharper than any of the Firstborn and that swirled slightly forward. Perplexed he drew back and caught the gaze of her glittery eyes - eyes that sparkled with faceted glints. Eyes so dark they appeared to be pieces of the night sky and shimmered like cut gems. Her smile faltered at the expression on his face.

"What manner of creature are you?" his voice sounded strangely hollow to his own ears. He got to his feet and took a step back. "Who are you?"

She arose gracefully to her feet and once regally erect spread her arms to her sides and bowed deeply.

"You may call me Envinyatarë." She straightened her spine and tilted her head. Peeping up at him from beneath her lashes she confided. "I am a child of Manwë."