ELANOR'S REVENGE

To our Readers: Here is a new chapter, a holiday gift to our readers, 11,000+ words. We had hoped to finish this story before Christmas, but I doubt that will happen. We think there will be one more chapter and an epilogue after this, but that is not definite. It could possibly be 2 chapters and an epilogue, or just 2 chapters.

Anyway, a huge THANK YOU to all our reviewers. While it is labor of love to write this story, it is also hard work, and it is nice to know it’s appreciated. I know Fianna joins me in wishing you all the very best, and to thank you for reading. We hope to get another chapter posted within the next 4 weeks.

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Chapter Thirty-Four

Telrion’s heart gladdened at his first sight of Lothlórien in several weeks. The golden mellyrn seemed to beckon him forward, reminding him that within their bosom, Túre awaited him. How he had missed her! He could hardly wait to have her in his arms again!

He knew he was not the only one among the group whose heart was lifting. He felt certain that the thought of reaching their destination soon was on everyone’s mind, for the journey had been far from pleasant, thanks to Elanor’s sister. Telrion had never liked Lana; she always seemed to say or do something that annoyed him, not to mention that she had been taking advantage of Elanor for more years than he cared to consider. At least Elanor’s eyes had finally been opened . . . he hoped.

“Is that it?” Lana’s voice intruded upon Telrion’s thoughts, but she was not addressing him, thank the Valar. He was so weary of listening to her shrewish complaints. First it was her horse, then it was the speed at which they traveled, then it was the lack of this or that, and finally the absurdity of sleeping on the hard ground. If that foolish young elf, Gelion, had been present to hear his lady love’s grousing, Telrion was sure he would have fled back to Mirkwood and its spiders.

“Yes, that is it,” Lana’s father, Eluon, replied. “Those are the mighty golden leaved mellyrn of Lothlórien, my dear. Their leaves stay on the trees through the winter and fall to the ground in the spring. Their stock came from Númenor itself, the island kingdom of the Dúnedain.”

“They originally grew in Tol Eressëa,” interjected one of the Lórien elves who had accompanied them. He sounded very proud, but Lana only yawned and looked bored.

“So tall they are,” she said petulantly. “They must hide the sun, and make life very dismal and dull.”

“Life in Lórien is far from dismal and dull,” returned the Lórien elf, looking very offended. “The mellyrn accommodate our needs and part their leaves so that the sun flows onto our gardens and terraces. No place in Arda holds more beauty.”

Lana turned up her nose. “You would not say that if you had seen Imladris. I have been to three elven realms, and I can tell you that Imladris is superior in all respects.” Her reply prompted the Lórien elf to move his horse far ahead of hers, his shoulders stiff with the insult.

“That’s our tactful Lana,” Minden said in a very low voice. “Amazing how many people she can offend without even trying. There was her one chance to compensate for her deplorable behavior these past weeks, and she tossed it away. If she had at least tried to be impressed, she could have undone some of the damage.”

“The twins hardly seem to notice,” Telrion observed, just as quietly.

“She amuses them. I fear they plan some mischief at her expense.”

“You fear?” Telrion grinned. “You mean you hope!”

Minden laughed. “Aye, you know me well. I tell you truly, cousin, if she causes our Elanor one moment of unhappiness here in Lórien, I will beg them to do something wicked!”

“Then you may as well ask them now, for she is bound to cause everyone nothing but misery. Now, remind me again why we did not leave her somewhere in the wilderness?”

“Because Túre’s bed calls to you,” Minden said slyly. “And you want to be in it, and not sent out again to find the little she-orc.”

Telrion sighed, thinking how right Minden was. His entire body ached for Túre. “This journey has taken twice as long as necessary,” he grumbled.

“Thanks to Lana, yes it has,” Minden agreed fervently. “Iriel does not complain half as much . . . nay, not a quarter as much! If her daughter would only learn from her!”

Elrohir’s crisp voice interjected. “If the mother would smack her daughter’s nicely rounded bottom now and then, we would all be better-off.” He had come up behind them, his mount now riding abreast of theirs.

Minden snickered softly. “Iriel strike her daughter? Trust me, she is of far too gentle a spirit to commit such a cruel act. I doubt Eluon can do it either, else he would have done so long ago.”

“It need not cause pain,” Elrohir pointed out. “Why, I recall Master Erestor handing out many smacks that damaged no more than my dignity . . . when Elladan and I were only elflings, I grant you,” he added with twinkling eyes. “Still, our dear Lanaewen might profit from such handling.”

“Do I mistake, or do you have a plan in mind?” Telrion asked.

Elrohir smiled naughtily, and glanced over his shoulder at his smirking twin. “Now why would you ask that? Do I look like the sort of ellon who would plot against a sweet, innocent elleth?”

Telrion and Minden exchanged a glance. “Yes,” they said in unison.

~*~

As the signal echoed through the trees, Lurien realized what it meant and instinctively straightened his posture. From his vantage point in the tall mallorn, he could see Haldir’s face, but as usual the stern features revealed no outward emotion. Yet Lurien guessed he was far from calm.

For days he had sensed tension in the other elf and had speculated that its cause was the possibility—nay, the likelihood—that Elanor’s family would soon arrive. Lurien could easily relate; he was no more eager to meet them than Haldir was, and perhaps even less. After all, he had read those letters from Elanor’s mother and sister, and formed a not very flattering opinion of either of them. The sister, Lurien recalled, was trouble with a capital ‘T’.

Pondering this, he leapt the short distance between the two mallorn trees and climbed lithely over to where Haldir was perched. “Are you ready?” he asked. They had not spoken at all about Elanor’s family, and he half expected to be snubbed.

Haldir’s eyes met his. “I have to be,” he said evenly. “Are you?”

“I am with you,” Lurien told him in the same tone.

Haldir nodded. “Say nothing of our fight,” he warned. “I know not how much they have been told, but we must endure their company for some hours and I’d like to establish a degree of cordiality if possible.”

“We?” Lurien picked out the pertinent word.

Haldir gave him a sardonic look. “We,” he emphasized, “will accompany our guests to Caras Galadhon. You are here on my sufferance, and if I go, then so will you.” His eyes glinted. “Perhaps you will enjoy the day more than you think. Elanor’s sister is quite the entrancing little beauty.”

Lurien curled his lip. “Spare me, Haldir. She does not interest me.”

“No? You have not met her yet.”

“But you have. And you are quick to foist her off on me.”

Haldir looked amused, but said nothing more as his attention was caught by a second birdcall. The visitors drew close.

While they waited, Lurien’s thoughts drifted to that silly elleth’s letter to Elanor. Why would Haldir think he would be interested in such a fool? It annoyed him that Haldir’s opinion mattered to him, just as it always had if he were honest with himself. Was this why Haldir had invited him to the Fences? If so, it was insulting and offensive, considering that he had told Haldir of his love for Tarwë and how he intended to change in order to win her back. He had thought such an admission would have meant something, but evidently it had only . . . Lurien broke the thought off suddenly as a new idea occurred to him, one so startling that he had trouble absorbing it.

Haldir had only been teasing him. Teasing, not needling nor mocking. It had not been an insult.

He glanced sideways, noting the rigid set of Haldir’s jaw. “Cease your worrying,” he said gruffly. “All will be well, Valar willing.”

Haldir shot him an odd glance, but made no reply.

Lurien leaned back, wondering what madness had prompted him to offer comfort to Haldir. Still, it didn’t really matter and would change nothing between them. Or would it?

Sighing inwardly, he allowed his thoughts to drift to Tarwë as they so often did these days. Even though a part of him was actually enjoying his stay at the Lothlórien border, his heart and his body ached unrelentingly for her, as though a great gaping hole had been torn in the center of his being. Their leave-taking had not gone as well as he’d hoped; she had bidden him farewell and told him to stay safe, but had not allowed him even to kiss her as he had wished.

When at last the travelers came into view, Lurien found himself studying Elanor’s sister. With her golden hair, blue eyes and perfect features, she was indeed astonishingly lovely--except for her sullen expression--and so was the elleth who was obviously her mother. Beside her rode a handsome, dark-haired ellon garbed in dark green with a cloak of gray. Elanor’s father, evidently. Lurien assessed the couple with curiosity, noting that Elanor bore some of the mother’s features, but also some of her father’s, including the dark hair.

“Your task,” Haldir told him in a quiet tone, “is to engage Elanor’s sister’s attention. Keep her occupied so that I can speak to her parents without interruption.”

Lurien grimaced slightly and nodded. It sounded an easy enough task, but instinct told him it would not be pleasant. It struck him then, at that precise moment, how very much he had changed in these past weeks. Until recently, resisting a beautiful elleth was just not something he had ever considered or done. Always he had taken what he wanted from all of them, Tarwë included. But some kind of shift had taken place deep inside him, something that was forcing him to change and reevaluate. Not only had he refused Gwirith, he now found that he was wholly uninterested in this lovely creature below. He was simply not the same ellon he had been a few weeks ago. But could he convince Tarwë of that?

From there, events proceeded swiftly. Haldir revealed himself to their visitors and Lurien followed, remaining silent while Haldir completed his preliminary greeting to Elanor’s father and mother, as well as the sons of Elrond. While Elanor’s father, Eluon, introduced his wife and daughter to Haldir, Telrion and Minden glowered at Lurien, reminding him that they had not forgotten or forgiven his part in Elanor’s accident.

“We did not expect to see you here,” Telrion remarked with icy softness.

Lurien lifted his chin, informing them without words that he was not intimidated. “I am here at Haldir’s request,” he retorted. He would have liked to remind them that they, not he, were the guests in this Wood, but he refrained.

Telrion and Minden exchanged a skeptical glance, then Minden gave a small shrug. “If you say so.” It was clear they would have liked to say more, but the presence of Elanor’s family reined in their tongues.

Lurien waited, listening while Haldir spoke briefly and formally to the elleth, Lanaewen, before introducing her to Lurien. Lurien ignored the fact that she’d already been staring at him, and with a sinking heart, greeted her with just enough suaveness to flatter her vanity. Haldir gave Lurien a meaningful look, then turned back to her parents, leaving Lurien to attend to Lana.

If he had been in a better mood, Lurien would have found it almost comical the way Elanor’s sister alternated between complaints concerning her hardships and simpering behavior she apparently thought was alluring. As the party moved through the woods in the direction of Caras Galadhon, Lurien walked alongside Lana, listening while she detailed the atrocities to which she’d been subjected and fluttered her eyelashes at him. She’d been given a horse she despised, compelled to sleep upon the cold hard ground, eat plain food she did not like, travel when she wished to rest, and generally been subjected to callous and indifferent behavior by everyone other than her own parents. The twins had been especially horrid and unkind, she had been woefully mistreated, and life was by and large despicable.

“Surely it cannot have been as bad as that,” Lurien said rather mildly, during a short lull in Lana’s grumbling. He had allowed a short distance to widen between them and Haldir, thus affording Haldir the chance to converse unheard with Elanor’s parents. Behind them rode Telrion and Minden, and behind them, the remainder of the Lórien elves who had accompanied the traveling party.

“On the contrary it was far worse,” she assured him in a tremulous voice. “Look at this decrepit creature! Every moment on its back has been sheer misery! Every bone and muscle in my body aches!” She cast him an arch look, as though she expected him to do something about it.

Sensing the mare’s indignation and annoyance, Lurien stroked a soothing hand along the beast’s shoulder. “This little mare has done her best,” he told her neutrally. “In any case, you will find your accommodations in Caras Galadhon pleasing. All our guest quarters are comfortable and well furnished.”

“I find that difficult to believe given that you all sleep in trees,” she said waspishly. “In any case I expect to stay with my sister. How does she fare?” The inquiry seemed almost an afterthought to Lurien.

“I am told her recovery goes swiftly,” he said guardedly.

Lana tittered. “I do not doubt she exaggerated her injury.”

Lurien looked at her in astonishment. “I beg your pardon? Why would she do that?”

“To escape from Haldir.” Her tone suggested his wits were lacking. “He is the most heartless, callous, wicked ellon alive.”

“I believe Elanor is quite fond of Haldir, and he of her,” Lurien replied, wishing he was somewhere, anywhere, but with this foolish young elleth. How ironic to be put in a position where he felt honor bound to defend Haldir!

Lana laughed again, an irritating sound. “My sister has not the wiles to attract or hold an elf like him.” Her pretty lips twisted unattractively as she added, “I cannot imagine an elleth who would want him though.”

Lurien ground his teeth, envying Elrohir and Elladan their freedom to ride on ahead, ostensibly to arrive early and make known the visitors’ safe arrival. This of course was only an excuse for them to exercise their boundless energy and, Lurien guessed, to put a goodly distance between themselves and Elanor’s sister.

Haldir, meanwhile, was making careful conversation with Elanor’s parents while he walked alongside their horses. Her state of health was their primary concern, but after being reassured about this, both of them then apologized for her behavior in Imladris, making it clear they had no idea what she had done that had warranted Elrond’s unusual punishment. It was also obvious that they wished to know more, but were too polite to demand the full story, at least in this setting with so many others around. Evading their hints, Haldir assured them that Elanor had grown and blossomed in Lothlórien while giving no information about her original transgression. Instead, he spoke of her gardening, her friendships, and the respect with which she was regarded.

“Still,” Iriel remarked, “it was a shock to learn she had been sent here as your ward.”

“I am sure it was,” Haldir said smoothly but with respect, “but nonetheless it has not been a bad experience for her. Quite the reverse, in fact, for she has learned a great deal.”

“Then you and my daughter have a cordial relationship?” Eluon asked. He sounded faintly suspicious, and Haldir could just imagine what Lana must have told them, although Elrond’s assurances had obviously prevented them from coming here any sooner.

Haldir met his gaze with forthright candor. “Indeed we do. I am very fond of Elanor.” That was an understatement, but there would be time enough for that to be revealed.

Eluon accepted this with a nod. “I gave her that name, you know. Even as a tiny child she was always with the flowers, and elanor was her favorite. Has she told you her mother-name?”

“No, she has not.”

“It is Ataralassië,” Iriel interjected. “I gave her that name because she gave her father so much joy when she was born.” She exchanged a loving glance with Eluon. “I wanted a Quenya name for her, though I never quite knew why. It seemed appropriate at the time,” she added, with another soft smile for her husband.

“It is a lovely name,” Haldir said courteously. He knew enough Quenya to know that the name meant “joy of the father”; he did not add, however, that to him she would always be Elanor.

Conversation soon lapsed into silence, for it was plain that the bulk of Eluon’s concern centered on his wife, who was clearly too weary to converse for very long. Haldir strode along, evaluating the couple silently. As of yet he had learned little other than that they loved Elanor and were perhaps not quite as selfish as he had previously thought. But it was also clear that their primary focus was each other. Still, that was no crime, excepting that their younger daughter was in need of far more guidance than she had been receiving. Even now, Haldir could hear Lana’s voice, sniping away about something, but he shifted his focus away and left her to Lurien to manage.

Beneath Haldir’s tunic, the Indwaedh throbbed, reminding him of Elanor’s love for him and his for her. It filled him with longing, a longing that he now had the ability to tune out if he wished. But he did not do that, and instead let it wash over him like a warm, seductive summer rain.

All he really wished to do was return to her, haul her off to his talan and make love to her over and over. But, as usual, his wants and desires would have to wait. Elanor’s family was here, and things would be different for a while.

~*~

With the arrival of Elrohir and Elladan, tidings of the visitors spread quickly through the city, reaching Elanor’s ears as she worked peacefully in Galadriel’s garden. Her heart leaped with the knowledge that Haldir would soon be with her, but the prospect of being with her family again left her with mixed feelings. It would be good to see them, and yet . . . what would happen? What would they say? And how would she avoid telling them the truth about what she had done in Imladris?

It would be some hours still, since some of the travelers were on foot, but she found she could no longer concentrate on gardening. Whispering farewell to the bush she had been tenderly shaping, Elanor returned to her talan to wash and change her gown, making herself properly presentable for a reunion with her parents and sister. Her thoughts churned with anxiety, but she shoved this aside, reminding herself that no one could force her to leave Haldir, except perhaps Lady Galadriel or Lord Celeborn. And they had both made it plain that she was welcome to stay.

Even so, her tension did not abate as she made her way to the city gate and found a place to sit and wait. Her mind replayed some of the recriminations in her mother’s letter, which made her stomach tighten into knots of nervousness. What would her mother say to Haldir? Would she say anything to him in front of others? The more she thought about it, the more agitated she became.

A short while later, Healea joined her, gracefully seating herself beside Elanor on the curved mallorn root that served as a bench. “What is wrong, Elanor? You look almost as nervous as the day of the archery tournament.”

Elanor had to smile. “Do I? No, it is not as bad as that. I am just a little worried about . . . a few things.”

“How they will react to your decision to stay in Lórien?” Healea’s eyes were shrewd. “Courage, Elanor. Remember who you are, who you have chosen to become.”

“I know. I just hope they will not be too saddened.”

“It is your choice, my friend. They will have to accept it if it is what you choose.” They sat in silence for a few moments, then Healea placed her hand briefly over Elanor’s. “I am near if you need me.” She rose and walked away.

~*~

At last they came--Haldir and her parents in the lead, Lana and Lurien behind, Telrion and the rest at the end, along with the packhorses. Elanor took in Lurien’s proximity to her sister with astonishment, wondering if Lurien had decided to use his wicked wiles on Lana. An instant later, her common sense reminded her that if Lurien was there, it was because Haldir commanded it. Her parents would have been keeping an eye on Lana. As for Lurien, he would surely be the one elf most likely to be able to take care of himself, so there could be no worries about him succumbing to her sister’s charms the way so many did.

Elanor’s gaze went first to Haldir and found her eyes locked with his. Her indwaedh felt as though it hummed louder, sending awareness of him cascading through her body. For a moment all else faded, and then he was assisting her mother to dismount the horse she had been riding.

Elanor hurried forward. “Naneth, Ada, I am so glad to see you!”

“Elanor!” Her mother’s arms enfolded her, and for a moment she was swept away into old feelings from long ago, comforting feelings from her early childhood that made her feel safe, protected and loved. Forgotten for the moment were those other feelings, the ones that had made her feel pushed aside, unappreciated and judged.

Her mother pulled away, holding her at arm’s length. “There now, greet your father, for he is anxious to assure himself that you are in one piece.”

Elanor turned to her father, who embraced her tenderly. “Ataralassië,” he murmured. “My daughter, it is good to see you again.”

“And you, Ada,” she whispered.

“You look so well,” her mother observed, her blue-eyed gaze running over Elanor. “Elrond’s letter led us to believe you were half dead.” She sounded slightly critical, as though she now thought she had made the journey for nothing.

Lord Elrond’s voice cut in. “Elanor was indeed grievously injured, as my letter stated.” He walked forward, his noble face set in a benevolent expression. “Mae govennen, Iriel, Eluon. My sons tell me your journey was uneventful.”

Eluon smiled warmly. “If you mean free from attack, yes indeed. But I fear my wife and daughter have found it arduous. They are both extremely weary.”

Elanor shifted her attention to Haldir while Elrond was speaking. He had moved several steps away, and held the reins of the three horses used by her parents and Lana. She looked a question at him, silently beseeching him to tell her when they would meet. Their gazes touched; his told her that he would see her later, and she nodded slightly, letting him know she understood.

As he led the horses away, she turned and looked at her sister, who was gazing around her with an expression that was half wondering and half wretched. “Hello, Lana,” she said softly.

“Elanor!” It was almost a sob, and then Lana was in her arms, her slim body shaking uncontrollably. “I have missed you so much! You cannot imagine how awful it has been without you! I am so tired and achy and my backside h-hurts so much from that d-dreadful h-horse!”

Sensing that this was no act, Elanor’s arms closed automatically around her weeping younger sister. “Do not cry, Lana. All is well. You are here now and can rest.” She could not help remembering her own journey and discomfort, but that led to other memories that she quickly shoved aside. “I am sure you will find your talan very comfortable.”

Lana raised her face, managing to look stunningly beautiful even with tears seeping from her blue eyes. “B-but am I not staying with you?”

“A place has been prepared for your family,” inserted a gentle voice behind Elanor. Elanor looked around to find one of Lady Galadriel’s handmaidens standing there wearing a polite smile. “I am Eredhien,” the elleth continued. “Lady Galadriel has requested me to be your guide. If you will all follow me?”

“Thank you,” Iriel declared, sounding most appreciative. “I would very much like to rest and wash.”

Eredhien then turned to Lurien, who had been standing off to the side. “Lurien,” she added, “will you arrange for the delivery of their belongings?” If Elanor did not know better, she would have said Lurien had just been standing there, waiting to be of service, but that seemed impossible.

Lurien bowed slightly. “I shall do so with pleasure.” He sounded unusually helpful, Elanor noted suspiciously. What was he after? Lana?

Elanor walked along with her family and Eredhien, curious to learn which talan they would be using. Eredhien chatted pleasantly as they moved across the clearing toward one of the huge winding stairs.

As they started up the steps, Elanor noticed Tarwë standing on a balcony overlooking the courtyard, watching Lurien unlash the various packs from the remaining horses. She glanced back at Lurien and then at Tarwë again. What was Lurien thinking? Did he know that Tarwë was there? Had she seen him arrive at Lana’s side?

These questions flitted through her head as she climbed the stairway at her sister’s side. “So many steps,” Lana moaned. “This is dreadful. How can you bear living here?”

“You will grow used to it,” Elanor said, ignoring the way Lana rolled her eyes. After all, she recalled how tired she was after her own journey here. She smiled inwardly at the memory. At least Lana had not been asked to carry Haldir’s sword or bow!

They soon arrived at a pleasant guest talan that was, surprisingly, nowhere near the one that Elanor occupied. She was about to go inside with the rest of her family when Eredhien touched her arm. “Elanor,” she said, “the Lady has requested that you attend her.”

Elanor looked at her in surprise. “Now?” she asked. “You mean this moment?”

Eredhien inclined her head. “That is what she said. She asked that you attend her in her talan.”

“Then I shall go.”

Before her parents could protest, Elanor gave her mother a quick hug, kissed her father’s cheek and departed.

~*~

“I thought to advise you a little,” Galadriel said kindly. “You are to have dinner with Elrond this evening, you and your parents. Your sister will not be invited.” She paused, watching Elanor’s reaction. “There are reasons for this. Perhaps you know what they are.”

Elanor flushed. “I think so, yes.”

“It would be best for all concerned if you allow Elrond to negotiate his way through the conversation that is bound to take place. Your parents are going to want an account of what happened in Imladris.”

“I do not want them to know, my lady.” Elanor kept her voice calm, but inwardly she was quaking, not for herself but for Haldir. She must protect him at all costs!

“Then have faith in Elrond,” Galadriel told her. “All will be well.”

~*~

Eluon stepped outside the guest talan and looked around. Already the night was drawing near, the forest darkened with the blue-tinted shadows of evening. Overhead, the canopy of the Golden Wood was beginning to sparkle like the star-sprinkled sky above it. Lights were being lit at the onset of dusk, seeming to beckon him to climb even higher into the trees.

This city amazed him. He had heard so much of Caras Galadhon, yet had never journeyed so far south to visit. Had he done so, he might not have been so worried about how Elanor had fared during her time here. He could not wait to have a look around, preferably with Elanor as his guide, but this was not the moment. Eredhien had informed him that he and Iriel would be dining with Elrond tonight, and that she would return a little later to show them the way.

As for Lanaewen, it had been made clear that she was not included in the invitation. Part of him was affronted and the rest was resigned, for in the past year it had become increasingly apparent to him that his younger daughter possessed certain behavioral failings that required stern correction. He shook his head, but only at himself. If only he did not find that sort of thing so difficult!

Before Eredhien had left, he had asked her to she send word to Telrion and Minden that he wished to speak to them. With a deep breath, he let his gaze drift over his surroundings, searching for them on the various walkways and steps while he took in the varied and fascinating architectural details of this magical city.

After a short time, the two Imladris cousins put in an appearance. “You wish to speak with us?” Telrion asked courteously.

“I do,” Eluon said. “I have a favor to ask.” He paused, watching their faces, and thought he sensed an undercurrent of impatience, at least from Telrion. “I realize I may be asking too much, but I pray you will take pity on an elderly elf.” He smiled slightly. “The favor involves Lana.”

Two pairs of blue eyes fixed intently on him, but neither ellon offered any kind of response.

Eluon resisted an urge to fidget. “Iriel and I, along with Elanor, will be dining with Lord Elrond this eve, and Lana . . . will not be with us. I do not want to leave her on her own, even though she may be resting. I wondered if the two of you would stay and bear her company. She is unsure of herself in this place, and rather unhappy . . . as you know.” He did not add that he did not quite trust his own daughter not to do something indiscreet if left to her own devices.

Minden bowed. “I cannot refuse, master Eluon. Telrion and I will do as you ask.” He was polite but unenthused. “Eredhien can send for us when you leave.”

Telrion looked even less willing, but he nodded his agreement when Eluon looked at him. Something was bothering Telrion, but Eluon decided not to ask what it was. He too was weary and wished to rest a short while before dinner. In truth, he longed to curl up next to Iriel and fade into dreams of that place where he so longed to be.

To add to this, he was deeply troubled. Was everything that had happened his fault? Had he been irresponsible in leaving his daughters in Elrond’s care for so long?

He had only wanted to spend time alone with Iriel, to bask in her care and enjoy their long hours together. He could never tire of her company, not in ten thousand years, but had he tired of his children? No, the thought was foolish, and yet they had made the decision to leave their daughters behind without a qualm. But Elanor had been fully capable of taking care of herself by then, and had seemed willing and able to take care of Lana as well. Iriel had felt that the two would become closer for the time spent alone with each other. He had agreed, and they had left Imladris without any further concern.

Had they been so negligent?

He tried to remember the content of Elanor’s letters these past few years. Had she ever hinted at any problems with Lana? What could have possessed his elder daughter to do whatever it was she had done to Haldir? Elrond had never explained, that was what was so odd. Yet his decision to send Elanor away with Lórien’s Marchwarden, as his ward no less, seemed quite drastic to Eluon.

The shock of hearing such news had led to the first argument he and Iriel had had in a very long while. He had wanted to journey to Lórien immediately to find out what it all was about, but Iriel had talked him out of it, saying that Elrond was very wise and would not have chosen something that would not benefit Elanor. He was the Lord of Imladris after all. And, Elrond knew Galadriel as well as anyone could, so Eluon had given in and remained where he was at Iriel’s side.

Now he wished he had not.

Haldir had been extremely polite on the journey into Caras Galadhon--distantly polite. His answers concerning Elanor had been vague and impersonal although not uncomplimentary. Actually he had said some very nice things about Elanor, now that he thought about it. He did not know quite what to make of the whole business. He would let Elanor explain further, and he would watch his daughter carefully to find out what she was not saying.

He would get more from her than from Haldir.

~*~

Minden ran a hand through his hair, eyeing his cousin with growing concern. Telrion was sitting on one of the steps near their guest talan, looking so gloomy that Minden felt guiltier with every passing moment.

“I could not tell him no, Tel,” he said for the third time. “Elanor needs a chance to explain, and Lana does not need to hear the details. She would just use them against Elanor at some point. By helping Eluon, we are helping Elanor.”

Telrion shrugged his shoulders, staring into the shadows. “I know. I understand, really I do. It is just that I had other plans for this evening.”

Minden sank down on the steps next to Telrion. “You have a little time. Go to Túre now and explain. She will understand.”

Telrion shook his head. “I fear she will not. She has been hurt before, and she will think the worst.”

“The worst?” Minden stared at his cousin, and then laughed, punching his shoulder lightly. “You are worried she will think you unfaithful? With that brat, Lana? Oh, that is rich!”

Telrion frowned. “It is easy to laugh.”

“Go now, before Eredhien summons us.”

“The whole time we were gone I could not get her out of my mind,” Telrion said wistfully. “The journey back seemed interminable. And here I sit, torn in half with the knowledge that she must surely be awaiting me. Now I must go and tell her I will be spending my first evening back with an elleth who appears on the surface to be the loveliest creature ever born. One of them, anyway,” he added, thinking of Arwen and Healea.

Minden braced himself inwardly, knowing what he had to do. “Well, just go to her then. I will see to Lana myself. I do not need you.”

Telrion lifted his head. “I cannot leave you with Lana. The fires of Mount Doom would be more enjoyable.”

Minden laughed dryly. “Perhaps so, but after all these weeks, I am sure I can bear a few more hours of the brat. Perhaps she will sleep. If not, I will drag her around the city so fast she will not know where she has been. Better yet, I will hand her off to someone else. Go on, I can manage without you. It does not take two of us.”

“Are you certain?” Telrion’s eyes were bright with hope.

Minden reached out and pulled his cousin to his feet. “As sure as I can be right now. Go, before I change my mind.”

Telrion clasped Minden’s shoulder. “I owe you one, Min.”

“Indeed you do. And I will not forget it either!”

Telrion grinned and then sprinted down the steps, dark hair streaming behind him in his hurry. Minden chuckled, and sat there for some time until he saw Eredhien in the distance. Wishing it was her he was going to spend the evening with, he waited for her to reach him and then walked beside her, flirting outrageously as they approached Eluon and Iriel’s talan. Perhaps she would be free later, he mused. He only hoped the time with Lana would pass quickly.

~*~

To Eluon’s relief, Lana was sound asleep when the moment came for him and Iriel to depart. He had been surprised when Minden had shown up alone, but the young ellon had assured them that he was quite capable of keeping watch on his own. Eluon found this acceptable, for Minden was well known to him, the son of a close friend who had sailed West some decades past. Not only was Minden a dependable ellon, but it had become exceedingly clear that he was in no danger of losing his heart or head where Lanaewen was concerned. The reason for this did not reflect all that well on Lana, but at the moment Eluon did not care. He only wanted to be able to leave her without having to worry. Besides, he had seen the wink Minden had given Erudhien. Young Minden had another elleth on his mind tonight.

Erudhien led them down a set of steps, and across a bridge and then another bridge, and up and down various steps until Eluon and Iriel were completely lost. Soon after, however, Elanor joined them, hurrying up a set of steps with her skirt slightly lifted.

“Here I am!” she said, taking Erudhien’s place as their guide. “Did you have a chance to rest?”

With a pang Eluon realized how much he had missed her. His Ataralassië, his joy. What had changed since those long ago days when he had held his newborn child in his arms? When had he stopped being the father he should have been to her? Even as this question entered his mind, he knew the answer.

It called to him, just as it called to Iriel. Every day, every night, like an ache without ease.

The sea.

As he so often did, he thrust the thought from his mind and instead paid heed to Elanor. She led them higher into the leafy canopy, pointing out various sights as they went while chatting amicably with her mother about the pretty gown Iriel was wearing. She moved carefully, as graceful as any elf, yet Eluon could see that the effects of her fall still haunted her, keeping her away from the edges of the stair. He paused for a moment to look over the edge, shuddering at the thought of his daughter falling. What had caused this accident? Haldir’s explanations had been as insufficient as Elrond’s letter. He would find out tonight, one way or another.

Elanor glanced over her shoulder. “Are you coming, Ada?”

Eluon smoothed his expression with a smile. “Of course, my dear. Are we almost there?” He could see walkways glittering far into the canopy of the forest, amazed the trees grew so large as to support the entire city in their branches.

“We are almost there.” Elanor smiled slightly. “The climbing takes a bit of getting used to, but once you are here for awhile you never even think about it.” She turned back toward the rising steps, but Eluon did not miss her quick glance at the edge of the stair.

Elrond was waiting at the door to his talan, greeting them cordially yet with a touch of formality. Soon they were settled into low chairs, each with a glass of fine red wine served by the Elf-lord to his guests.

Elanor sat quietly, her wineglass held between her hands, her smile slightly uneasy as she glanced at Elrond. Eluon sipped his wine while Iriel continued to chatter on about the years they had been apart and her lengthy visit with her sister in the land now known as Mirkwood. Elrond appeared interested, but whether he truly was or not was anyone’s guess.

Meanwhile, Eluon was studying Elanor. She had always been quiet, even in her youth. Predictable and shy, she had tended to go off on her own, her best friends the flowers and trees around her. She had been so uncomplicated compared to Lana, so much less demanding for their time and attention. Had they neglected her? Perhaps so. Iriel had expected so much more of her than of Lana, perhaps because she was the eldest, perhaps because of her temperament. Whatever the case, it seemed that as parents they had made mistakes. If this were not so, Elanor would not be Haldir’s ward, nor would Lana have been sent to Mirkwood in disgrace. But Iriel had yet to admit this to herself.

He knew his beloved wife loved both her daughters, but he was becoming increasingly aware that she had a blind eye when it came to Lana. They were alike in many ways, yet Lana was not the elleth her mother was. Lana was Iriel without her strengths, but might she develop them in time? He prayed to the Valar it would be so, and that he had not completely failed as a father. Yet Elanor had strengths, he reminded himself. Even now he could see subtle changes in her, changes in the way she held herself, the way she spoke or turned her head.

What had brought about these changes? Was it Haldir? Or someone else? And what else had changed that he had yet to discover?

There were many questions to be answered.

~*~

Telrion reached Túre’s talan and stopped, staring longingly at her door. Was she inside? He had seen no one he knew well enough to ask while he made his way here, in a completely different part of the city from where his guest talan was. In his haste, he’d actually taken two wrong turns, so that it had taken him longer than it should have to get here.

His heart pounded as he lifted his hand and tapped lightly on the burnished wood. Silence prevailed and then he heard footsteps. Slowly, the door opened.

“Túre,” he breathed, gazing at her face in dismay.

She had been crying, her lovely face blotched and reddened with tears. “Tel,” she whispered, a hitch in her voice. “What took you so long?”

“I am so sorry,” he said, and drew her into his arms. “I was delayed, but I am here now, my love.”

She clung to him, half laughing and half crying, while he spread kisses across her tear-dampened face. “I was delayed too, by my duties in the kitchens. I ran here thinking you would be here and you weren’t so I’ve been waiting. I thought . . . I feared . . . ”

“That my heart had changed?” he asked her gently. “Not a chance.”

Her eyes were moist, but she was smiling. “I am sorry. I should not have doubted you for an instant. Every moment you have been gone has been--”

“Excruciating,” he finished. “I know, I know. I felt it too.” His arm around her, he stepped farther into her talan and shut the door with his foot. “Come,” he said firmly, “I am taking you to bed first. After we love, then I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it that the next time I leave this place you will be at my side . . . preferably as my wife, if you will have me.”

“Your wife?” Túre’s face turned stark white and then pink with shocked delight. “Oh Tel. Oh . . . ” She threw her arms around him.

It was the last word she spoke for quite some time.

~*~

Dinner was over, and the two ellith who had brought and served their food had finally left. Elanor watched the way Elrond leaned back into his chair, and the way her father leaned forward in that deliberate and familiar manner. The moment she dreaded had arrived.

“Tell me,” Eluon said calmly to Elrond, “what did my daughter do to deserve being sent to Caras Galadhon as Haldir’s ward? Will you tell me or will Elanor? One of you must do so now.”

Elanor tensed, her heart beating fast. Iriel lifted a hand and began to speak, but Eluon pressed his fingers over hers and she quieted. Elrond gave Elanor what appeared to be a warning glance, although it might have been only her imagination.

“I will explain,” he said calmly.

Eluon nodded and sat back.

Elrond folded his hands. “I know it sounds odd that Elanor would fall into such mischief as to deserve being sent away from Imladris, but I think she will admit that it was more a gift than a punishment. You have been happy in Lórien, have you not, Elanor?”

“Indeed I have,” she replied, wondering what he was going to say. From the corner of her eye, she saw her mother’s eyebrows lift.

“I had felt for some time that Elanor would benefit from a change of . . . scenery, shall we say. She had begun to confine herself to too narrow a world, one that included her sister, her garden and very little else. So the actions she took where Haldir was concerned fell in perfectly with my plans.” He glanced again at Elanor, this time with a faintly mischievous smile. Or was the mischief merely her imagination?

Her parents were absolutely silent and did not look convinced.

Unperturbed, Elrond continued, “Once I learned what she had done, I realized how I could use it to Elanor’s advantage. Perhaps it was fate,” he added reflectively, and took a sip of his wine. “It was Arwen’s begetting day celebration as I think I mentioned in my letter. And, as is often the case when guests arrive, we had dinner and then dancing afterwards. Elanor, it seems, had a bit too much wine and inadvertently insulted Lórien’s Marchwarden. She unjustly accused him of inappropriate behavior with Lana, and as much as it pains me to reiterate this, your younger daughter had done everything possible to make Elanor believe this was so.”

Elanor lifted her chin, gratified that he had pointed this out.

Elrond smiled again, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I fear his tunic will never be the same. Is that not so, Elanor?”

“His tunic, my lord?” Elanor said weakly.

Elrond waved airily. “Yes, the one you threw my good wine on. The gold one with all that embroidery, the one Galadriel had given him.”

Elanor blinked and then nodded. “Yes, it was ruined.”

“This is the full extent of your crimes, Elanor?” Her father was frowning. “You ruined his tunic? It was a mistake, yes. An error of judgment. And yet I do not see that it was so very terrible.”

“I slapped him too, Ada,” Elanor added truthfully. “Very hard. And I said some dreadful things. He was highly insulted, and rightly so, for none of them were true.”

“Oh, my,” Iriel murmured softly. She sounded a little shocked, but not as shocked as Elanor had expected. “Elanor, what did you say?”

“I told him he was a scoundrel. And that he should be ashamed of himself and that--” Elanor stopped there, afraid to tell them much more than this. “Well, I do not remember now precisely what more I said. I was not nice.”

Iriel sighed. “Still, I can imagine how it must have been for you, if you truly thought he had trifled with your sister. This Haldir seems so . . . so . . . cold.”

“He is not cold, Nana. He is the most honorable ellon you will ever meet. I wronged him very badly and he did not deserve it.” Elanor spoke softly yet firmly, praying that no more details would be revealed.

“He has treated you well?” Eluon demanded.

Elanor met her father’s gaze squarely. “He has been more than fair, Ada. I admit I was angry at him at first, but I have learned to see behind that cool façade. I have learned to see his strength and his nobility, his compassion and kindness and, oh, so many positive qualities I could not name them all. I admire and respect him and consider myself fortunate to have met him. And . . . he has become very dear to me.”

Her parents regarded her with open-mouthed astonishment.

Iriel glanced at Elrond as though wondering if she should say more in front of him. “What does that mean?” she inquired. “When you say he is dear to you?”

“It means that I love him,” Elanor said quietly, not caring if Lord Elrond knew. “And that I will be staying on in Lórien.”

Shock shone on her parents’ faces.

“But this is wonderful news,” Iriel said, to Elanor’s astonishment. “My daughter, I cannot tell you how pleased I am.”

Eluon turned to his wife. “I think we should discuss this later, my dear.” He turned to Elanor. “I would like to know how you came to fall and be injured, Elanor. Was Haldir not there to protect you?”

Elanor looked down, her fingers absently plucking at her skirt. “It was to save Haldir that I took the action I did. He and . . . another ellon were having a swordfight—”

“A swordfight!” Eluon interrupted. “Here, in the heights of the mellyrn?”

“Yes,” said Elanor. “It is difficult to explain.” She glanced at Elrond, who read the message in her eyes and took over.

“Haldir was defending Elanor’s honor,” Elrond cut in. “One of the sentinels behaved dishonorably toward your daughter, and Haldir made the decision to deal with him right there. It is a decision he regrets, I am sure.”

Now Iriel was looking shocked. “Someone threatened your honor, Elanor?”

“It was not me he wanted, Nana. He only wished to anger Haldir so that he would fight him. They have a kind of feud going between them.”

Iriel made a disapproving click of her tongue. “Dear me, a hot temper behind all that coolness. I am not so sure this Galadhel is the right ellon for you, Elanor.” She turned to Elrond. “You know him, Elrond. What is your opinion?”

Elrond rose to his feet, his gaze on Iriel. “Since you ask, Iriel, I will tell you that your daughter chooses wisely. I have great respect for Haldir. If Elanor wishes to stay with him, I know she will be in honorable and capable hands.” He hesitated for a moment. “If my own daughter made such a choice, I would be very pleased.” These last words were uttered in a toneless voice that Elanor knew must cover very deep feelings.

Neither of her parents replied immediately, but at last Iriel nodded, saying, “Then I shall accept him as well.”

“I would hear the rest of the story,” Eluon added. “How was my daughter saved? What were the extent of her injuries and do any yet linger?”

Elanor remained silent while Elrond told the tale of how Galadriel foresaw the event in her mirror, how Celeborn had snatched her from the air, and how Haldir and her many friends had stayed near while she healed. “I was not here at the time,” Elrond explained, “but this is what has been told to me. As for her well-being, she should answer that herself.”

Everyone looked at Elanor.

“I am healed,” she said with a small smile. “My bones are mended, my bruises and scrapes are faded. It may take some time before I stand on the edge of a flet, but otherwise, I am well, whole, and very happy.”

Eluon sighed. “Well, let us hope that such doings are finished. This sentinel was disciplined?”

“They were both reprimanded,” Elrond said. “Haldir is no longer Elanor’s guardian. She is now Galadriel’s ward.”

“Oh my,” Iriel said, looking rather impressed. “The Lady of Lórien herself! That is a great honor, Elanor. I trust you will do nothing more that would be considered reckless.”

“I will try not to, Naneth,” Elanor said with a wry smile, “but I can make no promises.”

Lord Elrond chuckled at her response. “I felt sure Lórien would be good for you, Elanor. I am glad to know I was right.”

~*~

Elanor waited until she knew for certain that her entire family was abed. She had walked her parents back to their guest talan when it was over, and spent more time reassuring them about Haldir as well as the state of her health. Back in the talan, they had found Lana and Minden, playing cards of all things. One look at Minden’s face had almost made Elanor burst out laughing, since Lana had apparently been beating him all evening. Her sister looked as though she had been well entertained and fed, and declared herself to be satisfied to have escaped a ‘boring dinner’ with Lord Elrond.

Eventually they were settled. Elanor had brushed her mother’s hair, kissed her father, soothed her sister, and at last made her escape. She then returned to her own talan to change her clothes, wash and wait for things to settle. While she waited, she mulled over the way the evening had unfolded, analyzing her reactions to her reunion with her family as well as the conversations that had taken place.

All in all, it had gone better than she had expected. Thanks to Lord Elrond, her family had been spared details that Elanor never wished them to know. Now that it was over, her tension had slid away like a forgotten dream, replaced now with a different kind of tension, one that shimmered warmly through her body with growing urgency.

She examined herself in her mirror from different angles. She had put on her most alluring gown, one made of a pale green fabric so light and gossamer soft that she almost felt naked in it. It tantalized and yet concealed just enough for modesty . . . she hoped. It had always been intended for this purpose, ever since Doria had made it for her during her recovery period, out of cloth she had set aside just for Elanor.

Satisfied with her appearance, Elanor draped a concealing wrap around her shoulders and left her talan. Her destination was not far; Galadriel had been kind in that regard. At his door, she reached for the latch with easy familiarity, easing it up so that the door swung soundlessly open. Inside, she lowered the privacy latch and hung her wrap on a hook.

She found him on the terrace gazing up at the night sky, his hair aglow with the silvery moonlight filtering downward through the branches. She stopped short, her admiring gaze taking him in while her heart danced with joy that he was here at last, so very close to her. His feet were bare, he wore only a loose shirt and leggings, and he looked so dear and so utterly . . . breathtaking.

“Elanor,” he said without turning, “should you not be with your family tonight?”

“I *was* with them, Haldir. Now they rest, and I am free to be with you.”

He swung around, his gaze meeting hers for only an instant before making a smoldering assessment of her attire. “I trust you do not wear that gown in public. I would like to think that it is only for me.”

“It *is* only for you.” She closed the distance between them, moving straight into the protective circle of his arms. How wonderful and strong he was, and how right and perfect it felt to be with him like this!

He smoothed a hand over her hair. “I did not expect to see you tonight,” he murmured, holding her close.

She drew back enough to see into his eyes. “Because of my family? Haldir, I told my parents tonight how I feel about you. They will accept you, do not worry. They could not keep me away from you, nor would they do such a thing if they could.”

“I was not worried.” His thumbs made slow, sensual circles against her back. “What did you tell them?” He was hiding his concern, replacing it with that steely determination to have his own way that could sometimes be so irksome.

“I told them how dear you are to me,” she said in a tender voice, “and that I will be staying here in Lórien to be with you. They have accepted my decision.”

“Good.” One corner of his mouth lifted, and a thread of seduction wove into his voice. “That makes it easier for me to have what I want.”

“Oh?” She tilted her head provocatively. “What do you want?”

“You,” he said huskily. “I want you, Elanor.”

“You have me.” She trailed her fingers up his arm. “You know this.”

“Aye, I do.”

He spread tiny kisses across her temple, then took her face between his hands and kissed her, deeply and passionately. “I missed you. Every day we were parted I thought of you. Every night I have wanted you. You filled my dreams.” His mouth moved to the curve of her throat.

She smiled and tilted her head back, her eyes half closed. “And now you can fill me,” she said playfully, and felt him smile against her skin.

“Oh, I will, my love, many times. I burn for you.” He slid his hands over her in a loving caress, molding his palms to her curves. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes, with all my heart,” she said, shivering at his touch. “More than I can ever say.”

With increased ardor, he captured her mouth again. She laced her fingers into the softness of his hair and returned the kiss, her head spinning with delicious arousal blended with the seductive throb of the indwaedh. The velvet dark of the night enveloped them, the fluttering rustle of the leaves providing a symphony of sounds that somehow enhanced her awareness of him. Flooded with happiness, she smoothed her palms over his contours, easing her fingers beneath his shirt and across the broad expanse of his back and shoulders. His skin was warm, smooth yet corded with muscles, soft and yet solid, and intensely masculine.

With focused attention, he pushed the fabric of her gown down her arms, baring her upper body to his gaze. His hands cupped her breasts, lifting them slightly while his thumbs drew lazy circles around their tips. “All day I have felt you,” he murmured. “Your essence wraps around me as though I am breathing you. All these hours I have thought of little else other than doing . . . exactly what we are doing . . . .” His voice trailed off.

Bending down, he followed the curve of her throat with his mouth, tasting his way along her shoulder and collarbone while he eased the gown down her body, slowly, taking exquisite care to follow its path with his lips. Elanor closed her eyes, then gave a slight gasp as his teeth closed lightly on her skin, not painful but enough to arouse. “Haldir,” she protested, though not with any force.

He smiled and kissed her in the place he had just nipped, murmuring soft endearments while she tugged at his shirt, compelling him to straighten so she could remove it and toss it alongside her gown.

“There,” she said, “that is better,” and then drew in her breath as he slid his hand down her hip, a feather stroke that left molten fire in its wake. In the next instant he caught her mouth again, his tongue hot and insistent, his passion and power enfolding her like a lush, sensual fog.

He moved around behind her, shifting her hair to bare her neck to the scorching path of his lips. Deliberately, he pressed himself against her so she could feel how much he wanted her, the stiff contact sending an erotic jolt to her core. She swayed slightly, shivering in delight as he slowly and thoroughly worked his way up to her ear, flicking it with his tongue while his skillful fingers wrought their magic on her naked breasts.

She made a sound, a low whimper of need, and then she turned in his arms, the urge to touch him more intimately propelling her fingers downward. She tugged at his leggings, unlacing them enough that she could slide her fingers inside and fondle him, but after a few moments of this, his breath hissed out and he clamped his hand on her wrist.

“Not so fast, my love. You are impatient tonight.”

She curled an arm around his neck and pulled his face close to hers. “Very,” she said softly. “Take me to bed.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Desire thickened his voice.

With a low chuckle, he lifted her and carried her inside, setting her gently on her feet beside his bed. She smiled up at him. Gone was any sense of modesty or restraint, for at this point she knew exactly what to do and how to do it. Luxuriously sure of herself, she undressed him slowly and teasingly, touching and stroking him while he breathed deeply and watched her with keen appreciation.

She urged him down onto the bed’s edge, then bent close to his ear. “You are mine,” she whispered. “Do you hear me, Haldir?”

“I hear you.” He smiled in a way that turned her knees to water. “And yes, I am indeed yours, Elanor. You have my vow.”

Their eyes locked, and then she planted one hand firmly on his chest and pushed him backward, guiding him onto the pillows. Bending over him, she kissed his mouth and then began to make love to him, slowly, using all that she had learned, working her way down his body, tasting and teasing him until he was restless and shuddering with need.

“You like this?” she asked, her tone seductive.

He made a low sound that she took as an affirmative, but before she could resume her efforts, he sat up and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply and hungrily. Soon her hips met the bed, and then she was lying open for him while he played the same game she had played, suckling at her breasts, kissing her belly and thighs, his lips and fingertips roving, spreading fire wherever they went.

She widened her legs trustingly, whimpering with delight as he went lower still, his fingers slipping inside her while his thumb found her pleasure spot. Soon his tongue took its place, expanding the hot ache that was already almost more than she could bear. Her heart pounded and her body shook, straining to reach that perfect place where she could shatter, but when she felt it approach, she resisted it and reached down to touch his shoulder.

“Take me now,” she gasped. “I want you now, Haldir.”

He lifted his head. His look burned her, and then he lowered his lashes and shifted his weight upward, positioning himself between her legs. “You have me,” he said roughly.

He began to move, pressing into her, the heavy thickness of him making her whole in a way that would once have seemed unimaginable. Slowly at first and then quickly he thrust into her, filling her the way she wanted to be filled, his hips finding a perfect and powerful rhythm. She gripped his arms and moved with him, shifting her hips slightly to increase her own pleasure. Nothing else was real, only this . . . only him . . . a blaze of silver light in the dark, potent and magnificently male.

Soft moans escaped her as the feeling built, a rising thrill taking them higher and higher until it happened at last, the pinnacle of all sensation, the ageless song of love reaching its shattering crescendo. And once again, like that other time in the woods, she felt the brief touch of Haldir’s fëa on hers, adding a unique, feather-light shimmer to what was already pure rapture.

Her body quivering with blissful aftershocks, Elanor gulped air and clung to him while he kissed her brow and held her against him, murmuring sweet, soothing words into her ear. He too was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he gradually adjusted to the aftermath of release.

“I love you,” Elanor whispered finally, when she could speak again.

Eventually, after a period of silence, he said quietly, “And I love you, Elanor. You are my joy and I wish I could ask . . . ” He paused as though he fought with himself. “I cannot say the words I wish to say at this time. I feel that I should wait until the year is done, when you are no longer anyone’s ward.”

She had been resting her head on his chest, but at this she raised up to look into his gray eyes. “I wish you would not wait,” she said.

Again he was silent, as though he weighed something within his mind. “I feel I must, even though above all things I wish to please you. What I *can* say is that I know you are the one I have waited for all these many long years. I have argued within myself, saying that I am too old and you are too young. I have told myself you should have a chance to know others . . . as you have come to know me. But I do not want that. You are mine and I will yield you to no other.”

“Yes, I am yours,” she agreed with a tremulous smile. “I am completely yours, Haldir. I want no other and never will.”

“Good,” he said rather smugly, as though the admission had been a great accomplishment on his part. “Then we understand each other.”

She released a sigh. “I also understand that you are not going to ask me to marry you until you are good and ready, because you are the most stubborn ellon in all of Arda.”

“But an exceptionally good lover,” he pointed out.

She laughed. “Oh, you think that makes up for it?”

“I know it does, Elanor.”

And he proceeded to prove it.

[tbc]