Dreams

He wandered the outer edges of the Golden Wood, unsure of which direction to take. Originally, he had thought to travel to Imaldris, thinking to seek the advice of Elrond, the Half-Elven. He had thought that perhaps, with Lord Elrond's own human heritage, he might be able to make sense of the dreams and visitations. Now, however, he was not so sure he should seek the Lord of Rivendell's advice on the matter. Elrond may have had human blood in his history, but he was still a healerÉhe might still insist that the experiences were naught but imagination, and that would be completely unacceptable. After last night he knew without a doubt that he loved this human, though he didn't even know her name.

Walking aimlessly along the shoreline, she gazed out at the horizon wondering if it were possible that merely ocean waves separated her from her dream lover, though in her heart, she knew they were isolated by much more that mere water. For the millionth time she considered seeing a therapist, and for the millionth time discarded the notion. Any reputable therapist would certainly conclude that she was certifiableÉa completely unacceptable diagnosis as far as she was concerned. She had realized last night, when she found herself back in her motel room, alone, that she loved him even though she didn't know so much as his name.

Sighing, he turned his horse around and headed back toward Lorien. Too long he had wavered in his decision to visit The Last Homely HouseÉtime grew short and he would soon need to return to his post. Knowing he soon needed to discuss the situation - he could not bring himself to resume his duties while the visitations continued - he resigned himself to speaking with the one person in Lorien with whom his trust ran deepÉGaladriel, Lady of the Wood. He had been hesitant to approach even she with his problem, fearing that the Lady might think him soft in the head, but now he was desperate.

Heaving a great sigh, she turned from the water's edge, heading back toward her motel room. Her vacation time would soon be ending, and she would be forced to return to work or risk losing her job. Sadly, she realized that she no longer had any choice in the matter - she would have to speak to someone about her problem, and speak with them soon. It was on her way back to the motel, as she walked the small boardwalk along the sandy beach, that she spied the fortuneteller's sign in a shabby storefront. At first she shook her head, laughing at her own folly for even considering forking over money for some crackpot in a bandana and hoop earrings to spout drivel at her over an overturned glass fishbowl, but she reconsidered after just a few steps. Why not? Could the fortuneteller be any nuttier than she herself was at this moment? She, after all, was the one having cross-dimensional, or time-warping, or whatever it was, visits from a lover with silver hair and pointed ears. Besides, right now, she was desperate.

He had just reached the outer walls of the great city of Caras

Galadhon, when a voice whispered in his head, as soft and gentle as a summer's breeze. As always, he obeyed the voice immediately, hurrying along toward the Royal Talan where Galadriel awaited him. He stood at stiff attention before her, dreading her words, fearing the worst. Instead, after having heard his fantastic tale, she smiled gently, whispering the answer to his problem into his pointed ear. A smile crept across his face, a look of both wonder and relief evident in his sparkling grey eyes. He left the talan, knowing now what he needed to do; elated that his problem had been solved, but a bit disappointed that the visitations would be ending very soon.

She opened the door to the fortuneteller's storefront, a small bell tinkling overhead announcing her arrival to the proprietor. The fortuneteller, a lithe, lovely woman of an indeterminate age, her long hair flowing gracefully down her back in golden waves, sat straight on a chair in the darkened room at a small round table. There was no shiny, crystal ball or any gaudily colored tarot cards in evidence. The woman lifted her beautiful countenance, staring at her with clear and kindly soft blue eyes. Crooking a finger at her, the woman called her over, smiling gently, motioning for her to sit. Her voice melodic and comforting, the woman solved the dilemma of the visitations in a few, simple words. At first non-believing, she soon came to understand the truth of the woman's words. Leaving the fortuneteller, she smiled all the way back to the motel room.

Reaching his own talan, he set about getting comfortable for the night. Undressing, he crawled under the sheet of homespun that covered his pallet, praying she would come to him tonight so that he could end the uncertainty and misery that both their lives had been encompassed by. Folding his arms behind his head, he waited.

Opting to crawl between the cool sheets of the motel bed naked, she fluffed her pillow before laying her head down upon it. Tension gripped her as she prayed that she would be allowed to see him tonightÉto see if the fortuneteller's words were true. Eyes staring at the ceiling, the small piece of paper gripped tightly in her hand as instructed by the fortuneteller, she waited.

A sudden shift in the air currents signaled her arrival next to him on the pallet. Smiling, he reached for her, but did not immediately claim her, as had become his habit. Instead, he gently cupped her chin in his palm, and asked her name.

Feeling the pull at the core of her being, she blinked, to find herself looking into his beautiful gray eyes. He cupped her chin in his hand, and whispered the words that the old fortuneteller had said he would, the ones that she had explained the meaning of earlier in the day. He was asking for her name.

She understood! Great Eru, Galadriel had been correctÉthis time she had understood him! She spoke her name, to his ears the loveliest sounding words ever spoken. He gave her his own name, although he was not sure she understood. Nonetheless, he had her name! She had pressed a small piece of parchment into his palm, smiling. He looked quickly at it, but the writings made no sense to his eyes. Still, as Galadriel had explained, they would in time. Leaning forward, still smiling, he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Her own smile broadened as she realized that he understood herÉthat he now knew her name. Not understanding what he said next didn't matter. She still did not know his name, but she would. She gave him the small rectangle of paper, and threw her arms around his neck, joy apparent in her beaming face. Meeting his lips with her own in a gentle kiss, she stroked the side of his face, trying to memorize the feel of it.

Burying his face in her auburn curls, he breathed deeply, committing her scent to memory. His hands roamed the contours of her body, reveling in silkiness of her skin, his lips soon joining them on their journey. Working his way down to her shoulder, nipping and tasting her, he tried desperately to get his fill of her because it would have to last him. He was certain this would be the last visitation they would have together.

She buried her hands in his long silken locks, her own lips tasting the salty sweetness of his flesh, moaning as his lips found a nipple, sucking hungrily. A gasp escaped her lips as she felt the pull at the core of her being, signaling the end of their visit. Looking deeply into his eyes one last time, she smiled, pressing a finger from her own lips to his. The last image she had of him, one that was burned into her memory, was his own lips forming her name.

In an instant she was gone, the taste of her still on his lips. He sat up on the pallet, staring intently at the small square of parchment she had given him. Thankfully it had not disappeared when she did, or all would have been lost. He sent a silent, grateful prayer to the Valar for this one small miracle. He would protect this parchment with his life, if necessary, for it was the single most important document he would ever hold in his hands.

She was at her terminal at work, entering data at a feverish rate, when the company's receptionist poked her head in the office to inform her that she had a visitor. Rising from her desk, she ran her fingers through her hair, straightened her dress, and went out to the reception area to see who it was. She spotted him in an instant, standing tall, his back to her, staring intently at the photograph of her on the wall next to the "Employee of the Month" plaque. His hair was shorter - still not short by any means, but not nearly as long as she remembered. It suited him. It was tied neatly at the nape of his neck, that odd, beautiful silver color, covering his ears. His pointed ears, she was certain. He turned, his gray eyes filling at the sight of her. Her steps, at first slow and hesitant, became a running jump as she flung herself into his arms.

There she was, in a photograph on the wall. All this time, all these centuries, he had waited, patiently, knowing her time would come. Finally, it was here, and no force on heaven or earth would tear her from his arms this time. He felt her before he turned, his heart beating wildly in chest, his nose catching her scent on the air. Turning, he felt his eyes well with tears of joy, as she began to walk toward him. Catching her as she flung herself at him, he claimed her lips in a fierce kiss that only centuries of waiting could produce. Finally breaking the kiss, he gazed down into her eyes, and spoke her name softly. Smiling, he pressed the small square of parchment, protected now in a piece of clear plastic, into her palm.

She looked down at her hand, smiling at the age of the weathered and fragile old paper. Her business card. The one with her company's address and her name on it, that she had given him that last time they had been together. Looking back up into his gray eyes, she heard the most wonderful set of syllables ever utteredÉ

"My name is Haldir."

The End