ELANOR'S REVENGE

Chapter Five

They made camp an hour later. Elanor helped to gather firewood, contributing as best she could to the effort to construct a comfortable place in which to pass the night. Afterward, she huddled uneasily near the campfire, hugging Haldir’s cloak around her while she nibbled on a small piece of lembas.

Haldir stood a short distance away, conferring with several other elves, and as he spoke, she could see his breath on the air. He was the only one in the group not wearing a cloak, and he looked cold, yet she had heard him say nothing about it or the fact that his garment was on her back. He did not have to, of course; all of them must know it. Worse, they all must pity Haldir for having been burdened with her. Rúmil had called her an inexperienced hanger-on, and that was truly what she was. She had no survival skills, no sense of danger, nothing to contribute.

As the early spring air grew increasingly chillier, she grew more conscious with every passing moment that she still wore his cloak. How could she have been so stupid as to lose hers? She had been so inept and careless and foolish.

She watched Haldir furtively, noting how tall and imposing he looked against the black background of the dark trees, his stance so erect and noble. It brought to her mind how easily he used his bow and how lethal he had been. And she remembered all too well how strong he was, and how those ridged muscles looked when they flexed.

He was dangerous, that much was certain. And in more ways than one.

It appeared that some of them would rest while others stood guard until it was their turn to rest. She was unused to this odd feeling of danger, yet everyone else seemed to feel it. Inwardly, she shivered, wondering how she was ever going to relax when at any moment some hideous creature might attack. Apparently, the goblins were nothing compared to other creatures that existed. She had heard of some of them, but did not wish to see them for herself.

She watched Haldir and two others retreat into the night while others rested, falling easily into reverie. Elanor glanced to the right, and saw that the Lady Galadriel leaned comfortably in Lord Celeborn’s embrace. Elanor shifted her position, her body aching and exhausted. How she longed to curl up and sleep, but as the minutes passed she knew she would not be able to, for there was something important she had to do, and she would know no peace until she did it.

Reluctantly, she rose to her feet, glancing around at the others. No one spoke or even seemed to notice her as she left the warmth of the fire and headed into the shadows where she had last seen Haldir.

He found her before she could find him, his hand on her shoulder startling her so that she gave a soft gasp, her heart leaping as visions of goblins and other monsters jolted through her head.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was demanding yet soft, betraying nothing.

She gathered her wits, able to just make out his features in the darkness. “I was looking for you.” To her own ears, she sounded a little breathless, not quite herself.

“Oh?” She could see the slight lift to his brows. “For what purpose?” His tone seemed to have acquired a note of dry speculation. Sweet Elbereth, did he think she was here because she wanted him to . . . to . . .

She glared at him. “Not for the reason you are thinking!” she shot back, her voice low and a little indignant.

He moved a little closer, his hand still on her shoulder, and it reminded her of that moment in the garden. “What am I thinking, Elanor?”

“You are thinking . . . you are thinking that I want . . . ” She stopped abruptly. “I will not be made mock of, Haldir. You know perfectly well what you were thinking.”

He did not answer at once, but he removed his hand from her shoulder. “Elanor,” he said finally, sounding a little strained, “go back to the campfire.”

“I intend to,” she gritted, “but I came to give you your cloak. You look cold.” She reached up to unfasten it, but he stopped her, his strong fingers closing over hers.

“I do not need it. My tunics are far heavier than your thin dress. And you have nothing on beneath it. Now go.” He gave her a small push.

“Haldir,” she insisted, “You are cold. I really think you ought to let me . . . what did you say?” She gazed at him, wishing she could see his expression better, though it would likely be as impossible to read as usual. How did he know she wore only one layer?

“I said to go. Now.”

She stared at him, bewildered by his tone. “You are angry with me?”

He gave a small, wry laugh. “Angry, no. Nor am I cold, at least not yet. But later, when it is my turn to rest, I plan to come and share the cloak with you.”

Share? Elanor knew her breathing had grown shallow, and hoped he did not notice. This was not at all what she had had in mind, but how could she refuse?

“Certainly,” she said stiffly. “It is yours, after all.” She took a small step backward. “I apologize for losing my own. It was stupid of me.” There, she had admitted it. Now what would he say in return?

“It was not stupid, Elanor. It was an accident. You owe me no apology.”

Oddly reassured and a little surprised, she gave another small nod, and hurried back to the campfire, her thoughts in a whirl as she curled up and settled her head upon the soft corner of her bag of personal belongings. Gradually, she began to relax, yet the ground was hard and she was not at all comfortable. Moreover, she could not seem to put Haldir out of her mind, for all she could think about was the fact that he would soon be sharing the cloak. Images of him spun through her head, most of them enough to make her blush. How could she think such thoughts when she disliked him so much? Perhaps it was as he had said. It was only nature and meant nothing. But the only other thing to think about was the aches she had acquired from riding. How she wished she had healing skills like Haldir did!

It seemed like half the night had slipped away before he joined her, quietly easing the cloak from around her and draping it over the both of them. Elanor lay on her side and tried to ignore him, her eyes wide open as he settled himself behind her so that their bodies almost touched. Almost, but not quite.

She wriggled slightly, wishing desperately that she could simply drift into a sleep reverie like the other elves had done. How she wished for the softness of a mattress beneath her! She wriggled again, her body throbbing from the ache of her sore muscles, throbbing also in a different way from the knowledge of Haldir’s nearness. The combination was almost more than she could bear.

“Elanor,” Haldir murmured, “lean back against me. I think that may help with your discomfort.”

“I am fine,” she whispered.

“Elanor,” he said, still very softly, “do as I say. I am tired and wish to rest. I cannot do so with you bouncing around next to me.”

“I am not bouncing!” she hissed.

Abruptly, his arm came around her waist, and she found herself snuggled up against him, much in the same way Galadriel lay cradled against Celeborn only a short distance away. She had only a few seconds to note that Haldir’s loins were firmly pressed against her backside, a few seconds for her heart rate to accelerate in response to that contact. And then she heard Haldir whisper certain words in her ear, and knew that he had cast a sleeping spell over her . . .

It was her last thought for quite some time.

When she awoke, it was not yet light, but the first and earliest morning birdsong greeted her ears and the crisp, cold air carried the scent of spring. To her slight surprise, Haldir still slept, his warm body pressed close to hers, his soft breath fluttering a few strands of hair at the side of her face. It seemed odd to think that he required rest, for his powerful personality seemed an unending source of strength and stamina. Still, like anyone else, he was certainly entitled to a respite.

However, he was not entitled to have his arm slung around her waist the way that it was, nor was he at all entitled to have his hand cupping the underside of her breast. His thumb was actually on her . . . Elanor sat up abruptly, elbowing Haldir hard in the ribs.

Twisting around to glower at him, she saw that his eyes were open and alert. “What is it? Is there a problem, Elanor?” He spoke calmly, suggesting that he was unconcerned by her sudden movement. In fact, his perplexed look gave her the distinct feeling he did not realize where his hand had been. If so, she was certainly not about to tell him.

“No,” she said, trying not to glare. “But it is morning.”

“Not quite.” He slanted a look at her. “You may rest a while longer.”

“I think not,” she almost snapped.

She saw him frown, then his gaze flicked down to her chest. “You are cold,” he stated. “Come back under the cloak.”

Elanor felt the flush rise in her cheeks, for she knew that her nipples had gone pebble hard. Her jaw tight, she yanked the cloak completely off of Haldir, shoving at him as she scrambled to her feet and wrapped it around herself. “There, I am under the cloak. Are you satisfied?” Too late, she heard the belligerence in her tone. She had not meant to speak so, but she was very flustered.

He rose to his feet so swiftly it amazed her, his hand sweeping out to grip her chin. For a long moment his steely gaze roamed her face, then he spoke, his quiet tone belying the firmness of his message. “Do not forget that you are my ward, Elanor. You owe me your respect and your obedience. You are not dealing with your fellow pranksters back in Rivendell.”

She stared back at him. “I obeyed you, Haldir. I am under the cloak.”

“I will not bandy words with you, Elanor. This is a small matter, but in the future I expect you to heed what I say.”

He buckled on his sword belt, then slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the cold light of early dawn, surrounded by elves who were all beginning to awaken and stare at her curiously.

After several days of traveling, the elves finally neared the sanctuary of the Golden Wood. To the others, the tall trees of Lothlórien were a welcome sight, but for Elanor, the thought of what lay ahead made her view them with anxiety.

Under other circumstances, to live in a new city in a new land among unknown elves might have seemed an exciting adventure, but knowing she would be doing so as Haldir’s ward dampened her spirits and set her teeth on edge. She was still mortified by all that had occurred, and dreaded the possibility that the Lórien city elves would view her as an object of pity. At the same time, she was eager for the journey to end, for her body ached from hours of riding as well as from trying to sleep upon the hard ground.

And although the changing terrain had enthralled her, she had not realized how silently they would pass over the land to avoid attracting unwanted attention. Only she, Galadriel, and Celeborn rode, the rest were on foot, with the last horse used to carry supplies and baggage. All in all, the journey had not been the thrilling adventure she might have imagined, especially since Haldir insisted on leading her horse after that first day, completely curtailing her freedom.

Was he afraid she would try to escape? He could not possibly believe she would do such a thing, yet if he did, she was insulted. The only other explanation was that he thought he needed to keep an eye on her, and that implied that he thought she would do something foolish, something that could place them in danger. That, too, was an insult. But she had not asked him his reasons, and he had not deigned to enlighten her. In fact, for the most part he ignored her. Not that she cared.

At least the weather had warmed, which meant that he did not attempt to sleep next to her or share the cloak as they had on that first night. On the other hand, when he did rest, he stayed within an arm’s length of her. Perhaps he saw her as an extension of his belongings, something that required looking after. It was a lowering thought.

Even so, he hardly spoke to her at all, being far more focused on inspecting the underbrush and thickets around them than on her. And rightfully so, she admitted fairly. It was his duty to keep them safe, and she admired that he took his responsibilities seriously. Since she had always done that herself, it was something she could respect, even if she did think him arrogant, overbearing and heartless.

When they finally rode into the Lórien woods, all Elanor could think about was getting off her horse as soon as possible. Was the city near? She gazed up at the great canopy of trees while reaching around to rub her hand against her aching lower back.

Their pace had slowed, and she looked at Haldir, wondering how much farther they would have to travel. After days of sitting astride a horse that seemed bent on jolting her as much as possible, the insides of her legs and her backside hurt more than she would ever have thought possible. She longed to ask him to stop so she could dismount, but she would rather fall off her horse in a dead heap than ask for anything from him.

As if feeling her gaze on his back, Haldir turned to look at her, his astute gaze on her face. “It is not far now, Elanor. Only another day’s ride.” It was the first time he had spoken to her in hours.

A full day’s ride? He called that not far?

Elanor could not repress a grimace, and was annoyed to see the slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. So he found her amusing, did he?

“I suggest you walk for awhile,” he said. “It is safe now, and you can work out the stiffness and give your backside some relief.”

His voice seemed gentler than usual, but did it not also hold a trace of laughter? Without a doubt he was testing her, goading her to admit to weakness, and she would not do it, not if it killed her. Each day he had asked her if she needed his assistance in any way, and each day she had told him no. She would cling to her pride, for it was all she had left.

She raised her chin in defiance. “I am perfectly fine, thank you.” If Galadriel could ride hour after hour without complaint, then so could she. She would show him that he could not break her.

Haldir just looked at her, the warmth in his eyes fading. “If you insist, Elanor.” His gaze rested on her for a moment longer before he turned away, drawing the horse forward once more.

She bit her lip, already regretting her answer. In fact, she would rather die than admit to him that he was right, so for now she would just endure. Perhaps he would ask again. If he did, she would swallow her pride and accept.

Moments later they were greeted by several male Sylvan elves, who startled Elanor by dropping from the trees silently and without warning. They bowed their heads to the Lady and Lord Celeborn, exchanged quiet words with Haldir, and then returned to the trees, easily ascending the rope ladders that were nearly invisible until one knew that they were there.

She stared after them in bemusement, automatically comparing them with Haldir and the other Lórien elves she had met. They were all beautiful to look upon, but she could not help thinking that the March Warden possessed something the rest of them did not. What was it about Haldir that put this thought in her head? Was it only his arrogance and authoritative air that set him apart? Or was it more than that?

Another hour passed. Elanor gazed around in mute appreciation of the golden beauty that was Lothlórien. If she did not hurt so much, she could appreciate it even more. Did one’s body ever grow accustomed to so much time in the saddle? She supposed so, but hers had not.

Perhaps she should say something to Haldir. He was not omniscient; he could not know how truly sore she was. The inside of her knees felt like rocks banged against them, her inner thighs were chaffed, and as for her backside, it had gone beyond pain into agony. To add to this, she was exhausted, for she had not slept well on any of the nights since she had left Rivendell, except perhaps for those few hours when he had made sure she did.

“Haldir?” she said, as casually as possible. Did her voice sound higher than usual? Even a little squeaky?

“Yes, Elanor?” To her frustration, he did not halt or turn around, but simply went on walking, which meant her horse kept on walking also.

“Did you wish me to walk beside you?” she asked, telling herself it was a clever question. If he admitted it, then she could magnanimously agree.

“You are free to ride if that is your preference,” came his indifferent reply.

Exasperating elf! How she longed to strangle him!

“Well, I thought perhaps you wished to speak with me, perhaps tell me a something about Caras Galadhon. You seemed so proud of it.”

“I am indeed proud of it,” he agreed, very smoothly. “But since you prefer to ride and I must lead your horse, we can speak of it later.”

She glared at his back and nearly made a face. He was the most provoking, annoying, infuriating elf she had ever had the misfortune to meet! She took several deep breaths, and tried again. “Well, you will doubtless be occupied later. There is little else to do at the moment except talk. After all, you need not be on your guard any longer now that we are within the borders of your land.”

“I will not be occupied later. I plan to spend a good deal of time with you before I leave you on your own.”

Why did everything he say rile her so much? Probably because she imagined that he was secretly laughing at her behind that cold mask he wore. She had not seen him smile a real smile since the day by the stream. Elanor ground her teeth and said nothing more.

The day wore on. At midday they stopped for a rest, and Elanor slid from her horse before Haldir could approach. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else. She took a step, trying to keep her inner thighs from brushing together, and nearly fell.

Of course Haldir managed to glance her way in time to see. He walked over and took her by the arm. “There are consequences to your choices, Elanor. You are feeling them now.”

“You seem to enjoy my suffering,” she said waspishly, dropping the pretense that nothing was amiss.

He frowned. “Again, you misjudge me. I do not like to see you like this.”

“Galadriel fares well enough,” Elanor retorted.

“That is so,” he agreed. “She is accustomed to travel, and she is strong.” He paused, studying her intently. “Do you wish me to relieve you of some of your pain?”

Hope flared within her. “You would take away my pain?” she asked, trying to conceal her eagerness. Why had he not offered this before? Had he been waiting for her to ask?

“I will take away some of your pain,” he corrected, “though you have earned it with your stubbornness. I will heal the inside of your knees, if you like. The rest you will have to endure for now. It is the price you must pay for your lack of honesty and foolish pride.”

Elanor could not believe her ears! Here she was, trying to be brave and uncomplaining, and he called her dishonest! How dared he! The arrogant, heartless, insufferable elf!

“Go to Mordor!” she fired back. She turned to walk away, took a single step, caught her foot on a tree root, and fell. Why the ground did not simply open up and swallow her, she did not know. She had never felt so humiliated in her life, with the exception of the night Haldir had tied her to her own bed. For the first time since she had left home, her tears threatened to erupt, and she squeezed shut her eyes to stop the flow.

He picked her up by her forearms, holding her upright while he shook his head and sighed. “Elanor, Elanor, this is going to be a long year, is it not? You have much to learn, youngling.” Then he did something extraordinary. He touched a finger to the corner of her eye and gently brushed away the drop of moisture that had collected there.

Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her out of sight of the others and set her down beside the trunk of one of the massive golden trees. At this point, she could only watch him numbly while he shoved up her skirt and examined the damage to her legs. With a sigh, he placed his palms on the insides of her knees, and within a few moments the heat came, and soon the bruises were gone. Then he lowered her skirt and rose to his feet, looking down at her impassively as if waiting for her to say something.

She gazed up at him, her emotions torn. Did he not realize how difficult this was for her? Her knees felt better, but she still hurt in other places, and he was refusing to help her. Not that she wanted his hands up her skirt, but really! What did he expect her to do? Beg?

“Come,” he said, and held out his hand. “You will walk the rest of the day. I make this decision for you, so you do not have to make it yourself.”

She ignored his outstretched hand as she struggled to stand up. “I can make the decision,” she protested.

“You had that chance. Now I take it away from you. You will walk beside me and I will hear no argument.” He looked at her, his steady gaze telling her he meant what he said. “This is a direct order, Elanor.”

Elanor sighed and nodded curtly, knowing she could do nothing but yield. Perhaps eventually she would get the chance to pay him back. She did not discover until much later that she was the first maiden ever to walk by his side while he traveled through the Golden Wood.

The sun was setting when they reached a high ridge in the wood. The trees had grown larger as they traveled, the undergrowth more sparse. Haldir paused for a moment, waiting for Elanor to catch up, although she had done very well all things considered. He stood still, watching her trudge up the hill in his wake, trying not to let her see how much he enjoyed looking at her.

He reached out a hand and pulled her up next to him, pausing at the top of the ridge so she could get the best view of his city. Ahead of them, Galadriel and Celeborn were already making their way down the slope, their horses picking their way carefully. At this point in the journey, there was no reason for Haldir to lead, and it was right that the Lord and Lady should be first to arrive in their city. Rúmil had taken charge of Elanor’s palfrey, and had also gone on ahead, just behind the Lord and Lady.

Haldir watched Elanor’s face as she gazed at Caras Galadhon for the first time. “Your new home,” he said. “Another hour and we will be there.” His heart rejoiced to be here, and he secretly hoped that she would find his city as wonderful as he did. But if she had such thoughts, she gave no sign. Of course, that would change once she was in it.

“Indeed.” She turned her blue eyes upon him for an instant and then looked away. “Only an hour?” she asked, her tone telling him that she was still trying to annoy him. Or perhaps annoy was the wrong word. She was trying to provoke him into losing his temper. She resented being subject to his will, but subject to it she was and would remain.

Ignoring her remark, he caught hold of her elbow and urged her forward and down the trail, following in the wake of all the other elves making their way toward the city in the trees.

Once inside the gates, Haldir stopped, nodding to the wardens who had lingered, waiting for him to arrive. With his signal, all except Rúmil and Orophin quickly dispersed, heading off to their respective destinations while Haldir turned to Elanor, noting the hard set of her jaw as she looked around. Was it disapproval of her surroundings or was it an attempt to hide her discomfort from his eyes? Most likely the latter, he suspected, and wished he could read her mind. Perhaps Galadriel might have some insight into how he should deal with this lovely and stubborn elleth. Whether the Lady would tell him anything or not was another matter, but it would not hurt to ask.

“I must speak with the Lady before we retire for the evening,” he stated.

Elanor’s head jerked in his direction. “Before we retire? What do you mean ‘we’?”

“You will stay with me in my talan until I decide otherwise.”

“I cannot stay with you!” she said with outrage. “I refuse.”

Haldir looked her up and down, allowing himself the brief indulgence of enjoying this battle of wills she seemed determined to play with him. “Then where will you stay, Elanor? We have just arrived. You are my ward and must be near me. Right now I wish you to take my belongings to my talan.” Ignoring her heaving breasts and flushed cheeks, he gestured toward the small saddle bag that held the few belongings he carried with him on his travels.

She stared at him as though he were mad. “What?”

“Do you have trouble hearing?” he inquired patiently.

“I have my own belongings to carry,” she retorted, bristling at him. “You cannot make me carry yours.”

He moved close to her, speaking so only she could hear. “Of course I can make you, but I do not think you wish to experience my methods. Suffice it to say that disobedience will have its consequences. Unless you have some reasonable objection, in which case I will listen. Do you have a reasonable objection, Elanor? If so, tell me now.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Give me your quiver, Haldir. I will carry that for you if you wish.”

Now what was in her mind? Did she think that carrying his travel bag was too menial a task? Her tone challenged him, suggesting that she thought he would refuse to let her touch his weapons. In truth, to carry his weapons was an honor he accorded to few, and never to someone who was not a warrior like himself. Had she guessed this? And did she have any idea how heavy they were?

“Very well, Elanor,” he said, after a moment’s consideration. He unbuckled his quiver and laid it across her arms, then removed his sword and scabbard. “You may take these as well,” he added, and laid them gently next to the quiver in her arms. Turning, he retrieved his bow from where he had leaned it against a tree. He gave this to her also, setting it on top of the other weapons, and waited to hear what she would say.

“I do not know where your talan is.” Elanor struggled to support the weighty objects in her arms, her face a little white.

Haldir waved his hand toward the trees above his head, and proceeded to give her a set of complicated instructions. There were many mellyrn trees, many staircases, and many little bridges. For a newcomer, it would be very confusing.

Elanor’s pretty mouth gaped open. “You expect me to remember all that?” She dropped the bow on the ground, juggling the sword and scabbard and quiver. Haldir reached out to steady the sword, then retrieved the bow from the ground and gave it back to her.

“Is it a problem?” he inquired. “Will you need assistance?”

“No,” she said tersely. Her chin rose rebelliously when he folded his arms over his chest and lifted a brow. “I will find it one way or another.” Turning away, she staggered toward the nearest set of steps, displaying much less than her usual grace.

Orophin and Rúmil stepped forward, both of them looking puzzled. “What in Arda was that all about?” Orophin asked. “Rúmil or I could have taken your weapons.”

Haldir glanced at them. He did not like to explain himself, but he saw their genuine concern, and for his brothers he would make an exception. “Elanor possesses a strong spirit, but it is misdirected. She has not learned to communicate her needs without becoming antagonistic. She either suppresses her desires or lashes out in a reckless manner. She is too proud and stubborn for her own good.”

“Proud and stubborn,” Orophin repeated thoughtfully. “That reminds me of someone else I know, but at the moment I cannot recall who is it.”

Haldir fixed him with a stern look. “She must learn to admit when she requires help or cannot do something. Otherwise, she will only land herself into more trouble, or even danger.”

“But she is exhausted.” Rúmil frowned. “Must you test her so quickly?”

“It is I, not you, who has been saddled with a ward,” Haldir answered. “Therefore, it is I who will decide when and how to teach her that which she must learn. Lord Elrond expects this of me, and a year is a very short time. Which reminds me, I believe you two are on watch, but you may wait until morning to depart.”

Orophin groaned. “I hoped you had forgotten.” He gave a rueful smile and shouldered his bow.

Haldir turned to look after Elanor; he could still see her struggling up the spiraling steps. “One of you follow her. She will be sure to get lost, for I know she only took in half of what I said. I must speak with Galadriel.”

“I will go,” Rúmil said quickly.

Haldir and Orophin watched him sprint toward the staircase and Elanor. “I think he likes her,” Orophin remarked, his tone very casual.

“He may like her all he wishes.” Haldir bent down to pick up his travel bag. “From a distance,” he added.

Orophin smirked and arched a brow. “Oh? And why is that, brother?”

Haldir gave him a cool look. “Because I said so.”


[To be continued . . .] FEEDBACK GREATLY APPATEDATED!!