To Finally Belong

Chapter 7 – Celebration

Círa was facing off against Haldir, now, sword in hand. A crowd had gathered since news of the previous day’s matches had spread, bringing even Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel out to the practice fields to watch. Several minutes of sparring had already passed with not a single point being scored yet by either of the combatants. Círa suspected that Haldir was going easy on her, but still, she was keeping him on his toes.

Haldir watched her constantly, always aware of exactly what her hands and feet were doing at any given moment, as well as her eyes. It was her eyes that gave her away. Before she would strike, she would usually glance at her target first, telling him what he needed to know. So far he had only attacked twice, expending more energy on defense rather than offense. By employing this strategy, he had already learned much about her fighting style, giving him the edge.

Glancing at his right thigh, Círa whirled around, bringing her sword down exactly where she had planned only to find Haldir’s sword already in place to stop her blade. Thinking fast, she swung her weapon around to come from the left this time before switching back to the other side.
Patiently, he waited as she circled him. Suddenly she moved forward in a fury, striking several times in a row and expending far too much energy. When her last strike fell weakly, making it obvious that she was growing tired, he finally attacked in a series of rapid movements that she was unable to block.

With his sword at her neck, she lowered her eyes in shame as she was forced to admit defeat to the Marchwarden. Humiliated to be beaten in front of such a large audience, she knew that she would be ridiculed for weeks. But to her surprise, other wardens began to approach her and praise her skills rather than to criticize her. Stunned she looked up to see Lord Celeborn compliment her on the match.

“I do not believe that I have ever seen anybody last so long against Haldir,” the elf-lord told her. “It is obvious that my wife knew what she was doing when she suggested you join the Galadhrim.”

Círa stuttered out her thanks, finally breaking into a smile as she realized that she was not going to be punished or mocked. The reasoning behind it escaped her, since she had lost the match, but she decided that she would ask Haldir about it later.

As a further demonstration of her skills for the Lord and Lady, Haldir had her once again spar against a series of the best wardens. Again, her match against Orophin ended in a standstill, while she won the others. Haldir smiled as though he had trained her himself, rather than those whom she was beating.

At the end of the sword demonstration, Lady Galadriel approached Círa and complimented her on her swordplay, though, unlike the others, she did not seem at all surprised by the elleth’s skills. Smiling, the lady also told Círa that she had a surprise for her. There would be some special guests coming to the celebration and though she would not disclose the identity of these visitors, the lady seemed very pleased about it. Círa tensed up. She was nervous about the party already, but having important guests attending would just make it worse. Not wanting to show her trepidation to the Lady of Light, Círa just smiled and hoped that she wouldn’t do anything to embarrass these wonderful elves that had welcomed her back into their community.

The demonstration with knives was next and the results were similar, with Haldir watching and waiting until the right moment to strike and claiming the victory when she wore down. The Lord and Lady left afterwards, as did many of the bystanders, once again praising Círa on her fighting skills. The show was over and now it was time for Haldir to talk to Círa about what he had learned. He sent his brothers and those remaining away, leaving just the two of them to discuss the matches in private.

“Do you know why I beat you, Círa?” he asked her.

“Because you are better than I am and much more experienced,” she answered promptly.

“No,” he said. “To an elf, the years do not matter after a while. You reach a certain point where you become as good as you can get and then unless you learn a new technique, you will never improve much.”

“That may be true,” she said in agreement. “I do not think that my skills have changed much in the last hundred years.”

“Because you have never been taught new technique,” he reiterated. “You have incredible skills and with some lessons in technique, you could be the best. You have the drive and passion that I see lacking in many of my wardens. I understand where this comes from now, for your very existence depended upon it. It is the same with my wardens to a smaller extent. If they do not fight well, they may lose their lives, but the Orcs are not as skilled as we are and it makes my wardens grow complacent. You have the drive, now you need the technique and I can give you that.”

“I would like that,” she admitted, enjoying the idea of improving her skills.

He nodded and readied his sword. “I will strike and I want you to block.”

He struck several times and she was only able to block about half of his moves.

“How do you know what to block?” he asked her.

“Well, I do not know until I see the sword move,” she admitted.

“I want you to strike now,” he told her. When she did, he was able to block every move.

“How did I know where to block, Círa?” he asked, forcing her to think.

“I do not know!” she said, frustrated. “It is as though you know before I strike...” she looked at him suddenly. “You are not looking at my sword but at my eyes,” she said, understanding. “I must give it away with my eyes.”

“Yes!” He said, “Exactly. You always look at your target before you strike so there is no doubt in my mind what you plan to do. Now I want you to strike again, but do not look at your target.”

She did as instructed but it was awkward for her and she was not confident that she was hitting her anticipated target. Assuring her that it would grow easier with time, they continued to work for an hour before he finally told her that they were done for the day. She started to protest but he raised an eyebrow, reminding her that she was now a member of the Galadhrim in training, and therefore under his command. She nodded and put away her weapons.

That afternoon, she practiced dancing again with Orophin and Rúmil. They had let Haldir take over the full responsibility of teaching her table etiquette since he would be eating with her each evening. She had asked him why he hadn’t been going to visit his she-elves lately and his excuse had been that he was more concerned about getting her ready for her debut at the party. That seemed strange since they only worked on the table etiquette for a short time each night, but she did not bring that issue up.

~~~~~~~~~

With the big event only a night away now, Círa was distraught. When she arrived at Haldir’s talan, dinner was already sitting on the table and the elf gave her a rather sharp look but did not comment this time. He knew that she was nervous about the upcoming celebration and that she was spending every spare minute she had perfecting her dancing skills so that she wouldn’t make a fool of herself.

When he went to pull her chair out, she slid smoothly up to the table. She remembered to use her silverware and napkin and ate slowly, rather than gulping down her food. Haldir seemed to be watching her very carefully and it increased her nervousness.

“Am I doing something wrong?” she finally asked.

“No, you are not, why do you ask?”

“You keep watching me,” she stated.

“I…just wanted to make sure,” he said, looking down at his plate.

“Can we dance tonight?” she asked him. “I want to work on my reading but right now I think the dancing is more crucial with the celebration being so close now.”

He smiled. “We can do that.”

He helped her clean up then they began to go through all of the dance steps she had learned so far.

“You are doing wonderfully, Círa,” he assured her. “I do not know why you are so concerned about this.”

“I am worried because you have all been so good to me and have spent so much time training me that I am afraid I will do something wrong and embarrass you tomorrow,” she admitted.

“What could go wrong?” he asked, the corner of his lip turning up. “You have learned not to leap across the table for food and that is a huge step forward. Your dancing is coming along nicely, as well.”

Still she looked concerned. “Can we do the slow dance? I still have trouble with it when I dance with Orophin or Rúmil.”

“But not with me?” he asked, taking her into his arms.

“No, I suppose I have learned to relax with you,” she suggested.

“Hmmm,” he said moving with her as she leaned against his chest. “Perhaps you might pretend that you are with me when you dance with the others. It might help.” It had certainly helped him in another situation, he thought wryly, but he would not discuss that with her.

“That is a good idea,” she agreed. “I could try that.”

Who would have ever thought that she would be more relaxed with Haldir than either of his brothers, she wondered. Of course, that only applied to the dancing and it was only because he was so good at it, she told herself. The tricky moves were coming up now and she remembered to shift her balance so that he could spin her out and back.

They continued on until the dance ended with Haldir once again spinning her out and back. When she was tight against his chest for the final time, the thought struck him that he did not want to let her go. Before he had a chance to think it over, he gently kissed her on the forehead.

“Haldir?” she asked, looking into his eyes, which were very close to hers.

“Yes, Círa?” he replied, his voice sounding unnatural to his ears.

“Was that a kiss that was meant to entice or was it the other kind?”

“Which kind do you want it to be?” his voice was a whisper.

A hesitation. “That depends,” she said, her voice equally soft.

Their eyes battled in silence for a moment as he realized the implications behind the two simple words. She might be interested, but it would not be for just a night. He was not ready for something more yet and neither was she. Reluctantly, he gave her the only answer that he could at the moment, “I suppose it was the other kind.”

As the shadow of hurt brushed across her features, he relented before he could stop himself.

“Just so that you can compare the two, this would be a kiss that was meant to entice,” he told her. Very slowly, he touched his lips to hers and let them linger as he softly moved his mouth against hers for a long moment before pulling back.

“Just so that you will know,” he repeated, his eyes not leaving hers.

She found herself unable to reply, assaulted by a barrage of feelings concerning this elf. Just as their mouths began to move towards each other once more, the sound of footsteps on the stairs moved them apart, breaking the spell instantly.

A new gown was delivered by one of Lady Galadriel’s seamstresses, meant for Círa to wear at the celebration the next day. She thanked the seamstress profusely after staring in awe at the exquisite dress.

“You made this?” Círa asked, stunned.

When the seamstress smiled and nodded, Círa continued her inspection. “The design is so intricate and the stitches are so tiny. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!”

Haldir smiled as he watched her look the dress over. He could not help but be caught up by her childlike enthusiasm and was looking forward to seeing her in the gown. By the time the seamstress left, they both realized that it was growing late and were a little uncomfortable about what had happened between them earlier. At almost the same moment, they awkwardly said their goodnights and moved towards different parts of the talan.

~~~~~~~~~

When Círa woke in the morning, she was even more nervous than she had been the day before. Haldir told her that she could skip bow practice if she’d rather just prepare for the evening, but she quickly declined that offer. It would be better to keep busy, she decided.

Círa watched Haldir closely this morning to see if his eyes betrayed any change. She sighed when she saw that he was acting no different than he had any other day since she had been here. When he had kissed her the previous night, she had thought for a moment that he had felt something for her, but now she realized that it had been nothing more than what he had stated at the time. He simply wanted to show her the difference in the two types of kisses. She had foolishly read too much into his actions and would have to be careful not to let that happen again. Elvish ways were still an enigma to her and she needed to remember that these elves, especially Haldir, were far more experienced than she was. She could not jump to conclusions based on her own limited experiences with an Uruk.

Bow practice did not go well that morning, since Círa was so uptight about the evening’s upcoming activities. Rúmil understood perfectly and was not too critical when she missed a simple shot, though he explained to her that it would be important for her to be able to shoot well under pressure. She agreed, knowing that being in battle was a different sort of stress than what she was dealing with today. Trying to force her mind back to the present, she pushed herself to work harder, making the day go faster. Hours later when Haldir approached and told her she should go get ready, she was surprised, not having realized it was so late.

She rushed back to the talan and bathed using the lavender hair soap and scented oils that Haldir had left for her. When her hair dried, she tried to fix it into the sort of style that the other elves used, rather than the simple single braid down her back that she normally chose. Growing frustrated with the job, she realized that she could not do it well, being unaccustomed to the tiny braids. She was almost ready to tear her hair out by the roots when Haldir arrived.

“Círa, what is wrong?” he asked, dodging the comb that she flung across the room.

She looked up, surprised, not having heard him approach during her tirade.

“I cannot do those stupid little braids that you elves seem to prefer,” she replied crossly.

“You could leave your hair down or put it in a big braid like you usually do,” he suggested sensibly.

“No, I do not want to stand out tonight,” she replied. “I wish to look like everybody else.”

“Círa, you will stand out tonight, no matter how your hair looks,” he said, eyes caressing her gently.

“Only if I do something stupid,” she told him.

“No, that is not what I meant,” he told her, but did not elaborate. “Sit down and I will see what I can do.”

“You?” she asked, surprised.

“I fix my own braids every day, surely I can do the same with yours,” he answered, arching a dark eyebrow.

She shrugged and sat as directed, letting him take over with her hair.

“Ouch!” she said, when he pulled some of the hairs too hard.

“Quit complaining,” he told her. “I am sure that you have suffered more pain than this.”

“Yes, but it does not hurt when I do it,” she replied, somewhat sullenly.

“No, but it will look right if I do it, so that is the price you must pay,” he said, placing a band around the first braid and moving on to the next one. It took him several minutes to get it just right, but when he was done he stepped back and looked her over. A smile broke across his face.

“How do I look?” she asked, nervous.

“Beautiful,” he told her, meeting her eyes. He pulled a smooth metal bowl from a cupboard and held it up so that she could see her reflection.

“Thank you,” she told him. He had done a better job than she ever could have done.

“You should change into your dress now,” he suggested. “Time is growing short.”

She changed quickly in the bathing chamber and when she left the room she could not help but to catch sight of Haldir in his bedroom as he was starting to put his tunic on. She had never seen the Marchwarden in just his leggings and it was a sight to behold. She stood still, unable to look away as she regarded the long blonde hair falling down his bare back. When he felt her gaze upon him, he turned and caught his breath as he observed her in her new gown. Círa made herself look away from the finely muscled chest and stomach, wishing she had never seen him this way. It made the talan suddenly seem very small.

Trying to busy herself while he finished dressing, Círa was straightening up a small pile of books when his voice stopped her. “Are you ready, Círa?”

Turning around, she caught her breath again when she saw him in his finest burgundy tunic. The silver threads wove an intricate work of art across his broad chest and were set off perfectly by the black leggings.

“You look wonderful,” she said, unable to hold the words back.

“I was about to say the same to you,” he admitted, eying the way the burgundy and pink gown hugged her curves. “We almost match, too.”

She smiled as he took her arm and led her from the talan.

~~~~~~~~~

The clearing on the forest floor had been transformed into a wonderland, with torches lighting the area. A feast was now being brought out to the tables that had been set up, and never had the elleth seen so much food in one place. Círa’s legs suddenly stopped moving before she and Haldir left the safety of the darker forest.

“I cannot do this, Haldir,” she told him, shaking.

“Círa,” he said, turning her face towards his with a finger beneath her chin, “you are a warrior. You can certainly handle something so harmless as a celebration, especially one in your honor.”

“That is the problem. I will be the center of attention and there are too many things that I could do to ruin the evening!”

“I will stay by your side all night, if it will help,” he assured her, rubbing her back the way he did when they danced, knowing that it would make her relax. “Just calm down and take a deep breath.”

She closed her eyes and let herself succumb to his touch, slowly relaxing as he pulled her against his chest. When she felt that her nerves were calmed, she told him so and they proceeded to the banquet area. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel were already present and they both told her how wonderful she looked. She thanked them, shyly, and also remembered to express her gratitude for the gown that had been given to her. Once the Lord and Lady were seated, Haldir pulled out Círa’s chair and she slid gracefully up to the table.

“Perfect so far,” he whispered into her ear, earning a smile from her.

“Our visitors have been delayed a bit and will not be able to attend the banquet, but will be here afterwards in time for the dancing and other festivities,” Lady Galadriel announced to those nearby.

Círa let out a sigh of relief, thankful that she would not have to face that hurdle quite so soon. The meal went very smoothly and Haldir only had to nudge Círa’s leg under the table once, when she started to eat a piece of meat with her fingers. She stopped herself in time and quietly thanked him for the reminder.

The variety of foods was astounding to Círa as she sampled several fruits and vegetables, some that she hadn’t tasted in two hundred years, if ever. The meats and cheeses were in abundance as were the variety of breads and libations. She had to resist the temptation to pile her plate high and instead took small samples of everything, watching Haldir’s plate and emulating him. When the meal was done, a dessert was set in front of each guest and Círa thought that it was the most marvelous thing that she had ever tasted. It took most of her self-control not to eat it in two huge bites. She had to remind herself that nobody was going to take it away from her and that she could savor it.

~~~~~~~~~

Haldir was relieved when the meal was over. It had been his main concern of the evening, but she had done well, doing nothing to make her stand out. The dancing should go smoothly, too, as long as nobody startled Círa. Right now she seemed very relaxed and he knew that the fact that he had been keeping her wine goblet filled hadn’t hurt. When the music started, he stood and pulled her chair back, then took her hand to escort her to the dance area.

The torches that lined this part of the clearing were mounted high on the trunks of the Mallorn trees to prevent any of the dancers from accidentally brushing against the flames. For that reason, the area was dim compared to where the tables were set up, but Círa was glad, feeling safer in the dark. She danced with Haldir and again was confused by the look she saw in his eyes. She fought the possibility that his feelings for her were changing, knowing that what she was seeing in him was only her imagination. It was a natural longing, to want to feel desired by another, but it seemed odd for her to want this with Haldir after the way he had treated her. She had to admit, that he was getting better, at least when they were alone.

When the dance ended, he seemed to be in no hurry to let her go, but suddenly Rúmil was there, wanting his turn. Haldir looked like he wanted to say something but before she knew it, Rúmil had swept her into his arms and away from his brother, twirling her around the dance floor. Her eyes followed Haldir’s for a moment before she pulled them away to pay attention to where her feet were moving.

Haldir stood by and watched as Rúmil moved around the forest floor with the beautiful elleth. It was hard to believe how his feelings had changed towards her in such a short amount of time. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that he desired her physically, but what had surprised him was the emotional attachment that had been forming over the last two weeks as well. Right now, he wanted to push the others aside and claim her for his own for the rest of the evening, taking every dance with her, but instead he simply stood by and watched. When one of the Galadhrim approached Círa to request a dance, Haldir quickly stepped over and pulled the elf aside. He explained that he should be careful not to startle her and to be sure to let her know what he was doing out of her line of sight. This warning would be repeated many times throughout the night but would be necessary to ensure the safety of the dancers, not to mention that it would keep Círa from embarrassment.

After a few more dances, the elves playing the stringed instruments slowed their beat and Círa knew that it was time for the slow dance. She almost panicked when an elf approached her, but suddenly Haldir was there in front of her, sweeping her into his arms. Her eyes closed in relief as she leaned against him and moved to the music.

“Círa, you are not relaxed,” he chided her, letting his hand caress her back.

“I am trying,” she insisted, her voice strained. “Dancing with these others is not like dancing with you and your brothers. At least most of them have been members of the Galadhrim so far, so they are not complete strangers, yet I keep finding myself tensing up. It helps when I know that you are near.”

He hugged her closer at that comment and wondered if she had any idea what those words did to him. He doubted it. She seemed to be unaware of his altered feelings towards her and that was probably for the best for now, though he knew that he would not be able to hide how he felt much longer. He sighed. It would do neither of them any good to rush into something that they might regret. Despite that, he touched his lips softly to her cheek and was seriously considering moving on towards her mouth when he felt somebody tap his shoulder.

“May I cut in?” the voice asked. Annoyed, Haldir turned to deal with the interruption but didn’t even open his mouth before he heard Círa cry out, “Legolas?”

The Marchwarden suddenly felt as though he were invisible as Círa rushed past him to envelop Legolas in a crushing hug. Not sure what to do, Haldir stepped back and let them have their reunion. Pushing away the feeling of jealousy that threatened, he was actually glad that the Mirkwood prince had finally shown up, as Círa considered him a friend and would be grateful for his company. After several minutes of talking, the two began to dance and Haldir walked away to watch from the edge of the dance area. Feeling as though she would be in good hands for a while, he went and got another goblet of wine before returning to the clearing.

~~~~~~~~~

“Haldir, I am surprised that you are not dancing,” Alfirin said, approaching the Marchwarden.

“I have danced,” he replied, “but I promised Círa to watch out for her tonight. She is very nervous.”

“She is fine,” the elleth assured him. “Look at her. She does not even know that you exist right now.”

Haldir looked sharply at Alfirin, wondering how much she suspected. He saw nothing in her face, but that did not mean anything. The she-elf was a master at subtlety and had been playing games like this for many years.

“Let us dance, Haldir,” she said. “Then you will still be close by if there is a problem.”

Reluctantly he agreed, wanting to be closer to Círa. He finished his wine in a single gulp before taking the elleth into his arms and moving onto the dance floor. While Alfirin tried to talk to Haldir and he tried to be polite and respond when necessary, he had a hard time keeping his eyes off Círa as she moved around the forest floor with Legolas. Somehow, he found himself moving further away and though Haldir tried to keep his eye on Círa, it was almost impossible. Catching a glimpse of her, Haldir thought he saw her looking around for him, her body growing tense when she did not see him nearby.

He began to excuse himself to Alfirin and when he once again caught sight of Círa, Lord Celeborn was approaching the elleth…from behind. Haldir’s eyes widened and he freed himself from Alfirin’s smothering grasp, but not in time. The whole incident only took a moment, but seemed to happen in slow motion to Haldir. No sooner did the elf-lord grab Círa’s arm than the elleth swung her elbow back into him with all of her strength. Celeborn hit the ground just as Haldir arrived and the Marchwarden knelt to help him up.

Círa looked at Lord Celeborn, stunned, as her hands flew to her mouth. She stood frozen for a moment until he said that he was all right. Mortified, Círa flew through the crowd and into the forest, not even stopping to figure out where she was going.

~To Be Continued~