My Heart's Desire - Part 2. If You Go Away.

Chapter 8. Less Than Enough.


When Haldir thought back on it afterwards, he was inclined to believe that things began to go awry after the Yule. He noticed nothing amiss during the festivities. But then the holiday was over, the Gondorin delegation departed for home as well as Rúmil and his companions. The twins left with them, embarking on some fighting mission of theirs.

It was about that time that he started having a feeling that some sort of crack had formed in his relationship with Gildor. Oh, there was nothing as definite as a quarrel or even a minor disagreement; nothing to explain the uneasy feeling Haldir tended to have more and more often when he was about Gildor. No, nothing definite, only that Gildor seemed quieter and laughed less readily, and that the green of his eyes once again resembled the green of an emerald more than that of young leaves.

And their lovemaking… Gildor was not actually unwilling… ‘Less enthusiastic’ described it better. Fire and spirit were gone from their coupling. It seemed to Haldir that it was more about sex now than about love. Gildor just lay there and took it, allowing his lover to do whatever it required to satisfy his desire. And even if one regarded their intimacy solely as sex, Gildor was becoming a dull partner. Haldir had had much better sex in his life. He wondered if Gildor was getting bored with him.

“You are not the first and you won’t be the last. We’ve seen it before. He’ll dump you sooner or later.”

The words were stuck in his memory like a painful thorn. The prospect of loosing Gildor brought him to the verge of panic. He felt frightened and insecure, and it made him aggressive. He demanded from Gildor more and more proof of his own significance to him. Gildor’s patience was infinite but Haldir rather thought that this patience was akin to the one his lover could exhibit when pacifying a spoiled child. Haldir wished Gildor would show less self-control and more feeling. Any reaction, even Gildor’s renowned wrath, would have been more welcome than his damned composure, because it would prove that Gildor still cared for him enough to be affected by what he did or said. Gildor’s lack of emotion was driving Haldir mad and he started spending more time with his new friends or on the training grounds with his guards. Their respect and deference were balm for his wounds. In their company, away from Gildor’s unsettling presence, he was able to regain his self-assurance and once again to believe in his own worth. Haldir thought that a couple of times he saw Glorfindel looking at him as though the Elda were about to give him a piece of his mind. But as Glorfindel never actually spoke out, Haldir was not sure it had not been just his imagination.

Gildor was driven almost to desperation by Haldir’s caprices. He tried to be understanding but his tolerance was wearing thin. To be treated like Haldir’s property, and in public too, was humiliating at the least. He wished he could send to Mordor his intention to be wise and patient and give Haldir a good thrashing. But he doubted that a sound kick, delivered to his lover’s backside, would make their already strained relations better. It was almost with relief that he found refuge in his office, where he could relax, away from the source of his vexation.

Haldir asked himself more than once what he would do if Gildor told him he did not want him any more. He was not able to come up with an answer, so he was caught entirely unprepared when he had to meet with Gildor’s refusal for the first time.

They had spent that day separately and Haldir had missed Gildor. So when Gildor appeared out of the bathroom, dressed in a thin silk robe that clung to his body in the most appealing way, Haldir caught his wrist and pulled him into his arms. Gildor flinched visibly and extricated himself from Haldir’s embrace, gently but resolutely.

“I cannot. I am sorry but… I cannot.”

Haldir was shaken to the core. So that was it then…

“Why?” he asked in a suddenly hoarse voice.

Gildor looked away. “I have bruised my ribs,” he explained reluctantly.

“Bruised your ribs?”

“Yes,” Gildor hesitated as if picking up words carefully. “I… I was sparring with Glorfindel and… well, I missed a blow.”

Haldir was looking at him in disbelief. Could Gildor not think of a better pretext than that? Some bruise would never be a hindrance if Gildor really wanted to make love. Actually, it had been more than once that they both had sported bruises after a session of passionate lovemaking, Gildor especially so, for his golden skin marked easily. If his lover did not want him, could he not at any rate respect him enough to say so honestly, without resorting to so obviously lame excuses? Damn, that hurt. Haldir knew he would not be able to stay and pretend that nothing had happened. He grabbed his tunic and pulled it on.

Gildor looked at him in confusion. “Where are you going?”

“I do not feel like sleeping yet. I’ll just go out and have a drink somewhere. Do not wait for me. Go to bed.” And Haldir fled the room, fastening his belt as he went.

Gildor heard the door of their suite shut and sighed. It looked like it had not gone well. He did not want to tell Haldir that, actually, it was worse than a bruise because in this case he would have to explain things he would rather not explain. Glorfindel had been right: his focus *was* failing him, and badly.


Glorfindel and he were sparring and he missed a blow that normally would have never caught him by surprise. When he finally saw it coming, there was merely a couple of seconds left before Glorfindel’s weapon connected with his flesh. Glorfindel could not stop his hand but, luckily for them both, he was an experienced swordsman and he was able to turn his sword at the last moment so it hit Gildor with its flat side instead of the sharp edge. The impact sent Gildor off his feet and left him gasping for air. They were rather painful gasps, he had to admit.

Glorfindel dropped his sword and rushed to his side.

“Naira! Are you alive?” Glorfindel was ashen-white and his hands were shaking. “I could have killed you! Valar, I could have killed you… ”

For the sake of his badly shaken friend, Gildor tried to overcome his own shock. “You have not killed me, Mallos. Calm down. I am all right. Not quite fine at the moment, but all right.”

Glorfindel took a deep breath. “You fool! See what I meant? The loss of focus can kill you!”

“Yes, yes, I see,” Gildor answered absentmindedly, touching his injured side gingerly.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Wash, rest,” Gildor shrugged. The motion made him wince. “I do not think I can take more beating today.”

“It’s not what I asked you about and you know that.” Glorfindel helped Gildor rise. “You should settle your problems, Naira, or they will settle themselves in a way you will not like in the least.”

“I know, I know. But right now I need to do something about my bruised side.”

“Shall I take you to the House of Healing?” Glorfindel offered, his worry once again flaring up.

“No, it is not that bad.”

Glorfindel looked at his friend in doubt: Gildor was breathing carefully and slowly and tried not to move his arm. “I think you should see a healer.”

But Gildor shook his head stubbornly. “I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad.”


However, it *was* that bad. After Haldir’s abrupt departure Gildor tried to lie down. But he could not keep still: he felt too restless. And every movement made his injured side throb with pain. Finally he had to get up and search for a jar of pain-killing salve he knew he had somewhere in the suite. He found it and applied the salve to the sore spot as well as he could. Then he took a seat in an armchair by the window and sat, watching the night.

When Haldir returned hours later, he found Gildor awake.

“You did not say you would be away for so long,” Gildor remarked, trying not to sound offended.

Haldir shrugged. “It did not look like I was of any use to you here.”

“And I thought it was I who was of no use,” Gildor objected quietly.

Haldir pretended he did not hear him and went on divesting himself of his clothes. “Why are you not sleeping?” he asked. “I told you not to wait for me.”

“A pain in my side has kept me awake,” Gildor muttered.

“You mean your bruise?”

“That too.”

Haldir frowned: he was not sure he quite understood what Gildor implied. “I can go and fetch a healer if you wish,” he offered then.

But Gildor shook his head. “There is no need to bother anyone. It is almost morning anyway. I can wait a couple of hours more.”

When Haldir woke up, Gildor was not in the room.


Gildor went to see Elrond about his injury, bracing himself for another lecture on how the problems in his private life affected his whole existence. But Elrond said nothing on the matter. He examined Gildor’s side and announced that there was more than an angry bruise: there was a rib fracture. Elrond was able to ease Gildor’s pain and to cure the swelling. Though the bruise was still visible, it was of a less vivid colour now. But that was as much as Elrond could do on the spot.

“You must go easy on yourself for a while,” he told Gildor. “Your body needs time to recuperate. As far as I know, your patrol is due for the border duty in a couple of days?”

Gildor nodded.

“If you mean to lead your guards yourself, you must not do any sword training till then. Or any lovemaking, either. I shall examine you again when it is time for you to leave. And if I find out that you have ignored my orders, you will stay in Imladris and be confined to bed in the House of Healing. Is that understood?”

Gildor nodded again. He could see that the Lord of Imladris was serious about his threat. And though Elrond did not say a word about how or why Gildor had got his injury, it was obvious that he was not in the least happy about it all.

To stay away from the training grounds was not much of a problem. In fact, Gildor was quite content to sit in his office and catch up on the paper work he had neglected for a while. Refraining from lovemaking though was a different matter. Gildor knew Haldir would not be overjoyed at being turned down again. He was right, of course…


Haldir looked down at his lover with stormy eyes. “You can not or you do not want to?”

Gildor felt his own irritation stir. “I’m telling you I can not! I am to go on patrol in three days. I must get well before then.”

Haldir looked skeptically at the pale bruise on Gildor’s ribs. “As you say.”

And he rolled away to his side of the bed. He did not make any more attempts to touch Gildor that night; nor the following nights either.

They spent the last evening before Gildor’s patrol in the Hall of Fire. They came there together and stayed close to each other, but they hardly spoke to one another and when they did, it was not with much warmth.

Glorfindel was watching them in concern. Erestor followed the direction of his worried looks.

“It seems we are having a dormant volcano here, which is about to erupt,” he remarked nonchalantly.

Glorfindel turned to him and his eyes narrowed. “Do not dare poke your nose into the crater to speed the process.”

Erestor laughed scornfully. “There is no need to. They are doing a very good job of ruining their relationship themselves.”

Glorfindel looked at him suspiciously. “Why do I have this feeling that my warning has come too late and that you have already meddled with their affairs in some way?”

Erestor shrugged. “I have no idea why.” But he thought it wise to change the topic. “Are you going to send any letters to Mirkwood? The courier and his guards are leaving tomorrow.”

Glorfindel frowned. “Why do I learn about it only now?”

Erestor gave him a sarcastic smile. “Because you, my dear Glorfindel, never bothered to ask.”


Gildor was looking at the sculptured muscles of Haldir’s back from his side of the bed. He wished he could reach out and touch him. He missed the security and comfort of his lover’s embrace, the feeling of being skin to skin with him. If going against Elrond’s orders had meant only making their coupling painful for him, Gildor would not have hesitated for a moment. But he could not run the risk of being restrained from his patrol. Still, he could not bear the strain between Haldir and himself any longer, either. It made him feel cold and sick and unhappy.

“Haldir,” he called softly. “Are you angry with me?”

“No,” Haldir answered without turning over. “I am simply tired. It has been a long day. You’d better go to sleep too. You have to get up early tomorrow.”

Gildor suppressed a sigh. “Good night, Silfael.”

“Good night.”

When Gildor finally succumbed to slumber, Haldir rolled carefully over and moved stealthily closer to him. For a long time he lay there, watching Gildor sleep.

Next morning Gildor received Elrond’s permission to leave and rode away, leading his patrol to the border. It was the first time that he left without Haldir. But the Galadhel had his own guards now to take care of, to train and to command.


Imladris felt different without Gildor. Of course they had been spending much time separately of late but that was different. Gildor could be locked up in his office for the whole day, but Haldir knew that he was near, that he could go and see him any moment he wished and that he would find Gildor at night waiting for him in his bed…

Haldir missed him, perhaps more so because of their current estrangement. And he worried for Gildor’s safety. Fear for his lover clawed at his heart and haunted his sleep. He dreamt almost nightly of orc swords and arrows piercing Gildor’s body and he was not there to save him. The dread was driving Haldir out of his mind. He thought that if this was how it was going to be every time Gildor went on patrol without him, he would rather be one of Gildor’s guards and stay close to him than command his own patrol and spend in agony every day his lover was away.


On the morning Gildor was due back Haldir rose before dawn. He simply could not stay in bed. He wandered downstairs and came out into the yard in time to see Glorfindel’s patrol leave to relieve Gildor’s. Haldir wished the time would fly faster for he was aware that he had several hours to wait yet. Haldir headed for the kitchens where he knew he could find some hot tea and freshly baked buns. The cook was generous enough to add some cheese and honey to his impromptu breakfast.

Haldir had his meal unhurriedly and then went outside again. One moment the yard was quiet and empty and the next – it was suddenly filled with commotion. Haldir watched with astonishment as the Lord of Imladris rushed out of the House of Healing almost at a run, followed closely by two of his healers. Then Haldir heard the urgent staccato of hooves on the stones of the pavement and a white horse galloped into the yard, carrying two riders. Haldir’s heart missed a beat: it was Gildor supporting one of the twins in his arms. The prince was covered in blood and unconscious. Gildor stopped the horse by Elrond’s side and handed down his charge carefully. Elrond took his wounded son into his arms and hurried inside with him. Gildor dismounted but did not follow them. He stroked Silivren’s neck, talking to him quietly and gratefully. The horse put his head onto Gildor’s shoulder, his sides still heaving after a long and fast run. Then Gildor pushed the stallion gently away and he walked in the direction of the stables.

Still, Gildor stayed where he was. It was obvious that he was waiting for something or someone. Haldir started walking towards him. Gildor caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head. Their eyes met over the distance. Gildor’s face brightened a little but before he could say or do something one more rider dashed through the gates. The other twin. He was covered in blood too, looked white like death and did not seem quite sane. He practically tumbled down from his horse and cast a frantic look around.

Gildor moved to him swiftly. “El.”

Elladan clung to him like to a solid rock amidst a stormy sea. “Where is he?”

Gildor took him by the arm and pulled him along to the House of Healing. Before they entered, Gildor threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Haldir. Haldir followed them inside. Apparently, Gildor’s patrol had not been as uneventful as Haldir had prayed for it to be.

When they found the room where Elrond was examining his younger son, Elrohir’s clothes had been already cut off him and the blood and dirt had been washed off his body. His wound was not bleeding any more but he still remained unconscious.

“Ro!”

Elladan rushed forward but Gildor caught him by the arm, holding him back. “Don’t, El. You’ll only be in the way.”

Elladan did not seem to hear him; he was struggling to get free and Gildor pulled him into his arms.

“Look at me, El,” he demanded gently. “Look at me!”

Elladan met Gildor’s eyes and gradually his look became more rational. Gildor kept their eye contact.

“He will be all right. Your father is taking care of him. Ro will be fine. Do you hear me?”

Elladan’s lips were white and trembling but he nodded. He pressed his forehead to Gildor’s shoulder.

“Valar,” he whispered. “Do not let him die!”

“He won’t die, El!” Gildor said firmly but threw an anxious glance over Elladan’s shoulder at Elrond.

Finally, Elrond turned to them. Seeing the expression on his face, Gildor was able to breathe freely again. Obviously, the worst was over.

“The wound is not mortal,” Elrond said. “He has lost blood but he will live.”

Elladan pushed himself away from Gildor’s chest and hurried to his brother’s side. He kneeled by the bed and took Elrohir’s hand gently.

“Oh Ro,” he kissed his twin’s cold fingers. “Open your eyes, melethen, look at me.” [my love]

“Do not make him wake up, Elladan,” Elrond ordered. “He is in healing sleep. He needs rest. And so do you.”

Elrond exchanged a glance with Gildor and the Vanya nodded. He came to Elladan and pulled him up.

“Let’s go, El. I’ll take you to your rooms.”

“But he’ll want me near when he awakes!” Elladan protested.

“When he awakes you will be near. But you must wash and change your clothes. Come, gilen vorn, let me take care of you.” [my dark star]

He wrapped an arm around Elladan’s waist, urging him to move. Reluctantly, Elladan allowed Gildor to lead him away. As they passed Haldir, who had been a silent witness to the whole scene, Gildor gave him a quick apologetic smile. ‘I’ll join you later, Silfael.’

Gildor brought Elladan to the twins’ suite, drew a hot bath, peeled Elladan’s clothes off him and put him into the steaming water. Elladan underwent all the ministrations as if in trance. But as the heat began seeping through his skin, Elladan felt as though a tightly wound spring suddenly uncoiled inside him. Shivers started wracking his body and he sobbed in aftershock. Gildor knelt by the tub and collected the young elf into his arms, ignoring the water soaking his clothes.

“Hush, El. It’s all right now. He will be fine. You heard your father: Elrohir will live.”

Elladan was clutching at Gildor’s tunic desperately. “I… I wouldn’t be able to live without him! When I saw him fall... Valar! I died a thousand deaths at once... ”

“I know, pen neth, I know.” Gildor was rocking him gently in his arms. “You will not have to live without him. Ro is safe now. He is safe.” [young one]

Finally Elladan was able to overcome his fit of weakness. He took one last shuddering breath and pulled away, looking at Gildor with liquid grateful eyes.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being there for me.”

“Oh, pen neth, you do not have to thank me for that.” Gildor smiled and ran his fingers through Elladan’s disheveled tresses. “I love you and Ro like my own children.”

“Like your children? Ew!” Elladan made a face.

Gildor laughed. “All right, like my younger brothers. Is that better?”

“Much. I love having brothers.”

Gildor shook his head in amusement. “You have fully recovered as I see. So I trust you can take a bath on your own.”

While Elladan washed, Gildor ordered some food to be brought to the House of Healing for he was sure that Elladan would want to return to his brother’s side at once. He was right. When they came back to Elrohir’s ward, the younger twin was still sleeping. Elladan immediately took a seat by his brother’s bed to wait for his awakening.

“How is he?” Gildor asked Elrond quietly.

“Not too well at the moment, but he will soon recover,” the Peredhel answered. “You should have some rest too, Gildor,” he said then, looking at his friend in concern.

Gildor was still in his patrol uniform, which was covered with dirt and blood and now was sodden too. His face was drawn and pale and dark crescents were starting to show under his eyes.

“Go and have some sleep.”

Gildor nodded and left the House of Healing. But he did not retire to his rooms before he saw his patrol return safely and he had a talk with his second in command. Arvegil assured him that he had filled Glorfindel in on everything that happened.

“Thank you, Arvegil,” Gildor smiled wearily. “I truly do not know what I would do without you.”

“Neither do I, Captain,” Arvegil laughed. “That is why I am still in your patrol instead of leading my own.”

When Gildor finally got to his suite, Haldir was waiting for him there.

“You look awful,” he informed him.

Gildor gave him a lopsided smirk. “Well, thanks. How very kind of you to point that out.”

Haldir chuckled but then became serious again. “What happened?”

Gildor sighed. “They were ambushed right at the border of Imladris. By the time we got to them Elladan’s horse had been killed under him and Elrohir had received his wound. We took down the whole band but it was too close. I do not like the signs: orcs are becoming too many and too impertinent.”

Gildor let down his brave façade and suddenly looked dead tired. Haldir’s heart ached to see him so worn out.

“I think you could use a bath,” he said.

Gildor nodded. “Cannot agree more.”

“It is waiting for you,” Haldir smiled. “It is already the third one, I believe.”

Gildor sighed. “Had things to do. Thanks for your concern.”

Haldir shrugged. “I like taking care of you.”

Gildor mumbled something in response but his voice was muffled by the tunic he was pulling over his head.

“If you promise not to fall asleep in the water, I shall go and fetch you something to eat,” Haldir said.

“Promise.” Gildor headed for the bathroom, peeling off his shirt as he went.

When Haldir returned, he found Gildor in bed and fast asleep. He put the tray with food on the table, came up to the bed and pulled the coverlet down carefully. Gildor was sleeping naked, as was his habit. Haldir breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that his lover sported no injuries worse than several bruises. He wrapped Gildor in the blanket again, got into the bed beside him and gathered him in his arms. Gildor murmured his pleasure in his sleep and snuggled closer to Haldir’s body. Haldir settled his chin atop Gildor’s golden hair and gave a sigh of contentment. His lover was in his arms, safe and sound. Life was once again like it should be.


Only it did not remain like it should be for long. When Haldir started paying attention to it, he discovered that Gildor did not try to stay by his side as much as he used to. While Elrohir was recuperating from his wound, Gildor spent much time by his bed, talking to him and his brother, telling them stories, making them laugh. But even when the younger twin fully recovered, things did not change much: the trio sparred on the trainings grounds, took rides in the forest; they even managed to find some occupation for themselves in the library. What else they could be doing and where was anyone’s guess.

Evenings were no better. Gildor would play chess with Glorfindel and they would banter and talk over the game. Half of the time Haldir was not able to understand what they were speaking about for they seemed to have their own language, communicating in half-phrases and allusions, smiles and looks.

Or Gildor would sit in a window niche with Lindir, singing, reading music or talking quietly. Watching these conversations, Haldir asked himself if he was being paranoid or if there once had really been something between his lover and the Imladris minstrel. There was that special gentleness in Gildor’s attitude towards the young musician and Lindir blushed every time he looked in Gildor’s eyes longer than for several moments. Haldir wondered what Gildor could possibly talk to the minstrel about in such an urgent and caring manner.

All in all, Haldir felt terribly left out, even neglected. But when he tried to complain about it to Gildor, he earned a sudden severe retort.

“You may fail to realize it but I had a life even before you came into the picture,” Gildor told him. “Usually my world goes far beyond the four posts of my bed. There are things I must do, want to do and like to do and people I love and enjoy spending time with. Give me some breathing space, Haldir. I can not forever stay chained to you.”

That came as bitter shock. So he was no longer enough for Gildor…

From the very first moment Haldir had set his eyes on Gildor he knew that his chances to win the Vanya’s heart were scant. By the time Gildor decided to let Haldir into his life, Haldir was willing to accept and to be content with what little Gildor was prepared to offer him and for as long as Gildor chose to give it. He knew Gildor cared for him, though he never said he loved him. Perhaps, Haldir mused, the Vanya was cautious with the words because they would mean attachment and commitment and he wanted nothing of that. Or maybe Gildor simply did not want to say things he did not mean. After all, Gildor never lied willingly… Haldir was aware all along that there would come a moment when Gildor would wish to move on. However, the foreknowledge did not spare him shock and pain now, when his worst fears seemed to start taking real shapes.

Being not enough was something Haldir had never had experienced before. Gildor’s recent attitude towards him was making him feel somehow lesser… He thought with longing of the time when he had been absolutely comfortable in his own skin. He felt so insecure now … And he did not know what to do: to stay by Gildor’s side till the very last and leave when his lover asked him to or to start packing right away and try to save what he could of his heart…

“What can you offer him that he has not had before?”

Haldir had nothing to offer, only his love. But was it enough for Gildor any longer?

It was a warm spring day and Gildor was on the training grounds with the twins, teaching them a cunning twist with which one could escape from an opponent’s grip even when pressed to the ground. Elladan had already taken his turn at it and was now sitting cross-legged on the grass, giving playful advice to his twin, who had Gildor’s wrists in a lock above his head, pressing the Vanya down with his body.

“Now watch me,” Gildor told Elrohir, both of them ignoring Elladan’s comments.

With a quick movement he slipped from Elrohir’s lock and reversed their positions so that now he was lying atop of the younger twin.

“My, that was fast!” Elrohir grinned up at him.

“Have you got it?” Gildor asked.

“I think so.”

“Then try to repeat it.”

Elrohir did not move, though.

“Ro, do it!” Gildor commanded.

“No,” the younger twin drawled wickedly. “I’m enjoying my current position too much.”

Gildor gave a sigh of frustration, which suddenly hitched in his throat when Elrohir opened his legs, allowing the weight of Gildor’s body to come to rest firmly against his. Elrohir’s eyes were sparkling with mischief as he looked up into Gildor’s startled face.

Gildor was the first to sense it: Elrohir’s skin was rapidly warming up. All of a sudden the young elf went pliant and yielding under him and Gildor could feel the pounding of Elrohir’s heart against his own bare chest. Their bodies pressed tighter into each other of their own accord. They stared at each other in shock. Then Elrohir’s lips parted around a silent gasp and Gildor was up in one fast cat-like motion.

“I think that’s enough for today,” he muttered, heading for the house.

It all took only several moments and Elladan looked at his twin in surprise. “What happened?”

Elrohir sat up slowly. “He reacted to me,” he said quietly.

Elladan waved it away. “In such a position anyone would.”

Elrohir shook his head. “No, El, it was different. For a moment he really wanted me. *Me*. I saw it in his eyes.”

The twins stared at each other silently.

Gildor was almost running, his thoughts and emotions in turmoil. What had been happening to him? How could he have done such an abominable thing? How could he have fallen so low as to desire one of the twins? Gildor’s face contorted in self-loathing: it had an incestuous tinge to it. What had he been thinking? Had he been about to cheat on Haldir in the broad daylight and with one of his Lord’s sons, at that? He felt bitterly ashamed and disgusted with himself.

He hardly registered where his feet were taking him and soon was brought to an abrupt stop against someone’s firm body. He instantly knew who it was. Gildor raised his head reluctantly. By the look on Haldir’s face he could tell that Haldir had witnessed the whole embarrassing scene. Unconsciously Gildor took a step back, out of Haldir’s arms.

“You have never shown that twist to me,” Haldir said, his tone carefully neutral.

“I have never had any wish to throw you off,” Gildor retorted.

“I wonder why? You seemed to enjoy being on top. Or was it being on top of Elrohir that you enjoyed?” Haldir felt jealous and hurt and it made him spiteful.

Gildor’s eyes flashed with fury. “Back off, Haldir,” he growled. “You do not own me and I do not have to answer to you.”

And he stormed away. Haldir watched him go, shaken. He had seen guilt in Gildor’s eyes a moment before it was replaced by anger. It looked like his guess had been accurate.

“He’ll dump you sooner or later and will go back to *them*. He always does.”

Was he too blind or too stubborn to see what was so obvious to the others? Were Gildor and he not meant to be after all? Haldir was a fighter by nature and he could and would fight but… was there anything to fight for? Haldir wished he knew the answers.