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

Chapter 9. A Thunderstorm.

Days became weeks and then it was the day of Summer Solstice. The inhabitants of Imladris always looked forward to it for each year Lord Elrond gave a magnificent ball to celebrate the occasion.

Haldir and Gildor entered the Hall of Fire together to keep up appearances but their pretence of concord could fool no one: the ups and downs of their relationship had become a favourite topic for gossip in Imladris.

Haldir was swiftly swept from Gildor’s side onto the dancing floor. Ellith and ellyn, eager to dance with the Galadhel, were no longer wary of Gildor’s displeasure for the Vanya did not seem to mind it too much. Haldir refused no invitation, hoping in secret that Gildor would come and claim him, driven if not by love then at least by jealousy. Gildor watched his lover for some time, expecting him to return and to ask *him* for a dance. But when he saw that Haldir had no intention of doing just that, he realized that he once again would have to be the understanding one and to make the first step. He felt like he had to beg for Haldir’s attention and his pride rebelled against it. But still, when the current tune stopped, he made his way to his wayward lover who was talking with the girl he had just danced with.

“Will you not dance with *me*, Silfael?” Gildor asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Haldir smirked to himself: his strategy seemed to be working. He decided to add fuel to the fire.

“I’m afraid I cannot. I have promised this dance to Celebrin,” he announced, taking the girl’s hand.

Celebrin shot him a surprised glance but said nothing. Haldir’s words were like a slap in the face for Gildor but he hated public scenes so he preserved his composure.

“Fine,” he said coolly. “Then *you* come search for *me* if you ever find time for me.”

He turned on his heel and stalked away. Haldir watched him go with a little satisfied smile on his lips. Then he looked at Celebrin. “Shall we?”

She followed him to the dancing floor, wondering if she might yet have a chance with the handsome Galadhel.

Gildor remained calm and unperturbed on the surface but he was seething inside. He knew, just knew that Haldir would not be joining him any time soon but in no way was he going to repeat his invitation. He moved around the Hall, talking, smiling and drinking, and paid no heed to where Haldir was and with whom. Glorfindel caught Gildor by the arm when he was passing him for the third time and pulled him to a bench by the window.

“Let us sit down here for a while,” he told him. “My head is already spinning from watching you move in ceaseless circles.”

They shared some wine and watched the revelry around them in comfortable silence and then Glorfindel suddenly asked, “Why do you not tell him you want to bind yourself to him?”

Gildor looked at him in shock. “Are you crazy? He will laugh in my face!”

“But… ”

“I am not going to make a bigger fool of myself than I have already done. End of discussion.”

Gildor stood up and resumed his wandering about the Hall, too restless to stay in one place for long. He decided he would talk to Haldir when they returned to their rooms. They needed to talk. They had to talk. Oh, not about bonding like Glorfindel had suggested. No, Gildor knew he had to finally voice his grievances, his hurt and resentment and to hear what Haldir had to say to it. Perhaps they still could sort it out and put things right. Perhaps it was still not too late. Having come to this decision, Gildor felt better at once and was even able to enjoy the rest of the evening.

When he deemed time late enough to call it a night, he looked around for Haldir but could not spot him anywhere. He went searching for him and eventually found him on a small terrace outside the Hall of Fire. Haldir was not alone. Gildor stopped abruptly in the arched doorway, watching the scene that was unfolding in front of him.

Haldir was leaning casually against the banisters, smiling down at Celebrin in a lazy predatory way. He was peeling an apple with a small penknife, taking off the skin in one long spiral. The elleth watched, mesmerized, as his slender fingers caressed the fruit, turning it round and round. She imagined these skillful fingers touch her skin and immediately her bare arms were covered with goose bumps. Haldir gave her a knowing glance from under his long lashes and squeezed the apple like he could squeeze a woman’s breast in his hand. Sweet juice ran down his fingers and he licked at them unhurriedly, in the meantime allowing his eyes to slide leisurely from Celebrin’s parted lips down her throat to the alluring mounds of flesh, revealed by the low neck of her gown. The thin fabric could not conceal the instant hardening of her nipples. A lazy half-smile curved Haldir’s lips: he was enjoying the effect he was having on the girl. It was nice to know that he had not lost his touch after all. He viewed appraisingly her soft feminine curves that were so unlike Gildor’s hard and masculine lines. Haldir knew her body would be pliant and yielding in a welcoming and unconditional way like only a woman’s body could be. He cut a slice off the apple and brought it to Celebrin’s lips. Her lashes fluttered shut as she opened her mouth to accept the treat. Haldir’s thumb brushed her full lips as he pushed the piece of the fruit in her mouth gently.

Gildor watched Haldir playing a hunter, his heart hammering painfully against his ribs. He saw rapture and admiration on the girl’s face and understood that that was what Haldir was getting off on. It was only natural that as he was not able to give his lover what he needed, Haldir went looking for it somewhere else. However, the insight into Haldir’s motives did little to lessen the pain Gildor was feeling. He was jealous, he was hurt and he was furious. Gildor knew he could not confront Haldir right away because nothing good would come of it, just an ugly and embarrassing scene, and in front of a witness at that. So he whirled around and slipped away, still unnoticed by the couple on the terrace.

Gildor knew he had to move to work off the tempest of emotions that were threatening to burst his heart. So he went out of the house, heading for the darkness of the park. He was so distraught that he was not aware he was being followed till an arm was wrapped around his shoulders confidently.

“Out for a walk?” Elladan inquired good-humouredly.

Gildor schooled his features quickly.

“Yes. Where is Ro?” he asked, surprised to see Elladan without his alter ego.

Elladan smirked. “Fetching some wine for a picnic.”

Gildor looked at him doubtfully: the elder twin seemed to be well on his way to the blissful state of complete intoxication. “Some more wine – and Elrohir will have to carry you back,” Gildor warned him.

Elladan laughed. “Oh, Ro is no soberer than I. We are going to play tag by our waterfall. Care to join us?”

It was a game they had been playing since the twins’ childhood. In the far end of the park there was a small waterfall where water, after tumbling down from a height of about four yards, formed a shoal. There were several boulders with smooth and slippery tops, lying in the shallow stream. They jutted out of the water only a little, hardly enough to give purchase to a foot. It took a considerable amount of agility and good balance not to topple from a boulder, let alone to jump from one onto another.

“Come on, join us!” Elladan urged, seeing Gildor’s hesitation. “It is going to be fun. Ah, here is Ro.”

Elrohir came up to them, wearing a triumphant look on his face. Gildor’s eyes narrowed when he saw the familiar green glass bottles the younger twin was holding in his hands.

“Naurdirith?”

Elrohir nodded smugly.

“Where did you get it?”

“Commandeered from Glorfindel’s cache.”

Gildor chuckled. “So this is where the last of my Mirkwood wine went.”

“Oh, it is yours then? It means I have just done an act of justice, having returned the property to its rightful owner,” Elrohir announced.

“I am very proud of you, brother.” Elladan commended him.

“I wonder if Glorfindel has drunk any of that,” Gildor murmured.

“Why?” Elrohir grew instantly curious, feeling there was some catch.

Gildor’s lips tilted into a half smile. “This is wine of a special blend. Thranduil and I created the flavour together or, rather, we both *added* to the flavour.”

“How?” Elladan asked.

And Gildor told them. The twins rocked with laughter.

“Can I be the one to tell Glorfindel about it, please?” Elladan asked. “I want to see his face when he learns what he actually tasted.”

They headed for the waterfall, talking and drinking the wine right from the bottle in turn. When they reached their playground, they took off their shirts and boots and rolled up the legs of their trousers. Then the game began. Gildor was grateful for the twins’ company. They distracted him and made him forget his grievances for a while. Soon he felt better and was even able to laugh.

Though none of them actually *fell* into the water, they all ended up soaked through. They finished the second bottle of the wine and Gildor sighed.

“We must go back. We need to get some sleep before the day begins.”

Besides, in the morning Haldir was leaving for the border as a patrol leader for the first time.


When Haldir returned to the Hall of Fire he was surprised to see that the crowd of revellers had considerably thinned. He had not realized it was so late. He looked around quickly, searching with his eyes for Gildor, but his lover was nowhere to be seen. Haldir felt a little pang of guilt: apparently Gildor had had to leave without him. He hurried to their rooms but found them empty and dark. Haldir’s guilt was replaced by bewilderment and then – by anxiety with a touch of irritation. Where could Gildor be at so late an hour?

Haldir waited for him for some time but Gildor did not come. Haldir decided to return to the Hall of Fire and check if perhaps his lover was there after all. He was walking down the staircase when he heard voices and laughter. As he reached the second floor he saw his lover climbing the stairs, flanked by the twins. The leggings of all three of them were wet. Gildor’s and Elrohir’s shirts were open and Elladan was carrying his in his hand. Their hair was damp and unbraided. They looked flushed and animated. Haldir stopped and waited for them to reach the landing, not at all happy about Gildor’s appearance and company.

When the trio spotted him, their talk came abruptly to an end. Gildor could see the signs of Haldir’s displeasure quite plainly but refused to be impressed by them.

“Thanks for the drink and for the fun,” he told the twins and resumed his way up the stairs.

Haldir gave the princes an inimical stare, receiving similar stares in return, and followed Gildor.

Gildor entered their bedroom, took off his shirt and threw it in the corner.

“Where have you been?” Haldir asked, coming in after him.

“Walking.”

“With the twins?”

“It is obvious, isn’t it?”

“And it never occurred to you to invite me instead?” Haldir inquired sarcastically.

Gildor turned around slowly to look at him. “As a matter of fact, it did. But I did not want to interrupt you: you were too busy pursuing your own pleasures.”

“What do you mean?”

“Celebrin.” Gildor’s tone was as cold as ice.

Haldir wavered a little: he had no idea Gildor had seen them. “We were just talking!” he protested but his excuse sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Gildor felt something snap inside him. He gripped a handful of Haldir’s tunic and slammed him into the wall.

“You can not care a damn for my feelings but have some respect for my intelligence at least!” he spat. “I know what ‘just talking’ is and it is definitely not what you were doing.”

Haldir was shocked by Gildor’s fierceness: during the months of Gildor’s complaisance he had entirely forgotten how fiery and violent his lover could be.

“It did not mean anything,” he argued weakly. “It was but innocent flirting.”

Gildor leaned forward with a hand on Haldir’s throat, pressing him back against the wall.

“It was anything but innocent!” he hissed. “You looked like you could take her right there and then without as much as checking if you had an audience!”

“Gildor, it’s not… ”

“Shut the heck up!” The pressure of Gildor’s hand on Haldir’s throat became painful. “How dare you grudge me time with people who really care for me, who give me respite from the humiliation you have been putting me through! You have been treating me like your property. You have been walking all over me. You have been taking pleasure in my body night after night not giving a damn if I was dead or alive under you, if *I* was enjoying it at all. All you care about is remaining always the one on top in our relationship and making sure that everyone is aware of it. It amazes me that my guards still respect me enough to take orders from me when my own lover treats me like dirt in front of them. I’ve had enough. No more!”

Gildor whirled around, heading out of the room.

“Gildor, please,” Haldir managed to wheeze out. “I love you!”

“I strongly doubt it!”

The sound of the door being slammed shut heralded Gildor’s exit.

Haldir rubbed his throat. His head was reeling with all the revelations. He was shaken to the core. He had had no idea Gildor was feeling that way. Haldir could not leave it like that. He had to explain everything to his lover so that they could sort it out.

He hurried after Gildor out of their suite but the long passage to the main staircase was empty. Haldir threw aside the tapestry concealing the shortcut to the second floor. He ran down the stairs, taking two at a time but Gildor was not in the family wing corridor either.

Haldir looked at the door to the twins’ suite for several moments, summoning up his courage, and then knocked. He waited but there came no answer and he knocked again. This time the door opened and Haldir found himself face to face with a less than pleased Elladan.

“Oh.” The elder twin leaned with his shoulder against the doorframe and folded his arms. “To what do we owe the honour?”

“I want to talk to Gildor,” Haldir said, trying not to give away how uncomfortable he felt.

Elladan raised an eyebrow. “Why come to us then?”

“Is he not here?” It was humiliating but Haldir was prepared to pay the price. He needed to talk to Gildor right now.

“Who is it, El?” Elrohir’s voice inquired from the next room.

“No one,” Elladan called back over his shoulder.

“Where is he?” Haldir demanded, feeling that he was quickly losing his grip on his self-control.

“I do not think I can help you, Haldir of Lórien,” Elladan replied coldly, straightening up. “I suggest that next time you pay more attention to your lover’s whereabouts instead of spreading your peacock tail in front of silly females.”

And he closed the door in Haldir’s face. Haldir cursed aloud. He knew that even if Gildor was not in the twins’ suite, he would not be able to find him in the huge house. The only thing he could do at the moment was to return to their rooms, hoping Gildor would come back eventually. Only Gildor did not. He did not show up even when Haldir was leaving for his patrol and Haldir rode out for the border with a heavy heart.


It took Gildor quite a while to calm down for he had been suppressing his feelings for way too long. He let his anger and resentment rage for several days but when he was finally able to look at things soberly and to analyze the reasons for his violent reaction, he found that what lay at the root of it all was fear.

When he had first realized he was in love with Haldir and was loved in return, his happiness was overwhelming and not shadowed by any doubt or concern. Later, when he was once again able to listen to his common sense, Gildor understood that Haldir was far too young to settle down and that it was more than likely that he would wish to move on one day. Having spent his entire life without even hope of love, Gildor was ready to pay any price and to be grateful for whatever time he had with Haldir, no matter how short this time could be. But Haldir seemed so sincere in his feelings, so sure he wanted nothing else and nothing more, that with time Gildor allowed himself to start believing that maybe Haldir would love him forever and would be willing to stay with him for the rest of eternity.

And now, when the realization that Haldir could still leave him was thrust back on him, Gildor felt fear that bordered on panic. He could not lose Haldir, not after he had perceived how lonely he had been before. He was not sure he would be able to go back to living within the confines of his self-constructed walls. There was nothing left of those walls now, he was entirely defenseless, exposed and vulnerable. Haldir had become his fortress, his strength, his happiness, his world. How he could survive the loss of Haldir, Gildor could not even start to fathom.

That was the reason Gildor was so apprehensive of their future talk. They had to talk – of that Gildor had no doubt. But he dreaded what he might hear from Haldir. He was afraid Haldir would want his freedom back and then his life would crumple down like a house of cards. Gildor knew it was cowardly of him to try to postpone the inevitable but he could not help it: until Haldir had not told him he wanted to leave, he could still have hope.


It was the hardest time Haldir had ever had on patrol. He constantly had to make an effort to keep his thoughts from wandering Gildor’s way and to concentrate on his duties instead. It was easier to achieve during the daytime but at night his guilt and his worry got the better of him and he tossed and turned on his bedroll, unable to fall asleep.

The fact that Gildor had not come to see him off to his patrol was a very disturbing sign: Gildor had never held to a grudge once he let out steam. His tantrums could be violent but they were quick to pass. This time though it seemed to be much more serious. The things Gildor had told Haldir in his rage worried Haldir to no end. Haldir could not believe he had been so blind and so dumb. He hoped fervently it was not too late yet to put everything right. He wished he could rush back to Imladris and tell Gildor how sorry he was and how much he loved him. Each day Haldir had to spend away from his lover added to his anxiety.

The only thing that gave Haldir some comfort during this time was the thought that the twins were not at the Last Homely House. They had left Imladris three days after Haldir’s shift on the border had started. Haldir was not sure Gildor had really spent the night after their quarrel in the princes’ suite but he could not help feeling grateful that the twins were nowhere near his lover while he was away. Haldir’s memory kept on torturing him with the visions from Lady Galadriel’s Mirror…

Gildor’s patrol was to relieve Haldir’s on the border and Haldir was looking forward to it, hoping he would be able to talk to Gildor, even if briefly. But when Gildor and his guards finally arrived, Haldir found to his dismay that his lover was indisposed to talk about anything but business. He listened to Haldir’s report attentively but when it was finished, he nodded and turned to leave. Haldir caught him by the arm.

“Gildor, I need to talk to you. Please.”

Some strange expression flickered in Gildor’s eyes but the next moment he drew up the shutters again; his look became unreadable, his face blank.

“This is neither the right time nor the right place for private conversations, Haldir,” he said in a dull tone. “I trust it can wait till I am back home.”

Haldir spent the following two weeks brooding and pacing the halls of the big house like a caged panther. Four days prior to Gildor’s return there came a welcome distraction in the form of a Lórien messenger and his guards. Though neither of Haldir’s brothers was among them, Haldir was genuinely glad to see them. Their company made the remaining time of waiting easier to bear.

Finally the long-awaited day came. But when Gildor’s patrol poured into the yard in front of the barracks, Haldir found to his surprise and confusion that Gildor was not among them. He approached Arvegil about it and Gildor’s second in command explained that their Captain had stayed behind to wait for the twins who were to reach the border in several hours according to Gildor’s estimation.

“You will not have to wait for long,” Arvegil smiled. “They will be here before the nightfall.”

Haldir thanked him, hiding his anxiety. The uneasy feeling he had been having for days started to coil into a cold knot in the pit of his stomach. The weather seemed to mirror his mood for the first dark clouds began forming on the verge of the horizon.


Gildor scolded himself for his cowardice as he sat on a log, waiting for the twins. He knew he should have gone home and faced Haldir and the things his lover had to tell him. But here he was, procrastinating and hoping for he knew not what.

Gildor suddenly realized how quiet it had become. Birds stopped chirruping and the silence was disturbed only by the murmuring of the river. Even the air was so still that it seemed to Gildor that the forest around him held its breath. A thunderstorm was brewing. Dark gray clouds were starting to obscure the bright blue of the sky and Gildor thought he heard the first rumbling of thunder in the distance.

The twins crossed the ford with the storm on their heels. They were surprised and delighted to find Gildor waiting for them.

“Hurry up! We can still outrun it,” he urged them.

Elrohir looked up doubtfully. The sky was of angry black colour by now and claps of thunder sounded almost right above their heads.

“Perhaps we should stay here with the patrol and wait in the caves till the storm is over.”

But Gildor was suddenly as much eager to get home as he had been reluctant before. “No, you can stay if you want but I am leaving.”

“Why did you wait for us then if you are in such a haste to get back?” Elladan grumbled.

But still all three of them mounted and set on their way together. Their horses seemed to be just as anxious to reach the safety of their home and were carrying their riders at a record speed. However, the storm was faster. Soon it was raging all around them. The trees were moaning and protesting under the harsh lash of the wind. Bolts of lightning were piercing the sky with brilliant zigzags and the peals of thunder became deafening.

“Cabin!” Elladan shouted, trying to make himself heard over the noise. “Head for the cabin!”

As they reached the hut, the sky seemed to burst open and the rain came down in torrents. They left their horses under the relative shelter of a shed and rushed inside the cabin.

“Ew!” Elladan wrung out his dripping hair. “I am not moving anywhere from here till this downpour is over.”

The twins quickly made fire in the small hearth, peeled off their sodden clothes, spread them out near the fire to dry and wrapped themselves in their blankets. All the while Gildor stood by the window, watching the storm. Elrohir came up to him and touched his shoulder.

“Gildor, you should undress. You’ll be chilled to the bone if you do not: you are soaked through.”

But Gildor shook his head. “No. I think I still can make it to Imladris.”

Elrohir stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

Gildor nodded. “I want to give it a try.”

Elrohir opened his mouth to argue but Elladan stopped him. “Let him, Ro,” he said, spreading their bedrolls.

Elrohir watched Gildor go out and then turned to his brother. Elladan smirked up at him.

“Do not worry, gellen. He can be reckless but his horse is not. Silivren will not leave the shelter in such weather. Gildor will be back in a minute. Come here, meleth, and warm the bed for me.” [my joy; love]

“Hm?” Elrohir raised an eyebrow archly but responded to his twin’s call. They snuggled up together under their blankets, sharing the warmth of their bodies.

Elladan proved to be right: Gildor returned to the cabin after a short time, looking gloomy and upset. Water was running down from his uniform, pooling into a puddle at his feet. Elladan had a smug told-you-so expression on his face but managed to keep silent.

“For the Valar’s sake, Gildor, take off your clothes before you flood the floor completely,” Elrohir exclaimed.

Gildor sighed, finally accepting the fact that he was not going anywhere any time soon. He shucked off his garments, wrung them and spread them out alongside the twins’.

Elrohir moved away from his brother, making place for Gildor. “Come join us, let us warm you. You are shaking.”

“The wind is as chilling as in winter,” Gildor offered as an excuse. He knew his shivering was not caused by the cold. He felt wrought-up and restless.

“Come here,” Elrohir called again, stretching out an arm in invitation.

“No!” Elladan protested in mock displeasure. “He’ll feel like a frog, cold and damp. I hate having frogs in my bed.”

“You haven’t had any since our childhood,” Elrohir laughed, catching Gildor’s hand and pulling him down between them.

“But I still remember the sensation,” Elladan grumbled as he pressed closer to Gildor and drew the blankets over the tree of them.

As the warmth of the twins’ bodies permeated his own, Gildor was able to relax gradually. Soon the weariness took the better of them and they fell asleep.

Haldir watched the approaching storm with apprehension. When it finally swept down on the Last Homely House and Gildor was still not back, his worry reached its highest. Haldir wished he were able to farspeak with Gildor to learn if he was safe and where he was. And with whom… Haldir could stand the emptiness and the quiet of the suite no longer. He left the room, deciding he would go and find Elrond. Perhaps the Lord of the house knew something about the whereabouts of the Vanya.

Haldir met Elrond near the main staircase.

“Excuse me, my Lord,” he addressed him. “I am worried about Gildor. I am afraid he could have got caught in the storm. Do you know by any chance where he is at the moment?”

Elrond smiled at him. “He is safe, Haldir. He found refuge in the small cabin together with my sons. They will spend the night there. Hopefully, the storm will subside by the morning and they will be able to come home.”

The small cabin… My sons… Spend the night…

Haldir stared at Elrond in wide-eyed dismay, feeling his blood turn cold in his veins as dark despair clutched at his heart with its claws.

“Haldir, are you well?” Elrond asked in concern, seeing how deathly white the young Galadhel had suddenly become.

“Yes,” Haldir managed to bring out. “I’m fine. I just… I’m just tired. I think I’ll go and lie down.”

He hurried up the staircase, eager to get back to his room. He badly needed the solitude it offered. Once there, he shut the door and leaned back against it heavily. The scene he had seen in Lady Galadriel’s Mirror was playing before his mind’s eye over and over again. Gildor undressing… The twins making place for him between them on their bedroll … Haldir shook his head, willing the visions away but they would not leave and went on tormenting him.

“He will go back to*them*. He always does. His dark princes, his twin beauties.”

Haldir moaned aloud. He had ruined everything. He had taken Gildor for granted and now he had lost him. He had had a chance to put things right but he missed it. It was too late now, too late... Things that had had to come to pass *had* come to pass. Gildor was lost to him now and it was his own fault… Haldir was afraid to imagine what his life would be like without Gildor, but he knew for sure that if he wanted to survive the disaster of breaking off their relationship, he would have to be the one to leave and he would have to do it immediately.

Haldir slid down to sit on the floor, buried his face in his bent knees and wept.

Gildor woke up as soon as the rain stopped drumming on the roof of the hut. It was gray twilight before dawn. He extricated himself carefully from under the entangled limbs, trying not to disturb the twins. But it was a hard task and they awoke nevertheless.

“Where are you going?” Elrohir mumbled, blinking at him sleepily.

“Imladris.” Gildor started putting on his clothes, which were still a little damp. “You do not have to accompany me. You can get some more sleep and come home later.”

“I for one am not going anywhere right now.” Elladan moved closer to Elrohir and pulled him into his arms.

Silivren was more cooperative now that the storm was over and soon he was carrying Gildor to the Last Homely House.


The inexplicable feeling of urgency that had been driving Gildor all the way back left him all of a sudden in front of the door to his suite. Gildor hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath and went in. It was quiet inside, the sort of quiet that immediately told Gildor that the suite was empty. He walked through the front room slowly, already aware that something was terribly wrong. Then he entered the bedchamber. The bed was made but it was not what made Gildor’s heart suddenly miss a beat and then race painfully fast in his chest. He looked around frantically to confirm his suspicion, gasped and rushed to the wardrobe. When he threw its doors open, he almost swayed on his feet. He staggered backwards till the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and sat down heavily. He felt as if he suddenly found himself in the middle of his worst nightmare. It could not be true! It just could not be true, could it?

And then he heard footsteps. Oh, he knew the sound of them so well. He looked at the door with a renewed hope and – there was Haldir. The Galadhel stopped on the threshold, not actually entering the room. Gildor caught himself at praying desperately for it all to be some silly joke or a major misunderstanding, though deep in his heart he knew that it was not. They looked at each other silently for several long moments till Haldir finally glanced away, breaking their eye contact.

“I am leaving for home,” he announced, his voice bereft of any emotion.

“Why?”

“I think it will be better for us both.”

Gildor felt some strange calmness descend upon him suddenly. He was gazing at Haldir, unconsciously memorizing every line, every beloved feature.

“We did not make any promises, did not take any oaths,” Haldir said, studying the canopy of the bed.

“We did not,” Gildor confirmed, his voice hardly more than a breath.

“You said I was free to leave any moment I wished,” Haldir went on, still looking anywhere but at his lover, his *former* lover that was.

“I did.”

“So… I want to leave now. You promised not to try to stop me.”

Everything happening to him seemed surreal to Gildor: his lover, his *love* was leaving him and he could not even make an attempt to hold him back, bound by his own word.

“I shall not,” he whispered, defeated.

Now Haldir did look at him, long and hard. Then he sighed.

“Well… I think I should be going. Farewell, Gildor.”

“Farewell, Silfael.”

Haldir winced at the endearment and turned to leave but Gildor suddenly stopped him. “Wait!”

Haldir whirled around.

“Do not leave Gloss behind, please. He loves you. He will never be able to understand for what fault he was abandoned.”

The lump in his throat threatened to choke Haldir. He nodded mutely and hurried out of the room. Gildor heard the door shut. For several moments he remained blissfully numb but then pain rushed down on him like a wild torrent of searing lava. He gasped for air but could not take a breath. He tugged at the collar of his tunic, feeling that he was suffocating. He scrambled up to his feet and staggered out onto the terrace, his lungs burning from the lack of air. It was no better outside, though. He pressed his back against the wall, watching sparkling motes that danced before his eyes. Then all went black and he slid down to the floor in a dead faint.


Glorfindel watched as Haldir secured his travel bag to the saddle of his horse.

“Haldir, you are making a mistake.”

“Say no more,” Haldir interrupted him. “I have made my decision. Nothing you can tell me will change it.”

Glorfindel was about to speak again but the twins chose this very moment to ride into the yard. They dismounted and a stableboy led their horses away. The princes took in the group of the Geledhil, Haldir’s saddled stallion and Glorfindel’s upset expression.

“Where are you going?” Elladan asked Haldir suspiciously.

“I think you will be glad to learn that I am leaving for Lórien,” Haldir replied, not looking at them.

“For how long?”

Now Haldir did turn and gave them a cold stare. “For good.”

The twins exchanged a quick glance.

“Does Gildor know?” Elrohir inquired then.

It was taking Haldir every ounce of his willpower to speak to the twins civilly when all he wanted was to lash out, to hurt them, to make them pay for what he had lost.

“Yes, he does,” he answered testily.

“How did he take it?” Elrohir asked, ignoring Haldir’s irritation.

“Calmly.” Haldir barely managed to conceal his bitterness.

The twins exchanged another of their communicating looks and then Elladan ran up the stairs into the house while Elrohir hurried to the stables.

“Haldir,” Glorfindel tried again but the young elf only shook his head and turned away.

Haldir kept on stealing furtive glances at the entrance to the house, afraid that Gildor would try to stop him after all and wishing him to do just that. He knew that if Gildor only asked him to stay, he would not be able to leave. But Gildor did not show up. Finally, the Lórien elves were ready to get on their way and Haldir rode out of the Last Homely House with the mixed feeling of relief and regret.

Soon after the Geledhil’s departure the twins once again joined Glorfindel by the main entrance.

“He is not in his rooms,” Elladan reported.

“But Silivren is in the stables,” Elrohir said. “It means he is somewhere here.”

The twins scanned the grounds around.

“Do not go searching for him,” Glorfindel warned them. “He is sure to want to be alone. Give him time to collect himself and his strength.”

Gildor surfaced slowly out of unconsciousness. He lay for some time, looking up at the sky above him. Something terrible had happened, he remembered that much and was not sure he wanted to remember more. But the realization hit him nevertheless: Haldir had left him. He gasped and sat up abruptly. The world spun around him a little. He struggled up to his feet, supporting himself with one hand on the wall. Haldir had left him and he had allowed it… How stupid was that? To Mordor with his promise to let his lover go without a fight! Haldir was his soul, his life, his everything. He simply would not be able to live without him. In the face of such disaster any word of honour lost its shining importance. Gildor glanced at the sun. Ah, it was rather late already. He had remained unconscious for way too long. It did not matter, though. The Geledhil would be traveling at a moderate speed and Gildor did not believe they were riding horses Silivren would not be able to overtake.

Gildor did not want to meet anyone, so he climbed down to the ground with the help of ivy vines that were covering the wall below his terrace. He made his way to the stables stealthily and led his horse out. He mounted, once outside the gates. He was lucky: no one saw him leave. He knew all the shortcuts and all the secret paths into Imladris like the back of his hand. So he managed to get past the guards without being spotted. As soon as he rode out of the valley, he sent his stallion into a gallop.

“Please, Silivren, do not fail me now! Fly like the wind!”

The Lórien elves stopped for the night near a small spring. They made fire and had supper. Haldir refused his food, saying he was not hungry. He had been silent and withdrawn on the way. He felt as if his life energy were bleeding out of him with each step of his horse that was taking him away from Gildor. He wished he could go back and ask Gildor to give him one more chance but he knew his wish was folly.

He was sitting alone away from the fire and the company, fighting the pain that was worse than anything he had ever experienced. He wished he could just die and stop this agony. He felt a hand on his arm and looked up. One of his fellow-guards, Mergil, was kneeling in front of him.

“Haldir, it pains me to see you suffer so. I know it will take you a long time to cure completely but if you wish to have a little comfort right now, a means to forget your troubles for a short while, I am willing to provide it.”

Haldir looked at Mergil, the meaning of his offer dawning upon him slowly. Yes! He needed comfort, he needed respite from this unendurable pain even if only for a few moments. Not to think, not to remember, not to regret…

Haldir nodded silently and they rose to their feet. They did not go too far: it was not safe to wander away from company in the wilds at night. Mergil slid down to his knees in front of Haldir gracefully. Haldir leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes.

Gildor knew he was close to the Geledhil, he felt their presence just a short distance away. He did not want to make a dramatic appearance, galloping into their camp. So he dismounted, deciding he would walk the rest of the way. He almost reached the glade when he stopped abruptly as if he had hit a glass wall with his forehead. He stared at the scene in front of him and his heart started hammering so hard he could hear it inside his head. How had it come to this so quickly, he asked himself. He had been living in a nightmare since morning and it only became worse and worse. Gildor felt he was about to faint again. The copper taste of betrayal on his tongue told him there was nothing left for him here any more. He backed away carefully, grateful he had not been noticed.


Mergil was well-meaning and solicitous. And he was rather skilled with his tongue too. It was certainly not his fault Haldir could not find the comfort he was seeking. It all felt so wrong to him: the wrong touch, the wrong sensations… the wrong person. Haldir gave up finally and allowed his imagination to create an image of Gildor, pretending those were his hands stroking his hips, his breath on his heated flesh, his mouth enveloping him, caressing him, drawing on him. It all seemed so real that for a moment Haldir could swear he felt Gildor’s presence. When he came finally, it was Gildor’s name that spilled from his lips.

“I… I am sorry, Mergil,” he murmured in embarrassment.

“That’s all right,” Mergil answered, rising to his feet. “I understand.”

After a moment of hesitation Haldir pulled him in for a kiss of thanks. Even his own taste on Mergil’s tongue felt wrong… Haldir could feel the other elf’s arousal pressing to his thigh and it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps Mergil expected him to return the favour. He did not find the prospect attractive but he knew he should offer it nevertheless.

“I believe I… I have to… I mean… ”

“No,” Mergil assured him graciously. “I did it for *you*. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes,” Haldir lied.

Mergil smiled. “Good. If you ever need some comfort again, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you,” Haldir nodded though he doubted he would ever return for the second round.

Gildor did not remember how he had got back to his horse; he did not remember how he had mounted. When he came to his senses, it was almost dawn and Silivren was taking him at a high speed to… somewhere. He wondered vaguely how he had managed to stay on horseback all this time. He felt terribly weak, cold and sick.

“Stop,” he asked his stallion. “Stop now.”

Silivren obeyed. Gildor slid down and held to his horse for a moment for his legs threatened to give way under him. But nausea was getting the better of him and he stumbled to a nearby tree and braced his hand on its trunk as dry heaves doubled him over. When the fit finally subsided, he felt utterly drained and hardly alive. He allowed himself to crumple down to the ground. He had neither strength nor wish to move. And why should he move? What was the use of struggling to go on when he had nothing worth living for any longer? He did not want to struggle. He did not want to live. Gildor closed his eyes and let darkness overtake him.


A/N: If you have forgotten the recipe of wine with special Mirkwood/Imladris blend, you can find it in Chapter 12 of “To Wait For You”. ;)