ELANOR'S REVENGE

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Someone once asked about Elanor’s age, referring to the fact that Haldir calls her ‘youngling’. In the third chapter, Elrond tells Haldir that ‘Elanor is more than a century older than her sister, and Lana is well over two hundred’. As for Haldir, we do not know his age, but for fan fiction purposes, it is often assumed he is between 2 and 3 thousand years old, and this is the way we write it. Yes, she is an adult, but also much younger than he is. I like to think of him as a crusty old bachelor who needs someone youthful to pep up his life and shake up his bachelor existence. Why not? And the reason he calls her ‘youngling’ is primarily to try to create distance between them for his own peace of mind. At least this is how I see it. Thanks for reading-Julie

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Chapter 9

Haldir strode purposefully through the Golden Wood in the direction of the city gates. He had risen early and had come out here to think, and perhaps to bring himself to a more peaceful state of mind concerning Elanor. He had not accomplished that, although he had spent some time in a tree watching the pre-mating ritual of a pair of squirrels. It had not improved his mood.

He had mocked other elves for doing much the same thing that he was doing, and that knowledge rankled. Haldir of Lórien did not sit around sighing over maidens like a love-sick calf—despite the fact that her image continually burned in his brain. She was his ward, he had a duty, and so did she! And, by the Valar, they would both fulfill it! He had gotten no further than this in his reasoning.

She had done nothing wrong, that was the problem, other than to fail to run when the goblins had attacked. He could hardly discipline her for dropping his bow, or rearranging his tunics. The worst she had done had been to fail to tell him of her aches and pains, and she had suffered the consequences of that. Perhaps he should not have healed her; he had been too lenient. He was not usually so soft.

But that matter aside, it felt like she was taking over his life! His wardens gave him obedience, no matter whether they were new or had been with him for centuries.

Elanor argued.

And he was giving in to her, time and again! While he had always considered himself a reasonable elf, there had been few times when he had changed his mind about anything. He trusted his own judgment and knew it to be sound. Yet where Elanor was concerned, he wavered time and again. Was this good?

And why did he derive so much enjoyment from their clashes? It was not at all what he expected, and it unsettled him.

As a rule he preferred a mature, accommodating elleth, an elleth with whom he could share a moment of physical companionship with no strings attached, with no explanation and no discussion of why or how or what came next . . . and certainly no arguments! He had several Lórien ladies with whom he shared this type of discreet liaison, and each of them understood that, although she had his respect, their time together was only for physical pleasure. Each knew that there were others, and none of them talked about it or seemed concerned. Certainly none of them argued with him. Ever. And since he never asked anything unreasonable, how could it be otherwise? It had worked perfectly for a very long time, and he had no wish to jeopardize any of those relationships.

Yet.

So why was he not with one of them right now? And why had he not simply gone to one of them last night? Haldir sighed, knowing the answer even as he shoved it aside.

And what of honor? Never before had he questioned his understanding of it. To take advantage of one who was weak for one’s own gains, that was dishonorable. To seek one’s pleasure with a female who was under his authority, this also was dishonorable, was it not? Elrond had spoken clearly of his expectations in that regard. But no longer did it seem clear, for Elanor had wanted him last night. If she had not, she would have made it apparent. She certainly seemed to have no qualms about making her wishes on everything else known to him, although seldom in the wisest of ways.

He nodded briefly at the Sentinels at the city gate as he reentered the city and headed toward the nearest set of stairs. What would Elanor think when she woke to find him gone? He had not considered this until now. He hoped she would not . . . would not what? He frowned as he began to take the steps two at a time. What did he know of Elanor’s mind and its workings?

When he entered his talan, he knew at once she was not there for it held a silence it had never held before. Then he noticed the new tunic spread over his chair. Ah, that explained it; Doria had been here, and had presumably taken Elanor under her wing. That was well, for even though she was Lurien’s sister, she could be trusted to take good care of Elanor.

He walked over and examined the tunic, smiling with satisfaction as he did so. It was a gift for Orophin’s birthday, which would be a huge surprise since they had ceased the exchange of gifts many centuries ago. However, this was a gift of another nature, one that would please Orophin in an unexpected manner.

He took the tunic and hid it away in his wardrobe, then returned to the front room. On impulse, he went and looked at his plants. They actually did seem perkier than they had been before. And the elanor plant had two little buds on it, just on the verge of opening. Haldir sighed, and left to find Elanor and Doria.

“And this is the bathhouse,” Doria explained. “Males and females usually bath at different times, of course, although exceptions can be made if desired. Only a few, such as Haldir and of course Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, have bathing facilities within their talans.”

They stood within a circular tent-like structure with a curtained doorway, gazing into a shallow pool whose water appeared to be channeled from a nearby stream. The latticed, vine-covered roof let in enough light to nurture the lush flowers set about the perimeter of the bathing pool. A few flower petals floated in the water. The air was soft, like silk, and the heady floral scent drifted with the breeze that eased its way in with the parting of the curtain. Multicolored glass flacons set on low tables held what Doria told her were precious perfumes, lotions and soaps.

“You can come here with me, if you want,” Doria explained cheerfully. “The water is quite warm, and we have wonderful gossip sessions! Every once in a while, we catch males hovering outside, trying to eavesdrop because they know we talk about them. It is so droll!”

Elanor smiled, her thoughts automatically drifting to Haldir. “I cannot imagine Haldir doing something like that.”

“Good gracious no, not the March Warden! Now his brothers, that is a different story.” A smile curled her lips as they left the bathhouse. “They have been known to do just such mischievous things, although I do not think they have yet been caught eavesdropping by the bathhouse. That does not mean they have not done it, mind you. It only means we have not caught them!”

“You like them?” Elanor asked. She was already feeling comfortable enough with her new friend to ask this question.

“Rúmil and Orophin? Of course, everyone does! They are such a pair of good-humored jokesters, they keep me giggling whenever I’m with them. And such flirts too! I find Orophin a little more serious than Rúmil, which I admit I find . . . agreeable. I like his sincerity. And he has such beautiful eyes!” She glanced at Elanor and lowered her voice. “One time I had climbed upon a chair for some reason, I cannot remember why now, but I almost fell, and Orophin caught me. And, oh my, Ellie, he was so very strong! I have never forgotten how it felt.” She waved her hand in a fanning gesture near her cheeks and grinned in a way that invited Elanor to join in.

“I can imagine,” Elanor said, thinking of Haldir’s easy strength, which for some reason led to the memory of how he had tossed her over his shoulder last night and smacked her on the rear. Quickly, she returned her attention to Doria, hoping her friend did not notice the telltale blush on her cheeks.

“And he has such an earnest way of paying one compliments,” Doria was saying. “Oh, I see Haldir coming this way. He must be looking for you.”

Elanor glanced around, and actually felt her heart skip a beat as she watched his approach. His gait was so male, so elegant, so filled with self-assurance. His grey eyes did not hesitate to meet hers, though his face revealed no clue to his thoughts. She only prayed she would not blush and stammer when he spoke to her. She must be cool and calm like he was. Dispassionate and unemotional. Ha!

“Elanor,” he said courteously as he came up to them, “and Doria. I saw the tunic, Doria. As always, it is a work of art, and I thank you.”

“I am glad you like it,” Doria told him modestly. “I did think it came out rather well.”

“It did indeed. And I am glad to find you since I wish to place another order. Elanor needs more clothes. Three or four gowns, I think, as well as undergarments.” He paused. “And a new cloak also.” There was an undercurrent in that last statement that no one but Elanor would have heard. Was it amusement?

She glared at him. How dare he stand there and order clothing for her as though she had no voice or will of her own! Such arrogance! “Am I allowed to choose the colors?” she asked sweetly. “Or would you like to do that too?”

His eyes returned to her face. “No, you may see to that, Elanor.”

Doria nodded. “I can take her measurements later. Do you want to take her now? I know she has been wanting you to show her Galadriel’s garden.”

Haldir’s eyes shifted to Elanor’s face. “Is that your wish?”

“If you have something else you would rather do,” Elanor said, trying to match his stiffness, “I can certainly wait.”

“I have nothing else to do at the moment,” he replied. His tone now seemed magnanimous, as though he was doing her a huge favor. Or was she imagining this?

“I will take myself off then,” Doria said happily, “and leave the two of you to enjoy the flowers. I will visit you later, Ellie!” The merry she-elf whisked away, somehow managing to look small and sweet despite her statuesque height.

“I see she has shown you the bathhouse,” Haldir remarked. “You are, of course, perfectly free to use the bathing facilities in my talan.”

Elanor did not reply, and an awkward silence ensued. Was he going to apologize for his behavior last night? Or was he going to pretend it had not happened?

Haldir took her by the elbow and guided her along the pathways, his strong, sure hand on her arm sending ripples of awareness through her body. He said nothing, which for some reason made her heart pound faster. Surely it would be better to talk it over? Anything was better than this unspoken tension. Did he not feel it too? She darted a quick, sideways glance at him, noting the lack of expression on his face. It was quite possible that he did not, that the tension was only in her mind and of her making. The thought was like a small punch in the stomach.

At last he broke the silence. “It was my intention to show you around the city myself,” he remarked, his voice low and matter-of-fact. “I hoped you would wait for me.”

“Perhaps I might have waited if you had mentioned it to me,” she said tartly.

“Perhaps?” He slanted her a look. “It would be wise to remember that the majority of my wishes are not optional.”

Elanor yanked her arm from his grasp. “I am surprised you are even able to walk around this morning after all your carousing!”

“I never carouse,” he stated calmly. “Come, here is the entrance to the garden.”

She bit her lip. He was so aloof, so unemotional, so detached. What a difference from the elf she had seen last night. Which was the real Haldir? She found that she wanted to argue with him, to provoke some kind of response that would break through that wall of reserve, but at the same time she was not sure if she should, or even if she could. Would it be better to emulate his icy demeanor? Exactly what was he expecting from her?

They passed under an ivy-covered archway, and emerged into another world, one filled with a heady scent that reached out to stun an unwary visitor. Everywhere Elanor looked there were spring flowers, flowering shrubs, and small flowering plants and even trees, pinks and reds, purples and whites, yellows and oranges. Many could not be native to Lothlórien, though others were, and some she recognized as quite familiar.

Haldir’s hand once again closed around her upper arm. In another elf, it might have seemed a bit possessive, but she dismissed this thought as she gazed around, taking in the riot of color, the skillful arrangements, and the discreet little pathways and inviting bowers that might offer a tempting meeting place for lovers. Had he taken Healea into those little alcoves? She could not bear the disquieting thought, nor could she bear this dreadful tension any longer. She must think of a way to end it.

She stopped suddenly, seeing a circular flowerbed of elanor with an elegant birdbath positioned in its center. Memory washed over her, and with it came the answer. She glanced at him with shy determination. “This reminds me of Lord Elrond’s garden. Do you remember it? You were looking at it on the night . . . on that night we met.”

Haldir took in the golden star-shaped blooms of the elanor. “I remember clearly. It was not so long ago.” He still appeared absolutely dispassionate, his face like carved marble. This was the March Warden, the elf who killed goblins and all manner of horrid creatures without hesitation or mercy. And how she yearned to see the warmth beneath the ice.

Gathering her nerve, she moved to stand directly in front of him. “I insulted you that night,” she gazed bravely up into those piercing grey eyes, “and I apologize with complete sincerity. You did not deserve it. And I . . . I pulled your hair quite hard. You did not deserve that either.”

His brows drew together, but his face lost some of its stiffness. “There is no need for this, Elanor. It is in the past. I do not dwell on it.”

“Yes, there is a need,” she pushed on, a flush creeping into her cheeks. She truly did wish to apologize, but it was also her intent to bring the memory of that kiss into his mind in not too obvious a manner. “Will you or will you not accept my apology? Please answer me.”

He tilted his head, one corner of his mouth curling just a little. “Very well, Elanor, I accept your apology.” He seemed to be studying her. “Was there something else you wished me to say?”

She was growing frustrated. Was he being deliberately obtuse? After his behavior last night, she thought it might occur to him what was in her mind, but he was clearly not getting the hint. She turned away for a moment to gather courage, then swung back to face him just as the sun came out from behind a cloud. It gilded his hair in a dazzling halo of silver fire, causing her heart to do a silly little flip. Do it, Elanor!

She had a last moment’s debate within herself, then took a deep breath. “On that night, Haldir, you showed an interest in kissing me. You may kiss me now, if you like.” Her heart hammering, she closed her eyes, lifted her lips, and waited.

Several seconds passed. Nothing happened.

She reopened her eyes. His mouth now curved into a tiny and rather disturbing smile. “Elanor,” he said, “are you sure that is what you want?”

She could feel her blush deepening. “Do you think I would embarrass myself like this if I was not? I have no intention of begging, Haldir, so if you do not want to kiss me, just . . . just say so. Or else do it.”

“It is not a question of what I want.” His constrained tone suggested difficulties of which she was unaware. “You are very young, with limited experience, while I am—”

“Terribly old and wise and set in your ways,” she interrupted. “What has that to do with anything? You did not seem concerned with that last night when you were practically on top of me.”

There, she had brought it up, but instead of bringing matters into the open, it faded his smile and tightened his lips. “I do not think we should discuss last night,” he said. “You should try to put it from your mind, Elanor, and I will do the same.”

More humiliation to heap with all the rest. Wrong, she had been all wrong about what was happening between them, wrong to ask him to kiss her. Elanor, Elanor, when will you learn? Deflated and feeling extremely foolish, she spun blindly away from him, but his hand on her arm prevented her from going anywhere.

“Stay,” he commanded. She stood still, her face averted, waiting while he came around and faced her. “You truly want me to kiss you?” This time his voice was softer, with a thread of silk in it. She quivered inside, unsure why she had done this, asked this of him. Where was her pride?

“Yes,” she admitted, her heart thudding.

Without a word, he drew her into a shaded lilac arbor and gazed down at her. “No hair pulling now,” he murmured. He slipped his arms around her waist and with a light pressure pulled her slowly toward him so that their bodies almost touched. His attention seemed so fixed on her that she almost stopped breathing. And then he lowered his mouth to hers.

His lips were warm and gentle, moving over hers almost with tenderness, just the way she had always dreamed a kiss would be, light as a summer breeze. But she also remembered the ardor of that other kiss in Elrond’s garden, and that memory made her hunger for more. This was sweet, but it held nothing of the raw passion, none of the power and excitement and melting urgency that she had felt in him before. What was wrong?

Sensing that he was about to pull away, she slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders, enjoying the feel of him and seeking more than he had offered. She was not ready to let him go, not quite yet, not after last night, not after all the aching and yearning she had suffered. Twining her arms around his neck, her fingers drifting in the softness of his hair, she parted her lips and pressed closer, and again felt his hesitation. To her shock, he took hold of her wrists and removed her arms, forcing a distance between them. “Elanor, do not make this difficult. We must go no further with this.”

“Why?” she asked in confusion. Was it because someone might pass by?

He gazed down at her, his breathing noticeably uneven. “Because you are my ward. I have sworn to protect you and teach you, and this is not what Elrond meant when he asked it of me.”

His voice had gone flat again, and his words made no sense. Surely Elrond would not care if Haldir kissed her? Was this only some excuse to be rid of her?

“Do you wish to spend more time in the garden?” he asked, his tone almost formal.

“Y-yes,” she stammered.

“I have things to attend to so I will leave you for now. If you are still here when I return, I will escort you wherever else you wish to go.” And he turned and walked away without a word of farewell or a backward glance. Again.

Elanor stared after him, open-mouthed and filled with chagrin. It seemed as though he could not wait to take his leave of her. Had the kiss been so unpleasant for him that he had to run away immediately? She touched her lips with the tips of her fingers. Had she done something wrong? Had her aggressiveness put him off? Had he kissed her because he felt sorry for her? Then a new thought struck her. Had his memories of Healea in this setting had something to do with it?

Her heart sank as this new possibility bloomed in her mind. Perhaps his love for this other elleth still haunted him. Perhaps his heart would never be given to another. For a moment, she wanted to burst into tears.

Oh, sweet Elbereth, what was she thinking? Foolishness, Elanor! She was allowing herself to be beguiled by a physical attraction. Really, Elanor! Simply because he was pleasing to gaze upon did not mean she had to throw herself at him in this wanton fashion! What madness had prompted her to ask him to kiss her?

She dared not imagine what he must he think of her. After all, was she not the same maiden who had had him kidnapped and tied to her bed? It was a disgraceful thing to have done, childish and scandalous and shocking. How could he ever see her as anything other than the perpetrator of that shameful deed? Why would he want to kiss her? More likely he could not wait to be rid of her.

Severely depressed, she wandered among the flowers, inhaling their life-sustaining scent, touching their sweet petals in an effort to raise her spirits. She only partially succeeded, for a strange new loneliness held her in its grip. While she loved plants, right now she needed something more than they could offer. How could she earn Haldir’s good opinion? Was that even possible?

She sat down on a grassy patch beside a cluster of bright yellow daffodils, and drew her knees up to her chin. A sudden urge to cry fluttered in her throat, but she would not give in to it. Then, abruptly, she knew someone was standing behind her.

Galadriel.

Elanor started to leap to her feet, but the Lady stayed her with a gesture. “Do not rise, child. I will sit beside you, if I may.”

“Of course, my lady,” Elanor replied, watching in awe as Galadriel lowered herself with effortless grace to the grass.

At first the Lady spoke of her garden, how much she delighted in it and how pleased she was that Elanor would be helping with its care. She spoke also of the varieties of plants and flowers growing there, and where they had come from, and which were her favorites, her musical voice soothing and restful. And then she grew still, her eyes on Elanor.

“Something troubles you,” she said, a gentle look upon her beautiful, ageless face. “I can feel it. Would you like to speak of it?”

Elanor hesitated before replying. “I am confused,” she admitted finally. “About Haldir. And about myself.”

“Some things are meant to be and some are not,” the Lady said calmly. “Those that are meant will make themselves known.”

Elanor bit her lip “You are saying that what I am feeling is not meant to be?”

“Not at all, Elanor. I am saying that we are drawn to that which completes us, and it is futile to resist it. Each of us is already whole, yet we each yearn to become more whole, if that makes sense to you. We seek to expand our spirits to encompass a greater joy and a greater sense of who we wish to be. That is why we fall in love. It is very different from physical attraction, and yet it is very much a part of it.”

Elanor swallowed. Fall in love? Where was this conversation headed? The Lady’s ancient and knowing eyes seemed to invite more questions, but Elanor knew not what to ask.

As if she sensed this, Galadriel reached out to touch her cheek. “It is not the action but the intention that defines honor. Haldir knows this. He only needs to be reminded. Would you like some advice?”

“Please,” Elanor whispered.

“Continue to be yourself with him. He values who you are, Elanor. Learn from him, and change only those aspects of yourself that will serve you best. His past is behind him and need not be feared. Let your feelings be your guide, for they can be far truer than thoughts.”

“I am angry with him half the time,” Elanor admitted.

“Ah, but are you truly angry? I think it is more a case of being frustrated with an elf who is far too used to having his own way. Of course he has earned that right within the boundaries of his powerful position. He is sometimes arrogant, yet his excellent qualities outweigh this, or he would not be Lothlórien’s March Warden.”

“He did not like my rearranging his clothes,” Elanor said with a sigh. “Or the things in his kitchen. Or his furniture.”

Galadriel gave a delighted laugh. “You did that? Good for you, Elanor. It is about time someone shook him up. No wonder he is behaving oddly.”

“Oddly?” Elanor said, glancing up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he is not himself. He is looking more disoriented than I have seen him in centuries. None of the others have succeeded in doing that.”

“Oh.” Elanor absorbed this. “Others?” she asked with difficulty.

Galadriel’s eyes met hers. “Haldir is an attractive, unattached male with normal male urges. Many of our maidens find him irresistible, and I am sure he has established relationships. It remains to be seen what he will do while you are here. The very fact that he has installed you in his talan suggests much.”

Elanor was beginning to wish the Lady would speak more frankly. Suggests much? Established relationships? She found she did not care for this last idea at all. But she would not ask about that.

“Do you mean there are other places I might have lived?” she said instead.

“Indeed. We have several empty talans, not to mention that there are single maidens who would have welcomed a temporary companion. Doria for instance.”

“He told me I had to stay with him,” Elanor said with a frown.

“He is your guardian for the year,” Galadriel reminded her gently. “It is indeed up to him where you will live. If you wish to live elsewhere, you must discuss it with him. I will not intervene without a sound reason.”

“I do not know if I wish to live elsewhere,” Elanor replied. “I do not know what I want, nor do I have the least idea what he wants.” Except unquestioning obedience, and that he would not get, the big bully! In any case, how could she learn if she did not question?

The Lady smiled enigmatically. “At least give him obedience when he is being reasonable, Elanor. It is a fair compromise. Does he bully you all that much?”

Elanor’s eyes widened. “You read my mind! Oh, I hope I did not give offense!”

Galadriel touched her hand. “You did not offend me, Elanor. Do you think I do not understand your feelings? You are lost and unsure, and the journey to Lórien was challenging for you. And Haldir is not making it any easier, is he?”

Elanor looked away, a lump tightening her throat. She pressed her lips together, trying to control the sudden tears that threatened to fall. “Why should he, my lady, after what I did to him? Did Lord Elrond tell you the details?”

Galadriel inclined her head. “He did.”

“I do not wish others to know of it, my lady, not for my sake, but for his! Is that possible?”

“Discretion is always possible, Elanor. Celeborn and I will not speak of it, nor will Haldir’s brothers. I do not think you need to worry. The Valar work in mysterious ways, my dear. This is a new beginning for you. Long have you put the needs of others before your own. Now it is time to put yourself first, to seek that which makes you complete.”

Elanor lips trembled. “How can I do that when I must serve Haldir?”

“You must decide that for yourself. Haldir is not an easy elf to be with. His moods are often dark, and his responsibilities lie heavy on his shoulders. You must learn to understand him, and then you will understand why he behaves as he does.”

Galadriel lifted Elanor’s chin, forcing her to look directly into her crystal blue gaze. “You have given your sister too many years. Service to others is praiseworthy, but she did not value it. Now come, be as strong as I sense you are. You have a challenge ahead of you, and you will meet it.”

Elanor blinked rapidly to stem her unshed tears. “I will try, my lady.”

“That is all anyone can ask. Now then, has Haldir shown you where the gardening tools are kept?”

Elanor released a shaky laugh. “No,” she admitted. “He was too busy running away from me. I think I frightened him.”

“Now that is a sight I wish I could have seen,” Galadriel declared.

Cheered by her conversation with Galadriel, Elanor explored the garden for a while on her own. She would not begin work immediately since she was wearing the finest of her three gowns, but neither was she going to stand around helplessly waiting for Haldir to return. He might have totally forgotten about her by now, despite what Doria had said about him never forgetting anything. And so she left the garden and, after only a few wrong turns, successfully made her way back to his talan.

Proud of herself, she paused inside the doorway, listening to see if he was there, but he was not. Intending to start at once on chores, she was instead drawn to the mirror, strangely compelled to gaze upon her own features, trying to see how Haldir might see her. She touched a finger to her lips, stroking gently over the surface in a vain attempt to recreate the velvet sensation of his kiss. As lacking in passion as it had been, it had still been wonderful and gentle. She had just wanted so much more.

Such feelings were so new to her that she could only shake her head with disbelief. That, combined with all that Galadriel had said, made Elanor’s head reel. The Lady seemed so filled with wisdom, and she had said so much in so few words, but Elanor still had to puzzle out their meaning.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she went and washed her hands and face, then debated what to do. Haldir’s mending basket beckoned, and she knew she had to stop procrastinating. She was just so tired of mending; she had been doing Lana’s mending for years and years. Lana was always so careless, constantly tearing her flounces and lace, or demanding small alterations or additions. Looking back, Elanor wondered why she simply had not told Lana to do it herself. She supposed it was because she had enjoyed feeling needed and necessary, and Lana had seemed grateful, at least at first. Eventually, though, Elanor had begun to feel unappreciated and resentful, and as a result her sewing had grown clumsy and poor in quality. Haldir might well regret asking her to do this, she reflected glumly.

The first item she picked up had a hole in the sleeve. Now how had he done this, she wondered in annoyance. How careless of him to have . . . Elanor stared at it closely. Haldir had not been careless. This was a cut. A slit in the cloth twice the length of her thumb. From a battle.

An ill feeling entered the pit of her stomach.

Elanor, Elanor, you wretched fool! How wrong, how misguided and naïve and stupid, to compare Haldir’s needs with Lana’s! Flooded with guilt, she stared at the dark fabric of the sleeve, picturing some horrid sword slicing through it and into Haldir’s arm. The image of his blood brought the tears to her eyes.

Leaping to her feet, she began to search through the basket, examining each item of clothing to find the rents and tears and slashes. Happily, they were not all battle-related, but a few of them were, and one had apparently been improperly washed, for there was still blood on it. He certainly did need someone to take care of him, she thought with indignation. Beneath all that arrogance and coldness lurked an elf who could bleed, feel pain, and even die!

Anger came next. And where were all these fine ellith with whom he supposedly had ‘established relationships’? Did they do nothing useful for him? What good were they? Obviously he needed someone practical and competent to see to such details as this. Someone like Elanor of Rivendell.

Oh, she was doing it again, getting all emotional! Still, she could not seem to help it. All the emotions of the past few days seemed to gather inside her and band together to form one great mass of confusion and pain and blind, utter need. She just sat there on the rug with his garments strewn all around her and burst into tears like an idiot.

Of course Haldir chose that moment to walk into the room. He stopped on the threshold, looking at her in astonishment, then shut the door and came quickly over to her. “Elanor, what is wrong? Have you injured yourself? Has someone hurt you?”

“N-no,” she sobbed. “Not me. You!”

Bewilderment settled on his face. “I have hurt you? Or you think you have hurt me? I do not understand. Is this about what happened in the garden?” He had dropped down on one knee beside her, and was looking at her quizzically.

She shook her head and mutely held up the sleeve with the sword slice in it, displaying it to him with her fingers thrust through the hole.

He frowned. “Is it so difficult to repair? It does not have to be perfect, Elanor. If it is too hard for you—”

Elanor hiccupped. “It is not too difficult for me, Haldir! I am just . . . just . . . oh, do you not understand? A sword did this!”

“I am aware of that. It is nothing. Is this why you weep? You think I was hurt by this? It was a mere scratch.” For once his voice held emotion, although to name the emotion would have been difficult.

She gestured toward the other garments. “It is not only that one, there are others. One still has blood on it! Your blood, Haldir!”

He lowered himself to the floor and slid an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to his chest. “Elanor, are you fearful for me? Is that what this is about?”

She hiccupped again. “I suppose it is. Such things never seemed real to me before. You were right about everything you said. I am naïve and stupid and ignorant—”

“I never said you were stupid or ignorant,” he corrected. “And to be naïve is not a fault. There is no cause to weep. What you see there, those cuts, they did not all happen in a week. None of them inflicted serious wounds. I am an experienced warrior, and I do not take unnecessary risks. Do not forget how long I have been doing this. Millennia, Elanor. Occasionally I take a scratch or two. It is nothing.”

“It does not seem like nothing to me!” she protested with a sniff.

“That is because you know nothing about warfare. You are young and inexperienced and emotional.”

She could hear the amusement in his voice, but decided not to take offense. She had been doing that too much of late. Besides, snuggling here against his chest was absolutely wonderful, and so comforting. She rubbed her cheek against the soft fabric of his tunic, inhaling his male scent with a soft sigh of contentment.

“It seems to me,” she said, after another hiccup, “that all these ellith with whom you have established relationships are not seeing properly to your needs.”

“What?” he said, sounding quite startled.

She angled her head so that she could see his face. “Your needs, Haldir. How could they let it build up like this? Why do they not take care of it?”

“Build up?” he repeated. Why was he looking at her so oddly?

“And I would think that all the other wardens must have the same needs as you, do they not?”

“Er, yes,” he agreed, sounding a bit wary. “I am sure they do. Elanor, what are we talking about?”

“All this mending,” she said, frowning at him.

“Ah,” he said, his face clearing of that peculiar expression. “Those needs." He paused. “Who told you I had established relationships?”

“Galadriel said so. Is it not true?”

Haldir was silent for so long she thought he was not going to answer. “Yes, it is true. What else did she say?”

Elanor thought for a moment. “She said a great deal, actually. I do not think I will tell you everything she said. I am still trying to understand it.” She closed her eyes, listening to his heart beat beneath her ear.

“You seem weary,” he remarked. “Do you wish to rest?”

“No, I am fine,” she assured him.

“Good,” he answered, a smile in his voice. “Since you are interested in my needs, I will casually mention that I have not yet eaten today. So you may start preparing our dinner.” He gave her a light smack on the side of her hip. “And that, Elanor, is not optional.”

Elanor sighed. What a bully!


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