The March Warden

Title: The March Warden
Author: Ivory Wolf
Summary: Youfic. You/Haldir. You have fallen in the hands of a self proclaimed womanizer. But is that all there is to the March Warden or does his personality go further than skin deep?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Haldir and you
Feedback: desired
Characters: Haldir, his brothers, Galadriel, You, some others too.
Betas: myself
Author’s notes: idea just popped up. still am continuing the other two stories so don't panic. i'll be taking my time with this story as well.
*Disclaimer: gosh, y'all are going to make me have to admit this again, aren't y'all! I can't do it! I won't do it! *hysterically sobbing* All right! I don't own Lord of the Rings or any of those hunky characters in it! There! Are y'all happen? You sick sadistic freaks! the only one I owe is You.

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It’s raining.

It’s not just raining. It’s freakin’ pouring as though you somehow enraged the heavens themselves. You shiver and pull your tattered shirt closer around you

You look back to your car, the blue neon tangled in two trees. Plastic, glass, and metal trash the ground around it.

You snarl. A rich bastard driving a nice gas-guzzlin’ SUV was driving on your lane. Your choices were hitting the bastard who could afford a lawyer who’d somehow convince the judge it was your fault (that’s if you survived the crash. Neons are exactly the best cars to crash in) or go down the hill and into the trees (who won’t try to sue you) and hope to God your car stays somewhat together.

Down the hill it was.

The driver even had the nerve to roll down the window and scream about you being a ‘crazy driver.’

Your head is throbbing and you sway. You catch yourself and manage to keep on your feet as you touch your head. You hiss in pain as you feel a large gash on your forehead. You stare at your hand and see the blood on your fingertips.

You guess you weren’t able to tell you were bleeding earlier because of the rain. You watch a bead of crimson race down your forehead, to the tip of your nose.

What’s the point of wiping it off? More will probably take its place.

You still can’t believe you survived. After struggling to take off your seatbelt (when you see your mom you’re going to kiss her for always fussing at you to wear the damn thing), you had to crawl out of the tight squeeze of your front windshield.

Crawling on the glass and sharp metal covering the scrunched hood of the car was a new kind of pain for you. Your hands, knees, and shins are covered with angry slashes and lacerations because of it.

With blood soaking your jeans, shirt, and hair, you realize you need to get help. And fast.

Knowing you’d never be able to make it up the steep hill, you stumble through the woods as you hope to God you’ll find help soon.

Your breathing turns to short pants and your chest tightens. You grip each tree you walk by, knowing they’re the only things keeping you up.

Then the weirdest thing happens.

The trees shimmer as they change. They become bigger and take on a more ancient tone. The leaves become greener, the trunks larger, and woods denser.

Even weirder is your body is heating up. Every part of your body is on fire, causing you to fall on your knees in pain.

You can’t take the burning with the torturing pain that already consumes you.

You throw your head back. And you scream.

You scream until you’re hoarse and your throat feels like it’s bleeding. You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut as you try to control your pain.

Once the pain becomes bearable, you open your eyes.

Your heart stops.

Storm grey eyes stare into your sky blue eyes. His long blonde, almost white, hair flows to his waist. With a strong nose and kissable lips, you try to catch your breath as you stare at the beautiful creature.

That is, until you see the arrow pointing between your eyes. You are terrified, but don’t have the strength or courage to run. Besides, you doubt you’d get far.

He says something, but you don’t understand. He repeats it as he stands move closer to you, his arrow still notched.

“I- Wh-“ You’re confused. For one, you can see his pointed ears sticking out from his hair. For another, it looks like it never rained. There’s not even a hint of water on the ground. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

His eyes widen. “You speak the language of man!” He gets over his initial shock. “Who are you? And what are you doing on the boarder of Lothlorien?”

Language of man? Lothlorien? You try to string his words together, but it only causes your head to ache worse.

You slowly stand and notice you only come to his shoulder. He looks you over and sees the blood. He puts his weapons away and cautiously nears you. “Are you all right?” he asks.

You’re having trouble breathing and the pain won’t recede. “I- And-“ Your legs give out.

Strong arms catch you. The man cradles you in his arms. “You need a healer,” he says.

Cold air hits your face as he runs through the trees. You whimper and bury your face in his hair, hoping it’ll block the cold.

Exhaustion consumes you, calling you to the wonderful world of dreams.

The man must sense you falling asleep because he gives you a small shake. “You can’t sleep yet. We need to take care of your wounds first,” he says in a strained voice. He sounds worried and you’re not sure why. “If you sleep now, you might not wake up.”

The comment frightens you. You don’t want to die! You just want to escape the pain!

Within a few minutes, he is racing up the stairs and into a large room filled with lines of twin beds.

He shouts commands in another language. The sound of feet hurrying about invades your ears as he places you on a bed.

A female (with ears similar to his) carries a tray of herbs, water, and cloth to your bedside. He immediately gets to work on taking off your clothes.

You struggle against him. “No,” you say.

“This is not the time to be modest,” he snaps. He rips the clothes off you and stares in fascination at your matching soft yellow bra and underwear. “What in Valor are those?”

You snort. He’s joking, right? You chuckle, earning an odd look from him.

When he realizes you aren’t going to answer, he focuses on cleaning your wounds. He sprinkles herbs on them and wraps bandages around them.

He frowns when he studies your forehead.

You whimper and try to move your head away.

“Be still,” he says. He says something to the female. She hurries off and comes back with a needle and thread.

You grip the sheets and stare at the needle in horror. “Uh-uh,” you say. You try to move away from him, but his hands keep you down.

“The wound is too deep, you need stitches,” he says. When your terrified eyes meet his hard ones, his features soften. “I know it will hurt, but you need them. You can’t afford to lose anymore blood.”

“Okay,” you say reluctantly.

“Would you rather have her sew-“ He begins.

“You,” you say.

That’s enough for him. He puts a piece of wood in your mouth. He rubs more herbs on your forehead before leaning in close enough that you can smell him. He smells like cinnamon, leather, and musk. His breath caresses your face as he slowly works on your wound.

Your grip tightens and you bite into the wood as you force yourself not to scream. Tears run down your cheeks and, though you had trouble breathing earlier, it’s now gotten to the point you’re nearly hyperventilating.

“It’s all right. It’ll be okay. Just a little bit long,” he soothes. He continues his words of comfort. You tear your eyes from him and see the shocked looks on two men’s faces as they hear him talk to you.

When he’s done, he wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Are you okay? Are you okay! The jerkwad is asking if your okay after stitching you up without giving you any alcohol or painkillers!

Then again, you know you wouldn’t have survived out there is he hadn’t come when he did.

“Uh-huh,” you say. You stare at him, your eyes begging. “Sleep?”

He smiles. The action brings butterflies to your stomach. “You know, you’re very single-minded when you want something.”

You pout. “Sleep.” You hate whining, but the only reason you haven’t passed out already is because he told you not to. One word is keeping you from the painless darkness you crave.

He sighs. “Yes.”

And you’re out.

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please review and tell me if it's worth continuing.
love,
Ivory Wolf