Summary in full: The life she wanted to keep behind her was nothing more than a cold room. She'd crossed a line ne'er to return as every step she took, she took in complete faith and was betrayed by her faith all of those times, leading her into an abyss of cold heartedness and bitterness. Even the smallest amount of surrender of her power and her pride were the last things she was willing to give… that was until she was asked to surrender her heart- her last possession that had been guarded and empty for much too long..

First, a note to the readers of this story… while I like to remain as canon as possible in my writings, this idea that I received from an internet friend was just too good to pass up and never write because it was against canon. This story deals with a group of Noldorin Elves in a land called Eregion that is uninhabited after it's destruction by Sauron early in the Second Age. I have created a background for these secretive Elven group to explain why they would now be there, in the year 2460 of the Third Age, though it would seem implausible to Tolkien purists because anyone passing through the Redhorn Pass would probably know of their existence (this was near Moria, and where Celebrían was waylaid by orcs in 2509). The purpose of this story was to pair Haldir with another captain of an Elven military regime, even though that happens to be an elleth in this story, which could also throw some of you off. I needed a plausible reason for them to meet, and the female military captain needing more help to protect her lands was the only way we (the friend with the plot, and me, the writer) could think up, as her people are to be a secretive society of Elves. With all of these warnings, I hope that you will still find this Haldir romance epic to be to your likings. If you are a fan of my writing, or enjoy it in any capacity, this story will not disappoint, I promise.

Also about ratings… as with all of my stories, it will be a solid R-rating… but if you would like to read the full versions of the more explicit chapters, I would encourage you to copy down my address and send me a note to let me know that you would like to receive personalized e-mails from myself with the full version, beautifully detailed scenes in which I am implying. .

Prologue

2460 of the Third Age

Their skin was black and weather-beaten, the body small in stature and completely gnarled from the warts on the end of their noses to the weird direction in which their gaunt legs stood. They hobbled closer, snarling words at them she could not understand. Dark hair was tangled and matted to the crude body armor on their bodies. Their yellowed eyes flickered hurriedly, as they moved their heads from side to side and their hooked noses sniffed the air around them. In the periphery, she noticed more come from behind some trees to the right, but she had no time to count thm as one came hurtling at her.

A flash of sunlight reflected offa metal object over head, just as she drove one of her long knives into the chest of the grotesque creature in front of her. She ducked quickly and swung around catching her assailants side with her sharp sword. The blade easily sunk into the leather protection the gnarled orc was wearing, and surprisingly sliding even more easily into his gut when the steel reached the creature's tough flesh. Trying desperately to regain his balance and fend off the violent, and potentially lethal blow, he grabbed his unsophisticated black sword hilt with both wart covered, dirt-lined hands, and staggered back a few feet, sputtering loudly, black blood now dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Allowed only a moment to straighten herself, she stood up and gripped her Elven sword more tightly in her fists, taking a step in front of the creature. She lifted the sword and he stumbled back, tumbling to the ground in an ungracefully fashion. Quickly and efficiently, she brought the blade against the ugly orc's throat and slashed it.

Glancing around her, now finsihed with that orc,she noticed that her warriors were granted a moment of reprieve, but the creatures now pouring off the grey cliffs only a league off, all squealing and snarling to each other, did not bode well.

She moved through the dead bodies, being careful as she went not to be pulled down by an orc who had somehow lived through the first wave of fighting. As she continued on, she noticed the gleaming of Elven body armor shinnying from beneath a blanket of the repulsive orc bodies. It grew no easier, in any of the battles she led, to know that one of her friends or even one of the other lower warriorsshe commanded had been slain in battle, even though she had seen multitudes killed over her short life.

These were the same Elves she spent more than half her time with, trained with, broke bread with, drank with, joked with, watched grow into capable fighters…

To see them fall before her, taking a violent strike from some hideous creature, when they could have passed into the Halls with so much more honor, and against more worthy foes than thesewas one of the worst things in all of Arda to witness. To tell their families that their beloved were slain was torturous; to tell them that their sons, fathers, brothers, husbands, and even sisters or daughters had fallen for a cause she often even had to question was harder than anything else.

Nay, it grew no easier to see them fall, but one learned to not let it rest in the mind and heart,and let it fester after so many years of service fighting the evils in Arda. If she had never learned to do that, she would have faded a long time ago from grief because that was the thing that forever seemed to riddle her life- from the death of her parents to that of her dearest brothers, and all of the other horrible things that happened in between.

However, if there was one thing that became easier as time passed, it was to be a ruthless assassin when presented with an opportunity such as these nearly continuous battles. It was easy for her now to direct all of her bitterness and pain into each of the strikes, jabs and swipes she took with her sword or long knives. But that bitterness never seemed to be cured, or even eased slightly in any regard with the amount of fighting she was continually in. The bitterness only multiplied and coalesced into an unstoppable monster in her, replacing the sorrow of her losses.

She looked around her, coming closer to the line of her warriors, regrouping themselvesautomatically without her needing to direct them. Thesenearly monthly battles had become so common place now, they knew exactly what they were to do without requiring any direction. It was a sad state they lived in, continually having to protect their land from these pitiful excuses of orcs and goblins, who only seemed to ruffle their feathers in anticipation for a large battle, but never succeeded in anything more than slaying a few of her scouts and other warriors.

Perhaps that was what they wished to do, whittle them down so that only a few were left to protect their relatively new city here in the lands once known as Eregion, so that they may once have a chance to mount a large offense and again drive them away from the mountains. And as much as it hurt her to admit it, they were doing quite a sufficient job of that.

Soon she would have to venture out of their secretive city and find help from others,as alsoadded to all of the worries of orcs, was the recently increased activity on the southern borders with threats from a clan of Mannish decent, that she knew little about. Already had her grandfather ordered her to venture elsewhere to find aide, and had threatened her with removing her from her post as Captain if she did not follow his orders. She had stalled as long as she could, but it seemed now to be inevitable to go out in search of help, and it would have to be done soon.

"Tangado i chui!" she exclaimed to the host of Elves, now aligned and prepared for the next wave of attack, the sounds of bow wood stretching and groaning as the strings were pulled back. The orcs were close now, and she only hoped she could take most of them out with a few volleys of arrows. At least this second wave looked to be a last, pitiful attempt to hurt them, this wave a third of the previous.

"Leithio i philinn!" she called, watching the running creatures closely as arrows from the bowmen behind her sped past her head, whistling in her ears. Having had the time to aim the shots from the arrows, most of the orcs dropped in mid-run, tumbling head over feet until they came to a stop, sprawled out on the ground. But it did not take care of all of the foul things.

"Do not yield!" she yelled over the shouting, readying her sword in her hands. And again they found themselves in the midst of orcs, everyone oncemore engaged in closesword combat.

"Cauniel! Tiro!" she heard shouted from the branches, and turned her head in time to see a large creature coming at her, wielding a rather daunting looking axe.

Stepping to the side, she gripped her sword tightly and plunged it deeply into the body of the orc. In shock that she actually struck him before he struck her, his jaundiced eyes flickered quickly, and he fell over. Nodding her head in appreciation for her own quick movement, she again turned to look out at the fight, only to come into contact with a hard sword hilt to the side of her head. She blinked a few times, disoriented from the hit, but not completely knocked out of consciousness. Unable to control her movements from the blinding pain, she staggered back, and stumbled over the body of the orc she had just killed, her world turning to black.


Thorontur sat gazing out at the city through the window in the rebuilt study that once was the workshop of the finest Elven mírdain to have ever lived in Arda. There was a strange since of pain he felt, sitting in the room that had once been the place of the conception of the Rings of Power, and the birthplace of the Three, which were mightiest among all of the others. More correctly, it was horrible to think he had been the one councilor who had talked Celebrimbor into swearing his allegiance with Sauron the Deceiver in the making of these rings.

Had he not been so foolish, to be blinded by the pleasures that Sauron offered, Eregion would have survived well into this age, being one of the last Noldorin strongholds of Arda. Had he been a more loyal servant to his lord, Celebrimbor, he would not have deserted him in his time of need. Had he been a better friend, he would not have watched the countless others of the city perish under Sauron's wrath while he escaped free of harm. Had he been a better father, he would have not sent his sons in afterward to clean up the mess that had been made.

He was certain now that it was perhaps a wrong idea to uproot the Laiquendi of Emyn Uial to come to this place with him, to reforge a once beautiful Elven realm that they had little knowledge of. And it was certainly wrong for him to indirectly coerce these noble Elves to come and aide him in this endeavor, when they had little idea of who he was or who he had been at the time of the destruction of Eregion. Only a few knew, and those were the last of Noldor that had fled from Eregion before it was completely destroyed. All of the Laiquendi who had come with them, which was a surprisingly great host by his measurements, knew only that he was Noldor. While most of these Green-elves had known a long history of strife and pain inflicted upon others because of the Noldor, though they seemed to follow most willingly because he seemed to fit the part of a mighty Noldorin leader.

But it was obvious now he had made a bad decision to lead his people into a land that had been unsettled for years, and to a city that should have been left as a testament to all those who were slain for being corrupted by the power offered to them. The Elves still somehow held a strong devotion to him, perhaps out of necessity for keeping close to their new ruler so they would have protection in their times of need, but he did not how they could see that when he was constantly refilling the border guard with new warriors because so many were coming back slaughtered from ever-constant skirmishes from the orcs to the east and the Men to the south. Their rebuilding of the city, while dealing with the many battles on the borders, was also fraught with many, many problems when it came to reconstructing buildings. They had worked diligently though, since the last War at the end of the Second Age, and had created a Phoenix bird of the ashes. And that left him with the responsibility of protecting their hard work.

He would do that now… commit himself to this one cause… in hopes that one day he could be forgiven for the numerous mistakes he had made in the past.

"My lord, you wished to see me?"

Thorontur turned from the window, finding the able-bodied Noldorin commander of the knights of Eregion Reformed. He stood from his spot and clasped his hands behind his back, "Hérion, I have decided that you are to ride to Lothlórien to ask for help."

The dark-haired commander stood still as Thorontur looked at him closely. It was obvious he was searching for words, and finally he grasped some and sighed, "My lord, you know I would do anything in my power to do as you wished of me, but of this, I must say I cannot help you. I am only the second-in-command of all military here, you know that. It would be uncouth to step over my superior, even though you are my lord."

"She is ruthless and very, very skilled at what she does, Hérion, I know that. But you also know her pride. She would never bow down to another to ask for help," Thorontur said. "I ordered her to do this three months ago, and she has stretched the execution of this idea out as long as she possibly could because she does not wish to give up her pride or her power."

Hérion stood silently, debating again on what he should say. The younger Noldo chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip, "She is still Captain, and I think we should leave the decision up to her extremely well-developed skills as our military leader."

"But you also have those skills Hérion, lest we forget it was both of you who were in the running for the position of Captain. What would you do in this situation as a Captain protecting the city?" Thorontur asked him.

Hérion sighed, "I would go for aide."

"As her second-in-command?"

"I would urge her to go for aide, but she would make the final decision."

Thorontur nodded his head, and leaned against a nearby table. He folded his arms across his chest, "And as an ellon who feels responsible for what happened so long ago?"

"I would await her decision," Hérion said.

"It was not your fault," Thorontur said, walking back around the table and sitting down in the high-backed chair behind it. "She was a foolish elleth then, and to some degree still is now. We would have been much better off with you as Captain… as ellon rule with their minds and not their hearts. I made a mistake, I admit that."

Hérion gritted his teeth, "But you do not have the courage to tell her that yourself and remove her from her post? You are a coward. My lord, I would follow you to the ends of this world if you asked me to, but I will not stand for this talk of Cauniel. She is much more qualified than I."

Thorontur stood up, placing his palms flat on the table and leaning over it to look Hérion in the eye. He felt rage rise in him, and he seethed, "How dare you speak to me in such an insolent manner!"

The younger ellon held his ground though, and straightened his stance. "She is your granddaughter, my lord. You at least owe her some amount of respect. And while Cauniel may not speak to me, or wish to know anything of me because of what happened between Bainriel and me, I will still fight doggedly to make sure my friend gets the respect she deserves as both an elleth and also as my Captain."

"She does not speak to me any more," said he as he slumped his shoulders, wishing the rage to subside.

"Perhaps it is because you do not give her enough credit, just like everyone else in this city. She spends all of her time out on the borders now because that is the only place she has the respect she deserves. If you knew what loyalty of belief her warriors have for her abilities, you would think twice about this command you issue me," Hérion replied.

Thorontur sighed heavily and turned away from Hérion. "I will ask you this one more time, Hérion. If you value your position, you will do as I say. Should you refuse this, the one I do find to do his lord's bidding will take your place."

Hérion clenched his jaw harshly, his fists balling at his sides, "My lord…"

"Please go to Lothlórien, and explain to them who I am, though it is certain Galadriel will know of us now settled here, and ask for help," Thorontur ordered calmly. "If you do this, we will discuss a possible change of titles for you."

Hérion sighed, "I will do this bidding for you, my lord. And as much as I would like to be Captain, I will not accept the position. It is Cauniel's, and Cauniel's alone."

The commander turned and exited quickly from the study, notpaying attention to force at which he shut the door, so that it ended up slamming shut. Thorontur sat in silence for a few moments, staring at the door, and listening to the last echoes of the slamming door within the room. He may have been wrong to ask Hérion to do this, but he was the only other Elf he trusted enough with this task…

Now he only had to think of a way to nicely let Cauniel know that she was in danger of losing her position as Captain, and it was not a task he looked forward to doing to his most strong-willed, prideful and unforgiving granddaughter.


Tangado i chui!- Ready the bows!

Leithio i philinn!- Release the arrows!

Tiro!- Look out!

Mírdain- jewel smith

Emyn Uial- Hills of Evendim, where Elves once resided. Looked over the Arnorian city of Annuminas.

Laiquendi- Green-elves. Same major grouping as Sindar, Silvan, etc. under the branch of Teleri.