The night was crisp and the wind whispered throughout the great golden trees of Lothlórien. Brilliant moonlight filtered downwards, bathing the hallowed woods in rich hues of silver and green. The land remained vibrant with colour even during the harshest months of winter: unfailingly flawless and unblemished. Unbitten by ice and absent of frost.

And yet, in all its cool serenity, the night was alive with anticipation. For desecrating the still perfection of the land of Lady Galadriel was a lone Orc, his broken axe raised high above his head. The handle wavered in his hand. As he whirled around a sloppy chatter escaped a rather grotesque formation of cracked, bleeding lips. One of the lady's sharp-eared sentinels, perched inconspicuously along the length of a thick mallorn branch, drew his great Galadhrim bow and nocked an arrow. The Elf glanced over at another, one of his kin considering the stark resemblance between the two, who in turn produced the slightest of nods not a moment before the arrow was let loose and pierced the Orc's forehead. The puncture was clean and quick and the creature dropped unceremoniously, hitting the ground with a resonating thud. Three Elves emerged from the tree in which they'd been hiding.

"How peculiar!" One of the band, slightly taller than the others but whose face was perhaps the most youthful looked gravely down at the carcass. "Orcs often travel in packs, why did this one stray?"

"He did not," said another, his attention focused on a patch of land in the distance. This Elf was a bit stockier than the others and not quite as tall but he carried himself with a stiff grace and calm integrity. "He fled," the Elf made a fleeting gesture towards the west, where many miles away another band of border-guards had finished despatching several dozen of the vile things. He could smell the putrid filth despite the distance between them.

And yet, this Orc looked dissimilar to all the others they had encountered before. His face was not as malignantly distorted, not as hideously malformed. He had been a man once – not in the same manner Orcs had once been Elves several millennia ago, but it almost seemed as if this one's past had not yet been so distant, so obscure.

"Shall we send word to Caras Galadhon, Haldir?"

"Nay," Haldir shook his head, finally turning from the ruins to look his brother in the eye. "We will wait out the night to ensure no more of them breach our borders. We depart for Caras Galadhon at sunrise. Not a moment sooner."

Their night was spent comfortably on a talan in a smaller tree. They laid their fur cloaks down and sat with their arms around their knees. The eldest two, Haldir and Orophin whispered between themselves and finished off a piece of waybread while Rúmil focused his attentions on writing. If the scratches of the swan quill against papyrus was at all an irritant for the other two Elves, they made no note of it. "How could it be that these Orcs managed to set foot in our land? Lothlórien has not seen such evils for centuries!"

"I do not know, brother. Let us hope that we have seen the last of them."

The remainder of the night passed uneventfully and without a single disturbance. Just as Haldir had instructed, the trio began the journey to the city of Caras Galadhon as soon as the sun rose. While there was not much that provided them such immense pleasure as the vivid forests of Lórien unfailingly did, Haldir felt he was bearing an indiscernible weight on his shoulders; a shadow over his mind that he himself could not understand. "I think I will travel outwards again, I have meaning to do so for some time," he said, quietly.

The other two were silent as they absorbed the sudden proclamation of their kin. "I must admit, I have never understood this fascination for mingling outside of Lórien-" Orophin had not been given an opportunity to list a dozen reasons why it was inconceivable to leave for any stretch of time (least of all the pretty ellith) before he was interrupted.

Haldir chuckled, running his hand through his thick mass of long, silvery hair. "You might enjoy the experience if you ever develop the courage to venture."

"It is not a lack of courage that keeps me here. It is a love for our lands and a wellfounded mistrust of anything or anyone that does not hail from it," he said, his tone grave with warning.

Haldir sighed but paid his words little heed for they had this conversation too many times before. Neither ever managed to sway the other into agreement. Instead, he glanced behind his shoulder towards Rúmil and kindly patted the quieter Elf on the back.

"Where do you think you will go?" his brother asked him, struggling somewhat to feign his softness.

"I think I shall ride to Gondor."

"Again?"

"I have not been for quite some time-"

The sigh Orophin released was laced in exasperated frustration, for he evidently did not agree. "It was less than a decade," he argued.

"Nay, that trek was to Rohan. It has been more than two since I have visited the Stoningland."

Haldir stood before the Lady Galadriel in her gardens. The vibrant blooms surrounding them were a magnificent array of blue, yellow and green and the foliage perfectly complimented a fountain of flowing water, twisted elegantly around the trunk of a large tree.

"They were not like the others," her voice was deep as thunder and yet at the same time, soft as silk as she poured water from a porcelain pitcher into a chalice and handed it to Haldir. In turn, he bowed reverently to his Lady. "Nenya has kept our lands safe for many years," she continued, "they were Man-Orcs. We have not seen them active since the days of Saruman's designs on Middle Earth."

He nodded and the Lady was silent for a moment, observing the curious expression that crossed the Galadhrim's face. "No," she answered, without him having to inquire verbally, "there will not be more - least not within gour borders - for some time."

"That is good."

"Indeed," she smiled. It was a radiantly warm gesture that lifted his spirits. "Your brothers can manage in your absence for a while. You need not worry for them."

He should not have been surprised that she would have known of his intentions, but nonetheless he was caught off-guard. "Thank you, my lady."

It was only some moments after Haldir respectfully excused himself and took leave that Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien, made to join his wife by her garden. "You are certain it is wise to provide Haldir with leave at this time?"

Galadriel scoffed; the look was so unusual on the lady's face, but it was only in the company of her husband that she would ever have been guilty of it. "Of course," she whispered, placing her long, slender hand on his chest. "He has an open heart and an open mind. He appreciates change and diversity more than most of our people. It certainly is unusual, but altogether quite endearing. He senses that his Fate has been weaved somehow to his adventures abroad."

"But you fear for him because of it."

She sighed, twirling a length of her husband's silken, silver hair between her fingers. "I do."

Haldir and Rúmil ascended several flets to arrive at the talan that had belonged to Haldir for many years. As they approached the structure, the corners of his lips curled upwards when he noticed a group of four ellith waiting patiently in front of his home. Turning his attentions away from the silver-haired beauties, he engaged his brother in a little play that they all were certain to hear. "Ah! Yes, dangerous creatures, the lot of them! They travel in packs and ensnare even the most hapless of ellon! Merciless, I hear."

"Oh, Haldir, stop your teasing! We are only excited you are back!" one of them giggled as she took his warm hands in her own and rose to her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek, repeating the same greeting to Rúmil. "We missed the both of you so! How long will you stay this time?"

He immediately took notice of the quiet dignity of the elleth who stood behind her. In appearance she was similar to the others, possessing a long mane of rich silver and bright eyes of blue - common characteristics for the Elves of Lórien. Her name was Siladhiel and Haldir had once, many hundreds of years ago, come rather close to courting the young lady. It was just prior to his appointment as March Warden and this proved to be their greatest obstacle. The position entailed spending months at a time stationed at his post and Siladhiel could not bring herself to bear the extensive length of time apart. It was for this reason that the relationship between the two elves dissolved, although even still some inkling of interest remained vested in the other.

She was silent now, clearly not as comfortable in large groups as the others.

He turned his attentions away from her. "Not long, I am afraid," he admitted, spurning two of the ladies to pout.

"Come, you must dine with us tonight! We will make your favourite – some honey and lavender cakes, wassail and perhaps some hazelnut crumble to indulge that sweet tooth of yours, Haldir."

One side of Haldir's mouth curled. "You drive a hard bargain, ladies."

"There it is, then! Come to my talan at sun down!"

"Aye."

A gentle, timid knock sounded on the other side of the door.

"Siladhiel," he whispered. He had not expected to have words with her so soon. In fact, he had anticipated diving into a bottle of red wine beforehand.

"It is good to see you well, Haldir."

"And you also. How have you been faring as of late?"

"I have been well, thank you. As a matter of fact, I have begun to take up archery," she told him, pointedly.

"Oh yes? Perhaps you shall be the first of us to best the Prince of Mirkwood in an archery match," he winked playfully at her in attempt to put her at ease. He had always been very encouraging; this was one of the many qualities that endeared him to her.

She smiled, but apart from that gave no other response. Several long moments passed before it appeared as if she would answer.

"I have been thinking of you a great deal lately," she said into the heavy silence, although it was barely above a whisper and had he not possessed such sharp hearing, he might not have caught it.

"Sila-"

"Let me explain, Haldir!" To describe Siladhiel as temperamental would be far-fetched for anyone who knew her, and yet here she was failing miserably to maintain her composure. "We could... we could come to an arrangement, Haldir. I could become a march warden, like you, like your brothers... then-" she could not finish her proposal before he dismissed the very thought of it.

"No, Sila-"

"Haldir-"

"You are being silly, Siladhiel. A female in the guard is unheard of. Even greater still, it is our duty and our primary concern to protect these forests – foolish is it to have any other intention!" Then the thought rushed to him, suddenly weaving the entire situation together like the last piece of a puzzle. "Was this why you began to practice archery?"

The manner in which she could barely conceal her disdain gave him the answer and he sighed dejectedly. "I am sorry, Siladhiel. We will discuss this matter again when I return."

"Return from where?"

"It does not matter. Return to your friends. They are waiting for you," his swift dismissal of her, that little nod in the direction of the door might have been a little more offensive than was his intention. "I will see you tonight."

She lifted her chin, unfazed. "You might."

Just as an FYI, this chapter is currently un-beta'd, so there will be some minor changes sometime in a few days. Merry Christmas, friends! xoxo