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It did not sit comfortably with Haldir to have the mortal woman walking so carelessly through his home. Her feet were clumsy, tangling with the undergrowth and tearing it free; trampling down shoots that had begun to break through the soil beneath their boots. It felt like a great intrusion so him, more so than was fair on the girl, he had to admit. She could not help the graceless nature of her race, nor her unsteady feet—yet still he resented her. They had barely been walking for an hour before she began to slow their already greatly reduced pace. She seemed to seek out roots to stumble over and dragged her feet every time they approached even the slightest of inclines. Haldir was dreading the climb up the large, steep hill upon which Caras Galadhon sat.
"If she moved any slower, she would take root," Rúmil complained from his place at the rear of the group.
The other warden Haldir had chosen to accompany them, a younger ellon named Tornë, laughed. "Perhaps she is weighed down by her breasts," he chuckled. Haldir supressed a smirk; the mortal's cleavage, so different from the slender, willowy ellith of Lórien, had been the talk of his camp last night.
He looked over his shoulder in time to see Rúmil step forwards to keep pace at the mortal's side. "Fair lady," Rúmil said, "Would you allow me to carry this burden for you? I would be happy to oblige, one in each hand—"
"Rúmil, enough!" Haldir called. Whether the mortal understood them or not, it was in bad taste to mock her so. "Mock her for something she lacks, at least," he muttered.
"What are you saying?" the woman demanded, clutching self-consciously at the edges of the cloak he had loaned her.
Haldir sighed; until this moment, she had been blissfully silent. "He was greeting you, nothing more." He said quickly. "Hurry up; it is a three day trek to Caras Galadhon . . . though at this pace, I wonder we have not yet encountered a search party worried for our lives."
"Three days?" she echoed, dismayed.
"Don't despair, mortal," he said, already continuing on his path. "If you love our company that well, I can always take the long way round."
o0o
By the time they stopped for the night, Aubrey could barely lift one foot in front of the other. Haldir took one look at her exhausted state and motioned to one of the other elves. Before she could protest, he hoisted her over his shoulder and leapt into the tree. Even climbing one handed, the elf made the journey smoother than her own efforts had been with the damn ladder.
She was set down on a wooden platform similar to the one she had slept on the night before, though this one was larger and had a raised, sheltered area set with four low sleeping pallets. It was clearly regularly maintained, for the floor and beds were swept clean and there was no sign of animals or birds inhabiting the flet.
The elves set down their packs and produced packages of food wrapped in cloth when they were all gathered upon the platform; Haldir tossed a package unceremoniously in her direction. Within the package was a small honey cake, a handful of dried berries, an apple and a block of hard cheese. She had devoured everything but the berries when one of the elves spoke.
"Hiril vuin, êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn. Im Rúmil."
She looked up, enjoying the sound of the flowing language if nothing else. The lilted, sing-song inflection reminded her of Nordic languages she had studied and there was a hint of Welsh in the actual pronunciation of the words. She was startled when Haldir turned to her, an apple in one hand. He carved a slice from the apple with a small, silvery dagger and took the fruit from the knife. His teeth flashed white in the dusk light. "He says that his name is Rúmil, and he is pleased to meet you," he said lazily.
"Oh! Uh, tell him I'm Aubrey, and it's nice to meet him too," she stuttered.
Haldir relayed the message to the elf who had approached her earlier. He nodded and grinned, a mischievous expression that did not sit entirely comfortably with Aubrey. The other elf introduced himself as Tornë, and seemed eager to talk to her, but Haldir stood, stating that he was wearied and did not wish to translate inanities all night.
Feeling isolated once more, Aubrey stood and trudged over to the furthest pallet, falling upon it heavily. Her feet ached and needled with sharp pains where they had rubbed against boots too large for her feet. The day of walking had left her hot and filthy, and her favourite pyjamas were now in a disgusting state. She wished fervently for a bra, if nothing else than to divert the laughing glances Rúmil sent her. As she had thought the day before with Haldir, he did not seem to truly desire her—his eyes were more humoured than hungry when he looked at her breasts and the frequent smiles between them told her that whatever they saw in her, it amused them.
She hated feeling like the punch line of their joke almost as much as she hated uncertainty of this place, wherever it may be. The forest was still enchantingly beautiful but it was harsh; she wanted the comfort of her well known life, wanted to walk the hills she knew underneath the shade of familiar trees.
If this is a dream, she thought miserably, I would really like to wake up.
o0o
Haldir sighed, leaning back to rest his head against the tree trunk. Rúmil and Tornë had long since retired to sleep, settling in pallets near the mortal. Though a watch was not strictly necessary so far into the forest's borders, Haldir could find no rest. After nearly an hour spent trying to find the restful trance of the Eldar, he had given in. He found his solace in the forest around him, alive and active even in the depths of night.
A noise behind him caught his attention; the mortal shifted in her sleep and rolled over to face him, her brow furrowed even in sleep. He frowned, gazing at her. She had her eyes closed—normal for mortals, he assured himself, but still disturbing. Still, he thought scornfully. I could not mistake her for dead. She shifted and snuffled like a sleeping dog, loud and obtrusive even when she was unconscious.
Like many of his kin, Haldir thought himself, if not above mortals, very decidedly apart from them. He did not, as a rule, hate them, but found them to be rash and insensitive. It was easy, he supposed, to carry out the reckless acts of destruction they did if you did not have to live to see the result. This mortal, though, this girl angered him. She was ungrateful and proud, and seemed entirely unaware of the world around her. Her boots crushed the life from the small plants in her path and her careless hands brushed moss and lichen from the trees with no thought to the years they had struggled to grow there. She had invaded his forest, scorned his race and rejected his help.
You are quick to judge that which you do not know, Marchwarden, came a voice within his mind.
Haldir stiffened at the unexpected intrusion of the Lady Galadriel's mind. "I see as I find," he murmured to the wind.
I would meet her,Galadriel continued.
"We are already on the way." He sensed an approval and then felt his Lady's presence fade from his mind. The sounds of the forest drifted back to him, as familiar to him as the sound of his own breathing.
Behind him, the mortal shifted again and sighed. She murmured something, her face muffled against the pillow. Haldir frowned, attempting to dismiss his curiosity. When she spoke again, he could not resist pacing closer to her. He paused a few feet from her sleeping form, every muscle in his body tense. His patience was rewarded when she rolled onto her back and said, clearly, "I'm sorry, Evan," deep sorrow in her voice.
Haldir memorised the name almost without meaning to. Whoever this 'Evan' was, he was important to the mortal. A clue as to her origins, perhaps. No matter, it was knowledge he had over her and that was an advantage in any situation.
o0o
The second day of hiking was even worse than the first. Haldir roused them as soon as grey dawn touched the edge of the sky and had them marching before the sun had fully risen, eating breakfast on the go.
Aubrey took a bite of her waybread and rubbed at her bleary eyes, still half asleep. At this early hour, the path was in deep shadow and though the elves moved along with seamless, effortless grace, she kept tripping over roots and catching her ankles on thorny underbrush. She realised that the path had turned upwards slightly, barely steep enough to notice but enough that the walking was more tiring than the day before.
By midday, the gradient had increased to a steep incline that winded her and brought sweat beading to her forehead. She refused to ask the elves to slow down, knowing that it would only bring Haldir's derision upon her, but she was beginning to feel light headed and her throat ached with thirst. She had been given a full water skin at the start of the day, but found it empty when she raised it to her lips. "Haldir," she called, ashamed of how breathless she sounded.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "What is it?"
"I've run out of water," she said, holding the flask upside down as evidence. A single, crystal drop traced the round lip of the bottle then spun to the ground where it sunk into the dark soil.
He gave her a scathing look. "And what would you like me to do about that?"
"Can I have some more?" she asked.
"We do not reach a river until sundown. You should have rationed more carefully." He said dismissively, turning back around.
Aubrey strode forwards, anger flushing her cheeks. "It's not my fault that you didn't have enough water, how was I to know? You didn't tell me!"
"Forgive me," he snarled, wheeling about to face her head on. "For not emphasising common sense known to even the youngest elflings. Eru, most mortals know well enough to ration water on a journey!"
"Where I'm from, we don't have to!" she shouted back.
Interest glimmered in his eyes. "And where is that, I wonder? This magical realm where water flows from trees at every turn, and mortals are more foolish even than normal?"
"You wouldn't understand even if I told you."
He scoffed, turning from her. "A liar and a trespasser. This is what the Valar send me. Keep your petty secrets, girl, they do not interest me. Rúmil," he called. The other elf joined him and they walked off, talking quietly in their language.
Tornë, the last elf, regarded her for a long moment. It was he who had carried her into the tree the night before, he who had introduced himself and seen eager to speak with her. Just when she thought he would stride off and join his kin, he reached for his own water skin at his hip and held it out to her, one eyebrow raised. She accepted it gratefully and took a long sip before handing it back. "Thank you," she said genuinely, deciding that this elf was not so bad.
He nodded in recognition and gestured her in front of him. Aubrey smiled softly, happy to have found a tentative ally if nothing else.
o0o
They reached the promised river an hour before sundown, having made good time descending the valley. Aubrey rushed to the bank and immediately filled her water skin, swallowing down mouthful after mouthful of cold, refreshing water until she felt uncomfortably bloated. The elves followed more sedately, drinking and cupping water to wash their faces.
Aubrey longed to simply strip and jump into the cool water; she could feel every inch of her skin was sweaty and grimy. Her fingernails were black and the lines of her palms were ingrained with dirt. Her scalp felt particularly foul, thick with grease. She settled for washing her hands, face and neck, and scrubbing a few handfuls of icy water through her hair, then slowly eased her loaned boots off her aching feet.
Dropping the boots onto the riverbank beside her, she grimaced at what she saw. Swollen blisters covered her feet. Her toes and heels had been rubbed raw by the poorly-fitting boots. Small cuts on the bottom of her feet were dark with dirt and inflamed with infection. A particularly bad sore on her left heel slowly oozed blood and sticky yellow pus.
Wincing, she lowered her feet into the river, and after the initial agony of the freezing water, allowed the cold river to soothe and numb the flesh. She heard someone approaching and looked back over her shoulder; Haldir stood over her, a small leather bag in his hand.
"You were foolish not to let me tend those when I offered," he said gravely.
Aubrey set her jaw and met his gaze unflinchingly. "You were being rude."
"You were proud, and you have suffered for it. Apologise now, and allow me to aide you." He said firmly.
Aubrey spluttered, astonished by his sheer arrogance. "Can you even hear yourself? Apologise, and you'll heal me? Get stuffed."
His eyes darkened. "You would walk another day in agony because you are too proud to apologise to me?"
"I have nothing to apologise for!" she cried. "You've been rude, dismissive and downright disrespectful to me. And now, you refuse to help me unless I bow to you?"
He crouched beside her, hot anger in his silvery-blue eyes. "I am a Marchwarden of Lórien," he said. "You should bow to me regardless."
"I don't give a shit who you are. I won't apologise to you." She told him, lifting her chin.
"Then you will remain as you are. I will not slow my pace for your comfort."
"I don't care," she said defiantly.
He smiled, then, a cold, satisfied smile that sent a shiver down her spine. "You will," he promised her. "You will beg me to help you before we reach Caras Galadhon. And then you will see where your pride has led."
"I would walk to the end of the earth before I begged you for anything," she said softly, and marched away.
o0o
Rúmil had observed the argument between his brother and the mortal with interest. It usually took a good deal to truly rile the stoic Marchwarden, yet this young girl had managed it with a few sharp words.
Though unable to understand their heated fight, Rúmil had gathered the meaning by the bag of medical supplies in Haldir's hand and the girl's refusal to let him treat her. She stormed away from the furious elf, her head raised in defiant pride. Rúmil couldn't help the stir of admiration he felt for the girl; he knew how much courage it could take to stand against Haldir.
When she had vanished around a large rock at the waterside, he walked over to his brother, noticing that the Marchwarden's hands were clenched into tight fists. "Brother? Are you alright?" Rúmil questioned.
Suddenly, like an arrow flying from a bowstring, Haldir whirled, throwing the bag of healing supplies as hard as he could. The bag flew across the clearing and hit a young mallorn hard enough to make the tree quiver. Rúmil stared at his brother, alarmed. "Haldir?"
"She should never have come here," Haldir said, his words clipped and harsh. "We should have left her for dead on the plains."
Taking up his quiver and bow, he strode from the clearing, his cloak swirling in his wake.
o0o
They stayed the night by the river, camping on the banks for there were no nearby flets. Aubrey had taken the opportunity to bathe in the river whilst Haldir had been gone and felt far better for it. He returned after sunset, sweeping silently into the camp Rúmil and Tornë had set up, a dead rabbit hanging from one hand. The rabbit had been shot cleanly through the eye by a long, white-feathered arrow.
The elves greeted him enthusiastically and stoked the small fire they had created into a larger blaze. Aubrey found herself staring, morbidly fascinated, as they skinned and gutted the rabbit. Though certainly not a vegetarian, she had never observed an animal being butchered before. It stood to reason, though, that in this seemingly medieval place, the inhabitants would hunt for food. The elves dealt with the kill swiftly and soon had it speared above the fire, cut into small sections so as to cook quickly.
The delicious scent of the rabbit cooking drew Aubrey closer to the fire until she sat directly between Rúmil and Tornë, their shoulders brushing. Rúmil wordlessly passed her a piece of rabbit once it was cooked, which she took eagerly. The meat was surprisingly tender, and they had flavoured it with some kind of herbs that gave it a fragrant, slightly spicy taste. Aubrey devoured her piece in moments, then sat nibbling at the slivers of meat and crispy fat left behind on the bone.
The atmosphere around the campfire was relaxed and almost comfortable, and Aubrey felt herself beginning to feel drowsy. The uneven warmth from the fire left her face flushed her shins prickled uncomfortably with the close proximity to the hear, but overall she was comforted by the flickering light. She leant back on her elbows, drawing her cloak close around her like a blanket. She looked up and accidentally met Haldir's eyes across the fire. The firelight washed his handsome face in pale golden light and lit his silvery hair into a white-gold flame. He looked like an angel, Aubrey thought abstractly. She felt his gaze on her warmer than the heat of the fire and for a moment she felt certain he could read every thought and feeling she had ever had. Then the light flickered and shifted, throwing his face into shadow, and the moment was gone.
She turned away and lay down, curling up with her back to the fire. One of the elves—Rúmil, she thought—began to sing, a slow, lazy song in their lyrical language. She fell asleep to his easy lullaby, the image of Haldir's eyes burning into her still.
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