Wild Oats
Chapter III: Bree
Haldir saw more of the council library than the inside of his talan the fortnight before the arrival of the Mirkwood envoy. It was probably even more true for Nerthriel. She was always there, either hunched over an old book of military strategy or debating with Orchalron the merits of rotating horses in the cavalry as opposed to assigning one to each rider.
The scale of preparations for the imminent arrival of the thirty horses was huge. Every part of Lothlórien was involved in one way or another. Young ellyn were recruited as grooms and farmhands were busy harvesting grains and drying hay; seamstresses were making uniforms and saddlemakers were racing against time to get orders done.
Haldir walked heavily down the stairs into the library very late one night, intent on drafting an offer proposal for the negotiations. He stopped short at the sight of Orophin, Malfindon and Nerthriel sat around the oak table, completely still. He took a step closer and he smiled to himself.
They were fast asleep.
He returned half an hour later with a light supper and a pitcher of ale. Setting the tray in the middle of the table with a loud and deliberate clatter, he watched as the trio lurched out of their slumber.
Orophin looked up, wildly disoriented. "Brother! Good evening. If it is still, indeed, evening."
"Did we really fall asleep?" asked Nerthriel, her voice husky, whilst pinching the bridge of her nose.
Haldir smirked. "Yes, and it was a rather amusing scene to happen upon. You should eat."
"I am famished," declared Malfindon, reaching for a plate and proceeded to pile it high with fruits and preserved meats. "Thank you for bringing us ammunition for a long night of workforce planning, my friend."
Nerthriel followed suit, moving out of her chair and towards the food. "Why are you here at such a late hour, Marchwarden?"
"I met with the keepers of the mines today to determine how many horses we could afford to pay in ore," answered Haldir, pouring himself some ale. "I wanted to draft a proposal for the envoy whilst my memory is still fresh."
"And what did they say?"
Seating himself next to his brother, Haldir said, "We can spare enough ore to trade for twenty horses upfront. The remaining ten we have to negotiate for."
Nerthriel nodded approvingly. "Excellent, plenty of scope for a potential bargain."
"And what is the workforce planning you speak of, Malfindon?" asked Haldir, opening a drawer in the table in search of parchment and ink.
"We realised that Lothlórien has a chronic shortage of skilled labour for the stables," he replied. "There are, however, a couple of accomplished horsemen in my company. And I thought if we conscripted one or two experienced men from each company, we would have enough soldiers not only to train the new grooms and run the stables, it would also give us sufficient time to recruit for the cavalry."
Orophin gestured to the thick stack of scrolls in front of them, which were lists of the entire Galadhrim. "And that is what we are doing. Identifying suitable candidates and altering their schedules accordingly."
"I have to say I am glad that I am not in your place," said Haldir.
"This is indeed one of the least inspired tasks I have done," deadpanned Nerthriel.
"You can go if you want, Nerthriel. You must be tired," said Orophin.
Malfindon agreed. "When was the last time you even went back to your talan?"
"I just went back two hours ago for a bath," replied Nerthriel dismissively. "Thank you for your concern, but I would rather finish this with you. I could take as much rest as I desire after the horses have arrived and are settled in."
"You are entitled to a week's rest every three months by the Galadhrim protocol, so you may do so at any time," Haldir informed her. "I am certain Orophin and Orchalron will be more than happy to cover for you."
She smiled at Orophin. "I will make that decision closer to the time."
They lapsed into a companionable and industrious silence, punctured by quiet discussions among the three and the occasional yawn. Orophin was the first to bid the group farewell, needing rest before he headed out for his patrol duties the next morning. Malfindon followed an hour later, having no excuse other than administrative fatigue.
Haldir was about to finish the draft when Nerthriel asked, "Why is the map blank here?"
He looked up. She was standing to his right, pointing at the north-western corner of a map of the realm.
"It is just forest there," replied Haldir simply. "Quite dense forest, in fact. We very rarely venture that far."
She put a hand on her hip, and said critically, "That is rather appalling negligence on the mapmaker's part. How do you know where the border is, then?"
"The realm ends where the Lady's magic ends. We patrol the entire border. It is nothing to be concerned about."
Thinking the discussion was over, Haldir returned to his scroll, writing in a neat, controlled script.
"I have a proposal."
He kept writing. "Do tell, my lady."
"I propose an expedition."
Lifting his quill off the parchment, Haldir arched an eyebrow at her in question.
"I plan to recruit a small number of scouts for the cavalry," she explained. "As I understand, your scouts currently do not venture beyond the Golden Wood nor do they scout on horseback, which will not suffice in the event of war."
"I concur," affirmed Haldir. "And the expedition is intended to be a trial of sorts?"
"Yes, it is. Not only for the scouts, but for the horses as well - not all have the temperament required. And while we are out there, we could fill in the blank parts of the map."
Haldir considered the suggestion. "It would be a beneficial exercise. Are you trained in map-making?"
She looked faintly amused. "I may be gifted, but not in everything, Marchwarden."
"Well, thankfully, I do know a mapmaker," said Haldir, then he smiled. "In fact, he happens to be the very eligible bachelor I mentioned."
Nerthriel's mouth dropped open in mock outrage. "And our first meeting is to be a five-day expedition? My, are we forward, Marchwarden."
"Five days is quite long, is it not?" he queried.
"We can discuss the finer details later," she assured him.
"By any means, I shall introduce you before hand. He will certainly be at the feast once the Mirkwood negotiations have been concluded."
"Very good, that gives us enough time to shortlist a scouting team. I shall draft a memorandum for the captain of each company to name men suited to the role."
Haldir unveiled a fresh piece of parchment and slid it across the smooth wooden surface, saying, "No time like the present."
With her fingertips, Nerthriel delicately pulled the yellowed page towards her side of the table, and retook her seat. Shaking her head, she said almost regretfully, "Sometimes I wish I didn't have such a conscientious work ethic."
Haldir dipped his quill in the inkwell and contended rather smugly, "Even if you did not, you would still have an indefatigable Marchwarden to appease."
Beorn looked up sharply from his bucket of midday feed at the sudden commotion outside the stables, his white-tipped ears pricked up in curiosity. Nerthriel paused in her daily routine of brushing his tail at lunchtime and leaned out of the stall's open window with a frown.
Then she promptly ran out of pen, dropping the brush on the way.
Sirdal had collapsed in the middle of the courtyard, his collar still on, evidently on his way back from a graze on the pastures. Stable hands crowded around him as he struggled to breathe. Pushing through the ellyn, Nerthriel fell on her knees next to the horse, her hair falling around her in a thick curtain as she examined him.
She noted his dilated pupils and felt the way his pulse and muscles jumped erratically under her fingers. It did not look good.
"It must be nightshade," she murmured to herself. "Elerossë, fetch the Marchwarden!"
Instructing another groom to give Sirdal some water, Nerthriel hurried to the apothecary cabinet situated at the back of the stables, her heart clenching in anxiety. She knew the horse would not survive, but she could ease his pain while they waited for Haldir to arrive.
She emerged from the stables in a few moments, clutching small pouches of herbs and a small bowl of oats and apple morsels.
"Where is the Marchwarden?" she asked, kneeling beside Sirdal.
"He is at the archery range on the other side of Caras Galadhon," replied a stable hand. "He should be here soon."
Nerthriel nodded and stroked Sirdal soothingly on the neck. He let out rapid, laboured breaths, and his muscles twitched ever more frequently.
She had just managed to coax the stallion into swallowing a small handful of apples laced with pain relief herbs when her ears picked up steady footsteps.
The group of spectators parted, and Haldir strode into view, his bow still in hand. His eyes were turbulent despite his rigidly set jaw.
"He is in a lot of pain," said Nerthriel gently as Haldir crouched next to her. "You have to let him go."
He gave a curt nod, and hard blue eyes slowly swept upwards.
The crowd dispersed silently.
Haldir put a hand on Sirdal's neck, just where it met his powerful chest, now heaving in agony. The horse shuddered, whether from the familiar touch or from a bout of pain, she could not tell.
Sitting back on her heels, Nerthriel emptied the remaining pouch of seeds into the bowl of oats and apples, and she held it out to Haldir.
"It is a lethal dosage. Feed it to him when you are ready," she said quietly.
Putting his bow on the ground, Haldir reached up and closed his fingers around the bowl without looking at her. She stood up, and staring at the back of his blond head, she hesitated for a split second before laying her fingers on his shoulder.
Then she curled her fingers into her palm and walked into the stables.
She busied herself with detangling Beorn's tail again, while the stable hands swept the floors and refilled water pails in uncharacteristic silence. It must have been no more than ten minutes before Haldir appeared, his face unperturbed still, yet there was a stiffness to his shoulders that Nerthriel had not seen before.
She didn't realise she was chewing on her lower lip until she did.
"Are you alright?" she asked, feeling foolish for offering these empty words.
"I need to make arrangements," he said, disregarding her question. "I would be grateful if you could send note to Malfindon to carry on with archery training without me this afternoon."
With that, the Marchwarden spun on his heel and marched out of sight. She met Elerossë's eyes, who shrugged and carried on sweeping his way to the front of the stables.
Nerthriel did not loiter for long. But when she departed for the archery range, she took the back door.
It was a lovely afternoon. Warm sunbeams found their way into fair Caras Galadhon through the treetops, and Nerthriel traced the golden path they carved out. She savoured the mid-afternoon tranquility, knowing that it would be scarce once the Mirkwood horses arrived in a mere two days.
Malfindon and Rúmil were supervising what appeared to be combat-cum-archery training when Nerthriel delivered the news of Sirdal's untimely passing.
"Ah, what a pity," commiserated the brother. "He was a fine horse."
"Will Haldir be alright?" she asked.
Malfindon was unconcerned. "It is Haldir, my dear. Of course he will be alright."
"Valar knows I would be locked in my talan for days, if not weeks," she muttered, half to herself.
Rúmil chuckled. "Haldir does not mourn. If he did even I would be hard pressed to find a trace of it, and I'm his brother. He is more sealed than a bottle of Dorwinion's finest."
Nerthriel's lips quirked at the metaphor. She eased onto a bench near the two, and said, "Well, I suppose as head of the cavalry I am responsible for finding him a new horse. How did he come to own Sirdal?"
"Haldir tamed him," answered Rúmil. "He found Sirdal by a small creek when he was a colt."
"You should take him on a hunt," suggested Malfindon. "There are plenty of wild horses near Fangorn."
Nerthriel frowned. "I? No, I cannot."
"Why?"
"It is deeply personal," she argued. "It would be proper for me to source a stallion for him, say from Rohan or from my father's stock, but it would be intrusive for me to hunt for one with him."
Nerthriel jumped out of her skin when Malfindon suddenly yelled at a Sentinel. "Fëanáro! Do that one more time and you will be on patrol for the next decade!" Then serenely turning to her, he clucked. "My lady, you are Haldir's comrade. Duty comes before propriety in the Galadhrim."
She was quiet for a moment, then Rúmil interjected. "This is all speculation, anyhow. Haldir would not be pleased to catch wind of us making arrangements behind his back, so let us await his instructions."
"My friend speaks the truth," agreed Malfindon, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "What we can do, however, is to anticipate the forthcoming festivities."
Seating himself next to her, Rúmil rubbed his hands together and stared at her with such seriousness that he actually looked like Haldir for one mind-bending moment. "Now, tell me, Nerthriel - which delightful friends will you be bringing with you to the feast this time?"
The negotiations were protracted, drawn out more by the leisurely lunches, suppers and polite conversation than the actual bargaining.
However, when they did get to the bargaining, it proved to be vicious.
The delegation was far less pliable than Nerthriel had expected. Lord Rochirion, in particular, was quite adamant that he would swim back to Mirkwood with the remaining ten horses in tow should Lórien not meet the price he demanded.
That was what he proclaimed on the first day in any case.
Over the course of the three-day summit, Haldir did not miss the dozens of times Nerthriel had pulled Mirkwood's horse master or the metalsmith to one side for short and highly gesticulative discussions.
As the sun set on the final day, Lóthlorien and Mirkwood finally reached an accord. Two circles of molten wax - royal blue for Lóthlorien and ink green for Mirkwood - were poured on the resulting treaty, and stamped with the crests of the respective realms with all the ritualistic ceremony that was required.
Haldir was bloody exhausted.
But when Lord Celeborn rose, bowing deeply to Prince Legolas who did the same, he quickly stood as well. Slowly but surely, the lordly entourage descended from the court to the feast that had long awaited them. Before he was swept along the current, the Marchwarden had just enough time to dip his head at lady Nerthriel, who had hung back to walk with the rest of the Mirkwood envoy.
As he trailed respectfully behind Celeborn and Legolas, he mulled over the inadequacy of the gesture in conveying the compliments she deserved for her tenacity throughout the negotiations. He would have to catch up with her at the celebrations.
That was precisely what he did hours later, accompanied by an elf who was a good half a head taller than himself. Haldir's strides were loose, and he was conversing merrily with his companion, whose quick wit and intellect he greatly appreciated.
Legolas had brought with him a dozen crates of Dorwinion wine, with best wishes from his father, King Thranduil. One could always tell when there was Dorwinion at an elvish gathering - there was too much dancing, even more noise and little trace of the poise and grace that was borne of millennia of living.
Nerthriel was easy to spot tonight. She wore a gown of deep crimson, the strong colour and long sleeves hearkening to her Rivendell heritage. She was engaged in conversation with the leathersmith's daughter, Aredhel, and a couple of wardens who were in his own company.
The two politely stood to one side before Aredhel invited them into the circle.
"Lady Nerthriel," began Haldir. "I wish to congratulate you for your contribution these past few weeks."
She smiled widely, and bowed her head in return. "The feeling is mutual, Marchwarden. I am very pleased with the outcome."
"Indeed, you should be," replied Haldir, before nodding to his friend. "It is also my wish to introduce you to lord Farion, the appointed mapmaker of the realm."
The fair-headed elf clasped his right hand over his heart. "Mae govannen, lady Nerthriel. Haldir has told me much about you."
Nerthriel dipped her head and jested, "With my permission, evidently."
With a droll smile of his own, Haldir made to move away to leave them to their own devices, but he stopped when Aredhel pulled him to one side.
She was very beautiful tonight, adorned in a gown of pale gold. "I am sorry to hear about Sirdal, Haldir."
He nearly winced. Very nearly. He supposed he was more drunk than he realised. "I am too, my lady."
She offered a kind smile. "I have no doubt you will be kept busy enough to take your mind off it these few months."
He took a sip of his wine. "I certainly hope so."
After a brief pause, Aredhel said, "Nerthriel is worried about you."
Haldir turned to look at her, then at his glass. "She has been tiptoeing around me."
Aredhel smiled fondly. "She means well."
"I know she does."
"She's sentimental."
He nodded. "As the young usually are."
Finishing her drink, Aredhel straightened and lifted her chin gracefully. "I will be at Taur Hith tomorrow, taking measurements for the new horses."
"I shall see you tomorrow, then. Have a good night, Aredhel."
Haldir wound his way through the throngs of elves and retired to sit at a table with his brothers, who were playing cards with Malfindon and Orchalron. He was feeling rather surly, tired from engaging in inconsequential dialogue with the guests from Mirkwood. By any means, they had plenty to entertain them. All of Lothlórien had been invited, and it looked like the only ones who were not there were the wardens on border patrol.
He resisted the urge to slouch into his chair and rub his eyes, but he was still on duty, and he had to look the part.
Amidst the sweet music of the lyre and fragments of conversation, his ears piqued at a low, pleasant laugh. Haldir turned to see Nerthriel grinning at the mapmaker, cradling her goblet against her chest, waving her other hand animatedly. He sipped his wine and watched distractedly as she fussed with the silver embroidery of her sleeves.
His attention broke and he looked away.
"We're starting a new game, brother. Do you want to join?" asked Orophin.
"No, thank you," he answered. "Rúmil, you would be doing me a great service if you could stop glaring at the Prince of Mirkwood and pass me some wine."
Rúmil did as he was bid, then shuffled the cards and grunted. "It looks like I have tough competition tonight. I might even have to go to bed alone!"
Haldir snorted, pouring himself a drink. "Do not pretend you would have had better luck otherwise."
Malfindon joined in the banter. "Or you could simply eliminate the competition by taking the Prince himself to bed!"
Haldir smirked as the rest of the table laughed and thumped the table in good humour.
Legolas's appeal was conspicuous even in the company of the fairest faces of Lothlórien. He was circled by a string of fawning ellith, unabashedly charming each and everyone of them into giggling coquettes.
Well, Haldir intended to take a willing elleth to bed tonight. And he certainly did not need to flirt to accomplish that.
He surveyed the merriments over the edge of his glass. Small groups congregated, some singing, some dancing. Avornien, the maiden he seduced nights ago, was talking with Aredhel, and he quickly looked away before she caught him staring. Hiding behind shuttered eyes, he slowly narrowed his perimeters to a cluster of well-dressed ellith not far from where he was sitting.
Tactfully, he retracted his gaze - he had plenty of time to plot his game - and happened upon the sight of Nerthriel with a panicked expression. Following her line of vision, Haldir saw Legolas making his way over to her.
He remembered a particular time when he mentioned Legolas and the hesitation on her part. They must have had a history.
Interesting.
He watched as Nerthriel bade Farion goodbye, and turned around wildly until she caught his eye, and hurried over to him quite decisively. The others were too occupied with the cards to notice.
"Talk to me," she commanded as she closed in.
"Why?" asked Haldir, swirling the wine in his glass lazily.
"Just do it," she snapped, pulling him on the sleeve until he stood reluctantly. "And look cross. If you look cross enough he wouldn't come over."
He rolled his eyes, dragging his feet as she herded him away from the table. "I am far too old for intrigue like this."
Turning them around so that she had her back to Legolas, she sniped, "Do it!"
"Fine," he ground out, needing little prodding to frown. "Do I look surly enough, my lady?"
"Has he stopped coming over?"
Haldir glanced over her shoulder. "In fact, he has. You know him very well, I must say."
"You know you are not as subtle as you like to pretend to be, Haldir."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"For just a split second, I saw the hunger for gossip in your eyes."
He was slightly amused. It was not every day he was accused of that crime. "Can you blame me?"
She tilted her head to one side. "I suppose it doesn't matter as long as I don't tell you, does it?"
"I'll coax it out of you someday, you just wait," he said silkily.
Nerthriel gave him a crooked smile. "Just do me a favor and keep him away from me. And don't invite anyone into the conversation or he will come over."
"And he won't come over now because - ?"
She paused, as if weighing up her answers, then said, "Because he is intimidated by you."
That prompted Haldir to laugh, and she grinned into her wine. They watched on as Orchalron suddenly jumped to his feet, declaring himself victor of the card game and thrusting his goblet into the air as coins changed hands on the table.
"Rúmil told me that you found Sirdal when he was a colt and tamed him."
He nodded. "That is correct."
She seemed to hesitate before looking at him with sincere eyes. "I could help you find a new horse if you wanted me to."
Haldir pursed his lips. "That's very considerate of you."
"The best horses are in Rohan. I can take you there if you are interested."
He gave her a sidelong peer, and teased, "Are you normally this nice?"
"I try to be. Isn't that what they teach you in Lothlórien?"
"Yes, yes it is. You learn fast."
In between easy conversation and the tossing back of wine goblets, the night slipped away. Rúmil and Malfindon stole Nerthriel away for a dance or two while Orophin and Orchalron challenged Haldir to a drinking game. The festivities wound down as the moon began its stealthy descent, and a determined Legolas seemed to be on the verge of coming over.
Haldir finished his wine and set the glass on a table nearby that was littered with crockery. He could not tell how many of the wine-stained glasses were his. Probably many.
He tapped Nerthriel on the shoulder. "If you want to avoid him you might want to go now."
She bit out an oath that had his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. She grumbled almost childishly. "I was enjoying the party."
Haldir suppressed the urge to laugh. It appeared that she was feeling the full effects of the Dorwinion wine.
He tried to gently pry the wine glass from Nerthriel's grasp, but then resorted to simply yanking it out of her hand when she refused to let go. He then pulled the elleth to her feet and offered her the crook of his elbow. "Come, I will walk you home."
A complete silence wrapped itself around the two as they moved away from the centre of the city. Haldir breathed in deeply in an attempt to stay the beginnings of a throbbing headache that lurked at the edge of his consciousness.
Nerthriel suddenly spoke up. "He's following us, isn't he?"
Focusing his mind, he heard the unmistakable patter of boots against the wooden flets. "I have to admit I'm curious about his persistence."
She did not seem to be inclined to humour his inquisitiveness, and he was fine with it. They were about to cross the bridge onto their side of Lothlórien when he asked instead, "How did you find Farion?"
"He is nice enough."
"That is a terribly mundane thing to say of someone."
They had reached the foot of the steps that led up to her talan, and he decided to accompany her up the stairs. It would do nobody any favours if she stumbled off a flet and into the river - the Anduin was plagued with particularly strong currents at this time of the year.
They said no more, and despite her less than sober state, they reached her door without incident. Both of them heard the light rustle of leaves beneath them. From the lack of discretion, it would seem that Legolas was no less intoxicated than Nerthriel.
"I hope he doesn't knock."
Haldir frowned. "Would he?"
As she shrugged her shoulders, his eyes were drawn to her collar bones, left bare by the wide neck of her dress. "He is known for his stubbornness. And I have been avoiding him since he arrived."
Slowly, she turned in search of the door knob, when Haldir caught her elbow and said, "I know what to do."
If he had denied his drunken state before, he certainly had no grounds to do so anymore.
The first touch of velvet against his fingertips was cool, but quickly warmed as they curled around her waist. When he slowly leaned in, he fancied he caught the oddly comforting scent of leather and sweet hay.
It was a chaste kiss, probably the chastest Haldir had ever given. But a kiss, no matter how chaste, was a kiss.
He gently disengaged his lips, moving slightly so that his nose grazed the side of hers, but otherwise stayed put. He felt the flitter of eyelashes on the hollow of his cheeks.
Haldir slowly pulled back, and moonlight slid over her features - her eyes, still closed, her straight nose, her thin lips - until it bathed her face in silver. Then slowly, thick lashes blinked and green stared up at him in utter confusion.
At long last, he unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth to say, "He's gone."
Something akin to comprehension dawned on her.
Without another word, Haldir turned and left.
Nerthriel was deliberately late the morning after the feast - two hours late - knowing full well that the Mirkwood delegation would have left at sunrise despite the heavy drinking the night before. She needed no reminder of the wine other than the pounding headache and an atypical aversion to the bright spring sunshine.
She was braiding her unwashed hair when she crossed the threshold into the stables.
"Bree."
She froze. She did not have to look back to see who it was.
"I thought you would have left by now," she said coldly.
Legolas smiled most pleasantly. If he was affected at all by the wine, it did not show on his youthful face. "I haven't. Why are you avoiding me?"
Nerthriel walked past him towards Beorn's stall. "I am not."
"Obviously," he said lightly, and followed in her footsteps. "How are you?"
"Living with the consequences of consuming Dorwinion wine," she replied monotonously and let herself into Beorn's stable.
Unflustered by her lukewarm behaviour, Legolas draped his arms over the door of the stall and watched her fuss over her horse. "No smile for me?"
Nerthriel brushed his small talk aside. "What are you doing here? Why haven't you left?"
"Lady Galadriel invited me to stay a couple of weeks. Lord Celeborn is keen to practise his archery with the best in the lands."
She rolled her eyes. How refreshingly self-important, as usual. "As far as I am concerned, Malfindon is just as good as you are."
He regarded her with his clear blue eyes, then asked softly, "My dear Bree, are you still angry with me after all these years?"
"Can you stop calling me that? I'm not a child anymore," she said, and started picking bits of hay out of Beorn's mane.
"Neither am I," countered Legolas. "I admit I was immature, but you cannot hold that against me."
"You will find that I can and I will."
"Now you are being immature."
Nerthriel set her face in dispassionate defiance. "I am building Lórien's cavalry. You can say what you want."
Something warmed his princely countenance - pride, perhaps - before he turned his attention to the dark bay who was chewing idly on a knot of rope by the door. "Is he a descendent of Tálagor?"
"You know he is."
"He's beautiful," he complimented.
"I know."
They both fell silent when Nerthriel started brushing Beorn's thick coat, which was slowly shedding. She sneezed most gracelessly when tufts of hair drifted into her nose. Legolas chuckled, and if she was not sufficiently chagrined, the horse moved to nudge him on the shoulder in a friendly manner.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she asked, slightly unsettled by the realisation that there was something strongly familiar about the situation they were in.
Her, grooming her horse; him, watching by the door.
He shook his head no. "I am spending quality time with my long-lost friend."
Nerthriel brushed Beorn a little bit harder, sending little whirlwinds of dust flying in the small space. Hooves clicked busily in and out of the stables, and stable hands greeted both herself and Legolas as they walked past.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Haldir coming into the stables, taking off his gloves as he walked Orophin's mare back to her stall. The back of her neck prickled.
The Marchwarden showed no surprise at seeing Legolas. He bowed, statuesque and impeccable as always in his uniform. "My Prince."
Legolas turned to Haldir and laid a respectful hand over his heart. "'Quel amrun, Marchwarden. Forgive me for not coming over last night to talk. I see you were preoccupied with Bree."
Haldir furrowed his brow. "Bree?"
"It is a pet name," answered Legolas with a wink.
Nerthriel shot Haldir a pleading look over the Prince's head. He blinked once, then cleared his throat and said, "I apologise for intruding, but the Lady requests your presence in the court library, my lord."
"Ah well, you must excuse me then, Marchwarden. Bree." Legolas bowed at the waist, gave her a lingering look, and departed in an easy gait.
Nerthriel recommenced Beorn's daily grooming and Haldir took the spot by the door. "Did the Lady really request his presence?" she asked.
"No," he admitted. "But you looked like you didn't want him to be here. How did you know I was lying?"
Nerthriel smirked. "You are not very good at it."
Haldir patted Beorn on the neck in greeting and fed him a piece of carrot. "I know not if I should be offended or flattered."
Unbidden, the memory of the peculiar incident on her doorstep surfaced in her mind, and she hastily turned her back to Haldir in the guise of brushing Beorn's left flank.
She chided herself for acting like a thickheaded elleth. He made it quite clear that the peck of the lips was to deter Legolas from disturbing her, and like the vast majority of the Marchwarden's actions, it achieved its purpose.
Nerthriel resolved not to think of it again.
She started when Haldir suddenly spoke. "Do you want to tell me what transpired between the two of you?"
"You really are inquisitive."
Haldir was unapologetic. "Well, it is tea time and no one is here. I deem it an appropriate time for story-telling. Unless you want to eat."
Nerthriel felt a flicker of amusement, and a bit of flattery at his curiosity. Perhaps Aredhel was right - working with the Marchwarden had turned out to be a rather pleasant and even friendly affair, especially when he chose to dabble in lighthearted repartee.
So, she gave in. "Fine, but make yourself useful. Beorn's saddle needs polishing."
"As you command, my lady."
Haldir returned with Beorn's saddle and set it firmly astride the door. He found a small bucket and filled it with water, before dipping a dirty rag in it and then rubbed it with leather soap. He started polishing the pommel of the saddle, and waited patiently for her to begin.
Nerthriel took a deep breath and commenced. "Legolas and I met when he first accompanied Thranduil to Rivendell. I was but a few hundred years old then, and I'll admit that I had a childhood crush on him."
Haldir looked rather self-congratulatory at that revelation, so she paused and narrowed her eyes at him warningly. He held his hands up and said mildly, "Do carry on."
"Rivendell and Greenwood, as it was still known then, had close trade ties, so I saw Legolas often. And over the years, we matured into fast friends. I was over the moon when my father let me go on my first apprenticeship, and I begged him to send me to Mirkwood."
Having finished brushing the dust from the Beorn's coat, she asked Haldir to hand her the hoof pick. She bent down and loosened the mud embedded in his hooves.
"We were inseparable, we were quite literally each other's shadow," she continued. "But like all ellyn, somewhere down the road, he discovered the marvel that was the fairer sex. Ellith he could flirt with and kiss and seduce. He started neglecting me towards the end of my apprenticeship, which I resented."
Letting Beorn's hind foot go, Nerthriel straightened and leaned on his broad back. "It came to a head on my last night in Mirkwood, at my farewell feast. We'd promised to get drunk, dance and get up to absolutely no good. But he disappeared midway. When I went to his room in the morning, there was - unsurprisingly - an elleth in his bed. I yelled at him and left. I have not spoken to him since. Well, until today."
Haldir looked so absorbed in cleaning the stirrups that she half wondered if he had heard her at all. Finally, he asked, "And you are sure you were not in love with him?"
Nerthriel replied with a deliberate touch of condescension. "Yes. Men and women can be friends, you know."
He looked skeptical, but did not argue. "And why does he call you Bree?"
"Oh, that," she grimaced. "I was conceived in Bree."
Haldir chuckled and met her eyes. "I like that. Bree."
Nerthriel groaned. "No, not you as well!"
"I shall call you that when I feel like it."
She ruffled Beorn's mane and said, "Now you owe me one."
"One what?"
Moving to the door, she tossed the hoof pick into the bucket of grooming tools by the door. She looked up into his eyes, and clarified. "One story."
Haldir stared back sternly. "I never agreed to that."
"Too late, you walked straight into that trap, Marchwarden."
He shook his head and turned the saddle the other way. "I'm too old to have anything interesting to say."
"It doesn't have to be an interesting story. Mine is hardly an epic tale, it is more of a childish grudge," she protested. The late morning sun slanted into the stall, and she basked in the light, feeling her hair and her tunic soaking up the warmth. "And you went home with my friend the other night. That is interesting."
"There is no story there. That was that."
Nerthriel was not about to give up. "Well, you have one week to think of a story to tell me."
"What is in a week?"
"The expedition. I have a shortlist of potential scouts and horses."
Haldir looked surprised. "You will leave before Legolas does?"
"Why is that the matter?"
"Friendship, Nerthriel," said Haldir with an air of wisdom. "Surely Legolas deserves a second chance?"
She did not reply, pretending to be busy with a particularly stubborn knot in Beorn's tail.
"You obviously care enough to hold the grudge," he continued. "Why don't you spend some time together? Mend your friendship."
"Is that a command, my lord?" demanded Nerthriel, glancing up from her task.
"It is but a suggestion," he corrected her. With a flourish, he tossed the polishing rag over his shoulder and patted the glossy saddle. "Not everyone has had a friendship meaningful enough to be ruined in the first place."
Legolas was happy that she found him later that afternoon as he admired a Mallorn tree, one hand on the smooth bark and the other behind his back, his golden hair grazing the back of his waist.
"Would you like to have supper with me?" she asked.
She could not help but think that he looked exactly like the mischievous elfling she met in Rivendell, all those years ago, when he flashed her a toothy grin.
"I would love to, Bree."
Chapter notes:
Dorwinion means "Land of Wines", and produces wine that is potent enough to knock out even elves, and according to Wikia it is readily available in Mirkwood.
Mae govannen: well met
'Quel amrun: good morning
A/N: This chapter might be one of the longest I have ever written, and it sets up the story for the next few chapters. I'm actually a bit unsure of this chapter, I found it quite hard to write as I am starting to develop the relationship between Haldir and Nerthriel, and it can go so many ways. However, I can guarantee (or rather, I am warning you in advance) that it won't be a straightforward romance (i.e. no, it will not be a Haldir/OC/Legolas!).
In response to FebruarySong - yes, this story is indeed AU! Though I do try to make sure my imagination fits and makes sense in the wider Tolkien universe. Which is why I try to delve into some detail with regard to Nerthriel's work, the Galadhrim, etc. to make sure the story is authentic. I hope readers don't find it boring as I think it gives the story its flavour.
Lastly, thank you for every one of you who favourited and/or followed the story! And special thanks to those who reviewed :) For those who are shy, I do encourage you to leave a note, however short, as like all writers here I run on motivation from my readers! Happy holidays and I will update in 2014!