It's late and I should probably be sleeping, but apparently I'm addicted to writing this fic. So here is the update I promised, two days earlier than I said I'd post it.

As always, I wish to thank all of you for taking the time to read my story. Leeward1992, Doria Nell, Blue1258, SmallLittleCagedBird, durinsdaughter2469btw, leelee202, FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff, and Cricklewood16, THANK YOU for your amazing reviews on the last chapter. Your kind words have made this experience all the more rewarding, and I will do my best to provide timely updates for you.

CHAPTER XXI

HOMEWARD

The first night had been the longest.

When Annalyn and Haldir had fled the area where they had fought the Orcs—their march beginning late in the morning—they'd had little choice but to hide come nightfall.

The forest had thinned out, ceding to an open valley that stretched almost all the way to the Anduin. Even though the snow had melted by mid-afternoon—leaving no trace of Annalyn's footprints—to walk out in the open, in the dark, while riders patrolled the area, would have been incredibly unwise. Especially now that the Orcs knew they were out here.

Thus, to keep out of sight, Haldir had led her behind a cluster of moss-speckled rocks, where they had sat, huddled and small, in a tapering wedge where two boulders met. Pulling at his cloak, Haldir had draped the garment so it fell over her, covering them both. "It will shield us from their eyes."

Weighed down by grief and a bone-deep weariness, Annalyn had nodded in thanks, but had kept quiet otherwise, much like she'd had since they had begun the long journey back.

Back to whom?, she would wonder, ruefully, painfully. To what?

Life as she had known it, was over.

Her last remaining kin had been slain by Orcs. What's more, the whole of what had befallen them was not known to her, and never would be.

While her uncle's burial had provided a small measure of peace, Aldin's remains were still out there somewhere. Forgive me, she would oft say to him. Forgive me for leaving you out here. I tried.

A short time later, when riders had spilled out into the night, their distant shouts echoing in the stillness, Annalyn had stiffened. Part of it had been fear. But mostly, she had felt sick. Sick at heart. Sick of Orcs and Wargs, of evil and viciousness. She had been weary, her spirit bent beneath the weight of her sorrow.

"We are safe," Haldir had said then, as if he had known her thoughts.

In truth, his quiet presence had been of great comfort to Annalyn, the only one to be found in those terrible days and nights. Not only that, but to have him by her side had been reassuring as well, especially when the riders had come into view, no more than half a furlong away.

Upon seeing them, Annalyn had shut her eyes and turned her face, partially concealing her features behind the elven cloak. Without realising, she had pressed her cheek against Haldir's collar-bone, her fist resting over his heart.

Unsure for a moment, she had considered easing away. But then, his arm had circled her frame, pulling her even closer. So close that his breath had feathered warmly on her forehead and scalp. "They will not see," he had promised, and spoken truly, for the creatures had not seen them.

Come morning—after Annalyn had slept a little—the two had risen from their hiding spot, stretching their stiff and aching limbs, before resuming their march once again. They proceeded in this fashion, walking by day, hiding by night, for the next few days.

During that time, riders had come out for two more nights, their shouts discernible but fainter than before. By the third night, it appeared the creatures had given up altogether. The fourth all but confirmed it.

Annalyn and Haldir had reached the Anduin by then, but since they were taking a more direct path to Lothlórien, they were further downriver than they had been previously, and the water was treacherous.

"The sooner we cross, the better it will be." Annalyn glanced up at the words, spoken by Haldir.

It was late in the afternoon, and they were nearing the lip of a waterfall, the rumble of which could be felt beneath their feet. Finding a suitable place to cross was proving more difficult than either of them had reckoned, making her wonder what would happen if they couldn't make it to the other side. "What if there are no crossings south of here?" she asked him.

"The guards of the eastern border keep a careful watch over this river. If we cannot cross, they will see us from afar and send boats," he explained. "I must warn you, this side of the river has grown perilous. More so than the western bank."

Slowing to a stop, he scrutinized the meandering river at the foot of the waterfall. From where she stood, Annalyn could see its long and shimmering course through the grey-green forest ahead.

"Fortunately, everything seems quiet at the moment," he continued, assessing the area. "Foes are nowhere to be seen." His words were reassuring. But then he glanced at her. "Still, we must remain on our guard. Evil lurks up ahead. The lands east of Lothlórien are waste." There was a hint of sadness in his voice, veiled but noticeable nonetheless.

Perhaps it was a trait common to all the Elves, but Haldir appeared to have a profound connection to the land around him. Sometimes, when he thought she wasn't looking, Annalyn would catch him pondering the trees with what could only be described as an air of sorrow. It was subdued, barely discernible through his otherwise stoic exterior. Still, she perceived it.

The forests were changing. They had known that for some time now. But Haldir's awareness seemed to run deeper than hers, as though he could sense what the trees were thinking, what they were feeling.

There could be no doubt, the present state of the world weighed heavy on his mind. So did his appointed task. Haldir was dutiful, wholly devoted to his rulers, his people, and the fair woods he called home. It was clear he fretted for them all.

While they had not really discussed it, Annalyn oft wondered what the Elves would do once they learned that the Orcs were amassing. Later that evening, after making camp in a sheltered little dell by the river, she finally asked him.

"What will you do?" Annalyn started, hands working to unwrap Haldir's bandage. "When you reach Lothlórien, I mean."

It was a frigid night. To ward off the chill, they had used her uncle's tinderbox to kindle a small fire—their first since the start of their journey. It was a risk, they knew, but their camp was concealed amongst rocks and trees, and was not readily visible from far away.

After so long, it felt strange to sit in front of a fire like this, to feel actual warmth against her skin.

"We shall make ready for war, I suppose." Haldir sighed, his features bathed in firelight.

War. It was a distressing outcome. One that was seeming more and more likely.

Upon removing the bandage, Annalyn saw no puss, no redness, naught to indicate that the wound was turning foul. What's more, beneath the stitches, his skin was knitting much faster than she had anticipated. Clearly, Haldir possessed a remarkable ability to heal. "Your wound is mending well. Soon, you will have no need of those stitches. Does it hurt still?"

"Nay."

"Good," she said, then proceeded to wrap a fresh strip of linen around his arm, perhaps for the last time.

To give her better access to the wound, he had removed both his cloak and tunic this time around. Stealing glances at him as she worked, Annalyn had to own that Haldir was beautiful in body—achingly beautiful even. The muscles and sinews were defined in the firelight, the lines of his shoulder smooth and strong.

Entranced by the very sight of him, she soon found herself staring. But then, fearing he might notice, Annalyn directed her eyes to the work at hand, returning to their previous topic when she said, "It is quite sad, what has happened to the world."

A long moment went by. Haldir seemed lost in thought. "It is."

After she had finished, he donned his tunic before fastening his sword-belt, his cloak, and finally his quiver. Soon, they were sitting comfortably again, facing the fire which was burning low, the flames licking at the glowing and charred underbelly of the logs.

"Why? Who is at the root of all this?" Annalyn voiced her query as the fire popped softly, sending tiny sparks into the air.

Swallowing his morsel of lembas, Haldir contemplated the flames. "It is a question that has plagued me for some time. Alas, I cannot be absolutely certain of the answer." At length, he wrapped the remainder of the bread, and draped his arm over his knee. "Perhaps we will know more once we reach Lothlórien. The Lord and the Lady are wise and know many things. They might have learned somewhat more since last I saw them."

Though she should have paid better heed to the tail-end of his answer, his use of the word "we" had captured her attention. This was the second time Haldir had spoken as though she would be accompanying him to Caras Galadhon. The first time he had done so—a day or two ago—Annalyn had been too weary and grief-stricken to immediately grasp his meaning. Now she had to ask. "You would lead me to your city?"

Was that even possible? Kind though they were, the Elves of Lothlórien were incredibly secretive and distrustful of outsiders. Even Haldir had been wary of her and her kin at first. It seemed like an eternity ago.

"I would." He meant it. Annalyn could see it in the look he gave her. Still, Haldir conceded, "Though I grant you, it might not be so simple. I may command the border guards of the north, but I do not make our laws, which we are all bound to follow."

"I understand."

"I shall seek the Lord and the Lady's approval upon our return, and will answer for you if need be. You need not worry about it now."

What the other sentinels would think of that, she did not know. Only time would tell.

"You have not eaten," Haldir remarked some time later, nudging his head toward her portion of lembas, which sat untouched, upon the leaf he had unwrapped for her.

"Forgive me. Only… I was thinking about the last time I sat by a fire like this."

The memory stirred something in her. She even managed a small smile. But then, little by little, the lightness of her heart faded, supplanted by the sorrow that made residence there.

"We had made camp by a pine grove beneath the Misty Mountains, Aldin, my uncle, and I," she explained, twirling a small twig between her thumb and index finger. "We laughed. Shared stories." Annalyn hung her head then. "But then the Orcs came."

The way she felt reminded her of that terrible summer, ten years past, when the fever had swept through her village, taking many of her loved ones with it: her mother, her father, her aunt, friends, neighbours, people young and old.

It had taken a long time to return from that. Some of those wounds had never fully healed, and never would.

Her thoughts returning to her uncle and cousin, she shook her head. "I was not even there for them at the end." Anguished laughter rose in her throat, and when it died Annalyn had to shut her eyes to regain her composure. "I cannot stop wondering about that, about their final moments. Did they suffer long? Or was it a swift end?"

There was a heavy pause. Her eyes misted over.

"I do not know what's worse," she added, "Knowing or not knowing." Desperate for answers—any answer—Annalyn looked to Haldir, hoping he could offer insight.

He took a moment before replying, as if he was taking great care to choose his words. "It has been many long years since I first held a bow, since I vowed to protect my people and our home, fair Lothlórien." Haldir lowered his gaze then, and his eyes, just like his voice, were subdued. "During that time I have seen many of my brethren fall in battle. Lifelong friends. Kin."

Annalyn's heart clenched at his words, at seeing the set of his features as he relived some of those losses. Whoever he had lost, it was clear some had meant a great deal to Haldir. It made her wonder who they were, who they had been to him.

"Bearing witness to those deaths was never easy," Haldir said quietly. "But neither was losing those who perished while travelling or scouting abroad. Of these, there are some whose fates are unknown to me, and that is hard to bear as well."

Following this revelation, he considered her for a moment. When she leaned forward to cast a small branch in the fire, Haldir said her name, drawing her eyes back to his. "You cannot lay blame on yourself."

It was easier said than done, but she conceded that he might be right. It would take time, though. A long time.

In the ensuing silence, her eyes gravitated to the baldric that now rested against her pack. Despite having had ample time to do so, she could not yet bring herself to clean the blood from the leather strap. A brownish red in the light of day, Aldin's dried blood looked almost black in firelight.

There was a lump in her throat. A tear threatened to slip free. When it did, Annalyn quickly wiped it away, and rose. She had not wept until then, had not allowed herself to.

In the day, when they were busy marching, it was easier to rein in her emotions. But at night… Now… It was not so easy.

Aware that Haldir was watching her, Annalyn averted her gaze, and went to fetch more wood from the small pile they had gathered earlier.

Once she had fed the dying flames, Annalyn stoked the fire with a stick, before rising again. She looked around aimlessly, her mind racing to find something to do, anything to occupy her thoughts. Her chest heavy with long-contained grief, Annalyn realised the futility of her efforts.

Her composure was fracturing.

Not wanting him to see, she reached for the waterskin, and excused herself, knowing full well he would see through her pretense.

To his credit, Haldir said nothing. And when she left the circle of light, he respected her need to be alone, and remained where he was.

Wordlessly, Annalyn made her way to the water's edge, where she knelt to refill the waterskin. The water was deathly cold, and where her hands breached the surface, ripples radiated outward, distorting her miserable reflection.

She hurt. Ah, but she hurt. Setting the swollen waterskin aside, Annalyn lifted her gaze to the heavens, and finally yielded.

She wept. Quietly. Almost silently. For the first time since they had started for Lothlórien.

It was cathartic, and long-overdue. When all of her tears were spent, Annalyn lingered by the river, and just… stared.

She stared at the water, at the shimmering stars upon its undulating surface. At the evergreens that stood all around, and the midnight blue of the sky beyond. At length, a sound reached her ears, a dry snap, followed by a soft rustle from the vicinity of the campfire.

Looking over her shoulder, Annalyn saw that Haldir was working on something, his back to her. Curious, she rose, wiped her cheeks one last time, and went to him.

His left arm was laden with a thick bundle of green boughs. Glancing beyond him, she spied a fallen tree nearby, its trunk snapped near its base. Most likely, it had fractured during a storm. A fairly recent one at that, if the vibrant green of its needles was any indication.

"What's this?" Annalyn asked, even though she knew. A tiny smile played at the corner of her mouth, unseating some of the sadness she still bore.

Haldir was layering the boughs on a flat section of ground a short distance from the fire. Noting her approach, he finished his task, got to his feet. "It is far from welcoming," he explained quietly, gesturing with his hand. "But it is softer than the ground."

Haldir was concerned for her, she knew, had done this to bring a sense of comfort to this most trying of nights.

"It is welcoming enough," Annalyn admitted, thinking of the straw pallets unto which she and her kin had slept back on the Westfold.

As he made ready to take the watch, grabbing his bow to sling it over his shoulder, Annalyn walked over to him, catching his eyes as her palm found his shoulder. She meant to express her gratitude, to thank him for the thoughtful gesture, for giving her the space she needed, for talking to her and simply being here.

In the end, what she meant to do was very different from what she actually did.

Her smile fading, Annalyn placed her hands on either side of his face, and drew him down to bestow a simple kiss upon his cheek.

It lasted but a few heartbeats, but his proximity kindled something, a quiet stirring in her heart, warmth radiating like a candle in darkness. Annalyn had not expected such an awakening, but it filled her nonetheless, prompting her to do something she might not have done otherwise.

With a flutter in her belly, Annalyn pulled back, only to kiss him again, on the lips this time.

Haldir was completely still, his mouth soft against her own. His breath seemed to have fled. He was frozen, she realised.

Hands still framing his face, Annalyn quivered with conflicting emotions, feared she might have erred. Yet before she could sever the connection, his gentle hand found the small of her back, and his lips moved against hers, just enough to let her know that he had kissed her in return.

And then it was over.

Retreating slightly, Annalyn wanted to gaze upon his face, to look into his eyes and gauge his response that way. But her nerves failed her. She could not lift her eyes.

As the fire crackled nearby, Annalyn saw his hand through her lashes, watched it rise, oh so slowly, toward her cheek.

"Annalyn, I…" His words floated on a whisper, simply hung there.

If only she knew what he was thinking.

Gathering her courage, Annalyn covered his hand at her cheek, and finally sought his eyes. She wanted, needed to see.

Haldir beheld her with a soft but searching gaze, as though he was trying to divine her thoughts, to make sense of what had just occurred between them.

He would find no such answer, she knew. Not when she couldn't explain it herself. Perhaps the kiss had been born of a desire to feel anything other than grief and uncertainty. To find comfort and solace in the only true friend she had left in this world. Whatever the reason, she had kissed him. I kissed Haldir. The realisation hit her all of a sudden, and her thoughts began to spin.

Annalyn let go of his hand, and his touch fell away from her burning cheek. "It is late. I should sleep." She took a step back.

For his part, Haldir stayed where he was. When she could no longer endure his inquiring gaze, Annalyn whirled around. Still, he watched her. She sensed it as she made her cowardly retreat and continued to feel it as she sought her makeshift bed, where she settled on her side, facing the fire, with her cloak wrapped tightly around her frame.

Scarce believing her impulse, Annalyn closed her eyes, knowing full well that sleep would not come easy—if it came at all.

Silence had fallen, it lingered. And as night deepened, her panic slowly began to cede. Breathing a little easier, she finally dared a tentative glance in his direction.

Haldir had gone—not very far, she knew.

Pillowing her head on her arm, Annalyn began a silent vigil of the fire burning before her.

Embarrassment was now fully entrenched in her being, and regret hovered at the back of her thoughts. Of those two things, the latter was most confusing to her. Did she regret kissing him? Or did she regret that it had ended so soon?