Title: RESTORATION
Number Author: Fianna
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the elves of Lothlorien and I write only for the pleasure of their company.
Cast: Haldir, Orophin, Rumil and my own characters
Timeline: Several hundred years after the War of the Ring
Thank you to all who are reading, and those who have left me greatly amused by your reviews. Yes, to those who have questioned, my continuity has sometimes been lacking, my fault for not rereading what I've already written in my haste to continue on. I will rectify those issues as I can, if not, just an apology for not editing as well as I should, the hazards of posting chapter to chapter.
But I appreciate immensely, those who have stayed with me, and I hope, will continue to do so until the end, whenever that is. I don't work off outlines, have a general idea of where I want to go and what I want to happen, but tangents often interrupt, side stories or scenes that demand... indeed, yes, demand! To be in included. I am but an instrument of my muse it seems at times.
But I carry on... as I can. Hugs to all!
Fianna
Chapter 28
They returned to Haldir's cottage. Haldir, Rowen and Sweeney, if not in that order, returning to sit facing Belarian, for a long moment in near silence. The elf looked at Rowen and Sweeney intently, lips tight, clearly unsure of his next move. Haldir leaned against the door, arms folded, his thoughts hidden from Rowen, his gaze hooded and mysterious, fixed on Sweeney.
Rowen turned to look at her father with a smile. "First I want to correct Sweeney," she said with a frown at her brother. "I was five when you left, that much I remember. He said I was younger to make you feel even more guilt for leaving us."
Belarian's smile lit up his green eyes, an expression of rueful amusement. "I was not going to argue his memory. You know him well."
"I know my brother very well, but I also can tell his feelings for I am empathic. Did you know this?"
Belarian sat back, his fingers suddenly lifted to his mouth, rubbing his lips. "Indeed?"
Rowen looked at Sweeney who had resumed his seat but sat with arms folded over his chest, eyes narrowed to slits, an unforgiving and withdrawn posture that she intended on pulling down. She pressed a hand to his knee and then returned her gaze to her father.
"I am. Perhaps you can tell me where this comes from?"
Belarian lowered his hand to his lap. "A question first, if I may."
She nodded, surprised to realize she had gained control of the conversation. Sweeney remained silent and brooding, Haldir had not spoken since they had returned inside, resuming his role as a witness perhaps, or diplomat to smooth any ruffled feelings. She smiled to think of him having to do so. "What do you wish to know?"
"Sweeney. How did he come by this name? It is not his true name."
She looked at her brother with a lift of an eyebrow. "I do not know. Sweeney?"
"It is my name," Sweeney replied stiffly. "It does not matter how I came by it."
Belarian sighed. "All right, Sweeney." He blinked and then slid a long glance to his son as if committing it to his mind. "I will think of you as only Sweeney then."
Sweeney grunted sourly.
Rowen scowled at him and then smiled at Belarian. "So, my ability?"
Belarian shrugged. "I know of only one in our line that had such a trait, and that was far back, to the time of my great great grandfather, who left for the west so long ago. It would seem it has returned in you by the grace of the Valar."
It was not the answer she hoped for, but realized it did not matter. She had the ability and would use it as she could. She glanced at Haldir, felt his amusement with a sniff. "How do you come to be here?"
"I have traveled far and wide," Belarian began, his eyes set on Sweeney. "Looking for my children."
Rowen placed a hand once again on Sweeney's knee, holding him from retorting the comment she could feel on his tongue, one that would only set off yet another round of ill feeling. "We thought you lost and dead."
"So I was, for a long time," Belarian admitted. "And I am sorry to have taken so long to find you. You have been as elusive as the gypsies I once traveled with, roaming ahead of each of my own steps, so that I never knew you were so close, or so far. But then," he continued with a roll of his eyes. "I did not look for a man and woman of mortal appearance, but of elves."
When Rowen turned to look at Sweeney again, it was to find him forcefully held to his seat by Haldir's hand on his shoulder. She stood up, putting herself between her family, both suddenly hostile and ready to fight.
She let out a deep sigh. "This is going to be a long journey. Sweeney, you must let go your anger, if only for the evening, if I am to have the answers I seek. I will not have you angry at each answer, foolish brother. He is our family, no matter that we thought him lost, he is returned and for that you should be joyous, for he is still and will always be our father." She pressed a hand to Sweeney's cheek, felt him pull away.
She turned toward Belarian and his own anger. "You I sense are also angry, for Sweeney's refusal to bend, to see your own grief and long-held pain. Let it go as well, Father, for it will do us no good to have you both at odds. I intend to know you and love you, as I should, even with Sweeney's clear reservations. He has raised me and I love him as I love no other, but at times he is still pig-headed and stupid."
She let out huff of annoyance. "So, I will leave you to your annoyance, for I now have my own. Haldir, if you would walk me to my cottage."
Sweeney made to rise but Haldir held him down with an amused grin. "Of course, it would be my pleasure."
Rowen took his arm, lifted her chin at Sweeney and then glanced briefly over her shoulder at Belarian. "Father."
He nodded and sent a curious look at Sweeney.
0o0
Sweeney sat for a long moment to gain control of his feelings, so evident to Rowen, and perhaps to the elf still seated and watching him intently.
"You have reservations regarding the March Warden and your sister."
"I have interfered as I could," Sweeney admitted, sitting forward to lean his elbows on his knees. "I fear Rowen has set her sights on him, and I cannot seem to pull her free."
"Why should you?"
Sweeney glared at Belarian. "She is too young yet, he is not what she needs."
.
"How do you know this? And young? She is of age to know her own mind and feelings."
"He will only hurt her."
"Ah," Belarian smiled. "The heart that matters. This I can understand. You do not think Haldir could love her as she should be loved?"
"I think him far older and with another love that will always overrule that of a female."
"The Wood?" Belarian rubbed his chin, his gaze distant. "Yes, I know of his love of this forest, and the lengths to which he will defend it. Do you not think he would do the same for her?"
"If he loved her, but I do not believe what he wants or feels for her is love."
Belarian sat forward, brows drawn together. "Has he overstepped such bounds? Or gave you leave to think he wants her only for what she can give?"
"Why not? He is a man, nee elf, with desires that must be relieved. She is a willing female and has already said she would tumble in the bushes if he so much as lifted a finger..."
Belarian laughed. Sweeney sat back angrily.
"Ah, my son, she ties you into knots so easily. Can you not see her own manipulations of your feelings for her? She is testing your control. Do you truly believe Rowen is so simple that she would not think of herself and her needs in regards to what the elf offers? And perhaps, Sweeney," he drew out his name with a long breath as if reluctant to call him so, "she simply has those same desires without any sort of complications of a relationship."
"She will not be so ...so..." Sweeney was at a loss for words, for some names he would not apply to his sister at all.
"She is a woman with desires. If she chooses a lover you would think badly of her then?" Belarian asked.
Sweeney lifted a hand to his eyes, covering them, unwilling to answer.
"I understand, truly, what you feel. And," Belarian stood up, smiling when Sweeney dropped his hand. "I agree with you. I do not know the March Warden. I know his brother and see many similarities, yet also a grimness not found on any other. I do not want my newly found daughter to be hurt either. So perhaps we should make sure Haldir only escorts her and does not do anything further that bring her to her door."
Sweeney stood up, pushed back his chair. "For once we are in agreement."
Belarian bowed stiffly. "It is a start, is it not?"
Sweeney only sniffed and stalked toward the door.
0o0
Haldir walked slowly beside Rowen, hands folded behind his back as she chattered, speaking of Sweeney, her father, voice low and filled with irritation and, he thought in amusement, love. It was a quick thing, this love that was immediate and strong, of an elf she did not know.
He paced his steps to match hers, the way not long to her cottage, her brother and most likely father, not far behind once they gathered forces as he knew they would.
She stopped suddenly, a few feet from her door. "You must finish what we started tonight."
Haldir paused beside her and looked up into the velvet of the night sky, pierced brightly by the stars overhead. "Indeed, I do." He kept the smile from his lips, glanced back with a bland expression he knew she saw past.
Her smile told him as much.
"I meant your trees, March Warden."
"Of course you did," he agreed smugly.
"You know they are only steps behind."
"As do you, it seems."
Rowen sighed. "Such things make me so angry. I am not a child."
"No you are not," Haldir agreed, his gaze touching her intimately, desire creeping into his blood, heating it, threatening to consume him if he only would let it go. He stepped back, if reluctantly, to put space between them. "But perhaps it is not the right moment to declare it, Rowen-min."
She looked at him, her eyes wide. She opened her mouth, touched her tongue lightly to wet her lips and he was nearly undone. He stiffened his resolve. "Not tonight, for there are more important duties. At midnight you must meet me and we will complete what we have begun." He moved forward a step, leaned forward to touch his lips to hers, if too briefly, sensing the presence behind him that meant to interfere once more.
He stepped away into the darkness, leaving Rowen touching her lips. Moved beyond the now larger family of elves and half-elves to find Thranduil.
But he looked back once to note she stood still at her door. Smiled at the expression she held, knowing she was just as determined to finish something else, or perhaps, he decided, it was to start something more.
Just what he wanted there he had yet to decide.
0o0
He found Thranduil near the village center, sitting on a bench alone.
"Thranduil."
The Mirkwood King turned his head, blue eyes a soft gleam in the darkness. "Haldir. I thought perhaps you had forgotten the date."
"I have not and you know it."
"But other things intrude."
"For awhile, but are resolved as can be resolved for the moment."
"Ah, an emissary's work is never done, nor a leader's," Thranduil surmised. "Do you not grow weary of it all?"
Haldir smiled. "No."
"Then you are truly meant for what you do," Thranduil returned. He rose to his feet, a graceful creature of nature, as much a part of the wood as he was. "Shall we begin?"
"Not yet, a few more hours, at midnight they said."
"And just who shall join us?"
"Only Rowen, she will speak to the trees while we are busy."
Thranduil stepped closer, his gaze meeting Haldir's. "And just what is it that we must do, Haldir?"
"You know what you will do, as I do."
"You put much trust in me, March Warden. Is this so wise?"
"Do I have a choice, King of Mirkwood? Are you an elf willing to repair that which is part of you as much as it is me? Or are you the wily King of reputation, with only your own agenda, sire?"
"Sire? You would call me this in your forest? I am amused," Thranduil chuckled. "But you are too serious, once more March Warden. Your defenses are down and you are as open to me as a book on a table. Should I refuse this late after all that we have been through would crush you as easily as an orc blade to your heart."
"So what will you do, then, Thranduil?" Haldir put aside all to await the King's answer.
"I will do what I have promised, Haldir. For I ever keep my word when given. I will heal your wood as I can." Thranduil smiled, all pretense and power-driven demeanor gone. "For I am and always will be an elf of Arda, of this earth and to it I shall eventually commence. Would she accept me were I to refuse to aid her as I can? No, she would not. But I do not do this just for the earth, Haldir of Lorien, but because I have come to care for an elf with such a deep heart." He touched Haldir's shoulder. "So resume your mask, warden, to hide what you feel. But do so only after we have finished our task."
0o0
They met at the first seedling planted. Rowen carrying several containers of the precious ent's draught, Haldir with yet another set, and Thranduil, the same - three with one purpose. The moon sat low in the sky, silver light arching through the ghostly trees that remained, starlight a gilding of diamonds on the leaves of the tiny trees that would soon grow larger than life.
Haldir knelt near the seedlings, its tiny voice silent, expectant, waiting for him. How long had they waited, how they longed for this night. He felt it, sensed it deep within his blood, wanted it more than he could admit, even to himself.
Thranduil touched his shoulder, motioned for Rowen to come closer. "You will speak to them, remind them of what we do, for once I begin, Haldir will be drawn in and can not speak to them. You will be his voice."
Rowen nodded, her gaze on Haldir. Thranduil allowed a faint laugh and then motioned for Haldir to pour some of his draught onto the seedling. Haldir moved closer, bent at one knee to lift his container of water, and then with a deep breath, poured a tiny amount over the plant.
Thranduil moved closer, placed both of his hands over the seedlings and then began to speak. His voice mesmerized Haldir, its sing-song quality swirling into his mind, pulling him away from what he did, the elven speech old and ancient, something of the earth and its beginning, of a world new and fresh, full of wonder and want.
He did not remember more of what he did, unaware of the steps that moved from tree to tree, nor of Rowen who watched with awe, who spoke to calm the trees at Haldir's sudden silent withdrawal, of Thranduil's magic, pulled from the earth and returned, casting aside the spell that held them so small, placing upon them a new desire, one to grow strong and fast, to reach the very stars overhead to touch the sky as only they could.
He woke from the trance in a daze, confused, the ent draught gone, his hands empty. He blinked, swaying from the dizziness, caught and held by Thranduil's firm grip.
"Take a moment, the magic is strong and manipulative." The Mirkwood King smiled faintly at Rowen. "He is but putty in your hands, Ranger. Shall I leave him for you to mold as you will?"
Rowen drew Haldir's blurry and startled gaze.
"Nay, Mirkwood King, you naughty elf. I would not have him that way. He will return to me as he will, of right mind and heart, not one under a spell of magic weaving. I need him not that way."
"Tsk, take what you can, while you can." Thranduil insisted. "There are others who will step in your way soon."
"They will try," Rowen agreed. Haldir felt her take his arm, felt oddly unable to speak or do anything more than follow her gentle prodding. 'I will put him to bed, for he is completely overwhelmed by you and your magic, his trees and what I want from him."
"You are far too intuitive," Thranduil complained.
"And you, Woodland King, are far too happy to have him in my bed. Who will you take to yours?"
Haldir heard Thranduil laugh, felt Rowen's hand on his back. "I have no need of anyone in my bed, Ranger."
She only laughed in return. The next moment Haldir recognized was in his cottage and he was standing beside his bed, Rowen's fingers deftly undoing the buckles that held his tunic. He blinked, struggling to push aside the fogginess that held him in sway, but could not. Her voice drew him, held him as much as Thranduil's magic, her words amusing him as he could do little more.
"He is so wily, that elf," Rowen complained. She flipped off the last of his buckles, drew the tunic over his shoulders as he complied without complaint.
"You are not in your right mind, drugged as much as anything, more than likely on purpose," she hissed.
Haldir shivered at the touch of her fingers against his skin, her knuckles grazing his ribs as she drew off yet another layer of tunic, leaving him bare to the hips. He sat when she pushed him to sit, nearly falling back when the dizziness fought his little control, reeling against her grip on his shoulder.
He felt her hair brush the skin on his chest, igniting a burning ember to flames.
"I did not know the magic would leave you so … helpless," she complained further, annoyance coloring her voice, underlain with amusement.
"He expected me to take advantage. What kind of advantage is this, with you so silent and withdrawn, so far from what I can sense as to be absent? What fun is that when you feel nothing?"
He wanted to tell her he felt far more than nothing, but could not find his tongue. Amazed by the lack, he could only look at her, wanting far more, but unable to do more.
She pushed him to lie on his back. Removed his boots with effort and a few grunts of displeasure. Tickled his feet without knowing it did by a brief touch to the arch of his foot, ran a hand up his leg in a a way that made him sweat at his lack of control.
Would his body defy the magic? Would he be powerless to control what it wanted, so much she would know it and be amused.
It was a dreadful conundrum to be in, one he had never felt or been in. He cursed Thranduil for his ways, should have known the elf would have something up his sleeve.
Rowen however, only ran a light hand to his thigh, and then pulled a blanket over him, tucking it under his sides as a mother might do, much to his conflicting desires. Pressed a kiss to his brow, smoothed hair from his forehead even as he wanted to growl at his dissatisfaction, and then with a smile he would remember when he next woke, kissed him on the mouth, her lips soft and distracting, a measure of more to come should he want it.
He knew nothing more after that.
0o0
