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She heard the declaration as if from far away; it registered almost instantly but didn't seem to affect her in any significant way. For when had she not been in danger? Her earliest memories were of taking punches for Evan, sticking up for him again and again even when the aggressor was twice her size and didn't care that she was a little girl.

Lórien was not exactly a safe house either—one miss-step form the towering walkways would send her plummeting hundreds of feet to the ground. Haldir and Orophin had warned her about the ever increasing orc attacks; for God's sake, she was learning to use lethal weapons to defend herself! She had killed to defend herself, stared her death in its blue-tattooed face and made the choice that no, she would not be the one to die.

How could she be scared of this threat? It was just one more upon the many and so far what had it done? Looked into a pool of magical water. She would almost have found it funny, if not for the deadly serious expression on the elves' faces.

"I've never been the most popular person here," she reasoned. Haldir's eyes darkened and he made to speak. She cut him off before he could begin, stepping forward. "Haldir, you yourself hated me for a solid month or two, because I was mortal. Is it really such a surprise that someone else would go to more extreme measures against me?"

"We are not a savage people," he said, affronted. "I may not have been welcoming, but never would I have harmed you. The idea that one of us would actively harm you is greatly disturbing."

"But whoever this is, they haven't done anything yet!" Aubrey protested.

Celeborn frowned at her. "They have trespassed on the clearing, damaged the mirror."

"There is no connection to me except some arbitrary time link," she insisted. "All that I am saying is that assigning me a bodyguard or whatever is perhaps premature."

Galadriel's eyes rose to meet hers. The elven woman had the ability to pin with a single look; Aubrey knew she had some telepathic abilities and it would not have surprised her if Galadriel could read every thought she had ever had simply by staring into her eyes. She shifted, uncomfortable with the bare, naked feeling brought about, but unwilling to break their gaze. At last, Galadriel blinked and looked away. "I would suggest that you return to your life as normal," she said. "If there is indeed some danger to you, then it will reveal itself in time, surely."

Dismissal rang in the elleth's words. Aubrey turned to go, Haldir behind her, when Celeborn stopped them. "A moment, Marchwarden," he said brusquely. Haldir nodded her on, an inscrutable expression in his silver eyes.

She left the large talan and crossed the bridge that separated it from the great stairway. At the top of the stairs, she paused and leant her forearms against the thin, elegantly carved rail. Below her, the city bustled. She watched elves walk back and forth, laughing and calling to each other. They were such a joyous people, always making music. High, giddy laughter reached her from several levels below and she saw a child sprint fearlessly across a walkway. She held a toy sword fashioned from a slender stick and waved it enthusiastically over her head as she ran. She had the appearance of a five or six year old, but was probably into her twenties, Aubrey thought wryly. An elf ran after her, jogging to let her maintain her lead. Aubrey watched him put on a burst of speed and scoop up the giggling, shrieking girl. She kicked her bare feet and waved her sword about, hitting him mercilessly on the head.

Watching the girl reminded her painfully of little Roitar; she had not seen him since the awful night of his father's death and she missed him. Several times she had considered seeking out the angelic child but after what had happened she couldn't stand to intrude upon his family.

Below her, the elfling flipped out of the ellon's arms. "Súlio, Súlio! Where is Ada?"

The elf, Súlio, shrugged theatrically. "I do not know. Shall we find him? Shall we find your Ada?"

"And Nana!" The child enthused.

Súlio picked her up and set her on his shoulders. Together they walked away, the child cheerfully drumming her 'sword' against the ellon's head as they went.

She could not watch the joy elves found in children, the delight they had in the forest and each other, and believe that one of them—one of the very people she watched below her—wished true harm upon her.

She was not blind; she remembered well the disdain and cruelty Haldir had shown her in those first weeks but he had never harmed her, even after Celedan's death when both of them had been raw and furious.

This had to be some misunderstanding. Galadriel and Celeborn had already mistakenly thought that she was the one to have viewed the mirror; surely they had to be wrong about the motives of whoever was truly guilty. She did not know what it would do to her if one of them really, honestly meant her harm.

A flash of red moved in the corner of her eye. She turned and saw Haldir descending the steps of the grand talan. His face was ashen and he would not look up. She had admired the fine clothing he wore when she had first entered Galadriel and Celeborn's talan, but now she hated the scarlet and silver ensemble for what it signified and the way it stole whatever remaining colour he had.

"Haldir?"

He paused beside her, his face turned away that she could only see the edge of his nose and the soft touch of his eyelashes against his fair cheek. "Do not discount whatever danger you may find," he told her. His voice was soft and distant. "I know what it is to suspect them and it is difficult for me as well. But I would rather wrongly suspect my brethren than see you hurt."

"Haldir—" she said again, but he was gone, jogging quickly down the stairway away from her, his cloak dancing about his legs.

She watched him go, conflicted confusion upon her face. She hated to even think it, but his words had reverberated with real, genuine worry—worry for her.

o0o

As soon as he had left the Lord and Lady, Haldir did what he had always done when turmoil raged through him and answers evaded him. He sought out his brother.

Orophin was in his talan, tending to his myriad of plants. Haldir had never had the time to care for so many potted plants, but he always appreciated them when he visited his brother. He ran his hands over their textured leaves, letting their gently benevolent presence calm him slightly.

"Brother," he greeted.

Orophin hummed in acknowledgment. He was stood by the window, his hair plaited away from his face. His tunic sleeves were rolled to the elbows and he was wrist-deep in potting compost. "I will be with you in a moment," he said. "I will just finish potting up this lobelia."

He transferred the aforementioned plant as he spoke, setting it into a wide ceramic bowl. He worked in methodical silence, patting soil around the newly situated plant and brushing stray dirt off the beautiful purple flowers. Finally, he poured a generous amount of water over the plant and turned around, brushing his earthy hands against his breeches. "What can I do for you, brother?"

"I—" Haldir broke off for his voice was not as steady as he would have wished. "Someone has broken into the Lady's clearing and viewed the mirror without sanction."

Orophin's eyes widened. "What? When was this?"

"Last night, surely. Lady Galadriel discovered it this morning."

The younger elf studied him. "There is something else," he said. Haldir didn't know whether he was relieved or horrified at Orophin's perception; he knew that if he began to talk he would not stop until his brother knew everything.

"There is . . . I . . . the Lord and Lady believe that Aubrey is in danger," he whispered.

Orophin nodded for him to continue. "From this trespasser?"

"Indeed. The very idea that someone of the Wood, one of us would hurt her—I cannot bear it! I want to send her away for her safety and yet at the same time keep her always in my sight." He said tightly. "I don't know . . ."

"You don't know?" Orophin gave him a look of such wry indulgence that for a moment, the two thousand years between their ages melted away. "Haldir, it is not secret that you care for her. We all do."

"Care for her, of course. She is my friend, we have grown close. It is not that which troubles me," he emphasised. "It is the idea that one of us. One of our brethren, possibly, one of the elves of Lórien has such malice within them as to harm her."

"Why do the Lord and Lady believe that Aubrey is targeted?"

The Marchwarden frowned. "This disturbance happened the very night that she returned from Imladris. The timing is simply too coincidental."

"Now—I know that you are going to be angered—but is it not possible that Aubrey herself was the one to look in the mirror?" Orophin said hesitantly.

Haldir shook his head impatiently. "The Lord and Lady believed so, at first," he said. "But she denied it and there was truth in her words, I felt it."

"Then I fear you must be right," Orophin murmured. "Eru," he said, "to break the sanctity of the mirror."

"Whoever has done this has clearly lost their wits," Haldir said severely.

The slighter elf nodded. "Let us hope that they come to their senses before any more harm comes. As precious as the mirror is, I would rather it be damaged than Aubrey."

Footsteps thudded upon the walkway outside Orophin's talan and the brothers turned around just in time to see the door burst open. Rúmil stood there, his sides heaving with exertion. "Come quickly," he gasped. "It is Aubrey."

o0o

Aubrey made her way back to her talan slowly, taking the time to observe every elf that she came across. Most of them were indifferent to her, but many stopped and smiled at her, or murmured a greeting in Sindarin. They had become neighbours if not acquaintances, as familiar to her as most of the people she had known in her old home. As she stared at them, she could not help but wonder, are you the one? Is it you who targets me?

The doubt was poisonous, until she shied away from the smiles and greetings. She could not bear to meet their friendly eyes knowing that any one of them could wish her harm. Was this what Evan felt, she wondered? The constant uncertainty of not knowing who to trust was oppressive.

Her talan was a familiar, comforting reprieve. She let the door swing shut behind her and pressed her palm to her forehead, taking a deep, steadying breath. She walked slowly through the small house, pausing in the panty to pour herself a cup of the gorgeously refreshing elderflower cordial Ilye had gifted her with upon her return to Lórien.

Toeing off her boots she ambled into her bedchamber.

The glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor, elderflower cordial soaking her feet.

She screamed.

o0o

Haldir stormed through the city, his brother flanking him at either shoulder. After Rúmil's hasty assurance that the mortal was unharmed, his panic had lessened, leaving way to a cool anger.

"I was walking by with Ilye," Rúmil said, hurrying his stride to keep up. "I heard a scream and then Aubrey ran out of her talan; she was crying and seemed very distressed. Ilye stayed with her and I came to find you."

"Have you any idea what happened?" Orophin asked.

Rúmil shook his head. "None."

They did not speak again as they walked. People parted before them, hurrying from their path. It was only later that he would dryly consider what people would think of seeing the Marchwarden and both of his brothers tearing through the walkways of the city centre. A younger ellon gave a hesitant, uncertain half-bow as they passed and Haldir realised that he was still wearing his ceremonial regalia. He brushed the thought aside and hurried his steps.

When Aubrey's talan came into sight he saw her huddled on the very edge of the flet, one leg folded beneath her and the other trailing off into thin air. Ilye sat beside her, a comforting arm around the distraught girl.

"What is it?" he demanded, halting his brothers with a raised hand. "Are your harmed?"

Aubrey looked up, eyes bleary and red. "No," she said. "I was just a little—shocked."

"By what?"

"Bedroom," she murmured, jerking her chin for him to enter.

He left the talan door ajar was he slipped inside, steeling himself for whatever he might find. His boots crunched on broken glass when he entered the room; she must have dropped a drink when she saw the state of the room. Her bed was drenched in dark crimson. He wrinkled his nose, anticipating the scent of blood, but none came. He stepped closer, curious, and dipped his fingers into where it had pooled within the sheets. He rubbed the liquid between his fingers and thumb; it was thin and slightly chalky in texture. Madder root dye. Someone had wanted Aubrey to think that her bed was drenched in blood, but had not been able to kill anything to produce the required threat. He frowned; he could not untangle the motives of this attacker.

The drawers and cupboards had been turned out, Aubrey's clothes lying in red-stained heaps upon the floor. Papers littered the ground, he saw that they were covered in writing, the letters of both the common tongue and tengwar overlapping. This was her and Ilye's research, he realised, ripped up and shredded.

The most disturbing thing was the wall. In foot-high letters, the word 'leave' had been daubed upon the wood with the madder root dye. Beneath that imperative a sheet of yellowed paper had been pinned to the wall with a dagger. He strode over and snatched the note, ripping it free. Upon it was written, every day that you do not leave, one more will be harmed. There was a list of names below the message: Ilye, Orophin, Rúmil, and his own.

Haldir crumpled the paper in his fist and strode out of the building. He thrust the paper into Orophin's hands and whirled to face his youngest brother. "Clean it up," he ordered in their native dialect. "Use whatever wardens you need."

He stooped beside the two women and touched Aubrey lightly upon the shoulder. "Come with me," he urged her softly. She stood, dream-like, and followed him. Elves stopped to stare at them as they passed, murmuring softly amongst themselves about what could possibly have happened. Some of them had evidently heard about the earlier trial for their words and eyes were suspicious. For the first time, Haldir was glad of her limited grasp of Sindarin.

Aubrey did not speak until they reached their destination: his talan. She looked up at the large, intricately carved building and her eyes widened with their usual bright curiosity and admiration.

"Come in," he urged her. Unlike the simple, one chambered design of her talan, his own was built upon three levels and had numerous spare bedrooms, most often utilised by his brothers.

He saw that she was limping when she walked into the talan, and when he looked down at her bare feet was horrified to see smears of bright red on the floor. There was no mistaking this for madder dye. "Your feet are cut," he observed.

She shuffled over to a chair and held her feet out before her, watching the slow well of blood from soles of her feet and between her toes. "They say twice is co-incidence, three times a pattern," she mused. "If I end up with bloody feet again around you we could almost call it 'our thing'."

"Will you permit me to tend to your feet, this time?" he asked.

She smiled. "Well, since you've asked nicely this time."

He left her sitting in the chair while he fetched a bowl of warm water and a clean, soft cloth. She flinched slightly when he picked up her ankle but did not resist when he ran the cloth over the abused skin. "You're lucky there's no glass embedded in your foot," he murmured.

She hummed in quiet agreement. "It wasn't blood, was it?"

He stilled for a second. "No." When he did not immediately continue, she reached out and prodded him in the shoulder with her toes. "It was a dye made from the root of the madder plant. How did you—"

"I know the smell of blood," she said flatly.

He continued cleaning her feet gently, washing blood and dirt from them. "I will find who did this," he promised her softly.

"Damn right you will," she grumbled, then flinched again. "Tickles," she said to his curious look.

Smirking now, he ran the cloth over the same part of her foot. She shrieked, kicking water up into his face as she struggled. He laughed in astonishment, blinking water out of his eyes. "Such gratitude she offers me, when I have offered her my home!" he mocked.

She frowned. "Offered me what now?"

He rose from his position kneeling at her feet and walked over to the same chest he had taken the bowl and cloth from, retrieving lengths of bandages. "Until your talan is set to rights, you are welcome to stay here," he said. Only a few weeks ago, he would have phrased it as a command, and she would have duly refused.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

He bandaged her feet in silence, his swift, efficient hands betraying how often he had bandaged wounds. "I must meet with my brothers," he said, rising once more. "You are welcome to anything in my talan, if you are going to stay here. I will see you tonight."

Before he could leave, she stood and wrapped her arms around him, ducking her head against his chest. "Thank you," she murmured into his doublet.

He tightened his arms around her once before he released her. "I will see you later," he said again, and left her to explore his home.

o0o

As much as she would have liked to be outside, the newly-bandaged cuts on her feet limited Aubrey to padding slowly around Haldir's talan. She had found her way into what looked like a store room. Trunks were stacked about the room, most of them covered in a thin layer of dust. Aubrey did feel slightly guilty about the invasion of privacy, but she was an archivist at heart; her job was to poke in dusty old holes to see what she could find. A room full of trunks was just too much temptation. And Haldir had told her that she was welcome to anything.

She heaved upon a wooden chest, wincing when the lid thudded against a box behind it. Within the box were folded clothes; on the surface not the most exciting discovery but when she lifted out a tunic she saw that it was a child's shirt. She smiled widely; the small garment was adorable. The left cuff was frayed and a grass stain marred the collar. She wondered who the tiny tunic had belonged to before she noted looping tengwar script circled the round neck. She squinted to read the script, realised as she did that whoever it had belonged to was probably at least a hundred years old. She made out the letters and smiled; Orophin was repeated around the collar. She imagined the tall ellon wearing the tiny little tunic and laughed, delightedly.

Digging further into the trunk, she uncovered numerous treasures. Miniature toy swords lined the bottom, varying from sticks stripped of their bark to perfect replicas of blades carved from wood. There was also a wooden figure of a horse and numerous sets of small clothes, some of them bearing the names of the three brothers. Near the bottom of the trunk she discovered a thin book roughly bound in green leather.

She lifted the book out and opened it to the first page which bore the inscription, For Rúmil, from Haldir. As she flipped through the book she realised that it was a children's story. Each page bore no more than a sentence and above that a beautiful picture illustrated the words. From what Aubrey could gather, the story—about an elven knight who discovered a fair new land and settled there with his brothers and their trained stags—had been composed and illustrated by Haldir himself.

She felt such a strong surge of affection for the elf that she nearly dropped the book, realising as she did so that if it had been made when Rúmil was a child, it was over two thousand years old. She hastily replaced it and shut the chest, releasing a cloud of dust into the air.

Deciding that she had trespassed long enough upon Haldir's privacy, she retreated to the main room where he had treated her feet. A book lay upon a low table in the centre of the room—could she call it a coffee table when elves did not seem to drink coffee?

She grimaced when she saw that the book was written entirely in tengwar, but settled in to read it anyway. She needed the practice, and the book would keep her occupied until night feel upon the Golden Wood.

o0o

Dark had fallen before Haldir finally returned to his talan. He, Rúmil and Orophin had worked tirelessly to try and discover the providence of the note but to no avail. Rúmil's suggestion to try and trace the handwriting of whoever had written the note had proved to be entirely unhelpful as they had quickly realised that handwriting could be concealed as easily as by swapping hands in which the quill was held.

The note had been written in tengwar, widening the field to every elf in Lórien, and whilst the word 'leave' had been painted using Westron letters such a simple word could have been composed by someone with even the most rudimentary knowledge.

They had gone on working until the candlelight began to strain their eyes, determining to look once more in the morning. Haldir was anxious to return to Aubrey for her nervous state earlier had worried him.

He need not have worried, he saw as he quietly opened his talan door. She sat curled up in his favourite chair, her bandaged feet tucked beneath her. She was reading the book he had left upon his table, an account of the Dagorlad that Lord Elrond had written. Glorfindel had lent him the book when they had travelled to Imladris. He was enjoying the book; Elrond had been there unlike many of the scholars who wrote, so he did not abandon the horrific details as many were want to. Haldir shuddered, shaking himself out of age-old memories. That battle was behind him now.

"Good evening," he said softly.

Aubrey looked up sharply. "Oh! Hello. Did you—did you find anything?"

He sighed, finally—finally—ridding himself of his ridiculous formal cloak and doublet. He sank into a choir opposite her in his shirt and breaches, rubbing a knuckle over the bridge of his nose. "We did not. But we will, do not fret."

"I'm not really worried anymore," she said thoughtfully. "I guess I was in shock earlier. This isn't the first time someone's wrecked my stuff or threatened my loved ones. I got a lot of rub for sticking by Evan back home."

He swallowed, trying to ignore the way the words loved ones reverberated in his chest cavity. "Your talan should be fit once more in a few days. The madder dye is proving difficult to remove."

"I'll help tomorrow," she said sheepishly. "I'm sorry I wasn't more use today, but my feet—"

He waved her off. "No one expected you to help today," he said. "In fact, I think that if anyone had tried to insist you help, Ilye would have thrown them from the flet."

A smile touched her lips. "I appreciate you letting me stay, I really do. I . . . I was looking around. A little bit. I found that book you made for Rúmil."

For a moment, he was confused until he recalled the story. He smiled broadly, he remembered the long hours he had spent composing the story, inscribing it in his clearest hand, binding it until the instruction of the scribes. "I made it when he was fifteen," he recalled. "He was not learning his letters and when I asked him why not, he said that all of my books were boring him."

"You taught him to read?" she asked, surprised.

Haldir smiled, remembering a stubborn child throwing down his book of reports and stamping his foot upon the pages. "I raised him," he said. "Our parents left for Valinor when he was a baby."

Aubrey shook her head, wonder in her eyes. "You keep surprising me," she whispered. "When I first met you I thought you were just a prejudiced ass."

He snorted indelicately and watched the breath part the flyaway hair on her forehead; they had each leaned forwards as they spoke until only inches separated them. "What do you think now?" he asked her.

Her eyes glittered with mirth. "I think you were a prejudiced ass when we first met . . . but you've learned."

He felt the upholstery on his chair tightened as she balanced a hand upon the arm of the seat, and then her lips brushed against his. Stunned, it was a long moment before he returned the gentle pressure, reaching up to run a hand through her dark golden hair. His other arm slipped around her waist and drew her forward until she knelt with a leg either side of his, straddling him in his chair.

Perhaps, if they were not both weary from a long day of stress after stress, if Aubrey's feet did not ache and Haldir was not preoccupied with wondering which of his peers wanted to harm the woman in his arms, it would have turned into something else, but as it was they simply kissed. It was slow and soft but there was a luxury in savouring, Haldir found.

Just as Orophin had told him with a glint in his eye, Aubrey's body temperature was greater than his. Her hands were warm upon his skin—one cupped the back of his neck, the other curled against his stomach—and her lips were hot enough to sear his. Her lips were dry and rough from being chewed in her anxiety and he soothed them with his, drawing her lower lip gently into his mouth. Her hand tightened in the hair on the base of his skull and she keened softly, her tongue tasting his lip cautiously, tentatively.

He pulled back and kissed the far corner of her mouth and then her cheekbone. "You honour me with your kisses, Palarran, but tonight is not the night for it," he murmured.

She nodded in agreement. "I know. Your hair is very, very soft," she mumbled. "I'd thought it would be."

He stroked a hand through her own hair, a wordless replication. He wanted to fall asleep there with her warm weight pressed against his chest and the softness of her hair beneath his chin, the memory of her lips on his dancing through his mind, but he knew it would not serve either of them to be hindered by a poor night's sleep the next day.

He stood and set her on her feet, leading her up the narrow stairs to the level of the talan that housed his bed chamber and two others. He offered her the room Orophin usually took as it had the nicest view out over the city and was directly next to his own.

"Good night," he murmured, kissing her once more.

She leaned into him for a brief moment then stepped inside the room, leaving the door ajar. He left the door of his own room open and listened to her breath even out in sleep before he let himself drift into a trance.

o0o

Trespasser.

He resented the title they had given him even as he watched them scramble to undo his work in her talan.

She was the trespasser within his woods.

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