Surprise! Thank you for the reviews, favs, and followers. You guys are truly incredible. Thank you Fairylover2004, doraemax, ShadowPillow, CRUDEN and so many more for tagging along on this journey with me. Love you all and I hope you enjoy the next part of our adventure! You have my eternal gratitude. Much love xoxox


For the first time in weeks, Haldir woke slowly from the comfort of his own bed. A fortnight of hard travel and battle had finally gotten the best of him. He had been truly exhausted by the time he'd found his way to his talan and sank into the luxury of his down mattress. He rolled to his side and faced the early light of morning as it filtered through the golden canopy over his home. The breeze that rolled in was cool, to a human uncomfortably so, but he was more than content with the temperature.

His body felt well-rested and healed, all but the phantom pain in his chest that was gradually beginning to fade.

He'd dream walked with Natasha. The experience was beyond anything he could claim to have previously known. He'd been a part of her world, a strange and fantastical place he still couldn't fully comprehend.

Her home. Her family.

He closed his eyes as her grief came crashing back into him and knew that she was now awake and reminiscing. Unintentionally, he had intruded into her most private memories. His thoughts had turned to her before he'd fallen asleep. In the quiet moments when the weight and responsibility of his station and people were silent his thoughts had turned to her. Wondering. Contemplating.

The memory he'd shared with her on the plains of Rohan had left him shaken and horrified. It had been too intense not to be real. She'd gone through that...every moment of it until she was beyond reason and ready to die. Tortured, nearly to death, as a child. Yet somehow she'd lived. She'd survived and found a family. One that loved her and that she loved in return, only for them to be stripped away in a vicious twist of fate.

The world had been cruel to her. The fates, unkind.

And somehow he had found himself inserted into the middle of it.

He could admit to himself that he admired her. That in and of itself had surprised him. A lifelong assassin, a human one at that, had captured his interest. She was unlike any female he had ever known. Natasha was bold and the spark of intelligence in her eyes, so bright, it blinded him. He wondered what more her eyes had seen and the capabilities of her mind and hands. Hands that were capable of cradling a child or beheading her enemy. He had watched her do both.

She fought like a demon. Even blood-splattered and stinking of sweat; her beauty had been apparent. Her savage grin, infectious.

She had integrity, though she didn't believe it herself. She had on more than one occasion warned them into thinking the worst of her. But he had watched as she'd fearlessly thrown herself into combat to defend people that were not her own. How she'd tried to save his brother with those skilled and clever hands. With battle raging around them she'd neatly sutured a life-threatening wound with nary a tremble. He'd watched her from afar as she had honored their dead. He'd seen how she'd labored. Then she had again, without fear, gone into the stronghold of a powerful wizard and sacrificed herself for the life of her friend and secured the weapon that had brought them both across space and time. She had given them the means to kill her. and been prepared to die for it.

Forged in the hottest fires, by the hardest hammers Natasha had emerged as the toughest of steels.

These things had fascinated him. She was without a doubt the most contradicting woman he had ever met for even after all she'd sacrificed, all she'd bled for, she still found little value in her own life. She viewed herself as...expendable. It had been for those reasons, that he had tried to bring some semblance of comfort to her. He had wanted to offer her peace because she gave herself none.

He had botched the attempt spectacularly.

Casually, he rolled to his side and pushed himself upright. The lightweight of his bedsheets slipped from his body as his feet met the smooth wooden floor of his bedroom. A single moment's concentration told him she was closer now than she had been before. From the feel of it, Natasha was riding to Lothlorien with great determination and purpose.

She would have the stone with her and that in and of itself was dangerous. Orc, goblin and Uruk-hai were all but standing on their doorstep. Their numbers had grown exponentially in the confines of Dol Guldur. His people were too few to defend against the onslaught should they launch a full-scale attack. And they would attack. He could feel it in his bones. He could still feel the forest burning around him. The blood on his hands. The time of the elves was ending and Sauron intended to usher them out by burning down the great forests of the world.

He slipped into a pair of neatly folded trousers at his bedside and made for the open balcony. The sun was rising and he had a full day to prepare for. Added now would be preparing to receive Natasha. He would go to Lady Galadriel first thing; he wasn't looking forward to having to explain just how he knew of Natasha's pending arrival or what it could mean.

He caught his fingers drumming across the surface of the wooden railing. During all the years of his life, he'd never been subjected to such dense occurrences of conflict and grief.

Then there was her.

She'd grabbed at him in a way he hadn't expected.

Gripping the top rail, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.


The Three Legged Mare was quiet. Only a few patrons sat in booths for an early lunch of bread, thinly sliced cured meats and cheeses. Soon the soldiers would be gone again and with them, the vast majority of the dinner patrons who regularly ate and drank within its aged walls.

Gramm flopped unceremoniously down on the barstool in front of Eric. The old man was folding napkins today with the patience of a renowned artist composing new music. His clever hands smoothing over creases and corners as he made complex shapes from the linen.

"Is tha' suposta be a goose?" Gramm slurred and pointed at the napkins on the bar top. There was a flock of them, row after row, neatly lined one behind the other.

"Cygnus buccinator to be exact. Trumpeter swans." Eric responded with pride as he set his newly completed piece amidst the flock of other swans he'd produced. Each and everyone was lovely and perfect. Berta was going to love them.

As if conjured by the thought she came stumbling out of the kitchen. Her arms were laden with clean bowls and mugs from the back. In her usual manner, she quickly caught her feet again beneath her and carried on as if she'd intended to nearly fall on her nose. She took one long look at Gramm and cursed. He'd said and done nothing but after running a tavern for most of her life Berta had learned long ago how to spot a drunk.

"You drunken lout! It's barely past midday!" She scolded him as she would her own child and was pleased as punch to see his ears blush brilliantly.

Red-faced and absolutely drunk, Gramm didn't even have the wit to answer.

"You ass!" She swatted him with her rag and it snapped across his shoulder. "What good is that doin' anyone? You ungrateful…." Her insulting tangent continued but Gramm lost track of her unflattering description of him. He was all of those things and worse. On top of it, he'd gotten himself drunker than he'd been in a very very long time. He was a miserable kind of drunk as well, the wallow in the extreme depths of your own self-pity kind of drunk. His drunken state was the venture of the hopelessly downtrodden, heartbroken and melancholy.

What had he been thinking, laying out his feelings as he had? He'd sworn to himself he'd take his time and wait her out, prove to her that she could trust him. Prove that she could rely on him to take care of her. Instead, he had gutted himself on the stable floors in front of her.

Then he'd kissed.

Sod it all to Mordor he'd kissed her.

And she'd shut him out completely. The things she'd said about herself had taken him off guard and he had reacted dreadfully poor. He'd known some of her past and should have considered her life further before pursuing her. Instead, in that moment, he'd judged her and she'd read his expression loud and clear. There was no taking it back.

What had he done?

Eric interrupted Berta's verbal marathon and Gramm's self-beratement.

"Berta, dear...the boy is obviously upset." Eric set his newest swan aside and lined it up carefully with the others. His best yet if he did say so himself.

Gramm grumbled and sagged into his hands over the bar top. "I'm not a boy."

Berta knocked the supporting hand out from under his thick head which made a satisfactory thud upon impact with the bar top.

"You're certainly acting like one."

Gramm hissed and rubbed at the knot that was already forming on his brow. He mustered up a glare that came out a wince as pain lanced through his head.

"...She left."

The anger faded and in its place, Berta was left feeling sympathetic. She gripped his hands tightly and held them against the worn wooden top. Nat was gone and in her place, she'd left behind an empty hole she'd once filled. She'd come and fit neatly into their lives so quickly it was strange to think there was a possibility she wouldn't come back. Berta had known Gramm and his cadre of warriors for years. She had seen the boy grow from a foolish flirt to a young man trying to claim a bit of earth for his own. Gramm had always been knee-deep in the lasses but his latest shift in behavior was largely due to Natalie.

She couldn't blame him for his taste in women. Natalie was beautiful, fierce, loyal and had so many other fine characteristics but she was also incredibly dangerous. Berta knew she had often left and wandered the streets alone at all hours of the day and night. Knew the lass had spent more time at that whore house than any decent person should. Nat had come in smelling of dark spices and the rose water their girls liked to wash with. She'd made friends with Deor, whose husband had been murdered shortly after Nat had arrived. Berta had seen the bruising on Nat's hands, they'd only lasted a day, but she'd caught sight of them when she'd come in to tend bar that very night. She didn't believe in coincidences. There was no doubt in her mind that Nat had been the one to put the fat bastard out of his well-deserved misery.

Natalie simply wasn't an open and easy-going woman like the girls Gramm was used to. She was much more complex.

"She left because she had to Gramm...not because she wanted to." War was upon them and they'd all soon be making sacrifices. Nat was a warrior; her risks would be among the highest.

"She'll be with him...the elf...she'll be there...with him." He mumbled. He'd mucked up the whole thing. She'd be with him and he wasn't going to be there. He didn't stand a chance.

"What elf?" Berta asked as she remembered the handsome blonde who had gone up to Nat's room the night before and had never come down. She'd heard them talking late into the night as she'd been heading up to bed. Their low voices had carried under the door with the candlelight. Had she spent the night with him?

She highly doubted it. She hadn't heard any of those...sounds...coming from her room.

"The March Warden." Gramm leaned back in his chair and let his head hang over the back as he stared up at the ceiling watching the world spin. His stomach clenched.

"...the really big...really tall...handsome one."

"Boy, every elf I've seen looks like that."

"No...not tha' one…" He envisioned the elf and tried to cling to more accurate words to describe him. "He's really...really big."

"Haldir." Eric supplied thoughtfully with a helpful smile as he carried on folding his napkins. The March Warden's striking visual impression went well beyond really big.

Gramm sat up, his chair rocking forward with him and pointed at Eric, "Tha's the one. He looked at her."

"Most men look at Natalie. She's a beautiful woman." Berta reasoned.

"No...he really looked at her an' then she looked at him…an' she doesn't look at me...not like tha'."

He's better than me, Gramm thought, and has so much more to offer her than he did as a simple lowly soldier of no rank or wealth. He'd given it all up to get out from under his father's corrupt thumb.

Berta exchanged a look with Eric. The boy was clearly heartsick.

"Look at you how Gramm?"

"Like she wants me...I told her how I felt."

"I gather that she said she doesn't have feelings for you?" Eric interjected with enthusiasm as he continued to successfully follow the conversation.

"No...not exactly..." He'd buggered it up and pushed too hard and fast for her to get those exact words across.

"You're both going off to war. What did you expect from her? Can you blame her for not wanting to leave you behind to grieve for what could have been between the two of you?" She thought of her late husband and the gaping wound left in his absence. He'd been her life for more than twenty years. Up until a week ago, she'd never considered what life would be like without him by her side. She was living it now.

Gramm laughed bitterly, "I don't think she refused me to spare my feelings." No, she told him all she had to hurt him, to wedge a gap between them that seemed insurmountable. His feelings had been the least of her concern.

"She was honest with you, no? And you didn't like what she had to say."

Eric asked and took the young man's silence as affirmation. "She's been through more than you can imagine. Done things that would curdle the stomachs of lesser men. She bombarded you intentionally. She gave you an out by giving you the truth...and from the sound of things, you let her."

Gramm stared hard at Eric, as best he could, as there were two of him. The deranged old man had a point. A very pathetic point.

"Would you like another glass of whiskey?" He offered from behind the bar.

Berta slapped at his hands as they had already gone after the glasses under the counter. She pointed an authoritative finger at Gramm.

"Go upstairs and sleep it off. You won't be getting any food or drink from me until you have." When he hesitated to rise from his chair, Berta pounced. "Go! Now."

When he'd successfully stumbled up the stairs and she heard the door to the spare room snap shut she turned to Eric to scold him. She was immediately distracted by his focus on the napkin he was folding with care. And then she saw them. More than two dozen of them folded in neat and pretty rows.

"Oh...Eric, those are lovely." She sighed as she gathered one in her palms. She'd never seen such a thing done before with table linen.

Eric produced a thousand-watt smile. "I was hoping you'd like them."


The sun was setting quickly when the borders of Lothlorien finally came into view. The distant trees glowed in a haze of gold and green as the sun reflected off the flourishing canopy. The air here was fresh and bright as it rolled down the equally distant mountains, snow glittered at its peaks. She marveled at sight for all of a moment. It was single-handedly the most visually striking landscape she'd ever seen, unnaturally so. There was magic in this place. Old elven magic that wrapped around her, enveloped her in its potent embrace, both in warning and welcome. Gooseflesh rose on her arms as she pushed Arod forward.

Lothlorien was all that was good and beautiful in this world. It was abundantly clear as to why Sauron was committed to destroying it and why Haldir was devoted to protecting it. This had been his home for thousands of years. Every tree and branch was his to safeguard. The forest could not have asked for a more faithful guardian.

Pride that was not her own welled in her heart.

She willed the feeling down with a flare of annoyance. It was an unsettling ordeal; feeling someone else's emotions and knowing that they were on the other end enduring the same experience. There would be no privacy between them. Nat was barely able to contain and manage the flow of their connection but she knew he was there. Always, in the back of her mind even if it was only a shadow of feeling there were times, like now, where she experienced a flare of his emotions. She had no idea what he was experiencing from her but had the unpleasant notion that it was much more than what she was getting from him. He was old and magic ran deep in veins. Perhaps he was able to shut her out almost entirely. She hoped that they could find some level ground between them, somewhere between ignoring primal attraction and friendly.

For now, there was one thing she knew to be true.

He was close.

He waited for her just inside the forest.

She laid herself out over Arod's neck and urged him forward. They had a bit of ground to cover before night fell completely and she'd rather face what was to come in the light of day when both she and Haldir would be too occupied by the company of others and their assorted tasks to contemplate one another.

Nat couldn't see them but she could feel their eyes on her as she rode along the tree line of the forest. Their movements were silent but she knew they followed her. Their nimble feet carrying them gingerly from branch to branch, unsettling them no more than the mild breeze that ruffled the leaves. She halted just inside the tree line and dismounted with stiff hips. The hard riding had taken its toll on her body. After long hard hours in the saddle, her upper thighs and hips were tender but the discomfort would only be temporary. She'd be no worse for wear by morning.

She ran a hand up her horse's neck into his forelock and rubbed him kindly between the ears before slipping his bridle off. Sweaty but happy Arod dropped the bit from his mouth. Nat thanked him kindly as she tied his bridle and reins tightly to the saddle; he would have a long way to venture home on his own

A movement to her right caught her attention as an elf dropped down silently from overhead. He emerged slowly from the shadow of the trees and spoke in his lowly accented tone. She gathered whatever he had said was to address the horse and not her because it was her mount whose ears perked to attention. He came to stand opposite her, the horse between them. His hair was the golden hue of natural pine with green eyes that were sharply shaped and set smoothly beneath wide dark brows. He had the natural glow that all elves carried. A glow that put them on just the other side of natural. His expression was serious but not unkind and for a moment he hesitated to speak as if the words had not been made ready by his tongue.

"I am Voronwe. You are Natasha. We have been expecting you." He inclined his head in her direction with his hand over his heart. A warrior's greeting, "I am to escort you to the March Warden. He is waiting but not far."

Nat greeted him in kind as she began to untie her pack from Arod's back.

"Your common tongue is quite good. Much better than my elvish." She offered him a smile and slung her pack across her shoulders.

He smiled happily at the compliment, a smile that genuinely reached his eyes. He was young. In that moment she could see it in the lack of weight around his eyes. It was as easy a reaction as blinking. She curiously wondered how old he was, probably countless centuries beyond her and yet he remained bright. Briefly, she envied him his carefree and uncorrupted spirit.

Realizing she was staring she shifted her gaze to her mount and there was a moment of silence between them.

"Do not worry for him." She looked up to meet his gaze as he surveyed the horse. "He can rest. We guard this place." Voronwe motioned for her to follow, "Come"

She shifted and rubbed the inside of Arod's ear as she had seen Legolas do and then with conviction she thanked him as he'd shown her. Steadfast and true he replied with the same head-butted he'd graced Legolas with. She chuckled softly and wondered just how much this incredible animal really understood about her. With a final pat, she made to follow Voronwe who stood watching her. Approval was easy to recognize in his gaze.

He turned into the shadow he'd appeared from and almost instantly disappeared from her sight. She hurried forward and rounded the tree to find him nearly halfway up an incredibly thin rope ladder. His gaze found her's again.

"Follow me."

If she'd been a normal and sane individual this contraption would have never worked but given the circumstances, she was more than able to climb up behind him with ease. She climbed higher and higher until the ground was lost beneath her and the thick canopy surrounded her. Somehow despite the fact that night was well and truly upon them it became lighter around her and when she finally emerged onto a landing platform she was momentarily speechless. There were footbridges elegantly slung from limb to limb between platforms. Some had small dwellings upon them she could only assume housed whoever patrolled here and their supplies. There were several dozen elves scattered this way and that. Their voices carrying to her now that she'd fully emerged. There were lanterns glowing an ethereal white blue that cast the whole scene in an unnatural light. The same hue that seemed to emanate from elven skin.

Magic.

Nearly collectively the gazes of many elves shifted to where she emerged and their voices faded. Humans were a rare and often unwanted occurrence in the woodland yet here stood a human woman. A human woman whose arrival they'd expected and were to welcome into their homeland. A unique woman, of whom, the warriors that had returned from Helm's Deep spoke of incredulously. She was a lovely mortal as well, with her porcelain skin and bright red mane of hair, distinctly different from the humans they'd seen before and to her credit much cleaner. She drew the eye and curiosity of all.

Nat didn't like the feeling of scrutiny or being the center of attention. She'd spent her life trying to remain hidden but here she only seemed to stick out. People on Earth were vast and varied into a global melting pot but here the people had distinct characteristics regionally and were so geographically segregated that it was easy to stand out in a crowd.

The footbridge swayed lightly underfoot, constructed of the same thin rope and smooth wood planks it was a marvel to her that it held. She dutifully followed Voronwe down various paths, twisting and turning through the branches. The elves they passed along the way gave little to no acknowledgment but instead chose to respectably continue their own business.

When finally they came to a large landing with multiple small outposts built into the great trunk of a tree, Voronwe motioned for her to wait.

Anticipation built within her, unsure if it was her own or Haldir's she chose to fulfill her urge to fidget and reached out to touch a leaf that was so golden it was metallic. She rubbed it between her fingers and nearly expected the color to come off on her hand. How was it possible that a leaf could be so beautiful? That a forest could hum with energy and magic? And this place was magical. It was beautiful beyond comparison. She'd never seen anything like it in her life and doubted she would again.

The leaf warmed between her fingers as she marveled at its color and softness. She stroked it with unexpected affection.

She froze and the hair on the back of her neck prickled and the muscles tightened across her skull.

"Natasha." His voice tingled up her spine.

She turned her head and met his ethereal blue gaze. Nat was momentarily struck silent at the sight of him in uniform. He cut an extremely appealing figure. Instinct had her probing out mentally to gauge his reaction and for a moment she felt him. Warm and welcoming he wrapped around her from the inside out and then she was slammed back into herself. A cold wall of stubborn indifference between them.

He could control it now or at least more than she could. She was running on instinct where he was concerned. Very rarely could she close him out or cut off the communication between them entirely. It pained him to push her from him. The action didn't strain him as it had before in practice but it wounded him in other ways. Here in his homeland, magic was boundless, and he could draw from its power at will but even with the bottomless well of magic at his disposal, his abilities to utilize it were minimal. He couldn't stop himself from wanting her. Even knowing a relationship between them would only end in wasteful tragedy did nothing to hamper the need that hummed in his veins. It didn't stop his thoughts from drifting to her when he least expected it.

He'd connected them purely on accident but now he wondered if there hadn't been a greater purpose in his fault. Would his fae have linked itself so easily to someone incompatible? Or was this truly something more? There was a deep lonely part of himself that hoped for the impossible.

He watched her lips as she formed the shape of his name and then met the liquid green gaze that lingered in his dreams.

Haldir dismissed Voronwe in their own tongue, stepped aside and motioned for her to enter his office space.

"Welcome to Lothlorien friend of the Galadrhrim." She held his eyes until she'd nearly passed him in the door frame and he caught a magnificent whiff of her scent. His eyes drifted shut for a long blink as he closed the door behind them. He thought he'd been prepared for this moment, clearly, he hadn't been.