Fate
By Ladybug
Disclaimer: I own no one, but Anya and Cantehoon is a village of my own making. All other characters belong to Tolkien, thank God, for he didn't see the need to kill off Haldir. ;-)
Rated R
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Chapter 2
Anya felt her breath leave her in a loud whoosh as she watched the two men leave the room. She recognized the dark headed one as Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to Isildur's throne, but the other…
She had never felt such a strong instant attraction to a man before. Her heart had raced as she took him in, so tall and muscular, with long blond hair that hung down past his shoulders, his features handsome with high cheekbones, dark eyes and a straight nose. He looked almost elegant…regal in his armor and red cape, yet completely masculine. She had heard his voice in her head speaking the Elfish language, the language of her mother's people. His words were beautiful, filling her, binding them somehow. Binding their hearts so that she could almost feel the beat of his within her.
She knew all about elves. Her mother had been an elf and had made sure that she knew everything about that side of her family, including the language. Anya had soaked up the information like a sponge, begging her mother to tell her story after story of her people.
So, had the elves come to help? Would they once more fight beside man as they once had long ago? She hoped so. They could use all the help they could get. And perhaps afterwards, when the battle was over, she could seek out this elf and ask him if he knew where her mother's people were.
She felt her skin flush, her cheeks burned heatedly and her heart skipped a beat at the thought of speaking to an elf … no, not any elf, for she had already spoken to Legolas a time or two. No, it was this elf, this elf that made her heart flutter and her palms sweaty.
Swallowing hard, she chided herself for feeling so flustered over the brief moment they had shared. She was dirty and smelled. The man's clothes she wore - her fathers - were filthy and torn. She was sure he must have been appalled at the sight of her. The warm smile she had thought she'd seen in his beautiful blue eyes had really been amusement and most likely he was laughing at her. And the elfin words she'd heard spoken in her mind - she must have misunderstood or imagined it - for why would an elf as handsome as he pay her any attention? Besides, it was ridicules that she would allow herself such a wild imagining. She was a grown woman, not a silly, imaginative child.
How she looked did not matter, though. What he thought of her should not matter. She was Anya - half elfling and healer - daughter of Lord Mordien and the Lady Analyssa. She was here now because the orcs had destroyed her home, her village, killing everyone including her mother and father. She had barely escaped. Only the quick thinking of her father had saved her life. He had forced her into a small cubbyhole beneath the floorboards of their home to hide. The space was barely big enough for her. As it was she had to curl into a ball to fit. She remained there, quiet and unmoving for two days. Silently crying as she heard the screams of terror from the villagers above. When she had finally exited her place of hiding, the orcs were gone, but in their place was left death and devastation.
The whole village of Cantehoon had been wiped out. Most of the homes had been burnt to the ground. Her own home - the house she had been born and grown up in had been gutted and stood in ruins. She had found her father - beheaded - just outside their home, her mother's lifeless body beside him.
She had spent the next few days in mourning. She had roamed the ruins of the village in a numb haze, not really seeing, not really caring. She had no will to go on; all her fond memories were destroyed in one fell swoop of Sauron's wrath.
But one night her mother had appeared to her in a dream, telling her to rise up and go west to Lothlorien, to the home of her people. Because of her lineage, she would be welcomed there and the Grace that had been bestowed upon her would be passed to her only child - her daughter - as well.
So Anya had left Cantehoon. Dressed in her father's clothing, her hair tightly braided and pinned to her head beneath a large hat, she had taken only her canvas bag of herbs and healing poultices and what little food she could find. She had a dagger strapped to her ankle for hunting and protection. She had walked for over a week before she came to Helms Deep, dodging orcs and the other evil minions of Sauron and Saruman. They had gladly taken her in, given her shelter and food. In return she saw their need for a healer, so she used the gifts she'd been given and worked tirelessly to help those who were wounded or sick.
And now they must prepare to move all these women and children into the mountain in preparation for the orcs' attack. They would be here in a few short hours and they would have to move swiftly if they were to be ready.
Pushing her hunger and weariness aside along with any lingering thoughts of a handsome blond elf, Anya once more looked around to see where she might be needed.
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An hour later, Haldir, ready for battle and fully briefed on where he and the elves were to be stationed, carried a covered tray into the large hall where he'd last seen Anya.
He cursed himself a fool, for he had little time to be pursuing his heart's desire and yet, he could not shake her from his mind. Several times Aragorn had had to call him from his mind's wanderings while being briefed. Finally, Aragorn asked him why he was so distracted, and Haldir confessed.
"It is the woman… Anya," he spoke quietly. "I cannot be rid of her presence in my mind. He mulk nin nafs. (She haunts my soul)."
Aragorn felt the corners of his lips twitch in amusement. When he had first met Haldir at Lothlorien, he'd found the elf friendly enough, but he was also rather rude and arrogant. It had been clear to him when he had spontaneously hugged Haldir earlier that the elf was not used to such displays of affection. Aragorn would give his right arm to see how Haldir would deal with a woman. "Then perhaps you should go and speak to her."
Haldir looked up quickly, a look of shock in his eyes that Aragorn would even suggest such a thing. "This is not the time-"
Aragorn silenced him with a raised hand. "And with what certainty do you have that you will be around to tell her later? Love follows its own path, my friend, and comes when it pleases."
Haldir remained silent, for they both knew that many would be lost in this battle; there were no certainties. "Go," Aragorn commanded and stepped away from the table spread with maps that showed the lay out of the castle. "But be quick."
"Thank you, nin meldir. (my friend)." Haldir bowed at the waist in respect then turned and left the room.
Now here he stood, looking around the once crowded hall and not seeing the one he looked for. Few remained in the large hall now, most having already gone below into the bowels of the mountain.
He stopped a passing elderly woman. "Excuse me, madam."
The woman looked curiously up at him, her eyes widening a bit in surprise when she realized he was an elf. "Yes?"
"I am looking for the Healer - the woman named Anya."
"Oh," she looked around then pointed to the far side of the room. "I believe she is over there, just through that door."
"Thank you," he responded with a bow of his head and moved swiftly across the room. Balancing the tray on one hand, he knocked on the door.
"Come in," came a feminine voice laced with exhaustion.
Haldir opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind him. He found her standing at a counter, her back to him. She had her canvas bag open and several pouches set out before her on the counter.
He watched her in silence as she lifted her hand to push at several strands of hair that had escaped the braid and insisted on hanging down in her face. "What can I do for you?" she asked without turning.
Moving forward, Haldir stopped just behind her and reached past her to set the tray of food on the counter. "You could eat," he answered her softly.
With a sharp gasp, Anya spun around and found herself staring up into the face that had been possessing her every thought for the past hour. Her heart thudded sharply in her chest and for a moment she couldn't breathe. "You…" She winced inside at the breathless sound she made. Oh good lord, he will think I am an imbecile.
She watched as his dark eyes lit with humor, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Reaching out, he swept up her hand and brought it to his lips and the only thing she could think was that thank God she had washed them a short time ago.
"I am Haldir of Lothlorien," he introduced himself. He lowered her hand, but did not release it. His gaze took in every inch of her face and found that she was more beautiful up close than from a distance. Her eyes were a soft blue-gray that reminded him of stormy skies.
Anya blinked in surprise at the mention of her mother's homeland. "Lothlorien?" she asked softly. When he nodded, she continued, "My mother was from Lothlorien."
Haldir frowned a moment, then he released her hand and reached out to push her hair away from her ears. "You are an elf," he stated with much surprise.
Anya shook her head. "Half elf," she corrected. "My father, Lord Mordien, was human."
"And your mother was?"
Before she could answer, Haldir knew. "Analyssa," they answered simultaneously. No wonder he had found her familiar. She looked just like her mother, except Analyssa had had the blonde hair of his people, while Anya's hair was dark.
"You knew my mother?" Anya asked excitedly.
"Yes, I knew her well," Haldir answered with a smile. "How is she?"
The smile faded from Anya's face as the scene of her parent's death flashed unbidden before her eyes. "She and my father were murdered by the orcs a few weeks ago. They swept into our village and destroyed everything. I barely escaped."
The soft brush of his hand as his palm cupped her cheek brought her back to the present.
"I am sorry, tithen min. (little one). I greatly respected your mother."
"Thank you," she answered trying not to tremble at his touch, trying not to feel overwhelmed by his nearness.
Sahil, meleth (Easy, love)… She heard the Elfish word brush against her mind. Do not fear me, little one. Do you not feel it? Did you not sense how our hearts, our very souls have recognized one another?
She had felt it. From the moment their eyes had met earlier something within her had come alive. A spark had been ignited within her that his presence continued to fan to life.
"Yes," she whispered out loud rubbing her cheek against his hand. "I feel it, but I do not understand it."
Haldir closed his eyes, fighting back the frustration over the little time he had. He leaned forward until his forehead pressed lightly against hers. "That I had time to explain it, I gladly would, but I fear my time to go is drawing near."
"The orcs," she guessed, fear filling her heart. "They are close?"
"Yes."
"Will Helms Deep hold?"
Haldir lifted his head and took her trembling hands in his and pressed them over his heart. "We will do everything in our power to keep the orcs from breaking through, but you should be safe enough below within the mountain."
Anya couldn't stop staring at him. When she had first turned to find him standing behind her, she had thought him so incredibly handsome. Even dressed for battle, he carried himself like royalty. Reaching up to touch his silky long hair, she marveled at its softness. Her eyes moved up to his face, her hand following to graze along his jaw then up across his cheek.
She heard his heavy sigh as his eyes drifted closed and leaned into her touch. "You are making this very hard for me," he told her softly.
"I wish we had more time." Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.
He dipped his head down slightly, his blue eyes filled with passion. "We will have a lifetime and more."
"Haldir…" she whispered his name as she leaned forward into him. She wanted him to kiss her - wanted it more than her next breath. It didn't matter that she had only just met him; she felt as if she had known him all her life.
Haldir closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a light brush of velvet softness. A jolt of electricity arced between them as he then slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue thrusting in to explore the warm cavern of her mouth. His arms wrapped around her to drag her firmly against him, pressing her softness against the hard metal of his armor.
She was inexperienced. He could tell by the way she timidly responded. He forced himself to slow down, to kiss her slowly and allow her to get used to the feel of his tongue in her mouth. Slowly, with infinite care, he showed her how to respond in kind with her own tongue - how to taste and explore, how to nibble and nip - it was delicious torture. And one he was forced to end all to soon when a loud knock sounded at the door.
Cursing softly, Haldir broke the kiss, but when Anya would have pulled away, he kept her locked against him, one hand gently wrapped around the nape of her neck, holding her head pressed to his heart. As she finally relaxed against him the door opened and Legolas' face appeared through the open door.
He froze for a moment at the sight before him. He'd obviously interrupted a private moment and he smiled knowingly. "Aragorn has requested your presence up on the battlement."
Haldir nodded, his blue eyes glacial as he met the amused stare of Legolas. "Please inform Aragorn I am on my way."
Legolas bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment and winked at Haldir before closing the door quietly. They stood there in silence for a long moment simply holding each other. "I must go," he finally spoke quietly.
With a sudden sense of foreboding, Anya tightened her arms around his waist. "I do not want you to go out there, Haldir," she responded suddenly, fiercely. She lifted her head to look up at him, tears bright in her eyes. "Please, stay with me."
He soothed her with his hand gently stroking the length of her spine. "You know I must." He bent his head forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I want you to eat what I brought you and then go below with the others."
She nodded her head and he bent to kiss her once more. When he raised his head, he released her and stepped back. "Promise me," he began. "When this is over. If I do not survive the battle-"
He held up a hand to silence the protest he saw coming. "If I do not survive the battle," he repeated. "You will promise me that you will go to Rivendell and seek protection from Lord Elrond."
Tears flooded Anya's eyes, but she blinked them away. "What about Lothlorien? Shouldn't I be with my mother's people?"
Haldir shook his head. "There is no one at Lothlorien. Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel have gone to the west until Sauron is defeated."
His hand lifted to caress her cheek. "Wad enni (Promise me), Anya."
Anya lifted her tear filled gaze to meet his. "Im wad (I promise)," she answered softly. Dropping his hand, Haldir turned and walked away. "Im meleth inta (I love you)." The words slipped past her lips before she could stop them.
Opening the door, Haldir turned to her one last time. Raising his hand, he placed his closed fist over his heart. "I will carry your love in my heart as I go into battle." With that, he slipped out the door and was gone.
As she stared at the empty place where he had stood just moments before, a single tear trickled down her cheek.