I do not own The Lord of the Rings or its characters.
Page 17
Kalin struggled to keep up with Malach as they made their way along the faint trail in the hot, grassy plain. Every so often the trail would enter a small copse of trees where it was shady and cool, though these were becoming more and more infrequent. Though it was hot in the open, Kalin reminded herself that it was late autumn, and once the sun sank it would quickly turn cold. She knew Malach was right to press forward; they would have to clear the Gap of Rohan south of the mountains of Nan Curunir before winter. But every step further from Lorien was harder and harder for Kalin to take. Leaving those enchanted woods was the most difficult thing that she had ever done: Far, far harder than Tirendil's death; worse even than the day when she had been convinced that she would never see again. She would slow her pace without realizing it, and Malach had no sympathy when she fell behind. She looked up now to see him standing on a rise just ahead. He had changed in the time they had been separated, so much so that Kalin uneasily wondered if she even knew her friend anymore. He was impatient and quick to anger. He seemed to harbor some deep resentment that Kalin couldn't fathom. When she tried to talk to him about it, he became evasive. He hardly ever smiled, or told jokes, or teased her like he used to.
Once they had crossed the Nimrodel, they had set out south and west, aiming for the eastern edge of Fangorn. Struggling up the rise to stand by Malach, she could see it faintly in the distance, dark green against the dull brown of the plains, shrouded in a gray haze.
"We will stop in that next group of trees for the night," Malach said without looking at her. "Try to keep up this time."
Malach walked ahead down the other side of the rise. Kalin followed wearily, forcing herself not to look back, or to the east where Haldir's company surely was making its way home along the Celebrant. She no longer had the will to argue with Malach about his rudeness, or to care why he was acting this way. Keeping herself moving south, when her heart cried out to the north, was taking every ounce of strength she had left.
Having made camp in a clearing in the trees and settled down for the night, Kalin lay awake in her blanket with a cloak of Lorien under her head. It was no use, she couldn't sleep. If she slept, she would only dream vivid dreams of what she could not have, just as she had done last night, waking to cry silently in the dark. Kalin looked over at Malach sleeping soundly on the other side of the fading embers of the fire. Rising quietly so as not to awaken him, she wrapped her cloak about her, picked up her cane and walked out to the middle of the clearing.
Malach had tried to make her leave the cane behind. She didn't need it anymore, he said, it was a sign of her dependency upon the elves. But Kalin had refused, telling him that it had been a gift, and a walking stick was a good thing to have on a long journey. In this thing at least she had prevailed: She would leave with the cane in hand, or she would not leave at all.
She looked at the moonstone now faintly glowing with the reflection of the starlight, and of the sky growing slowly lighter with the rising moon that could not yet be seen from behind the trees. How close the stars seemed tonight! Kalin felt an overwhelming rush of grief; all of her dreams seemed just inches away from her reach, there in the stars. But, try as she might, the harder she reached for them, the further they receded. Doubling over and trying not to cry again, she gasped for breath over and over, feeling as though her very soul was being torn in two.
Suddenly, the cane was torn from her grasp and hurled to the ground.
"Can you think, eat, or breathe of nothing but this accursed elf?" Malach yelled cruelly. Shocked, Kalin looked into Malach's eyes to see there not her dear friend, but a man crazed by jealousy. In fear of him for the first time in her life, she lunged to retrieve the cane and hold it protectively in front of her, the way Orophin had taught her.
"You have everything a woman could possibly want, Kalin, but you can't see it! You have never seen it! You have never seen me! Why do you think I stood by you all of those years with Tirendil? Why do you think I came with you on this ridiculous crusade? Because I was your friend? No, like a fool I thought that if I just waited long enough, you would grow to love me. And what now is my reward - to see you falling apart for the love of someone else, someone whom you can never have, when I have been right in front of you all of this time!
"Malach, I never knew that you felt this way," Kalin protested, backing away as Malach advanced toward her. "I cannot help whom I love, I didn't plan it, it just happened. I'm sorry, I can't make myself feel something that I don't. You are my dearest friend, Malach, please don't throw that away."
"I know you, Kalin, better than you know yourself. And I will not be replaced by someone whom you have barely met, who isn't even of your own kind! At this, Malach lunged forward to grasp the cane, but Kalin twirled swiftly aside and brought it up above her head like a sword. Then she hesitated. In her sorrow for him, and in her guilt, she couldn't bring herself to strike him.
"How dare you pity me!" Malach yelled, incensed, spittle flying from his contorted mouth. "Did you lay with him already, Kalin? I will show you what a real man feels like." Malach made a sudden feint to Kalin's left, then caught her as she stepped to the right, tearing the cane from her grasp. Crushing himself against her, with one hand he yanked her head back by the hair, and with the other began to tear the cloak from around her, biting painfully into the skin on Kalin's neck and down her now-bare shoulder." Let us see if your precious elf, or anyone else, will want anything more to do with you after I have claimed you. You will be mine, Kalin, now!"
"I think not!" came an arrogant, commanding voice from the edge of the trees.
Malach turned toward the voice, dragging Kalin around in front of him. Quickly, he drew a small knife and brought it up under her neck. In the same instant, the tips of two arrows appeared on each side of Malach, inches from his eyes. Kalin did not dare move or speak, but hope welled up in her heart. That voice could only belong to one person. Though Malach still held her head back, she strained to look toward the trees.
"Whoever you are, tell your henchmen to drop their bows, or I will slit her throat," Malach threatened.
"You would be dead before you moved," the voice asserted, and a broad- shouldered, imposing elf emerged from the darkness of the trees into the clearing, his silver-blond hair and the silver edges of his cloak glimmering in the light of the full moon. "Drop the knife, Malach, and we may spare your life."
"You!" Malach cried out in fury, shifting the knife self-consciously in his hand. The arrow tips moved closer to Malach's eyes.
Looking upon Haldir for the first time, Kalin's breath caught in her throat. He was everything she had imagined he would be. He had come for her, this beautiful elf, wearing the cloak she had given him.
Haldir's eyes shifted from Malach's to look into hers, and she was lost in their depths. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt what they were telling her: I am your anchor, do not look away. Kalin's tears rolled down her face onto Malach's knife-hand, and he looked at her and faltered. Swifter than the eye Rumil tore Malach's hand away and pulled him from Kalin, Orophin's arrow still poised to fire. Kalin and Haldir each stood still, their eyes never leaving each other.
"Gather your possessions," Rumil ordered, "and go. Do not attempt to return, for I shall follow you."
Defeated, Malach looked first at Kalin, then at Haldir, and nodded in resignation. Rumil roughly led him away.
After watching Malach and Rumil retreat, Orophin retrieved Kalin's cane and placed it in her hand. "I am going.hunting, for rabbit.or something," he said, smiling as Kalin and Haldir both ignored him. Walking over to where Haldir stood some yards away, he added, "I could be gone for hours." With that, he walked with a lilting gait into the trees.
Kalin stood still and waited in apprehension, holding Haldir's magnetic gaze, hoping for him both to rush to her, and to turn and walk away, all at once. This would be Haldir's choice, and his alone. She would not make either choice easy for him.
Purposefully, Haldir began to step toward her.
"Daro!" Kalin ordered, raising her hand against him, and Haldir stopped in surprise. "Who are you, and what business do you seek with this woman of Enedwaith?" Oblivious to her torn clothing, Kalin stood like a queen before him, her cane like a royal staff in her hand.
"My name is Haldir, march warden of Lorien," he said, undaunted. "I have come to fulfill an oath, made to myself alone, to capture this woman and carry her back to my home, deep in the woods, where she will dwell with me until death parts us." Slowly and gracefully Haldir advanced toward Kalin, stopping just short of her raised hand.
"Are you so sure of this woman, then, Haldir of Lorien, and of this choice?"
"I am," he said, meeting her palm and fingers with his own. "However." and here he paused. ".an oath I must extract from this woman in return."
"And what is that, march warden?" Kalin asked, thinking she would drown in his eyes.
"That she will never leave me again, for if she does, I will surely die of grief."
Her heart melting, Kalin replied softly, "I will never leave you, Haldir, I swear it on my life."
With the utmost gentleness, he placed his hand for a lingering moment over the livid bruises that Malach had left, first on her neck, then on her shoulder. Kalin felt a rush of warmth at his touch. Reaching up, she was astonished to feel that the wounds had vanished.
"Amin mele ile, Kalin. I love you," and Haldir swept her into his strong arms at last.
Breaking apart after a long, sweet kiss, Haldir retrieved Kalin's cloak and wrapped it around her, for the night air had become cold. His arm around her, they walked to the fire, and Kalin watched Haldir bring the dull embers to a roaring blaze, fascinated by his powerful, but efficient and graceful movements.
"Give me a moment," he said, averse to leaving her side. She nodded, and he went to retrieve his horse from further back through the trees. Tethering it nearby, he brought back a blanket, and a flask which he offered to Kalin. "This will keep you warm," he said as she sipped some of the same golden liquid that Aranel had revived her with when she had first reached Lorien. Kalin watched, touched beyond words, as Haldir laid their blankets together, unclasped his cloak, and reverently folded it and laid it onto the blankets for a pillow. Then, standing unconsciously in an erect archer's stance that Kalin found most appealing, he extended his hand to her, silently inviting her to his bed. Breaking into a smile that smote Haldir's heart, she reached out to him and took his hand.
Page 17
Kalin struggled to keep up with Malach as they made their way along the faint trail in the hot, grassy plain. Every so often the trail would enter a small copse of trees where it was shady and cool, though these were becoming more and more infrequent. Though it was hot in the open, Kalin reminded herself that it was late autumn, and once the sun sank it would quickly turn cold. She knew Malach was right to press forward; they would have to clear the Gap of Rohan south of the mountains of Nan Curunir before winter. But every step further from Lorien was harder and harder for Kalin to take. Leaving those enchanted woods was the most difficult thing that she had ever done: Far, far harder than Tirendil's death; worse even than the day when she had been convinced that she would never see again. She would slow her pace without realizing it, and Malach had no sympathy when she fell behind. She looked up now to see him standing on a rise just ahead. He had changed in the time they had been separated, so much so that Kalin uneasily wondered if she even knew her friend anymore. He was impatient and quick to anger. He seemed to harbor some deep resentment that Kalin couldn't fathom. When she tried to talk to him about it, he became evasive. He hardly ever smiled, or told jokes, or teased her like he used to.
Once they had crossed the Nimrodel, they had set out south and west, aiming for the eastern edge of Fangorn. Struggling up the rise to stand by Malach, she could see it faintly in the distance, dark green against the dull brown of the plains, shrouded in a gray haze.
"We will stop in that next group of trees for the night," Malach said without looking at her. "Try to keep up this time."
Malach walked ahead down the other side of the rise. Kalin followed wearily, forcing herself not to look back, or to the east where Haldir's company surely was making its way home along the Celebrant. She no longer had the will to argue with Malach about his rudeness, or to care why he was acting this way. Keeping herself moving south, when her heart cried out to the north, was taking every ounce of strength she had left.
Having made camp in a clearing in the trees and settled down for the night, Kalin lay awake in her blanket with a cloak of Lorien under her head. It was no use, she couldn't sleep. If she slept, she would only dream vivid dreams of what she could not have, just as she had done last night, waking to cry silently in the dark. Kalin looked over at Malach sleeping soundly on the other side of the fading embers of the fire. Rising quietly so as not to awaken him, she wrapped her cloak about her, picked up her cane and walked out to the middle of the clearing.
Malach had tried to make her leave the cane behind. She didn't need it anymore, he said, it was a sign of her dependency upon the elves. But Kalin had refused, telling him that it had been a gift, and a walking stick was a good thing to have on a long journey. In this thing at least she had prevailed: She would leave with the cane in hand, or she would not leave at all.
She looked at the moonstone now faintly glowing with the reflection of the starlight, and of the sky growing slowly lighter with the rising moon that could not yet be seen from behind the trees. How close the stars seemed tonight! Kalin felt an overwhelming rush of grief; all of her dreams seemed just inches away from her reach, there in the stars. But, try as she might, the harder she reached for them, the further they receded. Doubling over and trying not to cry again, she gasped for breath over and over, feeling as though her very soul was being torn in two.
Suddenly, the cane was torn from her grasp and hurled to the ground.
"Can you think, eat, or breathe of nothing but this accursed elf?" Malach yelled cruelly. Shocked, Kalin looked into Malach's eyes to see there not her dear friend, but a man crazed by jealousy. In fear of him for the first time in her life, she lunged to retrieve the cane and hold it protectively in front of her, the way Orophin had taught her.
"You have everything a woman could possibly want, Kalin, but you can't see it! You have never seen it! You have never seen me! Why do you think I stood by you all of those years with Tirendil? Why do you think I came with you on this ridiculous crusade? Because I was your friend? No, like a fool I thought that if I just waited long enough, you would grow to love me. And what now is my reward - to see you falling apart for the love of someone else, someone whom you can never have, when I have been right in front of you all of this time!
"Malach, I never knew that you felt this way," Kalin protested, backing away as Malach advanced toward her. "I cannot help whom I love, I didn't plan it, it just happened. I'm sorry, I can't make myself feel something that I don't. You are my dearest friend, Malach, please don't throw that away."
"I know you, Kalin, better than you know yourself. And I will not be replaced by someone whom you have barely met, who isn't even of your own kind! At this, Malach lunged forward to grasp the cane, but Kalin twirled swiftly aside and brought it up above her head like a sword. Then she hesitated. In her sorrow for him, and in her guilt, she couldn't bring herself to strike him.
"How dare you pity me!" Malach yelled, incensed, spittle flying from his contorted mouth. "Did you lay with him already, Kalin? I will show you what a real man feels like." Malach made a sudden feint to Kalin's left, then caught her as she stepped to the right, tearing the cane from her grasp. Crushing himself against her, with one hand he yanked her head back by the hair, and with the other began to tear the cloak from around her, biting painfully into the skin on Kalin's neck and down her now-bare shoulder." Let us see if your precious elf, or anyone else, will want anything more to do with you after I have claimed you. You will be mine, Kalin, now!"
"I think not!" came an arrogant, commanding voice from the edge of the trees.
Malach turned toward the voice, dragging Kalin around in front of him. Quickly, he drew a small knife and brought it up under her neck. In the same instant, the tips of two arrows appeared on each side of Malach, inches from his eyes. Kalin did not dare move or speak, but hope welled up in her heart. That voice could only belong to one person. Though Malach still held her head back, she strained to look toward the trees.
"Whoever you are, tell your henchmen to drop their bows, or I will slit her throat," Malach threatened.
"You would be dead before you moved," the voice asserted, and a broad- shouldered, imposing elf emerged from the darkness of the trees into the clearing, his silver-blond hair and the silver edges of his cloak glimmering in the light of the full moon. "Drop the knife, Malach, and we may spare your life."
"You!" Malach cried out in fury, shifting the knife self-consciously in his hand. The arrow tips moved closer to Malach's eyes.
Looking upon Haldir for the first time, Kalin's breath caught in her throat. He was everything she had imagined he would be. He had come for her, this beautiful elf, wearing the cloak she had given him.
Haldir's eyes shifted from Malach's to look into hers, and she was lost in their depths. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt what they were telling her: I am your anchor, do not look away. Kalin's tears rolled down her face onto Malach's knife-hand, and he looked at her and faltered. Swifter than the eye Rumil tore Malach's hand away and pulled him from Kalin, Orophin's arrow still poised to fire. Kalin and Haldir each stood still, their eyes never leaving each other.
"Gather your possessions," Rumil ordered, "and go. Do not attempt to return, for I shall follow you."
Defeated, Malach looked first at Kalin, then at Haldir, and nodded in resignation. Rumil roughly led him away.
After watching Malach and Rumil retreat, Orophin retrieved Kalin's cane and placed it in her hand. "I am going.hunting, for rabbit.or something," he said, smiling as Kalin and Haldir both ignored him. Walking over to where Haldir stood some yards away, he added, "I could be gone for hours." With that, he walked with a lilting gait into the trees.
Kalin stood still and waited in apprehension, holding Haldir's magnetic gaze, hoping for him both to rush to her, and to turn and walk away, all at once. This would be Haldir's choice, and his alone. She would not make either choice easy for him.
Purposefully, Haldir began to step toward her.
"Daro!" Kalin ordered, raising her hand against him, and Haldir stopped in surprise. "Who are you, and what business do you seek with this woman of Enedwaith?" Oblivious to her torn clothing, Kalin stood like a queen before him, her cane like a royal staff in her hand.
"My name is Haldir, march warden of Lorien," he said, undaunted. "I have come to fulfill an oath, made to myself alone, to capture this woman and carry her back to my home, deep in the woods, where she will dwell with me until death parts us." Slowly and gracefully Haldir advanced toward Kalin, stopping just short of her raised hand.
"Are you so sure of this woman, then, Haldir of Lorien, and of this choice?"
"I am," he said, meeting her palm and fingers with his own. "However." and here he paused. ".an oath I must extract from this woman in return."
"And what is that, march warden?" Kalin asked, thinking she would drown in his eyes.
"That she will never leave me again, for if she does, I will surely die of grief."
Her heart melting, Kalin replied softly, "I will never leave you, Haldir, I swear it on my life."
With the utmost gentleness, he placed his hand for a lingering moment over the livid bruises that Malach had left, first on her neck, then on her shoulder. Kalin felt a rush of warmth at his touch. Reaching up, she was astonished to feel that the wounds had vanished.
"Amin mele ile, Kalin. I love you," and Haldir swept her into his strong arms at last.
Breaking apart after a long, sweet kiss, Haldir retrieved Kalin's cloak and wrapped it around her, for the night air had become cold. His arm around her, they walked to the fire, and Kalin watched Haldir bring the dull embers to a roaring blaze, fascinated by his powerful, but efficient and graceful movements.
"Give me a moment," he said, averse to leaving her side. She nodded, and he went to retrieve his horse from further back through the trees. Tethering it nearby, he brought back a blanket, and a flask which he offered to Kalin. "This will keep you warm," he said as she sipped some of the same golden liquid that Aranel had revived her with when she had first reached Lorien. Kalin watched, touched beyond words, as Haldir laid their blankets together, unclasped his cloak, and reverently folded it and laid it onto the blankets for a pillow. Then, standing unconsciously in an erect archer's stance that Kalin found most appealing, he extended his hand to her, silently inviting her to his bed. Breaking into a smile that smote Haldir's heart, she reached out to him and took his hand.