Part 2 – Confrontation
Later that same night, Haldir stood upon the talan far above Amarië's resting place, taking his turn at the watch. Orders had gone out to resume the usual patrols, so only a few Elves remained in the Marchwarden's vicinity. It did not require a large number of Elves to guard against this small and insignificant band of humans encamped in the distance, nor the one obstinate woman below. He glanced down at her through the branches, his keen eyesight able to take in the rise and fall of her chest as she slept. Her nearness disturbed him, though he did not know why.
His brothers, Rúmil and Orophin, had returned only moments before, bringing reports from all their scouts. Nothing threatened the perimeters of their land; elven sentinels kept watch on all frontiers, and for the nonce, they could relax. The two brothers stood beside Haldir for nearly a minute before they succumbed to their mischievous ways.
"My respect for Haldir has increased tenfold this night," Rúmil remarked as though Haldir were not standing next to them. "To refuse so charming an offer must have taken great strength of will."
Orophin nodded, his face mock solemn. "Our brother has ever possessed much self-restraint. It is why he is Marchwarden, and not one of us. It is also why he chose to stay here, upon this particular flet, when he so easily might have chosen another."
Haldir sighed, recognizing that he was due for a teasing. Always did these two find him to be a source of hilarity, a fact he would have found exasperating were it not for their fierce and undying loyalty.
"Indeed," Rúmil agreed, playfulness creeping into his voice, "strength of will has ever been Haldir's finest quality. I'm not sure I could have shown as much, had she turned those blue eyes on me."
"Nor I," agreed Orophin with a regretful sigh. "But 'twas he who caught the maiden's fancy. Misfortune for you and me, brother. Her beauty rivals that of Lord Elrond's daughter."
Haldir broke his silence. "You know I do not trifle with human women. They are too defenseless, too easy to deceive and wound."
For a few moments, his brothers held their tongues. Then Rúmil spoke again, this time with seriousness. "She's injured, you know."
"I know." Haldir's voice was curt. He had observed the woman's limp, well before she entered the wood.
"Has she any food?" Orophin asked.
"Not to my knowledge." Haldir's lip curled with derision. "The humans feed themselves, and bring her nothing. They are too frightened to venture any closer."
"Well, you can hardly blame them," Rúmil pointed out, "when for centuries we have been at pains to make them so. They are supposed to fear us and keep their distance."
"And yet the woman did not fear us." Orophin gazed down at her curiously.
"It would have been better for her if she had," Haldir responded. "I suppose I had better take her some lembas."
"She carries many weapons for a defenseless woman. Be sure she sleeps before you go too near."
Haldir snorted. "I think I can handle one woman, Rúmil. But feel free to accompany me if you fear for my safety."
Rúmil laughed. "Nay, I shall stay here. We have our bows, should they prove necessary."
Beneath the jesting, Haldir heard Rúmil 's meaning. They would kill the woman without hesitation did they believe him in any genuine peril.
"That will not be necessary," he told them firmly.
Haldir's brothers watched him move with effortless grace down the branches of the great tree to the forest floor far below.
"His code of honor interferes with his pleasure," Orophin commented.
"At least in this case," Rúmil agreed. "But you have to admire him."
"Of course. There is no one I admire more." Orophin crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze on Haldir as he bent over the sleeping woman. "But something tells me this female is going to test him in a way he has not yet been tested. No woman that beautiful is entirely defenseless."
"Agreed. Perhaps a wager, brother?"
Orophin grinned. "A wager would be most welcome."
xxx
Haldir set the leaf-wrapped lembas near the woman's hand, then turned his attention to her injured left leg. Softly, he murmured a few words, a gentle spell to be sure she did not wake. Then he held his hand a small distance above her leg, searching for the disruption in her life force that would betray the site of injury. He found it within seconds, radiating from her thigh in palpable waves. It felt like a surface wound left improperly tended, most likely inflamed. The proper herbs would heal it easily, but in the meantime, an elvish spell could soothe her pain and reduce the swelling. He murmured the ancient words of healing, his palm resting lightly upon the region of the wound.
When done, he rose to his feet, looking down at her for a long moment. He had lived long enough to know better than to allow himself to be manipulated by the methods she'd employed. He was an elf, not a man. And yet she was an alluring wench, more alluring than he liked to admit. Beautiful, yes, but that was not what drew him. What was it then? Her boldness, her audacity, her stubbornness, her desperation . . . now where did that come from? What was it she searched for so desperately? For what reason did she seek Lord Celeborn?
His attention shifted to the small arsenal she carried. As Rúmil had pointed out, she was certainly well armed. In addition to bow and quiver and sword, she possessed two knives that he could see, one strapped to her right thigh, the other to her left calf. He wondered if there were more weapons beneath her cloak and whether she knew how to use them. He suspected she did. His eyes shifted to her delicate, extremely feminine features. What name had the man used when he'd called out to her? Amarië, that was it.
Well, he had a strong feeling Amarië was going to be a thorn in his flesh for some time to come, and his instincts were almost never wrong. For now, however, there was no more to be done. Turning, he went to rejoin his brothers and to take for himself some well-earned rest.
xxx
Celeborn would have to be told. Galadriel turned from her mirror, her face more impassive than her troubled thoughts. With her customary grace, she remounted the steps that led to her bower, the smooth stones pleasant and familiar beneath her bared feet.
As she had known he would be, Celeborn was waiting for her, his wise eyes filled with inquiry and perhaps some foreknowledge of what she had to say.
"You have a granddaughter," she said, watching him closely.
"Long have we known that my son spread his seed widely before he went to the Halls of Mandos. Yet I did not think he would be so careless among the humans."
"The human woman is dead. Her daughter lives. Haldir detains her at the border, as is his duty and his right."
"I have felt it," he acknowledged, "and now it is confirmed. What else did you see?"
"She lives in torment. She knows not what she is, being half elf, half human. She has had no teachers, save one, and that one only in dreams. She comes to Lothlórien for a twin purpose, in part for herself and in part for others. Yet she will sacrifice herself if need be, for she does not understand her own purpose or what it is she seeks."
"I will send for her." Celeborn rose to his feet.
"Not yet." Galadriel lifted a hand to stay him. "I have seen more. A golden thread links her to our Marchwarden. You know what that means. Right now they spar and feint with each other, but for the welfare of each, it is important that they finish what they start. You know why."
Celeborn regarded her solemnly. "This was planned. Yet I fear he will hurt my granddaughter more than she has already been hurt."
"She may need to be hurt before she can be healed. Now that she has found him, that process will begin."
Celeborn reached for her hand. "As always, my love, you are wise."
"I have to be." Galadriel smiled sadly.
xxx
Amarië stirred as the first birds of dawn began to sing. She rubbed her eyes, amazed that she had slept through the night propped against a tree. Every muscle in her body ached from sitting in one position for so long. Pushing back her hair, she looked around, her mind flooded with the memory of the infuriatingly arrogant elf. Shadow take him! What was she to tell Ennis? He would be expecting her to have made contact by now, and to have secured entry into Lothlórien for them all.
Looking around, she suddenly noticed a curious object near her hand. She picked it up and examined it. It looked like some sort of bread. Elven bread, it must be. Someone had been here while she slept, and the knowledge disconcerted her. Why had she not awakened? If he had left it, she would not eat it, she decided unreasonably. She did not want his pity or his charity. Yet her stomach ached and growled with the need for sustenance. She had lost both weight and strength these past six weeks, and though the weight did not matter, the strength did.
Suddenly, she recalled a story she had heard about elven waybread. One small bite was supposed to be enough to fill the belly of a grown man. Well, that had better be true, because right now she needed to fill the bellies of five-and-twenty hungry men. Those two rabbits would have done little to alleviate their hunger.
Reaching for her bow, she levered herself to her feet and then stood stock still in amazement. For the first time in two weeks, her thigh did not ache. The difference was so striking that she was dumbfounded—until the obvious explanation came to her. 'Twas clearly the result of an elven spell, just like the healing spell he had cast upon her palm.
Why had he done it? she wondered, torn between gratitude and vexation. Of course it was wonderful to feel better, but it galled her to think that he had so easily seen her weakness. Even Ennis had not noticed her limp. But evidently Haldir—or someone—had.
Always she kept up her barriers, her walls. She liked to think of herself as an impenetrable fortress, needing no one's help—except Lord Celeborn's, of course. Yet it seemed that Haldir had seen far more than she desired. Perhaps elven males were more dissimilar from human men than she had anticipated, she reflected uneasily. Be that as it may, today she would have to find a way to reason with Haldir.
She tucked the bread into her pocket and headed across the grassy fields toward Ennis and the rest of her party. As she drew near, she observed that the huddled groups of men were clearly discontented and suspicious, judging from their surly expressions as they watched her approach.
"What happened?" were Ennis's first words. He looked anxious, but not wholly on her account. Clearly, the men were being difficult. "Are the Elves going to do as we want?"
"I'm not certain," she answered cautiously. Keeping her voice low, she added, "I have spoken to them, but they . . . need more time to consider."
"More time?" Ennis shoved a hand through his hair. "We don't have more time. These men are exhausted and impatient and hungry. Without you, I fear I may not be able to control them."
"You must," she said. She withdrew the elven bread from her pocket. "Here, the Marchwarden has sent this as a gesture of goodwill. Divide it amongst the lot of you. It will fill their bellies for now, at least. Then send them hunting for game, but in groups. I will be back as soon as I can."
She turned to walk away, but was halted by his hand on her arm. "Amarië? You are not harmed?"
"No, of course not."
"They did not . . . do anything to you?" His blue eyes revealed real concern.
"No, but if they had, would it matter?" she answered brutally. "I am no dewy-eyed virgin, you know. I will do whatever is necessary to accomplish our purpose."
"But not that," Ennis persisted. "You are my sister, and I have sworn to protect you and your honor. If one of those Elves touches you without your consent— "
"I will let you know," she said, more gently. "But so far, 'tis the opposite. I fear I do not appeal much to our Elven friends."
"How can that be?" Ennis looked shocked.
Amarië shrugged. "How can I know? Look, forget all this. Just feed them and send them hunting. I will do my best to make arrangements."
With these words, she retraced her steps and returned to the Lothlórien forest. Slowly, a plan began to form in her mind, but it depended on Haldir taking pity on her, and she hated the idea. But the fact that he had left the bread—and cast a healing spell—showed that he had a streak of decency. If she could exploit that, use it against him . . . She loathed the thought, yet what else could she do? If she could not reason with him, she must do whatever was necessary to achieve her ends.
He blocked her path before she had gone more than a few steps into the forest. "You've returned," he said, his gray eyes unfathomable. "Why do you not heed my warning?" Not a promising start, but at least there were no arrows in her face and he did not carry weapons.
She tilted her head to look up at him, making no attempt to flirt. "Yes. I told you I wasn't leaving." She glanced around. "Where are your bodyguards?"
"Don't be deceived. They are watching."
"I see. Well, I came to thank you for whatever you did to help my leg. And for the bread. I gave it to the men. It will hold them for the day."
"Are you saying you did not eat?"
"I will not eat or drink until I am granted an audience with Lord Celeborn."
He frowned, clearly taken aback. "Surely you jest."
"I am quite serious. I hope you will change your mind because I would prefer not to die, especially in so unpleasant a way."
He reached out, his fingers clamping hard around her upper arm. "You must be mad," he said, giving her a small shake. "I will not allow it."
"You have no choice, Marchwarden," she told him in a hard voice. "Your only choice is this—yield to my request or watch me die. Or will you leave the watching to your minions?" Now that the challenge had actually left her lips, she knew she might actually have to follow through on her threat. Eru help her!
He released her arm, uttering a sharp Elvish phrase she did not recognize, but from his tone she knew it was an expletive.
"Why do you wish to speak to the Lord of Lórien?" he demanded. "Tell me your reasons and if I find them sound, I will consider your petition."
"My reasons are confidential. I will reveal them only to the Lord Celeborn."
His jaw hardened with obvious anger. "You are a foolish and stubborn woman. Have you no respect for the laws of our land? Or for my position as Marchwarden?"
"I respect both," she answered. "But my mission here is vital. The lives of our people may depend on . . . " She faltered, unwilling to reveal too much.
She could not risk telling him the truth. If Lord Celeborn were indeed her grandfather, and proved willing to acknowledge the blood tie, she would have a strong chance of securing elven aid. Lord Celeborn could order the Elves to train her men in weapons skills, even overrule any objections Haldir might present. And she had a feeling the Marchwarden would object.
On the other hand, if Lord Celeborn was not her grandfather, or if he refused to acknowledge the relationship, she did not want Haldir to know that she had made the claim. It would be devastating and mortifying enough without him knowing. It was bad enough that Ennis would have to be told.
"On what?" Haldir shot back.
Before she could form a reply, an elvish cry sounded from high above. "Haldir! To arms! Orcs approach from the east!"
Haldir was gone before she could blink, disappearing into the tree above as the call to arms resounded through the forest. Amarië had no time to wonder what the Elves would do, whether they would go on the offensive or simply defend their land from the safety of the trees. Spinning around, she raced out of the woods toward the encampment, thankful that she could run once again without pain. Only a few men remained by the smoldering campfire, the rest had only gone a short distance in their search for game, praise Eru. She could see that they were already drawing their swords, but the ones by the campfire, including Ennis, were unaware.
"Orcs! " she yelled. "Ready yourselves!"
Already she had her bow in hand and an arrow in place. They all saw the Orcs now, at least two score of them, and Amarië could hear their pounding footsteps as they trampled over grass and boulders directly toward the men. Silently, she cursed herself. She ought to have realized that the wind had shifted, carrying the scent of man-flesh over the far-reaching plains.
They were coming fast. She loosed three arrows in rapid succession, piercing the two closest Orcs through the neck, but missing the third entirely. She saw Ennis bearing down on that one, his sword in his hand, but had no time to watch the outcome as there were two more headed her way, roaring their dreadful fury as they bore down on her. She fired off another arrow, killing the one on the right, but the other was closing in. Cries of rage and anguish resonated all around her, but she ignored it, focusing her concentration where it was needed.
As swiftly as she could, she launched another arrow, but it bounced off the creature's armor. She reached for her sword just in time to deflect the first crushing blow, but he was far stronger than she was and it took all her strength to block the stroke. She staggered, then recovered her balance, thrusting her sword up to impale him beneath the arm where the armor was weak. His filthy eyes glowed red as he raised his bloodied arm once more to smite her down. Snarling, she brought up her sword to check him, not even knowing if she could, but the blow never came. He dropped dead at her feet, an elven arrow straight through his ugly mouth.
In the next instant, Haldir was at her side. "Go to the woods!" he ordered tersely. "Run quickly!"
"No!" she shouted back. She returned her sword to her belt and slid another arrow into the nock. "I can fight!"
Another elven curse left his lips as he turned his attention to a group of Orcs running at them. Without any visible effort, he fired arrows into each of them with a speed and accuracy that left her breathless, but her own arrow found its mark in the last. It was then she realized that nearly a score of Elves had come out of the wood hard on Haldir's heels. A volley of elven arrows flew through the air and unerringly found their marks. Within seconds, every Orc was slain.
Breathing hard, Amarië looked around for Ennis. He lay on the ground, blood spattered all over him, but to her relief, he pushed himself up into a sitting position just as she reached his side.
"Ennis!" Suppressing a sob, she searched to see if the blood was his or another's.
"I am unharmed," he muttered. "I would have been dead except for . . . " He stopped and looked around, taking in the elven warriors standing some slight distance away, aloof and ethereal, their golden hair undulating in the stiff morning breeze. "Except for them," he finished, gaping in wonder at his first sight of Lothlórien Elves.
She tried to help him stand, but he shook her off with impatience. "Don't treat me like a child, Amarië. See to our men."
Knowing he was right, she stepped away, glancing at Haldir as she did so. He was already bending over a mortally wounded man, murmuring quiet elven phrases as he closed the dead, staring eyes.
xxx
Four men had died
that morning, and three others badly wounded. Much to Amarië's
surprise, the Elves had carried the wounded to the edge of the forest
and tended them with a compassion she had not expected. The remaining
men, however, were not invited to enter the woods, and that did not
bode well. However, the elven rescue had impressed the men and for
the present they kept their peace.
Only Amarië was allowed to pass the edge of the wood. By this time she had met Haldir's brothers, Rúmil and Orophin, but she could not converse with them because they knew not the common tongue and she still clung to the pretense that she did not speak Elvish. They looked her up and down rather speculatively, however, and seemed satisfied enough with what they saw that they did not object to her presence.
Amarië was aware that her strength had ebbed from lack of food and thirst, and from tension and fatigue. It was becoming harder and harder to separate the two tongues—elven and common—and to remember who said what to whom, and what she was supposed to understand and what she was not.
Finding herself ignored at one point, Amarië sank to the ground and leaned against a tree. She felt nauseated and dizzy, and her side vision had dwindled. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the mist, yet the dreadful feeling persisted. What was wrong with her? She glanced around, hoping no one saw her weakness, but that was too much to expect.
Haldir was coming toward her, wearing a frown. She forced herself to her feet, prepared to exchange words with him, but when he reached her side, his face started to blur. Pinpoints of light swirled, blocking out her view of him, but she felt his hands gripping her, lifting her, carrying her . . . somewhere . . .
xxx
She heard their voices before she opened her eyes. The words were Elvish, yet her brain absorbed them as easily as if they'd been spoken in the common tongue.
"She uses a bow with a skill I've not seen in a human." It sounded like Rúmil.
"I noticed." This was Haldir.
"What are your plans? Will you take her to Caras Galadhon? The Lord and Lady may be interested in her." Was this Orophin?
"I may have to. Else she will starve herself to death in protest, the little fool."
"She threatened that?" A masculine laugh. "And you believed her?"
"From anyone else, no. From this one, yes. I have never met a female, elven or human, more stubborn. I do believe her mind is addled."
"I thought you said you could handle this one defenseless woman."
Amarië felt someone hold a cup to her lips, and a few drops of water entered her parched mouth. "Drink, astalder," Haldir murmured. "Drink and return to us."
Astalder. Brave one.
She opened her eyes, focusing on Haldir's face. No longer did he look angry, and it had a curious effect on her. For the first time, she truly absorbed how handsome he was, how his individual features were perhaps not perfect, but the sum total so fascinating she could hardly look away.
This was not a safe thought.
She struggled to sit up, pushing away the cup. "Where am I?" she asked, looking around in bemusement.
"You are in the trees," he answered, "upon an Elven flet."
She pushed her hair away from her face. It still hung unbound, and by now had doubtless become a mass of snarls. "The wounded men? Are they—?"
"One has passed into the hall of his forefathers. The other two will survive."
She sighed deeply, her sorrow great. "Will you please take me to Lord Celeborn before more of our men die?"
Haldir sat back, his eyes boring into hers. "I shall send a message to see if he is willing to see you. That is all I can promise."
"Thank you." She turned her gaze to the cup of water. "And now may I please have a drink?"
"And some food," he suggested in a dry tone.
She kept her eyes downcast to hide her triumph. "And some food," she agreed.
xxx
"Your granddaughter demonstrates great strength of purpose," Galadriel remarked as she gazed into her mirror.
Celeborn stood at her side, seeing his own visions in the water. "I would expect nothing less of one of my blood."
"Yet do not forget there is much evil in this world. Her missions are noble, but they are by no means assured of success."
"My son teaches her from beyond the grave."
"There is only so much he can do from that vantage. She needs other teachers. We must be sure she has them."
"I am pleased with my son. Perhaps one day he will be allowed to return to us."
Galadriel inclined her head. "Indeed. Perhaps he will have learned the wisdom he lacked before. Meanwhile, your granddaughter is a gift to us. And to Haldir."
"She will ask much of us. And of him."
Galadriel laid her hand on his arm as they turned away from the mirror. "That is her destiny, my dear."
tbc
