Part 4 – Lessons
Amarië lay back in the warm water of her bath, basking in the rare and luxurious comfort of having an actual soak in an actual tub in the privacy of the indoors. A lovely Elven female named Lornarië had led her away from Celeborn and Galadriel's chamber to another chamber on a lower level, telling her that it was to be Amarië's as long as she wished to stay. Her hair, still clean from recent washing, lay coiled on the top of her head, bound in place by a circlet of Lórien leaves cast in silver.
The water had been waiting and ready when they arrived. Lornarië helped Amarië to undress, surveying her male clothing and weapons with undisguised curiosity. Although Lornarië had not asked intrusive questions concerning Amarië's reasons for being in Lórien, she seemed ready enough to quiz her on other matters.
"Do all human females wear such garb?" she asked, staring first at the attire, then at her weapons, and finally at Amarië's ears. "It seems most strange to me."
She spoke in the common tongue, and Amarië did not correct her. For whatever reason, Celeborn and Galadriel had ceased speaking Elvish the moment Lornarië had arrived. It worried Amarië, for it suggested that they knew very well about her deception with Haldir and the other elves. Why they elected to allow the deception to persist she could not fathom, but since they had, the deception would continue, at least for now. It was always possible she would hear something she was not meant to hear, but that might prove well worth knowing. Perhaps her mother's dying words still pressed against her heart, cautioning against putting her full trust in the elves.
"No," she answered. "But when you travel the distance I did, it is more practical as well as wise."
Lornarië raised a brow. "Wise? In what way?"
"It is safer for a woman not to appear to be a woman when she travels through strange lands. It also makes it easier to wield weapons."
"I see," said Lornarië, though she clearly did not. "But these clothes are dirty, and must be cleaned and repaired. We planned to give you gowns to wear. Is that acceptable?" Her polite inquiry amused Amarië, for it was obvious she must wear something.
"I would appreciate that. Tell me, do many elves speak the common tongue?"
"Oh, no, only a few of us. I learned because I thought it might be useful and because I was interested." Lornarië smiled. "That is why the Lady chose me to assist you. Shall I leave you for a short while or would you like me to remain?"
Amarië hesitated. "You do not need to stay. But I was wondering if you could tell me where I might find Haldir when I am finished."
"Haldir?" Lornarië regarded her with a knowing look. "Our handsome Marchwarden has caught your attention, yes? I'm not surprised. Many of us follow him with our eyes and hearts, even those of us who are married. He is unmarried, you know."
For the first time in many years, Amarië could feel herself blush. "You mistake. I am only interested because he is going to assist me with my archery."
Lornarië's small smile suggested she was not convinced. "The Lady has instructed that after you have bathed, healing herbs are to be applied to your leg. Once that is done, I will help you locate him."
Lornarië departed, and Amarië closed her eyes, trying to absorb all that had happened this day. For so long she had thought of Lord Celeborn as her kin, yet now that she had actually met him and heard him confirm it, it became difficult to accept as true. His splendor had so staggered her that she had barely been able to speak a coherent sentence in his presence. What a fool he and Galadriel must have thought her, she reflected with chagrin. And yet how could it be otherwise? Both Celeborn and Galadriel had an otherworldly quality that made any kind of close relationship seem impossible. In fact, she had been so overwhelmed that she had never even mentioned her other reason for being here. What a fool she was! Perhaps they already knew of it, but if they had, they had not said so.
Celeborn's last words to her had been, "We will speak again tomorrow after you have rested," so Ennis and the men would simply have to wait another day. In the meanwhile, she must somehow find the courage to make the plea she had come to make. On the whole, next to acknowledging her as his granddaughter, the other seemed but a small request. Very likely it would only be a matter of asking.
She lifted a hand, opening her eyes to watch the scented bathwater trickle down to the tips of her fingers. Almost of their own accord, her thoughts drifted to Haldir. She had already realized he was dangerous to her emotions, and growing more dangerous by the day. All during their journey to Caras Galadhon, she had been conscious of him, of his height and breadth, his maleness and his strength, even his hands, which were beautiful and well-formed. When those gray eyes fixed on her, she could feel it, even when her head was turned away. His very voice sent shivers of awareness down her spine. And it unsettled her more than she could ever have imagined.
If it were not for the fact that she required his aid, she would avoid him altogether, but that was not sensible. She would simply have to exercise an iron control over her thoughts. Mayhap these lady elves had little else to do than moon over a handsome face, but Amarië had more important things to do.
Lornarië chose that moment to return with an armful of gowns, which she lay upon the bed. "Are you feeling improved? Would you like to try one of these? I've brought some pretty ones I think you will like."
Amarië rose from the water and dried herself with the soft cloth provided for that purpose. She then wrapped the cloth around her and went to inspect the gowns. There were three of them, one white, one celestial blue and one a pale green, uncomplicated in design, yet elegant in their simplicity. The fabrics were like nothing she had ever seen—gossamer soft and smooth, with a slight sheen.
"Whose are they?" she asked tentatively. Never had she imagined wearing anything like this. They must belong to someone else.
Lornarië smiled. "They are yours if you would like them, gifts from Galadriel." Then Lornarië produced a small pouch and directed Amarië to sit in a chair and so that she might clean her wound and apply medicinal herbs, murmuring soft words of healing as she did so. When finished, she wrapped a strip of fabric around Amarië's thigh and bound it gently and skillfully in place with the ends. Next, Lornarië removed the circlet from Amarië's head and applied a comb to her hair until every snarl was gone and it hung gleaming to her waist.
"Now, which gown would you like to wear?"
Amarië selected the green, and Lornarië helped her to put it on. It was long and flowing, yet fitted to the body so that it revealed her curves. The bodice dipped a bit lower than she would have liked, but it seemed no different from the style that Lornarië wore so she supposed it was acceptable. More importantly, the long sleeves did not impede her movements so that she should be able to shoot an arrow.
"Would you like to see yourself?" Lornarië asked. "Look there."
Amarië could not resist. She moved toward the mirror Lornarië had indicated in the corner of the room. Her eyes widened. Years ago, she had worn gowns, usually brown or gray in color, and functional rather than attractive in design. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought to wear something like this, and never had she imagined she might look . . . like this. The thought of Haldir seeing her nearly made her beg for her own clothes back. Nay, she was being foolish! He would neither notice nor care. Recent events had clearly addled her brain. She must keep her eye fixed firmly on her target.
"I do look much changed," she admitted. "And I thank you for your help, Lornarië. Now I must take my bow and locate Haldir. He has promised to assist me in sharpening my skill."
"How generous of him," Lornarië commented with mischief. "And unusual. I know of no female who has ever had such lessons from our Marchwarden. Perhaps other kinds of lessons, but not that." Clearly, Lornarië enjoyed teasing her.
"That may be so," Amarië answered firmly, "but I am only interested in archery."
"Then let us find him." Lornarië glided toward the door. "So that he may give you the lessons you desire."
xxx
Haldir stood on a balcony adjacent to his quarters, looking out over the sweet and familiar panorama of Caras Galadhon. As Marchwarden, his rooms were well situated, for the Lord and Lady fully realized his sacrifice in spending so little time in his beloved city, and wished to reward him for his efforts and acknowledge his status. Always did he enjoy his stays here, which varied in length, depending on the dangers threatening Lothlórien.
He leaned his elbows on the railing and gazed out at the view below. Other capable elves, such as Orophin or Rúmil, occasionally relieved him of his duties so that he might enjoy a stretch of relaxation and pleasure in the home he loved so well. Often, he would seek out a female friend, of which he had many, but this time he had no such inclination. Amarië preyed on his mind, making it difficult to think of searching out other company. He wondered what had been the outcome of her meeting with the Lord and Lady. Beneath her stubbornness, he'd sensed she been afraid, more afraid than when she'd fought against the Orcs. He wondered why.
"Haldir?" The query came from a familiar voice.
Smiling, Haldir straightened and turned. "Ferodir! It's good to see you."
"Tidings of your arrival have swept through Lórien." The other Elf slapped him on the back. Ferodir was a dark-haired Elf, filled with mischief, and much admired among the ladies for his wit and charm. "Is it true you've brought a female with you? And more important, is she pretty?"
"She's well enough," Haldir answered. For some reason, he did not care to discuss Amarië in such terms, and so he steered the talk into another direction. "And you? What do you here? I thought you were in love with that little Mirkwood Elf. What was her name?"
"Mírwen. Alas, she chose another, so here I am back in Lórien, looking for amusement."
"What of Lornarië? I thought you were fond of each other."
"Indeed, she and I are very close. In fact," he peered over the balcony, "here she comes now. And with a lady I've not met. Could this be your protégé? Why does she carry a bow and quiver?"
Knowing it could be no other than Amarië, Haldir followed Ferodir's gaze, and could not prevent a sharp intake of breath. Caught off-guard for once in his life, he did not immediately answer Ferodir's question. Instead, he stared at Amarië with an involuntary quickening of male interest, taking in every detail of her transformation with his keen elven eyesight.
"That is what you call well enough?" Ferodir murmured in his ear.
For a moment more, Haldir did not move or speak. He just stood there, gazing at Amarië. Then, recalling himself, he glanced back at Ferodir and found that his friend's overt admiration displeased him. "Amarië is not an Elf," he warned. "Nor is she for you to toy with, so do not think of it. If you speak to her, you must use the common tongue."
"But I don't know the common tongue," Ferodir complained.
"Then you are out of luck, my friend."
Maintaining a casual stance, Haldir watched their approach, an unaccustomed confusion rocking his senses. He had thought her lovely, but now…now she was more than lovely. The green fabric molded to her figure in a way that made the blood pound in his veins. He wanted her. He wanted to touch her.
This was folly! And yet he could scarcely stop himself from watching the gentle sway of her hips as she followed Lornarië along the walkway in their direction. With immense effort, he tamped down his reaction, schooling his face into a careful mask.
"Mae govannen, Haldir ar' Ferodir," Lornarië greeted them, then politely switched to the common tongue as she turned to Haldir. "Amarië wished me to help her locate you. She is ready for her archery lesson."
Ferodir greeted Lornarië with a kiss on the cheek. "Introduce me to your friend, my love, so that I may welcome her with my smiles."
Haldir watched sardonically as Lornarië complied, and Ferodir bowed low over Amarië's hand. "Fairest of the fair," he said in Elvish, "I welcome you to Lórien. My heart already resides in this sweet hand I hold. Will you marry me?"
Lornarië giggled and turned to Amarië, who seemed bemused by Ferodir's antics even without understanding his words. "You must ignore him," she said. "He is our worst flirt. I shall not tell you what he said. It would only make you blush."
"You will come with me, Amarië," Haldir put in, misliking the direction the conversation was taking. "I will take you to one of the practice areas." In Elvish, he added, "Lornarië, it is good to see you again. Ferodir, I am sure that you and Lornarië can find some way to amuse yourselves."
Without waiting for Amarië's agreement, he caught hold of her arm just above the elbow, steering her away from the other two elves. "I had not expected you to ask for a lesson this day," he said, hoping to distract her before she could resist. "I thought you would want to rest. Yet I think there are enough hours of daylight left for some target practice."
Lornarië stared speculatively after Haldir as he led Amarië away. "Did you ever see him behave in such a way? He seems almost possessive of her."
Ferodir tilted his head, considering. "Or he may simply see her as a duty to which he must attend. Haldir takes his responsibilities very seriously. I am always trying to lighten his mood with my nonsense, but more often than not, I am unable."
Lornarië shook her head. "Nay, he considers her more than a duty, mark my words. Our valiant Marchwarden's armor is showing signs of weakness."
xxx
Amarië walked along beside Haldir, allowing him to guide her with his hand although it was something she did not normally permit. It was a new sensation and rather pleasant, but the tingling in the pit of her stomach told her it was also unwise. When they began to descend a set of steps, she managed to twist from his grasp in a fluid movement that she hoped did not offend. The last thing she wanted to do was anger him, but neither she did not want him to think she would give him authority over her movements.
"Where is this practice area?" she asked, her chin held high.
He glanced at her. "Quite a distance. Are you certain you are not too weary?"
She was weary, but there was no way she would admit it now. "You sound like Ennis," she said pettishly. "Do you fuss so over your rangers?"
"Few of my bowmen are female, and none of them have endured what you have endured these last two days."
"You have female bowmen?" She glanced at him in surprise.
"Elven females are free to do whatever they wish," he said in his arrogant voice. "It is but one illustration of the superiority of our race."
For once he did not annoy her, perhaps because she saw his point. Still, she clamped shut her mouth to be sure she did not say the wrong thing, and instead observed him from the corner of her eye. He had exchanged the gray apparel he'd worn in the woods for a tunic and leggings of dark blue, which contrasted strikingly with his silvery hair and pale skin. As always, his strong profile fascinated her, made her want to do nothing but gaze at him. Each time she saw him, the pull was stronger, more potent.
She looked away quickly, flooded with an almost painful yearning for something she could put no name upon. Why did he have this effect on her? Was she the victim of some elvish spell?
The practice area was fairly large, situated on the forest floor near the southern edge of the city. Targets had been set up at various distances, some completely beyond the range of any human archer, but there were others that were quite close. At a glance, Amarië knew it was exactly what she needed, a perfect place to hone her skill.
With deliberate effort, she shut off her awareness of Haldir so that she could derive maximum benefit from his experience and knowledge. She was as yet unsure whether she would linger in Lothlórien or return with the men to the land of her birth in order to help defend and train the people there. She had no interest in returning permanently, but it remained to be seen whether her assistance would be needed. All depended on whether the remaining twenty men, including Ennis, could be sufficiently well-trained so that they could go back and take charge of the necessary defensive instruction. There were plenty of able men back there who only lacked skills rather than incentive or aptitude.
At least the Marchwarden had made no comment on her appearance. If he had, she would have felt self-conscious, and that would likely have affected her aim. On the other hand, a tiny, unreasonable part of her was actually piqued. All her life, she'd been self-confident around males, but since she'd met Haldir that self-confidence had been severely shaken. On the other hand, she'd much prefer him to admire her skill with a bow than her pretty face. Better to be the keeper of his respect than the object of his lust. The first could only help her; the latter could lead to nothing but pain.
"You see that target down there?" He indicated the one he was talking about with his hand. "That is an Orc. Put three arrows into him right now, as quickly as you can."
Concentrating hard, Amarië drew an arrow from her quiver, sent it soaring, and repeated the action two more times. Each arrow found its mark directly in the center of the target. Pleased, she glanced at Haldir to see his reaction, her pulse quickening despite her resolve to remain aloof.
"Good," he said, his face impassive, "except that all three arrows bounced off his chest armor. He is now there—" he gestured to another target, "and coming at you fast. Kill him."
Her attention jerked back; she put an arrow into the new target precisely where she imagined the weakness in his armor lay, close to the neck.
"Very good. He's dead." The approval in his voice gave her a jolt of pure pleasure, yet inwardly she scoffed at her reaction. What did his approval matter? She had never needed anyone's approval before, certainly not this haughty Elf, even if he was Captain of the Galadhrim.
"Now there are three coming at you. Observe the colors—the red, the blue, and the black. Kill them now."
Her jaw set, she aimed at them in order of the closet to the farthest, killing the first two, but the third she missed entirely, just as she had during battle with the Orcs. "You see?" she said in frustration. "That is what happens. What am I doing wrong?"
He crossed his arms over his chest. "I saw nothing amiss. Did you shift your gaze?"
"I do not think so." Suddenly she became aware that several male elves had entered the target area and stood watching her with interest and curiosity. Her nerves tautened. She would have preferred not to have an audience.
"Do not let them distract you," Haldir said. "You must focus. That one over there is a Uruk-hai. He's taller than the others and he's running toward you fast. Kill him."
She put an arrow straight into the crevice in his neck armor.
This continued for some time, with only two more misses. Several of the elves walked down and retrieved her arrows, returning them to her with elvish compliments she was forced to pretend she did not understand.
"That one down there." Haldir pointed. "Put five arrows into it, four in a circle and one in the center. Quickly."
She fired off the five arrows just as he directed, and each landed exactly where she aimed.
Haldir's expression did not change, but she sensed he was impressed. "Try the furthest target," he directed. It was very far away, a mere speck in the distance.
Gathering every ounce of concentration, Amarië took aim, sighting the object with a narrowed gaze, and let loose the arrow. It sailed through the air and landed only slightly off-center. She heard murmurings from the elves behind her.
Haldir walked over to her, his gaze assessing her thoughtfully. "I have seen strong men unable to do what you just did, although it is within the skill of most elves. It is as if you carry elven blood. Is that possible?"
She knew from his tone that he was serious, but this was neither the time nor place to make confessions. And it seemed presumptuous to announce what Lord Celeborn had not seen fit to do.
"Unlikely," she said lightly. "If so, it would be a surprise to my family."
His gray eyes remained locked with hers as though he thought to find the answer there. "I must have you try a bow of the Galadhrim with elven arrows."
"Now?" she asked, her enthusiasm renewed.
"No, not now. It is growing late. You must eat and rest."
She opened her mouth to protest, then heard her stomach rumble. No doubt the Marchwarden's elven ears also heard.
"Very well," she yielded. "But do not think I will let you forget the offer."
"No, I'm sure you won't, Amarië." Haldir's tone was dry, but a gleam of amusement shone in his eyes.
And for a fleeting moment, she dropped her defenses and simply smiled back.
xxx
Amarië moaned, her body twisting as she slept, wayward dreams sliding through her mind, splintering before they coalesced into anything she would later remember. She was too hot, too cold, too bewildered by all that surrounded her. Too much . . . too much. She could not understand, could not absorb it all . . . too much light . . . it hurt . . .
Cormamin lindua ele lle, meleth nín —my heart sings to see thee, my beloved, my daughter.
Her elven father reached out through the mist, taking hold of her hands, guiding her footsteps along the harrowing precipice. His arms went around her, drawing her close. Have a care, my daughter. These are dangerous times. He is there for you. He will help you. You will help him. This is as it should be.
Another Elf, tall and strong, fair of hair and dark of brow, a proud bearing. His essence bound to hers by the grace of Ilúvatar unto the end of time.
Amarië, he whispers, his need and hunger great.
Galadriel's voice, harmonious and gentle, like niphredil caressed by a spring breeze. Answers come when the seeker is ready. Be not afraid, child.
I am not ready. I hurt too much.
A father's touch.
I
am here for you, my daughter. Be strong. Hear my words. Here is the
lesson . . .
xxx
She woke to sunshine and birdsong, the sheets nestled softly against her bared skin, the air wafting cool and pleasant as it drifted through the open window. She cast the sheets aside and rose, for some reason eager to start the day even though the future still lay shrouded in darkness.
She glanced around, searching instinctively for her clothes and her weapons. Lornarië had provided her with a nightdress, but she had not worn it. Last night it had seemed delicious to sleep naked, but this morning, she realized that it had probably not been wise. She knew that she had dreamed of Haldir, and the memory of those dreams filled her with disquiet. Later, there had been dreams of a different sort, but those were now veiled from her, wispy and insubstantial as smoke.
Her former clothing had not yet been returned, so she had little choice but to wear one of the gowns Galadriel had sent. In truth she did not object; for they were comfortable and pleasant to look upon, and gave her ease of movement. She slipped on undergarments, then chose the blue, pulling it over her head and smoothing it into place while her thoughts drifted. Today she would speak again with Lord Celeborn. Her grandfather. So odd those words sounded, she dared not utter them aloud.
She went and stood outside her chamber on a small balcony overlooking the lofty city, soaking in the muted sounds of honeyed elven voices floating from walkways and nearby chambers. This was the closest she had ever come to feeling completely content, and for a few minutes she shut her eyes and drank in the feeling.
"Good morning, Amarië."
She started, wondering tensely how long he had been watching her. Her senses must be letting her down if he could steal up on her so easily.
"Good morning, Marchwarden," she said, using his title to insert distance between them. "Is it already time to try that Galadhrim bow?"
The corners of his lips lifted in a small, very attractive smile. "Nay, eager one, not yet. I come to see if you would care to take food with me in my quarters. After that, Lord Celeborn has asked that you attend him once more." This last sentence was stated with an inflection that betrayed his curiosity.
She hesitated, but could think of no excuse to refuse. In fact, she did not want to refuse, and that knowledge set off a warning in her head.
"That is kind of you," she said, against all wisdom. "I would like that."
He offered his arm in a courtly gesture and she took it, her heart fluttering as though she were a girl of sixteen. Never in her life had she felt so flustered by a male. Or so attracted. She must resist him.
Why?
Because her wits were becoming addled. Because, were she to take him as a lover, he would set her very soul aflame with nothing but desire for him. He would consume her, destroy her. To lose herself like that would be madness, especially when she hovered on the brink of finding herself at last. For so long had she wanted a strong lover, yet now the chance was upon her, she lacked the courage to make the leap. Confusion clouded her mind. She still had so much to do, so much to learn.
She was not ready.
In any case, he was Elf-kind, and had lived longer than she could imagine. It would not be the same for him, and she could not risk a broken heart, not now when her fragile spirit was only starting to gain strength. Thanks to Lornarië's sly insinuations, she knew that Haldir's prowess was not limited to the battlefield. No doubt he had acquired many conquests, but she would not be one of them.
His rooms were not so far from hers as she imagined. They were one level higher, positioned at such an angle that when she looked out his window, she could see her own room. She had not covered her window last night. If he had looked, could he have seen her in her bed while she slept? The idea sent a flood of heat searing through her body.
"This is simple fare," he commented, laying food out upon the table. "Bread, cheese, berries, wine, ale. Will that suffice for you, Amarië? The bread is freshly baked."
"It sounds perfect. Much more than I have been accustomed to of late." She wondered if he had made the bread himself, but did not ask.
At first they ate in silence until she could bear it no more. "Have you any word about the wounded men? Do they still heal? Have there been any more Orc attacks?"
"No ill news has arrived, which means that all is well. You need not worry. My soldiers are skilled healers. Your people are in good hands."
The remark drew her attention to his own hands. They were beautiful to look upon, the fingers long and strong and clever. She knew that any action they took would be expert.
He chose that moment to shoot a glance her way, so that for a heart-stopping moment she thought he'd read her thoughts. "Did you sleep well last night?"
"Well enough," she answered, her voice polite. Even if he guessed where her dreams had wandered, she would not give him any sign that he was right.
He sat back in his chair, his gray eyes watching her closely. "Have you had enough to eat? Is there anything else you would like?"
She pushed her plate away. "No, thank you. I am finished."
He tapped a finger on the edge of the table, as though he would say more. Yet all he said was, "Are you ready then? Shall I take you to Lord Celeborn?"
Quickly, she rose to her feet. "Yes, by all means. I would not want to keep him waiting."
"Very well, Amarië." This time he did not take her arm, but opened the door for her in a courteous manner. "Shall we go?"
tbc
