Part 10 –Renewal
Bombarded with emotions, Haldir left Lord Celeborn and went straight for his quarters. In the older Elf's company, he had feigned a calm he did not feel; now he must try to digest what he had been told. With a deep breath, he headed for his favorite chair and sat quite still, his hands gripping the carven arms, his mind spinning with disordered fragments of thoughts.
Mated Fëar. Linked from the moment of creation. A destiny cast by his own choice before he had even been born into his elven body?
Torn between euphoria, astonishment and even disbelief, he couldn't seem to think, at least not rationally. This was unlike him.
Could it be true?
He had not had a shock of this magnitude in an age. Nay, that was untrue. He had never had a shock of this magnitude! Yet if he set his shock aside and considered, the whole idea felt as right and natural as the rising of the sun each morn. Celeborn had said it was unusual but not unknown. He had said there were a few others, some still searching for their Fëa-mates. He had said that he and Galadriel were also linked.
Haldir shook his head in bemusement. He had never heard of it, but if the Lord and Lady said it was true, then so it was. He knew this.
What had he done to deserve such good fortune?
He looked down at his hands. These hands had killed, they had protected and defended, they had wielded all manner of swords and bows in the service of his people. They had caressed female softness. But never had they reached out to another living being with the strength and purity of true love. Now reaching out was all he wanted, yearned to do. Thinking of all that he had said to Amarië, and all that he had done, he closed his eyes and prayed he had not ruined his only chance for happiness.
He sat for what seemed like a very long time. And then everything seemed to come together in his mind and he knew. All would be well. Always he had had faith in the wisdom of the Valar, especially Manwë, King of Arda, commander of the winds, and his consort, Elbereth, Queen and creator of the stars. And beyond this he had faith in Eru, The One, the creator of the Ainur—the first and mightiest beings whose music had created the world of Arda. If such things as mated Fëar were permitted, then they were permitted for a purpose. Who was he to question it? If they deemed him worthy, then he should accept this blessing with all the gratitude of which he was capable.
He was to have a life-mate! At last . . . at last!
And he loved her. He had loved her from the moment he'd set eyes on her, standing there in the Lothlórien woods looking so defiant and desperate and utterly beautiful. He had recognized her at once without realizing it. All this time he had been denying it; that was why he had been so terribly unhappy. Even Ferodir had seen this.
Overcome with sudden excitement, he went and looked at himself in the mirror, expecting to see a changed Elf reflected back at him. He had lost a little weight lately, likely due to misery, but otherwise he looked the same. Then he noticed his eyes. Had not their grayness taken on a new glow? And he felt lighter somehow, as though a great burden had just been lifted from his shoulders. He was in love!
Already, Amarië had made this difference in him.
Now, all he needed to decide was what to say and how to say it. And what to do and how to do it. It should not be too difficult with the knowledge he now possessed. Surely she must feel this connection between them just as he did. And the Lady would make her understand that it was not to be denied.
"Amarië," he said aloud, testing the flavor of her name on his tongue. It was the first time he had been able to do it with complete ease. "Amarië, meleth nín," he repeated with satisfaction. He felt a little foolish, but there was no one to hear.
Very well. Should he change his attire? He glanced down and decided that he was looking rather grubby. He would put on one of his finest tunics. He smiled at himself in the mirror. What was this odd emotion he was experiencing? Could he possibly be nervous? It was a new feeling, different from the tension one experienced in battle. Never before had he been nervous around females. He would prefer not to be nervous. But perhaps she would feel the same, so it would not matter.
Once attired to his liking, he found himself hesitating. He could not help recalling how everything he had said to her this morning had seemed to go as awry as an ill-aimed arrow. This time he must choose his words with care. What would he say? He closed his eyes, pondering this, but no words came to him. Perhaps he would just use his instincts when the time came. Always had he relied on his instincts and he trusted them.
Now, he only had to find her. At least that should not be difficult!
He walked to his door and opened it, glancing down toward her window. Yes, he was nervous, but he would not let it affect him. He reached out with his feelings to see if she was there, in her room, perhaps even now waiting for him to come to her.
She was there. He could feel her.
His heart began to race as he made his way to her chamber, lifted a hand and knocked. Yet when the door opened, he found he could say nothing. He just stood there, staring, drinking in her beauty, her eyes, her lips, the thick chestnut hair streaming over her shoulders and down her back. Her blue gown matched the shade of her eyes.
"Haldir," she said, her voice low. To his delight, she stepped back, holding the door open for him to enter. He stepped inside, glancing around him as she closed it behind him. He turned to face her.
"Amarië," he said, feeling absurdly tongue-tied. "Do I disturb you?"
"Not at all." He found her smile shy and sweet.
Encouraged, he added, "You look very well."
"Thank you. So do you."
He knew not what to say next. He cleared his throat. "When last I saw you it seemed to me that I . . . I said some things that made you unhappy."
"No." Her voice was gentle. "You said nothing wrong, I realize that now. Do not lay blame upon yourself. That fault was mine. I did not understand what was happening."
He just gazed at her, this beguiling Elf-woman who was to be his. Without thinking, he reached out and touched her hair. "Amarië," he murmured softly.
She caught his hand with her own and did not let go. "The Lady explained," she said, sounding breathless.
"So you understand?"
"I think so." Her fingers tightened. "As much as I am able. It is all so new to me."
"And to me also. I never thought to find the one I waited for. I had given up all hope. And now, after more than two thousand years, I have found you."
Holding her gaze, he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips, feeling her tremble as, one by one, he kissed each of her fingers, then brushed her palm and wrist with light, feathery kisses. Her eyes fluttered shut. Slowly, he rubbed his cheek into the curve of her palm, watching her face in fascination, seeing how she reacted to his touch, loving the feel of her against his flesh.
"Meleth," he whispered, and saw her eyes open at the endearment. Keeping his eyes on her face, he kissed her wrist again and touched it with his tongue.
She gave a tiny whimper, her head tilting, her thick lashes lowered once more.
Her response ignited a fire within him. He knew he ought to stop. He'd had no intention of seducing her the first moment they were together. But perhaps a moment longer, a little self-indulgence . . .
Suddenly, her free arm came around his waist in a warm, hard hug that smelt of fresh air and tree-bark and flowers. She pressed against him, her lips at the base of his throat, her hand sliding up his back beneath his hair. Of its own accord, his body reacted, a white-hot need streaking through him.
"Amarië," he moaned, and enveloped her in his arms. For a few moments he just held her tightly, his eyes closed and his heart pounding. "This should wait. We need to talk first. And we should go to the Pool. It is Galadriel's gift to us. It will make the magic of our binding complete."
"Yes," she whispered.
"We have not talked enough."
"No."
Still, he did not release her, nor did they speak. They just held each other in a silence that was not a silence, but a moment rich with sharing and unspoken communication.
After a few minutes, he said, "Did Galadriel explain to you about elven binding?"
"Yes, but . . . I would like to hear it from you."
He gathered his wits together, searching for the right words. "Normally, we would know each other for a long time before considering such a step. But it seems we have already known each other far longer than most. And I feel ready. Do you?" He held his breath, waiting for her answer.
"Yes, I am ready. I have never been more ready for anything than this."
He sighed his relief, yet forced himself to say what his honor demanded. "It is important that you understand. I have had lovers before, but did not bind myself to any because my heart was not involved."
"I too have had lovers," she told him, "but never one who touched my heart."
"Do I touch your heart?" he asked, needing and wanting to hear her say it. "You said you hated me, but I did not think you meant it."
"I should not have spoken so. I am ashamed and sorry. In truth, you touched my heart from the moment I saw you." She hesitated, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. "I was drawn to you, even in the first moment of our meeting. Though I admit I did not care to be carried and dumped on the ground like a sack of apples," she added, flashing him a small grin.
He drew her closer still, his lips curving with the memory. "But you were such a luscious sack of apples. Still, I set you down too roughly and I am sorry. I was so struck by your courage and beauty that I could not think clearly. Not at all a position that a warden likes to find himself in."
"You called me a fair temptress," she reminded him.
He felt himself flush. "I did not know you understood my words."
"Your words gave me the strength to keep trying." He heard the smile in her voice. "I thought you might be a little softer than you seemed."
He lifted her chin and tried to look stern. "I nearly lost my self-control when you tried to bargain with me as you did. If I had, I would never have heard the end of it from my brothers. You will not attempt to influence me in such a way again."
"Never," she promised with a straight face.
He regarded her with amusement. "Why do I have the feeling you mean the opposite?" With difficulty, he pulled his mind back to the matter at hand. "Regarding an elven binding, you must be absolutely certain about it. Our bodies join and so do our hearts. All will know this when they look upon us—there is no hiding it. Once it is done, it cannot be undone. We will be forever bound to each other. You must understand this fully. "
"I do understand and it is what I wish. I would have it no other way."
"Then you agree? You are certain?"
"I am certain. I will gladly bind myself to you for all eternity, Haldir of Lórien."
He was conscious of a tingling elation far exceeding anything he had ever known. In one sense, the choosing of a life-mate had always seemed to him to be something that should be done with careful calculation, yet he had never quite been able to accept this. In fact, he had preferred to remain alone rather than choose someone with whom his heart was not engaged. Now all was revealed, and his heart was singing.
And yet one thing remained.
"Amarië," he said carefully, "did the Lady tell you about the choice of the half-elven? That Manwë will present you with two options?"
"She told me I would have a choice, yes."
Wanting to make certain she understood, he went on, "When Manwë comes, he will ask you to choose between immortality and the Fate of Man. Some call it the Gift of Man," he added, trying to keep the unease from his voice. He wanted her to choose freely, not be influenced by what he would choose for her.
"When will he come?" she asked, her eyes searching his face.
"There is no way to know. But you must consider your decision with great care. To be immortal means to be as I am, forever bound to Arda."
"Oh, my love, there is nothing to consider." Her voice wavered a little, and he realized it was from emotion. "Of course I would choose to be with you. Did I not just say that? Do you think I would leave you if I had another choice? I belong nowhere else but at your side."
He felt an enormous swell of relief and knew that a foolish smile had spread itself across his face. "I knew not what you would choose," he admitted sheepishly.
Her hand cupped his cheek, her gaze filled with intensity. "I will stay with you, Haldir. And I will do all in my power to keep you safe."
He frowned slightly, surprised by these words. "It is not your job to protect me. I will protect you." He searched her eyes, and for a moment he saw something that worried him.
"We will protect each other," she corrected, then in a lightning-swift change of mood, added teasingly, "Have we talked enough?"
"Enough?" Unsure of her meaning, he drew back to study her.
"I mean, will you kiss me now, my love?" She tilted her head in an inviting manner, her lips curved in a half-smile that sent the blood roaring in his veins.
"Aye," he said hoarsely. "That I will do."
He looked deep into her eyes, then lowered his lips to hers, taking her to him fully and thoroughly, yet gently and with great tenderness. He wanted to kiss her and cherish her and show her what he felt with his senses, with his mouth, with his hands and with his body, yet after a few moments he knew that this was not the time. Knowing himself nearly at the boundary of his self-control, he drew back, resting his head against her hair, his arms curled around the arch of her back as she leaned into him. He exhaled a long breath, pushing aside his hunger. He must not rush her.
"What would you like?" he asked, trying to be polite despite the husky unevenness in his voice. "Do you wish to go to the Pool now? Or tonight? Or we can wait until tomorrow? There is no need to hurry."
"Why would you wish to wait?" She turned her face toward him, her blue eyes clear and questioning and full of love.
"I do not wish to wait. I want only for you to be certain."
"Haldir, I am certain," she whispered. "Take me there, please."
His arm tightened around her. "Then let us go."
xxx
Amarië stood at Haldir's side, her fingers linked with his as they gazed at the Pool of Renewal, taking in the clear, crystalline glitter of the enchanted waters. Accessible only by a single staircase and hidden by dense foliage and flowering vines, it lay in a secluded corner of Caras Galadhon and was maintained by the power of Nenya, the ring of Adament. It was seldom used, and only at the Lady's discretion.
Guarded by large rocks, a waterfall tumbled softly and mellifluously at its furthest shore, though the origin of this water was unclear. To Amarië, it almost seemed as though the source came from the pool itself. Lush vegetation and fragrant flowers of every variety and color carpeted the ground and wound their way among the leaves of the surrounding trees. Flower petals floated lazily in the water. Birds sang overhead.
It was a paradise.
Haldir released her hand and slipped his arm around her waist. "I have never been in these waters. I've heard it is quite an experience."
"It is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen," she said sincerely.
He slanted a look at her, a purely masculine look that sent a thrill of pleasure coursing through her body. "I will say the same when you are in it."
She could feel herself blushing; her shyness had returned. "What can you tell me of this pool?" she asked to cover her confusion.
"Only that it heals the spirit, even wounds that are old and dim or long forgotten. Behind that waterfall is a place of privacy. We must swim out to reach it, but the water isn't deep." He was watching her face. "Meleth, what is it? Do you have second thoughts?"
"No second thoughts." She tried to smile. "It's only that I feel . . . a little awkward. I know it is foolish."
"Nay, I feel it as well. We will do nothing that makes you uncomfortable."
His sensitivity brought tears to her eyes. Never had a male spoken to her with such consideration. Never had she known anyone she could trust as much as she trusted Haldir. She turned into his arms and pressed her cheek to his shoulder, taking comfort in his strength and warmth and tangy male scent. Why was she behaving like a virgin? Perhaps because for the first time in a very long while she felt like one. And with him, she cared most deeply how this experience unfolded. She wanted it to go beautifully and perfectly. In her mind it was her first time because her heart and soul were involved.
He smoothed her hair. "We could leave our clothes on," he suggested, yet his voice lacked enthusiasm. "We are here to bathe and be healed. Nothing else is required."
She hid her smile, thinking him delightful. "Oh, but your tunic is so fine and new. You would not want to ruin it."
"True," he said, his tone thoughtful. "Nor do I think that gown would ever be the same."
"Perhaps not," she conceded. "And it was a gift from the Lady."
"What shall we do?" he asked, sounding casual and unconcerned.
She peeped up at him. "I think perhaps I would like to leave on my chemise, at least for now."
"What of me? I have no chemise to leave on."
"You could leave your leggings on," she said, only half teasing.
He gave her a quizzical look. "Is that your wish?"
"Well, I want you to be comfortable."
"Wet leggings are not comfortable," he informed her with dry humor.
"No, of course not." To her slight embarrassment, she found that she was blushing. "I know I am behaving foolishly. It is only that I want everything to be perfect. It is important to me."
"And to me." He stepped behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Come, I will help you to remove your gown. Then you may enter the water while I disrobe."
His fingers undid the various fastenings and ties of her apparel with a skill that spoke of prior experience. "You are beautiful, meleth," he whispered, pushing aside her hair to brush his lips over the nape of her neck. "My beloved." The sweet endearments removed much of her embarrassment, replacing it with heart-thumping awareness.
Her gown fell to the ground at her feet, and she left it there as she stepped out of her shoes. The chemise was thin, but enough to guard her modesty. Glancing up, she saw his eyes, light and gray as morning mist upon the mountains, filled with clear longing. "The water should be warm," he said gently.
She knew it was his way of telling her to go, not to stand before him too long ere he lost control. Turning, she walked to the water's edge, then stepped into it until her feet were covered. She paused in surprise, feeling the water's texture, like tiny bubbles caressing and soothing and nurturing her toes. Daintily lifting her chemise, she waded farther out, up to her knees. The bottom of the pool was soft and smooth, pleasing beneath the soles of her feet.
Glancing back at Haldir, she stilled her movement, admiring him with a pleasure so swift and forceful it stole her breath away. He had removed both his outer and under tunics, and was neatly folding them, along with her gown. He had turned slightly, so that she saw him in profile while he bent to lay the garments on a rock. His silvery blond hair draped over his bared shoulders and muscular chest, and as he straightened gracefully, her heart gave a funny little skip at the sight of such sublime masculine beauty.
Was this what her mother had felt when she had first met her father? If so, at last she could understand a little of what it must have been like to love and lose an Elf. And then the sad thought flew away as he removed his boots and started to walk into the water wearing his leggings.
She covered her mouth, but failed to stifle her giggle. "You did leave them on!"
"Indeed. And already I regret it. I must look silly."
She shook her head, still giggling. "Nay, only wet."
"Ha! Well, that will soon make two of us." He waded toward her and lifted her into his arms. "This will teach you to laugh at me, my lady."
He spun her once around, then strode into the deeper water until it reached past his waist and she was half floating. "Shall I drop you?" he asked, his eyes glinting with laughter.
"Nay," she answered, automatically curling her arm around his neck. "If you do, I shan't let go."
"I do not want you to let go," he murmured. Then his face took on a look of stillness and wonderment. "Do you feel it, Amarië? The water is alive."
"Yes, I feel it."
They were both silent.
"It fills me with peace," he said, his voice awed. "More peace than I have ever known. All the pain I have ever felt is being lifted away from me."
She felt the same. In fact, it was as though emotions were sliding out of her, all the loneliness and rejection, the fear and misery and hatred.
Hatred for her mother. Was she ready to let this go?
"What is it?" He was watching her face. "Tell me."
"I hated her so much," she whispered in a shaking voice. "Eru help me, I hated my own mother so much for what she did to me."
He frowned. "What did she do?"
Amarië shifted in his arms, burrowing closer, burying her face against the comfort of his neck and silken hair. Little by little, with his help and gentle urging, she told him the story—of her mother's anguish over the loss of her elven lover, of the friendless years of her own childhood, of the beatings. Even harder, she told him of her mother's little business arrangements, the way she'd traded her daughter's favors for necessities. Other things just seemed to spill out, things she'd never told anyone. The brutality of her first sexual experience. Her mother's callous disregard for her fears and feelings. The coldness and lost humanity. The shifting of all responsibility onto Amarië's shoulders after her stepfather's death. Her struggle to care for Ennis.
By the time she finished, tears were streaming freely down her cheeks, tears he kissed away, over and over, with his warm and gentle lips. And all the time he had been cradling her, rocking her in the warm, enchanted water so that it swirled about them in lazy little waves and ripples.
"Let it go, meleth. It does no good to hold on to such hatred. That is why we are here, in this sacred place. Galadriel must have seen this in you." He kissed the top of her head, his voice as soothing as the water. "You have been very brave and I am so proud of you. Now you must let it go. Let the water do its work and be at peace, granddaughter of Celeborn. Try to feel compassion for your mother. She suffered greatly. For her, there was no healing pool."
"I know. I can see now. I can even imagine . . ." A great sob tore from her throat. "I can imagine how I would feel if you just walked away and left me. That is what my father did to her. He is the cause of all the pain."
"I will not walk away from you. You know that."
"I know."
"And we will soon be bound."
"Yes." She gulped, and swiped a hand across her cheek. "Yes," she added fiercely. "We will be bound. More than anything, that is what I want."
At once she sensed the change in his mood; his arms and body tensed in a way that sent a definite message. Deliberately, he waded toward the waterfall, still holding her as though she were a precious jewel. She felt cherished and loved beyond measure.
He had reached the curtain of water, and was moving around its edge, trying to avoid the spray, searching for an entrance that would not get them both drenched. Finally, he gave up, and with a small laugh, plunged straight through the sheet of water with her in his arms. They wiped the moisture from their eyes and looked around.
The crystalline walls of this tiny, concealed grotto sparkled with reflected light and water droplets. Beneath the water, there were stone steps, and at the top an angled ledge covered only by an inch of water at its center. Above the water line, set back into a recess, there were cushions.
He released her so she could set her feet down, then immediately reclaimed her, raining kisses over her face. "Amarië," he murmured, his hands gliding over her arms and back and hips, tracing her contours with an urgency that made her shiver. "Amarië, meleth, meril vain nín, bereth-en-faer nín."
"Le melin," she told him fervently, her palms sliding over the defined ridges of his pale, smooth chest. If he had ever been wounded in battle, it did not show. Elves did not scar, so every inch of him was as flawless as marble, as pure as the morning sunrise.
He was exquisite, immaculate, achingly beautiful. Godlike in his perfection.
He tugged aside the strap of her chemise, his lips and tongue trailing over the wet, bared flesh of her shoulder. His mouth slid to her throat, opening to taste her as she moved her hands to his back, spreading them across the hard expanse of warm flesh and taut muscle. She pulled him closer, exulting in the feel of his male readiness, jutting proudly against her stomach through their twin layers of clothing.
Her heart fluttered as his mouth captured hers, his tongue mating with her tongue, exploring her soft recesses, stirring her to an aching tremble. She saw his dark eyelashes, lowered as he explored, his eyes taking in details while his hands and mouth made her quiver. With torturous slowness, he stroked the curves of her body in sensual circles.
A dreamlike sensation took hold, mingling with sensual reality. This perfect immortal being had chosen her. And somehow, beyond any reason she could comprehend, she had been allowed to choose him. They were destined for one another; Galadriel had said so. It seemed too fantastic, too wonderful to be true, and yet she knew it was true.
Haldir watched her, noting the way her eyes slid shut and the tiny tremors caught hold of her body as he caressed her. She was still wearing the chemise, but in truth he did not mind. It stirred his senses, for it was quite sheer when wet, something he did not think she realized. It was one reason he had not objected to her decision to keep it on. He would tell her that later, perhaps.
Still watching her face, he explored her, sliding his hands beneath the chemise, pushing it up, feeling the softness of her legs, the sleek velvet skin of her thighs surrendering to him with sweet compliance. So feminine and lovely . . .
Suddenly, her eyes flew open. "Are you certain that what we're doing is permitted? You said this was a sacred pool."
Surprised, he paused, noting her worried look. "What could be more sacred than this? To an Elf, a binding is the most sacred of acts." Still, she did not look convinced. "Yes, it is permitted, meleth," he added with great tenderness. "I think this is exactly what Galadriel had in mind for us."
Tremendous love for her welled in his chest. She was infinitely sweet, beguilingly modest, enticingly sensual. Perfect and pure. And to think how she had suffered!
Quite honestly, he was horrified by the events she had related to him, but he had hidden it, sensing that her need for comfort outweighed his need to express outrage. It pained him greatly to imagine what she had endured. Long had he known that mortals were strange, inferior creatures, but to treat one of their own kind with such cruelty! Her story had only reaffirmed his long-held belief that Elves and humankind should not mix. He certainly intended to see that she never again experienced such pain.
He wanted so much to go slowly, but his need for her was very great. Too long had he waited, yearning for her, dreaming of her. He could scarcely control himself. She had wrapped her legs around him, her body pressed against his arousal, and it was stimulating him nearly past the point of his endurance. Dizzy with need, his heart beating wildly, he slid his palms up her ribcage to cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing their tender tips.
"Haldir, meleth, I know what you feel," she whispered. "We are connected. I know you need me right now. I would give myself to you at this moment."
He drew back to look at her, his dark brows lifted. "And I know you are not yet ready. Our connection works both ways."
"It matters not. I would give you this gift. There is time enough for me." Her voice took on a teasing note. "Besides, I have heard some very interesting tales about Elves."
"Such as?" he asked, curious despite his raging need.
"I know not if I should tell you. Perhaps a hint?"
"A hint would probably suffice."
Her eyes twinkled. "I have heard that elven arrows are in all respects superior to those of Men."
Despite the aching pressure of his condition, he grinned. "I have no doubt of this. And Galadhrim arrows are best of all."
"Then I know my desires will be attended to," she told him playfully, "as you once informed me. So let me see to yours."
He felt her hands at the ties to his leggings and shifted to give her better access. Within moments, the sodden garment was discarded. Her hand touched him briefly, but he moaned and caught her wrist. "Don't. I cannot . . ."
"I know," she whispered, twining her legs around him once more. "Take me now."
The sweet, provocative invitation nearly finished him. Still, he hesitated, searching her eyes. "Are you sure? I could try to wait . . ."
"Do not wait. I am sure."
His whole body burned with desire for her and she knew it. Never had anyone been so concerned about his needs. How he loved her! Gazing into her blue eyes, he spoke his sacred vow to her. "With this act, I bind myself to you, Amarië, for all eternity."
And then he drove himself into her in one smooth motion. Muscles trembling, he forced himself to pause when he was completely inside her. He wanted to stop, to court her slowly, to savor this experience, but he could not. All the long ages of his life had he waited for her, and his body shook with accumulated need and desire for his life-mate. He had to move. He drew back, then pressed into her again, the blood pounding in his veins. He paused once more, breathing hard, trying to wait for her . . . sweet, unbearable agony.
"Amarië . . ." he panted.
"It's all right, meleth nín," she whispered. "Do not wait for me. I will follow later."
And then she did something guaranteed to send him over the edge—she touched the peaks of both his ears, simultaneously stroking their sensitive tips. With a great gasping moan, he exploded, exquisite fire searing through his body in thunderous, pulsating waves of sensation. Breathing hard, he clutched her tightly, his eyes shut, his open mouth pressed against her wet hair. Never, never had he imagined it could be like this! Truly must their Fëar be mated for this experience to be so glorious!
"It is done, Amarië," he murmured, when at last he could speak again. "We are bound to each other. You are now my wife."
"And you are my husband." She kissed the side of his head, tenderly stroking his hair and cheek. "Long has my heart waited for this moment, Haldir of Lórien."
"As has mine, Amarië," he said huskily. "And in just a few moments, I will attend to your needs to the very best of my ability. Already my Galadhrim arrow stirs . . ."
tbc
Elvish Phrases:
Le melin - Thee I love
meleth, meleth nín - love, my love
meril vain nín - my beautiful rose
bereth-en-faer nín - queen of my soul
