A/N: Mae govannen, dear reviewers! Yep, 'tis Andariel here. This chapter will be in two parts – posted not far apart (so you won't have long to wait heh heh), so this is P1 of a two part chapter.

  Anyway, I just wanna personally thank all the reviewers – you've all been great!

  I have some other thanks to give too – thanks so Suzie for helping me with the Haldir/Ty scene, seeing as I'm crap at smut (yes, yes, there's some rather sexy scenes later on in this chapter), and also thanks to Jamie, our beta. Thanks guys!

  Now, enjoy the story – from Haldir's POV, no less – and please, PLEASE review – we'll love you forever!

  ~*~@nd@®iel666~*~

Title: I'm Your Fella, Cinderella!

Chapter: Ten

Author: Andariel666

POV: Haldir

Kalia's music had most certainly brought the hall to life. Elves were now wrapped up tight in the merriment, the dance floor writhing with the dancers who were touched and enlightened by the music my handmaiden was bringing forth.

The elleth was playing the violin expertly, her fingers moving diligently. I watched her silently, and I wondered how it was that I had come to prefer her dear friend as a choice of companion.

But of course, even as I asked this question, the answer came to me. Kalia was more like a daughter to me – my own kin, whom I felt inclined to protect and to try and treat with as much equality as I could.

But the dark-haired hellcat, however, was not considered kin. She was considered to be the forbidden fruit.

Untouchable.

Merriment seemed to be a distant option for me. I was still greatly disturbed by the events of the tournament. I could still feel the flesh against my knuckles, my teeth sinking into the skin, feeling blood on my skin and soaking into my clothing. All the while, it was she…

She had put up a good fight, no doubt. But I had flung myself into the battle with great exertion. I could have seriously damaged her. The thought of this hurt me more than I liked.

Kalia had comforted me, knowing my pain. I had shown her my weaknesses, yet she did not judge me for them, and I did not feel uncomfortable with her. She knew that what both she and her friend had pulled could have resulted in dire consequences.

Tyrael could have been dead.

I should have recognised those eyes, but I did not. I should have recognised the raven hair, but I did not. I was too busy calculating 'Trystalorn' and his build, studying for weak points. I barely noticed the eyes, and at that moment, they had appeared to be a slightly lighter shade of golden brown – not necessarily worth considering – they were rare eyes, but darker than Tyrael's. I had allowed the throes of battle to carry me away, and before I realised it, Tyrael was being revealed before me, weak, just leaving the brink of death, and being a complete surprise to me. She had forfeited rules, but that was not what bothered me the most. I could have done her serious harm.

I could have killed her.

I watched her as she danced with Rathborn, in all her autumn splendour.

Stunningly feminine – a side of her I was not used to. The bruises on her face were prominent, but not as bad as they had been. She was moving easier, and her heart seemed lighter.

I wanted to dance with her. I rarely danced, and I knew I was not exactly the best dancer in the world – yet that did not matter, as such. I wanted that Elf out of the way so that I could plan my approach.

Who was that Elf? Rathborn, yes. But what past this? What was his relationship with Tyrael? Why did he give me feelings of unease that ran deeper than simple jealousy? A March Warden's assessment was rarely wrong – the pretty-eyed Elf was not good news.

I had to attempt to approach her. I wanted to, even though a part of me told shouted that I should not, for she had continuously insulted me and probably did not wish for my presence. Yet I had to try – even though I knew that my behaviour had been unacceptable. Perhaps she did not deserve such rudeness.

But alas, my jealousy had begun to run deep – and from one pivotal moment. After Tyrael had left me in the bathtub, I had second thoughts about turning her away. I was incensed, and also very frustrated. At the same time, I was worried that I had hurt her in some way. Though she had not shown signs of pain, I knew that some warriors knew exactly how to hide such things. So I quickly dressed, and shadowed her movements. She stood ramrod straight, and moved with predatory quickness to the kitchens, where I watched as she hunted through the alcohol supplies, before leaving through the cellar doors.

To continue my stealth, I had to take a different route, which unfortunately hindered me, for I found myself cornered by two elleths. By the time I had managed to break away, I walked towards a secluded courtyard, knowing somehow that she had gone there.

She had been kissing him. That dark Elf, he had been taking things further. She did not push him away.

And so I left.

It had felt like a hook to my heart, wrenching at me painfully. Did that mean she belonged to another? Perhaps. My anger peaked. It had been like an omen – that I could not have her. I would never have her.

But that did not seem to stop my jealousy interfering.

All around me, the merriment continued. The dance Tyrael braved with Rathborn was not a hard one to perfect – and she managed it with wariness, but also accuracy. By the time it ended, she gave Rathborn a fleeting smile, before gasping as my brother Rúmil close to charged her, as he begged for a dance.

I glared.

It seemed I would have competition.

I tried to pay attention to the flurry of Elven sentinels speaking rapidly to each other and myself. I cringed and sipped my wine when I heard that they were talking about their lovers and wives.

"Do you not have a lady yet, Haldir?" One asked.

"Nay, not yet," I replied, frowning slightly. "I have been too busy to consider anything past a casual liaison."

"I know that all too well," a Mirkwood sentinel groaned. "To long for a wife, but have no time to find one."

'Who said that I longed for a wife?' I thought, but said nothing.

My gaze flickered back to the dance floor. Elrohir was dancing with Tyrael. This dance was livelier, and a slightly fearful expression was on her face. Her feet were only just obeying her.

I glanced over to the prince, dancing with Nessa. Legolas was meeting Kalia's gaze meaningfully.

My normal frame of mind, the one that told me that there was no possible way we could be anything more, was no longer fully intact. I had the prince to thank for this. Something new had been decided, and it had been decided not too long prior to the dance…

Kalia and Tyrael left Lord Elrond's study, walking past our hiding places in the shadows, both looking rather disgusted. Legolas and I knew what punishments Lord Elrond had bestowed on the two maidens, and I felt a moment of disappointment. She would not be at the dance? Neither of them would be?

Lord Elrond had requested our presence after the ladies had left, and now the Mirkwood prince and I entered the study, closing the door behind us. The Elf Lord was actually smiling slightly, looking lost inside his own thoughts and memories.

I stood in a respectful stance. "My lord?"

 

Lord Elrond blinked, before sitting up straighter. "Haldir, Legolas. I shall not keep you long. As you may have heard, you shall both be the ones to deal punishments to the handmaiden assigned to you as you see fit. And so, I feel I must tell you this…" He gave us both scrutinising glances. "Haldir, I implore that you do not be too harsh on Kalia. I understand that this calls for discipline, yet she is not a warden of Lothlórien. She is still as fragile as any female."

 

This surprised me – as the idea of severely punishing Kalia had not really passed my mind. The idea of being so harsh actually repulsed me somewhat.

"And Legolas," the lord continued. "Do not be too soft. I understand that you have empathy with both of their cases, yet I must warn you, this is not the first time that Tyrael has placed a toe out of line. She has kept all of us busy for many centuries, and perhaps the only reason she remains is because she amuses me."

 

I raised an eyebrow. I had not expected that.

"Aye, my lord," Legolas nodded. "I shall not be too gentle with Tyrael, yet I believe that harshness would not be appropriate either. Which brings me to a request…" He paused. "My lord, please do not prevent either of them from attending the ball. I understand that they have both caused discord, but I also feel that they deserve this, for they have worked hard these past weeks."

 

I glanced at Legolas with barely concealed surprise. How could he be so bold as to ask such things? As March Warden, it was my position to follow orders, not oppose them. I suppose I was unused to the luxury of such speech.

 

Lord Elrond waited for Legolas to continue.

"We shall give them their dues, make no mistake – but please, my lord, allow them at least one moment. I promise you that Tyrael, at least, has been very hard working, and I am certain that Kalia has been, too. Just this one night, and then they shall return to normal."

  

The lord was regarding Legolas silently, before he finally said, "Very well. 'Tis a gathering for employers and their servants alike, so no further chaos shall be inflicted upon us. But bear in mind that should the maidens ruin this, the outcome could be severe."

"I understand," Legolas said, nodding his head, a slight smile upon his lips.

"Then they shall attend," Lord Elrond sighed. "That is all. I merely wished to implore that neither of you do what you are inclined to do, and let the maidens either suffer or go away unpunished."

"We shall do our tasks efficiently, my lord," I said, nodding. "Good day to you." 

 

Legolas and I left the room, closing the door, and we walked down the corridor in silence for a few moments, before I finally spoke.

"That was rather bold of you, Legolas Thranduillion. And do you feel it just for the maidens to attend?"

 

Legolas countered this with another question. "Do you feel unease at Kalia's attendance, or Tyrael's?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked lowly.

"You appear to be far more angry with Tyrael than with Kalia. Tell me, what makes you feel thus towards my handmaiden? Perhaps it was not anger, hmmm?"

 

I glared at him. "You know nothing."

"I know more than you think," Legolas replied, and frowned. "And I must back Lord Elrond's request, mellon. Please do not be too harsh with Kalia…"

"What makes you feel that I would be 'too harsh'?" I asked, annoyed. "Am I truly that strict a task master?"

"Did you not notice how you treated Tyrael once air was back into her lungs?"

 

I flinched, and looked away.

"Please do not be too hard on her."

"So the prince cares then?" I asked, crossing my arms, glad for the change of subject. That topic had been on my mind too much already.

"Of course I do!" Legolas blinked, looking surprised that anyone would think that he did not care.

"His majesty has a rather unique way of showing it," I drawled, leaning against the wall.

"How rich that is, coming from the March Warden of Coldness," Legolas replied coldly, glaring back at me.

 

I was almost going to retaliate with harsh words, but what came out instead was, "Does your ladylove know of your feelings?"

 

He suddenly appeared worn, as though years had been placed upon him within seconds. "Nay. And I fear I shan't ever be able to tell her." He glanced up at me. "You are very lucky, Haldir. Few would be against a union between yourself and Tyrael. For me, it would upset a kingdom."

 

I frowned darkly. "You assume much, prince. You go so far as to make a fantasy where Tyrael and I are a likely pair. Quite an imagination you possess." The words stung my throat and tore at my lips, yet I felt I had to speak them.

"You need not lie to me, Haldir. I am more observant than you may believe. Besides – I have never seen you so riled up over another before."

"It is all very well for you to tell me how easy my situation is," I said haughtily, aware with slight embarrassment that with that statement I had practically proved him right. "Yet you seem to avoid your own. Are you a coward, Legolas? I thought that you would not fight for Kalia, yet I had hoped you would prove me wrong. When will you step from behind the shadow of your father and make your own choices?"

"Are you suggesting I am some sort of lapdog?" Legolas hissed. "That I am 'Ada's little pet'? Nay! I could tell Kalia if I desired to..."

"Then tell her," I said simply, fixing him with a challenging gaze.

 

Legolas sent one back to me. "I could say the same to you."

 

I suddenly felt a wave of desperation, and I groaned.

"I have tried to make conversation with Tyrael, but it always ends in disaster." I shook my head. "And right now, she is so angry that I could probably drop my leggings in front of her and she would not notice."

 

A grin cut across Legolas' face, and as soon as the mental image of my words formed in my mind, I had to grin also.

 

Legolas sighed. "And I could cut as much hair from my head as was cut from Kalia's, and she would not be able to care less."

I smirked at him. Kalia had told me of what Legolas had done, and though I had initially been angry for her, she reassured me that she deserved some of it, but the rest would definitely be avenged (though she added that this time she might not seek Tyrael's help for revenge).

 

Legolas shrugged. "Just because it seems hopeless, it does not mean we should not try."

 

I mulled over these words. What would I truly be risking for Tyrael?

My status as March Warden, perhaps.

I would not lose my brothers – for they were romantics to the teeth, and would most likely encourage me to the point of certainty. All I had to risk was my reputation, and perhaps my honour.

 

The image of her and the mystery Elf still tormented me, emblazoned in my mind as though lightning had struck and left a scorch mark. Yet I did not think her a tart. Nay, she was not a tart. I merely felt mislead. If she had already given her heart to another, then neither of us should have allowed our banters and hints to continue thus.

 

Though, never before had a courting of a maiden bothered me. I had once competed with an Elf that had been courting a young elleth two weeks prior to my interest. I was willing to fight this Elf to get what I wanted – and I knew what I wanted.

And I had always felt; whilst on watch high up in a fleet, that I was terribly lonely, and that I would probably forfeit my position to be able to be held in the warm arms of a loved one. I had the chance to try for such a thing.

"Tonight," I said. "Before it is too late."

I nodded to the window opposite us, and Legolas followed my gaze, to where Nessa was chattering excitedly with some other elleths. If Legolas did not win Kalia by tonight, he would surely be married to that annoying wench.

 

And if I did not make progress with Tyrael tonight, I would probably go insane.

 

We glanced at each other, and knew that the challenge was on.

She had finished her dance with Elrohir, and was watching Kalia as she took her break. Kalia was sipping a goblet of wine, before Tyrael gripped her wrist and began tugging her to the floor. Words I could not hear were exchanged, but Kalia looked scandalised, and Tyrael appeared to be amused. Kalia eventually gave in, and I was surprised to see that they were dancing together.

A slight smile tugged at my lips, before the lyrics of the song caught my attention.

"Alas my love you do me wrong, to cast me off discourteously…"

I closed my eyes, immediately sensing the power behind the words.

"For I have loved you for too long, delighting in your company…"

'Stop it', I thought, but could do nothing but keep my head bowed, clutching my wine goblet tightly. I felt a slight brush against my mind, and glanced up, seeing the Lady of Light casting me a bemused look, a slight smile upon her face. I gave her a smile, albeit slightly strained, before I ducked my head again.

"Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold, and who but my Lady Greensleeves?"

Legolas cut in on the ladies' dance, and Tyrael smiled slightly, backing away until she was standing next to me. I briefly wondered if this was purposely done, or if she had not noticed. I was considering asking her to dance with me, but my mouth would not work.

Lyrics echoed in my head. Alas my love you do me wrong, to cast me off discourteously…

I was aware that we were both swaying to the music softly, enraptured in its intricate tones, its meaning.

"Alas my love that you should own, a heart of wanton vanity…"

'Ask her to dance', I ordered myself silently. 'Do not forget that you said you would attempt to ensnare that which you long for.'

"So I must laddie think alone, upon your insincerity…"

'Do it.' I opened my mouth, preparing to ask her to dance, but I was beaten.

Orophin swept her away so smoothly I could barely even close my mouth without looking like an imbecile. All I could do was watch mournfully, and inwardly resign to my fate.

It was not long until she returned, slightly breathless. She raked her fingers through her dark, straight tresses, her golden eyes glowing shockingly.

Nessa had interrupted Kalia and Legolas' gentle dance, sending Kalia back to her violin. To my pleasant surprise, Kalia began a popular song familiar to Silvan Elves, and soon, the Silvan Elves were helping her set a beat. The sight was somewhat warming, and I found a ghost of a smile at my lips, as I turned to glance at the elleth beside me.

Tyrael met my gaze head on, also smiling slightly. She seemed to be happy – or at least, giddy. I realised that this might be my only chance to speak with her.

"You look lovely this evening," I said, smiling slightly.

A slight flush appeared on her cheeks, and she was about to reply, when a hand on her arm shocked her out of the moment. Rathborn had a possessively dark scowl on his face, and I could tell that he was obviously inebriated to his eyeballs.

"Come, Tyrael," the Elf commanded. "We are leaving."

'To tryst in a courtyard?' The thought popped unbidden into my mind, and I felt myself blanch inwardly, and glare outwardly. Nay, I would fight for her – he would not pull her away from me so early.

"Tyrael…" I began, before I threw caution to the wind.

I pulled the stubborn, beautiful elleth to me and captured her lips with my own. I could feel her surprise at first, but she did not pull away. I heard Kalia's violin squawk, and felt a flash of amusement, but I did not alter the kiss in any way.

When I felt her responding, I deepened it, gently slipping my tongue past her lips. I felt as though large weights were slowly being drawn off my shoulders.

That I was possibly publicly scandalising both Tyrael and myself did not occur to me. All that mattered was the kiss…

…Until Rathborn broke it. He gripped her arm tightly, pulling her away with such a force that she fell to her knees, as he snarled, "What in Mordor are you doing?!"

I glared at him, fighting to keep control, and I helped her up from the floor, feeling my anger mount as I noticed, with her sleeve ridden up her arm, a hand-shaped bruise on her arm from Rathborn's rough handling.

"I think you should leave," I said tersely to the Elf.

"I do not see why," Rathborn sneered, glancing at Tyrael. "Share and share alike. That is the motto for whores, is it not?"

That was it. My anger reached boiling point, as I felt a pain tear at me. Not a pain because of whom she had chosen over me – I had given her little choice when it came to choosing me. It was more a pain that Tyrael had to seek comfort in this beast than anyone else. She seemed to genuinely feel some sort of caring emotion for him, and in return he called her a whore. It brought to perspective the true direness and solitude of her life, and I realised that had I embraced her sooner, I could perhaps have rectified any damage Rathborn had done between that time in the courtyard and this gathering.

I was pained because she had no one, when all along she could have had me.

  I swung my fist, and it connected firmly with Rathborn's jaw. Not many seemed to notice the ensuing fight, and Rathborn came at me with an attack – fast, but not fast enough. I realised in that moment that the majority of Tyrael's skill truly did come from Orevon.

I deflected his attacks easily, before raising him above my head, and heaving him into lattice-supported bushes. Unfortunately, Rathborn's cry drew the attention of many, and I turned away from the filthy being still lying in the bushes, and faced Tyrael, strained. What could I say to her, to appease her? She had been humiliated quite badly.

Before I could say anything, I noticed the haunted look in her eyes, before she turned and ran from the party at full speed. I watched her leave, my heart sinking with every step she took. Perhaps now, any chance of reconciliation I could have had had been eradicated.

Kalia soon called a break, and I watched, with Legolas joining me by my side, as she cast us a look, before turning off to find her friend. I felt my shoulders sag slightly, and felt Legolas' hand gripping my shoulder tightly.

"What happened, Haldir?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "He was disrespecting her, Legolas. He called her a…a whore."

Legolas' eyes widened, before he glared at the still idle figure in the bushes. "Indeed. Do not fear, Haldir. You did a noble thing. She should be pleased."

"But she is not," I said, exasperated. "You did not see her expression, Legolas. She was…horrified. She probably feels that I think her a whore as well."

"Then you must correct her," Legolas urged. "Allow Kalia to speak to her, before correcting the situation."

"Aye," I said, nodding desolately. "I shall."

*

And so it was that I found myself soon walking towards the kitchens, suspecting to find her there. It was apparently her favourite place to be, as I had observed upon many nights when I had simply followed her stealthily to see where she went.

The kitchens were not as clean and beautiful as most mortals might have believed – believing every inch of Elvish land and architecture to be immaculate. The kitchens were messy and unkempt – and rather ugly to behold. The walls were of grey and white stone, covered in stains and grime from many centuries. The floor was cold, hard stone, and stained with the blood of animals and possibly even servants.

The smell of the kitchens was both overbearing and welcome. Overbearing in its strength, and welcome in that it was part of the scent of Tyrael.

The kitchens were all a-clutter, with Elves darting about holding trays, and following orders that were being barked out by a familiar raucous voice.

"Haryon! Stop putting so much seasoning in the sauce! Do you wish for the diners to be attached to their chamber pots for the night?!"

I cringed, and mentally told myself to avoid the sauce.

I moved through the kitchens, unnoticed or ignored by the young Elves rapidly preparing the finishing touches to the feast. I could see now that the head chef was unconscious upon the floor, a tankard clutched in his hand, his head chef's tunic on backwards. I sneered at the form, wondering how such an Elf came to be.

Tyrael soon came into sight, as she crushed garlic cloves up and helped put them into a cooking pot hurriedly. She was no longer in the red dress, but now wore a light-blue worn dress – which was awfully revealing. It was slightly off the shoulder, and had a large split up the leg.

She was far too daring.

Bruises still adorned her face, and I was dismayed to see a ring of purple teeth marks on her shoulder, which I had failed to see during the dance, since her hair had concealed a lot of her shoulders. She did not appear to be in the best of moods – in fact, she looked as though a large amount of alcohol was now fading from her system (which, knowing her, was more than likely).

I had to tell her what I wanted – had planned – to tell her. I had to be strong. I had faced many beasts before – what should scare me about Tyrael?

I cleared my throat loudly, and she turned to shoot an annoyed glance in my direction. When she noticed who it was, the annoyed glance faded mostly, but her lips were still pursed.

She nodded her head. "March Warden."

"Tyrael," I nodded back, wondering if she would make this very hard for me. "May I speak with you?"

"I have little time," she replied, her voice slightly clipped.

I frowned, sighed, and said a word that did not escape my lips often. "Please."

She raised an eyebrow, and studied me silently for a moment. I did not flinch under her gaze, but once again felt the familiar self-loathing. How could I have not noticed that it was she? Those eyes should have been what belied her to me, but I did not notice. And that face!

She had done little to disguise herself, yet it had worked so very well.

I stared back at her, and remembered the kiss. It had been everything I had imagined, even if it was hasty. Of course, the circumstances were not good. Rathborn was now most likely very annoyed, and Tyrael may even have been blamed for the whole escapade.

"Everyone!" She yelled suddenly, a thoughtful frown on her face. "Take the feast to the hall and line up there, as you are supposed to do. I shall join you soon enough."

I breathed a sigh of relief. She would listen to me. And I would tell her what I had wanted to tell her for some time. And if things went my way, she would return the sentiments, and be mine...at last…

The Elves scuttled from the kitchen, some 'accidentally' catching the head chef with their feet. Once they were gone, and only Tyrael and I were left, the silence seemed to drag on. I shifted uneasily having never done this before, and knew not where to start. I could just blurt it out, but I felt she would doubt my sincerity, being the cynical minx she was.

 

So I must laddie think alone, upon your insincerity…

She probably loathed me anyway. She preferred the prince – she had practically said so herself.

"Well, this silence has certainly been interesting," her sharp voice said, and I blinked, seeing her slip her bare feet into a pair of battered slippers. "But time grows short."

"You are far too impatient," I replied, and I realised that I had turned back to my normal March Warden mannerisms. The ones which had earned me the 'arrogant' and 'haughty' headings.

She glanced up at me, golden eyes glinting; as she bent down to work her foot into a slipper – which was apparently too small.

I stared.

Her bending over and the lowness of the neckline of her dress was revealing a teasing amount of flesh. Nothing too serious, but a large amount of pale flesh.

She always had to make things difficult.

"Aye, well, patience is not something offered to me," she replied. "And I do have a whole kitchen to run, not to mention maintaining the prince."

I nodded distantly, my eyes still on what she was revealing to me. "I am certain you are doing your breast."

Her eyes widened, and I groaned inwardly. How could I have been such an imbecile?

"Best," I said quickly. "Best…"

She had glanced down, seen the round curves of her chest, and glared. She pulled herself up, her eyes flashing.

"Good day to you, Haldir." She turned to leave, and I felt worry leap into my throat. If I let her leave now, I might never have another chance.

"Wait!" I said in my most demanding voice, forcing her to stop and glare back at me.

I wondered what I could do to keep her attention with me just long enough for me to say what it was I needed to tell her. I remembered my conversation with Legolas, and an idea struck me.

Before I could hesitate, I pushed my leggings down past my hips. I stood up to face her, not the least bit embarrassed – I knew that I was pleasing to the eye in many ways. I need not doubt myself.

Tyrael's eyes were wider than ever before, her lips parted in shock. She looked up into my eyes, still baffled. I merely gave her my best smile, and a new light invaded the coldness of her eyes. She moved carefully over to a counter, and leaned against it.

"You have my attention," she drawled, and removed a bottle of wine from the cupboard beside her.

I eyed it scornfully. "Hah! Are you a coward, Tyrael?"

"Nay," she replied. "You are merely too scary to face sober."

I raised an eyebrow. "And yet you are looking."

"Aye, and you appear to be warming up to me, my dear." I glanced down and sighed, my male reaction belying me to her.

"Perhaps I may speak now?" I asked, folding my arms.

She merely grinned, and nodded, shifting herself against the counter to get comfortable.

I shook my head, but continued all the same. "Let me begin with telling you a few facts. You are mad. You are a drunk. You wear dresses that are too revealing, you speak too openly, you are violent…" I held up a hand to stop her shocked protest. "You annoy me more than anyone has done in centuries. Your dancing leaves much to be desired, you have the worst taste in dates. You enjoy base humour that is not fit for a lady, you are impossibly cheeky, and your voice is rather strange for an elleth as well. Though I must say, you have the most amazing pair of breasts I have ever seen. The Valar have gifted you."

She appeared to be speechless, with her jaw hanging low, her eyes wide. She glanced down at her chest dazedly.

"And yet," I continued, finally getting closer to my goal. "You make me whimsical, amused, and awfully aroused." She actually had the grace to blush. She seemed to suddenly shrink back from the warrior-in-waiting to a shy servant girl. It was quite endearing – the whole moment was endearing.

"Against my better judgement, upbringing, and plain common sense – I love you."

The wine bottle hit the floor with a smash. She had not moved, but for the hand that had lost its grip on the bottle. She seemed to be searching my face for something – her eyes narrowed as though with suspicion. Nay, it was definitely with suspicion.

"W-what?"

"Dear Valar, woman!" I sighed with exasperation. "Were you not listening? Need I repeat the whole speech?"

"Nay, you needn't," she replied, swallowing. "I do not need to hear my faults again." She frowned. "Why do you say this?"

"I thought it 'twas the normal thing to do, if you loved someone," I replied, but despite my calmness on the exterior, tendrils of fear were growing inside me.

What if she did not actually like me? What if she was searching for a gentle way to let me down? Was she still angered by the tournament? Had I hurt her badly? Had I continuously been too rude? I tried not to let my panic show on my face.

Tyrael watched me for a moment, and then asked, "You are serious?"

I looked her straight in the eye, and nodded.

The silence dragged on. I began to feel defeated. She could never have been mine. Never. Just as I was deciding whether to succumb to threatening tears or simply pull up my leggings and walk away, she finally said, "I believe it is my turn to speak." Without awaiting my consent, and grinning maniacally, she said, "You have an ego the size of Moria, you boss me around as though I am a slave, you always speak dispassionately, you beat up my dates – do not argue, Haldir. Might I add that seeing you pleasure yourself could be one of the most traumatic scenes I have ever seen – if I had not found it amusing, and personally, quite flustering. And sweetheart, you have the biggest stick up your derriere in all of Arda." She paused, whilst I just stared at her, stunned. She smiled slightly. "And that was possibly the worst declaration of love I have ever heard. Yet I loved it all the same."

I blinked. Dare I trust a hope? Was it possible that she returned my affections? I narrowed my eyes, and scanned her face, but all I could see was amusement – nothing to really aid or eradicate my suspicions.

"And I truly think you should spend less time with wood…and more with breasts," she chuckled.

I smirked instantly. "Gladly."

She snickered slightly, grinning crookedly.

"Say it."

"What?"

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"That you love me." I wanted to hear it. I wanted to hear the sincerity – like I had imagined it. I had thought that this moment – were it to favour me – would be a mere fantasy, and that I could never possibly allow myself to love someone like her.

It had been a scenario that had crossed my mind unbidden on many occasions, except that my scenarios were different. Well, my scenarios did involve nakedness on both sides, but that was not all that was different…

Now that I was risking everything, I needed to know her true feelings.

A sudden, decidedly un-Tyrael-like expression crossed her face. It was a young, girlish look, bashful and innocent. Then, after a moment she said, "I love you."

I did not doubt the sincerity. For once in her thorn-in-the-side life, she was serious, and the truth was plain to see in her eyes.

She suddenly began to laugh, and I felt confused. Was she laughing at me? Had she been jesting?

"You do realise," she laughed, "that we both confessed our love to each other whilst you had your leggings down?!"

I grinned slightly, relieved. "'Tis not uncommon, Tyrael." I paused, and frowned. "Are you certain this is what you feel, Tyrael? There is no other?"

"Who else would there be?" She murmured. "Rathborn? He – "

"Nay, not Rathborn." I suddenly felt rather foolish, standing there almost half naked and trying to confess that I felt inadequate. "You seem to think highly of Legolas…"

Her eyebrows rose. "Aye, I do – but not as highly as you seem to think. What in Arda would give you that idea?"

"Earlier on. What you said outside my door."

"A compliment to Legolas for being courteous," she nodded, and I realised that she was confused. She seemed to mentally peruse the memory, then gasped. "Oh! You did not think I was comparing him to you, did you?"

Aye, I thought, resisting the urge to look at the ground. I thought you hated me…I shed tears for you…

"Oh, Haldir," she smiled softly. "You daft Elf. I was merely telling Kalia that Legolas was kind indeed to earn us places at the ball and not punish me severely. I was in no way comparing him to you."

She smirked, shaking her head. Within a moment, I launched myself at her, pressing her against the countertop. She appeared surprised, but did not object. I reached out to smooth flyaway hair from her face, before gripping the back of her neck tightly, and in a low, commanding voice I whispered into her ear, "Never pull a stunt like the tournament again, Tyrael. Plum stones pelted at my head, I can forgive, but for me to hurt you…for you to risk your life…" 

She had looked guilty that I knew about the plum stones (and she should have, of course – the small bits of flesh left on the stone was terrible when caught in hair. She was probably wondering how I knew, but the answer was simple – she was the only one, aside from my brothers, who would dare to show such insolence to me – aside from Elladan, perhaps, but he and my brothers had been indisposed at the time, tormenting some young elleths), but she suddenly seemed surprised about my words.

I knew I had spoken them sombrely, for the memory of it still pained me – to see her almost dead on the ground…nay, for a moment, she was dead. I frowned, touching the slight bruises on her face.

"We have both been stupid at regular intervals," Tyrael said with a small smile. "I suppose I have been worse, though."

"You have."

She grunted, and pushed at my shoulders, but I pushed back, happy to remain where I was for the time being. I had my hands on the countertop, my arms on either side of her waist, successfully pinning her.

"Not so soon, Tih-ree-all," I smirked, drawing her name out as I deliberately breathed on her ear point. It was time to repay a favour…

"Haldir!" She hissed, sounding flustered. "I was not lying when I said that I had things to attend to!"

"Aye, you do," I nodded, grinning. "You have things to attend to right here."

Then I kissed her – perhaps the first proper kiss. She did not take long to react, weaving her arms around my neck. They were strong, not like the twigs of arms most other maidens had. It felt different, but not necessarily in a bad way.

The kiss was almost tentative at first, before I felt that it would be safe to increase the intensity. I carefully nudged her lips open with my tongue, kissing her deeply as I pressed myself closer, unwilling to let go for fear of her leaving. This was it. She may never know it in the future, but I knew that this was the moment where my heart would officially be hers. Now was the time that should something happen to her, it would affect me too – should I simply be deeply aggrieved, or should I fade, dying of a broken heart.

I pulled away slightly, and whispered, "They can wait. I cannot."

And that was an order.

Her eyes darkened with a mutual desire, and in one fluid motion I tugged her dress up to her waist, and lifted her onto the countertop. She moaned impatiently in the back of her throat, and I felt my control snap. Soon my lips were on her throat, which was slick with the sweat from the heat of the kitchens. I lapped her neck like a kitten, nearly drowning in the sweet salty taste of her, and she laced long fingers into my hair and pulled slightly. I pulled away from her neck and felt the corners of my lips curl.

She liked it rough, did she?

She smirked back at me, and as if to answer my question, her hand snaked lower past my navel until she found her destination. I bit my lip, and felt my eyes roll back. She was far too dexterous with those hands of hers.

Our lips met in unison, tongues clashing, bodies trying desperately to connect further, until unmentionables were tossed on the floor, and her legs wrapped around my waist. I shoved her back onto her elbows, and in our haste several platters and mixing bowls crashed onto the floor with a loud shatter. 

Swelter snorted loudly, and jumped in surprise, but never woke from his perpetual slumber, and resumed his loud snoring. We both tore from each other and laughed slightly, before grasping each other and deepening our kiss.

Soon, the sounds of Swelter's snoring were drowned out by the sounds of our laboured breathing, as we began to move against one another.  With a growl, I pulled her up to me to be closer, and she cried out softly. Perhaps some other time we would be tender, but not now. Too long had I desired her, and now that I knew her sweetness, I was ruined for life. We clung to each other ferociously, and with a lusty cry, found our release, stars dancing before my eyes as I lowered her onto the counter and tried to calm my pulse.

She smiled shyly, and I rewarded her with a sheepish grin, before kissing her soundly on the lips, and collecting her under things from the dusty floor.

For a wild moment, I saw uncertainty in her eyes, as she tried in vain to collect herself. Perhaps she felt I had confessed my love to bed her?

Before such doubts could take root in her mind, I embraced her gently, and tilted her chin up to face me.

"I love you." I replied, and brushed my lips with hers, before dashing off back towards the party.

She cried out in protest, before hearing the sounds I had heard. Her staff were returning.

I moved through the passage slowly, smiling slightly. Whether we had bonded or no, she was now mine. She loved me as I loved her.

The threat of Rathborn would be no more. What I had seen that night was the past. He would never lay a finger on her again.

I felt a presence beside me, and I glanced down, to see Tyrael walking next to me. She glanced up with a slight smile.

"Kalia made me promise to return to the party."

I smiled, noting that her golden eyes were bright, the lines around her eyes and forehead gone. And she was sober, which was always a novelty. Though I did not approve of her dress…

I paused, knowing that my commenting on it would merely lay the path for a banter, so I merely stepped slightly closer, before realising what needed to be said – what I had originally came to say in the first place.

"I know that you believed him, Tyrael. Do not. You are not a whore."

She flinched, before she said, "You do not agree with him? I saw the pained look in your eyes…"

"The pained look was because I was ashamed that I tarried for so long that you sought solace in that Orc."

She chuckled slightly, before saying, "I have known Rathborn for a long time. He earned my trust through helping me. I suppose it was merely a honey trap…"

I noticed the doubt still in her eyes. "You refuse to acknowledge that I do not believe you a whore." She was silent. "You wish to be one?" I continued. "If you do, than so shall you be, but you will be mine, and no one else's. Understood?"

She glanced up, surprised, before smiling gently. I smiled, brushing some of her hair back, before leading the both of us into the ballroom once more.

I had been proved wrong. She would notice me if I dropped my leggings in front of her.

Whew, well, that was um, cathartic wasn't is? Well, I think so anyway. So three cheers for requited sexual tension eh? If you dug it, pounce on that lovely review button. If you hated it, well *sighs* I guess you can too…..No worries, the second part will be up soon enough mmkay? -Suz