Author: Elvenwanderer
Title: Choices of A Lifetime
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I make no monetary gain. and there is also the fact that I own nothing besides the word order of this story.
Cast: Haldir/OFC, Galadriel, Celeborn, Rúmil and Orophin, various other OCs as secondary characters.
Timeline: September 3019 (3rd age) and on
Summary: Gliriel grew up among mortals, and she is happy with her life. When the elves come to Dunland, she must make a choice.
Warnings: HALDIR OF LOTHLÓRIEN IS A MAIN CHARACTER IN THIS STORY. THIS FIC IS AN ORIGINAL FEMALE CHARACTER ROMANCE. Meaning: those of you who dislike a heterosexual Haldir under most circumstances you have been warned, and I will not tolerate flames. You have been warned.
There are no homosexual jokes / insinuations / actions in this story.
- Alyssa
**
September 6, 3019
Ever since I was a small child, I had always known that I was different than my parents and three younger siblings. Whether it was my sight (not only could I see a hawk soaring on thermals miles higher than even Kiero, I could predict future happenings to some small extent) or the fact that no matter what I was fed, or how much, I would neither gain nor lose an ounce, I was not sure. Even my name was unlike theirs: Gliriel, flowing and soft on the tongue like cream.
One bright, sunny and unusually warm September day, I was standing in the cornfield helping my eldest younger brother chase crows when Mother called us to the house for dinner. Today, though, there was a fearful and unfamiliar ring in her voice that I had seldom heard there before, especially concerning something so trivial as us coming to dinner (she should have had no fear of us not doing so). Something was unusual about the urgency with which she called to us, but Gunther didn't hear anything special, so I shrugged off the "alert" sensation that caused my muscles to tense an become ready to spring like a cat on the hunt.
Again, Gunther challenged me to a race towards home - he usually did - and before I could answer, he took off at a loping run as fast as his long skinny legs would carry him. I grinned, waited a moment to give him a decent head start, and then jogged off after him.
'Maybe I should let him win this time?' I thought quickly as my small feet carried me effortlessly through the rows of corn. I listened to the noise that was Gunther carving a path through the corn cease as he cleared the field, and a moment later I came to the end of the stalks and plowed directly into someone.
Thankfully it was only my father, he pushed me down and we rolled in a small brawl. He pinned me down, and I successfully pushed him off of me to sprint off after Gunth, who was now nearly home. I was delayed by Dad's intentional distractions; he knew I had an unfair advantage at running.
'Nah.' I answered myself and accelerated to an all out run; my hands brushed my sides and my hair flew out in pale waves behind me. The shrubs and grasses of the plain were now a colorful haze below me as was my brother a seemingly solitary blur when I passed by him. I looked back at him and grinned as the distance between us widened.
I heard my name and the words "watch out" from behind me before I again realized that I had not given myself enough space to slow down before I reached the house. I tried to slow down, but it was no longer of any use.
BAM.
I had run head on into the thick paneled wooden door for the third time this week (and it was only Tuesday, too) and for the umpteenth time so far in my life, having done so each day since Gunther and I could both run. I could clearly see the look on my mother's face as she cringed at my daily incident.
I hobbled backwards and my hand rubbed my forehead.
"Fine! I'm fine." I called to my mother, before she asked.
As usual, I ascertained no major injuries; just a stubbed - possibly broken - toe on my right foot. Let's see, that made two on that foot and three on the left. I looked down at the ground to see my boots and ended up leaning over with my hands on my knees trying to steady myself. Not a good plan, I shot back up as the nausea set in from bending over.
Gunther came puffing up behind me and caught me in his arms as I wheeled dizzily around for a few seconds with stars in my eyes and a greenish tint to my face. I shook my head sharply to clear away the pinpoints of light and gave him a shaky grin. Gunth smiled and pulled me into a tight hug; he has always been my favorite sibling.
"When are you going to learn not to go crashing into our front door?" He questioned softly in my ear as he rubbed my shoulder blades. I knew he was smiling through his worry and fear for my wellbeing.
"If I keep getting attention from you, Bro, I don't want to." I replied with the same answer to the same question he always asked.
Mother appeared from inside the house, and slapped a piece of meat on my face -mostly to prevent further bruising- when I turned to look towards her. She stepped between my brother and I and started yelling (most surprisingly) at him.
"How many times do I have to tell you two? No racing, someone might - and most likely, will - get hurt!" I mouthed the last part with a mockingly contorted face from behind her back.
Mother whirled around when Gunth's face broke out in a huge grin from his scared, almost traumatized visage (Mother was waving a huge gutted - but not skinned - fish at him. who wouldn't be scared of an angry woman waving a limp fish?). Mother's fish slapped Gunth "in the gut" as she turned with the scaly pike. With her free hand, she pinched my sensitive ear strongly between two distinctly fish-smelling fingers.
"How about you? How many times must I tell you not to race -"
"Ow, ow, OW, OW, MOM!" Her other arm flailed around and she fishlessly poked the ticklish spot on my stomach. Gunth had caught the flapping pike before anyone else could get seriously injured by means of a dead fish.
I laughed, dropping down and wrapping my arms around myself to protect my stomach from further attack and Mother let go of my ear, only to prod me into the house (thankfully through the door this time) and she set me to chopping vegetables.
"Oh, why thank you, Gunther!" Mother exclaimed with sickening mock sweetness when he followed us in the house, fish in hand.
He raised a dubious eyebrow at her. "For what?"
"For volunteering to finish that fish for me! You're so kind." She pulled him into a headlock and kissed his forehead. No wonder she brought the fish outside. Smart woman.
"There are some more over there, dear." She added with fake innocence, while gesturing towards a bucket. Gunther groaned; he had been trapped, hook, line and sinker.
I snickered and after slicing the carrots, I began dicing the potatoes, slipping a small chunk to Padu, our mixed- breed dog. He crunched loudly, and Mother shot me a stern look that clearly said, "don't feed the dog table scraps."
"Traitor." I swore smugly at the dog, my face set in a scowl. I swear he grinned back at me.
"All right, you two. Go clean up." Mother ordered when both Gunth and I had finished the chores she set us. I led the way to the well and struggled to haul up a full bucket of water. With the affixed ladle, I scooped a bit out and poured the clear water over Gunth's messy fish-hands, he then washed his face also.
We switched places and I rubbed dust and dirt off of my face while he kindly picked a few leaves and other trace amounts of vegetation out of my hair. While waiting for Mother to call us back, I sat on the rock and mortar wall with my back against the wooden support for the cupola covering the well. I pulled my right leg up onto the stones and yanked my muddy boot off.
Immediately Gunther, who had been leaning on the little roof, jumped back and waved his hand in front of his face, as if complaining about my feet smelling.
"Oh shuddup. Your feet smell like rotting horse muck if mine smell at all." I retorted. He scoffed, but agreed slightly as he reattached the ladle to the bucket.
"Whatcha doing, anyhow?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" I held my foot and gingerly fingered the two purple toes. Ouch.
Hold on a sec. That wasn't there earlier. I stared between my big toe and second toe at a silvery dot in the distance. I tensed like I always do when I discover something, and Gunther must have seen me stiffen and followed my gaze. I pulled my boot on again and winced as the leather squished my toes together.
"What is it? What do you see?" He whispered, not wanting to scare anything if it happened to be alive and nearby.
"I don't know." The dot disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "Nothing."
Just then Mother called us to dinner, but I kept staring at the spot where the dot was. I jumped, and almost fell in the well (I've done that before, too), when Gunther clapped a hand on my shoulder.
"It's just your eyes, Gliri. You're always seeing things the rest of us can't. Besides, it's probably just the sunset." He assured, bouncing his hand supportively on my shoulder. "Don't fret, sis, you're no crazier than the rest of us."
"Yeah. just the sunset." I nodded slowly. Oaf. Sunset was in the west, not the southwest, especially at this time of year. He steered my shoulders towards our house, but, for the first time, I didn't want dinner.
Something was out there; I wanted to know what it was.
Title: Choices of A Lifetime
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I make no monetary gain. and there is also the fact that I own nothing besides the word order of this story.
Cast: Haldir/OFC, Galadriel, Celeborn, Rúmil and Orophin, various other OCs as secondary characters.
Timeline: September 3019 (3rd age) and on
Summary: Gliriel grew up among mortals, and she is happy with her life. When the elves come to Dunland, she must make a choice.
Warnings: HALDIR OF LOTHLÓRIEN IS A MAIN CHARACTER IN THIS STORY. THIS FIC IS AN ORIGINAL FEMALE CHARACTER ROMANCE. Meaning: those of you who dislike a heterosexual Haldir under most circumstances you have been warned, and I will not tolerate flames. You have been warned.
There are no homosexual jokes / insinuations / actions in this story.
- Alyssa
**
September 6, 3019
Ever since I was a small child, I had always known that I was different than my parents and three younger siblings. Whether it was my sight (not only could I see a hawk soaring on thermals miles higher than even Kiero, I could predict future happenings to some small extent) or the fact that no matter what I was fed, or how much, I would neither gain nor lose an ounce, I was not sure. Even my name was unlike theirs: Gliriel, flowing and soft on the tongue like cream.
One bright, sunny and unusually warm September day, I was standing in the cornfield helping my eldest younger brother chase crows when Mother called us to the house for dinner. Today, though, there was a fearful and unfamiliar ring in her voice that I had seldom heard there before, especially concerning something so trivial as us coming to dinner (she should have had no fear of us not doing so). Something was unusual about the urgency with which she called to us, but Gunther didn't hear anything special, so I shrugged off the "alert" sensation that caused my muscles to tense an become ready to spring like a cat on the hunt.
Again, Gunther challenged me to a race towards home - he usually did - and before I could answer, he took off at a loping run as fast as his long skinny legs would carry him. I grinned, waited a moment to give him a decent head start, and then jogged off after him.
'Maybe I should let him win this time?' I thought quickly as my small feet carried me effortlessly through the rows of corn. I listened to the noise that was Gunther carving a path through the corn cease as he cleared the field, and a moment later I came to the end of the stalks and plowed directly into someone.
Thankfully it was only my father, he pushed me down and we rolled in a small brawl. He pinned me down, and I successfully pushed him off of me to sprint off after Gunth, who was now nearly home. I was delayed by Dad's intentional distractions; he knew I had an unfair advantage at running.
'Nah.' I answered myself and accelerated to an all out run; my hands brushed my sides and my hair flew out in pale waves behind me. The shrubs and grasses of the plain were now a colorful haze below me as was my brother a seemingly solitary blur when I passed by him. I looked back at him and grinned as the distance between us widened.
I heard my name and the words "watch out" from behind me before I again realized that I had not given myself enough space to slow down before I reached the house. I tried to slow down, but it was no longer of any use.
BAM.
I had run head on into the thick paneled wooden door for the third time this week (and it was only Tuesday, too) and for the umpteenth time so far in my life, having done so each day since Gunther and I could both run. I could clearly see the look on my mother's face as she cringed at my daily incident.
I hobbled backwards and my hand rubbed my forehead.
"Fine! I'm fine." I called to my mother, before she asked.
As usual, I ascertained no major injuries; just a stubbed - possibly broken - toe on my right foot. Let's see, that made two on that foot and three on the left. I looked down at the ground to see my boots and ended up leaning over with my hands on my knees trying to steady myself. Not a good plan, I shot back up as the nausea set in from bending over.
Gunther came puffing up behind me and caught me in his arms as I wheeled dizzily around for a few seconds with stars in my eyes and a greenish tint to my face. I shook my head sharply to clear away the pinpoints of light and gave him a shaky grin. Gunth smiled and pulled me into a tight hug; he has always been my favorite sibling.
"When are you going to learn not to go crashing into our front door?" He questioned softly in my ear as he rubbed my shoulder blades. I knew he was smiling through his worry and fear for my wellbeing.
"If I keep getting attention from you, Bro, I don't want to." I replied with the same answer to the same question he always asked.
Mother appeared from inside the house, and slapped a piece of meat on my face -mostly to prevent further bruising- when I turned to look towards her. She stepped between my brother and I and started yelling (most surprisingly) at him.
"How many times do I have to tell you two? No racing, someone might - and most likely, will - get hurt!" I mouthed the last part with a mockingly contorted face from behind her back.
Mother whirled around when Gunth's face broke out in a huge grin from his scared, almost traumatized visage (Mother was waving a huge gutted - but not skinned - fish at him. who wouldn't be scared of an angry woman waving a limp fish?). Mother's fish slapped Gunth "in the gut" as she turned with the scaly pike. With her free hand, she pinched my sensitive ear strongly between two distinctly fish-smelling fingers.
"How about you? How many times must I tell you not to race -"
"Ow, ow, OW, OW, MOM!" Her other arm flailed around and she fishlessly poked the ticklish spot on my stomach. Gunth had caught the flapping pike before anyone else could get seriously injured by means of a dead fish.
I laughed, dropping down and wrapping my arms around myself to protect my stomach from further attack and Mother let go of my ear, only to prod me into the house (thankfully through the door this time) and she set me to chopping vegetables.
"Oh, why thank you, Gunther!" Mother exclaimed with sickening mock sweetness when he followed us in the house, fish in hand.
He raised a dubious eyebrow at her. "For what?"
"For volunteering to finish that fish for me! You're so kind." She pulled him into a headlock and kissed his forehead. No wonder she brought the fish outside. Smart woman.
"There are some more over there, dear." She added with fake innocence, while gesturing towards a bucket. Gunther groaned; he had been trapped, hook, line and sinker.
I snickered and after slicing the carrots, I began dicing the potatoes, slipping a small chunk to Padu, our mixed- breed dog. He crunched loudly, and Mother shot me a stern look that clearly said, "don't feed the dog table scraps."
"Traitor." I swore smugly at the dog, my face set in a scowl. I swear he grinned back at me.
"All right, you two. Go clean up." Mother ordered when both Gunth and I had finished the chores she set us. I led the way to the well and struggled to haul up a full bucket of water. With the affixed ladle, I scooped a bit out and poured the clear water over Gunth's messy fish-hands, he then washed his face also.
We switched places and I rubbed dust and dirt off of my face while he kindly picked a few leaves and other trace amounts of vegetation out of my hair. While waiting for Mother to call us back, I sat on the rock and mortar wall with my back against the wooden support for the cupola covering the well. I pulled my right leg up onto the stones and yanked my muddy boot off.
Immediately Gunther, who had been leaning on the little roof, jumped back and waved his hand in front of his face, as if complaining about my feet smelling.
"Oh shuddup. Your feet smell like rotting horse muck if mine smell at all." I retorted. He scoffed, but agreed slightly as he reattached the ladle to the bucket.
"Whatcha doing, anyhow?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" I held my foot and gingerly fingered the two purple toes. Ouch.
Hold on a sec. That wasn't there earlier. I stared between my big toe and second toe at a silvery dot in the distance. I tensed like I always do when I discover something, and Gunther must have seen me stiffen and followed my gaze. I pulled my boot on again and winced as the leather squished my toes together.
"What is it? What do you see?" He whispered, not wanting to scare anything if it happened to be alive and nearby.
"I don't know." The dot disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "Nothing."
Just then Mother called us to dinner, but I kept staring at the spot where the dot was. I jumped, and almost fell in the well (I've done that before, too), when Gunther clapped a hand on my shoulder.
"It's just your eyes, Gliri. You're always seeing things the rest of us can't. Besides, it's probably just the sunset." He assured, bouncing his hand supportively on my shoulder. "Don't fret, sis, you're no crazier than the rest of us."
"Yeah. just the sunset." I nodded slowly. Oaf. Sunset was in the west, not the southwest, especially at this time of year. He steered my shoulders towards our house, but, for the first time, I didn't want dinner.
Something was out there; I wanted to know what it was.