Naomie: WV is nice. Scenery and the like are worth the trip but the people are uneducated, moronic, chauvinistic bastards... be warned. I've had SO much headache from the locals that I'm in the process of moving. Gotta get forms and things ready before I go. ;) I'm gonna leave the ending open and people can interpret it the way they want, and if they want me to, then I can write a sequel. :D And as far as I know, I'm not a relative of Tolkien. LOL

Lady of Light: Rúmil has learned to take Haldir's outbursts in stride. That's what happens when people are around each other for long periods of time. You have an outburst, smooth things over, then let feelings go on simmer again. LOL Hooked like a big mouth bass you say? I guess the semi-naked elves are a good lure eh? I know they have me drooling from time to time. snort Thanks for the cute visual! I needed a laugh!

Seeing Spots: I wanted to give a good 'scary moment' and then lighten it with some humor. Glad you appreciated my efforts. LOL I wanted Orophin and Haldir to share a moment too, which is why they felt the chill and numbness. Actually, if you think about it, Rúmil passed out at a good time, cause had he been awake, I have a feeling that such a thing would have wrecked havoc on his 'sense.'

Zammy: Looks like I spoke too soon. Jinxed myself there. Well, I'm glad you are still keeping up with the story!

AN: The story is ALMOST finished. I feel so bummed now. Its hard to see it end, but I have some others in the works, but the muse needs to come back and make another appearance. Bitch ran off. (mumbles incoherent words as she wanders off to listen to REM)

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Chapter Twenty-Five: Doubts and Inclinations

Rúmil waited until the group was far from the protective barrier and said nonchalantly to Orophin, "I do not like leaving him like this. I fear what may happen."

"Aye, I worry as well, Brother," Orophin said. Lómetar slept in his arms as the horse beat a steady rhythm, weaving through the familiar trees. Orophin kept his hand over Lómetar's heart, monitoring the elf's life as they traveled. After several minutes, he looked over his shoulder, feeling a great heaviness in his chest as the barrier slipped from view, "Let us hope that Haldir finds his answers and follow us soon."

Rúmil allowed a ghost of a grin to flit across his face as he gave his brother a sidelong glance, "Do you think that Amarah will try to keep him?"

Orophin gave Rúmil a puzzled look, then caught the hint and smiled, "I do not believe a human could have such a hold over our brother. He is too stubborn and ill tempered, as you already know."

Rúmil chuckled and nodded, "Aye, that he is. But he seems to have some interest in her, and I am left to wonder if such actions are wise."

"Wise? No," Orophin said with an even tone. "Where matters of the heart are concerned, there is no wisdom, only foolishness. However, I do believe there is something else at work here."

"What troubles you, Orophin?" Rúmil asked, dropping his lighthearted nature and adopting the stern demeanor that Haldir used often.

Orophin sighed and adjusted Lómetar in his grip, maintaining his constant vigil over the elf's life signs, "I do not know for certain. It is only a feeling that makes me uneasy. Have you felt anything?"

Rúmil shook his head, "I have had no visions or feelings, other than fear for our dwarf-headed brother."

Orophin laughed, "Let us hope that his dwarf manner keeps him out of trouble."

"It will be a sunny day in Mordor if that happens," scoffed Rúmil. His mirth died on his face as he turned to look behind him, as if expecting Haldir to come riding up in their wake. "Do you think that he has found love, Brother? Truly, found a love?"

Orophin shook his head, "I believe he has found a fascination, a puzzle that intrigues him. As for love, I do not know, but I have my doubts."

"As do I," Rúmil said, turning back to stare ahead. "It is going to be a long journey without him."

"Aye it will," Orophin sighed, staring ahead, his mind buzzing with thoughts of his eldest brother and the knowledge that he was without any backup should something arise. The thought sent a chill down Orophin's spine and he clung to Lómetar, praying to the Vala that Haldir remained safe.

Haldir stared into a crystal goblet that sparkled like diamonds in the faint light cast by candles. The flame flickered restlessly on its wick, dancing and playing with the tiniest puff of wind. Time seemed to creep by, inching towards the unknown destination of eternity. Haldir blinked, his attention returning to the present as he heard his name.

"Haldir?"

Haldir pulled his eyes away from the dancing light and looked across the table to Amarah, "I am sorry, what did you say?"

Amarah placed her napkin on the table, put out at the elf's attitude. She rose gracefully from her chair and came to sit by Haldir, taking his hand in hers, "I said you seem distracted. Is there something plaguing your mind that you wish to share?"

"There is nothing, Amarah," Haldir smiled and kissed the back of her hand. "I am sorry I am not better company. My thoughts linger elsewhere."

"Home?" guessed Amarah. "You miss your home and your brothers?"

Haldir nodded, the candlelight shimmering in the depths of his blue eyes as he regarded the human beside him, "Yes, I miss home and my kin, but there are other things on my mind as well."

"Such as?" Amarah asked, leaning close and running her fingers through the silken strands of hair that fell over Haldir's shoulder.

"Things that are of unimportance," Haldir said, his eyes becoming half lidded as he allowed the ministrations to continue. He felt his body relax into her touch and sighed.

Feeling the elf relax and lean into her touch, Amarah allowed her hands to roam more freely, caressing the soft skin along Haldir's neck, and up along to his ears, tracing the pointed peak. She smiled when she heard a muffled groan. Still tracing the peak, she placed feathery kisses along his jaw, working her way to his ear.

Haldir snaked his arms around Amarah's waist and pulled her closer, feeling a heat flush his body. He felt as if his very skin were lit aflame, burning every cell with liquid fire. Though he had plenty of elleths to court, none made this feeling spread throughout his body and overwhelm his senses.

Emotions were something that Haldir had never allowed to be shown, preferring to remain aloof and distant from those who would offer distractions. Fleetingly, his mind recalled Rúmil's remark about him being made of ice, and that one could freeze just by his stare alone.

Haldir sighed, knowing that Rúmil's jibe wasn't far from the truth. Yes, he liked the company and companionship of elleths, and admitted to his fair share of fumbles and explorations; he never allowed any to get near his heart. Under a hard shell of ice he would hide, withdrawing from the world when feelings would become too much to handle or understand. He feared his soul could not withstand anymore heartbreak.

Under any other circumstance, he would have withdrawn at the attention Amarah was given him, but for some reason, things felt different. Perhaps it was because she was human, and never having a human interest before, found it a rather intriguing idea. Whatever the reason, Haldir found himself simply being drowned in pleasure. Hisses and moans seemed to find their way out of him as Amarah explored parts of his body he would never allow another to gain access to.

Amarah grinned against Haldir's skin, feeling his temperature rise and burn against her lips. Her hands massaged their way down his arms, shoulders and back. Her hands lifted the end of his Elven tunic and slipped past the layers he wore, finding the soft skin over well-defined muscles.

Haldir's eyes snapped open and he grabbed Amarah's hands that were caressing his sides and working their way across his stomach. She leaned back, giving him a puzzled expression and licked her lips with enticing slowness; making sure the elf saw the suggestive movement.

Haldir suddenly rose and gave an awkward bow, "My lady, please excuse me."

Amarah stood at Haldir's side, her brow drawn in confusion, "Where are you going?"

Haldir's blue eyes were clouded when he turned to the human to speak, "I am going to bed. There is much I wish to explore tomorrow and I believe an early start would be wise."

Amarah stepped closer and stroked the elf's cheek with the back of her hand, "You have all the time you wish, however, there are things I wish to explore myself, so if you would indulge me. . ."

Amarah broke off to place a kiss along Haldir's jaw, her fingers trailing down over his chest. She smiled again when she heard a deep rumble echo its way out.

Shaking himself free of a haze, Haldir grabbed Amarah's wrists and brought them together in front of her. Hearing her whimper in protest, he lessened his grip and brought them to his lips and kissed the back of each hand and smiled, "I am sorry, my lady. But I fear what will happen if I allow this to continue."

"I do not fear it," Amarah purred, stepping closer and pinning her hands between their bodies. "I trust you."

Haldir smiled faintly, "I am flattered and honored to have such conviction, but it is not you of whom I worry. Please Amarah, understand my dilemma."

Haldir smirked inwardly at the choice of words and watched as Amarah sighed and looked crestfallen.

"Very well, Haldir," Amarah said with a hint of impatience, "I will follow your lead."

Haldir bowed his head and placed a kiss on Amarah's cheek, allowing himself the briefest of heated contact and withdrew with a serene smile, "Rest well, Amarah. I shall see you in the morrow."

Thinking that her last chance was slipping away, Amarah said with a sly look, "If you so wish, you may watch over my rest."

Getting the hint, Haldir kept his face impassive as he regarded the human, "Tis a very tempting offer, yet the answer is the same. I will return to the rooms I share with the others," Haldir frowned and corrected himself, "That I shared with the others and will rest there until I leave to return home."

Amarah looked close to a tirade but drew herself to her full height, which was considerable for a human female, and stuck her chin in the air, "Very well. I shall see you in the morrow. Good evening to you, Haldir."

With those words, Amarah exited the room, her gown flowing behind her in a swirl of anger. Her steps were hurried and enraged. Haldir listened as her loud departure faded and started for the room he had shared with the others. Memories surfaced as he walked the now familiar hall and looked longingly upon the accustomed door.

With a regretful sigh, Haldir opened the door and entered the cold, dark room. His eyes adjusted to the dimness in an instant and noted that the long table had been cleaned of all dishes and covered in a clean drape. The discarded clothing that was lent was now gone. The blankets had been changed in the large bed and the smaller cots had been removed. Now that the place was cleaned and uncluttered from the extra beds, it seemed hallow and empty. Haldir sighed, feeling his emotions mirror that of the room. He secretly wished he had ordered someone to remain to quell the sense of loneliness now settling in him.

Haldir pulled his tunic over his head and folded it, placing it on the bedside stand. As he removed his boots, he allowed a small smile to play across his face, knowing that tonight he would get a decent rest and not have Rúmil kicking or using him as a pillow. The thought was short lived as Haldir felt his heart clench at the thought of his brothers. He prayed they travel safe and have no more encounters with orcs or any other foul beast that roamed the land.

Haldir settled himself into bed, staring at the dark ceiling and missing the gentle snores that always came from Orophin. He pondered how in Middle Earth he was going to sleep to silence.

A soft knock at the door drew Haldir to the alert in an instant. He rose, withdrawing a dagger and creeping to the door, "Who is there?"

There was no answer.

Haldir pulled away the chair he always placed in front of the door and turned the handle. The door swung open, flooding his room with the candlelight from the hall. Haldir didn't flinch from the change in light, his eyes scanning the corridor for the person that disturbed his rest.

Haldir searched both directions of the hall and frowned when no person caught his attention. He was just about to withdraw when something caught his attention; a faint scent of wood and soap.

Drawing his brow, Haldir stepped out into the hall and immediately leapt back when his bare foot landed on something soft. Frowning further, Haldir bent down and picked up the small gift that was on his doorstep.

Soft, intricately woven fabric met his fingers as he examined the material, noting the lightness and pattern of leaves and ivy that had been embroidered along what appeared to be a collar. Haldir smiled as he pulled the fabric to reveal a very beautiful shirt. The color changed from dark gray to stunning pearl, and laced up along the neck. The thread embellishing the collar and cuffs were of shiny silver that shimmered in the faint light of the candles along the bracketed wall. The cut and angles of the edges was an almost perfect match to the typical Elven clothing.

Haldir smiled, his fingers tracing the designs. Surely this fine of a gift was not meant for him? He glanced up and down the hallway again, hoping to see a sign of the person that had left it and inform them of their mistake, but no one was in sight. The candles flickered, casting dancing shadows along the walls and the face of the awestruck elf in the doorway.

Haldir pulled the fabric to his face and inhaled the rich scent. His senses were assaulted with the familiar scent of the woods. He smiled into the material, feeling its softness caress his face and flood his mind with images of home. Suddenly, the elf didn't feel so alone, and retreated into his room with a broad smile and a twinkle in his eye.

As evening settled around the countryside, Rúmil ordered the company to a halt. They had traveled for many hours, not stopping to eat all day, and had only allowed the horses a short drink at a stream several miles back. The horses were winded, and the elves thought it best to rest them for the night and allow themselves a reprieve as well.

The elves dismounted and un-tacked their horses, leading them to a nearby pond to drink their fill and rest after their trek. The horses flicked their tails as they drank and grazed around the small glen, keeping close to the elves.

Orophin had placed Lómetar on a blanket and unwrapped him from his cocoon to check his wounds. Lómetar groaned when the dressings were changed and rebound, but remained unconscious. His skin once again became cool to the touch and a light sweat shone along his fair skin.

Orophin frowned and ordered the others to collect firewood. They nodded and returned some time later, each burdened with an armload of broken limbs and dry kindling. Within a couple of minutes, Orophin had a roaring fire reaching for the heavens.

The company ate a few bites of the prepared food, commenting on the way the meat and fruits were cured for their journey. Orophin and Rúmil took turns glancing the way they had come, their eyes trained for the slightest movement. The others knew what plagued the brothers but remained silent.

Rúmil added another log to the fire and looked around the circle of elves, "So, who wants first watch?"

Láiraen nodded. Múrendil voted for second and told Láiraen he would relieve him in a few hours. Láiraen nodded and deftly scaled a nearby tree, disappearing into the foliage to begin his watch.

Aravitan and Wethíar scooted closer to the fire, flanking Eremae who was already sound asleep, his eyes glazed over, reflecting the flickering of the fire. Orophin settled next to Lómetar, placing his hand over the fallen elf's chest and slipping into a light reverie. Rúmil stoked the fire and watched as Múrendil slipped off into the night, silently passing through the trees. A soft whooshing noise was heard by Láiraen and Rúmil, the only two awake near the encampment. They tensed; eyes trained into the darkness and saw Múrendil emerge, sit down, drop a bundle on the ground, and pull his quiver off his back to extract the remaining arrows. In his other hand was a large bird, an arrow protruded from its side.

Rúmil looked over his sleeping comrades and walked to Múrendil's side and sat beside him, watching the elf's fingers remove feathers from the bird. He noticed the bundle Múrendil had dropped was a small pile of sticks on the opposite side and realized that Múrendil was making more arrows.

Holding back a chuckle, Rúmil asked in a hushed voice, "Do you fear we will encounter more enemies?"

"It is possible," Múrendil said with a soft tone, continuing with his work.

Rúmil picked up some of the feathers Múrendil had extracted and frowned, "These are not long enough. The arrows will not fly as well."

Múrendil nodded, "They will be adequate. I have not the time to fletch proper arrows, but they will do in a battle."

"Such a bright future you see," Rúmil mumbled, straightening out feathers and picking the most useful for the task.

Múrendil gave Rúmil half a glance and continued to pull out the feathers, "It does not hurt to be prepared."

"You sound like Haldir," Rúmil commented, then sadly turned away, staring in the direction they had come.

"He will be fine," Múrendil said, tugging out the last of the large feathers. "He is a skilled warrior."

"So everyone says," Rúmil whispered into the night. He turned back to Múrendil and sighed, "A warrior he is, but a troublesome one. I do not know how he gets himself into such situations."

Rúmil got up, pulled a medium sized kettle from a saddlebag, grinned at Múrendil, and pointed at the large fowl the elf had killed. Múrendil pulled a dagger from his belt and split the bird, discarding its plucked skin and placing it in the kettle. Rúmil nodded his thanks and went to the pond to collect water to boil the bird in, and returned, licking his lips at the meal he was preparing. Múrendil smiled at the youngest sibling of his commander. Rúmil erected a stand with ease over the flames, and soon the bird was boiling over the fire.

When he made sure the food was safe, Rúmil withdrew a long knife and began to shave off the sticks, making them more sleek looking and therefore easier to fire. When Rúmil was finished removing the knots and rough bark, Múrendil spliced into the ends and wedged in the long feathers, then whittled down the tips to make them sharp. The arrows were crude, and not up to usual Elven standards, but as Múrendil had said, they would suffice.

Several hours passed with the two elves fletching the arrows, Rúmil checking on his stewing bird from time to time. Múrendil looked up to the star strewn sky and stood, collecting several arrows and placing them in his quiver. With a nod, he left the fireside and scaled the tree that nestled Láiraen. A minute later, Láiraen dropped soundlessly to the ground and went to the fire, throwing on another log and sniffing the air.

Rúmil grinned at Láiraen and pointed at the tree that he had just abandoned, "Múrendil needed feathers and there was no way I was going to allow it to go to waste."

Láiraen laughed and stirred the stew, "Haldir is right, you do act like a human."

Rúmil clutched his chest in mock hurt and smarted, "I take offence to that! I am not a human! I just did not want the bird to give its life for only its feathers."

Láiraen laughed as he found a small bowl in a saddlebag and returned to dish out some of the stew. He took a tentative bite and then gave Rúmil a soured look, which melted away in delight. Rúmil looked affronted and scowled, only to burst out laughing from the look on Láiraen's face. The noise woke Eremae, who hauled himself up to his elbows and stared blankly at the two. The smell of cooked meat assailed his nostrils and in a quick minute, had gained his feet and hobbled over to the two enjoying the stew.

Eremae settled himself onto the ground beside Rúmil and accepted the proffered bowl with a look of eagerness, "Thank you."

Rúmil smiled and sat back down, returning to his earlier work of fletching arrows.

Láiraen finished off his stew and looked at Rúmil, "What are you doing?"

"Making arrows," Rúmil said distractedly. His attention was drawn to a very stubborn feather that refused to be allotted into a slot that Múrendil had made.

"Are we expecting trouble?" Eremae asked between bites.

Rúmil bit his lower lip and shoved the feather into the nock, but the action caused the feather to bend and distort. Frustrated, Rúmil threw the feather over his shoulder and picked up another, "One can never be too careful."

"If it is so difficult for you, perhaps you can find some orc to fletch your arrows?" Eremae said with a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face.

Rúmil stopped his mumbled curses at the arrow and looked at Eremae, his expression a look of pure shock.

Eremae nearly choked on his food at the look on Rúmil's face. He lowered his gaze, feeling that perhaps he went too far and that he was not allowed to jest as the others.

Rúmil noticed the change in Eremae's demeanor and started to laugh, "I think my brothers have corrupted another innocent soul!"

Eremae looked up, perturbed by the meaning, then chuckled at the joke.

Rúmil gasped between laughter, "Eremae, you may jest all you like. We are no strangers here."

Eremae nodded, casting his eyes to his bowl and finishing off his stew. He had heard from others that served in Mirkwood that the Lorien elves were haughty and very severe. The fact that he had witnessed firsthand their interactions and calmed ease around one another proved that the tales were fabricated. Eremae had hoped the stories were untrue, and now as he sat with those that had cared for him while injured, protected him from any foes, and who accepted him into their joking midst, he felt he had truly gained a better understanding of their kind.

The elves of Mirkwood had been polite in their acceptance of him, though he never felt he had their respect. Many had mistreated him when no other was around, referring to his stout form as being of a dwarf instead of an elf. He remembered his parents being understanding of his heartache, but never really easing his troubles.

When the position of the prince's bodyguard became available, Eremae had fought hard to earn the rank. He bested many of Mirkwood's most veteran fighters, using his strength to his advantage. Though Legolas was kind and polite to him, he never really took to his new bodyguard, always ordering him out of harm's way. Eremae found out later that Fonéon, Legolas's former guard, had pushed the young prince out of the way of an orc blade, and had died in the prince's arms. Thinking that the subject was best left unspoken, he had distanced himself from the others in the castle, wondering, but never voicing his concerns.

He was forever loyal to his lord and liege, but Eremae smiled to himself, thinking that for the first time, he knew what it felt like to be a part of something, and find a true brotherhood amongst the Lorien elves.