It's been a while. I'm sorry. I hope what happens in this part makes up for it.
^*^
Part Eleven
Relationship-related Conflicts
One glance at the angry, if thin, red cut on the Morelen's neck told Haldir that something had gone wrong at some point; between the time he'd seen her that morning and Vinya's arrival, something had happened, and whatever it was had left Adariel at the wrong end of the blade. But the she-Elf was remarkably skilled at avoiding him, and Haldir lacked the inclination to confront her about it before others.
Most of her day had, in fact, been spent with her sister, Vinya, the Lord Elrond's children, and Vinya's expectant cousin Lalaith. Rumíl and Orophin had both spent plenty of time with the lady as well. Orophin, in fact, had been there during the single moment of the day that the snake Dimalphion had dared to show his face.
"It was rather amusing, to be frank," Orophin had told him later. "He gave lady Adariel the longest look, of course, disgusting creature that he is, but he also seemed to take quite an interest in Vinya. It is a well known thing that Vinya befriended Adariel quite quickly back in Lórien, and Adariel noticed Dimalphion's look toward her friend. You should have seen the glare she gave him! I truly believe that he was more shocked than we were."
Haldir had mused over this for some time; indeed, more time than he would have admitted even to himself. This new and sudden display of defiance toward Dimalphion was both encouraging and galling: It was not for her own defense that she was suddenly bold, but for another's; thus, while it was wonderful that she was displaying an emotion other than fear, the fact that it was on another's behalf took away from that small victory.
And that cut! It was like the puzzle piece that had seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth; it was significant, he knew, but, for the life of him, he could not decipher *why* it was important. The obviously-uncomfortable way Orophin had acted when Haldir had mentioned it was not in the least encouraging. He had pressed his younger brother when Orophin began to fidget, but the sentinel had muttered something about meeting someone somewhere, and being late, and dashed away before Haldir got in another word.
And so, when Haldir found Adariel that evening, finally on her own, he followed as she exited into the gardens, determined to finally put his mind at ease by simply asking her about the stupid cut. She was walking swiftly, an Elf with a purpose, through the garden, and Haldir kept pace not more than fifteen feet behind, also an Elf with a purpose.
Of course, he didn't expect her to suddenly stop. She folded her arms about her and stood in the middle of an intersection of walkways that she had stopped in.
"I know you're there," she said coldly. "Show yourself."
Haldir didn't move, but the shadows across from him did: Dimalphion, dressed entirely in black, as proverbial as it was, stepped out into the moonlight.
"The hunted confronts the hunter. I am impressed. That is certainly more charming than asking your sister to approach the court for you."
"I am not here," she said coldly, "to dispute with you over charm or hunting."
"Then why do you confront me?" he said, his voice pitched low.
"Leave, her, alone," she snarled through clenched teeth."
"What?"
"If you harm Vinya - or anyone else - in any way, I will not hesitate to do now what I could not do then."
"Tell me, my lady: do you truly expect me to believe that threat?"
"Try something," she dared, "and then we will see."
Adariel's back was to him, but Haldir could see Dimalphion's expressions; he did not, by any means, like what he saw: at the Morelen's words, Dimalphion's look became very hostile.
"You," he said snarled lowly, "are becoming very brave." His hand began to move to his hip, and Haldir saw him grasp the hilt of a small blade. "That, my dear, must be rectified."
His body moved without his mind's consent, and Haldir suddenly found himself walking out of the shadows. Dimalphion, seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, whirled to see who approached, suddenly losing interest in his blade.
Adariel also turned, and upon seeing him she looked, for only a fraction of an instant, almost afraid. Surely not of him?
"We were looking for you, my lady," Haldir said coolly, as if he had seen nothing. "I was beginning to think you had left us for the realm of Thranduil."
There was an instant's hesitation, and Adariel's voice was shaking every-so-slightly when she said, "Not Mirkwood, merely the gardens."
Haldir nodded to her, then looked to Dimalphion. "If you would?" His voice was much kinder than his eyes, and the snake returned his gaze, glare for glare. Haldir couldn't tell who was more hostile, himself or Dimalphion.
Eventually, however, the dark-haired Elf gave a mocking bow to them both and left. Adariel didn't move the slightest bit until several long moments after he had left, and Haldir did nothing to make her move, let alone speak.
"How much did you hear?" she asked eventually. Haldir opened his mouth to deny the claim, but she sighed and said, "I know that you weren't looking for me; I told everyone that I wanted to take a short walk on my own. How much of that most enjoyable confrontation did you hear?"
"Enough," he said; rather shortly, to be admitted, but Dimalphion always seemed to grind down his patience faster than any other Elf Haldir had met. Within the short amount of time the Marchwarden had known him, Dimalphion had managed to completely and totally alienate himself in Haldir's eyes.
"Pray tell, how much is 'enough?'" She was slightly exasperated.
"Walk with me for a moment. There are things which we much discuss," he said, neatly avoiding the question until its answer served his purposes better. Adariel recognized this, he knew: it was obvious from her frustrated sigh. Despite this, she fell in step beside him, and they slowly meandered through the gardens.
"Tell me, does that scratch on your neck sting?"
Adariel's hand jerked upward, as if she were going to touch the limb in question, but she stopped it and clasped both hands before her. "A little," she replied stiltedly.
"I believe it has been mentioned before that I am not blind."
"A conversation which I remember."
"That mentioned, I feel I must enumerate that your injury did not yet exist this morning."
She laughed slightly, but he saw the guardedness in her eyes. "It was a accident of my own account; an incident where my true maladroitness came forth through the facade of grace," she explained, and Haldir immediately saw that what she was about to say would not be the entire truth. "I was in the stables, visiting Gil-luin, and I chose to approach another horse. He did not know me well, and thus, when I slipped and grabbed him to keep my balance, he became frightened, and leaped. A piece of metal on his tether hit me. That is how I acquired the gash you speak of."
He sighed and turned, grabbing her shoulder and bringing her around to face him. By the moonlight, her ivory skin was very near translucent, and her violet-blue eyes vivid. "My lady, I have been around horses all of my life, and around you for a period of time long enough for me to make basic judgments. Thus, I know that the scenario you speak of simply isn't possible," he said, an impatient note to his voice. "The truth, if you please."
She jerked back a step, pulling her shoulder out of his grasp. "That is the truth," she said indignantly.
"In a land where the sun is silver and Sauron is our greatest ally, perhaps that is the truth," he snapped. "I would prefer the truth of our land, please."
She blinked, but her surprised expression was gone in an instant, immediately replaced by an indignant, and rather angry, look. "I have given you more of the truth than you realize," she hissed, and Haldir knew that she wasn't referring to the story she'd just given him, but what she had told him about what Dimalphion had done to her.
"If you have told me so much," he demanded, taking a step forward and significantly shortening the distance between then, "then why stop there?"
"For your protection," she snapped, her voice rising.
"And I need your protection?"
"I am, for the time being, the barrier between you and the serpent. Not merely you, in the complete truth, but many!"
"I, as Marchwarden of Lothlórien, most desperately need your protection," he snapped sarcastically.
"And I need your protection?" she cried. "Why?"
Perhaps she had never meant to bring up the subject of protection, neither his nor her own. But she had, and it had led to the question that he could not answer: Why did he care about some slip of a she-Elf from Rivendell? What importance did she hold to him?
Haldir couldn't answer her question, and he knew it. So, he did what any wise Elf would do: he sidestepped the question.
"You're afraid of him."
She looked away, and Haldir knew that he had sufficiently distracted her from the question she had posed. "You've admitted this to me, you needn't deny it."
"I never denied it." Her voice was barely audible.
"Dimalphion gave you that cut, didn't he?"
"I never said that."
"You do not have to." He paused, then asked, "Did he threaten you?"
"I was due."
Haldir blinked. "What?"
"Every two weeks or so," she said, "he reminds me that, no matter how many people I surround myself with, I am still vulnerable."
This he could not believe. "And you accept this as the way of things?" he asked incredulously.
She finally looked back at him, her gaze sharp. "No. But I do accept that if I voice anything, he will only strike faster. I must have time to prepare."
"You approached him on behalf of someone else," he pointed out. "Why not do the same for yourself?"
Adariel walked around him and sat on the delicately carved ornate wooden bench that was just off the side of the path. "Because I did just that, once. The only thing it did for me was get me nearly raped," she said flatly, but, contradictory to her tone, she shuddered.
"You said that he 'reminds you that, no matter how many people you're surrounded with, you're still vulnerable,'" he said. "I think that, if you remain the company of the *right* people, your vulnerability will decrease." She looked up at him as he stepped toward her and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "There are those who would willingly place themselves in danger for you, that much I can discern easily."
Adariel didn't respond. She merely stared up at him, as if she were trying to absorb what she was being told, her eyes a bit wide.
"And, I must add, your hostilities toward me are unneeded."
"I know," she said absently; her focus was not on him so much as it was her inner thoughts.
He would not deduce what made him say it until quite some time later, but what he said next was spoken so softly that the trees beside them never heard it, but Adariel heard it clearly.
"You needn't be afraid of me, Adariel."
And while his own mind reeled at the statement - which had come unbidden from his mouth; he hadn't even thought of it before it had been uttered, a fact that irked him greatly - it seemed to give Adariel some of her equilibrium. Her eyes focused, and her head tilted slightly.
"I know. I always knew."
She stood, and Haldir stepped back. After a long moment's silence, she gave a slight smile and said, "I'm sure the others will be wondering where we are. Perhaps we should return to them."
The commonplace statement gave him his own sense of balance, and he offered an arm. "Indeed."
Adariel lightly place her palm on his arm, and they proceeded in a companionable silence.
^*^
Over the next two weeks, Adariel's friendship with Haldir blossomed. At first, each had remained in the other's company to ensure their safety: Haldir knew that Dimalphion would make no attack toward Adariel if she were not alone, and Adariel knew that her tormentor would wait until Haldir was alone to injure or kill him, simply because he knew that she would torture herself with the knowledge that had she been there, nothing would have happened to Haldir.
But, of course, given that they were constantly in each other's presence, they began to converse more and more, and within a week were good friends. They began to subconsciously counterbalance each other: Adariel kept him from becoming too sardonic and solitary, while Haldir made himself a guardian, of sorts, for her.
Disliking her exhausting schedule, he kept her from throwing herself too vigorously at a task, and made it his responsibility to force her to have a bit of free time for herself. At first it had irritated her, being dragged from her tasks, but eventually she grew used to it, and even began to look forward to the leisure she was forced into.
Adariel had even managed to talk Haldir into helping her with her swordsmanship and her bow work (the former of which she was still nearly hopeless at, but she was improving); and she, appalled at learning that he only knew the very basic necessities of battlefield healing, had taught him the quick, temporary healing arts that warriors used during warfare.
Through the those first two weeks, Dimalphion had never made himself known, though she knew he still watched her. And because of that, a false sense of security fell over her; suddenly it seemed as if nothing more would happen - the nightmare was over. She would not realize the error of this assumption until later.
Aradalien, as the days passed, improved physically and mentally as her twin improved emotionally. In fact, as Adariel sat in the gardens reading two weeks after her confrontation with Dimalphion, Aradalien was out riding with a small group of fellow socialites.
The sun was at its mid-morning position, causing the river to glisten as it gently meandered through the Dell. The trickling sound that the water made had always been soothing to Adariel, and did not fail to serve its relaxing purpose as the Morelen let her fingers play in it. She had positioned herself on a rock in the sun, lying on her stomach at the edge to let her hand dip into the small river beside her. Her other hand held the book she was reading flat, and turned the page when needed.
Adariel was alone, which was rare; or, at least, at first glance she was alone. She felt eyes on her, but refused to acknowledge them, as if they would go away if she simply ignored them. Her book, as it was, aided her in ignoring the world quite efficiently.
"You're being searched for," a voice said suddenly.
She jerked her head up with the look of a deer caught in someone's bow sights, but relaxed once she saw the countenance of Elladan. "Am I?" she inquired.
"Yes. I believe that you're needed in the infirmary. Something about a sedative fusion."
Adariel closed her book and reluctantly removed herself from her sun-warmed rock. "I see. Who is working on this fusion, may I ask?"
"Noviel, of course, and Melian."
She gave a highly unlady-like snort as she made her way toward Elladan. "Melian? The poor thing is still an apprentice. She shouldn't be working on an entirely new fusion."
"Which is why your presence is requested, of course," Elrond's son pointed out.
The trip to the infirmary was a short one, during which little was said. Elladan left her at their destination, where Adariel found Noviel attempting to balance Elencaran and combine herbs at the same time, with young Melian hovering just over her shoulder, being more of a hindrance than a help in her eagerness.
"Noviel, take your daughter and sit," she commanded as she entered the room. "Melian, you shall help me to make this; you must learn how to create such things, we may as well begin instruction at the present. Now." She set her book on the table beside the herbs and thin, delicate glass flasks. "What strength is this to be?"
"Strong," Noviel said from across the room. "Strong enough to let the patient sleep for several hours."
Adariel gave her a look that said quite clearly, "Hush, you." "Not you," she said verbally. "Melian is the one receiving her education on the subject, let her answer." She looked to the girl in question. "Melian?"
"Very strong, to induce a long, restful sleep," the girl confirmed, though her voice was not nearly so solid or sure.
"All right, then. You have added the dogwood root, then? What of the chamomile?"
"Yes, the dogwood is already in the mixture. But not the chamomile."
"Chamomile, my dear Melian," Adariel said, "will be one of the key ingredients in this particular fusion. It is a relaxing herb, and will thus aid us. Tell me, what else may we need?"
Melian was slightly unsure of herself, a hesitation that came with inexperience, but said, "Lemon grass, spearmint leaves, and hawthorn root?"
"Yes, lemon grass will help, but spearmint leaves are used marginally for taste and revival, neither of which are concerns of ours at the moment."
"Then we shouldn't use spearmint leaves?"
"Correct. For the moment, anyway, we shouldn't use spearmint leaves. You were partially right with the hawthorn, but you need the berries, not the root. Also, you failed to mention our key ingredient." Adariel reached for a packet and handed it to her pupil.
"Valerian?"
"Indeed. Valerian is the most powerful sleep inducing herb that we currently know of. Alone, at least. Combined with other herbs, I'm sure that it will be exactly what we want."
Melian glanced at her suddenly, alarmed. "You've not made this before?"
"No," Adariel said simply. "That shouldn't prove to be a problem, however, I'm sure."
"That, Adariel, was terribly reassuring, I'm sure," Noviel interjected dryly.
"I'm sure," she murmured absently, tapping an herb into the already partially-prepared mixture.
Various times they were forced to restart the process, having added the wrong herb, or the incorrect amount. Adariel had expected a mere sedative fusion to be simple; she was quickly, however, being proven wrong. This was, indeed, a slightly more delicate sedative fusion, simply because of its needed potency. When they finally found themselves nearly finished, Adariel dismissed her companions, deciding to finish the rest on her own; the others had worked hard, she had concluded, starting the project for her and only asking for her help after much difficulty. So she sent Noviel and Melian away with the orders to return the next day in order for them to look over the mixture and deem it and its contents safe before testing it.
And thus Haldir found her as it was nearing dusk, cleaning up her work space before she retired to the library to read some more. She was concentrating intensely on placing each herb packet in its appropriate space, and going about in a very particular manner. Adariel may have been rather absentminded at times, but Haldir had to admit that she could be incredibly meticulous at other times.
In fact, she was concentrating enough that she didn't hear his footsteps as he approached; this was proven by her reaction when he spoke.
"Lord Elrond requested that I-"
Adariel whirled around, startled, and whoever was behind her cut off as she did so. For a panicked moment, she thought that Dimalphion had resumed his tormenting, but she was relieved to find only Haldir. After she regained her composure, she said, "Lord Elrond requested that you...?"
"That I tell you that he wishes you to dress appropriately at the banquet tonight."
Her eyes widened in horror. "Banquet?" she reiterated.
"Yes," he said (rather slowly, to be admitted, perplexed by her apparent horror), "for-"
"No!" she cried. "Don't tell me! I don't want to know what the thing is for. Dress appropriately? Why are we having it?" Haldir opened his mouth to tell her, but before he could make a single utterance, she cried again, "No! Do not tell me, I do not wish to know. I will simply dress well."
This, for certain, was an oddity; as absentminded as Adariel had the tendency of being, she rarely was so... conflicting, if that was the correct word. She sighed and told him, "Thank you for delivering the message. I trust I shall see you at this torture session Lord Elrond insists is a banquet?"
Still slightly off-set by Adariel's swift, abrupt changes, Haldir nodded and said, "Indeed."
"Good, now that the matter is assured, I believe I shall depart for my chambers. If I must partake in this over-done dinner Elrond insists on, I shall do so looking my best. If you will excuse me?"
And she was gone before he could reply.
*
Adariel was still trying to regain her equilibrium when she arrived in her chambers.
'I trust I shall see you at this torture session Lord Elrond insists is a banquet?' The question had come unbidden and unwanted. It had crossed her mind, of course, but she had not, in any way whatsoever, given her mouth permission to utter the words.
It was that balance, more than the banquet itself, that had sent her into such a snit. She did, indeed, dislike the large public banquets her uncle occasionally held, but they never off-set her so much as this. No: indeed, this mental chaos had been caused by Adariel herself.
What, in the name of all that was good and green in Middle-earth, had made her ask that question? She didn't know, and, somehow, didn't care to know: the prospect of what her reaction to the answer might be averted her from desiring that bit of knowledge.
^*^
The banquet itself was not as terrible as Adariel had feared. She had, actually, enjoyed herself much more than she expected. Of course, that was, more than likely, directly effected by the amount of people who spoke to her. Or, perhaps, lack thereof: only those whom she regarded as friends or better pressed their presence upon her.
Haldir even seemed to forget her odd behavior from earlier in the day. Or, so she had hoped. When she asked him, however, if he was enjoying himself, he said, "Indeed, my lady. No, perhaps not. Wait! I am, yes. I am enjoying myself."
Adariel gave him an indignant look, pinched his arm when she could not find a better response, and immediately moved on to speak to Arwen as he glared at her for her physical attack. But, for all her mock irritation, she could not help but find the amusement in the situation, just as she could not fight the relief that coursed through her. Her odd behavior was worth of being mocked, but of no more note than that to Haldir. That was the way she wanted things.
She spent much of her time with Arwen, who shared her dislike of social gatherings, even if the Evenstar was not so averted to them as the Morelen. More than a few times, Adariel had caught Elrond watching her, looking (if she could believe it of him) uncertain of something. As the night wore on, she noticed it less and less, just as his uncertainty diminished.
Perhaps, she wondered, Elrond's glances were because of the strange resemblance she had to Arwen on that particular night? The Undómiel wore what Adariel had come to call her Evenstar gown: a beautiful, flowing white gown, its intricately-beaded material draping off her gracefully.
Adariel's gown was much the same, save for color: the hue darker, a hue that was much like her eyes, only more purple. A violet-tinted black with intricate beading that glimmered when the light hit them, just as they did in Arwen's gown.
In all honesty, when Adariel and Arwen had arrived together, Elrond had looked stricken. A strange thought, indeed. It was rumored that Arwen had been a twin, and that the twin had been lost: perhaps Adariel reminded him of his lost child.
The banquet itself was enjoyable. Afterward, however, Adariel had had her fill of social pleasantries. Some of the Elves went into a chamber to occupy themselves with verses, others - marginally those that would be considered young adults by the terms of Men - out into the gardens. Adariel herself paid little attention to those left, and went out to a separate part of the garden on her own.
She leaned against the railing, watching as the falls from the river fell in lacy white sheets to the bottom, where a large stream, or small river, flowed through the Dell. There was so much that she had managed to clutter her mind with that she felt as if she were losing her sanity. This, she decided, was a very opportune time to attempt at placing herself back into her order, and perhaps put her life back to how it was before... everything. When her life was normal.
First, there was Elrond. He had always had occasions where he acted very odd, but never so much as this. Whether it was something she had done? That was, indeed, a possibility, but it was extremely improbable, for two reasons: Elrond did not hold grudges easily, and it did not explain his odd phases in her younger years. This, she decided, was a situation beyond her control; she could do nothing before Elrond gave himself peace about whatever it was that had bothered him all those years.
Next came her siblings. She still had Aradalien, but Nurardaion was gone. Aradalien had made it quite clear that she did not blame Adariel, as had Noviel and all the others that were affected directly by what had happened. All the same, he had died defending her and her twin, something which may have never occurred had she not left so rashly. It was something she would never forget.
This, of course, brought her to her next trouble, the reason she left so rashly in the first place: Dimalphion. She had stood up to him for sake of Vinya... or so Haldir thought: she had not fought back nearly crippling fear to confront the serpent for the sake of one loved-one, but for the sake of all who were close to her. Dimalphion had realized that, she knew. But, for all her feigned bravery, she was still terrified of him and what he could do. And yet, his inactivity had brought her to believe that, perhaps, he had lost interest. She knew she should have known better than to fall for the false security she had developed, but the hope that he would simply leave her alone crept into her mind more and more daily, and soon she believed herself partially safe at the least.
Haldir. The enigma that was at the back of her mind constantly since the day she met him, half dead already and dying, in the woods of Lothlórien. Her thoughts made even less sense to her than the Elf who caused them, which was, indeed, saying something. At first, there were times when she wanted nothing more than to take a stick and hit him upside the head with it, and other times were the exact opposite. Then she began, Valar forbid, to like him. Now, he was a friend; more than that, a dear friend. And yet, there was something... Something that she had not yet discovered, that was lying just below the surface. She both wanted it and feared it. Adariel did not know what that "something" was, but she did know that it would change her perspective of everything. She did not know whether to welcome it.
"Are you always so solitary?"
She turned to find the object of her thoughts standing at the entrance to the balcony. She smiled, tucking her thoughts away for later contemplation. "Only when I am forced into large social gatherings such as this."
"I see." He came forward to stand beside her, watching the scenery rather than watch her, for which she was thankful. "You told me once, Morelen," he said when he stood at the rail, his eyes on the water, "that there was only one person in the world that you could be mistaken for. Lady Aradalien, if I remember correctly, was that person. But, I would like to point out that, for as long as I have been here, I find that I could only possibly confuse you for the Undómiel, particularly this night."
Was he teasing her? Somehow, she did not believe that. "You give me flattery undeserved by saying so, Marchwarden," Adariel told him. "Indeed, Arwen and I look similar, but hardly so similar that we could take each other's places."
"Perhaps so, but you closer in appearance to Arwen than Aradalien. Speaking of your sister, she appears to be fairing much better than before."
"She is, thank you."
He turned to her suddenly, looking very serious. "And yourself?"
She grinned, effectively hiding (and ignoring) that her heart was suddenly beating much faster than she felt it had the right to. "With you watching my every move over the past few weeks, how could I not improve?"
"I have no control over the regard you hold yourself in," he said, and she realized what he was asking. She looked away.
"I no longer blame myself completely," she said, her voice slightly chilly.
"But you still do."
"What is there for it? I always will. I had a choice, and I made the wrong one. I have been forgiven by those who matter, and thus I am, for the most part, at peace. But I will always hold guilt for it."
Suddenly he swung her around to face him, gripping both of her shoulders tightly. "Why?" he demanded. "Why do you torment yourself? Do you realize that you are doing exactly what he wants?"
"What?" she demanded in turn, utterly confused.
"Think, Adariel! What did we find when we came to where your brother had been killed?"
She blinked up at him, too confused to be very irritated, but she mentally searched for the answer to her question. Adariel had tried very, very hard to forget that day, and had nigh well succeeded, and thus was having slight difficulty remembering. Her memory was not that of a bow, in that once it was snapped, everything was remembered-
Bow. The arrow. The one that had killed Nurar.
Perhaps something had shown on her face, because Haldir's hold on her shoulders lightened to a more comforting grip. "I have tried," she said at length, staring at something Haldir could not see, her voice soft and faint, "so very hard to forget it. And because of it, I have walked straight into the trap that was laid for me." She looked up at him. "Am I really so blind?"
Haldir sighed and put an arm around her shoulders, propelling her toward a nearby bench. "You are blind," he told her, "in the face of your concern for others. I have stated before my belief that you place all of the guilt on yourself because you do not wish others to feel that guilt. There, Adariel, is where you are blind."
She sat silently for some time, contemplating something at which he could not guess. Eventually, it appeared that she had come to several conclusions. And so it was with a clear gaze that she looked back at him. Clear, but puzzled.
"May I ask you something?" she asked.
"Of course."
She stood and stepped toward him so that her voice need not be any louder than a near-whisper. "Why have do done so much for me?"
There was no way he could avoid the question. Not this time. He watched her for a few moments, trying to decide what to say in response. Eventually, when he found no response, he said in a voice just as quite as hers had been, "I don't know."
She nodded once, slowly. "I see. In any case, however, you have..." she looked away, looking for the words, "done much more than anyone has. I- I don't know how I can ever repay you-"
"You need not do any such thing, my lady. I ask for nothing."
"Should you change your mind, ever, tell me," she said.
They both fell silent then, and in that moment something happened to show Adariel a bit of what that thing in her mind that she had not yet discovered, that thing just below the surface. 'Oh, dear,' she thought, just before she found herself with Haldir's lips against hers.
The instant was both a life-age of the earth and a millisecond all at once. Of course, it might have been longer, if not for the voice of Arwen cutting through the fog of Adariel's mind. Arwen was searching for her.
Their moment ended, and Adariel took a step back, attempting to clear her mind. Neither said a word, but when Arwen called again, Adariel turned and left.
^*^
I hope to have the next chapter to you soon.
Hugs
Carlee
^*^
Part Eleven
Relationship-related Conflicts
One glance at the angry, if thin, red cut on the Morelen's neck told Haldir that something had gone wrong at some point; between the time he'd seen her that morning and Vinya's arrival, something had happened, and whatever it was had left Adariel at the wrong end of the blade. But the she-Elf was remarkably skilled at avoiding him, and Haldir lacked the inclination to confront her about it before others.
Most of her day had, in fact, been spent with her sister, Vinya, the Lord Elrond's children, and Vinya's expectant cousin Lalaith. Rumíl and Orophin had both spent plenty of time with the lady as well. Orophin, in fact, had been there during the single moment of the day that the snake Dimalphion had dared to show his face.
"It was rather amusing, to be frank," Orophin had told him later. "He gave lady Adariel the longest look, of course, disgusting creature that he is, but he also seemed to take quite an interest in Vinya. It is a well known thing that Vinya befriended Adariel quite quickly back in Lórien, and Adariel noticed Dimalphion's look toward her friend. You should have seen the glare she gave him! I truly believe that he was more shocked than we were."
Haldir had mused over this for some time; indeed, more time than he would have admitted even to himself. This new and sudden display of defiance toward Dimalphion was both encouraging and galling: It was not for her own defense that she was suddenly bold, but for another's; thus, while it was wonderful that she was displaying an emotion other than fear, the fact that it was on another's behalf took away from that small victory.
And that cut! It was like the puzzle piece that had seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth; it was significant, he knew, but, for the life of him, he could not decipher *why* it was important. The obviously-uncomfortable way Orophin had acted when Haldir had mentioned it was not in the least encouraging. He had pressed his younger brother when Orophin began to fidget, but the sentinel had muttered something about meeting someone somewhere, and being late, and dashed away before Haldir got in another word.
And so, when Haldir found Adariel that evening, finally on her own, he followed as she exited into the gardens, determined to finally put his mind at ease by simply asking her about the stupid cut. She was walking swiftly, an Elf with a purpose, through the garden, and Haldir kept pace not more than fifteen feet behind, also an Elf with a purpose.
Of course, he didn't expect her to suddenly stop. She folded her arms about her and stood in the middle of an intersection of walkways that she had stopped in.
"I know you're there," she said coldly. "Show yourself."
Haldir didn't move, but the shadows across from him did: Dimalphion, dressed entirely in black, as proverbial as it was, stepped out into the moonlight.
"The hunted confronts the hunter. I am impressed. That is certainly more charming than asking your sister to approach the court for you."
"I am not here," she said coldly, "to dispute with you over charm or hunting."
"Then why do you confront me?" he said, his voice pitched low.
"Leave, her, alone," she snarled through clenched teeth."
"What?"
"If you harm Vinya - or anyone else - in any way, I will not hesitate to do now what I could not do then."
"Tell me, my lady: do you truly expect me to believe that threat?"
"Try something," she dared, "and then we will see."
Adariel's back was to him, but Haldir could see Dimalphion's expressions; he did not, by any means, like what he saw: at the Morelen's words, Dimalphion's look became very hostile.
"You," he said snarled lowly, "are becoming very brave." His hand began to move to his hip, and Haldir saw him grasp the hilt of a small blade. "That, my dear, must be rectified."
His body moved without his mind's consent, and Haldir suddenly found himself walking out of the shadows. Dimalphion, seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, whirled to see who approached, suddenly losing interest in his blade.
Adariel also turned, and upon seeing him she looked, for only a fraction of an instant, almost afraid. Surely not of him?
"We were looking for you, my lady," Haldir said coolly, as if he had seen nothing. "I was beginning to think you had left us for the realm of Thranduil."
There was an instant's hesitation, and Adariel's voice was shaking every-so-slightly when she said, "Not Mirkwood, merely the gardens."
Haldir nodded to her, then looked to Dimalphion. "If you would?" His voice was much kinder than his eyes, and the snake returned his gaze, glare for glare. Haldir couldn't tell who was more hostile, himself or Dimalphion.
Eventually, however, the dark-haired Elf gave a mocking bow to them both and left. Adariel didn't move the slightest bit until several long moments after he had left, and Haldir did nothing to make her move, let alone speak.
"How much did you hear?" she asked eventually. Haldir opened his mouth to deny the claim, but she sighed and said, "I know that you weren't looking for me; I told everyone that I wanted to take a short walk on my own. How much of that most enjoyable confrontation did you hear?"
"Enough," he said; rather shortly, to be admitted, but Dimalphion always seemed to grind down his patience faster than any other Elf Haldir had met. Within the short amount of time the Marchwarden had known him, Dimalphion had managed to completely and totally alienate himself in Haldir's eyes.
"Pray tell, how much is 'enough?'" She was slightly exasperated.
"Walk with me for a moment. There are things which we much discuss," he said, neatly avoiding the question until its answer served his purposes better. Adariel recognized this, he knew: it was obvious from her frustrated sigh. Despite this, she fell in step beside him, and they slowly meandered through the gardens.
"Tell me, does that scratch on your neck sting?"
Adariel's hand jerked upward, as if she were going to touch the limb in question, but she stopped it and clasped both hands before her. "A little," she replied stiltedly.
"I believe it has been mentioned before that I am not blind."
"A conversation which I remember."
"That mentioned, I feel I must enumerate that your injury did not yet exist this morning."
She laughed slightly, but he saw the guardedness in her eyes. "It was a accident of my own account; an incident where my true maladroitness came forth through the facade of grace," she explained, and Haldir immediately saw that what she was about to say would not be the entire truth. "I was in the stables, visiting Gil-luin, and I chose to approach another horse. He did not know me well, and thus, when I slipped and grabbed him to keep my balance, he became frightened, and leaped. A piece of metal on his tether hit me. That is how I acquired the gash you speak of."
He sighed and turned, grabbing her shoulder and bringing her around to face him. By the moonlight, her ivory skin was very near translucent, and her violet-blue eyes vivid. "My lady, I have been around horses all of my life, and around you for a period of time long enough for me to make basic judgments. Thus, I know that the scenario you speak of simply isn't possible," he said, an impatient note to his voice. "The truth, if you please."
She jerked back a step, pulling her shoulder out of his grasp. "That is the truth," she said indignantly.
"In a land where the sun is silver and Sauron is our greatest ally, perhaps that is the truth," he snapped. "I would prefer the truth of our land, please."
She blinked, but her surprised expression was gone in an instant, immediately replaced by an indignant, and rather angry, look. "I have given you more of the truth than you realize," she hissed, and Haldir knew that she wasn't referring to the story she'd just given him, but what she had told him about what Dimalphion had done to her.
"If you have told me so much," he demanded, taking a step forward and significantly shortening the distance between then, "then why stop there?"
"For your protection," she snapped, her voice rising.
"And I need your protection?"
"I am, for the time being, the barrier between you and the serpent. Not merely you, in the complete truth, but many!"
"I, as Marchwarden of Lothlórien, most desperately need your protection," he snapped sarcastically.
"And I need your protection?" she cried. "Why?"
Perhaps she had never meant to bring up the subject of protection, neither his nor her own. But she had, and it had led to the question that he could not answer: Why did he care about some slip of a she-Elf from Rivendell? What importance did she hold to him?
Haldir couldn't answer her question, and he knew it. So, he did what any wise Elf would do: he sidestepped the question.
"You're afraid of him."
She looked away, and Haldir knew that he had sufficiently distracted her from the question she had posed. "You've admitted this to me, you needn't deny it."
"I never denied it." Her voice was barely audible.
"Dimalphion gave you that cut, didn't he?"
"I never said that."
"You do not have to." He paused, then asked, "Did he threaten you?"
"I was due."
Haldir blinked. "What?"
"Every two weeks or so," she said, "he reminds me that, no matter how many people I surround myself with, I am still vulnerable."
This he could not believe. "And you accept this as the way of things?" he asked incredulously.
She finally looked back at him, her gaze sharp. "No. But I do accept that if I voice anything, he will only strike faster. I must have time to prepare."
"You approached him on behalf of someone else," he pointed out. "Why not do the same for yourself?"
Adariel walked around him and sat on the delicately carved ornate wooden bench that was just off the side of the path. "Because I did just that, once. The only thing it did for me was get me nearly raped," she said flatly, but, contradictory to her tone, she shuddered.
"You said that he 'reminds you that, no matter how many people you're surrounded with, you're still vulnerable,'" he said. "I think that, if you remain the company of the *right* people, your vulnerability will decrease." She looked up at him as he stepped toward her and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "There are those who would willingly place themselves in danger for you, that much I can discern easily."
Adariel didn't respond. She merely stared up at him, as if she were trying to absorb what she was being told, her eyes a bit wide.
"And, I must add, your hostilities toward me are unneeded."
"I know," she said absently; her focus was not on him so much as it was her inner thoughts.
He would not deduce what made him say it until quite some time later, but what he said next was spoken so softly that the trees beside them never heard it, but Adariel heard it clearly.
"You needn't be afraid of me, Adariel."
And while his own mind reeled at the statement - which had come unbidden from his mouth; he hadn't even thought of it before it had been uttered, a fact that irked him greatly - it seemed to give Adariel some of her equilibrium. Her eyes focused, and her head tilted slightly.
"I know. I always knew."
She stood, and Haldir stepped back. After a long moment's silence, she gave a slight smile and said, "I'm sure the others will be wondering where we are. Perhaps we should return to them."
The commonplace statement gave him his own sense of balance, and he offered an arm. "Indeed."
Adariel lightly place her palm on his arm, and they proceeded in a companionable silence.
^*^
Over the next two weeks, Adariel's friendship with Haldir blossomed. At first, each had remained in the other's company to ensure their safety: Haldir knew that Dimalphion would make no attack toward Adariel if she were not alone, and Adariel knew that her tormentor would wait until Haldir was alone to injure or kill him, simply because he knew that she would torture herself with the knowledge that had she been there, nothing would have happened to Haldir.
But, of course, given that they were constantly in each other's presence, they began to converse more and more, and within a week were good friends. They began to subconsciously counterbalance each other: Adariel kept him from becoming too sardonic and solitary, while Haldir made himself a guardian, of sorts, for her.
Disliking her exhausting schedule, he kept her from throwing herself too vigorously at a task, and made it his responsibility to force her to have a bit of free time for herself. At first it had irritated her, being dragged from her tasks, but eventually she grew used to it, and even began to look forward to the leisure she was forced into.
Adariel had even managed to talk Haldir into helping her with her swordsmanship and her bow work (the former of which she was still nearly hopeless at, but she was improving); and she, appalled at learning that he only knew the very basic necessities of battlefield healing, had taught him the quick, temporary healing arts that warriors used during warfare.
Through the those first two weeks, Dimalphion had never made himself known, though she knew he still watched her. And because of that, a false sense of security fell over her; suddenly it seemed as if nothing more would happen - the nightmare was over. She would not realize the error of this assumption until later.
Aradalien, as the days passed, improved physically and mentally as her twin improved emotionally. In fact, as Adariel sat in the gardens reading two weeks after her confrontation with Dimalphion, Aradalien was out riding with a small group of fellow socialites.
The sun was at its mid-morning position, causing the river to glisten as it gently meandered through the Dell. The trickling sound that the water made had always been soothing to Adariel, and did not fail to serve its relaxing purpose as the Morelen let her fingers play in it. She had positioned herself on a rock in the sun, lying on her stomach at the edge to let her hand dip into the small river beside her. Her other hand held the book she was reading flat, and turned the page when needed.
Adariel was alone, which was rare; or, at least, at first glance she was alone. She felt eyes on her, but refused to acknowledge them, as if they would go away if she simply ignored them. Her book, as it was, aided her in ignoring the world quite efficiently.
"You're being searched for," a voice said suddenly.
She jerked her head up with the look of a deer caught in someone's bow sights, but relaxed once she saw the countenance of Elladan. "Am I?" she inquired.
"Yes. I believe that you're needed in the infirmary. Something about a sedative fusion."
Adariel closed her book and reluctantly removed herself from her sun-warmed rock. "I see. Who is working on this fusion, may I ask?"
"Noviel, of course, and Melian."
She gave a highly unlady-like snort as she made her way toward Elladan. "Melian? The poor thing is still an apprentice. She shouldn't be working on an entirely new fusion."
"Which is why your presence is requested, of course," Elrond's son pointed out.
The trip to the infirmary was a short one, during which little was said. Elladan left her at their destination, where Adariel found Noviel attempting to balance Elencaran and combine herbs at the same time, with young Melian hovering just over her shoulder, being more of a hindrance than a help in her eagerness.
"Noviel, take your daughter and sit," she commanded as she entered the room. "Melian, you shall help me to make this; you must learn how to create such things, we may as well begin instruction at the present. Now." She set her book on the table beside the herbs and thin, delicate glass flasks. "What strength is this to be?"
"Strong," Noviel said from across the room. "Strong enough to let the patient sleep for several hours."
Adariel gave her a look that said quite clearly, "Hush, you." "Not you," she said verbally. "Melian is the one receiving her education on the subject, let her answer." She looked to the girl in question. "Melian?"
"Very strong, to induce a long, restful sleep," the girl confirmed, though her voice was not nearly so solid or sure.
"All right, then. You have added the dogwood root, then? What of the chamomile?"
"Yes, the dogwood is already in the mixture. But not the chamomile."
"Chamomile, my dear Melian," Adariel said, "will be one of the key ingredients in this particular fusion. It is a relaxing herb, and will thus aid us. Tell me, what else may we need?"
Melian was slightly unsure of herself, a hesitation that came with inexperience, but said, "Lemon grass, spearmint leaves, and hawthorn root?"
"Yes, lemon grass will help, but spearmint leaves are used marginally for taste and revival, neither of which are concerns of ours at the moment."
"Then we shouldn't use spearmint leaves?"
"Correct. For the moment, anyway, we shouldn't use spearmint leaves. You were partially right with the hawthorn, but you need the berries, not the root. Also, you failed to mention our key ingredient." Adariel reached for a packet and handed it to her pupil.
"Valerian?"
"Indeed. Valerian is the most powerful sleep inducing herb that we currently know of. Alone, at least. Combined with other herbs, I'm sure that it will be exactly what we want."
Melian glanced at her suddenly, alarmed. "You've not made this before?"
"No," Adariel said simply. "That shouldn't prove to be a problem, however, I'm sure."
"That, Adariel, was terribly reassuring, I'm sure," Noviel interjected dryly.
"I'm sure," she murmured absently, tapping an herb into the already partially-prepared mixture.
Various times they were forced to restart the process, having added the wrong herb, or the incorrect amount. Adariel had expected a mere sedative fusion to be simple; she was quickly, however, being proven wrong. This was, indeed, a slightly more delicate sedative fusion, simply because of its needed potency. When they finally found themselves nearly finished, Adariel dismissed her companions, deciding to finish the rest on her own; the others had worked hard, she had concluded, starting the project for her and only asking for her help after much difficulty. So she sent Noviel and Melian away with the orders to return the next day in order for them to look over the mixture and deem it and its contents safe before testing it.
And thus Haldir found her as it was nearing dusk, cleaning up her work space before she retired to the library to read some more. She was concentrating intensely on placing each herb packet in its appropriate space, and going about in a very particular manner. Adariel may have been rather absentminded at times, but Haldir had to admit that she could be incredibly meticulous at other times.
In fact, she was concentrating enough that she didn't hear his footsteps as he approached; this was proven by her reaction when he spoke.
"Lord Elrond requested that I-"
Adariel whirled around, startled, and whoever was behind her cut off as she did so. For a panicked moment, she thought that Dimalphion had resumed his tormenting, but she was relieved to find only Haldir. After she regained her composure, she said, "Lord Elrond requested that you...?"
"That I tell you that he wishes you to dress appropriately at the banquet tonight."
Her eyes widened in horror. "Banquet?" she reiterated.
"Yes," he said (rather slowly, to be admitted, perplexed by her apparent horror), "for-"
"No!" she cried. "Don't tell me! I don't want to know what the thing is for. Dress appropriately? Why are we having it?" Haldir opened his mouth to tell her, but before he could make a single utterance, she cried again, "No! Do not tell me, I do not wish to know. I will simply dress well."
This, for certain, was an oddity; as absentminded as Adariel had the tendency of being, she rarely was so... conflicting, if that was the correct word. She sighed and told him, "Thank you for delivering the message. I trust I shall see you at this torture session Lord Elrond insists is a banquet?"
Still slightly off-set by Adariel's swift, abrupt changes, Haldir nodded and said, "Indeed."
"Good, now that the matter is assured, I believe I shall depart for my chambers. If I must partake in this over-done dinner Elrond insists on, I shall do so looking my best. If you will excuse me?"
And she was gone before he could reply.
*
Adariel was still trying to regain her equilibrium when she arrived in her chambers.
'I trust I shall see you at this torture session Lord Elrond insists is a banquet?' The question had come unbidden and unwanted. It had crossed her mind, of course, but she had not, in any way whatsoever, given her mouth permission to utter the words.
It was that balance, more than the banquet itself, that had sent her into such a snit. She did, indeed, dislike the large public banquets her uncle occasionally held, but they never off-set her so much as this. No: indeed, this mental chaos had been caused by Adariel herself.
What, in the name of all that was good and green in Middle-earth, had made her ask that question? She didn't know, and, somehow, didn't care to know: the prospect of what her reaction to the answer might be averted her from desiring that bit of knowledge.
^*^
The banquet itself was not as terrible as Adariel had feared. She had, actually, enjoyed herself much more than she expected. Of course, that was, more than likely, directly effected by the amount of people who spoke to her. Or, perhaps, lack thereof: only those whom she regarded as friends or better pressed their presence upon her.
Haldir even seemed to forget her odd behavior from earlier in the day. Or, so she had hoped. When she asked him, however, if he was enjoying himself, he said, "Indeed, my lady. No, perhaps not. Wait! I am, yes. I am enjoying myself."
Adariel gave him an indignant look, pinched his arm when she could not find a better response, and immediately moved on to speak to Arwen as he glared at her for her physical attack. But, for all her mock irritation, she could not help but find the amusement in the situation, just as she could not fight the relief that coursed through her. Her odd behavior was worth of being mocked, but of no more note than that to Haldir. That was the way she wanted things.
She spent much of her time with Arwen, who shared her dislike of social gatherings, even if the Evenstar was not so averted to them as the Morelen. More than a few times, Adariel had caught Elrond watching her, looking (if she could believe it of him) uncertain of something. As the night wore on, she noticed it less and less, just as his uncertainty diminished.
Perhaps, she wondered, Elrond's glances were because of the strange resemblance she had to Arwen on that particular night? The Undómiel wore what Adariel had come to call her Evenstar gown: a beautiful, flowing white gown, its intricately-beaded material draping off her gracefully.
Adariel's gown was much the same, save for color: the hue darker, a hue that was much like her eyes, only more purple. A violet-tinted black with intricate beading that glimmered when the light hit them, just as they did in Arwen's gown.
In all honesty, when Adariel and Arwen had arrived together, Elrond had looked stricken. A strange thought, indeed. It was rumored that Arwen had been a twin, and that the twin had been lost: perhaps Adariel reminded him of his lost child.
The banquet itself was enjoyable. Afterward, however, Adariel had had her fill of social pleasantries. Some of the Elves went into a chamber to occupy themselves with verses, others - marginally those that would be considered young adults by the terms of Men - out into the gardens. Adariel herself paid little attention to those left, and went out to a separate part of the garden on her own.
She leaned against the railing, watching as the falls from the river fell in lacy white sheets to the bottom, where a large stream, or small river, flowed through the Dell. There was so much that she had managed to clutter her mind with that she felt as if she were losing her sanity. This, she decided, was a very opportune time to attempt at placing herself back into her order, and perhaps put her life back to how it was before... everything. When her life was normal.
First, there was Elrond. He had always had occasions where he acted very odd, but never so much as this. Whether it was something she had done? That was, indeed, a possibility, but it was extremely improbable, for two reasons: Elrond did not hold grudges easily, and it did not explain his odd phases in her younger years. This, she decided, was a situation beyond her control; she could do nothing before Elrond gave himself peace about whatever it was that had bothered him all those years.
Next came her siblings. She still had Aradalien, but Nurardaion was gone. Aradalien had made it quite clear that she did not blame Adariel, as had Noviel and all the others that were affected directly by what had happened. All the same, he had died defending her and her twin, something which may have never occurred had she not left so rashly. It was something she would never forget.
This, of course, brought her to her next trouble, the reason she left so rashly in the first place: Dimalphion. She had stood up to him for sake of Vinya... or so Haldir thought: she had not fought back nearly crippling fear to confront the serpent for the sake of one loved-one, but for the sake of all who were close to her. Dimalphion had realized that, she knew. But, for all her feigned bravery, she was still terrified of him and what he could do. And yet, his inactivity had brought her to believe that, perhaps, he had lost interest. She knew she should have known better than to fall for the false security she had developed, but the hope that he would simply leave her alone crept into her mind more and more daily, and soon she believed herself partially safe at the least.
Haldir. The enigma that was at the back of her mind constantly since the day she met him, half dead already and dying, in the woods of Lothlórien. Her thoughts made even less sense to her than the Elf who caused them, which was, indeed, saying something. At first, there were times when she wanted nothing more than to take a stick and hit him upside the head with it, and other times were the exact opposite. Then she began, Valar forbid, to like him. Now, he was a friend; more than that, a dear friend. And yet, there was something... Something that she had not yet discovered, that was lying just below the surface. She both wanted it and feared it. Adariel did not know what that "something" was, but she did know that it would change her perspective of everything. She did not know whether to welcome it.
"Are you always so solitary?"
She turned to find the object of her thoughts standing at the entrance to the balcony. She smiled, tucking her thoughts away for later contemplation. "Only when I am forced into large social gatherings such as this."
"I see." He came forward to stand beside her, watching the scenery rather than watch her, for which she was thankful. "You told me once, Morelen," he said when he stood at the rail, his eyes on the water, "that there was only one person in the world that you could be mistaken for. Lady Aradalien, if I remember correctly, was that person. But, I would like to point out that, for as long as I have been here, I find that I could only possibly confuse you for the Undómiel, particularly this night."
Was he teasing her? Somehow, she did not believe that. "You give me flattery undeserved by saying so, Marchwarden," Adariel told him. "Indeed, Arwen and I look similar, but hardly so similar that we could take each other's places."
"Perhaps so, but you closer in appearance to Arwen than Aradalien. Speaking of your sister, she appears to be fairing much better than before."
"She is, thank you."
He turned to her suddenly, looking very serious. "And yourself?"
She grinned, effectively hiding (and ignoring) that her heart was suddenly beating much faster than she felt it had the right to. "With you watching my every move over the past few weeks, how could I not improve?"
"I have no control over the regard you hold yourself in," he said, and she realized what he was asking. She looked away.
"I no longer blame myself completely," she said, her voice slightly chilly.
"But you still do."
"What is there for it? I always will. I had a choice, and I made the wrong one. I have been forgiven by those who matter, and thus I am, for the most part, at peace. But I will always hold guilt for it."
Suddenly he swung her around to face him, gripping both of her shoulders tightly. "Why?" he demanded. "Why do you torment yourself? Do you realize that you are doing exactly what he wants?"
"What?" she demanded in turn, utterly confused.
"Think, Adariel! What did we find when we came to where your brother had been killed?"
She blinked up at him, too confused to be very irritated, but she mentally searched for the answer to her question. Adariel had tried very, very hard to forget that day, and had nigh well succeeded, and thus was having slight difficulty remembering. Her memory was not that of a bow, in that once it was snapped, everything was remembered-
Bow. The arrow. The one that had killed Nurar.
Perhaps something had shown on her face, because Haldir's hold on her shoulders lightened to a more comforting grip. "I have tried," she said at length, staring at something Haldir could not see, her voice soft and faint, "so very hard to forget it. And because of it, I have walked straight into the trap that was laid for me." She looked up at him. "Am I really so blind?"
Haldir sighed and put an arm around her shoulders, propelling her toward a nearby bench. "You are blind," he told her, "in the face of your concern for others. I have stated before my belief that you place all of the guilt on yourself because you do not wish others to feel that guilt. There, Adariel, is where you are blind."
She sat silently for some time, contemplating something at which he could not guess. Eventually, it appeared that she had come to several conclusions. And so it was with a clear gaze that she looked back at him. Clear, but puzzled.
"May I ask you something?" she asked.
"Of course."
She stood and stepped toward him so that her voice need not be any louder than a near-whisper. "Why have do done so much for me?"
There was no way he could avoid the question. Not this time. He watched her for a few moments, trying to decide what to say in response. Eventually, when he found no response, he said in a voice just as quite as hers had been, "I don't know."
She nodded once, slowly. "I see. In any case, however, you have..." she looked away, looking for the words, "done much more than anyone has. I- I don't know how I can ever repay you-"
"You need not do any such thing, my lady. I ask for nothing."
"Should you change your mind, ever, tell me," she said.
They both fell silent then, and in that moment something happened to show Adariel a bit of what that thing in her mind that she had not yet discovered, that thing just below the surface. 'Oh, dear,' she thought, just before she found herself with Haldir's lips against hers.
The instant was both a life-age of the earth and a millisecond all at once. Of course, it might have been longer, if not for the voice of Arwen cutting through the fog of Adariel's mind. Arwen was searching for her.
Their moment ended, and Adariel took a step back, attempting to clear her mind. Neither said a word, but when Arwen called again, Adariel turned and left.
^*^
I hope to have the next chapter to you soon.
Hugs
Carlee