Ahem! I know I said this chapter would be the last but, um, it isn't! When I began this, I wanted to include the bits you see here and soon realised it would extend the final chapter to a length of epic proportion, so I've decided to split it. The absolutely FINAL part is being posted at the same time because I didn't want to drag it out any longer.

Cymrulady

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Forever Yours

Chapter 27

The Elven column marched swiftly and after many days was finally within a few miles of the Deep. Rumil slipped through the ranks to walk beside his brother as there had been little opportunity to speak with him during the long trek. Seldom had they paused for food or drink, driven as they were, by a steadfast determination to succeed in the task they had undertaken. As he drew level, Haldir turned to him and smiled:

"We are almost at our destination, little brother. How do you fare?"

"I am well enough," replied Rumil, "but I fear your smile is but a thin veil which does little to conceal your anxiety, Haldir. I wish I were an Elf skilled with words and able to convey sentiments of profound confidence and unwavering belief, but, as we both know, I am not. I am saddened by our predicament, and not a little nervous, but I am certain we would not have been sent on this mission if there was little hope of success. Surely there is solace to be found in this fact, do you not agree?"

Haldir remained silent for a moment as he considered his brother's question. In his heart, he did not agree, but in Rumil's expression he saw a mix of excitement and anxiety which told him he could not convey his true feelings. He had not mentioned the revelation of the mirror to anyone and he felt a great sense of foreboding regarding the coming battle. Rumil had fought many skirmishes with Orcs on the borders of Lorien but was hardly experienced in the rigours of true battle. He had been considered too young to fight in the Battle of the Five Armies, but Haldir had been there and remembered the horrors of that time. The sounds and smells of war returned to him with vivid clarity and he shuddered inwardly at the recollection. He still recalled the names and faces of friends who had fallen and despair filled his heart with the realisation that history may well be repeated within but a short time. He knew also, he could not lie, and chose diplomacy over cold truth as his response:

"I believe Lord Elrond and our own dear Lord and Lady have considered every aspect carefully and to great length. We must trust in their abilities and knowledge to have made their decision based on what is right and just."

Rumil frowned as he tried to make sense of his brother's reply. He felt it was, at best vague, but decided not to further his questioning. Instead, his conversation turned to Lorien, and the dear ones they had left behind.

"Do you think Orophin had succumbed to the power of his position yet?" he said, humorously. "I hope he is able to resist the overwhelming pressure to become pompous and arrogant. After all, he is only acting-Marchwarden. I do not think I could bear the pain of two haughty brothers, although I will admit, Arien's presence has had a remarkable effect upon you. I actually overheard two wardens who claimed to have seen you laugh twice, in the same day!"

Haldir stared at Rumil in disbelief but his expression soon relaxed into an easy smile as he accepted his brother's levity and replied:

"I had little time in which to groom our brother for his new role, but rest assured, I instilled in him the importance of dignified aloofness and the benefit of venerable dignity. After all, as you have so kindly pointed out, these mannerisms are a traditional requirement of the position he now holds."

Rumil was surprised at his brother's drollery. He was about to investigate it further, but he saw a far-away look in Haldir's eyes and knew whence his thoughts had turned.

"You are thinking of your lovely bride." He said, smiling. "It is sad you must be apart so soon after your joining, but think of how joyful your reunion will be! Why, we will probably not see you for days! I only hope Arien will take this respite from your attentions to build her reserves of strength, for surly she will need them. I thought she looked rather exhausted in these days past."

Haldir could not help but laugh at his brother's audacious comments and he placed his arm around Rumil's shoulders:

"I hope one day, I will see you wed, and I will return every ribald comment ten-fold, little brother!"

They marched onward together, until the imposing wall of the fortress ahead of them loomed large and Rumil dropped back to assume his position in the ranks. Haldir gave the signal for an Elven horn to be sounded to announce their arrival and noted the scurrying movements and excitement displayed by the soldiers positioned on the battlements as they beheld the Elves. The great gates swung open and he stood to one side and watched with a great sense of pride as the Elven army swept through the gates, four abreast and made their way up the incline to the inner keep.

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Throughout the day, Arien had busied herself as best she could in order to control the wilful straying of her mind. She had tidied every wardrobe, cupboard and shelf in the bedroom, a superfluous act because they were already extremely neat. The rack which held the weapons of the Marchwarden was the only item to escape her attention. She could not bring herself to touch them because their very presence only served to remind her of her husband's vocation, and she shuddered as she turned from them, decisively. She entered the sitting room, scanned the orderliness and was disappointed to find nothing which required her attention so, reluctantly, she moved to the study, the one room she had stubbornly avoided. She sighed as she surveyed the mass of papers which appeared to cover every level surface. Under normal circumstances, meticulous neatness prevailed, but Haldir had found little time in the days prior to his departure in which to tidy it. She had given her assurance to return it to its customary orderliness, and realised she could no longer defer the task. Hesitatingly at first, she picked up a few of the topmost papers and read them. She saw they were duty rotas, obviously written in the days prior to the Marchwarden's leaving. These she gathered together and could not help but recognise the names of many Galadhrim and with each name she read, her mind sorted them into those who had departed and those who had stayed. She was greatly saddened to find the list of those no longer in Lorien, greatly outnumbered the other. She shook her head slowly and laid the sheets in a neat pile to one side of the desk. Her attention turned then to various letters and reports, and these too were allotted their own space. As she picked up the first map, she traced her finger lightly over its surface until she located Mirkwood and her thoughts turned to her father. She had not written to him for some time and his last letter remained unanswered. She decided to correct the oversight just as soon as she had completed her task.

Finally, when the study was orderly once more, she sat upon the large chair and pulled herself closer to the desk. She drew the ink stand and quill holder toward her and opened the top drawer in an effort to locate parchment on which to write. As she withdrew it, her attention was taken by the large, leather-bound journal. There were many such books on the shelf behind her, each one a testament to the countless years her husband had held his position. She knew Haldir was most fastidious in his updating of the tome, and was surprised he had left without it, but she supposed he had enough equipment to tote, without the addition of such an unwieldy item. Curiosity to know its content began to corrupt the usual morality of her mind and her hand hovered slightly before picking up the book and laying it before her. She traced the delicate engravings on its cover with her fingertips and slowly opened it, revealing the pale cream parchment within. The first page bore nought but her husband's name, beautifully written in the easily recognised, curling, open scroll of the Marchwarden. She turned the pages tentatively, each movement a triumph of inquisitiveness over guilt and began to read quickly through each entry. The journal had been started a short time after her traumatic experience at the hands of Illadris and the first few lines almost caused her to desist from prying further, but as she forced herself to read, she realised each entry was not merely a report of events which had occurred, but rather, Haldir's personal feelings, opinions and emotions. She paused, and once more an inner-battle began. Part of her subconscious told her to go no further and return the book to the drawer, but the other drove her onward and told her she would know no peace until her curiosity was sated and this side was by far the most persuasive. She shrugged her shoulders resignedly and decided to face atonement at a later date if it should prove necessary. Therefore, she proceeded to read on, and immersed herself in the hitherto unknown feelings and thoughts of her husband.

Page after page was turned, and her expression changed accordingly. The frown she assumed when reading about Haldir's part in her rescue and his concern for her brother, was quickly replaced by a smile, as he recounted his frustration at her reticence regarding his advances. However, the frown returned as she read his emotional account of the events which lead to her parting from him and his anger for her brother, a fact which was reflected in the script. The open, flowing style became at once, stilted and cramped, as though scrawled in great anger, the page forced to bear witness to the rage of the writer. She hurriedly skipped past a few pages in the hope of reading of happier times, and soon, she was delighted to read of the sheer elation he had felt at her return. As the entries drew closer to the time of their marriage, her husband's thoughts and desires became more erotic and she rose from the desk, picked up the book and made her way to the comfort of the bedroom. She sat against the head of the bed, curled her legs to one side and leant the journal on them. Opening the pages to where she had left off, she once more began to read, but a little more slowly, determined to absorb every graphically described desire, of which there were many, contained therein.

A flush of heat began to coil slowly within her as he described in great detail, the effect of each encounter they had experienced together. She was surprised he would commit such intimacies to paper, but was grateful for his efforts as every word was made flesh in her mind. He wrote of her touch, warmth, smell and taste. Arien shuddered with desire as she relished his description of a particularly delicious moment:

"…..as I drew her closer into my embrace, I looked into her eyes and saw her own desire, no less than my own. Sweet, Eru, I feel she is so much a part of me, I cannot understand how I existed so long without her. As I dipped my mouth to hers once more, she surprised me by nipping gently at my lip and before I could react, her soft, supple tongue slipped into my mouth and begun to dance with my own. My body tightened with longing and I could no longer permit her dominance. I swiftly took control, subdued her errant tongue and demanded complete submission to my demands. As I recall the sensation of her soft, pliant body beneath mine, my heart races and I long to seek her out in order to experience the joy once more. My beloved never ceases to surprise me, she is eager and adventurous, easy to teach and impatient to learn………"

Arien closed her eyes, a small smile upon her lips, as she recalled her husband's patient but incessant tutoring. He was the first Elf she had kissed but remembrance of their first embrace, although warm and comforting, was soon replaced by the vivid imagery and sensations of their more ardent encounters. She could almost feel the slow sweep of his fingertips brushing across her shoulders and the evocative whisper of his breath against her neck. Almost. Her eyes opened slowly as she submitted to the sad reality of her inability to truly recreate the sensations she desired. However, she would not be deterred, and returning to the book, continued to read on:

"I am amused to think she is the same elleth for whom the prince showed such concern regarding her innocence. …"

At the mention of her brother, Arien was abruptly drawn from the eroticism of her thoughts and her eyes brimmed with tears as she was cruelly returned to reality. Once more, she was forced to consider the plight of those whom she dearly loved and in a display of frustration and desperation, she threw the journal onto the bed and ran from the talan.

Tbc.

Let's move right along to the last bit, shall we - lol!