Chapter 15

Haldir was sharpening one of his blades as the enormous lightening accompanied by an agonising scream caught his attention. His eyes widened at the scenery, he had never seen anything like it, different coloured lights dancing within the woods. The lightening seemed to be a darker shade of yellow than any other lightening he had ever seen before. Sudden panic shot through him.

"Where is Emdiril?" he asked the guards that surrounded him in the market. The guards shrugged their shoulders and Orophin and Rumil simply looked at each other concern etched across their handsome elven faces.

"Brothers!" Haldir urged them to reveal what they knew, his eyes digging into theirs one at a time.

"We saw her walk that way with Boleslaw earlier."

"No…" he croaked before he abruptly made his way towards the place the lightening shone not long ago, running through the rain without a single care for anything else right now. His Lady Emdiril was in danger and he would not allow it. Avoiding any obstacles that lay in his way he prepared himself for the worst sight he could imagine. Yet nothing truly prepared him for the scenery around him. Emdiril laid there, her fair skin was even paler than usual, her usually full, red lips barely held any colour and her body was covered in blood.

"No, no, no…" he murmured again, leaning down next to her to give her a closer examination. He ripped at his tunic, placing the ripped material against her wound before he scooped her up into his arms. Her eyes did not open at the touch and he cursed inwardly.

"You cannot die, Emdiril. No way…" he shook his head as he began running towards his home, Orophin and Rumil met him half way, not able to keep up with their worried brother. As their eyes met Emdiril's seemingly lifeless form their faces took a shocked expression and they ran with their brother as fast as they could, shouting for help from anyone who could hear them.

Everything seemed too slow for Haldir's liking – he seemed too slow at running, people seemed too slow to hear their pleads to get the healing ward ready for them and his Emdiril was in his arms dying.

"You will not die, I will not allow it. That is an order!" he shouted at her unconscious body as they finally saw the lights of their city. People were now crowding by the edge of the city, waiting to see what the commotion was about.

"We need to get to the healing ward immediately, we need healers, the best ones and as many as we have. She cannot die!" he shouted as he ran through the crowd. He laid her on top of a bed within the ward and was pushed out of the way by healers and other elves who wanted to help. It hurt his heart not being able to stand by her side but at this moment he knew it was for the best. A concerned Galadriel walked into the room, still as graceful as she always had been. Arwen followed her close behind, her eyes widening in shock as she realised who had been hurt. It was her beloved sister, the person she had grown so much with, who had remained in Lothlorien with her. The person she had liked to annoy when she wanted to feel immature. She felt as though her heart was shattering but she was not the only one filled with worry. Her blue eyes found Haldir stood in the corner, his tunic was covered in blood and his hair was wet from the rain.

"Haldir, my child. What happened?" Galadriel spoke softly and calmly to her Marchwarden, placing a hand on his broad shoulder. He simply shook his head. He did not truly know what had transpired. His face turned bitter as he turned towards the Elvin lady, "Although Orophin and Rumil have informed me they last saw her in the company of Boleslaw…" he drifted off, clenching his hands into fists. Nothing could explain the Marchwarden's anger, he had not felt this way prior.

Arwen stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Haldir, you are not well. Shall we go and find you some more suitable clothes?" she gave a pointed look towards his blood drenched tunic.

"That is a very fine idea," Galadriel agreed, "We will inform you if she awakens."

Haldir looked himself over then closed his eyes and nodded. A wash was well needed. Arwen guided him out of the healing ward, her senses told her he was under deep amounts of stress and concern. Not that she could blame him, she felt the same.

"Haldir," Arwen started as she stopped in front of his flet, "You are a very kind friend to my sister. Thank you." The she-elf offered him a small smile, as much as she could muster. Her words meant a tremendous amount to the Marchwarden and he appreciated them. Nodding in respect, he let himself into his flet. He decided he'd wash and change his clothing before heading back to the healing ward.

Two weeks later Haldir found himself within the healing wards once more. His fellow guards had been very compassionate, offering to take over the Marchwarden's patrols on the border. The wind was ruffling through the leaves and it started to become cooler within the woods. Haldir sat in a chair, blankly looking at a wall. His mind had still not fully processed what had had transpired. The Marchwarden leant forward and flickered his eyes towards the redhead. How was any of this fair? he thought.

Under no circumstances should this have happened. Emdiril was generous and always kind. A small smile crossed his features at how much he had learned about her since he had first come across the woman. He was positive that she had initially hated him. His eyes then flickered towards her. She laid there, as still as a statue. Her breathing was still weak and barely recognisable, droplets of sweat were visible on her forehead. It was obvious to him that she had become very sick after the attack and his heart ached. Initially he felt as though he had a fire burning within him, raging through him. Anger had pumped through his veins, anger aimed at no one but Boleslaw. Part of him had wished to follow him and seek his vengeance yet he did not have the heart to leave Caras Galadhon while Emdiril was still sick. The rage he had felt faded into an icy numbness. There was an ache within him, dull yet never ending. The ache only seemed to worsen when he looked at her. The elf sighed as he leaned forward in his chair, his hands grasping hers.

"Echuio Emdiril, an ngell nîn" the tone of his voice was soft, a side of Haldir not many encountered. The elleth who tended to Emdiril watched from the corner of the room, her lips pressed firmly together before she took off, giving the Marchwarden some privacy.

"Gellon ned i galar i chent gîn ned i gladhog. Please, I just long to see you smile," he looked to the floor for a second, squeezing his eyes shut tightly to avoid tears from falling. He could feel the muscles of his chin tremble and took a deep breath.

"I do not remember the last time you have smiled at me," his eyes flickered upwards towards her, looking for any sign that she heard any of what he said. A single hand reached forward, his fingertips lightly caressing her cheeks.

"I have been a fool, Emdiril. I have had so much time and yet I never had the courage to tell you…" a single tear slid down his perfect face, looking terribly out of place, "and now that you cannot hear me I am ready to tell you."

His eyelashes blinked heavily with tears, the pain came with waves, each wave hitting harder away at him.

"Gi melin," the words came easier to him than he thought, "I love you so much. I wish I had told you sooner. Perhaps its best you do not hear for your heart belongs to Legolas. He is an honourable elf, I do not blame you for your love." A small smile forced its way onto his face.

"For as long as you are happy, I will be happy. I hope he tells you how beautiful you are, in the most peculiar ways – the way your nose wrinkles when you read a book, the way your eyes seem to lighten up when you smile. The way you always seem to save your favourite part of your supper till last. Or the way you stand your ground when someone like me is rude to you," a soft laugh escaped his lips, echoing through the room. The memories of their journey bittersweet in his mind.

"By the Valar, I do not know what you have done to me," he squeezed her hand within his palms and when he finally let go and openly cried, there was no rawness to it. The pain was still a great, open wound causing him agony. This woman truly held his heart in her hands and without her, he felt as though he was less of an elf. Haldir had run out of time to pursue what made him feel raw emotions – happiness, anger, joy. The Marchwarden had assumed the reputation of an icy, emotionless elf yet Emdiril proved that he was the complete opposite. All his defences washed away as he clasped onto her hand for some sort of support. The world seemed to blur and so did the sounds around him. It wasn't until he felt faint fingertips brush against his palm that he looked up, eyes wide, caught completely off-guard. Her eyes were now open, however they were still heavy. He found a hint of mischief glimmering within them and he quickly sat closer to her, wiping the tears of his face.

"Is the arrogant, proud Marchwarden really crying for someone?" her voice came out croaky but he could sense the teasing tone within it.

"Oh Emdiril!" he exclaimed, relief and happiness washing over his body as he stood and wrapped his arms around her, his frown replaced by a beaming smile.

Though she was sore Emdiril placed her hands around the Marchwarden, happy to find him by her side. She tightened her grip on him as she felt him cry on her chest, sobs rippling through him. Her gown had soaked through by the time he had calmed and the pair sat in their embrace for a long while, silence overcoming them. No words were needed. They were content to be by each other's side once more.

Oh my, Haldir's confession was a bit hard to write, but I think it worked out alright. Enjoy x

Translations:

Echuio Emdiril, an ngell nîn - Wake Emdiril, please

Gi melin - I love you