Elves Do It Better
Warnings: Explicit content, discussion of suicide and suicidal tendencies, violent scenes and physical injury
Disclaimer: I own nothing connected with either LotR or Twilight. They belong entirely to their respective owners
Isabella was silent within the circle of his arms as they rode on, her body stiff and tense. Since they had left the dell where they had sheltered for the night, she had said nothing, and had barely moved within the cradle of her arms.
Haldir loved having her there. But the pleasure of feeling her in his arms, something every inch of his being growled was his right, was outweighed by the concern he felt at the growing confusion in her mind.
And the fear.
In truth, as a mortal, she shouldn't have been able to hold him off for long, let alone match his skill with a blade. She was only a novice, but she was a natural when it came to fighting, it seemed. She learned quickly, and she would make a fine warden.
Even if some part of him recoiled from allowing her anywhere near danger, but his Bella was not the type to be gainsaid. If she wished to fight, she would and if she were ever in danger of any sort, like then as they travelled down to the Dimrill Dale with the danger of Orcs ever present, he would rather she know how to defend herself adequately than leave her unprotected.
He loved her too much for that. He was only truly coming to an understanding of how much he loved his little swan maiden, his Isabella, how much he wanted and needed her. Most Elves married early in their lives, before they reached their first century usually, and then stayed wed even after the death of a spouse. They did not remarry, and they did not covet another's mate; they always remained faithful. A sense of duty had prevented Haldir from taking a wife, and to be truthful, he had not found an elleth to whom he wished to pledge his heart and my body.
Until Bella. He knew not how she came to be there, in Middle-Earth, in his life and his heart, but he did know she was mine, and he loved her. He felt everything that she felt, and he knew she wanted him too but the fear, the spectre of Edward Cullen, held her back from doing as her heart desired.
But there was another fear in her, which was even more urgent. She was afraid of herself.
Haldir knew Bella did not value herself, but from what his Lady had told him, she knew not of the changes taking place within her, and in her body. To him, she was as beautiful now as the moment he first set eyes upon her, but she shone with an inner radiance, a light no mortal possessed. Had she but noticed, she would see that she was no longer as tired as she once was, that she slept less, felt less pain from riding for long hours, and she grew stronger with every day. The force of her blows countering his own were more like to a young elfling's, newly trained and untested.
But Bella did not see this, not yet. He did not understand this riddle himself, of how she was changing to resemble a daughter of the Eldar race, despite her rounded ears, but she was determined to make her see her true worth.
No matter how long it took. Hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries…
But she might not have that much time. Bella was still mortal, he could sense that truth, and she would age and die. He did not possess the choice of the Peredhel, to forsake his immortality if he desired and become mortal. They would be sundered eventually.
But Haldir did not care. His love for Bella was too strong to deny.
"When we reach Lórien, I shall have to instruct you in the arts of war, if you desire it," Haldir began, trying to ease her from her depression. She almost started in his arms.
"You would want me to fight?" she asked quietly, almost disbelievingly.
"No, I would not. But if you desired it, I could not stop you, and I would rather you learned how to defend yourself than remain defenceless. Times grow dark," he replied, and he sensed her surprise, and her pleasure.
"He would not have wanted me to do so," she said finally, deathly quiet and her tone cool. Haldir bristled, feeling some anger rise, but he forced himself to calm.
"I am not Edward Cullen," he breathed, as coolly as she, and she inclined her head.
"No, you're not," she admitted, almost to herself. They lapsed back into thoughtful silence as they rode on, but Haldir felt the slight thawing in Bella as she unconsciously leaned back into his arms. He could do nothing but hope.
Their party passed into the Dimrill Dale, the gentle rush of the Silverlode as it made its way to his beloved Lórien lifting his heart. Their party had left the grey mountains behind, and he gently shook Bella from the stupor she had fallen into, from the rhythm of their ride.
"Behold, we are nearly home, Bella. There lies the river Silverlode, and its course runs deep into Lothlórien, where it merges with the Celebrant and flows into Anduin. Behind us lies the Walls of Moria, the great Dwarvish city beneath the Mountains of Mist," he pointed with one hand, the other guiding Ernil, as she looked around her, and he sensed her wonder. "There is the Mirrormere, where Durin, first King of the Dwarves looked within and saw a crown of stars."
Haldir glanced ahead to the front of the host, and exchanged a glance with his brothers. He had spent little time with them on this journey home, but he knew they understood. Rúmil had his own wife, and Orophin while still unbound, was betrothed to an elleth.
He reined Ernil in, and dismounted, ignoring Bella's cry of surprise as he pulled her to the ground in his arms. "Come, you must see the Mirrormere before we go on. We will only be a few moments," he told her, as she walked alongside him, matching him stride for stride without effort. Just another sign of how she was changed physically.
Haldir also had another motive in showing her the Mirrormere. Its waters were deep and clear, undisturbed, hence its name.
Perhaps now, Bella might see her true self.
Haldir was insistent as he pulled her along, their cloaks flapping in the early morning breeze. It did not feel like a month since they had left Rivendell, it felt like days. Forks was but a distant memory.
The mountains rose sheer and white behind her, their peaks buried in snow that sparkled like diamonds in the weak sunlight, peeking its rays through the dark clouds. They had made it just in time, it seemed.
The mere lay before them, darker than any water she had ever seen,, darker than even than the waters of the sea around La Push, it's colour a deep sapphire, not quite black. She stopped beside it, Haldir at her back, the Elves awaiting them just over the rise of the hill. She knelt down by its edge, and looked into its infinite depths as the mountain winds ruffled her hair in its braid and she pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders.
She looked into the Mirrormere, and thoughts rose to her mind unbidden. Haldir's words in particular…
'I am not Edward Cullen…'
That was undeniably true. Haldir was not Edward, and his care for her was different. He did not seek to wrap her in cotton wool, or keep her blind to the dangers of the world. His promise of training her was proof of that. He would not leave her, she was sure of that but…
She would still age and die, where he would not. She would not do that to him; she would not be selfish and allow him to suffer for it.
It was a painful choice, but she had to make it. The bond which existed in their minds trembled with the strength of his passion, and she felt its reciprocal fire rise within her. For his sake, she would resist.
She would not subject him to an eternity of pain.
Bella's thoughts turned to the fear she felt choking her even now, the fear not of Haldir, but of herself. She was changing, and she didn't understand why. What was she?
Bella looked down into the Mirrormere, and thought she saw a crown of stars, before another vision slowly shimmered into view.
It was of a woman, slender, pale as a lily, knelt by the side of the mere, her long hair, shining auburn mixed with streaks of Elven gold, held back in a braid. Dirt marred her skin, and her clothes were wrinkled with travel but she was dressed as one of the Elves. She was beautiful and graceful, her white features like a morning of spring, still blighted by frost, her eyes deep pools full of sorrow and pain; a vision from a time long passed maybe?
Then the sun glinted off a pendant shaped as a swan, and Bella froze. It couldn't be, the woman before her was beautiful and radiant as an Elven queen of old, an inner light shining in her eyes and beneath her skin, but for the rounded ears of a human. It couldn't be her.
But it was, and Haldir placed a hand upon her shoulder.
"Do you see now?" he breathed questioningly, and she gasped, staring at him in shock.
"I don't understand," she breathed. "That's not me, that can't be me."
"But it is," Haldir replied firmly, a statement of fact rather than a question. "You cannot deny it any longer, Isabella. You cannot deny who you are, who you have become, any more."
Bella just stared at him, dumbstruck and her heart pounding, as he inclined his head to hers, making their lips brush in an aching, incomplete kiss. Both reassuring and devastated at once, as Bella trembled and teetered on the edge of something…
Then the first arrow struck, destroying the peace of the morning.
Bella could only stare at the arrow, its shaft still quivering from its impact against the ground, black, covered in some ugly slime and long in the shaft.
"Orcs! Come!" Haldir urged her up; already pulling her away as she glimpsed what looked like a black cloud streaming from the Eastern gate of Moria, the sunlight glinting off dirty armour, before the sun was hidden behind a bank of cloud.
As soon as the sun disappeared, the Orcs came faster, and Haldir had thrown her onto Ernil's back she knew where she was. Bella clutched at the reins as she stared down into his dark eyes.
"What are you doing?" she breathed, as the other Elves, the wardens and those geared for battle already began to form a defensive perimeter after a few shouted commands from Haldir.
"Ernil will bear you to safety. Orophin will lead in my stead; you must do as he says. Protect the Lady," he told her quickly. "I must lead wardens and hold the Orcs off."
"Haldir-?" Bella began but he pulled her lips to his own, kissing her hard as she melted under his onslaught. Bella kissed back, greedily taking all he would give her but giving everything of herself that he demanded in return. It ended as quickly as it had begun, and she was left bereft and breathless on Ernil's back.
"Take care, meleth nin," he whispered against her lips, before he called to Ernil in Sindarin and the great horse tore away from Haldir. Bella cried out, and she looked over my shoulder as she galloped towards the main group of Elves clustered around the Lady Galadriel.
Desperate fear clutched her heart, and she was shaking from the force of the love pounding within the bond between them. Hers, and his.
She wanted him to survive so desperately. She needed him to survive, to come back to her. The fear, black and corrosive, swept aside all resistance, all reason.
'Please, please, come back to me. Please…'
Ernil reached the group of Elves who were not fighting and led her straight to the Lady Galadriel where the great Elvish Lady stood with Orophin and her Guard.
"Alphwen," she breathed, as Bella dismounted. "Come, we must make for Lothlórien."
"What about Haldir and the others?" I asked, a similarly pained look on Orophin's face.
"They will come. When we reach Lórien, the wardens will join us," the Lady replied. "We must retreat; for many of us do not possess the weapons to fight the Orcs."
Just as Bella opened her mouth to insist that she stay, a hail of Orcish arrows fell around them, and the cries of those hit rent the air. Bella crouched down behind Ernil, the brave stallions unmoving amongst the chaos of battle, Bella drawing her knife as the snarls of Orcs filled the air and the cries of Elves as they did battle.
And she finally saw her first Orc. It was a pathetic, filthy creature, like to an Elf in its ears, but bent and swarthy, clumsy and disgusting with its lank hair pulled back in a mockery of an Elvish braid. Bella felt no pity, just disgust as it leered and growled at her, drawing a long scimitar, its hand carved in a monstrous likeness of a grinning face.
Bella dimly heard voices calling her name, both her names, she heeded them not. The Orc swung at her wildly, but she ducked and spun, bringing the knife down across his torso. Metal clashed against metal, but did not pierce, the shock sending waves up her arm. Bella darted away, as the Orc came on, her blow having glanced off his roughly made hauberk.
"Alphwen!" a voice called. She dimly realised it was Orophin, Haldir's brother. "Their armour is weak at the neck and under the arm!"
Bella spotted another knife on the floor and grabbed it up, hefting it thrust them up in a cross as the Orc almost slashed her head in two.
She twisted away, fending off blow after blow, before the Orc stumbled on a loose rock and she lunged forward, without conscious thought, stabbing one knife through the weak spot at his neck. With a repulsive gurgling sound, he collapsed to the floor.
Breathing hard, Bella looked up, feeling a warmth across her cheek as she stared around. Despite her own battle, the Orcs had been routed and they were victorious.
"Isabella!" a voice called, and felt Haldir's fear and relief she turned to see him sprinting towards her, as she felt joy burst over her heart. He swept Bella up in his arms, and she clung to him, burying her face in his hair. In that moment she just couldn't fight anymore.
"Thank the Valar, you foolish, foolish, brave woman!" he whispered fiercely into her neck. Bella shivered as his lips pressed against her skin, planting feverish kisses up her the column of her throat to her lips, taking them passionately and needily, as she moaned and pulled herself closer.
"I'm foolish?" she gasped in outrage, when he released her mouth. "Hark who's talking!"
"You have Orc blood on your cheek, my warrior," he replied huskily, and she almost melted. Almost.
"Stop trying to distract me," she growled.
Haldir just smiled and led her away, where the survivors waited, the bodies of Orcs strewn about haphazardly. Bella was relieved to see no Elves among the dead, although some bore wounds as they passed them.
The Lady Galadriel turned to them as they reached her, a motherly smile dawning as she took in Bella's bloody blade and dishevelled appearance. She probably looked a mess.
"You have courage, Isabella," she said softly to her, as she held out a hand. "You have done well."
"It was only one Orc," Bella mumbled, embarrassed.
"My Lady, we should hasten to Lórien-" Haldir began, as Bella chanced to look down, glimpsing a flash of black out of the corner of her eye, and saw as if in slow motion, one of the black corpses move, its clawed hand raising a dagger.
It was directly behind the Lady.
Bella threw herself in front of Lady Galadriel, and something punched her in the gut, winding her but her only thought was saving the Lady.
A cry left her lips as she pushed the Lady around and aside, trying to push her away from danger. Chaos erupted, and she was dimly aware of Elves leaping upon the wounded Orc and finishing it off.
"Isabella…" Lady Galadriel breathed in alarm, calling Bella back to herself and she was shocked to see red blood on the Lady's pure white robe. Then Bella looked down and saw the dagger hilt protruding from her lower stomach. In shock, numb, her hand trembled as she felt her own blood, hot and sticky, on her fingers, a feverish burning erupting all over her body as she collapsed.
She was only barely aware of Haldir's arms as he caught her up, with a cry of anguish, and she clung to his voice.
'Haldir…'
He watched, helpless, as Bella threw herself between the Orc and the Lady. He saw with agonising precision how the knife went in, but his Bella, his beautiful, strong Bella, would not be cowed. She pushed the Lady Galadriel to safety, before even noticing she was injured.
Then she collapsed and he lifted her into his arms.
"Isabella, meleth nin," he breathed. "Hold on."
"The wound is deep and I fear the blade poisoned. We must hasten!" the Lady Galadriel cried, as he mounted Ernil, taking Bella in his arms, limp as a rag doll, fear as black and corrosive as the poison flooding her blood suffusing every thought in his mind, bar one. One he clung to, fiercely, with all his might, praying to any deity that might listen that they make it true.
'Hold on, my Isabella. Hold on…'