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
Bella awoke a week later, with renewed purpose. The Lady had told her that her injuries were sufficiently healed to begin her training and she could hardly wait.
To Bella's surprise, she was informed it would be the Lord Celeborn himself who was to instruct her in swordplay. Her progress was slow, even with her newfound strength but she enjoyed it immensely. It was like learning a dance, but this time she suffered no clumsiness. Lord Celeborn always stopped when he sensed Bella's exhaustion, and slowly their sessions lengthened from an hour every two days to two hours a day. He also trained her in blade work with her knife, adding another when she grew more proficient, teaching her the finer points and in truth; Bella preferred her smaller blades to her training with an Elven scimitar.
Bella was taught the rudiments of healing, rope tying and the finer points of horseback riding along with the others training for selection as Wardens. They were wary of the young woman at first, some scoffing at the thought of a mortal being able to handle the training involved, but she refused to allow them to upset her.
She was focussed, completely so, and she would not take her eyes off her goal.
Archery had been her greatest challenge. Due to her weakness, she had been forced to use a child's bow and even then, her aim was not great. The first time she actually hit the target, she felt a warm glow of pride. She would practice as long as possible, before she grew too tired.
Slowly her days filled with a comfortable routine. She slowly impressed her fellow would-be Wardens, her tutors and the Lord and Lady, as she progressed from training blades and bows to sharpened scimitars and a bow of the Galadhrim. By the time the selections came around, she could shoot three arrows at a time and have all of them hit the target, she could shoot them in the shape of her initials, she could hold her own against any opponent and her knife work was unrivalled.
The first time she first drew with Lord Celeborn was a day she would never forget.
The air was filled the clash of metal on metal as Bella ducked and parried an overheard blow from her tutor. She backed away, knives held in readiness as he came towards her, grey eyes focussed, intent. She lunged, her right fist flicking out and he parried then riposted. She ducked and spun on her knees, holding her knives in a cross over her head as his blow came down hard.
Bella grit her teeth, threw him off and away, and jumped to her feet. Sweat had soaked through her tunic, making the light olive green material cling to her arms and back uncomfortably. She was tired; they had been going for over two hours.
It was their longest sparring session yet.
Lord Celeborn's scimitar came crashing down on her head, and she was driven to her knees. Panting, his blade held back by metal bracers on her forearms, Bella struggled to throw him off.
She was exhausted.
His blade pressed down harder and harder, trying to crush her to the floor, and she wondered why he did not call a halt to the match. He usually did so, if he caught her in a position she could not recover from.
Unless…
Bella's tired brain forced itself to think. Lord Celeborn was not the gentlest of instructors, but he was not sadistic. He would not push her until I dropped, or was wounded. So, if he wasn't calling time, then there had to be another reason…
She still had a way out.
Bella's knives were trapped, useless. With his full weight pressing down on her, she could not move, either to twist under his guard or to parry his blow. She wasn't strong enough to push him back, and she couldn't even move her legs…
Unless she could access that wellspring of strength she had found within, so long ago it felt, during her little sparring session with Haldir in the Misty Mountains.
A droplet of sweat ran down her forehead, stinging her eyes as she closed them, trapping it there. She forced air into her lungs, and searched deeper inside herself, deeper than her dreams took her at night, deeper than her thoughts during the day.
Bella found it.
Her eyes snapped open, and she shoved upwards. Lord Celeborn's scimitar was jolted up, and she moved her legs, hitherto trapped beneath her. She kicked his left foot out from under him, and then stood. Her little trick did not keep Lord Celeborn down for long, as he sprang to his feet, his scimitar flashing as it spun in his deadly hands. This time, her knives caught his parry, and their eyes met in silent acknowledgement.
She turned, ducking under his guard, bringing her knife up his throat, even as she felt another gently press into her ribs, below her heart.
Stalemate.
Panting, inwardly stunned, Bella met Lord Celeborn's amused, pleased grey eyes.
"Well done, Alphwen," he replied, for the first time since she had known him, he sounded almost…out of breath. Bella felt pride surge in her, and she smiled.
Bella had come so far. Tomorrow would be the selection for Wardens, and she was ready.
Although she didn't really feel it. But she guessed a girl couldn't get rid of all her old insecurities in one go.
That night Bella walked alone, in the gardens which surrounded the roots of the great mallorn that housed Caras Galadhon.
Her silvery white skirts rustled as they glided over the grass, the emerald waves dotted with elanor and niphredril. The trunks of the mallorn glimmered in the twilight, as she walked, idly grazing the palms of her hands across them, feeling the inner pulse of life inside them, looking up at the glimpses of stars in gaps of the glistening, dark canopy above.
For the first time in a long time, Bella thought of home. She remembered the whisper of the wind through the pines near the Cullens' house. For the first time, she thought about them without pain, or even a mere hint of longing.
She thought of Dad, of Charlie. She wondered if he was mourning her, if he was well. She hoped with all her heart he was alright.
She thought about Jake, and his sunny friendliness whenever they met. She thought about Eric, Mike, Jessica and Angela. Did they miss me?
And lastly, as she tore her gaze from the starry sky, she thought about Haldir.
How stupid she had been. She had pushed him away out of fear, out of self-righteous martyrdom, and really who did it help? No one.
Especially now Bella knew the truth, about the gift given her by whoever had brought her to Middle-Earth. The Voice had stayed silent after her revelation, but sometimes she felt a warm surge of pride, of satisfaction blossom over her which was not her own. Someone was watching over her, a silent guardian.
It wasn't Haldir. Bella knew his presence, knew how it felt in her mind, that heat, that seductive call to every atom of her body and mind. This was different, and something Bella dared not probe too deeply, lest she lose herself entirely.
As the months has passed, she became surer of her path, but she soon realised that she was no longer doing this for Haldir, but for herself. She needed to become stronger, more worthy, to prove to herself that Edward had not been justified in leaving her, that she deserved happiness. That she could be more than she was.
And as Bella stared up at the sky that night, the last night before she saw Haldir again, she closed her eyes, put aside childish things, and felt freer than she ever had before.
Haldir struggled to repress a sigh as he took his place upon the stand with the Lord and Lady. He had been back in the city only a day, in time for the Warden selections. It had been three months since he had last been in Caras Galadhon, since he had left Bella behind.
It had been three months of torment.
It had taken all his discipline and will not to allow their bond to flow freely through his mind. He had put up walls between her mind and his own, and it had almost killed him to do it. Only certainty that in Caras Galadhon she would be safe, and equal certainty that she needed time, and distance, kept him from feeling for her, to make sure she was safe and well.
His duty had been no distraction. The borders were quiet, and Moria slumbered in a peaceful gloom. No Orc had been sighted since the attack. His instincts told him not to be fooled or lulled into complacency. The Shadow was growing, both in his mind, and in the minds of all the Eldar.
Haldir exhaled, eyes idly scanning the assembled crowds turned out to watch the first Trial, that of archery. Bella was nowhere to be seen.
Hiding his confusion, he bowed to the Lord and Lady, seated together, clad in shining white, and took his place beside the Lady.
She smiled. "Well met, Haldir," she murmured softly. "I trust you fare well?"
"Aye, my Lady," he inclined his head, trying to search further for Bella. Carefully he reopened the bond between them, but he was met with a wall this time. He frowned, reaching out but it was impenetrable.
Urgently, Haldir searched the crowd for her. Had she forsaken him? Decided to continue her resistance, stubborn creature that she was? Anger, and he admitted to himself, hurt burned inside his heart, and his fist clenched on the railing of the stand. He felt a soft touch on his fist, and turned to see the Lady, smiling knowingly up at him from her seat.
"Be patient, Haldir. She is coming," she told him vaguely, he could not ask more, as the first group of prospective Wardens stepped forward, all clad in grey and forest green, their bows ready in their hands, hair kept back in Elven braids. Reminding himself of his duty, Haldir turned to inspect them, forcing Bella from his mind.
Until his gaze fell on the elleth furthest from where he stood, brunette hair stark amid the golden heads of the Galadhrim.
Bella.
He was too stunned to move, as Lord Celeborn stood, raising his hand, smiling proudly at the new crop of Wardens. Attendants quickly set up the archery butts for the contestants, and presented the competitors with bows and quivers.
His brow crinkled at the distance of the targets. That would challenge an Elf, let alone a mortal like his Bella. What was she doing?
"Have faith, March Warden," the Lady told him, obviously sensing his confusion. He nodded, and turned back to the sight of his Alphwen, hair tightly held back, eyes bent on the target, hands relaxed at her sides. On the command, she, with the others, took her bow and strung it, before fixing an arrow to the string and pulling it back with an ease that stunned Haldir.
She used a bow of the Galadhrim. No human possessed the strength to bend such a bow, but then again…his Bella was not human. Did she know, at last? Had she accepted herself?
His heart beat fast in his chest, as the Lord's hand fell, and the first volley left the bows of the competitors with a triumphant twang.
Bella's did not hit the bullseye, but it did hit the second innermost ring. He smiled and applauded with the rest, before forcing himself to watch the others as well.
But his mind was full of her gentle, pleased smile.
She only improved, even as the distance was increased. Upon the last round, she hit the bullseye with ease.
The next Trial was one where the Wardens would be required to shoot while in a situation similar to a battle, rather than firing at a target. One at a time, Haldir assessed the individuals, all of who comported themselves well, and Bella not the least. While she was not the most accurate in the Trial, sometimes missing the targets if they came too fast, but hitting them on the second attempt, she was breathtaking to watch, her face luminous, burning with determination.
A fine tension took hold of his muscles, and he shuddered, burning with her.
He was pleased to see her prowess with her knives in the third Trial, far greater than her archery even.
The fourth Trial was in unarmed combat, and in that Bella excelled, truly. She moved so fast, she appeared a blur even to his Elven eyes, her lithe body evading every attack of her opponent's. He could see she was frustrating her opponent, Areneth, an Elf he had known from his birth some hundred years ago. It would make him easier to defeat if he lost his temper.
She defeated him with a predatory grace that stole his breath. As she released him from the chokehold that kept him on his back, he grinned up at her, and she smiled at something he said, shaking her head. Envy burned within him like poison, he stared at them in agony.
She must have felt it, as she turned to look up him then, and the look in her eyes…
It taught him to hope.
She did not look up at Haldir again, as the fifth and final Trial started, that of armed combat. He could see instantly that it was not Bella's strongest skill, as the scimitar in her hands, while wielded with skill, was not comfortable for her, either for her hands or her body.
Her opponent, Morwen, disarmed her easily with a proud smirk, but Bella would not be so cowed. The moment the blade was knocked from her hand, she dropped into a roll and her knives, one a gift from the Lord Elrond and the other a new blade Haldir did not recognise, flashed in her hands. Morwen snarled, her triumph shortened, and she went for the assault.
Bella eluded her like smoke on the breeze, striking here, there, before dancing every with a preternatural grace. At a disadvantage with the sword, she might be, but with her knives…she was deadly. But Morwen was not an easy opponent, and the match went back and forth without a clear winner emerging. He watched them both, and while Morwen was fatigued, so was Bella. For all her newfound strength and agility, she was still mostly mortal, and therefore tiring quicker.
Morwen let out a cry of triumph as she drove Bella to her knees, her scimitar locked with the shining blades in Bella's hands. The strain was clear on her face, and Haldir looked to Lord Celeborn, surprised when he did not concede the match in Morwen's favour.
Bella looked up at him then, and winked.
He was aware he gasped, as did the other spectators, when Bella drove up from her knees, throwing Morwen's scimitar up and away from her. In the lull, she turned and kicked out, driving Morwen to her knees, before catching the scimitar in one hand and holding one of her knives in the other, both levelled at Morwen's throat.
She had won.
Haldir studied her face as she panted for breath, staring down at the still defiant Morwen, her eyes aflame. She looked like the warrior she had become, in the three months of their separation, the fragility that had haunted her dissipated forever. Pride mingled with desire in his breast, as he applauded and smiled, meeting the Lady's dancing eyes.
Haldir understood what she meant now.
The Wardens were quickly sworn in, after that, with only a few refused entry, and no doubt they would try again at the next selection. Bella was among one of those chosen, having proven herself adept in all disciplines, and having won three of the five Trials outright. He could not have been prouder of her than in that moment.
At last, she was free. Free of the spectre of her past, of her own doubt and fears, blossomed like a butterfly emerged from a chrysalis. She was truly ethereal, a match for any elleth in her grace and beauty, her poise a far cry from what the Lady Arwen had once told him of, when she first came to Middle-Earth.
He longed for her, with a sharp ache, as their bond awoke within their minds, gentle and tentative, and he felt her exhilaration, her pride, and her confidence.
And as her mind attached to his, he felt her answering desire, her answering love to his own, and his heart soared within his breast.
Haldir did not linger long at the feast to honour those chosen. As soon as he could do so unobtrusively, he slipped from the celebrations, in search of his dark-haired siren. Following the tug of their bond, she led him into the forest, away from the lawns of Caras Galadhon, towards Cerin Amroth, her gown a mere glimmer of white in the twilight.
He followed as one entranced, and willingly so.
She paused in a clutch of mallorn before the great mound, and turned, waiting for him. Her hair was threaded with shining gems, and her simple gown shone like a star, clinging to her slender form, the swan pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat. Her eyes glowed as they met his, and his heart ached with the need to hold her.
Her heart opened to his own, and she didn't need to say anything. She had accepted him, she'd given in. She was his.
He held back the triumphant surge of mingled love and desire, long enough to speak. Even to his own ears, he sounded hoarse, his voice low and husky.
"I am so proud of you, my Alphwen," he told her. "Meleth nin."
"Haldir," she sighed, and her voice was like music to his ears, his name a siren song on her lips. "I am so sorry…for everything."
He frowned, uncertain of what she meant, but she smiled, still a little uncertain, even after her glorious transformation.
"But…I'm yours. If you still want me," she murmured. He smiled, and words were no longer enough.
He took one step towards her.
She didn't wait for Haldir to come to her. Ever since she had felt his gaze on her from the stand, she'd had to fight to concentrate, at least until the adrenaline kicked in, and her focus narrowed, blocking out everything except what she needed to do.
Now, there was no need to hold back. Every cell in her body sang as she lunged into his arms, his lips finding her own urgently. His hands threaded through her hair, displacing some of the gems Silwen had helped her place, but she couldn't care less. His hard body against hers had previously been something she could only dream about, and she relished it. She felt no more fear, no more doubt, just pure love and desire as she buried her hands in his strands of white-gold hair, unembarrassed even when an almost animalistic moan left her lips.
"Bella…meleth nin," he gasped, as she panted against his lips, his eyes like melted ice, boring into her own, her smouldering body threatening to combust. With a determined yank, Bella pulled him back into her kiss, seeking his mouth and those hands elsewhere than in her hair. He groaned, pushing her back against a mallorn, and the pleasure of his hard body throbbing against her own was only heightened by the pulse of life rushing through the flesh of the tree against her back. She had never felt more alive, or connected, to the world around them, as Haldir broke the kiss, his hot mouth urgently tracing down her neck.
"Haldir!" she gasped his name, her eyes rolling back in her head, as he groaned and pulled her closer, his tongue lingering over her sternum. "I take it you missed me then?"
"Undoubtedly," he growled, lifting his head. "You foolish girl."
"Stubborn Elf," she retorted, but it was all play. He smiled up at her, before leaning in and resting his forehead against hers. Bella exhaled, trembling, never feeling happier than in that moment. Nothing could compare. Nothing.
"Isabella Swan," he murmured, "My Bella, my Alphwen."
He raised his head, taking her hand. She frowned, puzzled, until he led her out of the trees and onto the mound of Cerin Amroth, the moon shining like a silver medallion in the starry sky, the lights and music of the feast only feet away, the grass sprinkled with niphredril and elanor, gilded silver by the moonlight, soft against her bare feet.
He turned to her, pulling her to him, and her body sank against his without thought. His arms slipped around her waist, as his hand dipped into her hair, caressing the loose curls. His eyes shone, with fiery lust and a gentleness that made her both shiver and glow.
"I have been waiting to ask this for a long time," he told her. "Will you be mine, bind yourself to me, for the rest of eternity?"
Bella frowned, unsure what he was asking. "Haldir, I'm already yours," she told him firmly. He smiled and shook his head.
"I mean as my wife…" he continued.
Bella froze in his arms, staring up at him, as his gaze gentled, hers unblinkingly. "You're asking me to marry you?" She repeated, with a whisper. He inclined his head. She looked up at him, her Haldir, and the thought sent a wave of possessiveness and tenderness rushing through her. Today had been such a rush, a whirl of events.
Bella was a Warden now, her duty to defend and guard the borders of Lórien with Haldir. She had reunited with Haldir, and now he was asking her to become his wife.
The old Bella would have shied away, begged for time to think, refused to contemplate marrying so young. But she was no longer the old Bella, this wasn't Forks, and Haldir wasn't Edward.
And marriage didn't seem like such a big deal with the whole of eternity ahead of her.
Bella was pleased to note that her voice did not tremble as she looked up at him, at Haldir, and one word fell from her lips.
"Yes."