A Stolen Love
Disclaimer: Don't own, I would appreciate if you don't sue. I mean, I love my cardboard box, don't make me part with it!
Hey! THANKS FOR REVIEWING! I live for this now hahaha. I can't thank you guys enough for the positive input and I hope you enjoy the second chapter! Can we say HALDIR!?
On with the story!
A Stolen Love
Chapter 2- They Set Off!
Haldir glanced warily at the mortal before him. In this day an age, one could never be too cautious of the race of men. A shadow of threat was silently creeping along Middle Earth, winding its intricate web of horrors around the inhabitants and their surroundings. The thought of Mordor sent chills racing along the Marchwarden's spine. How sorrowful that the firstborn had to be exposed to such an evil.
"State your purpose human!" Haldir silently commanded, a stoic expression hiding his real thoughts. Countless years of being a soldier had taught him that feelings were better hidden behind a mask of stone. The mortal visibly twitched as the ice in Haldir's voice bit through his mind. Panting, the man tried to reply. Under normal circumstances, the Marchwarden of Lothlorien usually exercised a great deal of patience with people from foreign lands, but recent times proved to be trying ones, as the borders grew more and more perilous with each passing moment.
"I-I come bearing tidings and a request from Minas Tirith and it's Steward, Denethor, the second," spoke the man, attempting in vain to do a regal bow. The elf was close to laughing at the spectacle, humans just weren't elves, mortal beings simply lacked the general grace. But Haldir kept silent, his face never slipping from its mask. He raised an eyebrow, inclining his golden head as a signal for the messenger to proceed.
Gulping, the man tried to fortify his courage. Rumors of the famous Marchwarden were not lost on this mortal, but until this point he never realized how seemingly innocent cerulean blue eyes could look upon a person with such intensity. This Haldir fellow had a frightening power about him.
"I wish for an audience with the Lord and Lady of the wood, if the situation would permit it, my lord," the messenger whispered, hoping that the elf before him would hear his request. The man believed he lacked the audacity to speak in a louder voice. However, Haldir heard every word, a perk of being one of the eldar. He narrowed his eyes threateningly and considered the man in front of him. Haldir would not let just anyone come into contact with his Lord and Lady, they were too precious to be led into dangerous traps. As Haldir was about to deny the Gondorian's request, a mystifying voice filled the air, seeming to come from an unknown speaker.
"Let him speak, my fair Marchwarden. It is far too early a time to be treating strangers with such hostility."
Lady Galadriel, the owner of the ghostly voice, made her presence known as she came to stand beside Haldir.
"Speak, oh weary traveler. Tell us of your cause to be in my wood, and I hope you will not bring ill news upon the people of Lothlorien," spoke the Lady in a melodious tone, as if silk was playing on the wind.
The messenger shook his head violently, trying to clear his mind, and then he gathered what manners he could, and bowed to the Lady of the Golden Wood. "I swear upon my mother's grave that I do not come passing bad news, but rather I seek thee to help us in Gondor, far too many scoundrels run about freely. I, Tobiath, son of Gariold, messenger to Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, come in hopes to make an alliance with the elves of Lothlorien and to help bridge the gap between immortal and human." Pausing, he inhaled deeply to refill his lungs, and continued.
"All we ask of you, my Lady, is to lend us the aid of your soldiers. We do not require many, for we know the strength and stamina of the eldar." Tobiath seemed to finish here and waited for a response from the Lady. Suddenly, a voice projected inside of his head, jolting him to no end.
"You have been noble to the house of Denethor, and for that you should be praised," the voice that was Galadriel whispered inside of his mind. "But what, pray tell, has the Steward been up to all this time while the threat of Mordor hangs over the land like an immense fog? Surely he has taken steps to prevent such crimes as stealing and killing from overtaking the city?"
The messenger swallowed visibly. His lord had been growing more senile as time seemed to tick away on his time in Middle Earth. He could not speak ill of Denethor though, as Tobiath was bound by a code of honor. However, this piece of information did not stop Galadriel from invading his mind, peaking into every crevice until she was satisfied. Haldir stood silently next to her, the mechanisms in his brain trying to piece together what Galadriel was gathering from this mortal and relaying to her Marchwarden.
"So it is how I predicted," the Lady spoke softly to herself, but enough for Haldir to hear. "Denethor has already shown signs of corruption," her eerie voice echoed through the great hall.
Haldir scoffed at this statement, glaring at Tobiath. "Humans are of a weaker breed. Their minds cannot comprehend anything but the need for power and wealth. May they be burned from Middle Earth!" he spat with barely veiled malice.
Galadriel looked sharply at Haldir. She spoke with him mentally. "There was a time, my rueful Marchwarden, when you welcomed humans with open arms, created friendships in fact."
Haldir narrowed his eyes, revealing his only sign of emotion. He spoke aloud, "You know very well what happened my Lady, and I have every right to feel like this." Tobiath stood away from the obviously quarreling pair, hoping that he wouldn't be drawn into this obviously heated conversation.
"Haldir, do not be so simple minded as to think that all mortals are the same! You were not trained to be like this, so fulfill you duty!" she yelled. Haldir paled. Never, in all his centuries of service, had Galadriel raised her voice to the Marchwarden. To say the least, Haldir was shocked. Seeing this, the Lady of Light softened her face, compassion marring her ethereal presence. "I am sorry Haldir, never have I spoken with such vehemence. My apologies, dear Marchwarden. I can only hope that one day, you will stop fighting this imaginary battle between you and the whole human race," Galadriel murmured.
In response, Haldir merely inclined his head, golden strands playing about his face. A cautious silence fell over the hall until Tobiath had the idea to cough. Attention was fully brought back to the mortal, who was currently wondering why he had to attract the stares of a cold Marchwarden, and a Lady considered to be a witch in numerous kingdoms.
"My Lady, if I am not interrupting anything, my lord Denethor wished to have a response as soon as possible, so that a speedy alliance will be made," Toniath said, looking to the floor.
Galadriel seemed to consider this. It would be beneficial to create a bond with the humans of Gondor, especially if what she saw in her mirror would come to pass. Denethor was being selfish in asking that the elves seal their alliance by helping to catch criminals, but that could not be helped at the moment.
She sighed, knowing what her answer would be. "I, Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien, agree to this request and will help aid the kingdom of Gondor, in return for a written alliance. I trust you brought the proper documents messenger?"
Tobiath glanced up, clearly surprised. Haldir's expression matched that of the human's. How could the Lady agree to such a requisition? The Marchwarden was thinking with the hatred in his heart, rather than politically. Galdriel told him such within his mind, and he agreed begrudgingly that this was, in fact, the correct path to follow.
Speaking aloud, the Lady addressed Haldir. "Marchwarden, if you please, gather a group of soldiers and tell them to get ready for a trip to Gondor. You shall be in charge. I am trusting you and I have the hope that you would do nothing to lower the opinion of our fair Lorien."
Haldir swallowed deeply and nodded his head in consent. He would not embarrass his Lord and Lady. He would fulfill his duty.
Galadriel called for a servant to lead the messenger to a guest room, and ten she took her leave. Haldir went to collect his group of soldiers, wondering what their reactions would be once they found out they were to go to Gondor.
When the papers were signed and the messenger Tobiath had rested, the company of six elves and one human were set to leave. Haldir bade his brothers to stay at the borders, opting for soldiers that were currently off duty inside the city. They needed all the elves that could be spared at the border. The company quickly mounted their horses. The Marchwarden patted Astaldo, his jet-black steed. This creature had never before let him down, and was very close to his heart. Slipping his stoic façade into place, Haldir coldly looked about him. With a shrill whistle to his companions, and a quick bow of his head to Galadriel, who was standing gracefully nearby, they set off for their destination: Gondor.
At the encampment of the Forest Thieves, the woman began sitting down to partake in the feast that was rabbits and various birds. Water was collected and passed around to share. Conversations started and soon raucous voices filtered between the trees.
"Have you heard the one about the cave troll and the dwarf?!" Dialan yelled, trying to capture everyone's attention. This resulted in the beginning of yet another vulgar joke. Tiera took this opportunity to lean over and converse with Ariel, who was currently trying to stare down her dinner. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips formed into an annoyed pout.
"Are you angry with your dinner or is that a regular face of yours?" questioned Tiera, her mouth curving at the corners a little.
Snapping out of her nonexistent feud between her pheasant, Ariel flashed a smiled at her friend. "The bird keeps telling me that it won't taste good, but I say that it is giving a contradictory statement, as it smells heavenly. Nevertheless, it doesn't cease to stop convincing me of its bad taste." Ariel finished speaking and glanced back at her dinner.
Tiera raised an elegant eyebrow. "You realize that your dinner is dead, right?" she said incredulously.
Ariel stabbed her food with a crude fork, as if dueling with swords, and smiled from ear to ear. "No, now it's dead."
Tiera rolled her and eyes, Ariel's quirkiness knew no bounds. For someone so young, Ariel was wise beyond her years and skilled in many ways. Of course, Tiera would usually start reconsidering this opinion when the Queen of the Forest Thieves acted like she was a deranged six year old.
Tiera sighed and looked into the eyes of her leader. A silence fell between them as the others laughed at the joke Dialan was telling. Flickering, the firelight reflected itself into the brown, opaque orbs of Ariel. "Such mystifying eyes for someone so young," Tiera whispered. "So, so young." Huffing, Ariel blinked. This was a constant confrontation between the two.
"Do we have to do this again!? I am twenty one my friend! That is considered plenty old enough to wed and have a family! Do not forget that you yourself are only a mere seven years my senior!" Ariel gasped for breath and went on, "I am old enough to be a queen among thieves and I have even saved your life once or twice Tiera."
"Do not forget that I have also saved you from immediate danger, so do not take that tone with me," Tiera murmured, keeping her voice low.
Ariel fell mute and stared off into the foliage. Tiera sighed. She had not meant to bring up this quarrel again.
"I am sorry. I did not come to badger you, my queen," spoke Tiera. At the formal title, Ariel scowled and stared at her friend. "I came to relay news from Minas Tirith. Our contacts warn that soldiers from a distant land come to capture us," at this point, she looked about them, making sure no one was listening in.
Ariel laughed outright. "Ha! I knew Denethor would be too cowardly to keep sending his own men to come and get us. He has to rely on the help of strangers. That pitiful old man."
"Ariel, this is serious! They say elves are coming! The Marchwarden of Lothlorien to be exact!" Tiera whispered hurriedly. She paused to let this sink in with her queen. By now, the rest of the people in their camp, who had coincidentally heard Ariel's conversation, were whispering among themselves, unbeknownst to the two friends talking. The Marchwarden Haldir was a greatly honored warrior, and known to be vicious in battle. He was both feared and respected. How could they defend themselves against elves? As one, the company of women looked to Ariel. Hopefully, she would have a solution. She was their leader, after all. They would follow her to the depths of Mordor if need be.
Still not noticing the stares of nine other people besides Tiera people, Ariel sat and contemplated what they should do. She looked at her friend and spoke.
"We cannot risk an open assault from elves, no matter how greatly trained we think we may be. Elves, by nature, are stronger, faster, and more agile than humans. They would catch us in no time. Our only hope is to keep switching campsites, and our last resort would be going to seek shelter inside Minas Tirith," Ariel finished. Every woman gasped, despite themselves. They could not go back there. It was then that Tiera and Ariel realized that they seemed to be holding an audience.
Ariel looked at Tiera. "They had to know anyways, there's no getting around that," she said, shrugging.
Rarill, a close friend to Dialan, stood and faced the group of women.
"How can you expect us to even set foot inside Minas Tirith without being spotted? It will be nearly impossible. Do you forget that we were all exiled? Sure, some were evicted for different purposes but that does not deter from the fact that if we go back, we most surely will be killed," she said, the company agreeing.
Ariel waved her hand dismissively. "I know why we are all here! I do not need to be reminded. Where else could we go if our forest became no longer a safe haven?" Ariel could see that a couple people were about to speak, but she put her hand up, asking for silence. "I know what some of you will say. Go to Rohan, to villages, to open plains outside of Gondor. But, there is a flaw in this. We would be captured within a day. Elves are fast, and their steeds are swift. No, our only choice is to go to Minas Tirith. It is already crowded enough, and as long as we play our game smart, we shall survive." Ariel finished her statement and glanced around the group.
"Do not worry about this threat tonight, for we will be ready to move tomorrow. Have fun and talk," Ariel said. The others cast a melancholy glance to each other. The prospect of leaving their forest was an unnerving one indeed. Ariel tried to make light of the situation. She called, "Laurelin?!" The woman in question looked to the Queen of Thieves.
"Yes, my lady?" she whispered. Laurelin was notorious for being shy.
"If you would, please play a cherry song for us to dance to, I haven't moved my feet in ages," Ariel replied.
Smiling, the girl retrieved her stringed instrument and started to pluck a rhythmic tune. Soon everyone was on their feet except for Ariel, Tiera, and Dialan. They looked glumly to their leader, who flashed a smile in return.
"Do not worry," Ariel said, "tomorrow we will move locations and send the money that we stole to Minas Tirith. With such a darkness marring these times, the poor need whatever help we can give them."
The two friends nodded, exchanging worried glances until Ariel forced them to get up and join the rest of the company that was currently dancing around in a circle. Tonight would be happy event, one of laughter and joyous singing. But tomorrow, now, what would tomorrow bring?
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=End of Chapter 2
Next Chapter: They meet for the first time! Will things go smoothly? Ha! I think not.
I made this a lot longer than my previous chapter; so let me know if you like this better. Thanks to the people who reviewed, you guys are amazing! PLEASE REVIEW and let me know if you enjoyed this chappy, input is always great! Thanks!
--Blade