Author's Note: Hello everyone and welcome to chapter two of "Wounded"! This chapter actually takes place in the woods of Lothlorien and breaks from Faramir and Boromir. But don't worry, the sons of the Steward will be back for the next chapter. I would like to say thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, MerryKK, Nari-chan SND, CaptiveFaRaMiRheart, and Syntyche. Thank you all so much, you have truly made my New Year happy! As always, I do not have a beta for this fic and even though it has been proofread several times, I am sure I did not catch all my typos. Any mistakes that appear in canon are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

Chapter Two A Lorien Family

One Month Later

Faeleth dipped her silver needle into the folds of linen resting upon her lap. A delicate pattern, one of blue birds and golden elanor, soon adorned the hem of the fabric. She smiled and held it up. The light of a dull afternoon sun mingled with the leaves overhead.

Perfect, she thought. Or almost so.

Her young son, Pelilas sat at her knee, his attention fixed upon his own craft. In the elfling's hands was a small knife and he worked it skillfully about a block of wood. The leg of a horse formed, followed by a shapely neck.

"It's lovely, isn't it Naneth?" he asked and held up his work for her inspection.

Faeleth took the tiny treasure in her hands. "Indeed. So very lovely. Will you show it to Ada?"

Pelilas' eyes widened with glee and he fiddled with an errant braid brushing his cheek. "Yes!" he bounced on the balls of his feet. "Yes! Will he like it?"

"Of course." Faeleth stood and laid her needlework aside. From her place on the balcony of her talan, she could see her neighbors moving about. Some milled in the gardens below and spoke in delicate whispers which the sweet air of Caras Galadhon echoed. Others ascended the spiraling stairs up to their own homes while singing the old songs of minstrels. To the east, twilight beckoned.

"Come." She took the elfling's hand and ushered him inside. "You must wash." Pelilas dragged his feet and snatched up his wooden horse with his free hand.

"Later." He pouted and clung to Faeleth's gown.

"Now."

Pelilas did not think to argue once more. He marched into the small room off the kitchen in a manner that so resembled his father. Faeleth stifled a laugh. Haldir would make a warden out of him yet.

Satisfied with the sounds of splashing water coming from the small room, Faeleth turned her attention to the food laid upon the table. Wine was poured into each goblet and she lit the lanterns that swayed from the ceiling. Inviting breezes whisked through the talan. Faeleth paused to smooth the front of her gown and arrange her fair hair.

Pelilas emerged from the wash room, his horse tucked under his arm. Like a sharp sentry, he posted himself besides the door and pressed his ear to it.

"Footsteps!" he cried after several minutes, then frowned. "Many footsteps!"

"Haldir must have brought his brothers." Faeleth dashed into pantry and fetched two more goblets.

"And Aunt Aniror too!"

"Oh dear." Faeleth was halfway between the pantry and the kitchen with yet another goblet when the door opened. Pelilas did not even given his father time to step over the threshold.

"Look! Isn't it lovely, Ada? I made it. You can have it, if you like."

Haldir caught the elfling in his arms and kissed the top of his hair. "Let me see." He inspected the tiny horse in his left hand and chuckled. "A fine craftsman you are, Pelilas. You best Celebrimbor, I think."

"Here, let me look." And the horse passed hands from Haldir, to Orophin who stood just behind him and finally reached Rumil.

"What a pretty little thing."

Faeleth kissed her husband. "Good eve, Haldir. How do you fare?"

But he could not answer. A fourth Elf slipped through the door, eyebrows arched.

"Your husband is fortunate, sister. Very fortunate. Orcs passed near the borders this day."

"Aunt Aniror!" Pelilas leapt from his father's arm and wrapped his arms about her legs. "Tell me a story. You promised last time and I fell asleep. Tell me a story!"

"No stories child!" Aniror scowled. "I have none."

"Please?"

"No!" She brushed him off and moved into the kitchen. Pelilas hobbled behind her, more than accustomed to his Aunt's caustic ways. With a wicked smile, he bobbed up and down, trying to catch the end of her plait with his fingers.

Faeleth tore her eyes away from the two and stared at her husband. "Orcs, Haldir?" Worry darkened her grey eyes. "Where did they come from?"

"From Moria, perhaps, that fell realm," Orophin said with a lowered voice. He kissed his sister-in-law in greeting. "They were not foolish enough to draw near or so the border guards say. Scouts were sent to trail their course. Haldir made sure of that."

"They grow bold," Rumil said and he passed into the kitchen. "Too bold these days. It chills the blood."

"Haldir?" Fear gnawed at Faeleth and she clutched her husband's arm.

"Worry not. It is not as uncommon as you think," he replied and offered her a reassuring smile. She kissed his jaw.

"Oh, but it is." Aniror already had a goblet trapped between her long fingers and she drank deeply. "Their numbers grow and dark worries now haunt the Nimrodel."

Faeleth sighed. Her older sister was never one to offer comfort but expected to receive it tenfold. Selfish, some called her. But most thought her ambitious. Faeleth decided it was a mixture of the two, not yet dangerous, but corrupting.

Haldir glanced at Aniror. "Long have I watched the borders and such have I seen before. There is no cause for alarm."

Aniror returned his glance with a harsh glare and Faeleth felt her chest tighten. Some amount of tension always existed between her husband and her sister, though she tried to ignore it. Rumor had it that Aniror wanted his position as Captain of the Galadhrim, being one of the most senior wardens in Lothlorien herself. Haldir, however, was not ready to retire.

"No cause for alarm." Aniror set down her empty goblet. "Not for those with lesser minds, perhaps, but I would advise strict vigilance. Increase the numbers of guards that-ow!" Pelilas had succeeded in grabbing a strand of her hair. Aniror batted him away.

"Malicious minion!" she spat and he only laughed. "Mind yourself!"

Faeleth noticed her sister's anger climbing. She grabbed Pelilas by the wrist and guided him to his seat at Rumil's left.

"He is only an elfling, as you were once."

Aniror said nothing but sank into a chair.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" Faeleth asked lamely. Her sister had invited herself already.

"Very well. Thank you."

Haldir took his seat by the head of the table and Faeleth fetched more wine.

"The borders are well prepared for an attack, any attack," Haldir said. He was determined to have the final word. "Certainly you must agree, Aniror?"

"Yes." But Aniror would not meet his eyes, just as she dared not tempt his wrath. She kept her narrow face bent towards the green tablecloth and her fingers traced the patterns so carefully sewn by Faeleth. "What food have you, sister?"

All talk of Orcs and attacks ceased as the meal progressed. The easy rhythm of conversation soon floated over the table and Pelilas galloped his horse over the tablecloth as if it were a large pasture. Only once did Faeleth think it scold him when the horse's tail came too close to Orophin's wine goblet.

Haldir spoke of pleasant things and did not mention the business of the borders. Faeleth knew he liked to keep peace in his home and talk of peace fostered it. Unlike her sister, Haldir was not battle-eager.

Aniror rarely spoke but leaned against her chair and rubbed her forearm. Faeleth did not trouble her, but every now and then stole glances at her from across the table. They got along in an odd way. Aniror often scolded her younger sister for marrying and living a languid life. And yet, she sought her advice and Faeleth gave it freely. She did not believe her sister meant half of the cruel things she said, or so she hoped.

The sky darkened and the lanterns glowed. Halfway through the meal, a length of rain fell and then stopped. Pelilas leaned sleepily against his chair.

"A story, Aunt Aniror?"

Aniror glanced up at him. "Not tonight," she said.

Tears welled in Pelilas' weary eyes and only Rumil managed to avert disaster. He swept the elfling up into his arms and carried him out of the kitchen.

"I have one for you, Pelilas, a grand tale that Aunt Aniror would never tell. Will you hear it?"

Pelilas' response was cut off as he was borne into his bedroom. Faeleth stared at her sister.

"You could not spare him one tale?"

Aniror shrugged and her shoulders arched beneath the gray cloth of her tunic. "I have none."

"Do not think to lie," Faeleth said and Aniror raised her eyebrows. "You have just returned from the Wild and you have nothing to tell him?"

"No."

"Could you not have invented a fiction, then?"

"I do not lie," Aniror replied smugly. "Might I have some more wine?"

"Not tonight," Faeleth mimicked her sister's earlier tones. This time, Haldir disrupted the ensuing argument.

"There is a knock upon the door," he said and rose to his feet.

"News of the Orcs, I would wager my life on it!" Aniror called after him.

"Nonsense." Orophin smirked at her from across the table. "They were far from the Wood this morn. Why should they return?"

"Orcs are not sensible. Why shouldn't they return?" Aniror said. "I almost hope for it. The slaughter of foul creatures does much to alleviate boredom."

Haldir had opened the door and was speaking to a guard of the city. Faeleth left the table and glanced over her husband's shoulder. They did not seem concerned.

"Are they expected?" Haldir asked.

"Yes, Captain. The Lady has said so. They are to be permitted into our lands. She requested you meet with them and guide them into the Caras Galadhon."

"Of course. I shall come along shortly."

The guard left and Haldir turned back to the kitchen.

"No Orcs." His smile was wide and Aniror scowled anew. "Men have come, men of Gondor."

"Of Gondor?" Faeleth asked. "They have traveled far indeed. What could-

But a clatter by the table interrupted her. Aniror had knocked over her empty wine goblet.

"And no lowly men are they," Haldir continued. "I have their names, Boromir and Faramir, sons of the Steward."

"Minas Tirith must be in great need." Orophin said. "Men such as they never come to Lorien, unless pressured by the utmost need."

"No, I think not. The Lady says they were sent for." Haldir placed his hand on Faeleth's shoulder. "I must go. She wishes me to guide them."

Orophin left the room to fetch Rumil.

"Take care," Faeleth warned. The news of Orcs unsettled her still.

"They are but two men," Haldir chuckled and then glanced at Aniror. "Come along, now."

"I shall stay here." Aniror did not move.

"We have been ordered to meet the sons of the Steward."

"Not I."

"Aniror." Faeleth started forward.

"I shall stay here."

"Never mind it now." Haldir shook his head and his brothers rejoined him. "I will return soon."

Author's Note: So what do you think of Aniror? She is not a very nice person, er, Elf. I have to say I do not believe that Tolkien intended all of his Elves to be "perfect" Otherwise, he wouldn't have written the Silmarillion. So don't expect perfect Elves in this story. But if you are open to grasping, cold and just plain mean characters, you might like Aniror. Anyway, evil characters are just too much fun to write!

I have refrained from using Elvish phrases in this story as I feel they bog the reader down. All conversations take place in Elvish, since the Rangers of Ithilien spoke Sindarin.

As to how long it took Boromir and Faramir to arrive in Lorien, I have very roughly estimated the time period to be about a month and a half. However, since geography and math are my worst subjects, I am probably most certainly wrong.

Thank you so much for reading! Please, take a moment to review.