Author's Note: Hello and welcome to chapter thirteen of "Wounded". I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read and review the last chapter, Nari-chan SND, MerryKK, Awen1923, childofGod-4ever and enkemeniel. As always I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

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

Chapter Thirteen Erthor's Tidings

"Tell me, Captain Erthor, how fares Lord Elrond?" Lady Galadriel let a smile curve her lips as she watched the tall Elf bow his head in respect.

"Well, my lady. He sends his warmest greetings," Erthor replied.

"And the young ones?" Lord Celeborn asked. He sat beside his wife in the greeting hall of their talan. Erthor stood before them still garbed in his green traveling tunic. Mud stained boots and his hair was held in a tight gold plait.

A sign of splendor from the old days, Galadriel thought as she looked upon him. Sorrow touched her. Time had dimmed Erthor's handsome face, but not his eyes. No, they were still light with hope and thoughts of the sea.

"The Lady Arwen grows in beauty still," Erthor said. "And the Lords Elladan and Elrohir are often abroad in the Wild of late. I have gone with them on several occasions and many a fell beast we slew."

Galadriel sighed. She could not think of her young grandsons trapped in some shadowed glade hemmed by foes. Had the cheer of their youth faded? Or had the darkness of the age fallen upon them?

"It is good then," she said and managed to keep her smile in place for Erthor. He had not come to the Golden Wood in many a year. Though of late she did not miss his presence, if only to stay the rage of Aniror. Her former warden would certainly not be pleased by his arrival, especially at such a time. But Galadriel hoped that Aniror knew to keep her secrets to herself and much grief would be avoided.

"Why have you come?" Lord Celeborn asked. Late morning sun drenched the hall. Servants moved about in silence. A small feast had been planned for that night and preparations were underway.

"To gather and share news at Lord Elrond's behest," Erthor said. "I bring with me a small company of warriors. If any help might be given, we shall gladly offer our aid."

Galadriel caught his gaze and held it for a moment. She wondered if there was some part of him that wished to see Aniror and right a perceived wrong. But Erthor's glance was pure and no other thought crossed his mind.

"It is strange you should come at such a time," she said at length. "Our Wood plays host to two other travelers, Boromir and Faramir, sons of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor."

Erthor shook his head in surprise. "What has brought them hither?"

Galadriel felt the stare of her husband upon her. No, the truth must not be spoken. Not now.

"They seek tidings of the world as well," she said. "For three weeks they have dwelled here and are soon to leave. You shall meet with tonight, if that is agreeable. I am sure much news will be gained from them. Men from the South and Elves from Imladris rarely cross paths."

"Indeed, my lady," Erthor said. "I shall be pleased to speak with them."

"Go now," Celeborn said. "You must find rest, for long have you traveled and weary is your mind."

Erthor bowed his head once more in respect, murmuring his thanks.

They watched him go and when he had passed beyond the doors, Celeborn turned to his wife.

"Should the truth have been told to him?"

"I do not think so," she replied. "What good would it have done? If he should chance to meet with Aniror, she will say nothing."

"And what of the Men?" Celeborn questioned. "What of Captain Faramir?"

Galadriel regarded him with clear eyes. "He is wise. I do not fear an ill turn in his judgment."

Celeborn sat back in his chair. "So I hope."

Faramir paused by the doors to dining hall. Light reached its long fingers out of the windows and through the open doors. Aniror shifted, her arm held in the crook of his. Boromir trailed behind them with a disgruntled look on his face. Faramir glanced at his brother over his shoulder. Aniror and Boromir had said nary a word to each other all evening outside of a terse greeting.

But he had no mind to question their behavior this night. An Elven guard stood by the door and guided them inside. Aniror began to drag behind.

"What is it?" Faramir asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I am well."

They were led to entrance of the dining hall, in center of which sat a long table draped in gold and silver. In two high seats situated by the center sat the Lord and Lady. Upon either side a company of Elves was seated. Faramir recognized Haldir, his wife Faeleth and both his brothers. To Galadriel's right there sat another Elf he did not know and a maid.

The guard announced their arrival in a loud voice and they came to the table. The company stood to greet them.

"My Lords Boromir and Faramir," Lord Celeborn said with smile. He gestured to the Elf by Galadriel's right. "This is the Captain of the Imladris guard."

The Elf stood and raised his hand in greeting. "My lords."

Faramir was about to respond but Aniror spoke first. She released his arm and stepped forward. "Greetings, Erthor."

"Warden Aniror," he said and his smile became forced. She did not bother to correct his misuse of title.

Faramir glanced at her face but she looked away, her hair veiling it from him. With considerable tension, the company was seated once more.

Never before had Faramir witnessed such a change in character. Aniror sat beside him, shoulders bent, eyes fixed upon the table. Her face was pale, her hair dull. She could not be the Elf he knew, or thought he knew.

This Elf was neither fair nor kind nor wise. She did not speak of poems and lore. She did not laugh as light as a summer bird. And she did not smile, no she never smiled.

Faramir had wanted her to face her wrongdoing, to sit with him before Erthor and wallow in her revenge. He had wanted her to feel ashamed or repentant or at uncomfortable.

But he had not expected her to be crestfallen.

Faramir watched as she reached for her wine goblet and touched to her lips. Slow were her movements, labored.

"The wine is sweet," he said as she drank. Aniror lowered her goblet.

"No," she said. "Bitter. I can drink no more of it."

"Is that not strange," he replied. She would not look at him. Faramir fought the urge to grab her chin and turn her eyes to meet his. "Our tastes must differ or perhaps the wine deceives us?"

She snorted and the sound was lost in the light conversation of the other guests. "Wine does not deceive, my lord."

My lord? She had never addressed him with such respect. Faramir sat back in his chair, amused. Aniror had lost her hold over him.

"I wonder who she is." Boromir said to his right. His brother pointed to an Elf maid seated by Erthor's left. "Fair, is she not?"

"Yes," Faramir said. The maid had hazel hair and a soft face, not hard like Aniror's. "She is from Imladris, I should think."

"I do not know her," Aniror said suddenly. Faramir turned to gaze at her. "I do not know that maid," Aniror repeated. Something brewed in her voice, jealousy? He could not tell. She was a mystery to him, a mystery best left unsolved.

Across the table Haldir and Faeleth sat elbow to elbow, laughing.

"I have come to think that Pelilas shall not be a warden," Haldir said. Faeleth nodded in agreement.

"No, not at all." She leaned across her husband and addressed Lord Celeborn. "He is a craftsman. Already he has carved a little army of his own!"

Lord Celeborn smiled as did Lady Galadriel beside him.

"The son of Haldir as a craftsman," Lord Celeborn mused. "Never did one foresee such a turn."

"You speak as if it were wretched," the Lady said. Her keen voice swept over the table. "I think not. Mighty is one who holds such a talent. Haldir and Faeleth should feel nothing but pride. Shame is wasted." She turned her eyes to Aniror for an instant and Aniror flinched.

The feast continued and servants brought more wine about. Boromir found happy conversation with the Lord Celeborn, Haldir and Erthor. Faramir half listened as they discussed military matters and the changing of the world. His attention stayed with Aniror

"Still glory resides in Minas Tirith," Boromir boasted. His face was cheery with wine. "Mighty are our men and thick are our walls. Do you not agree, dear brother?"

"Yes," Faramir replied belatedly, earning a quizzical look from Boromir. "Long have the Men of Minas Tirith defended the West from shadow."

"And long may the West hasten to aid the Men of Gondor." Lord Celeborn raised his goblet in toast and the rest of the company followed suit. After they drank, Lord Celeborn once more turned to Boromir.

"There is no oath I can swear or promise I may give," he said. "But should the tide turn and darkness brew, we shall do what we can for the world of Men."

Boromir nodded and Faramir thought he saw tears glisten in his eyes.

"Thank you, my lord," Boromir said. He then raised his goblet. "To the splendor of the Elves, forever undimmed and unchanged!"

Once more the company rose in toast and as Faramir stood, he noticed Erthor missing from the table. And Aniror.

He drained his goblet but did not sit along with the company.

"Forgive me," he said and bowed. "I must take my leave."

Farewells were exchanged and Boromir made to stand. But Faramir shook his head.

"Stay," he said. "I do not go far."

Boromir nodded and turned back to his conversation. Faramir passed through the open doors of the dining hall, moving to the winding staircase that led from the talan. Where could they have gone?

He thought to search the forest floor, but voices from a nearby balcony reached his ears. Erthor and Aniror stood upon a terrace that branched from the talan. Both leaned upon the railing and Faramir could only see their backs.

"I never expected your arrival," Aniror said in a low voice. Faramir moved to the edge of the staircase to better hear. "Not at such time, at least. Never at such a time."

"What time?" Erthor asked. He did not stand close to Aniror, but several feet away. His hands were pressed upon the railing.

Aniror paused before speaking. "So much has happened."

"But you look quite well, better than the last time we met."

"So much has happened," Aniror repeated. She shook her head. "I dare not tell the full of it."

"What then?" Erthor asked.

Aniror seemed to shiver or so Faramir thought. She looked small, frightened, alone.

"That man," she said at length. "Faramir of Gondor."

"Yes." Erthor shifted and crossed his hands over his middle. "What of him?"

"He is my husband."

Faramir froze. Her husband? She thought of him as her husband?

"I am happy for you," Erthor said. "If I may ask, how did it come about?"

"In Ithilien, nearly eight months past," she said. "I met him there while abroad and fell in love. He has just now come to Lorien."

Faramir expected to feel anger or some sense of injustice. But pity alone filled him. What sort of creature would lie so?

"I am happy for you," Erthor said once more. "I feared for you, after…" He trailed off. Aniror said nothing and the two stood in silence for a long while.

"Perhaps now I may speak of my news," Erthor said at last. Pride slipped into his voice. "Did you see the maiden who sat at my left throughout the evening?"

"Yes." Aniror straightened, leaving the railing. "Yes, I did."

"Her name is Rodwen and we are betrothed."

Aniror sagged.

"She serves as a scout in Imladris," Erthor continued. "I love her as I know you must love your husband. Is it not fortunate that we have both found happiness?"

Aniror did not reply. She stumbled back and stared at Erthor. Faramir caught a glimpse of her face and the devastation that cloaked it. Yes, he did pity her.

Without a word, Aniror fled the balcony.

He found her in one of the more secluded gardens. The sky was thick with stars and held a thin moon. Faramir paused by the archway that framed the entrance. Aniror sat between a hedge and a patch of elanor. Her head was cradled in her hands.

Faramir stepped into the garden. "Your husband I am?"

Aniror's head snapped up. Her eyes were wet. "I…I did not think you heard."

"Caution does not seem to be a particular talent of yours," he said and hovered over her. She folded her knees close to her chest.

"There is little harm done. He shall leave Lothlorien before the month closes."

"And so shall I." Faramir thought he heard Aniror gasp but the wind whined and played tricks.

"When?"

"On the morrow."

She stood then. A tear dropped down her cheek. "You cannot."

"I cannot?" Faramir raised a brow. "I suppose you believe that I am yours to do with what you will."

Aniror opened her mouth to argue, but Faramir interrupted her.

"Make no mistake, Aniror. I am a Captain of Gondor. You hold no sway over me."

Suddenly, she grasped his hand. Gone was disgust at physical contact. Aniror pulled close to him, her knees brushing against his. "But you cannot. I need you here."

"For the sake of vengeance?" he countered. "To fulfill some wasted hope of yours? I think not."

He shook her off, none too gently. "I should be half mad with rage but pity stays my hand. I pity you Aniror, poor lowly creature that you are." Faramir turned to leave the garden but she was on his heels.

"Perhaps pity moves your heart." Her hand latched onto his shoulder. She dragged him back. "Would you leave me here, I wonder. Would you leave me alone and bereft of friendship? This is as much your doing as mine. I would have been captain had you not come to Lorien!" Her voice verged on hysteria.

Faramir halted and Aniror flew into his arms, sobbing. "You cannot leave me here! You cannot! I have nothing to claim, no rank, no life! Would you leave me so?"

And then she fell to the ground, pulling him along. Faramir fell across her legs, his stomach crushed against her knees. He pushed himself upright and tried to catch his breath. But Aniror would not release him.

"You would not leave me so, Faramir. You would not," she said. "I know who you are, caring and kind. You would not leave me so." One hand traced the White Tree on his tunic.

Faramir's heartbeat quickened. He reached for her hand and tried to pull it away. "Enough, Aniror."

"Would you deny yourself what you came here for?" she asked. "Do not think me naïve, beloved. I know where your mind wanders. I know what tempts you." She kissed his jaw, trailing along his cheek until she came to his lips.

This time Faramir did not try to stand.

"One night you have in Lorien," she said. "One last night."

He let her kiss him for a moment, unable to deny the temptation that coursed through him. But then he remembered his promise to Boromir, his forgotten sense of duty. He could not linger in Lorien for an age as her pet.

Faramir pushed her away and scrambled to his feet.

"Enough Aniror," he said. "It is enough."

She tried to stand, to whisper some poisonous word in his ear. But Faramir only offered her a final sad smile and left the garden.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please take the time to leave a review and share your thoughts with me. All feedback is greatly appreciated. Chapter fourteen will be up on Tuesday.