Title: An Unexpected Destiny
Author: Fianna (with lots of help by Julie)
Rating: R for violence and mild sexual situations
Disclaimer: Tolkien (his estate rather) owns the characters of LOTR, I borrow them only for pleasure.
Note: Again, it's Ciren (Kearen), Mirium, (Meer re um) and Haldir… can you say yum?
Wink.
AN UNEXPECTED DESTINY
CHAPTER TWO: A New Path
There was little for Ciren to pack. They had nothing of value, hardly more than the clothes on their backs, a cloak for both, a bit of cheese and bread, and a small box her mother had hidden even from Ciren's eyes.
She did not open it, but carried it with the other things back into her mother's sleeping area to find the elf had bundled her mother into one of the blankets.
"I've got everything we have to take," Ciren declared stiffly, handing the box to her mother.
Mirium smiled, tucking the box into her blankets, while Haldir turned to Ciren with a frown. "Is that all you have for a cloak?"
Ciren stiffened, affronted that he obviously found the article lacking in some aspect she could not determine, but the elf ignored her dismay, reaching up to unclasp the elegant pin at his throat to remove the finely weaved cloak on his back.
"I cannot bring you all through the gate without raising suspicion," he said, pinning the cloak around her shoulders with a flourish of fabric that seemed to weigh nothing. "With this you will be able to slip past the guards without them seeing you."
She arched a brow at that, having heard the elves had some kind of magic, but had never really believed. Haldir lifted her mother into his arms easily, and ducking beneath the curtain Ciren pulled back, waited as she followed them into the main room of the house.
"I will bring your mother, with the excuse of taking her to a healer," Haldir explained quietly. "You on the other hand, must slip out alone, for if they believe you are still here, she will then return."
"And if that doesn't work," Ciren complained in a worried tone, eyeing her mother's wan face.
"Then we shall flee as best we can," Haldir said firmly.
Mirium wrapped her arms around the elf's neck and then smiled weakly at Ciren. "If anyone can get us out, dear, it's an elf. Trust me that he can do this."
She didn't, but had little to say about it. She watched Haldir sweep outside, settling Mirium on his white mare. Once she was as comfortable as she could be, he gathered the reins and then bowed slightly to Ciren. "We will meet you outside the village, near the stream that crosses the valley to the south. You can find it?"
Ciren snorted. "Of course I can. Don't worry about me."
The elf smiled suddenly, a brief flash of amusement that lit up his eyes for a moment, making him seem far different from the distant person he'd seemed. "I do not worry about you."
In a moment, they were gone, the elf leading her mother away, his long hair gleaming in the moonlight. Ciren could only hope things would go as well as he planned.
They did not. She had hardly reached the closest building to the gate when she heard the guard call out, halting the elf and his burden, her mother, from going further.
Ciren peeked around the corner, hidden among the shadows much better than she could have imagined, looking much like the wall around her if she had been able to see herself.
Haldir stood calmly before the guard, one hand on the sword at his hip, the other still holding the reins of his horse. Mirium sat huddled in the blanket, her face white with fear.
"You cannot go through the gate this late. It is unwise to travel at night," the guard declared stonily.
Haldir lifted a brow, Ciren could see his expression even where she stood, one filled with disdain toward the man blocking their way. The street was otherwise clear, with only the guard in their way.
But one that was well armed and wary.
The elf bowed his head, and said something Ciren did not catch, which made the guard snort and shake his head.
Ciren moved closer, holding the elven cloak tight around her, trying to keep as silent as she could.
"I have little time to spare arguing with you," Haldir was saying quietly. "She is ill, and the longer it takes to get her to the healer I know, the less chance she will survive."
The guard frowned and shook his head adamantly. "She cannot go. I have orders that this woman is not allowed beyond the gate of the village, ever."
The elf glanced at her mother as if to ascertain the truth of the guard's statement, but Ciren saw it was only a move that distracted the guard, for the sword at the elf's hip was suddenly in his hand, drawn silently, and held now at the man's throat.
"You will stand aside," Haldir said coldly. "I care not for the Lord's orders. She will receive the necessary care. You will not stop me."
The guard scowled, and then shouted suddenly, raising the alarm. "Guards, raise the guards!"
His words ended abruptly as the elven sword sliced across his chest. But the alarm had alerted the others nearby and more soldiers came running. Haldir sheathed his sword and leaped behind Mirium, urging the mare into a fleeting run, passing beneath the portcullis even as it sank toward the ground.
Ciren rushed toward the gate, and managed to slide beneath the iron bars just before it shuddered to the ground. Immediately it began to rise again as a company of guards appeared, riding swiftly through the street to follow the elf outside the village.
There was no way to keep up with the horses, so Ciren quickly made her way along the edge of the road, hiding among the shadows, amazed none had noted her at all.
Perhaps the elves did have magic, she thought a short time later, pushing aside another low hanging branch to reach the road.
She didn't like what she found. Her mother was nowhere to be seen, but Haldir stood in the center of the road, surrounded by five horsemen, his bow drawn and pointed at one of the men.
"You might get one or two, but truly, little more," one of the guards sneered, his sword drawn and pointed, like the others, at the tall elf.
Haldir sniffed audibly, his fingers relaxed on the shaft of his bow, yet to Ciren he seemed coiled from the silvery hair of his head to the firm stance of his feet, his body braced to do whatever he must to be free.
The guards shifted, a few laughing at the elf's certain demise, five to one seemed good odds in their favor.
The leader of the guards leaned over his knee. "Where is the woman?"
The elf shrugged, shifting his gaze to the man, but his aim remained on one of the other guards. "I know not, nor would I tell you if I did. She is free of her prison; you will not take her back, even should I fail in my duty."
"Your duty?" One of the guards snorted. "We have no love of elves, why should you have any duty to one of our own?"
Haldir turned his gaze on the man, one so cold the guard swallowed and shifted uneasily.
"No matter," the leader declared roughly. "You have broken the law, you will return to Lord Cathier for whatever punishment he deems fit."
Ciren shuddered. Lord Cathier, unwillingly spoken of as her grandfather, was a cruel man these days. But she was helpless, unable to aid the elf at all.
Haldir, however, did not seem to need her help, for the fingers suddenly relaxed that held the sleek elven line to his cheek, the arrow free with a whoosh of air to thud into the guard's chest, toppling him from his horse. But even before the arrow hit, another had taken its place, thudding into yet another guard, and then yet another before the stunned men gathered themselves to duck out of the way of the dangerous and very well-aimed arrows.
Haldir's expression did not change, his lips were thin, eyes fixed on whatever target he chose, his feet shifting in the dirt to change his positions, his stance. The horses screamed as their riders fell, until the road was a bloody tangle of bodies.
But he was not free yet, two still remained, down from their mounts, using the animals for cover long enough to draw swords. They advanced on Haldir, faces grim, for even Ciren knew the elf facing them was deadly with the long blade at his hip.
They knew Haldir, March Warden of Lothlorien. His appearance numerous times over the years, not so much to meet with Lord Cathier, but an elderly woman who lived just north of the village in the foothills of the mountains, a witch many said.
It was ironic now that he had come for her mother, having passed through their village before, unaware of Ciren or Mirium's connections to his people.
Haldir flung the bow down to the ground, unsheathing the elvish blade at the same time, whirling to block the first guards strike easily, ducking the second with a flare of silver hair. The sound of the swords clashing, screeching, clanging forcefully echoed in the still night, the sound of each blow clenching Ciren's heart with fear.
She could not watch the elf's demise, feared ever finding her mother, still astride the elf's mare most likely, sent off to the gods knew where.
The sudden silence hit her squarely, her heart frozen in fear, only to have a set of fingers wrap around her wrist, jerking her roughly to her feet.
"I told you to meet us further in the valley, are you a fool?" Haldir's voice was icy, his grip ferocious on her wrist as he pulled her behind him down the road, still gripping his sword in one hand. They paused briefly for him to retrieve his bow, which he slung over his shoulder after sheathing his blade, and then she was nearly running behind him, hardly able to keep up with the elf's long strides, numb from shock to see he was still alive.
They hurried down the lane for some time, his expression hidden from her, only the broad set of his shoulders stiff with tension, the delicately made quiver still full of arrows strapped to his back, with strands of silver tangled into the fletchings. She could study him as much as she liked, for the moonlight lit the road nearly as well as the sun, leaving her enough light to see.
He did not seem concerned about walking the road, his legs far longer than hers, making her step three times to his one. His fingers were like iron, relentless, dragging her along behind him so rapidly she began to breathe heavily after only a short time.
"I can't keep this up, please you must slow down."
He stopped so suddenly she ran into his back, bouncing off the quiver to stagger several steps, suddenly free of the shackles of his fingers.
"Why did you not flee as I told you?"
Ciren rubbed her wrist, glaring at the furious elf in annoyance. "I was. You were on horseback, how am I to keep up on foot?"
"You should not have stopped."
She snorted rudely, chin lifted stubbornly. "And how was I to get through? Besides, I didn't know where my mother was, and I was sure you weren't going to make it."
Haldir's chin rose high, his grey eyes narrowed to slits. "You have little faith. Your mother is fine, I sent her on to wait for me at the stream."
Ciren gasped. "You sent her on alone? She has no idea where this stream is, are you daft?"
She had to back up when he took a step toward her angrily, and then seemed to gather himself, his jaw clenched tight. "My horse knows the stream of which I speak. I did not expect your mother to lead the horse."
Ciren laughed sourly. "Your horse? Does it talk too? My mother is frail. She's probably fallen off, and is lying dead somewhere. How dare you leave her so…"
She didn't get any further, for she was hauled violently against the elf's chest as he whirled around, somehow gathering the cloak she wore around them both. He thrust her backwards hard against the bole of a tree, his hand clamped over her mouth, his body pressed tightly against hers.
"Silence," he whispered harshly into her ear.
Her heart was beating so hard she could have sworn anyone would hear it, the elf's hand smooth against her lips, his breath warming her neck and chilling her both. He was solid, far more than she might have thought being an elf, his body a wall of muscle pressed against her slighter form, his thighs, chest, even his arms held a sense of unleashed power so strongly, she suddenly had no doubt he could have fought ten guards and won easily.
The clip clop of horses' hooves rang out in the silence, and their echo sent a tremor of fear racing down Ciren's spine. More guards no doubt, searching the roadside for the elf, for her. And they stood in plain sight!
The elf did not seem to be concerned, his breathing slow and measured, his cheek pressed momentarily to her forehead as he turned slightly to look.
All she could see was him, the curve of his jaw, still tight with anger, the fine texture of his skin, the elegant curve of his lips. His hair seemed to glow in the darkness, a beacon it would take only moments for the guards to see.
But they rode past without even slowing, eyes searching the shadows, but passing over the two of them without responding at all.
She couldn't believe it.
Haldir waited until they had passed for some time before he stepped back, unraveling them from his cloak, brushing away the hair that tangled in the clasp. Ciren smoothed her dress, her hands shaking, for as he waited she had become far too aware of the elf, of the feel of his body against hers and how much she liked it.
She was not as young as she seemed. Mirium had been very young when she'd met Elterion, Ciren appeared shortly after her mother reached nineteen.
Mirium was now nearly fifty, far too old in Ciren's mind to interest an elf who most likely still looked as he had when they had first met. Her mother was in for a broken heart and she couldn't stop it. Finding the elf so tantalizing was only the nail on the coffin, leaving her own heart fluttering in a way she did not want, and would refuse to acknowledge.
"We need to cross through the wood," Haldir said, scanning the forest around them. He looked down at her feet, at the serviceable shoes she had with a faint nod. "At least you have worn something suitable to walk in."
At least- she thought irritably, as if she had any other. She followed behind his tall form, stifling the angry retort that bubbled just inside her lips. She had little choice but to follow Haldir now, the guards had marked them all; even her she was sure, as outlaws.
They could never go back, their future, in her mind, seemed rather dim.
They found Mirium just as Haldir had said, waiting beside a shallow gurgling stream, sitting on a small rock, her cloak and blanket tucked securely around her. She smiled happily when they appeared, waving weakly to draw their attention.
"Oh there you are, I was beginning to wonder if you'd make it before sunrise."
Ciren snorted softly, her mother should have been wondering if the elf would have made it at all.
Mirium, however, seemed to have no doubts about Haldir's proficiency at battle, nor that he would return as he promised. Her smiles were all for him, her eyes sparkling in a way Ciren had never seen.
She'd kill Haldir and Elterion for making her hope, when all Ciren could see was tragedy.
The elves would not want them; to think they would welcome the aging woman into their fold seemed ludicrous. Lord Cathier had brought her before him too many times, ridiculing the elves, complaining about their two-faced lies, their reservation that clearly implied they felt superior. Haldir seemed to exemplify all those qualities, kind and yet, underneath, there was something else. She could feel it, had felt it in those tense few moments on the road.
They would take Mirium in only to reject her, perhaps not even that. Perhaps Haldir never even meant to take them to Lorién, but rather… She looked up, realizing her mother was watching her with a sad expression, while Haldir seemed to be waiting.
"I'm sorry," Ciren muttered, sure she'd missed something unflattering looking at the expression on the elf's face. "Did I miss something?"
Mirium sighed. "You must forgive her, March Warden, she has been taught far too little of you, and worse, lied to by my father. I am to blame fully, for I had not the will to defy his teachings, nor to tell her the truth."
Haldir scowled briefly, and then ignoring Ciren, turned to gather Mirium into his arms again to place her on the mare. How she had gotten off in her condition mystified Ciren, who followed behind them slowly, annoyed at the elf, irritated with her mother's unfailing support of a race who had abandoned her long ago.
Haldir led the way, the reins of the mare loose in his hand, traveling a path Ciren could not see, but found easy to walk. Mirium dozed on the horse, bundled warmly sometimes awake, sometimes not. The sun rose slowly, coloring the sky pink and mauve, fading to the soft blue of a summer's day.
The elf did not seem to tire, and he pushed them to the point where Ciren felt she couldn't take another step. Mirium was awake when he stopped, but tired as well, her face pale and wan as he pulled her carefully from the horse.
Laying her gently on a mossy area underneath a tree, he murmured something Ciren could not hear. Mirium sighed deeply, smiled faintly up at him and then promptly closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.
Ciren watched in surprise and fear, her hands pressed against the pounding of her heart as the elf brushed his fingers over her mother's forehead, smoothing the damp strands of hair away from her eyes.
"What did you do!"
Haldir glanced over his shoulder, his gaze cool. "I've sent her to sleep, one that will help her recover her strength to continue."
"And I am supposed to trust you?" Ciren demanded stiffly.
Haldir rose to his feet smoothly, turning to face her. "Have you not already done so? Have I done anything to make you fear me?"
Ciren swallowed, unwilling to admit there had been several times he had terrified her. "No."
His smile said otherwise but he did not refute her lie. "I mean you no harm. What I have said is true, my intentions, the intentions of my people, remain the same."
Ciren watched him closely as he searched the forest nearby for branches, finally piling them into a small mound. He knelt beside the pile, and for the first time, Ciren saw him use his magic in a way she could see. He flicked his fingers, and then waved his hand slowly over the wood, until small stream of smoke began to rise from the twigs. In moments, a tiny fire flamed to life.
He looked up, his gaze mocking her disbelief.
"What else can you do?" Ciren whispered, chilled deeply by the sight.
"Many things. Why, does it frighten you?"
She couldn't explain her fear, unwilling to express the thought he might yet harm them. He seemed to understand, his mouth flat suddenly, his gaze hidden by a set of long dark lashes.
"I grow tired of having to defend my intentions," Haldir complained, rising to tend to his mare.
"I can't help it," Ciren replied, following him. "We've struggled far too long for me to be swept up in a hopeless fairy tale that everything will now be wonderful and fine." Ciren slumped against a rock, wrapping her arms around her knees. "We are outcasts now, without home nor future. I see nothing good about what you have done."
"You have little faith," he chided, dropping down beside her. He was lean, his legs long as he crossed his ankles, his boots worn by long wear. They were soft, the leather molded to his calves, buckled tight across the ankle and near the knee, embroidered with a subtle pattern of stitching that circled the leather with ivy and swirls, artful yet graceful as the elf wearing them.
She could admit that, glancing at him beneath her lashes, accepting the small biscuit he handed her with a frown. He was handsome, especially now that she saw him clearly in the daylight, his hair both blond and silver, his eyes smoky grey, with high cheekbones, dark brows and a strong nose. His lips were nicely shaped, his chin stubborn, framed by the long strands of hair that hung past his shoulders to drape against the grey tones of his tunic.
He seemed part of the forest, the colors of his attire much that of the wood around them, green and grey, charcoal and brown. The cloak she still wore seemed to disappear beneath her, so light it was weightless, yet she had not grown cold at all wearing it.
The fire crackled merrily, but emitted little smoke to give them away. Haldir bent over it for a moment, finding some small pot he'd tucked away in his pack, filling it with water from the stream. In moments, the water was boiling, and he threw in a few handfuls of herbs from a tiny velvet bag. The steam was aromatic, energizing. Ciren blinked, not surprised by the elf's herb lore, recognizing many of the herbs by their odor. Chamomile, mint, perhaps a touch of thyme, a tea meant to replenish the energy they had expended most of the day.
He poured a small amount in a tiny cup he produced from the pack from the mare and held it out to her.
"Drink. Or do you believe I poison you now?"
She took the cup and sipped the tea, unable to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, it's all just so chaotic. Too much too fast," she complained into her tea.
"Indeed," the elf agreed dryly, settling beside her again.
He smelled like the wood, smoky almost, warm and intoxicating. She blinked when he reached out to touch her knees, still curled tight against her chest. "Relax, or you won't be able to stand."
It was already difficult to move, her body frozen in place, her legs not used to the long walk, atrophied, stiff from the exercise. She swore he was laughing as she struggled to stretch out, catching her as she lost her balance, as well as capturing the tiny elven cup as it fell from her hand.
Their eyes met, his full of amusement, his expression not so forbidding as it had been.
He was mesmerizing so close. It was no wonder her mother had fallen for one of his kind. If Elterion was anything like Haldir, she knew her mother had had no hope of fighting the attraction between them.
Nevertheless, she would, Ciren thought desperately. She would not fall into the same trap as Mirium had. But pulling away from that suddenly interested gaze was far from easy, and her heart thrummed loudly in her ears when she finally did; her blood felt like it was on fire, her hands shaking so much she refused to take the cup he held out once again.
He only smiled, and returned it to his pack, leaving her alone at the fire to gather her wits.
The next two days followed much as the first had. Haldir led the way, walking his mare, with Mirium riding, bundled in her blanket. Ciren followed behind, her thoughts muddled, her body exhausted by the end of the third day.
Haldir, however, did not seem tired at all. The fact annoyed her immensely, especially when he seemed so amused watching her stumble to the edge of the river. They had stopped along the bank, making camp on a set of wide flat rocks that made a perfect landing had not the river been so swift as it bore south. Haldir stood beside the water, his gaze turned from her, to scan the river intently.
"Is there danger, Haldir?" Mirium asked, sitting on a flat boulder nearby.
"Nothing as I can tell, but something stirs me to uneasiness," Haldir admitted.
Ciren sniffed, rubbing her knee which had begun to ache indomitably.
Haldir made camp, building the fire as he usually did, small and compact, one not meant to provide warmth, but merely as a way to make his tea and warm them some food. He caught a few fish, agilely lying on the rocks, his reach swift and sure into the frigid waters. Ciren had to admit she was fascinated by his skills, the differences that were so apparent the longer they were together from the men she knew.
Haldir rarely spoke more than he had to. His gaze was as sharp as a falcon, he seemed able to see things much further than she could, picking out a group of deer once as they walked that looked to her hardly more than a blur of brown against the forest behind it.
He could walk without any sound, making his way through a tangle of rotting leaves and sticks silently while she scrabbled and stumbled, earning her a roll of his eyes more than once.
Mirium only continued to gaze at him with a secretive smile, her cheerfulness growing each day, her eyes brighter.
Ciren grew angrier, fearing more each day the spell the elf wove over her mother, over her.
Haldir knelt down beside her, eying her hands. She released her knee and tucked them between her knees. "You are in pain?"
She shook her head stubbornly. "No, just stiff."
"Ciren!" Mirium admonished her from her place on the rock. "He can help you."
Ciren shook her head again and he rose to his feet with a shrug. "I cannot aid you if you refuse to accept it." He turned away and sat down near the edge of the forest behind them, cross-legged, pulling the arrows from his quiver.
Mirium moved slowly from her seat, dropping carefully beside Ciren with a sigh.
"You do not like him," Mirium declared softly.
Ciren glanced at the elf, watching him smooth the feathers on his arrows. "On the contrary, Mother, he seems very noble and kind." She wondered if Mirium caught the sarcasm behind that statement.
She did, frowning severely at Ciren. "He means well."
"For who, Mother." Ciren pressed her face into her hands. "I cannot bear the thought of how you will feel when he rejects you once again."
Mirium laughed softly. "I have no fear of that."
Ciren lifted her head to stare at her mother. "You are not the young woman he once knew."
Mirium shrugged. "I am well aware of that, child. As is he."
Ciren shook her head, rubbing her temples. "How can you be so sure, how can you accept all this? Like some magical fairy tale, all of a sudden we are no longer poor and down-trodden? All of a sudden this elf has come to save us?" She snorted, sending the elf a glare.
Haldir felt the anger as much as saw the glare she sent, sighing inwardly at her stubbornness, yet understanding the fear that lay beneath it as well. He smoothed the feathers under his fingers gently, soothed by the chore, yet still felt uneasy.
The river protected their back, the flat area where they had made camp easily watched, yet he still did not feel comfortable. Something was amiss, something tangible he could almost taste.
He could feel it on the air, the wind that fluttered the tendrils of smoke around the fire, lifted the strands of his hair as he bent over the fire to tend the coals.
He could sense it in the tips of his fingers, a faint tingling warning he was a fool to ignore.
He was in a dangerous position, armed with few weapons, with a near invalid woman and unruly girl to protect.
Both were difficult. The woman for her incapacity to run, even to hang on to his horse should he send her away. Ciren's fear that her mother might fall from the horse was a valid one, even though he had not acknowledged that to her.
And Ciren, herself, was trouble. He doubted she would do as he asked if they were attacked, stubbornly refusing to believe he knew best, unwilling to put herself under his control.
He felt like tying the wench to his horse if only for the peace of mind it would give him.
He looked up with a sigh, hoping that he was mistaken about the warnings, but froze when he saw that Ciren was not with her mother.
"Where is she?" Haldir asked sharply, rising swiftly to his feet.
Mirium yawned and waved her hand weakly. "She left just a moment ago, Haldir. She will be right back."
He strode to the edge of the rock, torn between staying to protect the woman or searching for the girl. He wanted to strangle her for leaving, foolish to the point of stupidity in his mind, the danger paramount, the chances of being…
Ciren appeared in front of him and then stopped warily when she caught his expression.
"What?"
He felt the fury flood his blood, and knowing if he did not release it she would suffer the consequences, strode past her. "I will return momentarily. Do not leave the camp again."
She watched him leave with a startled expression, and then he was deep in the wood, striding among the ferns rapidly until he could breathe again, leaning his hands against the comforting bark of a willow, surrounded by the weeping fronds of its leaves.
"I have no strength for this task," he muttered in frustration. "I will go mad with worry when I should be focused on the danger that surrounds us."
He had left them alone, allowed his emotion to determine his actions. Haldir growled at himself, annoyed by his own manipulation, and turned back toward the river. His steps had taken him further than he thought, and by the time he reached the rocky camp the sun was nearly behind the horizon. Mirium lay in her blankets near the fire, asleep, while Ciren crouched near the water, staring at him over her shoulder in surprise.
"I didn't think you'd be back so soon," she said thickly.
He stared at her, realizing too late she had removed her dress, huddled against his sight with her arms over her chest. He turned on his heel and sank down to the ground instantly.
"Forgive me, I did not realize."
He heard her laugh, a sound he'd not heard from her. It was soft, a trill that tickled his senses.
"I find that hard to believe, March Warden," she replied with some sarcasm. "I thought the elves saw everything."
They did, when thinking clearly.
He shook his head. "Be careful, the water is swift, the current dangerous there."
Her dress rustled, making him wonder if she was putting it on or off further. He felt a rush of heat rise inside his chest and began to breathe deeply.
"I am not getting in the water," she muttered. He could hear her teeth chattering. "I just wanted to rinse off some of this dust."
There was silence from behind him, and he turned enough to watch for her out of the corner of his eye, concerned. A mistake. Silhouetted by the fire he could see her well enough, the pale skin as she stood shivering, the fall of her hair. He stared at it, for until now it had been bound tightly into a braid at her back. Silvery blond as his own, it hung thickly down her side as she untangled the strands, hiding and yet revealing the rest of her to his growing discomfort.
She caught him staring, her eyes growing wide, frozen in place.
He rose to his feet, aware her mother slept a few steps away, and crossed the camp quickly, sweeping up his cloak as he did. He threw it around her shoulders, lifting her into his arms.
"What are you doing?" she gasped.
"Something I've wanted to do since I first saw you," he growled, leaving the light of the fire, stepping into the wood until they were immersed in shadow. He dropped her to her feet, tugged the cloak closer around her body, and then shook her roughly.
"Have you no sense?" he hissed angrily. "You are in the middle of the forest with a man, no weapons and little to protect you. Are you such a fool? Or do you know exactly what you do, woman?"
She struggled in his grasp, angry at his accusations. "How dare you! I did nothing wrong. I only needed to bathe. It's not my fault you're not noble enough to look away!"
No, he'd not been able to look away, a fact that annoyed him immensely. "You play with fire, Ciren. What would you have done had I not been there at the inn?"
"Nothing, I didn't need to. They would not have harmed me," she declared sharply.
"No?" Haldir growled. "Are you so sure? What about me?"
Her intake of breath was audible, her eyes wide, blue and full of fear suddenly. He could not stop the impulse, one he'd felt the moment he saw her, and kissed her, hard, dragging her unwillingly to his chest. She struggled in the brief moment his lips crushed hers and then he let her go, striding from her, back to the brightly burning fire. He waited for her to follow, forcing his expression into one of bland disinterest, cursing the desire that rattled his mind.
She brushed past him haughtily, gathered her dress from the ground, and then went back into the shadows to put it on. He watched her for a moment, marking where she hid, and then crouched down at the fire, despising himself for his actions, and wanting only to do it again.