Author's Note: Same disclaimer… same everything. I normally try not to address questions made in the reviews here, but as it seems to be a repeated theme, I'll take this time to say that Elladan will not be featured in this fic till much later. Remember, we're only four days into the tale (I think?) and it's only been three days (or two? My brain is fuzzy right now) since Haldir sent the messenger bird to Gondor. From there another bird would be sent to Lothlórien, and all of that takes time. Elladan, at this point, does not even know that Elrohir has been found (though I'd assume that through their connection as twins, he likely knows he's alive.). Elladan will not be involved in a romantic plot in this story – my focus is on Haldir, Legolas and Elrohir – they're the featured characters, and I'm sticking with them.
Also - There are only two chapters after this one before I run out of stuff to post. Yeah. TWO. Just thought you guys would like to know that if I don't get someone who is willing to at least beta-read Haldir, and tell me if he's still "in character" for this story's Haldir, this fic will be ending abruptly and without conclusion. And I really don't want that any more than you guys do.
ARASRARASRARASRARASRARASRARASRARASRARASR
The day itself passed quietly and quickly, with Legolas and Elrohir tending to any that needed aid, disappearing once in a while to scout the place for orcs and any wargs that might linger. It did seem, however, that they'd given their would-be enemies a bit of a scare during their last battle – they were nowhere to be found.
Elrohir would oft enter the tent where Haldir lay, and again would go over the wounds. The gaping hole left in Haldir's middle was closing, though it was still tender and would take – judging by the rate of speed the wound was closing – at least a week to fully heal, if not two weeks. Still, he should be capable of moving around a bit in two days or so – if not even sooner. He was only glad that Haldir was still sleeping as he healed – it would keep him still, so as not to pull at the stitching.
It was rather surprising. Any human that had such a wound would take at least a week just to get to the point where Haldir was now!
It was within the tent that Legolas found Elrohir again, early into the evening. He carried a plate of food and a mug of mead each for himself and for his dark-haired companion – for he knew Elrohir had not been eating, keeping himself too busy as he tended to Haldir to bother. He wore a slight, worried smile upon his features.
"Is he faring well?" he asked, unable to hide the anxiousness from his voice.
Elrohir turned, taking note of his companion's features, and nodded softly, accepting the mug and plate. "He is healing very quickly. He'll be right as rain by the end of the week, barring any infection," he replied, sounding rather exhausted.
"In a week? That long? The Valar must have a grudge against me," came a weak groan from the mat, startling both Elrohir and Legolas. Both pairs of eyes fixed on the fallen Warden, then chuckled in mirth to know that their companion was awake. A moment later, Haldir squawked as lips covered his face in kisses from the pair that hovered over him, lifting his arm gingerly to swat at the two. "You are both possessed!" he accused, and Elrohir drew back to laugh once more.
"No, Haldir. We are just happy to hear your voice again. You frightened us both last night," the young lord confessed, stroking a hand first down Haldir's cheek, then over Legolas' arm. The Prince clutched at Elrohir's hand for a moment before moving that grip to Haldir's hand as it rose to assure the other archer.
"It would take far more than a few orcs or wargs to tear me from either of you," he spoke honestly, glancing between his chosen two.
"You could have fooled me! Of all the idiotic, self-sacrificing… " Legolas accused in jest, drawing a pained chortle from the injured elf.
"Would you rather the arrow strike Elrohir?"
That quieted the rambling, drawing a soft blush upon his cheeks. "I would rather it did not hit either of you!" he hissed in quiet assertion. "I do not wish harm upon any I love," he added in ire, rising to leave and stalking out of the tent. Haldir tried to rise and call after him, but Elrohir's gentle hand stopped him, pressing lightly upon his chest.
"No… let him go and vent his frustrations a bit. He is only worried about you, and has been all day. I will talk with him later. I'd rather you not damage the stitches," he promised, and reluctantly, Haldir gave a nod of agreement, and then stared at Elrohir worriedly.
"I thought I would lose you, back there… I saw the arrow, and the stricken look upon your face. I did not think what might happen to me, only that I had to spare you from the fate that arrow carried," he confessed in low, insistent tones which drew a fierce pallor upon the healer's face.
"I know not why I froze… but that fear is the same within me. When the arrow struck you, I felt my world drop from beneath me. Legolas, too. We cannot live without you in our lives, Haldir. Of that, I am certain."
The confession weighed heavily in Haldir's heart. Two confessions in one night, and he'd only just woken! Yet the words were encouraging. He nodded slightly, leaning into cool fingers as Elrohir brushed some of his pale blond hair behind a pointed ear.
"Here… Legolas brought these to me, but I can fetch myself another plate and mug." He aided Haldir in sitting up, taking care not to allow the flesh to pull upon the injury. The plate was set in Haldir's lap then, and the mug set to the side where the other could reach it. "Eat your fill, and I will speak with Legolas. No doubt he is frightened…" he assured the other, and Haldir managed a soft smile.
"Go, then," he agreed, catching the Lord's hand in his own and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. "I would take that arrow again, if it meant keeping you safe. Remember that," he insisted before releasing the limb and allowing Elrohir to leave.
Slightly shaken, Elrohir disappeared out of the tent, allowing Haldir to eat in peace.
That night, Haldir had been carefully moved to their mats upon the floor – agreed upon by Elrohir when Legolas happily pointed out that with Haldir there, the healer would not have to rise every time he wished to check the bandages. And so with Legolas on one side of the wounded elf, and Elrohir on the other, they curled up against the Marchwarden, careful of the injury.
"Mr. Rickwold is doing his best to keep everyone attentive. The whole village is listening intently to our Silathil," Legolas teased as they settled upon the mats, drawing a red-cheeked chuckle from Elrohir.
"Aye, for once. A few scouts went to the river this afternoon to look at the levels. From what they've said, I'm guessing the river should return to its banks in two days at most…" he admitted, grateful that he had finally earned the trust of the town. His hands found their way into Haldir's hair – clean now, after the other had grumbled about it – and carded through the slippery, soft locks.
"Perhaps tomorrow I might go to look as well?" the Warden uttered hopefully, drawing a stern look from Elrohir, despite his sleepiness.
"No! I am sorry, Haldir, but… I cannot let you damage the wound, or ruin those stitches! No, you will stay right there and let that wound heal properly. Perhaps if you have healed well enough by tomorrow night, you can wander the day after."
Haldir scowled to learn that he wouldn't get to do anything tomorrow, but said nothing. It would give him time to fix the doll he'd found, and time to...sit there...and stare. Gods! He didn't want to lie around all day and do nothing! None the matter, it was time to sleep, even though he doubted he could with the infernal burning in his gut. Better to try and see what happened, than to not try and regret it later.
Legolas laid with his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of them breathing and moving around. The sounds of their voices when they spoke. It was comforting to know that they would both be there when he woke up (If he could get to sleep) But the longer he laid there, the more apparent it became that sleep would not find him this night. It was nothing new. He'd been known to stay awake for days on end – and it affected him little, or not at all. He was an elf, after all! It seemed that he was always this way after a battle, he would become quickened with a high during, and it took days sometimes to calm the rushing inside him. For now, though, he was content to lay here, day dreaming and tracing the tip of his fingers over the knuckles in Haldir's hand. He found himself curling up close to him, scooting up, so he could hide his face in his silver hair.
And Haldir let him, adjusting his fingers to whatever position Legolas would seem to want them in. Spreading them, closing them, turning them over. All the while, Elrohir had his fingers tangled in that silver-blond hair, soothing and stroking through the ribbons of hair.
The last thing Haldir thought before he drifted off to sleep was that Legolas probably knew the map of his hand better than he, himself, did.
Unlike Legolas, who could not sleep, Elrohir knew that he would only have a short time in the waking world before he, too, was claimed. He had worn himself to the point of exhaustion, and the stress of healing Haldir had drained him that much further. It wore heavily upon him and so minutes after Haldir drifted off, into fitful memories Elrohir slipped.
They were filled with vivid images, screams and falling bodies, whispers of fear in the night. Friendly flashes came as well, comfort and familiarity. Archways of intricate wooden designs, of the trees and the mountains, of family. Of his mother! His father, commanding and stern, yet loving and so tender when it came to his childhood. Not everything came to him... not all of his life. Most of it was the war. The dreadful War of the Ring that threw every man, elf and dwarf... even hobbits into battles that dotted all over middle earth. Lothlórien had been under attack. Imladris. Mirkwood. The Shire. Rohan. Gondor. And he and his brother were with Aragorn, their beloved foster brother, staring the red glow of Mordor face-on.
Though his body rested, his mind continued to swirl around till he woke. He didn't start, but his eyes snapped open, gaze bright as he stared at the ceiling of their canvass tent, afraid that up was suddenly down and black had turned to white. Who was he? Silathil? Elrohir? Something down the middle? His entire form began shaking faintly, like a mortal out in the cold too long. He drew closer to Haldir, whether he was awake or asleep he knew not, and grasped the blonde's hand softly, anchoring himself to the only one in his past that could calm him. The only one who was capable of bringing a smile to his face when all looked bleak.
Legolas was certainly a growing part of his heart, but Haldir had always been there, and he needed that solidarity right then. Needed the familiarity of his hands, his mere presence. He did love Haldir... loved him with every fiber of his being. He knew that now, as he knew why he'd agreed they should stay friends all those centuries ago. And when Haldir woke, he would tell him.
Haldir had been drifting in and out of dream and daydream-like wakefulness throughout the night, and when Elrohir had awoken he was mostly awake. His head was turned away from the dark haired elf, his eyes closed, and lips parted as he breathed gently through them. He'd turned his head that way over an hour ago when Legolas had left the tent, and Haldir had no doubt that the prince had not slept a wink. He never did after battles - Haldir had noticed that long ago. Faintly he became aware of Elrohir's movement at his side, at the slight shivering of his body as he grasped the warden's hand gently with his own, and in a first response to it, he'd curled his slender fingers around the twins hand to offer comfort.
"Are you awake?" He asked then, his voice soft, faint, as though a whisper had floated in on a breeze. He turned his head slowly, his eyes opening half way, just enough to reveal the light slate blue between his dark golden lashes as he looked at his companion. He couldn't be sure if the younger elf was awake or not...perhaps he was dreaming. When Haldir would wake for moments at a time, he would notice movement coming from the younger elf...as if he were having unsettling dreams. Even his own dreams had been fleeting and unreal, leaving him slightly bothered. He could discern no solid meaning from them.
After a moment, Elrohir managed a light nod, edging himself a few inches closer to the soft-speaking form beside him. He was careful not to jar him and snaked an arm around the archer's waist, lying on top of unmarred flesh there, though he was wary of the wound that had been created the night before.
"I am." The answer was less than a breath, barely able to reach Haldir's ear, though he was only inches from the quivering elf. "Was the war that awful? Was my dream that of reality? Could anything be that..." He couldn't finish the sentence, only managing to send a few flashes of Uruk-hai... of orcs and goblins... and of the Ringwraiths and their black breath. That feeling of complete and utter terror. "And we survived all of that? … It is enough to chill my blood, even now."
He took a few deep breaths then, arching slightly upward to press a kiss upon the Marchwarden's cheek. "I'm glad we did, though. After Aragorn's summons, I'd finally mustered the courage to tell you something that had been plaguing me for some time..." He drifted off, taking a few moments to tease. Why? Because he could, and he needed that levity such teasing provided to make it through this confession.
Haldir pressed his cheek gently against Elrohir's lips, noticing the sudden familiarity there that had been missing before. Such a little thing it was...so small that even he himself couldn't pin point what it had been. But it was here now, little quirks of his personality...the way he would tell you he knew something, or that he heard something, or that he wanted to tell you something, and then would pause for sometimes ages, wanting you to ask him what it was. He needed to know you were interested. Or sometimes it was that he liked to drive you crazy with curiosity, and he would pretend to get distracted by other topics to make you ask several times, finally giving in with a laugh when you would threaten to strangle him.
Even the way he'd took his hand was familiar now, the feeling about him was familiar, and Haldir knew he had remembered much, by these facts alone. "The war was an ugly wound on the face of Middle-earth," Haldir confirmed, his voice as soft as it'd been before. He shifted his position slightly, turning his body just a little to better face him. The pain today was dull, a steady throbbing, and in truth, he wasn't much bothered by it any longer.
"I am glad to see that you are remembering more. I only wish the memories could have been better, though I am not surprised by the content: it would be surprising if last night's battle had not affected you in some manner." He watched him for a moment, finally giving in to his curiosity. "What was it that you wanted to tell me?" he asked gently, bringing his other hand over to trace the back of his curled forefinger over his cheek bone.
In response to Haldir's shifting, Elrohir drew that much closer; though he had frowned slightly at the fact he'd moved with his wound still rather new. The troublesome expression and thoughts were cast aside as he nuzzled into the warm shoulder beneath his head, however – if Haldir gave no sound of protest concerning that wound, he'd not fret long. Lips flickered lightly over a cheek, his jaw, and then he finally left a sweet, lingering affection upon the injured elf's mouth. "That I was ignorant and scared... and that I should have insisted on how I felt about you... and not let things just fade between us as we both allowed it to. That I loved you then, when we agreed to be just friends. Good friends, but only friends I had been ready to tell you that I loved you when I'd left to heed Aragorn's summons...and ... I love you now."
Oh, Valar... had he just said that? Had he just admitted the closest thing to his heart to one of only two that managed to win his heart? At least he knew Haldir loved him, and would love him still, and he clung to that knowledge desperately, as he clung with a careful tenderness to Haldir himself. "I had told myself I would tell you as much when I returned... on my way back to Imladris, stopping in Lothlórien. And to apologize for my lack of courage before then." A deep breath escaped his lips, one he'd no idea he'd taken in, fingers playing along the smooth flesh of Haldir's side, still bare from his quick healing of the night before. He really should change the bandages soon, come to think of it...
Haldir let his eyes close as Elrohir ghosted kisses over his face, and when he began to speak, he opened them again to give him his full attention. He had to admit that he'd not been expecting that from him. But he was not disappointed. Far from disappointed. "You were young then, Elrohir...you are so very young still," he whispered to him, combing his fingers through the length of his hair slowly. "It was not your decision alone; I must remind you...I too thought it best that nothing come of it. I thought you were too young, and I was scared to pursue you after that. Scared to pursue anything, for a very, very long time." He paused then, though it was apparent that he wanted to say more.
First, though, he tilted his head down to press a kiss upon Elrohir's cheek, leaving his lips there for a long moment before he began again. "Perhaps it is best that things happened as they did. Fate has reasons. I see Fate as a tree...the trunk is where we begin, and we follow it up to where it begins to branch. There we have to make a decision about which path to follow. Each branch leads to others. Other decisions, other events, but they all spring from the same seed, the same plan and they all will fade to the same end. Crisscrossing each other, taking us where we need to go, even as we choose how we get there." He paused, hoping he was making sense.
"Fate takes us so far, and then it is up to us to choose what road we follow. Just like a tree, our lives are long, our branches many. Had we not met again till now, had you come home and told me then what you told me now, I would have turned from you, even as I would have hated to do so. I would have run, just as I have always done. But I am not running from it now." He grinned then, his eyes twinkling softly in mirth. "Not that I could get very far half dressed and injured with two well elves chasing me."
Goodness! Even injured, Haldir could make Elrohir like a puddle of elven-goo, half melted against his form like some swooning maiden. Thankfully, though, he kept his wits about him, and was aided by the image of Haldir attempting to flee with Elrohir and Legolas charging after him. "You'd better believe we'd not let you get away... Besides, I'd be very off-put to see you pop those stitches... I don't want to have to put them back in." His grin softened a bit then, pressing a tender brush of lips across his jaw line for a moment before turning the topic toward the more current topic - Haldir's wound.
"Speaking of those stitches -- I should check that wound now, and perhaps get us both a bit more clean..." How much blood had Haldir lost? Elrohir shuddered to think of such things, and was more than eager to ask the women to provide him with a warm basin of water and some towels to clean Haldir off, and he could fetch his own things to get them both a change of clothing, for he was certain they were both filthy... and as most folk who knew elves understood... elves hated to be dirty any longer than they had to. "Shall I get our things? If you promise not to damage those stitches, you can get something clean to wear."
Haldir chuckled softly and looked down towards his stomach, raising a hand to trace his fingers over his bindings. "I may not even need those stitches anymore," he told Elrohir, his voice the slightest bit hopeful. Hey, he could dream. "And I would like to change, and clean off. I feel grimy, and I'm not the slightest bit happy about it," he stated with a sheepish look. "I can't promise that I won't damage the stitches though. I have no control over what the material of the clothing will do." He adjusted his position again, sliding an arm under Elrohir's form, and pulled him into a more comfortable position that he might nuzzle the younger elf's cool, dark locks of thick hair. He was torn between wanting to be clean and wanting to stay right here where he was.
Haldir was gladdened to know how the younger elf really felt, and he found himself wanting to be in his presence right now. In the quiet, with them talking - asleep or awake, it didn't matter. As long as he could look down and see him, and as long as he could reach out and touch him - feel his hair between his fingers – he'd be happy. "Does this mean you're leaving now?" he asks. "Do I have to stay in this tent today?"
Elrohir wrapped both arms about the nuzzling Galadhrim, content to keep him as close as possible for however long they were allowed. "Mmph.. though I'd love to stay here like this for the rest of my hopefully long life, I fear I will have to leave for a little bit to get the things we'll need. But I'll be back very soon."
He pondered the second question for a moment or so, hesitating for one reason or another that only Elrohir would know before turning to him to press light kisses upon the top of the blonde's head, voice gently teasing. "Let's get you cleaned up and see how well you're healing. If you can move around without too much discomfort, we can all go together to check on the river and see if it's back on it's regular course...Or at least close to doing so. Just you, me and Legolas." Both eyebrows rose then, drawing back an inch or so to allow silver to meet stormy blue. "Does that sound acceptable?"
And of course, Elrohir said "let's" for a reason. The more time he could spend with Haldir right now, the better he felt about, well, everything! But as much as Haldir wanted those stitches out, he knew that popping them now wouldn't be wise. Then again, Elrohir could help keep the threads from, right? Of course he could! "But... promise me you'll take it easy today? Please? I was petrified last night... I thought I'd lost you. I think we all thought that..."
Haldir nodded to Elrohir's questions and comments, reluctantly starting to let him go – and eliciting a faint groan of protest from the young Lord in the process. When Legolas was mentioned, Haldir wondered where the playful prince could be. He didn't hear his voice around them, and he could hear several in the camp. It made him uneasy. For several days now, they'd been together non-stop, and if they weren't, he knew where the other two were. But now, he was clueless.
"I will be careful. I won't dive in the river, or roll in around in the leaves like a dog," Haldir teased, looking up at Elrohir with a playful scowl. "But promise me you will come back with news of where Legolas is. He left over an hour ago, and he hasn't peeked in again, and I haven't heard his voice in the camp since." A light hand reached up to rub a lock of the dark, silken hair between his finger tips, looking at it as he did so.
"I don't think he slept at all. He never does after a battle. Make sure he is alright." He offered Elrohir a soft smile and shifted his hand then to cares over Elrohir's fine jaw line, taking it upon himself to lean in, and graze his slightly parted lips over those of the twin just before closing them over his bottom lip in a kiss.
When that soft kiss ended, Elrohir took Haldir's fingers within his own grip, laying a single kiss upon the flesh over his knuckles. "I'll find Legolas... I promise. And I'll return before you know it." He cast a wistful smile toward the prone figure, his wish to stay within the comfort of his love's arms apparent. Still, resolve filled him and he silently slipped out of the tent.
And now for another Author's Note:
Haldir. S'all I'm gonna say: Need Haldir. K'thxbye.