A.N/ I am so sorry again! School has kept me incredibly busy, as well as cheerleading and musical rehearsal. I hope you like this! It took me forever to write. Again, thanks to my beta, Rae Simmons, without whom I would never have gotten this out, and to all you lovely reviewers. This story has been viewed 1,438 times-not like I'm counting. It just says so on the stats page. Heheheh...so here you go!

Hopefully, I'll get the next one out faster, though I'm not making any promises. Again, you already know the translations for male and female elf, so I'm not putting that up there. Manwe is the most powerful of the Valar, and is married to Elbereth, Queen of the Stars. Just in case you don't know that.

Disclaimer: See first chapter. -.-


Tentatively, Haldir walked through the door after Vanafindon. Apsenniel was busy, getting everything set out on the table and filling tall goblets with water.

"Sister of mine, we have a guest. You might want to set an extra place, lest you want our dearly beloved Marchwarden to eat from the floor," Vanafindon remarked lightly, pushing Haldir in front of him.

"Wha-? Oh, y-y-yes, of course. Marchwarden, do have a seat. I shall have everything ready in a few moments..." she said, flushing from head to toe.

'Sweet Elbereth, she looks beautiful when she does that,' Haldir thought wistfully to himself. He gazed at her with calf eyes as she hurried around the kitchen, dodging offending counters and oddly placed chairs.

"Why it must be so cluttered in here, I do not know!" Apsenniel huffed furiously after stubbing her toe. Vanafindon started laughing. "Oh do shut up, brother of mine," she mocked. "Make yourself useful, would you, you great lump, and get the turkey out of the oven. The pie needs to go in next. No no, do not put it on the top, it needs to go on the bottom so it may bake properly!"

He turned his head to the side, cherry red from both the heat of the oven and bending over. "You are the cook here, you do it!" Vanafindon cried in exasperation. "Ai! My hair has caught fire!" A small tongue of flame was quickly extinguished from the end of a long blonde lock that had fallen over his shoulder and oh-so-innocently brushed the oven's bottom. Mournfully, he gazed at the melted and blackened mess that had once been over two inches longer. "Now I must cut it even more," he sighed.

Vanafindon's misfortune had served to eradicate for the time being all the tension in the room as Haldir and Apsenniel laughed at his expression of deepest loss. "Here is your bloody turkey. Happy?" he grumbled as he shoved it at her.

Grabbing it with a pair of potholders, Apsenniel brought it over to the table and placed it in the center upon a large cork hot plate. Of course, this also allowed Haldir a generous view of her neckline, as the dress had a lower one than she would normally wear. He froze, his mouth suddenly bone dry. This only worsened when she leaned down to set his place for him and accidentally brushed his shoulder.

"I apologize, Marchwarden. I did not mean to do so," she whispered, and hurried away.

When she left the room to fetch the mourning Vanafindon, he groaned and buried his head in his hands. "Oh, what am I to do now?" Haldir mumbled to himself over and over.


Dinner was a quiet affair on all parts. Vanafindon was sulking about his hair, and Haldir and Apsenniel were too embarrassed to say much to each other other than the ever-present please pass this dish and may I have that.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid!' Apsenniel mentally shouted. 'I let myself lose control like that! I honestly cannot believe myself. I acted like a wanton in the sitting room in front of an ellon who clearly does not think of me as anything other than a friend. You are an utter IDIOT! Why, of all things, would you even believe for one minute that he might fancy you?' She sighed and pushed the remaining turkey around her plate.

"Oh do stop being so dramatic," Vanafindon sighed. "I caught you two, and that is that."

"Ha, and you are the picture of gaiety. I think not!" she snapped back. "Moaning and groaning about two and a half inches of hair."

"For your information, dear sister," he spat, "it was three. Maybe even slightly more."

"Oh boohoo. Now go to your bedroom again and cry like an elfling."

Vanafindon decided that he would end the verbal argument by sticking his tongue out and flinging a roll across the table at her.

During the ensuing food fight/siblings' quarrel, Haldir calmly continued eating his dinner and buttering another roll from the bread basket in front of his dish. An enormous pat of butter suddenly found itself upended from its cozy spot on the butter dish in the middle of the table and splattered in a shocked Marchwarden's hair. Vanafindon had time only to say, "Oh bugger," before the action was returned.

"Mercy, Marchwarden! Have mercy!" he cried as the gravy found its way poured down his back.

Apsenniel could not stop laughing at this hilarious action, though inwardly she groaned at the amount of time it would take to wash out the stains from his over and under-tunics. Her own gown was a mess-crumbs were embedded in the lace work and beading along the neckline and sleeves, and part of the roast she had burned her hands on earlier removing from the oven had left a greasy mark where it had slid down the front and landed with a plop on the floor. The table in itself was a mess, with bits of salad and grated cheese decorating the plain white cloth. Dark splatters from the roast and turkey juices stained much of it, and a jug of water had been upturned, sending a waterfall down upon Haldir's lap.

"Both of you, stop right now! You are acting like silly elflings! I am surprised you even became wardens! You should have been minstrels instead with your antics," she said in an authoritative voice.

Stopping in mid-motion, Vanafindon and Haldir both had the sense to look mildly ashamed and embarrassed by their actions, but no more than that.

"You two will now help me clean this up, and then we shall have dessert once we are all washed and changed. Marchwarden, you have an enormous amount of butter smeared into your hair. It might take a while for all the greasiness to come out. I am sure that Vanafindon has an extra set of clothing for you."

"No need, Lady Apsenniel. I can go to my talan and get another set," he answered her quietly.

"I shall meet you down by the bath houses?" Vanafindon asked.

"Yes, you shall. Until then, get as far away from me as possible, else I be tempted to shove you down the stairs!" Haldir teased. Inwardly, Apsenniel swooned.


After they returned to the talan she shared with Vanafindon for dessert, hair dripping in braids down their backs, a solemn mood overtook them, leaving them with naught but pensive looks and the occasional frowns.

The soiled tablecloth had been removed, and another was put on in its place. Dessert plates were set out, goblets of sweet, strong Dorwinion were put down in front, linen napkins were folded and snuggled next to the bone white dishes, and small forks were laid down on top. The pie had finished baking by the time everything was ready, a pause made only to switch it to the top rack above the small charcoal fire contained in a snug ring below, all ensconced in metal.

Dousing the flame with a quick splash from the newly refilled water jug, Apsenniel lifted it out carefully and set it on a small hot plate in the center of the table.

"Marchwarden, would you like a piece? It is blueberry and peaches. I hope you like it," she half whispered.

"Yes, indeed. I would like a slice very much. Lady Apsenniel, how could I not like anything you make? Your cooking skills are beyond that of any elf in Lórien," Haldir muttered, stormy eyes cast downwards.

"Sister dear, I would like two, if you do not mind. I am still famished," Vanafindon called down the table with a wide smirk.

"You may have one, seeing as I wish to sample this myself, 'Findon," Apsenniel snapped back at him.

"Well fine, be that way," he humphed.

"Cross your arms all you wish. It will not change my mind."

"But Peeeeeenyyyy!" he whined.

"I said no! Stop acting like an elfling! You are much too old for such silly, mindless behavior."

"Who died and made you queen?" Vanafindon mumbled under his breath.

"It was a unanimous decision," Apsenniel said breezily as she lifted out a gooey slice and set it on Haldir's plate.

"Do you see what I have to live with day after day, Haldir? It is terrible, my friend, terrible!" he cried.

"Terrible for whom, might I ask?" she inquired innocently.

Glaring at her, he answered, "You very well know who, sister dearest."

"Oh please. Stop being so idiotic."

Haldir and Vanafindon both greedily watch a particularly sticky piece slide off the end of the serving utensil and plop in the middle of her plate.

"Go on and eat, and then you may have seconds."

They needed no encouragement. All too soon it seemed, the pie plate was empty and whisked away to its soapy home in the sink with all the other items used to prepare and eat dinner and dessert.

"Nightcap, my friend?" Vanafindon asked Haldir, waving another bottle of wine in the air as he tipsily made his way over to the table.

"I would never dream of not having one, especially when you keep Dorwinion as good as this. Tell me, where ever do you get the money to pay for so many?"

"It accumulates over the years, since you tend to live forever and all that lovely business," he said flippantly.

"If you have a hangover from the two and a half bottles you drank at dinner, I am showing you no mercy in the morning. Just to let you know."

"I think an ellon should deserve a reward after he comes back from two weeks of boredom at the Northern Fences and having to live with with you. Am I right, or am I right?" he questioned, looking towards the smirking Marchwarden.

"On pain of death, I will not answer to the last part of your eloquently stated sermon, but to the first part, I wholeheartedly agree, friend of mine."

"Besides, about the whole money thing." Vanafindon was starting to slur a bit as he poured a generous amount into both goblets. "Whenever there is a grand event, such as oh I do not know, mayhap festivals, and Apsenniel cooks, they give her a fair amount for her labor. Though I would not go so far as to call it that. More like popping things in and waiting for the oven to spit it back out several seconds later."

Haldir took note of his sarcastic-while-at-the-same-time-flippant nature as he continued to imbibe more of the strong alcohol.

By the time they were deprived of yet another bottle by Apsenniel, making it their third, and shooed out of the kitchen to the porch in the back, it was nearing eleven.

"What say you we go an' grab those brothrz o' yours an' play a roun'?" Vanafindon slurred heavily.

"I think you are too far gone to focus on anything. Besides, it is getting rather late, and seeing as you are no longer a fit chaperone, I must be taking my leave. I shall see you tomorrow morn."

"Fine then, be no funnnnnnn. Borin' Marchwardenen."

Laughing, he strode out of the talan and into the inky blackness of the night.


Apsenniel had watched him go with a sigh, and not a small pang of longing. "No, no, no! This will never do! Stop acting like a wanton!" she berated herself as he disappeared around a bend. "You have no feelings for him, and he for you!"

By the time she had gotten herself to believe this statement was true, it well past midnight, and she wasn't in the best of moods. Suddenly feeling drained, she ambled back into the bedroom she had occupied for the last several centuries and collapsed in a heap above the covers. Apsenniel had drifted off into a reverie in a matter of seconds.


In another mallorn, Haldir was having trouble sleeping. Nothing he did seemed to work. First, he tried counting orcs, then thinking of his favorite song. All that got him was some rapidly becoming annoying tune stuck in his head. Flopping over onto his belly, he let out a frustrated sigh. Clearing his mind came next. Nope, that didn't work either.

All he got from that was a headache. Did elves even get headaches?! GAH! Drinking from the wrong end of a cup-no, no, that was for hiccups; not even laying with his back flat against the floor and his feet propped up on the edge of the mattress worked!

Sighing, Haldir got up and went to heat of a small pot of milk on the stove top. His first attempt caused milk to boil over the edge and send up a putrid smelling smoke. The second time, he was more attentive. After transferring it to his favorite mug, he downed it in several large gulps. Unfortunately for him, luck was not on his side, and he ended up scalding his tongue and throat. Eyes smarting, he found the water jug and poured himself a glass, mumbling curses.

First, he nearly ruined it between him and Apsenniel! Then her blasted brother had to go and embarrass both of them further, and then she hardly says a word to him on the way out! Oh, sweet Elbereth, what had he done!

He had continued like this for over half an hour, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

Tirade finally at an end, Haldir placed the now empty several times over glass into the sink and moved back into his bedroom. Due to any number of reasons, he had not been paying attention to his surroundings, and slammed his toes into the legs of a chair.

"Blast it all! Will this day never end?!" he hissed, hopping on on leg and cradling the injured foot in his hands.

He found it completely ironic that he was now able to go to sleep seconds before descending into the darkness.


Apsenniel blinked in the pre-dawn light, yawned, and then shuffled out of her bed to the water closet across the hall. Once her morning rituals were completed, she moved into the kitchen and began work on the breakfast she would share with her brother. After another hour or so, Vanafindon literally dragged himself into the room and sagged into his chair at the head of the small square table.

"I should have known," she sighed. "Do the dishes once you are finished. I need to get all the mending done, scrub the floors, wash the windows, and do your ironing as well as mine."

Squinting at her through his hangover, Vanafindon muttered, "Do I have to?"

"I told you I would show you no mercy if you became hungover. Now, hurry up and drink, and I shall put your breakfast out for you."

Grumbling none to pleasant words, he listened to Apsenniel's orders, and began the dishes once he had finished.

Meanwhile, she moved slowly about the talan, completing the chores one by one. First, she washed the windows, then moved onto the floor after everything was out of the way. As she was scrubbing a particularly difficult spot, Vanafindon entered with a full wicker basket.

"I found more mending," was all he said, dropping it into a chair shoved up against the far wall.

"Brilliant, just what I needed. More things to add to my list."

"How could you stand doing any of that?" he asked suddenly, already halfway out the door.

"Who said I can?" Apsenniel countered. Shrugging, she turned back to her work on the floor. "You never assist me unless I force you to, or you are too hungover to notice. Usually, it is a mixture of both."

"That could not be truer if Manwë himself said it," he grinned, and left the room.

"Big head," she muttered. Standing up to survey the floor, she noticed a small piece of crumpled paper lying in a corner across the room. "What? How come I never noticed that before?" she thought to herself. Curiosity stole over Apsenniel, and found herself almost involuntarily walking toward it. She watched her hand extend as if it were not a part of her, and pick up the parchment between thumb and forefinger, as if it could disintegrate at any moment. She straightened, and peeled it open.

"NO!"


Haldir had just sat down to a meager breakfast of butter scraped across thin slices of toast when someone burst through his door.

"Marchwarden! What do you mean by this?!" Apsenniel looked nearly mad with panic as she waved the note in front of his face.

"Calm down, Lady! Calm down! What is the meaning of what?" he asked her gently.

"My brother has just returned home! He cannot be sent out again! And it never says for how long!"

Prying the crumpled up bit from her death grip, he scanned it over, before placing it don on the table.

"I am not supposed to say anything about any of this to anyone whatsoever. I must have your word that you will not utter what you learn to a single soul. Am I clear?"

Perhaps it was the quiet way in which he spoke, or the calming look in his eyes, but she felt herself nodding.

"Very well then. The majority of the border guard has been put on active duty. The Lady has received intelligence that a large army of orcs and perhaps goblins is moving toward our city. We do not know how big it is, how long it will take them to get here, or if it will even happen. But for the next year or so, we will be having longer patrols, with more guards. The rotations will only switch out several each so many will be spending three months or more away from their families at a time. I shall be going as well, most likely for the entire period. Packages can be sent, as well as letters so the patrol will not become too homesick. Fear not, we each take care of one another. I promise you I will not let anything happen to your brother."

"You know as well as I that that is not possible, Marchwarden," she whispered, quivering with emotion.

"I shall do my utmost best, though. That, I can give you my word on."

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow at dawn. Will I see you there at the gates?" he asked.

"I would be nowhere else. But why tomorrow? And wouldn't the other families know?"

"I thank you, then. Please, write to me. I shall write to you as well. For each day that I, or your brother, are well, you shall receive something. Couriers will be going back and forth at intervals. We will both be posted on the eastern borders. Perhaps by twilight, you shall know. And the families will be told this evening. As to the other part of your question, as soon as possible would be best. So naturally, we go tomorrow."

"I understand now, I think. And if nothing comes?" She was almost too afraid to ask.

"Promise me you will not give up hope. You are strong, Apsenniel. Very strong. Never doubt that." Haldir leaned forward and planted a soft kiss against her brow.


The next morning at dawn, Apsenniel came forward with her brother toward the enormous group that was already accumulated outside the gates. She pulled her grey cloak closer about her as a chill autumn wind rustled quietly through the trees, but the coldness did not come from the outside. Instead, it was the blind terror that she felt as she raised a hand in final parting, and watched helplessly as they filed out in three lines of thousands, it seemed. Soon, she was the only one left.

She dragged her feet along as she walked back up the many steps to her talan, and only when she got the door closed behind her did she start to cry.

The day moved on as slowly as she moved herself, and by dusk, she had hardly gotten anything done at all, when she realized that someone had been knocking on her door for a few minutes already.

"Coming!" she called out, hurrying over. "I shall be right there."

The elf that greeted her looked slightly muddy, but the thing that interested her the most was the package he carried. "From the Marchwarden, Lady," he bowed, and left.

Apsenniel shut the door with shaking hands and sank down into a chair to open it. Inside were two leaves from a mallorn tree.

"Oh thank you, thank you!" she whispered repeatedly.

For Apsenniel, the days blended into weeks, and the weeks into months. All time seemed to cease its linear progression, and she moved through her talan, and indeed throughout the entire city, as if she were hardly there at all. She had no concept of time, and often found herself sleeping during the day and waking up only a half hour before the courier came with the mallorn leaves.

She had been leaving the gardens when a slender hand fell upon her shoulder.

"Apsenniel, you are not well," came the Lady's gentle voice.

She jumped, and spun around, her thin, wispy hair flying everywhere.

"My Lady! You startled me! I am very well, thank you," she gasped, fighting to regain her composure.

"Did not the Marchwarden tell you to never give up hope? And yet that is exactly what you have done. Why did you not listen?" The Lady looked down at her with a great amount of pity in her eyes.

Blushing, she looked away, finding it difficult to hold her gaze. "I did try, My Lady. I really did try. I am not strong enough. All I want is for them to come back home. All of them. Not just my brother."

"Soon," was all Galadriel said, before she disappeared down the bend in the narrow garden path.

Apsenniel was left puzzling over her last word. What did she mean by that? Would they be coming home soon? Or would it be the battle? Looking at the sky, she realized that she would be late for the courier if she did not run.

She reached her door just as he was striding up the stairs on the opposite side, huffing and puffing. "Thank you, my friend. I shall take that," she wheezed.

The courier bowed and said, "A letter from Warden Orophin, my lady," then he left.

"A letter from Orophin?! Oh Eru, please let them be alright!" she thought wildly, quickly tearing it open.

"My dear Apsenniel,

Today we make ready for battle. The orcs have been seen near the mountains, and already they cover much ground. Haldir, the big head, is acting all pompous trying to get the posts organized and ready for whatever will come. Please do not take alarm from this, but he requested that I write something to reassure you, as he and your brother are too busy doing the work of many and refusing to share to stop and pluck two leaves from the tree we are living on at the moment and put it in a box to throw down to someone. Obviously, I disagree with him there, but unless I want to be sent home and miss all the fun, I am not allowed to say anything. Out loud, anyway. I can vent all I wish to you in this! Prepare yourself, for the next paragraph is going to be nothing but capitalizations. Ready? No? Good!

THAT BLASTED ASS IS THE MOST IMPOSSIBLE, INCORRIGIBLE ELLON I HAVE EVER HAD THE DISPLEASURE OF KNOWING, AND/OR BEING RELATED TO! ERU, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW VANAFINDON PUTS UP WITH HIM! OROPHIN, GO DO THIS! RÚMIL, DO THAT! POLISH YOUR SWORD AGAIN! I CANNOT SEE THAT STRAY EYEBROW HAIR THAT I KNOW I MUST GET RID OF! AND HE PREENS, OH HOW HE PREENS! HE TAKES AN HOUR THE BRAID HIS HAIR, LACE UP HIS BOOTS, PUT ON HIS SWORDS, LALALALALALALA! IF I DO NOT CLOBER HIM IN THE HEAD BEFORE THIS DEPLOYMENT IS OVER, I DO NOT KNOW WHAT I SHALL DO!

There, now that that is over-oh yes. I am thoroughly sick of eating naught but lembas day in and day out. Would you mind sending Rúmil and me a care package? Give nothing to that great oaf, I warn you. He shall never see the inside of it anyway, I would have already gotten to it by then.

I bid you farewell my friend and most talented cook! I have just been ordered to polish my sword for the twentieth time today.

-Orophin

Post script-Cake would be lovely!

Apsenniel laughed in relief at the thought that they were alright and that Haldir was being his usual bossy self, but then the first paragraph floated across her vision, and she shuddered.


For the next several days, she got nothing, and no courier had been sent out but to bring back the severely injured or dead, or return with fresh recruits. Some of the ones that went knew only the barest basics of fighting, were entirely too young, or both. Each time she saw a white stretcher, she hurried over to peer at the blond head, and determine whether or not she knew them at all. On one occasion, she recognized her brother's friend as one of the dead, but other than that, she knew no one.

Then, one day her greatest fears were realized. Two stretchers, each with four elves carrying it, were rushed in with an ashen faced warden in both.

"Oh, Eru! Vanafindon!"