Hey, everyone! As promised, here is the next chapter.

As always, I want to thank all who have taken the time to read this story. I know time is a precious commodity. I am humbled and thankful that you have chosen to read my fanfic. Lastly, I want to give a shout-out to my reviewers: durinsdaughter2469btw, FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff, Rogue's Queen, SmallLittleCagedBird, leelee202, Cricklewood16, Raider-K, leeward1992, Blue1258, AshleyLeigh, MotherAiya, and GaaraSandNin. Thank you for your comments on chapter 28. They made my week.


CHAPTER XXIX

A PRECARIOUS EDGE

"Mae govannen." The utterance was low, the enunciation distinct but pleasing to the ear. Uniquely hers. "Mae govannen."

Annalyn wished to learn Sindarin—the rudiments of it anyway—and had been practicing various words and expressions for a few days now. Honestly, Haldir was rather impressed, for learning a new language could be rather daunting; he would know, having done it himself. But Annalyn was doing quite well. In addition to being attentive, she was tenacious, a trait that would certainly help her in this instance.

With four or five days of travelling still before them, he was curious to see how much she would retain by the time they reached Lothlórien. If she kept up in this fashion, as he firmly believed she would, they might even be able to hold a simple conversation in Sindarin before she left for home. The idea pleased him at any rate.

A sigh netted his attention. "I should know this," Annalyn whispered to herself, her brows drawn together. "Come on, Annalyn. Think." A breath of frustration and she looked to him, her loosely-gathered braid gleaming in the midday sun. "It would seem that I have forgotten how to properly introduce myself. Remind me again?" The sheepish smile she gave sparked an amused one of his own.

"Well," Haldir replied, "you would begin with your name, and follow with 'i eneth nîn'."

"Ah, yes." Clearing her throat, Annalyn looked ahead, frowning in concentration as she tried the words. Then, as if she was truly introducing herself to someone, she smiled warmly, inclined her head, and said it again. "Annalyn i eneth nîn." To him, she raised her eyebrows. "Like so?"

"Like so." He nodded, and loved the way she had said it, the unique and gentle lilt of her voice.

As Annalyn continued to practice, moving on to other expressions, Haldir scanned the landscape in hopes of spotting a familiar feature that might establish their exact location. Seeing nothing of note, he scanned the mountain range instead. Further south and to the west of them, his gaze fell on the familiar snow-capped peaks of Fanuidhol and Caradhras, with Celebdil peeking out from behind them. The peaks themselves were forbidding and imposing—like giant teeth of rock and ice—but they were a heartening sight as well, for the woods of Lothlórien stood relatively near to their feet.

Given the rolling terrain, the elven woods were not yet visible, but Haldir knew it would not be long now.

Throwing a glance at his companion, he considered the distance they had covered together thus far. While the storm had been a hindrance, delaying them, they had made good time since leaving the cave, two and a half days ago. With Annalyn riding on horseback, and Haldir maintaining a swift and easy stride beside her, they might even make up for some of the time they had lost.

In truth, Haldir was rather impressed with her. Though Elves and Men were largely sundered, his people often said that mortals were resilient, that they could rise and trudge forth after the most crushing of adversities. Haldir now saw the truth of this.

Annalyn was still grieving, yes—and he sometimes caught her staring toward her homeland, looking pensive and troubled, as if the future weighed heavy on her mind—yet she never brooded for long, but rather kept herself occupied, doing the things necessary to survive out here, like gathering edible roots and mushrooms, taking care of Cobalt, even crafting a lean-to like she had done last night.

Just seeing her accomplish those tasks, with quiet focus and efficiency, it was apparent that Annalyn was in her element out here. And in those quiet moments at the end of the day, when she would sit by their nightly fire, sipping herbal tea, he often noted the way she would stare at the mountains, like one who was both awed and humbled by their frozen heights.

When he had commented on it last night, she had looked to him, smiling a little when she had said, "There is something about the sight of snow beneath the stars. For some reason, it reminds me of a slumbering world, a place of silence and starlight far removed from the sorrows of Men." And in these words, Haldir had perceived her love for the wilds, the wide open spaces of the world. A love that endured despite all that had befallen her of late.

Now the more Haldir marched, the more his thoughts turned to Lothlórien and their impending arrival there. Elven society being what it was, he could easily imagine the border guards' puzzlement at seeing the maid of Rohan again. They would remember her to be sure, for travellers were highly uncommon these days, trespassers even more so. Talk had spread the last time around.

Some, like Rúmil, had been rather intrigued by his decision to lead Annalyn's company across the River Celebrant. Even so, Haldir's sentinels were respectful and disciplined, his youngest brother included. While they might not be privy to his every thought, they always deferred to his judgment, trusting in his ability to lead. Curious though they had been, none had presumed to challenge his command that day. Alas, the same could not be said for Erynion, the Marchwarden who commanded the southern fences.

"You took a risk, my friend," he had said, when the two had met to exchange news, less than a day after Annalyn and her kin had left the Golden Wood. "I would not have granted them such freedom."

While Haldir could understand Erynion's concerns, he had made no apologies. With an upturned brow, he had stood by his decision, countering with cool words of his own. "I saw no need to detain them or bar their way. They posed no threat to the Naith, and meant only to pass through."

Erynion had pursed his lips. "A dangerous precedent."

"That is your estimation. Not mine."

His fellow warden had considered him for a long moment. But then, his mouth pulling in feigned conciliation, Erynion had clasped Haldir's arm, his other hand landing heavily on his shoulder. "Good thing they passed in the west, then." Inclining his head, the russet-haired warden had taken a step back. "We shall speak again soon. I must head back."

What Erynion would make of Annalyn's return, Haldir could only imagine. One thing was certain; he would make his thoughts known. He always did.

Be that as it may, Haldir hoped to lead Annalyn into the very heart of the forest, into the city that he loved. Erynion could object as much as he wanted, the final decision was not even his to make. Nor was it Haldir's. Rather, it would fall to the Lord and the Lady of the Galadhrim, the esteemed keepers of the realm, Eldar who perceiving much, if not all that took place within and around the borders.

Having gotten to know Annalyn, Haldir felt certain that they would see the goodness in her—Lady Galadriel especially. Wise and gifted, the Lady of the Wood could peer into people's hearts, discerning their hopes and fears, even their innermost thoughts.

Still, Haldir would have to adhere to the laws and gain the Lord and the Lady's permission ere Annalyn reached the city, for none could enter without leave.

Indeed, it was uncommon for trespassers to even reach the Naith. The rare few who somehow managed the feat were usually hauled before Lothlórien's rulers, to be judged or released, depending on intent. Granted, such an occurrence was exceedingly rare, for the woods of Lothlórien were well guarded. But it happened nonetheless.

Haldir didn't want that for Annalyn. He didn't want her to be escorted like an unwelcomed tresspasser. For a brief moment, his mind supplied an image of her, flanked by cool and impassive guards, Erynion among them. It wouldn't happen, he knew. Haldir was a Marchwarden after all, and his word—while not exactly the law—still carried some weight. He would even answer for her if need be.

No. When Annalyn finally walked through the gates of Caras Galadhon, she would do so freely and without embarrassment, as a friend of the Elves. I will see to it, he thought and glanced at her serene profile, at her lithe form, which was swaying with the gentle motion of her horse.


They had been journeying south for a few hours when the two decided to stop by a shimmering stream. It was mid afternoon, the air slightly warmer than the day before.

"Aren't you going to refill your waterskin?" Annalyn asked Haldir as she knelt by the rippling water. Now that she had recovered parts of her supplies, it was nice having two waterskins from which to drink.

"Nay. Mine is yet full," Haldir replied, eyes skimming their surroundings.

Downing some of the water, Annalyn refilled her waterskin again, and came to stand beside him. "What are you thinking?"

His attention was fixed onto a nearby forest. "I am thinking that there might be small game in this area."

As Cobalt stamped quietly beside her, Annalyn considered the line of evergreens that stretched before them. The sunlit trees stood like proud sentinels, the ground at their feet open and devoid of brambles. Haldir was right; it could be a good spot to find rabbits or even larger game.

Eyeing her hunting bow, which she had hooked over her saddle bag, Annalyn said, "We should hunt, then." Once she had fetched her bow, Annalyn indicated an area of the woods just to the south. "You know, we would double our chances if we split up. How about you look over there, and I look over here? The sun is shining; this forest is airy. I doubt we will encounter Orcs in there. And if we do not find anything within the hour, we meet back here and combine our efforts. What say you?"

Haldir seemed unsure, so Annalyn planted a hand on her hip. "I have been hunting on my own since long before I met you. I have no need of a bodyguard, Haldir. Besides, while my waterskin was empty just now, my bladder is not. I need privacy."

Catching her meaning, Haldir spread his hands in immediate surrender, and she laughed as he took a few steps back, amusement shining in his eyes when he said, "An hour, then."

"An hour," she concurred, and started walking toward the forest, lead in hand. "Come on, Cobalt. Let us find you a spot to graze."

Nearly an hour had passed. Annalyn was still creeping through the forest, her eyes narrowing as she searched the trees and the sunlit gaps in between. With their supply of dried meat running low, she was eager to find something else to eat, something that would satisfy her growing hunger.

Walking in the shadow of a tree, she skirted around a patch of melting snow, her boots falling silent on the pine needles covering the ground. Thinking it was time to head back, she was about to give up when movement caught her eye. It was a pheasant, a female by the looks of it, its mottled brown plumage blending almost perfectly with the forest floor.

Eyes fixed on what she hoped would be their next meal, Annalyn raised her hunting bow. Mindful not to make a sound, she slowly fitted an arrow to the string, aimed as she pulled, then released.

The arrow sang, and the bird disappeared behind a tree. The broken rhythm of its wings told her she had hit her target—though not true enough if the poor thing was still alive.

Sick at heart, Annalyn hastened ahead in hopes of putting the poor bird out of its misery.

Following the sounds, she promptly found the pheasant as it floundered in a patch of sunlight. Grieved by its suffering, Annalyn approached the injured bird, and weighed her method.

Hunting was a necessary skill out here, and she was usually good at it. Nevertheless, this was the part she hated. If only her arrow had hit true.

Whispering a heartfelt apology, Annalyn took care of it in a manner that was both swift and humane. As the pheasant grew still, a sound drew her attention, a faint trickle from somewhere between the trees. Slinging her bow upon her back, she saw what looked to be a spring-fed pool, at the bottom of a rock wall that might have been part of a ridge.

Thinking it would be a good spot to pluck the bird's feathers and clean the meat, Annalyn made for the water's edge and knelt down.

Scarcely had she done so when a feeling came over her. There was something off about this pond, about the faint but sickening smell that hung in the air.

With the bird dangling from one hand, it wasn't long before she spotted something protruding from the water on the other side of the pool. Branches?

No, she realised with a widening gaze. They were antlers, the rest of the skull just visible beneath the surface. For the first time since venturing in this forest, her ears picked up the low buzzing of flies.

With a growing sense of dread, and no small amount of disgust, Annalyn surveyed the entirety of the pool and found that there were bones in the water, along with floating bits of foamy brown… stuff. She didn't even want to know.

This was a feeding ground. But who or what fed here? Annalyn shot to her feet, but in her haste, she lost her grip on the pheasant. As it slipped from her fingers, she mouthed a silent curse and made to grab its wing. Alas, the bird plopped into the foul water before she could catch it. As ripples radiated around the pheasant, she recoiled then shifted her focus to the rock wall beyond the pool.

The spring that bubbled from the rock wall ran clear. However, the same could not be said for a second source, not five feet away. It was some sort of run-off, reddish-brown, with a faint but sickening smell. Trying not to gag, Annalyn followed the glistening stain with her eyes, and saw that it came from a cave, just up above. Discarded bones could be seen near the opening.

Annalyn's throat bobbed, her heart thumping so hard as to drown out everything. Eyes on the cave, she backed up a few steps, leaving the pheasant where it was—it grieved her to do so, but the meat was most likely tainted anyway.

She backed up another step. Her boots squished into what she hoped was mud. And then she heard something. A growl, or a low guttural voice. More than one actually. From deep within the cave. They didn't sound like Orcs. Trolls, then?

This is not good.

More than ready to leave, she took another backward step, before turning and running out of there as quickly as her feet would carry her.

Upon reaching Cobalt, Annalyn released his tether, and climbed in the saddle. Moments later, she arrived at their rendezvous spot only to find that Haldir had yet to arrive. "Damn…" she breathed, as her horse pranced beneath her frame.

Keeping to the sunlit meadow lining the forest, Annalyn rode along the tree-line in hopes of finding Haldir.

If that was a troll den, she and Haldir would be safe enough for now—for trolls were unique in the sense that they turned to stone in sunlight. Even so, Annalyn had no desire to remain here. "Pssst!" she hissed as she drew rein by the forest, hoping Haldir's elven ears would pick up the sound. "Haldir!" A sharp whisper.

Receiving no reply, she rode forth for a few minutes, then doubled back. "Haldir!" she called again, slightly louder this time. "Haldir!"

"What is it?" He came running out of the forest, alarm etched all over his face.

"We are not staying here," she answered at once. "There is a nasty cave in that forest. It think it might be a troll den. I heard growls inside." Turning in the saddle, Annalyn fastened her bow and quiver to her saddle bag. Once that was done, she saw that Haldir had already closed the distance.

"Climb on," she told him as Cobalt stamped on the spot.

For once, Haldir did not argue. Before she knew it, he had swung up behind her, his inner thighs hugging the sides of hers.

"It might be best if you held tight," Annalyn suggested and spurred her horse as his hands found her hips.


They had been galloping for a while when Annalyn decided to ease their pace to a light trot. Dusk had since fallen, and the stars were out, along with a full moon. To their right, the Misty mountains stretched in a southerly route, their icy tops tinged in the bluish glow of night.

"The valley is quiet this night," Haldir said from behind her shoulder. "Whatever creatures dwelt in that cave, they have not followed. We can halt if you are weary."

But Annalyn remained unsettled. "I do not think I can sleep out here. Not quite yet. Would you mind if we rode a little farther still?"

When Haldir voiced no objection, Annalyn smoothed a hand over Cobalt's mane. "What say you, my friend?" She glanced at the animal, looking for signs of fatigue. But then, to her surprise, Haldir actually leaned forward. Peering over her shoulder, he addressed Cobalt, repeating her query in Sindarin.

As if in answer, the horse blew a breath from his nostrils, and kept on trotting.

"He does not mind." Haldir stated matter-of-factly. She had to laugh.

"How does that work exactly? The way you speak to him."

They were edging a grouping of shrubs when Haldir answered over the light clipping of hooves. "The Elves call it sanwe-latya."

"Sanwe…la…tya?"

"In the common tongue, it means 'thought-opening'."

Annalyn frowned even as she smiled. "Do you mean to say you can read thoughts?" It would be an impressive skill to be sure, but one that unnerved her a little. If Haldir could read minds, then he might be able to read her innermost thoughts, her feelings, parts of herself that were hers and hers alone. The notion that he might know more than she was ready or willing to share settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach.

Haldir replied, "It is said that we all can, however it takes a strong mind to master the skill and use it freely. But in answer to your query…" His tone gentled. "Nay, I cannot read the thoughts of Elves or Men."

Annalyn would have sagged in relief had she not caught herself in time.

"However, I am keen of hearing. And by the way your stomach is currently growling, I shall venture a guess, and say you are thinking of food."

He was not wrong. She was famished. When her stomach growled again, heat rose to her cheeks. How embarrassing.

Haldir spoke over her shoulder. "We shall have to remedy that before long."

"I almost did. Oh Haldir, it was such a waste," she lamented and told him of the pheasant she had killed. "Poor bird. I shot it for naught."

"The blame lies not with you. Take heart," he said evenly, "Perhaps tomorrow will bring better fortune."

Annalyn could only hope. After all, the lembas was long gone. And they were almost out of dried meat.

"Once we reach Lothlórien, you shall not lack for food," Haldir went on to say. "This I can promise you. Fruit, pastries,"—Annalyn groaned on a laugh, her mouth watering at the mere thought of it—"bread and greens topped with—"

Head thrown back, she begged him to stop. Even with her eyes closed, the vision was clear as glass in her mind; a long table laden with all manner of succulent dishes. "You," she said with emphasis, "are not helping."

His chuckle reverberated against her back, the low rumble a delight to her senses. It was then that she realised how close they were sitting. How her head was still resting against his shoulder. A precarious edge for sure.

As the saddle swayed beneath her frame, Annalyn clamped her teeth over her bottom lip, and turned her face just so, wondering. Haldir was only visible in her periphery. Still, she sensed his quiet gaze on her, heard the slight change in his breathing.

The effect was immediate and profound. Desire, the likes of which she had not felt in a long time, if ever, ignited from deep within her being. He will see. He will know.

Still, Annalyn did not turn away. Had no desire to.


Haldir was riveted, unable to tear his eyes from the woman whose moonlit face was a scant few inches from his own.

Annalyn's head was only partly turned. Still, he discerned the blush that was now painting her cheeks, the sight stirring him in ways he could not define. In truth, Haldir was unaccustomed to riding in this fashion, with a woman's form so close to his. "Distracting" was a good word for it. A very good word at that.

Just now, when Annalyn had asked if he could read minds, Haldir had answered truthfully; her thoughts were unknown to him. Even so, there was much he could sense, hear, and see. And right now, whether she realised it or not, Annalyn was an open book to him. The softness of her downcast features, combined with the hastening beats of her heart, reminded him of that fateful night, when gentle emotions had prompted her to cradle his face and kiss his mouth.

In the aftermath of that kiss, the two had agreed smother the feelings that had kindled between them. Clearly, they were failing in that regards. While Annalyn had yet to meet his eyes, the narrow space between his chest and her back had long since vanished.

Enthralled, Haldir swept a gaze along the line of her neck—down then up toward the rounded shell of her ear. A strange but lovely shape, he thought and looked to her face once more.

As an unwed Elf, Haldir was seldom influenced by the desires of his body alone, but now that his heart was in play, a profound yearning had settled into his flesh, quickening his blood and making his head spin.

With closing eyes, he swallowed hard but did not move away. Nor did he ask to dismount so he could walk instead.

Perhaps this made him a fool, or a glutton for punishment, but as they rode beneath the glittering stars, Haldir's hands remained on Annalyn's hips, his fingers savouring the warmth of her skin through her clothing. Try as he might, it was an effort not to envision the smooth curves beneath.

Though unintended, their ride had turned into an exercise in restraint, one that further blurred the line they had drawn in the sand. As the saddle rocked beneath them, Haldir was painfully aware of Annalyn's nearness, of the maddening friction that marked every hoofbeat.

Ae

Before his body could fully betray him, revealing the extent of his desire, Haldir summoned whatever strength was left to him, and released her hips in favour of laying his palms on his thighs. Regretful though it was, the loss off contact helped to slow his blood and dissolve the spell.

Shaking herself out of it, Annalyn mirrored his retreat by straightening her spine and creating a gap between them. She was staring straight ahead, with noticeable tension in her shoulders. With forced casualness she said, "We should make camp. This seems like a good spot."

Annalyn drew rein near a lone pine tree, and Cobalt came to a full stop. She dismounted first, and when he followed suit, his feet meeting the grass on the opposite side of the horse, Haldir noticed how she wouldn't look him in the eye. With the saddle between them, he watched as she unfastened her rolled blanket from where it was secured. Softly, he said, "Annalyn—"

"This buckle..." She made a show of struggling with the leather strap. "I should have replaced it before setting off. I shall have to see to it when I get home." A few more tugs and it came free. "There. Would you mind feeding Cobalt for me? There is a bag of oats in my saddle pack." She spoke on a breath and, barely meeting his eyes, gave a nervous smile. "I am dead from all that riding."

Whatever else she might be feeling, Haldir could tell that Annalyn was embarrassed. The sight pained and shamed him.

No sooner had he agreed to tend to Cobalt, than she expressed her thanks and left him there.