Once again, I want to thank all my readers, and all who have favourited or are following the story. It means a lot. As always, a special shout-out goes to my reviewers: leelee202, Blue1258, durinsdaugher2469btw, leward1992, Doria Nell, Gandalf007, Shaun, WickedGreene13, SmallLittleCagedBird, Rogue's Queen, and FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff. Your reviews on chapter 31 totally made my week.


CHAPTER XXXII

KIN

Annalyn was holding on, waging a silent battle as he sat in vigil at her bedside.

As scout and sentinel, Haldir knew what it was to wait, watching for the enemy, sometimes for days at a time. But this was another, more difficult kind of waiting. His quiet patience—deep as it ran—was slowly being drained, depleted by the sight of her suffering.

"How long?" he asked Ithriel, brows drawn in a frown. "How long will she be like this?" But Orophin's wife had no answer.

Weakened and barely conscious, Annalyn gave a wheezing cough. The white gown the healers had given her was now damp with sweat, her newly-washed skin flushed with fevered heat.

"The medicine is wearing off it would seem." Concerned for Annalyn's wellbeing, Ithriel bade him to move aside, then gently lifted her head to administer another dose. Setting the empty phial to the side, Ithriel turned to her charge once more, and began to speak softly. Ancient words. Healing words. The gentle medicine of Elves.

Gradually, after an endless moment, Annalyn ceased to stir, her limbs relaxing as both draught and incantation settled into her being. As she fell into healing sleep, Haldir resumed his vigil, and stayed all throughout the morning.

Needing to prepare more medicine, Ithriel let him be, but after a time she approached, saying, "You should go and rest." The sun was higher now, its light seeping through the canvas walls. "The medicine I gave her is quite potent. She will not wake for many hours. Perhaps not until nightfall."

"Her breathing is shallow," he remarked.

"It is." A sigh of agreement, the sound blending with the delicate scrape of pestle and mortar. "Her lungs have yet to clear." Adding more herbs, Ithriel proceeded to crush them into a paste, releasing a fresh but pungent scent. Finished with her task, she then leaned over the bed, and placed a hand on Annalyn's brow. "She does not feel as warm as before."

"Is her fever breaking?"

"Mayhap." Ithriel straightened, but seemed uncertain. "But the medicine may be acting as a mask. Only time will tell."

Holding to quiet hope, Haldir looked to Annalyn once more. Though he maintained a tight hold on his emotions, he felt Ithriel's gaze on him. Much like his brothers last night, she had been quietly observing him all morning, no doubt wondering what their story was. "She was travelling with you?"

Haldir nodded but did not look away from Annalyn. "For nigh on a month," he answered as memories began to surface—overlapping images of her, marching, riding, fighting, her chestnut braid slicing the air in time with her sword. Then a softer recollection—Annalyn smiling at him, the light of their campfire dotting her hazel eyes.

"I found her when her company was waylaid by Orcs." Though spoken softly, that last word left the bitterest taste in his mouth, flashes of blood, metal, and cruelty cascading in his thoughts. "The others did not survive."

"Her kin?"

Haldir thought of Feran, the kind and aging man who had led the company. And of Aldin, his son. Good men, the both of them. "Yes."

"That is quite sad."

There was movement outside. Haldir glanced up to see Orophin standing by the open curtain. His gaze went first to his wife, warming as she acknowledged him, but then, looking to Haldir, his features became more subdued. "Any change?"

When Haldir shook his head, Ithriel went to Orophin. "Your brother needs to go home." She spoke in whispers. "He has not eaten, nor has he taken any rest."

She meant well, but Haldir pinned her with a stare nonetheless. "You know I can hear you quite clearly from here."

Orophin took a few steps forward. "That may be so, but Ithriel is correct in this. Save for the council, you have not left here since your return to the city."

"She is in good hands, Haldir," Ithriel assured him.

He knew this. He did. But the idea of leaving, even for a short while, struck an anxious chord in him, one he promptly sought to hide, even from these two.

"Very well." It wasn't so much a concession as a need to walk and breathe, to shake the quiet fear that gripped him still. Mouth set in a line, Haldir rose, hand brushing Annalyn's arm as he turned toward his kin. "Send for me at once if there is any change."

Ithriel nodded to him as another healer entered the pavilion, a silver ewer in one hand, a folded gown in the other.

Thus it was that Haldir left the healers to their craft, grabbing his bow and exiting the pavilion while Orophin stayed behind.

Despite the airy beauty of the city around him, he felt trapped, as if enclosed in a tight space. Despite his kin's concerns, he could not go home just yet.

Haldir needed space. He needed to move, to expel the nervous tension that was coiled in the pit of his stomach. And so he prowled on, hurrying along smooth paths and stone steps. Honestly, he hadn't known where he was going until he was there.

The Galadhrim's training yard was empty, the turf shaded by fluttering leaves. His gaze straying beyond the trees, Haldir saw two soldiers in the distance, their features sad and solemn as they conversed quietly by the armoury. When they noticed him, each bowed their heads in acknowledgement and respect, but they did not approach.

A gloom hung about them. He understood why.

The bliss of Lórien had been disturbed this day. Shortly before daybreak, when the last star had faded from view, Lady Galadriel had spoken to all, her grave words echoing in the hearts and minds of all who dwelt here.

The world is changed, threatened by darkness risen once more. Many have felt it. A few amongst you have known it. But now the hour has come for all to know… Sauron, the Enemy of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth, has returned.

Haldir, who had been standing outside the pavilion at the time, had seen his brothers' blanching faces. A glance toward the entrance had revealed Ithriel's haunted features.

His back pressed to a mallorn, Haldir had lifted his eyes to the golden leaves above. He had thought that hearing the news would have been easier the second time around. But he had thought wrong.

With a blank stare, he had listened as the Lady spoke of hope, of the light that yet remained, here in Lothlórien, as well as in other lands, and in the hearts of those who would do good in this world. A fading world, he had thought to himself, before looking to the pavilion once again, glimpsing the fevered features of the woman who lay within. A mortal woman who had roused his immortal heart.

Returning to the present, Haldir set his bow and quiver against the empty weapons rack. At the center of the training yard, he breathed in deep, sank into his thoughts, and unsheathed his sword.

As he lunged and spun, Haldir imagined a ring of fell creatures, each nastier than the last. One by one, he slew them all, grimacing in anger.

For indeed, he was angry. Angry that he had not reached Annalyn and her kin in time that night. Angry that he had not been able to save Feran, or find Aldin. Angry that he had waited so long to race towards Lothlórien when Annalyn had first fallen ill. He was even angry at the world, angry because it was fading.

In a violent dance of steel, he twisted and drove his sword forward. You think wrong, he amended and spun yet again. The world is not to blame. A corrupted Maia was. Sauron. And before him Morgoth, the disgraced Vala who had unleashed so much of the evils in this world.

But even as he admitted this, Haldir knew that he had not reached the bottom of his anger, that there was more to what he currently felt.

Annalyn was mortal. She was mortal and he was not. She would die regardless, if not today then one day. And if she did survive her illness, she will leave. She would make for Rohan, to live amongst her people. It was better that way.

You must let her go.

His sword fell on a downstroke.

She is mortal.

It was utterly unjust.

Haldir leapt, the painful truth repeating over and over in his mind. She is mortal. She is mortal. When he landed, he rolled, found his stance and immediately swung his blade in a two-handed grip, severing the head of an imaginary foe. Again and again he swung his sword, and did not stop until he was spent, his thoughts emptied.

At last, he straightened and stood there, breathing hard. A rare drop of sweat dripped from his brow, catching the light as it fell to the grass.

The sun had already begun its slow descent by then. How long had he been out here?

Sheathing his sword, Haldir inhaled deeply, and felt a change come over him, a peace born out of exertion. It would fade, he knew, but then imaginary hordes were infinite. He could face them anytime he wished, or needed to.

Ready to leave at last, Haldir fetched his bow and got underway. With all that had happened, he had neither bathed nor changed his clothing since arriving in Caras Galadhon. It was high time.

Intent on hurrying home, he was halfway to his dwelling when the sound of his name made him turn. Orophin was approaching, passing in the shadow of a mallorn. For a moment, Haldir thought Ithriel might have sent him, but he soon realised that was not the case.

"I see you are finally heading home," Orophin remarked as he caught up to him. "May I walk with you?"

In all honesty, Haldir was not in the mood for company, but he relented anyway, with a nod.

At first, the two walked in silence, but then Orophin spoke, "The maid of Rohan—" And there it was. Haldir had known that his brother would ask about her at some point. Trying not to show his turmoil, he readied himself for whatever Orophin was going to say, or ask.

"She is dear to you."

His heart clenched painfully in his chest.

His brother was observant, always had been. But while Orophin had guessed right, Haldir did not easily speak of such things.

"Annalyn is kind and brave." A deflection, the only confession he felt comfortable making at this time. "She has endured much and does not deserve what has befallen her."

Orophin merely regarded him as they walked. Thankfully, he refrained from asking any more questions. At least for the time being.

They marched onward, their feet silent against stone as they finally took to the stairs. Carved into a hill of lush turf and ancient roots, the staircase led to a large stone terrace edged with statues, fruit trees, and elegant balustrades.

The smell of baking bread floated in the air, for a dwelling stood nearby, with adjacent kitchens that served all those who dwelt in the mallorn above—the same mallorn Haldir and his brothers called home.

"Bestedir and Glirwen learned of your return," Orophin said of the wedded pair who spent most of their days in the kitchens, not because they were obligated to, but because food was their craft, deeply-loved and eagerly shared. "I am told they have prepared something for you."

Haldir appreciated the gesture, alas he had no desire to eat at the moment. "Perhaps later." His heart a dull weight in his chest, he slowed, and approached the balustrade on one side of the terrace.

As Orophin came to stand beside him, Haldir surveyed the sloping hill below, his gaze slowly rising to take in the footbridges linking the dwellings in the trees. Caras Galadhon. If he was honest, he had wanted Annalyn to see it, had thought they might stroll the city at night, when the lamp-lit forest was at its most beautiful. She would have loved it, he thought. But now… Would she even see it?

Needing respite from his thoughts, Haldir squared his shoulders, speaking not as Orophin's brother but as Marchwarden. "With the current state of the world, Lothlórien has need of its sentinels. I trust you and Rúmil are departing in the morning?"—to make for the marches and resume their duties.

"Indeed."

Haldir was heartened to hear it. Under normal circumstances, he would have accompanied them, but not this time. Not for a few days at least. "I shall not be going with you tomorrow. The Lord and the Lady have convened a council. I am to attend."

"I thought they might. The realm needs to prepare for what is to come." A shadow of worry crossed Orophin's features. When it passed, he nodded once, saying, "We shall look for your return."

Moving away from the balustrade, Haldir made for the ascending staircase at the northern end of the terrace, his brother by his side.

Following it, they climbed the tree that had always been their home. Though not the mightiest, the stair-wrapped mallorn was a towering refuge, taller than most of the trees nearby. Passing small dwellings along the way, the brothers proceeded toward the great tree limbs beneath the crown.

At length, Rúmil's home came into view. Similar to Haldir's, it was smaller than Orophin's, but no less beautiful. Passing before it, they noticed a familiar figure, walking aimlessly on the talan outside.

Much like the soldiers outside the armoury, Rúmil seemed pensive and saddened.

This had been a dark day indeed—for all the Elves—the news of Sauron's return more distressing than aught they had imagined.

Seeing his youngest brother from afar, and the pensiveness that was also lurking in Orophin's eyes, Haldir felt a growing niggle of guilt. He had been so absorbed by his own turmoil that he had not been there for them today, not in the way a brother, or Marchwarden, should.

"Come," he told Orophin, and saw the question in his eyes. When he realised Haldir's intent, the middle brother smiled in gratitude, and followed.

And so the three gathered in the light of the setting sun.

"It is good to see you, brother," Rúmil said as Haldir clasped his arm in greeting, his other hand landing heavily upon his shoulder.

"I should have come sooner," Haldir said, and meant it. "It has been a wretched day for everyone."

"A part of me cannot believe the news." Rúmil lowered his eyes. "Or perhaps I simply do not wish to believe. Sauron…" A shudder went through him. He looked to Haldir. "I hear you found an Orc camp. Is it true there are many more out there?"

"I wish it was not so, but alas... it is true."

"We always knew this day might come." Orophin sighed.

"It is long since we have met like this," Rúmil said. "The three of us. Here. I have just the thing for it." With that, he disappeared into his home, saying he would return presently.

In the gathering dusk, Haldir and Orophin waited for their brother. Movement netting their attention, they looked to see Rúmil emerging from the dwelling. As he made his way over, he produced a bottle from the folds of his cloak. And not just any bottle, but the wine they normally reserved for feasts.

"With all that has come to pass…" Rúmil smiled wanly as he neared. "I thought we might share it."

Producing three narrow glasses, he handed them out, and began pouring.

Their glasses filled, the brothers formed a loose circle. Eyes in a faraway gaze, Rúmil raised his glass ever so slightly, his tone uncommonly glum when he said, "To the world."

And what shall remain of it, Haldir couldn't help but think, but did not say it aloud.

It was strange. Though he had initially craved solitude, he was actually glad to be with his brothers. Metaphorically speaking, they formed what he felt were three pillars of a roof. They had borne the weight of many sorrows throughout the years—from the death of their parents, to losses suffered on the battlefield. Out on the marches, they fought side by side, oft defending each other. So long as they had one another to lean on, they would not fall. At least that was Haldir's belief, and his hope.

Taking a swallow, he considered them both. So different were they.

Begotten exactly thirty years after Haldir, Orophin was probably the most tender-hearted of the three. The compassionate one, as their mother had called him. Unfailingly kind and respectful, he was perceptive and inquisitive. A little too inquisitive at times, especially toward Haldir, whom their mother had always referred to as the brave but mysterious one.

Rúmil, by comparison, was the most outspoken of the three, a wild spirit, with a quick smile and a swift mind. Oft dubbed "the little wanderer", he had been something of a handful growing up. How many times had he and Orophin gone to look for him as a child? Haldir could not remember. At any rate, it was beyond count.

They had loved him though, exasperating as he had been at times. But Rúmil had grown, had gained wisdom and maturity, just like they had. And now, all these years later, they proudly served together on the marches, their contrasting personalities balancing each other out, forming what many felt was a formidable patrol.

Twilight was fast approaching, the shadows growing longer as the sun dove into the west. Having drained their glasses, the brothers rose to say good night.

"I shall come by in the morning," Orophin was saying to Rúmil as they calmly strode across the talan. "We could march to the border together."

"I would like that."

"Rest well," Orophin said, but Rúmil sighed.

"Alas, I do not think I will find rest this night." As he walked, Rúmil told them that he was thinking of heading down to the armoury, where most of the off-duty soldiers had gathered following the news. "Will you come?" he asked them.

Orophin seemed to consider it for a moment. "I do not think Ithriel will come home this night. I will go."

"Haldir?" Rúmil was looking at him.

Normally, Haldir would have gone, no question. But this time…

"In a while perhaps. First, I must change and look in on Annalyn."

His youngest brother nodded, but something flickered in his eyes, and was gone before Haldir could decipher what it was. "I shall see you later, then." On these words, Rúmil continued toward the spiral staircase, Orophin following in his wake.

As he watched them leave, Haldir noted that the kindling of the lamps had begun. One by one, they began to glow. Most were the colour of starlight, but some were gold and green. Soon, their light would fill this peaceful fortress of trees, lending an ethereal glow to the ancient city.

Resuming the climb, Haldir passed in front Orophin's dwelling—the one they had lived in as children—then proceeded toward his own. Situated on an opposing tree-limb, he had to leave the staircase and follow a footbridge in order to reach it.

Compared to many dwellings, his was not very large, but it suited him, providing a quiet retreat when he was not on the marches. In truth, he was rather attached to it, hence the reason he had chosen not to reside in his parents' dwelling following their passing. Him being the oldest, it would have been his by rights. But he had felt that Orophin, who had been newly-wed at the time, would have made better use of it. And he had.

Haldir reached his home at last. No sooner had he walked in than a note caught his eye, the folded paper contrasting against the dark wooden grain of his desk. Setting his bow and quiver by the door, he crossed the space, removing his sword-belt as he went, and picked it up.

I asked the chamber maid to fill your bath, and since I suspect you have not eaten, I had food brought up also.

Welcome home, dear brother, and rest well.

Ithriel

Chuckling softly to himself, Haldir shook his head and folded the note. Ever since Ithriel had wed Orophin, she had become something of a doting sister to him, and to Rúmil as well. It was in her nature, he supposed. She lived to care for others.

Turning from his desk, he considered the food that had been laid out on his small table. He had yet to find his appetite, but he made an effort. Ignoring the main course, he inspected a tray of pastries, chose one at random, and wolfed it down. Wasting no time, he made for the curving staircase hugging the northern wall, and climbed to the room above. Overlooking the rest of the dwelling, his bedroom had a sheer drop on one side, and a small balcony on the other. In many ways, it was like a flet, but indoors.

Aside from a wooden cupboard, a chair, and a bed, the upper level did not contain very many things. But then, this was where he came to rest, to lie or sit while he dreamed.

A brief perusal of his wardrobe and he chose a fresh set of clothing. Having gathered all he needed, Haldir made his way down the stairs, through the main living area, and out onto the lower balcony out back. Larger than the one upstairs, it spanned the length of the dwelling, providing a wide view of the woods to the east. On the northern end of the platform was a leaf-shaped section with a lattice roof and elegant wooden partitions that allowed for privacy.

There, he found that the bath had been filled with scented water. Curls of steam could be seen rising from it. When he finally eased himself into the soothingly hot bath, Haldir felt all tension leave his muscles. Chest rising on a sigh, he tilted his head back into the water, then sat back up.

Regardless of how nice it felt, his ablutions were hurried, but efficient. Once he had dried himself, Haldir quickly donned his clothes—simple garb of black and grey, much like he wore on the marches. Then, once he had re-braided his hair, he retrieved then fastened his sword-belt, and was on his way to see Annalyn.

He arrived just as Ithriel was exiting the pavilion, her silver hair almost white in the light of the lamps. Upon seeing him, she started in his direction. "She sleeps still." Her glance toward the entrance told him he could go inside.

Entering, he saw that Annalyn was not alone. Another healer was quietly working in the corner, looking over various phials and herbs. Noting his approach, the healer decided to give them a moment. As she left, Haldir spared her a glance, but soon turned his attention to Annalyn. Indeed, she was asleep. Her gown had been swapped for another, he noted, the neckline slightly different than her previous one. Looking to her face, he saw that her cheeks were flushed, but that sweat no longer speckled her brow—a good sign hopefully.

"I am here," he said quietly, though it was doubtful she could hear him. I cannot help you, but I am here.

It is strange what can happen in a moment, how a single thought can birth another. As he stood there, eyes on her slumbering face, a thought suddenly came to him. Haldir was not a healer; he could not cure her of this ailment. But he was a soldier, a Marchwarden of Lothlórien. He could help Annalyn in other ways. And he would.

Secure in the knowledge that she was being well cared for, Haldir quietly left her side, nodding to Ithriel as he made for the path leading to the center of the city, purpose guiding his every step.

By the time he returned, sometime in the middle of the night, permission had been sought and granted, the proper arrangements made. His heart the lighter for it, Haldir neared the pavilion once again.

Ithriel came into view first, through the entrance, and when she saw him, her face broke into a smile. "There you are. I was just going to summon you."

His heart sped up at her words, and so did his feet. Crossing the threshold, he looked to the bed. A part of him already knew what he would see. "Annalyn?" He stopped in his tracks.

She was awake, awake, sitting on the bed with her legs dangling off to the side. Hands braced on either side of her, Annalyn glanced toward the entrance with slight confusion. But when she saw him, the uncertainty in her face ebbed away, replaced instead by a smile, joyous and heartfelt. "Haldir," she breathed.

It was the most heartwarming sound he had ever heard.


So here was chapter 32.

Before I settle in to edit the next part, I just wanted to say how much I appreciate each and every one of you for your patience. I know this story isn't fast paced. Most of the scenes in these current chapters were written a long time ago. And because I've always known where the story would lead, I think I underestimated how frustrating it could be from a reader's perspective. For those who are interested in continuing the journey, know that I won't leave you hanging. Of course, there will be hurdles along the way. Haldir and Annalyn have much to figure out and much to learn about one another. But that being said, they will get there. I promise.

Anyway, thanks again (and sorry for the continuing slow burn). I hope you are all doing well, and I hope you all have a great weekend.

Sincerely,

CygnusRift