As always, thanks go out to all my readers and reviewers. leward1992, Blue1258, durinsdaughter2469btw, Rogue's Queen, LadyConfidential, Hexzhana, mycarnation, SmallLittleCagedBird, Raider-K, Cricklewood16, leelee202, and AshleyLeigh. Your reviews on the last chapter warmed my heart.
Random note: If this story had a soundtrack, this chapter's song would be "Interlude" by London Grammar. I must have listened to it a hundred times while writing this part.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
IN THE WANING NIGHT
Annalyn's boot remained fixed on the fourth step, her eyes riveted on the hidden space above.
Haldir's bedroom was up there, and though he wanted her to stay in his home, to venture into his personal space seemed rather intrusive, if not downright intimate.
Fidgeting with the strap of her satchel, Annalyn chewed her bottom lip, and felt her heart quicken. For a moment, she considered sleeping on the lounging couch, but then decided it might be discourteous. Indecision gnawed at her, yet she willed her feet to move. With quiet footsteps, she scaled the curved staircase until the side of a cupboard came into view, followed by the room itself.
Her feet slowed to a stop.
The space was clean and beautiful, bathed in lamplight. In addition to the cupboard, it contained a wooden chair, and an elegant bed—his bed—with a curved headboard, crisp pillows, and beautiful white bedding.
Stepping further into the room, Annayn turned on the spot. The walls were pale, the ceiling veined and vaulted like the rest of the house. A door there was also, next to the cupboard. Her best guess was that it led to a privy. Looking to the far end of the room, past the swaying curtains, she descried another balcony, smaller than the one below, but with a rail this time.
Given the easterly view, she reckoned the space would be filled with light in the morning, the rays seeping through the white curtains to warm not only the bed, but the entire room as well.
Her chin dipped downward, a reluctant but yielding smile finding light on her lips. Reticent or not, she had to own that the room was perfect.
Sending her silent thanks to Haldir, Annalyn set her satchel upon the bed. But as her fingers brushed the bedding, her mind betrayed her, conjuring a maddening image of him in said bed, his fair skin made even fairer in moonlight, his strong and noble features softened by elven dreams.
Rather annoyed with her wayward thoughts, Annalyn heaved a sigh, but that only made things worse, for his scent lingered here, too. Gracious… What that Elf did to her.
Annalyn plopped down on the edge of the bed, pressed the heels of her hands to her eye-sockets. You must cease this. After all, he was most likely hurting right now, fretting or grieving for his soldiers. Another breath, followed by a brief glance around the room, and she let herself fall backwards.
His bed was a cloud, her back, neck, and shoulders finding immediate rest. Not so for her thoughts, however. As they swirled around whatever was happening near the gates, concern welled in her being once more. In truth, she was worried as well—for the soldiers, but mostly for Haldir.
It was late. Later than the time she usually went to bed. Yet despite the long hours of the day, Annalyn felt restless. Eyes on the ceiling, she blew out a breath.
Sleep would not come easy this night.
"What a wretched day." Rúmil dragged a tired hand over his face as he exited the home of Celegon, with Haldir and Orophin following behind. "The first of many, I wager. Curse the Orcs!" Frustrated, he swept his boot over a fallen leaf. "And curse this coming war." In four strides, the youngest brother had reached the edge of the talan, where he stopped to look out into the night, with his bow hanging by his side.
Wearied by the events of the day, Haldir stopped just outside the dwelling to cast a lingering look at the wounded soldier sleeping inside. Rest well, my friend. Given the severity of his wound, Celegon had been fortunate in a sense. But thanks to the healers, the Lady Galadriel, and perhaps even by the grace of the Valar, Celegon and his brother Celondir would live. So would Agoron. The road to recovery, however, would be a long one.
After the three soldiers had been carried from the gates to their respective homes, Haldir and his brothers had visited them each in turn, to stand vigil and support their kin, lending whatever strength they could.
Now Haldir remained in the doorway, staring past the main room, into the softly-lit chamber beyond, where Celegon's mother could be seen, watching over her slumbering son, her wearied features vacillating between sorrow and relief. Celegon's father, for his part, was in the neighbouring house, at his youngest son's bedside. Brave Celondir.
As Haldir finally stepped outside, Ithriel's words floated in the stillness, just loud enough to hear. "I cannot leave just yet, for Celegon will need more medicine ere the night is over. But you should go home," Ithriel was saying to Orophin, her hand resting against his cheek as they stood off to the side. "Take some rest. Sleep if you can."
When Orophin acquiesced with a nod and a tender kiss to her brow, Ithriel briefly closed her eyes. As the wedded pair lingered in this fashion, Haldir could not miss the love and gratefulness on Ithriel's face. He understood why. Like all who served on the fences, her husband could very well have been injured. Or worse.
As Orophin bid his wife good night, Ithriel leaned back against a column, crossed her arms, then looked to Haldir and Rúmil. "The same for the both of you. It has been a long night."
Heeding Ithriel's words, Haldir and Rúmil followed after Orophin. But as they passed her by, Ithriel looked away from her husband's retreating form, and turned her gaze on Haldir. Watch over him, her eyes seemed to say.
His hand settled on her shoulder. Haldir gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. You know I always do.
And so, with the night's events weighing on his shoulders, Haldir left the talan, and started along the footbridge that would lead them home. With Rúmil walking alongside him, it was not long before they caught up with Orophin. Presently, the middle brother wore his guilt like a shroud. Haldir could see it. So could Rúmil, who said, "You mustn't be so hard on yourself. You might have been in command, but there was nothing you could have done. Tell him, Haldir."
"Rúmil is right," Haldir said, though he understood his brother's guilt, and often shared it. "You are blameless in this."
Orophin slowed to a stop. On a wry chuckle, he countered, "Says the warden who carries every command and every outcome. You know it as well as I. As different as we appear to be on the surface, we are cut from the same cloth you and I." Sadness crossed his features once again. To both of his brothers, he said, "So please allow me my guilt. At least on this night."
As Orophin resumed his walk, Rúmil opened his mouth to call after him, but Haldir stopped him with a murmured, "Let him be."
As their brother retreated into the distance, Haldir and Rúmil chose an alternate route. The footbridges were all but deserted, the treetops uncommonly quiet this time of night. At least until Rúmil glanced down and noticed something.
"Ah, curses! One of Orcs nicked my bow." Dismayed, he surveyed the damage—a small scratch just above the grip—and ground his teeth. "Filthy creatures."
While the nick could be treated with linseed oil, Haldir understood his brother's ire, for the bows of the Galadhrim were special in a number of ways. Made with the wood of mallyrn and strung with elf-hair, they were a symbol of merit, given only to those who had earned their place among the realm's elite fighting force.
With a sigh of annoyance, Rúmil slung his bow upon his back, and kept on walking. "Last night's battle," he began after a time, "I cannot get it out of my head. This was no ordinary assault, Haldir. These Orcs were highly organised."
As troubling as this was, Haldir was not exactly surprised. The Orcs, he knew, would be looking for any and all advantage at this point. "They are testing our defences, looking for any weakness in our tactics before the real battle begins."
"Morgul shafts and morgul blades." Rúmil grimaced in disgust. "It is long since we have seen such weapons, and never from the Orcs of Moria. Do you think they came from Minas Morgul?"
"That or Mordor. You've seen the Orcs passing by our borders. They were filing in from the south."
"I do not understand, if Sauron is gathering an army, why would he lessen his ranks to fill those of Moria, Dol Guldur, and the war camp in the north?"
"What are a few thousand soldiers when he likely has a hundred thousand at his disposal?"
"That is a sobering number." For once, Rúmil actually looked disquieted.
Haldir continued, "By invading parts of the north, Sauron forces us to remain hither."
"Hemming us in. It is a sound plan, I suppose."
If the Elves could not come to the aid of Gondor or Rohan, the easier it would be for Sauron to crush the world of Men, and all of Middle-earth.
The two fell silent. As they veered northward, onto a railed pathway lined with potted ferns, Rúmil said, "What now?"
"We continue our preparations and brace for war. But if Mordor or Minas Morgul are supplying poisoned shafts and blades to the hordes of Moria, the Lord and the Lady are not likely to let that stand."
Rúmil squared his shoulders. "If that is the case, and our next move is to disrupt their supply line, then count me in."
Haldir huffed a small laugh. "Ever eager to plunge into the fray, I see."
"What can I say, I aim to serve. For Lothlórien," he said, and swept a gaze all around. "The land of blossoms dreaming."
The two were nearing their home tree when Rúmil broached another subject. "I thought you should know, there has been much talk among the soldiers of late."
When Rúmil hesitated, Haldir stopped to face him. Somehow, he sensed what his brother was going to say.
Rúmil continued, "With all that has happened, and the sorrows that lie ahead, there are some who think it might be time to heed the call... That perhaps, the time has come for us to join our kindred in the West."
Haldir's heart constricted, for though he had guessed rightly, it was the one thing he was not prepared to hear. Indeed, a similar exodus had occurred a thousand years ago, when the Balrog had awoken in the mountains, striking fear into the hearts of those who dwelt in the Golden Wood.
But for Haldir, the idea of leaving Lothlórien, the only home he had ever known, was more than he could bear at the moment. Yet he had heard it said many times. It had been foretold long ago, that the time of the Elves was nearly over, and those who refused the journey to the Undying Lands would diminish and fade.
Unwilling to dwell on that future, Haldir sidestepped. "No matter the time that is left to us, Lothlórien has yet to diminish. It remains. And so long as it endures, I will defend it."
Rúmil seemed to take heart at that. "Somehow, I thought you might say this. Come what may, know that I will stand with you, brother. To the very end."
Touched by his brother's devotion, Haldir clasped a heavy hand over his shoulder. "You are a good soldier, Rúmil. Foolhardy at times, but worthy of the Galadhrim. I am proud to serve alongside you."
Rúmil clasped his arm in turn, and flashed an easy smile.
Their discussion at an end, the two resumed their walk. As Rúmil's home came into view, he said, "I raided Bestedir's cellars not that long ago, and found a most excellent case of wine. So potent, it took but one glass to numb my fingers. Bestedir insisted I take the entire crate. For some reason, he does not care for it."
Haldir's brows shot toward his hairline. "Somehow, I doubt a good wine should numb your fingers." At least not with one glass.
"Perhaps numb is too strong a word. It was but a slight tingle. I promise, the wine is quite flavourful. By the time I finished the bottle, I was feeling quite cheery. And that, dear brother, is precisely what we need this night. Each a bottle or two, and a game of dice, just to forget our woes. What say you?"
"As tempting at that sounds, I believe I will pass on your offer of dubious wine."
Rúmil laughed. "Craven."
Now it was his turn to smile. "Good night, Rúmil."
As this one started toward his home, he looked back to wave good night. But then something caught his gaze. Perplexed, Rúmil halted and peered into the night. "Who is that on your talan?"
As recognition dawned on Rúmil's features, Haldir followed his brother's gaze, and saw a familiar figure in the distance. Given the lateness of the hour, he would have thought Annalyn would have been sleeping by now. But sure enough there she was, sitting cross-legged on a bench by the door, her eyes bent on her scabbard as she ran an oiled cloth over the worn leather. Her fair features were soft but focused, and a wavy lock of her hair had fallen loose from her braid, the strand brushing against her cheek as it stirred in the breeze.
"Is she staying with you?" Rúmil sounded rather stunned.
Haldir looked to his brother once more. "She is staying in my home, yes. Just for the night. But in answer to your query, no, I will not be staying with her."
Rúmil pursed his lips. "I never thought I would be the one to say this, but I wish you would be more cautious around her."
"You need not be concerned." Haldir stated. "I know what I am doing."
"Do you?"
Irked by his brother's challenge, Haldir faced him fully, but held his tongue. For though he was loathe to admit it, Rúmil was probably right to doubt him. Because the sad truth was, Haldir had not the faintest idea what he was doing. Counter to good judgment, he had grown incredibly close to Annalyn—closer than he should given their differences.
"It is late," Haldir told his brother. "I shall see you in the morning."
Knowing he had met a wall, Rúmil backed up a step, but stared disapprovingly at Haldir's home. "Play with fire if you will, but do not forget… She is not bound to this world." When their eyes met once more, Rúmil drove his point home. "We, on the other hand, are."
And so it was that after a long and challenging night, the brothers parted ways. With Rúmil's bitter words clanging in his mind, Haldir scaled the upper staircase until he had reached the footbridge that led to his own dwelling. Given his turmoil, perhaps a visit was not the wisest course. But the sight of Annalyn had lightened his heavy heart, and he found himself going to her, startling her out of her thoughts when he spoke. "The night is late, yet here you are."
Annalyn looked up at once, and laughed softly in embarrassment. "Haldir." She abandoned her task and rose. As he neared, a shadow of worry took shape in her eyes. "I was told about your soldiers, that some were wounded. Are they well?"
"It could have gone ill," he allowed. "But they shall be. At present they are resting. Ithriel and the other healers will tend to them throughout the night."
"I am relieved to hear it." A brief silence ensued. Despite the mildness of the air, Annalyn crossed and rubbed her arms. Softly, she asked, "And what of you? You must be weary."
He was, but he smiled faintly all the same. "Given the late hour, I expected you would be, too."
"Sleep eludes me." She pointed over her shoulder, indicating his home. "I have not yet gone to bed. If you wish to retire, I can easily fetch a blanket and curl up just about anywhere."
Haldir raised a gracious palm. "My invitation stands. Besides, I do not intend to sleep this night." Instead, he meant to climb even higher toward the tree-tops, where he hoped to find peace and solace beneath the stars.
"I see." Something caught her eye, and she rose on her toes to see past his shoulder. "Your brother is in the city?"
Turning, he saw that Orophin was headed home at last.
"They both are," Haldir said by way of answer. "They will remain hither for a few days, until I leave for the marches. Then we shall make the journey together."
"I was happy to learn they were well." By these words, Haldir guessed that she had inquired about their wellbeing. His heart gladdened once more.
When her gaze returned to his, her smile was kind, her hazel eyes sparkling in the light of the lamps. Even so, while he wished he could spend more time with her, Haldir had not forgotten the lateness of the hour. "I suppose I should leave you to your sleep." Fingers hooked behind his cloak, Haldir bowed as he took a single step back, and bid her a good night.
But as he turned to leave, Annalyn said his name. When he found her eyes again, she said, "Since you do not plan on sleeping, perhaps you would care to join me?" Her shoulder rose on a shrug, yet Haldir caught the hint of colour in her cheeks. "I thought I might sit for a little while."
The idea was most pleasing to him. Therefore, as he agreed and came forth, Annalyn stepped aside and they both entered the house, leaving the night behind.
But the night beckoned once more.
As Annalyn and Haldir stepped inside the house, they lingered not, but crossed the length of the room, passing through the open archway to emerge on the east-facing balcony outside. There, Haldir helped her to sit on the very edge of it, boasting that it offered the second-best view in all the city.
"And what is the first?"
"I would rather not say, for I might show you ere you depart."
With lingering mirth, and quite a few butterflies in her stomach, Annalyn beheld the surrounding trees. The sight was enchanting, matched by nothing she had seen beyond these woods. Looking down, she had to own that it was somewhat dizzying as well. Elves, it seemed, were not overly concerned with excessive heights, and therefore did not always bother with rails.
Hands braced on either side of her, Annalyn craned her neck to gaze past her dangling feet, at the path that meandered far below. "My, that is quite a fall." She quickly drew back.
"I would never allow you to fall," Haldir stated simply, and she believed him. Looking ahead, he motioned toward the great city in the trees, his dark blue eyes catching the light of the lamps when he asked, "Tell me, is it all you thought it would be?"
Annalyn hummed in affirmation, and thought back on all she had seen today.
"It is strange." Her chest lifted on a thoughtful sigh. "I am here, seeing all of this with my own eyes, and yet a part of me thinks it is but a dream… Lothlórien." She laughed softly, her gaze rising toward the heavens. "Ah, grandfather, if you saw me now, what would you say? He who told such fanciful tales. Surely, he would not have believed it."
As childhood memories flitted through her mind, Annalyn smiled to herself until Haldir spoke.
"The days are passing swiftly. Soon you will depart." Her heart clenched at that. It was likely his did, too. "What will you do upon your return?"
"Truthfully?" She gave it some thought. "I have not yet decided. I know that war is brewing. That it is a treacherous time. Yet a part of me thinks I should do as I have always done—wander the mountains in search of healing herbs, which are always needed, especially in times of war. But I shall see." Annalyn pursed her lips. "I suppose it will depend on whether or not I find someone brave enough, or mad enough, to accompany me." Then came an afterthought, I could always go alone.
"What of you?" she began, turning the tables on him. "What will you do following all of this?"
He shrugged. "Supposing we are victorious—"
"You shall be." Her confidence netted a rare smile.
Haldir continued. "I suppose I, too, shall do as I have always done. Guard the realm…" He seemed pensive all of a sudden, eyes lost in a faraway gaze. "For as long as it endures."
Though he was adept at hiding his feelings, there was a definite air of sorrow about him. He frets for the realm. But then Lothlórien was his everything. She saw it on his face, and in all that he did. Indeed, there was no question that he would fight to the very end in order to save this city and all those he loved.
Her heart seized at the thought, but then went out to him. "It will endure," she murmured. "How could it not? Look at this place! It is nothing short of magical."
Haldir smiled a little at that, but when he turned to the city once more, a trace of doubt remained—that or a secret knowledge he had yet to impart.
Not knowing what else to say, Annalyn sat long in silence, until movement caught her eye.
Elves. Seven of them.
Tall and graceful, they were crossing a high footbridge, over yonder between the trees. Even from afar, Annalyn could see that the Lady Galadriel was among them.
"The Lady and her handmaidens," Haldir supplied in a voice pitched soft and low.
To see them walking slowly and silently beneath the boughs was most calming. Unlike the maidens, the Lady's features were luminous, swathed in moonlight. "Not moonlight," Annalyn whispered to herself, and straightened her spine without tearing her eyes away.
It was a remarkable sight. There was a glow about her, ethereal and surreal, that came not from the moon, nor from the lamps.
Haldir must have guessed her thoughts, for he explained, "The Lady is Calaquendi. It is what we call the Elves of Light. She resided aforetime in the Blessed Realms, beyond the Sundering Seas, where her eyes beheld the light of the Two Trees, holiest of things that ever existed in Arda." His voice faded somewhat. "Though they are no more."
Annalyn did not quite understand, but awed she was, her gaze trailing after the elven ruler as she walked onwards, gradually veering toward the east. Earlier that day, when she had first beheld the Lady Galadriel, Annalyn had noted a brilliance about her, but with the morning light upon them, she had believed it to be a trick of the sun. Now she was not so sure. "The light… How?"
"A part of her lives there still." It was a strange notion, rather beyond her grasp.
"Why did she leave?"
His chest rose on a soft but lingering sigh. "It is a long and sorrowful tale. Far too long and much too complicated for this night."
"Ah." Her gaze returned to the Lady and her maidens. "The Blessed Realms," she said, trying and failing to envision such a place.
"Aman it is called." Unless her ears were cheating her, there was sorrow in his words, and longing. She wondered why.
Their eyes met again. Annalyn asked, "Have you ever been there?"
Haldir merely shook his head. When he looked to the Elves once more, Annalyn did the same. Before long, the Lady faded from view. "They are beautiful," she said, smiling wistfully as the last of the maidens retreated in the distance.
Haldir's gaze was on her. She felt the weight of it, and then…
"As are you." Three words, earnest and profound, that stole the air out of her lungs.
Her mouth slightly agape, Annalyn looked sidelong at him, her hand absently rising to touch her hair. Haldir had called her beautiful. Haldir who did not say such things. He who was more fair than any man her eyes had seen.
Her heart quickened, in defiance of the little voice that warned her not to read too much into this. But Haldir had not moved, nor did he speak. His sapphire eyes remained fixed onto hers.
He had lowered the mask, it seemed. A rare display of the emotions beneath. Warmth, she saw, and fondness, layered over a deeper and more poignant emotion. Yearning, she realised, and felt the same.
How easy it would be, she thought, her hand rising, almost of its own volition. How easy it would be to give in. To narrow the gap and seek his warmth and profess all that she felt—gracious how she wanted to, but somehow restrained herself, at least in part.
Without being aware of it, her hand had risen to graze the side of his face. At her touch, Haldir closed his eyes. He was so incredibly still, his cheek warm and smooth, and when her fingers moved to his brow, gingerly following the elegant arch, he loosed a long, shuddering breath.
An answering touch moved along her forearm then, and she realised that he had sent his hand in search of her own. Strong fingers rose to slide over the bones of her hand, between the grooves of her knuckles. When his digits curled between hers, she watched with bated breath as he turned to bestow a heartfelt kiss on the pulse-point of her wrist.
The contact roused and devastated her. Her heart soared and broke all at once.
Annalyn loved him. She loved him with such profundity, her heart ached with it. And while Haldir had never said so in words, he was telling her now, in his own way. In defiance of the promise they had made to themselves, he was losing his heart to her, a mortal.
"Annalyn." A whisper laced with anguish, his breath gusting against her wrist. As tears veiled her sight, Haldir regretfully lowered her forearm. But then his hand rose again, his fingers sweeping the side of her face, the caress ending as he tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. Unable to help herself, Annalyn trembled and leaned into his retreating touch, prolonging the contact.
Haldir was a contradiction; a fierce warrior with a gentle heart and an even gentler touch. Tonight, the love in his eyes was clear and tangible, beautiful yet agonizing, too. For knowing and feeling was not enough—it could never be. Indeed, nothing could change the reality of who and what they were.
To see him so disarmed, his yearning and his sadness bared to her eyes, was heart-rending beyond compare. But harder still was hearing the broken words that followed.
"Nínion ne mened gîn."
In choosing Sindarin, Haldir had spilled his heart thinking she wouldn't understand. But strangely, Annalyn did not need to, for she sensed his meaning somehow.
Haldir was heartbroken, for the same reason that she was. Their story had nearly reached its end, before it could ever begin. It never would.
Her breath hitched, then one of her tears slipped free. As it rolled down her face, Haldir swept her cheek with the pad of his thumb. When another tear followed in its wake, he leaned forth to press his perfect lips to the salty trail. And there, he lingered.
Before her mind could fully catch up, he had nuzzled his way to her jawline, and was inching ever closer to the corner of her mouth. Good gracious me… When his lips were a hairsbreadth away from hers, Haldir paused and sought her eyes. He was waiting for her permission, she realised, his breath quickening in time with hers.
"Haldir…" A mere whisper, uttered as she nuzzled into him, assenting to his unspoken request because she desired this, too. More than he could know.
Her nose grazed his cheek, soft and smooth. He smelled divine, his scent as intoxicating as the way his lips were now brushing against hers. With a feather-light graze, he honed in on her bottom lip, capturing it softly, once, twice, before releasing again. Before she knew it, his mouth was pressed fully to her own.
Eyes closed, pulse thrumming, Annalyn fisted the front of his tunic, and lost herself in the feel of his lips. In many ways, their kiss was similar to the one she had bestowed upon him late one night by a campfire out in the wilds of Rhovanion. Except now the roles were reversed. He was kissing her.
When his tongue darted out, sweeping the seam of her mouth, Annalyn thought her heart might falter. Opening to him, she swallowed the groan he gave, tasting him like she had long desired to.
Lush was the kiss. Slow. Sensual. Perfect.
The moment was maddening, devastating in its quiet simplicity. Not to mention arousing. But then, he would have that effect on her. Haldir stirred her on a visceral level after all, in a way no one ever had—not even Wilmaer
His full lips were even softer than she remembered, his tongue oh so velvety.
Amazed by this sudden turn of events, Annalyn returned the kiss with equal measure and felt her entire body go weak. To keep from melting, she laced her arms around his neck, and held on. She was spinning—or at least it felt that way. Her entire body came alive, like glowing embers bursting into sudden flame. Responding in kind, his arm snaked around her waist, drawing her closer. Their lips parted. They were both breathing hard. What are we doing? she thought, but could not bring herself to ask. Gracious, how she desired this. Desired him.
Brow to brow, each sought to slow their breathing. Stay, she almost begged. Spend the night with me. But Annalyn held her tongue.
They couldn't. They shouldn't.
Haldir swallowed hard, echoing her doubts when he said, "I should go before I don't." The strain in his voice conveyed how badly he wished to stay. It nearly undid her.
He was right, though. This had to end here.
Haldir was immortal. He was Elf-kind.
Regardless of their wants and wishes, they could never share a life together, not in the conventional sense. If their resolve was to fail, and they surrendered to their feelings, she might never gather the courage to let him go. And then what? In a few short decades, time would have caught up with her. And when the vibrancy of her youth had faded into memory, Haldir would remain as he was now; fair and resilient of body, but with added sorrow in his heart.
Why? she wondered, not for the first time. Why must the fates be so cruel? At their behest, their paths had collided not once but twice in this wide world. Haldir: a friend unlooked for but most cherished. And then she had fallen for him, madly, deeply, in counter to wisdom. Thinking on it now, it seemed that it would have been easier if their paths had not crossed at all. And yet, even with the fracturing of her heart, Annalyn could not bring herself to regret their meeting.
I love you, she thought, quite miserably. I love you, but I will never have you.
If only her heart had listened.
When the two had first discussed their changing feelings—late one evening, when she had sat by him in a tree—Annalyn had vowed to quell what was in her heart, for loving an Elf would only lead to despair. Alas, as much as she had tried to dampen her feelings, her love for Haldir had only intensified, and continued to blossom here as they were.
Sorrow besieged her, and as they sat there, in the void of their making, Annalyn saw the same musings on his downcast features, in the pained crease of his brows.
"Tonight… you and I alone like this…" She shook her head. Her throat tightened even as she spoke. "It was ill-conceived. I am sorry."
"Nay," he breathed without hesitation, grasping her hand and holding it over his heart. "I wished to be here." Pain flashed on his shuttered features. "I… needed to be here." After the night he'd had—almost losing three of his soldiers, bearing witness to their suffering...
Haldir had needed comfort and solace, and he had found both of those things with her. Humbled and moved beyond measure, Annalyn swallowed the lump in her throat.
Wordlessly, Haldir eased away from her, and helped her to her feet. When, at last, he released her fingers, the two merely stood there, a silent exchange seeming to pass between them.
If things were different… his eyes seemed to say.
I know… hers responded in turn.
A short while later, when she climbed up to his room, and slipped into his empty bed, Annalyn dreamed of him, seeing them as they had been out on that balcony. But in her dreams, instead of walking her back inside and bidding her good night, as he had, Haldir's dream-self pulled her to him and kissed her, deeply and passionately, before sweeping her into his arms and taking her to his bed.
*Nínion ne mened gîn – "I cry upon your leaving."
