Oh my gosh, guys. Thank you! Seriously! You all brought tears to my eyes. When I posted the last chapter, I did not expect so many comments. Your words moved and humbled me. They were the best gift I could ever hope for.

Because I've been multi-tasking, I haven't taken the time to reply individually yet, but I definitely plan to. KathrannofQuade, leelee202, MotherAiya, Cricklewood16, durinsdaughter2469btw, twibe, Tobiramamara, mycarnation, Gandalf007, Rogue's Queen, daughterofthechief, AshleyLeigh, Addicted-to-GazettE, Blue1258, leward1992, SmallLittleCagedBird, LadyConfidential, Auriene, xXxLalaxXx, grumpypirate, FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff, Doria Nell, and Raider-K.

Your feedback meant the world to me. This chapter is for you...


CHAPTER XXXIX

FROM AFAR

Haldir had not moved in a while, not since he had climbed up here. Cloaked and hooded, he stood in the shadows of his hidden refuge, in the topmost reaches of the tree he called home. Except for the leaves, all was quiet up here, for there were no dwellings at this height, no paths, no lamps, only a small talan. His talan, that he had built with his own two hands, many summers ago.

His features bathed in the predawn light, Haldir was only vaguely aware of the expansive sky above the platform. For though he had not intended to, his wearied mind had fallen into slumber, and was now weaving a dream before his half-waking eyes.

The vision was soft and partly transparent, an imaginary moment unfolding before the fading stars.

He was scaling the steps to his room, with Annalyn held securely in his arms. Her fingers were in his hair, her arms laced about his neck. Their mouths were fused in a kiss even as he climbed.

A bright flash. The image changed, a leap in time as it were.

Haldir was kneeling upon the bed, clad in nothing but his leggings. As for Annalyn, she was yet clothed, but like him, her boots and socks had been discarded and forgotten. Presently, she was straddling him, the wild mass of her hair spilling over his upturned face as she caressed his bare shoulders and kissed him fully. In her eagerness, her nails pressed into his skin, leaving half-moons in their wake.

With a graceful sweep of her head, Annalyn flung her hair to the side, revealing both their faces. Oh, the want in them. As she moved to cradle his jaw, sighing his name against his ravenous mouth, Haldir pulled her even closer. Hands moving to the hem of her tunic, he drew it up an inch, then two, his fingers skimming the smooth skin beneath.

And so the dream enveloped him, overruling his reality until he reminded himself that this was but a vision, a figment of his imagination. Disappointment washed over him. But as the dream unfurled, tempting him beyond belief, guilt asserted itself, too. "You cannot be thinking this," he whispered to himself.

The dream-version of Annalyn sank back against the pillows, her hair fanned out around her as she framed his face and drew him down to meet her lips.

But elven-dreams being what they were, Haldir was still cognisant of where he was and what his mind was doing. You are not wed to her. You should not do this, even in thought. Ah, but after last night, and the lingering kiss they had sharedHeat shot straight to his groin. Even now, he yearned to have her. His hands closed into fists. You must awake… awake.

This time, his mind listened.

When Haldir gradually returned to himself, a faint ribbon of light was visible over the eastern horizon, ushering the beginning of a new day. Alone and oddly bereft, he stood long in thought, trying to make sense of this most unusual dream.

Of course, he had experienced similar dreams before, many centuries ago when he had loved another, but never so daring, never so intense, and never so… real.

His thoughts in a spinning freefall, Haldir blinked to clear his dream-addled mind. And then he willed his feet to move. At the edge of the talan, he peered through the leaves, at his home down below. The east-facing balconies were vacant, the curtains closed. Yet he could sense that Annalyn was there, that she was sleeping. Once again, he was aware of her emotions—feelings of contentment and longing that lapped against his mind. She was dreaming, then.

Given the bridge that had formed between them, Haldir couldn't help but wonder if he had dreamed of her, or if he had dreamed with her.

Having heard of such bonds, he knew it was possible, at least amongst his kindred. But with a mortal?

Caught between amazement and distress, Haldir looked inward, and searched for the truth. When the answer failed to materialise, he turned his gaze to the sky, not knowing what to think or how to feel, while all around him the breeze lessened and the leaves grew still.


Annalyn awoke sometime during the morning.

As she lay on her stomach, her arms curled about her feather pillow, she squinted against the sunlight before shutting her eyes again. At length, she raised her head on a long inhalation, blinked a few times. When the room came into focus, so too did her awareness.

This was not the pavilion.

Limbs sliding between soft sheets, Annalyn turned onto her back, and propped herself up. So she had not dreamt it. She was truly here, in Haldir's home, in his bedchamber.

In his bed.

As yesterday's events coalesced, she gazed all about her, mouthed a silent oh.

At length, when she flopped back down, Annalyn thought of the previous night, and the unforeseen events that had led to her sleeping here. Even now, she remembered those hours of waiting, and the moment she had first beheld Haldir upon his return. Weary he had seemed, and burdened. And yet, as he had walked up to see her, there had been gladness in his eyes.

Staring at the ceiling, Annalyn recalled those tender moments on the balcony—that kiss! And then there was that vivid dream she had had shortly thereafter.

Her cheeks growing hot, she bit her bottom lip, and closed her eyes. As her blood quickened in her veins, Annalyn reached for the second pillow, and covered her face with it. At first, she groaned into the pillowcase, but the sound ended on a choked and piteous laugh.

Her sleeping mind had betrayed her during the night, mocking her heartache with a series of bone-melting dreams. As the images returned once more, Annalyn set the pillow aside, and sighed. Eyes closed, pulse thrumming, she laid a hand over her heart, and allowed the images to unfold, seeing winding touches that never were, hearing feverish declarations that never would be.

"Haldir…" she breathed and shook her head.

Without meaning to, something had changed during the long hours of the previous day. Before either of them had realised, they had inched over the invisible line, wordlessly revealing some, if not all, of what they felt.

Of those moments, some were rather subtle, like that moment by the serving cart, in the room below this one. "Gracious, I am going to miss you," she had said to him then.

But last night…

Last night… She swallowed hard.

Annalyn was no stranger to kissing. But that kiss far surpassed anything she had ever experienced in her life. If she had ever doubted it, Annalyn knew it now. Beneath his guarded exterior, Haldir had molten fire in his veins. And gentleness.

As tears gathered beneath her eyelids, Annalyn saw them as they had been on that balcony, the two of them locked in a maddening moment beneath the stars.

The memory was now etched into her mind—the way Haldir had kissed her wrist, her cheek, then finally her mouth, with such reverence she had thought she might never breathe again. But as poignant and rousing as the moment had been, each understood that they had pushed as far as they could, as far as was wise. Henceforth, they would have to be more cautious, for giving in would only lead to complete and utter heartbreak.

Do not forget.

"Annalyn?"

She sat up at once. It sounded like Ithriel, but until she knew for certain, Annalyn opted to grab a blanket, draping it about her sleeping-gown as she rose. Her bare feet whispering against the floorboards, she neared the western edge of the room, where the floor ended at a sudden drop, affording a wide view of the main area below.

Indeed, Ithriel stood in the front entrance. "Haldir said I would find you hither." While the healer had toiled for much of the evening—if not the entire night—her features held no trace of it. Refreshed she seemed, with a glimmer in her eyes. The curve of her mouth suggested she was intrigued. "Did you rest well?"

When Annalyn started down the stairs, answering that she had, Ithriel motioned for someone to enter, and a chamber maid walked in—the one from last night. In her hands was a tall ewer from which issued lazy curls of steam.

"I asked Tellil to fill your bath. I hope you do not mind." Ithriel walked further into the house. She was carrying a small tray, Annalyn noted, upon which were three glass bottles, and a bowl of some kind. White and gold, it was covered with a delicate lid, making her wonder what was inside.

As Annalyn descended the last few steps, her blanket trailing on the stairs behind her, Ithriel set the tray on the end of Haldir's desk. "It is midday. Did you know?"

Annalyn had gone to bed very late, it was true—before dawn rather. But midday? Annalyn looked toward the east-facing balcony. Even through the curtains, she could see that the light was coming in at a steep angle, a midday sun. The chamber maid came into view, as a silhouette walking behind the billowing fabric. When she had reached the end of the curtain, the maid re-entered the house—was the bath outside?—and made for the front entrance. A beat later, she returned with a second ewer, as tall as the first, and carried it out back. This, she repeated two more times, while Ithriel went to open the curtains, fully revealing the wide archways and the trees beyond.

"Once you have bathed," Ithriel was saying. "Orophin and I wish to welcome you to our home, so you may break your fast with us. It is long since we had a guest."

When the chamber maid had emptied the last ewer, she bid them to have a good day, and they, in turn, did the same.

Now that they were alone, Ithriel looked to Annalyn with a worried and assessing gaze this time. "Haldir mentioned that you were feeling weak yesterday."

Annalyn stifled a groan. Not this again. But since denying it would only add to Ithriel's concerns—and thus increase her scrutiny—she said, "I did, but the strengthening draught worked wonders." She even smiled to prove her point. "I feel well today."

Ithriel considered her with pursed lips and an upturned brow. But luckily, for a mercy, she accepted her assurances in the end. Reaching for the small tray, she faced Annalyn and held it out for her to take. Upon seeing the question in her eyes, Ithriel supplied, "Oils for your bath."

"Oh!" Feeling rather silly, Annalyn took the proffered tray. Peering down, she noticed a delicate bar of soap just behind the mysterious bowl.

"Since I could not decide between lily, violet, and snowdrop," Ithriel said in reference to the oils. "I brought all three. I assume one of them will be to your liking."

"Doubtless they are lovely."

As Annalyn carried the tray over to the dining table, Ithriel went on. "I hope it was not too presumptuous of me. Only I assumed you would rather smell like a woman than, well…" She laughed. "Haldir."

Annalyn blushed at once, and was suddenly glad to be facing away from her friend. Even now, she recalled the scent that always clung to him, that wonderful and intoxicating blend of cedarwood and cloves. That scent, she now knew, came from his cupboard. She hadn't opened it to check, but likely it issued from a packet of herbs, similar to the ones she sometimes made, to freshen her clothes and keep moths at bay. Yesterday, however, Annalyn had caught a different scent from Haldir, courtesy of the soap he used. That or a bottled fragrance. She had found it rather maddening.

But Ithriel was right. As much as she loved Haldir's scent, it was decidedly male, not to mention distracting.

Turning once more, Annalyn smiled at Ithriel, and promised to join them presently.

"It gladdens my heart!" the healer replied. "We shall wait for you at home. Look for us on our talan outside."

And so it was that Annalyn gathered her things and ventured out in search of the bath. Just as she had begun to suspect, it was set at the northern end of the balcony, behind beautiful wooden partitions.

While the latticed roof lent a sheltered feel to the space, it did not hinder the natural light. Her gaze flitting about the walls and the sky beyond the leaves, Annalyn gathered her hair in a twist. Upon shedding her sleeping-gown, a warm breeze swirled past and kissed her skin.

When she sank into the water… Soothing heat. Dappled and reflected light. Pure bliss.

Leaning back, Annalyn luxuriated in all of it. But then, remembering the small tray, she uplifted the lid covering the bowl, and peered inside.

Rose petals! Hushed but delighted laughter rose in her throat.

For a fleeting instant, her thoughts went to the women of the Westfold, or more precisely those who whispered behind her back, saying she lived like a man. If they saw me now. This bath was fit for a queen. She chuckled again, her fingers sprinkling the petals over the water. But even as she found joy in the experience, a slight feeling of shame came over her, for the women of the Westfold enjoyed no such luxuries. And not all of them were judgemental. Some were incredibly kind.

To sit here and gloat, even in her private thoughts, felt wrong somehow. Therefore, she stopped, and chose to be thankful instead.

Her attention shifting to the glass bottles, Annalyn unstoppered each one, and quickly found a favourite. "Lilies it is." But as she washed, her gaze lingered on the other bottles that were lined nearby, the ones belonging to Haldir. Her curiosity being what it was, she chewed her bottom lip, and decided to open each of them in turn. Just to see.

The first was both heady and familiar, fresh yet comforting. It was the scent she had caught yesterday. The bottle was nearly empty, she noted. He must favour it, then. But the other ones were not quite full either. He must like those also. Perhaps they are for special occasions.

And they were pleasant, too. More than pleasant, even. The fragrances were quite maddening, to be honest. Both reminded her of an autumn wind laden with warm spices, and yet each was unique.

Resting against the porcelain incline, neck deep in the fragrant bathwater, Annalyn wondered what Haldir was doing now. Knowing him as she did, it was likely he was seeing to his responsibilities. With regret in her heart, Annalyn sat in contemplation until a small chirp drew her attention. Blinking out of her thoughts, she looked up to see a small bird alighting on the wooden partition.

Suddenly, Annalyn remembered her promise to Ithriel. She and Orophin were waiting for her. The water sloshing as she straightened, she began to scrub. Enough dreaming and dawdling.


"Ídhrodh mass?"

Orophin was seated directly across from Annalyn, his mouth curved in welcome as he leaned forth to extend his hand. By the basket he held, she understood his offer of bread, and graciously accepted.

Though Annalyn appreciated the invitation, it felt strange to be sitting across from Orophin. Strange but nice. For barring the time he had escorted her across the Silverlode, when Cobalt had panicked and nearly been swept away, Annalyn had never really spoken to Haldir's brother. To either of his brothers, if truth be told.

At present, Orophin was buttering a slice of bread. When next he spoke, it seemed her lessons had borne fruit. She understood. "My wife and I are pleased you could join us," he said.

Encouraged, Annalyn answered as best she could, hoping they were the right words, "I am happy to be here."

Orophin smiled.

Like Haldir, he was a tall Elf, with golden hair and proud features. Yet the two looked very different also. Where his older brother had a strong nose, Orophin's was narrower. His brows were finer, too, and lighter.

As she sampled her meal—a dish of mixed greens and carrots roasted in rosemary—Annalyn kept stealing glances at him.

Their mouths were similar, she decided. But the overall shape of their faces was not. Where Haldir's cheekbones blended into a smooth and oval face, Orophin's seemed higher, more defined. An oblong face, she thought, and fair—though not as fair as his older brother's, at least in her eyes.

His style of hair was slightly different also; for though Orophin had gathered his hair in typical warrior-fashion, the upper-section was slightly parted in the middle.

The leaves rustled overhead, the sound blending with the soft clinks of cutlery. As Orophin refilled their tea cups, Annalyn speared a few greens, and continued her visual assessment.

Now as far as demeanours went, he did not seem as grave as Haldir. If anything, Orophin seemed quite affable, with a gentle bearing that belied the capable soldier beneath.

At present, he was conversing quietly with Ithriel, with a subtle but unmistakable sparkle in his eyes. By the way they spoke to one another, Annalyn could tell that they were very much in love. Watching them, she couldn't help but wonder how long they had been together. Centuries perhaps. Maybe even longer. And yet, it seemed they had not tired of the other There was much warmth between them, and mirth.

Annalyn was glad for them both, but especially for Ithriel, whom she now counted as a dear friend. Yet a small part of her envied them also.

"Some of us are gathering on the terrace this evening," Ithriel said to her in Westron. "There will be food and music and the telling of tales." Reaching for the napkin on her lap, the healer dabbed at the corners of her mouth, then asked if Haldir has invited her already. "When duty allows, he usually attends."

"He has made no mention of it." If not for last night, and the heartache they had both felt, perhaps he would have. But as things now stood…

So Annalyn shrugged, forced a little smile. "Thus far, we have not made any plans."

"You should come."

"Perhaps. If I am not too tired."

Ithriel eyed her curiously for a moment. But if she had detected Annalyn's low spirits, she did not show it. Instead, her gaze went to the far side of the talan, where Rúmil was now coming into view.

As he approached, he greeted them all with a nod, and joined them at his brother's urging.

Now to Annalyn, Rúmil had always been the most elusive of the three. But then, she seldom saw him. In fact, save for those first few days, when he and his brothers had guided her company across the forest, she had only seen him one other time. Though the word "glimpsed" seemed more appropriate.

It had been at the height of her illness, when Haldir had carried her across the forest. Rúmil had been there. She remembered seeing him, marching hastily by his brother's side.

Now he sat in the chair next to hers, his boots crossed at the ankles as he proceeded to peel the skin off an apple.

Perhaps his brother's wife found it wasteful, but when she saw this, Ithriel appeared to chide him, but not harshly. She even rolled her eyes and smiled.

For his part, Rúmil simply made a show of it. With arched eyebrows, he peeled the remainder of the apple, then set the curled sliver on his plate. Looking quite smug, he then leaned back in his chair, crossed his boots again, and took a hearty bite.

Ithriel merely shook her head at him, but her words were for Annalyn. "Please forgive his manners." She was trying and failing to hide her amusement. "He is, by far, the worst of the three."

Rúmil grinned and addressed Ithriel in Sindarin. Unless Annalyn was mistaken, his response had been along the lines of, "Yes, but you love me all the same."

Wait. Ithriel had spoken in Westron. Then how… Does he know the common tongue? Baffled, Annalyn studied him for a moment more.

His grin fading, Rúmil bit into his apple, then cast a sidelong glance at her. His eyes were inscrutable—like Haldir's could be at times—but the comparison ended there. Though he was no less than a thousand years old, his features were incredibly youthful. Full were his lips, and fair was his face. Out of the three brothers, his nose was the most delicate, slightly upturned.

As she ate, Annalyn was reminded of the drawing she had seen in one of Haldir's books. Except for the smooth straightness of his hair, which he had left unbound today, Rúmil definitely took after his mother.

Soft laughter drifted from over the table. Orophin and Ithriel were too engrossed in their conversation to notice that Rúmil was now eyeing Annalyn, in a manner that struck her as rather haughty.

Discomfited and rather confused, she frowned but refused to shy away from his gaze. However, before Annalyn could make sense of his obvious disregard, the youngest brother looked to his kin, his cheeriness returning as he struck a conversation with Orophin.

What just happened?

True she did not know him very well, if at all. But Rúmil had never been this cold with her, this aloof. She wondered as to the cause. Perhaps he simply disliked outsiders, but had refrained from showing it until now. Or perhaps—and this seemed likeliest—his problem lay solely with her, and the fact that she had grown quite close to Haldir.

It made sense in a way. And though it saddened her, could she blame him if such was the case? Without meaning to, she had walked into their lives one day, and now his brother was hurting. Just as she was.

Her fork grazed her carrots, moving them around. If our roles were reversed, she mused, and restrained her features. If someone I loved was falling for a person who would only hurt them in the end, would I be glad? Welcoming? Not likely. In fact, Annalyn would almost certainly resent that person.

All the same, Annalyn was not one to be cowed by a cold shoulder—however justified—and so chose to ignore him. Yes, she and Haldir had been skirting a dangerous line. They had even crossed said line last night. But nothing had changed. She still meant to leave. And though it hurt to think of it, sooner or later, Haldir was bound to move on. Perhaps he would even find love someday, with someone who wouldn't age and die like she would. Smothering the sudden ache in her heart, Annalyn straightened her spine, and forced herself to finish her meal.

Later, when all had eaten, and the dishes had been cleared away, the two brothers left the talan, while Ithriel and Annalyn lingered behind.

"I suppose I should go as well," Annalyn said to her friend, "I need to gather my things and see if I can find my way back to the pavilion. These bridges and paths are a tad confusing, but I shall remember the way. It should be an adventure, a challenge." Her mouth pulled in a grin, for she loved challenges. Moreover, if her muscles were not too tired, Annalyn thought she might even train once she arrived at the pavilion.

"Your strength has returned. It pleases me to see it. However, before you set off on your adventure, there is a thing I would like you to see." Seeing the question in Annalyn's eyes, Ithriel grabbed her arm. "Come."

A moment later, the two entered Ithriel's dwelling—a bright airy space, much like Haldir's home. The house was larger, though. From what she could see, the main level consisted of a large dining area, and what Annalyn guessed was a study of sorts, with two lounging couches off to one side. Wreathed by an ornate staircase, the open space was adorned with several plants and flowers set amid light grey furnishings, all of which were finely made.

As Annalyn stopped in admiration, her thoughts took her back to yesterday, and the moment she had first glimpsed this house from afar. Now Haldir's words echoed back to her. "It is the home in which I was raised."

Walking further into the space, Annalyn noted a sword displayed on the uppermost shelf of a bookcase, the polished blade as elegant as the hilt. When Ithriel noticed her interest, she explained that her husband had crafted it.

"He is a smith?"

"Not by trade," Ithriel answered. "But he is learning the craft. So is Haldir."

This information caught her completely unawares.

Ithriel laughed. "You seem surprised."

"A little, I suppose." Haldir knew his way around a smithy? She never would have guessed. As her mind supplied an image of him, hair tied back as he hammered away at a billet of steel, Annalyn found she rather liked the idea. There was something about a man—or in this case an Elf—who could work with his hands. With a final look at Orophin's work, she turned to see that Ithriel was scaling the stairs, making it clear she wished for her to follow.

Unlike Haldir's current home, the upstairs had multiple rooms, set one after the other, along a circular landing that overlooked the main area of the house.

Slowing to a stop, Ithriel waited by the third door. Her eyes atwinkle, she swept her arm in a clear invitation for her to peer inside.

It was a bed chamber, with pale wooden floors, and a four-poster bed with blue-grey bedding. On the far wall was an open-air window shaded by the end of a leafy branch. At present, the leaves were dancing in the breeze, reflecting beautiful golden light into the room.

Wandering past an elegant chest of drawers, Annalyn neared the opening, from which she could see Haldir's home. As her fingers brushed along the white curtains, Ithriel's voice reached her from the doorway, "Over the years, Orophin and I have converted some of the spare rooms to storing various things, but this chamber we kept as it was. When Rúmil was a child, this was where he slept."

Strolling into the room, the healer asked if she liked it.

"It is a beautiful space," Annalyn allowed, though she didn't quite know what else to say.

"It pleases me that you find it so. It should do nicely, then."

"Nicely for…" What are you up to, Ithriel?

"For you, of course." The healer laughed again. "The thought came to me early this morning. When I mentioned it to Orophin, he thought it was a lovely idea. I am quite certain Haldir would feel the same." Her voice lowered to a playful whisper. "Just between us, I do not think that he relishes the idea of you staying in a mere pavilion."

"Stay here? In Rúmil's old room?" Annalyn swept an uncertain gaze about the space.

"The pavilion is rather far," Ithriel went on. "And now that you and I are friends, it would please me greatly to have you here." The healer walked forth then, and grasped both of her hands. "Oh, do say yes. This house is quite large. Much too large for Orophin and I. When he is out on the marches, it can feel so empty at times."

Honestly, part of her wanted to decline, but seeing the guarded hope in the healer's eyes, Annalyn relented, out of courtesy mostly, and appreciation for her friend.

"Wonderful! You shall not regret it." But as Ithriel withdrew, saying she would help with her things, Annalyn hesitated by the window, and wondered how Rúmil would feel about her staying here, with his kin. He wouldn't be too keen on the idea, that was certain.

However, since his feelings were not her concern, Annalyn glanced over at the healer, and turned her focus elsewhere. "Have you seen him today? Haldir," she clarified.

Ithriel halted near the foot of the bed. She seemed intrigued. "I saw him, yes. At sun's first light. I was heading home when we crossed paths not far from the armoury. Why?"

"How did he seem?" Annalyn asked, then sidestepped a little. "I know last night was difficult for him, and his brothers as well. For all the Elves, I suppose."

"That it was." Ithriel crossed her arms on a sigh, and leaned against the bedpost, onto which mallorn leaves and small birds had been carved. "As you must know, Haldir is fiercely private. It is no simple thing to read him. However, he seemed… well enough."

Ithriel's words brought little comfort to Annalyn, for "well enough" could mean many things when it came to Haldir.

"In all truthfulness, my husband's brother seldom shares his burdens with others. He would carry the weight of the world on his shoulders if he could."

"This I know."

"I see your concern," Ithriel remarked as Annalyn stepped away from the window. "It heartens me that you are watching over him. Very few do, for there is much pride in his heart." An understatement if ever there was one. "In my mind, Haldir is adept at keeping his friends at arm's length, even his kin. You, however…" The sentence trailed. Ithriel was studying her closely. Too closely even.

"I suppose I should get my things."

No doubt sensing her unease, Ithriel followed her out of the room, and changed the subject. "I need to look in on someone today, one of the soldiers from last night. But first I must go to the gardens to gather more herbs. It is not so far. Would you like to join me? We could leave as soon as you see to your things."

Since Annalyn had been itching to see the gardens for many days now, it proved an easy decision, and she agreed at once. A few minutes later, she stood in Haldir's current bedroom, stuffing the last of her belongings in her satchel as her gaze flitted about the space one final time. The bed was made now—she had made it so the maid wouldn't have to—and the curtains shifted in the late afternoon breeze.

It was silly and pointless, but she was going to miss this room.

With the strap of her satchel now seated on her shoulder, Annalyn recalled the dream she had had last night, and how Haldir had carried her to this very bed.

Must you do this again? You cannot keep pining after him. With Ithriel waiting downstairs, Annalyn willed herself to leave. Before long, her belongings were laid out in her new room. When all had been put away, Annalyn and Ithriel ventured outside once more, and began the leisurely walk to the gardens.

With the sun warming her face, Annaly followed the healer past Rúmil's home, then onto a footbridge that led to a neighbouring mallorn. From there, they took to another bridge, then one more, going from tree to tree toward the very heart of Caras Galadhon.

They had just passed into the shade of a large bough, when a voice carried on the breeze. It was a command, Annalyn realised, shouted in a voice she knew. "Is that?"

There was a definite twinkle in Ithriel's eyes, but in lieu of answering, the healer merely nudged her chin. "Follow me and you shall see."

The Galadhrim's training yard became visible as they started down a long, curving footbridge. Thinking they might watch for a time, Annalyn and Ithriel found a closer vantage point, and halted by the rail.

Clad in beautiful golden armour, the soldiers were assembled in five perfectly spaced rows, their features impassive as they awaited their warden's command.

"Savo chûr an dagor!" Haldir barked, in words she did not know. "Maetho i megil dhîn!"

No sooner had he spoken, than the soldiers moved at once, drawing their swords with such precision and timing, their blades sang like the wind.

In the ensuing silence, Annalyn returned her gaze to Haldir.

He, too, was clad in armour. But unlike the grey cloaks of his soldiers, his was a rich crimson, the colour a sharp contrast to the pale gold of his hair. Eyes on his soldiers, Haldir paced along, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Seeing him now, there was no denying what he was: a stern and disciplined warrior, a Marchwarden of the Galadhrim.

Though she would have gladly watched all day, Annalyn had no desire to intrude. "Perhaps we shouldn't linger." But as she pushed away from the rail, Haldir glanced ever so briefly in her direction.

Oh, it was barely noticeable, but he acknowledged her. She saw it in the fleeting curve of his mouth, and the glimmer in his eyes. After last night, and the sorrowful passion they had both shared, the simplicity of the moment proved rather heartening. And so, as her feet ferried her onward, Annalyn set her longing aside and acknowledged him in much the same fashion, holding his gaze for little more than a heartbeat before addressing Ithriel. "So, how far to the gardens?"


The gardens of Lothlórien were a jewel upon the earth, a sprawling collection of the most beautiful flowers Annalyn had ever seen. According to Ithriel, some belonged to a bygone age, and no longer grew in Middle-earth.

As she walked among the many varieties, Annalyn marvelled at the vibrancy of their colours, how each leaf was unblemished, perfect. A great number of them, she had been told, possessed healing properties.

"These I recognize," Annalyn said as she knelt by a patch of kingsfoil.

"Athelas." Ithriel supplied from where she sat. By her knees was a basket filled with fresh cuttings. "It is most useful in the healing arts, and should always be near at hand."

Looking up, Annalyn spied a patch of yellow flowers nearby. Their shape was known to her.

"Mallos. The golden flower." Haldir's words, from a night so long ago it seemed, though to an immortal such as him it must feel like yesterday.

The stars had shone brightly that night, her very first in the Golden Wood.

"They are very beautiful," she had said to him then, and seen the tiny smile on his lips, the first she had ever seen on his proud face.

In retrospect, this briefest exchange had been a turning point of sorts, for prior to that moment, Haldir had been but a stern and arrogant soldier in her eyes, one who had been willing to help them for the mere reason that it suited his mood—and perhaps there was truth to that. But that night, his love for the living world had pierced through his stoic exterior, hinting at the layered individual beneath.

"You seem lost in thought," Ithriel noted, snapping Annalyn out of her musings.

"Do I?" Her palms felt damp all of a sudden. She had to wipe them on the front of her breeches.

"Given that we are now friends, should you wish to speak of it…" Ithriel did not finish her sentence.

But Annalyn feined ignorance. "Speak of what?" But Ithriel was not dim-witted, nor was she blind. She knew. Her compassionate smile said as much. Perhaps she even felt sorry for her.

"Of him," the healer said at length.

Annalyn gained her feet. One cannot fool an Elf, I suppose. At least not this one.

Having lost all interest in plants and flowers, she made for a nearby bench and sat down. When Ithriel joined her, Annalyn shook her head, but words failed her. How was she to speak of him, of how she felt? Caught in indecision, she tiptoed around the subject, saying, "It is still hard to fathom. This place, how ancient it is. And yet, despite the lengthening years, the trees and the city seem untouched by time, much like the Elves who dwell here. A deathless existence… Try as I might, I cannot imagine how it must be."

"I sometimes wonder the same of your people. How it must feel to be so free."

"Free?"

"Mortality," Ithriel supplied. "It is a gift. Did you not know? Given by Ilúvatar himself."

Perplexed, Annalyn tried to wrap her mind around that. "Death, a gift?" Then her heart hardened. "The death of my kin? No. I am sorry but I do not share your view."

"Then what is your view?" Ithriel asked with unwavering serenity.

Silence ensued. Annalyn had to think about it long and hard. "The Rohirrim believe that life is governed by fate and doom. Dying is inevitable in the end, and indeed our warriors not only expect death, but they await it in hopes that it will be glorious, and thus be worthy of remembrance." A gentle breeze arose, cutting ripples in the grass. "My uncle and cousin, though not exactly soldiers, died honourably in the end, and for that I am glad. Nevertheless, their loss was no less painful to me than that of my parents who were taken by fever as they languished in their beds."

Ithriel's gaze could be felt, but Annalyn could not meet it just yet. "I, myself, do not fear death. Indeed, it is my doom. But a gift it is not, at least in my estimation." A small and bitter scoff rose in her throat. "If it is, I grow weary of it, for I have lost more than seems fair." Then something occurred to her. "Perhaps that is my fate. To wander this world alone."

"It is no easy thing to lose those whom we love, and so my heart weeps for you. But do you not see that the same is true of the Elves?" Ithriel swept a gaze at her surroundings. "Like you we are begotten and come into this life, but as we linger on, time gradually fashions the world into a new thing. Seasons, years, even the lives of Men… to Elves, they come and go like waves lapping upon a shore. Yet ever we remain." Ithriel sought her eyes. "I suppose that is the essence of being immortal. There are some who envy us for it. But do mortals know that the opposite is also true? That there are some among us who envy them?"

"Envy us for the reason that we die?"

"You are not bound to this world like we are."

Bound? Annalyn's mouth worked, but before she could ask what Ithriel meant by that, the healer heaved a cheerless breath. "One might say that Elves are both blessed and cursed. Serene we seem, with all the time in the world to live and love. But appearances can be deceiving, for our glory has already waxed and waned. We love the world, but we are grieved to see it so marred. Our sorrow is endless, Annalyn."

Though there was much she didn't understand, Annalyn compared it to her own pain. Her grief would be long, ending only at the time of her death. But unlike the Elves, her life was finite. She would die someday, in several decades at the most, and when she passed, Annalyn believed that her kin would be waiting for her. But what of the Elves? They could be slain, she knew. So then where did their souls go?

Embarrassed by her lack of knowledge, Annalyn withheld her question, and chose another route instead. "Having heard your words, I cannot say that I envy the Elves. But why, then? Why are we so alike and yet so different?" It seemed cruel somehow. Haldir was an Elf, a male very much in likeness to a mortal man. She could yearn for him, love him, but to explore that love would be ruinous, especially for him.

"Are we still speaking of Elves and Men?" Ithriel leaned in, her eyes filled with knowing. "Or of you and Haldir?"

"I do not know." Annalyn's face reddened. "Maybe both?"

Surprisingly enough, there was no judgment in the healer's gaze. "It is said that Ilúvatar created both of our kindreds. The Elves, first and oldest of his Children. And Men, the Afterborn. But none know of his designs, not even the Wise. And so, I do not know why he made us the way we are."

"I fought it, you know. I promised myself that I would not… that I…" Annalyn was unaccustomed to speaking of such things, for she had spent the greater part of her adult life in the company of her kin. Men, the both of them. "You must think I am such a fool," she said to Ithriel. A fool for loving an Elf.

"I think no such thing. Nor do I claim to know all that is in your heart. But I know love, and I have known disappointment, and I have tasted bitter partings." Ithriel's mouth curved into a compassionate smile. "I see it whenever you look at him." You love Haldir, her eyes seemed to say. "And though I will not impart wisdom on the subject, for I do not feel it is my place to do so, know that I will gladly listen should you need to spill your heart."

"Thank you, Ithriel. For that and, well, for everything."


Night was drawing nigh.

Even in the golden light of his bedside lamp, Celegon's features remained pale. His lips were devoid of colour, and dark circles wreathed the underside of his eyes. Ever the warrior, however, he smiled in defiance of the weakness that yet plagued him. "Haldir. You have come." With effort, he sat a bit straighter, and extended his arm so Haldir could clasp it in a warrior's greeting. "It is good to see you, friend."

"I will say the same of you, though I did not think to find you awake."

"Fear not, I have slept overmuch today." Celegon fell back against the pillows, his flaxen hair falling flat around his head. "Indeed, it seems like it is all I do."

"That is because you sorely need it." Ithriel's voice sounded from across the room, where she was adding fresh athelas to a bowl of steaming water. Approaching the bedside, she placed it alongside the lamp on the small table. "Here. Breathe in the vapours for a while. They will soothe you."

Satisfied that Celegon was now comfortable, Ithriel told them she would lend a hand to Celegon's mother, who had come to visit and was now preparing herbal tea in the other room. Once Ithriel had made her exit, Haldir pulled up a chair and sat down.

Celegon said, "My mother and father are very dear to me, as you know, but it is long since I was a child. They fret, my mother especially, and so she hovers. She and my father have visited me every day. And while I am grateful, a part of me feels rather smothered."

Haldir chuckled in understanding. Yet in his mind, he couldn't help but think of his own mother and father, how he missed them terribly and still mourned their passing. With the death of their bodies, their spirits likely remained in the Halls of Mandos, where he hoped they would find the Healing they both deserved. If such a thing came to pass, they might even choose to return to life someday. Perhaps then he would get to see them again, in a far distant future, a world away from his beloved home here in Lothlórien.

Not knowing how to feel, Haldir set all thoughts of Valinor aside, and focused instead on Celegon, who was saying, "They tell me Celondir is healing well. Have you seen him?"

"I have. In fact, I just came from there. He sends his regards, and promises to visit as soon as he is able."

"Celondir has never been one for lounging around. Neither am I, if I am honest. Doubtless he will grow restless before long."

A smile tugged at Haldir's mouth. "I noted it. But your brother is strong. He should regain the use of his leg soon enough."

"A morgul shaft through the thigh." Celegon winced. "It cannot be pleasant."

Haldir arched a brow at the bandage that was wrapped over Celegon's chest and shoulder. "I hear Morgul blades are not so pleasant either."

"You mean this little scratch?" Celegon teased, then grimaced as he shifted to sit a bit higher. After breathing through the pain, he settled at last, then his features grew more subdued. "Ithriel says that the wound will never fully heal."

Silence settled over the room. Haldir could not gainsay him. The pain might lessen over time, but Celegon would never be rid of it, not entirely.

"What of Agoron?" Celegon asked.

"He, too, is eager to leave his bed."

"Good… that is good." His eyelids lowered. Celegon was growing weary. But then, as Haldir made to rise, Celegon spoke again. "I know that I cannot leave here just yet, that it will be some time before I can fight again." Now he looked to Haldir. "But my strength will return. When war reaches our borders, know that you can count on my bow and my sword."

"Your words hearten me," Haldir said, though deep down he worried for him and all of his soldiers. Whether in victory or defeat, elven blood would be spilt. Such was the price of war. "But first things first, you must rest and heal."

"I will," Celegon said, scarcely able to keep his eyes open.

Thus it was that Haldir took his leave. After bidding good night to Celegon's mother, he nodded to Ithriel, then stepped out into the light of the westering sun. Given that he had seen to his duties, and was done for the day, he thought he might take his time and wander the city for a while. Wearied by the figurative weight of his sword-belt and cloak, Haldir removed them both, but kept on walking.

Whether he would go home or make his way to the pavilion to visit Annalyn, Haldir had not decided yet. For though he much preferred the latter, he had not forgotten the previous night, how he had kissed her, slowly and passionately, like he had long desired to, revealing more than was wise. Loathe as he was to admit it, it seemed Rúmil had been right after all. Haldir was playing with fire. With each passing day, it seemed his resolve was fracturing more and more. How long before it crumbled utterly?

Haldir had not taken ten steps when a delicate voice echoed in the air. "So he sheds his mantle." Turning, he saw that Ithriel was exiting Celegon's home, and was now drawing near. "I presume you are headed home?" she asked.

"There or elsewhere, I have not yet decided."

"I suppose it is a fair evening for a stroll. But should your feet bring you to a certain pavilion,"—her mirthful gaze flitted southward—"do not be alarmed to find it empty, if it remains at all."

He frowned. "I do not follow your meaning. Has Annalyn gone?" Surely, she wouldn't have left without saying goodbye.

"Nay." Ithriel's laughter reassured him. "But henceforth she will be staying over at the house."

"Your house?" he echoed in surprise.

"There is room aplenty, and the pavilion is rather far removed. I believe it will be less lonely for her. At any rate, I asked her and she agreed."

Schooling his features, Haldir inclined his head. "Then I must express my thanks. That was most kind of you, Ithriel."

"You need not thank me. Her presence is a joy. She and I have become friends." His heart warmed at that. Then Ithriel changed the subject. "Tell me, are you going to the feast tonight?"

He gave what he hoped was a polite smile. "Alas, I believe I will forgo it this time. It has been a long day."

Ithriel merely regarded him for a moment. He knew that look. It was the kind she bore when assessing someone. Hoping for a swift retreat, Haldir bid her a good night and made to leave. His brother's wife, however, stopped him by grabbing the end of this sleeve. "Ah, not so fast."

Haldir breathed through flaring nostrils.

"Give me your eyes," Ithriel said and sought his gaze. Her scrutiny unnerved him. And though he regarded her coolly, she guessed rightly when she said, "A cloud hovers over you."

Haldir gave no reply.

As her keen gaze pierced his façade, Ithriel saw right through him. Somberly, she said, "It has been long since I have seen you thus. Not since…"

Haldir's heart twisted in sorrow. He knew of whom she spoke. The maid he had loved long ago.

He cut a glance toward the house. "I am certain you have things to do. You should go."

But his brother's wife was not so easily deterred. With her hands folded before her, she beheld him with an air of sadness. "Long I have known and loved you as a brother. It pains me to see you like this."

"You cannot help me, Ithriel. No one can." Annalyn would be leaving here soon, and she was right to do so. I must accept this.

Haldir walked away at last, and for a mercy Ithriel did not hinder him. As the shadows lengthened, his feet turned north, and he took to the footbridges with no real destination in mind. All throughout the day, he had seen to his various tasks and responsibilities, hoping they would quiet his turmoil. But no matter what he did, his thoughts kept circling back to Annalyn.

Ah, but he longed to see her.

But that would be reckless.

His heart, however, would not be silenced.

Her time here is fleeting.

If he did not go to her, he might come to regret it. No, he would regret it. Of that there was no doubt.

But what would I say to her? As he passed a circular platform edged by a rail and two semi-circular benches, Haldir recalled the news he had received this morning. News Annalyn would be happy to hear.

And so he wavered back and forth, until a familiar tree came into view. His chest rose on a sigh. So he had made his way home after all. As he drew nearer to the towering mallorn, his eyes turned to his brother's dwelling, and the lone figure who was wandering aimlessly before the open arches lining the house. Even from afar, Haldir knew that it was her.

Love stirred in his heart, but his feet slowed to a stop.

With his resolve hanging by a thread, going to her might very well prove disastrous.

Haldir squared his shoulders. He was wiser than this, stronger than this.

Wasn't he?


Dusk had long since fallen. After wandering about the green avenues by herself, Annalyn had managed to find her way to Ithriel's home, where she now lingered, on the talan outside.

Since most of the Elves who resided nearby were assembled on the terrace below, the upper tiers were mostly deserted this night, which suited her mood, she supposed.

Indeed, Annalyn had chosen an alternate route, avoiding the terrace altogether, not because she disliked dining with the Elves, but for the simple reason that her heart was in turmoil tonight.

As her feet carried her aimlessly across the flet, Annalyn kept looking toward Haldir's home. Except for a solitary lamp by the footbridge, his house was lit solely by moonlight, the front entrance and the archways dark and empty.

He had not returned, then.

Stopping by a lamppost, Annalyn leaned her weight against it, her temple coming to rest on the pole as her chest rose on a sigh. If anyone were to see her now, there would be no hiding what she currently felt. Her face, she knew, was filled with useless longing, her lingering gaze on Haldir's home making it quite clear exactly whom she was longing for.

As her mind supplied glimpses of the previous night, her heart recalling the ache they had both felt, Annalyn began to think that, perhaps, Haldir could not handle seeing her tonight. It might be better that way.

Resigned to an evening alone, she pushed herself away from the lamppost, and tried not to think of his looming departure for the marches. She had just entered the house, and was nearing the top of the stairs when a gentle knock sounded. Halting mid-step, Annalyn turned to see who it was, and her heart nearly faltered in her chest.

With silent footsteps, Haldir stepped over the threshold, his beautiful features soft in the golden lamplight. When he nodded in greeting, Annalyn merely stood there, looking him up and down.

Tonight, he was carrying his sword-belt in one hand, while his red cloak was draped over his other arm. This left him clad in grey boots and slim-trousers, with a fitted tunic as black as night. If she was honest, he looked even more handsome this way. A soldier returning from duty, she mused and descended a single step.

"Haldir," she said, for it was all she could think to say.

"I am sorry to intrude at this hour."

Truth be told, it was early still, but Annalyn did not correct him—so glad was she to see him.

"I was walking past when I saw you on the talan." His hand rose to scratch behind his ear. How long had he been out there, she wondered, and hoped he had not seen her gazing longingly at his house.

He said, "I thought you might like to know that Cobalt is doing well."

"Is he?" Something brightened in her being.

"This morning, one of the stablehands informed me that he has been led across the river by barge, and is now stabled by the green fields outside the city. I am told he is quite happy there. If you wish to see him, I can find someone to guide you, as soon as you feel able."

"I would like that very much."

Haldir seemed pleased to hear it, his faint smile mirroring her own.

There was a silence. The two merely stared at the other. When he failed to say aught else, Annalyn had to ask, "Is that the sole reason you have come?"

He blinked then, as one who has snapped out of his thoughts. "No." When Haldir rubbed the back of his neck, Annalyn briefly narrowed her eyes. Was he… nervous? It cannot be that.

Having abandoned his neck, Haldir schooled his features into a more pragmatic expression. "As you know, I will be leaving in the morning. Therefore, I thought that…" He trailed, his manner so incredibly nonchalant, it was clear he felt the exact opposite. It was startling, amusing, and quite possibly the most endearing thing she had ever seen.

"I thought that, perhaps… if it pleases you…" He cleared his throat. "You and I could spend the evening together."

Her heart quickened at once, yet she felt compelled to ask, "Do you believe it wise?"

Haldir chose not to answer. Instead he waited, and she guessed his thoughts. It is what we both want.

For her part, he would not be wrong.

It might have been pure folly, but like a moth to a flame, her feet ferried her forward, down a single step. Of course I will come, Annalyn wanted to say but her voice had fled.

When her wordless answer became clear, Haldir seemed relieved. He held out his hand. As her body came alive with the flutter of a thousand butterflies, Annalyn took another step, then one more. Nearing the bottom of the steps, she smiled, placed her hand onto his upturned palm, and descended the rest of the way.

"So what did you think of my soldiers?" Haldir asked as he offered her his arm.

"I was impressed," Annalyn said then teased, "the Marchwarden, on the other hand, seemed rather stern."

Haldir chuckled at that. They started for the door, their footsteps unhurried. "I hear he is not always so."

"No?" The sound of her laughter echoed throughout the room, but soon faded as he led her out into the night.


So this is it for chapter 39. A bit long, I know. For those who find that I ended the scene at a cruel place, know that the next one will pick up pretty much where I left off. Anyway, thanks again for reading all of this. I suppose I'll get back to writing now. Have a good week, everyone!