As always, thanks to all who have been reading this story so far.

KathrannofQuade, mycarnation, Doria Nell, durinsdaughter2469btw, Blue1258, AshleyLeigh, leelee202, Auriene, helenaxo, LadyConfidential, leward1992, FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff, Cricklewood16, Rogue's Queen, and blasttyrant, thank you for commenting on the last chapter. Your kind reviews made me all warm and fuzzy inside.

***Note about spelling***

Throughout this story, you might notice variations in the way I write the word "spirit" in Elvish. While I absolutely adore the Quenyan word "fëa", I've chosen to use the Sindarin equivalent "fae" whenever Haldir speaks, or when a scene is in his point of view. However, since the Lady Galadriel is of Noldorin descent, she will sometimes use the word "fëa" in her dialogue. I just thought I would clear that up to avoid confusion, because you will likely come across both versions of the word in this story. Oh, and the same for "body", which is "hröa" in Quenya, and "rhaw" in Sindarin.

Now on to chapter 42…


CHAPTER XLII

THEN AND NOW

Haldir was staring at his glass, his profile unreadable as he swirled the wine around. From the continuing silence, Annalyn sensed that he was debating what to say. Finally, after downing nearly half of his glass, he sat forward, both elbows coming to rest on his knees.

"Her name was Nethrien."

Nethrien. A lovely name. No doubt as lovely as the woman herself—Annalyn figured she had to be. But on the heels of this came a sudden realisation, namely that he had used the word "was".

So she did pass. Oh, Haldir.

Her heart clenching in commiseration, Annalyn watched his profile in silence.

"She was a soldier, a captain of the guard in a place called Rivendell." Assuming she had never heard of it, he explained that it was an elven settlement, nestled many leagues away, in the moorlands west of the Misty Mountains. Annalyn's mind, however, was still eddying around the fact that Nethrien had been a soldier. A captain no less. It seemed fitting somehow.

"I first made her acquaintance when I was assigned to guard the Lord and the Lady while they journeyed thither, to visit their daughter, Lady Celebrían."

He went on. "For a year we tarried by the Bruinen, in the house of Elrond, and during that time, Nethrien and I grew fond of one another. However, as is often the way with Elves, we saw no need to hasten or define that which existed between us. Therefore, when it was time to depart, I returned to Lothlórien, secure in the knowledge that I would see her again. And I did, for Celebrían would travel hither every now and then, and being in her service, Nethrien would make the journey alongside her."

Continuing, Haldir explained that it was a simpler time. "I was merely a guard back then, a sentinel, the eldest of two sons, for Rúmil had not yet been begotten." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I was young, Annalyn. Young and untroubled. A calm lay upon our borders, and the surrounding lands were still quite fair. As for Nethrien, I found much delight in her company, and though we were not betrothed, our feelings grew all the more."

The sound of billowing curtains carried on the air, then a gentle wind reached the lounging couch. "I was content, and for a time Nethrien was also. But as the years lengthened, a change came over her, and I could see she desired more than the unhurried courtship we had settled into. A part of me wanted to honour her wishes, and ask for her hand, for I did love her. Yet something always held me back. I could never explain it, not to her, not even in my own thoughts. Only long after did I realise what it was, a faint warning within myself, a quiet foreboding of woe to come."

For several heartbeats, his voice yielded to the faded sounds of night. When next he spoke, his voice had grown subdued. "The years lengthened. I continued to serve alongside my father and my brother. Then Rúmil was begotten. Alas, by then the world had turned grey. Then came that dreadful night, when my mother and father, and so many others, met their ends. Naught was ever the same again. Peace was threatened. And with evil stirring in the mountains, the Elves of Lórien despaired. When at the last, King Amroth announced that he would depart these lands, entrusting the realm to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, a good number of our people wished to follow him, including our Marchwarden at the time."

"In the months before Amroth departed, I received a summons." His eyes lost in reminiscence, Haldir proceeded to describe that day. Annalyn could almost see it. "A sorrow lay on the Golden Wood, yet the light was fair on the mound where the king's high house had been built."

"I remember it like it was yesterday," he continued. "Amroth stood by a tall window, his hair burnished by a beam of golden sunlight. Our Marchwarden was there, as was Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. When I arrived and bowed before them, it was she who came forward. Since Lothlórien would soon fall under her leadership, it fell to her to choose those who would serve as leaders and commanders amongst the remaining Galadhrim. 'The northern half of the forest', she said, 'I entrust to you, Haldir of Lórien.'"

A look of wonder suffused his features as he relived that moment.

"For the life of me, I could not understand why she would bestow such a role, such a heavy burden, onto me. As Amroth spoke words of his own, recounting the role I played in rallying our soldiers before the Balrog of Moria, the Lady Galadriel spoke in my mind. 'I have seen your heart,' she said to me. 'I see your strength and the depth of your devotion. You will make a fine Marchwarden, should you accept." Haldir took another sip of wine. "Stunned I was, and deeply honoured, but I would be lying if I said I was not frightened. In fact, I was quite terrified. It was a grave responsibility, yet I could not turn away from the task that was appointed to me."

Annalyn smiled a little at that. Haldir was not one to shirk his responsibilities. He would do anything for the realm.

"Thus I stood before Amroth and all those assembled and, giving my answer, assumed the mantle of Marchwarden of the North. Indeed, it was a time of great change. Amroth and Nimrodel departed. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel remained." Great fondness filled his features then. "Thus began their rule. To mark the occasion, a great feast was planned. It was then that Celebrían journeyed hither one last time, with Nethrien in her retinue of guards. But our reunion was not as joyous as they had been in the past, for she had grown weary of waiting. With tears in her eyes, Nethrien spoke of remaining in Lothlórien, of joining the border guards so she and I could finally wed."

Haldir grew sorrowful. "Her words remain with me to this day. She said, 'If you love me and wish to bind yourself to me, then speak now. Otherwise let me go.'" There was a long silence. "I did love her, yet I could not ask her to leave Rivendell, the home she loved so. I was not in a good place to entertain such a step. Marriage. The enormity of what it means. My head just wasn't there. But more than that, deep down, I knew that my fate lay elsewhere. The safety of the realm now lay partly in my hands. And then there were my brothers. While Orophin was near to me in his years, Rúmil was only eighty when our parents died. I felt he needed me. They both did. And so, wanting to be fair to Nethrien, thinking it was best, I hearkened to her plea, and released her by ending what we had."

The guilt in his words was unmistakable.

"It was the last time I saw her. When she finally left for Rivendell, it was not long before we received the news that Celebrían had been waylaid in the mountains, her soldiers scattered or slain. Nethrien, she…" His voice faltered but, clearing his throat, Haldir promptly gathered himself. "It was said that her spirit had already left her body when the Orcs carried her away."

His head fell forward then, weighed down by guilt and unimaginable pain.

"I am so sorry, Haldir." The words seemed wholly inadequate. At length, another question formed in Annalyn's mind, one she sensed was safe to ask. "Do you regret it? Not marrying her."

"I do harbour feelings of regret," he said, "but not for that reason. Rather I regret the hurt I caused her. I regret my inability to grant her wishes and love her as she deserved. For Nethrien was a light. She deserved better than what little I gave during those years. I oft wished it was not so. But no matter how deeply I cared for her, I was never ready. I think that, deep down, I knew that loving her was not enough, that we were not fated to join our lives in that way."

Annalyn could understand that, at least in part. As for what came afterward…

"Perhaps if my fae had called to hers…" Haldir was staring into empty space, his brows furrowed as though a great enigma had come to his mind.

"Your fae?" she stammered.

His tone was distant. "It is the Sindarin word for spirit." One might have said he was speaking in metaphors, but there was something about the way he said it. His mouth worked, but no words came. Instead, Haldir turned his face and regarded her strangely for a long moment. It was a most remarkable look.

Hoping to clear her confusion and make sense of all this, Annalyn sat a bit straighter. "So the spirit knows, then. When love is meant to be it calls to the other?" She had never heard of such a thing, not even in the fairy tales of her youth.

Haldir watched her still, intently. But then, severing the visual connection, he abruptly shook his head as one who dismisses a thought.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yes. Forgive me, where was I?" He smoothed a hand over the back of his neck. It was a moment before he could pick up the thread, explaining that it was "a knowing" of sorts, both innate and profound.

"So when Elves choose to wed, they have this connection between them," Annalyn reasoned, trying to understand. "A soul bond of sorts?"

"It is oft the case, yes, but not always. For Elves can fall in love in the same way mortals do." Haldir then went on to say that many chose to wed even without a prior soul bond, that the binding nature of marriage achieved more or less the same thing. "If not for the warning in my heart, I might have done exactly that. But with Nethrien, I felt the truth of it in my bones, that she and I were not meant to be. As I bid her farewell and watched her leave, it was my hope that she would find joy someday. Instead, she died."

Her heart broke for him. Seeing his guilt, Annalyn felt compelled to say, "It was not your fault. You are burdened enough as it is. Do not carry this guilt as well. You could not have known." Unthinking, Annalyn reached out just then, her hand brushing the side of his thigh.

For a moment she feared she had blundered, but when Haldir looked to her, the pain in his features seemed to lessen. It made her think that, perhaps, over the centuries he had learned to live with the guilt she had perceived in his eyes. And that somewhere deep in his heart, Haldir had begun to make peace with his decision and forgive himself. She hoped he had, with all her heart.

"Now you," he began, "Why did you never wed?"

Annalyn blew a heavy breath. "Why?" Caught completely off guard, she knew not how to answer. After a long pause, her shoulders rose dejectedly. "I considered it once. But it was foolish, and today I am quite relieved that I never went through with it."

Curious, Haldir asked her why that was.

"Because I wanted to believe in him. Because I did believe in him, and he betrayed me."

Haldir frowned at that.

As painful memories surfaced once more, Annalyn stared hard at her wine. "His name was—is—Wilmaer, and I met him one night, while fetching Aldin in the mead hall…"

And so she told him the entire wretched story, or most of it; she couldn't bear to speak of the night she had shared her body with him. Not now. Maybe never.

As Haldir listened in silence, Annalyn told him of how she had found love for a brief moment in time, that she had considered marrying the man. Then she described that awful day in the barn, when she had stumbled onto him and that maid. "It was humiliating," she said and felt it anew. "But the worst part is, I never saw it coming."

Having reached the end of her tale, Annalyn descended into a contemplative silence. For his part, Haldir sat unmoving, his stare directed at the floor. Then, "The man is a fool." Direct words, spoken without hesitation.

When Haldir looked sidelong at her, Annalyn noticed that his demeanour had hardened somewhat. While she could only guess what he was thinking, her story had had a definite effect on him. He seemed genuinely perplexed and deeply affronted by what Wilmaer had done. It made her think that, perhaps, such betrayals were uncommon among the Elves, maybe even unheard of.

His mouth fixed in a harsh line, Haldir set his glass down, and angled his body toward her. "And a blind fool at that." His choice of words amused her and she bit down a smile. But then Haldir spoke again, softly but with conviction, and what he said—the way he said it—took her breath away. "He must be, if he could not see what was in his grasp."

Her heart nearly faltered at that. But knowing they had reached a most slippery slope, Annalyn hesitated before steering the conversation in a safer direction. Angling her head to the side, she gave a small laugh and indicated the glass he had just set down. "Remind me again, how many glasses did you have this evening?"

"It is not the wine," he countered at once. His eyes, that usually hid so much, were open and earnest and utterly serious. "Any man would be fortunate to have you."

She stopped breathing this time, a question rising, unbidden, at the back of her thoughts. Including you? His eyes appeared to say as much.

Her heart, her very soul seemed to leap toward him. How am I going to let you go?

She might have imagined it, but he seemed to guess her thoughts. Drawing a cheerless breath, Haldir sent his gaze to the floor, then closed his eyes. When he did not move away, a frown knitting his brow, she understood that he was waging a silent battle within himself. One she was waging as well.

As the moment hung there, Annalyn was struck by a sudden need to touch him, to lean against him and provide whatever comfort she could. Hearkening to her desires, she sat up. With closing eyes, she smoothed a hand along his back, and laid her cheek upon his shoulder.

His warmth radiated outward, soothing her even as her heart fractured within her chest. Now who is strengthening whom?

Haldir shifted then, turning his face until his lips brushed the top of her head. There he lingered a moment, his breath feathering against her hair. Then his hand rose, the backs of his fingers unhurriedly grazing the side of her cheek, her jaw, down to her chin. Slowly, he eased away, just a little, and tipped her face so she would meet his eyes.

Haldir said nothing. Instead, he perused her features and drank her in. At last, his gaze fell to her lips, softly fixating on them. He was now leaning toward her.

Her throat tightened. Annalyn could not swallow. She could scarcely even breathe.

Given the line they had crossed last night, she had expected more caution from him, from her as well. Entranced, Annalyn watched as he drew closer and closer still. Somewhere at the back of her thoughts, she remembered that they had spoken of this. Her loving him. Him loving her. It wasn't wise. And yet, here they were.

Once again, Haldir paused at the last second—to resist his own longing or seek her consent, she couldn't tell. And then, in a moment that would forever be graven in her memory, he claimed her mouth, kissing her with such need, it stole the air from her lungs.

As Annalyn clutched at him, her nails digging into his tunic, she opened fully to him. Indeed, there was nothing timid about the way he explored her mouth. His velvet tongue glided with and against hers, tasting, wanting, needing until—after a dizzying moment—their lips parted on a moist smack.

Sweet Mearas…

Mesmerised and breathing hard, Annalyn watched as Haldir beheld her with something akin to wonder. "Nan i 'aear ah in elin," he seemed to marvel. The look in his rounded eyes... He had never looked at her that way before.

But there was no time to think, let alone decipher his expression, for they were kissing again, with a depth of passion she had never known until now. Annalyn whimpered. Actually whimpered. Then a final coherent thought formed in her mind: they were lost. Hopelessly and utterly lost.

The air grew thick. As Haldir rained soft open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, she allowed her head to fall back, shamelessly offering the column of her throat. Then her entire body was falling.

As he guided her in a slow and dizzying descent toward the cushion, Haldir's breath gusted hotly against the hollow at the base of her throat. Amid their panting breaths, he whispered something in Sindarin—words of endearment or a prayer, she knew not. When he braced a hand by her head, shifting to lie alongside her, the couch groaned softly beneath their combined weight.

Their mouths fused again.

Caras Galadhon, the Golden Wood, the surrounding rivers and valleys; none of those places existed in that moment, for Annalyn's world had narrowed to this very room, to the lounging couch, and the beautiful soldier who had somehow managed the impossible. In a few short months, Haldir had made his way into her battered heart, establishing that she could, in fact, love and trust again.

When his palm found station on her hip, drawing her impossibly close, Annalyn went willingly. More than willingly. Unable to help herself, she slid her thigh over his, until her calf brushed the back of his knee. Her boldness caused his hooded gaze to widen for a moment, just long enough for her to notice. Then his lashes lowered once more, and he made a sound that was part sigh part groan.

They hadn't planned this. But then, they weren't really thinking at this point—Annalyn certainly wasn't. She had lost her head, it seemed. For the second time in her life. But then this wasn't a year and a half ago, and he was not Wilmaer.

This was Haldir.

Haldir whom she trusted.

Haldir whom she loved above all others.

As inscrutable as he could be at times, he was anything but at the moment. His emotions radiated off of him. Hot-blooded and bold, he rolled over her in one fluid motion, fitting his hips to hers. She gasped. They both did. Except for their heaving chests, they stilled, watching the other with unabashed desire in their eyes.

Haldir wasn't exactly shaking, but there was a tremulous quality to his breathing as he held his weight off of her with straining arms. He was aroused, and he was letting her feel it. Swallowing thickly, she watched as his head tipped forward, his hair curtaining both their faces. Thus they lingered, stuck at a crossroads, brow to brow.

To stop or keep going.

Annalyn willed her racing thoughts to slow. If Haldir wished to make love, and asked her to, what would her answer be?

A resounding yes most like.

But if she gave herself to him, surely he would know it wasn't her first time. What would he make of that, she wondered. Surely, he wouldn't think any less of her.

Would he?

Haldir had never wed, it was true. But he had loved a woman once. Being three thousand years old, she figured he must have indulged in physical intimacy at one point or another. Judging by the passionate and confident manner in which he had claimed her mouth, Annalyn was convinced he had. And so her worries quieted.

As Haldir touched the side of her neck, Annalyn hearkened to her curiosity by gliding her hands over his scalp, down his warrior braid. She would never admit it, but she had always wanted to do this, had wondered what his hair felt like. Now she knew. The strands were as soft and luxurious as they looked. Golden silk, she decided and shivered when he nuzzled her temple, his breath ghosting over the rim of her ear when he whispered. "Ae! Ci írui."

Her eyelids falling heavily, Annalyn had to smile. "I have no idea what you just said."

It was a moment before he could answer. "You tempt me." A shudder went through him. Roughly, he added, "You cannot know how much."

Annalyn's womb quivered. Then, with earnestness in her eyes, she sought his gaze, and tried not to tremble. "What do you want to do?" At his silence, she asked again. "What is it you want this night?"

"What I want… Ah, firiel, if you only knew."

Something seized in her chest. "Then tell me. Please."

A look of profound regret swept over his features, then he pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth. Sensing he was about to end what had kindled between them, a wave of desperation washed over her. Annalyn found she could not let go. Not yet. And so, with a lump in her throat, she deepened their kiss, pouring all that she felt in the worshipping of his mouth.

Whether it was instinct or a final act of indulgence, Haldir responded by rolling his hips against hers, sending a jolt of sensation throughout her body. "Ae…" he whispered when she threw her head back and sighed her pleasure. Seemingly bolstered by her reaction, he did it again… and again. Thus it was that Annalyn matched his movements, heightening the friction they both craved. For a selfish moment, she imagined they were lying skin-to-skin, that he was making love to her with the same unhurried rhythm he had initiated.

The friction was too much yet not enough.

"Annalyn…" Ah, but the way he said her name… Such need. Such passion. All for her.

Their mouths collided. Haldir's hand was on her thigh, winding proprietary caresses from her hip down to her knee, reversing course over and over again. But then, before her mind could catch up, she felt a change in him. Haldir made an anguished sound, as though he was grappling within himself. Then, as if it pained him deeply, he removed his hand from her thigh, closing it in a fist, before finally tearing his mouth from hers.

"Ah," he hissed and rolled off of her. "Forgive me."

They remained on their backs for several heartbeats, shoulder to shoulder, chests heaving. The lounging couch dipped. By the time Annalyn glanced at Haldir, he had already swung his legs off the edge, and was now gaining his feet.

Her heart pounding beneath her breast, Annalyn sat up, slowly, and watched as he paced around the room like a man who was trapped and tormented. As if that wasn't enough, Haldir would not meet her eyes.

Hand rising to smooth his hair, he stalked over to the desk, where he leaned forward with both palms braced on the surface. There, he calmed his breathing somewhat. "Forgive me," he said again, rending her heart.

"There is nothing to forgive, Haldir."

But he was shaking his head. "What came to pass just now… I began it. I should have shown more restraint."

I desired it, too, Annalyn wanted to say, sensing he needed to hear it. But her regret was such that the words refused to form.

In the ensuing silence, tears stung her eyes, and she laughed, in anguish mostly, at the unfairness of it all. "Gracious, look at us."

Gathering herself, Annalyn adjusted her rumpled clothing, and rose. In need of air, she walked past the table and approached the billowing curtains, parting them so she could breathe. The wind was cool and swift tonight, yet it helped not at all, and the suffocating feeling remained.

When, at long last, she faced the room again, Haldir was still facing the desk. He spoke no words, nor did he move.

Her love for him grew all the more in that moment. He was so honourable.

With quiet footfalls, Annalyn sought him out. As he stood there, she watched his profile. His normally proud shoulders were hunched forward, his fingers clutching the edge of the desk as if it were a lifeline. He fears that he has blundered, that he has shamed me. Nothing could be further from the truth. With nothing but love in her heart, Annalyn made to touch him, but stopped herself. Would he welcome her touch? Would it be fair to him? Her fingers hovered near to his shoulder for a beat longer, then she lowered her hand with a whispered, "I should go."

At first, Annalyn thought he would nod in agreement and bid her good night. Instead, he reached out all of a sudden, and blindly sought her hand, placing it against his cheek. He had yet to face her, but Annalyn could see that his eyes were closed. Without a word, he turned just enough to kiss her palm. He was nuzzling her fingers when he finally spoke. "I would like to see you before I head to the fences." Haldir released her hand without looking at her, his voice lowering when he said, "Unless you wish for me to stay away. I would understand if you did."

He meant it. Dismayed that he would think such a thing, Annalyn breathed his name. "Never," she told him. "In fact, if you leave without seeking me out, I will track you down myself."

The tension eased somewhat. They both huffed a laugh.

At last, Haldir faced her fully. With open sadness, he touched the side of her face, and leaned in to kiss her brow. "Rest well. I shall see you in the morning."

Nodding once, Annalyn somehow convinced herself to walk away, closing the door behind her as she emerged into the night. Going no further than the footbridge, she halted by the rail, and leaned against it. Regret besieged her. What are we doing? They both clearly wanted this. Eternity being denied to them, couldn't they have one night?

Unless she was blinded by her own selfish desire, it seemed that Haldir had stopped more for her sake than his own.

Looking at his house, she wondered if he was wavering, too.

At the bottom of the double doors, lamplight could still be seen. But then, all of a sudden, the narrow gap went dark.

Her chest heavy with indecision, his words reverberated in her mind. "What I want… Ah, firiel, if you only knew."

But he hadn't told her, and she wanted to know. She needed to know. If Haldir desired to have her, just this once, why was she standing out here, squandering what could be their one and only chance at truly loving one another, both body and soul?

Though a part of her was nervous—terrified—Annalyn pushed away from the rail and faced his house. Her feet began to move.

Yet doubt gnawed at her. What if I have it all wrong? What if it's too much for him? What if he rejects me?

Her chin lifted by a fraction. Regardless of his answer, Annalyn had to risk it. She had to know.

Trembling legs carried her to the doors, where she raised her hand, and readied herself to knock. Her wrist, however, refused to move. She was losing her nerve.

Annalyn lowered her arm, but instead of backing away, she remained where she stood, her hand coming to rest on one of the door handles.

A long moment went by, then another.

In what was the boldest or stupidest move of her life, Annalyn pressed down on the handle. The latch released with the softest of clicks. Then the door opened.

Summoning what remained of her tattered courage, she swallowed her trepidation, prayed she was doing the right thing, and walked inside.


*Nan i 'aear ah in elin! – "By the sea and the stars!"

*Ae! Ci írui – "Ah! You're desirable."

*firiel – "mortal woman"