Once again, I would like to thank all my readers and reviewers. Your continued interest has meant the world to me. Like always, I must give special thanks to those who left reviews on chapter 44: Raider-K, DarkLordofMemes, SmallLittleCagedBird, MotherAiya, leelee202, helenaxo, leward1992, durinsdaughter2469btw, AshleyLeigh, blasttyrant (thanks for the review on chapter 43), Blue1258, LadyConfidential, daughterofthechief, Tobiramamara, mycarnation, and Rogue's Queen.
This one's for you…
CHAPTER XLV
ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS
The room was alive with shrill chirping, had been for several moments now.
Opening one bleary eye, Annalyn couldn't quite see through the thin curtains, but it was definitely light out. So soon? But I just went to bed. At least it felt that way.
She had gone to bed very late, it was true, and hadn't slept a wink. And now these birds were chirping away. Doubtless they were on the leafy branch just outside the open-air window. Their song was lively and melodious, but all too high pitched for one who had spent hours crying her eyes out.
"Ah, go away," Annalyn mumbled as she flopped onto her side, and heaved the blankets up to cover her ear—not that it helped. The birds were singing to the high heavens, or maybe they were calling to their feathered friends way across the city. Whatever they were doing, these songbirds were much too happy for her current mood.
Heartbroken and miserable, Annalyn ground her teeth, but that only worsened her headache. Ignore them. Just ignore them.
To her dismay, their song actually rose in pitch.
No longer able to stand it, Annalyn muttered a curse, turned onto her stomach, and blindly reached out her hand until her fingers bumped into the curtains. Grasping the material, she gave it a violent shake in hopes that the moving fabric would frighten them away.
Alas, the birds remained.
Not only did the chirping continue, but if her ears could be trusted, it wasn't long before another bird alighted on the branch. Numbering three or four, they sang and flitted about and mocked her all the more.
Annalyn's nerves were so frayed, she groaned aloud, flung the blankets aside and swung her legs off the edge of the bed. "Fine!"
Silence.
"At last," Annalyn whispered, and was about to sigh in relief when the chirping resumed. Scowling, she leaned forward and yanked the curtain open.
Not three. Not four. Seven birds. Some were preening their white feathers, while the rest were singing and hopping from branch to branch. They seemed not nervous at all, even when she glared at them. "I am awake, see?" She even stuck out her tongue at them, only to feel absurd immediately afterward.
Huffing a jaded laugh, Annalyn lowered her head and rubbed the knots from her neck. When did I become such a child? "I must be losing my mind." Heartache and embarrassment could do that, she supposed. Ah, but why did I go back last night? Why did I say those things to him? Such intimate things.
"I want to feel you above and inside me. I want to see you come undone. I want to see your face when you rejoice."
The desire on Haldir's face had matched her own, and for a brief moment in time, Annalyn had felt certain that he would make love to her. But it was not to be, for he had refused her in the end, saying he would lose his heart if he did.
Part of her understood his decision—why make it harder to say goodbye?—but his rejection had stung nonetheless. It still did.
A gentle knock sounded. She froze.
"Annalyn?"
Stifling a groan, she looked to the ceiling, mouthed a silent, "Why?"
Why couldn't Ithriel just let her be? Of course, she knew the answer to that question. Ithriel was her friend. And friends looked out for one another.
Even so, the previous night had left its mark. So humiliating.
Unbeknownst to Annalyn, Ithriel and Orophin had just returned from the feast when she had rushed into the house, with tears streaming down her face. Upon seeing them, she had stopped dead in her tracks, but too late. Their eyes had been on her.
To hide her distress, Annalyn had hastily wiped at her cheeks, faked a smile, and said, "You've returned."
Pathetic. Not to mention mortifying.
The pair had seen right through her, of course. How could they not?
When Annalyn had moved toward the staircase, saying she was going to turn in, Orophin had followed her with troubled eyes, while his wife had followed with her feet. But though Ithriel had meant well, Annalyn had hastened up the stairs, apologising as she had sealed the bedroom door before the healer could reach her.
Now Ithriel had returned. "I know you are not sleeping," she challenged from beyond the door. "I heard you berating those birds." When Annalyn failed to answer, Ithriel heaved an audible breath. "Very well. I brought you something to eat. I shall leave it out here, along with an ewer and basin and a few other things… Annalyn?" Another tentative pause. "If there is aught that you need, I shall not be far."
Annalyn appreciated her friend's concern. She truly did. However, she could not bring herself to speak, even to express her thanks. Her voice, she knew, would betray all that she felt right now. And if there was one thing Annalyn hated, it was when others could perceive her pain. It made her feel vulnerable and weak and terribly exposed. Honestly, she would feel less naked if she were parading around in naught but her skin.
So she sat there, unmoving until Ithriel's retreating footsteps could no longer be heard. Falling back against the sheets, Annalyn heaved a sigh, but found no rest. The events of the night kept repeating over and over in her mind.
To be sure, they had played a dangerous game. They had pushed beyond the established boundaries, going as far as they dared, just this once, and now their hearts were paying the price.
What are we doing?
Figuratively speaking, she and Haldir were both caught in a maelstrom. Round and round they went, anguished by what they wanted but could not have. It was torture quite frankly. So very unfair to both of them.
Exhausted, Annalyn dragged a hand over her face. "How long can we keep doing this?" And with these whispered words, a realisation began to set in.
She sat up. Her heart was in her throat. Her gaze darted about the room. The walls… The walls seemed to be closing in on her. Like a caged animal, she wanted out.
I cannot remain here. I must go.
Now Annalyn was on her feet, turning this way and that, as her hand rose to smooth the tousled mess that was her hair.
"I must leave." She panted. I must leave Lóthlorien.
But how? And when?
Calm yourself. This she repeated several times, until at the last her panic began to recede. With both hands finding the edge of the dresser, Annalyn peered into the small mirror that sat atop its surface, and cringed at seeing her red-rimmed eyes staring back at her.
A plan… I need a plan.
Before she could change her mind, Annalyn whirled around. Her pack. Where was it? Under the bed, right. On hands and knees, she retrieved the leather satchel with trembling fingers, tossing it on the bed even as she rose to fetch her clothing from the dresser. Choosing her warmest garments, Annalyn set them aside before shoving the rest in her pack.
"Alright, now what? Think." Her heart was beating so fast, it was a wonder it didn't burst from her chest. "Slow down," she said to herself. You must think clearly.
After a much needed pause, Annalyn gathered herself enough to remember the food and basin that awaited her on the landing outside. Before venturing out, however, she stopped to listen in case Ithriel was nearby. Hearing nothing, Annalyn cracked the door open, and peered outside. Seeing no one, she quietly reached for the tray by her feet, and shut herself in once again.
Having no appetite, Annalyn ignored the plate of fruit. Instead, she made use of the small ewer and basin, washing as best she could with soap that smelled mostly of lavender. By the time she had brushed her teeth and braided her hair, a plan was finally taking shape.
Last night, when Haldir had brought news of her horse, he had said that Cobalt was stabled by a field outside the city. He had suggested a guide, but there was no need for that. All I need is to reach the gates. From there, the stables should be easy enough to find.
I need but wait for cover of night. Indeed, it would be more prudent, for the Elves of Lórien loved to gather beneath the stars, to sing or regale with stories. They would not notice her leaving—at least she hoped they wouldn't. Moreover, Haldir would be well on his way to the fences by then, thus eliminating the chance of running into him.
With burgeoning determination, Annalyn donned her smallclothes, chewed her lip, and nodded to herself. This could work.
But what about sustenance? I have a bow. I can hunt. Though probably not in these woods.
Since Annalyn was a guest here, and was therefore welcome to anything in the kitchens, it would be a simple thing to gather what she needed. Nuts and bread should do it, just enough to make it out of the Golden Wood. From there, she would manage on her own.
Her plan was sound, she thought. But then why does it feel dishonest?
Having laced the front of her tunic, Annalyn pulled up her breeches, and reached for her sword-belt. It feels dishonest because you are leaving without so much as a word. No better than a thieving shadow, creeping away into the night.
To squelch her guilt, Annalyn thought of the previous evening and the pain, the tears in Haldir's eyes. As distasteful as all this was, she could do this for him. The sooner I leave, the sooner he can move on. The sooner we both can.
Now for the rest of her plan.
Once she had retrieved her horse, where should she go? South, of course. It was the way home, after all. But news travelled swiftly in the forest. When it came to the comings and goings along the border, little escaped the knowledge of Lórien's wardens. So then how could she leave without anyone alerting Haldir? If she departed like this, without telling anyone, he would be terribly upset, she knew, and it grieved her to hurt him. But this was the best thing for both of them.
What about that other warden? The one who commands the Southern Fences… Grasping for his name, Annalyn made the bed, then remembered, Erynion, yes. Haldir had introduced them the other day, grudgingly it seemed. Unless she was mistaken, there had been some sort of tension between the two. If I ask it of him, perhaps Erynion will respect my wishes and guard my plans until I am well away from these woods.
Cemented in her decision, Annalyn swallowed her self-loathing, and hoped Haldir would forgive her in time.
And then it hit her.
If I leave tonight, and I do not see him ere he leaves, then that means… A lead weight settled in the pit of her stomach, a realisation so awful, she staggered back a step, and bumped into the dresser. Have I seen the last of him?
Three knocks sounded.
Her widened gaze flew to the door.
"Annalyn?"
Ithriel had returned.
Heart hammering within her chest, Annalyn moved away from the dresser, and smoothed the front of her tunic. Calm yourself. Otherwise she will know.
"Yes?" Annalyn winced at the nervousness in her voice. Managing a lighter tone, she said, "What is it?"
"May I come in?"
"No! I am… I am not dressed," she lied and felt stupid.
Whether Ithriel bought the lie or not, Annalyn could not say. But after a pause, the healer told her that Haldir was there. "He is downstairs and wishes to speak with you."
The blood drained from her face.
Haldir.
Haldir was here. Good gracious me.
Her thoughts in disarray, Annalyn paced aimlessly for a moment. What should I do? Desperate and unthinking, she opened the door.
When Ithriel saw that she was fully clothed, her pale brows rose by a fraction, then she yelped as Annalyn suddenly pulled her into the room and sealed her in.
"Annalyn, wha—"
"What does he want? Did he say?"
In lieu of replying, Ithriel sought both of her hands, and gave her a pointed look. "Annalyn?"
"What?" She panted.
"You look like a wolf caught in a snare. Lest you wish to fall in a faint, might I suggest you breathe?"
In desperate need of an emotional anchor, Annalyn squeezed the healer's hands, and mimicked her breathing. Slow, deep breaths.
"Better?" Ithriel asked.
Some of the tension had already left her shoulders. Her legs felt steadier, too. "Better. Now please, tell me what did he say?"
"He asked to speak with you." Ithriel released Annalyn's hands, a look of sympathy upon her face. "I cannot claim to know all that happened last night, but if I were you, I would go to him. My husband's brother is usually adept at masking his feelings, but not today. A shadow of regret hovers over him."
At Annalyn's silence, Ithriel said, "He is leaving. This is your chance. Do not let it slip away."
Ithriel was right. This was her chance to see him one more time. The very last. Even so… "But what would I say to him? Last night was such a blunder." I made a fool of myself. And now they were both hurting.
"In that case, why not listen to what he has to say? If it can put things to right—"
"Put things to right? No." How could things be set aright when there was no changing who they were? Her heart mired in anguish, Annalyn schooled her features and reached for her boots.
"Then what shall I tell him?"
"Nothing."
Annalyn sat heavily on the bed. She was lacing her boots when Ithriel whispered. "Very well." To Annalyn's surprise, there was an air of defeat about her. But then Ithriel was a healer; it was in her nature to want to mend the hurts of others, even hurts that were not of the body.
Thinking she had failed, Ithriel gave a sorrowful nod and was about to leave when Annalyn said, "You misunderstand." Summoning her courage, she secured the laces. "You need not say anything because I will go, if only to hear what he has to say." If only to see him one last time.
Ithriel seemed to take heart at that.
And so Annalyn steadied her nerves, and followed after her friend. But even as she exited the room, a wave of sadness came over her. For here she was, resolute in her decision to leave, and Ithriel had no idea. Forgive me, my friend.
With her gaze on the healer, Annalyn allowed herself to think of the people she had met here. Young Taerion. Glirwen and Bestedir. Orophin. Even Rúmil—he should be happy at least.
Save for her footfalls, silence reigned on the upper landing, but as Annalyn followed Ithriel down the stairs, her ears discerned male voices. Two of them, speaking in hushed tones.
When she finally saw them, Orophin and Haldir stood in the sitting area, both of them dressed in Galadhrim grey. Their swords were at their hips, their longbows slung over their arrow-filled quivers. As Annalyn descended the rest of the way, the two brothers fell silent. Haldir's eyes were on her, though.
"I will wait for you at the gates," Orophin told him in quiet Sindarin, his hand landing upon Haldir's shoulder in a show of support. As he and Ithriel exited the house, Annalyn forced her features into the most composed expression she could muster.
They were alone now. Part of her was relieved and grateful to see Haldir, but deep inside she was crumbling, too. Her feet took her partway across the room, where she slowed to a stop, unable to go any further.
Am I truly doing this? Is this the last I will see of him?
Haldir walked nearer to her, and she trembled beneath his unwavering gaze.
Annalyn should have said something—a greeting, anything—but her nerves failed her. Haldir was so incredibly perceptive. If she wasn't careful, he might very well divine her plan, and make leaving that much harder.
"Ae," he murmured by way of greeting, his tone as subdued as his eyes.
When Annalyn failed to reply, Haldir said, "It is good to see you."
"You came. I did not think you would."
His brows creased before he smoothed them again. "I could not leave with so much left unsaid between us."
Not knowing what to say to that, Annalyn suppressed the tears that were threatening to form. She waited.
"Last night…" He faltered for a moment, struggling to find the words. "There is much that I need to say, that I must say, lest you believe the worst of me." His gaze was downcast. "What happened between us… When I refused you… It is not what you think."
But Annalyn did not wish to speak of it. What would be the point? "There is no need to explain, Haldir. This entire situation has been difficult for both of us. I asked too much of you last night. I know that now. Can we not leave it at that?"
Haldir was shaking his head. "Nay."
Still, she would not be swayed. "Last night was a mistake. You know this. Even now, we err. It is unwise to be alone like this."
Haldir did not gainsay her words. Rather he said, "I cannot undo the hurt that you felt last night, nor can I change the nature of who and what we are. However, it was my hope that we could speak upon my return, for there is something we should discuss, something that I feel you should know."
"That I should know?" Annalyn echoed and tried to stand tall. "I am here now. If you have something to say, by all means, say it."
"There is no time."
Her features hardened in spite of herself. "Then you should have come sooner."
"I wanted to. Ah, believe me I wanted to, but my thoughts were in disarray. I could not…" A heavy breath, and then, "What I wish to tell you… It is rather complicated, and not something I should hasten. It is best if we wait. Trust me on this."
But what he was asking was impossible. Unbeknownst to him, her decision was made. She was leaving, and would be long gone by the time he returned. Drowning in guilt, Annalyn made for one of the lounging couches, where she busied herself by gathering the books Ithriel had left there.
Haldir asked, "You will meet me, then? Upon my return?"
"Of course. Yes." The lie left the bitterest taste in her mouth. Thinking he would perceive her dishonesty, she turned away from him. Books in hand, Annalyn returned them to the bookcase, faking lightness when she said, "Your brother is waiting for you. You should go." It hurt to say it, to send him away knowing this was the end, but she had never been adept at concealing what she felt. Now was no different.
But Haldir did not move.
Even without looking, Annalyn knew that he had narrowed his eyes at her, that a questioning frown was now forming on his brow. She was standing on her tippy-toes, putting the last book on the topmost shelf, when Haldir said her name, suspicion lacing every syllable.
She froze this time.
He knew.
"You will be here when I return?" he prodded when she faced him. The way he stood there—the rigidity in his posture—made it seem like his feet had sprung roots, so strong and deep she doubted even the mighty Anduin could move him.
"You are leaving." It was not a question.
Annalyn hoped her silence would be answer enough. Her mind was made up. She couldn't remain in Caras Galadhon, not for another day, and certainly not for another fortnight. It wouldn't be fair to either of them.
"You and I both know I cannot remain here."
Haldir blinked in confusion. "So your plan was what exactly? To slip away in hopes that no one would notice? To leave without so much as a word?"
When she made no reply, he looked at the ground and absorbed the blow. His jaw clenched, then he shook his head. "I do not wish for us to say goodbye in this fashion. Not now. Not like this."
"How then?" Annalyn countered miserably. "Given how we are both suffering, would it not be easier if I left now instead of later?" Met by a wall of silence, she blinked back tears and tried to reason with him. "If I was to break a limb, would we linger about, prolonging the agony? No. We would not. Rather, we would set the bone, swiftly and yes painfully, but only then could it begin to heal."
Though he understood her analogy, the comparison appeared to irk him. As she beseeched him with her eyes, his nostrils flared, and his mouth thinned in a line. "We are not discussing broken bones here."
"No," she agreed. "Only broken hearts."
As Haldir digested her words, Annalyn walked nearer to him, tilting her tear-stained face to meet his eyes, beautiful beneath his lashes but so full of pain. "Why prolong the inevitable, and make it harder for the both of us?" Hoping to drive her point home, she motioned to the city beyond the open archways. "You're an Elf. You belong here, amongst the trees, with your kin, your people. I do not." Haldir moved away from her even as she spoke. Agitated, he paced around the room until his feet brought him to the outdoor dining area, where he came to stand by one of the chairs.
As Annalyn emerged into the light of day, Haldir only stared outward. Given how proud he was, she knew that he would not plead for her to stay. It was not in him to do such a thing.
"I have made my decision. I am sorry." When he failed to say anything, she added, "You should know, I will never forget my time here. I will remember and think fondly of you, always."
His head tipped forward, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the back of the chair.
"We have saved each other several times over these past few months. Now I do so once again. You and I…" Her voice cracked a little. "It would be incredible and fervent and so very meaningful, but it would be folly. We both know this."
A long moment passed, then he righted himself, his voice low but direct when he said, "If indeed you have chosen, I suppose there is nothing left to say."
The finality of his words gouged a hole in her chest, and the selfish part of her wished he would have said more—words like, "I love you" or "I shall never forget you."
But she deserved no such sentiment. If he hadn't guessed her plans just now, Annalyn would have left without so much as a goodbye. He knew it just as much as she did.
Before she could find the words to fully close their story and say goodbye, Haldir shut the proverbial book himself. With shuttered features, he stalked toward the great spiral staircase, the end of his cloak billowing in his wake. For an instant, Annalyn was reminded of the way he had looked upon their first meeting—the cold Marchwarden of Lothlórien.
But Haldir wasn't being cold. He was hurting.
A lump clogged her throat, and she watched him go.
This was it. Haldir was leaving. Never again would she behold his proud face, or his elven eyes. Never would she hear his voice, nor feel his touch, or taste his kiss. The goodbye she had been dreading was now a thing of the past. The broken part of her should have been relieved—it is over and done, now perhaps we both can heal—but her heart knew the bitter truth.
She would never get over him.
The enormity of what she had done slammed into her with such force, it knocked the wind out of her. Shaky legs took her nearer to the staircase, where she looked after his retreating form. As her vision swam with tears, Annalyn drew a shuddering breath, or it might have been a broken whimper.
Whether or not he heard, Haldir kept walking, his feet carrying him down the stairs until the curving path took him around the bole of the mallorn and out of her life.
Farewell.
The depth of her sorrow was such that the words "sadness" and "distress" could not even begin to describe it. Grief, she decided. Grief was the closest thing to what she was feeling now. But he still lives. He will live forever. The latter provided a small measure of comfort, the only one to be found.
Salt touched upon her tongue, for tears were now seeping between her parted lips. Embarrassed, Annalyn swiped at her cheeks. Good thing the neighbouring footbridges were empty. If anyone were to see her like this…
Quite frankly, she should have sought refuge in the house by now, to hide in her room where none could stumble onto her and see her tears. But her feet would not move. In fact, they all but shouted at her to race after Haldir, to tell him that she had made a mistake, that she loved him and could not bear the thought of this being the end of them.
Swirling in indecision, Annalyn wavered and started after him only to halt and plop down onto one of the steps. Her hands linked between her knees, she bowed her head, and reasoned that she had done what was right. But then her heart chimed in. If you do not go after him, you will regret it forever.
Was this true?
Haldir was everything she had ever wanted in a man, and more. He was steadfast and honourable, devoted to those he loved. And yet she had let him go. No. I freed him. And in so doing was saving him from a world of hurt.
Even so, the decision, that had seemed so right, suddenly started to feel wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.
Horrified, Annalyn beheld the empty stairs. What have I done?
Willing strength back into her trembling legs, she rose with the intention of catching up to him, only to freeze again. At first, she thought her eyes were cheating her, that her tears were distorting her sight. But no.
Haldir had turned around. He had turned around and was now climbing the curving stairs. Eyes locked onto hers, he walked with a definite purpose in his steps, with determination it seemed. Before she could fully comprehend what was occurring, her feet had begun to move, descending with a quickening pace.
When the two finally met, her arms flew around his neck, where she buried her face and wept, quietly and without shame. Pride be damned.
Haldir, for his part, maintained a firm hold on her, his fingers clutching her tunic as he spoke, his voice choked with emotion. "Our story does not end today." A vow it seemed, one that mirrored her most fervent wish.
And so they lingered, slaves to their foolish hearts.
"This is highly stupid," Annalyn whispered without letting go. "So incredibly unwise." Soberly, she wiped her cheeks one last time, and eased away just so. "All I will bring you is pain—"
His kiss silenced her words, a kiss that eclipsed all the others. Poignant and heartfelt, it tasted of anguish and new beginnings, of hope and of tears. As it deepened, Annalyn rose onto her toes, and linked her fingers at the nape of his neck.
"Pain I can endure," he breathed against her mouth. "But losing you like this… today? I cannot." A soft smacking of lips. "I will not." Not without a fight, his hooded eyes seemed to imply. And so he kissed her, long and slow.
By now, desperate passion had given way to something more peaceful. Indeed, a calm was settling over Annalyn's heart, her soul even, a mending as it were. Was it the same for him?
When they finally broke apart, breathless and dizzy, her forehead came to rest against his. "I love you," she professed at last. "Completely and so very selfishly."
Eyes closed, Haldir exhaled in quiet relief, the slight curve of his mouth conveying all she yearned to hear.
He loved her, too.
His fingers skimmed the little dip behind her ear. At length, he pressed a final kiss to her lips. "I must go," he murmured in the narrow space between them. "Please do not flee ere I return." She might have laughed at his choice of words, only they were accurate. She would have fled. But now?
Granted, she had to leave. She had to break the news of Aldin's passing to Erna. But afterward… "It would seem we have much to discuss." An understatement if ever there was one.
"A fortnight," he warned again and drew back.
"I will be here. I will wait for your return. Then we shall speak."
Holding to her hand, Haldir descended a step while she swayed on her feet. His eyes… there was such tenderness in them. A solemn sort of joy. When he finally let go of her fingers, leaving as quickly as he had come, Annalyn remained where she was. Doubtless she looked as stunned as she felt.
So this wasn't the end after all. Perhaps their story was only beginning. Could it be? Are we really doing this? Her fingers rose to her lips, and she realised she was smiling, for joy had kindled in her heart, the likes of which she had not felt in a very long time, if ever.
As her mind worked to process all that had happened, Annalyn turned to climb the stairs. When lively chirping reached her ears, she stopped mid-step, and noted the little birds overhead. "You again."
This time, she did not mind their singing.
