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CHAPTER LIV
DAYBREAK
Haldir was staring at the star-studded sky, scarce believing the events of the night, how life-changing they had been. After leaving Annalyn's farewell feast, he had spent the waning hours of the night with her, and though they hadn't wed in the physical sense, they had gone well beyond what he had initially intended.
With a delightful heaviness in his flesh, Haldir went back to the moment he had worshipped his way down Annalyn's body, blazing a trail of open-mouthed kisses around her navel before venturing lower. That he had been so bold as to kiss her through her breeches surprised him still. Never in his long life had he unleashed himself in such a manner. But then, he had grown rather desperate of late, his perception of time altered by the knowledge that he would lose this amazing woman someday. His love, his life, his firiel.
With closing eyes, he swallowed his sadness and chose instead to celebrate. He had proposed to her, and she had said yes! From there, it hadn't taken long for the mood to shift into something more fiery.
When he had touched her for the first time—the Valar help me—words could not do justice to the experience. Annalyn was warmth. She was softness. Passion. Eagerness. When Haldir had explored the slick paradise at the juncture of her thighs, he had watched in wonder as she had tensed then melted against him, craving his touch as badly as he had craved hers.
Guided by instinct and the knowledge he had gathered from books when he had first come of age, Haldir had learned the secrets of her body—what she liked, and how she responded. Even now, he remembered her delicate sighs, those little gasps when he touched her in just the right way. When Annalyn had shattered in his arms, Haldir had nearly found completion himself. Wanting to wait, however, he had gently dissuaded her from returning the favour.
No, when he finally spilled his seed in her presence, he wanted to be buried deep inside her.
In the languid aftermath, as he had watched her with heavy-lidded eyes, Haldir had basked in what could only be described as male pride. To know that he could rouse and please her thusly… He drew a long, contented sigh.
Now Annalyn slept, her cheek pressed just below his shoulder, her slender arm draped over his midsection. Lulled by her breathing, Haldir relaxed until his mind pulled him toward restful sleep and the promise of equally peaceful dreams.
The sky above the hidden talan had only begun to lighten when Annalyn awoke, warm and well rested between the furs that served as their makeshift bed.
Her eyes fluttering open, she saw that Haldir remained deep in slumber, his mouth curved at the corner, his elven eyes unclosed as he stared blindly at the predawn sky. The dream he was spinning was kind, she knew. It was no mere guess either, for Annalyn had seen his dream just now, when their slumbering minds had brushed at the edges, merging but a little.
For her part, the dream had started in the colourful fields of her homeland. Standing in the middle of a meadow, Annalyn had been watching a herd of horses in the distance, their dappled coats shining in the sun, their hooves rumbling like thunder on the ground. With a sweeping gaze, she had gladly followed their path, turning on the spot as they rode in a wide circle around her.
It was then that she had glimpsed Haldir's dream, for instead of an unchanging field, her eyes had fallen on the blurred edges of a forest—mallyrn, with shafts of golden light slanting between their lofty boughs. At their feet, ferns and mallos had glistened with dew, the effect akin to a carpet of tiny gems sparkling in sunlight. And in the midst of all this had walked a lone figure, golden-haired and beautiful. With slow steps, Haldir had woven his way between the mallorn-trees, his tranquil features angled toward the leaves above.
His hair had been unbound, the strands falling straight and smooth over his broad shoulders.
Her chest swelling with love, Annalyn would have gone to him at once. But her slumbering mind had chosen that moment to awaken. And now, here she was, safe and comfortable in the arms of the Elf she loved. It was a wonderful way to wake, if truth be told. And for Annalyn it felt thrillingly new.
Except by necessity—on those nights she and Haldir had sat huddled beneath his cloak to keep warm or hide from the Orcs—Annalyn had never slept next to a man like this. Not even Wilmaer. And for that, she was glad.
Not wanting to wake her beloved, Annalyn watched his profile without moving. In truth, she was thinking of all they had shared earlier in the night. Gracious, Haldir was generous in intimacy. Gentle and intuitive, he had roused her body with startling ease, coaxing the most exquisite sensations she had ever had the fortune of feeling. If she was honest, his boldness had taken her aback at first, in the best possible way. To be sure, nothing had ever come close to what she had experienced last night. And we are not even wed yet.
Afterward, Annalyn had tried to reciprocate, to gift him with the release he deserved but, bless him, he had shaken his head and kissed her softly. "This was all for you," he had whispered. "I have waited three thousand years to find someone like you. I can wait a little while longer."
Back in the present, a soft whispering breeze caused the leaves to dance, making it seem like the mallorn was sighing in gladness. The sky had lightened considerably. Only the brightest stars remained. Soon even these would fade, then the day would begin. Alas, though she would love nothing more than to while away the hours with Haldir, there was much to do today.
Her chest rose and fell.
Haldir stirred.
Awakening, he began to stretch, only to pause when he realised she was watching him.
"Morning," she said.
With dancing eyes, he turned to face her. "It is not yet dawn. Has sleep eluded you?"
"I have slept enough." It was the truth. Recalling their dreams, she swept her fingers over the braid by his ear. "Your dream was restful."
"It was," he agreed, thinking she had meant it as a question.
"You know, you should let your hair down more often. It looks beautiful when it is unbound."
His eyes narrowed in question.
She had to smile. "Had I not awakened, I would have joined you beneath the mallyrn."
He hesitated for a moment. "You know, then."
"That we have been sharing dreams? Yes, I know."
His features grew more serious. "Does it trouble you? For I never meant to intrude upon—"
"No," she cut him off, but warmly. "It does not trouble me. I love sharing dreams with you."
His eyes fell closed. Haldir seemed relieved. A heartbeat later, he was leaning toward her, pressing his mouth to hers and lingering.
She would never tire of this, she decided. She would never tire of kissing and touching him. This ellon was more intoxicating than aged wine, she decided as his tongue swept the seam of her mouth. When her lips parted beneath his, Haldir promptly deepened the kiss, his tongue gliding with and against hers.
He soon became aroused. The same for her. But unlike the previous night, they held their desires in check, and contented themselves with kissing as day broke around them.
"Haldir?" she breathed after a while, distracted by his feather-light kisses on the rim of her ear. Upon meeting him, she never would have guessed that the Marchwarden of Lórien could be so tender and affectionate.
"Hmm?"
How could she say this? "I drank quite a bit of mead last night, and… well…" Good gracious, this was embarrassing. "There are no privies up here."
Now he breathed a laugh. Oh, how she loved the sound and the youthful look on his face when he drew back and sought her eyes. "Well, if your bladder insists, I shall lead you back down. Come," Haldir said, stealing one last kiss before rising and gathering the furs.
By the time they had donned their boots and weapons and were descending the ladder, the air had warmed, and songbirds were happily chirping away.
"Is it just me, or is it worse climbing down than climbing up?" Her heart beating a furious tattoo in her chest, Annalyn had to halt, with Haldir a few rungs below. They weren't even halfway down, and her trembling legs refused to move. Staring straight ahead, she held to the ladder tightly, but could not find her courage.
The ladder swayed as Haldir climbed a few steps to join her. When his feet were but a rung or two below hers, his hands covered her own. Being much taller than she was, his chest was pressed against her shoulder blades, the rumble of his voice soft and reassuring against the back of her head. "We will descend together. You will not fall."
She trusted him. She did. Yet Annalyn swallowed hard at that.
"You can do this, meleth nîn."
A tiny smile pierced her fearful expression. "Oh, do say it again."
"You mean meleth nîn?"
The pounding of her heart was deafening, her hands sweating so profusely, she feared losing her grip on the ropes. "Yes." It might seem stupid, but the endearment soothed her.
"Very well, meleth nîn," he whispered by her ear, sending delightful frissons along her spine. Just by his tone, Annalyn knew he was smiling. "Meleth nîn…"
Her boot left the rung, and she descended, one slow step at a time, with Haldir matching her cautious pace, spurring her with his velvety voice. "Yes. Good. We are nearly there."
And then, at long last, they were.
Just like the previous night, Haldir held both of her hands as they navigated the boughs. When their feet finally met the flat surface of his talan, Annalyn released the breath she had been holding.
"Did I not say you could do it?" he boasted. Haldir boasting—this was so surreal! She rather liked seeing this carefree side of him.
"Thanks to you." Annalyn glanced at the tree above, smirking when she arched a brow. "You know, should you ever be angry with me, you need but flee up there. I will not follow." Not without his guiding hand.
Though his laughter was nearly silent, it filled his beautiful features and shook his frame. "Noted," he replied at last.
And so, hand in hand, they edged the front of his house, and were almost at the door when Haldir came to a sudden halt, his features hardening.
Following his gaze, Annalyn saw that Rúmil was loitering on the footbridge nearby, his bow resting by his feet as he leaned back against the rail. The look he gave them was far from approving. Wordlessly, he pushed away from the rail, slung his bow upon his back, and made his way over.
Not knowing what to do, or how to feel, Annalyn was about to release Haldir's hand, when he tightened his grip on hers. She swallowed hard. They were making a statement, then. Annalyn was not opposed to it, but to say she wasn't nervous would have been a lie.
"I did not expect to see you in the city so soon," Haldir said to his brother.
"Orophin needed a courier. Out of everyone he could have chosen, well… the honour fell to me." Clearly Rúmil was not pleased by this.
As he reached into the folds of his cloak to produce a roll of parchment, Annalyn looked to Haldir. Ill-at-ease, she said, "I should go. I need to fetch Taerion's sketchbook,"—which she had left on the terrace—"then I promised Ninael I would meet her at the stables this morning." In truth, those were just two of the many things she had to do this day. But Haldir knew this. They had spoken of it last night. "I will see you at dinner?"
Haldir nodded, for the two had promised Ithriel that they would join her this evening, after which Annalyn would retire early so she and Ninael could depart before dawn.
Releasing his hand, she returned Haldir's tender smile, then moved past Rúmil, doing her best to ignore the critical arch of his brow.
The report pertained to their latest raid, and included a tally of the morgul weapons they had destroyed thus far. As he finished reading the missive, Haldir strode through the doors of his home. Tucking the parchment into a hidden pocket in his tunic, he saw that Rúmil was now leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed as he watched Annalyn's retreating form.
"I see you are still pursuing her."
Pursuing her? I intend to marry her, he countered in the privacy of his thoughts. Out loud, he said, "I am." With that, Haldir removed his bow and quiver, hanging them upon a nearby hook before unfastening his sword-belt. "And I see you are still against it."
"It is not a matter of being for or against. I fret for you, brother. And I assure you, I am not the only one,"—now he spoke under his breath—"although none would dare say so to your face."
Haldir turned away from his brother. "My life is my own to live," he said, then tossed his sword-belt on a nearby chair.
"Your life…" Rúmil clicked his tongue. "Tell me, how do you envision your life once she has gone?" Rúmil's eyes fell closed, and then he sighed. "Ever have I wished you joy, Haldir. And to that I hold. But this…" Now he was shaking his head, his voice low when he said, "It will destroy you in the end. We both know this."
Do we? For truth of the matter was, Haldir didn't even know anymore. One brother thinks I can withstand this; the other does not. Haldir, for his part, had long believed that losing her would be the end of him. Only recently had he begun to hope otherwise. But was it a fool's hope? A delusion? As a rare headache took hold, Haldir pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you quite finished?"
"Does she know at least?" Rúmil asked then waited. When Haldir failed to answer, he pressed again. "Does she know how this will end for you? Or is she holding to the hope that you will somehow find healing someday?"
As the walls seemed to close about him, Haldir averted his gaze. The muscles of his jaw flexed. He ground his teeth. Unwilling to discuss this matter any further, he made for the serving cart, where he poured himself a glass of cordial and drank it in one gulp. As the liquid burned its way down his throat, a quiet scoff reached his ears.
"I thought so," Rúmil said.
By the time Haldir turned back around, his brother had already left.
