Sorry this took a little longer than planned. Writing this chapter felt like pulling teeth at first. I don't know if it categorizes as writer's block, but though I knew what I wanted to do with this part, whenever I wrote a paragraph, I just hated every word. I think it was due to a combination of things. Medical issues, and a busier schedule, among other things. But luckily, thankfully, I persevered and found my rhythm again. Then I ran into the opposite problem. What was supposed to be a three scene chapter turned into four. I just couldn't stop typing lol.
Anyway, I hope this reads okay. *fingers crossed*
KathrannofQuade, starrat, crazygirlsb88, leward1992, Allana Winchester, silentmayhem, Blue1258, Ruiniel, Rogue's Queen, Doria Nell, Hexzhana, durinsdaughter2469btw, Erinnichole1560, Auriene, fantasticferret, leelee202, AshleyLeigh, xXxLaLaxXx, Raider-K, SmallLittleCagedBird, princessnerra, ladyville, Cricklewood16, Erikawaskiki, and Hansloch. Thanks for the support, guys! And thanks for answering my little survey! It seems most of you enjoy longer chapters. Though I'll still write shorter chapters when it suits the narrative, I will definitely aim for longer ones. And this current chapter is my third longest to date.
As always, thanks to all my readers, and all those who clicked "favorite" or "follow". Your continued interest heartens, humbles, and motivates me.
Random side note: the musical inspiration for the second half of this chapter is the song "Uranus" by Sleeping At Last (the instrumental version).
CHAPTER LXI
VACILLATION
The shared dreams had ceased. For three nights now. The first had been disappointing. The second doubly so. But the third… the third had left her unsettled.
What if I never dream of him again?
Given how things had transpired the last time—how close they had come to making love before the dream had come to a sudden and jarring end—perhaps Haldir was wisely choosing to stay away. Rationally speaking, she knew it would be more merciful not to share dreams anymore. And yet, with each passing night, Annalyn's disappointment grew, tainting her waking hours and making her ache.
Of course, Haldir was an Elf, and Elves could go for longer periods without rest or sleep. But be that as it may, his nightly absence perturbed her. Regardless of the conflict that yet churned in her being, Annalyn could not let go of what they had shared during that last dream. So close…
Alas, Orcs had been on the prowl, and the need for a hasty retreat had forced her companion to wake her so the two could make a hasty retreat, leaving their camp and her scorching dream behind.
Thankfully, she and Ninael had seen no further sign of the creatures since those early morning hours, three days ago. Having traversed the Entwash later that same day, the two were now travelling through West-Emnet. The heads of their horses bobbing as they went, they made for a grassy slope, from which they could scan the area before settling down for some much needed rest.
Ever since the two had struck out of the Golden Wood, it had been their wont to travel late into the night. It was after midnight. The stars were flickering in the cloudless sky. Though most of the plains were level and flat, there were many folds and gullies in this area.
Another week now. Another week and I will be home.
Oh, Erna… Her world was about to shatter, and the young woman had no idea. Although, given the lateness of Annalyn's arrival, Erna must have been wondering and fretting by now. We should have been home weeks ago, she mused, dreading the moment when she would deliver the awful news. How she would bear the unhappy task, Annalyn had no idea. Destroying someone's hopes like that. Telling that poor girl that the man she loves is no longer of this world.
Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away.
Courage.
Her fingers absently tracing the leatherwork of Aldin's baldric, Annalyn followed her companion to the top of the grassy hill.
Her warrior braids limned with the bluish glow of night, the Elf nudged her chin southward. "Look."
Riding up alongside her, Annalyn pulled on the reins and looked to the bottom of the gentle hill. A light. That of a campfire.
"A group of Men, numbering forty," the soldier informed her. "An Éored, it seems."
An Éored. The Eorlingas.
Suddenly enlivened by this find, Annalyn shifted in the saddle, and pondered what to do.
"You wish to approach them," Ninael guessed more than asked.
She couldn't deny it. "I worry about my people. Quite frankly, I am starved for news."
Ninael pursed her lips at that, donning her hood as she said, "Startling a group of soldiers in the dead of night is usually ill-advised. We should approach with caution, then."
In agreement, the two guided their steeds clear over the crest then down the lengthy hillside. To avoid early detection, they kept a quiet and cautious pace.
Ninael spoke in whispers. "Six of them are awake, but most are sleeping or resting. The periphery of their camp is guarded by two sentries. They carry swords, but each has a bow." Now she pointed, somewhere beyond the encampment. "They are keeping to the shadows to better peer into the gloom." For those sitting by the campfire would be mostly blind to all that lurked in the surrounding dark.
"Their circling path will soon converge on the other side," Ninael stated and Annalyn nodded, glad for the healthy distance separating them from those sentries. The last thing they wanted or needed was to be spotted before they could approach and identify themselves.
Imagine coming all this way only to be struck down by a few well-aimed arrows.
"The men in camp sense nothing amiss thus far. I will tell you when they note our presence. Call to them as soon as I do."
A nervous knot in her belly, Annalyn guided her horse at a walk until, after a seemingly endless ride, Ninael noted a stirring in camp. Annalyn caught it, too. One of the soldiers had stiffened and was looking their way.
"Now," Ninael said.
Annalyn's palms were sweaty all of a sudden, her heart threatening to leap out of her throat. Here goes. "Men of Rohan!" she called in Rohirric, sparking a sudden rush of activity.
Some of the soldiers were waking, the others already on their feet, their hands immediately going to their weapons. Those in readiness gathered in a defensive line, while the rest made for their horses, bringing them around so they could peer into the night.
"Peace! I am from the Riddermark!" Her voice rang out.
"Who goes there!" One of them called, spear of ash aimed in their direction.
As Annalyn entered the wide circle of light, all eyes were on her and the Elf who rode, hooded and cloaked, by her side.
"I am Annalyn, daughter of Éadmód. I am but headed home, in the Westfold."
Some of the men exchanged glances, their eyes clearly asking, what's a woman doing out here?
As Annalyn and Ninael drew rein, their horses stamping quietly beneath them, the newly-mounted riders spurred their steeds into a canter, forming a tight circle around them. Some of them were facing camp. The rest were mere shadows, black silhouettes against the roaring campfire beyond.
Guiding Cobalt in a cautious pivot, Annalyn studied those who were facing the encampment. Clad in burnished shirts of mail, the soldiers did not lower their weapons. Trapped within their ring of spears, she swallowed thickly, but did not flinch otherwise.
Their faces were stern, she noted, their hair brown or flaxen-pale. Some bore painted shields displaying various images, from sun disks to galloping horses. A fair people, proud and fearless in battle. And right now… They distrust me.
"Peace, friends," Annalyn said and raised her empty hands.
Speculative whispers arose as they watched her.
"We are far from any settlement. What business have you out here?" a man demanded.
"Like I stated earlier, I am but headed home. Long have I travelled abroad. My companion and I approached you now in hopes of gathering news. I assure you we are no threat."
"Two women travelling alone in the middle of the night?" Suspecting a ruse, one of the soldiers turned his steed to scan the nearby hillside, looking for anyone who might be hiding out there.
As Annalyn and Ninael exchanged a concerned glance, the sound of galloping hooves severed the uneasy quiet. Turning toward the sound, she saw that the sentries had doubled-back, one much nearer than the other.
As she followed their approach, hushed whispers reached her ears.
"That is Feran's niece," one soldier said to another.
"I thought she looked familiar," a second one replied. "Where are her kin?"
Cutting a glance in their direction, Annalyn recognised them. These soldiers were known in her village, for the muster with which they rode was tasked with guarding the West-Mark. No sooner had she made the connection than the first sentry arrived.
"What goes here?" he demanded in a young but commanding voice. As the encircling soldiers allowed the newcomer to pass, the knot in Annalyn's chest loosened somewhat. She knew that face. Théodred, heir to King Théoden and commander of the Westfold.
Though it had been nearly ten months since she had last seen him, the prince of Rohan was wont to pass through her village every now and again. From the looks of it, his Éored had recently welcomed new faces, for most of these men were unknown to her.
As soon as Théodred drew rein, recognition dawned on his youthful face. At once, he removed his helm, and called to his men. "Stand down," he said and dismounted. "Her face is known to me."
Her feet meeting the ground, Annalyn held to the reins but bowed her head in greeting, while all around her, the soldiers relaxed their spears, holding them so their lethal points were aimed at the starry sky.
"You're a long way from home," the heir to the throne said to her, his pale but dishevelled hair warmed by firelight. "You were travelling abroad."
"I was. My kin and I set out from our village at the turn of autumn. We travelled as far as the Vales of Rhovanion. Alas, our journey proved more perilous than we had reckoned, and now I return without my uncle and cousin."
"They fell," Théodred assumed and seemed genuinely sorry for her.
Her features growing more subdued, Annalyn answered by way of a nod.
"Alas, these are sorrowful times. I am sorry to hear of their passing." He sighed. Then his focus shifted. "Your companion. Who is she?"
Still sitting atop of her horse, Ninael drew back her hood, revealing what she was.
A few gasps sounded, followed by whispers. "An Elf," one of the men marvelled.
"This is Ninael. A captain of the Galadhrim. Third in the line of command in Lothlórien's northern garrison."
Murmurs echoed around them. The soldiers were stirring. There was no mistaking the surprise on their faces.
After all, in Rohan, war was the province of men. Except for noble shield-maidens, whose training was mostly ceremonial, women were not trained to fight and ride with the Rohirrim. Most could wield swords, of course—for there were many threats out here—but those who did were mostly taught by their fathers. As far as Annalyn knew, there were no female soldiers in the Mark.
"Meet one of your northern neighbours," Annalyn added with a smirk, her brow arching toward her hairline. It is about time you knew them.
Ninael descended from her horse. "Seldom do our people meet, but long have we dwelt side by side." Annalyn blinked in amazement. Her Rohirric is flawless. "In fact, the Galadhrim have resided in the Golden Wood since long before the Rohirrim settled on the Horse Plains." Facing the prince, Ninael bowed in Elf-fashion. "Mae govannen."
"The Golden Wood," Théodred echoed with wonderment. "The old tales tell of such a realm. For years, I believed your people had gone to live elsewhere, far from these parts. But less than a month ago, I was told that two Elves had approached our northernmost patrols, warning them of a gathering threat. I reckon these were your men?"
"Indeed."
Though he seemed to appreciate the warning, the young commander did not fully lower his guard. "What is your business in the Riddermark?"
"I am here to see that my friend makes it home. These are perilous times, and foolish are those who travel alone."
Théodred considered her answer for a moment. After weighing the elven soldier, to see if further caution was warranted, he seemed to come to a decision. His posture relaxing by a fraction, the young man inclined his head and swept his arm toward camp. "If we are to share news, then please, join us by the fire."
As the other soldiers dispersed, Annalyn released the breath she had been holding. Relieved, she expressed her gratitude and was about to follow Théodred when the second sentry finally drew nigh.
Her eyes going to his face, Annalyn nearly staggered on the spot, so taken aback was she.
The man halted upon reaching them. When he realised who she was, his jaw fell slack, his blue-grey eyes eclipsed by a series of astounded blinks.
He did not speak and neither did she. As his horse nickered and pranced, all he did was stare and stare.
Stunned into similar inaction, Annalyn swallowed to ease the tightness in her chest. I should have expected this. I should have known. The man in question had served under Théodred for over two years now. Of course he would be here.
Of all the paths I could have taken, how did I end up in this very spot, in this very moment? Face to face with… him!
Wilmaer.
Her nostrils flared. She could have screamed, yelled out her frustration—I must be cursed. Instead, she forced her features into a neutral expression.
For here was the man she had once hoped to marry. The man who had taken more than she should have given. The man who had once claimed to love her, only to betray her in the end.
A liar and a charmer he was. A cheat of the worst sort.
Oh, the pain of his betrayal was not as keen as it once was, for time had allowed her to heal. But healing and forgetting were two very different things. Seeing him now, their paths crossing without warning…
Annalyn's heart twisted in spite of herself. Flexing her jaw, she averted her eyes, ignoring Ninael's questioning gaze as she followed after Théodred. She was here for news after all.
The news was disheartening, though not surprising.
According to Théodred, Orc-raids were on the rise. "Our lands are crawling with these creatures. Thankfully, your village has been spared thus far." The young commander reached for his cup of mead, and brought it to his lips. Unlike most of the men in his muster, he sported no beard. "The same cannot be said for some of the other settlements," he went on to say. "In response, the men have been rallying. We have doubled our watches."
Sitting beside the prince, with Ninael seated to her right, Annalyn was both relieved and saddened by the news. As she nursed her own drink, the fire popped and crackled, casting sparks into the velvet blackness above.
Théodred said, "I wish I had better tidings." A second went by. When next he spoke, his voice had lowered in commiseration. "I was sorry to hear of your kin."
Because he had wished for her to go first, Annalyn had already relayed the story of their demise, the account reopening the barely-scarred wounds.
Keeping hold over her emotions, she looked to the dancing flames, and thought of happier times—those evenings spent with her kin, their jovial features bathed in the glow of their campfire.
"Your uncle seemed like a good man. I spoke to him once or twice in the mead hall. Some of my men boasted that he made excellent pipes."
The mood lightened at that. The two shared a quiet laugh. "That he did."
As they both fell silent, Théodred downed the rest of his drink. Annalyn did the same. "The night is late," he said. "I should turn in. You are welcome to rest among us this night. Tomorrow, we ride south."
"In that case, we shall say our farewells in the morning," Annalyn replied, for she and Ninael would be heading in a westerly direction.
Rising to his feet, the young commander addressed the men who lingered nearby. "I suggest you take some rest. We ride at dawn."
Glancing to her right, she saw that Ninael had already risen. Alone by the fire, Annalyn was left with the same impression she had had since entering camp. The feeling of blue-grey eyes watching her.
Chancing a look over the flames, her gaze immediately collided with his. Like the last time she had seen him, Wilmaer bore a look of sorrow laced with shame. He regretted. It matters not.
Having neither the strength nor the desire to engage him—for he was bound to approach her if she lingered—Annalyn arose and went in search of her companion.
Ninael was now standing near their horses, her watchful eyes sweeping the camp and beyond. While she had kept to herself since their arrival, the men were intrigued by the elven soldier.
By and large, the Rohirrim were a fair people, but being Men they had not the beauty of Elves. In their eyes, Ninael would be a rare beauty indeed. Aloof and stern perhaps, but stunning nonetheless.
"Must I ask?" Ninael's keen gaze flickered over to Wilmaer.
"A mistake from my past," was Annalyn's answer, spoken as she fetched the bundle that was her tent. "It is a long story." While she had hoped to conceal her turmoil, her features turned rueful. "I might tell it in full ere you depart for Lothlórien. But not tonight. Not here."
Her companion inclined her head at that. "These might be your people, but I do not know these men. Sleep in peace, my friend. I shall ward you this night."
A small but heartfelt smile bloomed on Annalyn's lips. "Good night, Ninael."
Haldir was no master smith, but he practiced the craft, and knew his way around a forge. Yet the sights and smells that now assailed his senses were somehow foreign to him. No, not foreign, he decided. They were just plain wrong.
The air in the grotto-turned-forge was hot, the air thick with the usual smell of coal-dust and molten iron. But there was a strange reek also, one that was growing more potent with each additional hammer stroke.
Amid the clang of the anvil and the familiar whoosh of bellows, Haldir drew nearer to the fireclay furnace, and watched as the smiths brought their hammers down on the heated Morgul blades, smashing the ensorcelled weapons to release their power and burn away the poison embedded in the very metal they had been forged with.
Instead of a fiery orange, the heated blades glowed a pale, sickly green. And like a sickness, the colour would spread every time the hammer fell, tainting the fires until all was aglow in this strange and unnatural light.
Haldir hated it. He detested the presence such malevolent objects in his beloved Naith. But in the words of Lord Celeborn, these were dark days.
We do what we must.
Eyeing the growing pile of misshapen and destroyed weapons, he consoled himself with the knowledge that the world would finally be rid of these vile instruments—at least the ones his forces had been able to retrieve.
Satisfied that all was going apace, Haldir left the smiths to their work, and proceeded toward the inner flets.
Gradually, the sounds of the forge faded away behind him. The forest was still this night. At last report, all was quiet in the surrounding valley, a fact for which he was glad.
The past few days had been tiring. There was so much to do. So much to oversee.
With Orophin enjoying a well-deserved rest in the city, and Rúmil's recent transfer to another patrol, Haldir was alone this night. As he traversed the forest, acknowledging the sentinels he passed along the way, he was struck by an overwhelming sense of loneliness and anger.
Indeed, he was angry with his youngest brother. He also missed and ached for Annalyn. Haldir couldn't remember the last time he had felt so lost. She was in his thoughts, in his grieving heart, in his very bloodstream, always. He would never be free of her. Of that he was certain.
Walking toward an empty lookout, in a quiet section of forest, he climbed as high as he could go, settling on a sturdy tree-limb, with his back pressed to the bole. Obscured by the leafy branches of a neighbouring mallorn, it was a solitary outpost, with a hidden cache of supplies but no actual flet. Here, he would spend the remainder of the night, watching for trouble while resting at the same time.
The ability to sleep while remaining aware of his surroundings was a useful ability, especially when he was out here. Tonight, Haldir would take full advantage of it, for he felt drained beyond what he was used to, his body wrung out by the emotional ache he carried within him.
Even now, Annalyn haunted and tormented him. He yearned to see her, to hear her voice, to kiss her mouth and touch her skin, loving her as a husband worships a wife.
Only she wasn't his wife.
"Rhaich," he cursed on a tired murmur, pressing his palms into his eyes.
It was foolish, reckless, but if he slipped into dreams and saw her… Will I do as I promised? Will I retreat and leave her be?
Haldir wasn't so sure anymore, and that was a problem. Something told him that if they started this, stopping would be harder than either of them could imagine.
"She is free of you." Do not cage her into this. To encourage these shared dreams would serve no purpose other than hurt her in the end. She must be free to live her life, to heal and forget all about you, he admonished himself. You must be stronger than this. Choose wisdom. Do not fall into folly.
Another whispered curse left his lips, hissing in the lonely night.
Ah, but he was tired, wearied beyond comprehension. Knowing he had to sleep, and soon, Haldir promised himself that he would stay away from her. If Annalyn was dreaming, and his mind suddenly linked with hers, he would force himself to wake. He would leave her be.
But his vow was half-hearted at best, his will more fractured than he cared to admit.
As night deepened around him, Haldir yielded to his fatigue. Eyes scanning the surrounding forest, he slept.
The mallyrn towered above her, the footbridges and dwellings bathed in the first light of dawn. Clad in a nightdress, Annalyn stepped away from the pavilion, the grass slightly cool beneath her bare feet.
While this place had always been a haven of tranquility, there was something inherently different about the calmness around her. The leaves were stirring and the birds were chirping, but the paths above were completely deserted. More telling, however, was the fact that the city itself felt empty.
Am I truly here? Annalyn wondered as a memory arose from the hazy depths of her mind, images of gathered friends and tearful goodbyes by the city's lamplit gates. I have already left this place.
Her feet came to a sudden stop, then she was turning on the spot, looking all around as her hand came to rest over her heart. "This makes no sense. I should be in Rohan, not Lothlórien."
Then it dawned on her. I am in Rohan. At least her slumbering body was.
"A dream," she whispered to herself. I am dreaming.
Suddenly cognisant of where she was, and what it could mean, Annalyn wound her way between the great silver trees, first at a walk, then at a run.
Her heart hastened—in despair or rising hope, she did not know.
She was panting now, frantic in her desperate search for the Elf she loved. Annalyn wanted to see him, a need so strong, it was nigh overwhelming. Her eyes scanned the city above. Soon, she was climbing, ascending a mallorn by way of a spiral stair. Alas, Caras Galadhon was vast, and the homes around her were unfamiliar. She had to catch her bearings. She had to find his home tree.
Following a footbridge, Annalyn came upon a circular platform, over which was an elegant wooden structure. Supported by elegant pillars, the roof was made of narrow sweeping beams, forming a lattice dome through which she could see the sky. Stepping onto the platform, she saw three branching paths. But which way should she go?
Halting in the middle of the platform, Annalyn turned on the spot, and swept a gaze over her surroundings. Willing her heart to slow, she was about to call out his name when a sound reached her ears. Musical notes. Strings, to be more precise. A harp. Was it him? But then who else could it be?
Her feet were already moving, leading her toward the music. Clearer and clearer, it seemed. I must be getting close. When the footbridge curved around a mallorn, the soothing melody grew in clarity and strength. Looking up, she found him at last, and slowed to a halt.
Now anchored to the spot, Annalyn watched as he plucked at the harp strings, his head tipped forward, his booted feet dangling from the high tree-limb onto which he sat.
Tears of joy welled in her eyes as she beheld him. Seconds passed. Haldir continued to play. But then his fingers stilled. When he looked in her direction, it was as if he already knew, as if he had sensed her somehow.
Their gazes held for a moment longer, the harp vanishing into thin air as he gained his feet. Before she could process what was happening, he dropped from his perch, landing on the footbridge with absolute silence, a picture of unparalleled balance and sureness of step. Standing to full height, he moved not at first. Rather, he stared at her from afar, his eyes conveying all that he felt.
At first, he seemed mostly conflicted, but the reluctance on his face soon began to fade.
Secure in the knowledge that Haldir not only welcomed her presence, but yearned for it, Annalyn started walking at the same time he did. Moments later, they were standing face-to-face, in the middle of the footbridge.
"You're here." It seemed like a useless thing to say. Of course, he was here. "It's been a few days. I thought that… you might be deliberately staying away."
A beat went by. He seemed contrite.
"I was."
"You regret it, then." She said it as a statement rather than a question. Her gaze fell. "You regret what came to pass between us last time. I understand."
"Do you?" Annalyn looked up. He was walking closer. "Nay." His fingers brushed her hair, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I do not believe that you do."
Unable to help it, Annalyn leaned into his touch.
"I was staying away, but not for the reason that you think. I harbour no regrets, Annalyn."
"Then why?"
His mouth curved in sadness. "To make it easier on you. When last we spoke in person, you ended things between us, for both our sakes. And yet here we linger. Drawn to one another in our dreams. Unwilling or unable to break away." His brows furrowed a little, but his gaze remained on her lips. "Moths to a flame."
His thumb was now brushing the lower half of her mouth, spreading moisture as he grazed her inner lip and retreated. Breathless and weak in the knees, Annalyn stared at his mouth also. "Such fools we are."
He did not contradict her. They both knew it to be true.
"What now?" she asked as their eyes met once more.
"We cannot be together in life. But this…" He shook his head. "This is not real life."
Her insides quivered at that. What was he saying? Did his secret hopes align with her own?
"Annalyn," he went on, his features almost grave. "I stayed away these past few nights for the reason that I do not wish to cause you any further heartache. The idea of hurting you… I would rather die; you know this. If me coming to you in this fashion—"
"I have wished for this, every night since last I dreamed of you. I have hoped for your return."
"You have?" Amazement filled his eyes. But then the expression faded, replaced with concern. "My most fervent wish is for you to find joy. To live a fulfilling life. A life with the purpose I know you crave."
What I crave is a life with you, she wanted to say. But I will never have it. I could never do that to you.
Unaware of her musings, he continued, enumerating the things he wished her to have. "A life filled with laughter and friendship. A life filled with… love." Though his words were sincere, it was clear that the idea of her being with another man killed him. "By coming to you in this fashion, by allowing us to see one another in dreams… The last thing I want is to hold you back. I will not keep you tethered to me, Annalyn. This I cannot allow. It would be… cruel and selfish of me."
"So you're saying… this will be the last time?"
"It should be. Do you not agree?"
No! she wanted to shout, but held her tongue. He was right. They shouldn't meet again like this. It was cruel and unwise.
"I…" Oh but why couldn't she say it?
Despite all she had said to him in Caras Galadhon, despite her decision to leave him, to spare his noble heart, Annalyn was reluctant to close that door. Reckless as it was, she wanted him here. I need him.
"When next we dream of each other, I will not remain," Haldir told her. "I will awaken at once. I must. It was wrong of me to linger like I did the last time. To kiss you and…" His eyes fell closed, his chest rising and falling on a shuddering breath. "What nearly came to pass…"
"You desired it," it came out mostly as a question.
"I did."
Her fragile voice thickened. "What about now?"
His eyes narrowed in question. Did hope just flash in his gaze?
Annalyn took a step forward, narrowing the gap. Quietly, she asked, "Do you wish for this?"
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his voice made rough when, at long last, he said, "Yes."
Before either of them could change their minds, Annalyn grabbed the back of his head, pulling him to her level as she rose on her toes, and kissed him.
Swallowing his whimpering sigh, she wound her arms around his neck, then knotted her hands in the silken curtain of his hair. That kiss… The manner in which he returned it… Words could not describe how it moved and touched her, how cherished she felt beneath the tender strokes of his lips and tongue. His taste was exquisite, his scent alluring beyond compare.
The warmth of his hands seeped through her sleeping gown, reaching her skin as he caressed the length of her spine, from her shoulder blades down to the curve of her lower back. There, he pulled her closer, and she gasped at what she felt against her abdomen.
A moan rising in her throat, Annalyn pressed herself against his loins, and was rewarded by a low, guttural groan. Desire burned through them both. And this time, she would yield to it, and give herself to him. Such a thing would not be possible in the real world. Only in dreams. So until she awoke from her slumber, Annalyn would love him with her mouth, with her hands, with her eyes—the dream version of them anyway.
"Firiel…" His warm breath feathered against her parted lips. Then he was tasting her again, narrowing her existence to this single moment in time. When a rushing sound filled her ears, the light dimming beyond her eyelids, Annalyn suspected that the world around them had dissolved. The light brightened once more. We must be elsewhere.
Their lips smacked softly. She withdrew from their kiss, and noted that she had been right. They were no longer on a random footbridge somewhere. Rather, they stood before Haldir's dwelling, the elegant double doors open in invitation, as if their coming together had been preordained.
His fingers sliding between the grooves of her knuckles, Haldir beheld her with a gentle but confident gaze. He harboured no reservation, it seemed. Not anymore. But as he brought her hand to his perfect lips, pressing a soft kiss atop her knuckles, there was a clear question in his eyes. Are you certain? he seemed to ask.
Her chest grew heavy, her eyelids lowering into a hooded gaze. Swallowing hard, Annalyn said, "Aren't we going inside?"
Haldir's mouth curved at that. Ageless as he was, his features seemed almost youthful, his eyes shining in a way she had never seen before. Moved by the sight, she realised he was leading her by the hand, through the double doors, then up the stairs leading to his bedroom.
Once there, he released her hand. As she waited by the staircase, he stopped by the foot of his bed, where he turned to face her, his masculine frame haloed by a bright morning sun. As songbirds sung and flitted somewhere beyond the balcony, Haldir waited. She understood his reasoning. Instead of coaxing or seducing her into his bed, he needed her to come to him.
She did.
Unlike the fevered frenzy of their previous dream, they took their time, savouring the other with whispered declarations and tender kisses. The things he said to her in those quiet moments before they undressed each other were the most heartfelt and beautiful words anyone had ever said to her.
Trembling with want, Annalyn wrapped her arms around his torso, and laid her head over his thundering heart. "You're my everything," she told him. "Above all else, I wish you to know this."
He caressed her back in an upward motion. Then he whispered, "I know." Even without looking, Annalyn knew he was smiling. As he laid a kiss on the crown of her head, she felt his fingers slide beneath the cap sleeves of her nightdress, lifting them so he could ease them down her shoulders.
Willing and ready, Annalyn relinquished her hold on him, her arms falling to her sides. Raising her chin to meet his eyes, she found that he was already staring at her, his blue irises locked onto hers.
"Beautiful," he declared even before the garment had fallen, the certainty in his words telling her that, regardless of what she looked like beneath her clothes, she was beautiful in his eyes, and would please him regardless.
Another kiss to her head, and he whispered, "You take my breath away."
A delightful shiver raced across her skin, and her eyelashes lowered even more. Though her throat had gone tight, Annalyn managed to speak. "As do you, love." Her voice had dropped in pitch, her heart beating so fast, she feared she might wake.
Gazes entwining once more, the two remained as they were. Neither moving, neither speaking.
Then, in a moment of searing anticipation, Haldir released the sleeves of her nightdress. The garment slid down the length of her body, the fabric rippling and gathering in a whisper of silk on skin. The dress now a puddle around her bare feet, Annalyn did not hide her nakedness. Instead, she stood to full height, her blushing chest rising and falling in nervous excitement.
His elven eyes had yet to leave hers. Another moment passed before he lowered his gaze in a slow, appraising descent. Haldir's lips parted ever so slightly, his pupils dilating as he admired her unclad form.
Before Annalyn could move or speak, he gasped and closed the distance, his mouth claiming hers in a febrile rush. Even as she reached for his shoulders, hoping to grab on, her knees buckled, but his arm was already there, wrapped around her waist, keeping her upright.
How long they stood like this, kissing and panting, Annalyn had not the faintest. But as her legs regained their strength, her posture straightening as her fingers sank into his golden hair, Haldir lowered his head, kissing his way down her throat.
As her head fell back, her eyes closing in ecstasy, Haldir pressed open-mouthed kisses over the tops of her breasts, going from one creamy slope to the other. His hands were everywhere at this point, exploring the dips of her waist, the curve of her hips. When his palms settled on her backside, his strong fingers moulding and claiming her rounded flesh, Annalyn thought she would lose her mind.
More. She wanted more.
Eager to rid him of his tunic, she grasped the hem. Before she could accomplish her task, however, he robbed her of the ability to move or think by grinding his need against her most intimate place. A single yet purposeful roll of his hips that rubbed her heat in just the right way. Overtaken by sensation, she gasped and cried out.
This Elf was going to be her undoing.
Opening her eyes, Annalyn thought she saw a glimmer of male pride on his features.
He did it again, but this time it was his turn to cry out. The sound, the utter pleasure on his handsome face…
Her limbs went slack for a moment. Thankfully, the strength of his arms never wavered.
As a warm breeze swirled into the sunlit room, Haldir palmed one breast, then kissed the other. His tongue was like velvet, his lips soft and teasing as he honed in on her pebbled peak. Holding to his head, Annalyn watched him for a long moment. The things he could do with his mouth! Oh, this was promising.
His enjoyment fueling her own, she breathed his name, and closed her eyes.
When his mouth and hand released her breasts, Annalyn thought he would lead her to the bed. But Haldir had other plans. Dropping to his knees, he rained kisses across her abdomen, his hands running up and down the backs of her thighs. At first, his kisses were random, one here, one there. But then he ventured beneath her navel, blazing a deliberate trail toward the crux of her thighs.
The warmth of his breath was maddening, but it was nothing compared to the feel of his mouth, right there, where she wanted it most. A keening cry left her lips before she could stop it—not that she wanted to. This dream was theirs, and she was going to revel in it.
And revel she did. They both did.
"Ae… Annalyn." He dragged his tongue up along her center. "Ci sui 'lî erin lam nîn." These words alone nearly sent her over the edge, for she understood the language. He had said, "You are like honey on my tongue."
Somewhere at the back of her mind, Annalyn wondered if this heat, these jolts of pleasure, only existed in this dream, or if—in a tent somewhere in the Riddermark—her physical body could feel it, too. Was her heart beating hard and fast? Were her thighs rubbing together? Her most intimate area soaked and aching with need?
Here, now, in their hidden universe, outside of space and time, she felt all of those things, and it nearly drove her mad. Her blood was thrumming, her body insanely close to shattering. Yes! All it took was a few more swipes of his tongue.
As her body seized and rejoiced, her cries rising in strength and pitch with every breath, Haldir held her upright but kept on feasting, gradually easing her down until her fingers reached for his face, unhurriedly lifting his chin as her limbs shook in the aftermath.
His eyes… The adoration and desire she saw in them… "Make love to me," she breathed, and he rose, slowly, to sweep her up into his arms.
When Haldir finally set her down on the cloud that was his bed, Annalyn's thighs parted in welcome. She wanted him there, more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.
Watching the other through hooded eyes, the two worked in tandem, ridding him of his tunic. As Haldir rose onto his knees, reaching back toward his left foot, her fingers started on the laces of his breeches.
His arousal was prominent, a straining need that was begging to be touched. Begging to sheathe itself into her world. Oh, how she yearned.
Thud. One boot had fallen to the ground.
His breeches were completely unlaced now, her fingertips grazing the sliver of skin beyond the opening.
Haldir shifted, reaching for his other foot. Another thud. He was barefoot now.
As he guided his breeches down his narrow hips, revealing the chiseled masterpiece that was his lower abdomen, Annalyn swallowed thickly, and somehow held her patience in check—not an easy feat, to be honest.
Her gaze darted to his face, to the blue orbs which now burned into her hazel depths. His mouth was curved. Confidence and mischief personified. As her body quivered, her eyes lowered again, gravitating toward the straining treasure she had yet to see.
Her teeth clamped over her lip, Annalyn watched and waited until, after a seemingly endless moment, Haldir bared himself to her at long last.
Good gracious me…
His perfection was such that Annalyn could have wept at the sight he presented. A picture of virility, Haldir retreated, coming to stand at the foot of the bed, where he removed this final barrier, stepping out of his breeches before kicking them aside. In naked glory—truly there was no better term for it—he then crawled forward, until their bodies were nearly aligned.
Yes. This. Now.
Her hands must have had a will of their own, for though she was desperate to have him inside her, Annalyn was suddenly touching him, her hands shaping and stroking his length, drawing the most wonderful groans from his beautiful throat.
"The sun will rise ere long,"—he meant the real sun, out in the real world. His face inches above her own, he panted and shuddered, stilling her hand. "Annalyn, I must have you now."
Drowning in need, she released her grip on him, breathing hard. "Then take me. I am yours."
His eyes fell closed at that, his nostrils flaring, his jaw flexing. "Meleth nîn." The desperation in these words could not eclipse that of his kiss. A sudden claiming of her mouth that melted her very core.
When their lips parted on a moist smack, he looked to her, really looked, as if he wished to unearth all of her secrets, all the truths she had left unsaid.
Annalyn felt him. He was right there, poised at her entrance as her knees rose to encapsulate his hips, holding him where she most wanted him.
"I love you." A declaration, filled nigh overwhelming intensity. No sooner had the words left his mouth than he buried his face in her neck and drove home, his sudden gasp a twin to her own.
Full. Connected. He was inside her at long last. Masculine and feminine fitting together in a perfect communion of the flesh.
In that very moment, Annalyn cared not that this was a dream. It was real enough.
As tears of sorrow and joy spilled from her eyes, her fingers clutched at his broad shoulders, her voice a broken murmur when she said, "Haldir…"
She was close to hyperventilating. He was breathing hard, too. Neither of them moved, though.
"I've got you," he said and the words were strained. "Stay with me."
Stay with me…
Cryptic words in a sense. Annalyn couldn't help but ponder their meaning.
Perhaps he feared she might wake and vanish from their dream. Or perhaps he had changed his mind and wanted these dreams to continue, for them to enjoy this secret life, even if this place existed only in their minds.
Deep in her heart, Annalyn wanted this. Desperately so. Perhaps it was time to say it aloud, to plead with him. This cannot be the last time! The one and only time!
"I'm here," was her verbal answer, spoken as Haldir eased away just enough to catch her eyes. Seemingly overcome by the profundity of their joining, he trembled in her arms. It was a moment before he could speak again. "I've desired you since first I saw you. Did you know?"
As her hand rose to caress his perfect face, Haldir pressed a single, fleeting kiss to her brow. And then they were moving, his reverent gaze conveying all that needed to be said. As she watched him watch her, he set an easy rhythm, withdrawing then pushing back in, rolling his hips with every languid thrust. "Elo..." he marvelled in Sindarin, seemingly overcome by sensation.
Greedily meeting his movements, Annalyn luxuriated in the feel of him, hard and thick and soothing, deep inside of her.
His back muscles flexed and rippled beneath his heated skin, delighting her fingers as they mapped the strong plains of his back.
Mine. He's mine.
Given how it had ended between them—and the reason for that ending—it seemed wrong and selfish to feel this way. They were not wed and he belonged to no one. But like he'd said, this wasn't real life. There were no real consequences here. They could have this, she thought. And they did.
How glorious it was.
Making love to him. Seeing and feeling him this way. No man would ever compare.
Never. I will never love another. This she promised herself, over and over again.
Because time had lost all meaning, Annalyn could not say how long they moved together, their bodies writhing and rejoicing. Befitting the otherworldliness of their surroundings, their joining was slow and tender. Beautiful but so very bittersweet. Through their imaginary lovemaking, Haldir showed her all that they could have had, all that they could have been. And she did the same.
"Yes," Annalyn breathed, eagerly nodding her head as he propped his weight with one hand, holding to her hip with the other. "Like that," she praised.
His breath hissed, his brows creasing in mounting pleasure. "Being inside you... words fail me. You're my haven, Annalyn."
Haven. A most fitting word to describe how it felt to be in his arms, to lie with him as a wife would lie with her husband.
One might have said this was only make-believe. But there was a realness to it, too—from the sights, smells, and sounds, to the cresting sensations that coursed throughout her being. It was enough, she decided. It had to be, for he was an Elf and she a mortal woman. For however long they would allow it, this was all they could ever have.
"Did you mean it?" she panted at length, and graced him with another welcoming roll of her hips.
For a blissful moment, his lashes lowered, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. "Mean what?" A featherlight kiss to her mouth, her cheek, her brow, each delivered in time with his thrusts, deep and unhurried.
The sensation was such that Annalyn had to close her eyes for a moment, gasping and sighing against his throat until she found her voice again. "Is this to be our first and only time?"
Haldir plunged into her one more time, and then he stilled. Their eyes met. "At the time, I meant it, yes."
A hopeful pause. "And now?"
As he mapped her face, Haldir swept her hair away from her forehead. "I do not know." His answer revealed little. Nevertheless, Annalyn felt a sudden surge of hope, foolish as it might be.
"Why do you ask?" His question was tentative. Perhaps he was hoping, too.
She shouldn't say it. She shouldn't be so selfish. And yet, heedless of what it might do to them, Annalyn closed her eyes, held him close, and breathed the words anyway. "Because… I'm not ready to let you go."
*Rhaich… - "Curses…"
*Elo… - "Wow…"
Did you know reviews are a gift? When the writing gets tough, or when I'm unsure of myself, your words keep me going.
Note: In the event that I'm taking longer than usual between updates, know that you can check the bottom of the page on my latest chapter. If ever I'm having trouble finishing on time, I will write progress reports, just to let you know what's what.
CygnusRift xox
***Update on my progress, February 1st, 2020: So I've been making headway with the upcoming chapter. So far, I'd say I have one half of it written, though it's only a first draft. Also, because I don't want to lose focus on the flow, I decided to read through my story from chapter 1 all the way to chapter 61. Given how long I've been working on this, the refresher will be good I think. At the very least, it'll lessen the odds of making continuation mistakes. Right now, I'm only at chapter 4, but I plan on reading a few chapters everyday. It might delay my next update a little, but it shouldn't be too long either way. I hope you are all doing well. Until next time!
***Update on my progress, February 7th, 2020: So we're in the midst of a pretty heavy snow storm, and because of that, I got an extra day off, just before the weekend! With all that spare time, I got a lot of writing done today. As of right now, I think my chapter is 95% complete. I just need to add the ending, then polish the text. I'm thinking it'll be posted before the weekend is out. Probably by tomorrow if all goes well. *fingers crossed*
