Taking Up the Gauntlet - part I

Summary: Haldir and Gildor meet in the woods, where long buried secrets are revealed and a new love is born.

Fine, powdery snow glistened like adamant in the diffuse morning sunlight as Haldir traversed the path toward the western border of L�rien.� Winter had come quickly, and Haldir found it beautiful; small droplets of ice, sparkling like crystal, clinging to the trees, rivulets of frozen water, their whorls and swirls decorating the rocks.� The air was crisp and the forest was silent, cocooned in winter white, and Haldir would have been content, all alone in the wood, but for the reason he walked there.�

Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had commissioned him to meet Gildor at the border and escort their guest to Caras Galadhon.� And to do so alone.� It should not have surprised him.� It had been several months since he first met the elusive wanderer, and, in that time, Haldir had thought of little else, save his position as Marchwarden, than the confusion of his own feelings with respect to the Lady�s kinsman.�

Gildor was unlike any elf that Haldir had ever met.� As ancient as Galadriel and even more purely Noldor.� As wise as Celeborn and as powerful in his regality.� He was a wily fighter and as knowledgeable of woodlore as any Silvan elf.� He seemed at once garrulous and guarded.� And his reaction to Haldir himself had been a strange combination of attraction and seeming revulsion.�

Haldir knew that Gildor had seen the Light of the Two Trees, that he had made the dangerous journey over the Helcarax� with Fingolfin�s folk in the company of Galadriel and her brothers, and had settled in Nargothrond with Finrod.� He knew that he had fought in nearly all of the great battles of that perilous age and survived to tell of it.�

He also knew that the elf traveled constantly, never content to stay in one place for long, though he did have his own chamber in Imladris, where he kept the few possessions that he owned.� And that he had a band of devoted followers who took him nominally as lord, and walked with him throughout the lands of Arda.�
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But it was the loan of a precious book, Finrod�s own journal, which had led Haldir to even more questions that could only be answered by the mysterious Gildor.� The Lady had pressed the book into his hand, and bade him read it if he sought to better understand her kinsman. The answers though, she had warned, were not in the text itself - he must delve deeper into the years recorded on the pages before him.�

Haldir also knew that he found the Noldo alluring, extremely so, in fact, and was drawn to him as he had not been drawn to any other, elleth or ellon, in the whole of his life.� That Gildor seemed at once to desire his attentions and recoil from them intrigued the Marchwarden and made him even more determined in his pursuit.�

So it was with anticipation that Haldir walked, stealthily and warily through the snow-covered wood, inexorably toward the outermost talan at the western border.� And Gildor.�

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Gildor had spent over a month wandering the wilds, this time alone, and with no other mission than to sort out his own thoughts.� The last time he was in L�rien, he had, at the behest of Galadriel, played a game with the Marchwarden and his brothers, leading them on a merry chase through the wood, testing their abilities and forbearance.�

He had looked forward to visiting his cousin in her cosseted realm and communing with the Silvan folk there.� He had ever enjoyed his forays into L�rien, though it always brought forth memories of a time long ago in a land now enveloped by the Great Sea.� He somehow felt closer there to those he had loved, and never forgotten � Fingolfin and his distant cousins; Finrod and Orodreth, Fingon and Turgon.�

It was this most recent visit to the Golden Wood though, that had upended all that he thought he had come to know of himself.� The meeting with the Galadhel, Haldir, and their few encounters during his stay had caused such a visceral reaction within him that it had caused him to flee, uncharacteriscally running from a conflict instead of confronting it.�

Haldir had challenged him, not directly and without malice, but the Galadhel�s mere presence was at once seductive and disconcerting, and even the occasional brush of a hand across Gildor�s back had engendered in him an awakening to his own long suppressed needs.�

So he had fled and returned to the one place that he could presumptively call home � Imladris.� There, Glorfindel, his distant kin, had sought him out and spoken with him, providing much needed succor and advice.� He was quite possibly the only elf this side of the Blessed Realm, save Galadriel, who could offer such, and he spoke forthrightly but with love and with only Gildor�s well-being in mind.� He had told Gildor, albeit reluctantly, something of events in Valinor.�
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It was this last that had Gildor rethinking his own needs and desires and had drawn him into the wilds, to the places he loved and felt safe, there to confront the past.� He had spent more than a month; wrestling with his own thoughts; and fighting the upward swell of memory.� And though he did not wish to fully expunge all that had come before, he had come to the conclusion that he could no longer hold on so doggedly to that which could never be.�

Glorfindel had been right and Gildor had taken his words to heart.� He found strength in his cousin�s encouragement and resolved to move forward.� He wandered aimlessly for a while, but soon found his footsteps determinedly leading him southeast, along the banks of the Celebrant.� Toward Lothl�rien.� Toward Haldir.�

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The meeting with Gildor was near at hand and Haldir busied himself, trying to force his thoughts elsewhere.� Though the Galadhrim left their outpost talans in good order, a supply of water and firewood readily available, there were still small tasks with which to distract him.� He cleared the hithlain ladder of its icy spots and brushed the new fallen snow from the eaves of the flet.� After sweeping the floor of remaining autumn leaves, he descended to the wood to gather kindling.�

Upon his return to the talan, Haldir set the small brazier aflame and laid out his blankets.� He removed lembas and other foodstuffs from his knapsack and placed them on the shelves.� He put water on to boil for tea, leaving the rest to thaw by the warmth of the fire.� The small flet was spartan, but glowed with a cozy warmth and Haldir felt satisfied that Gildor would be comfortable there.�

Once assured that all was in readiness, Haldir poured hot water into his cup, added the herbs and removed the slim blue book from his pack.� Reclining on his bedroll, he opened the volume and re-read a few of the passages that he had noted as relevant.� He had so many questions for the wanderer elf that he thought to write them down, lest he forget, but instead just repeated in his mind several that he felt were most pressing.�

Ever wary for the sound of an enemy�s encroachment, he periodically moved to the flet�s entrance, there to sit, warm teacup in hand, listening for any untoward activity in the wood around him.� Normally a fell presence would not enter, as the talan was still within a thin veil of The Lady�s protection, but Haldir could not put aside his position and so he sat, breathing the crisp air, small plumes of exhaled vapor trailing out of his mouth.� A knot of tension coiled deep in his belly, reflected in the nervous movement of his right foot.�

Expectant.� Anxious.� �
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Gildor paused when he saw the smoke rising from the edge of the wood and watched as it mingled with the grey sky above.� He knew the Galadhrim kept an outpost nearby, though he had not expected it to be manned, and altered his course slightly to move toward the flet.� �

Withdrawing a long knife from its sheath on his back, he skirted the edge of the wood, seeking for the near hidden pathway that led to its interior.� Moving more slowly, he warily ducked under the trees and made his way stealthily toward the outpost talan.�

He knew well that if he caught a Galadhel guardian unaware, it could cost him his life, so, rather than silently approaching the flet, he used a call that he knew was familiar to the patrols of Galadriel�s realm.� Cupping his fingers, and bringing a hand to his mouth he called as if an owl, hunting, though in the light of day, knew that any grey-clad warrior of his cousin�s guard would recognize that it could not be such.�

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Haldir stiffened when he heard the well-known signal from the wood.� He waited until he heard the sound again, and cocked his head, the better to aurally survey from whence the sound came.� Taking his hand from the warm teacup, he echoed it, listening for the call once again, and when he heard it, replied in like kind.�

Though the call was familiar and used by the Galadhrim, he was taking no chances and quickly moved inside of the talan, where he rested the cup on a sill and reached for his bow.� He returned to the doorway and as he looked out, saw the familiar countenance of his erstwhile guest break through the trees and enter the small clearing.�

Haldir�s heartbeat sped up when he saw him, but true to his nature, he laconically sat down once again, and balanced the bow on his knees.� Back to the door frame, legs stretched in front of him, he took a deliberately unstudied pose as he watched Gildor come nearer.�

�Greetings, Gildor.��

The Noldo stopped in his tracks.� He recognized the voice, and took a deep breath before allowing his eyes to move upward, glancing at each rung of the ladder, until they rested on the Galadhel perched high above. �

�Haldir.��

Silence reigned for a moment as each took the other�s measure.� Haldir turned in the doorway and put his bow aside, letting his legs dangle from the talan�s floor.�

�What brings you back to the Wood?��

�How did you know that I was coming?��

�The Lady���

�Of course,� said Gildor.� He resheathed his knife, but still had not taken a further step.�

�Will you not come up and be warmed?� Perhaps share a cup of tea with me?��

Gildor�s cheeks reddened as he pondered the first of the two questions that Haldir had posed.� He found he could not look directly at him, so gazed at the thin waft of grey smoke that rose from the flet. He suddenly felt cold and drew his cloak closer around his shoulders. �

�Well?��

Gildor took a hesitant step and allowed his body to lead, one foot following another until he was poised at the base of the ladder.� Taking a chilled rung between his fingers, he began to climb, dreading the moment when he would reach the top and have to look the Galadhel in the eye.� �

Haldir retreated to the interior of the talan and poured hot water into a cup, along with the herbs.� He turned around to greet his guest as he entered, and stilled as Gildor�s body filled the doorframe.� Even in his traveling clothes, Gildor cast an imposing figure, and Haldir was temporarily dumbstruck as the Noldo�s handsome face came into view.� His cheeks were flushed, and snowflakes had melted here and there on his face, making him look as if he glistened, his stark blue-grey eyes made all the more prominent by the rosy face.�

Haldir held out the cup to him, and could only manage to say his name.�

�Gildor.��

After unwrapping his cloak and placing his pack on the floor, Gildor moved forward, and at the first touch of his fingers against the Marchwarden�s nearly drew back, almost letting the mug drop to the floor, but held on, and accepted the warm tea, cupping it with both hands, warming his fingers.�

He moved toward the small fire and stood in front of it, looking deeply into the flickering light, hearing Haldir�s voice behind him, as if from a long distance.�

�We will stay here this night and then I will escort you to Caras Galadhon. You have come to see my Lord and Lady, yes?� �

�Yes,� answered Gildor, still facing the fire, but he knew the answer was a lie the moment it left his lips, so he inhaled slowly and turned around to face the Galadhel as he amended his reply.�

�No.��

�No?� asked Haldir, cocking his head, eyebrow arched.� �

�No.��

Haldir waited in silence.� Gildor turned his body to face his companion, but his eyes did not follow, still looking past Haldir, to some imagined distance over his left shoulder.� Gildor dared to look up for a brief moment and slid his gaze to Haldir�s face as he spoke.�

�I have come to see you.��

�Ah.��

But Haldir�s outward composure belied the roiling anticipation deep in his belly.� All of his instincts told him to envelop the Noldo in his arms; to pull him close and drink deeply.� But the shift of Gildor�s eyes away from his own reminded him of the need to tread lightly. He closed his eyes for a moment, stilled his breathing, and considered his next move.�

�Then let us sit and talk for a while.��

Gildor let the temporary reprieve of the crackling tension between them wash over him,� nodded, and sank to the floor.� Haldir sat facing him, knees nearly touching and well within arm�s length, and watched the Noldo move backward, putting another foot of distance between them.�

Gildor thought back to his conversation with Glorfindel, and the month he had spent in the wilderness, steeling his resolve.� He took a deep breath and determinedly closed half of the space between them.� Finally, he allowed his eyes to move upward, taking in the questions that were posed in Haldir�s.�

�I do not know where to begin.� It has been so long�I���

Haldir placed a large calloused hand on Gildor�s knee, encouraging him to continue.� The Noldo took deep cleansing breaths, and reached down, overlaying Haldir�s hand with his own.� Soon their hands were intertwined and Haldir squeezed lightly.� �

�Perhaps I can help,� said the Galadhel.� He reached out, grabbed his pack, and withdrew the blue journal that Galadriel had given him.� Tentatively, he slipped the thin volume into Gildor�s hand.�
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All of the resolve that Gildor had built up in those past few moments crumbled.� With a shaking hand he received the book, but did not open it, holding it tightly to his chest.� He closed his eyes and felt tears well, and could only utter a distraught and guttural moan.�

Haldir squeezed the hand that he held more tightly, regarding the Noldo with understanding and sad compassion.�

�You love him.��

�I did,� answered Gildor.�

�Do you not still?��

�I suppose, but�yes.� I still love him.� I probably always will love him, but���

�Is that why you use the aness�¹?^��

�It is a cilmess�².��

�Inglorion,� said Haldir, almost to himself, �It is beautiful.��

�Yes,� answered Gildor, distantly.�

�Tell me about him.��

�Do you really wish to know?��

�Yes.� Tell me.��

Gildor removed his left hand from Haldir�s and clutched the book with both.� He rocked lightly in place, but looked directly at Haldir.� Eyes shining with moisture, but smiling in memory, he began.�

�You already know much, just by reading his own words.� And you have studied the histories.� But what none of it says is the way that he loved.� He did not leave Aman out of spite, or malice or revenge or in anger.� He loved those he left behind, one in particular, and it pained him.� And it was out of love that he followed his kin.� It never ceased to inspire me � and it does not cease now.� Above all, it was love and dedication to others that motivated him in all things.��

�Is that why you serve our people even now?� Escorting them in safety, carrying information of import?��

�In part, if only to follow his example, but also because I enjoy the freedom of it, and I have learned much in my travels � of places that most elves have not seen and of peoples outside of our race.��

�Men,� said Haldir, somewhat disdainfully, and then with a sneer, �Dwarves?��

�Ah, but Haldir.� That is what I found most beautiful about him.� He loved them all and in equal measure.� Did you know that it was he who first discovered the Secondborn, here in Arda?� And he who first taught them our speech?� As for dwarves, yes, our relationship with that race has ever been fragile, but if not for them Nargothrond would have never been built.��

�All for naught, it would seem,� said Haldir.�

�That is what I thought, for a very long time.� But now, looking back, I know it was all doomed from the start.� Did not N�mo, in his prophecy tell us as much?� I try now to remember all that was good and noble about that time.� And there was much of it, amidst the carnage.� Many times, it was Men who saved us, sacrificed for us � you must remember always that this land is for them.� We have a home.� And it is not here.��

�This is my home!� And I want no other,� Haldir interjected.�

�Of course,� answered Gildor.� �I understand why you say so.� But I tell you, Haldir, someday you will have to decide.� We � of Elvenkind � are not long for this side of the Great Sea.� Even Galadriel knows this.� Does she not say that we are �fighting the long defeat³�?�

�I do not understand.� Then, why bother fighting at all?��

�For the very reason you have given.� Because we love it, Valar help us.� Arda is varied, and beautiful and vast.� And the elves have contributed much to its cultures and well-being.� We must finish what we started.��

�And leave it all to Men?� Dwarves?� Bah.��

�Have you met any of the Secondborn, Haldir?� Have you known any dwarves?� Do you know of Ents, or of Hobbits, or of even the twilight races?��

�No.��

�Would you like to?��

�Why?� Would it make any of what you have told me easier to bear?��

�It might.� I think perhaps you should consider traveling with me for a time.� Or coming with me to Imladris.� There is a vast world outside of Lothl�rien and many wonderful things in it.� You have much to learn, Haldir.� Why, I could even teach you somewhat of Westron!��

�And of Finrod?� asked Haldir, bringing the conversation back to its original intent.�

Now Gildor could speak without melancholy or nostalgia.� The thought of Haldir traveling with him, showing the Galadhel the lands that he loved animated him, and reminded him of the purpose for his visit to L�rien.� He inched closer to Haldir and without reservation, put the book to the side, reached out, and placed his hands upon the Marchwarden�s knees.�

�Did you know that Finrod himself had a great love for wandering⁴?� I am sure that my travels with him did much to make me the elf that I have become.� Along with the example of his dedication to all of Illuvatar�s children.��

�And you no longer pine for him?��

Emboldened, Gildor gazed directly into Haldir�s eyes and told him the truth.�

�No.� I do not.� Glorfindel has told me that he has been re-born and joined with his beloved, Amari�.� As it would have been, ere the Noldor came to these lands, and I am glad for him.� Besides, I think that maybe there is someone else for me.��

Haldir�s eyes softened and he reached out with his right hand to skim Gildor�s tear-dampened check with his thumb.�

�I think you may be right.� Gildor, may I kiss you?��

Gildor closed his eyes and looked downward for a moment, but a small smile crossed his face and when he had opened them and looked up, they told Haldir all that he needed to know.� Tenderly, he cupped Gildor�s fair cheek, held his breath, and waited.�

�Please.��

Haldir�s smile broadened as he leaned in and brushed Gildor�s lips with his own, finally taking the step he had come to yearn for.� Gildor relaxed into the kiss and when it had broken, took Haldir�s head between his hands and returned the kiss, this time harder and with purpose, creating within himself a new memory, one that would overwrite the sorrows of the past.�

Though Haldir recognized the ardor with which Gildor responded, he knew that the elf was not yet ready to go further, and loathe though he was to rein in the fire that had kindled between them, he broke the kiss, lingering for a moment to limn the fair lips.� He took both of Gildor�s hands in his own and squeezed them, assuring Gildor of his acceptance of their new-found bond.�

They had talked long, and night had fallen, and any warmth that had come from the sun had gone.� Gildor once again took up his cloak and wrapped it about him, chilled both by the night and from the loss of so much pent up emotion.� �

�You are cold?� asked Haldir.� �

�Yes.� It is just another legacy for those of us who dared cross the Grinding Ice.� It is but one of the �weaknesses that after became our lot.⁵� �

�I will stoke the fire then, so you can be warmed.��

�And I will share with you a small draught of miruvor, which I have brought from Imladris.��

They sat in silence for a time, leaning in toward one another.� Periodically, Haldir would touch Gildor, a hand upon his arm, the mere bush of a thumb across a flushed cheek, the gentle twirling of a long golden hair between agile fingers.� After a while, Haldir took Gildor in a tender embrace and spoke. �We should rest now, and get an early start in the morning.� I am sure that the Lady will be happy to see you.��

Each turned to his own bedroll, there to envelop themselves in warm blankets for the rest of the night.� Neither spoke, but Haldir lay thinking of all that had come to pass; and speaking softly, offered to have Gildor share the warmth of his body and bed.� �

Gildor took up his blanket and resettled himself in the crook of Haldir�s body, nestling close and allowing Haldir�s strong arms to engulf him. Outside, the snow fell gently, covering the Wood in its cleansing white, making all things look bright and fresh and new.�
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END�
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NOTE TO MY REQUESTOR:� When I received this assignment, my first instinct was to choose Beleg/T�rin of the three pairings that you requested.� However, I noted that a new C. Tolkien edited version of �The Children of H�rin� was due out next year and I was loathe to tackle them and then discover some new piece of information that might have changed things or given further enlightenment. So I fell back on a pairing that I was already writing in another multi-chapter story and used Gildor/Haldir instead.� Because I do feel that I �cheated� a little in doing so, I promise that I will write a Beleg/T�rin piece for you next year after I have read and absorbed the information in the new book. �
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FOOTNOTES�

Any Sindarin or Quenya used in this story comes from A Gateway to Sindarin, by David Salo, The University of Utah Press, 2004�

¹ Aness� � Quenya - A �given� or added name.

² Cilmess� � Quenya � A name of personal choice, chosen by a person either as a disguise or in reference to his or her own history.

³ � fighting the long defeat� � The Fellowship of The Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien, Book Two, VII, �The Mirror of Galadriel.�

⁴ �(Finrod) had a great love for wandering� � The Silmarillion, J.R.R. Tolkien, XIV, �Of Beleriand and its Realms�

⁵ �weaknesses that after became their lot� � The Book of Lost Tales I, J.R.R. Tolkien, VII, �The Flight of the Noldoli��
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