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Summary: none given
Author's Notes: Timeline: Fourth Age. To my recipient - I hope that you enjoy this story although I may not have filled the brief entirely! My writing style tends towards the pretentious and this is the story that wanted to be told. I send my best wishes and my thanks for your request!
~~~
It took a few moments for Erestor
to realize that the elf he was looking for actually wasn't *there*. �
Narrowing his dark eyes (unnecessarily,
for elvish eyesight is almost as keen as that of an eagle), the counsellor
searched the newly-arrived company once more. The scene was one of ordered
mayhem with dismounted riders yielding their reins to Rivendell's remaining
hostlers; capable stewards relieving the L�rien elves of their well-packed
travel bundles of worldly possessions; and blond-haired carters removing
the loaded wains to secure locations (for these wagons contained items
that would not see light-of-day until they were unpacked under the blue
sky of Valinor). Upon the porch of the Last Lonely House its twin lords,
the last remaining scions of the royal and noble line of Elrond E�rendilion,
greeted their equally noble maternal grandfather as he broke his journey
to the Grey Havens. Erestor knew that this would not be a short sojourn
- Celeborn of East L�rien intended to remain in Imladris for as long
as it took to persuade his grandsons to embrace their Elvish heritage
and to accompany him on the last voyage 'home'.�
Erestor too had intended to
make this final journey - but he had been determined� to take ship
at the side of his mate. Haldir, Marchwarden of L�rien, had promised
him many centuries ago that they would complete their union with a binding
ceremony once the Dark Lord had been defeated and peace had been restored
to Middle Earth. This pledge had sustained them through many hardships
- of war, of pain, of enforced yet necessary separation - and they had
both (so Erestor had believed) longed for this long-deferred moment.
Now the day had arrived - but Haldir had not.�
His eyes raking once more over
the now-dispersing elves, Erestor still did not see his lover amongst
their dwindling numbers - but he *did* discern a surprising tension
amongst the Sylvan elves, especially evident in the uncomfortable demeanor
of his lover's brother. Realizing that he was being watched, R�mil
of East L�rien turned to meet the gaze of the counsellor - but he instantly
broke the contact, dropping his own eyes when he saw who watched him.
Yet even in that brief meeting of brown orbs to lake-blue, the dark
advisor had seen both grief and apologies in his erstwhile law-brother's
expressive orbs. �
One of the traits most-often
noticed about Lord Elrond's foremost counsellor was his ability to take
on many tasks at once; Erestor could hold the essential details within
his mind, discussing one problem even as he pondered� on the potential
solution to another. Thus it was that the talented Noldo drew the majority
of his attention back to the Lord of L�rien and he greeted Celeborn
of the Trees with all the honour due to him, bowing to the silver-haired
Sindar even as he discretely herded his lords and their guest into the
depths of the open-galleried house. There was not a moment's hesitation
in the hushed yet confident directions that Erestor gave to the greatly-diminished
staff of the demesne of Imladris, his soft voice warm with gentle appreciation
of their efforts and conveying his thanks for their service. In his
final request, though, the servant noted a rare hardening of tone that
normally implied that the counselor's ire had been aroused. It was a
tone that none dared to deny.�
"Convey to Captain R�mil
my desire to speak with him in my office - now!"�
With an estimable alacrity
the servant hurried to do his bidding, already pitying the hapless Silvan
elf who would have to face this edhel's wrath...�
�
****�
�
There was no preamble, no elegant
greetings or attempts at social conformity, simply a softly-spoken question
that belied any inner turmoil on behalf of the speaker.�
"Where is he, R�mil?"�
The Galadhel shifted uneasily
in front of the carved beechwood desk that separated him from his brother's
lover. As much as he admired and loved Erestor for his steadfast devotion
to Haldir, still he recognized the determined nature of the counsellor
that had given rise to the many legends that characterized the Noldo
as a cold and unemotional elf. R�mil knew that the legends were in
error - Erestor was in fact a very loving and generous edhel to those
whom he trusted; his cool persona was a fa�ade constructed to enable
his work as a counsellor and negotiator for Lord Elrond. Still, Erestor
was formidable once his temper was aroused. R�mil swallowed, inwardly
cursing his brother for placing him in this position.�
"He - he remains in Lothl�rien.
He has given me this missive for you." R�mil's fingers faltered
at the ties of his jerkin, finally freeing them to withdraw a folded
parchment. Offering it to Erestor, the Silvan elf muttered softly, "I
am sorry."�
R�mil noticed a moment's hesitation
upon Erestor's part before the Noldo took the note from R�mil's hand.
The L�rien warrior knew that the words contained within had the power
to fracture the counselor's heart, yet he felt compelled to defend Haldir.�
"Erestor, you know that
my brother has never been like the rest of my family; how he came to
be... the way he is," he stressed, hoping to divert Erestor from
the potential pain. "His... affinity... with our home is such -" �
A single raised hand was enough
to stem the flow of words that gushed from the galadhel's mouth. Erestor
move silently towards the arched window, turning his back to R�mil
before opening the parchment. The galadhel saw Erestor's shoulders stiffen
as the note was read, but R�mil could not tell what the elf was feeling
as Erestor perused the scant words. He had not read them himself, being
an honorable elf. Erestor straightened, dropping the hand that contained
the note to his side. The expletive was softly - spoken, but heartfelt
nonetheless, as the hand constricted swiftly and crushed the paper within.�
"Orcshit!"�
R�mil watched as Erestor took
a deep breath, releasing the tension in his frame as he exhaled. The
counsellor turned towards him, a slight smile upon his face.�
"Thank you for completing
what I am sure was a most unwelcome task, R�mil - but now I must take
my leave of you."�
Although it was redundant,
R�mil could not help but ask the question.�
"Where do you go?"�
The smile turned grim, and
Erestor raised the fist that held the destroyed note.�
"To Lothl�rien - to knock
some sense into your errant brother's head!"�
�
****�
�
It seemed to be as it always
was - a verdant canopy of green, sheltering the jewel in nature's crown.
Beams of late spring sunshine stuttered through the copious leaves of
the Golden Wood, dappling the floor of the forest with pale gold pools
of light. These leaves - of beech and birch, of sycamore and mallorn
- contributed rainbow crystals of raindrops to the vibrant scene, remnants
of the torrid shower that had just passed overhead. Birds sang, insects
flitted from bud to bloom; a shy deer lingering behind a mesh of slender
branches hesitated for a moment, its soft doe eyes making contact with
the dark elvish gaze of the horse's rider, before self-preservation
caused it to flee in a flurry of spindly limbs and a flick of a white
tail.�
Yet for all the evidence of
life in the Golden Wood, the elvish realm of Lothl�rien seemed dead
to Erestor of Imladris.�
So many names, so many millennia.
Just as the Greenwood had become Mirkwood and then Eryn Lasgalen; so
had Laurelind�renan become Lothl�rien then East L�rien. Supposedly
the same, yet so different. The changing names of Thranduil's kingdom
had reflected the changing circumstances of its existence - from happy
brightness, to dark and sinister invasion, to a rejuvenated freedom
from the ravages of evil. There the changes had been overt and dramatic. �
The changes to the Golden Wood
had been of a more subtle form for Nenya had not only held evil influence
at bay, but had also halted time within the wood - some could call it
a stagnation. With the destruction of the One Ring, the power of Nenya
had now faded and the inherent powers of the Lady of Light had�
not been enough to stave off the determined encroachment of the outside
world.�
Birdsong now proliferated where
elvensong had once resonated; tangles of vines and sinuous weeds gently
obliterated the quiet signs of elvish passage; startled deer sensed
that the glamour of protection had disappeared. The elves were gone,
for it was no longer their Age. Few there were who remained, Firstborn
who clung to the only home they had ever known; Moriquendi, for whom
Valinor was naught but a legendary land in the distant West, a place
that had become frighteningly real to those who did not hold precious
memories of its glory - who held no memories of it at all.�
Erestor saw all this and nodded.
It was as it should be - in a few centuries, when the feeble tales of
Men had altered the legends of the Eldar to myths of sprites and fairies,
these woods would be inhabited again. Those original occupants who lingered
would fade, and their spirits would give spurious veracity to those
myths. So be it, that fate was their choice - but he would be damned
if his soulmate became one of their number without opposition. With
a gentle click of encouragement, Erestor spurred his horse forward towards
the heart of the wood where Caras Galadon lay - and the love of his
heart.�
�
****�
�
�
Caras Galadon - the Heart of
Elvendom on Earth. So Haldir had once proclaimed it, and so it had been
- a glorious and elegant arboreal city, where nature and construction
had become so entwined that it could scarcely be discerned where one
started and the other ended. It was here that two elves of different
realms, of different races within the Race of the Firstborn of Eru,
had first met.�
�
// The Lord of Lothl�rien
had glanced up from the sheaves of papers so recently set before him,
nodding in satisfaction when he recognized the new arrival.�
'Ah, Haldir - good. I wish
you to meet Lord Erestor, who is assisting Lord Elrond in the new elf-haven
of Imladris. He will be the first amongst Lord Elrond's council and,
alongside the newly-returned of Lord Glorfindel, he will be instrumental
in establishing the united defense of the Elvish realms against the
rise of the Enemy."�
Sparkling blue eyes had
met the warm of rich brown, recognizing in their rich depths a kindred
spirit.//�
�
Erestor climbed the spiraling
staircase to the abandoned audience chamber of the Lord and Lady, his
preoccupied mind vaguely registering the encroachment of marauding vines;
the steps were already crumbling as the tendrils undermined their structure.
No matter - the elf tread as all those of his kind, lightly and lithely.
The ascent was easy, yet the memories that flashed into his mind caused
his heart to pound as violently as that of a human who had scaled the
craggy heights of the Hithaeglir. With each step he heard a most beloved
voice, resonant tones imprinting upon his soul.�
�
// The two elves, dark and
light, ascended the mallorn stair, the length of their strides in matching
rhythm. They talked softly of inconsequential matters, each avoiding
that which absorbed them both. As they walked their hands brushed together.
Halting suddenly they turned to one another. Erestor smiled.�
"We should not ignore
this feeling, Haldir of L�rien." �
He lifted his hand, deliberately
touching the soft silky sands of Silvan hair. The galadhel tensed as
the advisor leaned close to his ear, the breath of each word the darkling
elf uttered initiating pleasing shivers through his sturdy frame.�
"It seems that we have
been set upon this path by a Power greater than either of us, my dearest
Haldir. What say you that we explore this path together - wherever it
may take us...?"�
The galadhel's generous
mouth had curved into a rich smile at these words, and the challenge
was answered in kind. �
Haldir deliberately turned
those full lips to contact with the high-boned cheek of Erestor's face,
so that it was Erestor's turn to react at the velvet touch.�
"Lead, my Lord - I
will follow." //�
�
The talan was empty now. It
still bore signs of recent occupation for, unlike others that Erestor
had passed, the structure was still sound and the lodging was clean
and tidy. The Noldo felt a lump, a pressure rise in his throat but suppressed
the threatening sob. Stepping inside the portal, he automatically glanced
at the door that separated the inner sleeping chamber from the external
living quarters. The door was ajar, the large bed visible inside. His
feet brought him within, his heart racing as his memories engulfed him.�
�
// Erestor groaned as each
stroke into the heated channel brought him nearer to fulfillment, as
his lover shifted� beneath him in a desperate effort to increase
the pressure of the intruding shaft upon his sweet gland.�
"Erestor, meleth -
please!" Haldir begged, his voice hoarse with need. As an answer
Erestor pressed his palms flat on the mattress to each side of his lover's
heaving chest, and reared up on sinewed arms. Thrusting hard into Haldir,
he almost lifted the galadhel's lower body from the bed.�
"Come for me, my love!"
he cried as he felt the heated rush of his own climax build, sending
tremors through his frame. With one mighty heave he expelled himself,
pouring his seed and his love into Haldir as his beloved shouted in
his own triumphant completion. �
Dazed, enraptured, wrapped
around and entwined within the Silvan elf's limbs, Erestor of Imladris
floated on a haze of sanctified satisfaction and eternal love.
//�
�
"Lord Erestor?"�
The counsellor turned, surprised
to hear another voice in the seemingly deserted city. On the threshold
of the talan stood an elleth whom Erestor recognized as one of Galadriel's
former handmaidens. He smiled wryly.�
"Aredhwen - I did not
know that you had remained," he said softly. He surveyed the room,
including in his sweeping glance the expanse of mellyrn that could be
seen through the large windows. Few were the lights in the scattered
dwellings. "I confess, I have never thought to inquire as to the
numbers of edhil who chose to remain in this land."�
Aredhwen nodded in understanding.
"Our numbers are few and most of us have chosen to dwell as an
enclave to the south, on the edge of the city."�
Erestor hesitated a moment
before asking, "And Haldir - is he...?"�
The elleth shook her head.
"He has chosen to make his dwelling near to the borders he used
to patrol, near the Silverlode." �
Erestor nodded. "I know
the place - ever was it his refuge."�
"Or his hiding place!"
Aredhwen bit her lip, startled at her own vehemence. She hesitated,
obviously seeking her words carefully as she explained herself. "My
lord, those of us who remain have made this choice because of our love
for our home, and because we have not the ties to Valinor that others
have. I did not wed - there is no slain husband waiting to be released
from the Halls of Mandos, nor children who took the Silver Road before
me. I was born in the Golden Wood and I will abide here until the end
of Aman, albeit as a nebulous spirit guarding the trees. Lord Haldir
- he has few reasons to stay and many to go but... He says that he swore
an oath to protect Lothl�rien and its occupants and that he will not
break his oath. He does not believe that we no longer have need of protection,
with the Ring destroyed and the yrch much diminished in number."�
Aredhwen stepped closer to
Erestor and laid her hand upon his in an attempt to impress upon the
Noldo the sincerity of her words.�
"Haldir is not like us.
Yes, he has many reasons to remain in the Golden Wood, the forest that
birthed him - but despite this, he should be made to see that he has
more reasons, and much more compelling ones, to take ship unto the West.
My Lord, he will not listen to us, nor to his brothers - but he will
listen to you. He must."�
Erestor nodded and smiled in
gratitude at the elleth. �
"I will go now to your
stubborn galadhel, and I will talk you him." He paused, looking
urgently into her pale eyes. "I mean to travel to Aman and I do
not intend to travel alone, Aredhwen."�
"Then go, my lord - and
may all my prayers go with you."�
****�
The inclement weather had returned
during the long ride from the city to the borders and Erestor had been
forced to pull the hood of his cloak so far forward over his face that
he could scarce see the path ahead of him. His vision was further obscured
by the density of the rain that fell in torrents from the blackened
sky, a thick curtain of needle-sharp rods that stung against his skin
even through the many layers of travel garments in which he had dressed
himself that morning. Not for the first time in his long life did Erestor
give thanks for his Elven constitution. The sodden clothing would only
precipitate unpleasant discomfort rather than the more distressing disease
or illness to which a human would be susceptible - pneumonia was one
illness that had sprung to mind.�
Although his vision was obscured
there were other senses that he had had at his command, and one of which
he had often most need was that of hearing. Even through the drumming
beat of raindrops landing on the leaves and shrubbery of vegetation
Erestor began to hear that which had been most obviously missing during
his visit to the Heart of Lothl�rien, the sound of music echoing through
the treetops. Once Caras Galadon had constantly whispered of airs and
sonnets, sung a capella or accompanied by the sweetest of instruments
best designed to lay siege to the gentle emotions of the L�rien elves.
Erestor knew the present melody well for it was one that flew from the
talented fingers of his beloved, and the taut strings of his treasured
lyre. By following the lilting tang of ably-plucked strings and the
sweet tones of the accompanying voice Erestor was able to refine his
path to bring him directly to his goal. Just as the rain eased so did
the trees start to thin and the counsellor guided his horse onto the
pebbled banks of the Celebrant.�
The sound of hooves on the
scattered stones must have penetrated the now-fine drizzle, for the
music stopped abruptly. Erestor looked up the slope of green sward that
framed the riverbank and immediately saw that which he had sought -
the entrance to a small cave and the flickering flames of a campfire
at the mouth of the cave, sheltered from the rain by a protective overhang.
Standing by the fire was the figure of an elf, one that was dear to
him. Dismounting, Erestor led his mare up the slope to the cave. He
waved away the approaching edhel.�
Erestor was in no humour to
offer a polite greeting.�
"Let me see to my horse
first - then I will deal with you."�
Haldir opened his mouth to
protest, but immediately subsided. He obviously knew his lover well,
and understood that boundaries had been crossed. Erestor truly cared
for the comfort of his mare, but the galadhel also recognized that Erestor
needed to keep a certain distance before he could attempt to address
him. Many thought that Erestor lacked emotions; he did not. In fact,
the Noldo suffered from a surfeit of emotions - he had engendered his
cool demeanor so as to control them all the better. �
Erestor gave his horse one
final rub and whispered soft encouragement and instructions before turning
her loose to graze under the shelter of surrounding trees. Raising his
head he sniffed the air, detecting a pleasing aroma.�
"If that is broth I smell,
I am in sore need of sustenance," he said to his lover. "It
has been a full day since I ate and that was travel bread."�
Haldir smiled wryly. Erestor
was merely postponing their discussion. Now was a time for comfort,
not for confrontation. Stepping to one side of the campfire, the Marchwarden
gestured for his melethron to enter the cave. �
Erestor nodded, shrugging himself
free of his sodden cloak and laying it to dry on some rocks near to
the fire.� Deliberately ignoring the other elf, he looked around
the cave. There seemed to be little evidence that his lover intended
to make it his own; there were no scattered possessions, no books laid
aside to be read later, no piles of garments stored on the natural stone
shelves that lined the walls of the small cavern. Erestor beheld only
neatly-packed saddlebags, a bedroll and the few utensils that the Silvan
elf had used to prepare the soup. The lyre was now resting upon the
bags, its strings silent. �
Understanding flashed into
the counselor's mind and he looked at his mate, comprehension easing
his fears. His eyes narrowed - despite his relief, Erestor could not
resist the desire for a little retribution on his 'fickle' mate.�
Completing his perusal the counsellor finally squatted on the sandy
floor, awaiting his promised repast.�
Haldir straightened from where
he had been crouching over the cook pot. �
"Here - drink this. It
will fill your chilled bones with nourishing warmth."�
Erestor took the proffered
bowl and spoon, nodding his silent gratitude. Lifting the spoon from
the bowl he sipped its contents.�
"R�mil's recipe?"�
"Yes."�
"He was always the best
cook of the three L�rien brothers."�
Haldir grinned. "He was
always the hungriest of us - he claims that his skill is merely a survival
tool."�
Erestor snorted. "And
you of course spurned such indulgence!"�
Haldir laughed and patted his
stomach lightly. "The uniform of the Galadhrim is deceptive. I
have never held an ounce on me above my fighting weight." His voice
softened, and Erestor felt his heart twinge as he saw the plea for understanding
in the rich blue eyes. "You, who have known me intimately, know
my body. You know my mind."�
"Do I?"�
Haldir visibly winced at the
gentle admonition. He waited for further remonstrance to fly forth but
Erestor only bowed his head over his bowl, as if to savour the strong
broth in contemplative silence. Finally the Marchwarden could stand
it no more.�
"Erestor!"�
Erestor looked up from the
now empty bowl.�
"Did you come all this
way to say nothing and eat soup?" Haldir asked. "Are you ever
going to talk to me?"�
With a sigh Erestor laid aside
the bowl and spoon and folded his arms in his lap, settling into a cross-legged
pose on the sand floor as easily and elegantly as if he were about to
take a meeting in his council chambers. His face betrayed no inner turmoil,
no festering grievance - nor did he reveal the deception he planned
to play out. When he spoke he allowed no preamble, no moment of reflection.
He was direct, his words an attack to the jugular.�
"Do you truly intend to
remain here, Haldir of L�rien? Are you foresworn?"�
Haldir blanched in acknowledgement
of the very valid question. Erestor knew that he had lain the consequence
of his actions, of his letter of severance, before him. The Silvan elf
licked his dry lips and wondered now how he could present his case before
his intended mate.�
"The trees called to me.
They are in my heart and in my blood. For thousands of years I have
protected them and once the time came, my feet were bound within their
borders."�
"With no thought for me?"�
"Nay!" There was
horror in his protest, denial in his voice. "It has just been -
difficult - to say goodbye to the land that birthed me. As I said, I
have protected this -"�
"Stop!" Erestor held
up a hand, halting the excuses. "So many people in so many ways
have recently reminded me of your beginning - that you are 'a child
of the Wood'. That as an infant you were found wandering amongst the
mellyrn; you were taken in by Celeborn's captain and his wife and raised
as their own. That you commune with the trees of this wood and that
your fortune is bound to this land. Haldir of L�rien - the Son of Laurelind�renan.
Also the beloved and betrothed of Erestor of Imladris - or am I wrong
on that point?"�
Haldir shook his head, eyes
bright with excess moisture.�
"No, you are not wrong.
I love you, my dark lord. I love you."�
"Yet you wrote me that
note. You laid upon your foster brother the burden of delivering it,
a heavy burden laced with sorrow and loss. How did you think I would
react? Was I supposed to leave without protest?"�
"No! Erestor, I was wrong!
I cannot stay!" There was a frantic note to Haldir's denial. "I
cannot stay - for inasmuch as L�rien is my mother yet I cannot, I will
not be bound to her forever. My future is not here. You are my future
and I will not lose you!"�
Fearing that he had lost all,
Haldir was surprised when Erestor simply smiled and nodded. The dark
elf rose and approached Haldir, pulling him from the cave floor into
his arms. �
"I know, Haldir n�n -
I know," he comforted the now weeping elf, gently stroking his
silken hair. "I knew almost from the moment I arrived that you
had not forsaken me. You are not alone amongst the Elves of the Wood
to feel such pain at leaving the mighty mellyrn; I should have expected
that the call of the Woods for you is as powerful - if not more - than
the call of the sea is for the Noldor. Lord Celeborn and your kin grieve
too, hence the break in their exodus at Rivendell instead of a direct
flight to the Havens. The sundering of kin from land is then as a gentle
plucking of attaching threads instead of a violent rendering."
Erestor pulled back from the embrace so as to look the Marchwarden directly
in the eyes.�� "Do you think that Celeborn and Galadriel
did not know and prepare for the Passing of the Elves from Middle Earth?"�
"How?"�
Erestor laughed for now he
understood how little the rulers had confided in their subjects, even
those who had served them most closely. His eyes darkened even as he
realised the extent of the error of judgment on their part.�
"Haldir, meleth n�n -
there is a wagon abiding in the shelter of Imladris that is filled with
the loamy soil of L�rien. Within its� moist protective coat there
are hundreds of thick-shelled pods, seeds of the mighty mellyrn. Another
wagon left many years ago in the cavalcade of the Lady of L�rien, to
be taken aboard ship for Valinor. Similarly, each elf who has departed
these forests and has taken the straight road has been presented with
a smaller box, each with a single mallorn seed. Even Master Samwise
received one although that tree was destined to sprout leaves in the
Shire, not Aman."�
Grasping his lover's chin,
Erestor raised his face so that he could look into the deep blue eyes
as he reassured him.�
"Haldir, as many seeds
as there are mallorn trees have been taken by the elves of Lothl�rien
to Valinor, and each person who carried one was charged with the task
to see it planted and to nurture the resulting seedling. If, as I suspect,
the L�rien elves have chosen to live close by each other then there
is no doubt a veritable forest for them to dwell in by now. I assure
you that the Valar, who as part of the choir of Ainur sang the world
into being, would not neglect to have such a potent and beautiful part
of their hymn re-grown in their own home."�
Erestor cupped his hand and
laid a palm against Haldir's cheek.�
"You need not have feared
that you were leaving part of yourself behind, meleth n�n - it has
already gone before you."�
With a joyful cry Haldir pressed
forward into Erestor's arms, his thankful lips meeting his lover's full
on in a desperate clashing of mouth and teeth and tongue. In a frenzy
of affirmation four hands tore at hindering clothing, stripping layers
away until only bare flesh was revealed at the core, heated flesh that
inflamed the passion that lay within the fleshy shells. There was no
domination or submission but simply a union of two souls that had feared
a parting that would have lasted to the end of the world. �
Erestor hissed at the fevered
assault upon his body and senses, reveling in the lips that plundered
his mouth and then enclosed his member. A talented tongue licked and
sucked upon his hard shaft, drawing forth moans from deep within - moans
that only spurred on the Marchwarden. First one finger then two pressed
against Erestor's entrance, searching digits that pressed and teased
against the inner gland until he begged for sweet release. A seed-slickened
shaft swiftly followed, eagerly burrowing into the hot velvet channel.
Erestor welcomed the invasion, raising his hips to enable his betrothed
to attain a greater depth. They rocked together, urging each other in
their quest for a perfect union and a subsequently explosive completion.
Ululating cries echoed in the cave, vocal expression of their satisfaction
and deep love.�
�
****�
The two elves lay in each others
arms, Erestor's now-dry cloak spread over them like a blanket as they
watched the first rays of the dawn sun reflect upon the dancing waters
of the River Celebrant. Haldir sighed in Erestor's enfolding arms, unwilling
to break this happy quietude with questions from the unhappy circumstances
which had led to this moment. Nevertheless, Erestor heard that sigh.�
"What ails you, meleth
n�n?"�
"Naught," Haldir
replied. Erestor kissed the silver-gold strands of his beloved's head.�
"There is something that
troubles you, Haldir n�n, and I would have you speak for it seems to
me that too often we have held our tongues to the detriment of the truth
and our hearts. Ask, my love and if I can, I will answer."�
Haldir shifted in his arms,
the better to judge Erestor's reaction to his query.�
"Last night you said that
you knew that I had planned to travel to Imladris, to reunite with you
before our final journey. How? How could you know when I had no chance
to tell you?"�
Erestor smiled, kissing those
questioning lips. �
"You are by nature neat,
in a soldierly fashion. You must have dwelled in this cave for weeks
yet there was no sign of permanent habitation. Indeed, your bags are
packed for a journey - you were prepared to leave this place for Rivendell,
were you not?"�
"Aye, this very dawn I
would have called my horse to me from her ramble in the wood, for I
wished to cross the Misty Mountains by midsummer. I wished to be with
you as soon as I could. Once my initial panic at the thought of finally
leaving L�rien had passed, I saw how wrong I had been. I had to be
sure that you had not left Middle Earth without me."�
Erestor shook his head. "I
would not have - at no point have I contemplated living without you.
In my own bags I carried here all that I needed to set up a home with
you."�
Haldir's eyes widened in amazement
at this statement and he felt humbled by the strength of the devotion
shown by his lover.�
"I am not worthy of you,"
he muttered at last - yet he clung to his dark lord in his need, hiding
his face against that firm breast.�
Erestor tilted Haldir's face
up again, kissing first his eyes in turn, then the tip of his prominent
nose before recapturing the full lips.�
"Let me be the judge of
that," he murmured before he began to worship the warrior once
more, reminding him once and for always just where his future lay.�
�
The End
Elvish:
Edhel - elf
galadhel - tree dweller/one
of the guardians of the Golden Wood
Elleth - female elf
Yrch - orcs
Mallorn/mellyrn - the giant
trees of Lothl�rien.
Meleth n�n - my love
Melethron - male lover