1. Chapter One
His hand caressed the knife handle at his back as he slowly pulled it upward and out of the scabbard. Nothing else on the warrior's body moved. His eyes were slits as he crouched low behind the tree.
There had been only the slightest of movements, but it was enough to command the Marchwarden's attention. Without moving his head, his eyes swept from side to side. 'There!' he thought. 'Something does move beyond the compound. Where are the guards?'
Slowly, he stepped forward. Arms encircled him from behind and he cursed himself for being such a fool as to have been caught unawares.
She laughed low.
His skin prickled as he heard it; senses fully alert now, he tried to free himself from her hold, twisting and turning.
She would not allow it.
Trying to use his legs to trip her, he felt her arms tighten their hold, felt her feet press more firmly into the ground. He could not free himself.
She laughed again.
Furious with himself, he sighed. He felt her arms loosen and he flung himself away. Quickly, he lunged with the knife. She stepped aside more swiftly than he expected and he found himself upon the ground, dead pieces of leaves flying up into his face, into his eyes and his nose, causing him to gasp for breath.
She sat down hard upon his back.
He tried to free himself once again, but she pulled both his arms back, holding fiercely to his hands. His shoulders hurt from the pressure she exerted on them. He stilled again.
She was not fooled a second time.
His mind whirled with plans of escape, yet not one would suffice. He scowled miserably. Laying his head upon the ground, he spoke the two words that cut - "I yield."
He heard her sigh, felt the warm breathe on his neck, and wanted her.
"Why did you even wear the knives? They are not yours?" she whispered.
"The mite of Mirkwood made me. They are his; ones used for practice. He said I was not complete until I had a thorough knowledge of a blade other than my sword. He has been training me for the last month. I think wielding my sword would have been more efficient."
"Nothing, my love, would have saved you. Admit it." Her laughter filled the air. "You were hopelessly out manned. And by an Elleth, no less."
"Hopeless I will never be as long as you are at my side, beloved." He twisted around and held her in his arms. "My beloved Haldirriel." His lips touched hers, gently, lightly. He felt her body tremble; her legs give way. His arms tightened. "Will you stay here and battle me in public, or will you come with me and do battle in our talan?"
"Wherever you wish, my Lord. But only if you touch me as you touched the knife. I saw you drag your hand across the hilt before you unsheathed it. I felt it through my whole being."
He smiled and ran his little finger over her lips. He hardened. "I will show you how it is done. Then perhaps you can practice on me."
"My husband, there is too much talk. Meet me there? Now?"
He swept her into his arms. "I will not meet you; wasted time. I will bring you with me."
"I would wish to prepare for your coming, my Lord." She smiled and he quickly put her down. "Thank you. You will not be disappointed."
"I must walk slowly then?"
"Just a little. Give me but a moment to make ready." Her face blushed and he had all he could do to not lay her on the ground where they stood and despoil her.
"Be off with you now; I cannot contain myself." He took a step back and let her go. She ran; he noted her grace, the soft curves of her body, the fullness -
"She runs like the deer, does she not?"
Haldir turned in surprise. "How long have you stood there, Prince?"
"Long enough to see you plan to put my knives to a new use."
"You may have them back; I need them not."
"Once you needed me," the Elf murmured. "You were mine."
The slender hand reached out tenderly, but Haldir batted it aside. "We will not discuss that again. I am no longer yours."
He turned aside, but the hand came back, holding his arm. "You would dismiss the hundreds of years we had together?" The bitterness dripped. "I should never have introduced you!"
"It would be over no matter if Haldirriel and I had met or no. You were..." He stopped, collected his breath and turned away again.
The hand reached out. He turned furiously. "Do not touch me again!" He noted the clenched teeth and a part of him hurt. "Go back to Eryn Lasgalen. Or to Ithilien. You have changed allegiances again, I hear."
"So that is what disturbs you!" The Elf almost shouted. "I left you to fight Sauron, by my adar's order!"
"You left me to go to that man's arms!" Haldir spat. "I saw you when the Fellowship came to Lórien. I saw you in the woods with him. And then after he became King, when we came for his wedding, I saw you! I saw you with him in the gardens of Minas Tirith." He swallowed hard, tears glistening in his eyes.
Haltingly, Legolas turned. "I could not help myself," he whispered, lowered his head, and moved quietly through the forest, away from Haldir.
The Elf watched him go. A tear escaped and ran down his cheek. He brushed it angrily away. His heart ached. He wanted to follow him, take him in his arms, and forgive him, but he could not. He wanted to hold him close, grind himself against him, feel the fever course through his body and have his way with the beauty.
He turned towards his and Haldirriel's talan, towards home.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.