For the Love of a Maia

For the Love of a Maia
Chapter 2: Found!
By Sienna Dawn

Pairing: Haldir/OFC Heterosexual
Rating: NC17 for sexuality

Summary: The Valar send Haldir to Arda in order to bring a stranded Maia back to Valinor. When he arrives, the possibility of civil war looms large. Will the Maia forsake Middle Earth and return to Valinor? A period romance set against the backdrop of Norman England.

Disclaimer: Based on characters from The Silmarillion and the Lord of the Rings, by JRR Tolkien, (used here without permission), as well as historical events which occurred in York, England, 1173-1175 AD, during the reign of Henry II. Copyright remains with JRR Tolkien. For entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this work. All original characters are the creation of Sienna Dawn.

~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 2 - Found!

York, England, 1173....

The day dawned with promise. Ne'er a cloud in the vast expanse of blue sky. Pavement Market was already busy and its merchants plied their wares. Everything from wool to wine was to be had. But to-day was special. To-day marked the fourth day of the Annual York Fair.

Matilda Fitzwalter, Lady of Rowan Bold, threw open the heavy wooden shutters of her bedroom, leaned out and took a deep breath. She was a dark haired, small and rotund woman of 37, with quick black eyes and a wide and generous mouth. The second daughter of a duke, her ancestors hailed from the Aquitaine. Like the Queen's, Matilda's ancestry was ancient and noble. Below her, in the open courtyard she saw her husband of nearly twenty-five years slowly leading his horse. Frowning, she watched him for a few moments and then called out.

"Tarry not to-day, husband! To-day is fourth day of York Fair and Thursdaymarket as well. Your wines will not sell themselves lest you open your stalls! And do not be late returning hither this eve, for ye know that Almeric Atteford dines with us this night! " Matilda's dark eyes sparkled with good humor.

Caught in the act of sneaking out later than usual, Godfrey Fitzwalter, a tall and slender man of 42 years, looked up, toward the sound of his wife's voice. His eyes were of a clear blue, free of the wasting disease which attacked so many of his age. Now, the very same eyes narrowed toward the sight of his wife's ample form. Indeed, he had forgotten all about Almeric.

"Nay, good wife, I tarry not. My wines will sell, whether ye say or not, and Myles shall see to it. Though I ask ye, Matilda, by all that is good and holy: shall the day ever come when you do not pitch your cry so as to wake the dead?" He asked her in consternation, referring to Matilda's propensity for yelling out everything she said, to everyone. He saw her stand back a little ways from the window and tilt her head slightly.

"Eh?" She screamed louder than usual, and then burst out laughing, seeing a look of hopelessness cross her husband's face.

Truth be known, Matilda had been partially deaf since a childhood fever had ravaged nearly all of York and its outlying shires. But the disability had never worn down her good spirits. It was a handicap that most quickly forgot once one grew to know her better.

Godfrey shrugged and turned from his wife, mounting the horse and crossing the airy courtyard. The animal's hooves rattled the wooden planks of the drawbridge as it lowered over the House's wide moat, and in moments he was galloping toward the city. By the time he had left Rowan Bold behind him, and was headed toward Pavement Market, his mind was already fixed elsewhere.

Rumors and stories of civil war and disharmony between the King and his son had reached his ears earlier in the month and as Lord of the outlying shires and of York itself, he would be called to council sooner or later. He sighed, as he urged the horse upon the narrow stone streets, winding about the carts that were already on their way to Pavement Market. War was the last thing this land needed, he thought to himself, finally reaching the stall where his partner, Myles of Lewes, was already busy exchanging a large amphora of Italian wine for some cinnamon and tarragon.

"Aye, good morrow, Godfrey!" Myles called out, as he waved instructions to a barefoot apprentice. Myles was the third son of a Land Baron, and had been destined for the Church but decided to follow his own destiny. A short, balding bachelor with kind gray eyes, he had met and now been in partnership with Godfrey for well over ten years. Their relationship was not only based on sound financial need but on a deep and loyal friendship.

Godfrey dismounted and handed the horse's reins to another apprentice. He coughed once in the humid air of June and responded, "Good day to ye!"

With a practiced eye, Godfrey studied the stall and looked behind him to the little shop where they stored many of the larger wine vessels. Theirs was a thriving business, importing wines and spices from the Continent and then distributing these throughout most of the royal houses. That he had a title as Lord of Rowan Bold did not make Godfrey a wealthy man. He had the lands and his own estates to care for and previous harvests had been poor. This additional income was a heaven-send indeed, he mused.

"I see you've already sold the Musk wine." He leaned over and checked the large caskets of tarragon.

"Aye," responded Myles, "and I've a promise for the Rose from Spain."

Godfrey arched an eyebrow, impressed. The Rose was always the most expensive and usually the last to sell. "Who buys it?" He inquired casually.

"For the Lords of Carlisle, I believe."

"Carlisle?" Godfrey repeated thoughtfully. "Why, that Rose is a full ten gallons! Nobody at Carlisle House has ever shown a taste for the Rose." His eyes flew south. "Why now?"

Myles shrugged and helped the apprentice bring the cinnamon caskets indoors. "Why care? So long as they pay in gold."

Godfrey frowned, "They paid in gold?" He was getting worried now. Usually area Lords bartered for their goods or purchased on credit. But to pay in gold meant a final purchase. Nothing to trace.

Myles was already sweating in the hot morning breeze. He came to stand before Godfrey, "What worries you? I counted the pieces. Gold 'tis."

"Nay," Godfrey shook his head, "I am not concerned over the money." His clear blue eyes turned to look at the shorter man. "I've had news from Normandy."

Myles frowned, "Bidding good or naught?"

Godfrey crossed his arms, "I don't know yet. But I would wager whatever it is, 'tis staying at Carlisle House."

Myles let out a low whistle and crossed his arms.

Godfrey turned to look at Myles, "We'll find out more to-night." He said wearily. "To-night Almeric Atteford dines at Rowan Bold."

Myles frowned but said nothing.

~*~*~*~*~

Back at Rowan Bold, Matilda had headed for the kitchens, intent on planning the night's supper.

To-night, Almeric Atteford was to dine with them and she wanted the grandest feast they could afford. Almeric was her daughter's, Anysse's, suitor, and one she hoped Anysse would accept. Anysse was now nineteen, and high time she was wed and chateleine of her own household. Yet, the girl seemed content to tarry at home, much too hoity-toity with suitors, finding fault with all, or simply showing a total lack of interest for the young men that came to call.

Matilda chewed on her bottom lip as she passed under a large open doorway and stepped outside the castle, heading for the kitchens. In the traditions of her ancestors, she had requested that the large kitchens of Rowan Bold be built away from the House itself in case of fire or other accidents. She had seen enough of these as a child and had learned the wisdom of keeping the kitchen and hearth fires away from the main house. As she passed on her way to the kitchen larders, her nose caught a whiff of the moat's stagnant waters and she frowned.

"Guise Montford!" She called the name and looked around. Where was that ill-fool, she thought angrily. His sole duty was to maintain the waters of the moat free from the nauseating smells that were the bane of all castle moats. Elyen had given them a mixture of herbs, oils and powders, and these were to be mixed into the water once monthly. She herself had doubted the efficacy of the recipe, until she had seen with her eyes and smelled with her nose how quickly the strange herbs cleared up the dark waters and brought a sparkling scent to the moat.

"Guise!" Matilda called. Abruptly, she turned on her heel and nearly ran the boy down. She glared at him for a moment. He was a young man of nearly 20 years, apprentice to Cook. "Did ye not hear me calling ye?"

Guise nodded, "Aye Milady, I did." Was his response.

Matilda clucked her tongue. It wasn't that the boy was addled, but more like he seemed to forget everything he was told. "You have not brought the cleansing herbs for the moat?" She saw Guise blush and shake his head.

"Then, do it now, and make swift, for we have guests at the Bold to-night. I'll not have the grand Lords sniffing the putrefaction of that water." She gave the young man a kind look. "Need you help?"

"Nay," Guise replied, "I shall manage." He shook his head, wondering what a putrefaction was and how one got it.

Matilda sighed and crossed her arms, signaling the conversation was nearly over, "Fine, and see you don't fall in like last time."

Guise nodded and promised, "I will be very careful, Milady."

Matilda waved him off then and watched him walk away, heading for one of the four barns on the property. "Do you have enough of the mix or shall I ask Lady Elyen for more?"

Guise turned and shook his head, "Enough for one more," and then disappeared inside the barn.

Matilda turned back to her planning and in a few strides had reached the kitchens.

Rapidly, she checked the larders and gave instructions, thinking all the time about Almeric. He was not simply a suitor, he was King Henry's nephew! Sighing, she turned as she heard her name on the wind.

Above her, a soft voice called her name and in a moment Matilda located the origin of the call. Seeing the tall and black-haired Elyen, her face broke into a genuine smile.

"Good morrow, Elyen!" She called and wiped her hands on a nearby cloth. "Sleep you well? "Tis hot this day." Matilda turned briefly to inspect a chicken before rejecting it.

"Indeed," answered the deep and gentle voice of Elyen the Maia, "it dawns hot this day." Warm blue eyes smiled on the woman in the courtyard below. Elyen watched Matilda for a few moments, letting the warm morning breeze play with her long loose hair. Already she could smell the soft aromas of baking bread as they wafted up from the kitchens below.

She was tall, Elyen Variëntari, tall for the women of this age and world, but not tall for a Maia. She carried herself with a quiet aura of dignity and great power that few knew how to pierce. Hers were eyes the color of a gentle summer sky, sparkling with good humor if one cared to gaze deeply enough. Her nose was straight and her mouth was wide and generous and her face unlined and youthful. She appeared to be no more than five and twenty although in truth her age was as countless as the waves upon the sea. Yet, hers was an almost girl-like countenance and demeanor unless moved to great anger or sadness. Then, would her true wisdom and knowledge be shown and all those nearby would wonder at her true identity.

Elyen's eyes lifted upward and she gazed at the sky. The heavens were clear, though she could feel tension in the air. Not all was well from the north. She could feel it. Thoughts of murder, betrayal and much more clouded her mind and she pursed her lips. After a few moments, she sighed. Not much she could do there, she thought. Next, she gazed south and pondered a moment. Her fine eyebrows furrowed in thought. Concealment, she finally decided and she narrowed her gaze southward. Something hid in the south. She would have to do more checking in this direction. East she checked next and from there came a fine mist of movement. Movement from the east, she eventually realized. She worried as to whether it was friend or foe.

Turning from the east, she let her eyes wander over the open fields of the West Gate and felt a gentle sensation in the back of her mind. Frowning, she concentrated on it, but suddenly into her view flew a small robin. Elyen's eyes focused on the bird and she watched it as it settled comfortably on the sill of the open window. She smiled, gazing at it. Abruptly, the small bird turned to her and she heard its sweet song, realizing it was meant for her:

"Elyen, Elyen, knowest thou what I see?
An elf! An elf, a-perched on a tree!"

Elyen was about to respond when a door behind her cracked open and the bird nervously jumped away from the window pane and flew off. For a moment, Elyen watched it and then turned.

She saw that it was Ulric de Graville who entered. In his eyes there was a deep worry and Elyen thought she could guess at its source. Looking into Elyen's eyes, Ulric nodded, "Morrow, Elyen, have you broken your fast yet?" His voice was pleasantly gentle, a musical baritone which Elyen always thought fitted the Eldar best. But, he was a descendant of the Numenoreans, thus some traces of elvish blood flowed in his veins. At seven and twenty, with reddish-brown hair and brown eyes, Ulric reminded her more of the Rangers of Gondor than of the Normans of this land.

"Nay, I've not," she responded, gently closing the window, keeping the robin's message to herself for the time being. "I fear portends from the North."

Ulric nodded and pulled out a large wooden chair. Sliding his large frame into it, he eased his long legs out from under him and crossed his arms. Brown eyes met blue ones. "Aye, Godfrey's had word from Normandy. Henry the Younger is demanding the crown. Seems Godfrey's known of this situation for sometime but just decided to let me know late last night." He let his eyes cast about him, looking for an apple or some bread. He was hungry and disliked early morning discussions on an empty stomach.

Seeing Ulric's discomfort and knowing its source, Elyen gathered her hair into a large braid and walked closer to Ulric. "Come, let us find something to eat."

Smiling, Ulric stood at once, "Best idea you've had this day."

Grinning, Elyen opened the chamber door, letting Ulric walk ahead of her and then closing the door, "I've always said men lose and gain through their stomachs."

Half-turning at her jibe, Ulric grimaced, "Unlike you, I have need of regular meals."

Walking down the ancient stone stairs, Elyen laughed, "And you think I do not?"

Ulric smiled to himself and shrugged, "Frankly, Elyen, I do not think I know one half of what you do."

Laughing openly, for she knew fully well what he meant, Elyen followed Ulric down the stairs until they came to a large rectangular hallway. Crossing it, they entered the dining room, a large chamber with a built-in fireplace and where several tables and benches were carefully arranged. From one side of the dining room, a high arched doorway led to the kitchens outside. Normally, this doorway was kept closed in the winter. But in the summer, the dinning room was abandoned for the airy outdoor kitchens and many tables and benches were placed outside. The dining room was reserved for important feasts. And so, as customary for Rowan Bold during hot and humid days, the dining room lay empty, while the entire family had already awakened, dressed and was now milling about outside, eating and laughing.

Eyes turned toward them as they approached the Fitzwalters. Elyen smiled and greeted all with a soft, "Good morrow," while Ulric ignored the two females already seated and instead sat next to Wyat, the Fitzwalters' 17 year old son. It was easy to see that Wyat took after his father for he was a fair, tall and slender young man with fine blonde hair and intense blue eyes. He and Ulric got along extremely well, often practicing their sword play late into the afternoon hours. The girls were for Ulric another matter altogether for he well knew that one was smitten with him and the other fairly plotted to get into his bed. The situation proved nearly comical for Elyen had it not been for Ulric's almost churlish demeanor.

Just now a pair of precocious blue eyes watched Ulric. "Good morrow, Ulric," came the greeting. This from Melissant who was fourteen and adored Ulric from afar. Elyen gave Ulric a hardened look, one that was not lost on Wyat, who nodded nearly imperceptibly toward the Maia. Catching her eye, Ulric grinned at the young girl.

"Good morrow, Meli," he said good-naturedly, using the nickname he knew she well favored. "Have you broken your fast yet?" He asked conversationally, aware that another set of dark eyes was watching him as well.

"Aye, and I've finished." She said, looking over at her sister, Anysse. Meli could see that Anysse was already watching Ulric with cow eyes. He was not that good looking, she thought. Aside, wasn't he betrothed to Elyen?

Turning back to Ulric and ignoring her sister's kicks under the table, Melissant went on. "I wondered if perhaps you can show me the patch of river where you and Wyat fish, for I would most like to catch some for feast to-night."

Ulric was about to reply, when Wyat cut in.

"Girls cannot fish! How many times have I said this to you. 'Tis a most unlady-like behavior." His blue eyes flashed at his younger sister.

Melissant broke off a piece of bread and bit into it, giving Wyat a murderous look. Another kick from Anysse and she turned, her face bright red, "Will you stop!"

"Stop what?" Came Matilda's loud question, as she approached the table, placing on it a heaping tray of assorted salted fish and breads. Fresh ale was poured out for all except Melissant who sniffed her milk and grimaced.

Ulric glanced at Elyen, but saw her eyes were focused on the western horizon and he frowned. Reaching for several small trout to place on his pewter trencher, he saw that Anysse watched him with a serious look upon her face. Trying to not act self consciously, for the girl did affect him with her dark eyes and full lips, he kept his attention on his food.

Matilda, having missed most of what had transpired, sat and broke off a piece of bread, dunking it into the trencher. "Stop what?" she repeated, looking from Melissant to Anysse. Neither responded and both seemed immediately interested in their food.

But Ulric could still feel the weight of Anysse's dark stare every few moments and after several tense minutes, he rose.

Aware of the interaction between the mortals, and by now used to it, Elyen did not comment, but instead reached out for her ale and took a sip, her blue eyes resting on Anysse for a moment.

At nineteen, the girl was already considered an adult, of a marriageable age. She was not unattractive, and had her mother's dark coloring. She was not as boisterous as Melissant, and neither was she as observant. But Elyen knew Anysse was a survivor and would always find a way to get what she wanted. She knew the girl was attracted to Ulric and although this of itself did not disturb Elyen, it did concern her, for all of the Fitzwalters knew that Ulric and Elyen were considered to be a couple. Though the betrothal was a farce between them, for Ulric's line was descended from the Numenoreans, he and his line had served her throughout the centuries, pretending to be husband or guardian to her, so that she could come and go without notice among the world of men. As a Maia, Elyen had the ability to change her outward appearance at will. She had come to Matilda's family many years before, disguised as an old widow, with Ulric's father as her brother. Then, when the elder de Graville had died, Elyen had reverted to her true form, allied herself to Ulric and had come to Rowan Bold some five years before. To the Fitzwalters, Elyen was simply a distant cousin of Matilda's father, although no one was ever certain how distant it really was. But Ulric was assumed by all to be Elyen's betrothed. That Anysse would so easily ignore that and continue to exude an intense interest in the man bespoke much for the reasons Anysse had not yet taken a husband.

Elyen served herself some food. Perhaps the girl was indeed in love with Ulric. She watched the girl beneath her lashes. It was a thing she had not counted upon. She watched Ulric for a moment, as he excused himself. Perhaps he too was attracted to Anysse but his oath to serve and protect Elyen kept him bound. She thought that perhaps she would have a word with Ulric concerning Anysse. She did not want to stand in the way of another being's personal happiness and it was obvious to her that something was brewing between the two. Why she had not foreseen this, she did not understand.

Chewing carefully on her food, she called out to Ulric who was walking away with Wyat, "I will be taking a walk toward the Western Gate, Ulric. Worry not."

Ulric stopped and turned to gaze at Elyen, his brown eyes asking, "Are you certain?"

But Elyen waved him off with a nod and a smile. Turning away, she saw that Anysse watched her but kept her silence, while Melissant had not missed a thing.

"Mother," the young girl began.

"Hmmm?" Matilda turned to her youngest.

"What becomes of females who pine for another's property?"

Anysse suddenly glared at her sister and rose, leaving the table while Matilda stared at Melissant.

Matilda blinked, "What sort of question is that for a hot June morning?"

Melissant snorted, "I shall never marry." She turned and looked over at Elyen.

Elyen smiled. "One should never make a prediction in matters of the heart."

"Why not?" Melissant challenged, her blue eyes studying Elyen carefully.

But Elyen did not allow the child's probe and leaned closer to her, conspiratorially whispering, "Because the heart seldom listens to the head."

Melissant straightened and snorted, "I am going fishing." She rose and marched away, breaking into a run and disappearing inside a small grove.

"What am I going to do with these girls?" Matilda sighed.

Elyen smiled again and rose, "They will outgrow this stage. Girls always do."

Matilda frowned and then raised her eyes to Elyen, "To-night Almeric Atteford will join us for dinner. Think you that he will ask for Anysse's hand?"

Elyen bent her head slightly to one side, as if listening. Grinning at the sight of Matilda's worried expression, she patted the woman's hand and laughed, "No doubt he will be smitten by her." With these words she turned and began winding her way down the hillock where the house stood.

"Yes, but will he ask for her hand?" Whispered Matilda.

~*~*~*~*~

Furiously, Anysse climbed the stone stairs of the House and marched back to her room. She threw open her chamber window and contemplated the many ways she could dispose of her sister. A sharp pain stabbed her in the chest and she knew what it was -- jealousy. That Melissant had so easily hit the mark shocked and infuriated her. If a fourteen year old chit could see through her, then could Ulric? Or Elyen, for that matter?

She sat on her bed, looking across the room, toward the blue skies beyond her window, when a soft knock came.

"Yes?" she asked grumpily.

The door cracked open. It was Frida.

"Milady wants you in the kitchens, Lady Anysse."

Anysse turned to look at the small girl and nodded, "Yes, very well," she added resignedly. "Tell the Lady Matilda I shall be there in a few moments."

Frida nodded and quietly closed the heavy wooden door.

Coming to stand by the window, Anysse looked toward the practice grounds hoping to catch a glimpse of Ulric, but instead her eyes caught movement in the west and she saw it was Elyen, gliding smoothly down the hillside toward the small forested grove that wound about Rowan Bold. She wondered what Elyen really felt toward Ulric. Never had she seen a display of affection between them although she could see they shared a true friendship.

She turned from the window. Yet, Ulric looked at her with fire in his eyes, a thing she had never seen happen with Elyen. Her mind was a confused mire. With Almeric coming to-night, she fully well knew that a betrothal was expected. But what if she turned down the King's nephew?

Her father would most likely have a fit, she thought desperately. As would her mother.

Angrily, she flung open the door.

She had no intention of marrying that fop, Almeric Atteford. Not after seeing what a true man was like. One that smelled clean, who did not eat with his hands, or belch at the dinner table. One who treated others with dignity and respect.

Thinking of Ulric made her heart miss a beat and her blood boil. Both at the same time. She wondered if it was the same with him.

Quickly she ran down the stairs toward the kitchens.

How was she going to undo two things at once? Stop her own betrothal to Almeric and Ulric's to Elyen?

~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, Elyen neared the forest at the boundaries of the Western Gate. See could see the dim outline of the tall arched building and she quickened her pace. She was still thinking of the robin's message when she parted the wide branches of the trees and stepped into the deliciously cool forest.

Its green darkness enveloped her and she stilled, allowing the many presences within the forest to touch her and tell her what was at hand.

She could feel the squirrels of the forest and the many birds that nested nearby. Beneath her slippered feet, the soft rich soil of Arda spoke to her, with a brown energy born of roots and tendrils that reached deep below the ground. The honeyed touch of the busy bees came to her as well as the life-force of the industrious ants. The trees, though not as alert as they were ages past, did salute her in their own mellifluous way and she acknowledged them by tenderly caressing their trunks.

Deeper into the wood she walked, searching for the meaning of the robin's message, squinting her eyes above the tree tops, looking for what she knew could not be.

And yet, she reasoned, the bird had been clear. An elf, it had said -- and perched upon a tree. And it was from this direction that she had felt the slightest touch, familiar yet guarded.

Elyen quietly wound her way among the tall firs, rowans and alders. Here and there she stopped for a moment to listen and to let the forest speak to her.

By the time she had entered the thickest part of the woods, she was sure there was another presence nearby. Hidden, alert and very guarded. But what was it, she asked herself. Certainly not an elf. All of the Eldar had departed Arda.

Abruptly behind her a twig snapped and she whirled, drawing herself inward for a defensive move. As she searched the dark gloom, a bright pair of black eyes found her gaze. Elyen relaxed.

A buck, proud and questioning.

"Oo...sidh, mellon nîn...I come in peace." She began in the ancient Sindarin, falling back to the language she loved best and one she knew from experience was the tongue that most soothed nervous beasts. She smiled and watched the animal as it hid itself into the darkness once more.

Elyen frowned and looked about her.

It was near, the presence. She could feel its life-force. She could feel its vital strength, its energy, and a deep frown appeared on her brow.

She knew this presence. But how could that be?

An elf? In York? Abruptly, with a will of its own, an elven face emerged in her mind. The one whose face was usually foremost in her thoughts. The Galadhrim Elf whose name was Haldir, the March Warden of Lothlorien -- the one who had sailed away to Valinor with her heart.

Impossible, she told herself. There were no Eldar remaining on Arda. This she knew for a fact. She knew she had to force forth whatever creature it was, for of itself it did not appear inclined to reveal its presence.

Breathing calmly, she focused and then shifted all of her will into her voice. She spoke into the darkness, carefully weaving the spell into her words. "Erio, e mor, mellon egor cotumo!"

~*~*~*~*~

Haldir had greeted the dawn perched high atop the same rowan from the night before.

Close to sunrise, the city had begun to stir, and he had seen the arched Gate lift its wooden bar. Several men had come out of the gated structure to survey the outlying area and after several minutes had run back inside.

From within the city, Haldir had seen carts and wagons rumble into movement, and people begin to fill the streets. By the time the sun was high in the heavens, movement in and out of the city was continuous. Carriages and riders of all sorts were stopped at the Gate before allowed entry. Children running ahead of their parents were usually shooed back in line by the chainmailed Atani. Men and women on foot milled impatiently at the Gate, and Haldir observed scuffles often break out only to be settled rapidly by the grim-faced Gatekeepers.

He had pricked up his ears at one point and listened. The tow-headed man from the night before was speaking to an Atani whose arms were laden with heavy fabric rolls.

"'Tis no use arguin'," the tow-headed man had said. "Law's the law. Five pieces for all them rolls as you do not reside in York. You got five rolls, you pay five pieces."

Haldir had been happy he had eavesdropped. Knowing for certain this was his destination, he had dropped back to the conversation between the two Atani.

"I only have two pieces." Grumbled the man with the fabric.

"Then you cannot enter," replied the tow-headed man, pushing the other Atani to the side and turning to an elderly woman.

Haldir wondered at the conversation and its meaning, watching and listening for a good hour until he had realized the Atani imposed a tax on all non-residents bringing goods into the city. He wondered how the Atani knew to tell one from the other.

He had eaten a very light meal of lembas though he still had his other provisions. Yet, he wished to make as little noise as possible and had settled down to observe the activity of the Atani while trying to devise a way to get inside.

After a few hours, Haldir had moved to the higher branches of the rowan and from there had spotted the large stone and brick house sitting atop a green hillock within the city limits. About the House flowed a wide moat and upon the arched entrance of the house there was a wooden drawbridge. He scanned the ramparts of the House's Tower and saw a garrison of about fifty Atani. He stared at the House, wondering if this was the place where Elyen lived, feeling a strange energy come from it. Not long after, he had observed a rider cross the bridge and leave the tall house and wind his way toward the city.

Soon thereafter, the House had awakened and Haldir had not known whether he found the Atani at the Gate more interesting from the Atani at the House. He watched them alternately and eventually saw the lone female figure drop away from the House's perimeters, cross a small wooden bridge at the back of the House and approach the wood where he hid.

Swiftly he had descended to the lower branches in order to observe the female better. But he really didn't have to. Once she had turned her face toward him he had known. He had glimpsed her. After all the ages that stretched between their last meeting, her face and skin were as fresh as he remembered it. She still had the appearance of a young woman who had seen no more than twenty-five summers. Her walk was just as graceful. Her figure as slender and lithe. He saw that she had braided her raven locks and he wished he could see it free, dancing in the soft breeze, knowing her hair was silken to the touch. He watched her and felt his heart hammer in his chest.

After all this time he was still enraptured by her. He loved her. He would always love her.

Now, he was watching with disbelieving eyes as the familiar and beloved figure of the one female he loved best entered the wood and stopped for a moment.

He decided to wait and watch her from his hiding place, not ready to reveal himself yet, but knowing she had the power to sense him, to find him.

And then the spell of her words had come, glancing off his spirit like a gentle mist and he had smiled. Her spells had not, for some reason unknown to both, ever had an effect on him.

~*~*~*~*~

Elyen waited for a moment, allowing the strength of the spell to wind its way around the dark wood. She knew now that something moved within it and she wanted to know what it was.

Yet, from inside her spirit she knew the presence was able to resist her magic. How was this?

Focusing her strength once more, she was ready to cast the spell again, only this time with a greater force, when she heard a soft voice.

"Daro!" A hushed, musical tenor spoke in perfectly toned Sindarin -- with an accent she had not heard in centuries. An accent she knew very well and often tried to simulate to no avail. She was no Lorien Elf.

She turned and stilled, her blue eyes canvassing the forest, raising themselves to the tree tops.

From above her, the voice spoke again, softly and tenderly. "A ship is come to bear you home."

Elyen forgot to breathe for a moment, her heart beating so fast and hard that she feared it would fly away from her body! A ship for home! her mind repeated ceaselessly. She tried to calm her raging heart but could not.

Elyen had known, as the ages passed, that the time of the elven ships of yore no longer existed. There was no one to bear her home to Valinor. This fate she well knew was part and parcel of her task, unless the Valar commanded her home. If this was to be, she knew the way and means would open for her to sail home. She had missed her companions as the centuries had waxed and waned, and sometimes even allowed herself to shed a tear or two of longing. Nevertheless, as the centuries passed, it seemed to Elyen that the Valar were content to leave her as she was. It was a decision she never questioned.

Her eyes narrowed and she brought her hands to her chest. She knew that voice! How could she not recognize it!!

"In my dreams, sweet one, I hear your name," he told her and Elyen felt tears sting her eyes. Oh, how the centuries stretched between that voice and her heart. She did not know if she could speak.

Taking a great gulp of air into her lungs, Elyen willed herself to calmness.

"Haldir..." she finally breathed softly. "Haldir?" She asked in a whisper, watching the tall trees for a sign of movement.

It was then she heard a soft rustling in the high branches of the trees, close to her right and she gazed in that direction. She had not the keen eyes of the Eldar, but she could see a rapidly moving figure drop steadily closer to the ground.

In a moment, the face that haunted her dreams stood before her and she felt her eyes water. She let the tears come, unmindful that he saw her weep, for she knew these were healing tears. They stood before each other, quietly looking into each other's eyes. Elyen looked at Haldir, and remembered how strong and beautiful he had always been, only his eyes showing the passing of the years for he was as still as fair as she remembered him to be. Briefly, she wondered if he had ceased waiting for her and had instead found a companion to live out the world's long ages. She tried to smile, but this thought was too much for her to bear, and in doing so, her voice caught in a sob and he took a step toward her. But he did not touch her. He did not know if she would welcome his touch.

Haldir watched Elyen, uncertain of what to say or do, seeing the tears flow unchecked down her face and hearing the broken sob escape her lips.

His silver eyes watched her, with a glow of concern. After all this time, what could he say? That he missed her? His coming for her made that obvious. That he loved her and always would? She already knew that from looking at him, for he knew his emotions were openly written upon the planes of his face.

Finally, Elyen composed herself and raised her bright eyes to his face. "Haldir!" she exclaimed and smiled, a wonderful light of peace seeming to come over her, a light he had not seen moments before. Although he returned the smile, he stood still as she took a few steps toward him and he caught her light fragrance before she embraced him.

Her body was supple and strong and Haldir closed his eyes, wanting to return the embrace but feeling awkward. So many years between them. Had she changed toward him? Was her gladness born out of gratitude and naught else?

Elyen stepped back and reached out to touch his cheek. She saw his silver eyes turn to a warm grey. "I dare not believe you are real!"

Haldir relaxed, and he held her at arm's length. He looked into her eyes and saw there the memories each shared with the other. Memories of the forests and groves they had often visited, and to the knowledge that they had both fallen sweetly in love with each other "I am. I am come for you, Elyen Variëntari." He used her formal name, in deference of who and what she was.

A questioning look crossed Elyen's eyes for a moment, but Haldir had caught it. "Come for me?"

Haldir nodded, his heart began to hammer again. Perhaps Rumil was right. She may not wish to leave Arda. "To bear you hence to Valinor."

Elyen smiled and reached out for his hair, finding a long braid and letting it drape over her fingers before pulling her hand back and giving Haldir a serious look. "Are you here by the command of the Valar?"

Haldir shook his head, trying to keep the conflicting emotions he felt out of his voice. "Not by their command, but by their leave. I sought their grace to allow me to come to the bent world." He watched her face carefully.

Elyen dropped her gaze to Haldir's mouth and smiled. But she did not realize the effect her gaze had on Haldir. "Why?" she asked simply.

Haldir stared at Elyen. Why? Because I love you desperately, he thought. Because I will fade without your company, he added silently. But instead he said, "Because there are no Swan ships to bear you home."

Elyen nodded and gazed away into the forest. She had expected something altogether different. But now she knew that Haldir had still not changed that much. He still kept his heart safely guarded. Even from her. She realized now her mistake in not having declared her heart to him before, for she already suspected that even after all this time, the Galadhrim Captain would not speak of it first. Guilt flared in her spirit. She had sent him to Valinor with such a great weakness. That he had held on this long, without fading, was a testament of his own inner strength.

Then a curious thing happened. A soft frond from a nearby tree touched her arm and she heard its distinct warning, "He may already have found another." Her heart skipped a beat. Of course, Elyen reasoned, this is why Haldir had not faded. His love for another had saved him.

Feeling both sad and relieved at the same time, Elyen caressed the bark of the tree in thanks for its insight and she turned her eyes to Haldir once more.

"So, you have a Swan ship somewhere?" She asked him, keeping her voice cool.

"Nay, not a Swan ship for the Valar forbade it. Yet, the ship is sturdy and will take us to the Straight Road." He responded, "if you wish it." He added.

Elyen looked at Haldir for a moment, seeing his gaze soften. Incredibly, she felt her body react to his gaze. Suddenly, her chest tightened and she could not breathe easily. Was it possible that after all this time desire could suddenly well up inside of her? Yet, she thought, he is beautiful and much desirable. Moreover, she could feel he too desired her, her companionship, her presence. Her love. She read all of these things in the light of his eyes and was confused.

The smile passed from Elyen's lips to her eyes and she asked Haldir softly, "Is that all you have to tell me? Have you found another to ease the loneliness of our sundering?" She asked the question boldly and without hesitation. She saw the flicker of uncertainty pass over Haldir's face.

As he gazed into Elyen's face, Haldir saw a moment of doubt suddenly darken her features. But it was no more than a fleeting moment and then it was replaced by the same strong and elegant countenance which marked her above the rest. He frowned, "Found another?" He questioned softly, a deep furrow marking his brow. "Think you I am that inconstant?" His voice was tinged with the old haughtiness Elyen well knew, but now it also had an undertone of weariness. Weariness and sadness, Elyen realized.

"I do not judge, Haldir, I merely seek to understand." She saw the flash of anger begin to stir in his silver eyes and she too suddenly felt battle-ready.

"Then judge me not!" Haldir declared, "save only that I, of all the Eldar and Maiar in Valinor, have sailed for thee!" His eyes held anger and frustration and he crossed his arms.

Elyen suddenly smiled, and she let the tension drain from her body, "Yes, and what do I do in return? I bait you into a quarrel." She touched his arm and looked into his eyes. Softly she said, "Forgive me, Haldir, it has been too long without the company of my kin. I do not say your heart is inconstant, for neither is mine." She gave him a meaningful look, one she hoped he understood.

"I see only you have come for me." She added gently, giving him a tender smile she hoped would convey the depth of her gratitude and that she well understood the extent of the danger he had taken on her behalf. Turning half way toward the tree who had spoken to her, Elyen gently tugged at Haldir's sleeve. "Come with me, maethor nîn." She looked up and gave him a reassuring grin.

Haldir began to relax. Perhaps, he thought, the old familiarity they had once shared was not altogether lost. He smiled, a thing which transformed his face. Elyen had always treasured Haldir's smiles, because of their impact on his fair features and because they were a rare gift he did not bestow on everyone save those closest to him. "I daresay I came also because I missed your company. And it was a fair night for a sail. You know I am no sailor. The wind blew hither and thither and 'afore I knew it...." His silver eyes glittered.

Elyen laughed, savoring his sarcastic wit, and then turned from him. "Come, Haldir Nolwërion, there is much you must learn about this world, my place in it and whether you will stay or not."

Haldir watched Elyen walk ahead of him and he wondered at her words, not sure if she understood that by coming for her, he had simply forsaken Valinor for good.

~*~*~*~*~

KEY:

chatelaine = head of a household

Erio, e mor, mellon egor cotumo! = Arise, out of darkness, friend or foe!

Daro! = Stop!

maethor nîn = my warrior.

~*~*~*~*~

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Disclaimer: All familiar characters are owned by JRR Tolkien and are used without permission. No monies are being made from this work.
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