My Heart's Desire - Part 1. To Wait for you.

Chapter 13. Where Your Path Can Take You.

Haldir looked down from his balcony at the city of Caras Galadhon, bathed in the silver light of Ithil. It looked beautiful and peaceful, as always. No, Haldir shook his head. Not as always. It was different now that *he* was gone. Where once there had been peace, born of happiness and contentment, there was now the quiet of a lifeless void. But the elves he watched walking and laughing in the glades beneath his talan, did not seem unhappy. So then, he mused, the emptiness he sensed around himself must be only an echo, a mirror reflection of his inner void. Yes, he felt hollow and cold.
‘Is a wound caused by the Ice Blade as deadly as one caused by a Morgul sword?’ he wondered with sad irony.
He saw Glorfindel cross the clearing side by side with two elves of the Lady’s Noldorin guard. Haldir sighed and brought to his lips the goblet of wine he was holding in his hand. He did not want to think where *he* was and what *he* was doing at this hour. Haldir had a very good idea of it. He had seen it in the Lady’s Mirror. He winced and drained his glass.

* * *

Haldir did not have a chance to see Lady Galadriel before he left for the border and, thus, he had to put off his conversation with her till his returning. Perhaps it was for the better, as now he had time to think everything over. And of thinking he did a lot. He was unusually quiet and uncommunicative during the patrol. It was no surprise his fellow-guardians did not fail to notice it. At first, they made jokes about it, then they started asking questions and finally they left him alone, though he could see the worried looks they exchanged. His brothers knew the reason for his brooding, of course, but they held their tongues and the elves of the patrol remained in the dark.
However, Orophin and Rúmil tried to confront him with their own questions a couple of times. But all they got out of him was ‘I’m fine’ and ‘Leave me alone’. What could he tell them, anyway? That he was hopelessly in love and did not know what to do about it? He had gone through the whole range of emotions from confusion to anger before he was able to come to terms with the incredible reality. He was in love for the first time in his life and the choice he had made was the worst possible.
Only, he did not *make* any choice. It simply… happened. He knew his feelings would remain unrequited. He was probably the last candidate on Gildor’s list of potential mates. He had seen only too well that the Vanya had no real interest in him. And why should he, if he had the magnificent king of Mirkwood as his lover? Valar, it hurt! Haldir wondered if it was how he would always feel now. Would he be able to overcome his feelings for the cold Imladris beauty? And how long would it take him, if ever? He did not know. He was well versed in the ways of passion but the ways of love were dark for him. He was dismayed. He felt he was changing somehow. Did it mean he was losing himself? And what would he become when this process was finished? Eru, why did it all have to happen in the first place? And why did it have to be Gildor of all the elves he could have fallen in love with? But then, now he did not want it to be anyone else. He loved Gildor. And it was bitter pleasure and sweet pain.
Like he always did on his returning to Caras Galadhon after a patrol, he went to report to Lord Celeborn. Lady Galadriel was present in his Lord’s study too so he finally got a chance to straighten things out. He told her that everything that had happened between Gildor and him was entirely his fault and met her searching gaze without faltering. She was silent for a long moment and then told him to come to her glade in the evening for she wanted him to look into her Mirror.
He came, though he felt reluctant and apprsivesive. He had a feeling that he would not like what he would see. The Lady poured water into the bowl, stepped aside and motioned for him to come nearer. He approached the Mirror slowly, took a deep breath and looked into the water.
At first he could see nothing but his own reflection, and he even started to hope that the Mirror would refuse to show him anything at all. But then the surface rippled and images began forming on it.

~~~
First he saw the twin sons of Elrond lying close to each other on bedrolls inside some kind of cabin. Then they broke their embrace and moved apart to make room for Gildor who was already shirtless and stood unlacing his leggings.

~~~
Then he saw himself in Lórien’s public bathhouse. He was naked and in the process of unbraiding his hair. Narmacil and Gildor were in the water and Gildor was looking him up and down appreciatively.
“You really shouldn’t ogle like that,” Narmacil whispered.
“Why not, if I enjoy it?” Gildor replied without taking his eyes off Haldir.
Narmacil laughed and splashed water at Gildor.

~~~
And another image of himself. This time he was backed against a tree and confronted by the Imladris twins.
“Don’t you dare come near him again!” Elladan snarled at Haldir while Elrohir looked daggers at him.

~~~
Then he saw Gildor again. He was lying in a spacious bed naked, with his hands bound to the headboard. Thranduil was straddling his chest and…
Haldir shut his eyes quickly. He did not want to see it!

~~~
When he dared look into the Mirror again, the image had changed. Haldir gasped and gripped the rim of the bowl.
He saw himself… sinking to the ground with a crossbow bolt in his chest.

~~~

Then, as if sealing his doom, the Mirror went blank. Haldir took several deep breaths to steady his pulse and looked up at the Lady.
“Give him up, Haldir,” Galadriel said quietly. “He has a knack for bringing bad luck to those who love him. I have seen it happen before. He can destroy you if you persist.”
Haldir looked away. “I’m afraid it’s too late now, my Lady,” he answered. Then he cast a glance at the blank surface of the Mirror. “If I must, I’ll die for him.”

Haldir spoke to Lord Celeborn and asked him to persuade Glorfindel to take him along, when he went to meet Gildor. If his Lord found his request strange he gave no sign of it and asked no questions.
When Celeborn approached Glorfindel about the matter, the Elda was genuinely surprised as, in fact, he was *not* going to meet Gildor. He knew that the Vanya would not expect it of him and even could regard it as a slight to his ability to take care of himself. But when Celeborn mentioned Haldir as his companion for the trip, Glorfindel agreed and did not ask any questions either.
When Celeborn told Haldir about Glorfindel’s consent, Haldir thanked him and told him how grateful he was, but dared not look his Lord in the face. He was sure Celeborn knew the reason for his request and it made him feel awkward and self-conscious.
Celeborn came up to the young Galadhel and put his hand on his shoulder. “Haldir,” he said, “there is no shame in falling in love. It happens even to the best of us.”
This time Haldir did raise his head. “Thank you, my Lord,” he said gratefully. “Thank you.”

* * *

Haldir looked into his empty goblet and decided it was time to go to bed. Early next morning Glorfindel and he were leaving Caras Galadhon.


When Gildor felt elven presence, he stopped his horse, closed his eyes and concentrated. Yes, there were two elves some distance ahead of him. And one of them was… Glorfindel! Gildor’s eyes flew open in surprise. What was his friend doing here? Had anything happened during his absence? He stretched his senses again. No, Glorfindel was not worried and though he was not quite calm either it felt more like slight discomfort, nothing more. Gildor reached out for the second elf. There was something vaguely familiar in the feel of him but still Gildor could not place him. Gildor shrugged: he would learn his identity soon enough. He sent a mental alert to Glorfindel: to surprise the Balrog slayer in the wilds was not a very healthy idea. Then he urged his horse forward.
In a short while he rode into a small clearing where his friend was waiting for him. Gildor slid down from his saddle into Glorfindel’s embrace. After a hearty hug Gildor pulled away and looked at him archly.
“You are too close to the Mirkwood border for your own safety, Glorfindel.”
“Why is that?”
“Because Legolas confessed his feelings for you to his father and Thranduil was not happy about it.”
Glorfindel grew instantly worried. “Legolas, is he… ” he started saying but Gi int interrupted him.
“Ah, I see,” he drawled looking over Glorfindel’s shoulder, “you’ve taken some precautions after all and have brought a guard.”
When Haldir saw Gildor, he almost dropped the filled water-bags he was carrying in his hands. He fels brs breath leave his throat as longing filled him. He was not sure his voice would not betray him if he spoke. So he merely gave the Vanya a silent bow. Gildor replied likewise. Then, making a desperate effort to seem calm and casual, Haldir walked to where their horses were grazing under the tree. Gildor followed him with his eyes and looked back at Glorfindel.
“The prince is fine, meldir,” he said. “Do not worry.”
Glorfindel nodded and refrained from further questions, unwilling to discuss so private a matter in Haldir’s presence. Then the three of them mounted their horses and left the glade, Haldir leading the way.
“How was your visit?” Glorfindel asked Gildor as they rode side by side.
Gildor gave him a lazy feline smile. “Most satisfactory, as always.”
“ActualI meI meant the business part of it,” Glorfindel chuckled.
“So did I,” Gildor answered, unperturbed. “Thranduil signed the treaty, though Erestor might throw a fit when he learns the emendations Thranduil made in it.”
“And you allowed him? You were supposed to defend Imladris’ interests, you know.”
“Do not presume to lecture me on my duties, Glorfindel,” Gildor sounded affronted. “As a matter of fact, Thranduil is now willing to fully re-establish relations with us. He even invited an Imladris delegation to Legolas’s majority celebration. You are on the list, by the way.”
Glorfindel could hardly believe his ears. “Does it mean what I think it means?” he asked.
“I do not know what you think,” Gildor’s voice still held a hint of offence, “but Aranaur is teasing his brother now, cracking jokes about ‘the morning after’.”
“And… Thranduil?”
“I told you, you are invited, didn’t I?”
Glorfindel almost swayed in the saddle, overwhelmed by his sudden happiness. “Gildor,” he said with feeling, “you are the best friend I’ve ever had and the craftiest diplomat I’ve ever known. Thank you! But how did you manage it?”
Gildor chuckled. “I chose the right moment to bring it up.”
“Was it difficult?”
Another chuckle. “I certainly had to sweat for it. So you owe me.”
Haldir, who had heard the whole conversation, clutched at his reins as a sudden vision flashed before his mind’s eye. He was afraid he knew how exactly Gr har had had to ‘sweat for it’. Gildor felt Haldir’s anguish as a shove at his chest. He looked at the Galadhel’s rigid back and frowned. What was wrong with the youngster? His presence felt somewhat different, more closed and withdrawn than it had been when they first met. Gildor could still sense Haldir’s desire for him but it was not as suffocating as before, as if now it were bridled or banked by something; something that Gildor could not quite identify. Gildor refused to probe deeper into Haldir’s soul. He never did such things uninvited. He shook his head slightly, trying to drive away the disconcerting feeling. These were Haldir’s problems. He had enough of his own.
Gildor turned to Glorfindel. “And now tell me what you are doing on the road and with a guard at that.”
Glorfindel shrugged nonchalantly. “Celeborn asked us to meet you.”
“Really? I wonder why.”
“How do I know?” Glorfindeigneigned ignorance. “Ask *him* about it.” And he changed the subject swiftly. “Is this the latest Mirkwood fashion?” he asked nodding his head at his friend’s hairstyle.
Gildor’s hair was plaited in several braids, each decorated with beads of a different colour. The braids were gathered into a bundle at his nape and secured with – what a novelty – a mithril clasp.
“No,” Gildor answered with a chuckle. “This is a unique pattern, a braid for each day of my stay in Mirkwood. It was made especially for me.”
“And by royal hands, I expect?” Glorfindel raised an eyebrow archly.
“Yes,” Gildor agreed sweetly.
“Well, Thranduil was always fond of your hair,” Glorfindel remarked.
“He still is,” Gildor replied and felt another wave of anxiety coming from Haldir. What *was* wrong with the Galadhel? Gildor made an effort and concentrated on his talk with Glorfindel. “Only it wasn’t Thranduil who made my hair. Actually, it was Legolas. He has skilful little hands. As well as skilful little mouth, or tongue, or throat – oh, I’m not sure whatever it takes for singing.”orfiorfindel looked shocked and Gildor almost laughed. “Oh, come on, Glorfindel, I only mean he is a good singer.”
Glorfindel glared at him in indignation. “Then say it in simple words. Your dirty jokes are ill suited for him. They defile his purity.”
Gildor gave a puff of amusement. “I think you are going to be surprised, meldir. He is not as naïve as you think. He has an elder brother after all.”
Glorfindel refused to answer to that and they rode in silence for some time. Gildor wondered for a moment if Legolas’s enlightenment on certain subjects could prove to be an unpleasant surprise for Glorfindel. But then he brushed his doubts away. He had absolute confidence in Legolas’s ability to cope with the situation and to wind the renowned Balrog slayer around his little finger.
Gildor let his attention shift to the young guardian who was riding ahead of them, silent and tense. Gildor could feel very little of the aggressive sexuality he had come to associate with the Galadhel. It was as if the Marchwarden were consciy hoy holding it back and were trying to be as businesslike and as inconspicuous as possible. Gildor asked himself if it could be a consequence of their previous encounter and wondered why Celeborn had chosen Haldir of all his guardians to send to meet him and – which was even less clear – why Galadriel had allowed it.
It was at this moment that it assaulted him, the sickening feeling that made him wince in disgust. “Yrch!” He reined in his horse.
Glorfindel was alert instantly. “Where and how far?”
“Behind us and gaining on us rapidly.”
“How many?”
Gildor concentrated, his lips twitching in revulsion. “About two dozens,” he said in a moment.
Glorfindel nodded. “We can take them.”
Haldir had turned his horse around at Gildor’s alert and was listening to the quick exchange in silence. It was obvious the Eldar had been through similar situations for hundreds of times. But now he spoke. “There is a good place for an ambush some distance ahead,” he sa Bot Both older elves turned to look at him. Now that Haldir was on the familiar and impersonal terrain of battle craft he felt calmer and more self-assured. “It’s not far,” he added. “If they are coming in this direction they won’t miss it.”
The Eldar exchanged a look and Glorfindel nodded again. “Lead the way, Marchwarden.”
They reached the place in several minutes. It was a gully to the right of the road. It had high steep sides and narrowed into a dead end.
“If we manage to lure them into it we’ll be able to cut off their way out and to take them down with arrows,” Haldir suggested.
“A sound plan,” Glorfindel agreed. “*If* we manage it.”
“We will,” Gildor said confidently. He slid down from his horse and slapped its flank. “Delio, Silivren!” [hide]
The stallion trotted away obediently. Gildor looked up at his companions. “You can take the right side, Glorfindel, and the Marchwarden will take the left. And I’ll act as bait.” He grinned.
“I wish you stopped pushing your luck, Naira,” Glorfindel said quietly.
“Oh, come on, Mallos, you know I’ve been through many battles much worse than this skirmish. I’ll be fine.” Gildor smiled and Haldir could swear it was a smile of anticipation. Glorfindel shook his head but did not argue any longer. They took their positions: Glorfindel and Haldir hid in the trees on either side of the gully entrance and Gildor walked into it and turned to face the road. His sword was still in the sheaehinehind his back.
Haldir looked at the Vanya in fascination. It was the first time he saw his warrior side. Gildor was calm and concentrated but his pent up power formed an almost palpable, vibrating aura around him. He seemed to be lit up by it from the inside. Haldir would certainly not wish to be on the receiving end of it when this power was unleashed. A little dangerous smile was playing on Gildor’s lips as if he welcomed the fight. Then his eyes narrowed anddir dir heard the orcs coming and could smell their stench. He wrinkled his nose, notched an arrow and waited for them to appear.
The orcs were moving in a roughlyeredered pack. Haldir cursed silently when he saw several archers among them. When the orcs neared the mouth of the gully, Gildor gave a short whistle. The beasts in the first ranks swirled around in his direction; the rest pooled in a semicircle behind them. They charily regarded the solitary and seemingly weaponless elf, who was facing them fearlessly.
“Well, what are you staring at, Sauron’s crap?” Gildor inquired, contempt distinct in his voice. “Come here if you dare!”
The orcs growled but still looked around suspiciously, wary of a possible trap. And it was then that Haldir heard Gildor laugh for the first time. It was a beautiful and frightening sound, like a clash of blades, ringing and blood-chilling. The Vanya added a couple of curses in the Common Tongue that made the tips of Haldir’s ears turn pink. Then he turned his back to the orcs and started walking away. The orcs roared in fury and charged after him.
Gildor spun on his heel, his sword jumping into his hand as if of its own accord. He beat off an arrow with the blade, another swished over his shoulder – and the next moment the beasts were on him and he began his lethal dance. He flowed when he moved; like a large feline, feral and beautiful. He looked awesome and breathtaking and strangely alive.
Two of Glorfindel’s arrows had found their targets before Haldir came to his senses and let his own arrows fly. They took down as many orcs as they could without endangering Gildor. The rest were too close to him and he was moving too fast, his sword almost a blur. Glorfindel stayed in his hiding place but Haldir could not stand watching Gildor fight on his own. He put down his bow, took out his sword and jumped into the gully. He attacked the remaining orcs from the rear and between the two of them it was soon over.
The dangerous light faded from Gildor’s eyes slowly. He looked around, wiped the blade of his sword on some felled orc’s clothes and put it back into its sheath on his back.
Then everything happened very quickly. Glorfindel saw a movement and shouted an alarm, shooting an arrow in the same moment. But he knew he was too late. Even as his arrow pinned the dying orc to the ground the beast managed to release the bolt from his crossbow. Gildor heard Glorfindel’s alert and spun around but he was not fast enough. Haldir was, though. He swiftly stepped in front of Gildor and the bolt hit him in the chest. The power of the impact threw him back and as he started sinking to the ground Gildor caught him in his arms and lowered him down carefully. Haldir was looking up at him intensely and silently; then his eyes closed and he went limp in Gildor’s embrace.
Gildor put the young elf down on the ground, raised his head and sang out a number of sonorous notes, not loud, but carrying over the noises of the forest. Then he cut Haldir’s tunic with his dagger and examined the wound. The bolt had struck the Galadhel in the right side of his chest a palm’s breadth below his collarbone. The skin around the shaft was turning blue and Gildor cursed: the bolt was poisoned. Gildor heard the thud of hooves and called without raising his head, “Glorfindel, my medical kit, please. The left saddlebag. And hur
Th
Then he put his left hand on Haldir’s shoulder to steady him and yanked out the bolt with his other hand. Haldir did not make a sound. Gildor licked at the tip of the bolt and spat in disgust. He felt a sudden pang of fear: it was not the poison orcs usually used for their arrows. Glorfindel brought his first aid kit at a run. Gildor found the bottle with antidote and poured it on Haldir’s wound. He waited for a couple of moments but his hope died as he saw the blue around the wound turn purple instead of paling.
“Why does it not help?” Glorfindel asked anxiously.
“This is some new poison. I have no nostrum for it. Damn it!”
Haldir’s breathing became laboured. His face was ashen and his skin felt cold and clammy.
“It’s a fast one,” Glorfindel breathed, horrified. Then he looked at Gildor in wide-eyed distress. “We won’t be able to take him to Caras Galadhon. He is… he is dying.”


Mallos – golden flower
Delio – hide
Silivren – glittering-e
Ye
Yrch - orcs