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

Hardships of the Hunt

Being of noble birth certainly had its advantages. Haldir lived in his own quarters, did not have to worry about earning his living and, by his right of birth had a place at his Lord’s Table.
When their parents went to the West Haldir, the youngest of the brothers, had hardly come of age. The Lord and the Lady of the Wood took it upon themselves to look after him and take care of him. They were kind and loving guardians, always glad to see him in their talan. Now it turned out to be very useful as it gave him a chance to be where Gildor was.
Haldir was a good observer; he watched, listened and analyzed the results of his observations. He was surprised to find that there was little love between Lady Galadriel and her cousin. In his presence her renowned serenity somehow wavered and Haldir felt she was tense and on guard. As for Gildor, he had a distinctly disdainful and nasty “to-Mordor-with-Your-Ladyship” air about him at these moments, and his sense of humour attained a biting edge. Haldir sensed strife between these two, a strife that was many centuries old.
On the other hand, there was no doubt that he and Lord Celeborn liked each other. They behaved like old friends and looked quite comfortable and happy in each other’s company. A couple of times Haldir caught Gildor looking from Celeborn to Galadriel and back as if wondering what his friend could possibly find attractive in his cousin. And Celeborn called the Vanya “Nairalindë”, one of very few people besides him. Actually, there were only two others: Glorfindel and Narmacil. Oh, yes, and Lady Galadriel as well. But she hardly ever addressed him by any name at all.
Haldir watched even more attentively when Gildor was with Glorfindel. The way they talked to each other, the way they exchanged amused glances or knowing smiles, the way they bantered and teased, the casual familiarity in their touch, easily understood hints and allusions, the way they could communicate without words… It all spoke of a relationship centuries old, genuine friendship and deep affection. But, Haldir wondered, was there love?
Orophin with his natural gift of reading people seemed to be right again. There was something disconcerting about the Lady’s kin. Something that made “Gildor” and “love” two colliding concepts. Passion yes, temptation, pleasure; but not love. Although, Haldir mused, he had never been seriously in love himself and did not feel inferior because of it. Besides, he did not need Gildor’s love. All he wanted was possession. It was as simple as that. It was a natural reaction to the elf’s beauty, he supposed. Surely, he did not ask more than the Elda could give? But how to make him willing to give what Haldir wanted of him was a problem to be considered carefully. Haldir had no wish to be spurned by the golden elf, for it would truly be a highly disappointing and unpleasant experience, and a painful blow to his pride, too.
That very same day he got a vivid example of *how* unpleasant Gildor’s refusal could be.

The weather was sweltering, summer nearing its peak. The brothers decided to go for a swim and Haldir and Orophin were waiting for Rúmil to come down from his talan when Orophin looked over Haldir’s shoulder and muttered, “Another Silvan fly to the Noldorin spider.”
Haldir turned around and saw Gildor being approached by Amarion, the Marchwarden’s life-long friend and rival. Surprisingly, for just this once, Glorfindel was nowhere to be seen and obviously, Amarion decided to act upon the chance. Haldir could not hear what was said and what was answered; neither could he see the Vanya’s face. But Amarion suddenly cringed back as if struck, shock plainly written over his beautiful face. He turned quickly and went away.
As if out of thin air, Glorfindel appeared at Gildor’s side. He grabbed his upper arm roughly and spun the Vanya around to face him. By the look of the Elda, Haldir could tell he was furious and he was squeezing Gildor’s arm so forcefully that his fingers were sure to leave black bruises on the soft skin. However, Gildor did not even wince, his face a mask of cold detachment. Glorfindel gave him a shake and talked to him earnestly. Gildor’s aloof posture wavered; he listened, sighed and gave a reluctant nod. Glorfindel started walking, still holding the Vanya by his arm, though more gently now.
When they passed the Geledhil, Haldir heard him say, “No bloody blades in Lórien. You promised, remember?”
Haldir followed them with his eyes, unwilling to turn and face his brother. When he did, though, he tried to make light of it. “Well, no luck for Amarion, it seems!”
However, Orophin was in no mood for joking. “No luck for anyone,” he replied tersely.

Fortunately for Haldir, Rúmil brought some friends with him, so they could talk on safer subjects than the Lady’s cousin. On the riverbank they were joined by even more of their companions, and after spending some time with them Haldir slipped away quietly and walked farther along the stream to his favourite bathing place.
It was in a secluded glade some distance from the city, so it was not frequented by others. The river fell down from a cliff into the almost perfectly round bowl of a pool and then ran swiftly away through the wood. The pool was rather deep and the water was pleasantly cool. A few haphazard boulders lay strewn about the glade, the largest one at the very edge of the water.
Haldir spent some time swimming and lying in the sun; but when he saw his pale skin start to turn pink, he dressed and climbed an old oak growing at the glade border. He reached the fork of two sturdy branches, his favourite spot for resting and watching the waterfall, and stretched himself out on one of the tree limbs. He was lying in relaxed drowsiness when suddenly he heard voices. He looked down and froze. Lord Celeborn, Glorfindel and Gildor were entering the glade. What should he do? Should he show himself, or stay hidden and wait till they left? While he was pondering on the problem, it was decided for him as the tree of them were now too close for him to escape without notice.
“I really do not understand, Celeborn, how you can wear those robes on such a hot day!” exclaimed Gildor.
He himself was barefoot and dressed only in leggings and a gossamer loose shirt. He shed those few clothes at lightning speed and with a joyous whoop rushed into the water. Glorfindel followed suit but Celeborn sat down on the grass near the pool.
“Aren’t you melting in all those clothes of yours?” Gildor baited him from the water.
But Celeborn only smiled and shook his head.
“I just cannot see why you and Elrond fancy this style so much. You only manage to hide what you should show off.”
“Perhaps because my robes make me look respectable, and even wise,” laughed the Lord of the Wood.
Gildor stared at him with something that strongly resembled pity.
“You certainly do not have to be *made* to look respectable. Or wise either. You look maddeningly wise as it is. Celeborn the Wise, that’s you.”
“And you’re Nairalindë the Unbearable,” countered Glorfindel. “Stop pestering our friend with your ideas of dressing. He’s loved by his people the way he is.”
The Vanya snorted at him and started wading out of the water.
“Do you think he’ll be less loved if he showed more of his shapely legs and less of his renowned wisdom?”
“I *prefer* to be loved for my wisdom and not for my legs!” laughed Celeborn.
“And it is really a shame!”

While talking, Gildor got out of the river and climbed the largest boulder at the edge of the pool. Now he stood at its top almost immediately above Celeborn’s head. Haldir caught his breath, so enticing was the beauty offered to his eyes: hard but graceful muscles under smooth, golden skin; long, slender legs, shoulders framed by glorious shining hair. He looked like a child of Anor. A mischievous child too, as it turned out the next moment.
Gildor stepped off the ledge of the boulder and plopped down in to the water, hitting the surface with a large splash. Haldir was taken aback; he had not expected the Vanya to give so ungraceful a performance. Glorfindel seemed to share his opinion.
When Gildor burst through the surface the Elda laughed, “That was the ugliest dive I’ve ever seen!”
“How awkward of me!” Gildor grinned and spun around in the water towards the bank.
“I’m awfully sorry, Celeborn!” he exclaimed in mock repentance.
Glorfindel looked at their friend and saw the sloppy dive was a trick Gildor had used to soak him through.
“Shall I get out and help you take your clothes off so they can dry?” Gildor offered.
“No, thanks! Stay away from me!” Celeborn laughed, starting to undress.
“Come, Celeborn!” called Glorfindel. “Let’s drown this elven bane and be rid of him once and for all!”
“A tempting offer indeed!” answered the Lord of the Wood, wading into the water.
Gildor saw his friends ganging up on him and backed away.
“Hey, it’s not fair! Two against one!”
“You’re a formidable adversary, Nairalindë.” Glorfindel gave him a predatory grin. “So take it as a compliment.”
The Vanya was quick, and he *almost* managed to escape, but in the end they cornered him between the two of them. He was caught and dragged by hands and ankles out of the water only to be swung and hurled back again. It was another of Gildor’s ugly dives as Glorfindel called it. But the golden elf did not seem to mind.
Haldir watched the romp with an open mouth. He could hardly believe it was his Lord that he was looking at. He had never seen him so lively and carefree; so flushed, laughing, beautiful. Haldir was apt to agree with the Vanya. Celeborn’s robes did conceal a lot.
After the revenge on Gildor was taken, the company settled in the shade of the oak in which Haldir was hiding and picnicked on the wine and fruit they had brought with them.

“Tell me, Celeborn, is it much fun being married to Altáriel?” asked Gildor mildly.
Celeborn looked up in surprise. “I do not think I know what the true meaning of your question is, gwador,” he answered in a time. “Nor do I wish to, either,” he added after another pause.
“Oh, is it *that* bad? I’m sorry, I had no idea,” Gildor feigned a deep concern but his eyes sparkled with mirth. He reached forward and took Celeborn’s hand in both of his.
“Can I help in any way?” he said, managing a genuinely heartfelt tone.
“No!” Celeborn laughed. “Thank you very much, but no.”
“Oh, all right.”
He withdrew his hands looking not in the least offended, and picked one of the peaches out of the basket in front of him. He turned it slowly in his long slender fingers admiring its subtle colour. Then he brushed it lightly against his cheek and lips relishing the tender touch of its velvet skin and bit delicately at its ripe flesh. At once juice moistened his full lips and ran down his hand. He licked his fingers neatly, purring softly at the sweet flavour on his palate and remaining seemingly oblivious to the profound effect his little tricks were having on his companions.
Even where he was lying up in the tree Haldir could feel the powerful impact of the hot wave of his sexuality. His mouth turned dry and his breath became rapid and shallow. Celeborn was just as mesmerized by the provocative performance.
“Are you absolutely positive you do not want my help?” murmured Gildor surveying him from under his long lashes. And to Haldir’s stunned amazement he saw his Lord blush. Celeborn laughed and turned a look of mock pleading on Glorfindel.
“Drop it, uan dithen!” commanded Glorfindel.
Gildor obeyed at once and dropped the peach, looking at him innocently and docilely. Glorfindel rolled his eyes.
“You very well know what I’m talking about.”
Gildor sighed and picked up his peach again. “You, meldir, really do not know how to have fun.”
Glorfindel shook his head and smiled apologetically at Celeborn. “Now you see why I do not bring him with me on my visits to Lothlórien?”
“Aye, you just send me flying all the way down to Mirkwood, instead,” Gildor replied sarcastically.
Glorfindel grinned. “I really cannot help it, as you’re the only elf from Imladris Thranduil is always willing to receive.”
“And entertain, meldir,” murmured his fair companion. “And entertain.”
“So then *he* knows how to have fun?”
“Oh yes, he does, indeed. But it is no excuse for Elrond and you to trade me for Mirkwood wine.”
Glorfindel tried very hard to look hurt. “How can you think so lowly of us? Trade you! And to Thranduil of all people!”
Gildor raised an eyebrow and Glorfindel laughingly confessed, “All right, meldir, we do. But, mind you, only for the very best of his vintage.”
The Vanya curled his lips. “That is what I call true friends.”
Celeborn smiled at him, “I wish, cousin, Lórien could offer something for such a trade.”
Gildor leaned forward to him so that Celeborn could feel his peach scented breath on his face. “For Lórien, gwadoren vain, I’m willing to do it just fove, ve, not for money.”
Celeborn felt somewhat dizzy and was grateful to be once again rescued by Glorfindel. The Elda pulled the golden temptation away from the Lord of the Wood, took him into his own arms and firmly kept him there.
“You’re most shamefully shameless, pen-velui.”
“Am I?”
Gildor wriggled in Glorfindel’s embrace making himself comfortable against the Elda’s broad chest. Glorfindel winced as the little disaster of an elf rubbed his firm buttocks against his groin.
“Well, maybe I am. But being all the time shy and pure is no…”
“…fun!” both Celeborn and Glorfindel finished together, laughing.
“You’re quick students,” Gildor nodded in approval.
They talked and bantered for some time longer. Then, their wine finished and Celeborn’s robes dried, they got dressed and left.

Haldir relaxed on his branch once again and contemplated on what he had seen. He was confused and intrigued. Was Gildor’s flirtation with Lord Celeborn the reason for or only a consequence of the enmity between Lady Galadriel and her cousin? Somehow, this flirtation did not look like the real thing to Haldir. In more ways it resembled a game, played over the centuries. A game enjoyed by both of them, where the rules were equally familiar to both participants.

Gildor... Haldir sighed and closed his eyes. He felt overwhelmed with a mad desire to take, to engulf, to possess; the power of that sensation frightened him. He wanted the elf more than he had ever wanted anyone else in his life. But he could not start his own game. He, the notorious beauty of Lórien, the irresistible seducer, simply did not know where to start. He had strong doubts that Gildor, if asked, would even remember his name. The fair Vanya certainly paid no more attention to tha than to any other elf around the Lord and the Lady.
He hardly noticed him any more than he did decorations or furniture in the Lord’s halls, Haldir thought with self-irony. He was not used to being ignored. He was infuriated and amused at the same time. He felt at a loss. And he did not enjoy the feeling.
The next evening there was a feast at the royal talan.

Uan dithen – little monster
Gwadoren vain – my beautiful cousin
Pen-velui - lovely one