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

Chapter 3. Nightingales Match.

“Well, if it’s not the peacock of Lórien!”
Haldir turned and met Amarion’s laughing eyes. Haldir and his brothers were ascending the long stairway to the assembly hall. Amarion caught up with them and walked alongside his friend.
“I see you’re wearing your hunting attire,” he smirked, looking the Marchwarden up and down.
Haldir was dressed in a tunic, one so admired by Rúmil. It was dark blue with an embroidered pattern of silver mallorn leaves and small mother-of-pearl niphredils. Through the slits on the sleeves and at the sides flashed the shimmering silver of the under shirt. Leggings of indigo suede clung to his long legs showing off every well-toned muscle. The colour of his clothes complimented his pale complexion and highlighted the midnight blue hue of his eyes. Mithril hair ornaments were clipped into his elaborately done braids but two silvery-blond locks were left just in front of his ears to accentuate the shape of his face and his high cheekbones. He truly presented a stunning sight.

Amarion gave a long whistle of appreciation. “My, my! You look impressive, Hunt Master; but it’s hardly sufficient.”
“Sufficient for what?”
“For bagging your game.”
“You are just afraid that I can best you,” Haldir said smugly.
“I wish you all the luck. Even with all the charm you can muster, this quarry will not let you take him.”
“Oh, spare me your prophecies, I beg you!”
“It’s no prophecy. I simply happen to be clever and have the ability to see things the others cannot, or do not want to see.”
Haldir just rolled his eyes and did not bother to answer.
“So good luck to you, meldir,” Amarion went on earnestly, putting his hand on Haldir’s shoulder. “I promise to sing a most touching lament at your funeral. I only wish I could be there to witness it all, but unfortunately, I am to leave for the border tomorrow.”
“Then perhaps, I’ll tell you later how I got my prize. In detail. In each small and sweet detail,” Haldir smirked.
“Dead elves tell no tales,” Amarion’s smirk matched Haldir’s.
“Oh, was *your* hunting experience that bad, meldir?” Haldir asked sweetly.
“Bad enough, for me to share it with my best fellow-hunter,” the elf smiled amiably.
“A true friend you are, Amarion.”
“And a noble rival, too.”

Bantering, they entered the assembly hall.
“Sweet Elbereth,” murmured Haldir, “do you think he does it on purpose or it just happens naturally?”
“Whatever the reason, he is not likely to get lost in any crowd.”
Both of them were looking at Gildor. And indeed, his striking figure stood out against the multi-coloured crowd. He was clad in Noldorin black. Buttery soft leather leggings molded to his slender legs like a second skin. His sleeveless tunic of fine silk hugged his lithe body leaving very little to the imagination. It was decorated only with embroidery of his family’s coat of arms: the Vanyarin two trees and the Noldorin stars. Wide bands of silver armlets braced his bare biceps as silver bracelets did his wrists. The jewelries were apparently ancient and of amazing craftsmanship. Haldir wondered if he had brought them from Valinor. But then, he reasoned, one did not usually put on adornments when going to war. At least, not adornments of that sort.
Gildor’s head was crowned with a wreath of elanor. In his black attire and with his unbraided golden hair he looked like a torch, erect and bright.
Haldir searched the hall with his eyes and spotted Lad Lady of the Wood. Galadriel looked serene and calm, as always. But her smile seemed to Haldir a little strained. Celeborn was at her side, as well as Glorfindel. Though Gildor was left to mingle on his own, the Marchwarden saw the Elda watch his friend from where he stood. Haldir’s eyes returned to Gildor.
“So, he is the Prince today,” Haldir said, eyeing the crown of elanor on his head.
“A clever guess, my friend,” Amarion smiled at him archly.
But Haldir paid no heed to his quip.
“Who gave him the crown?”
“The Lady.”
“Oh!” Haldir was genuinely surprised to hear it.
“Well, the party was held the next day after they had come. And in their honour, too. So it was either him or Glorfindel, and as he is not seen here as often as Glorfindel… It was only natural, I believe.”
“Oh, yes, natural and very diplomatic,” Haldir looked thoughtful. “And now he is to choose the next prince.”
Amarion gave him a mocking glance. “Do you hope to be chosen?”
Haldir shrugged. “Why should I? We hardly know each other.”
His friend pursed his lips. “Don’t try to act modest. It does not become you. And you do not know how to do it right, anyway.”

Haldir talked, flirted and danced through the evening, though never letting Gildor out of sight for long. The Vanya seemed to enjoy himself, joking with male elves, flattering the ladies of the court and occasionally making eyes at Celeborn. He was doing everything with the easy grace of one born and raised in a royal family. But he was not too willing to dance, as Haldir noticed. Actually, after three or four dances Gildor deftly escaped the ring of eager candidates and headed for the tables where refreshments and drinks were served.
Haldir, who was waiting there for his glass to be refilled, watched him come. The Vanya asked for a goblet of Naurdirith.
“You do not enjoy dancing?” Haldir murmured.
Gildor turned to look at him.
“Gildor of Imladris,” the Galadhel greeted him with a bow.
“Haldir of Lórien,” the Vanya bowed back.
“Oh, so you do remember my name?”
“You thought I wouldn’t?”
“I wasn’t sure.” Haldir brought his glass to his lips.
“I do not easily forget such a pretty face as yours.”
Haldir choked on his wine. Wait a minute, that was supposed to be *his* line!
Gildor smiled at him sympathetically. “Be careful with the wine, pen-neth. It’s one of the most potent of Thranduil’s vintage.”
And then the Vanya gracefully threaded his way through the crowd to Glorfindel and Celeborn.

When Gildor joined them the Lord of the Wood asked for everyone’s attention and announced that it was time to choose a new Prince or a Princess of the ball.
“Now, Gildor,” he addressed the Vanya standing next to him, “choose the person who appeals to you most. And give us a new Prince or a Princess for tonight.”
There were murmurs and laughter among the elves, gathered in a semicircle around their Lord and the current Prince. Haldir could feel the unmistakable air of excitement and expectation among the Geledhil who never failed to enjoy this game.
Gildor measured the crowd with laughing eyes. His amused gaze slowly moved from face to face as he sipped at his wine, and then a half-smile curved his lips. Haldir held his breath as Gildor looked him up and down appraisingly.
“Don not forget, gwador,” came Celeborn’s merry voice, “along with your crown you are to give a kiss.”
“What?” Gildor turned abruptly to face Galadriel. “Is it true? *You* did not kiss me!” he accused her mockingly.
“But I did not make any choice. In fact, it was your welcome feast, cousin, so it was only just for you to become the Prince,” the Lady explained sweetly, but there was an acid tint in her voice.
“Are you insinuating that I got the crown not for this heavenly beauty of mine but only because I happened to be your kin? How frustrating!” Gildor rolled his eyes dramatically. “But still, the Prince I am. And if I’m to pass the crown on with a kiss, then it goes to… you, Celeborn.” He beamed at the Lord of the Wood.
His words were met with cheering and applause from the Geledhil. And Haldir had to strain his ears to be able to catch what the Vanya said next.
“After all, I always wanted to learn how it feels to kiss my cousin’s love-ma...er… life-mate,” murmured Gildor.
Then he handed his glass to Glorfindel, took the elanor wreath off of his head and put it on Celeborn’s. His hands slowly slid down, caressing the Sinda’s silvery hair. Then one of them found its way under the silky tresses and to the back of Celeborn’s neck, while the other slipped further down to lie on the Lord’s chest against his heart. Gildor edged even nearer pulling Celeborn’s face closer, so that their lips almost touched. And then, stunned, Haldir actually saw the tip of his pink tongue lick Celeborn’s bottom lip sensually before sliding into the Sinda’s mouth. The Lord’s arms flew up instinctively to wrap around the Vanya’s shoulders. Gildor tilted his head drawing the Lord of the Wood into an even deeper kiss, his fingers now entwined in Celeborn’s blond hair.
There was dead silence in the hall, all the Geledhil watching the kissing pair with wide eyes. Haldir was sure he could hear his own heart pounding in his chest. Then, all of a sudden, Celeborn seemed to come to his senses and pulled away from Gildor, his lips dark red and kiss-swollen.
“It tastes like honey,” murmured the Vanya so softly that Haldir had to make an earnest effort to catch the words. “To kiss you tastes like honey.”
“Ion orch,” Glorfindel muttered under his breath, though Haldir was not sure he heard him correctly.
Gildor looked at his friend and Galadriel with big innocent eyes.
“I did have the right to kiss the new Prince, didn’t I?”
“As I now have the right to ask a favour from the former Prince,” Celeborn was quick to intervene and change the subject.
Gildor turned to smile at him. “What would you have me do, my Lord, my Prince?”
“Will you sing for us, Gildor?”
“I cannot possibly refuse you anything, my Prince.”
There was a general bustle in the hall as the Geledhil moved to take a seat on the benches, settees and cushions strewn along the walls, everyone still feeling somewhat unsettled by what they had witnessed and, therefore, glad to ease the awkward situation. Besides, there was an air of joyful anticipation, as elves delighted in music and song. And Lórien elves were no exception. Glorfindel took a seat on a bench to the right of the Lord’s and the Lady’s chairs. Gildor sat cross-legged on a cushion at his feet.
“What shall I sing?” he asked, tentatively plucking the strings of the lute he’d been given. “Maybe, this…”
The tune he started to play sounded vaguely familiar to Haldir, but the next moment the instrument was snatched away from Gildor’s hands.
“Not this one!” Glorfindel hissed at him.
The Lórien elves were taken aback by the unruly display of emotions, so uncharacteristic of Glorfindel. And considering their own Lord’s unexpectedly passionate performance earlier, it indeed made the Geledhil suspect that it was all Gildor’s doing. That there was something about this unusual cousin of the Lady’s that made even the most sensible and sober elves behave like... well, not like themselves.
“Why not?” Gildor asked Glorfindel in innocent surprise. “The song is good and it does you credit.”
“Not this one,” the Elda repeated, dispassionately.
“Who would have thought that you could be so modest,” the Vanya sighed. “All right, my shy friend, then *you* tell me what to sing.”
Glorfindel did not take time to ponder on it.
“The one Legolas taught you.”
“Ah, *Laiqualassë*, Mirkwood’s tinuviel,” Gildor smiled dreamily.
Haldir had never met the younger prince of Mirkwood but felt he was starting to hate him.
“Good. Legolas’s song, then. Will you accompany me?”
Glorfindel nodded and started playing a sweet, sad melody. All grew quiet. And then Gildor closed his eyes and began singing, his voice soft and fluent.

“If you go away on this summer day
then you might as well take the sun away;
all the birds that flew in the summer sky,
when you were with me and our hearts were high.
When the day was young and the night was long,
And the moon stood still for the nightbird’s song.
If you go away, if you go away, if you go away.”

Then he opened his eyes and sang the next stanza looking Glorfindel straight in the eyes, his voice clear and resonant in contrast to his former velvety tones.

“But if you stay, I’ll make you a day,
like no day has been, or will be again;
we’ll sail the sun, we’ll ride on the rain,
we’ll talk to the trees and worship the wind.
Then if you go, I’ll understand,
Leave me just enough love to fill up my hand.
If you go away, if you go away, if you go away.”

Glorfindel watched Gildor sing, trying desperately to figure out what was wrong; why, unexpectedly, his friend was looking so alien and yet so familiar at the same time. But then, suddenly, the reason dawned on him, and his fingers almost faltered on the strings of his lute. Gildor was in fact not just *singing* Legolas’ song; he was *acting* as Legolas singing it. Those were the prince’s gentle intonations; the way Gildor smiled or sighed while singing, the expression on his face, the way he lowered his eyes or tilted his head – all that was a very accurate imitation of the prince in his performance. Glorfindel could almost see Legolas sitting at his feet instead of Gildor.

“If you go away, as I know you will,
you must tell the world to stop turning till
you return again, if you ever do,
for what good is love without loving you.
Can I tell you now, as you turn to go,
I’ll be dying slowly till the next hello.
If you go away, if you go away, if you go away.”

Haldir was enthralled by the performance. He grudgingly had to admit that Legolas *was* good at composing. The music touched the very core of one’s soul and the lyrics were heartfelt. Haldir wondered if the song had been meant for Gildor. It surely caused a strange effect on the Vanya. He seemed somewhat a different person, as if someone else were looking now at Glorfindel through his eyes.

“But if you stay, I’ll make you a night,
like no night has been, or will be again;
I’ll sail on your smile; I’ll ride on your touch,
I’ll talk to your eyes that I love so much.
But if you go, go, I won’t cry,
Though the good is gone, from the word ‘good bye’.
If you go away, if you go away,
Please don’t go away.”

The song finished. Haldir could swear he saw tears in the Vanya’s eyes, but then Gildor blinked and was again his former derisive self, with an amused half-smile on his lips.
There was a moment of silence in the hall and then there came a loud applause and exclamations of praise and delight. Gildor gave a mock bow to Celeborn and brushed the compliments away, carelessly.
“You should hear Legolas sing, then you’ll know the difference.”
“Who would have thought that *you* could be so modest,” Glorfindel mockingly repeated Gildor’s own words.
“Do sing more for us,” urged Celeborn.
But the Vanya declined the offer, laughingly.
“Oh, no, gwador! I think it’s Lórien’s turn now. Surely, she has singers to match those of Mirkwood. Or of Imladris.”
“Well, my Lady,” Celeborn turned to his wife with a smile, “it seems we’ll have to meet the challenge. Whom would you name a defender of Lórien’s honour?”
Galadriel surveyed the smiling and whispering Geledhil.
“Haldir, would you be Lórien’s champion?” she asked then in her melodious voice.
Haldir, who had been lost in his own thoughts and totally missed the whole conversation, was brought out of his reverie by a jab in the ribs from Amarion. “What?”
“Will you sing for us?” Celeborn rephrased Galadriel’s question.
“I?” Haldir looked at him, baffled.
“A Lórien nightingale for a Mirkwood one, how sweet,” murmured Gildor.
Haldir was embarrassed; singing was the last thing he felt like doing at the moment.
“Yes,” Galadriel went on smiling serenely, “sing us *Bonding*.”
“*Bonding*?” At that, he thought he saw a way out and was quick to attempt it. “But, my Lady, I cannot possibly sing that. It’s a duet.”
“Oh, I think that can be easily arranged,” smiled Celeborn. “I’m sure Gildor knows the song so you can perform together.”
Gildor seemed no less surprised than Haldir. But then, seeing Galadriel’s face he chuckled.
“Well, Marchwarden, if your Lord and Lady want us to perform *Bonding* together, we’d better resign ourselves to it, I’m afraid. So, come here,” he patted a cushion near himself. “It would be awkward to sing a duet across the hall.”
‘Well,’ Haldir gave a mental shrug, ‘why not, after all?’
He gracefully rose to his feet and walked to sit down cross-legged next to Gildor. Lórien musicians joined them, one taking the lute from Glorfindel, the others producing flutes and harps.
“Who will start?” Gildor asked Haldir.
“You are a guest here, so it’s up to you.”
“You have impeccable manners, Marchwarden. But I haven’t heard you sing. So for you it’s easier to choose, I assume.”
Haldir inclined his head, admitting the logic in Gildor’s remark.
“Then, I’d rather take the second part.”
“Good.”
And the Vanya nodded to the musicians to start. The moment they began playing Gildor swiftly changed his manner again. Haldir was grateful he was not the first to sing. He was stunned by what he saw in Gildor’s face. There was love there, genuine love. For him. Gildor was looking at him with shining, happy eyes and when he started singing his voice was filled with tenderness and affection.

“My dreams and hopes I bring here to you, like diamonds on a string all for you.
Just promise anything, anything I'll believe it's true.”

Haldir joined in, his timbre deep and sensual.

”Your heart says it’s time for us two, your eyes look into mine and I'm through.
Not all the stars that shine will outdo, the diamonds they're in you.”

”The one I've come to love, this handsome cavalier.
Won't know how I can love, until I hold him near.”

”You say that I don't know, but when you look at me.
Your eyes have such a glow; I know how it will be.”

The refrain they sang together, their voices uniting in perfect harmony, as if entwining and caressing each other.

”So look no more for love, love is you.
Love’s all I am made of, Oh so true.
The sun will shine above on our love the day I’m bound to you.”

Their eyes locked, Haldir leaned forward and took Gildor’s hand in his.

”I'll find you in the night, when all the moonlight streams
Will cover you in light, and I will touch my dreams.”

”And all the words you'll say will fill my heart with fire.
As night turns into day, I'll do all you desire.”

Haldir felt his blood turn to fire at the promise he saw in Gildor’s eyes. He knew the Vanya was just acting out passion but, still, he couldn’t help his body’s reaction.

”So look no more for love, love is you.
Love’s all I am made of, Oh so true.
The sun will shine above on our love the day I’m bound to you.
The day I’m bound to you.”

Haldir could not help it, he brought Gildor’s hand to his lips and kissed his palm. For a split second he thought he saw the Vanya’s eyes widen. But the next moment the astonishment was gone and Haldir was not sure it had not just been his imagination.
They were still looking at each other as the last accords of the music died. Then there came even more enthusiastic applauding and heartfelt praise. The dark veil of desire disappeared from Gildor’s eyes and once again they were clear and cool. He pulled his hand away from Haldir’s and turned to Galadriel.
“Your choice was good, cousin. I can see now that Lórien’s nightingales sing just as sweetly as Mirkwood’s. Perhaps, I should come and listen to them more often.”
Then he looked at Haldir and smiled.
“If you’re as good a warden of the march as you are a singer then I can sleep safely, when in Lórien.”
Haldir wondered if he should consider it as a compliment or a sarcastic insult.
At a jesture from Celeborn musicians began playing again and dancers drifted back onto the floor.
Gildor turned to the place where he had put his glass of wine earlier. The glass was empty. He looked up at Glorfindel in mild annoyance.
“Glorfindel, that was *my* Naurdirith!”
“Oh, was it?” the Elda seemed genuinely surprised. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! And you know it!”
“All right, all right, there’s no need to get so upset about it. I’ll go and fetch you another one.”
When Glorfindel left to refill his goblet, the Vanya turned to Haldir who was still sitting beside him.
“You’re good at duets. It seems you’re quite experienced in that arena.”
“May I return the compliment?” Haldir smiled. “And if you enjoyed the experience we can do it again, any time you wish.”
“Oh.” Gildor looked at him appraisingly. “I’m afraid, your Lady will not approve of any activities of mine, involving her subjects.”
“Well, I do not think she’ll approve of any activities you do,” Haldir answered quite bluntly.
Gildor chuckled. “So, you’ve noticed, haven’t you?”
“Whatever you may think, I know of some other ways to use my eyes than to make them at beautiful strangers.”
The Vanya widened his eyes in mock disbelief.
“Pretty, experienced, ironic. And no fool. What else are you, Marchwarden?”
“Why don’t you just try and find out?”
“Why don’t I, really?”
Haldir’s heart missed a beat, as Gildor seemed to ponder on the offer. Then the Vanya sighed and shook his head.
“Tempting! But… I think I’m more used to performing duets with a Mirkwood partner than with a Lórien one.”
Haldir tried to make light of it though he felt bitterly disappointed.
“Well, maybe some other time.”

Not waiting for Glorfindel to return, Haldir took his leave of Gildor and walked away. He stayed in the royal talan for some more time, seemingly enjoying the evening. But then he left, taking with him Theladir, a Galadhel who had been looking at him invitingly during the whole party. A tryst with the comely youth let him blow off steam, but Haldir had to muster all his concentration not to call him Gildor at the moment of his climax.

Ion orch – son of an orc
Tinúviel – nightingale
Naurdirith –Flowing fire

A/N: The song “If you go away” is an English version of Jacques Brel’s “Ne me quitte pas”. “Bonding” is another translation from French. This is a duet from “Notre Dame de Paris” called “Ces Diamants-La”. I admit though that I allowed myself some tampering with the text of the original to suit my purpose. ^_^