ELANOR'S REVENGE

Chapter Four

Overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, Elanor headed straight home, her eyes fixed upon the stone-lined path beneath her feet. A great lump formed in her throat as she reeled inside, trying to take in her sister’s betrayal and the enormity of what had just happened. A ward to Haldir? Lana had lied? How could Lana have done such a thing? And why? It was too much to comprehend, too much to bear. If she could speak with Lana, then perhaps she could begin to understand what was happening.

As she walked along, she heard Telrion’s familiar voice call from behind. She halted, eyes pressed closed for a moment to calm herself. She wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but she did not want to burst into tears, which right now she was on the verge of doing. Still it was just Telrion, so what did it matter? She swung around only to find that he was not alone, but rather accompanied by Rúmil and Orophin. Elanor braced herself, schooling her face into a stoic expression. She was not about to reveal her innermost feelings to the two Lórien brothers.

“Elanor, wait!” Telrion called again, hurrying to catch up to her. She saw him flinch at the look she gave him. His handsome face wore a guilty albeit genuinely remorseful expression. “Please, Ellie, you must understand that I could not lie to Lord Elrond. He knows just what to say, and the way he gazed at me . . . those eyes of his . . . I cannot explain, but it was impossible to withhold the story.”

Elanor folded her arms over her chest. “You are still a traitor in my eyes,” she informed him. “And you!” She rounded on Haldir’s handsome brothers, both of whom stopped short and stared at her. “I knew from the moment I saw the two of you that you were trouble! Do you realize what you have done?”

“Done?” Rúmil’s blue eyes sparked with indignation. “What we have done, young elleth, is to land ourselves into an Orc-load of trouble! And all in an attempt to please you! We only did what you bid us—”

“You did a great deal more than I bid you,” she interrupted curtly, “and you and Orophin deserve any trouble that comes to you.”

Looking offended, Rúmil tightened his lips, leaving it to Orophin to answer. “Rest assured,” he said in a cool voice, “thatwe will pay dearly for our part when we return to Lórien. Haldir has power over us as well as others.” Orophin shook his head, his lips twisting into a slight grimace. “I very much fear that neither of us will see the sight of our beloved home city for months to come.”

At the moment, Elanor had no pity to spare; their penalty seemed small compared to hers. “Oh, a curse I am sure,” she replied, “but nothing compared to the punishment I have been given.” She had meant to speak the words with sarcasm, but to her dismay they came out sounding wobbly and emotional.

Orophin frowned. “What has Lord Elrond commanded?” He was less cold and sounded suddenly concerned. “I willingly admit that a large part of the blame lies on our shoulders. If your lord has burdened you with an unfair share of the guilt, then I will speak to him on your behalf, no matter what Haldir says. That is, of course, if you wish me to, Elanor.”

Elanor meant to snap at the tall, silver-haired elf, but found her words dying on her tongue. Touched by his offer, she could feel tears trying to prick their way into her eyes. “That is very honorable of you, Orophin, and I thank you. But Lord Elrond has made his decision and I must abide by it. He is not going to change his mind.” She swallowed hard. “I am to travel with you to Lothlórien as . . . as your brother’s ward for a year and a day.”

All three elves stared at her with shock on their faces, but Telrion spoke first. “His ward! Haldir’s ward? But I have never heard of such a thing! It must be a jest, Elanor. Lord Elrond only thinks to make you worry for a while to teach you a lesson.”

“Aye, it must be a jest,” Rúmil agreed.

“It is not a jest,” Elanor replied, her voice very low.

“Elrond would not do such a thing,” Rumil protested. “What would our brother want with a ward? He has always cared for himself. He dislikes having inexperienced hangers-on around him. He barely contends with us at times.” He paused, studying her face with far more sympathy than before. “Has Haldir accepted?”

Elanor nodded mutely, the tears of frustration a choking knot in her throat. They were right. What did Haldir want with a ward? Why would he accept unless he meant to torment her, to punish her even more than he had already done? An inexperienced hanger-on, that is what she would be to him. She would constantly annoy him, like a mosquito buzzing around in his life. Did Elrond really think this would be good for her?

“I have heard of this ward business,” Orophin put in thoughtfully, “but it has not been done in an age. I cannot believe this is serious, Elanor.”

Elanor shook her head, her heart heavy. “It is serious, Orophin. Lord Elrond meant what he said. I am to go and gather my things and say my good-byes, for when you all leave tomorrow, I will go with you.” She reached out and hugged Telrion, a quick movement that seemed to catch him by surprise. “I will miss you, Tel.”

“I will miss you too, Ellie,” he said gruffly as she kissed him lightly on his cheek. He kissed her back, and gave her a tight hug. “But you will come back to us.”

“True,” Rúmil interjected, with a sudden, charming smile. “What is a year? A fleeting moment, nothing more.”

Elanor nearly said she did not think a year spent being ordered around by Haldir would pass as quickly as he implied. But she did not, for the emotion was again surging inside her. “Ask Minden to stop by later so I can say goodbye. I understand we leave early tomorrow morn, and I may not see him otherwise.” She turned quickly, the tears threatening to fall once more. Hastily, she walked away, wondering how she was going to survive without them, her two best friends.

Elanor huddled at the kitchen table, silent tears rolling down her cheeks while she waited for her sister to return. At last she heard Lana come into the small cottage, humming that same irritating tune under her breath. Elanor lifted her head from where it had been resting on her hands, and watched Lana sweep into the kitchen, her small nose buried in a rose she’d plucked from Elanor’s most prized rose bush. Not two days past, Elanor had asked her not to cut any more roses in order to give the bush a chance to grow. Not that it mattered now; there would be no one here to tend it.

Lana stopped short at the sight of her. “Ellie? Whatever is the matter?” She tossed the rose on the table.

Elanor stood up so quickly the chair in which she sat fell back with a crash. An explosion of fury, indignation and frustration cascaded through her mind as she pointed a shaking finger at Lana. “You! How can you stand there and ask me such a question? You lied to me, that is what is the matter! You deceived me!”

A crafty expression flitted across Lana’s face. “I know not what you mean, Ellie. I only picked one rose. Surely, that is not worth all this fuss.”

“I am not speaking about the rose. I am speaking about—” Elanor stopped, pressing her hand to her chest in an effort to calm herself.

“Elanor, dear, you are getting so emotional.” Lana put on a look of concern. “Has someone hurt you, dear? One of the Lórien elves perhaps? Someone didn’t look at you?”

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Elanor could no longer hold in her anger. “After all I have done for you, all the time I have lavished on you and your needs! After the love I have given you all these years! I have always believed in you, even though I knew you were spoiled. Yes, you are spoiled, so do not look at me like that! And what am I to believe in now?”

“Sister, you are being melodramatic. Let me get you some wine to settle your nerves.”

Elanor took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “I do not want wine. I do not want anything from you, not ever again. Do you hear me? Do you know what you have done? Do you have the least idea? Do you even care?”

Lana eyed her older sister warily. “I have done nothing since yesterday except to visit my friend. Whatever has happened can have nothing to do with me.”

Elanor turned to face her. “Then allow me to refresh your memory,” she said shakily. “You told me that Haldir, March Warden of Lothlórien, toyed with your affections. You told me you were lovers and that he cruelly forsook you. I believed your whole sordid story because you are my sister and I trusted you! Do you now understand? I believed you and ached for you! I believed this outrageous story because I trusted you! And I wanted to seek vengeance on your behalf so badly that I took it into my own hands to teach that arrogant elf a lesson!”

Lana actually had the nerve to giggle. “Well, bravo, dear sister. You have stood up to someone for once.” She ducked as Elanor threw a teacup at her. It crashed into pieces on the wall behind her. “Ellie, for the love of Elbereth, get a hold of yourself! What did you do? Whatever it was, I am sure it could not have been so bad. No doubt he will get over it.”

“Oh, he will enjoy getting over it,” Elanor said unevenly. “And while he does so, he will enjoy watching me suffer. Lord Elrond has decreed that I must travel with Haldir to serve as his ward in recompense for what I have done.”

Lana gaped at her, looking extremely put out. “A ward? You are going to be Haldir’s ward? You will be with him?” Her voice was now waspish and resentful. “What is the punishment in that?”

Elanor nearly hurled another teacup at her. “I am not going as his . . . his equal, but as his minion. I am to serve him and obey him.”

“Good gracious, Elanor, what did you do to warrant such a thing? Tie him up and drag him into the forest?” Lana let out a derisive titter at the thought.

Elanor gave a twisted smile. “I did not drag him into the forest, but otherwise your guess is very close to the truth.”

Lana’s eyes widened and her smirk disappeared. “You could not! Not Haldir! Ellie, what did you do?”

Elanor dragged in a shaky breath and cooled her voice. “Suffice it to say that I have impinged upon Lord Elrond’s honor by treating his guest poorly. Now I must make amends.” She stared at Lana, her chin rising slightly. “But the blame lies not only on my shoulders, Lana. Lord Elrond knows of your lies and deceptions.”

Lana’s pretty lip curled. “Oh, what can he know? If you are in trouble, you have only yourself to blame. I will deny anything Lord Elrond tells me you said. I will tell him you made it up because you wanted to attract Haldir’s attention for yourself. You have always been jealous of me. Everyone here knows that.”

Elanor sat down, Lana’s words destroying any remaining doubt in her mind. Despite her good intentions, she had failed to properly guide Lana as she had meant to do. Her disappointment in her sister was so deep that right now all she could feel was a great, painful hole in her heart. “I did not tell him anything,” she said sadly. “He already knew. And he plans to send you to Mother.”

“What?” Lana gasped in outrage. “He cannot send me to Mother! I am not a child anymore! I will not go!” She stomped her foot, thrusting her bottom lip out.

“Then you will be on your own,” came a hard, firm voice from behind them. Both maidens spun around as Lord Elrond stepped into the room. “Lana, you are hereby exiled from Rivendell until I hear from your mother that you have changed your ways. You have caused great injury here with your lies and schemes. You have harmed your sister as well as others. And I will no longer allow you to dishonor my name. You will prepare to leave on the morrow. I will send an escort with you to Mirkwood where you will stay until you have mended your ways.” The elven lord fixed his incisive stare upon Lana, then turned and left the small cottage.

Elanor rolled her eyes as Lana began to shriek.

Elanor closed the door to her cottage and gave her small, tidy home one last look. A year seemed such a long time, although she logically knew it was not. Who would tend her beautiful roses? Her lovely garden?

Sighing, she wiped away the tears that clouded her vision with the heel of her hand, then raised her chin proudly. She would not leave whimpering like a child, nor would she give Haldir the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She had made her bed, now she would lie in it and do it with courage. Yet the thought of beds and Haldir brought a quick flush to her cheeks. Would she ever be able to erase from her mind the image of him on her bed? And what of him? What image would he see when he looked at her? Just thinking about it made her cringe with embarrassment.

Carrying her travel bag stuffed with personal belongings, she trudged along the well-worn path that led to the stone-lined street which in turn led to the gathering place near the exit from the city. The Lórien elves had congregated there and were milling about, waiting for the signal to leave. Trying to be inconspicuous, she hurried to where Lord Elrond stood next to the Lady Galadriel. They both turned when she arrived, and she bowed her head first to the Lady of Light and then to Lord Elrond.

“So you are Elanor.” Galadriel’s brilliant blue eyes settled on her, seeming to see right through into the deepest shadows of her heart. The Lórien Lady’s soft smile played around her lips, making Elanor blink uneasily. She had heard tales of Galadriel’s abilities to see within the very hearts and souls of her people. What did the Lady sense when she looked at her? No answers were revealed.

Elanor turned to Lord Elrond. “I am ready,” she said bravely.

Elrond smiled and put his hands on her shoulders, giving them an encouraging, tender squeeze. “You will make the best of this, Elanor. I have great faith in you. You have been sequestered all your life, and that has not been good for you. Consider this a chance to broaden your horizons.”

Elanor somehow managed a nod and a small smile, though she would very much have liked to argue the point.

“Caras Galadhon is the fairest of cities.” A deep, all-too-familiar voice spoke from behind her.

Knowing she would have to face Haldir sooner or later, Elanor turned. The fingers of her right hand tightened on the handle of her travel bag, while her left hand clenched into an involuntary fist. “So I have been told,” she replied, putting a chill in her voice. “Perhaps my opinion of it will be different.”

She knew not what to expect from him, perhaps a rebuke for her remark, but Haldir only gazed at her and said, “You will ride beside the Lady Galadriel. She has requested your company for the first part of our journey. I will find you when we stop.” He removed the bag from her hand and set it on the ground, then reached for the reins of a small white palfrey and drew it forward. “This will be your mount,” he informed her impassively. Clearly he was not going to be easy to provoke, especially not in front of others.

Before she could object, he had wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her into the saddle, and done it far too easily for her peace of mind. For in that moment of contact, she could feel the power of his strength. Had his hands lingered a moment too long? Nay, she must be imagining things. She bit her lip, aware that a flush had risen in her cheeks. Would she react this way each time he touched her?

To cover her confusion, she shifted slightly, rearranging the fabric of her gown where it had ridden up. She glanced at Haldir and saw his gray eyes studying her as he secured her belongings onto the back of her horse, but what he was thinking she could not fathom. Looking away, she turned her gaze to Galadriel, who was now seated upon her own horse. Beside her, on his own horse, sat the Lord Celeborn, and the pair were a golden couple, brilliant in the morning sun. Haldir walked away as Lord Elrond guided Elanor’s horse closer to Lady Galadriel’s, addressing Elanor as he did so.

“I will tend your garden with all the care that you would give it,” he said softly. “It will remain as you leave it, I promise. And as I said before, your home in Rivendell remains open to you, if you wish to return to it.” Elrond patted her hand, a slight smile playing over his lips. “I am sure you will brighten the lives of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn in ways they cannot yet imagine.”

Elanor leaned down to kiss Elrond’s cheek. “Farewell, my lord. I will uphold my honor and yours. I will not disappoint you.” She barely got the words out before the lump in her throat prevented further speech.

They had traveled most of the day, and the sun lay just above the trees when they stopped. Elanor slid from her horse, staggering slightly as the feeling rushed back into her stiff legs. One day into the journey and already she was sore, especially her backside, and she was feeling very cross and thirsty and just a bit emotional. She did not recall ever riding a horse for this long at a time, not once in her life, and they had days more of travel ahead. She arched her back, surreptitiously trying to remove the kinks without being observed by Haldir, for she did not wish him to know of her weakness.

“The ride is long, but I assure you that riding is better than walking the whole way.”

Startled, she whirled around to find Haldir behind her, his expression bland. How had he managed to come up behind her when she’d thought he was nowhere near? Although he hid it well, she was sure he must be taking delight in her discomfort.

She lifted her chin and stared back at him. “Others walk,” she said shortly. “Do you not think I could keep up?”

His eyes bored into her. “I am sure you are stubborn enough to force yourself to keep pace. But I need you to be quick on your feet. The way to Lórien is long and can be dangerous.” He held out four waterskins. “There is a stream on the other side of that hill. Fill these and return.” His eyebrows rose slightly when Elanor only stared first at him, then at the skins. “Elanor?” he prompted gently.

Elanor opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap. She was here to serve him, and it seemed he could not wait for her to start. Without a word or a second glance, she took the waterskins and pushed past him, her nose in the air.

In truth, it felt good to move and stretch her legs, but she would not tell him that. On the other side of the hill, the sound of the elves was quickly lost, overlaid by the rushing of the stream, the water burbling and twisting merrily over the rocks as it wound its way down the hillside. Elanor went to the edge of the stream, but the large boulders rimming the bank blocked her access to the flowing water. If Haldir had sent her here to see her fail, she would not give him the satisfaction. There had to be a way to the water.

Studying the situation, she knelt and then lay down on top of one of the boulders, stretching out her hand to see if she could reach the water. But, it was as she feared, it flowed beyond her fingertips, completely out of reach.

Frowning, she rose and looked up and down the stream. Was there a better place? She scrambled further along the bank, looking for an easy path or area of access. Finally, just a little downstream and around a bend, she spied a smaller grouping of rocks and hurried toward them. The water there was flowing fast.

Grimacing slightly, she hung the leather waterskin straps over her shoulder and pulled her dress up above her knees, for she would have to step well into the stream to get the clearest water. Then she kicked off her slippers and inched into the water, but a misstep made the skins slip down her arm, and she had to let go of her dress to keep them from falling into the stream.

She stood still for a moment, staring down at the hem of her gown, now wet and swirling around her calves. Why had he asked this of her? Did he not realize how difficult it would be? Of course he did, he was experienced and cunning.

She clenched her teeth and plowed stubbornly onward. She would show him that he could not defeat her, the arrogant elf.

Hidden by the trees, Haldir and Rúmil watched Elanor’s floundering, Rúmil with amusement and Haldir with keen interest. Although relaxed, he and Rúmil both had their bows at the ready.

Ever since Elanor’s skirt had dropped into the water, Rúmil had been struggling to contain his laughter. “Shall we help her?” he asked, when, a moment later, they saw her slip and nearly fall.

Haldir shook his head. “Not yet. Give her a chance. I want to see what she will do.”

Regaining her balance after her near fall, Elanor gritted her teeth, her feet going numb from the chilling water. She forced herself forward, feeling her way over the slippery rocks, inching toward a large, flat boulder midway in the stream. Once she reached it, she could fill each waterskin and be able to set them on the rock until she was done. It would be easy.

The plan would no doubt have gone seamlessly if her foot had not again slipped on a moss-covered rock. Thrown forward, her arms flailing, she gasped as she went completely under the water, silently cursing every Lothlórien elf in existence as the shockingly cold water filled her mouth and nose.

Coughing and choking, Elanor righted herself, shoving her sodden hair away from her face as a small whimper escaped her throat. She could not recall living through a more horrible day in her entire life! Not only was she soaked to the skin, her dress was clinging uncomfortably and very revealingly to her flesh. Somehow her cloak had come off and was already gone, carried away by the current. Yet she had managed to retain her hold of the waterskins, and by Mordor, she would not let go of them if it killed her! She would show Haldir that she could do this task!

Teeth chattering, she straightened her shoulders, eyeing the rock not ten feet ahead. She turned and looked behind her, gauging the distance to the shore, then glanced upward. Already the sun was starting to sink behind the trees, casting long shadows that stretched over the stream. She ought to hurry and get back before they sent someone to look for her. Her feet were so cold she could no longer feel them.

Reaching the rock at last, Elanor set the waterskins upon it and filled each of them, resealed them with their corks, then flung them irritably over her shoulder. They were far heavier than she had expected, and as she turned to go, her foot slipped into a crevice between the rocks. Again she gasped as a sharp pain shot up her leg from her ankle, and her arms waving wildly in an attempt for balance, she found herself floundering once again beneath the water.

Somehow she regained her footing, coughing hard, her ankle throbbing with pain.

“I thought it a simple task to fill the waterskins, Elanor.” Haldir’s low, golden voice seemed to come out of nowhere.

Blinking water from her eyes, she looked around to see him watching her, his feet planted firmly on a large boulder near the point where she had entered the water. He looked taller and more imposing than usual from this vantage, or perhaps it was only because she was feeling like a small, drowned rat at the moment.

She glared at him, raising her chin in an effort to look dignified instead of wretched and bedraggled. “It was a simple task and I have done it,” she retorted, making no effort to keep the displeasure from her voice. She was barely able to speak she was so cold.

He was not actually smiling, but his eyes held a lazy glitter. “I am glad to hear it.”

Biting her lip, she winced while trying to lift up the full waterskins and wrest her throbbing ankle from the confines of the stream-bed. His snide comments only aggravated her. Ignoring the pain, she tried to move her foot, breathing very hard and wishing she were dead. The shooting pains, combined with the bone-biting cold, were making her slightly dizzy.

“You appear to need assistance.” He splashed through the water, somehow keeping his balance on the slippery rocks with no difficulty at all.

“I can finish my task,” she said stubbornly. “I do not need your help.” She clutched the waterskins to her body, at the same time trying to shield her chest from his gaze. When wet, her gown was very revealing, and although he had already seen much, she did not care to give him the satisfaction of a repeat performance.

“If I wait until you extricate yourself, it will be dark, which we do not want. There are many things out here beside you and me.” Haldir pulled the waterskins from her shoulder, easily tossing them the long distance to the shore, then turned back to her, one dark brow arched. “Is there some other problem you would like to tell me about?”

Pinned by those grey eyes, Elanor looked away. “My f-foot is caught between the rocks. I cannot move it. I . . . I’ve twisted my ankle.” How she hated to admit that to him, and now her teeth were starting to chatter!

Haldir bent down and reached into the flowing water, his hand sliding down Elanor’s lower leg to the trapped foot. The strength of the current had lodged the rock firmly against her, but he was able to slide his fingers beneath it to loosen it. Elanor’s small cry of relief was short-lived as she once again started to lose her balance, but Haldir caught her only moments before she would have plunged a third time into the stream.

Very softly, he murmured, “If you wanted to swim, Elanor, you should have removed your gown first. Perhaps you could have persuaded me to join you. Although I admit it is rather cold.” Chuckling at her outraged look, he lifted her into his arms.

“If I’d w-wanted to s-swim I would have ch-chosen a warmer river,” Elanor told him, her teeth now chattering badly. The warmth of his body sent disturbing sensations spiraling through her. Just as when he had lifted her onto the palfrey, she noticed how very strong he was, and to her shame, she actually felt tingles of pleasure unlike anything she had ever experienced. In her fantasies, she had dreamt of being carried like this, but not by this arrogant elf or under these circumstances!

“You can p-put me down,” she quavered, trying to sound stern. As if to contradict her statement, she huddled closer to him, shivering hard and secretly hoping he did not drop her once more into the stream.

He ignored her statement as he carried her easily over the slippery rocks and across the shore to an area covered with tall grass, where he laid her gently down. “Your lips are turning blue,” he remarked as he sat back on his heels. He unbuckled his quiver and set it aside, then pulled his cloak from his shoulders and draped it around her, then turned his attention to her ankle. She wanted to refuse the cloak’s warmth, but she found she could not.

“Thank y-you,” she said quietly, but turned her gaze away when he looked up. He was not supposed to be like this, chivalrous and kind. Nay, he was cold, aloof, selfish and cruel, and she disliked him heartily. Feeling miserable, she closed her eyes, willing the throbbing pain to go away so she could put some distance between them.

And the throbbing did go away, but not in the way she anticipated, for it happened very quickly and unexpectedly. One moment she felt Haldir’s long fingers wrapped around her ankle, and the next moment warmth, and then the pain began to fade.

“You can h-heal?” Elanor stared at him, her lips pressed together in an attempt to control her shuddering. The hot rush of warmth spreading through her leg answered her question, and Haldir only glanced at her, arching a long, elegant brow. The expression in his eyes was hidden once again, and Elanor wondered what he was thinking at that moment. Then he stood up, gripping her wrist, and pulled her to her feet.

His hand hovered near her elbow while she tested the ankle. It was tender, but it held her weight. She looked up, just in time to see him stiffen, the hand on her elbow tightening almost painfully, his head tilted slightly as if he were listening.

“What is—” she started to ask, but Haldir covered her mouth, pulling her hard against him. The forest had grown much darker, and the rush of the stream seemed louder and more threatening. Elanor’s eyes widened as Haldir whirled suddenly, pulling her against him as he dove back into the grass with a grunt. Bewildered, she stared at him, then comprehension dawned. Just inches from where she had just been standing, a black arrow had bounced off a rock.

“Goblins,” he snarled. He rolled over her, pinning her for a moment to the ground, his face close to hers. “Run back to Celeborn! Go!”

He sprang to his feet, yanking her up and pushing her away from him as he reached for his quiver. Elanor just stood there, frozen with horror. Across the stream, a number of small, hideous, cackling creatures had revealed themselves, but just as she saw this, Rúmil stepped out from behind a tree and let loose an arrow. Had he been there the whole time?

“Run!” Haldir snapped out, his voice like the crack of a whip. So fast it was almost a blur, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked his bow. Rúmil had already killed one, and Elanor did not stay to see what happened to the others. She ran.

Clambering as fast as she could over the hill, she screamed when someone caught her from behind and lifted her off her feet. An amused chuckle calmed her somewhat as she was set down again. She whirled to find Orophin grinning at her.

“Goblins!” she cried, her eyes wide. “Go and help him!”

Orophin arched a quizzical brow, but did as she bid, pulling his bow from his shoulder as he disappeared over the rise of the hill.

Elanor hurried forward, heading straight for Galadriel with vague thoughts of shielding the Lady from danger with her own body, but realized at once that it would not be necessary. Celeborn stood nearby, his bow in his hand, his face alert. Elanor could hear the fearsome cries of the Goblins piercing the night. She had never heard such a blood-chilling sound in her life.

Galadriel sat on a small boulder, her blue eyes fixed calmly on Elanor as she stumbled out of the brush. Her pale brows rose as she assessed Elanor’s sodden clothing where it was peeking out from under Haldir’s cloak.

“Are you unharmed, Elanor?” Galadriel rose gracefully from her seat.

Clutching the cloak tightly, Elanor nodded.

Galadriel held out a graceful hand. “Then come, child. The goblins are foolish to attack us and will regret their decision. And Celeborn guards us well, although he would much rather be firing arrows than be my bodyguard.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You look cold.”

Elanor shivered in her wet dress. “Yes, my lady. Very.”

“Then you must change.” Taking hold of Elanor’s hand, she drew her between the horses, and directed Elanor to extract another dress from her pack.

“I . . . I have to change out here?” Elanor asked, staring nervously around her, knowing the elves were close although she could not see them.

“Unless you wish to remain wet, then yes, you must. Haldir has been considerate and loaned you his cloak. I can use that to shield you behind the horses. But hurry.”

Elanor sighed, trembling not only from cold, but fear. How could they be so calm? They were being attacked, and the Lady Galadriel was having her disrobe in the middle of the fight? Blessed Elbereth, she didn’t know what to think.

She slid between the horses, but glanced up into the trees, knowing the Lothlórien elves penchant for climbing swiftly into them for cover as well as the advantage of height. She could see nothing, but that did not mean they were not there. Shuddering from the cool night air, she peeled the soaked dress off her shoulders and down her hips, letting it drop onto the ground. Her jaw clenched with dismay as she realized she had not thought to remove a dry chemise from her pack. She gave another quick look up into the trees, but still saw nothing.

As swiftly as possible, she yanked off the wet undergarment and pulled the dry gown over her head, its fabric catching on her damp skin instead of sliding down easily as it would normally have done. Her hands shaking, she was adjusting it into its proper place just as a harsh cackle overhead made both Elanor and Galadriel look up.

The grinning goblin sat on a branch high above them, an arrow nocked in its bow as it leered. Distracted by Elanor, the stupid creature had apparently forgotten about the battle, but an instant later a reminder came as two arrows simultaneously thudded into its chest. Its eyes wide with surprise, it fell heavily out of the tree only a short distance from where Elanor and the Lady stood.

Another laugh came from above, this time from Rúmil. “We have a new strategy,” he called down. “We will use Elanor to lure our enemies. They make an easy target when mesmerized by her beauty!” He was now visible, balanced on a branch not so very far away.

Elanor could feel her face flame with color. What a nightmare this was turning into! Her only consolation was that it had not been Haldir. And where was Celeborn? Even he was no longer here! Was he also in the trees?

Galadriel returned Haldir’s cloak to Elanor’s shoulders, reversing it so that the dampened side faced out. “Pay no heed to his teasing, Elanor,” she whispered. “His eyes were on the goblin not on you, and it will only make it worse if you react.”

Perhaps the warden heard, for he sent them both a cheeky grin before retreating into the leafy branches of the trees.

Elanor stowed her wet clothing, then sank down on a nearby boulder, noting that the forest had grown quiet again. “Where is Haldir?” she asked before she could think. She regretted the question, but it was too late, and she saw Galadriel’s small smile.

Galadriel sat down beside her and handed her a comb. “He is close by. By now he will have moved further into the forest to be sure there are none left hiding.” She patted Elanor’s hand. “Haldir and his wardens are always prepared for an attack. We are safe.”

Elanor shuddered and began to comb the wet tangles from her hair. Was what had happened here so commonplace? Had she been so sheltered in Rivendell she had forgotten the dangers that lay outside the protected borders? Indeed, she had.

She clutched at the cloak, breathing in the woodsy male scent that permeated the fabric. “I fear I am to blame,” she said unhappily. “I . . . took too long at my task, and must have attracted them somehow. And if Haldir had not thrown me to the ground, a goblin arrow would have struck me.”

“A close call,” Galadriel admitted, “but Haldir was there to protect you.” She paused for a second and added evenly, “As March Warden, he would not let you be harmed even if it meant his life.”

Elanor swallowed, feeling sudden guilt for her unkind thoughts of Haldir.

“You would do well to trust him,” the Lady added, as if she had read Elanor’s thoughts.

Elanor looked down at the damp tendrils of hair curling around the tips of her fingers. For some reason, Galadriel’s words touched her, giving her a fleeting and very pleasant sense of security. It seemed clear that Elanor had much to learn about Lothlórien’s March Warden. But one thing she already knew—she had been a fool to think that such an elf could ever be interested in Lana.

A few moments later Rúmil dropped lightly out of the trees, and landed gracefully near the dead goblin. Bending down, he pulled the arrows from its chest and shoved them into his quiver, then lifted it by one ankle and hurled it farther away from the ladies. He then turned and dusted off his hands, winking at Elanor as he bowed his head to Galadriel. “Lord Celeborn is with Haldir, my lady. We have found no other traces of goblins. Haldir wishes to continue quickly, and our Lord agrees.”

Galadriel nodded, and Rúmil brought forward the Lady’s horse, and lifted her into the saddle. Before he could do the same for Elanor, Lord Celeborn returned, glancing at Elanor with unfathomable dark eyes that seemed to touch her as he strode toward Galadriel. And then an unsettling thought entered Elanor’s mind. Who had fired the second arrow into the goblin? Not Rúmil. And Celeborn had still been with them then, had he not? She was almost certain it was so.

Just then she saw Haldir emerge from the trees and head straight toward her with long, purposeful strides. He had taken the time to go back for her shoes and the waterskins; she watched him hand the waterskins to another elf, then continue on with her shoes. He halted before her, his face inscrutable, and the sudden thought crossed her mind that these Sylvan elves were far more dangerous than a Rivendell elf would ever be.

His piercing gaze raked over her, taking in her dry clothes without comment as he held out the shoes. “You are unhurt?”

Elanor nodded and slipped them on to her feet, then was startled when he caught firm hold of her elbow and drew her a short distance away from the others. Her pulse gave an involuntary leap. Was he going to apologize for throwing her to the ground? Or for sending her to the stream and putting her in danger? Or for teasing her?

“When I told you to run, you hesitated. Why?” His voice was harsh.

Taken aback, she gaped up at him. “I . . . I do not know. I could not move.”

“A sorry excuse. In the future, if I give you such a command, I expect you to obey at once and without question. Is that understood?” His grey eyes glittered with suppressed anger. Anger directed at her! How could he be angry at her?

Elanor eyed him with resentment. And to think that for a few moments, she had actually felt kindly disposed toward him! Even worse, she had been concerned for his safety, the high and mighty elf!

She made her lip curl with contempt. “In your boorish way, yes, you have made yourself clear. I understand you very well, my lord.”

He gave her a long, hard look. “No, Elanor, I do not think you do. But you will learn.”

Without another word, he took her by the arm and almost dragged her to her horse, then proceeded to lift her into the saddle with far less gentleness than he had used before. This time she noticed that his hands did not linger at her waist, nor did he look at her. And it disturbed her in a way she did not understand, putting a disheartening, confusing twist on an already difficult day.

Shivering despite her warmth, she watched while Haldir and some of his elves gathered the goblin bodies and set fire to them. The gruesomeness of it made her feel slightly sick, especially when she saw how many goblins there had been. Galadriel also watched, her beautiful face impassive, causing Elanor to wonder how many times the Lady had seen such sights. Did one grow used to it over time? And Haldir, was he so used to killing? He must be. He had certainly done so without hesitation or any sign of emotion except, perhaps, revulsion. And he had saved her life even if he had been churlish to her afterward.

Elanor bit her lip as he returned to her side, wondering if he would say anything to her. However, he only glanced at her briefly and without expression as he grasped the reins of her horse and began to lead it along the trail. How much farther would they travel before they made camp for the night? She looked over her shoulder to see that Orophin and all the others were falling into line behind them. Obviously her presence was no longer required near the Lady.

She turned back to study Haldir’s broad shoulders, the back of his proud head, the silvery braid of his hair. Would he be cold without his cloak? And why should she care if he was? He deserved to be cold after the way he had spoken to her. Her heart felt so heavy that she wanted to cry.

A year. It would be an eternity.


[To be continued . . .] Feedback greatly appreciated!