... where am I...?
You are safe, child.
He didn't feel safe. Then again, he didn't feel much of anything. See anything. Feel or taste or smell anything. Just... nothingness. Emptiness.
Surely the Halls of Waiting weren't supposed to be like this?
... I... died?
Yes.
He should hurt. The orc sword had slashed open his back, slicing through the armour, splintering bone, cleaving muscle, hacking into internal organs... he thought he shivered with remembered pain. But then, if he had no body, how could he feel anything anyway.
... did we win...?
The voice had a smile in it.
Yes. Helm's Deep did not fall.
... I'm... glad...
Éomer and his people were safe, for now at least. The horse-lord had a chance to live his mortal life, take a human mate, raise his children, continue his line.
He'd forget, in time, that brief spell in Lothlórien. Human memories were short, like their lives.
The knowledge hurt. Had he still been able to, he would have wept.
Your love for him honours you.
Haldir shook his non-existent head.
It is - was - foolish.
And yet you still feel it. Still feel love for this mortal.
... yes...
Hopeless as it is.
... yes...
A long long silence.
Consider it well.
Another long silence - and a sudden deepening of the emptiness. That which had been Haldir reached out for the voice in the darkness, but it was gone...
Consider what well? Love? The hopelessness of loving a mortal? Immortality? Death? Éomer? What?
Had he had a body, Haldir would have paced. Lacking one, he looked inwards...
... down the long years of his life. Such a long life.
Such a shallow life.
Oh, yes, his position as a guardian of the Golden Wood was worthy, of course it was. He and his fellows had kept Lothlórien safe from incursion for millennia. It was a noble and worthwhile duty.
And tiring, and selfless. Seemingly endless. Mostly thankless.
Duty. It was a duty, nothing more. It had been nothing more for centuries.
His own needs had been mostly subsumed in the need to keep Lothlórien safe for the Galadhrim, for his people. And to keep Caras Galadhon - the heart of elvendom on earth, as he'd once described it - a safe haven for his lord and lady. For his people. For others.
But what of Haldir?
There'd been passion in him once, long ago. A fire deep within, glowing, sparking, warming both himself and others. Hardship, long years spent in the defence of his home, had gradually quenched that flame, blunted the hard edge of desire, left him cool and remote.
Until a young horse-lord with hair like sunshine had breezed through the ordered borders of his life and kicked the embers back into life...
Éomer...
Human. Mortal. Doomed to die.
Only a fool would court butterflies.
Yet butterflies, for all their short lives, brought such beauty into the world - the more to be treasured because it was so brief.
Haldir would have closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, had he eyes and teeth to command. In this space without space deceiving oneself was pointless.
He was forced to admit that Éomer, in the space of two days, had touched him as had no other for as long as he could remember.
And yes, it was worth the grief he knew would come when it was the horse-lord's time to die - because Éomer made him live.
Námo smiled as the choice was made.
Heat. On his back, on his arms and legs, on his neck. On his hair.
So warm...
Haldir moved slightly, wincing as various muscles complained. It took him a moment to work out that that was... unusual. Gritting his teeth he forced himself up to a half-sitting position, arms trembling as they took his weight, legs sprawled bonelessly beneath him. Wobbling, resting on his hands as he tried to balance, the world whirled around him as his head spun: after a few minutes everything settled down somewhat, and he was able to look around without his body threatening to fall over.
Rock-embossed plain as far as he could see.
No trees. He shuddered, then forced himself to focus further. Dry yellow grass beneath him. Cloudless blue sky above. Rock-studded plain as far as his keen-sighted eyes could see. And himself here in the middle of it all...
He whimpered without realising it. Too open. No cover. Nowhere to hide...
Where was he?
What was he? The last thing he remembered he'd been...
... dead?...
He swallowed, distantly surprised that he had tongue and throat to swallow with. Yes, he'd been dead. He'd died at Helm's Deep, an orc's sword cleaving his back apart... Abruptly he realised he could still feel the pain of that mortal wound, a blaze of agony across his back. Trembling, he reached behind him, surprised to find no red on his hand when he brought it back up to his face. He could swear he felt the blood streaming down his back, the sickening shifting of torn flesh as the edges of the wound gaped wide...
Shaking, he closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply. The air was warm, and smelt of dryness and hot rock - but at least it smelt of something.
His world came into focus as he suddenly realised he was alive.
Alive. No longer dead.
For long minutes the knowledge nearly overwhelmed him. He remembered, distantly, that such a thing had happened once before to another of his kind, but that was long ago when such wonders might still be believed.
Yet here he was. Sprawled on a rock in middle-earth, and clearly alive.
Unless this was all some exceptionally realistic dream.
But in that case he probably wouldn't be feeling such pain, would he?
... This was Rohan, wasn't it? He was suddenly certain of it. But what part of Rohan - and in which direction was Edoras?
He dragged himself painfully to his feet. Well, sitting here wouldn't accomplish anything. At least if he was moving he had some slender sort of a chance of finding Éomer...
He was exhausted by the time they found him, slumped on a rock in the middle of nowhere, parched and starving. He'd gazed up at the riders, eyes glazed, mouth too dry to speak, croaking painfully and incomprehensibly when one of the horse-lords raised a skin to his mouth and allowed the warm water to trickle between cracked, bleeding lips. He hadn't understood the following conversation - he was at the end of his endurance and the words made no sense to him - but he understood the hands that pulled him to his feet then helped him struggle into the horse's saddle, the hands hovering near to catch him if he seemed likely to fall.
He remembered nothing of the ride.
Éomer King had been woken by a nightmare, yet another memory of arriving at Helm's Deep too late to save the elves, this one far more vivid. He'd woken shaking, drenched in sweat and trying to force the image of Haldir's dead face from his mind. A feeling of dread had possessed him all day. He looked up sharply as the rider hastened into his office.
"Sire, we found what seems to be an elf. Out on the West Emnet. Injured and starving, but we think he'll survive..."
Trying not to let fear show in his face, Éomer inclined his head apologetically to the emissary from Minas Tirith and rose to his feet.
"Forgive me. I shall return in a moment. I will have refreshments sent in."
The other half-rose courteously and waved a hand.
"Think nothing of it, sire."
Smiling tightly, Éomer left the room - then stalked to the hall of healing, his steps increasing in length and pace, driven by the need to see for himself. Throwing open the doors, he hurried to the far wall where two healers were hovering around a still figure lying on its side.
He stopped dead by the bed, staring disbelievingly, a strangled groan forcing itself out of his throat. The body, the face, were thin, haggard with privation, the lips cracked from lack of water, but... It was Haldir.
Haldir.
Haldir had been forced back to consciousness by someone shaking him. Strong hands gripped his shoulders hard enough to bruise, and his head lolled on a neck that felt too frail to support it. His eyes had flickered open, his first sight that of Éomer's enraged pale face, the human bellowing something at him. He weakly raised a hand to touch the sunshine-coloured hair, but Éomer had pulled away, shoving him back onto the bed. He whimpered soundlessly as agony blazed through his back, and now watched the king pace, the elf's eyes wide and pained in his newly-gaunt face. Éomer was furious.
"... I arrive to find you dead. Dead, Master Elf. I saw your funeral rites. I grieved." Éomer's steps halted for a moment as he swallowed hard, eyes bright with tears. Then he glared at Haldir. "I grieved for you, Master Elf. For a time I wanted to join you. But I had my duty and my honour to uphold..."
Haldir half-raised a shaking hand to the king, lowering it again, unseen, as Éomer continued.
"I kept my grief inside me. Restored order." He bit back what sounded suspiciously like a sob, then whirled to face Haldir, seating himself on the edge of the bed and grabbing the elf's shoulders, fingers biting deep into the spare flesh and pulling him up, ignoring Haldir's bitten back gasp of pain. "A year, Haldir. I've mourned you for a year. Aching inside. Wanting you all that time. You left me, elf. You made me love you, and then you left me."
Haldir's eyes filled with tears as he shook his head. No! That hadn't been his intention, not ever...
"... Éomer..."
Éomer's blue eyes bored into his, their depths filled with agony. Haldir felt his own tears trickling down his face.
So unfair.
But so human.
He closed his eyes, head dropping slowly forwards, determinedly ignoring the pain filling him.
"... I'm sorry..."
Éomer uttered a strange sound, something half sob, half growl, half something soul-deep... Then the fingers left Haldir's aching shoulders as a pair of arms wrapped around his body: Éomer pulled him very carefully into a gentle embrace, one hand pressing the elf's head against a broad shoulder, fingers twisting in rough tangled hair. His voice sounded choked, as though he was forcing back tears.
"Haldir... Have you really come back to me?"
Unable to speak, Haldir simply nodded. He could think of no other reason as to why he had been permitted to return. And Éomer hugged him closer, unwilling to let him go.
The healer smiled a little nervously, then nodded.
"I believe that would be in order, sire. At any rate, it shouldn't hurt him."
Haldir's mind was reeling. Éomer had held him for a little longer - weeping silently, he'd felt the sobs vibrate through the human's body - then gently pushed him back a little, holding him at arms length and regarding him closely.
"It has been hard for you." He smiled tentatively. "You look terrible. Not at all the elf I knew."
Haldir lowered his head, ashamed and annoyed with himself because of it. It wasn't as if he'd had any choice in the matter! Though why Námo had not simply had him reappear outside the gates of Edoras the Valar only knew... But Éomer leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to his forehead, distracting his musing.
"But this we can put to rights easily, mellon nin."
Haldir raised his eyes again, curiously. Éomer smiled, eyes twinkling.
"A bath. You remember those?"
"I remember." It sounded like a croak, and Éomer frowned, gesturing to the healer.
"Can we not do something for his voice?"
The healer shook his head.
"It will heal in time, sire. 'tis caused by long thirst and adversity, there is no physical injury."
"I am glad of that! His voice was most lovely..." Éomer felt the elf shift slightly, and glanced at him, lips quirking in a grin as he saw a faint flush of colour over the pale face. "Indeed, Master Elf, you are blushing!"
Haldir would have answered, but the indrawn breath started him coughing, and he wrapped his arms around his ribs as pain throbbed through him in time to the dry spluttering gasps. Leaning forwards he rested his forehead on his updrawn knees as the fit subsided, leaving him exhausted. Éomer scowled at the healer.
"That does not sound good."
The healer had hastily filled a small beaker with a thick shining liquid from a flask, and now eased it into the elf's limp hand.
"Drink, Master Elf. 'tis just honey and a little wine, with herbs."
His hand shaking, Haldir nearly dropped the beaker, but Éomer wrapped a hand around the pale one, helping the elf to raise the cup to his lips. Swallowing was an effort, but the golden-red liquid slipped down his throat easily and sweetly, leaving a comforting warmth behind it. Éomer took back the beaker and eyed the elf.
"Do you feel able to bathe? With my help?"
Dark eyes gazed into bright blue, reading concern and affection there, and Haldir nodded. Indeed, it would be a great relief to bathe. The aching of his body aside, he felt... gritty, as though he had rolled in dust and sand. And as for his hair... He pulled forwards a hank, shuddering at its condition, dull, dry and lank: it looked and felt like dried willow leaves. Éomer chuckled.
"So vain!"
Haldir fixed him with a disapproving frown, wondering if he should explain but not having the voice to do so. He sighed and nodded. If Éomer wanted to think thus, so be it. The king ran calloused fingers over the tangled skein.
"But I too would prefer it soft again..." He rose to his feet and reached for the thin linen robe laid over the end of the bed, draping it around the elf's shoulders then gripping his wrists to assist him to rise. Shakily Haldir slid his legs out of the bed and struggled upright, leaning against the human as Éomer helped him into the robe then wrapped an arm around his waist. Slowly, resting most of his slight weight against the king, Haldir limped from the hall.
The bath was a large wooden tub filled with steaming water sunk into a wooden platform, with a series of shallow steps leading up from the floor. Éomer slid the robe from the elf's shoulders - then froze, his face filled with dismay as his fingers gingerly traced the raw, still-weeping scar that bisected the elf's back.
"Haldir, this isn't healed."
The elf nodded wearily.
"Yes. It should have, I think. But who can tell the will of Mandos?"
Éomer frowned, not recognising the name, then shook his head. It hardly mattered at this point.
"Whatever it is, it shouldn't involve having you suffer like this."
Haldir agreed, but right now his legs were about to give out. He struggled to keep his balance, and Éomer hurriedly helped him into the water, waiting until he was settled on the low seat that circled the inner wall of the tub before climbing out of his own clothes. He slid into the tub, seating himself beside the elf, eyes worried; Haldir had slumped forwards, eyes closed. The elf was in a sorry state, suffering, half-starved - Éomer could see every rib, the jutting hipbones, each individual bone down the length of the pale scarred back. It was going to take time and considerable care to restore him to full health.
For now though, he'd most likely settle for being clean. Éomer reached for a slab of the rough soap his people used, lathering it between his hands then spreading the suds over Haldir's chest and shoulders, rubbing very carefully. The elf glanced up at him, then leaned back a little, relaxing under the gentle ministration.
"My poor Haldir..."
The elf tensed. No, not pity. Please. Not that. Éomer raised an eyebrow, realising his error. He had learned more of elves since Helm's Deep.
"You have been poorly treated."
The elf relaxed slightly. Not pity, then. Sympathy. Sympathy was different. Acceptable.
"Your land is harsh. I am used to shadows and the soft light under the trees."
Éomer moved to crouch in front of Haldir to save the elf having to move, his hands slipping behind the pale figure to stroke soapy foam over the flinching back. Haldir gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out as the lather stung the length of the wound: Éomer finished quickly and sluiced away the offending suds. Then he regarded the elf sombrely.
"Are you able to wet your hair?"
Haldir slowly eased himself to his knees, leaning his head back as the water rippled around his neck, grateful for the king's hand under his neck as the ceiling spun dizzily for a moment. Éomer helped him sit back up, then worked the soap through his long, thick hair, rinsing it thoroughly from the bucket beside the tub then nodding his satisfaction.
"Much better, Master Elf." With the dust and grime of his journey removed, the silvery-pale colour was revealed again, and a comb would take care of the knots and snarls once they returned to the hall of healing.
Or maybe to the king's own chambers, if Haldir was able.
But the elf was tiring, his eyes half-closed, face pale. Éomer quickly took back the soap and reached under the water to wash the long lean legs, hesitating at Haldir's groin, uncertain of his welcome. Haldir nodded wearily.
"My hands fail me. And I would be properly clean, if it does not offend you to do so."
"How could anything about you offend me, Haldir?" Éomer smirked as the elf coloured again, at a loss for words. His eyes closed as the human's hands worked, and Éomer was delighted to see that despite exhaustion and ill-health, Haldir obviously found his touch as arousing as ever. The elf moaned quietly as Éomer's hands withdrew, and the king leaned forwards to brush a kiss lightly over the parted lips.
"Later, Haldir. Now, you are too weary and in too much pain. I would never forgive myself were I to add to your burdens." He gently washed the pale gaunt face, then kissed the elf again, heart filling with love when Haldir responded. When he pulled back he winced: the kiss had opened one of the cracks and Haldir's lip was bleeding again. He touched the spot very carefully.
"Forgive me. I am sure we have some salve for this. I'll ask the healers."
Haldir shrugged slightly.
"It will heal, in time."
"But I would much prefer it to heal quickly. I can't enjoy kissing you, knowing that it causes pain."
Ignoring Haldir's startled but gratified expression, Éomer climbed out of the bath and turned back to help the elf, wrapping him in a drying cloth then in the robe before dressing himself. Arm around Haldir's waist, Éomer guided him from the bathing chamber and back to the hall of healing - though only for long enough to affirm that he was well enough to move to the king's chambers. The healers would tend to him there, rather than in this big, impersonal hall.
A short while later Haldir was settled in the king's wide, low bed, curled up on his side with Éomer sitting on the edge.
"Are you comfortable?" At Haldir's tired nod, Éomer stroked his hair. It had received only the most cursory brushing - the elf was asleep on his feet and the king wished him to rest - but already it had resumed much of its proper lustre and silkiness. "Good. I will arrange for food to be brought, should you waken and feel the need." His eyes widened momentarily as a thought struck him. "And I will see you soon, Haldir. I must return to business now, before the emissary from Minas Tirith decides I am the most irresponsible ruler in middle-earth..."
The sun was setting when he woke, the low rays gleaming on the warm wood of the bedchamber walls. The bedcover over him was soft and heavy, the pillows under his head soft and full, very comfortable.
It was very quiet, but a warm quiet, unlike the bleak silence of the open plain. Haldir sighed and stretched carefully, pleased to note that many of the aches and pains that had plagued him were now gone. His back still throbbed, and his lips were sore, but the rest - much better.
On the low table at the side of the bed sat a plate of fruit, and a goblet and jug of water. Easing himself in to a sitting position, Haldir regarded the light meal appreciatively, his mouth watering. First, though...
He reached for the comb lying on the table and began to restore his hair to some semblance of its usual order. Not as easy as it should be - reaching behind him sent spears of pain through his back - but he could manage well enough. Once all the tangles were out and the pale strands lay smooth and gleaming again, he twisted two thick locks into plaits before his ears. Not as elegant as the traditional style, but it kept his hair away from his face since he couldn't reach far enough to accomplish the usual thicker plait at the back. It would do.
He'd finished an apple and two pears by the time Éomer returned. The human strode into the chamber, face lighting up with a smile as he caught sight of his guest. He seated himself on the edge of the bed and absently helped himself to a plum.
"You seem much improved, Master Haldir."
"Indeed. I must offer my most heartfelt thanks for your aid, Éomer Eómundion."
Éomer smiled. The elf's voice, while still rough and rasping, was also much improved.
"However, it would seem that every time we meet, you are hurt. This really must stop, my friend, or we will never move further than kisses."
Haldir blinked, offered a tentative smile, then frowned as a vague memory came back to him.
"Éomer... Do I recall correctly? Did you call yourself ruler?"
The human paused, his hand half-way to the plate.
"Ah. Yes. Of course, you would not know. Théoden King died on the Pelennor Fields in the defence of Minas Tirith. I was proclaimed king in Rohan."
For a moment Haldir simply stared at him, eyes wide. Then he pushed back the cover and made to pull himself out of bed. Éomer grabbed his wrist, pushing him back down.
"What are you doing?"
Haldir was silent for a moment, then he bowed his head.
"Éomer King, it is not seemly for me to be here."
Éomer gaped.
"Why not?"
The elf shrugged, as if it were too obvious to be put into words.
"I am a Marchwarden. You are King."
"It was seemly before!"
"But then you were a Marshal of the Mark, your status similar to my own. We were close to equals." Well, as close as any elf and man could be, at any rate.
Éomer frowned.
"Have your feelings changed?"
Haldir blinked, gazing up at the king. Éomer had grown in the years since they'd last met. He was no longer the callow, inexperienced youth of Lothlórien, the wide-eyed youngster overawed at being amongst elves. There was a regal mien to him now, self-assured if somewhat careworn. And it would appear there was no-one to share his bedchamber...
He dragged himself back to the question. Had his feelings changed? No, of course not. Except maybe to grow stronger. He shook his head.
"No, Éomer King. They have not."
The human cupped strong calloused hands around the thin pale face.
"Neither have mine. I have missed you."
Had he? Or had he missed the thought, the memory of those two short days and the elf whose heart he'd captured? He'd been a child, and no letters, no matter how fervent, could take the place of reality.
Would they still have been together - would they even be speaking to each other by now - if they'd stayed together then?
Gazing into summer-sky coloured eyes, Haldir believed he was going to find out...
"Éomer, how have you explained my presence to your people?"
The king stretched widely in the bed and rolled his head to the side to regard Haldir.
"I have not. They believe you to be an honoured guest and have not delved further."
Haldir raised an eyebrow - this was, to say the least, naïve.
"Éomer, we know that both your kin and mine are curious. Yours will be wondering, and speculating. I share your rooms - you have made no effort to hide the fact - and I serve no purpose here."
Éomer smirked.
"You can't, you're still hurting. Of the other - it is none of my people's concern who I choose to lodge in my own quarters."
Haldir frowned irritably.
"Leaving aside for the moment the fact of the succession and the need for you to provide an heir, I am now near healed enough to go abroad. Unless you keep me captive here, I wish to spend some time out of doors. I have grown weak: I wish to rectify that."
Éomer chewed his lower lip, a gesture Haldir found infinitely appealing, though he would never admit to it.
"This is true, it would be cruel to expect you to remain under cover. Though I regret there are no trees here."
Something that made Haldir very uneasy. The nearest trees were a considerable distance away, in the valleys of Ered Nimrais, and he was not yet fit enough to run - or even ride - that far. Yet he must do something. It was in his nature to serve some useful purpose. He said as much, his tone, though he didn't realise it, one of yearning. Éomer frowned and pulled himself up to a sitting position, the bedcover at his waist.
"I don't want you to be unhappy. But I don't want you too far from my side either." He stroked a lock of shining silvery hair. "I would worry for your safety. You have already died once. I somehow doubt you would be able to come back to me a second time."
The thought made Haldir feel cold and dizzy: it was something he preferred not to think about. At his shiver Éomer lay back down, pulling the elf into his arms.
"You're cold?"
"No."
Éomer ran a finger along the edge of a pointed ear, grinning as Haldir gasped and pressed himself against the king's strong warm body.
"Pity. I would enjoy warming you..."
He rolled Haldir onto his back - carefully, despite their best efforts the wound there still hadn't fully healed - and slid atop him, kissing his neck then nipping and licking upwards to his ear as the elf twitched and whimpered under him.
"Beautiful Haldir." He nipped at the lobe, then kissed silently up to the point, grinning to himself as Haldir went limp below him. Who would have guessed that the elf's ears were so sensitive?
One part of Haldir was anything but limp, however, and Éomer pressed his own hardness against the elf's erection, rubbing slowly from side to side as he nibbled on an eartip. Haldir choked back a cry and gripped the king's shoulders.
"Éomer!"
The human pulled back a little, enough to gaze down into the pale face. There was something irresistible about being able to reduce his elf to a quivering heap of need. He still found it difficult to believe it was possible; Haldir was usually so calm, so self-controlled, even aloof.
"What do you want, meleth nin?"
Haldir fisted a hand in his hair and pulled his head down forcefully, full, mobile lips pressed hard against his mouth for a moment, hips rocking against his own, before the elf pulled back just far enough to breathe,
"... you, Éomer... I want you..."
The king shivered and kissed him, lips possessive, tongue questing as he forced one hand between their bodies to grasp both straining erections. Haldir froze, breathing unevenly, at the touch, then moaned as Éomer began to move his hand, squeezing, kneading, sliding over heavy hot flesh... Haldir gasped into the king's mouth as he climaxed, Éomer following him scant seconds later. Panting, they lay twined together for long moments, until Haldir cupped Éomer's face in his hands, eyes bright with emotion - love, Éomer hoped, though he didn't dare to assume it was so.
"My king."
The human's smile faltered slightly.
"What of your lord and lady, Haldir?"
The elf lowered his eyes, turning his head to the side, but not before Éomer had seen the deep sadness there.
"They are leaving middle-earth for the undying lands."
The king shivered, a sudden chill sweeping through him.
"Will you go with them?"
A brief silence, then,
"No. I shall stay here."
Relieved beyond measure, Éomer kissed him.
"But we still have not decided what I am to be to you." Haldir turned from his place at the half-open shutter and regarded the king, mid morning of the following day. "And we must."
Éomer frowned from his seat at the table.
"Master Elf, what would you have me tell them?"
"The truth. It will be easier to bear than a lie that will be found out. And we must not overlook the subject of your heir."
"There is plenty of time for such things..."
Haldir prowled to his side, dropping to one knee and resting a hand on his thigh.
"Forgive me, Éomer, but there is not. The great evil may be gone, but the land is still dangerous. It would be wise for you to make provision for the future while you can."
Éomer leaned back and regarded the elf, smirking.
"Woe the day an immortal talks of preparing for the future! You wish to be replaced in my affections? So soon? Are you bored of my company, Master Elf?"
Haldir slapped his leg, eliciting a wince.
"Be serious. Immortal we may be, but we can still die. As I have good cause to know. Men, however, are not immortal. And your realm has known much sorrow and weathered many storms. Your people need to feel secure, for you to do your duty as their king." He lowered his eyes. "As for me, I knew from the start I could not wholly possess your affections. I cannot give you children, and children there must be."
Éomer stroked his hair, then cupped his chin and raised his face, his own solemn.
"I could wish it otherwise. Such children would be most beautiful. But you are right, of course..." He sighed. "Very well. I will give thought to these matters. Meanwhile... what are we to do with you?" He frowned in thought. "Perhaps... an advisor?" He raised a hand as Haldir opened his mouth to object. "Aye, I know, you're a warrior. But we have no forests here, and I will not risk you in combat on the open plain. You have lived long, there must be some wisdom in that head of yours that you could share with us."
Haldir nodded, reluctantly. It was hardly an ideal situation, but it would suffice. "And my position?"
Éomer grinned.
"In my bed, you mean?"
The elf scowled.
"What will you tell your people?"
The king rubbed his forehead in silence for a few minutes.
"That you are a dearly loved friend who shares my life." He eyed Haldir, his smile very sweet. "'tis no more nor less than the truth.
"They will accept it?"
Blue eyes hardened, a hint of steel creeping into their depths.
"If I say so."
The elf rose to his feet and began to pace.
"I do not wish to be the cause of contention."
"You won't be."
"You are very sure of that."
Éomer stood, catching the elf's shoulders and holding him still.
"Haldir, such things are not unknown. True, it is not usual for a king to take a male lover, but these are unusual times. All know the price your people paid to aid us at Helm's Deep, and know of your injuries: the healers are not sworn to secrecy. We are all grateful. Your presence does not interfere with the running of the realm - indeed, they've seen that their king is a great deal more at ease, and happier, since you arrived. I can't foresee any difficulties."
It sounded reasonable. It would certainly suffice for the time being.
"Very well."
"Then you'll stay?"
The elf stared in surprise.
"You thought I might do otherwise?"
"No... no, not really. Though I feared it."
The elf shook his head, one hand stroking the king's face, still intrigued by the coarse hair there. For all his bravado, his teasing, Éomer still had difficulty believing that Haldir had returned...
"I will stay. On one condition."
Éomer tensed, and Haldir lightly kissed his cheek.
"That I can have some more... elvish clothes made." He indicated the intricately embroidered robes he wore. "These are far too heavy."
Éomer laughed delightedly and yanked him forwards, hugging him tightly.
"Oh, I believe we can manage that..."
"That is most becoming."
Haldir looked up from adjusting the drape of the pale blue overtunic to see Éomer smiling proudly. And he had to admit that the new clothes were a definite improvement, the thin white undertunic and fine blue leggings far more comfortable than the heavier Rohirrim garments. There was embroidery, of course - this was Edoras, after all - but it was delicate and silver, leafy patterns interspersed with the traditional designs, quite lovely, cool and sheer and flowing.
And Éomer lost no time in removing them again, sweeping Haldir over to the bed and tumbling him backwards onto the cover. The elf laughed.
"Impatient human!" He slid a hand between their bodies, fondling the rigid flesh he found there. "And eager..."
Éomer shivered, then groaned and rolled over, pulling Haldir on top of him, still intrigued by the lightness of the elf's body.
"Haldir... may we... I..." He sighed and closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the elf's brow. "I would like to... possess you. Only for a short time." He added hastily as the elf's eyebrows rose.
"Ah. I understand. And you have not done this before."
Éomer shook his head, face colouring. Haldir nodded, rolling in his turn until the king was above him.
"Then it were best if I guided you, I think."
Éomer opened his eyes, gazing in surprise at the pale face below him.
"It doesn't... trouble you?"
The elf shrugged.
"Why would it? It is a pleasurable way of sharing oneself."
"And you have? Before, I mean."
"Of course."
Éomer bit his lip to stop himself asking 'with whom?', and nuzzled the elf's neck.
"And you will guide me?"
"It will be my pleasure." Eventually, he added to himself, dimly remembering the last time he had allowed a virgin to take him. It had hurt... And some way to ease the breaching might be useful, given the king's dimensions.
But there was nothing in the room that could be used as lubrication, and the king was eager, and Haldir didn't want to break the spell of the moment. Sighing silently he pulled the king over onto his side and kissed his way down the muscular body, then - anticipating Éomer's reaction and wrapping a hand around the root of the shaft so as not to be choked - took the king into his mouth.
Éomer uttered a strangled cry and thrust forward and upward, hands gripping Haldir's hair hard enough to bring tears to the elf's eyes.
"GODS!!" Éomer was whimpering: Haldir could feel the velvety skin tightening below his hand. It would seem the king had never experienced this before - and found it to his liking... Laving the straining organ copiously but swiftly with his tongue, Haldir managed to pull back before the king could climax and slid back up the taut form, pulling Éomer atop him and spreading his thighs as wide as he could.
"... as you would a woman, melethron nin... but gently..."
He tried, Haldir could tell, but Éomer was far too aroused, and clumsy in his haste, and it had been so very long for the elf... But at least it was quick, the king collapsing over the pale body below him after only a minute. He gasped against Haldir's neck, struggling to regain his breath.
"... Oh..."
Haldir managed to smile, stroking Éomer's back.
"Melethron?"
The human nodded, then shifted wearily to the side, allowing Haldir to breathe a little more easily.
"That... oh..."
The elf chuckled, though it sounded a little strained.
"Most eloquent, my king."
Éomer dragged himself up onto his elbows, blinking dazedly down at Haldir - then frowning, moving down to inspect the elf's lower body, wincing.
"You're bleeding! I hurt you..."
Haldir grabbed his hair and hauled him back up to bed, frowning into distressed blue eyes.
"It is not unusual. Do not trouble yourself."
Éomer glared.
"You... I've hurt you, Master Elf, and you say not to worry? Do you like pain?"
"No. But I had anticipated it, on this occasion."
Éomer's face was woebegone.
"I'm that bad a lover?"
Haldir sighed and tugged on a lock of yellow hair.
"No. Simply inexperienced"
The king snuggled up to the elf, pulled the pale body into his arms and kissed the full lips.
"I'm sorry."
"It is of no moment. You will improve with practise."
Éomer froze, then moved back to stare into the dark eyes, his own filled with hope.
"We can do this again?"
Haldir gazed at him, wholly bemused.
"Why would we not?"
With a deep, relieved, satisfied sigh, Éomer pulled Haldir hard against him. The king was already aroused again, the elf noted with a mix of humour and resignation...
He gasped as a strong calloused hand cupped his groin: Éomer was grinning at him.
"I don't wish to cause you any further harm, meleth nin, but it's most unfair to leave you unsatisfied..."
And Haldir gripped the coverlet hard, eyes wide, as Éomer slid down and - somewhat inexpertly but with enthusiasm - tongued the rapidly stiffening pale organ into his mouth...
"I would prefer to run."
Gamling stared, bewildered. Why would anyone want to run when they had a perfectly good horse to ride? But then, the King's elf was a strange creature. Very pretty, he had to admit, but so... haughty. Almost arrogant. Yet he was well-mannered enough, polite and courteous in his dealings with everyone... Gamling shook his head. The ways of elves were beyond him. But he'd been ordered to keep Haldir safe, and that was what he'd do...
"Your pardon, Master Elf, but Éomer King says we ride. It's a long way. If you want to run when we get there, that's your business."
Haldir sighed and mounted the horse. He would have to speak to Éomer about this over-protectiveness, later. But for now, the thought of trees was enough to spur him on, the horse moving smoothly under him, heading for the mountains, a startled and annoyed Gamling racing to catch up...
It was cool here, cool and green and alive. Haldir touched the tree's trunk, feeling a faint stirring deep within as the creature remembered their ancient affinity. Would the trees still speak, still sing, when the last of the Firstborn had left middle-earth, he wondered, deep sadness filling his heart... He walked further into the small wood, fingertips brushing bark, caressing a leaf here, a bough there, the trees rustling and sighing around him. At the centre, where the light was dimmest, he leapt up into the branches of a great oak, climbing lithely to the crown and settling back against the sturdy trunk, feeling its vast affection flowing into him.
He had missed this, missed the simple act of being, without the need for speech, for thought. Without realising it, he began to sing, and for a while the trees stilled to listen to the sound, rich and sad and lonely in the shadows of the wood.
From his place on the hillside above the valley, Gamling paused in tending the horses, head raised to listen. He shivered, suddenly struck by a bewildering sense of haunting solitude, so unfamiliar it was frightening, for a moment. Then he shook his head, determinedly banishing such alien thoughts from his mind. Living took far too much energy to leave room for fanciful elvish things.
It was well into evening before Haldir walked from the shadows of the trees, his head lowered, his steps slow. Gamling frowned: the king wouldn't be pleased if his elf were ill or hurt.
"What ails you, Master Elf?"
The pale face rose, the dark eyes sombre and, Gamling thought, edged with tears. But maybe it was just the light of the rising moon. The human gestured to the sky.
"We should return."
"Yes." It was a quiet sigh. "I had forgotten the passage of time."
Haldir swung himself up onto the horse, and allowed Gamling to set the pace, cantering back to Edoras under the stars.
Éomer brushed silvery pale hair back from the high forehead, his face concerned.
"I thought you would enjoy it."
Haldir inclined his head.
"'Enjoy' is perhaps not the right word. It was good to touch the trees again. But it reminded me of all that is gone."
The human wrapped strong arms around his shoulders from behind. His skin still slightly damp from the bath, Haldir smelt wonderful, like moss and new leaves.
"You aren't happy here."
Haldir twisted to glance up into the king's face.
"No, I am happy with you."
"With me. But not here."
Haldir shrugged helplessly.
"Perhaps I grow less... adaptable with age. I miss the forest. But even if I were to return, it would not be the same. It is autumn now in Lothlórien."
Éomer frowned, puzzled. It was early summer over Rohan... He kissed the tip of a pointed ear.
"Haldir, you know I want you to be happy. If that means you have to go, then I will - somehow - learn to live with your loss."
The elf leaned back into the king's embrace.
"No. I said I will stay with you. I do not break my word - if I can help it, at any rate." He smiled briefly. "As long as death doesn't come between us..."
He paused, realising what he had said. Death would come between them one day, of course it would... He twisted in Éomer's arms, pulling the human to him.
"I will stay with you, melethron nin. I would be unhappy anywhere else."
Éomer relaxed a little, and Haldir was conscious once again of the king's fear, that his lover would leave.
"You must ride out as often as you wish, Haldir. If you want to stay in the wood, overnight, or for days at a time, I will not deny you."
"My thanks, my king. But my home is here, now."
"I am glad of it. Very glad of it. Life would be much the poorer without you." He sighed and brushed a light kiss over the elf's lips. "It is late. Shall we to bed?"
The seasons passed. They learned each other's likes, the things each other detested. And Éomer learned to sleep with the shutters open, so Haldir could see the stars...
There was strange quality to the light when he awoke, a silent silver-grey whiteness. And it was cold: his breath made a cloud in the air. Beside him Éomer shivered, murmured in his sleep and pulled the cover up to his chin. Haldir slid out of the bed, careful not to disturb the king, and loped to the window, leaning on the edge and gazing out.
The world was white, huge shimmering snowflakes drifting on the wind, softening the angular edges of the wooden buildings. He watched, entranced, smiling to himself at Éomer's curse as the human's feet hit the cold floor. The king struggled into a fur-lined robe and hastened over to the window, shivering, wrapping his arms tightly around the elf.
"God's teeth! How can you not be cold?"
Haldir chuckled.
"We do not feel the cold as you do."
Éomer stepped back for a moment, ignoring the temperature, to admire the lean pale naked body almost glowing against the warm wooden wall, the silvery, near waist-length hair almost the colour of the snow scurrying past outside. The sight had its usual effect on his body: stepping close to Haldir, he slid fur-clad arms around the lean waist, allowed the robe to fall open enough to rub his erection against the elf's backside, and nibbled on the tip of a pointed ear, supporting Haldir as his legs threatened to give way.
"But I do, meleth nin... Will you warm me?"
Haldir glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised in amusement.
"But it is beautiful."
Éomer blinked.
"You must have seen snow before."
"Seen, yes - but no snow falls within the hallowed bounds of 'lórien."
The king smiled.
"Then we must go riding, you and I. You will enjoy it."
"Very well." He twisted to slide his hands under the fur robe to cup Éomer's rear, pulling their bodies together, rocking his hips. "But first, will you allow me to warm you, my king?"
Éomer almost dragged him back to the bed, pulling him under the covers then shedding the heavy robe and wrapping himself around the elf.
"Are you recovered from last night?"
Haldir smirked.
"Quite recovered, mellon nin."
"On your front, then."
Haldir eyed him enquiringly, and Éomer shrugged.
"What would you, then?"
The elf rolled him onto his back then straddled his waist, smiling knowingly as Éomer groaned and raised his hips. This way Haldir could control their movements - and took great pleasure in doing so, leaving the human drained and limp but nevertheless glowing with well-being and contentment. The king's hands twined in the soft silvery hair as the elf positioned himself then sank down unbearably slowly, taking Éomer inch by inch into himself, deep blue gaze intent on the human's face, relishing the parted lips, the eyes half-closed in rapture...
It was an hour before he allowed the king to climax. Éomer cursed and declared he would be unable to do anything today, all the while grinning broadly at his elf as now-skilled hands flipped Haldir onto his back and began to play, slowly, teasingly, until Haldir was quivering, whimpering for release.
At which Éomer slid down and took the elf into his mouth...
The king had proved an adroit student in such matters, Haldir thought vaguely as the lights behind his eyes faded and he returned to himself, wrapped tightly in Éomer's arms as the human ravished his mouth.
Duty be damned. They could afford one day's respite.
Éomer frowned at the dripping, snow-drenched elf, telling himself not to be annoyed, Haldir wasn't to know the snow hid a thin sheet of ice that itself hid a tarn. The horse had plunged through, throwing Haldir into the icy water and cutting short their planned ride.
"Bath. Now."
"Éomer..."
"Master Elf, proof against freezing you may be, but I have no intention of testing the notion. Besides, I am freezing. I would consider it a favour if you would accompany me to the bath."
"Oh very well." Haldir scowled, angry and mortified. Thrown by a horse? The humiliation... At least the king hadn't laughed at him. Éomer wrapped an arm around his waist.
"There's no shame in it. You have spent most of your days in the Golden Wood. Not much use for horses amongst the trees. And you weren't to know the pool was there."
Somewhat mollified, the elf allowed the king to lead him to the bathing chamber, where a tub of steaming water stood waiting for them. Stripping off the sodden clothing, Haldir climbed in quickly. He'd never admit it, but the heat was most welcome. He may be more resilient, more resistant to the cold than a human - but that didn't mean he enjoyed it.
Éomer joined him moments later, snaking an arm around his waist and pulling him close. He'd never admit it, but the sight of the dripping elf, his soaked clothing clinging tightly to his body, snow frosting his silvery hair, had been suddenly and intensely arousing. His hand dropped to Haldir's thigh, stroking the smooth skin for a second or two then moving to cup the hardening flesh between his legs. The elf moaned quietly, his own hand slipping between Éomer's thighs to tease and fondle.
Éomer dragged Haldir onto his lap, with the elf's languid co-operation easing his way into the still-cool body then pulling his lover back against him, nipping at a broad shoulder as his hands slid around the lean waist to caress Haldir's groin. With a strangled gasp and a jerk that splashed the water out onto the wooden platform, the elf bucked forwards into the king's hands, then back, impaling himself deeply on the solid flesh filling him...
Éomer nibbled on a pointed eartip, chuckling soundlessly as Haldir, still in his lap, shivered against him.
"You are warmer now."
Haldir's voice was dry.
"Indeed, Éomer. It would be very difficult to remain cold under your ministrations. I trust you also are more comfortable?"
Éomer reached between their bodies to adjust himself, then briefly stroked the elf's abdomen.
"Very much. My thanks, Master Elf."
"You are most welcome, Éomer King." He stirred reluctantly. "However, the water cools, and there are, no doubt, a few urgent matters requiring your attention. We should, perhaps, get out."
Heaving a melodramatic sigh, Éomer lifted the elf from his lap and rose to his feet, pulling Haldir with him.
"Alas, it is true." He paused for a moment, eyeing his companion, struck as always by the depth of feeling in the lovely eyes, and very gently stroked Haldir's face. "Thank you, Haldir."
A dark eyebrow rose.
"For what?"
Éomer swallowed, dangerously close to weeping.
"For coming back to me."
Haldir's lips parted, his eyes wide and fond.
"My king, I..." He halted, then leaned forward to kiss Éomer, gently, lovingly, a lifetime's worth of feeling in the caress. Éomer pulled him close, holding him protectively.
"I will never leave you, meleth nin."
And Haldir quivered, melting into the embrace.
© 2004 November 17th Joules Taylor
© 2004 WaveWrights
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