Little Birds pt 4

"I'm so glad to see you!"
       Feldag stood at the horse's shoulder, beaming as Wren - with markedly more grace than before she'd left - slid from his back.
      "And I you!" the half-elf pulled her friend into a quick hug, then stood back to smile into pale eyes. "I have much to tell, though later. I must thank Haldir and Silindë first."
      The shield maiden waited with less than perfect patience as Wren put her arms about Avása's smoky-grey neck, whispering her thanks to her mount before surrendering him to the care of an ostler. She turned then to speak with the elves but before she had a chance to say aught the broad figure of Éomer King could be seen hurrying from the Meduseld. Well, perhaps not hurrying, that implied an undignified haste, but there was a buoyant eagerness to his gait as he strode towards the returned travellers.
      With a beaming smile the king of the Rohirrim welcomed the three of them home, embracing both his advisor and the counsellor with an affection that brought a lump to Wren's throat. He sobered then, blue eyes darkening, and requested private speech with the elves. Feldag stepped forward, and bowing her head to her King said she would be happy to see to Mistress Wren's needs. Éomer nodded his thanks, and the shield maiden touched her fingers to the half-elf's elbow, indicating she should follow. Wren farewelled her travelling companions, and the King, with a few musical words in the elvish language then allowed her friend to lead her to the bathing room.
      As they walked the short distance Feldag silently observed the changes wrought in the half-elf. Wren appeared to be less hesitant in her manner, she stood straighter and with more poise than before. She… moved differently as well, as if her feet barely had contact with the ground. She was - Feldag realised with a start - more elf-like than ever…

"That is beautiful!" Feldag ran her gaze along the gently intersected curves of the bright metal jewellery Wren wore about her neck. The half-elf paused in her disrobing to smile, though it was a sad, subdued expression.
      "It belonged to my sire."
      Feldag bit her lip.
      "You met your kin?"
      "The two that remain, yes." Wren set aside the last of her clothes then stepped down into the large wooden tub. "My grandmother and uncle."
      "And… how did you find them?" the shield maiden's curiosity was tempered by hesitation: perhaps the meeting had not gone well?
      The half-elf sank up to her shoulders in the steaming water, leaning back against the side of the tub with a small sigh of contentment.
      "I was quickly at ease with them," Wren closed her eyes, relaxing into the warmth. "And they with me, I think. They were pleased to make me welcome in any case."
      Feldag slipped out of her own clothing and climbed into the tub, settling herself beside her friend on the wooden shelf that circled the bath's interior.
      "Would you see them again?"
      Eyes still closed, Wren shook her head.
      "Not in this land. They were planning to take ship to Valinor once I'd left Lothlórien." The half-elf smiled to herself. "I was glad to have met them, though, glad to have their acceptance."
      "Will you be following them?"
      Wren opened her eyes to gaze long at the shield maiden.
      "I don't think so," she replied, answering the unvoiced apprehension. "Not for many, many years, anyway."
      Feldag's relief was evident in her smile though Wren could see the human was trying not to let it be seen.
       "So I have the pleasure of your company for a little while longer?"
      Wren laughed.
      "As long as you wish, my friend."
      "Good." Feldag, eyed the half-elf's hair closely and reached for one of the small buckets that were handy to the bath. "Now with your permission I'll help you rid yourself of the dust of travel…"

Wren found out about Vëassë's difficulties the next morning. Feldag glared at the younger shield maiden who'd let slip the gossip after training, then drew the surprisingly distressed half-elf away to a quiet corner of the courtyard.
      "Wren?" she clasped the girl's shaking hands. "What troubles you?"
      "Was… was Vëassë… hurt?"
      Feldag frowned, she'd not have reacted so to the tidings of an adversary's misfortune but then she had not Wren's gentle nature.
      "No, my sire intervened before things went too far. The elf was upset, naturally, but suffered no lasting harm."
      Wren forced herself to calm.
      "Glad I am to hear of it," she murmured. "I would not wish on anyone that which befell me." Feldag's sharply indrawn breath alerted the half-elf to her unguarded speech.
      "What?" the shield maiden hissed, shocked.
      Wren bit her lip.
      "It… it was many years ago, Feldag," she hastened to reassure her friend. "And I consented - after a fashion."
      "'After a fashion'? Gods above, Wren, what does that mean?"
      The half-elf coloured with remembered shame and looked hard at the ground.
      "It was a lone man, very drunk, very insistent." Wren's voice tightened. "He would not hear my protests so I… allowed it lest he hurt me."
      Feldag gaped then she growled, deep in her throat.
      "That is not consent, Wren!"
      The half-elf still would not lift her head. Feldag sighed and pulled the girl gently to her, resting the dark head against her shoulder. The shield maiden could feel the fine tremors running through her friend's slender frame.
      "No wonder then, that the elf's attentions frightened you." She brushed a kiss over Wren's forehead. "I will not speak of this with anyone, never fear." Feldag barely heard the thanks whispered in reply. She hugged the half-elf, tightly. "Would you speak with Master Vëassë?"
      Wren paused, then shook her head.
      "There is naught I could say to help. We are not friends and… I would imagine he would simply want to put the episode behind him."
      Was she speaking from experience, Feldag wondered?
      Wren gently disentangled herself from the shield maiden, finally raising her eyes and gracing her friend with a small smile.
      "I must away to the stables now but will you eat with me at midday?"
      "Of course!" Feldag grinned, "You still haven't told me all of your journey!"

The king was nervous, that much was patently obvious. Yet everything appeared calm: there were no signs of any problems within Edoras...
      Éomer didn't believe in dissembling. He eyed Silindë, his expression partly apologetic, partly shamefaced.
      "Master Silindë, I regret I must tell you about Vëassë..."
      Silindë groaned and covered his eyes with his hand.
      "What has he done now?"
      The human shook his head.
      "Nay, Master Elf, he has done nothing wrong - indeed, his behaviour has been exemplary..."
      Silindë's expression hardened.
      "Then what is the problem?"
      "The youths who were training with him... He... was attacked..."
      Silindë stared, then glowered at the king.
      "Where is he?"
      "In your rooms. Master Elf..."
      But Silindë wasn't listening: turning on his heel he strode out of the chamber, hastening towards the guest lodging. Haldir laid a hand on Éomer's shoulder as the king made to follow.
      "Calmly, meleth. What has happened?"
      Pacing, Éomer told his lover the sorry tale. At the end Haldir sighed.
      "I should have foreseen it."
      Éomer halted and stared at him.
      "How could you have foreseen such a thing?"
      The elf shrugged.
      "Vëassë is beautiful. I know the jealousy such beauty can cause. And we had said his life here was to be... unprivileged. There are always those who will take advantage of such a situation."
      "But to go to such lengths!"
      Haldir nodded, eyes bright with anger.
      "'tis as well the Captain interrupted when he did, or there would be blood spilled."
      Éomer swallowed.
      "The miscreants have been punished - but if you and Silindë do not consider that enough..."
      "That will be Silindë's choice to make."
      "I do not want anyone killed."
      Haldir inclined his head.
      "I do not think it will come to that..."

Silindë burst through the door, leaving it to slam behind him. Vëassë, who'd been reading at the table, jumped up from his seat, paling noticeably - then slumped as he realised who had entered.
      "Silindë..." He assayed a smile."Was your trip pleasant?"
      "What did they do?"
       The younger elf licked dry lips apprehensively, managing to shrug.
      "'twas nothing, brother. A... misunderstanding..."
      Silindë stared at him accusingly.
       "A misunderstanding? You were attacked!"
      "Aye, but not hurt. Well, not much. And Captain Aeldig happened along in good time..."
      Vëassë was shaking, Silindë could see. Taking a deep breath to calm himself a little, he drew the younger elf into his arms, stroking the silver hair.
      "Come, pen neth - tell me what happened."
      "... 'twas naught... 'tis over and done with and I was not hurt..."
      The counsellor led Vëassë over to one of the beds, sitting on the edge and pulling his brother down with him, still holding him close and aware, from the tension in the slim body, that Vëassë was still very much distressed. For a few minutes they simply sat, Silindë rocking very slightly, comfortingly. Then he realised that his brother was fighting not to give in to tears. Forcing down his own anger, he nuzzled the silky hair.
      "'tis no dishonour to weep."
      Vëassë shook his head.
      "I have wasted tears enough on this matter."
      Frowning, Silindë pulled back far enough to gaze down into the big, tear-filled eyes.
      "But not with me."
      Vëassë stared at him for a few seconds, then buried his head in his brother's chest and sobbed...

Éomer eyed Haldir for a moment, then sighed and pulled him close.
      "Worried as I have been about the elf, I cannot deny that I have missed you, meleth nin." He kissed the advisor, lips hungry against smooth skin, aroused, erection pressing against Haldir's hip. The elf was passive, allowing the intimacy but not returning it, and after a few moments the human pulled back, frowning.
      "What is wrong?"
      Haldir's shoulders sagged.
      "My brothers are lost to me."
      Éomer stared for a second, then tightened his grip.
      "I am sorry. I did not mean to keep you here..."
      Haldir shook his head.
      "It is not your fault. They... departed while I was yet dead."
      "... Do you wish to grieve? I will understand..."
      Rich blue eyes gazed forlornly into sky-blue.
      "I wish to reaffirm life... I have missed you, also."
      Éomer stroked his elf's face with calloused fingertips.
      "But Silindë was with you. That surely must have helped."
      "It did."
      "I'm glad." He managed to say it without the least hint of jealousy showing in his voice. "Will you... what would you, now? Do you wish to bathe?"
      "Yes... will you join me?"
      Éomer smiled, relieved.
      "I would like that."

Haldir was subdued, uncharacteristically quiet, Éomer thought as they settled into the steaming water. The elf's eyes were shadowed: the king took his hand.
      "If you would prefer it, we need not..."
      Haldir eyed him, then shook his head.
      "I have missed you. And 'tis quite obvious you have missed me too." He shifted to straddle the king's lap, arms wrapped around the broad shoulders. "Forgive me my lack of vigour."
      Sighing, Éomer moved forwards slightly as Haldir raised himself. Sliding smoothly into the elf, Éomer tensed, striving for self-control. It had been so long...
       Holding Haldir close as he drove up into the warm, strong body, the king was gratified and comforted to feel the elf responding, his own arousal growing. He wrapped a hand around the hardness at the advisor's groin, and Haldir sighed and rested his forehead on the king's shoulder, eyes closing. Éomer kissed then suckled at an elegant eartip, grinning to himself at the sudden indrawn gasp as Haldir shivered and came, clenching muscle driving the king to his own too-early climax.
      "I am sorry."
      Éomer frowned.
      "For what?"
      The elf's forehead was still on his shoulder, voice muffled.
      "For my haste - which spurred your haste."
      Éomer sighed and nuzzled the silvery hair.
      "I was overeager, Master Elf. As I said, I have missed you. By the time we are dried and returned to our rooms, no doubt I will be recovered, and can show you how much you are... appreciated. If you wish it, that is."
      He felt Haldir's smile against his skin.
      "Of course, sire."
      Éomer chuckled quietly.
      "Then if you are ready, shall we proceed?"

Vëassë dragged himself back from his brother, swiping a hand irritably over his eyes.
      "I'm sorry. I did not mean to be so weak."
      Silindë's eyes widened, and he cupped the younger elf's face in slender hands.
      "Vëassë, what they attempted is tantamount to slow murder. This is not weak. This is expected."
      Vëassë lowered his head.
      "I believe I have learned my lesson, muindor. May we go home?"
      The counsellor stared, almost tempted to say no - but Vëassë was so despondent... it was genuine, too, he could tell. He sighed and nodded, thinking regretfully of Haldir.
      "Of course. Give me three days to recover, and allow the horses to rest, and we will leave."
      Vëassë slumped, head in his hands, breathing a shuddering sigh as the tension left his body.
      "Thank you..."

Haldir tried hard to keep his face expressionless - but Silindë saw the pain in his eyes. Torn, he pulled the advisor into his arms, his voice a choked whisper.
      "I'm so sorry, meleth nin."
      Haldir shook his head. It was unfair of him to react so. He knew Silindë wanted to go home. And he had Éomer: Silindë had no-one. But oh, he was going to miss the Lasgalen elf deeply.
      He forced a smile and brushed cool fingertips over the counsellor's face.
      "Eryn Lasgalen is not so far... Perhaps I may visit."
      "As may I, meleth."
      Both knew it was unlikely to happen.
      "When must you go?"
      "In three days."
      Haldir nodded.
      "Then we still have three days."
      Silindë pulled back a little, cupping the advisor's face in long hands.
      "Let us enjoy them..."

Éomer had been dismayed to hear of their visitor's imminent departure, not for himself, but for Haldir. His elf had been more relaxed, much less tense, since Silindë had come into their lives. Of course, Wren was now here with them, he'd have some elven company, if not his lover - as long as Wren wasn't leaving with the Lasgalen elves, that is... He spoke quietly to Silindë the day before his departure, asking about the peredhil: the counsellor had shaken his head.
      "I have not asked her. I do not think she is ready."
      Éomer's eyebrows rose.
      "Not ready?"
      The elf inclined his head.
      "She is still very young, and she likes it here, is comfortable, has friends. Maybe in a few years, when she wishes to grow a little..."
      The king nodded.
      "And she will be company for Haldir when you are gone."
      Silindë sighed, then smiled sadly.
      "I trust to you to care for Haldir. He has known much unhappiness. I would have him suffer no more."
      Éomer blinked, then coloured slightly.
      "You love him, don't you?"
      Silindë lowered his eyes.
      "My feelings are not important. His heart is in your keeping. Guard it well, I beg of you."
      Éomer bowed his head.
      "I could do no less. I love him."
      Silindë touched his fingertips to the king's face, his eyes sad.
      "I am glad. He deserves to be loved."

Their last three days had been pleasant, if subdued, with Silindë spending the nights with Haldir and Éomer. On the fourth morning Silindë and Vëassë departed: their leavetaking was sombre and reluctant, at least on the counsellor's part, and Vëassë was courteous enough not to hurry his brother. He'd bowed to Éomer, hand over his heart and expression solemn.
      "You have my thanks, Éomer King. My time here has served its purpose - if not quite in the way I'd expected. I have learned much."
      Éomer winced infinitesimally.
      "I regret it was at such a cost."
      Vëassë smiled slightly.
      "It may be that a lesser price would not have fixed the lesson so well."
      Éomer stared, then bowed his head.
      "You are very generous, Master Vëassë. Are we forgiven?"
      "If you feel there is something to forgive, then yes - you are forgiven." The younger elf shrugged. "And perhaps in future we may meet again, under more pleasant circumstances."
      Éomer smiled.
      "I'd like that. In the meantime - ride well and safely, Master Elf."
      Vëassë inclined his head, then swung himself up onto Avása. Silindë, who had been speaking quietly with Haldir, glanced at his brother and sighed.
      "It is time to go." He eyed the advisor for a moment, then pulled him into a hug. Haldir could feel his arms trembling.
      "I will miss you, meleth."
      "As I will miss you. But we will meet again."
      "Be sure of it..." Silindë kissed him, deeply and slowly, pulling back reluctantly and turning to Éomer, repeating the action as the king embraced him tightly. Then, with one last gentle kiss to Haldir, Silindë mounted Hwesta and set his face to the north...

Summer rolled over Rohan, hot and dry, saved from being unbearable by mountain-cooled winds. Silindë and Vëassë left long before the onset of autumn and Wren was sad to see them go. Silindë especially: he'd been kind to the peredhil, helping her understand her elvish heritage and after their extended journey together she considered him a friend. Though Wren supposed her sadness was no match for Haldir's. Éomer King's advisor sorely missed the company of the two elves, even Vëassë, and at rare times Wren caught a lost and lonely look in Haldir's dark-blue eyes.
      With Wren's consent the Lothlórien elf took over her tutelage, an association that benefited them both. Haldir continued her education in the elvish languages, and more. Whereas Silindë had had the history of the Firstborn at his fingertips, as a warrior and former Marchwarden, Haldir's knowledge was more practical. He taught the peredhil basic woodscraft - hunting, foraging, tracking and trailing - skills she'd never had much use for living as she did within or near settlements. Under Haldir's instruction Wren learnt to move silently and swiftly and honed the one skill she had been using instinctively over the years, that of being able to melt from sight when necessary. Wren also discovered she could use a bow and arrow with greater ease and efficiency than a sword, much to Feldag's chagrin - and she discovered the joy to be had from climbing trees.
      The peredhil had never had much to do with trees, or forests, in her sojourns amongst the humans - after all, Men generally perceived trees as nothing more than firewood or lumber - but Haldir had opened her eyes.
       On their first time inadvertently spent overnight in the nearby forest, the 'lórien elf had shown Wren how to commune with the trees, and so lost in wonder had the girl been hours had passed before she came to her senses. Wren blinked, regretfully peeling herself away from the old oak she was snuggled against.
      "Good morrow, Cirince." Haldir was at ease beside a small fire; he smiled at the disoriented girl.
      "I… slept?" she rubbed absently at the marks of the tree bark pressed deep into her cheek, then gasped, hands flying to her mouth as the meaning of his words struck her. "We've been here all night?"
      "Indeed."
      "But…" the half-elf coloured. "What will be said? It is not… seemly for me to… to…"
      Haldir appeared amused.
      "Be alone with me overnight?" He shrugged a broad shoulder. "It is no one's business."
      Wren clamped her jaw shut. That was all very well for him to say, he wouldn't be the one parrying the questions of the shield maidens.
      Haldir tilted his head to one side.
      "How do you feel?"
      "I feel…" Wren laughed suddenly, spreading her arms wide, dark eyes sparkling. "Wonderful!"
      The 'lórien elf regarded her for a moment, then smiled.
      "Come, let us break our fast, then we had best return to Edoras…"

Feldag's fair brows had climbed almost to her hair when Wren hurriedly blurted out her reasons for not attending the morning's training.
      "With Master Haldir?" the shield maiden stared. "All night?"
      Wren nodded, hands twisted together anxiously as she awaited her friend's reaction. It wasn't - quite - as she expected. Though there was none nearby to overhear the shield maiden leaned towards the half-elf, lowering her voice to a whisper. Feldag's tongue tip flicked out to wet her bottom lip and there was a most peculiar light in her pale-blue eyes.
      "And? What transpired?"
      "What do you mean?"
      Feldag huffed impatiently.
      "Do I have to spell it out? Were you…" she lowered her voice further, "…intimate?"
      It was Wren's turn to stare.
      "No!" The half-elf was profoundly shocked. "I would not, he would not…! Why would you think such a thing?"
      Feldag self-consciously folded her arms across her breast though her grin was rather sly.
      "Why not? The elf is comely -"
      "And honourable, and true to the King!" Wren hissed, thinking it prudent not to mention Silindë.
      Feldag faltered in the face of the half-elf's vehemence.
      "Forgive me, Wren," she smiled apologetically, "I was… hasty."
      "That is not the word I would use." Wren grumbled, then she chuckled, eyeing her friend. "Perhaps you are anticipating your marriage too well?"
      The shield maiden flushed darkly but she also laughed.
      "Perhaps I am. I only hope the reality of what I anticipate can live up to my imagination!"

As it was that wasn't the only time Wren spent the night outside Edoras in Haldir's company but Feldag, and the other shield maidens for that matter, quickly discovered there was no point harassing the half-elf for sordid details as there were none to be had.

Feldag was married at the beginning of Autumn, to Leyulf, her sire's patrol second. Wren had thought the younger male overly brusque in her infrequent dealings with him but that sharpness was not in evidence when he was with Feldag. As she'd promised, Wren was at the shield maiden's side when, before the assembled court, Éomer King had placed Feldag's hand within that of her husband and pronounced them joined. The ensuing feast lasted through the afternoon and well into the night and had taken a good deal more planning than the ceremony itself. As part of her role for the day, Wren attended the new couple during the celebrations, making sure they had the best of the food and that their goblets were always full. The half-elf was gratified to see signs of Feldag's happiness mirrored on her new husband's face; it boded well for the marriage, she thought. Wren's last duty of the day was to accompany Feldag to her father's house, into the chamber specially prepared, and wait with her friend until Leyulf came to claim his bride.
It wasn't a long wait, barely time for the pair to exchange a brief embrace, and for Wren to whisper her congratulations and wishes for a fortunate life before Leyulf arrived. With a grin, the half-elf excused herself and left the couple alone…

Éomer's eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
      "I am sorry, Haldir."
      The elf smiled carefully.
      "Meleth nin, I always knew this day would come."
      The Rohirrim accepted Haldir as their King's advisor and lover, but over the last few months there had been rumblings... The people wanted to be assured that their king would have an heir to continue the line. Éomer had extemporised, but he knew - and Haldir had said on several occasions - that he would have to take a wife, sire children... He just hadn't thought it would happen so soon.
      Prince Imrahil had a daughter, a lovely creature, strong and happy and true. Lothíriel, her name was, the flower-garlanded maiden of Dol Amroth. Prince Imrahil, it was said, could claim elvish blood...
      As the year ended, the snow lying deep on the ground outside the walls of Edoras, Éomer took Lothíriel to be his queen. Haldir, his heart aching within him, stood at the back of the Golden Hall and watched as King Aragorn joined Éomer King and Lothíriel of Dol Amroth...

"Master Haldir?"
      The elf looked up from the parchment he was reading - then rose gracefully to his feet and bowed, hand over his heart, to the queen. Lothíriel smiled graciously and gestured to the chair.
      "Please, no ceremony, Master Haldir. You are almost part of the family."
      Almost? He managed a tight smile.
      "To what do I owe this honour, highness?"
      She seated herself opposite and regarded him from solemn dark eyes.
      "I wished to ask you how you see the... situation proceeding. As regards yourself and his majesty, I mean."
      Haldir frowned slightly. She'd wed Éomer a week ago, and he'd hardly seen the king since then.
      "In what way, highness?"
      "Well," she waved a hand almost negligently, "I know, of course, that you and he were... intimate. And I thank you for seeing to his comfort for so long. But... It is perhaps not seemly for the intimacy to continue. Now that he is wed."
      With difficulty Haldir kept his expression impassive, anger and misery vying for mastery in his heart. 'Seeing to his comfort'. As would a servant. He carefully folded his hands and regarded her from half-closed wary eyes.
      "Has his majesty spoken on the subject?"
      She waved dismissively.
      "Not yet. I had thought to speak with you, first."
      The elf nodded.
      "I see. Then perhaps, highness, you should speak with Éomer King."
      Lothíriel frowned, then managed a humourless smile.
      "It might be best. Thank you for your time, Master Elf."

Haldir was preoccupied, but nevertheless glanced up at the slight sound, to find Éomer gazing down at him.
      "May I join you, meleth?"
      The elf blinked.
      "Why do you feel the need to ask?"
      Éomer stripped and slid into the almost-hot water, leaning back with a sigh then gazing at his advisor.
      "I haven't seen you for eight days."
      Haldir inclined his head.
      "You are newly wed. I thought to stay out of your way for a spell."
      Éomer laid a hand on the pale broad shoulder.
      "Most considerate of you! But I have missed you."
      Had Lothíriel spoken to him? It would appear not. Haldir wondered quite how to approach the matter, but before he could order his thoughts Éomer had moved to settle against him, one hand caressing his thigh, the other sliding around the nape of his neck to pull him into a kiss...
      Haldir melted, allowing the king to drag him onto the royal lap, kissing him deeply as Éomer eased into his body... the elf gasped quietly and came almost immediately, back arched and eyes closed. Éomer chuckled and pulled him close, thrusting up into the muscular body above him for long minutes before climaxing with a long satisfied sigh.
      "I've missed you."
      Haldir kissed his cheek.
      "And I have missed you. But you have a queen now. Lothíriel must be your main concern."
      Éomer grinned.
      "Thank you for being so understanding." The smile faded. "I wish you could teach her to be likewise..."
      Haldir hesitated, then cupped the king's face in his hands.
      "Meleth, she is your queen. She believes herself the most important person in your life - and with good reason. She will be the mother of your children, she will rule with you. I am... I am not important in her eyes."
      "But you are in mine." Éomer's face assumed a stubborn cast. "And she must learn to live with it."
      Haldir shook his head.
      "I do not wish to be seen as a threat, meleth. Now, I am an inconvenience, nothing more. But if you force her to see me in a different light... It could be most unpleasant for us all."
      "She would not dare!"
      He shrugged, lowering his eyes.
      "Who among us would not fight to preserve that which is dear to us?"
      Éomer's eyes were bright, his hands on his elf's shoulders unconsciously gripping more tightly.
      "But... I can't lose you, Haldir!"
      The advisor smiled sadly.
      "You will not. I will still be here."
      "But not where I want you!" He rubbed a hand over his face, chewing on his lower lip. "Well, perhaps all will settle down, and she will grow accustomed to you."
      And orcs will grow wings... Haldir kissed the human, knowing already that his sojourn here was ending.

The half-elf was better able to tolerate the cold than most humans but even so Wren was content to stay indoors as much as possible during Rohan's bleak winter. It was a quiet, watchful time of the year for the Rohirrim as life in Edoras slowed under a blanket of snow. Not that there was nothing to be done. Wren's help was needed in the stables, mending tack and making repairs to the stalls, extra chores that had to be seen to before the busy foaling season began.
Feldag appeared to be settling happily in to her marriage and Wren was finding some of their conversations quite instructive. Sometimes the shield maiden's descriptions of the more personal aspects of her union with Leyulf sent odd flutters through the half-elf's belly and she found herself wondering... Wren received more than her fair share of questing looks from the younger Riders though none seemed to have the courage to approach her. The girl suspected it was the threat of Aeldig's wrath that kept potential suitors at bay, and to be honest she felt wonderfully secure under the Captain's protection.

Time passed. Winter turned into spring, and Éomer's time was taken up with matters of the realm - and with his queen's attentions. Haldir forced himself to step into the background, watching with a sinking heart as Lothíriel grew in the affection of the Rohirrim as he had never done - with good reason, he knew. She was human, one of their own, and a woman. They could be at ease with her as they never could be with an elf.
With him the queen was coolly reserved: Haldir suspected that Éomer had told her more about their intimacy than had been strictly wise. But then, Éomer was open-hearted and did not like subterfuge... Lothíriel was always courteous, but Haldir sometimes thought he could see triumph in her dark eyes when she spoke to him, when she took the king's arm, when she kissed her husband.
Haldir tried not to think of it, but he was so lonely...

Éomer came to him early one spring evening as he stood gazing northwards from outside the Golden Hall, sliding strong arms around the elf's body from behind and holding him close, lips gentle on the tip of a pointed ear.
      "The queen is busy for now. May we go to your rooms?"
      Haldir shivered, feeling his legs weaken - then closed his eyes with a silent sob, misery coursing through him. This was all he could look forward to, snatched moments with the human for whom he lived, for whom he'd returned to life. He twisted in Éomer's arms, clinging to the human even as he knew he had to leave. To stay would break his heart.
      To leave may well do the same.

There was a desperate quality to his lovemaking, and afterwards Éomer lay beside him, one hand stroking the smooth pale skin of his chest, frowning into hooded rich blue eyes.
      "What is wrong, meleth?"
      Haldir turned to him, tempted for a moment to tell him the truth. But that would be unkind. He forced a faint smile.
      "You are happy, are you not?"
      Éomer inclined his head.
      "I could wish to see more of you - wish to have you share our life - but otherwise yes, I am happy."
      "That pleases me." He paused for a moment, then stroked Éomer's face. "Meleth, I believe I shall need to leave Edoras."
      Éomer paled, eyes widening.
      "But... why? Are you not happy here?" His eyes narrowed. "You aren't happy, are you?"
      Haldir laid elegant fingers over his lips.
      "Your life has changed, meleth. We knew that it would. I can no longer be a part of it."
      Éomer stared at the elf helplessly, and Haldir gazed back, seeing the child he had first met long years ago in Lothlórien overlaid on the much-loved features of his king. There were, he realised with sudden pain, new lines faintly-etched by time and care around the summer-sky eyes...
      "But I love you!" There were tears on Éomer's face. "I always have, and I always will!"
      Haldir pulled him down, cradling the king tightly against his warmth, heart aching at being the cause of grief.
      "As do I, my king."
      "Don't go. Please."
      "I must." He swallowed, feeling the dampness of tears on his own face. "You know that I must."
      "... I will miss you with all my heart..."
      Haldir smiled through his tears.
      "Not all, meleth. Your heart belongs to your queen, now." And mine belongs to you, he added silently.
      "Where will you go?"
      It really didn't matter, he would grieve wherever he went... "Lothlórien, perhaps. Or maybe Eryn Lasgalen..." Celeborn had journeyed there, after the Lady Galadriel has taken ship to the Undying Lands. And perhaps Silindë still lived in the woodland realm...
      "When?"
      The sooner the better... "In the summer, I think, my king."
      Éomer relaxed a little. Maybe he could persuade his elf to change his mind in the meantime... A faint hope, he knew in his heart that Lothíriel would never be reconciled to sharing her king with another - especially Haldir...
      "... will I see you again?"
      Haldir sighed and stroked the summer-coloured shaggy hair tickling his face.
      "I do not know."
      Éomer wept.

Wren was tired but blissfully happy. All at once it seemed the mares of Rohan had decided to foal together in the first few days of Spring and the half-elf was kept busy in the stables. Her presence wasn't strictly necessary, foals had been successfully born in Edoras for years without her help, but no one thought to exclude her. The girl was hard-working and efficient, and she gained such joy from welcoming the little ones into the world it would have been tantamount to cruelty to keep her away.
      The half-elf smoothed the roan's quivering flank as the mare strained to deliver her foal.
       "Fine big one here, my Lord," the smeary groom grinned up at Aeldig.
       "Given the sire I'd expect no less." The captain frowned. "Is she in difficulty?"
      "No, my Lord," the groom chuckled, "she needs must work a little harder this time is all. It won't be long now."
      The elder's experience proved true and within a few minutes Wren was grinning happily at the long-legged bay filly unsteadily finding her feet.
      "Oh, she's beautiful, my Lord!" the half-elf beamed, wiping down the foal's damp coat with a handful of clean straw.
       "I'm pleased you think so, Mistress," Aeldig chuckled, "as she's yours."
       Wren's eyes became very round and bright.
       "Truly?"
       "Aye, truly, lass. You've more than earned your own mount."
      "Oh…" Wren gently ruffled the filly's dark tufted mane. "I've always wanted a horse of my own…"
      "And there'll be all the tack you need when she's old enough."
       The half-elf smiled diffidently at the Captain.
       "I'm most grateful for your generosity, my Lord, but I'd like to train her in the manner of the elves. We'll have no need for the tack."
      Both groom and Captain's eyebrows lifted at the outlandish notion but Aeldig merely smiled and shook his head.
      "As you wish, lass. And now I'll bid you goodnight." The Rider turned to leave. "Make sure you get some sleep, Mistress Wren."
       "I will…" Wren murmured, her attention on the nursing foal. She stroked her hand over the filly's now dry coat, relishing the velvetiness and the soft colour. "What will be your name, pen neth?" The half-elf switched to Sindarin with the half-formed thought of accustoming the filly to that language. She glanced up, realising the light of dawn was creeping in through the stable's high window, and smiled.
      "Arinya. I will call you Arinya…"

Thranduil hadn't been best pleased, but admitted that the counsellor was the best person to send with the riders to trade for new horses for the woodland realm. After all, he knew Éomer King, and his warriors, was familiar with the terrain of Rohan.
      Silindë couldn't decide whether to be dismayed or delighted when he was ordered to accompany Rostfein and Tálgwelen to Edoras. It would be wonderful to see Haldir again - or so he hoped. But what if his erstwhile lover no longer felt the same?
      Vëassë had eyed his brother with some amusement.
      "He will. He'll be overjoyed to see you again."
      Silindë had bitten his lip worriedly.
      "I hope and trust that that is so..."
      The younger elf slid from the branch on which he had been sprawled and hugged his brother hard.
      "How could he not? His feelings for you were clear when we left."
      Silindë smiled ruefully.
      "I thought you were too eager to depart for you to notice anything around you."
      Vëassë inclined his head.
      "Don't try to change the subject. It had been years since you'd been so happy, and I doubt that was Cirince's doing." He lowered his eyes guiltily. "And I was selfish enough to insist on our leaving, when you clearly wanted to stay."
      Silindë shook his head.
      "Haldir's heart belongs to the king."
      Vëassë smirked.
      "Part of it belongs to you."
      "It does not. He is true and loyal."
      "And you are of his kind. There was love in his eyes when he looked at you."
      Silindë tried to laugh.
      "Brat. How would you know?"
      The younger elf shrugged.
      "It was obvious to me."
      "You are mistaken."... please do not be mistaken...
      Vëassë raised his hands in defeat.
      "If you insist, muindor. I wish you joy of the trip, nonetheless."
      "You do not wish to come with me?"
      The younger elf shuddered delicately.
      "No, thank you... I would still prefer to avoid humans."
      Silindë sighed, but nodded.
      "Very well. I will return soon."
      Vëassë grinned.
      "Do not hurry back..."

It had been a pleasant, if occasionally wet, journey from Eryn Lasgalen, but as they neared Edoras Silindë began to grow nervous. Rostfein smirked at him.
      "So who is it you're afraid to meet? An old lover? Or an enemy?"
      Silindë eyed his old friend wryly.
      "And of course there can be no middle ground for you..."
      Rostfein grinned.
      "You haven't answered my question."
      The counsellor sighed.
      "Haldir."
      The warrior stared.
      "He who came back from Mandos? But... is he not the King's lover?"
      "Yes. And was mine also, for a time."
      "And you wish it so again..." Rostfein's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Is that wise?"
      "No. But I cannot but hope for it, all the same."
      Rostfein nodded sagely.
      "Ah. 'tis love, then. Is it returned?"
      "I do not know."
      "And hence your anxiety. Can we help?"
      Valar forbid! thought Silindë to himself, remembering the last time Rostfein and his sister had 'helped' the lovelorn. He shook his head.
      "My thanks, but this I must settle myself. By myself."
      Rostfein shrugged.
      "Very well. But be assured, if you need assistance..."
      "I will not forget."
      Tálgwelen halted his horse and pointed. Across the plain a bright goldenness gleamed under the sun.
      "Is that Edoras?"
      Swallowing, feeling his heart jolt in his chest, Silindë nodded.

"Riders, Captain. Three. From the north."
Aeldig nodded, then strode to the lookout, eyes narrowed as he stared into the distance. Then he smiled and turned on his heel, hastening down to find the king.

"Elves?" Éomer's eyes were bright. Aeldig nodded.
      "Two fair, one dark. And sire? I think one of them is Master Silindë."
      A slow smile spread over the king's face.
      "Don't tell Haldir..."

Haldir rubbed his forehead and laid down the parchment he'd been reading. Trying to read, at any rate: he was tired, and downhearted, and unable to concentrate... he dropped his head into his hands, absently calling out "Enter" at the quiet knock on the door.
      "Meleth?"
      He tensed at the voice, head jerking up, eyes widening at the sight of the figure standing in the doorway.
      "... Silindë?"
      "Haldir..."
      The advisor slowly stood, eyes fixed on Silindë's face. The counsellor's eyes were very bright as he walked slowly towards his lover.
      "Meleth... am I welcome?"
      Haldir stared, his lips parted. Then he slid around the table and pulled the Lasgalen elf into a tight embrace.
      "Silindë... You are most, most welcome..."
      The counsellor drank in his lover's presence, the warmth of him, the leafy fragrance of his silvery hair. Haldir was shaking, and felt... thinner than he had been. It troubled Silindë.
      "I have missed you."
      Haldir kissed his ear very gently.
      "And I have missed you." The 'lórien elf pulled back for a moment, deep blue eyes gazing into rich brown. "I have missed you very much."
      Silindë stroked his cheek.
      "You are unhappy, meleth nin. What has happened?"
      Haldir's head lowered.
      "Éomer King has wed."
      Silindë's eyes closed as he pulled his lover close again, one hand stroking the soft silvery hair.
      "And his queen does not... approve of you..."
      It was as good a description as any. Haldir sighed.
      "We knew it would happen."
      "Which makes it none the easier to bear. Oh Haldir, I am so sorry."
      The advisor nodded, blinking back his tears, then pulled away, gesturing to the table.
      "Please, meleth, be seated. The wine is good. And there is no doubt much you have to tell me."
      "There is." But Silindë was very aware of the quivering tension in Haldir's body. He wondered how long it had been since his lover had had any release. "But if it not displeasing to you, I would like to rest." He glanced over his shoulder towards the wide bed, then back to the advisor, his eyes yearning. Haldir managed to smile.
      "I would join you, if you do not object."
      Silindë raised an eyebrow in gentle mockery.
      "And how should I object?" He kissed Haldir, a fond kiss that rapidly turned hungry as the 'lórien elf trembled against him...

It was perhaps fortunate that Éomer had welcomed Silindë into their intimacy, otherwise Haldir might have felt himself a traitor. As it was, he was slow to rouse, and hesitant, and wept at the end. Silindë held him close, kissing away the tears, distressed and worried, wanting to ask so much but not wishing to hurt his lover any further. But after a while Haldir regained control of himself and folded Silindë into his arms.
      "Forgive me. I seem to lack restraint, these days."
      Silindë carded long fingers through pale hair.
      "There is nothing to forgive."
      Haldir was silent for a moment, then sighed.
      "How long do you stay?"
      "Until the horses are ready for the journey to Lasgalen. The beginning of autumn, perhaps." He kissed the advisor's jaw. "May we spend time together?"
      "I would like that."
      Silindë shifted to rest on an elbow, gazing down at the pale form at his side.
      "Good. Later we will speak of you returning with us."
      Haldir almost, automatically, rejected the notion before remembering that he had already told Éomer he must leave. He eyed his lover sadly.
      "Very well. Later."
      Hiding his sudden, disbelieving joy, Silindë nodded gravely, then sighed.
      "We had best return to the king. I would have you meet my companions."

It was customary for Wren to sing while she wielded pitch-fork and broom in the stables. She'd been hesitant at first but encouraged by the Rohirrim whose duty it also was to clean the stalls, the half-elf frequently sang now while she worked. Westron songs she'd learnt in the village of her birth, or gathered on her travels, and the Elvish refrains Silindë and Haldir had taught her. The sweet lilt of her voice was often heard coming from the stables: the horses didn't object and it helped the work pass more pleasantly.
      Singing heartily and engrossed in the rhythm of her work, it was several moments before Wren realised there were others with her beside the regular grooms. She glanced up, faltering to silence then grinning hugely at the group.
       "Master Silindë!"
        The Lasgalen elf was there, smiling warmly at her, and at his side was Haldir, looking more relaxed and happy than Wren had seen him since the King's marriage.
      "Mae govannen, Cirince. Éomer King told us we might find you here."
       Wren set aside the broom and stepped out of the stall towards them. She laughed, gesturing to her filthy tunic and trews and the scraps of hay tangled in her untidy plait.
      "Forgive my appearance, I would have bathed had I known you were coming."
       With the two elves she knew well were two she knew not at all. The half-elf wasn't quite sure if she'd heard one of them snort disdainfully or not the sound was so soft, but but the briefest of frowns crossed Silindë's face before he smiled again.
      "Let me introduce my companions. This is Rostfein," he motioned towards an imperious-looking elf with luminously pale hair, "and Tálgwelen." The latter's hair was darker than Wren's own, and his hazel eyes were smiling at the peredhil. "We are come from Eryn Lasgalen to acquire horses."
      "There are none finer than here!" Wren declared proudly and Silindë chuckled.
       "Spoken like a true Rohirrim, Cirince." The counsellor inclined his head. "I would appreciate your company for the meal tonight, if you have no other plans?"
      "I would like that very much, Master Silindë," Wren's smile bordered on mischievous. "I will even clean under my nails for the occasion." This comment caused Rostfein to blink before he resumed his hauteur, but Tálgwelen simply smiled along with Silindë. Of the two newcomers, Wren felt she could befriend the dark-haired elf the easier.
      Haldir's lips twitched in amusement.
      "We will see you then, Cirince, and you can tell Silindë all about Arinya." This last was spoken with some exasperation: since the filly's birth Haldir had been fed exquisite details of every nuance of the foal's development. Wren grinned, farewelled the elves then resumed her work.

Silindë sat for a little while, watching Haldir rest, relishing the opportunity to watch his lover at peace...
      It had been a pleasant meal. Rostfein had been, as ever, disparaging about everything non-elvish, until Haldir had reminded him sharply that he was both a guest here and reliant on the goodwill of the Rohirrim to provide the horses that Thranduil desired. It had silenced the elf, at least for the remainder of the evening. Silindë had talked with Cirince - now looking fitting and comely in a gown of rich green with golden embroidery - and been delighted to find her self-confident and happy. It did not escape his notice that Tálgwelen, although he spoke little, had listened to the peredhil with becoming respect and interest. That might cause a little friction later, he thought...
      It also had not escaped his notice that Éomer King had spent much of the meal watching the elves while trying not to seem to do so. And although he knew it was mean-spirited, he could not help but feel a certain satisfaction. He had trusted the king with Haldir's happiness, and the human had failed dismally. Éomer did not deserve the 'lórien elf.
      Now Silindë just had to convince Haldir of the fact...