Haldir X Reader - Tumblr Posts

We Will Meet Again

(Haldir x reader)

-Part 1-

request thanks to the lovely @SierraSama from Wattpad. Anyway this is her request and enjoy. "Could you possibly do a Haldir imagine in which the reader is injured when she arrives in Lóthorien with the fellowship and he helps her back on her feet?"

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 951

'So help me if we live to see another day I'm going to kill Mithrandir.' I thought to myself. Why? You may ask, well I, along with the Fellowship, were currently in Moria in a bit of a conundrum. You see my friends and I were having to run for our lives away from thousands upon thousands of goblins. Not to mention the fact we had to escape from a Balrog as well. Gimli had thought it would have been a wonderful idea to traverse through the abandoned mines. A few loud noises later; curtsy of Pippin, the group and I were dashing through the old halls to the nearest exit as quick as possible. And at the current moment, I was holding up the rear of the group to make sure none of the hobbits were left behind and to let some steam off while shooting goblins in the head with my arrows. And I'm not guilty to say I imagined their heads to be Gandalf's. Then running across a narrow bridge with Gandalf staying behind to make sure everyone makes it safely across, the Balrog made his appearance. For the first time in my immortal life I saw Mithrandir afraid for his life and ours. He started to make his way over to the center of the bridge. Raising his sword and staff saying " You shall not pass!" Then slamming the butt of his staff to the ground braking the bridge beneath the beast. We let out a sigh of relief too soon, because a fiery whip rapped itself around Gandalf's leg and pulled him until only his head and arms were visible over the edge of the broken bridge. Looking to us with sadness and slight fear, "Fly you fools," was his last words before releasing his grip and falling to the chasm below. I screamed in heartbreak along with Frodo, standing there in disbelief of losing a close friend and a father figure to Frodo. Boromir grabbed Frodo and slowly walked backwards with a sword in hand to protect him and himself. Looking in my direction Boromir yelled. " (Y/N)! We need to go!" I broke out of my stupor and made my way to the exit, but before I could make it fully through I felt a sharp pain in my right side from the back. I looked down to see a poorly made arrow stuck in my flesh. Standing behind the wall separating the orcs from their target to pull the arrow out. I looked at the tip of the arrowhead to see a dark substance. 'Poison.' I thought to myself then throwing the object to the side. I tore a piece of my tunic underneath my cloak and rapped it over my wound. Making sure that it was out of sight I ran out of the Mines to finally feel the sun on my (S/C) skin and feel a light breeze ruffle my (H/L), (H/C)hair. For a moment I felt better until reality set in. 'Mithrandir is gone.' I told myself. I look at the others and realized they knew this too. I felt a signal tear run down my face and drop to the ground below.

We had been traveling for about half a day and I could feel myself losing strength quickly. Everything was fuzzy around the edges of my vision, I could feel vertigo starting to set in. I could hear Gimli talking to the hobbits ahead of me but it was muffled by the sound of blood pumping in my sensitive ears. Suddenly the Fellowship had stopped. I looked up and tried to focus my sight. That's when I saw him. He looked like he was one of the Valar descending from the halls of Mandos. He was beautiful in my eyes. Perfect blonde hair in warrior braids running down to his shoulders. I thought I was dreaming, but to soon was I pulled from my revery. I felt a sharp pain over the flesh that was pierced by that foul arrow. Everyone looked to me in confusion and worry once I opened my cloak to look at my wound only to see that blood coated most of my right side. Dark spots started to set in when the blonde elf walked over to me with concern in his baby blue eyes. I realized he was speaking to me, but I could not hear him. Then I felt myself lose balance and start to fall, but before I could hit the hard ground beneath me the elf caught me and was yelling to his men and to the Fellowship asking what happened. They didn't know because I didn't tell them. I wouldn't want them to worry. Soon an elf brought a horse over to us, the beautiful blue eyed elf lifted me up bridal style, put me on the horse, and hopped on behind me. He pulled me in to his chest so I didn't put strain on my wound or fall. While one hand carefully slid around my waist and the other grabbed the rains of the horse. Then every thing fell into darkness with my head leaned into the chest of my savior. I hoped I would live long enough to know his name.

We Will Meet Again

(Haldir x reader)

-Part 2-

Warnings: None that I can think of

Word Count: 718

When I gained consciousness the first thing that I noticed was how bright it was. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times for my sensitive eyes to adjust. 'A healing ward.' I thought to myself when I finally looked at my surroundings. "Ah, good you are awake my lady, we were afraid you would not live through the night. How are you feeling?" Said an ellon with caramel eyes and light blonde hair, who I assumed was the healer that treated me. "Yes I am well, just a little sore is all." I answered. The ellon walked closer. "Good. I'm just going to check your wound and then you will be able to see your friends." Nodding, I sat up in my cot. "What is your name?" I asked while he handed me a cloth to cover my upper body while he checked my wound. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry, my name is Nestaron my lady. And you are (Y/N)." I smiled and nodded my head slightly in greeting. "Nestaron, has the elleth awaken ye-." The healer turned around and greeted the soldier who saved my life. "Haldir, yes as you can see I'm checking the healing progress of her wound now, if you would just give me a moment." I turned slightly to look at the ellon I now knew as Haldir. He was looking at my half naked form in surprise and a hint of embarrassment. "Yes, I-I... I will wait for you outside my lady." He bowed quickly with his eyes to the floor and walked out of the room. I smiled to myself. 'He's cute when he blushes.' I shook my head from those thoughts. I didn't need to be thinking about how he looked.

Once Nestaron did a once over of my wound he let me leave the healing ward. I walked out into the hall to see Haldir leaning against the wall opposite to the doorway I stood in. He looked up at the sound of my light footsteps. "I see you are well?" He asked with a straight face as if what happened earlier had no affect on him. I laughed to myself and answered. "Indeed. I suppose I owe you my thanks for saving my life." The corner of is lips twitched into what I assumed would have been a smile. "There is no need. I simply did my duty as March Warden." I grinned slightly at this. "Well, thank you none the less." He nodded then stretched his right arm out to the right with is palm facing upward toward the exit of the healing ward. "I will take you to your company and then we shall head to Minas Tirith to meet with the Lord and Lady." I walked forward and we began our walk to the rest of the Fellowship.

I could hear Aragon speaking with Legolas when me and Haldir were close to our destination. We turned passed a large tree to see the company resting and conversing about topics unknown to me. I was glad to see my friends again. I realized that I could have died and I would have never seen the people I cared for again. I could not do that to them, we had already lost Gandalf and I would not want to add more grief. My thoughts were interrupted by two small Hobbits. "(Y/N)!!! You’re okay, Pippin yelled, We thought you were dead." Added Merry. I smiled down at the cousins and laughed. "It will take a lot more to get rid of me my friends." Haldir smirked at this from my side. They grinned more and hugged me tighter. Legolas was the next to approach me. He put his hands on my face and placed is forehead against mine. "I am very grateful to see you well melon." With my hands on his wrists I smiled lightly. Legolas was the closest thing I had to a brother and I was very lucky to have him. "Aye I'm happy to see you as well." Without me seeing, Haldir was irked by the close proximity of Legolas, but quickly masked it. 'Why am I suddenly angered by him being close to someone I've just met.' Haldir thought to himself.

𝒯𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓊𝑒𝒹

Migraine (Haldir x Reader)

author's note: a new haldir fic coming your way! this was actually my first request! :D @oneofmanyinterests - i tried to do your idea justice and hope you and everyone else who struggles with headaches and migraines can take some comfort from this 🩷

warnings: reader in pain, mentions of throwing up and medication. let me know if i missed something! :)

word count: 1.1k

edit is mine, all pics are from pinterest :)

Your head was throbbing. Everything was too much: the noises, the lights-

Something between a whimper and a groan left your lips, alerting the elf next to you.

Haldir had come home from his most recent patrol only a few days ago and the two of you had spent every minute together, trying to make the most of it until he had to return to his duties as a marchwarden.

Carefully, he brushed his fingers down your arm. “Is it happening again, meleth?”

You nodded. It wasn’t the first time you were hit with a migraine and although they were horrible each time, having your husband at home with you helped immediately. You had come up with a routine which made the pain at least a bit more bearable and whenever Haldir had to leave, he made sure to talk to at least one of his most trusted friends or brothers to look after you in a case like this.

Immediately, the elf got up – careful not to disturb you – and closed the blinds, shutting out most of the lights.

“Would you prefer complete darkness?”

His voice was always soft when he spoke with you, but whenever he saw you in a more vulnerable state than usual, his words were even more hushed.

“Yes, please.” He blew out the lit candles around the room and heard you exhale shakily. “ Thank you, Hal.”

The pain in your voice made his heart clench in his chest. He absolutely hated to see you like, so weak and not in control at all. And there was only so much he could do which is why he would do his absolute best with the things he could help with.

After checking your shared bedchamber for strong scents and not finding anything, he quietly left the room. It soothed him a bit that he could move around without a sound so he wouldn’t add to your discomfort.

Once in the kitchen, Haldir grabbed a clean bucket in case you’d need to throw up, a big jug of water and a glass as well as some medication Elrond had brought with him during one of his more recent visits after he’d heard about your struggles. They didn’t cure the migraines, but they helped ease the pain a bit.

He quietly joined you in the bedroom again, taking in your curled up form on the bed.

“My love”, he whispered after he set down the bucket and pulled a thin blanket over you, “I brought you some water, the fluids against the pain and the ointment. Do you think you can sit up a bit? Just enough to swallow the medicine? Or at least drink some water?” An unpleased hum left your lips and Haldir knew he was asking for a lot this moment. “You can also stay like this for some more time. Can I apply the cream though?”

You slowly opened your eyes and his heart broke at the unshed tears in your eyes.

“Oh meleth, I know. I know.”

Carefully, he leaned down and pressed the gentlest kiss against your forehead. “The medicine will help a bit. Do you want me to apply it?” He knew he was repeating himself, but he needed to make sure he wouldn’t make your pain even worse.

“Yes, please.”

Carefully, the elf sat down beside you and unscrewed the lit before dipping his fingers into the juncture. When his fingers touched your forehead, you flinched.

“It hurts, Haldir.”

“I know, my starlight. You can hold my hand, here”, he whispered while he intertwined your fingers, letting you squeeze his hand.

He hurried to spread the ointment over your forehead and your temples as well as down your nose, keeping his touch always light. “Are you still with me, meleth?”

You answered by squeezing his hand and he brushed his thumb over the back of yours, not speaking another word.

The cream had to set in a bit and Haldir used the time to go back to the kitchen to prepare a cold compress and a hot water bottle.

Just a little bit later, he returned to the bed chamber, making sure to keep light and noise away from you. The only way you knew he had joined you again was by the deep connection you two shared.

“Hal”, you whispered, “can you help me sit up so I can take the medicine from Elrond?”

An affirmative hum left your husbands lips and he hurried over to your bedside, setting down the compress and the heating pad before helping you sit up. One hand was supporting your upper back while his other hand brought the little cup of medicine to your lips.

“You’re doing so well, meleth”, he whispered after you’ve swallowed everything. “Do you think you can also drink a bit of water? It’s good for you, but if you don’t feel like you can, don’t stress yourself. The fluids from Elrond will help in a bit either way.”

“I’ll try.”

“I’m so proud of you, my love.”

The elf brought the glass to your lips and you drank a few sips, immediately appreciating the fresh feeling of the water.

Before you could lay down again, Haldir put the heating pad onto the mattress where your shoulders and neck would be to help relax the muscles. He knew that migraines were not only happening in the head but affecting the whole body.

As soon as your shoulders came in contact with the warmth, a sigh left your lips and the tension between your eyebrows eased.

“Do you want me to place the ice packs on your forehead, starlight? They might dull the pain even more.”

You nodded and closed your eyes at the touch. The ellon had been right. The medicine and the water did help with the pain and the hot and ice packs were only decreasing your discomfort even further.

Meanwhile, Haldir was going through the list in his head again to make sure he didn't forget anything: he shut out the light, checked for any strong scents, made sure you took your meds, had water and cooling and heating pads on hand to help with the pain. There was nothing he had missed.

He was getting up to let you rest by yourself when you grabbed his wrist as he stood up.

“Can you stay? Please? I feel better when you’re close to me.”

A small smile took over his face. “Oh meleth, you don’t have to ask.”

Carefully, he laid down next to you and let you determine which position and how much physical contact you wanted.

Once the two of you were settled, he could see the rest of the tension leaving your body before you quietly spoke up.

“Thank you, my beloved.”

Haldir hummed. “Remember, my starlight, I will always and forever be here to help you through hard times. You’re safe with me.”

Everything-Taglist: @shadowhuntyi @asgardianhobbit98 @fizzyxcustard

Haldir-Taglist: @ellis-peace @heilith

-> if you want to be added or removed from my taglist, just shoot me a message or an ask 🩷

my library

here's some of the best the hobbit/lotr fanfics I've read cuz they can be quite hard to find and I wanna help

will update the list as I read

Thorin

Smoke, iron and Thorin

Fire and Gold

Learning Khuzdul

Braid of Gold

Thorin being soft

The Beauty of Chance

Those Hands

Misunderstanding

The arrival

A king's crown

Covered In Steam

There's just inches in between us

Thorin after a long day of training with his nephews

In This Moment 

Agreement

Symphony of your life

Oh so quiet

Confession

Find Your Way Back

Fili

fili oneshots

Moonrise

The Most Unpleasant, Defective, and Abominable Incident

Stay with me

The Redeemer

Durin's Garage

Restless

Kili

The book keeper

insecurities

The beauty and the Beast

getting back at Kili for teasing

My Treasure

Madly in love

It's in his kiss

Love Bites

Sway With Me

Wood Carvings

Softly. . .

Sweet like nectar

A Shot in the Dark

Beorn

Early Mornings

Beorn takes care of you when you're injured

Linger

Legolas

Watcher of Wanderers

The Innocence of Brutality

Blessing

Sensitive

Being best friends with Legolas

Hazy Memories

Spellbound

Thranduil

Bookworm

Relax

Best friends father

Fascination

Flower On My Skin

To Meet Under the Stars

Passenger Princess

Autumn Thunderstorm

I Could Love You With My Eyes Closed

Haldir

Gentle Dark

Lindir

My Heart Is In Your Hands

Moonlight

Just a Little Help

Warriors Great Tales

The Fountain

Return to Me

Èomer

Burnt Bread

A Helping Hand

Wildest Dreams

Falling In Love With A Librarian

SFW alphabet

Happiness

A Roll in the Hay

Blessing

Turning Points

More characters

various characters oneshots

Imagine: elves having highly sensitive ears and you finding out by accidently touching them.

Journey to Erebor

Hair braiding

Elves + Braiding

What Type of Kisser is Each LoTR Character?

The Hobbit Characters + Physical Affection (Suggestive Version)

A Headcanon For Each Member of Thorin’s Company

Cuddling With Thorin's Company

Imagine some of the elves of Middle Earth find out how easy it is to make you (a human staying in Rivendell) blush and become aroused.

The LOTR characters reacting to a modern reader

Holding On

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings Ship/Pairing: Haldir x Reader Trope: Best Friends to Lovers Note: Took advantage of the potentially invented elven tradition of gifting someone your most precious possession after your first kiss :D. Warnings: Angst/Miscommunication - damn you Haldir/Slight smut if you squint and zoom at the very end. Word count: 2 836 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

The gentle breeze brought a soft tune to your ears. Of course, he would be playing in the first hours of the night. What else could he do, before leaving for another long month of patrol? Certainly not seek you out. The bitter lingered.

Haldir was a dear and close friend of yours. He had drawn you in with his cheekiness and teasing words. You were lucky enough to know those sides of him, usually hidden. Unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of those same unruly sides, sometimes. It felt harder and harder with each joust of words to stop the ones you wanted to say from blurting out of your mouth. Today was about fixing that. Upon walking the narrow path, your eyes met his silhouette before he could see you. The length of his hair covered his face. His bow and arrows were left in the grass, carefully propped against a branch. His head rose, and he finally saw you. A flutter of wings came to life in your stomach. He smiled at you.

“What are you doing out this early, melon?”

You had no good answer for that. Knowing he was leaving was one thing. Seeing him do so, even in your dreams, was another. Every departure was a torment for you.

Your lips curled sadly with your next words.

“Why did you not say goodbye, Haldir?”

The underlying harshness of your tone startled him. He paled, his eyes growing wide. He did not expect that. Not from you. You who were gentle and kind. Soft-spoken and careful in all manners of life. He never wanted to disappoint you. Nor hurt you. After your first encounter, he knew very quickly your presence could never be replaced by anyone else. When he identified those feelings as more than friendship, he snuffed them out. The mere thought of losing you because of them was unbearable. Deep down, he knew you would not leave him so. Yet, he feared it all the same and kept himself quiet.

“I thought I did. What is happening to you?”

A heavy sigh. Again, your emotions had got the better of you. The loneliness he left behind was a most cruel sentiment to have. Or to hold on to. His hands had stopped playing, and he laid the instrument next to him.

“I am sorry. I fear my future loneliness at your departure is haunting me in advance.”

Haldir chuckled weakly. You always did have a way with words. Even more so since becoming a script here in the palace. Where he was the one leaving, you were always the one staying. It tore his heart in two to see you afflicted so. The Marchwarden did not know what to do to alleviate the sadness in your eyes. You stepped forward until he had to raise his head to look at you. Soon, you sat down in front of him. An itch went through him from his fingertips to his shoulder blade; how he wanted to touch you right now…

“And you woke up this early because of it? Have I altered your sleeping by my rudeness? — Do not flatter yourself that much, Haldir.”

Finally, a smile had made its way onto your face. You reckoned that being mad at him was not your best skill. Unwavering, he stared at you expectantly, wishing you would answer and share your troubles with him, as you always did. This time proved harder than the other ones.

“I have made a decision.”

His eyebrows rose.

“What kind of decision? — About… us.”

His heart skipped a beat, and his breath shortened. He frowned even more, at a loss for words.

“We have been friends for a long and appreciable time. — Yes, we have. — Please do not interrupt me, it is already so hard to do…”

You bit on your lip, your courage leaving as water out of its bed. His stare became more present, his fingers tapping an invisible rhythm against the earth. Could this be it? Or had he been a fool this whole time?

“As a token of my appreciation, I want you to have this.”

Out of your hand, a piece of paper neatly folded — just as you knew how to. He had had those notes before. When you wanted to see him but could not fetch him yourself. Or when you wanted to say anything to him while he was on patrol. He took the piece of paper, seemingly heavier than the lasts. It seemed to contain something. Before he could pry it open, you stopped him.

“I also want you to wait until you are at your post.”

He looked at you as if you had grown a second head.

“Humour me. — Oh, I will.”

You laughed with him this time, inclining your head on one side. He found it entirely too endearing.

“I will, I promise. — Thank you.”

The letter clutched in his hand, he found himself speechless again.

A loud sound announced his departure. A few of his comrades passed you by. They soon waited by the end of the path for him to follow.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

While saying the words, he grabbed what was his, placing your letter in an inside pocket close to his heart. You noticed. You smiled as brightly as you could.

“Safe travels, my friend.”

He smiled brightly back, always one to try to cheer you up. Before you could register what he had done, he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles. His steps were barely echoing around you anymore when you realised. The flutter in your stomach turned into a full storm.

*

The advanced post took them three whole days to reach. During those three days, Haldir could not help himself from touching and toying with the piece of paper you left him with. He was patient; you knew that. When it came to you, he could have waited another lifetime. Yet, this simple piece of paper and what it contained, almost weightless, made him more impatient and frustrated than the longest watch had ever done.

Finally, he reached his destination, and they relieved the others from their patrol. He waited the middle of the night to be alone and open the gift you had left him with. The paper unfolded easily enough. It almost toppled the thin ring left inside. The details were weaved around it, organised in rows of leaves and polished silver. It could not have belonged to you. The size was too big, and the ornaments were indicative of a skilled touch. He held the jewel in his palm for the longest time, almost losing track of what he was supposed to watch out for. Luckily, his brother had joined him and kept an extra eye out when he saw him entranced by what an object he could not see. Rúmil only hoped it would be a good thing. And made a mental note to ask about it later on.

On the paper, read the following.

“Dear friend,

I have known you for the longest time. I have cared for you for just as long. In truth, I have more than cared for you. My friendship was soon turned into affections and my affections turned into love. True unbearable, unbreakable love. This seems sudden, I know, and if you do not feel the same, I wish you would forget all about this affair and we will go back to the way things were. I promise not to bring it up again. In my heart, I know that no matter what, I will always be by your side. I believe you know in our tradition, a first show of affection is to be rewarded by that which is most precious to us. With the ring, I hope to offer a payment in advance. You see, this belonged to my father. Before him, my grandfather and before him, my great grandfather. It has seen better times. I hope it will see better times. He passed it onto me, as his only child. It is my most precious and meaningful possession. I want you to have it, for if you feel the way I do, there is no other way forward but to spend the rest of my life with you.

You have known me to be meek, but when I am with you, I become brave. I want to be brave with you.

Again, if you do not wish for me in those ways, I will understand. That ring, nevertheless, shall always be yours, for I will never love anyone else.

With love, Your friend.”

Haldir’s breath stopped. The shock must have shown on his face, for the comrade next to him shook his shoulder in the hopes of waking him up from his reverie. A wide smile had spread across his face, his heart beating anew.

“Are you alright? — I am. Now go back to your posts, please.”

Never before had he said please when giving orders. They figured this letter must have broken his skull, for he spent the rest of the month whistling and daydreaming, spending more time alone than with them. The oldest knew. The youngest were still asking questions. When they received no answers, they settled for quiet speculations.

None of them could have figured out what was happening in Haldir’s head the whole time.

*

You waited for an answer.

It never came.

Your days were spent writing and copying the history of your people, under a strict supervision. Celeborn would have no mistake be made, whereas Galadriel encouraged you in more positive ways. They were nervous, for those scrolls were to be sent to other countries for archiving. They were a testimony and inheritance of your people’s knowledge and myths. No room for errors.

Alas, you were distracted. On the first week, you were wondering if anything had happened to Haldir during his trip to his post. Then, news came that his group had safely arrived. The second week, you convinced yourself he did not return your attachment and cried yourself to sleep every night. It was cruel, but you had expected it. After all, he was a Marchwarden and you were a mere scribe. The third one, right before he was supposed to come back, you willed yourself to go back to the way it was. He was probably giving you the space to mourn and grieve for what would never be. You had to let things go, eventually.

On the day he did come back, Haldir made no specific announcement to you, nor did he arrive during daylight. Rúmil had warned him about showing up at this hour, himself having gone directly to bed. Of course, he did not listen to his brother. Especially when he was teasing him about the love-struck face, he had a hard time hiding, all the way back home. The first thing he did was seek you out. Despite his restlessness, the odd hour triumphed over him, and he could not find you anywhere. Straight away, he went to your room, which for this hour should not have been this cold, nor this lifeless. Your bed was undone, it was obvious you had trashed around in it, the sheets left in disarray. Your work clothes were scattered around the floor. The windows were open, a faint trace of flowers in the air. He did not recognise this to be you. His worry only grew when he found inks and quills, papers thrown about on the desk. All of them with his name, some angry, others drowned in tears. The library was empty, your usual meeting point by the pond too. No guard could tell him where you had gone. He almost snapped his bow under the pressure of his hands. A quick detour to his room and he dropped off his bags and weapon. It was his fault. All of it. Not knowing what you wanted him to do, he had tried to write letters, never sending them out. It was all his fault for not telling you, even in unwisely chosen words, how he truly felt. What an actual idiot he had been. Only then did he realise where you must have been and ran.

The scribes had all left their working space. And here you were, hunched over and scrapping paper after paper, in your usual measured manners. He halted his steps. From where he was, he could not see your face, nor your hands, yet he was sure they were covered in ink stains and sore from having been overused. His feet reached you rapidly. You were about to cry out when you turned around.

Haldir had been right. You were wearing a wrinkled nightdress, clinging onto your skin with the sweat, your eyes haggard, hands covered in small ink stains. You probably had touched your face too, for it had several spots of ink there too. One by your left eye, over your eyelid. Another on your cheek, spread in a wild sprawl. The last ones on both your temples, where you must have tried to erase a headache.

As well as tears. So much tears growing in your eyes dying on your lips, nesting in your throat, making your skin damp when he reached for your face. How could he had let this happen?

“Why are you here? — I love you.”

He figured that in the state you were in, brutality was the swiftest way of ripping this sadness away. He did not think far enough to predict the anger that would follow.

“And you’re only telling me now!”

You wanted to hit him. Badly. Even tried to slap him. If it were not for his stupid reflexes, you might have done so. He would have let you, if the need to embrace you had not been so overwhelming. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before securing his arms around you. You relented, too tired to fight with him. Without warning, he picked you up a hand under your knees and the other on your back. Your hands secured against his neck as he carried you out. Haldir did not bother looking out for onlookers. They would have no answer from him anyway, too focused as he was on seeing your face for the first time in a month. It was lucky this mission had been this short, otherwise… He did not want to imagine otherwise. Your room was the closest, and he reached it first, settling you in bed. You were the one to stop him. Those pleading eyes he could not resist, and a need to rest his bones close to the person he wanted to be with. He laid down with you, and you fell asleep safe and sound in his arms.

* The next morning, he woke up with a back pain, in the bed only made for one. You were nowhere in sight. He sighed. Maybe you had gone to wash and would come back soon. He waited a little while before deciding he probably had the time to wash and change too until you arrived. As he had been previously, he was wrong.

When you came back an hour later — the ink had washed away with difficulty and you needed clean clothes — your room was empty. No traces left behind. Frustration took root within you. Where could he be? Showing up in the middle of the night, no notes, no nothing announcing his return. Not directly from him, at least. You had hoped for a letter or a missive. Something, anything.

He did not have another mission yet, as far as you knew. The only logical places he could be were the bathhouse or his chambers. You chose the latter. You stomped into his bedroom with no warning.

“You did not say goodbye, Haldir.”

A chill ran down his spine. His undressed state did not seem to phase you. But then again, he thought he was the only one in love in this relationship and it had proved wrong. Deciding against his first instincts, he put a light shirt on and walked to you. You wanted to slap the smirk off of his face. Just as much as you wanted to take that shirt off of him right this instant.

“No, you did not this time. — I did not?! How… — Please…”

This time, he was the one pleading for mercy. You were looking precious, like this. A nymph or a divine being, freshly out of the water, droplets dragging against your skin. Haldir’s thumb touched your lips lightly, plump and warm against his fingertips. Your breath shortened, anger drowned by him. By his arm around your waist, by his breath fanning over your cheek, his hair caressing your collarbones, your throat, firm hands mapping your back. The fire within you could not be stopped this time.

“If you start this… — I know.”

His lips touched yours, and the world was ablaze. He brought your legs against his hips. You could feel his desire against your core. Never before had you willingly surrendered to your feelings like this.

You felt the edge of a silver ring you knew by heart around his finger. You bit your lips hard and kissed him again, even harder.

There was no letting go now.

Only holding on.

Three Weeks on the Nimrodel

Well, here it is. My first (and oldest) piece of fic. I'm going against my brand here by posting something set in Lorien when Rohan is really my jam. But this is the first thing I ever wrote, so it seems fitting that it should be the first posted, too.

Pairing: Haldir x reader (The reader is gender neutral beyond 2 uses of the descriptor "beautiful", which is still neutral to me but your mileage might vary.)

Genre: Romance, I guess

Summary: Two elves who are frequently misunderstood by others find the joy of having someone really see and value them for who they are.

Inspiration: This all came from the well loved gif above, in which Craig Parker does beautiful work communicating a whole emotional arc (surprise, confusion, acceptance, appreciation) when Aragorn unexpectedly shows Haldir some loving affection. In that half-second of screen time, I see an entire book of backstory about Haldir's character--about being someone who is very reserved by nature, who isn't necessarily comfortable freely expressing feelings and innermost thoughts, but who still feels deep emotional connections to others that can come out under the right circumstances. As a very reserved person myself, I can relate--if you tend to keep your thoughts and feelings close to the vest, people will make a lot of assumptions and judgments about you that probably aren't right, and that can be exhausting. When someone finally does understand you and allows you to be comfortable enough to open up on your own terms, it's a life changing experience. So that's what I tried to write.

Word count: approx 3200 (~ 6 pages)

**********

It is still early when you arrive in the center of Caras Galadhon, joining the crowd of elves waiting to find out where they will be posted for the next few weeks of guard duty. Most in the group are veteran marchwardens, deeply familiar with each other and the daily routine of life near the borders. By contrast, you are a city warden, often dedicated to the direct protection of the Lady of the Wood. But you have been asked to serve a temporary rotation on the borders while several of the regular marchwardens are away with Lord Celeborn on a visit to Mirkwood.

The change of pace is not unwelcome to you. While you love Caras Galadhon and are honored to spend time in the service of Lady Galadriel, you frequently find yourself craving distance from the city in favor of the quiet outlying areas, where it is easy to hear clear birdsong, the rustling steps of small animals scampering by, and the patter of light raindrops falling on mallorn leaves.

The crowd begins to murmur as the deputy captain appears and begins handing around sheets of paper with duty assignments. As the pages spread through the crowd, the murmurs turn to both sighs of disappointment and quiet expressions of satisfaction.

“All I want is to avoid the Nimrodel,” you overhear the elf next to you mutter to a friend of his. You recognize him as Calendil, who, like many of his companions, is well known for carousing around Caras Galadhon any time he is home on leave. As a group, the marchwardens are a boisterous company who seem always determined to pack several weeks of fun into the few days of free time they’ve been given. “Three weeks posted with the captain is more than can be asked of me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at this mention of Captain Haldir. You know him a little–everyone in Lorien knows the leader of the marchwardens–and have never before heard a negative word uttered about him. Your path does not often cross with his, but you admire his impressive record of achievements and have never seen him treat another elf with anything but courteous respect.

“You speak truly,” replies Calendil’s companion. “I cannot spend so much time with someone who has so little to say. That much silence is enough to drive one a little mad.”

A wave of indignation rolls through your body. It is undeniably true that Haldir is very reserved. He says little that isn’t necessary to the conduct of his duties, and what he is truly thinking behind his large blue eyes is often a mystery. But that has never seemed a negative trait to you. Indeed, you appreciate that he does not talk simply for talk’s sake and that he does not seem concerned with always making his own opinions known. What’s more, you recognize a fair amount of his inherent reserve in your own nature. If you didn’t often force yourself to satisfy others’ expectations by taking on a more outgoing, sociable persona, perhaps your own wardens would describe you just as these elves have described their captain.

Calendil’s conversation comes to an abrupt end as a copy of the assignment sheet makes its way into his hands. Peering over his shoulder, you quickly find your own name allocated to a remote post near the edge of the Dimrill Dale. A glance further down the list confirms what you already know from the quiet groan that has just escaped from Calendil’s lips: he has been assigned to the Nimrodel post.

An idea quickly forms in your head, and you tap him on the shoulder. Why should he spend three weeks feeling miserable with his posting–and, no doubt, making anyone around him miserable as a result–when you have no particular attachment to your own assignment? Calendil can go to the Dimrill Dale, and you will spend your posting with Haldir instead.

“If such a trade is permitted within your ranks, I will gladly make the exchange,” you offer. “I have always loved the river. And I have no objection to the company of someone who takes his duty seriously and does not revel in idle chatter.”

Calendil’s face registers a moment of regret as he realizes that his prior conversation has been heard by others, but it is quickly replaced by a wide, beaming smile that reflects his rapid change of fortune. “It is permitted,” he says, “and I happily accept. Remind me the next time we are both on leave, and I will reward your generosity with some of my own!”

You doubt that whatever reward he has in mind will suit your inclinations, but there is no need to worry about that now. Calendil has already sprinted off toward the deputy captain to report the change, and you turn toward home to gather your supplies.

****

Two days later, you are approaching the Nimrodel post, which is located in a lovely old mallorn tree with twisted roots that hang over the river’s edge. You raise your hand to your lips and whistle the signal. The return call echoes off the trees before a slim rope ladder drops from the branches above you. You run lightly up the rungs, making easy work of the climb to the talan perched near the great tree’s crown, where it commands a wide view of the river and much of the western section of the border.

As you hoist yourself and your pack onto the platform, you look up to see a single figure standing a few feet away. It is Haldir, leaning against the wind screen with his bow slung loosely over his shoulder and his white-blonde hair blowing gently in the breeze.You are surprised to see him there alone; wardens generally keep watch in pairs or groups of three for safety. You are there to relieve Arthalion, who is due now to return home for a break, but there is no sign of Arthalion or his things.

“Mae govannen, Captain,” you say, placing your hand on your chest and bowing your head slightly. “Is everything well?”

Haldir returns the gesture with a small smile. “Yes. It has been blessedly uneventful. Perhaps it is the threat of the weather.”

This makes sense. Just last month, an orc party attempting a surprise attack during a thunderstorm found themselves nearly washed away by sudden flooding from the Celebrant. Since then, even the hint of rain has tended to keep them at bay.

“And Arthalion? Is he out on a task?”

Haldir shakes his head. “I sent him back early. You might have passed one another in the forest except that he planned to meet a small hunting party further north. As I said, things here were quiet, and he was anxious to join his friends.” He gives a small shrug and looks down. “I will do the same for you, if circumstances allow and you desire it. I do not wish to keep anyone from their enjoyments unless duty requires it.”

You permit yourself a brief moment to wonder what Haldir’s own enjoyments might be. You have heard that he is a talented artist, making detailed pencil sketches of the forest, but he does not often show his work to others.

“That is a thoughtful offer,” you say. “But I have no pressing need to return, and I would not have you out here alone, even if there is no other elf in Lorien better able to protect himself.”

He acknowledges this compliment with a modest smile and gestures toward a small shelf where you can store your belongings. His own are few in number but neatly stacked or folded with military precision. You note that he does, in fact, have a small bundle of pencils and a notebook, but, as expected, there is no sign of any actual drawings.

After stowing your things, you settle into a position opposite him on the talan, and a silence ensues. It is of no bother to you–you’re enjoying the smell of the damp air and the touch of the light wind on your face–but you soon notice that Haldir is looking increasingly discomfited as the quiet minutes slip by. His gaze shifts frequently between the horizon, his hands on his bow, and your face.

“Was…your journey here pleasant?” His face is studiously neutral, but his voice sounds strained and he picks at a splinter on his bow. You realize that he is trying to make conversation for your benefit, to fill in the noticeable silence with casual talk that clearly does not come easily to him. You feel a sudden rush of affection for him, this intensely quiet being who is making himself uncomfortable so that you will feel welcome. You wonder how best to put him at ease.

“It was very pleasant,” you reply. “I am so rarely outside of the city these days that any chance to enjoy the forest is a gift. I can understand why being a marchwarden is an attractive job, at least during times of relative peace.”

He looks up, reappraising your face, and nods his agreement.

You hesitate before speaking again, unsure about how directly to address his uneasiness.

“Captain,” you begin, “it sounds like we may have an uneventful tour here. If that is the case, please do not feel that you are obligated to occupy my time. I am quite comfortable with quiet activity and my own thoughts and would gladly afford you space for the same if that is something you wish.”

His cheeks and ears flush slightly but, despite his apparent embarrassment at being accurately perceived, he seems immediately relieved as well. “Thank you,” he says. “If you are as good a warden as you are a reader of people, I feel myself in safe hands indeed.”

The next several days pass by peacefully. Between occasional scouting trips up or down the riverbank and regularly monitoring the view from the talan, you mostly spend the time together in companionable silence. You take turns preparing simple meals, and during breaks in the intermittent rain you make minor repairs to nearby rope bridges and other hidden defenses in the area. In the evenings, you read a book by lantern light while Haldir sits next to his own lantern and sketches in his notebook, occasionally transferring completed drawings into a closed leather folio at his side. Every so often, you both glance up at the same time, and you give him a warm smile when your eyes meet before turning back to your respective pages.

*****

One evening, as you clean up the remains of your small dinner and take out your book again, Haldir lightly clears his throat.

“That book seems to engage you much,” he says. “May I ask what it is?”

Surprised, you hold it out to him, and he takes it, examining the cover and flipping through a few pages.

“I do not recognize this script,” he says, looking at it with curiosity.

“It is a representation of Rohirric,” you tell him. “My brother was a skilled linguist who passed on some small portion of his knowledge to me. He spent many months visiting a friend in the court at Edoras and helped them to start preserving some of their oral traditions with a system of letters. This is a copy of one of his first completed projects–the story of the founding of Rohan–which he sent to me as a gift.”

Haldir looks again with renewed interest at a few pages before handing the book back to you. “Your brother sounds like an impressive scholar,” he says. “Does he remain in Rohan?”

You hesitate slightly before responding. “In a way. Two years ago an orc band in search of horses raided a village near the Limlight while my brother happened to be visiting. They caught him and his hosts unaware. The Rohirrim buried his body in a place of honor with their people, though his spirit has surely gone to Mandos.”

You relate this with downcast eyes, tracing over your brother’s name on the cover of the book with your thumb. After a few moments, you look up again, expecting to see Haldir withdrawn from the conversation. You know that many elves are uncomfortable with death, which is an unnatural state for your kind, and there is nothing in your interactions so far to indicate that Haldir will want to continue such a personal discussion. You are surprised once again, however, to find that he is looking at you intently.

“I am deeply sorry,” he says. “Working as I do, I have known many elves who met a similar fate in battle, and it is never easy. My own brothers are a treasure to me, and I cannot imagine losing them. I hope I have not contributed to your suffering by unwittingly bringing up a painful subject.”

You blink back a few tears and smile. Through your sadness, you are moved by the warmth of his response and honored that he was willing to share something personal of himself. “Of course not,” you say. “Talking about my brother is one way to keep him with me. Thank you, Captain.” You reach forward and squeeze his hand. He flinches slightly at the unexpected touch, but then gently returns the squeeze.

“Please,” he says, “call me Haldir.”

*****

After that night, things are different between the two of you. You both speak more often, tentatively at first but then with increasing comfort. You trade stories about old adventures and talk about the joys and frustrations of your daily lives. You discover that he has much to say when he finally feels more at ease. He is even quite funny, with a dry wit that you did not expect but thoroughly enjoy. You walk together in the forest and rest your feet in the waters of the Nimrodel during the day, and in the evenings he asks you to read to him from your book. You happily relate tales of Cirion and Eorl and the coming of the Northmen to Calenardhon as he draws quietly, occasionally interjecting a question or a brief comment.

The time passes quickly and easily, and soon your rotation will be at an end. You realize there is a growing pain in your heart each time you think about your imminent departure. Your old life suddenly feels dull and uninteresting to you now. You do not want to go back to a time without his companionship. You debate whether to say this to him, but you cannot imagine how he might react to such a confession. Paralyzed by uncertainty, the last days of your assignment tick by.

On your final evening, you are preparing for one last opportunity to enjoy what has become your nightly routine. Just as he is about to settle with his notepad and folio, however, he notices your canteen is empty and insists on climbing down to fill it for you. As he reaches the ground and disappears over the riverbank, the wind changes direction and a sudden gust rips across the talan, flinging back the cover of the folio and sending papers flying out in all directions. You cry out in dismay and throw yourself desperately onto the pages whipping around you, seeking to hold them down long enough to gather them safely together.

It is only after you have retrieved all the loose pages and are preparing to neatly stack them that you first look at the drawings themselves and are stunned by what you see: beautiful illustrations of the stories you’ve been reading to him, the words of your brother’s book brought to vivid life in graceful pencil lines and delicate shading. You leaf through the stack in awed amazement only to nearly drop the whole pile again when you turn a page and find an image of yourself as you must look to him each night, sitting by your lantern with your book in your lap. You keep turning pages and find more of yourself…braiding your hair first thing in the morning, standing at the wind screen and scanning the horizon, unlacing your boots at the end of a day. Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb these images. You have never looked more beautiful than you do here, seen through his eyes.

A sudden noise behind you tears your attention from the papers in your hand, and you turn to find Haldir standing there. You are immediately overwhelmed by panic and begin to stammer out an explanation for how you came to be holding his personal things, violating his privacy. “I…the wind…they were blowing away and…”. Hot tears well up in your eyes and are soon spilling down your cheeks, partly from embarrassment at the situation but mostly as the feelings you’ve been keeping pent up threaten to come flooding out all at once. “I was not trying to…I…”. An involuntary sob robs you of the ability to finish your sentence, though you aren’t sure how you would have finished it had you been able.

At the sound of your sob, he moves forward, quickly closing the distance between you. He hesitantly cups a hand under your jaw and uses his thumb to brush a tear from your cheek. “Please do not cry,” he says. “I would not ever see you in pain if it were in my power to prevent it. I am not upset. These drawings were for you, for your book. You were meant to have them, except the last few, which I hoped to keep as a reminder of these days and how happy I have been.” Your eyes snap up to his face, searching for confirmation that you have correctly understood his words.

“You know that I am not much for talking,” he continues. “But I am a very good observer. I know that you see me for who I am, just as I see you. I see all of the ways that you are kind and interesting and intelligent and beautiful. I have no expectation that you return my feelings, and if all I ever have with you are these three weeks then I will cherish the memory of these weeks through all the long ages of my life. But I would….”

Before he can complete his thought, your body reacts on its own impulse, a pure release of elation. You throw your arms around his neck and bury your face in his broad chest, still crying but now with tears of joy. You hear a sharp intake of breath as he processes your reaction, and for a fraction of a moment he stands motionless and silent before breaking into a smile and wrapping you in his arms. You could live in those arms forever, and now perhaps you will.