Fey in the Forest or Skulkers in the night

Orophin and Bronwyn walked through the gardens, slowly, taking care not to disturb the frozen beds and staying to the paths. He leaned on her less and less each day and slowly, he came back to his old self.

He still grieved for his children and he still heard the call of the sea.

She and Haldir had decided in the night , that had it not been for Tomasil’s desire to go to Valinor with his Ada, Orophin would probably had faded before reaching Rivendell.

Tomasil was like a puppy. A little lost puppy. Every day, he picked someone else to follow and pester. He asked endless questions, wanted fathomless answers. He became everyone’s shadow.

Rúmil said it was just like having Orophin growing up again.
Celeborn knew it was like having a young Orophin around again.

And as Orophin’s will and desire to move on grew, even if only for the sake of his youngest child, his interest in his skill, his old life returned. Soon, he and Faeowynne were off together, shooting, testing each other’s abilities.

Faeowynne, despite her lack of decorum and tact, succeeded in bringing her uncle out of his doldrums.
Beckett and Orelinde continued to sneak off, sometimes to explore the woods and plains surrounding Rivendell, sometimes to explore each other.

Oh, alright. They always explored each other.

Bronwyn poured over maps, left over scrolls, looking for anything that she might have missed. Looking for any excuse to stay longer, put off the inevitable.

She did not see the growing relationship between her son and Legolas’ daughter.

Anselm became more and more in tuned with nature. She spent more time in the trees, in the woods, listening and watching to the animals. More often than not, she took a lute that her Ada had given her and sang. She completely ignored the dangers of wandering off, much to the consternation of her parents. She was to busy seeing the beauty of nature, of music, the Elves.

One Elf in particular.

And oh, she wanted him. But how to get his attention…

Bronwyn’s knives barely answered her returning gestures. The day was coming; coming soon and she responded by searching for more things to do, more places to explore, return to. There was never anything.

Haldir could feel her growing ire, her growing desperation. And quietly, he shared in her despair.

Rúmil was now starting to hear the call of the gulls.

Celeborn watched as the family unconsciously prepared to leave for the Undying Lands. He did not hear the call and still had not decided on whether or not to go to Valinor. He was having dreams, some disturbing; some, not so disturbing. Some were rather… nice, making him feel a thousand years young.
He also saw the relationships of the children that Legolas, Haldir, and Bronwyn did not seem to see. And he kept that information to himself.

Afterall, he was not known as ‘Celeborn the Wise’ for nothing.

Heridil watched. And guarded. And waited. Headaches were beginning to plague him. He knew what it was and it disturbed him.

Time grew shorter and shorter.


Hey Little Red Riding Hood
You sure are lookin’ good
You’re everything
A big bad wolf could wantHowl!

Sam the Sham and the Pharoah’s
I don’t know who wrote it


Her interest captured, she shimmied down the tree to get a better look at the young bluebird, floundering on the ground. Anselm was intrigued by the wonderment of the new life, being pushed from the nest by parents who were not over-indulgent. As she leaned against the tree, she felt it, no, not felt…
heard it…

heard it, sigh.
She sighed with it. Like the young bluebird, she too would soon be jumping from the nest, the safe cocoon, spun and furnished by her parent’s love. Whispers of past conversations flew through her mind…

Listen to me!
Little Red Riding Hood
I don’t think little big girls should
Go walking in these spooky old woods alone

“Ada?” She had asked once, while he was braiding her hair. (He did it so much better than Mama, having had over 3000 years practice.) “Ada. What should I be when I grow up?”

Haldir’s fingers had deftly arranged the soft moon-silk tresses, anchoring the braids securely with clips bartered for in an Enedwaith market. In the mirror they stood in front of, she could see the concentration on his face.

“You should be anything you wish, sweetling.” he stated firmly, He carefully placed locks of hair on her shoulders and smiled. “What do you wish to be when you grow up?”

“I want to be Mama.” She watched her father’s eyebrow arch. “I want to go where you would not allow Mama to go. I want to go into the desert of Far Hara…”

Haldir turned her to face him and gently placed a finger on his youngest daughter’s lips. “There is a reason why I would not allow your mother to go. The danger outweighs the knowledge. Likewise, I shall not allow you to go.” He kissed the furrowed brow. “And besides,” he added, “there is only one of your mother!” Thank Iluvatar, he added silently. He left the room, leaving Anselm in front of the mirror.

She pursed her lips in deep thought and glanced at the green-eyed Elf standing in the doorway, with his arms crossed.

“Yes, Heridil?”

The Elf’s eyes gazed at her; she felt he could look into her soul. “You are more like your mother then he admits. You are not of this world. But you should forge your own path.” He turned and followed her Ada. Her eyes followed the retreating back until it could no longer be seen.

“Anie. That is as many words I as have ever heard uttered from that Elf’s mouth!” Her twin, Faeowynne, looked up from the bed. She was polishing her bow. Again. Anselm looked at her through her reflection in the mirror.

“Wynie.” Only they used the diminutive forms of each other’s names and then only in private. “He only speaks when he has something important to say.” She smiled down the hallway where the quiet Elf had disappeared. “I like that about him.”


The bluebird suddenly rose in the air and fluttered drunkenly off. Anselm checked the location of the sun. It was almost sunset. Still time to explore the woods surrounding Imladris, she thought. She wandered deeper, listening to the groanings of the trees.

She did not notice the feral, hungry eyes that followed her.


“Rúmil? Orophin? Is Anselm with you?” Bronwyn’s anxious eyes searched the small group, returning from the hunt.

“She is not here?” Haldir came in behind his brothers, both fists full of long-eared conies. “Have you checked the gardens? The falls?” Haldir knew his daughter well. His wife did not jump to conclusions concerning this child and he could feel her concern, growing now by leaps and bounds.

“Haldir, we have searched everywhere.” Celeborn’s voice was even, but tight. “We had hoped she was with you.” He motioned to Tomasil, who took the conies from Haldir.

“Ada. Orophin and I killed…”

“I know.” Haldir felt Bronwyn’s panic rise. His wife did not need to be reminded that Faeowynne and Orophin had killed several Orcs nearby just on the other side of the river the previous week. “Tomasil. Faeowynne.” Haldir’s voice was control personified. “Take your uncles’ and Heridil’s catches into the kitchen. Stay here with…”

“I wish to go with you. I do not wish to…

“You will stay here, because I asked you to.” Haldir’s gaze was imperious, boring into the young elleth’s. She knew better than to argue or disobey. “Beckett…”

“I am filling the quivers, Ada.” Their eldest quickly sped down the hallway, red hair flying.

“I will go.” Bronwyn spoke up. “My knives are sluggish, but they are still weapons to be reckoned with.”

Haldir strode to his wife, who was agitated and wringing her hands. Bronwyn NEVER wrung her hands. “Baraermin. You will charge into any situation and create more havoc.” He enfolded her into a strong, comforting embrace. “Besides, you know this child. She has probably climbed a tree, found a bird’s nest and is so busy communing with the little voices in the eggs, she has forgotten the time.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “We will find her, unscathed. I shall become very angry, confine her to her room, confine everyone to their rooms and you and I can go into Erestor’s office and make love on his desk!” He quickly pinched her backside and waggled an eyebrow.

Bronwyn snorted. Elves!

Celeborn met them at the entrance of the last Homely House. “I will stay. Faeowynne is not known for her gentle touch, I would not know why as her parents are such paragons of tact!” The Elves were shouldering freshly-filled quivers and buckling on knives. Haldir was sheathing his sword.

“Ai. This I know well. I do not know where she gets her loose tongue from.” His eyes bored into the Silver Lord’s. ” I hope I do not come home to find you in bed with my wife and daughter.” he said glibly. Both of his brothers snorted in laughter. Celeborn’s shoulders shook with mirth.

“Nay. I well recall King Thranduil bent over when he tried anything with your wife. Besides,” he shrugged in that elegant way of his people, “you would kill me.”


What big eyes you have
The kind of eye that drive wolves mad
So just to see that you don’t get chasedI think I ought to walk with you for a ways…

Anselm roamed deeper into the forest. She knew she was being followed. The trees had warned her. Still, she had no worries. He would come. She had called him.


Heridil shouldered his quiver, ready to move out. As an afterthought, he went into the gathering area where the family wolves lounged around the fire. “Franz.” A black and white wolf, with silver eyes sat up, alert. “Come. We must find your mistress.” The other wolves watched in silence as the large beast went to stand beside the quiet Elf. He chuffed once.

“I know. I have a gnawing in the back of my head, as well.”


The sun was now down, twilight ascending. The moon was up and Anselm moved deeper into the woods.

The one that was following her was gaining ground, getting closer.


Little Red Riding Hood
I’d like to hold you if I could
But you might think I’m a big bad wolf
So I won’t

Rúmil was ahead. Of the brothers, he was the swiftest tracker. He stood outside, nose to the air.

“She has been out many hours. Her scent grows cold.”

Heridil felt a twitch in his mind. He scanned quickly. “This way.” he blurted and he and Franz dashed off into the woods.

“What the hell?” The Brothers Lorien, along with Beckett stared dumbly at the retreating figure, disappearing into the night.
“What is he doing?” Beckett asked quietly.

“Going in the right direction.” Rúmil answered his nephew. “Come quickly. This does not bode well. I can feel anguish in the trees.” The four took off after Heridil on silent feet.

It was now dark, and Anselm was now struggling as she strove deeper. She had not been gifted with the keen Elvish eyesight of her father and now she was hoping to lose her tracker and shimmy up a tree long enough to hide so the one she desired would find her. Or her Ada.

Ada finding her right about now, even with his temper, was appealing.

A filthy hand grabbed her arm and spun her around, a smelly, grimy body pinning her to a tree.
“Well, look what we have here. An Elf Maiden, lost in the woods.”

What full lips you have
They’re sure to lure someone bad


Heridil went cold. She was in danger, he knew she was in danger and he charged off, his vision sharpening in the dark. Franz darted after him, the two leaving just barely enough trail for the others to follow.

They plunged deeper into the forest.


The ragged man pushed her against a tree, his eyes raking over her young, lithe body. Anselm stared back, looking deeply into dull, brown eyes. His hair was matted, filthy and he had a scruffy beard.
She jerked away, turning around the trunk, in effort to run deeper into the forest. He ran around the other way, catching her by sleeve. She heard material rip as he slung her hard against the trunk.

He pressed against her.

“And what is your name, pretty Elf-maid?” Anselm scrunched up her nose.

“You stink!”

His hand cracked across her face. Anselm reeled at the burning slap; no one had ever lifted a hand to her, not even her parents. Her Ada and Mama had disciplined with love and actions, never resorting to physicality. Anger, a feeling that rarely crossed her features, erupted.

“Let’s try again. What is your name, pretty Elf-Maid?”

Anselm spat, spittle landing directly on the man’s cheek. Beckett had taught she and her sister to hock lugies back when they were young. Fury raged in the man’s face, as he wiped at the liquid dripping down his face. He openly sneered. His hand raised again.

“I would not do that if I were you.” she said calmly.
“And what are you going to do about it?” The man’s voice was venomous.

“He comes. They come.”

“He?” The man scoffed. “They? He-They who?”

At that moment, he felt a knife tip at the back of his neck. He heard a low growling.

“You will lower your hand.” The voice was low, authoritative. “You will step back, or I shall either cut your throat, or Franz will tear it out.”

Slowly, the man turned.

And looked directly into green-eyed fury.


“Where did he move to so fast?” Beckett’s eyes were everywhere. “One minute, he was here and the next, he was gone.” His youngest sister pestered him unmercifully growing up, but he had always felt a responsibility towards her. Rúmil pointed.

“That way.”

They entered the forest and soon heard low voices. And Franz growling.


“Ah.” The man licked his lips nervously. The Elf was slender, but he still did not want to take this one on. Especially when he had a knife at his throat and a wolf at his beck and call. “The lady is yours. I meant no harm.” His eyes shifted back and forth, quickly, trying to come up with a suitable fabrication. “I was lost and looking to ask directions.”

“And asking for directions included assaulting her? Striking her?” Heridil never took his eyes from the miscreant. He nodded to Anselm, beckoning her to step behind him, which she did quickly. “Do you have any idea whom you have touched?” Heridil felt cool hands grasp him around the waist. He stroked the mass of long hair. He never took his eyes from the rogue.

But he sensed, at the same time the man saw, his companions entered the glade.


So until you get to Gramma’s place
I think you ought to walk with me
And be safe…


Anselm sensed them as well. Franz had stopped growling and she turned, her arms still wrapped around the green-eyed Elf, to see her Ada, uncles, and brother standing in the twilight. Heridil broke the contact of their two bodies, shoving her towards her Ada. She went from one warm, protective embrace into another.

Haldir gently clucked her under her chin, tilting her jaw upward. He turned her face from side to side, taking in the red slap mark, the torn tunic.

“That man did this to you? He has… harmed you?” His eyes narrowed, inspecting her closely.

“Only the slap.” Anselm’s eyes slid to her rescuer. “Heridil stopped him in time. Heridil and Franz.”

Haldir hugged his youngest close, lips brushing her brow. When she pulled back, he stroked the cheek, the heat from the blow, evaporating.

“Heridil. We will take over from here. Please take her back to the Homely House.” Heridil’s knife against the man’s throat was replaced by the points of three arrows. “Her mother is anxious. She will not rest until her youngest chick is back in the safety of her sight.”

Heridil stepped back, looking down at the faint outline of the wolf.Are you coming with us, Franz?” The wolf behaved as if he had not heard the Elf speak, plainly stating in actions its intent to stay.

Heridil took that information in stride. He gestured to Anselm, taking her by the arm. He looked up to Haldir. “Haldir, will you be long?”

The tattered man paled at the mention of Haldir’s name. That Elf was legend and if this was his daughter… he hoped his death would be swift.

Haldir’s eyes narrowed, gleaming eerily in the quickly darkening sky.


I’ll try to keep satisfied
Just to walk by your side
maybe you’ll see things my way
Before we get to Gramma’s place

The Elf and the elleth strode quickly from the forest into the dale surrounding Imladris. The glow from the dwelling could be seen easily. Bronwyn had gone through the residence, lighting every globe, every lamp, as if to guide her daughter home. The two stopped on the hill, looking down.

“Your parents will no longer allow you to roam freely, child.”

Anselm stopped and glared at her rescuer.

“I am not a child.”

Heridil snorted. How like her mother, she sounded.

How like her mother, she looked.

That thought bothered him. Bothered him deeply. He shook the nagging voice off. His voice took on forced sternness.

“You are not? After today, some one will follow you around. No longer will you have freedom of movement.” The fact was not lost on him that she held him by the hand. Gently.

“I am not a child!” she repeated. “I will not be treated as such!”

Heridil bent lower, his face closer to hers.

“What you desire matters not. You will be… watched. You cannot fend for yourself and…”

Anselm grabbed him by the face and inexpertly ground her mouth into his.

She released him just as quickly.

And smiled, obviously very proud of herself.

Heridil stood up and glared.

“What was that?”

Her face fell.

“That was a… a… kiss…”


The Elf looked back into the woods. He could hear nothing. He looked towards the Homely House, where Bronwyn, Faeowynne, Celeborn and others waited news.

“No. You are not a child.” Heridil watched her begin to puff up again. “But,” he wagged a single finger in front of her. ” but nor are you an adult. You have much to learn, Tithen Dulin, about many things.”

“Learn?” Her face was incredulous, the wind knocked out of her sails. “Such as?”

Heridil stood up straight and tucked her hand into his elbow. “How to kiss, for one thing. There are many things for you to learn, but I suspect it will be sometime before your parents let you out of their sight!” He led her slowly towards the collections of lights.

“And when they do?”

“When they do, I will teach you how to kiss.” He held her hand tightly and she pressed against him.

“Will you teach me other things? Things that are… pleasing?”

Heridil smirked. He could sense her hopefulness. “I will not teach you to please others.” He felt her sigh in disappointment.

“I will teach you to please me.”

I’m gonna keep my sheep suit on
‘Til Im’ sure you’ve been shown
That I can be trusted walkin’ with you alone
I mean BaaBaaaaaBaaaaa!!

Bronwyn fussed over her wayward chick, as suspected, and no one asked the fate of the ragged man when the rest of the party returned less than thirty minutes later.

As Haldir promised, he confined Anselm to her room, and did not relent in allowing her to leave the perimeter of the Last Homely House until procuring her promise of having someone with her at all times if she left.

That night, as Anselm chaffed in her self made prison and while Haldir made passionate love to his wife on Erestor’s desk, Heridil paced the gardens and water’s edge of Rivendell.

Where the hell had his brain been? What in all of Middle Earth had possessed him to say that… offer to… nay – not offer… he WOULD teach her. To please him?

Haldir would kill him if he laid a finger on his youngest child. Beckett had been The Son; Faeowynne was a tough, gregarious, ferocious girl. She knew when to butt ahead and when to retreat. She was capable of defending herself. But Anselm was Bronwyn and Haldir’s baby. Haldir doted on her. He would never have believed Haldir would be this way with any child, much less this one. But, aye, Haldir would slit his throat for even looking at this other-worldly daughter of his.

Haldir? Gah! What would Bronwyn do to him? Bronwyn would sling those mighty sound waves at him until his eardrums ruptured!

Melko’s Chains! Anselm was 98 years old. Young. Still an Elfling. Memories assaulted him, ensnaring his guilt, pricking his conscious: her riding on his lap when they traveled from Isengard, riding her on his shoulders as a small one, pretending to be a Mearas. He taught her to fletch arrows. He had held her, changed her clothing and bathed her as a babe. He had pulled her out of more trees than he cared to count. He was an uncle to her. She was…


The Elf was startled from his melancholy. His eyes jerked to the Silver Lord, who had somehow moved up next to him without his noticing.

“My Lord…”

“Oh, stop it!” Celeborn waved a hand at him and made a face. “You are troubled.”


“You were always a wretched liar!” Celeborn smiled at the young Galadhrim. “Now, what is it about Bronwyn’s daughter that has you so upset?”

The Elf pulled himself up to his full height. “Sir, I have no idea what…

“If you continue on this path, I shall be forced to pull you over my knee. It has been awhile since I have done that.” Celeborn looked away, with a small smile. “Of course, I should probably not do that. I would enjoy it too much…” His voice trailed off, a bemused expression on his face. The breeze flitted through the ElfLord’s long tresses. As quickly as he smiled, his look returned to seriousness. “You are bothered. Tell me.”

Heridil perused his tips of his boots, the toes barely visible in the moonlight. “I… I am ashamed…”

A snort rose from the vicinity of Celeborn’s mouth. His shook his head in vexation. “Fine. Trip over your tongue! Shall I tell you what I think is wrong and you may say ‘aye’ or ‘nay’?” He did not wait for the young warrior to agree. “You loved Bronwyn once. Deeply. Correct?”

Heridil nodded, his eyes fell. He knew Haldir had known; he had even spoken to him about it. He did not know it was wide spread knowledge. Had he been so obvious?

“And now you find yourself having feelings for this daughter of hers and you fear you are simply transferring your emotions from one woman to one who has many of her characteristics.”

Heridil nodded again.

And promptly found himself soundly thumped upside the head.

“Silly Elf! Do you not see her Ada in her as well?” Heridil gaped at his Lord. “She looks at you like Haldir looks at Bronwyn. Ownership.” Celeborn put up his hand to stop Heridil from interrupting. “No, he would never tell her he owned her. But he owns her heart. You should have noticed how gently he holds it. And you better realize how gently Bronwyn holds his as well. Anselm wants to hold your heart. Not so gently, at first as she does not know how. Look closely. She is an arrogant little puss! She desires you and she has you exactly where she wants you! While she sits in her room, planning her next move, you are out here, pacing the grass into dust, eating yourself alive for having normal responses! She will pull you around by the nose if you do not take control. And soon. Tell me.” Celeborn looked at him, curiously, “who kissed who?”

“She kissed me.”

Celeborn let out a deep sigh.

“But, it was not a very good one and I asked her what it was supposed to be.”

Celeborn chuckled. “Good come back!” He nodded into the moonlight. “You might be able to grasp control of this situation yet.”

“My Lord… she is… young…”

“And? Trust me. That is a good thing!”

“She is young!” Heridil persisted. “She is Haldir’s tithen aras. He will kill anyone who touches her. Bronwyn as…”

“She has to grow up sometime.” Celeborn waved his hand dismissively while contemplating the moon-kissed waters. “Iluvatar knows Beckett and Faeowynne already have – do NOT look at me like that; I had nothing to do with either of them or their sexual education! Beckett and Orelinde begin to grow careless…” he continued to wave at Heridil, cutting of the Elf’s gasp, “and as for Faeowynne? Let us just say when her parents catch wind of that one is doing, well, you loving their youngest will not amount to any thing. They will be relieved, in fact!”

Heridil felt like he had been knocked to the ground.

“Do you sense her?” Celeborn tapped his forehead. “Do you feel her, here?” Heridil nodded. “Then Iluvatar has ordained it! Why fight?” Slowly Celeborn turned and walked down the pathway, motioning the younger Elf to follow him. “You fear you are using her to replace her mother in your heart, but the truth is, you have known for decades her mother was not for you. Did you stop to think that perhaps your close contact with Tel’ Lindar was to prepare you for the one meant for you? That you have sat and learned at the feet of her Guardian for a purpose?”

They walked a few more steps in silence.

“You fear her youth, her inexperience. Believe me, Haldir had demons – and I mean horrible things – to deal with from Bronwyn’s past. You do not know how it was almost their undoing. Only by the grace of the Valar was she allowed to come back. She realized too late what a gift she had been given. Anselm trusts you. You have forever been her stalwart hero. She trusted you to rescue her. Silly child could have been killed today, had you not known where to hunt for her!”

Slowly, the words began to sink into the quiet Elf’s mind. It did not make it any easier…

“What is she thinking now?” Both Elves had stopped walking and Celeborn watched Heridil.

“I sense… excitement… nervousness…”

“You continue to do that.” Celeborn again was waving a finger at him. “Make your move. Capture her heart. Hold it gently. Teach her, but be aware of her mind’s workings.” The wagging finger tucked itself under the silver robe Celeborn wore. “Be patient. The Valar have great things planned for this child of Haldir and Bronwyn’s. Great things planned for her offspring.” The ElfLord looked back towards the Last Homely House. “I do not know about you, but I find myself rather hungry.” He jerked his head back towards the expansive residence. “Care to join me in the kitchens?”

A small smile tucked itself into the corner of Heridil’s mouth. “You are ever wise, my Lord.”

“Bah! That is not what my wife says!” The two slowly made their way back towards their home.
“What does your wife say?”

Celeborn smiled and chortled. “She says I’m a perverted old Elf.” His smile thinned, faded slowly. “Hmmm. Strange.”

“What is strange, my Lord?”

“I just realized how much I miss her.”


Soon, too soon, Haldir allowed Anselm to leave the confines of the home to roam the woods with an armed guard. At Celeborn’s urging, Heridil was assigned to her.

Bronwyn watched her daughter closely, sensing something was up. And somehow, that meddlesome old geezer she adored had something up his rather generous and not so geezer-like sleeves. Her attention reverted back to the lone scroll she was arguing over with her husband.

Heridil acted most put out, resigning himself to watch over Anselm.

And gently, as promised, he taught her how to kiss.

The moon waxed and waned.

The seasons changed.

Springtime turned to summer.

Summer turned to autumn.

The temperature dropped and lovers held each other closer.

The children grew bolder.

“You two are disgusting!”

Elrohir and Elladan looked at the interloper.

“Oh, you should talk, Faeowynne!” Elrohir smirked at the short blonde. “What is it we do that is so appalling?”

“Spying on my siblings! Do you not have anything better to do?”

The twins looked at each other, deep in thought.

“We could…”

“No. We have done that. We could…”

“No. That…”

“Bores us!” They finished together, smirking.

“And besides..” Elrohir started… ” We are not…”

“Spying. We are keeping the…”

“Coast clear.”

Faeowynne scowled. “I hate it when you do that. What do you mean, keeping the coast clear?”

Elladan pointed to his right. “Well, if one walks five minutes in that direction, they will catch Beckett and Orelinde trying out a new position.”

“They are most inventive.” his twin added sagely. Both nodded to each other. “Of course, leaving that book…”

“Out where they could find it…”

“Book? What book?” Faeowynne demanded.

“Well, we found this book…”

“It was illustrated and hidden on top of…”

“…one of the shelves in Erestor’s library…”

“…disgusting. Who would have thought…”

“…Erestor would be so perverted! It was very…”


Both twins politely coughed.

Faeowynne rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “Fine.” she gritted. “You provided them with reading material and they are now humping away with no thought as to who might walk up on them, so you are patrolling. What about Anselm?”

“She and Heridil are over in that direction…” Elrohir pointed to the opposite side…

“…about a six minute walk. Poor…”

“…Heridil. He is such the gentleman. She will not…”

“… go any further than allowing him to fondle her breasts through her tunic. He is…”

“…walking rather stiffly these days. Have you not noticed?”

Faeowynne continued to rub her nose. “I have a headache.” She wandered off towards the Rivendell and waved behind her with her free hand. “You two continue to…”

“…Stand watch! Do not worry, fair Faeowynne! We will allow…”

“… no one to disturb your siblings.”

Light laughter echoed into the leaves.

“Shit and spit!” Faeowynne groused. “I hate it when they do that!”

Soft footpads fell on the marble floors. The whisper of a robe slid across the floor, as furtive eyes slid from dark corner to dark corner. Down hallways, the shadow clung to the wall. Until it reached its goal. Slowly, the hand pushed the door open.

His hearing was sharp and he sat up in the bed.

“Darling, you risk much.”

Orelinde crawled into the bed with Beckett. “Your parents are busy with their own selves and Adar is on the other side of the lodging. He will not look for me before sunrise.” She unbelted the robe, flinging it to the floor. She wore nothing underneath. Long, pale hair gleamed in the moonlight. “I want to lie in your arms in a real bed for a change!”

Beckett moved over, pulling back the covers as she joined him.

They did not realize she had been watched.

Anselm peered around the corner.


If I could fly
I’d pick you up
I’d take you into the night
And show you love
Like you’ve never seen…

Heridil was a patient lover. He had attempted nothing, asked for nothing, enduring her questioning touches without complaint. Many afternoons in the forest, they lay in each others arms, speaking without words, wrapped in his cloak, clothes mussed, in disarray. Many times, her fingers traced the outlines of his chest, his hardness. He had never pressed her for more.

As a result, her body ached.

And she wanted what Beckett and Orelinde shared.

She had every intention of staying here in Middle Earth when Mama and Ada left. There were things to do; places still to explore. And she was determined to bind Heridil to her before that time came. He had always been the one she ran to when her parents were not around. He had been the one she rode with when younger. He had always been stalwart, strong.

He had rescued her when she needed rescuing.

Heridil lay awake in the bed, mentally reaching out, probing for her. Today had driven her insane with need. She was growing tired of waiting, yet her fear…

A virgin’s fear.


Over the past months, he had played Celeborn’s words over and over in his mind; trying to understand, trying to reconcile his love, his need, with his guilt. She was so close to giving over. Too many nights, he had gone into the baths, after being with her, and oiled his hand, sat at the edge and thought of her, fantasized his hand was hers, her sheath.

Too many nights, he had woken, dreaming of her, the sheets drenched in sweat and seed.
Not much longer would he wait.

She was coming.

Tense, frightened…


She ached. Ached for him. And he would finally teach her the last art of love. Of trust.
Quench the thirst. Fulfill the need.

He got up from the bed and waited in the shadows.


She did not stop to think she that perhaps she was being selfish in her desire as she slipped down the shadowed passage. She just knew that she could not abide being separated from the quiet Elf.
Her mother had a Guardian. She wanted one to. Unlike her mother, she was choosing hers.
She did not think her mother had complained a whit, however!

Silently, she made her way to Heridil’s door. She pushed it open and was not surprised that it was not locked.

She stole into the room. As with most of the rooms here in Rivendell, Heridil’s private chambers were large, with open balconies looking out into the abundant gardens. It was late summer and the smell of jasmine and roses hung on the air. Anselm crept quietly towards the bed.

It was empty.

She reared back, confusion etched on her features. Where could he be? Faeowynne had been slipping out of their rooms on and off for over a year. Surely, Heridil had not mistaken her for…

“Lirimaer.” He placed gentle hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “It is late. What are you doing here?”

Anselm looked up into Heridil’s face. “I could not sleep. I came to look for you.”

A single eyebrow raised. “You found me. Now what do you plan to do?”

Anselm’s mouth flapped for a moment as she attempted to get the words out of her mouth. “I… I… am tired of touching you.” she finally blurted. “I want you to touch me back.”

“You know what you ask of me?”

She nodded.

“You are sure? You are sure you want this?” He searched her face, her eyes. They were bright with need, with fear.

“Yes.” She pulled him towards her. “I love you, Heridil. Make me yours.”

He needed no more persuading. In one swift movement, he swept her from her feet and laid her gently on the bed. His mouth fell on hers, consuming her. His arms encased her, one under her neck, holding her close, the other hand, caressing her hip. For many long minutes, he contented himself with just kissing her, stroking her back, her backside.

Her body pleaded for more.

She ground into him, pushing, hearing a call she did not know how to answer. Her hands flew to the soft tunic he had been sleeping in, pulling on it, tugging it up, her fingertips flying under the material to stroke and tease ridged muscles. She felt him smile against her mouth.”Patience, tithen dulin.” He lifted her shift, exposing her bare bottom.

She groaned at the gentle touch. She pressed into him even more.

One last time, Heridil asked her.

“Are you sure, tithen dulin? Once we start, there will be no turning back.”

Angrily, she pulled up and leapt from the bed. With a vicious yank, she drew the shift up and over her head, standing in the moon’s rays, devoid of anything.

“There. Do you question my desire for you anymore?” Her eyes blazed.

Heridil rose from the bed, his eyes slid up and down her body, causing her to shiver with anticipation. His eyes burned in the night.

Celeborn was right. There was much of her Ada’s arrogance in her. It was time to check that arrogance.

Hold her heart.


“You have had your chances to know anyone else, experiment with anyone else. From this night on, you are mine. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

His tunic and sleep pants hit the floor and he stood in the moonlight with her. She focused on his face.
“Anselm, tithen dulin. Look at me.”

Her words were soft. “I am.”

Something rare and seldom heard happened at that time.

Heridil chuckled.

“No, you are not.” He stepped back. “Look at me. All of me.”

Slowly, her eyes traveled his face. They lowered to his shoulders, his chest, down to his waist, down…

Her breath drew in sharply and her eyes flew back to his face.
“We won’t fit! Heridil, how will we…”

The Elf again lifted her into his arms and placed her back on the bed, the rare smile still splitting his features. “Yes, we will.” He stretched out next to her and pulled her into his arms. “Put your hand… here.” He placed her small palm on his chest. “Now, kiss me.” For several minutes, they continued thus until she relaxed in his arms. His hand returned to her hip, her back, stroking, circling. Eventually, he moved to her breasts, perky buds that fit his mouth sweetly. Her own hand began to move, to his hip, around, stroking his leg…

“Go ahead.”

Wide, frightened eyes looked into his.

I will not move. See, what you do to me?” He gently grasped her hand as it hovered above him. He never looked away from her eyes. “Saes.”

On the word ‘please’, asked so quietly, she shyly grasped him around the rim. She was shocked at the heat, the hardness, encased in silky skin. Slowly, she stroked up and down with her fingertips, finally gaining the courage to grasp the head. She stroked the eye, feeling…

“You are wet there!”

“Yes.” He grasped her hand, which, in truth, was causing great havoc on his senses and moved it to her own heat. “Feel. You are wet as well.”

She yanked her hand from his and smacked him on the chest. “I know that! I am always… wet… like that after I have been with you!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I wondered what was wrong.”

Ah. He DID have a similar affect on her. Gently, he grasped her hand and sucked her… his… their combined juices from her fingers. He nipped the tiny pads. “There is nothing wrong with you.” His eyebrows drew together. “Has your mother not spoken to you about…”

“Yes! Yes she has.” Anselm whispered. “I mean… I know what will happen. It will sting the first time. But she said if I was with someone I loved, who loved me back…” she stopped. She had told him, but…

“Anselm.” Her eyes flew to his, the full moon reflected in his green orbs. “I love you, my little bird. Tithen dulinamin.” He positioned himself between her thighs and lowered his head to her breast, his hands constantly stroking, constantly caressing. “I want no other but you.” Slowly, he kissed his way down, to her abdomen, the indention of her belly. “Whether you go to the Undying Lands, or stay here, I will stay with you.” He nipped and suckled on the area above the joint of her hip, causing her to jump. His thumbs spread her nether region wide to the moonlight and he gazed at the center of her being. “I want to be the Ada to your children and I want keep you safe from any harm.” His mouth lowered and she convulsed, her hands clutching the downy sheets.

Her body tightened…

His finger dipped into liquid heat and he probed, testing her tightness, the tautness of her maidenhead. He added a second finger, gently stretching, readying her for him. She was moaning and thrashing wildly, one hand in her mouth to quell her voice. His tongue suckled at the swollen pearl. As he felt her reach the pinnacle, he pressed the knot inside her harder, causing her to go over the edge. She attempted to buck, held down by his hand as he lapped the lubricating juices from her core. He waited for her breathing to slow, deepen. He pulled up and rolled her into his arms.

“There is sweetness, my love. And then there is passion, hunger, need. That was sweetness.” He pulled her in to him more tightly. “This is passion…”

She completely lost all awareness as his tongue took possession of her mouth.

This kiss was not like the ones in the forest. It was a welcomed invasion. For so long, she had called the shots, decided how far they would or would not go, and now…

She was not going to take this lying down… well, yes she was, but, she wanted to play an active role in her own seduction! Her hands found their way into his hair, played with the tips of his ears.

There was a lot of growling going on and she couldn’t tell whose growls were whose.

In fact, neither one cared…

His hands were back at her breasts, playing with her painfully erect nipples. Her need grew and her hips ground a rhythm as old as time against him.

“Saes.” She was moving against him, grinding, trying to throw her leg over his thigh. He moved fingers down, gently flicking the swollen nub. She groaned whispered, barely heard pleas of release into his neck before she raised her face, her lips, to his…

She nipped his bottom lip.

“Ai…” He rolled her over, settling and placing her legs at his waist. With one swift motion, he raised and buried himself to the hilt. Before she could cry out, he kissed her, deep.

He did not move, allowing her to situate herself to him, his length, his width. Slender fingers gripped his shoulders painfully and when he raised up to look at her, she was white around the mouth.”Liriamer, you are…”

“Ow. I am… fine. Ow. Owowowowow.” Dark blue eyes glared at him. “It is not supposed to hurt anymore?” she whispered. Slowly he began to move.

“No. It will lessen.”

He was right. The sudden jolt of pain quickly faded to pure pleasure. He reached between their fused bodies and quickly, her need rose again.

And as he had waited for thousands of years for the one, and as he had waited for her to grow up enough, he waited for her climax. And when it came, he joined her.


Another set of eyes and ears listened from the hallway. Mutual cries of pleasure softly emitted from the room and Celeborn smiled to himself. Beckett would be happily settled. Legolas would be quite angry when he found out, but he would get over it. Anselm would also be happily and safely settled, a strong Elf and Guardian for her, which she would need. Haldir would be quite angry, but if necessary, he would personally pack his angry former March Warden on the boat himself to keep him from strangling the stalwart Elf who was bedding his youngest daughter. All that remained was Faeowynne. He smiled to himself as he slowly strolled along the halls. It was all coming to a close and even with Bronwyn strongly fighting the inevitable and Haldir trying to keep her on keel, Celeborn was quietly moving in the background, tying up the final strings.

“I wonder if the Twins returned that book Erestor left behind…”

He began to whistle…

Tithen dulin – Little Bird