Song of the Marchwarden - A Deathless Death

Chapter 6 - Trust

As morning light pierced your eyes, Haldir was already up, and his bed mat lay untouched.

"Did you not sleep, Marchwarden?" you enquired.

"I rested my lady, but no sleep found me. Although it is safe here, we can take no risks." He spoke gravely, contrasting the kindness in his eyes as he handed you a water sack and some lembas.

He would never admit it, but he was startled when you gasped in excitement. He looked at you like you were crazy, as you explained, "Marchwarden, I have been captive for how long, I do not know. And amongst men, no less. And if you know my history, before that I was in Valinor, where food is not required to pass the lips of those who wander there! It has been too long since I have eaten the food of our people, even if it is only lembas!" You laughed, and hummed in delight as you tasted the sweet, sweet lembas.

"If I may say, even elves who prefer the lembas rarely make such lascivious sounds of pleasure while they consume." Haldir playfully sniped as he drank from his waterskin.

You laughed in equal measure of shock and entertainment, "Alas, I dread to think what sounds may escape my lips when I partake in something even more delicious, Marchwarden."

He cocked his brow in response while a smile broke his stony façade. Perhaps this journey may not be that bad after all.

After your breakfast of lembas and battle of wits, it was time to move. You couldn't help but notice there was only one horse. Haldir explained you would be on the back and could hold on. The insult, as if you weren't capable of riding yourself! And probably outdo the marchwarden. He shared a deep laugh at your expense when the look of horror on your face wouldn't subside.

"I understand my lady, however it only for a day or two. Then we must walk." He said gently.

"Well, if we must be in such close abode at least just call me Gaeariel." You rolled your eyes.

"As you wish, Gaeariel." He dipped his head in mock reverence. "And please call me Haldir."

As much as you tired to stifle your laughter, a snicker escaped and Haldir's eyes seemed to sparkle.

As you both rode the steed, you couldn't help but notice how broad the Marchwarden's shoulders were, the strength that lay beneath his clothing. How beautiful his golden hair was. How he smelled of leather and spice. As your black cloak flew behind you as you both made haste, pulled yourself into him closer, and lay your face to side as you settled into the rhythmic beat of the horse's gallop. By Valar, Lembas bread wasn't the only thing you missed.

Haldir could not lie to himself that feeling you pressed up against him stirred feelings in him in he would rather stayed in slumber. He couldn't remember the last time he was touched. Your touch was both firm and gentle. And having someone so close, was just comforting. HE was unable to admit any feelings further than that, as his Marchwarden senses were tickled as he heard something to his left. HE slowed the horse down and could tell you heard it, too. If the Easterlings knew who you were, then surely Orcs would know by now.

There, the flash of black, he felt you tense your grip as you saw it, too.

"Can you wield a sword?" He whispered as he passed you his. Now was not the time to be incredulous, even if the warrior in you was. You grasped it firmly, as you rolled off the back of the horse, with Haldir swiftly following.

"There is the elf-witch!" One of them snarled, as an orc appeared from the left. You raised your sword as it ran towards you.

"Don't hurt her, we are to bring her back alive!" The yellow eyed Orc snarled.