Song of the Marchwarden - A Deathless Death

Chapter 8 - Deathless Death

"Marchwarden, Sir!" A handsome elf with hair of silver caught the attention of Haldir from below. The elf dismounted the white horse, as he shouted up to him, "Our Lady Galadriel sent me, saying you will need this steed." He climbed up the to the talan and gasped as he saw you in Haldir's arms. The rumours are true, then. She has returned.

He quickly regained his composure. "Lady Galadriel offered the following message: submersion."

As awoken from a trance, Haldir nodded. "Noted, Bairrfhionn. Assist me."

The elves deftly descended from the platform, as if carrying down a dead elf was a natural course of events for them.

"Dismissed." Haldir nodded from horseback as he lifted you from Bairrfhionn's arms. Haldir rode like he had never before, he had to make it to the waterfall. He was sure you were dead, but he had to try. He had to.

The moon was still out when he reached the waterfall, but he knew the sun would being to flush the world red soon enough. The waterfall was a place of ethereal beauty, even for elves. The place seemed to glow in spite of the darkness. All that could be heard was the running of the water as it fell from stone, into the stream below. Haldir got down from the horse, with you still in his arms, and walked straight to the waterfall. He walked through the waterfall, into the cave behind. Very few knew of this waterfall, and fewer knew of the spring that lay behind. He walked with you straight into the spring, the moonlight dancing through the waterfall catching the glistening ores within the rock. He held you in the water, which reached to his chest and was pleasantly warm. Your body felt warmer, but he was unsure if you were just heated by him, his wishing or the water. He removed your outer travelling dress, fearing somehow it would stop the water's effect on you. Your white cotton underdress clung to your form, sheer as it seemed at one with your breast. He now thought he knew what men spoke of when they claimed to see an angel.

The sun began to come through the waterfall, basking the cave in blush pink. He slowly began to sing a lullaby that he remembered his mother singing to him, when his father did not return from a mission. He clung your body to his as tears freely fell from his face. Tears for you, tears for loss, tears for himself. His breath shuddered as he struggled to continue, his melody now in a whisper.

The sun was much past its highest point by the time you started trying to move. You felt the warm water bathe your skin. When you had the strength to open your eyes you found yourself staring into the oceanic orbs that seemed to caress your very Fëa. A sharp intake of breath parted his perfect lips, as you began to stand - supported by the water.

"I knew I could trust you, Haldir." Your voice croaked as you pulled him towards you for an embrace. You laid your ear to his chest and your fists found purchase in his clothing. You hugged him so tightly, you didn't even want to water to separate you both. His arms hesitantly went round your waist as he relaxed into the contact. How did you always manage to ensure he abandoned his defences?

"Gaeariel," you felt his deep voice rumble through his chest. The vibrations were soothing. "I thought......I thought you were dead. I worried I was too late." He shook his head disbelievingly.

You finally lifted your head and shushed him, and whispered many a thank you in his ear.

Your breath tickled his ear, and feeling you so close to him burned desires he thought were impossible. He would have kissed you there and then, had his accountability and duty not set in. Marchwarden through and through, he cursed himself.

"Come," he said, pushing you gently away from him, "we must change and eat."

You were surprised when you opened the bag with your clothing in it, to find someone had packed you two dresses. One travelling dress, similar in shape and design to the one that was now drying, except instead of black, it was as deep inky blue. The second dress, was white. Pure clean, The kind that berries would undoubtedly stain. Galadriel you smiled to yourself. Thank you dearest, Palantiriel (prophetess).