In which Haldir's hesitation is explained.
Mirkwood, III 2487, November
"Would you give yourself to me?"
It was a simple question. With anyone else Haldir would have said yes or no immediately, and there would have been an end to it. But when Legolas asked it, Haldir was assailed by a the sudden knowledge that this was more than just another conquest for either of them; that the answer to this question would shape his future.
It terrified him, and for several moments he could not speak.
* * *
It was not the first time that day he had been struck speechless. Although he had arrived in Mirkwood expecting to see the young prince again, he had not been prepared for his body’s reaction. His heart had stopped, and his breath had caught in his throat. It had taken all his self-control to greet the prince with the appearance of equanimity.
He had watched the prince as much as possible during the evening. Legolas had matured a little since they had last met - his face was slowly losing its child-like shape and becoming more masculine, but, paradoxically, even more beautiful. He was more graceful and more gracious, a little more worldly-wise and knowledgeable, though still very young in elven terms. Haldir had found him bewitching.
He had not had the opportunity to speak with him in private, and he would not speak in front of the court: he remembered what Legolas had said at the pool at Caras Galadhon, and he had no wish to antagonise the king. And so he had sat through the evening, relaying the news from the other elven lands, singing until his throat was sore, until he had realised that there would be no chance to speak with the prince.
He had heard Legolas go past his room, had heard the pause, and had wondered at its meaning. It had taken only a few seconds to decide that he would follow the prince, perhaps to talk to him without the close scrutiny of Thranduil and his court. After wandering through frigid tunnels and caves he had been profoundly relieved to find the great kitchen fire still glowing and had decided to await Legolas’ return there.
He had sat and watched the flames flickering in the hearth, every flame casting a shadow against the wall. Flame and shadow…a good omen or bad? He was uncertain now, a little afraid of the depth of the emotion that had kindled in his heart. He had loved many times, but always in a light and friendly fashion. Never had he felt this all-consuming passion for another. What good could come of it?
His vision had clouded, and through the flames he had seen an image: the prince looking at him, his eyes dark and sad, watching him walk away. He felt the anguish in the prince’s heart and longed to turn back to comfort him, but he knew that if he did, he would be lost forever. And yet... he felt the love that they had shared, burning as bright as any Silmaril, and he could not bear the thought of losing that, no matter how much it would cost him.
*Elbereth, help me,* he pleaded, and felt the grace of her presence, a ghostly kiss on his forehead, and a single word in his head:
*Courage.*
* * *
"Would you give yourself to me?"
He looked down, and saw that Legolas, too, was scared: his eyes were closed with the merest hint of a tear at the corners of the lids. His heart was wrenched at the thought of causing his lover even a moment's pain. Submitting to the fate that Eru had ordained for him, he bent to kiss the soft lips, saying, "Yes, Legolas, I would give myself to you."