Title: Companionship (working title) UNFINISHED

Fandom: LOTR

Rating: NC-17 eventually

Disclaimer: Tolkein owns lord of the rings. Willow, her village, amelia,

and any other original characters are my creation

Summary: Another human catches Celeborn's eye, though the circumstances

are very very different. Galadriel knows eventually she will depart and

puts a plan into motion so that Celeborn will always have company. Sequel

to Traditions, or at least set in that same universe

            Pain shot through her body in dull throbs as she was slowly brought back

to consciousness. She had to wait until her vision cleared from the

blurred double images she was seeing until she could realize that she

hadn’t crossed over, that she was indeed very much still alive. The more

practical part of her was grateful, yet her heart sunk as she realized

that she wouldn’t be laid to rest anytime soon. The young woman attempted

to sit up, and gasped at the spasms tearing through her.

            Or maybe she might, if such a thing was possible for her anymore.

            She focused on taking deep breaths, pleased that she could breathe

without too much trouble or pain. Thank whatever powers that be for small

favors. She slowly took stock of her condition, of her injuries. She

seemed to have sustained some burns from the fire, but nothing as fatal as

what her brother had hoped. The bruises were still there, and she half

suspected that his blows had cracked a few ribs. Biting her split lip, she

glanced down her torn and bloodied dress, pleased that the gash on her

cleavage had started to heal. That was one thing she was grateful to her

heritage for; her people were always quick healers, and could stomach

much, something the men in her life had clearly forgotten. She moved on,

wincing as she moved to slowly hike up her skirt, sighing at the red welts

on her thighs, the healing cut that was too close to her sex for her

taste. At least the ripping sting between her legs had stopped.

            Sighing, then wincing at the pain that caused, Willow sunk back down onto

her side, curling gently as she focused on being still for a few moments.

She could curse the death of her parents that left her with her horrid

elder brother, she could curse him even, or the village, or her former

husband, but what could would that really do her? She was barely eighteen,

shamed, and left for dead.

            If death was even a possibility anymore. The old tales of the crones in

her village could be false by now. After all, Sauron’s power and vengeance

was strong.

            The scenes of the past weeks flit through her mind’s eye, and though it

hurt to cry, her eyes welled up with tears at all that had befallen her.

Her parents had died from sickness but a year ago, and it had fallen to

her to take up what duties she could of the farm. It had prospered, but

not as much as her older brother who had always craved wealth had liked.

He would have made a wonderful calculating nobleman had he been born of

better blood. She took care of him, took care of the livestock and the

management of the crops, and those actions had given him the idea that he

could make a pretty penny by selling her to whoever wanted a good sturdy

wife as soon as she turned of age.

            That lucky man had been the sheriff of their town, a man even more

calculating than her brother, and twenty-five years her senior. He had

eagerly seized the chance at paying for a ripe young maiden, even if she

wasn’t the pick of the girls of marrying age. If anything, she would be

good to manage his books and bear his sons. Would have been good, in his

eyes, at least. To her he was a rude, disgusting man who needed a good

bath. He was the first person that had ever made her wish that Sauron

would return and call the men of the town into battle. At least then she’d

presumably be rid of him. She had desperately hoped that he would be

merciful on her, but as soon as their vows had been exchanged and his

money had passed into her brother’s hand, he had taken her to his bedroom

and demanded her favors. She had tried to please him, even though he

turned her stomach, tried to plead her case that she knew nothing of men,

but he took all too much pleasure on forcing himself on her, making her

scream in pain and revulsion before he pulled out, leaving her whimpering

and unsatisfied, bleeding and her stomach in knots.

            Her life had continued as such for the next week, her husband raising his

hand to her as any man had a right to when she didn’t bring his meal fast

enough, or didn’t suck him hard enough. She should have resigned herself

to her fate right there, but instead she let her mind wander to the

stories she had been told as a child, and then to the stories her girl

friends had told her on hot summer nights when she grew older. Tales of

wild men in the forest, beautiful men who were clean and wore no beards,

who wore silk instead of leather. Elves who were gentle, and not cruel,

and who could make a woman shiver with a mere whisper of a touch. She had

tried to think such comforting thoughts when her husband took her each

night, yet his breath and his rough touch kept her mind away from such

pleasant images.

            So in secret one evening before he had come home from his patrol, she had

been in the bedroom, thinking of those stories. Her mind had conjured an

image of such a lover, of how gentle he’d be, of how giving, and she

wondered what it would be like to have a man that made her want to please

him. She had gotten so caught up in the fantasy her body had caught fire,

and she had thought no harm of hiking her skirt and pleasuring herself as

she had in her secret excursions into the family barn as a younger girl.

            He had walked in, irritated already that there was no supper on the

table, and wobbling from drink. His eyes went mad at the sight of her

moaning and gasping from her own touch, when she had no reaction with him.

She had braced herself for a beating, but was horrified when he ripped the

dress from her body and mounted her brutally, trying to use her lust to

his advantage. When she showed no sign of giving in, he became enraged,

and went to retrieve his hunting knife. He had held her down, declaring

that if she could not seek pleasure with him, she would not have it at

all, then aimed the blade at the bud of her desire between her folds. She

had screamed, wriggling madly, unwilling to give up her source of

happiness, horrified at his madness. The blade had slipped, slicing the

skin under her curls, nearly hitting her sex. The pain of the wound and

the drip of the blood sent reality through her brain, and she had fought

him hard as he tried again, the blade accidentally nicking her right

breast before she had sunk her teeth into his arm and wrung the blade from

his grasp.

            If it had not been a fight for survival, she never would have done it.

But the anger of what he had taken from her, of what more he had tried to

take from her ate into her soul, and she knew nothing until he was dead on

the floor. Horrified, she had dressed and slowly made her way to her

family home, begging help from the only kin she now had.

            She should have known not to be so stupid.

            Her brother had been furious that she hadn’t fulfilled her duty for him,

and that the blood of a town figure was on his family’s hands. Of course,

it was up to him to punish her, and he had eagerly beaten her within an

inch of her life, throwing her against the table her family had taken

meals at and battering her with his fist. He had been ready to close his

thick hands round her throat when an idea had sparked. After all, in their

village, murder was not an easy task. No one murdered unless the madness

gripped them to take their own lives, or they tried to spare a loved one

of the village’s dark curse. She gave her brother that much, he had given

fate a chance. She had been doused with oil and locked in the old barn

that he would have torn down anyway, now that he had money to build a new

one. She had been trapped like an animal with the crippled horse he had

been meaning to shoot when he torched the building. If she could make it

out alive she would be spared. If not, then she deserved it. Such was the

judgement of her people.

            The flames had been licking her hair and skirt when the horse had become

frantic, kicking at the rotting wall and smashing it open to escape.

Nearly choking on the smoke that threatened to consume her, she had run

out into the night, gasping for clean air and relief. Her sibling hadn’t

been thrilled, but he could not back out on a promise of that sort. So she

had been taken to this place far from the village border so she might not

come crawling back. And from the looks of her feet, she’d have to crawl if

she wanted to get anywhere...her brother was smart, and had skillfully cut

at the skin on the soles of her feet, and she knew that it would be murder

to try and walk on them.

            Willow sighed as she took in her surroundings, sitting up again very

slowly. Sauron was rumored to have a tower near here, yet she was

uncertain if the dark lord would wipe her out or spare her to be cruel.

She had never seen an orc, for he had directed them never to come to their

village out of spite, yet she wondered if they would leave her be when she

was out in the open. Grunting, she crawled over to a nearby river, vaguely

recalling it as the River Anduin. She could follow it to the next village

a few miles away, if she was careful and stopped to rest often enough. Her

mind swam briefly, and she hoped she remembered which direction it was.

She had never been outside village borders in her life, for her people

were not welcomed easily, and they had learned to stick to themselves.

            But first, her body craved a cleaning and attention to her wounds. She

slowly slid her feet into the cool water and nearly howled at the pain

that shot through her limbs before quickly pulling them out. She tried to

wash her face and body with her hands, but it was just too painful with

the red tenderness of the burns. Willow made herself focus, slowly taking

stock of the plants that grew by the river, and of the clay that was at

its shoreline. She was thankful that her mother had so much knowledge of

rustic healing remedies, and that she had passed them down to her only

daughter. Doing the best she could with what little she had, she tore

strips from her long skirt until it hung raggedly at her knees. Using the

plantlife and mud to make a poultice, she lathered it lightly on her

burns, sighing as they began to cool slightly. She bound her ribs and

cleaned the gashes as best she could before leaning down to drink deeply

of the stream. Her throat felt like she had swallowed broken glass, yet

the water was a welcome relief. She sighed as she pulled away, glancing

again at her surroundings to determine her direction. If only she didn’t

feel so lightheaded...Finally deciding that she had to get moving no

matter what, Willow slowly chose a direction and began to slowly stumble

along at a half walk, half crawl, praying to anyone but Sauron that she’d

make it through this challenge.

***********

            Celeborn smiled amiably as he rode through the trees of what had become

his home, his glance sliding occasionally to his Marchwarden and lover. It

had been a wonderful excursion into Mirkwood, but he was very glad to be

home. Haldir would be glad to see his brothers, of course, and he had to

admit that he had missed his wife while away. They’re relationship was an

odd thing, he had to admit. He loved her truly, and he knew he had her

love, but after being together for so long, they tended to be more

platonic for a few centuries at a time. He had felt guilty about his

trysts until he had learned that she had her own affections for the

Marchwarden and his brothers. Yet still their bond had remained strong,

and he knew they would continue to stay together until she made her way

west. It was hard to admit, but his heart saddened at the thought of

losing her. He would have to find something to fill that void when the

time came.

            He smiled at Haldir’s restless sigh and knew too well what the other was

thinking. Soon they’d have to part ways so that the warden could take his

post and he could get back to Caras Galadhon. “Let’s stop and take a rest

here,” he purred, smirking at the other elf’s sudden look of interest.

“It’s hot and a swim would do us both some good,” he added as he swung

down off his steed, grinning as the other followed suit.

            “Aye,” Haldir breathed, eagerly crushing his lips against those of his

lord and moving to remove his clothes.

********

            She was almost certain now that she had chosen the wrong direction. Or

maybe it was further than the travelling villagers said. Cursing, she hit

the ground as she sunk back to her knees, wincing at the pain that rippled

through her. She needed to rest...she didn’t know how much longer she

could go if she didn’t rest at least for a while. And doing it out here in

the open was not an option, not when she didn’t know for sure if she would

be bait for orcs. Frowning, she looked across the river to a beginnings of

a forest. Her feet were sore enough as it was and she didn’t think she

could cross such a wide river swimming at this point...

            A fallen, rotting log lay on her side of the river, and it looked small

enough that she could push it into the water, yet durable enough to hold

her weight. She shrugged, knowing she had nothing to lose. The young woman

tried to ignore the fire through her chest as she gave the log a push,

panting in satisfaction as it splashed into the water and floated up,

bobbing softly. She carefully knelt upon it before pushing off, lying

herself down so that it would be less likely for it to roll her off. It

took some time and some doing, but she eventually reached her destination,

only a little dirtier and worse for wear. Glancing round, she found a bit

of undergrowth and small trees to lay behind, shielding her from view

before she eagerly passed into unconsciousness.

******

            The sound of voices and water splashing slowly pulled Willow from sleep.

Somehow she kept silent, rolling up onto her knees as she peered over the

bushes she lay behind. Her mouth went slightly slack, and she shook her

head to assure herself that it wasn’t a trick of her mind. Two tall and

fair men stood in the shallow waters of the river a few yards downstream,

their mouths pressed together in passion as they touched each other. Her

face flamed at their nakedness, at how beautiful they were. So not like

her husband, or any man in her town. A shiver went through her as the hair

of one blew in the wind, and a pointed ear was revealed. Elves. She had

indeed gone the wrong way, and now ended up in elf territory. She had to

get to the other side of the river and fast, before she was discovered.

The girl tried to crawl as quietly as possible through the brush, but when

her foot caught on a root, she couldn’t help but hiss in pain. And that

was enough.

            She stiffened at the sudden silence, trying to decide on the best course

of action. Peeking over the flora, she could see the two elves looking out

across the river. She’d have to sneak round behind them...Frowning, she

turned and began to slowly work deeper in the forest, and gasped when she

looked up and saw two more elves, each with a loaded bow aimed right at

her. They were looking at her curiously, not quite disapprovingly, before

one called over to the others in a language she couldn’t understand. The

stockier of the two gestured for the other to stay a far distance back,

and he quickly was at her side. She could feel her face flame at his

nudity, even though he seemed perfectly at home in his own skin. He looked

disdainfully down at her, and she backed up quickly, hissing as her body

protested. This made him more wary, and he leaned over her, barking

questions in that strange tongue.

            “It clearly doesn’t understand brother,” one of the other two sighed,

looking at her curiously. “Do you understand Westron?” he asked at her,

and she blinked, suddenly realizing that her escape might be easier if

they mistook her for some half crazed thing. It wasn’t far from the truth,

at any rate. Besides, if they knew the full extent of what she was, she’d

be dead on the spot. So she simply stared.

            “What is it, anyway?” the naked on asked, leaning over her again,

wrinkling his nose.

            “Is it human?”

            “It doesn’t look like any human I’ve seen,’ the one in charge snorted.

“Or smell like one,” he added, making a face. The other two paused in

thought, their bows relaxing a fraction and she took the window of

opportunity. Bracing herself, she reached out and grabbed the naked elf

between the legs, squeezing and pulling hard until he screamed before she

jumped to her feet, ignoring her screaming flesh as she broke out into a

run. It was far slower than she would have liked, and she had trouble

keeping her breath. Willow plunged into the river, breaking into an

awkward swim, shrieking as a hand clamped under her arm, hauling her back

out easily. Her entire body seemed to shout as she was tossed to the

ground, where she immediately broke into a frantic crawl, shooting through

one of the bowmen’s legs. Her pursuer had her bout the waist immediately,

and she froze as he pinned her arms behind her back and pushed the flat of

a knife against her throat.

            “Lle tela?” he growled in her ear, and she wheezed as he shook her by the

shoulder. “Will you behave?” he added, grunting when she gave no answer.

“Lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie? Do you understand anything??”

            “Calm yourself, Haldir, whatever it is it clearly has no concept of

language,” a soft voice murmured, and the other elf that had been in the

river, now thankfully dressed, approached.

            “Yes, my lord...but we cannot figure out what exactly this creature is.

It’s covered in dirt and moves strangely.”

            The other elf frowned as he drew near, bending to get a good look at her.

“Looks like one of the wild men...yet no beard...and clothes so worn and

crude,” he pondered, reaching to finger the hem of the ripped skirt as if

he was trying to figure out her gender. She snarled and bucked, and the

elf moved the knife so the edge was against her skin. She was strangely

unafraid. After everything else she had experienced, she felt no fear at

more torture or death.

            “What should we do with it?”

            “Bind it and bring it with us...you’ll have to accompany me now,” he

decided firmly. “I think perhaps Lady Galadriel will want to see this,” he

mused, and one of the other archers soon was at her side, binding her arms

behind her back. The others readied the horses while one of the younger

archers watched her. His eyes slowly took in her form, her half-crazed

expression, her disheveled appearance.

            “An lema? Have you travelled long? You look like you have...we’ll take

horses, so we can move faster,” he explained, shrugging at her blank face.

He thought for a moment, then reached into his tunic, drawing out a bag

and what looked like a canteen.

            “Here...you look like you could use it,” he murmured, holding out a flat

piece of bread-like substance. She reached for it warily, drawing back

immediately. He smiled and set it on the ground. Willow moaned at the

sudden growl of her stomach, not caring what they thought of her as she

pressed her face to the ground, eating greedily. It was unlike any bread

she had ever baked for her family, but she had no preference at this

point.

            “Orophin, you’re feeding it??” an exhasperated voice complained, and the

haughty elf came back into view, guiding the less stately of the two

animals.

            “It looked hungry, Haldir,” the elf known as Orophin replied, shrugging.

“I don’t think it’s any real harm,” he added, kneeling as he held out the

water jug. She let him set it against her mouth, swallowing frantically as

the cool water streamed around her mouth and down her face in rivulets.

            “Well that’s enough..it’s not some pet, it could be dangerous,” Haldir

replied, gripping her bout the waist and depositing her on the horse. “You

should feel lucky...very few go to see the Lady when they trespass in

these woods,” he growled, mounting behind her. “If I had my way you’d

either be full of arrows, or at least get a bath, but Lord Celeborn thinks

you are a matter of pressing urgency,” he added, his expression dark as he

regarded her. “I think she’ll lose interest as soon as she sees how unruly

you are.”

            “Any future wife of yours will know how unruly she was when she finds you

unable to give her children!!” the other of the two archers called out,

laughing as Haldir gave him a scathing look. Lord Celeborn chuckled as he

swung up onto his ride.

            “Rumil has you there, Haldir...by the looks of things, this creature has

turned you into a eunich,” he laughed as they plunged into the wood.

*******

            Willow’s entire body throbbed, but she was too terrified at the prospect

of being brought before the legendary elf witch to care. She had to get

away, yet even she knew that she stood no chance while being so well

guarded. And as they went along, she as well aware of a presence flashing

over her mind. She had heard rumors of how the sorceress could read

thoughts, so falling even more into her ruse, she thought of nothing but

survival. It was a matter of escaping with her life. She was very much

aware of the elves watching her, especially when she would jump when she

swore she saw piercing blue eyes flit across her vision. The rhythm of the

horse and the lull of the wind slowly drew her towards sleep, and when she

woke they were entering a place unlike anything she had ever seen. The

trees were so tall, and everything seemed to radiate a light of its own.

The poor little woods that she had explored as a little girl were nothing

compared to these great trees. And all of the houses were up in the

branches, some quite exquisite...She could feel tears in her eyes at the

constant beauty, and secretly knew that even if she was cleaned up and

well, she would never match such splendor. It was as if she degraded the

place just by being there. That presence in her mind grew stronger, and

she quickly made her mind go blank, shivering at how overwhelming it all

seemed.

            Soon she was tugged from the horse, and she stumbled along to keep up

with her guides, her mouth slackening as she was brought before the most

beautiful woman she had ever seen in her life. She had thought maybe to be

cast out by offending the witch, even though that could bring about death,

she was certain. But now that she was face to face, she felt deep shame at

harboring such thoughts. Her eyes were the same that had followed her

through the woods, and she felt so small when compared to this magnificent

creature. She stood from her seat and gracefully approached, embracing the

stately lord tenderly, whispering a greeting in his ear. “Welcome home, my

lord...I trust that your business in Mirkwood went well?” she asked, her

eyes sparkling knowingly as her husband smiled.

            She felt something inside herself tug at the way their lips met briefly.

She could tell that deep down, they were very fond of each other, and it

made her think of how she would never have that, how anything she would

have had or could have would never be like that. Tears filled her eyes

again, and she winced as she fell to her knees on the grass before these

creatures of such beauty.

            “And who is it that you bring to me?” the elf lady murmured, turning her

eyes to the kneeling figure before her. Her eyes were full of well intent,

and she seemed to know something Willow did not, even as she tried to make

her mind go blank, terrified that this woman would see into her soul.

            “An intruder we found at the river, my lady,” Haldir replied. “We have no

thought as to what it is, though my Lord thinks it may be some sort of

wild human,” he added. “I had wanted to disperse with it but he thought

that it might be of some interest to you.”

            “Yes...yes, this is fascinating to me,” she murmured, smiling slightly as

Willow’s eyes rose to look at hers in disbelief. “Very complex...it keeps

fighting to let me in,” she added, raising her gaze to look at her

husband. “What is your opinion on it, my lord?”

            “I don’t think it means any harm, yet I have no thought as to why it was

in our woods, or what intent it could have.” She nodded her agreement,

lost in thought. “We shall keep it for now, and try to find out what it

may be,” she murmured.

            “My lady, our hospitality will be no good to it...it is quite vicious,”

Haldir cut in, glaring at the chuckles from his brothers. “I doubt it

could be tamed.”

            “We shall see...it shall stay in our stables tonight, then, while I think

on this matter,” she declared, giving the young girl one last smile before

taking her leave. Though her eyes stayed with her for a long, long time.

*****

            The human smirked to herself, half amused as the she-elf that had come in

with the bucket and cloth to try to clean her out ran from the stables

screaming, clutching her wrist where she had bitten her. It gave her

slight satisfaction to be able to take out some of her frustrations.

Besides, the water was still painful on her skin, and she knew that if she

could bear the grime just a bit longer until she slipped free, she could

seek help and get clean at the next village. If she could get free of this

place. The elves intrigued her, but she had no desire to be poked and

prodded and kept as some pet. Though that was partially her own fault.

Sighing, she checked her wounds, glad that they had not worsened, and

kicked at the spilled bucket idly before stretching out on the straw of

the stable floor. It was hard to think of nothing, yet she found that

there was nothing she particularly wanted to think about. Except maybe

what she had seen of the two elf lords coupling in the river...the thought

of that made her shiver, and ponder that such a bond could even be

possible. She was near sleep when the unlocking of the heavy door woke

her, sending her scurrying into the darkened corner of her quarters.

            She frowned, making out the silhouette in the lantern light, surprised to

see that it was the elf lord that came to her. That wasn’t right...surely

there were lesser ones available to check on her. He smiled slightly as

his eyes found her hiding place easily, and he bent to set a plate of food

a good deal between them. “You must eat,” he said simply, backing away,

hands outstretched. “Otherwise you will have no energy to terrorize my

wardens,” he added, his eyes sparkling slightly. She slowly approached,

tilting her head at his boldness. Another secretive smile. “You do not

frighten me, you

see...I do not think you are some wild beast from Sauron...yet I am not

quite sure what you are,” he admitted, frowning in thought. She looked up

at him, surprised slightly by how entrancing his eyes were. He was

extremely beautiful, even for an elf, and she had never seen someone with

such beautiful silver hair. She had thought again, at his entrance, to do

something horrible so that she might end her torment or be cast out, yet

she found herself unable to do anything that could harm this creature. His

soft smile came back on his face, and he nodded to her plate. “You must

eat, and take your rest. There will be much discussion of you on the

morrow. But tonight, I must get back to the revels,” he sighed. “Tis

Sheelala, the spring festival, and my people will be much vexed if I am

not in attendance,” he added, those eyes boring into her almost intimately

before he took his leave.

            Willow sat and pondered for a long time, rolling over the idea of

everyone at these revels. She had not noticed any guards outside the

stable. On the one hand, it was terribly convenient, yet it seemed wrong

somehow, too easy. But she had to take what fate handed her. She quickly

bent over the plate brought to her, eating as quickly as she could before

examining the structure of the place. Crates had been piled in one corner,

and a low window sat above them. Again, the warning bells went off in her

mind, but she also knew never to pass up such an opportunity. Slowly

making her way over the crates, she soon slipped out of the stable and

into the night.

            In the middle of Caras Galadhon, at the head table of the feast of the

spring festival, Lady Galadriel smiled, her eyes drifting away

momentarily, before focusing back on the happiness laid before her.

*******

            Haldir frowned in disdain when he smelled the creature before seeing it.

Why the Lady had insisted on him and his brothers being sent to fetch this

thing back was beyond him. Though she was the Lady, and she did know best.

Though in the back of his mind, he wondered if it was to get him away so

she could have her lord to herself for once. The warden glanced through

the trees and made a gesture for Rumil and Orophin to pause while he

silently continued through the trees to where this thing lay waiting. He

decided if it attacked him again, it wouldn’t really be missed if an arrow

found its way into it in his defense.

            He slowly drew his bow, his body taut and ready to strike as he slid out

from the shadows, confidant when he saw that he had snuck up behind it. He

grew perplexed, though, at its crumpled position on the ground, almost in

supplication. He didn’t know about his siblings, but he nearly jumped out

of his skin as the thing actually opened its mouth and wailed to high

heavens, suddenly babbling as if in a feverish daze. It took him a few

moments of careful listening to recognize the common tongue that came

pouring from its mouth, cursing Sauron, cursing its town, cursing

kin...Haldir’s brow furrowed in confusion as he slowly approached, putting

away his bow in favor of his dagger. So involved in the tearing at the

ground, the cursing at having lost its way and having no means of escape

or continuation, so involved in the rending of its garment and its lament

was it that he was able to easily sneak behind it, and it froze in horror

when his arm clamped round it, his knife poised at its throat.

            “So you have deceived us,” he growled, low in his throat. “Or are you a

wild human after all?” It stiffened in his grasp before slumping in

defeat.

            “Use your blade, master elf...do me the greatest favor and free me from

this world, for I have nothing to do it myself.” The words were slow, as

if their owner was struggling to form them, and the voice was ragged and

weary. But that wasn’t the first thought that struck his mind.

            *By the Valar...this thing is a woman...*

            “Why would you wish to do that?” he asked slowly, resisting the urge to

relax his grip. It could be a ruse very easily.

            “I have no reason to continue on, and if my life isn’t taken, it could be

a miserable existence waiting for the next elf with a knife to come

along.” Spoken so simply, without emotion, as if this was the way things

must be.

            “I am to take you back-”

            “You will kill me anyway when you learn what I am,” she sighed, her hand

reaching to her shoulder as if she feared nothing. He pressed the blade

slightly into her neck and was shocked at her bitter laugh. “Metal does

not scare me anymore,” she muttered before gripping the shoulder of the

worn garment she wore and tearing it away from her skin.

            He didn’t see it at first, for it was covered with grime and crude

poultice. When he went to move the dried clay away, she hissed through her

teeth, and he was startled to discover that what he thought was an odd,

wild appearance was nothing more than clay and burned skin. Even then, it

was very faint, having faded where the fire had hit it, but there was

still no mistaking the mark that had been branded onto her. The Eye of

Sauron.

            “Where did you get this?” Haldir hissed, hardening again, momentarily not

caring at her wince of pain as his hand closed hard around her upper arm.

            “Everyone in my village has it. We must bear it so that everyone knows

who we are if we leave our borders. It is our curse,” she gasped, yet not

fighting him.

            “So you are a spy,” he growled, the hand on the knife growing resolute

before Orophin’s hand came down on his shoulder.

            “I thought I told you to stay put,” Haldir snapped, not turning his head.

            “You make a grave error if you kill her, brother,” the younger elf stated

simply. “I have heard of her people...the village of no name, because

people have long stopped talking of it.”

            “They are the dark lord’s ally,” Haldir growled, and his brother shook

his head.

            “Nay. They bear the mark, but are everything but his ally. No wonder the

Lady wants her back. Have you not heard of the simple town of men that

Sauron went to when he was first opposed because of the Ring? He demanded

that they join him, join his army, and they refused, even when he had most

of them wiped out. The remaining few declared that they would oppose him

for eternity, if that was what it took, for he was no friend of man, no

matter how strong his influence. For that, he cursed them with an odd

gift.” The woman in Haldir’s arms snorted derisively.

            “Twas not a gift, but a horrid existence,” she muttered. At his brother’s

frown, Orophin continued, glancing over when Rumil came to join them.

            “Eternal life, brother. An eternal existence, something no other human

has.”

            “But eternally subjected to his temptations, as well. The only futures

for our men is to give in to the sickness and become his slaves, or to

kill themselves before they grow too old,” she sighed, choking at how her

own father had nearly followed that same fate. “Madness and suicide are

the only relief.”

            “But what of the women?” Haldir questioned.

            “The men grow more brutal as they age...they stop aging much older than

the women do. I am eighteen this year, yet I will never appear any older.

The men of our curse can age up to fifty before they settle in to their

immortality. And with each passing year Sauron’s voice fills their ears

more clearly, and they become more wild, more cruel and horrid until they

must either be slaughtered, kill themselves, or be banished from the town

to join the dark lord,” she muttered. “He sends no orcs to claim our town,

no wizards, no one will enter our village and we have to be

self-sufficient. When we travel we must bear the mark, for it is

everyone’s right to know if they are in the company of an unmentionable.”

The March Warden hissed as he considered this.

            “Will we be in danger if we take you back to the forest?”

            “No. Sauron cares not for our women...we are but playthings to the

cruelty and power lust he feeds to our men. I have been forsaken from my

people for not obeying my brother,” she added. “They are glad to be rid of

me.” At that, her mouth clamped shut and he knew he would get nothing more

from her.

            It was a mystery to him, to all of them. What could their Lady want with

such a thing, unless she sent for her out of pity?

            “She knows what she is doing, Haldir...we must bring her back,” Rumil

murmured as he saw the conflict on his brother’s face. He nodded, slowly

releasing her, drawing the dagger away from her throat. She moved faster

than he gave her credit for, her hand gripping at the handle of the

dagger, her arms straining to bring it back for one swift, final cut, but

he was far stronger. He cursed as he uncurled her hand from the knife,

tossing it to Rumil before holding her still. Orophin knelt in front of

her, his hands holding her face firmly, whispering calming words to her.

            “You must forget how they treated you, little one...I cannot imagine that

you will come to more harm in the hands of our Lord and Lady. You must

trust us,” he urged, frowning as he looked at her troubled expression,

then at the rest of her. “Though I do think getting you cleaned up would

be best,” he added, smiling slightly.

            “I’ve tried...you can’t..it hurts too much,” she croaked, and Haldir

frowned. Just what had happened to her? He knew that humans could be rough

to their women, his previous meeting with Legolas’ human bride had proved

that. He had seen the scars on her back where her father had reprimanded

her, and he wondered if this was more of the same.

            “Hold her,” her murmured as he took back the knife from his brother. They

cast him a confused look, but obeyed, trying to hang onto the wriggling

girl as gently as they could. Haldir pursed his lips as he used the dagger

to tear the top of the neckline on the shift she wore before carefully

tearing the fabric down and away from her body. He let out a stream of

curses in Elvish as he assessed the damage. She was covered with minor

burns and her body was speckled with black and blue marks. He took note of

the crude way she had wrapped her ribs, and realized that they were

probably broken. Rumil gasped loudly, and he followed his brother’s eyes,

his temper rising as he saw the oozing gash on her breasts. He quickly

followed the line of her body, his jaw clenching as he spotted the red wet

patch seeping through her curls between her legs. “Once we get you back to

Lorien, a healer can take care of you,” he assured her, doing his best to

gently pick her up and head for a small nearby pond the elves on patrol

duty sometimes used for bathing. She whimpered her protests, but he soon

was divested of his tunic and heading into the water with her. She clung

to him for dear life, and guilt flooded through him at the pain on her

face as the water enveloped her.

            He slowly washed the mud and grime away, trying to be as delicate as he

could to not enflame the cuts and burns more than they already were. She

finally stopped wriggling enough that Orophin could tend to her hair while

Rumil helped to cut away the binding on her ribs. Haldir blinked as her

hair was clean, suddenly realizing why no one had seen her as a woman

earlier. She was short, but not thin and lithe like elf women, or even

Amelia had been. She had a slight stocky quality of one who had been

raised on heavy farm meals. And though her breasts were ample, her shift

had been large and covered her cleavage easily. Her hair was shorter than

that of any woman he had ever seen, barely hitting her neck. Upon closer

inspection, he realized that it wasn’t cut in that style, but had been

burned away. When he was done, she was wrapped in his cloak, whimpering

and shivering, and he took the opportunity of her weakened state to gently

press a hand on her forehead. “She’s burning up,” he hissed, glancing up

in alarm to his siblings. “We have to hurry to get her back,” he decided,

wrapping her tightly and clutching her to his chest before diving back

into the forest. Thank the Valar she hadn’t made it very far.

************

            Willow’s thoughts flowed rampant in her dreams. Memories of what had

been, memories of events long past that she had only heard about haunted

her, made her cry out in her sleep, made her tremble. The ritual suicide

of her father, and her mother going with him to the afterlife, determined

to stay by his side even through the madness. Her sale to the sheriff, his

rough treatment of her, her betrayal by her brother. And old tales....the

lord Sauron coming to their village, demanding their aid, then cursing the

few town members left, as well as future generations. The regret her

mother often had about bringing her into the world. A son could handle the

pain, but a daughter...She had known that her parents had contemplated

performing the ritual as soon as she was born, yet she had endeared

herself to them, and as she grew older she was needed on the farm.

Memories of the needle and ink on her thirteenth birthday and her father’s

solemn face as he painted the eye into her skin, forever marking her. The

screams of the horse and the suffocating presence of the smoke as she

rushed from the barn...the constant pain on her feet as she walked for two

days, trying to ignore the hunger in her stomach...

            All of this coalesced in her mind, melding into a violent film of ragtag

images, and all the while, serene blue eyes looked on in the background,

studying these things intently.

            Waking was almost as if she was entering a dream, rather than coming from

one. It was as if she somehow knew those parts of her life were over, and

she would never have to go back to them again. The girl was stiff, but the

pain wasn’t severe, it didn’t rule her like it had been. She could breathe

without dying, and she was amazed that she was tucked under sheets and her

skin wasn’t burning.

            At that realization Willow took in the room with wide eyes. It was

simple, but elegant, and she knew she had to be in Caras Galadhon. The

room was light and airy, and the sheets felt heavenly on her body. She

nearly purred as she snuggled back down into the pillows, then gasped as

her eyes focused on the figure watching her.

            The Lady Galadriel smiled, her eyes sparkling slightly as she studied the

human’s reaction. “You needn’t fear me, child...you are safe here,” she

murmured, her expression flitting back to the thoughtful mask that she

often kept.

            Willow’s mouth gaped as she studied the elf. She seemed to emit a glow ,

even in the daylight. She had never seen a woman so tall, so perfectly

slender, so strong looking and yet so beautiful. Her cheeks flushed in

shame as she thought of how she must have looked upon her arrival to

Lothlorien, how she must look now. The elf smiled softly again, and

crossed to her bedside. “We thought we might lose you for a while,” she

went on, her fingers brushing the bedclothes idly. “I am pleased that you

made it through the fever...you have been through much,” she added, and

the girl knew that she had seen everything that her fevered mind had

remembered. It suddenly occurred to her that she had even let her escape

so that she might find out what exactly was her business in Lorien. She

groaned, horrified at how easily she had been duped.

            “I should not be here,” she murmured shamefully, unable to meet the

Lady’s gaze. “I disgrace you and the woods with my presence. You should

have let your warden finish me when he found me.”

            The Lady’s soft expression faded slightly as she shook her head.

“Nay...it was not coincidence that you came to us. You are very unique...I

think that fate has plans for you.” Willow snorted at this, wanting to

give into the urge to hide under the sheets.

“What is your name, little one?”

            “Willow,” she sighed, shrugging helplessly. Galadriel smiled fondly.

            “Unusual...most humans do not name their children of nature...” she

observed and the girl sighed.

            “It wasn’t meant to pay homage or anything..it was out of convenience. My

parents had not wanted a second child, especially when they found I was a

girl. They didn’t see it right to bring an innocent into a marred

existence....they were still uncertain if they would sacrifice me or not

when I was born, so they gave me the first name they thought of. My mother

looked out the house window at the tree in the yard, and that became my

name,” she explained quietly, shivering as the Lady’s face darkened

slightly.

            “You come from a strange place, little one,” she finally said, gliding

over to the bed and sitting at the end. Willow bit her lip and fought the

urge to crawl away, but the gentle expression on Galadriel’s face calmed

her. “You need not be afraid any longer...talk to me...In time you will

know all about Lorien...but now I would know all about you,” she added,

the mysterious smile returning.

******

            The sun had sunk low by time the Lady of Lorien had taken her leave. Her

mind was full of the stories and accounts she had heard from the human,

and she quietly thanked the Valar for giving her a poor sense of

navigation. This could be the answer to her predicament, the answer to her

lord's predicament, if she could make it work. But the girl would have to

heal first, outside and in, though she was sure that if presented

correctly to Celeborn, he'd be ever-so-helpful. This could fill the void

for all of them.