When Daëra woke up it was the middle of the night. She was lying on the straw-filled mattress in one corner of the hut-like flet, it was the same where she had found all the necessary ingredients to mix the ointment for Haldir's burns. She hadn't slept very well, in her dreams Haldir had been burning, his eyes glowing like pieces of charcoal: It is your fault, they said, you killed me. Daëra kept her eyelids closed until her heartbeat-rate had slowed down a little. She didn't dare think what would've happened if she hadn't been able to extinguish the fire on his sleeve. Fortunately, it had been small enough for her to divert the energy to the air without causing a huge explosion. Fire was energy in its purest form, and even more: fire wanted to live, to burn. The bigger it was, the harder it became to just extinguish it. A bonfire could already be too strong: at Rivendell, Daëra had once tried it and all that energy suddenly let loose had thrown her five metres back and charred the grass and trees within a radius of four metres.
Yesterday had been among the ten most exhausting days of Daëra's life, which had been clearly visible to Haldir. It had been dark by the time his arm was all wrapped up and his good hand had just managed to catch Daëra's elbow when she almost fell while walking towards the exit of the flet. Haldir had just nodded towards the back of the flet. "You had better get some rest." He stroked her cheek with his right hand and kissed the corner of her mouth. Daëra was so tired she could barely see clear, but Haldir was her patient now, she couldn't just go to sleep... "Will you be alright?" she asked faintly. - "I will wake you should the pain increase." - Daëra must've looked doubtful, since he added with a slight smile: "I promise, I will wake you." She rubbed her eyes. "Promise me another thing." - He frowned, but his expression was curious as well and made the corners of Daëra's mouth twitch. "Promise me to be off duty. Just for tonight. You have to give your arm time to heal." - He looked at her for a while, his gaze lingering on her lips so long it would have made her blush, had she not been an elf. Then he slowly nodded. "If it pleases you, I will stay right here... Off duty." - "Okay." Daëra kissed him on the cheek and went inside to fall flat onto the straw mattress Haldir had called a bed. She rolled to one side so she could see the doorway. Haldir was sitting in it, leaning against the frame and watching the night fall in Lórien.
Now it was completely dark outside and Haldir was still sitting in exactly the same position, as if he had not moved at all - well, maybe he hadn't. The moonlight was shining on his smooth face, his eyes were closed. The only difference was that he had put on a ragged tunic several sizes too big that looked rather like a knee-long dressing gown, since the buttons to close it had all gone. Daëra moved only slightly to have a better look at him, yet at the noise his eyes were immediately open - proving that he'd never really slept at all. Elves didn't sleep much, but Daëra was convinced that sleep would do him a lot of good. So much as to being off duty... At least though, he had rested.
"What time is it?" - Haldir cast a quick glance at the sky that was visible amongst the branches of the trees that were still devoid of leaves. "Just past midnight. You should sleep some more." - Daëra propped herself into a sitting position, suddenly feeling quite awake. "No. I will take the watch. You need all the rest you can get." She rose, but so did Haldir, blocking the doorway. His face was stern. "No offence, yet you were dead on your feet after the fight, Mylady." - Daëra felt a flutter in her stomach when he called her "lady", but didn't let it show. Or tried to, at least. - "I want you to go back to bed. This is an order," he said with emphasis. Daëra came closer until there was hardly any space left between them. "I am not one of your wardens, Mylord. Even more, at the moment I am your doctor and I say I will be taking the next watch - or there will be none." - Haldir still wasn't moving from the doorway to let Daëra take his place - instead he lifted his hurt arm and traced her jaw-line with the tips of his fingers that were sticking out of the dressings Daëra had put on him. They felt unnaturally hot on her skin and his bandage was radiating heat although it was covered by the sleeve of the huge tunic. Tears stung Daëra's eyes, why did it always have to be her who hurt him, why...
His right hand wandered down her side and he tangled his fingers in the strings that laced her tunic on both sides. "Then I choose no watch," he mumbled against her lips. He pulled her close and where his tunic parted she found herself pressed against his bare chest. Slowly, very slowly he undid the laces first at one side and then the other and on the front, until the tunic almost slid of her shoulders. Daëra placed her hands on both sides of his neck, pulling him down so he would finally kiss her. And he did.
The first thing Daëra noticed after she had woken up was that it was morning: birds were singing and the air that blew into the little hut-in-the-trees through the open doorway smelled like spring. The blossoms of the mellorn trees had their own special aroma; it was like nothing Daëra had ever smelled before. Another thing she noticed was that Haldir hadn't woken up yet. She spent a few minutes watching him sleep, he had rolled onto his left side, his bandaged arm dangling over the side of the mattress. His soft black trousers contrasted the creamy skin of his chest. Only after Daëra had straightened her tunic and re-tied the laces, she realised his not waking was odd. Elves didn't sleep much and if they did it was more a light slumber. Her stirring should've woken him already. Following a sudden notion, Daëra reached out and lightly touched his forehead: it was burning hot and the touch did not wake him either. Within a second, Daëra had got off the mattress and started rummaging in the chests situated alongside one wall to find the herbs she needed. Fortunately, Elrond had showed her how to prepare a potion that lowered fever. Hopefully she remembered it correctly. Hopefully, it would work.
When she had the potion cooking over a fire at the foot of the tree, Daëra went to find a cloth and fresh bandages in the chests. She hadn't even bothered to put stones around the fireplace - it was only a campfire and Daëra could control it without even thinking twice about it. After having found everything she needed, she soaked the cloth and then squeezed it until it was merely damp. Daëra kneeled next to the mattress and carefully wiped Haldir's forehead. Within a matter of seconds, his eyes just opened, as if he'd never slept at all. He didn't move though and it looked like he would rather close them again. "I need to change your dressings," Daëra whispered. "And I am preparing something to lower your fever." - Still without saying a word, Haldir took a deep breath and sat up. Daëra sat down next to him and rested his left arm on her knee before undoing the bandage. The red-purple skin on his forearm formed a strange contrast to the rest of his body. It was warm, but Daëra had the distinct feeling that her ointment had been working well. It was helping his body to replace the burnt skin, yet it would need some more time, and rest. She put some more ointment on his arm, wrapped it into new dressings and fetched a glass of the potion from down at the ground. She'd had the fire burn down a few minutes ago, so it wasn't quite as hot anymore. "You will have to drink all of that," she said when she put the cup into Haldir's hand. She sat next to him while he zipped at the drink, thinking what else she might be able to do. "Shall I go and tell the Lord and Lady you are unwell? - They know about the ring, so I would tell them exactly how it happened..." Her gaze dropped to the ground. Haldir slowly shook his head. "Galadriel knows. She always knows. Besides," he took another zip and waited a few seconds before continuing. "Do not go." - "I won't." The word was less than a whisper and Daëra felt tears stinging her eyes, but she blinked them away. He would be better - she would make him better, and soon.
After a while, Haldir said without looking at her: "You might be able to tell the other wardens, though." - Daëra frowned, but in a mocking way. "I might be?" - He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. "Have you ever learned archery?" - "As a matter of fact, I have. It has been a while since I last let loose an arrow though - my father taught me it in Mithlond, yet I haven't needed it much since." - Haldir took another zip and nodded towards a corner of the room where he had placed all his weapons - Daëra couldn't help but notice how neatly he had put them in order: daggers, sword, quiver, bow, all ready to be put on. Haldir looked at her for a few seconds and then back to his weapons. "Take my bow."
Spring-dawn was cool even in Lórien, but being and elf Daëra didn't freeze. 200 metres from here the next flet would be, Haldir had said, but Daëra would have to aim high: the arrow needed to rise above the tree-tops and come down on a certain wooden bar at the other flet. A flet she couldn't even see for all the stems and branches peppered with buds. Daëra had never been a bad archer, yet she wasn't that good either. She had put the ring on her finger to be able to reach out - like her father had done when he had fire-healed her even though she had been miles away from him. With the ring, Daëra could feel her surroundings and it didn't take her long until she had found the other flet and the wooden bar as well, perforated from countless arrows landing there. Daëra closed her eyes and now it was as if she could see it all - the trees the flet she was standing on - but the flet as well. She knew where her arrow had to go, she notched it, aimed high and let loose. Daëra kept her eyes closed and followed the arrow - it just so hit the wooden bar. Relief washed over her - no she hadn't missed and accidentally killed anyone: a result that had been equally achieved by her ring, her skills in archery and mere luck. Daëra couldn't imagine how anyone would be able to do this without having the ring.
The minutes ticked by, yet no one on the other flet had yet found the arrow and the piece of parchment that was wrapped around it - even though the flet was, according to Haldir, always manned. And he would know, he had it all planned out himself. Finally, Daëra took another arrow and wrapped a few pieces of oiled cloth around it. Then she closed her eyes and let go, hitting a lantern on the other flet - as intended. When she was quite sure the arrow stuck in the lantern, Daëra reached out and set the oily rugs aflame. After that, the response arrow came quickly. She went back inside.
Haldir sat on the mattress, but he was leaned against the wall and his eyes were closed, not even opening when Daëra stepped in. "That was quick," he remarked with a faint voice. Daëra felt her heart ache at the sight of him, even paler than usual and yet his skin was all but radiating heat from the fever. "I sent a fire arrow after the one with the message, they were bound to notice." - Now he did open his eyes in disbelief. "A fire arrow? In the middle of a forest?" - Daëra almost laughed out loud at his face expression. "I hit the lantern." - Haldir swallowed and shook his head, both seeming to take lots of his energy. "What if you had missed?" - Daëra sat down next to him, stroking a strand of blond hair out of his eyes: his plaits were rather untidy by now. "Then I would not have lit the arrow." - For a few seconds, Haldir didn't say anything; then he smiled tiredly. "You lit the arrow after shooting it?" - Daëra nodded. "I could have tried and directly light the candle, yet the tip of an arrow is easier to find when I am reaching out." She held out the paper for him to read, but Haldir's eyes were already closed again, so she just said: "You can rest. They said they would tell the second-in-command to take over." Daëra checked the message again; it didn't say who that person was. "Is your deputy one of your brothers?" - Haldir shook his head, the skin on his forehead and chest had started to look slightly glossy from sweat, his bandaged left arm he had clenched to his belly. Carefully, Daëra took his left hand in hers and moved his arm away from his stomach until his hand was resting in her lap. "Imladris," Haldir began after a while, his voice a mere whisper. Daëra could tell he was already half gone. - "Did it really happen?" - She stroked the back of his hand, anxious not to touch the bandaged, burnt parts and cause him pain. "Certainly. Galadriel had sent you to join a council and tell her its decisions afterwards. Your fever is not high enough for fever dreams, Mylord. And hopefully, it will only decrease from now on." Daëra said the words as confident as she could, hoping she wasn't lying. When she looked at him next time his breath went calm and steady. Carefully, she touched his forehead and thought that it was a little bit cooler to the touch than before.
"That looks nasty," Orophin remarked. "I never realised you got burnt during the fight." - Haldir flexed his fingers, it was the first day without bandages and the spring air felt cool and fresh on his burnt skin. The new skin was pink and flawless; Daëra had said that it had healed so well the burn probably wouldn't leave him with any scars - except where the ring had been. Even now the new skin that was growing there was white and somewhat harder. "Neither did I. I only noticed afterwards." That wasn't even a lie. Rumil frowned. "Does it go all the way up to your elbow? - No wonder you were on sick leave." - "Only for three days," Haldir reminded him. "It healed really well." - "Now I do wonder," Orophin began with a smirk, "whether that was more because of the ointment or the lady who made it." - "Well then I suggest you keep wondering," Haldir said with a slight smile, trying to avoid the question. "As a matter of fact, I do not know myself," he finally admitted after a while. Rumil nodded and grinned. "I thought you liked her, did I not? Remember, I said so after the orc-attack when we were still with the caretakers. I asked whether you were in love with her." - At that, Orophin laughed out loud. "Dearest brother, by all means - that does not count. The incident you are naming is more than four decades in the past! Besides, you had said it in jest. Do not fancy yourself gifted in the art of match-making." - Rumil looked daggers at his younger brother. "I do not. Yet you have to admit that I..."
Haldir left Orophin's flet to return to his own, leaving his brothers to their teasing. Sometimes he liked to linger and listen to their mock-arguments, always waiting for the moment he would have to intervene and prevent one sibling from killing the other. Fortunately though, up to now it had never come that far. Not that he actually thought it would. Back in his own flet, Daëra was already waiting, a smile on her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "When will your shift start?" she asked softly. - "I have to be in the outskirts of the forest at dawn." - "Well, we have a few hours left then." She let her hands slide down his chest and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.
Imladris was one of the few places in the world that looked more magical in bleak daylight than at night. The pale light of the lanterns was never able to hold a candle to the colourful glory the vale was displaying during daytime. She overlooked the valley, feeling his arms wrapped around her waist from behind. "My mother would have loved to see this," she finally said, not really knowing why she had brought her mother in all of a sudden. - "Were you very young when she died?" - She could feel his lips moving against her neck. "Yes," she whispered. "It was only then I came to know my father. I moved in with him in his district of town afterwards." She hoped he wouldn't ask any more, and luckily for her he didn't. What were words, after all? - Words were nothing.
*A/N: Hey guys, thank you so much for 900 reads!!! Thanks for staying with me, please comment and vote!!! Loove, Jazzlin*