Faikar - LotR

CHAPTER SIX

As if a star itself had fallen to Middle Earth and taken physical form, he stood there, emanating a soft glow. Golden hair, pale silver now in the light of the moon, fell straight down his back, save for two pieces in front of his ears that barely brushed his collar bone. The elf-lord was broad shouldered, more so than what was commonly seen amongst the Elven race. There was a gentle strength about him, an aura of calm wisdom that many elves still sought. Hands, pale and smooth, clenched against his biceps as he stood there silently, arms crossed and stiff. His jaw was hard, square cut and chiseled. A wide soft pink mouth was parted slightly, his lips evenly full on top and bottom. Sharp cheekbones created hollowed shadows upon his cheeks and straight brows, many shades darker than his hair, were furrowed, as if in concentration or pain. A strong, straight nose only added to his beauty, a beautiful mix of masculine features and delicate structure.

Steeling herself, Nárhína looked to his eyes once again.

An electric jolt lanced through her body, almost painful as his gaze trapped hers. Every nerve was on fire, a frightening but wonderful heat rising and awakening.

Madness.

She broke his stare but somewhere, in the depths of her mind, there was a part of her that didn't want to look away. Hated herself for it.

He unfolded, slowly yet coiled, before he started to walk forward sure and confident. His footsteps beat within her blood, each step closer was a hitch in her breath, his scent a dangerous heady combination of pinewood and earth.

The elf stopped, a few feet away - still too close - and she struggled to control her breathing, desperately fighting for some foothold with her emotions. They were a mess, a confusing tangle that she didn't want to take the time to identify; for if she did, she knew she'd find something she shouldn't be feeling. Couldn't feel.

"Nárhína." Her body shuddered, out of her control with the unexpected softness of his voice. It was silk that enveloped her, caressed her, all from one word.

"Glorfindel." Curt, brusque, the only shield she had at the moment.

It'd been almost a fortnight since the meeting with Elrond's sons and subsequently, Glorfindel. They were due to leave Rivendell tomorrow and she had not seen the golden haired elf lord since that strange and unnerving encounter. Although, she could admit to going so far as to turn the other direction if she knew he was coming or staying away from places she knew he frequented.

"Are you alright?" It was a whisper now, the words he spoke into the night.

The woman abruptly turned on her heel, not bothering to answer him, and stalked back across the training ground to her scabbards. Though he was being as silent as possible, she still felt his presence behind her, following her at a marginally wider distance than before.

The soft zing of her blades being sheathed rang through the quiet, cutting through some of the tension that accumulated with the elf's arrival. Not much, but enough.

"This must stop, Glorfindel." There. Steady, calm, collected. Not at all the boiling tempest she felt like.

His head tilted to the side in obvious question. "Stop what, Nárhína?"

She whirled around, red eyes like flame and a scowl twisting her face. "Do not toy with me!" Her voice thundered and shook, her arms trembled as the fight surged within her. How dare he! "You know exactly of what I speak!" All the while he stood there, still and composed though his blue eyes were alight as he stared.

"No, what I know is that there is something you are denying." He took a step closer and she snarled, an ugly guttural sound that was impossible to be anything remotely human. Lips were now pulled back, baring teeth and abhorrence. "You do not scare me. I know what you are, who you are, and it has no affect." Another step, another deep sound of rage. "Though perhaps it is you that is afraid."

She recoiled as his words pierced her. "I am not afraid," but even to her ears the words sounded hollow.

"I have tried to speak with you, on more than one occasion since that small, but significant moment and yet you are always just out of my reach. Your time is limited here Nárhína and yet you run from me, run from this." A half step closer and this time she let him. "This is new to me as well but I am not so ignorant as to be blind to what is happening. Nor so cruel as to know but pretend it does not exist." She flinched, his words described her actions perfectly since their brief meeting weeks ago.

You do not understand.

"Help me to understand." Shocked, and wondering if she had spoken out loud, she looked to find him smiling at her. Just a gentle tilt of his lips but it was the tenderness, the utter surrender in his gaze that gave her pause. "I ask nothing from you now but for your willingness to try." The lightest graze against her cheek, the backs of his fingers carved fire into her skin.

He was so close now, close enough that she had to raise her face to look up into his. Close enough she could see his eyes weren't just blue but a captivating combination of sapphire and pale green, hazel suns encircling the pupils. She could see herself in their reflection, hair unbound in a storm of curls, her face flushed and eyes hooded.

"Nárhína." Gods. Again.

Alive for over six-thousand years and this was happening now? Now, when the world was perched upon a precipice of darkness and destruction? Now, when she knew she couldn't give him what he sought?

A fool's hope.

And yet...

"I- I will try." She was horrified to find her voice trembling, the words pulled out of her and she was helpless to stop them, to take them back. However, that feeling dissipated somewhat when he smiled.

It came like the sun, blinding and brilliant and she almost looked away. It was too much. Too much she hadn't told him, too much for it to be okay.

But she didn't say those things now. And she would not. Not even as he dipped his head, blonde hair sweeping along her cheeks as his lips graced her forehead. She said nothing as he whispered words to her skin, thanking her. She only watched as he backed away, so unbelievably happy that he was glowing again, a radiance all his own. She said nothing as a word, borne from both despair and the tiny insignificant flicker of hope, eased into her consciousness; so strong and yet so fragile. One she feared almost more than anything.

Mate.

A/N: If you think this romance is moving too fast, you're right. But - it's like that for a reason. Also, this chappie is dedicated to Dragoonlord, for being the sweetest.