Title & Chapter Number: Dream Warrior 1-3/33
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Heather Lynn's Page
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of J R R Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: SEX!!!
Betas: None
Cast: Haldir/Lirimaer (OC)
Timeline: FotR AU
Spoilers: FotR Perhaps
Summary: This story begins in the year 3018 (S.R. 1418), the same time that Froto, Sam, Merry and Pippin have begun their journey. They are now with Aragorn, having left Amon Sûl (Weathertop) after battling the Ringwraiths. Arwen Evenstar has Frodo and is taking him to Rivendell. Lirimaer is an elf from Rivendell who journeys to Lothlórien to speak to Galadriel about the haunting nightmare she repeatedly has. Haldir comes across her along the way and he leads her to Lórien.
Notes: While writing this, I followed the Tolkien's books and the two movies and made up a few things as well. My timeline does not coincide with the books, only to try to keep things short! I hope the translations are correct, if not please email me so I can make any necessary repairs. I hope to add drawings soon, having just moved I will need some time. I hope you enjoy my first fan fic I've ever written, please let me know what you think! This fan fic was also part of the www.haldir-lives.org Fan Fic Challenge.
Chapter 1 - The Dream
"Am Marad! Am Marad!" There he is, gleaming in his golden armor and red cloak on top of what is left of the great wall. All around him are the bodies of men and elves. And the horrid orcs with white handprints painted on them. He is calling to everyone to retreat when a sword stabs him in the arm. He quickly slays his assailant. Another orc slashes him in the back and he is falling to his knees. His deep blue eyes look upon the dead and dying around him. A dark-haired man catches him before he falls, but his eyes are unseeing.
"No!" Lirimaer awoke suddenly in a sweat. It was the dream again. She had been having the dream for several months now. It was becoming more frequent now, more vivid. Who was the warrior elf? His face was a blur, only his eyes did she see clearly. She felt like her heart was being torn in two from his death. Were these visions of the future? Why were they having such a great bearing on her?
She tried to go back to sleep but could not. Too many questions filled her head. The sun would rise in a few hours; she would have to seek counsel about her dream. Master Elrond would surely know what to make of them.
"Lirimaer, you wish to speak with me? Please, come and sit," said Elrond, motioning to the seat next to him. Elrond had become like a father to her after her father, Megilindir, died in battle when she was just a child. Her mother, Elena, felt the pull to the Grey Havens three summers ago, leaving her alone in Imladris.
Lirimaer sat down and began to tell Elrond about her dream. He listened very carefully to everything Lirimaer said especially about the white marks the orcs carried. This made his back stiffen. The White Hand of Saruman. Gandalf had shown up the night before and told him of the goings-on with Saruman. He also told him that the One Ring was on its way to Rivendell. So it has begun.
Could Lirimaer predict future events? "You must go on a journey with my sons Elladan and Elrohir," said Elrond. "They will lead you to Lothlórien. They have a message to deliver to the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim. You can seek counsel with Galadriel. She will help you."
Lothlórien! Galadriel! Lirimaer always wanted to go to Lórien and meet the fair elves of that realm. And to meet the Lady Galadriel! "When do we leave?"
"As soon as you can gather some supplies to take with you. The journey will be treacherous, no place for an elf maiden wearing pretty gowns. You will need to dress as a male elf. There are evil men and orcs everywhere. It will be safer that way. Go now and hurry!"
She needed to find a tunic and leggings. Where? Then she thought of Vuranor. He was about her size but a bit larger in build. She found him in the high garden overlooking the river, watching the water plummet over the falls. "Vuranor! You must help me! I need to borrow some of your clothing. I am going to Lórien with Elrond’s sons to meet with Galadriel!"
"And why the clothing?" he asked, with a questioning smirk.
Lirimaer explained the morning events with Elrond as quickly as possible on the way to his rooms. He gave her two sets of clothing and a pair of boots. "I want you to take this as well," said Vuranor as he handed her a dagger with a beautiful golden jewel-encrusted handle and long, straight blade. "Your journey will not be easy and this might come in use."
"I cannot thank you enough. But now I must hurry for they wait for me." She gave him a hug and was gone. He watched Lirimaer go with a great sorrow in his eyes. He never told her of the love he had for her. May the Valar grant my love safe journey, he said to himself.
The clothing Vuranor gave her was soft and comfortable. She wore a tight undershirt, to help flatten her chest. She didn’t care much for the boots, but they would protect her feet better than her slippers. She plaited her hair in the style of the male elves. With her she took her bow, which she was pretty good with, having practiced with Vuranor since they were children. She was fairly good with a sword as well, but hoped the need for it would not come up.
Elladan and Elrohir decided the safest course to Lórien would be to follow the Misty Mountains south to the pass of the headwaters of the Gladden. This route should keep them far enough from Moria and the hideous orcs and goblins that dwelt there. From there they could follow the Gladden east to the Anduin, which flowed south along the eastern perimeter of Lórien. Then they would follow the Celebrant, which the Nimrodel flowed into.
Lirimaer had heard about the Nimrodel many times. It was named after the fair maiden elf, Nimrodel. Nimrodel and her lover, Amroth, were to sail from the Bay of Belfalas, where the elves of Lórien set sail for Valinor. Nimrodel never showed to the ship where her lover waited for her for she had gotten lost. They say in the spring you can hear her voice echo by the falls calling to Amroth. The waters apparently had the power to heal the weary.
So they packed up their horses and said their farewells. It was long way to Lothlórien so they would have to get moving. Vuranor watched Lirimaer as she rode over the bridge, around the bend and was gone. He felt as though this would be the last time he would ever see her beautiful face, her chestnut colored hair, and her bright green eyes with golden flecks. Now he was full of regret for not telling her of his feelings for her. And now perchance he never will.
Am Marad - To the keep (to the Tower)
Lirimaer – Lovely One
Megilindir – Bladesinger
Elena – Of the Stars
Vuranor – Fiery Sun~*~*~*~
Chapter 2 - The Journey Begins
They traveled about ten leagues the first day. By midday the next day they would be at the pass to the headwaters of the Gladden. They set up a makeshift camp but would not have a fire that night. They did not want to draw outside attention. After watering and feeding the horses and feeding themselves with fruit, cheese and bread, Elrohir and Lirimaer laid down for some rest. Elladan would take the first watch.
In the night rain, swords clash sending off sparks. Arrows fly through the air. Cries of pain from the injured and dying everywhere. Many have fallen since the wall was blown apart. The orcs pour in like water overflowing a river’s banks. There are so many of them and so few men and elves. "To the keep!" He feels the sword pierce his arm like a red-hot poker. How could this happen to him? Then, intense pain down his spine. He feels the life ebbing from his body, as he looks at all those lost and lying on the wall. Falling, falling, and then he is no more.
The dream again. It’s always about the same elf warrior, but a little different each time. Sometimes it’s like she’s watching him, other times it’s like she is him. This time she felt the wounds he received. She woke with a scream in her mouth, which she partially released. Elladan and Elrohir were at her side.
"Are you all right?" asked Elladan.
"Was it the dream again? Father told us briefly about it, about the mysterious elf warrior," said Elrohir.
"Yes. But this one was different. I actually felt his pain when he was killed," Lirimaer said as she rubbed her left arm and wiggled her shoulder blades. She still felt a little sore and lifted the sleeve on her tunic to look at her arm. There, just above her elbow, was an angry red mark, about four inches long. It can’t be! I must have been lying on something like a twig or rock to cause the mark. Elrohir and Elladan stared at the mark with disbelief.
Elladan could see another mark on her neck going down under her shirt. "Let me see your back." He lifted up the back of her tunic and saw another red mark going up her back to the side of her neck. This one was about 18 inches long. As he looked he could see it fade until it was gone.
The pain faded away along with the marks. How can this be? Lirimaer never had a dream like this before. Why was this happening to her? She didn’t know who this elf was. Why was she feeling his pain? And now his wounds were showing on her body. She was very confused. "Elladan, Elrohir, you both get some rest. I’ll take the next watch." She would sleep no more this night.
They started to travel again at the first light of dawn. As predicted, they made it to the headwaters of the Gladden by midday. It was a hard trek for the horses going through the mountains. They stopped to rest the beasts and to take in a bite of lunch.
"Any pain today, Lirimaer?" asked Elrohir.
"No, it swiftly went with the marks last night."
"It seems to me that you have ties to this elf that you just don’t know yet. I’m sure Galadriel will clear this up for you," said Elladan.
"Tell me about Galadriel. Have you met with her? Is she as beautiful as everyone says? I hear she can read your thoughts," said Lirimaer excitedly. She desperately wanted to get her thoughts off her dreams.
"She is exquisite. There are none more beautiful than her in Arda. I do not have the words to describe such beauty," reminisced Elladan.
"And what of the splendid mellyrn? Are they as magnificent as I have heard? And Caras Galadhon? Are their houses really in the tops of the mellyrn trees? And what about…"
"So many questions! If I try to answer everything now, we’ll never be out of these mountains before dark. We must be going. The orcs come out of these mountains at night. It will not be safe after dusk," said Elladan. They packed up their horses and were off again.
~*~*~*~
Their journey finally started to go downhill. In a few hours they would be leaving the Misty Mountains behind. The brothers started to converse about the friends they would again see. "I can’t wait to see Rúmil and Orophin again. It has been a long time," said Elrohir.
"Who are they?" asked Lirimaer.
"They are brothers who are guardians of Lórien. And what of Haldir? Do you not wish to see him also?" smirked Elladan. "You cannot still be mad at him after all these years!"
"I could care less if I see him again!" declared Elrohir.
"You are still mad at him!" laughed Elladan.
"Who is Haldir? Why are you mad at him?" asked Lirimaer.
"He is the Captain of the Guard of Lórien, brother to Rumil and Orophin," answered Elladan. "Although you would not think so if you met him. Rumil and Orophin are an interesting bunch while Haldir is…"
"Arrogant!" snapped Elrohir.
"The last time we were in Lórien, Haldir and Elrohir decided to have a contest on who was the best at sword play. Needless to say, Haldir got the better of Elrohir."
"Got the better of me! He stabbed me in the thigh! It was supposed to be for amusement, not a battle!" retorted Elrohir. "I bled like a stuck pig and was in the healing house for three days! If you know what is good, Lirimaer, you will avoid him and his pretentious ways. Nothing good will come from him."
I shall keep it in mind, thought Lirimaer.
A quiet seemed to come over them as they almost reached the mountain’s base. They were being watched. Dusk had come.
~*~*~*~
Chapter 3 – Down the Gladden
They rode as fast as they could. They would get no rest tonight. Orcs swarmed out of the mountain like ants in an anthill. "Noro lim, Lirimaer! Noro lim!" shouted the brothers. Some of the orcs rode upon great wargs and were gaining on them. Orc arrows and spears were flying through the air from all directions. They were closing in on the trio.
They raced along the ravine floor flanking the Gladden on their left. Suddenly an arrow pierced the hindquarters of Lirimaer’s horse. The beast stumbled but regained its footing. Elladan and Elrohir were not aware of Lirimaer’s situation. Her horse was lagging behind.
Two wargs were swiftly coming up from behind. Lirimaer felt sudden agony as an arrow penetrated her right shoulder. She looked down and saw the blood covered tip sticking out of her tunic. The horse was veering off towards the river. Swiftly one of the wargs assailed them and took out the horse’s legs from under them.
Lirimaer flew off the beast and landed in the rapids of the river. She saw stars before her eyes when she hit the icy water and from the pain in her shoulder. The waters were swift due to melting snows from the Misty Mountains. She was fighting hard to remain conscience as the orc poison from the arrow quickly ran its course. The waters whipped her about fiercely, knocking her against rocks and debris. Then her head struck something hard and she saw no more.
She awoke shivering violently from being in the icy water all night. She had wrapped her good arm around a floating log sometime during the night. Lirimaer could make out the first light of dawn although her vision was blurred from the knock to the head. The little light she could see made her head scream in agony. The water had slowed its pace. She was about to slip into unconsciousness when she felt someone pulling on the back of her tunic. "What’s this? A strange fish? Or a half-drowned elf-boy?" he said with amusement. Then she was in darkness again.
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