Title & Chapter Number: Nienna 4/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, places, plots, etc., created by the masterful J.R.R. Tolkien in book-land or movie-verse... they're just too wonderful for words. Those that I make up, however, are my own.
Warnings: None
Betas: None
Cast: Haldir/OC
Timeline: TA AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: An A/U… She was said to be one of the greatest beauties on Middle Earth, or so he had heard. Haldir will soon discover for himself what awaits him by the sea...
Notes: I do love feedback and suggestions, so if anyone has anything to say, please feel free to say it, via the board, or by email. Constructive criticism is most welcome…it's how we improve ourselves after all, but flamers, please beware, I can get pretty mean when riled!
Thank You: And definitely not to be forgotten, are the wonderful people who strive to make your story as wonderful as you want it to be. A big thank you to these two people, my beta pals, Mo and Julie!!! You're the absolute best, for without your inspiration and encouragement, this story might never have taken its wings and flown!!!
Chapter 4 - Drinking and Gambling…
Haldir sat stock straight in his chair, staring at the door. Then he saw Narien, Valin and Thalos, and their dumbfounded expressions told him all he needed to know. His eyes had not deceived him, nor had he drunk too much!
"Nienna!" a Ciranian sentinel called out, waving the princess over to a table on the far end of the room, opposite Haldir. "Where have you been? We have been waiting for you all night!"
Following her with his eyes as she slid into her seat, Haldir saw her accept the proffered jug of Elverquisst while she smiled at the familiar faces, and extended greetings to the new. He heard her apologize profusely, explaining that she had been detained longer than expected.
"Surely the Princess is not going to drink that!?" Shocked, Haldir leaned toward Rana, speaking in a low voice, well aware that others could also hear him should they so wish. "She will have no innards left!"
Following his gaze, Rana only laughed and turned backward in his chair. "Nienna can hold her own, March Warden, do not worry." The Ciranian Captain then shifted his seat to the side so that he could see the entire room more fully, greeting and conversing with a small group of elves at a neighboring table.
Haldir craned his neck around the jostle of bodies so as to keep the princess within his view. "What are they doing?" he asked curiously. Then his eyes suddenly widened, still riveted on Nienna, and he turned to Rana again in stunned disbelief, "She gambles, too?"
"They are playing Kholias," Rana replied, only Haldir vaguely heard him, he was watching the princess so closely. The Ciranian King's second-in-charge added with a chuckle, "And yes, she gambles."
Just as Haldir was about to ask Rana if the Princess visited the guards' lounge often, a tall elf sitting beside Nienna stood up and blew on two small white objects in his hand before tossing them. The dice tumbled across the table until each landed with one small dot facing up. Throwing his hands in the air, he cried, "Orc eyes!" He then turned to the elf seated a couple seats from him, the card keeper, and pulled his cards from the thick proffered deck. Looking at them, he smiled and pushed several coins into a pile. "I raise the stakes, my friends," he proclaimed, grinning ear to ear, while the other elves groaned.
Quiet and observant, as was his nature, Haldir watched as the game progressed and each elf took turns rolling the dice and drawing from the deck. They would either throw more coins in, or lay their cards face down, declaring themselves out. Amongst them, it seemed to Haldir that Princess Nienna participated well in their camaraderie, always courteous and of fair temperament and judgment. She even shared from the same jug of aged Elvish spirits; they drank and laughed together, and soon, their table could be heard above all the rest. Interestingly enough, to him, she appeared much more at home with her servants than with those nearer her own social status and rank.
One by one, each member of the group of eight players was eliminated until, at last, there were only two, the same tall 'orc eyes' elf called Halin, and the Princess; in their hands, they held almost no cards.
As Halin stood, eyeing the heaping pile of coins, spoils for the victor, he prepared to roll the dice one last time. From his near empty tankard, he quickly gulped, licking away the dregs before raising the dice to his lips. For luck he blew on them, and with a short flick of his wrist, he at last rolled, his mouth set in a thin line and his eyes determined.
Haldir looked around the room as everything quieted and all the elves, including the princess, watched with bated breaths as the dice tumbled across the table and finally came to rest on the other side.
The roll had not been kind, and Halin cursed under his breath, his odds of winning had just greatly fallen.
It stuck the March Warden that Halin appeared to steel himself when he glanced at Nienna, who, Haldir noted, sat staring back at the tall elf with a peculiar smile etched across her beautiful face. It was obvious that she was gloating at his misfortune. Halin shook his head and snorted before turning to withdraw his cards from the proffered deck, looking at them in disgust before dropping unceremoniously into his chair with a loud, quaking sigh.
Gauging her counterpart's discontent, Nienna's smile grew almost catlike as she stood, lugging the jug up on her small, delicate wrist, hooking her finger through the loop, the elves around her whooped loudly and egged her on. She grinned, her body swaying slightly, a warm flush dusting her pretty cheeks a warm russet hue, reminding Haldir of dewy crimson roses from Galadriel's flower garden after a gentle rain.
Haldir sat in mesmerized silence while the Ciranian Captain prattled on with a pair of elves, who had since joined them, as if the High Princess and most beautiful maiden in all Middle Earth, drinking and gambling in the guards' lounge, was a common occurrence.
Feeling Rana nudge him with his elbow, Haldir glanced at him, questioningly. The Ciranian Captain and his under charges had since forgotten their own conversation and had now involved themselves in the tantalizing lure of the princess' tomfoolery. Amused, Rana leaned toward Haldir and said quietly, "She always does this on the last roll before the Loser's Shot."
Curious, Haldir's brows raised and his eyes brightened, "Loser's Shot?" he asked, but Rana did not answer, instead he gestured toward the princess with his eyes and the dip of his chin, and reluctantly, Haldir's attention fell back on the table on the far side of the room.
Nienna had long since incorporated her own unique method of blessing the dice since she had begun visiting the guards' lounge some few hundred years prior. Climbing atop the table, with the help of two elves, Haldir watched as she picked up the hem of her simple white gown, exposing her small bare feet. Around her second toe on her left foot, a dainty mithril band caught his attention. He found the unusualness of the jewelry's location to be both intriguing and spellbinding.
From under sooty lashes she glanced around the table at the male elves, and suddenly her mouth curved ever so slightly, aware of her allure, it seemed to Haldir; her expression coy, teasing, yet sweet and innocent, and to his dismay it lit a flame in the back of his mind, conjured solely and completely from his erotic thoughts and visions. She giggled and bent to place the dice at her toes, dancing around them in a small circle, her gown pulled against her knees by one hand, exposing her smooth, shapely calves to his view. With heightened curiosity, he observed her closely, enjoying the soft sway of her dance, and finding secret amusement even in the way she reached for the jug and took a large swig.
Haldir's eyes hungrily traveled the length of her body in deep, sure appreciation. He found her provocative ritual to be the most seductive display he had witnessed in a good long while - if ever. In the stark quiet of the room, he, like all the other elves, sat and watched the princess in rapt fascination; her whole lithe, yet distinctly feminine form suddenly wrapped in a celestial aura, she practically glowed, an awe-inspiring reminder of who she truly was.
Finally, the heavenly moment faded from the March Warden's mind, and the spell was broken when Nienna blew a small chaste kiss to each elf around the table before reaching her hands out, as if to catch the kisses they returned back. The protected and revered treasure that she was, Nienna retrieved the dice at her feet, smiling mischievously, reminding Haldir of his own Lady Galadriel for a brief moment. What secrets, he wondered, could lurk behind that beautiful smile and those soulful green eyes?
Turning to her opponent, she bowed deeply from the waist, and once again circled, bowing to the others; now she bore the semblance of one unaccustomed to losing, Haldir mused.
Quickly, the same two elves took her under each elbow, lifting her safely back to the floor - both rewarded with a soft caress on the cheek and the smile of her eyes.
As if with one last fleeting thought, she kissed the dice and tossed them across the table, and Haldir, like all the other elves, rose from his chair to get a better view.
Already basking in sweet triumph, certain that she would be victorious, Nienna stood back and waited to be proclaimed the winner, anticipating the moment when Halin would make the Loser's Shot!
Jumping up and down, "Give me Orc Eyes!" she cried as the dice at last rolled to a halt. But suddenly, her grin faded when, to her dismay, someone called out, "Twelve!" It was the one number higher than Halin! The only number higher than Halin! 'By Mordor's Curses!' she inwardly groaned.
Nienna's body slumped, and she drew her cards - more cards than Halin held in his own hand. The victory was decided, and the coins were shoved in the welcoming direction of the tall elf warrior. She had lost! She would take the Loser's Shot!
She stood on her tiptoes and lay a congratulatory kiss on Halin's cheek, and suddenly the entire room erupted and the mass of cheering elves began to chant, "Salute! Salute! Salute our dear King! Salute! Salute! Salute our dear King!" over and over. Haldir heard one of the Ciranian elves explain to a Lothlórien warden what was about to happen; it was the loser's call to arms, the elf said with a wink and a grin.
Haldir frowned when suddenly tables and chairs were being scooted out of the way, and through the parting throngs, an elf appeared, stopping before the princess he bowed, holding in his arms, the ceremonial bow upon a soft bed of red velvet, beside it a single arrow.
She gave those around her a weak smile, once again bringing the jug to her lips. Then, motioning with her hand, she directed two elves to go forth and pull back a large tapestry that hung on the far wall, revealing a mural of King Cirdani's face, with numerous punctures around his nose and between his eyes.
Dismayed and somewhat appalled, Haldir stood scowling at such a blatant disrespect for one's Lordship, whilst beside him, Rana laughed and even joined the other elves in the chanting. Shaking his head, turning back to the King's somber face, Haldir concluded that this was obviously a favorite pastime for the Ciranian Elves. Maybe the false security of an impenetrable city had softened the whole like of them?
"You know that I cannot hit the broad side of the palace wall, let alone this sweet, fatherly face before me," Nienna said with a laugh, and Haldir turned to Rana with a questioning look. "But for you, my fine elven warriors, I shall try," he heard her say.
Haldir watched as she waved to those closest to the target, saying, "Now, might I suggest that you get out of the way? I would not want any accidents on account of my poor skills with a bow. Father might get a tad annoyed with me if I injured another of his sentinels." The elves only laughed and continued to cheer her on, to Haldir's slight amusement, yet slight disapproval; at the moment, he could not decide which.
Around him, the chanting grew to such a fever pitch that Haldir was certain it could be heard in the levels above them, until at last, she raised the bow and notched the arrow, and the room fell silent. Deathly silent.
She extended the bow outward with her right arm, and pulled the string back with her left hand until the wood moaned. It amazed him that despite her small size, she had managed to fully extend the bow. With intense concentration, her tongue touched the corner of her mouth, caught between her teeth, and she squinted, trying to focus on the intended target. Haldir noted how her delicate hands began to shake from the strain, and yet still the wood creaked.
The hushed room waited… and waited… and waited.
From the dark corner, Haldir still remained unnoticed by most, including the princess, he was sure. Rubbing his chin, grinning, he found her pose to be most unorthodox, and yet immensely amusing, even when in a matter of a frightened hare's breath, she released the tension on the string with a twang, catapulting the arrow. But then, his amusement vanished…
Instead of going straight, the fletching projectile veered off and missed the target all together, and she laughed when the elf nearest her, slapped his knee chuckling with great mirth, whilst shaking his head.
Handing the bow off to the laughing elf beside her, Nienna turned to the others and bowed before glancing back to the intended target with a giggle, sweetly pondering, "Now, where do you suppose my errant arrow has gone tonight?"
At her unspoken bidding, the elves parted and began to look around the room, when all at once, gasps went up and feet shuffled around so as to clear the way.
Confused, the Princess raised her chin and moved to push her way through the tight press of shocked and fearful charges, but in her drunken state, it took her a moment to focus to the dimness. As her eyes adjusted, she first recognized the tall, imposing forms of Rana and his two undercharges, standing to his right, and she smothered an unladylike chortle behind her hand, but their peculiar countenances puzzled her.
Slowly, she peeled her eyes from her father's three most trusted, to the other taller, more unfamiliar elf to Rana's left; the one who stood unmoving… very unmoving. Her brows arched curiously.
His broad shouldered body, strong masculine features, and his long silky hair… his long silky, silver hair. He was definitely not of her realm, but was instead of Lothlórien origin!
Shaking her head, the cobwebs cleared from her hazy mind at last. Beneath those thick, smoky lashes, were the same beautiful, sensuous, searing eyes that had kept her company earlier that evening at dinner, yet the warmness was now gone, replaced by a cool, angered stare. Uneasiness swept through her, and she shuddered. Why did he seem so annoyed? Her mind moved frantically to uncover the source of his discontent… and his name.
Ah yes, she was looking upon the richly handsome, no, heavenly face of none other than Haldir, Captain and March Warden of Lórien! Towering well above the others, an impenetrable force to be reckoned with, she imagined the greatest of all great warriors; a body built of sheer power and commanding authority, and… and … why was he standing in such an odd position?
Tilting her head, she glanced at Rana, with confusion. When her father's captain rubbed his chin nervously, discreetly raising his index finger, pointing back to Haldir, she followed with her eyes. Then she saw it!
The arrow, her arrow, had embedded itself painfully close to the imposing elf's head; his right arm hanging, literally caught in mid-air by the harpooned fletching that had pierced completely through the sleeve of his tunic.
She peered closer, wondering why he was holding the tankard in such a manner. Then the thought trailed off as her eyes flitted from his arm to his face. Why did his hair look wet? What was dripping down his nose and chin? Suddenly, Nienna gasped as her focus grew sharper and her inebriated thoughts cleared. To her complete and utter horror, followed by her shameless amusement, she realized that the March Warden stood drenched in ale, having been caught mid-sip when the arrow pinned him to the wall! Despite herself, she could not help the smile tugging at her lips.
Looking at the elves on either side of her, Nienna tipped her chin upward in an attempt to retain what little dignity she had left, and gathered the skirts of her gown, marching forward. 'One foot in front of the other', she kept reminding herself so that she would not fall on her face. Her head swam and buzzed, while she felt tingly numb from her insides to her limbs, the sudden walking and pounding of her heart beat pumping the Elverquisst through her body at a rampant pace.
On unsteady legs, she came closer to where he stood motionless, one arm above his head, the silver tankard still dangling from his hand, Nienna could see that his expression had not warmed, and if anything, had only grown fouler. Perhaps it was the small grin on her face that vexed him? Or that he detested reeking of ale? Perhaps it was that she had embarrassed the mighty Captain of the Golden Wood in front of his whole regimen? Anyway she looked at it, that scowl looked ominous, despite his pleasing beauty.
Haldir stood fuming, that pretty little smile of hers filling him with intense annoyance. So she found his compromising position amusing, did she? Now that the initial shock had worn off, he reached up with his free hand, to take the tankard and put it down on the table with a whap! With a firm grip, he pulled the offending arrow from the wall and carefully inspected the hole in his tunic by sticking his finger through it. He shook his head, satisfied to see that Nienna's smile had dimmed. In fact, she had gone rigid and quiet… as quiet as the room around them.
Not much got by Haldir. From the corner of his eye, he could see Thalos, Narien and Valin inching toward the door, trying not to burst out laughing, but they were nestled in too tightly by the other elves to get very far. He watched as they looked at one another, shaking their heads with their fingers over their lips, shushing each other to keep from laughing. Maybe he would hang those three off the fishing pier by their toes during the next high tide?
Turning his attention back to the princess, he drawled, "I believe this belongs to you." He dangled the arrow in front of her face, watching the way her eyes widened with what he hoped was comprehension of what she had nearly done.
But no, she still seemed amused, for she smothered a giggle behind her hand, replying, "I believe you would be correct in that assumption, March Warden," and reached for the arrow. He snatched it back.
Looking stunned, her brows knitted together in confusion and then turned to irritation when he stood peering at her, his expression, impassive.
"Not just yet, Princess," he said, smacking the wood against his open palm. "You could have impaled me with this," again he dangled the arrow before her eyes, only this time, she did not reach for it, but instead, folded her arms across her chest.
"But I did not, did I?" Her tone challenged him in a way one of his warden's would never have dared.
His eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a firm line, his tone smooth and serious, as if addressing one of his young sentinels, "Fortunately for me, you did not." He drew himself to his full height, hovering over her petite form. Pausing, his eyes slowly scoured her body, and she faltered back a step. Glowering, he menaced, "I would have expected the daughter of a King to have better sense than to use a bow in such a reckless manner."
"Reckless!?" she exclaimed, before all at once, her mouth snapped together and her cheeks flamed, her hands balled against her hips as she leaned into his face. "I ordered everyone out of the way!" she cried, "Tis not my fault if you were poked by my arrow!"
Nienna watched his perfectly defined brows rise and his chin shift, seeming to dare her rebuke. "Poked!? Is that what you call it?" indicating with his finger, the hole in his sleeve, then he snorted, "You nearly skewered my arm!" He moved closer, a whole head taller than she, and even with his hair and face soaked in ale, her heart sped up and she felt the overwhelming urge to cower away from him… to the nearest, darkest corner she could find!
She forced herself to calm, concentrating on slowing her breathing and the lovely vision before her, and the corner of her mouth suddenly twitched. He was truly beautiful, even in wrath!
"Your behavior disturbs me, young Princess," he said, looking arrogantly down his nose at her, "Not at all the poised she-elf I met earlier at dinner." Clearly enraged, in his right hand, he held the arrow tightly, balancing it between his fingers, seesawing it back and forth. "Do you realize that you could have killed or seriously maimed someone?" A huge drop of ale suddenly emerged from his hairline, running down his cheek, meandering to the chiseled tip of his chin, only to fall and pool on his boot tip with a resounding plop. That did it!
Despite herself, she burst out laughing, "Do not be melodramatic, March Warden! Skewered you, you say!? It was nothing more than an accident!"
For a moment he was silent, obviously furious that she laughed at him. His eyes darkened and zeroed in on her. "An accident," he repeated, low and dangerous, cold and calculated. Those two detached words had conveyed all he needed to say before he broke the arrow with a mere twist of his fingers to emphasize his point!
The snap of the wood startled her, but nevertheless, Nienna stood tall and regal, dipping her chin in a brief nod, echoing in a haughty tone, "Yes, an accident!" Again folding her arms across her chest, she posed in open defiance to the March Warden.
"Do you know what you need, Princess?" he sneered, moving closer to her, so close in fact, that she could literally feel the heat of his fury against her ashen face, "You could benefit greatly if someone such as myself bent you over my knee and gave a good wallop to your pretty little backside!"
Though anger suddenly fueled her veins, and perhaps a whisper of fear, she still could not help but find amusement at the absurdity of his words! Maybe it was her drunken state that prevented her from it, but any other time, and she would have slapped him! No, she was in a good mood tonight, and not about to let the conceited March Warden ruin it! Instead she smiled sweetly at him, and said, "Well, Haldir of Lórien, there is not a prayer of a chance that your hand will ever touch my backside! But, if you are so inclined, do feel free to hope."
He smiled oddly, and she began to feel how very large and strong he truly was as he gazed down at her, his eyes gleaming. Bending lower to her ear, his breath tickling her sensitive lobe, he whispered seductively, "Now you break my heart, Princess. I have never had any complaints yet about my backside manner." Despite herself, she shuddered and gasped at his implied sexual prowess. She pulled away from him suddenly, frowning when his brow crooked wickedly, and he leaned into her ear once again, breathing, "You know where my rooms are, I trust, should you change your mind. Who knows, you might even enjoy it." Nienna jerked away a second time, her face red and flustered.
Smiling, Haldir straightened, seemingly satisfied that he had rendered her speechless; her hand practically itching to slap him, she gripped the edging of her sleeve so tightly, her knuckles were white. Towering over her, the March Warden grinned, obviously amused by her outrage. A slight shudder of excitement rushed through her at his brazen choice of words and his nearness.
He bowed and took her hand in his own, all the while never breaking eye contact with her. Nienna attempted to pull away, but he held tight, refusing to let her go. Placing a light kiss on her fingers, he looked up at her from under a heavy blanket of dark lashes, and purred, "I bid you good night, my youngling princess." Then, still holding tightly to her, turning her hand over, he laid the broken arrow in her palm, gently closing her fingers around the splintered wood.
Once more he straightened and sauntered away while she stared after him in open-mouthed fury and disbelief.
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