Faril Nin [My Huntress]

Title: Faril Nin My Huntress
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG-13 – R (for graphic violence detail)
Characters: Orophin/OFC
Time: Begins before the Fellowship come into Lórien in TA 3018… Ends FA 250.
Chapter(s): 9/12
Summary: No words were necessary, nor adequate, to express the way she felt for him in return. It was all too clear to him in her eyes with every glance and gaze.
Author: Codi Lyn
Disclaimer: I realize that Arwen was the last elf born in Middle Earth but I am changing it with my license as the author. Also, I don’t know quite what season it is when the Fellowship are in Lórien but I’ve also changed a bit of stuff in the timeline as well (i.e. Legolas having just left and then a few months later they’re in Lórien, which is not movie or book-verse…oh well). I don’t own anything (except for my OC’s) and it all belongs to Tolkien, the mastah.

Chapter 9

Véredhiel was laid upon the bed with her father while he kept his arm around her protectively. Gwaeron situated the chair nearer so that she could rest her head by Orophin’s and together they all slept until the middle of the next day. Gwaeron awoke second to the sound of their daughter playing with her mouth and fingers, making jibber jabber happily as her mother picked her up to check the elfling.
The baby needed diapers as well as Gwaeron needed some things to have in the room with Orophin, for she did not plan to leave him much, if at all, this day. She looked over to her betrothed lying peacefully on his back; the many cuts and bruises that covered his fair skin no longer mattered. He was safe.
Gently she brushed her fingers against his cheek, content that he would sleep for a long time yet and that she’d certainly be back by that time. Véredhiel giggled as only babes can in the quiet of a room and, carefully, they shut the door behind them once they left.
Orophin rested on his own for a little while but awoke when he could no longer feel Véredhiel in his arms or Gwaeron’s breathing beside him. He opened his eyes and painfully lifted his head to scour the room in search of them. They weren’t there, or at least not nearby, and he pushed himself to sit up against his body’s commands to lie still. He listened for any movement, but there was none. Had it been a dream? Could it be she had never come to him at all?
As he thought on it his knife wound began to hurt fresh once more and it effected acute suffering from even the tiniest of movements. The poison, he thought. It must still have its potency to negative encouragement. He turned to see the door open very quietly and Gwaeron backing in with Verry in one arm and a large basket in the other, trying to be as silent as possible in case he was still resting. Véredhiel looked over her mother’s shoulder at him and almost instantly the flaring pain in his arm faded to a dull ache.
“Faril nin.” He breathed in relief, for the fear that she had not been real then lifted from his mind. She smiled and glanced to him before laying a large blanket over the wood floor and setting Véredhiel onto her belly. With a small spoon and cup placed before the infant to play with, the lady ranger stood and went to her husband-to-be, frowning only a little as she noted he had sat himself up. Carefully, she situated herself at his side and he took her hand, bringing it up to his lips without breaking eye contact. She blushed with a grin.
“I thought you had only been a dream when I awoke. That I had never seen you, either of you.” He pressed her palm against his cheek in his reassured happiness and she stroked it with her thumb affectionately, careful of a few lingering scars about his nose.
“I can promise you truly, my love, it was very real… just as you are before me now.” She leaned forward and briefly touched her lips to his, only a tentative brush to leave him wanting more. He opened his eyes and gave her a very nearly feral look once she pulled away and stood up from the bed to kneel beside their daughter.
“If I were not so weak, Gwaeron… sweet Elbereth!” He exclaimed in a mix of humor and frustration and laid his head back against the pillowed headboard. She giggled easily on the floor with Véredhiel as the child played with her voice and lips like she had that morning.
“And this will be the only time in my life that I would wish you to be physically weak, orod nin.” She gave him a bat of her eyelashes and caused him to sigh as he watched her interact with their elfling.
“I love you, Gwaeron.” He breathed softly to himself, believing she wouldn’t hear, but then she turned to him and gave him an appreciative smile, modestly turning away before any more could be spoken. No words were necessary, nor adequate, to express the way she felt for him in return. It was all too clear to him in her eyes with every glance and gaze. She loved him.
The month that followed was much easier to bear with the support of one another. Orophin had come to tears once more when he told her of Haldir’s death and final blessing to his new family. He still held onto that last remnant of fury that drove him to think he could have saved the Marchwarden. Rúmil had talked with him for the entire afternoon in attempt to dissuade his brother’s mutinous thoughts, but Orophin would hear none of it.
“I must deal with this on my own, Rúmil.” The elder stormed to pace the room weakly, limping, though he ignored the pain as best he could in his growing anger. Rúmil stood from the chair he had previously occupied and raised his voice to gain Orophin’s full attention.
“But you should ask for help! There are many elves that have lost dear ones, including myself, that can…” Orophin turned upon him viciously.
“Get away from me! By Morgoth’s chains, just leave. Me. Be!” The agony in his voice lashed out like a flame barbed whip and Rúmil recoiled instantly, both hurt by and afraid of his brother even in this weakened state. The heated passion in his eyes licked painfully at the youngest son and finally Rúmil straightened to turn away from him without a word, shutting the door sharply in his frustration.
Orophin’s firm stance declined and he slouched against the wall, sinking to a knee as he bowed his head in grief and ran a hand through loose hair. He had physically taxed himself by exerting so much force with Rúmil. Why am I so angered by this? One part of him debated the reasoning for his temper while the other combated it righteously. Because you could have saved him, you saw the danger. You should have been faster.
“I failed him, I wasn’t strong enough.” Berating himself, he gasped when a movement triggered searing pain to split through his side. Blast, if I haven’t inflamed my wounds again. He stood and placed a hand over the afflicted area, breathing deeply to calm his body from the inferno of emotion he had just previously displayed. A gentle knock was heard on the door before it opened quietly behind his turned position, and only a few steps were made before he felt careful hands wrap around his hanging shoulders.
“Would you like to sit? Come, I’ll fetch you a chair.” Gwaeron offered to him tactfully. After many long years she knew how to approach those who were willful, but still wounded. Having been one such person on many occasions, she was thoughtful enough to make them feel more useful, and independent, rather than useless and weak. It was a rare occurrence when she could not get them to accept even a little assistance.
Calmed by his betrothed’s voice and touch, Orophin leaned heavily on her to move forward and she brought him to the side of his cot. Leaning back with a slightly concealed grunting moan, he placed a hand over his midsection and a hand on top of her knee once she sat beside him. She smiled for her love but her cloudy green eyes betrayed a touch more concern than she was letting on. He sighed and opened his eyes to her as she watched him begin to regain his strength.
“Where is Véredhiel?” He asked casually and she held the hand resting on her leg.
“She has been with Ana today. The poor elleth has been trying to get her to crawl all afternoon but I don’t think Verry has it just yet.” He smiled for a moment but it was soon lost to his previous thoughts. Gwaeron saw his mood darken as his brows furrowed together in thought and she looked away from him to study the movements of his fingers and battle-hardened knuckles, the large hand gripping and releasing her knee while he still warred within himself.
“I don’t think you’re this anxious over the thought of our daughter learning to crawl…” She began, drawing him gently from his thoughts. He frowned further, though not to her, and shook his head.
“No. No, I am not. I, have been thinking about Haldir’s death… I should have prevented it!” His quickly made fist jerked away from her and pounded into the mattress at his side. The other rose to his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. Gwaeron gave a concerned frown and leaned forward to lay a hand on his chest, steadying him from anymore painful movements she knew he was inflicting upon his body.
“Orophin, calm down. Now, please, listen to…”
“NO! You know I could have been there! I could have been faster…” Startled by his outburst, she reflexively cut him off with her own opinion and a voice to match his in volume,
“You could have died, Orophin! By the Valar, I could have lost you!” She gripped him and then shoved against his leg to stand up, crossing her arms over her chest once she was turned away from him. Orophin stopped and looked to her, angry with himself even more now for upsetting her.
“Faril…” He began but she waved him off and wiped at the tears coming from her eyes, struggling to quell this spike of emotion she still carried from his leaving for battle. Slowly he stood and stepped but a hair’s breadth away from behind her. Sensing him there, Gwaeron shook her head as he turned her round and pulled her against his jerkin, stroking the long curls she had let down to please him.
“I did not intend to distress you so, faril nin. It was selfish of me, I wasn’t thinking.” He murmured deeply in apology and lowered his chin to the crown of her auburn head. She sniffed a few times, his gentle soothing helping enough to allow her coherent speech.
“I only wish that you would be thankful for your own life, Orophin. I have tried so hard to forget the battle, to forget that so many were lost. My friends as well as yours. But every day I come to this room, every time I look at you and see the bandages and scars… I remember as clear as day that you could have so easily died and I would have been alone again.” His jaw twitched as he struggled to hold himself together, his face burned hot when he thought of all his lost comrades and fellow galadhrim. He could not have saved Haldir any more than he could have been everywhere at once to save their lives. His brother was simply another casualty to the Dark Lord’s forces. There was nothing he could have done differently.
Gwaeron’s breathing finally calmed beneath him and her arms now wrapped around his waist comfortingly. Somehow she could sense he was now digesting all that she had said. Taking a steadying breath himself, he raised his hands to either side of her face and tilted her gaze up until their eyes met.
“It has never been your fault, meleth nin.” She whispered as the understanding shifted into place in his mind. He smiled at her and glanced to her lips briefly.
“Meleth nin.” He repeated in a daze, lowering down until their mouths brushed against one another’s in a rejuvenating display of affection. Smiling at the touch of his lips to hers, she pulled her arms a little tighter around him and after a long moment pulled away from the careful kiss to rest her head upon his shoulder. His body relaxed under the simplest of her movements and they stood as such for many blessed moments, allowing all grief and anger to melt away like the ice from Spring’s first leaves.