Stolen Evenings by Tyelca

Caranthir and Haleth

Caranthir and Haleth, an evening in the very beginning of their relationship.

Slightly AU.

Her hair is coarse and her mouth even more so; she curses and cusses and spits and has no respect for anyone who doesn’t first earn it. She is rude in a very diplomatic way, or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that she’s diplomatic in a very rude manner, but once one has proven himself she’s loyal to a fault. Her skin is rough and tanned by her daily toils under the glaring sun, a special shade of golden brown that is solely her. Her eyes blaze when she perceives something as unjust.

She is not, in any way, the type of woman he’d expected to fall for, yet he did and here they are.

She sits four feet away from him, a small campfire in between them. They are a little distance away from her people’s village, and a greater distance from his fortress near Lake Helevorn. He did not bring a hunting party, this time; just his horse is around, calmly grazing in the quickly darkening meadow. He does not know what she told her people, whether they are aware of his presence here or not. He finds that he does not particularly care.

He gazes into her eyes, searching for her thoughts. She is silent, which is unusual for her, and he observes her keenly. Her mind is more free than any he’d encountered before and he wants to know where her thoughts wander off to. But he won’t ask if she won’t tell. That is where his respect for her comes into play. The fire does marvelous things to her face, alternatively illuminating and hiding it. He cannot look away.

This is not the first time they’ve met semi-secretly, nor does he think it will be the last. He knows there are whispers about the two of them, but he pays them no attention. They are true, after all.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks him suddenly, and it takes him a moment to realize she’s spoken to him. “You,” he answers, then adds, “us. Here, now.” A smile graces her lips shortly before disappearing. She has told him she thinks his blunt way with words is endearing. While he did not agree, he hasn’t bothered to correct her. Again he is entranced by the fire playing over her lips as she speaks. “What about us?”

He shrugs. He is not sure, and he tells her so. Just them. She smiles then, and this time she does not push the expression away. Instead, it blooms on her face, adding warmth and changing her rough features into something that he could describe as beautiful. He is not a poet, and he knows it; yet, for her he is willing to try. Really, it is his brother who is most suitable to find countless synonyms of ‘beauty’ and put them down on paper, but he is not here and it is doubtful he would recognize the peculiar kind of beauty she possesses.

They are silent for a while. The night is chilly at his back and the fire uncomfortably hot at his front; he feels the blood rising to his face. He knows his cheeks are red and he detests it. He is not blushing, but she might think he is. They don’t know each other that long, after all. Perhaps he is nervous; perhaps the blush is not entirely due to the heat of the fire, but if it is he will never admit it. He doesn’t know how to break the silence that now reigns between them, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward. After all, he reasons to himself, she does not say anything either.

The stars are out on this night and the moon is waxing. As he looks at them he is overcome by the realization that he is older than the moon. He, an Elf of disputable honor is older than that ethereal light. The notion is strange yet not unpleasant. It makes him feel powerful.

He stands and walks around the campfire, sitting down again next to her. She looks up at him, surprise in her dark eyes, but she leans her head on his shoulder as he puts his arm around her. They sit like that for a while, silent and pleasant, and he looks up to the moon as he leans his cheek on her brown hair. It smells clean. He feels her chest heave as she draws breath, only to fall down again when she releases it.

“Haleth?” he whispers, softly, not wishing to wake her if she’d fallen asleep.

“Yes?” she whispers back just as softly.

“…Nothing,” he says as nothing comes to mind. But it doesn’t seem to matter to her; she snuggles even closer. His black hair is now intermingled with her brown mane; as he moves his head slightly he can see his dark strands moving between hers.

He smiles; softly, gently, genuinely. Despite everything, she is the woman he’s fallen for, and here they are. Not yet certain what the future will bring, but willing to wait and find out. And truly, that was all he could ask for.