A/N: That's right readers. I'm back, after the worst case of writers block known to man. I from here on in, may be tempted to dabble in X-Men fic, perhaps, as I have rediscovered my fondness for a certain blue furred Doctor, and winged mutant (not together of course!) and until my elf muse makes a reappearance in my life, the mutants currently have the run of my head. So enjoy this, it took me three months to write, and you will receive a new chapter each week, and reviews are appreciated very much, as I am still figuring out the ending. So enjoy, fellow Haldir fans, and loyal readers!

Imrhienna shook her head sadly, forcing herself from his bed, her long silver hair falling to mask her face ."You do not understand, Haldir."

Haldir looked up at her from his place, sprawled on the bed. He sighed in exasperation, as though she were little more than a child with a silly notion.

"We have spoken about this Imrhienna. No, and why would I want to? Leave Mens problems to men. It's been centuries since they brought anything to us but despair, the eldar have little to do with them now. And I for one think you may be being silly. Now come back to bed." His eyes darkened, and he smiled lustily. "Ï have something to show you." This was a long running argument of theirs, and he was growing tired of it.

She shook her head again, refusing to look at him. If she looked at him, she knew she would falter.

She shrugged back into her clothes from the night before. Last night, she had tried to have this conversation with him, but only succeeded in letting him take her. Again.

"Why can you not understand? These people need help, and I can give it to them."

"But it is not for you to help them. It is for their own kind. You do not belong with them, you belong with me."

This was different, he realised then. This wasn't his Imrhienna speaking of something she had seen…this was Imrhienna speaking of something she was going to do…

"No Haldir. I had hoped it would not come to this, but I am afraid that if you can not understand my desire to help these people, than perhaps we are not right for each other after all."

Haldir looked up at her again, sitting up, an eyebrow raised.

"Are you suggesting that because I do not have concern for that which does not concern me, we are no longer in love? Your reasoning is more than a little flawed."

"And that's why I cannot be with you anymore Haldir. My dreams mean nothing to you. And I can not go on ignoring the cries of others. I have spoken to the Lady."

"You should not have concerned the Lady with such petty grievances!" he said, turning his back to her, as he too made his way out of their bed.

"What choice did you give me? I leave tomorrow for the border villages, to do what good I can. I am useless here Haldir. None save you have any use for me, as I am a mediocre healer at best amongst the eldar. But my skills are far greater than any the men have. I am needed there. And you can either support my decision, or you can-"

"You are needed here," he said softly, before turning to face her. "I forbid it," he said quietly.

"Ï will do this with or without your cooperation Haldir." She said, keeping her gaze firmly on his. Years of guilt finally motivating her to speak. "Ï love you, but I can't put my own needs first this time. Others have greater need."

"Greater than me?"

"It is not a question of you or I Haldir, stop making it personal. You were the one who said you would not have anything to do with it."

"And to that I stand. You leave the city tomorrow, and it will not only be my arms closed to you, but the borders of Lorien. Is that what you want? Will you forsake all for the pettiness of men? Will you forsake me?" He looked smug, as though the threat had won this argument.

She did not say anything, simply turning from him, and leaving through the door, closing it firmly behind her, trying not to let the tears that were in her eyes spill.

"I do not think it is the men who are being petty, Haldir."

She woke with a start, the same way she did every night after such dreams. Despite the events occurring centuries before, they remained as clear in her mind as if they had happened yesterday. Her years with Haldir had tried to be left in the past long ago, after her hope died that perhaps he might have a change of heart when he realised how much these endeavors meant to her. But no. She was turned away. And away she stayed.

After generations of healing the surrounding villages ailments, she could make a living for herself well enough. Despite some initial mistrust, the village people were in too much need of a skilled healer to be able to turn one away. The last century had been a hard one for the people of Craigey. After the devastation of the Great Plague nearly two decades ago, the population was still recovering, and every child born was a joy. More worrying still, however, was the very little rain that had been received in the past few years, making the surrounding scrub, and the villages prided maize fields very dry indeed.

Her skill was a precious commodity, and one that the people were well glad of.

She lived in a little cottage on the outskirts of the forest, not in it, but close enough so she could still raid the borders for the herbs she needed to heal the people. She had not seen hide nor hair of her own kind for near upon two hundred and fifty six years, and even that visit had been brief, an elven scout having arrived from Imladris, and had traveled through their village at great speed, on horseback.

Her appearance, what she was, her very nature set her apart from the other villagers, but there was an unspoken alliance between the two parties. And whatever qualms the adults had initially held about her presence when she first arrived in the village two hundred years before, gave way as another generation grew to power, one that had had her tending their scraped knees and sniffles, even their very birthings. Her presence was never again questioned, and she had become a respected and in a round about way, loved member of the village of Craigey.

The children particularly loved to visit her on the edge of the 'Deep Dark Woods' and tell her of a caterpillar they had seen that day, or of the vegetables that they were forced to eat. And whilst she spoke very little to the adults of anything save healing, she could not find it in her heart to turn these children away, often leaving what task was at hand to go and see said caterpillar, or to offer some advice about the hated vegetables. The children kept her content.

Particularly, they loved her tales of the creatures that dwelled in the forest, all loving the fable of the great golden beast, ten feet tall, as beautiful as he was cruel, whose sharp tongue and snapping jaws stopped all from entering the beautiful city which lay beyond. The irony was more than a little amusing to her.

But still, she was very lonely. There was an emptiness that all these years had yet to fill. And she knew very well what was missing, but she kept assuring herself that eventually, the pain would end.

"Riana! Riana!"

A small voice, gradually getting louder caused her to look up from her herb gathering. A child, no more than eight or nine years was running towards her. Knowing her elvish name isolate her from the village people further, she had modified it two hundred years before, in the hopes of not constantly reminding the people of what she was. After all this time, it was the only name they knew to call her. And she did not care to correct them.

"It's Branna!!" the small child cried excitedly. "She said she's havin' the babe!" she cried, breathing heavily. Imrhienna smiled.

"Then I best come at once then, hadn't I?" Imrhienna said, before picking up her basket. Lonely she may have been, but at least she wasn't useless.

()&()78

The birth had been a difficult one, breech births often were. The men folk of the village had been brought in from the fields, where they had been tilling for stones. That could wait. The babes father sat restlessly in a corner, other village men gathered around, offering unwelcome advice, and welcome liquor.

When the first cries of the babe had wrung out many hours later, a great cheer went up, and Imrhienna left the room, an exhausted smile on her face.

"Ryan," she said, and the slightly drunken man in the corner looked up hopefully. "You have a fine son."

Another raucous cry went up through out the village men. Imrhienna turned to leave, only to be stopped by Ryans hand on her arm.

"Thank you, Riana, " he said, a smile filling his eyes, if not his face. She nodded stiffly, still, after all these years a little uneasy around the physical nature of the men. What could be communicated in words, they manage to convey through touch.

She turned to leave again, when another of the men, a little worse for the drink himself, stepped in front of her.

She recognized him, he was one of the men from a few villages over who had come to aid in preparing the fields. He had not grown up in the village, had not grown up with her presence.

"Far from your own kind, Point Ear," he stated, backing her against one of walls of the little tavern.

The other men, too preoccupied in their own celebration, did not notice. "Pretty little thing like you, wasted amongst your kind."

His rancid breathe was nearly enough to make her wretch with the stench of liquor.

"Take your hands off of me at once," she said clearly, and in his shock, the man nearly did, but then he chuckled, thrusting himself against her.

"Your own males could not satisfy yer?" he asked, grasping her breast in a clumsy paw.

Just as she would have taken matters into her own hands, a half dozen heavy hands landed on the mans shoulders, jerking him back off of her, and then out the door.

"Is there a problem, Riana?" the tavern keeper, Bilson asked, a little concerned. Some of the other village men bodily removed the other man from the village.

She smiled a little shakily. "I am fine, thank you Bilson. It is, at times I fear, unavoidable."

"But it shouldna' be ," he frowned.

Like all in this village, their fathers, grandfathers, great grandfathers before them he had grown up with her to heal his every ailment, and the least they could do to repay her continued presence was to keep the wandering hands of those who would do her harm at bay. She nodded.

"He was worse for liquor, he barely knew what his hands were doing. Do not rough him up too much, Valar knows it will be me who will have to repair him in the morning."

Bilson gave her a wry smile, and she gave a small smile in return, the closest she ever came to joking with the village folk.

She then turned and left the celebrating folk of the tavern. She may have been distant, even a little cold. She may have been of the eldar, a race that they rarely heard from, and when they did it was hardly endearing.

But as far as the villagers were concerned, after proving her worth year after year, she was one of them.

And they defended their own.

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