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It had been a long time since Ayrafien had seen the little one, and she had not realized just how much she had missed her.
The self-ordained Guardian of the Halflings lived deep within the Shire, and in the wake of the Black Riders, the people there had begun to build themselves a fortress. It was a rather pitiful thing, all told, but Ayrafien could respect the desire to protect their families. They were trying, even if the wall they had erected around Hobbiton looked as though it could be scaled by a mountain goat.
The Bounders on the watchtowers stared at her, nervous and armed, as she approached on foot, making no effort to hide her long strides. There was fear in their eyes, but Ayrafien respected their duty to guard the holbytlan, and so she raised a hand in greeting when she was within earshot. "Peace, halflings," she called up to them, and could see how they tensed, gripping their spears a little tighter. "I seek one of your own, the bladeswoman Asphodel Cotton. The times may be dark, but I bear her, nor any of you, no ill will. If you see fit, I would continue my journey to her."
They exchanged looks, clearly unsure of what to do, and Ayrafien waited patiently, standing with her hands clasped behind her back. The Bounders spoke amongst themselves in hushed voices, but the Elf had excellent hearing, and could easily pick out the words, "What could an Elf want with 'Phodel?" and, "Should we let it by?", as well as a "Well, she is friendly, aint' she?".
After several tense moments, one of them called down. "Mornin', miss. Are you Miss Cotton's lady hunter? The one with the bow and swords and all that?"
"Indeed," Ayrafien said with a dip of her head, a little surprised at how easily she was being let in. "That is correct."
"Well, we're not s'posed to be lettin' the Big Folk in, you know, what with the times being what they are an' all, but she talks about you somethin' fierce. She'll be in Bywater. Should still be there."
Ayrafien nodded to the halfling. "You have my thanks. I am glad to know she speaks so fondly of me."
She began to walk away, but paused when one of the halflings shouted, "Watch yourself, now! Be nice to her, alright?"
The Elf gazed upwards once again, admiring the bravery of the small folk, and she dipped her head again. "Have no fear. I would never dream of bringing her harm." And with that, Ayrafien set off into the town, taking care to stride in a relaxed way, rather than her normal smooth glide, for while she could walk in perfect quiet even in leather boots, her footsteps were nevertheless unnecessarily heavy for the Hobbit-roads.
Asphodel Cotton was a wise, forthright halfling, and Ayrafien held her in very high regard. She had a fierce enough spirit and a clever enough tongue to talk her way into Ayrafien's service, and her sword was steady and true enough to keep her there. Ayrafien respected her would-be knight greatly – admired her, even, and she found herself eager to see Asphodel again. It had been a long time, and the Elf wished to ensure the Hobbit was faring well in such dark days.
She strode through Hobbiton, taking in the halflings' defenses and the way they carried themselves. Ayrafien could sense the fear, and the desperation, and she frowned. These small folk needed far better protection than the Bounders, though she supposed that was not her business to step in on. Their lives were short and full of comfort, and Ayrafien, no matter what she might think, could not simply force her people's ways upon them.
However, the Ringwraiths were a great threat that Ayrafien would help how she could, and she increased her pace, making towards Bywater quickly.
The halflings still gave her looks as she strode down the paths, but no one halted or confronted her, and so the Elf continued onwards, soon spotting Asphodel Cotton speaking to two other Hobbits outside a smial. Ayrafien slowed her pace and approached quietly, listening carefully, though she kept a respectful distance so as to not startle the three.
"I'm telling you, I don't want it, I'm not a kid no more, I'll be alright, honestly," Asphodel insisted, and the two Hobbits shook their heads, muttering under their breath.
"Well, if you're sure..." one of them said, and the other nodded.
"I am, you've got enough to worry about. I'll be fine."
Ayrafien frowned a little at the conversation, feeling concerned. She wanted to get closer, to know what the halflings had said, to know if Asphodel was well, but she held herself back, not wanting to ruin their moment, even as the other two gave each other a look that the Elf could not read.
After a few more minutes of quiet talk, the other two Hobbits finally walked away, leaving Asphodel alone. She sighed, and then turned, beginning to head back into the burrow, when Ayrafien spoke up. "My friend?"
Asphodel jumped and spun, eyes wide. She stared at the Elf, and for a moment, she looked scared, but then she let out a long, slow sigh of relief, hand resting on her heart. "My lady! I'd almost forgotten you were coming! It's good to see you, I'm glad you made it through all this mess."
The Elf strode up to her, pleased that the halfling was well. "I am relieved to see you in good health. How are you faring?"
"To be honest, about how everyone else is. Nervous, a bit scared, a bit guilty we all woke up to those Naz-ghosts an' such. No one here has ever encouraged my sword-swinging before, but here we are."
"Fighting is a last resort," Ayrafien agreed, "but you out of all the Shire were prepared. Even now, you look over your shoulder. All of your people are brave in the face of danger, but few have been forged like you."
Asphodel rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "I just happened to be born with a steel spine, is all. Elves really do find the poetry in everything, I s'ppose."
Ayrafien blushed a little at the halfling's words. "Forgive me. I meant no offense."
"Oh, no, I didn't mean- I like that about you, my lady. Just, I dunno, sometimes I feel like you're tryin' to put me on a pedestal, is all. I'm not anyone special, just a Hobbit. No different from the rest, really." Asphodel reached out and took Ayrafien's hand gently, squeezing her fingers, and the Elf felt a strange flutter in her chest.
"If no one else gives you the recognition you are due, then I shall do so twice as much. You deserve to be seen for the warrior you are," Ayrafien murmured softly, squeezing the halfling's fingers in return. "I see such greatness in you, my friend, such bravery. No one is like you."
The Hobbit gave Ayrafien a gentle smile. "Aira..." She trailed off for a moment, and then stood on her tip-toes, reaching up. Ayrafien knelt down, curious, and Asphodel pressed a soft kiss to the Elf's cheek, right below her eye. "I'm not half so great as you think I am, but thank you. Now come on, you'll be wantin' some dinner, won't you? And then a bed? Let's get you set up for the night."
Asphodel's lips had been so soft on her cheek, and Ayrafien could not stop touching the place the halfling had kissed as they headed down the hallways. It was not the first time Asphodel had done that, but Ayrafien could not help but wonder if perhaps there was a deeper meaning behind the gesture now.
The Hobbit certainly had not done it often, and it had seemed to embarrass the other woman greatly. Sometimes, Ayrafien still wondered why Asphodel chose to spend her time with her, when Elves did not make such quick friends. She had always attributed it to the halfling's love for tales of history and legend, as a Green-Elf of the Second Age was herself historic to the mortal folk. But it also seemed as though Asphodel held the gesture to a different standard than the normal, casual touches most mortals received daily, for the halfling's ears reddened as she cooked supper, and she kept glancing at the Elf shyly.
Ayrafien's cheeks flushed as well, and she sat awkwardly at the kitchen table, watching Asphodel cook. The Elf had lived for thousands of years, and yet she had never found herself in a situation quite like this. In Lindon and Imladris she had remained fiercely independent, save for the protection of her foster-father, and never let herself be courted for any length of time. But she had grown, as of late, in the slow, imperceptible manner that the great trees did. And Ayrafien knew, in the back of her mind, that she would not have come all this way for just anyone.
The firelight danced on Asphodel's dark curls, and she hummed to herself quietly, carefully cutting the beef and sprinkling salt on the meat before shuffling over to place it all into the pot and stir in a bit of the gravy that already occupied it. Ayrafien watched Asphodel work, mesmerized by the halfling's humble grace, and she shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in her seat.
This... this was new. Her people, her own kin, they would not accept such a pastoral way of living. She could not just bring a Hobbit home to her father's halls. Ayrafien had spent countless centuries among the Noldor, and yet she could not recall any Elf who had committed themself to a mortal outside of myth and legend.
But the thought of leaving her knight behind was almost unbearable.
The halfling glanced up, meeting Ayrafien's gaze, and she smiled a little, her green eyes shining in the dim light. Ayrafien felt her heart thudding in her chest, and she swallowed nervously, feeling once more like a child at the feet of the High King.
"I don't think I've ever seen an Elf blush, my lady," Asphodel teased gently, and Ayrafien felt her cheeks heat even further, but she managed a smile.
"I am afraid it is becoming a common occurrence around you. I do not often find myself embarrassed."
Asphodel chuckled softly, shaking her head a little. "It suits you. You've got a sort of pretty bashfulness to your cheeks when you turn red. Like a spring rose."
Ayrafien leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her heart still racing. "You flatter me, my friend."
"Do I? It's... cute. You're cute."
The Elf could hardly breathe, her pulse thundering in her ears. "A likely story. If I am so... cute, then surely you are the cutest of all."
Asphodel snorted a little, busying herself stirring the stew, and Ayrafien marveled over how deft her hands were, delicate and dainty. "Please, Aira, I'm fat 'n freckled. It might be cute to another Hobbit, but they all start runnin' when I pull out a sword as big as me. I'm not... like you."
Ayrafien blinked slowly, wondering what the halfling saw when she looked in a mirror. "I disagree. I like the... the roundness of you, and your freckles. You are warm and comforting and I never fail to be soothed when you are near me."
"But... my lady..." Asphodel murmured, her voice unbearably soft and fragile, and Ayrafien wished with a burning passion to give the halfling everything she ever could ever possibly want. "You're so tall an' elegant an' graceful an' beautiful... I don't– I'm not–"
The Elf stood, walking over to Asphodel and kneeling next to her, placing a careful hand on the Hobbit's cheek. "I do not say such things lightly, nor do I give praise where it is not due. You are beautiful, and brave, and I would see you know that, as I would have you know it everyday."
Asphodel turned, hiding her face from the Elf, her shoulders tense. "Why me? I'm no one. I'm just a strange Hobbit."
"You are more than that."
"No, I'm really not."
"To me, you are."
"But–"
Ayrafien leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Asphodel's. "I would love you no differently if you were the richest Hobbit, or the wisest. You have a spirit, and a bravery, and a kindness that I have seen in very few people. To me, my friend, you are exceptional."
Asphodel turned towards her, and Ayrafien stroked the halfling's cheek carefully with her thumb, unable to keep the fondness from her voice. "Please. Please believe me."
Ayrafien could see Asphodel's stubborn side flaring up, and the halfling began, "Aira–" but the Elf would not hear her deny herself, and she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to her forehead.
Asphodel froze beneath her, and Ayrafien murmured, "Please."
There was silence, and then the halfling tentatively leaned into the touch, her own fingers brushing against Ayrafien's shoulders. "My lady..."
"I would that you believed in yourself as I believe in you."
"Oh, Aira..." the smaller woman whispered, and then her arms wrapped around Ayrafien in return, Asphodel leaning forward and tucking her head into the Elf's shoulder, small tears beginning to fall. Ayrafien pulled her close, rubbing circles into Asphodel's back as the Hobbit cried, murmuring soothing words.
She had not intended to cause her pain, and yet the Hobbit sobbed against her, holding her tightly. Ayrafien felt guilt weighing down on her, and she murmured, "Forgive me, Asphodel. I did not mean to distress you."
Asphodel sniffled a little, but she shook her head, not lifting her face. "It's not that. It's just... you don't understand how much you mean to me, my lady. How could I have not told you before?"
Ayrafien swallowed. "How much is that?"
The halfling hesitated, and Ayrafien pulled away just enough to look Asphodel in the eyes, her fingers gentle on the woman's cheek. "Please, tell me. I want to know. I need to know."
And then Asphodel drew in a shuddering breath, forcing herself to meet the Elf's gaze. "I love you."
Ayrafien felt stunned, but in the same moment, as though she had known. Her voice caught, and she began to smile, murmuring, "And I love you the same."
"Aira..."
"More than the earth loves the sky. More than the river loves the sea. More than the stars love the night. I love you." Ayrafien moved her hand down, cupping Asphodel's chin and tilting her head up, and the Hobbit's green eyes were wide and watery.
Ayrafien's heart was alight, and she leaned forward, hesitating. "May I?" she breathed, and Asphodel gave a tearful nod.
"Please."
Ayrafien closed the gap, pressing her lips gently to Asphodel's, and the Hobbit made a soft sound, clutching at her. It was soft and sweet, and Ayrafien could feel her chest tightening, and she drew back. The Elf stroked Asphodel's curls tenderly, looking down at her in adoration. "How long?" Ayrafien whispered, and Asphodel sighed, wiping at her eyes.
"Forever. Since I met you, maybe? I didn't – I didn't want to hope, my lady," Asphodel whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn't want to dream. I couldn't – I couldn't bear the heartbreak, you know, an Elf like you and a Hobbit like me –"
Ayrafien brushed Asphodel's tears away carefully, feeling overcome with affection. "Meletheldë..."
The Hobbit laughed, shaking her head, her cheeks pink. "I don't even know what that means, but it sounds so pretty. Just like everything about you."
Ayrafien could not stop smiling. "If I were to use the words alone, it would mean 'love-sister'." She pressed her forehead to the Hobbit's and murmured, "I do not think the sentiment carries so well in the Common Tongue."
Asphodel laughed again, sniffling a little. "Aira... you can be so sweet sometimes."
"I find myself unable to resist. You bring out the best in me."
"I love you. I love you so much," Asphodel mumbled, holding onto Ayrafien tightly. "Tell me this is real? Tell me you meant it?"
"I did," the Elf whispered, resting a hand on the halfling's cheek. "I do not tell lies, small one. Every word I have spoken is true."
"And what'll we do?"
Ayrafien pulled back just enough to gaze fondly down at Asphodel. "Nothing changes, not unless you wish it to."
"What will your people say? Your family, my lady, what will they think?"
"Lord Elrond has forgiven me for more, and many times over. He and his kin are the only family I have." Ayrafien stroked Asphodel's curls carefully, wishing to soothe her, and the Hobbit relaxed a little. "I am not ashamed of this. Of you. And besides, they do not need to know until you are ready. Nothing changes unless you will it."
"Are – are you sure?"
Ayrafien nodded once, and leaned forward, kissing Asphodel's temple. "I have made my choice. And there is no doubt in my mind that you are the one I would choose every time, if I could."
The halfling shivered, but she relaxed further, clinging to Ayrafien. "Aira... You're too good to me."
The Elf smiled softly, running her fingers through Asphodel's curls. "Someone ought to be. You deserve only the best."
"I... I don't want anyone to know. Not yet. But when it's safe, my lady, will you... would you hold me? And let everyone see?"
Ayrafien nodded her assent, a smile playing on her lips. "I would. For as long as you will it, for as long as you draw breath, I would keep you with me."
Asphodel's eyes sparkled with joy, and Ayrafien kissed her cheek, the two of them clinging to each other, reveling in each other's presence. She laughed softly, reaching up and cupping the hunter's face, rubbing a thumb across the bridge of her nose.
Ayrafien giggled and dipped her head, letting the halfling touch. "That tickles," she chided fondly, and Asphodel snickered.
"Noted."
"You are being cheeky," the Elf replied, a little scolding, and Asphodel grinned.
"Mhm. Kiss me again, won't you?"
Ayrafien happily complied, meeting Asphodel's lips and embracing her firmly. It was soft and loving, and she felt giddy, the Hobbit's hands light and gentle against her skin.
She had made her choice, and she knew, with every fiber of her being, that it was the right one.