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1.
The fist gift Caranthir gave to Haleth was no gift at all. To Haleth, it felt more like being forcefully shackled to that arrogant elven lord.
Accepting his offered fiefdom after her initial refusal was a blow to her pride. But the elders of her tribe had changed her mind: there were simply not enough able-bodied survivors to guard the injured and infirm on a journey to a safe place to settle that might not even exist. Thus, they would remain in Thargelion.
“I accept your offer of land,” she all but spat out. “But I have certain conditions …”
2.
The second could be called a gift, but was no more desired. A year on from the attacks, the Haladin had recovered – with elven help, Haleth had to begrudgingly admit.
Lord Caranthir for some reason deemed this an appropriate occasion to present her with a garish, gem-encrusted necklace, dwarven-made. She eyed it with barely hidden derision.
“Am I expected to wear that?”
He sputtered and made a big show of leaving early, taking offence less maturely than little Haldan would. Perhaps it was unwise of her, yet it was amusing to learn that elves were capable of blushing bright crimson.
3.
The next time, Caranthir had invited Haleth to his keep to discuss recent incursions. She did her best not to feel small among the imposing stone walls.
“I wish to present you with a token of my thanks for your brave defence of Thargelion.” He handed her an elvish-inscribed bracelet he’d been almost nervously cradling throughout their discussion.
“No need. We defend our lands for our own sake.”
At that, his face fell. He put it away, as if embarrassed.
“Of course.”
She was surprised to see him so vulnerable, and at how she felt, being the reason for it.
4.
As Haleth’s heir, her nephew would become Caranthir’s vassal. As would his grandchildren, presumably. It was only fitting to invite him for his coming-of-age ceremony.
“My cousin gave me this dagger. It belonged to a vassal of his, Bëor.” Haldan looked upon Caranthir’s gift, awed.
“You remembered.” She had told him last time of Haldan’s fascination and his desire to learn Taliska.
“Of course. Though, my lady, I must ask: despite his coming-of-age — at only fifteen! —, surely he won’t succeed you so soon? Surely you still have years left?”
The deep worry on his face made her burst out laughing.
5.
The continued meeting over the next year. When Caranthir looked especially solemn one visit, Haleth knew something was different. He presented her with a traditional elven betrothal gift: a golden ring even she could tell was made with little skill.
“I’ve never been good in the forge. Drove my father mad with my clumsiness,” he admitted, blushing and hopeful.
She thought of all the reasons, in the present and future, to say no to his proposal.
She did not. And nothing could have prepared her for what he then told her was the sole necessary event for an elven wedding.
6.
Haleth had never planned to marry. She never thought she would have cause to make the traditional Haladin wedding gift for a groom: a simple embroidered blanket. Typically, the bride’s mother and sisters would help, but she had only her brother’s widow to pitch in.
“Your lord better appreciate our labour, despite it not matching the elven finery he prefers!” she said.
Haleth hoped he would like it, as she did her ring.
Their marriage would have to stay a secret. Neither the Haladin nor the elves would understand. But this was a little gift of happiness, just for themselves.