Posted: April 2004
Title: Escape
Author: Khylaren
Type: FCHet
Characters: OFC/Haldir
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate. No money is being made from this story; it is written purely for entertainment and pleasure.
Warnings: graphic het sex, mental and physical abuse (domestic), profanity
Spoilers: None
Notes: this was written for a friend as a thank you. As a survivor of an abusive relationship, she asked me to indulge her fantasy of Haldir rescuing her from her ex. I was more than happy to put the bastard into a situation where someone else had the upper hand for a change.

*****

WARNING: This story contains references of domestic violence. This author does not, in any way, shape or form, condone violence of this nature. If you are bothered by such things, please read no further. It was not written to entertain or titillate, but to illustrate the nature of this
character's relationship with her spouse. It also contains a character death (not Haldir!). Please heed the warning !

*****

Summary: A battered and abused housewife finds her hero in Haldir.

*****

Christina covered the cold rosemary chicken with foil and placed it in the refrigerator, slamming the door shut. The magnets on the door slid from the force of it and one of them clattered to the floor. Muttering, she picked it up and stuck it back on the picture of herself and her husband, making sure it completely covered his face. Her bruised ribs twinged with the movement.

Bastard.

The potatoes had been lumpy. The gravy burnt. The rolls were too hard. The wine was too sweet. No matter that she'd spent half the day trying to cook him a gourmet meal. No matter that to her, everything tasted delicious and he was just being a picky son of a bitch.

Apparently, lumpy potatoes deserved a punch in the ribs. And burnt gravy? Well, that was a playful slap to her behind that still stung like a wasp-sting. She didn't want to think about what he'd done to her lip for the rolls. She'd avoided reflective surfaces so far.

He was in his office – working, he called it, if surfing porn was working. She had a moment of peace all to herself where she didn't have to be careful of how she moved, or what she thought, just in case her _expression betrayed her again. She just had to remember not to clatter the dishes as she loaded the dishwasher; he hated that.

Stepping quietly from the kitchen, she moved to the living room, searching behind all the movies he liked for the DVD she had carefully hidden way in the back. Her fingers closed on it and she pulled it out. Turning the player on, she inserted the disk and turned on the television, making sure the volume was low. She sat on the couch gingerly – her backside still hurt, and picked up the remote. Familiar music played softly from the television, and she hit the button to start the movie.

I amar prestar aen…
The world is changed.
Han mathon ne nen…
I feel it in the water.
Han mathon ne chae…
I feel it in the Earth.
A han noston ned gwilith.
I smell it in the air.

Much that once was is lost. For none now live who remember it.

The familiar goosebumps traveled up her arms at Cate Blanchett's haunting voice as she told of the forging of the rings. It never failed to affect her – the music, Galadriel's words, the sight of the elves lined up to fight against the forces of evil.

He hated this movie – called it childish fantasy nonsense when he was in a cheerful mood – complete shit when he was in a foul one. She only watched it when he was away or working. It was her dream, her escape, and the only thing he couldn't take from her.

Longing filled her as the graceful curves and arches of Rivendell – Imladris, it was called in their graceful language, filled the screen. The kindly face of Lord Elrond, smiling down at Frodo, made the longing swell so fiercely inside her it almost hurt. What she wouldn't give to have someone look at her that way – to have some one who was kind, wise, loving, who would take care of her when she was hurt, and soothe her pains until they no longer troubled her.

She heard the chair in her husband's office squeak, and quickly stopped the movie, holding her breath. Would he come out now? Or was he merely leaning back, stretching his muscles as he ogled some unbelievably fake-breasted woman who flaunted her all in cyberspace? She tensed, waiting for the sound of his footsteps, but did not hear them.

Maybe she should bring him a beer? A peace offering to ensure at least another hour of quiet solitude – enough for her to get to her favorite scene in the movie? She quickly dismissed the thought; if she ventured into his domain with a beer while he was wanking to some bimbo, he might decide that he wanted something else besides beer from her. A shudder of revulsion wracked her at the thought of having to submit to his fumbling attempts at masterful lovemaking.

Moments passed and he did not appear from his office. She clicked the button on the remote and lost herself to the fantasy of the Peter Jackson's movie once more.

She glanced at the clock and sighed, using the remote to skip ahead in the movie. She didn't want to push her luck and miss her favorite scene. The one with him in it, looking so strong, so arrogant, so sure of himself; the one that made her stomach feel like she'd swallowed a butterfly. He was so handsome – no, handsome didn't cut it – beautiful.

Haldir.

A sigh of longing escaped her. She wouldn't object to bringing him a beer if he wanted it, and more. Much more, if he wanted. He looked like he would know how to love a woman.

As she watched him speak to the companions of the Fellowship, she allowed herself to indulge in her favorite fantasy; the one where he rescued her from her loveless, abusive marriage and brought her to live among the green and silver trees of Lothlórien. Her body warmed at the thought of his touch, wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by him, to be held by his strong arms, and caressed by his hands. Another sigh escaped her, and she found herself wishing with all her heart that just once, just once, her dreams could be realized.

"You're watching that shit again." A blow caught her unprepared as he struck her across the top of her head. "I told you how I feel about that crap. Turn it off. Now."

She scrambled from the couch and out of his reach to comply, not even daring to rub the top of her head where he'd hit her. Haldir's face was the last thing she saw before he hit her again.

"I work all day and come home to a messy house, crappy meal, and a lazy wife who seems to think we have a fucking maid by the way she leaves things lying around," he snarled, gesturing at the kitchen. "The goddamn dishes aren't even put away and you're out here, on your ass, watching this fucking movie."

She put the disk in the case and went to put it away behind the other movies when he snatched it out of her hand.

"Uh-uh," he said, smiling nastily. "No fucking way. This thing goes in the trash, and you get your ass back in the kitchen before I decide its time to remind you how things work around here."

"No!" Christina didn't think, but grabbed the movie from his hand, running past him and into the kitchen. She turned, holding the movie to her chest protectively. "I'll clean the kitchen. I was going to finish it anyway. But you can't throw my movie away. It's mine."

"Oh really?" His face reddened with anger. "My money bought that goddamn movie. Money I earned working all day so you would have a roof over your ungrateful head. I think you'd better reconsider what you just said to me, Christina. I'd think very carefully about what you just said," his voice was dangerously low as he moved with slow, deliberate steps toward the kitchen. "Throw the movie in the trash."

"No." She hated the way her voice trembled. "No," she said again, stronger this time.

He lifted his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, staring at her with a mocking sneer. "No?" His hands reached for his belt and he began to unbuckle it with a false sigh of resignation. "I thought we had discussed this, Christina. I thought you understood that when I tell you to do something, I mean it." He slid the belt from the loops and snapped it sharply. "I'm going to give you one more chance. Throw the fucking movie in the trash, or you're not going to be able to show your pretty face at the grocery store for at least a week." His lips curled into a smirk. "If not longer."

Christina trembled, clutching the movie tighter. Tears of humiliation and anger filled her eyes, and she blinked, trying to keep them from falling. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She turned towards the garbage can, when a strange, chime like noise made her pause.

"I can see there's just no getting through to you," her husband said, snapping the belt against his fist. He took two steps towards the kitchen when he froze, his ruddy complexion suddenly paling.

"I would not move if I were you," a low and familiar voice said, the mildness of it threaded with undercurrents of danger.

Christina turned, feeling as if the world had slowed, and stared, her mouth dropping open in shock. The Fellowship of the Ring fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers and clattered to the linoleum.

Haldir of Lórien stood in the entryway of her kitchen, his arrow knocked and trained on her husband.

"Who the fuck are you?" her husband blustered, looking both frightened and outraged at the same time. "And what the fuck are you doing in my house?"

The familiar eyebrow lifted and a faint smile curved the sensual lips. "Someone who refuses to watch you abuse this woman any longer," Haldir answered softly. "Someone who refuses to allow such shameful acts to continue against so good a creature."

Her husband sneered. "Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops, mister." He shifted nervously, his hands twisting the belt he held as he tried to keep up his bluff. "Who do you think you are?"

The gray eyes narrowed dangerously. "I think I am the one who will kill you if you do not leave."

"Kill me?" the words came out with less bravado than he probably had intended, and Christina cheered silently as she watched him visibly tremble before the elf. "You wouldn't dare!"

The eyebrow lifted again. "Give me one reason why I should not kill you," Haldir replied flatly. "I will ask you again – leave now, before I give into the temptation to send this arrow through your deceitful, black heart."

Her husband blinked as the realization that this creature before him was deadly serious. He cast a hateful glance at Christina, wordlessly promising painful things when he got his hands on her.

"You try my patience, human," Haldir rumbled, his grip tightening on the bow.

The man scrambled for his car keys and coat, throwing a murderous look over his shoulder at Christina. "I'm going to get you for this, you unfaithful bitch. Sooner or later – you're going to pay for this."

Haldir kept the weapon trained on the man even as he stumbled and cursed his way towards the door. "Somehow, I highly doubt it," he said with an arrogant smile.

The door slammed shut with a resounding thud, rattling the pictures on the walls. Christina let out the breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding with a gust of air. The movie lay at her feet, but somehow she couldn't even move to pick it up. She swayed, and gripped the kitchen counter for support.

Haldir was in her kitchen.

Haldir had made her husband leave. He'd threatened to kill him if he so much as touched her again.

She shook her head, lifting her gaze to stare disbelievingly at her fantasy come true, standing so incongruously in her kitchen. He'd dropped his weapon, and his _expression as he regarded her, was unreadable.

"Are you well?" he asked finally, his _expression softening.

A soft, helpless laugh escaped her before her knees gave way. He caught her before she hit the floor. He cradled her against his chest, looking down at her with such concern it almost hurt.

"Why?" she asked weakly, clinging to him. "How?"

He smiled, carrying her from the kitchen as if she weighed nothing. He poked his head into a few rooms, before finding the bedroom, and laid her gently on the bedspread. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands resting loosely against his thighs as he smiled down at her.

"Someone wise once said that a dream is a wish your heart makes."

An inane giggle bubbled up inside of her at his words. "Walt Disney – Cinderella."

Haldir nodded slowly, his face utterly serious. "He was a wise man."

Her giggles faded as she looked up at his beautiful face; the longing filled her heart fiercely, and she nearly trembled from the strength of it. "What now?" she asked finally.

He smiled, reaching down to clasp her hand with his. "Now," he said softly, "We leave this place of pain and sorrow, for I would not leave you here to face that man's wrath. Your wish was of a home among the Mellyrn, was it not?"

Christina nodded faintly, wondering if her husband had hit her head harder than she realized, and if she was only dreaming.

Haldir leaned down, until his hair slid forward and brushed against her cheek. "You are not dreaming, Christina," he murmured. "Close your eyes."

Her body warmed at the simple caress of his hair, but she dutifully closed her eyes. She felt his lips touch hers lightly and jumped, startled. She heard his soft laugh.

"Open your eyes, Christina. You are home."

Sunlight streamed, warm and golden through the window of the room that was not hers. The sound of birdsong filled the air, as did the faint, rustling sound of windblown leaves.

She blinked in disbelief, clutching Haldir's hand tightly. "Is this real?" she whispered.

He laughed again, the sound of it tugged at things low in her body. He leaned down again, caressing her cheek with his free hand. "It is real, pen-velui. It is real." His lips brushed against hers, and she gasped softly.

"It feels real," she whispered.

He kissed her again, though this time it was no mere brush of lips. When he finally raised his head and smiled down at her, she felt as if her body was on fire. "I can think of many, pleasurable ways to convince you that this is, indeed, real, pen-velui," he murmured with a promising smile.

She realized, as he kissed her deeply, that her lip no longer hurt. Neither did her ribs, when he rolled her beneath him, his hands covering her body, exploring every inch of her with almost worshipful slowness. All the pain that he had inflicted upon her body seemed to fade with each kiss, each loving and tender caress.

Somehow their clothing ended up on the floor of the room, though she didn't recall removing it. She was lost to the perfection of his bod
y; the smooth, muscled planes of his chest, the narrowness of his hips, and the lean, yet muscled length of his legs. His eyes glittered with amusement as she drank him in hungrily, her hands roaming over his smooth skin, tracing patterns, committing the feel of him to memory. His amusement quickly fled, however, and was replaced by hunger as she explored the maleness of him.

He was bigger than her husband, both in length and in width. It felt like living velvet, both hard and soft beneath her hand as she stroked it, eliciting a soft groan from Haldir's lips.

He pushed her hands away gently, stretching his lean length out on the bed beside her. "It is my turn," he murmured.

She closed her eyes at the feel of his lips against her throat, his hands working their magic on her senses. Her nipples hardened beneath his sure touch, and she arched against him wantonly. Never before had her body responded to another's touch so eagerly, so hungrily. His lips moved lower, burning a trail across her skin. He took one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue until she moaned with abandon. His long fingers swept across her stomach and down her thighs, parting them gently.

His eyes rolled upward, meeting hers as he drifted lower on her body, licking a trail between her breasts and down her stomach. He lingered at her bellybutton, flicking the tip of his tongue into the indentation, chuckling softly as she squirmed beneath him.

"Please, Haldir," she whispered.

"Patience, pen-vaelui," he said, smiling against her skin. "I have waited a long time for this."

Christina did not have time to consider the meaning of his words as his mouth moved lower, brushing against the curls of her sex. Her eyes flew open in shock when she felt the first, teasing touch of his tongue against her folds. He had never done that for her. Haldir's hands pressed her thighs further apart as he settled himself to his task, and all rational thought quickly fled Christina's brain.

Her orgasm hit her with full force, leaving her shuddering and breathless against the bed. Before she could gather her thoughts, Haldir was sliding his body upwards against hers, and she felt the press of him against her sex.

"Bainwain," he murmured, lowering his head to claim her lips even as his hips moved forward, claiming her body.

He filled her utterly, and made her whole.

She'd read somewhere that some women could have orgasms from intercourse, but ten years of marriage to him had made her think otherwise. As Haldir moved within her, loving her with such sweet, tender slowness, Christina began to believe that it could truly happen. It was the last rational thought she had for quite a while.

Afterwards she lay in the protective circle of his arms, listening to the gradually slowing beat of his heart.

"I don't have to go back?" she asked finally, raising her head so she could see his face.

Haldir shook his head, brushing her hair away from her forehead. "No, Christina." He smiled, reaching up to cup her cheek. "For all that I went through to find you, I would not let you go so easily."

"What do you mean?"

He kissed her softly, sweetly, stealing her breath away. "It means that you are mine, and I am yours, if you will have me." He lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "Will you have me? Forever?"

Christina swallowed, struggling to believe that this was really happening to her. "Yes," she managed faintly. She cleared her throat, and said it again, stronger this time. "Yes."

Perhaps there was such a thing as a happy ending, she thought, as Haldir kissed her again. As his body moved to cover hers once more, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly for a moment. Dreams could come true, she thought with wonder. They really could.

*****

He stared at the monitor balefully, watching it register Christina's blood pressure and heart rate. There was no change that he could see – but then again, he was no fucking doctor.

He hadn't meant to hit her that hard. If she'd only done what he told her to do. If she'd only thrown that goddamn movie away like he told her too, he wouldn't have had to hit her. If she hadn't fought back like she had, actually trying to kick him in the balls – he would never have slammed her head against the cabinets that way. It wasn't his fault the bitch wouldn't listen.

He scowled, glaring at her battered face. It was all her fault. Luckily the doctors had believed the story he'd concocted about her falling down the stairs. Her injuries to her head and neck supported that – lucky for him.

The monitor gave a strange chirp, almost sounding like a hiccup and he glanced at it, but nothing had changed as far as he could tell. He looked back at her and froze, staring at her in shock.

A smile curved her lips and he saw them move, almost as if she was saying something.

The monitor gave its strange sounding chirp again, and this time, a loud, annoying alarm filled the room. The line that registered the beats of her heart was a flat, steady green line across the black screen.

The door to her room slammed open as nurses rushed in, pushing him out of the way. He stood in the corner as the doctor and nurses tried to unsuccessfully resuscitate her.

And that damned smile never left her face.

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Khylaren