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Title and Chapter Number: The Watcher 1/1 - (Ficlet)
Fandom: Middle Earth
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Haldir and other Middle Earth Characters are owned by the Tolkien Estate and they retain all rights. OC's are owned by me.
Special Warning: Very slight implied violence
Beta: Nope
Cast: Haldir, The Watcher...
Timeline: AU, pre LotR-ish
Spoiler: Not really, since this never happened
Summary: Inspired by Craig himself.
Notes: My property is haunted. Nothing new, nothing big, but the last week or so, they've been rattling their chains, if you will. So this is what you get when you cross a lot of fic reading, some cold medicine, and a little bit of haunting. Hope it dosen't suck, and is a bit of a mystery. Notes at the end, don't want to spoil anything.


There was a phantom in the forest.

Haldir felt it; always on the edge of his vision, on the verge of his perception. It felt alien, yet akin; soft feet; sharp eyes; keen ears.

It would lurk these lands after his people had long been forgotten.

Haldir hunted with the feeling that he was being watched. Observed, but not stalked.

He became still, a part of the forest, crouched against the bole of a great tree, he listened to the wind playing amongst the leaves, watched the kaleidoscope patterns of sunlight on the forest floor, smelled the living green things all about him.

There was no sign of anyone near, yet he felt intent eyes on him.

He paused at the edge of a stream to cool his throat. He bent to one knee and scooped a handful of crisp, clear water to his lips, his eyes scanned the foliage on the far bank and the edge of the wood there. There was no sign of the watcher.

It was slightly unnerving for Haldir, used to being the one doing the watching. Yet he felt no threat, no intended malice. It was as if the wood itself observed him. He continued to stalk his quarry.

A hart* grazed obliviously in a small clearing. Haldir notched an arrow and drew his bow. He paused to breathe a silent prayer to the Valar to guide his arrow true as he took careful aim. He wished to kill with one arrow to preserve the quality of the meat, and so that the animal would not suffer.

In that moment Haldir was aware of a presence in the vegetation opposite the clearing from him. He froze. His storm gray eyes locked with almond shaped yellow ones. As his focus changed, he was able to discern a wedge shaped head with small round ears, shoulders of taut muscle under sleek black fur, powerful hindquarters bunched ready to pounce, and a long serpentine tail that twitched just at the tip. Elegant but deadly, it licked its whiskers and bared its sharp white teeth.

Perhaps Haldir caught his breath, suddenly the hart* sprung away. He lowered his bow as he watched it leap into the dense forest. When his attention returned, the shadow was gone.

~*~*~*~

*hart (härt)
n. pl. harts or hart
A male deer, especially a male red deer over five years old. [Middle English, from Old English heorot.]

http://www.messybeast.com/big_cat.htm

From the exclusive interview with Craig Parker at Haldir-Lives.Org:
"Elves are like cats. For all their nobility and dignity, when it comes to a fight, you don't wanna mess with them. Elegant but deadly, a very nice combination! And they live forever and seem to have the best dress sense in all of middle earth."


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