"They're frightened. You can see it in their eyes. And they should be. Three hundred against ten thousand. They can not win this battle. They will all die!"
Why had he said it? How had this despair crept into his heart? This despair that was so different from dread or misgiving, for it carried with it the weight of hopelessness. And it was this element of hopelessness that most disturbed Legolas, for it was altogether new to him, and its acquaintance was unwelcome. How was he to fight when victory seemed impossible? Would he then only be fighting for valor or to take as many of the fiend with him as possible before meeting his own end?
Then I shall die as one of them!
Or was he, like Aragorn, fighting because there was no other choice? Making a good death for himself?
Legolas paced the length of the Deeping wall, vaguely trying to formulate some kind of plan as to how Rohan's limited manpower was to defend the expanse. Yet, his mind could not be fully diverted from the distressing thoughts that had followed him from the moment he had left the armory.
No other choice. A good death. Valor. To put up a good fight.
These were the reasons for fighting that he had conjured; yet, they all rang hollow. None of them were the true reason. But under the gathering darkness, truth was not so easily discerned, not even for an elf as keen as the Prince of Mirkwood-especially now, with his mind so clouded by grief and loss.
Gandalf. Boromir. The breaking of the fellowship. The way the journey seemed to be no more than a progression from one confrontation to the next. Still, there was an even greater loss, if indeed it be a loss-one which he would not permit himself to dwell upon. There was no sense in courting possible miseries when there were enough actual ones facing him directly.
Legolas stopped his pacing and looked out over the plain in the fading light. The scene was one of serenity; and yet, in a matter of hours, all of that would change. The fighting would begin, and all indications were that the battle would be short-lived.
Victory was not even conceivable.
So, why was he fighting?
Loyalty was the only thing left. His oath to the fellowship had not ended. It could not end. He would not let it end.
Legolas straightened up, his eyes reflecting his resolve. He had come this far. He would not abandon his friends in the face of defeat.
He found Aragorn inside the now empty armory. The ranger was girding himself for war. Legolas entered unnoticed, picked up the ranger's sword, and handed it to him.
"We have trusted you this far and you have not led us astray. Forgive me. I was wrong to despair," he apologized.
Aragorn placed his hand on Legolas's shoulder. "There's nothing to forgive, Legolas."
Legolas clasped Aragorn's shoulder in return, marveling once again at the depth of the friendships he had so recently come into.
Gimli entered at that moment, grousing about the chain mail and bringing a smile to Legolas's face.
All that remained now was to await the arrival of the enemy.
A horn sounded.
Legolas' s heart leapt within his chest. "That's no orc horn." He took the steps two at a time, Aragorn and Gimli hard on his heels. Aragorn overtook him as they followed the outer passageway round. They came to the top of the steps overlooking the main gate.
And here Legolas stopped abruptly. Below him, a grand regiment of elves was entering the keep, marching in perfect unison, their blue-gray cloaks rolling like waves as they passed. But more glorious than these, more demanding of Legolas's attention was the leader of the regiment - an elf of exceptional beauty and composure who even now was addressing King Theoden. Clad in red and gold, he looked like a great prince of the heavenly armies.
" . . . we fought and died together," he was saying, his voice fluid and elegant. It was a voice that Legolas loved.
At the arrival of the three companions, the leader of the elves turned his gaze towards the top of the stairs. A proud, noble expression radiated from his face, like light from a lantern. A brilliance surrounded him. It had always surrounded him, but never had it shined so brightly as it did now in Legolas's eyes.
"We come to honor that allegiance," the elf continued.
Aragorn came to the bottom of the steps. "Mae govannen, Haldir," he said with a broad grin. He put his hand to his heart in the usual elven greeting, then opted for a more human welcome, drawing Haldir into a warm embrace.
Haldir was caught off-guard, but recovered quickly, returning the embrace and smiling at the feeling.
Aragorn drew back. "You are most welcome."
When Aragorn stepped aside, Legolas eagerly came forward. He reached out and clasped Haldir's shoulder.
For one brief, intense moment, they greeted each other without words; then Haldir turned to face Theoden once more, as Legolas looked on, unbridled thrill and pride beaming from his face.
"We are proud to fight alongside men once more," Haldir proclaimed boldly.
Theoden was temporarily at a loss for words. This was a moment he had never imagined in his wildest dreams. Suddenly, a glimmer of light was showing on a hopeless situation.
"You have brought us a chance for victory," he said at last. "And for that, the kingdom of Rohan will be ever grateful."
Haldir made a graceful move of acknowledgment. "We are at your command."
Theoden looked to Aragorn, who stepped forward.
"I will leave you to Aragorn," Theoden said to Haldir. "And when this battle is over, if we are victorious and peace is restored, I will go in person to thank those who sent you."
"That may yet be possible," Haldir replied, bowing low. When he rose, it was to address another elf at the head of the column. "Ardamil, take over for me. I will not be long."
"Yes, Nikerym," Ardamil replied with a nod. Before turning, his eye caught that of Legolas. "It is good to see you again, Legolas."
"It is good, indeed, Ardamil," Legolas replied, forcefully overcoming the desire to physically greet this elf individually. He looked at the first several rows of elves and was stunned to find that he recognized many of the faces. It looked as if Haldir had brought his entire patrol.
Haldir had caught sight of Gimli and bowed once again. "Master Dwarf."
"Never was I so glad to see fair elven faces as I am now," Gimli enthused. "The Golden Lady has not forgotten us in this dark hour."
Haldir smiled. "Nor has Lord Elrond."
Aragorn was already moving, drawing Haldir down the passageway toward the keep's juncture with the Deeping wall. Legolas and Gimli followed. Once they were out of earshot, Aragorn stopped and took firm hold of Haldir's arms, staring at him as if performing an examination.
"You are well," he said with intensity, joy radiating from his eyes.
Haldir gave a single nod and a pleased smile. "As you see."
"When we last parted, you were in a very bad way. We weren't even sure Elvish medicine could help you." This was also from Aragorn.
"It was not Elvish medicine," Haldir replied. "It was Gandalf the White."
Aragorn nodded. "Yes, he told us. We met him in Fangorn Forest. He told us he had healed you, but that you were still recovering at the time he left Lorien."
"That is true."
"He was very grave about it," Gimli put in, sounding irritated at the memory. "He would give us no assurances."
"He had none to give," Haldir said. "He had done his part. The rest was mine. He could not know how it would turn out."
"It turned out well," Aragorn grinned.
"It did," Haldir agreed.
"How did you come to lead this expedition?" Gimli asked.
"I volunteered. The decision to stand by men was made above my head," Haldir stated. "But once it was made and they needed a captain, I did not have to think about whether or not I wanted to be a part of it."
Aragorn could not hide his admiration. "I am glad of it. Theoden spoke truly. You have brought hope." He paused then got down to business. "There isn't much time. The greatest weakness is the Deeping wall. Rohan does not have enough warriors to defend it. If we put all of Rohan's soldiers on the keep, your regiment can defend the wall."
Haldir kept abreast with Aragorn through the passageway until they came out at the juncture of the wall and the keep. Legolas and Gimli followed and listened as the other two discussed tactics.
The better part of a half hour passed in this manner.
Legolas watched the interaction between Haldir and Aragorn with excitement. Haldir's strategic mind had amazed Legolas in the past, and it continued to do so now. He felt a minor tinge of envy at Haldir's cool, collected manner, especially when he recalled his own bout with despair, only so recently overcome.
And yet, Legolas's patience was remarkably thin. He was aching to have a moment alone with Haldir. He forced his concentration on the discussion at hand; and for this he was deeply grateful when Haldir turned to him unexpectedly and said, "Legolas, friend, would you go back and bring the regiment here? I still have things to discuss with Aragorn."
Legolas nodded and was off like a hare. He found the regiment filling the inner court, drawing water and eating lembas. It only now occurred to Legolas what kind of forced march these elves must have been subjected to.
Almost immediately, he saw Ardamil approaching him. There were three other elves with him. Two he recognized as Haldir's brothers, Rumil and Orophin. The other was another guardian in Haldir's patrol by the name of Mythis.
It was a warm greeting, much more so than Legolas's greeting with Haldir had been.
"We did not expect to see you again so soon," Orophin said.
"I thought you were sailing for the Undying Lands," Legolas replied.
"Those plans have changed, as you can see. We are here because of Haldir," Orophin explained. "His decision was our decision. When he volunteered to lead the regiment, we volunteered to be a part of it. You know we could never leave him."
"I know that," Legolas said, a strange glimmer of pain flashing briefly in his eyes.
Ardamil put a hand on Legolas's back. "And it would not be inaccurate to say that Haldir would never let us leave him," he quipped good-naturedly.
"That I can believe," Legolas laughed, then added as a prompt, "He looked remarkably well. I take it he is fully recovered."
"He is well recovered," Rumil put in.
"Well recovered?" Legolas asked, wondering at Rumil's choice of words.
Rumil inclined his head. "He would not be here otherwise."
Legolas looked from face to face, his own eagerness winning out over delicacy. "How-how did he-how was his recovery?"
It was Orophin who answered with quiet earnestness. "It was difficult. He was held in sleep for so long that we were hoping that, if he ever were healed, it might lessen the severity of what had happened. But it did not."
Every trace of light-heartedness vanished from the conversation.
"Tell me," Legolas insisted.
"He remembered everything," Orophin said after a long hesitation.
"Which means," added Rumil, "that he will never forget. He suffers for it even now."
"Badly?" Legolas asked. "Is that why he volunteered for this? Is he punishing himself?"
"Haldir would not punish himself," Mythis replied, speaking for the first time. "He volunteered because he felt it was the right thing to do. He carries his burden with him, but he does not let it bury him. He is still our captain."
Legolas stood silent for a moment before subjugating his own concerns and recalling his tasking. "He asked me to bring the regiment."
Ardamil nodded. "Very good."
As the elves were regathered into formation, Ardamil faced Legolas squarely. "Will you fight alongside us, Prince of Mirkwood?"
"I would be honored," Legolas replied.
"The honor would be ours," Ardamil grinned. "We have not forgotten your skill as a warrior. And you are as much a brother to us now as any ever could be."
With that, Legolas led the way into the close. He found Aragorn and Haldir where he had left them, and he watched as the placement of the elven warriors took place. They were well-disciplined and accustomed to following orders, and the manning of positions proceeded quickly.
This presented Legolas with the opportunity to greet several of the other elves whom he knew. He moved along the wall, encountering clusters of former acquaintances, yet all along, he was searching for Haldir. He caught sight of him, at last, an image of red and gold, heading across the close towards a crumbling stone structure-the remains of an ancient and now disused shrine-built into the base of the cliff at the back of the Deep.
Legolas hesitated, but only briefly, and then followed him.
The inside of the shrine was poorly lit by a smoking torch that Haldir had kindled to life. Otherwise, it was a dull, cold place. Legolas found Haldir on one knee in front of a statue so defaced and deformed that it was impossible to tell whom it represented, although Legolas knew that such a minor detail had no chance of deterring Haldir in his devotions.
For nearly a minute, Legolas stood silently just inside the shrine's arched doorway, listening as Haldir sang quietly in an ancient language that Legolas had begun to learn many centuries earlier but which he had neglected in these later times.
Still, he was able to pick out a word here and there. It was a prayer of sorts, a song of petition. A call for protection and victory. It was a song that only an elf like Haldir would sing.
Legolas felt a smile of remembrance forming on his lips. Some things had not changed at all. Haldir had never possessed the fine singing voice of most elves, but there was something mesmerizing in his voice, and Legolas had never tired of hearing him sing. If Haldir had ever recognized his deficiency, he had never let it stop him from indulging his love of the activity.
And so Legolas reveled in this private performance. But even more, he recognized and welcomed the fondness swelling his heart again.
Haldir finished singing and was motionless for a few seconds. Then he got to his feet and turned to face Legolas. An affectionate kindness shone on his face.
Legolas spoke first, his voice deep and resonant in the stone enclosure. "Did you know I was in here?"
Haldir nodded. "I was waiting for you to join me."
"I was afraid of disturbing you."
"You are never a disturbance, Legolas. Especially not now."
Legolas walked over to him. "I didn't realize how much I missed hearing you sing."
Haldir gave a small laugh. "The voice of a lark?"
Legolas's smile widened. "Yes, a lark." He paused. "You were singing in the old tongue."
Haldir nodded. "Do you remember any of it?"
"Only a little. I did not stay in practice."
"Atarna ea han ea, na aire esselya . . ."
Legolas suddenly felt as if he were hearing the words of a great dream. He picked up the recitation. "Aranielya na tuluva, na care indomelya cemende tambe Erumande."
They continued together, Haldir turning toward the statue and dropping gently to one knee again. Legolas did the same.
"Amen anta sira ilaurea massamma, ar amen apsene ucaremmar siv' emme apsenet tien I ucarer emmen. A lame tulya usahtienna mal ame etelehta ulcullo. Nasie."
Haldir allowed himself an inward smile of pride at Legolas's remembrance of the prayer. "You have not forgotten it all."
"It would be impossible to forget all of it," Legolas replied. "That prayer had great significance when I learned it. It still does. I had only forgotten."
Haldir drew in a deep breath. "I never forgot."
"Even-even when the Fellowship was in Lorien?"
"Even then."
Legolas reached over and took light hold of Haldir's arm. "I have wondered . . . driven myself to distraction, wondering if . . . if it was you that I was hearing in Lorien."
Haldir raised eyes to Legolas's. "It was me. Where you were concerned, it was me." His voice fell to a whisper. "It was the only part of me that was true, the only part I can look back on without shame." He got to his feet.
"Shame has no place on you, Haldir," Legolas protested warmly, also rising. "It would not dare to even alight upon your brow."
Haldir's eyes showed a subtle amusement. "Ever generous with your praises."
"It is no less than you deserve." Legolas hesitated. There were things he wanted to say, but Haldir was giving him no clear signal to proceed.
Haldir was well aware of Legolas's need to speak. Haldir was not so convinced, however, that he could bear to hear it. It was as Meltheon had said so long ago: Legolas had become Haldir's weakness. And that weakness had been the fulcrum around which had turned a series of events that even now refused to fade into indistinctness. Haldir had not been willing to risk much in those days; he was even less willing now.
"I have worried about you," Legolas said suddenly, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I feared I would never see you again. I feared that you would not survive." His grip on Haldir's arm grew fierce. "I would have stayed if I could. You know that, don't you? But I was sworn to the Fellowship, to the protection of Frodo. Please tell me you understood that."
Haldir held up his hand and brushed Legolas's cheek with the back of his fingers. "Poor Legolas. How you have suffered. You needn't worry yourself any further on my account. I know the trials you have faced since we parted. You should know that I would never hold anything against you. You had your oath to fulfill. Of course, I understood."
As had happened so many times before, Legolas was struck by the realization that he had never truly recognized that which was best in Haldir. Here was an elf of such goodness with so great a capacity for sacrifice that Legolas could not help but feel in awe of him. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into Haldir's touch.
Haldir regarded him with a wistful sadness. He could see the heaviness that lay across the Greenleaf's shoulders, and this grieved him. He would have done anything to spare his companion the burden that he now carried. And yet, Haldir knew that Legolas was well equipped for it. Indeed, Haldir could think of no elf better suited to the fight than the Prince of Mirkwood.
Haldir's fingers moved to Legolas's temple. He let the fine strand of braided flaxen fall across his palm. "You must never be sorry for the decisions you made, Legolas. You were strong where I was not." He set the braid behind Legolas's shoulder.
Legolas opened his eyes. "That is how you remember it."
Haldir nodded once slowly.
A long silence passed.
Legolas frowned. Haldir was his usual, stoic self, giving nothing away, showing only enough affection to assure Legolas that there should be no unpleasantness between them. It was frustrating.
"You said you volunteered to lead the elves," Legolas said at last. "Did you know I was here?"
"I knew," he replied. "Her Ladyship informed me that you, Aragorn, and Gimli were here." He paused, reading the unasked question in Legolas's eyes. "Your presence here had no bearing on my decision to volunteer." He went on quickly, before Legolas could feel any sting from this blunt admission. "I have never been one to hide within the borders of Lorien. You know that. You also know that I would not run from evil. If there is any remnant of the old alliances, I would desire to be a part of it."
"Then we shall fight side by side!" Legolas said with determination.
A shadow fell over Haldir's features. "No, Legolas. I would not have you near me when the battle begins."
Legolas was stunned. "Why not?"
"It is not a good idea," was all the answer Haldir was willing to give.
"Haldir, you just said that I was never a disturbance-"
"Do not argue with me, Legolas. You know this is different," Haldir said with quiet authority. "You have seen that many of the elves I have brought with me are from my own patrol. I will be with them. I can not afford to-to . . . " he hesitated, struggling to find the words, " . . . to give them less than my full attention."
"I have already spoken to Mythis and Ardamil and your brothers. They are expecting me to fight alongside them," Legolas replied. "I would be no more than an addition to those whom you have brought."
"My mind is made up on the matter, Legolas. I do not intend to discuss it any further." He turned away and walked around the statue, coming to a shallow stone basin that glimmered in the flickering light. He pulled a thin splinter of kindling from the torch and held it low over the center of the basin.
A bright flame leapt up from the basin and filled the shrine with a dancing light.
Legolas watched him but said nothing. A part of him, the part that felt his importance as the Prince of Mirkwood, felt the urge to remind Haldir that, despite the difference in their years and experience, one was a prince and the other a guardian; and a guardian did not issue orders to a prince. The greater part of him, however, recoiled against the very idea of angering Haldir and questioning his authority. After all, Haldir had several hundred elven warriors for whom he was responsible. Legolas would not use his particular friendship with their captain to demand special consideration when he knew that Haldir would not grant any such thing to his other warriors.
Haldir stood before the flame and placed his hand over his heart. "Ajan Atar, Oija Turo. Bala aud ari ar dosme. Poka Ektele aud Oija jala. Antan Srawava an alker esser. Ndako-ye nukuma. Antan cuilem durner."
Legolas came and stood beside him. "What is this?"
"Part of a forgotten ritual," Haldir replied. "The basin never goes dull for those who know how to use it."
Legolas looked up at Haldir's profile, cast in colors of darkness and light that shifted with the flame. He looked like the glorious captain that he was, his features bold and exquisite, his expression peaceful and confident, an odd mingling of courage with humility.
Haldir spoke again. "The flame will continue to convey my prayers, even once the fighting starts."
"Prayers for whom?"
"For those who will die this night." He gazed into the burning light. "We are greatly outnumbered, Legolas. I do not fool myself into thinking that I will lose none of my warriors."
"And do you not think of yourself?" Legolas asked.
Haldir frowned and spoke words that Legolas had heard many times before. "What good captain does?" With these words, he left the shrine and Legolas.
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The Face of the Sun by Nildrohain
Story notes: This is more a story of agape, but with a degree of confusion on the part of both parties over where to draw the line. The story does not completely follow the plotlines of book or movie. I've exercised a bit of creative license, so I ask forgiveness from those readers who are married to a study of details! Note: Nikerym means Captain. I use it in those parts of the dialogue where Haldir is being addressed by fellow Elves. Primordial and Quenyan Elvish appear from time to time. In fact, one of the "prayers" that appears is lifted from a direct translation by Tolkien of a Christian prayer, and while it appears in Quenyan, in my story, it's supposed to be Primordial Elvish. Sorry, but that Primordial stuff is dreadfully hard to do!
