Helm's Deep
Legolas's ears were ringing. He opened his eyes onto a haze of settling dust and smoke. He drew in a deep breath, coughed several times, then sat up slowly. The world spun about him for a moment, then steadied as he shook off the confusion. Bracing himself with one arm against the parapet, he got to his feet. Not thirty feet from where he stood, there was now a tremendous chasm in the wall billowing smoke and debris. Between that chasm and the place where he stood were bodies. One of the bodies wore a familiar red cloak.
Legolas froze. He could not move or speak. His thoughts would not even coalesce into a meaningful pattern.
A slight movement then gave hint to the life still in the body; and as Legolas watched, still mute, Haldir picked himself up as if rising from a night of peaceful sleep, retrieved his sword and raised his head, his gaze falling directly on Legolas. But before Legolas could even begin to feel any relief, Haldir moved like a flash, leaping forward and scooping down to snatch a knife handle protruding from a fallen elf's body. In the same movement, he swept up and sent the knife with an underhanded toss in Legolas's direction.
"Get down!" he shouted, and Legolas dove to the ground.
A choked cry came from behind Legolas, and turning, he saw an Uruk-hai staggering back, clawing at the blade in his throat. He spared hardly a glance, though, before springing to his feet and rushing forward to meet Haldir, who was now helping Mythis to his feet.
Legolas was about to speak, to ask Haldir if he were injured, when Haldir scalded him with an all-too-familiar fiery rage. "Why are your hands empty?! Where are your weapons?!"
"Legolas!" It was Ardamil's voice. Legolas turned as the subaltern tossed him his bow, which had lain where it had fallen in the explosion. When he turned back to face Haldir, he caught sight of Gimli, beyond Haldir, pushing up onto his hands and knees. "Gimli!" he called out, but the dwarf did not answer before something down in the close drew his attention, and with a shout that Legolas could not understand, he leapt deliberately into the chasm. Legolas rushed to the edge and looked down onto a scene of sheer horror. The deeping wall had been fully breached, and the hordes of Isengard were pouring through it. More of Haldir's elven warriors waited upon the swell, arrows drawn and ready. Between them and the flood of orcs, Aragorn was getting shakily to his feet. Gimli's seemingly pointless leap into the breach had been a stalling action to protect Aragorn. The ranger now regained his position, ordered a barrage of arrows, and then gave the command to charge.
"Ardamil!" Haldir shouted, and Ardamil was at his side in an instant. "I will keep a handful to hold the wall. Take the rest of them and go down. You must hold the breach; that is where they will concentrate. If the rest of you can hold the breach, we will hold the wall."
"Yes, Nikerym!"
Haldir held back a dozen elves. The rest, including Orophin and Rumil, went with Ardamil. Legolas, although he had not been selected by Haldir to remain on the wall, nevertheless lingered.
"I am staying with you," he said, drawing up beside Haldir, as the guardian directed the spacing of the warriors he had held back.
"You will not," Haldir replied, pushing one of the mounting ladders away from the wall.
"I am not leaving," Legolas asserted. "This is where I belong."
"There is no time for-" Haldir voice cut off as the next wave of attackers began coming creeping over the top of the wall.
Mythis wasted no time in recruiting Legolas to assist him in his duty of protecting Haldir; and at first, Haldir was too absorbed in holding off the onslaught to protest. It seemed as if the Isengarders comprised an endless sea of wickedness. No sooner did one fall than another took its place. Even still, it was clear that the wall defense would hold. It was the breach that posed the greatest threat.
It took only a few minutes for Haldir to recognize this fact; and even as he waded through body after body, he was already coming to the conclusion that his forces were needed more on the ground than on the wall. Over his shoulder, he said to Mythis, "Get Luredan's attention and have him take half of the wall defense down into the close."
"Will we still be able to hold this side of the wall, Nikerym?" Mythis asked. "The other side of the breach is being overrun."
"We must keep them from the tower gate," Haldir replied, referring to the entrance into the keep at the juncture where it met the deeping wall. "But if they get access to the stairway in the close, it will not matter anymore."
Mythis shouted to get Luredan's attention. He relayed Haldir's orders, and Luredan skillfully extracted half of the wall's defense from their positions and led them down into the close, where the fighting was growing more and more desperate as Isengard's superior numbers slowly broke down the resistance.
Haldir now addressed Legolas once more. "I want you to go down," he said gravely. "Do not disobey me."
"I am not under your orders," Legolas replied. "This is not the Wide Patrol."
"Do you not understand, Legolas?" Haldir's voice took on an urgent, almost pleading tone. "I fear for you beside me-"
"I can take care of myself, Haldir," Legolas cut him off. "I have proven that." He stopped to assist Mythis is dispatching a heavily armored orc that had clambered up the stair on the rear side of the wall. "And Mythis is glad to have me! You must be protected!"
Mythis shot Legolas a nod of agreement, but Haldir was not moved.
"You can not protect me, Legolas!" Haldir ground out, plunging his sword into the belly of another orc approaching along the walkway. "You will only make me lose myself and put me in danger! Please, Legolas-go! I will find you when the battle is over! I will find you!"
Legolas hesitated. He looked at Mythis, who nodded reassuringly. "Go, Legolas. I will protect him."
At that moment, Legolas felt only rage. He despised this enemy that tore him away from the only thing in the world that mattered to him. He was angry at Haldir for sending him away. And he was angry at himself for feeling the way he did. The fate of Middle Earth hung in the balance, and all he could do was pine to be by the side of the one being he loved more than any other. It was this three-fold anger that allowed him to act decisively. If Haldir wanted him to go, then he would go.
In his fury, he snatched a shield from a fallen orc and slid it across the ground. He leapt onto the shield and rode it down the stair, firing off arrow after arrow. As he neared the bottom of the stair, he flipped the shield out from under him, felling yet another of the enemy. He reached back and drew another arrow, plunged it into the next attacker, then drew it back out to be used again.
Close by, in the mire where once had been the bed of the sluice, Orophin stood knee-deep in mud, watching the spectacle that was Legolas. He could not help but marvel at how Legolas's skills had grown over the centuries; nor could he miss the fact that Legolas still regarded Haldir with the same intensity of love as that which he had displayed during that first trip to Lorien. And it struck him as ironic that it was now, as the world threatened to be swept into darkness that Haldir and Legolas should meet again.
Orophin made his way to where Legolas was still firing off whatever arrows he could scavenge from the ground, having spent all of his own.
"I pray that Mythis keeps his head about him!" Orophin shouted, drawing up to stand back to back with Legolas. "Haldir did not leave himself many defenders on the wall!"
Legolas looked back up toward the top of the wall and wished he had not. There were dangerous few elves on the wall, focused on defending the tower gate - except for Mythis, who was focused on defending Haldir. And as much as Legolas did not want to admit it to himself, Mythis's was the only task he wanted. Yet, he was forced to acknowledge, watching the guardian's combat ability - his speed and dexterity with the long sword, his calmness and singleminded concentration on the protection of his captain, his ability to anticipate attacks, and perhaps most amazing, his clear resolution that he was ready to die for his captain, if need be - that Mythis was the more qualified.
Haldir was nothing more than a blur of red and gold. Legolas actually found it frightening to behold him in action. The training Legolas had received in Lothlorien so long ago now appeared as if it had been the games played by elflings. What he was witnessing now was a desperate fight for annihilation and survival, a brutal unthinking slaughter of men, elves and orcs. And there in the thick of it, meting out death after death without pause or consideration, Haldir stood with no visible sense of remorse or even fear.
Suddenly, Ardamil's voice broke out over the din. "They are in among the horses further up the valley! Orophin, Dolenrod, grab a handful and come with me!"
Orophin looked at Legolas. "I assume you want to stay here."
"I do" he replied.
"Be careful, Legolas . . . and keep an eye on him," Orophin said.
Legolas nodded. "If he will let me."
Lothlorien
The morning air was chill, and a heavy mist rose from the waters, smooth as glass but for the ripple of the punt carrying King Thranduil's party to the far shore, the boundary line of Lorien.
Legolas's breath rose in crystals. He eyed the approaching shore with loathing, for he knew that once he stepped foot upon it, he would not be returning to Lothlorien-not any time soon, and perhaps never. He had returned from his last Wide Patrol three weeks ago, at which time his father had announced that he intended to return to Mirkwood at the end of the month. There had been no discussion as to Legolas's fate; it had already been tacitly determined that he would return to Mirkwood with his father.
The patrol had been dismal. It had been no reflection on Ardamil's ability or leadership, for he was extremely capable and greatly admired by his patrol mates. It was simply the expected reaction following upon such horrible events. Legolas had attempted to make the best of the six weeks, but his heart had not been in it. It had remained back in Caras Galadhon, and there it wished to stay.
Only that was clearly impossible now, as the punt neared the shore.
Upon the patrol's return to Caras Galadhon, Legolas had attempted to seek out Haldir; but Haldir had kept himself well-ensconced within his home, with Orophin and Rumil running unwilling interference. Yet, their loyalty was to Haldir, and as the latter had made it perfectly clear that he did not want to see Legolas, the two brothers had sadly acquiesced.
After the patrol's two weeks in garrison, it set out again; and this time, Haldir had gone with them. Legolas could not imagine that Haldir was physically up to par; but little did it matter, for Haldir had certainly set out at the head of his patrol, without having spoken a word to Legolas in between.
Now, a week after the patrol's departure, Legolas was returning to Mirkwood. His manner was somber and grave. His thoughts were torn. He wanted to stay in Lorien, and yet he didn't. What good would it do him to linger on with so little hope of returning to Haldir's side? What benefit could be derived from staying in a place where he was no longer wanted by the one for whom his soul yearned?
They came to the far side of the river where the horses were waiting, and they rode slowly along the faint path by the bank. The Fall's first frost cast the forest in pastel and pearl; it was a beautiful sight, and yet Legolas was unable to enjoy it. As the sun rose higher and the party reached the northern reaches of the woods of Lothlorien, the deeper colors began to prevail as the frost melted away in the sunlight.
The travelers were within sight of the wood's edge when a call went up from the surroundings. In the next moment, two elves dropped from the trees above. As the horses were reined in, more elves appeared, emerging from invisibility.
It was the patrol.
Legolas dismounted as Ardamil and Mythis approached.
"We could not let you leave without a proper farewell," Ardamil said.
"This is not exactly proper," Mythis added, "But it is the best we can do, under the circumstances."
Legolas smiled sadly. "I wish I did not have to go."
"You will be sorely missed, Legolas," Ardamil said with sincerity.
"Yes, yes," Mythis chimed in with a good-humored grin, "It will be very boring and dull without you."
"Not so long as you are still around, Mythis," Legolas replied, smiling as well. "I will miss how everyone was always teasing you about your beauty."
Mythis simpered. "My beauty, indeed. There are greater beauties."
Legolas colored.
"Come," Ardamil said, holding out his arm, "The rest of the patrol wishes to say good-bye."
Legolas looked about him at his immediate surroundings. "Where is Haldir?"
It was Mythis who responded. He nodded towards the top of a low slope, thirty yards distant and still within the woods. There stood Haldir with Orophin and Rumil.
Legolas sighed but managed to keep his spirits kindled as he went forth among the rest of the Wide Patrol to say his farewells. Behind him, Thranduil and his two companions remained at a distance, giving Legolas whatever time he felt was necessary.
At last, Legolas found himself alone with Ardamil, and no words would come to him. This was yet one more farewell that sat heavy on his shoulders.
"I will miss you, Legolas," Ardamil admitted. "I have grown very fond of you. You and I are not so unalike." A pause. "And if I may be so bold, I think you underestimate your own abilities, your own goodness of heart."
Legolas did not know what to say, so he remained silent.
Ardamil leaned forward and pressed his cheek to Legolas's, whispering, "He loves you, Legolas. You must never doubt that."
Legolas tightened his jaw against the swell of emotion this statement caused within him. He raised his hands and gripped Ardamil's arms as a manner of acknowledgment and thanks. "Take care of him," he said quietly.
"I will . . . beginning now," Ardamil replied, easing back. "Do not leave him this way. He will not come to you; you know that. And he will regret it for all eternity if he lets you go without another word. Go and say good-bye to him. You must be the stronger one, Legolas."
Legolas regarded him for a long time, then he nodded. Without another word, he turned and began heading up the slope.
At the sight of Legolas's approach, Orophin and Rumil excused themselves from Haldir's side and came down to meet him.
"It is a sad day," Orophin announced as he drew near. "I do not wish to see you go."
"I would stay if it were within my power," Legolas replied.
"It will not be the same without you," Orophin went on, to which Rumil added, "You have become a part of us."
Legolas managed a meager smile, but it was transparent. His heart was troubled, but what could be done? Everything was already decided and in motion; and given Haldir's purposeful distancing of himself, Legolas held out no hope that the circumstances might change.
"I will miss you both very much," Legolas said, his voice quaking. "I will miss all of the patrol."
"Do not stay away too long," Orophin said, clasping his shoulder. "None of us would like that."
A pained expression crossed Legolas's face. "I do not know if Haldir would approve."
Rumil regarded him with compassion and sympathy. "He will come back to himself in time. Do not give up hope."
Legolas drew in a deep, steadying breath and nodded.
"Go on, then . . . " Orophin said with an encouraging smile. "He is waiting for you, even if he would not admit to it."
The three then exchanged embraces, and Legolas began the short walk up to the crest where Haldir stood watching him with an expression neither welcoming nor unwelcoming. It was utterly neutral and very carefully maintained.
Legolas stopped only a few feet in front of him. From his place slightly below Haldir on the incline, he felt as if he were looking up at a statue of finest marble-smooth, placid, perfect. All outwards signs of his suffering had disappeared, leaving Haldir even more beautiful-if not understandably melancholy-than ever before. For Legolas, it was nothing short of agony to look upon him and not see the warmth that had once accompanied his gaze.
Legolas's voice was soft and forlorn. "I am glad I had this opportunity to say good-bye."
"Journey safely, Legolas," Haldir said, his voice and gaze frustratingly pleasant.
Legolas swallowed. "Do you think we shall ever meet again?"
"Anything is possible," Haldir replied.
"But do you think it likely?" Legolas pressed.
After a brief pause, Haldir answered, "No."
Legolas felt the warmth rising in his face, the stinging in his eyes of restrained sadness. He managed a slight nod, then reached into the folds of his tunic, withdrawing a short length of twig with several clusters of gold berries on it. It was to have been his treasure, his remnant of Lorien; but now he held it out to Haldir.
"The mellyrn do not die," he said in a distant voice. "Nor do my feelings."
Haldir took the offering with a simple, "Thank you."
Legolas turned, and with the hurried gait of one fleeing embarrassment, strode back down to the bottom of the hill. He swung onto the back of his mount, determined not to look back. A whispered word, and the horse began a slow walk towards the edge of the woods. Thranduil and his two escorts followed.
Above them, on the crest of the hill, Haldir watched them go. His gaze would not stray until they were out of sight-until Legolas was out of sight.
Orophin and Rumil moved to join him, but at a gesture from Ardamil, they hung back as the subaltern climbed up to the crest.
Ardamil did not say a word or do anything to distract Haldir's attention. He could sense the struggle going on inside his captain, but Haldir would show no weakness, nor would he ask for help; and so Ardamil offered his mere presence as a manner of unrequested comfort.
Haldir appreciated Ardamil's unobstrusive care, the silence with which his subaltern loved him and made himself available. And for a moment he felt ashamed that he had not been very good to Ardamil, had not shown him the love that his loyalty and goodness deserved.
And then the sound of a silent voice vibrated at the edge of his consciousness. A voice was singing . . . singing a familiar song, a prayer. The melody was tenuous, the voice apprehensive but both easily recognizable. It was a song of the Valar, and Legolas was singing it in the confines of his mind. It grew as other voices joined in, filling up what was lacking in Legolas's uncertain offering.
The wind increased, and the trees swayed, their voices those of rustling leaves. The sun streaming through the colored canopy grew brighter and the colors more vibrant.
Riding behind Legolas, Thranduil recognized the work of the Consecrated. But a quick glance over his shoulder showed that Haldir was not responsible for the current spectacle. Looking forward, he found his answer. Legolas rode with bowed head and closed eyes. The movement of his shoulders betrayed his labor.
It was a disturbing moment for Thranduil: the moment when he realized that his son had already started down a path without even knowing it. He could only hope that Legolas had not journeyed far, that there was still the chance of drawing him back.
Up on the crest, Haldir drew in a trembling breath. Beside him, Ardamil detected the emotion that was creeping inexorably to the surface and moved a fraction closer.
"I can not hear him, and yet I know he is singing," Ardamil whispered. "He is singing for you."
Haldir struggled before speaking in a strained voice. "I can not join him." With that, he broke from where he was standing and retreated down the back of the hill. Ardamil did not go after him. He knew that pain was about to break out anew, and that Haldir would not have the patrol see him in his weakness.
The song ended, and Ardamil saw Legolas turn slowly and apprehensively back towards the crest. The hope that had simmered in the prince's eyes now went out like the snuffing of a dying candle.
Haldir was gone.
Pain had driven the elf to despair. Such manner and degree of suffering had made him vulnerable, stripped him of those ethereal protections that had favored him century after century. It was an unexpected boon: the last of his kind left in Middle Earth, damaged and yet still possessed of all the remarkable qualities that identified those of his sect. He would be thorough, subtle, dependable . . . and deadly. It was amazing good fortune that, while the rest had moved on, this one-this most perfect one-had chosen to stay behind. Melkor could not have planned it any better. Here was the perfect tool . . . if it could be managed.
He would bear watching. The time was drawing ever nearer. If the elf could be turned to use, positioned such as he was in the heart of the Golden Realm, it might be worth taking the risk, making the effort.
Yes, he would suit the wicked purposes very well; but even more delicious was the fact that one of Aluvater's favorites would be taken from Him - the greatest insult of all.
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