His voice was the only thing that was not shaking.
His hands, clasped in front of him in the form of prayer, trembled despite the strength with which the fingers of one hand grasped the other. His legs had given out from the very start, but that was acceptable: the posture of kneeling was preferable, in any event. Still, an occasional shudder rippled up his spine, rattling his entire body, threatening to break his concentration.
But his voice, the recitation of the sacred prayers, was smooth, though tentative and reserved. The words had none of the usual heartfelt spontaneity with which they had been offered countless times before. They were a labor, requiring an act of absolute conscious attention; for where he had never before feared making a mistake, now he was terrified of doing so.
His eyes were closed, his head bowed, face framed by flowing lengths of unbound hair in the style and manner of humility. Before him the statue of Aluvater stood silently between its two glowing lamps. The rest of the room was dark. Night had fallen, and outside Haldir's talan, the rest of Lorien had grown silent.
But if truth were told, Lorien had descended into the sad stillness long before this night.
It might be impossible to pinpoint exactly when the descent had started, but the most observant elves placed it somewhere close to Legolas's departure. That had been nearly six months ago, and it seemed as if happiness had left with him. There was still much conjecture about the causes of the growing melancholy that plagued the city; but Lord Celeborn, for one, had definite ideas. He admitted to himself that he had not realized just how much of Lorien's idyllic tranquility had been a gift bestowed by grace at the behest of an elf who had no lineage, wore no ring, and exercised no power other than that of a soldier and worshipper.
Celeborn had heard from Rumil and Orophin that Haldir had not returned to his devotions, apparently had not even tried. Celeborn understood this; Haldir was frightened-more than that, he was terrified of appealing and being rejected. It would very likely destroy him to learn with certainty that he was forever banished from Aluvater's favor. The uncertainty was preferable to certain rejection.
Galadriel had paid more than one visit to the marchwarden's talan. She felt his pain almost as her own, and she understood perhaps better than anyone else that Haldir's faith was something he was going to have to recover on his own and in his own time. She gave stern warning against anyone trying to force Haldir to resume his life of devotion before he was ready. No one disobeyed her injunction, although Ardamil, Rumil, and Orophin were sorely tempted to do so. Orophin, especially, found the situation agonizing. Haldir should not be suffering. The most perfect brother, the most perfect elf. Of course, Aluvater must still love Haldir, Orophin insisted; how could He not? And how could Haldir doubt it? Orophin himself had taken to saying the prayers-the few he knew-more often. But he was saying them not to make up for Haldir's silence, but in the hope of interceding for his brother. He had almost lured Haldir into the holy room a week earlier when his own attempts at prayer had been so feeble and formless that Haldir had come to listen. Orophin had seen him from the corner of his eye, standing in the doorway. "Will you not join me, brother?" Orophin had asked. Haldir replied in a steady voice despite the appearance of sadness in his eyes. "Not yet, Orophin. But you-you must keep praying. He will listen to you." Orophin's response had been direct. "If He is listening to me, you will be praying to Him soon, for that is my prayer. This is your calling, Haldir. You are the only one left who can do it."
And now, Haldir found himself, less than a week later, trying to do what his beloved brother had insisted upon. It was a struggle, but he was trying. No voices joined his. He could not rouse the choirs or even touch the elements; so when a clash of thunder vibrated around him, he startled, thinking that perhaps he had somehow managed to stir the Valar to action. But it was not so. It was a storm, nothing more. He rubbed his face with his hands and sat back on his heels. A moment later, gentle hands fell upon his shoulders, followed by Ardamil's voice.
"That is the most wonderful thing I have heard in months."
Haldir gave a wan smile. "How long have you been here?"
Ardamil dropped to one knee behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. "The better part of an hour . . . I was on the other side of the door, listening."
"An hour . . . was I going on for that long?"
"At least," Ardamil replied. "You were well into it by the time I got here."
"He did not answer me," Haldir said, dispirited. "No one sang with me."
"I did," Ardamil said softly, placing a kiss on Haldir's cheek. "Come, you are exhausted." He stood up, bringing Haldir with him, and led him into the living quarters. He helped him undress and saw him into bed. "Look at you. You can barely keep your eyes open. That is one thing that has not changed. The prayers still take all out of you."
A shadow of a smile appeared on Haldir's face as he realized this truth. "You are right."
Ardamil drew the silken strands of Haldir's hair through his fingers. "It will not be long, and the whole of Middle Earth will be singing with you again. If you were not afraid, they would sing with you now."
A gleam appeared in Haldir's eye. "Do you think that is true?"
"I have never lied to you," Ardamil replied, overjoyed at the sight of something bright in the face before him. "I do not intend to start now." He leaned close. "I love you, Nikerym," he whispered, "but not as much as Aluvater loves you. He is waiting for you to come home to Him, to begin living your life with Him again."
"That is presuming He still wants me," Haldir replied.
Ardamil wished he could take Haldir inside himself, let him experience first-hand the confidence that Ardamil felt. "Of course, He does," he said, then added with intensity. "He will heal you, if you let Him."
Haldir reached for Ardamil's hand, still running through his hair. "How do you know Him so well?"
"I know you, and I can see Him in you," Ardamil replied. He squeezed Haldir's hand. "Now, go to sleep; you have earned it."
Ardamil started to stand up, but Haldir tightened his grip. "Stay with me."
"I will be right here," Ardamil assured him, then he added with a contented sigh, "It is good to see you smile again, Haldir; to hear you saying the prayers."
"It feels good to smile," Haldir replied.
"And the prayers?" Ardamil prompted.
"I still . . . I do not know," Haldir told him honestly. "I want to say them. I want to give to Aluvater what He deserves, but I . . . I want to know if He . . . if He still loves me."
"Have you forgotten what you taught us?" Ardamil asked. "That even when we are not faithful, He is. And Haldir, you have always been faithful."
Haldir stared into the deep blue swirls that defined Ardamil's gaze. He basked in the feeling of safety his subaltern afforded. It was an unusual moment - a pleasant one, to be sure, but unusual nonetheless. Haldir had never taken refuge in anyone; in fact, he had been a refuge for others. But this moment of surrendering himself to Ardamil's care gave him a sense of serenity - the first he had experienced in many months.
"You speak with such confidence," Haldir said at last.
"That is because I am confident," Ardamil replied. "Enough now. You should be sleeping. Will it help if I sing for you?"
"You do not need to ask me that," Haldir grinned.
Ardamil began to sing.
"When Spring unfolds the beechan leaf And sap is in the bough; When light is on the wild wood stream. And wind is on the brow; When stride is long and breath is deep, And keen the mountain air; Come back to me, come back to me And say my land fair."
(Treebeard's song, p. 80, The Two Towers - my favorite of all songs in the Lord of the Rings)
He saw Haldir's muscles relax as he drifted into sleep. He watched the naked chest rise and fall in rhythmic slowness as every vestige of tension drained from his captain's body. When he had finished singing, Ardamil gently ran his fingertips along Haldir's cheek before placing a kiss on his brow.
"I will not leave you," he whispered. "And I will never let you come to harm again."
It was a promise from his heart . . . and one that he had no power to keep.
The crash of thunder broke directly overhead, jolting Haldir violently from sleep. He burst upright in the bed, a gasp escaping his lips.
Beside him, Ardamil, who had also drifted off to sleep, sat up and put his hands on Haldir's shoulders to calm him. "It was only thunder, Haldir . . . thunder."
Haldir's eyes were almost wild as they searched the darkness. "Someone-someone was watching," he whispered vehemently, gathering the linen cloth about his body and struggling up from the bed.
Ardamil went after him. "There is no one else here, Haldir," he insisted, trying to put comforting arms around him, but Haldir moved away from every attempt. "It was the thunder that scared you-"
"I am not afraid of thunder!" Haldir retorted. "Someone was watching!"
"Haldir, we are alone," Ardamil insisted, disturbed to see Haldir so shaken by a mere thunderstorm. "You must have been dreaming."
Haldir ignored him, and his eyes continued their wary search of the talan.
"I will go look if it will make you feel better," Ardamil offered.
When Haldir did not reply, Ardamil went anyway. He walked the length of the colonnade, went into the holy room, and even checked the two closest nests. He found no one, but then he had not expected to. When he returned to Haldir, he was dismayed to see that his captain's fear and suspicion were unabated.
"There is no one else here, Haldir." His voice was close to imploring. "I have checked everywhere-" Another explosion of thunder made both of them jump, but Ardamil took the opportunity to take hold of Haldir. "You are shaking . . . come, sit down." He ended up forcing him to sit, then had to keep his hands on him in order to keep him from getting up again. "I promise you, Haldir, no one is watching. You and I are alone."
"I can still feel it," Haldir whispered.
Ardamil frowned in distress, but he tried to appear unrattled. "But there is no one here, Haldir."
Haldir was silent for a long time. His eyes, showing white, had ceased searching the talan and were fixed on indiscriminate points before him. He was listening, but there was nothing to hear other than the sounds of the storm. At last, he raised his gaze to Ardamil. "It is gone," he said, but he did not sound relieved.
Ardamil touched Haldir's temple. "It was a dream, Haldir. It only seemed real because you were woken up so suddenly."
"Then it is a dream I have had before," Haldir replied, "but never this strong."
"You have felt this before?" Ardamil asked.
"A few times . . . ever since-ever since Legolas left," Haldir told him.
A heaviness descended upon Ardamil's heart. "Is it Legolas's gaze that you feel?"
Haldir regarded him with a puzzled expression. "Legolas? No, it could not be. He does not possess the ability to . . . to see me over such a great distance."
Ardamil colored. "I meant that . . . maybe in your dreams, you feel he is watching you, that he is . . . punishing you for sending him away."
Haldir actually looked disgusted. "Am I an elfling? Can I not distinguish between what goes on in my imaginings and what takes place in reality?"
"I did not mean it that way, Haldir-" Ardamil began, but Haldir cut him off.
"Simply because these incidents coincided with Legolas's departure does not mean he is the cause of them."
"Then who do you believe is watching you? And why?"
"I do not know," Haldir replied. "I only know that it grows more intense each time, and the fear it arouses within me increases." He paused. "That is why I had to try to resume my devotions. I need Aluvater. I need His protection." He lowered his head. "It is a crime, is it not, that my love for Him was not strong enough to prompt my return, but that my fear is."
"Stop," Ardamil demanded. "I will not hear you speak of yourself this way."
Haldir sighed. "Yet you think I suffer from a guilty conscience because of Legolas?"
"You put words in my mouth that I would never speak, Haldir," Ardamil chastised. "But I do not hold it against you, for I know you are still hurting."
Haldir glanced up at him but said nothing.
Ardamil drew one of the skins from the floor and draped it across Haldir's shoulders. "You miss Legolas, don't you?"
Haldir nodded minutely. "Yes."
"He is often in your thoughts?" Ardamil posed.
"More than he should be."
Ardamil paused before going on. "I know you have heard from him, for I have heard from him, as well. He has sent me several letters." He saw the subdued interest in Haldir's eyes. "He says that he has sent many letters to you, but you have not replied."
"I can not," Haldir said. "I do not want to encourage him, to give him false hope."
"Can you not simply be a friend to him?"
"O, Ardamil, that is not possible." Haldir sounded exasperated. "His letters are filled with the same sentiments that he expressed when he was here in Lorien. His feelings have not changed." A pause. "He warned me they would not."
"He is devoted to you-"
"His devotion would be better spent elsewhere," Haldir interjected.
"He does not think so," Ardamil replied.
Haldir grew short and agitated. "Why are you bringing this up now? I have spent the past six months trying to forget Legolas and to-to come to a proper contrition for the mistakes I made. And now, you want to dredge up all those terrible memories?"
"I shall tell you the truth, and it may very well make you angry," Ardamil began, "but I would rather endure your anger than continue to see you suffer."
Haldir waited impatiently.
"I do not believe you will ever be able to fully return to Aluvater so long as you remain estranged from Legolas." He went on quickly, before Haldir could protest. "You said it was Legolas who presented the temptation that made you fall. If that is so, then you must find a way to reconcile with him before you can find peace with Aluvater. You are fleeing from a problem that is no more solved than it was months ago. And it will not resolve itself; that part is up to you."
Haldir looked doubtful and wary. "Are you suggesting that I invite Legolas back into all the errors of his time with the Wide Patrol? That I permit the lust to develop again in his heart? And in my own?"
"Lust?" Ardamil grimaced, noting Haldir's purposeful twisting of his words. "Lust? What do you know of lust, Haldir? And you give Legolas very little credit for being able to master his feelings." A pause. "I have no firm idea of how you should reconcile with him, and I am starting to think that I should simply keep my thoughts to myself. You are quite surly when challenged."
"Then you should not challenge me." It was a flash of the old Haldir.
Ardamil groaned, but he recognized that Haldir was attempting humor. "I am not saying that either of you should give in to impure desires, if such desires are what you are feeling; and I doubt that very much. But I do say that you love him, and you must find a way to present that love properly - to both Legolas and to Aluvater."
Haldir waited a long time before answering. When he did speak, his voice was calm and firm. "No, Ardamil. I will not try to rationalize my way back into Legolas's presence. I failed this test once already. I will not fail it again."
Ardamil frowned, but this time he held his tongue. He could not help but marvel that one of the qualities he most cherished in Haldir-his fortitude-now presented the greatest source of vexation. How was an elf so stubborn to be dealt with?
The hilltop afforded a good view of the land. The breeze that stirred in the treetops had an early chill in it, a harbinger of colder days to come. Still, it felt good against Legolas's cheeks. It made him feel alive, and in a strange way, it made him feel mortal. Below him the forests of Mirkwood reached southward. He could see a silver line, glinting and gleaming in the sunlight, snaking its way in the same southern direction, disappearing only with the limitation of Elven eyesight. The Anduin-the river whose course ran directly to joy . . . How many times had he been tempted to put wood to water and ride the happy current to the place he wanted to be? And how many times had he been forced to thrust aside such notions as only so much foolishness?
"Legolas?"
It was the voice of his oldest brother, Canhelded. Legolas turned and greeted him with only a glance.
"A letter arrived for you today," Canhelded announced.
At these words, Legolas anxiously held out his hand and nearly snatched the letter from his brother's fingers. Opening it, however, his excitement vanished, and the disappointment registered on his face as he recognized Ardamil's script.
Canhelded watched as his youngest brother retreated to the edge of the clearing and sat on one of the boulders that dotted the treeline. He followed, then sat beside Legolas.
"It is not the letter you have been hoping for," he ventured.
"I think now that letter will never come," Legolas replied sadly.
"I have held off asking this for as long as I could," Canhelded began. "But my love for you as a brother prohibits me from delaying any longer. You have not been happy since returning to Mirkwood, yet I know you were very happy in Lothlorien. Your letters were filled with joy and gaiety. Why did you return? Why did you not stay and continue to learn with those who gave you such happiness?"
Legolas was a long time in replying. At last, he simply spoke the truth. "Haldir did not want me to stay. He had his reasons, but I will never understand them." Legolas knew that none of his brothers were aware of Haldir's being consecrated. His father had made it clear that this piece of knowledge was to stay between himself and his youngest son. Legolas assumed the reason to be that his father wished to spare the family the humiliation that must surely accompany such a revelation: King Thranduil's most beloved child had fallen prey to the allure and wiles of one of the Consecrated. The ignominy would be insupportable.
"And it is Haldir's letter you wait for." Canhelded's voice was slow and tentative.
Legolas nodded.
"What happened, then, that changed the situation so drastically? You were fairly agog at him-and still are, it would appear. From your letters, it sounded like he was very fond of you, as well. Did the accident and the attack alter him so radically?" Canhelded asked.
"I do not know," Legolas replied. "I have gone over everything a hundred-a thousand-times in my head." A great sigh of anguish fell from his lips. "All I can conclude is that I-I am somehow responsible. I pushed him towards something I wanted but that he could never give me. I did everything in my power to make him feel the way I did, but-but that all changed after the attack, after I found out what he-" He cut himself off, fearing he might have already said too much.
"What were you trying to push him towards?"
"You will laugh if I tell you," Legolas said with a hint of embarrassment.
"I think it would be good to laugh right now," came the light-hearted reply.
"I wanted to be his favorite."
As predicted, Canhelded burst out laughing. "That is amusing, but not surprising. As usual, the last wishes to be first. The glow-worm wishes to outshine all the stars. Your competitive nature followed you even into the heart of Elvendom."
Legolas grinned slightly. "You should not tease me about my competitiveness, brother, for you well know where I learned it."
Canhelded cocked his head to one side in a good-humored challenge. "Will you try to blame me now for your own qualities?"
"Blame you? No. I would thank you," Legolas teased. "But it was not like that with Haldir. I did not want to best everyone else so that I could be his star student. I wanted only to please him, to be worthy of some merit in his eyes."
"And were you successful?"
The sadness returned. "I had thought so."
Canhelded put an arm around his brother's shoulders. "It grieves me to see you so unhappy. This is not like you, Legolas. You were always the bright star, the joyful breath of Inwe. What can I do to help you recover yourself?"
Legolas looked up at his brother, placid and handsome with an air of authority and sincerity. Canhelded, being the eldest and therefore the most assured of his rights and his future entitlements, was the least competitive of Legolas's brothers. Legolas trusted him implicitly.
"There is something I would like to show you," Legolas offered. "But you must promise not to tell anyone, especially father."
"You know I can not bind myself to such an oath when I do not know if what you are about to show me is dangerous or not," Canhelded protested.
"It is not dangerous, I give you my word," Legolas assured him.
"If my judgment, upon observation, agrees with yours, then I shall keep it a secret," Canhelded conceded.
Legolas stood up. "Come," he said, leading the way up towards the center of the clearing, the hilltop from where he had scanned the vastness of the land below.
They stood side-by-side. Legolas bowed his head and closed his eyes. His voice rose like the sound of a bell, crystal clear, full and deep. It rose into the sunlight-a melody so sweet that Canhelded had never heard its like. It held him mesmerized. The language was one that he had never heard before, but that fact mattered not at all.
Around the two elves, the wind swept into power, whipping the dry brown grass to sing a chafed tune of adoration. At the edge of the wood, a pair of deer appeared, as if drawn by the sound of the singing. More woodland creatures emerged, standing perfectly still just beyond the wood's border. In the sky, flocks of birds wheeled directly overhead.
Legolas raised his arms slightly, as if invoking unseen powers. That was when Canhelded saw the great sway and movement of the entire tract of forest to the south, and he was dumbstruck. Legolas's voice grew stronger, his arms lifted higher, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it almost seemed that the sun shone brighter. Legolas lowered his arms and dropped to his knees in the field; clasped his hands in front of him and fell silent.
Canhelded did not move for many seconds. He watched as the animals retreated back into the forest. He listened as the wind quieted and the trees and the grass grew still. At last, he knelt down beside Legolas. "What-what was that? How did you do it?" he asked, the awe plain in his voice.
Legolas smiled wearily. "Did you hear them singing?"
"Singing? Who-who was singing?" Canhelded stammered.
"It took a long time before I could hear their voices," Legolas said, still glowing in the pleasure of his experience. "I could see and hear, like you, the physical manifestations, but their souls . . . that was a gift."
"What are you talking about?" Canhelded asked, nonplussed.
"It is something that Haldir taught me," Legolas beamed. "His greatest gift to me, and I did not even know it." Seeing that Canhelded was no clearer for this explanation, he went on. "It is a prayer, a prayer to Aluvater."
"And . . . and you learned this from Haldir? How did he know it?"
"Have you ever heard of the Consecrated?" Legolas asked.
"Only in stories and histories," Canhelded replied.
"Haldir is one of them."
The statement was so direct, so . . . absurd, yet spoken with such unflinching certainty that Canhelded could not doubt its veracity.
Legolas continued. "Will you keep this to yourself? Father did not want me to tell anyone that Haldir is consecrated. I do not know why. And I wish to obey him, but I had to tell someone. I could not hoard such a gift all for myself. It is meant to be shared."
"I will not tell anyone," Canhelded promised. He reached out and touched his closed hand to Legolas's temple. "You are forever full of surprises." A grin of amazement spread over his features. "A worshipper . . . my brother, a worshipper."
"You give me too much credit," Legolas replied. "I do not possess the degree of goodness that a worshipper of Aluvater must possess. If you were to meet Haldir, you would see what I mean. He is of a completely different character. He does not possess goodness; he is goodness."
Canhelded helped Legolas to his feet. "Does he know you feel this way about him?"
"He does."
"Then I still can not understand why you are here instead of in Lorien. He should consider himself the most blessed of elves to have the trust and esteem of my youngest brother. He should be proud to number you among those who serve him in his capacity as nikerym," Canhelded asserted.
Legolas was pensive. "Perhaps that is the problem," he said quietly. "Perhaps I am a worshipper, only the object of my worship does not desire to be so."
Canhelded began leading him towards the woods, back towards home. "That is very possible. I would imagine that one of the Consecrated would find it almost blasphemous to be the focus of another's worship. Could it be that you made Haldir your idol?"
"I shall think about that," Legolas replied. It was an interesting question, requiring more consideration than a quick answer would allow. And Legolas was already succumbing to the fatigue of the prayer, the effort of which had left him content but drained of energy. Then, in the detachment of his exhausted thoughts, he found a pearl of satisfaction. Here was a piece of Haldir that he had managed to bring into himself: the songs of praise. He could sing the songs and fall into the blurry contentment that followed. And if he could do these things, might he not be able one day to reach as far away as the golden woods of Lothlorien? It was this thought that gave him hope, that made the separation from Haldir bearable.
"Are you as dull as you look, Nikerym Haldir?"
Haldir looked up from where he sat at table on the fountain green. Nikerym Thlayrah was standing in front of him, smiling in good humor.
"Do you give me no quarter, Thlayrah? We are just back from patrol this morning," Haldir replied. "I came down here to relax. Must I always look interested and excited?"
Thlayrah sat down beside him. "Sensitive, are you not?"
Haldir grinned. "Perhaps, somewhat."
"Anything interesting on patrol, other than Luredan nearly getting swept down the Anduin?"
Haldir's grin broadened. "You heard about that?"
Thlayrah winked. "Within minutes of the Wide Patrol's return. From Luredan himself. He could not praise you enough for jumping in after him."
"I was just the quickest one of the lot," Haldir replied modestly.
"Yes, much to the anger of the rest of your patrol," Thlayrah put forth. "Ardamil was livid. Mythis was not much happier."
"Yes, yes, I am aware," Haldir said dismissively, but Thlayrah was not easily dissuaded.
"You are the one elf they are not willing to risk losing, Haldir," he went on. "And you go throw yourself into a churning river-"
"I couldn't let him drown."
Thlayrah grunted his disbelief. "Any one of them would have jumped in a second later. None of them were going to let him drown."
"A second could have made all the difference," Haldir protested.
"Perhaps." Thlayrah leaned his elbows on the table. "Haldir, it has been more than ten months. Their concern has not lessened. If anything, they are grown more protective of you. And it is not hard to see why."
Haldir leaned close, as if he were playing a game, and addressed Thlayrah with a secretive voice. "And what do you see?"
"You are still not yourself," came the simple, direct answer.
Haldir sighed. The game was over. Thlayrah was not playing. "I am myself," he replied. "Only I am not the same elf that I was ten months ago. This is me as I am now. They will have to get used to it."
"No." Thlayrah's refusal was immediate. "They should not be forced to get used to your unhappiness. Rather, they will stand by you until you are happy again. They will do everything in their power to return you to the Haldir you were before Legolas left."
Haldir groaned. "Do you not understand? Do they not understand? This has nothing to do with Legolas. It has to do with me and-and my relationship with Aluvater."
"Ardamil told me that you have resumed your prayers," Thlayrah said.
Haldir nodded. "That is true."
"And?"
"And it is not the same. The Valar ignore me. Aluvater does not answer," Haldir replied. "I just keep trying. I do not know what else to do."
Thlayrah leaned to conspiratorial closeness. His voice was low. "What if I told you that I know what you need to do."
Haldir's eyes widened. Thlayrah had never shown any aptitude for a life of worship, so how could he possibly know how to help Haldir return to Aluvater's good graces?
"Tell me," he said softly.
Thlayrah produced a letter from beneath the table and set it down between them. "This arrived while you were on patrol. A raven brought it from Mirkwood. I agreed to deliver it."
Haldir stared at the letter but did not take it.
"This-" Thlayrah nodded at the letter, "-is what you need to do. Answer it. Stop being so bull-headed, and answer it."
"I can not," Haldir protested. "There-there is too much temptation with Legolas."
Thlayrah stood up. "You are being a coward, Haldir. Whatever temptation you felt in Legolas's presence, it could not have been enough to pull you from obedience to Aluvater. You are being cruel to Legolas from a false presumption. You are suffering at your own hands, and your patrol is suffering, as well." A pause, during which he glanced pointedly at the letter. "Do the right thing, Haldir. Answer his letter."
Haldir watched him walk away, then he reached out slowly and took the letter. He would not open it here, though. Instead, he went back to his talan, settled himself into one of the nests, and broke the wax seal. Legolas's graceful hand greeted his eyes.
My Dearest Nikerym Haldir,
What though you do not reply to my letters, still will I continue writing. I receive word of you from Ardamil and your brothers and other members of the patrol. How I would rather hear from you directly. As I write this, I am aware that you are out on patrol, and my mind is filled with fond memories of the patrols which I undertook during those joyful months in Lothlorien. My greatest desire is to return to Lothlorien, to rejoin the patrol, and be once again in your company, Haldir. I know that my father would not permit it, and you do not desire it. Still, I hold out a hope that time will change your mind and his in regard to the matter. And I trust in Aluvater's justice that you and I will meet again. That is a part of you that has become a part of me - your faith in the One.
My father will send me in the Spring to Rivendell to pass some months in Lord Elrond's household. I am surprised that he would permit me such a freedom after what happened in Lorien, but then I hear it said that Rivendell is a more dour place than the Golden Woods, and that I am to focus on honing my diplomatic skills under Lord Elrond's watchful eye. There was a time when I would have relished the opportunity to visit Rivendell, but now all it does is take me further away from the only place I desire to be. Perhaps that is my father's intention. Perhaps he feels that distance and diversion will soften my affections for you.
He is my much beloved father, but how little he knows me. Surely, you know better than anyone else how persistent my feelings are.
Whatever reasons you have for wounding me with your silence, I hold the pain not against you, and I pray that one day we will meet again at your desire.
In the name of Elbereth,
Legolas
Haldir stared at the letter for several long seconds, then he folded it neatly with a sigh of anguish.
"Why did I read it?" he wondered out loud. "Why did I even take it from Thlayrah? I should have refused." He closed his eyes. "They are all conspiring against me, trying to break my will. My brothers, Ardamil . . . even Thlayrah. And I grow weary of fighting them." He unfolded the letter and started to read it again.
Then he felt it.
That horrible sensation of an unwanted gaze upon him. His breath caught in his throat as his body stiffened under the invisible scrutiny. The letter dropped from his hand and fell to the floor. He believed he could almost feel an aire of satisfaction in the air around him as the letter fluttered down.
Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the feeling vanished; but still it was many minutes before Haldir could summon the courage and the strength to move. He was shaking slightly as he started the climb down the rope ladder leading from the nest to the talan. From there, Haldir had already decided, he would return to the Fountain. The thought of being alone suddenly frightened him. He did not want to endure the faceless observer lone, if the feeling should return. He left the nest and the talan, forgetting all about Legolas's letter, lying on the floor.
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