Rivendell was everything Legolas had expected: beautiful, serene, and for lack of a better description, earthy and natural. It had none of Lorien's mystical aura about it. It was a strangely cerebral place, whereas Lorien had been more bent towards the spiritual. To be sure, Rivendell was a haven in Middle Earth, just as Lorien was; but it did not share Lorien's other-worldly atmosphere. Before his trip to Lothlorien, Legolas would have relished the idea of a trip to Rivendell. But now, it was just another way to pass the days, visiting another Elven kingdom.
There was, however, one great asset to be found in Rivendell. Its libraries were vast, and Legolas made sure to take advantage of them. His host, the ever-gracious and elegant Lord Elrond, had opened all of Rivendell's vast resources to Legolas's pleasure. And it happened that Legolas spent most of his time in the libraries. With a little help from Elrond's historians, he had located a number of books that dealt with the Consecrated. The historians had regarded him with curiosity when he had requested such books, but they did not press him. It had been many centuries since anyone had given even the slightest thought to the Consecrated, and so the books had gone untouched. It took the historians some time to locate the volumes, but once they found them, they also discovered, in Legolas, a most grateful recipient. Still, Legolas did not spend all his time reading. There were other duties he had to fulfill.
He was expected to accompany Lord Elrond at as many diplomatic functions as possible, in order to learn from the elf many considered to be the master statesman. He was also to study medicine under Lord Elrond, although he had little patience for it. Legolas preferred to be active - except for when he was reading about a subject that was of the utmost interest to him - but there was little physical activity in Rivendell, and so his hours in the libraries suited him just fine.
It was late one evening when Legolas found himself seated comfortably at one of the lesser library's heavy wooden tables, a massive tome opened in front of him, written in the ancient language, illustrated with intricate drawings and symbols. His interest was so keen on the book before him that he did not hear the approach of another elf.
"It is an interesting topic you are reading about."
Legolas startled at the sound of Lord Elrond's voice. He turned in his seat and was about to stand, but Elrond waved a hand. "Be at ease."
Legolas sat and Elrond leaned against the table, his gaze fixed on the book displayed there. "It is not a common thing to find anyone reading about the Consecrated in these days." A thoughtful pause. "I take it you met Haldir while you were in Lothlorien."
Legolas could not hide his surprise and pleasure. "Yes, my Lord. I served in his patrol."
Elrond regarded Legolas with a gentle grin. "Yes, I see how your face lights up at the mere mention of his name. I had begun to wonder if you were capable of smiling."
Legolas colored but the brightness did not leave his countenance. "Do you know Haldir, my Lord?"
Elrond nodded in a paternal manner. "I met him once, many centuries ago. He had only just taken his oath. He was visiting Rivendell with his uncle, who believed that those who accepted consecration should be familiar with the larger world, and so he took Haldir out with him on his travels."
Legolas leaned forward with unconcealed enthusiasm.
Elrond regarded him curiously. "Is it your intention to follow him into that calling?"
Legolas inclined his head in a manner almost guilty. "No, my Lord. I admit that I have great interest in the life of the Consecrated, but only as it pertains to Haldir."
"I see," Elrond said, nodding slowly, and Legolas felt as if the Lord of Rivendell could see straight into his soul. He continued in a voice of measured inflection. "Yes, I recall finding Haldir to be a very intriguing elf, even all those centuries ago. He had a certain jubilant quality about him, an uncontained joy. Yes, he is certainly highly favored by the Valar."
The smile on Legolas's face had gradually been waning until, at the conclusion of Elrond's speech, he wore a deep-creased frown.
"Something about my words troubles you?" Elrond asked.
Legolas sighed. "The Haldir you remember no longer exists," he said quietly.
Lord Elrond cocked an eyebrow. "That is a curious statement. Perhaps you care to elaborate?"
"Haldir is neither jubilant nor joyful these days," Legolas replied. "Did my father tell you nothing of my visit to Lothlorien?"
"He told me you had grown tremendously during your stay there, and that he was proud of you. Is there something else he should have told me?" Elrond asked, drawing up a chair.
Legolas considered for a moment. "Haldir would probably not appreciate me saying this, nor would my father . . . but there was some trouble while I was in Lothlorien. Haldir suffered a terrible accident . . . and . . ." Legolas swallowed with effort. The memories still were painfully fresh. "And as he lay injured, men came and . . . and brutalized him." A grief-filled pause. "It changed him. It stole all happiness from him. And-and it banished me from his side."
Elrond had been listening placidly. "How did it banish you from his side? Were you to blame for what happened?"
"No," Legolas replied. "There might have been things I could have done that would have changed the course of events, but-but I would have done anything to spare him such pain. I fear-I fear my visit to Lothlorien threw many things into chaos."
"Will you tell me what happened?" Elrond asked.
Legolas related the events of the landslide and the attack, falling woefully silent on any details of his relationship with Haldir. But Lord Elrond was not deceived. Beneath the carefully contrived exterior Legolas was attempting to present, waves of confusion, frustration, and sadness were detectable. This then, Elrond decided, was the real reason Legolas was in Rivendell: to drive out whatever it was that ailed him.
"Those are tragic events, indeed," Elrond acknowledged with a slow nod. "But they are no reason for you to have left Lothlorien, not when you held your captain in such high esteem. What are you not telling me, Son of Thranduil?"
Legolas looked up into the benevolent gaze of the Lord of Rivendell - an elf as much a king as his own father, and yet so different in manner and temperament. Elrond's attention had an almost hypnotic effect, inspiring trust and confidence. He would not spread Legolas's secrets. He would not offer useless platitudes. Here was an elf whose opinion Legolas could value and take to heart.
"Haldir did not want me to stay," he said at last. "He was afraid I had fallen in love with him. My father shared his concern. Haldir felt he was being unfaithful to his vow, and I could not convince him otherwise."
"Was he right?"
Legolas drew in a wavering breath. "Perhaps," was all he would allow.
"Do you respect his vow?" Elrond asked.
"Of course, I do," Legolas replied, "But I do not-"
"Then you must let him go."
The words were spoken with calm strength and certitude. They came as a shock to their recipient. In some strange way, Legolas had been hoping and almost expecting that Lord Elrond would offer him some sort of encouragement.
"I do not want to let him go," Legolas replied. "I gave him my word that my feelings would not change. I meant it."
"Your feelings do not have to change, but your desires must. You will only cause yourself untold agony if you persist in your longing for him," Elrond said definitively. "Haldir has chosen a life to which he is bound for all eternity. His vow, his commitment will never end. No one who has accepted Consecration has ever forsaken it. Haldir, the last of his kind, will not be the first to go astray."
Legolas was defensive. "I could have given him simple companionship, like other members of the patrol-"
"Are you trying to deceive yourself? You have a desire for something much stronger than simple companionship - so much stronger that the denial of its fulfillment sits like a heavy melancholy upon your shoulders. You are not being fair to yourself," Elrond insisted. "And you are not being good to Haldir. Your yearning for his company must still be palpable to him." A pause. "And I have not failed to notice the number of letters you send out weekly-"
"They are not all to Haldir," Legolas interjected.
"I am sure of that," Elrond grinned. "But how many are sent to those who can give you word of him?"
Legolas frowned and lowered his eyes.
Elrond leaned forward and put a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "Let him go, Legolas. Give him back his peace. Let him follow his calling without distraction."
They were words spoken in earnest and without any ulterior motive. And they came from an elf lord of great wisdom and knowledge. Legolas closed the book and stood up. "If you will excuse me, my Lord. This is much to consider, and I would like to retire to my rooms, if that does not offend you."
"Certainly," Elrond replied, also standing. "Legolas, I do not say these things to hurt you. On the contrary, I am thinking only of your well-being and Haldir's."
Legolas nodded but said nothing. He made a slight bowing gesture and turned on his heel. He left the library, and never again did he return during the remainder of his stay in Rivendell.
The letters had stopped.
Almost six months ago, they had stopped.
There had been no gradual decline in their frequency, no indication that anything was about to change. And then, from one month to the next, they had ceased altogether - not only the letters to Haldir but to other members of the patrol, as well.
This had caused a certain amount of alarm on Haldir's part, for the letters from Legolas had comprised a steady flow, coming once a month or sometimes twice. And now, they had stopped. At first, Haldir had feared the worst, that some manner of ill luck had befallen the Prince of Mirkwood; but no such word came, and Haldir eventually heard through other channels that Legolas was quite well and still visiting Rivendell. This was good news and gave him a sense of relief on two counts: Legolas was safe, and apparently, Legolas's infatuation with him was waning.
Perhaps it was not so incredible that the second of these two realizations created for Haldir as much sadness as it did relief. There had been a part of him-deep in his soul-that had never really parted ways with Legolas. It was the part of him wherein resided memories too powerful to be jettisoned. Memories of the song of Anhumat, of sitting in the firelight and teaching Legolas the ancient language, of standing on the colonnade and hearing Legolas sing one of the prayers for the first time. There were other memories there, as well. A village green filled with dancers, and one of particular interest, whose exuberance made all others pale by comparison. A wrestling match aborted; another match won. A swim in a mountain quarry. A race across open heather under breaking clouds.
These memories rarely pushed their way into Haldir's consciousness; rather, they bobbed along in a tacit stream just below the surface of purposeful thought. They were subtle reminders of a time when joy had been at its zenith, when peace had rested like a comforting cloak over Haldir's shoulders. Could things ever return to such a state of happiness?
"Nikerym?"
Haldir looked up abruptly from where he was sitting quietly on the forest floor, fashioning a new scabbard for his long-sword. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he had not heard Ardamil's approach; but now that he was gazing up into the most stolid and dependable face he had ever known, a smile spread effortlessly across his lips.
"Yes, Ardamil?"
"Tomorrow we cross the Anduin," Ardamil announced. "The patrol is almost at an end. Will you not indoctrinate our newest patrol mate on this outing?"
Haldir raised a devious eyebrow. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. There is still time." A curious expression came into his eyes. "Is there some sort of hurry?"
"Not at all," Ardamil replied. "Not on my part, at any rate. Hanloder, of course, would answer differently. He was short on patience to begin with."
Haldir gave a short laugh. "He is quite different from Dolenrod."
Ardamil dropped down and sat beside him. "You miss Dolenrod."
"I do," Haldir admitted. "But I was not going to hold him back. It is a rare honor to be considered for the Lord and Lady's service. Selection to their personal guard is not something to be passed up."
"You have passed it up," Ardamil replied, with a prodding grin.
"That is because I am better suited to my current position," Haldir replied. "Dolenrod, however, was destined from the start to serve the house of Celeborn." An audible sigh. "But I miss his humor. He was with the patrol for many centuries."
"He will not forget you," Ardamil assured him. "He is bound to you, just like the rest of us. That can never be broken."
Haldir reached over and squeezed Ardamil's arm.
Ardamil went on. "So, what about Hanloder? He is anxious to please."
Haldir laughed. "He certainly is."
"There are times when he reminds me of Legolas," Ardamil put forth.
Haldir was still grinning. "Ever so slightly."
Ardamil regarded Haldir for several seconds without speaking. It had been many months since Ardamil had permitted himself a long, indulgent look at his captain. A serenity rested on Haldir's features, and its appearance there was cause for great joy. Ardamil had wondered quite often in the months following Legolas's departure, whether or not his captain would ever recover himself. There was still an overriding melancholy in Haldir's manner, and this melancholy reflected throughout Lothlorien; yet peace had returned to a certain degree, and this was a good thing, indeed.
"You had better engage him soon," Ardamil recommended, "Or he may just decide to take the opportunity himself."
Haldir winked. "There is still time, Ardamil. After all, he has not been with us above six months," Haldir said. "It is too soon."
"Was it too soon with Mythis? Lostilsil? Luredan? They were with us less than six months," Ardamil challenged.
"Every elf is different; you know that, Ardamil."
Ardamil leaned closer. "I know that," he said in a low voice. "And I also know why you are hesitating. You are fearful of making the same mistake that you did with Legolas."
Haldir lowered his eyes. "Ardamil . . . the mistakes I made with Legolas had nothing to do with his acceptance into the brotherhood of the patrol." A long silence ensued, and then Haldir admitted in a quiet voice. "But you are right. I am afraid." A pause. "How can I know what Hanloder is feeling towards me?"
"He is feeling what all of us have felt, what all of us still feel," Ardamil replied. "The question is not what he feels; it is what you feel." There was a brief silence, then Ardamil pressed, "What do you feel?"
"Not the same as I did with Legolas," Haldir replied. "I can never let myself feel that way again."
"I think it is safe to say you will never feel that way again, Haldir," Ardamil said with a gentle smile. "So, you will have to find other ways to feel."
"And I am sure you have plenty of ideas," Haldir replied.
Ardamil laughed, a hearty and clear ringing in the lowering twilight. "I will not deny it." He stood up and held out a hand. "Come, you are wanted back in the camp. Right now, we all feel like a song, and only one elf can deliver what we desire."
Haldir took his hand and got to his feet. "Then I would not dare disappoint you."
"Ba dheas an la go oiche, Na glortha binne i mo thaobh 'S aoibhneas i gach ait gan gruaim Athas ar mo chroi go deo He-a-ro He-a-o-ro
Ma shiulaim o na laetha beo An ghrian 's an gleahlach ar mo chul Nil uaim ach smaointe o mo shaoil Deora ar mo chroi go gron He-a-ro He-a-ro He-a-o-ro
(adaptation: How beautiful the day and night; the earth is singing in the wind. The voices rise and touch the sky, telling all the earth's believing. And in the night sighs fall down, and from the skies signs fall down on me.
And when I move away from view, my voice is singing in the wind. It rises up to touch the sky, telling all that I believe in, and from the night, earth shall sing and from the night, earth shall sing and from the night, earth shall sing again.)
Ardamil regarded Haldir across the flames from the far side of the circle of elves. The sound of his captain's voice rivaled the warmth of the fire. It was not a prayer he was singing, but it was a song that suited him nevertheless, and it held his audience enraptured.
Beside Ardamil, Mythis stood, his face glowing contentedly. "He is amazing," Mythis said softly with a fond grin. "It is good to see him smile. I had feared he night never find joy again."
Ardamil nodded. "It is encouraging. I must admit that I had been worried how things would transpire, as the letters from Legolas have stopped coming."
"Haldir is no longer receiving them, either?" Mythis asked.
"No," Ardamil replied.
"It would appear, then, that Legolas has taken a great step away from his memories of this place, for no one has heard from him in many months," Mythis said.
"You are easily deceived, Mythis," Ardamil remarked. "Do you truly believe Legolas would so readily let go of one whom he loved so dearly?"
Mythis considered for only a brief moment. "No," he replied. "But then, why the silence?"
"His reasons will remain his own," Ardamil said. "But as long as it does not adversely affect Haldir, I will not inquire."
They were both silent for several minutes, listening to Haldir sing. At length, Mythis spoke again. "It has been a long, slow journey for him."
"It has been hard on all of us," Ardamil said. He gave a one-sided smile. "Except for you, Mythis. You have been irrepressible, as usual."
"As usual," Mythis replied, returning the grin. Then his voice grew more serious. "But it has been hard on me, as well. He has been my hero since I first joined the Guardians. From the very first, I wanted to be in his patrol. To see him so afflicted . . . it was something I could never have imagined."
"Yes . . . it was difficult to believe even while it was happening," Ardamil agreed. "But as you pointed out, he seems to be moving forward."
Mythis sighed deeply. "We are all moving forward . . . but towards what? The sky darkens. The shadows lengthen day by day. The Lord and Lady grow more somber with the seasons' turnings. Something tells me that the age is coming to an end."
Ardamil regarded Mythis with a mildly surprised expression. Such deep consideration and weighty statements were not at all the usual from the one elf considered to be the least serious-minded and the most fun-loving of the entire patrol. Mythis's strengths lay in his sword work and his single-minded devotion to his captain. Profound thought had never been a part of what others had come to expect from him.
Still, his words resonated deep within Ardamil's heart. The subaltern nodded slowly. "I have felt the same thing."
"Do you suppose Haldir feels it?"
Ardamil gave the question lengthy thought. "More than any of us," he replied at last.
Mythis was silent for many seconds, but Ardamil could tell that something was churning inside him. It only needed patience to draw it out. At length, Mythis spoke again.
"Do you think-in Valinor, will the seal still be binding?"
"I do not know," Ardamil replied honestly. He regarded Mythis curiously. "Why do you ask?"
Mythis's voice was almost a whisper. "I do not want to be separated from him, Ardamil."
It was an admission Ardamil himself had made many times in his own heart. "Nor do I," he agreed.
"I gave my word, when I took the position as First Sword, that I would die defending him, if need be," Mythis went on. "After all these centuries of being his protector, how could I possibly be content with anything less?"
"Why should you become anything less?" Ardamil asked.
"He will not need a First Sword in Valinor," Mythis replied. "I will become just like any other elf to him."
Ardamil smiled. He put an arm around Mythis's shoulders. "You will never be just another elf to him. You will always be the most beautiful elf in all of creation."
Mythis made a snorting noise. "Humph! It is an ignominious honor."
"What has brought on these thoughts, Mythis?" Ardamil asked. "I have never seen you this dour before."
Mythis replied after a brief moment of consideration, "I do not want to leave this life. I do not want to leave Middle Earth." He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I do not want things to change."
Ardamil tightened his embrace. "They could change for the better." He looked Mythis in the eye. "But there is no reason why the patrol can not stay together even in Valinor. There is no reason for us to separate."
"There will be no need for a wide patrol in Valinor," Mythis said.
"Then we will stay together out of nothing more than friendship and loyalty," Ardamil said assuredly.
"And you will see to this, Ardamil?" Mythis pressed, his manner almost anxious.
Ardamil nodded slowly. "I will see to it, Mythis."
There followed two hundred years under a cloud of constant forboding. Despite his best efforts, Haldir could not regain the zeal and fervor that had once been the trademark of his devotions. He went through the motions, but his relationship with the One was gone. He was certain of that. He held out precious little hope of recovering it, but he would continue to try. The shadow that stalked him in his dreams and, even from time to time, in his waking hours, had been his most persistent companion. And it still had the power to drive him to terror, although as of late, it seemed to be content to merely hover on the edge of his awareness. It was out of fear of this invisible assailant that Haldir still clung desperately to his commitment to Aluvater. Fear was now a greater motivator than love. But perhaps there was good reason . . .
Beyond the boundaries of Lothlorien, the world had grown more dangerous, with rumors of fell beasts and dark travelers. The shadow in the east was spreading. Evil was preparing to stretch out its long arm once again. The Wide Patrol had become precarious duty. It seemed that the enemy had watchers in every village, at every crossroads, among the trees, and in the sky. There had been a skirmish or two in the woods far removed from Lorien, but these had been with bands of hoodlums more than with identifiable forces of the enemy. Still, there had been reports of furtive figures moving through the outskirts of the golden realm; and the border patrols had been stepped up. It seemed likely to Haldir that eventually the Wide Patrols would be discontinued, pulled in to help bolster the protection of Lorien's borders. He was not looking forward to that day.
But for now, the Wide Patrols were still in force, and on this particular morning, Haldir met the dawn on the edge of the woods above a sweeping vista of open plains called Mrainia Irvitus. He stood just within the treeline, looking out over the plains below where the gray veil of the mist was hanging like a shroud in the dim morning light.
As the sun grew stronger, rays of sparkling gold shot through the eerie canopy that hovered between the trees. The air had turned cool during the night. Haldir could see his breath before him, and this brought a much-appreciated smile to his face. He had not felt much of anything good all through the night, but now he took in a deep breath, savoring the feel of the crisp morning air filling his lungs. It made him feel more energetic, more in touch with the elements of the woods around him.
"Are you taking my watch, Nikerym?"
Haldir turned to see Mythis approaching. Behind him, the rest of the patrol was still sleeping: Peredil, Rumil, Maynfeln, and Lostilsil.
"If I were, then I should be several hours late in relieving you," Haldir replied.
"Shall I rouse the others?"
"No, not yet. We traveled hard and long yesterday. Give them another hour," Haldir deferred.
"And will you make use of that hour, as well, Nikerym?"
"I would if I could, Mythis," came the reply. "But I have not been able to get any kind of decent rest. I did not sleep at all during the night."
"What troubles you?"
Haldir considered before answering. "We have not been in this wood for many months, yet I well remember the feel of it." A pause. "It is not the same. Something has changed."
"What do you sense?" Mythis asked, his own awareness increasing.
A flash of frustration passed over Haldir's features. "There is a kind of anxiousness . . . it is almost like . . . fear," Haldir replied.
"Then perhaps we should not linger here," Mythis suggested.
Haldir felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And perhaps you should be Nikerym Mythis."
Mythis colored. "I meant no disrespect-"
"No disrespect was perceived," Haldir said. "In truth, I had considered the same thing. But unless we go back the way we came, I do not think we shall be able to elude the sensation. It seems to come from all around."
"I do not feel it," lamented Mythis. "I do not have that skill."
"You will never learn what you do not practice."
"Yes, Nikerym."
Haldir's smiled broadened. "So, this will be a good chance for you to practice."
"I fear all the practice in the world would not improve me," Mythis replied, also grinning. "Some skills can not be learned."
"Ah, but this one can," Haldir replied.
Mythis's response was wry. "I would not wish to surpass my captain at any skill."
"You are already surpassing me in just about every category, Mythis," Haldir replied good-naturedly.
"Yes, that is true," Mythis replied in a moment of good-natured cockiness.
"Including arrogance," Haldir grinned.
"I shall leave that distinction for you, Nikerym," Mythis quipped. "But I shall give you still competition."
Haldir laughed, "You are incorrigible."
Mythis smiled. "So I am told."
"Ah, but you lift my spirits," Haldir said cheerfully.
"And I am happy to do it," came the reply. "You are my captain, and it is part of our bond that I look after you."
"And being First Sword is not enough? You are the best blade in all of Lorien," Haldir told him. "With you at my back, I could not ask for a better protector."
"You speak kindly, Nikerym," Mythis said.
"I speak the truth," Haldir assured him.
They stood gazing out over the frosted plains. Everything appeared peaceful, and yet Haldir still could not feel at ease. He felt the tension rising again inside him, but then Mythis's voice drew him out of himself once more.
"May I ask you something, Nikerym?"
"Of course," Haldir replied, turning to face him.
"Have you-how many elves have you tried to teach the Ancient Language to?"
Haldir was perplexed. It was an odd question, especially coming from Mythis. "Not many," he replied. "Few have asked. Five or six, including my brothers."
Mythis nodded but said nothing right away. After a few seconds, he stated with quiet bluntness, "You have never taught me."
Haldir gave a short bark of laughter. "You have not the patience for it, Mythis. Nor have you ever shown an inclination," he said good-humoredly.
"That is true . . . you are right," Mythis admitted.
Haldir reached out and squeezed Mythis's shoulder. "You are a sword fighter and a jester and the fairest of all elves. I would rather you learn to sense your surroundings than to speak in the Ancient Language. Go now and finish up your watch." With that, he strode away into the open upper slope beyond the wood and gave no more thought to Mythis's words. He surveyed the plain stretching out before him, raising his hand to shield his eyes against the sun. He saw nothing to give him alarm, but the uneasiness did not subside. He closed his eyes for an instant, a brief joy accompanying the feeling of the sun on his face.
'Then perhaps we should not linger here.'
Mythis had been right. It was dangerous to stay in this place. But exactly what was the danger? And where was it? Last night, when they had made camp here, Haldir had felt only vaguely disconcerted that things were not as peaceful and pleasing as he remembered them. That feeling had intensified during the night, and as the first light had come into the wood, the distress had become such that Haldir had given up any idea of sleep. Whatever was causing the disturbance had to be discovered and reported back to Lorien.
He reached into his waist pouch and snapped off a corner of lembas. He sat down on the moss-covered trunk of a toppled tree and took a small bite. He was fully intending to simply wait out the hour he had promised his sleeping company, but then a spasm of urgency shot through him. Instinct and training taking over, he rolled back across the trunk and ducked down behind it, peering out cautiously from its protection.
Across the plain, a great forest stood black against the sun rising behind it. From the darkness at the edge of that forest, shapes were emerging, but keeping to the shadows.
"Orcs," Haldir whispered to himself. He did not hesitate another moment before turning and racing back through the woods. Coming into their encampment, he motioned to Mythis. "Get them up," he said, the calmness of his voice in stark contrast to the urgency in his manner. "We are going to have company. Orcs, on the border of the opposite wood."
Mythis, unflappable as ever, simply nodded and together, he and Haldir roused the rest of the small company. Haldir was issuing orders on the instant. "Lostilsil, Peredil with me. Mythis, you've got the rest of the patrol. Wait here, take up positions and stay hidden. We will report back shortly. Be prepared to open fire in case we are pursued."
Mythis had barely nodded his acknowledgment before Haldir turned, and summoning Peredil and Lostilsil, sped off towards the wood's edge.
At the wood's border, Haldir slowed and held up his hand in caution. He and his two companions concealed themselves behind the trees. Looking out across the plain, Haldir could now see that the full band of orcs was moving in their direction, following the line of the wood as it curved west and northward, staying just within the shadowy boundaries. A quick estimate numbered them at fifty or sixty.
"What do you see, Peredil?" Haldir asked, for he knew that even among elves, Peredil's eyesight was exceptional.
Peredil surveyed the troop. "They are definitely orcs. They carry pikes and swords and axes."
"Do they carry any mark?" Haldir asked.
"None that I can see, Nikerym."
"If they do not deviate from their present course, they will be upon us within minutes," Lostilsil stated.
"And if they stay on such a course, that would take them north towards Lothlorien," Peredil added.
Haldir regarded the orcs for several more seconds. It was absurd that such a small party of orcs should attempt to take Lorien, but in these days of uncertainty, nothing could be discounted. What surprises might they bring with them? What unexpected abilities? And were they, in fact, headed for Lorien? Or were they on their way from Mordor to some other place, bypassing Lorien en route?
"We are too small a force to confront them," Haldir said pensively. "But we must track their movements. If they are heading for Lorien, we will send word ahead to warn Lord Celeborn. In the meantime, we must send word to the rest of the patrol that our plans have changed. Stay here. Keep an eye on them." He moved back deeper into the woods and for the first time in many decades, opened his mind to the voices of the woodland around him.
"I need winged messengers," he announced silently.
Only a few seconds had passed before his summons was answered. A flock of hendari had been in the trees, taking a moment's respite during their journey south. They now answered Haldir's call and within a short time were dispatched to carry the news to the three other companies of the patrol. Haldir also sent word to Lord Celeborn, in the event that the orcs were heading for Lothlorien, so that a defense could be prepared.
Haldir returned to Peredil and Lostilsil. The party of orcs was now halfway along the treeline.
"Did you order the rest of the patrol to come back, Nikerym?" Lostilsil asked.
If there was one trait that Haldir possessed in abundance, even after the trials of the last two centuries, it was confidence in his abilities as a warrior. But he was not fool-hardy. He had sent word to put the patrols at the ready to return if need be, but he was not prepared to recall them at that moment. "That is not necessary yet. If the orcs are formidable, I will send another messenger requesting their return."
"But the other companies are many miles away by now, Nikerym," Peredil said. "It would take them at least half a day to rejoin us."
"It will take at least three days moving at their current speed for the band of orcs to reach Lothlorien. If it becomes necessary, it will be quicker for reinforcements to come from Lothlorien than for us to recall the rest of the patrol," Haldir said assuredly. "For now, all we will do is track their movement and report it back to Lord Celeborn. I do not want to risk open confrontation. We are greatly outnumbered." He turned to Peredil. "Bring the rest of the patrol up."
"Yes, Nikerym." Peredil disappeared into the wood, returning shortly with Mythis, Rumil, and Maynfeln.
Haldir was direct. "These orcs outnumber us, and they appear to be well equipped. I do not wish to engage them. We will track their movements, and if it becomes apparent that they are heading for Lothlorien, we will take whatever action is necessary to protect the realm. Take up staggered positions along their projected path. Use only woodland calls. If they have not changed course by the time we reach Narrower Pass, then we will assume they are heading to Lorien, and we will put up a delaying tactic until Lord Celeborn can send up reinforcements."
There was a silent acknowledgement of these instructions before the various members of the patrol moved off to blend in seamlessly with their surroundings.
After no more than a minute, the silence of the woodland was broken with the orcs' heavy footfalls and unintelligible grunting. As they entered that part of the wood, it was as if a shadow had entered with them. They did not stop, did not detect the elven eyes that followed their movements and tracked their progress through the wood. Now that they were on the northern rim, they broke from following the treeline and delved deeper into the forest on a northward path that, if unaltered, would lead them by the most direct route to Lothlorien. Their speed was considerable, and as they entered the stony highlands, they showed no slackening of pace. By evening they had reached the southern end of Narrower Pass, high up in the cloud-shrouded crests of the mountains.
Above them, peering down from a sliver of black rock that jutted out high over the entrance to the pass, Haldir and Lostilsil evaluated the situation. Maynfeln and Mythis were behind the troop, moving forward to join Rumil and Peredil, who were already positioned at the northern end of the pass. There was no call to track the orcs through the pass, as there was no turning off once underway. Once the orcs emerged from the other end, the patrol would continue its leapfrog tracking. But first Haldir would send word to Lord Celeborn.
Haldir moved away from the ledge and once again, prepared to call for messengers, but before he could do so, a terrifying chill swept over him. Instinctively, his searching gaze went upward into the hovering mist of cloud, and here he thought he discerned a dark shadow sweeping overhead. For a moment, every thought was jumbled. He forgot what he was doing, where he was, and the urgency of the situation. He could not tear his eyes from their desperate survey of the surrounding fog. The watcher had returned; only now, Haldir had the horrible sense that the watcher had come not simply to watch, but to pursue.
"Nikerym, the orcs have halted."
Haldir whirled around, startled, at the sound of Lostilsil's voice.
Seeing the expression on his captain's face, Lostilsil put out a hand and rested it on Haldir's arm. "Are you alright, Nikerym?"
Haldir steadied his breathing as best he could. "Something evil has come."
"What is it? What has come?" Lostilsil asked anxiously.
"I do not know-"
"Nikerym, several of the orcs, including their leader, moved back down the pathway only seconds ago. I can not see how far they have gone. The rest wait at the entrance to the pass," Lostilsil reported. "It was a very deliberate move; they went back for a purpose."
Haldir appeared, for a brief moment, to be at a loss; but then he acted decisively. "We must get out of here. Something is watching . . . it knows we are here. And that means the orcs will soon know we are here."
Lostilsil had learned long ago not to question his captain's odd sense of forboding. He was on the move the instant Haldir had finished speaking. As he leapt from one spine of rock to another, he heard the sound of metal against stone - the unmistakable ping of an arrow missing its mark.
"Take cover!!" Haldir shouted, and Lostilsil dropped down into one of the shallow fissures, no more than ten feet deep, between the ridges that topped either side of the pass. A moment later, Haldir joined him. "Run!" he ordered, "To the end and then up the other side!"
As they ran, Haldir kept looking back over his shoulder, waiting for the orcs to appear. When, at last, they came into sight, Haldir and Lostilsil had come to the end of the fissure, where it dropped off abruptly down a sheer face whose bottom was lost in the mist. Here, the two elves sprang to the top of the opposite wall of the fissure and began picking out a path parallel to the pass.
Arrows flew around them, one even grazing Lostilsil's arm. The orcs followed, and Haldir knew it would only be a matter of time before one of the arrows found its mark, if they continued fleeing in the manner they were, which forced them to cross over fairly open and unprotected ground between the undulating waves of the rocky landscape.
When they dropped down into the next crevice, Haldir reached out and put a firm hand on Lostilsil's arm, stopping him in flight. "We can not escape them this way," he said. "I will try to draw them off, and you must get back to Mythis and the others and warn them-"
Lostilsil gave a curt nod. "I will bring them back-"
"Their first duty is to warn Lord Celeborn," Haldir instructed. "Do not come back. If I can, I will lead the orcs to other end of the pass. Tell Mythis to set up an ambush." A pause. "I will create a diversion for you, and then you must go. It all depends on you now."
"I will not fail," Lostilsil replied.
Haldir followed the crevice towards the pass. When he came to the end, he leapt up out of the crevice and took scanty cover behind a lichen-covered outcropping of rock. Within seconds, he had sent half a dozen arrows flying, felling as many orcs. As a diversionary tactic, it was effective - too effective. The attention of the orcs was completed focused upon him, so that when Lostilsil sprang from his position, scarcely a glance was given to him, and what little attention was paid him was soon called off in favor of attacking Haldir's position.
Seeing Lostilsil make it safely to the next fissure, Haldir now had his own situation to contend with. Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he began nimbly picking his way down the wall of the pass. He reached the bottom just as the first orcs appeared on the ridge above. But they did not attempt to climb down. Instead, they dropped back from the ridge, except for a dozen or so that remained to fire arrows down into the pass.
Haldir had started to run, but he had gone only a few steps when he noticed something that the haze had obscured from the top of ridge. The ground in the pass was freshly disturbed - by many footsteps. It became clear to Haldir very suddenly that only a part of the orc party had pursued him and Lostilsil across the upperland. The rest had entered the pass. If they reached the other end before Lostilsil did, they might pass by the rest of the patrol unmolested. Keeping close to the wall he had just descended, Haldir broke into full speed. The orcs now knew they were being tracked. He had to put into effect whatever delaying tactics he could in order to purchase time for the message to reach Lord Celeborn - if any members of his current patrol could send such a message.
On the upperland, Lostilsil was not pursued. It shocked him that his escape should be unhindered; the entire mass of pursuers had gone after Haldir. This made no sense, no sense at all. He almost turned back, fearing that his captain might have fallen into a trap; but he had his orders, and Haldir had taught him well never to disobey orders. He continued running. When, at last, he came to the far end of the upperland, he sent up a woodland cry, which was immediately answered by another. He recognized the sound as friendly, and began scrambling down the rocky descent towards the path where it emerged from the pass. Another call from nearby drew his attention, and he turned to find himself facing Mythis across a shallow pool of icy water.
Mythis came to meet him. "Where is Haldir?"
"There is trouble," Lostilsil announced. "The orcs have seen us and fired upon us. The captain drew them off so I could get word back to the rest of the patrol. We are to notify Lord Celeborn. Haldir will try to lead them through the pass. He wants you to set up an ambush."
"Elbereth!" Mythis said under his breath, then he cried out a signal, loud and strong, which brought Maynfeln from his hiding place. "The orcs know we track them. Haldir will lead them out of the pass, and we must set up an ambush, but first we must send a message to Lord Celeborn. You must do this, for I have no skill with the woodland creatures."
Maynfeln complied and immediately summoned one of the endari that made their nests in the high crags that were inhospitable to most other animals. The message was sent, and now Mythis brought Maynfeln and Lostilsil to take up positions on either side of the pass where it emerged into less confined ground. A series of calls informed the three that Rumil and Peredil were on their way and moving quickly - only Mythis feared they might not be quick enough.
Haldir stopped. All around him, an eerie silence hovered thicker than the mist. The arrows from above had stopped, and after the mayhem of the past several minutes, the sudden quiet was unnatural and disconcerting. Hugging the wall, he moved slowly forward, measuring every step. Then he heard it - the sound of breathing and the creaking of leather and metal, and it was coming from in front of him, further down the path. The orcs that had preceded him into the pass had made a covert doubling back, and were now attempting to approach in secret.
There were no places in which to conceal himself in the walls on either side of the pass, and so Haldir turned back towards the southern entrance, but he had not gone far when he discerned the sound of orc voices coming towards him. He was now trapped in between the two parties. The only way out was up. He began climbing.
The voices grew nearer until they were directly below him, and then there was uproarious tumult as the two parties met and realized their quarry had somehow squeezed past them. But then the tone of their grunts and cries changed, and suddenly an arrow bounced off the cliff face beside Haldir's head. Sparing only a second to glance below him, Haldir saw a small sea of hideous faces glaring up at him, weapons raised in the air in fury. Just above him was a small conclave, which he reached just as another arrow whizzed past him. He was not quite halfway up the wall, and any idea of completing the climb now seemed out of the question. The tiny ledge where he now took refuge offered enough protection from the orcs down in the pass, as long as he remained pressed to the wall, and as long as the orcs did not try to scale the wall.
But he had forgotten about the orcs on the opposite ridge. They now appeared again and began shooting their arrows, and with their target trapped on the open face of a rock wall, it did not take long before one of the arrows found its mark.
Haldir felt the pain in his side, just below his ribs. He looked down to see a short, slender feather-tipped shaft protruding from the folds of his tunic. Haldir grasped it firmly and from the relative nonseverity of the pain, he judge it had not gone deep. He pulled gently. The arrow slid out. It was neither barbed nor headed. This arrow was not meant to kill-not by violent injury, at any rate.
"Poison!" The word burst upon Haldir's mind. Looking about him, he saw that all the arrows had now stopped. The orcs knew he had been hit. But what were they all waiting for? Why had they not continued on through the pass? Why-why had they gone to such great lengths to trap him? One elf?
A coldness began to travel through his veins. The shadow of the past two hundred years passed over him again, igniting the terror anew in his mind. The poison was starting to work on him. He looked up at the top of the ledge, swimming across his vision, and in the confusion of his thoughts, he began to climb again.
Below, one of the orcs raised his bow and readied another arrow, but the leader of the band held out his hand and forced him to lower his weapon. "Another one will kill him. I will not incur the master's wrath. Only wait.. . his effort pumps the poison faster through his body."
Haldir had managed only a short further before his arms and legs began to grow numb, and his breathing became sluggish. His thoughts devolved until they became completely mired in repetitive and incomplete commands which his body would no longer obey.
"Rumil, Mythis-" he said inwardly. "H-hear me . . . "
Blackness began to cloud the edges of his vision.
"I need . . . help . . ."
No answer came. He could not focus. He could not reach out to the rest of patrol. The downward spiral into unconsciousness scattered his thoughts, his hold was lost, and he fell to the ground below.
Mythis had never trembled until now. His sense of misgiving was overpowering. Haldir should have led the orcs through the pass by now. Something had gone wrong. And now Mythis was faced with the decision to stay in place or go back along the pass in the event that Haldir was in need of aid. But if he moved too soon, he could jeopardize any hope of surprise in ambushing the orcs. Or worse yet, he could encounter them in a location not well suited to attack. The narrow confines of the pass presented a risk of entrapment that Mythis was not willing to risk.
He could send the patrol back over the upperland on either side of the pass. There, they would not be as vulnerable to attack and would command a solid view of the goings-on in the pass. He recalled the patrol to him and gave them their new orders. He took Peredil with him, while Rumil, Maynfeln, and Lostilsil-the wound on his arm bound with a makeshift bandage-went together on the other ridge. Stealth was sacrificed for speed, and yet from the outset, Mythis feared they were already too late.
There was no move right away to touch the fallen elf. It only seemed to seep very slowly into the minds of the orcs that they now had a prisoner at their hands upon which they could vent their aggression. The first one to approach him did no more than nudge him with a leather-bound foot. From there, the degree of boldness grew but did not go very far before the orc leader put an end to it.
"No more of this!" the leader shouted. "He awaits, and I shall not be the one to keep him waiting. Bring him!"
One of the orcs flung the unconscious elf over his shoulder, and the entire troop moved back towards the southern end of the pass. As they emerged into the more open land, a shadow passed overhead, and an ear-shattering shriek filled the air. Heavy wings beat out a formidable wind, which died as taloned claws gripped the stony crags near the entrance to the pass. The fell beast alighted with a piercing roar, which its rider echoed in kind.
Before this fearful beast and rider, the greater part of the orc party cowered, but the leader approached, dauntless, almost gleeful. "We have captured the one the Dark Lord desires."
The rider's voice was deep and full of hissing. "Give him to me."
The prize was handed over, and no more words passed before the wicked servant rose his mount into the sky and vanished into the folds of cloud.
Melkor awaited.
Site Info
We are the home of 1292 authors from among our 2553 members. There have been 2904 reviews written about our 3820 stories consisting of 10734 chapters and 29400445 words. A special welcome to our newest member, Lerina.Categories
Skin Change
Donate
Help us keep one of the oldest running LotR archives available to all. Even the smallest donation helps!
Many thanks to our previous donors!
Many thanks to our previous donors!
