"Where are they?" Mythis whispered, his eagle-like gaze sweeping up and down the pass below. He and Peredil had come to the other end of the pass and they had not caught even a glimpse of orcs or Haldir, although they had seen the heavily disturbed ground on the floor of the pass. "This is where they entered, and there is nowhere they could have turned off. They must have turned back completely."
"What about Nikerym Haldir?" Peredil asked, his voice belying his anxiousness.
"I do not know," Mythis replied. "He might be tracking them or he might have been taken prisoner. Either way, we must go after them-"
From down below came the sound of Rumil's voice, not disguised and filled with fear. "Mythis! Come down!! Hurry!"
Mythis and Peredil scurried down the slope and met Rumil, Lostilsil and Maynfeln at the mouth of the pass.
"Look at this." Rumil held out a slender arrow, streaked with blood along several inches. "Orc arrows-almost all of them are this shape."
The implication was immediate and clear.
"Poison-" Peredil gasped.
"Or a drug," Lostilsil proposed. "This arrow found its mark. If they had intended to kill, they would have left Haldir for the poison to do its work."
"They have taken him, then," Mythis completed the train of thought.
"And only him. They did not come after the rest of us," Lostilsil continued, then he added, "Mythis . . . when I was up on the ridge with Haldir, he grew terribly frightened for a moment. He kept searching the sky and he said that evil had come. He said that we had to get away. He felt something was watching us."
Mythis blanched at this added information, then asked Lostilsil. "Are you able to communicate with the wild creatures?"
Lostilsil hesitated. "I-I believe so. I have done it before."
"I want you to stay back-you are injured. Send word to Lord Celeborn and the rest of the patrol, tell them that Haldir is missing and may have been taken captive. Tell the patrol to meet at the Ypres encampment as quickly as possible, that they are to keep cover and expect a party of orcs to be approaching some time in the next two days. Let us hope the orcs return over the same route by which they came. Then you are to return to Lothlorien by the fastest means possible." Mythis did not wait for an acknowledgment before leading the rest of the patrol back along the path to the south. The orcs could not be far ahead; and once they were brought under surveillance, if Haldir were in their midst, which seemed more likely with every passing second, Mythis was not wholly convinced that he would be able to withstand the urge to do battle then and there in order to recover his captain. It was a dangerous thought, for it would surely mean the deaths of every member of his small party - and quite possibly, Haldir, as well. But Mythis, as he was often reminded, was not given to careful, calculated thought. His role was that of a follower, a protector. He was not a leader, not a planner. He was a reactionary, which made him an excellent first sword, although at the moment, he felt that he had failed that assignment miserably. How could he protect Haldir when he was not able to be by his side at all times? He berated himself for not being more insistent with his captain, for not demanding that he be permitted to carry out his duty even when not on the field of battle. He might not have been able to stop the orcs in their fiendish plot, but he would have made it costly for them. He would still make it costly . . .
Less than two hours passed before the elves drew within sight of the orcs. It was clear right away that the orcs were not moving at full speed. There was no sense of urgency on their part, and it soon became apparent why.
Haldir was not with them.
This discovery came as a shock to the tracking elves, and they did not know whether to take it as good news or bad news. If Haldir was not a prisoner of the orcs, then where was he? Had Mythis and the others somehow missed him in the Narrower Pass? Had he been discarded somewhere along the route? What had happened to him?
For Mythis, it was only an added dimension to the nightmare. Not knowing what else to do, he sent Peredil back to scour the area, while he, Rumil, and Maynfeln continued to track the orcs towards where the rest of the patrol would hopefully be waiting in the next day or two. Then, if an attack could be launched on the orcs, answers might be found. They must be found. How was such a thing as the disappearance of Haldir to be borne? It was impossible, and it was not something Mythis was not willing to contemplate.
Ardamil got to his feet and brushed himself off. With a smile, he extended his hand to Ascalonn, who was lying on the ground in front of him, groaning dramatically.
"Even Nikerym Haldir lets me win one every now and then," Ascalonn said, accepting Ardamil's hand. "But you give me no such quarter, Ardamil."
"My purposes are different from Haldir's," Ardamil replied. "He forges the bond. I create the warrior."
"Ah, that is only partly true," Henschel spoke up. "For Haldir has created warriors, and you have created bonds."
Ardamil turned a wry grin in Henschel's direction. "Your point, good friend?"
Henschel did not miss a beat. "You both share in each other's tasks. As it should be."
"As it should be," Ardamil agreed. As he reached for his tunic, a violent chirping caught his attention, and looking up into the boughs above, he saw an enaui perched in plain sight, chattering excitedly. Ardamil could make out scarcely a word, but he knew it could not be good news, considering the last message that had come the day before - a warning from Haldir of a party of orcs heading in the general direction of Lothlorien.
The rest of the patrol watched as Ardamil pursed his lips and coaxed the bird into a slower voice. As the message came through, the expression on Ardamil's face prompted concern from the rest of patrol.
Urthenang, another member of the patrol, spoke out, "What is he on about?"
Ardamil held up a hand, commanding silence. He then had a brief exchange with the enaui, through which his pale countenance grew even more ghostly with each passing second. When the conversation ended, he turned his ashen visage towards the anxious patrol members.
"The orcs have attacked Haldir's party. It is believed that Haldir has been taken prisoner. We are to head towards Ypres and stay hidden and wait for the arrival of the orcs or Mythis's party, whichever gets there first," he announced.
"It will take us a full day's travel to reach Ypres," Urthenang stated.
"Then let us not waste any time!" Ardamil ordered, pulling on his tunic. He looked back to the enaui. "When was this message sent?"
"Sundown."
"Who sent it?"
"Silver tree."
Ardamil recognized the common speech name for Lostilsil.
"From where?"
"Path rock highlands, the narrow way."
Ardamil did a quick internal calculation as he strapped on his weapons. "We should still be able to reach the encampment before the orcs get there, unless they have acquired some manner of greater speed."
"And what will we do once we get there?" Henschel asked.
"That is what I will be formulating as we move," Ardamil replied. "Hopefully, we will receive another message with more information before we arrive, before the orcs arrive. Now, we go. The time for talk is over."
Ardamil's party reached Ypres shortly after sundown on the second day. A quick survey turned up no indications that the orcs had passed back through the area yet, and so Ardamil ordered his warriors to take up positions and to stay on the alert, not only for the orcs but for the arrival of the other two parties of the patrol, which had also been recalled. Ardamil had not expected Mythis's party to reach the rendezvous ahead of the orcs, so when a second message came via another enaui, the subaltern received it anxiously.
The message, though simple, was hardly consoling. "Nikerym not with orcs. Still missing. What to do?"
Ardamil hardly knew what to make of this news. Haldir was not with the orcs, yet he was still missing. Mythis was inquiring for a course of action. Ardamil suspected that the orcs knew what had happened to Haldir. But was it worth risking open confrontation in order to try and squeeze the information, if it were to be had, out of one of the orcs?
It did not take Ardamil but an instant to answer himself. For Haldir, any risk was worth the taking.
"Take this message back to the one who sent you. Follow orcs to Ypres. We attack together."
No sooner had the enaui departed than Ardamil heard a familiar call in the wood. He responded in kind, and in a few moments, Orophin emerged from the undergrowth, the members of his small patrol following. They had come in from the west, making good time once the summons had come.
"Ardamil, what news?" came the harried demand.
"The orcs have not yet come through. Mythis says that Haldir is not with the orcs but is still missing."
Orophin stared at Ardamil, looking almost panic-stricken. "What are we to do, then?"
"We will attack the orcs when they come through. They may not have Haldir, but they will know of his disappearance. It is their doing," Ardamil replied.
He was surrounded by complete silence, an emptiness so pervasive that it had entered his awareness before he had even regained consciousness.
A coldness dug clear down to his bones, like icy fingers invading his body . . . it was a horrifyingly familiar feeling . . . from long ago . . . the cave . . . the men . . .
He sat up abruptly, and his eyes shot open onto an unnatural blackness. It was more than the absence of light; it was as if the very darkness were infused with evil. He sensed, intuitively, that he was alone; and as he waited for his eyes to adjust, he called to mind the last event in his memory: the image of the poisoned arrow protruding from his side. Clearly, not a deadly poison as much as a sedating one. The objective had not been to kill, then; it had been to capture. And the orcs had obviously been successful in accomplishing that mission.
Haldir's entire body ached, and the stunning cold drove the pain deeper until it felt as if his very bones were freezing. He wrapped his arms around him, surprised to find that he was still fully clothed. His elven garments did nothing to protect him from the cold. He sat for several minutes without moving, staring into a blackness that did not dissipate, to which his eyes could not accustom themselves. His mind, still tinged with the poison, was sluggish, moving vaguely from one recollection to the next, but without any rhyme or reason. These were not thoughts that he was conjuring . . . rather it was almost as if the images were being forced into his awareness, drawn out and sifted through. Visions of his uncle and the stained glasses in the holy room gave way to remembrances of rapturous prayer in which no one but Haldir had shared. He saw the faces of his brothers on the day of his Consecration - the awe that had been in their eyes. Thereupon followed image after image drawn from his life in the patrol. He felt like an observer as, in his mind, the centuries rolled back to reveal moments that defined who he was, moments in which he had discovered that he had been given a remarkable gift . . .
"I have recommended and you have been accepted to command of the Wide Patrol."
Haldir was momentarily speechless. His eyes widened at the unexpected honor for which his captain had nominated him, and which had been secured for him without even an inquiry as to Haldir's feelings in the matter.
The inquiry came now. "Does that meet with your approval?"
Haldir felt the smile spreading across his face, and he did not care if he appeared too anxious or excited. This was what he had desired from the moment he had joined the ranks of the guardians.
"Yes, it meets with my approval," he replied, his manner almost giddy.
"I shall miss you, I will not deny it. But you have surpassed me in ability, and although your wisdom does not yet equal mine, the day is not far off when it shall. I knew the Wide Patrol was in your blood, ever since the first time I let you go out with them."
Haldir colored at this unabashed praise coming from his own captain. "You give me far too much credit, Nikerym Thlayrah. All that I have learned about soldiering, I learned from you. All that I have learned about leadership, I learned from you," he replied.
Thlayrah smiled indulgently. "The first part is certainly correct. The second part is kindly said, but it is not completely accurate. You came into this patrol with all the makings of a great leader. All I have done is draw out qualities you already possessed." He paused, then with a feigned sigh, added, "And you must choose a proper subaltern to go with you. I need not ponder who your selection will be."
"There really is only one choice," Haldir replied. "I could not imagine going to a new assignment without him."
"Ardamil is a good choice." Thlayrah gave a slight laugh. "He keeps you in line, and unlike the others, he does not hold you in such awe that he fears chastising you when you have earned it."
Haldir inclined his head in concession. "That is quite true." When he looked up again into Thlayrah's handsome face, he asked the only other question that was on his mind.
"Nikerym, why did you not take the position? You are the greatest captain in the Golden Realm. The Wide Patrol was yours for the taking. Why did you turn it down?"
Thlayrah put a hand on Haldir's shoulder. "Because I was not the one best suited to the job. You will come to understand, Haldir, that no good captain seeks honor or glory for himself. As one of the Consecrated, perhaps you already understand that with regard to Aluvater. All the good you do is done for Him. As a captain of the Galadhrim, your loyalty is to those who serve you. And when their skill exceeds your own, you rejoice for them." His eyes reflected the truth of his words. "You will be the greatest captain Elvendom has ever known. And I shall always be proud of you. You are everything I could have asked for in a warrior, and you even brought along some qualities that I did not know existed. Your turn has come. The One must desire it as much as I do." With these words, Thlayrah leaned close and pressed his temple to Haldir's.
Haldir had never been given to emotional displays. He felt it was unsoldierly. Still, he permitted himself a moment of shaken voice. "You will always be my captain, Nikerym Thlayrah." It was spoken almost like a question, an imploring.
Thlayrah's mouth curved into a loving smile. "Yes, I will. Go now. Find your subaltern and tell him the good news."
Haldir went away, joy radiating from his countenance, his movements blithe and energetic.
Ardamil was easy to find. In those days, his favorite spot was a grassy hillock near the edge of a wild meadow just outside the city walls. Here, he could often be spotted lying in the grass, simply listening to the sounds around him.
That was where Haldir found him.
"Making good use of your time?" Haldir teased.
Ardamil did not even sit up, but a smile lit his face.
"I am gathering new melodies for my songs," Ardamil replied. "Do you hear the ullaie? They are very vocal this afternoon."
"And yet, they can never sound as beautiful as you," Haldir said earnestly. He sat down beside Ardamil, who now glanced over with a simper forming on his lips.
"You are an honest flatterer," he said, pushing up onto his elbows. "I can see in your eyes that you have searched me out for a specific purpose. What is on your mind, Haldir?"
Haldir was always amazed at how well Ardamil could read him. "I do have something I wish to tell you." He paused. "Did you know Nikerym Thlayrah had recommended me to command the Wide Patrol?"
Ardamil sat up fully, his expression one of considerable surprise. "Did he? No, no, I did not know that. It is true that you would be perfect for the position, but . . . " He eyed Haldir cautiously. "And has a decision been made?"
Haldir replied quietly, "I have accepted."
Ardamil was silent for a long time. At last, he managed a feeble smile. "I congratulate you."
"You are sad?" Haldir asked.
"I am happy for you," Ardamil answered.
"You do not act as if you were happy."
Ardamil sighed. "I am trying not to be selfish."
Haldir fought down the smile that was threatening to show on his face as he drew Ardamil further along. "What are you talking about? You have not a selfish bone in your body."
"As I would have you believe," Ardamil replied.
"Then you have been deceiving me all these years?" Haldir prodded. "Very well, then. If there is a selfish bone in your body, what is that bone's wish? Why do you struggle with it now?"
"It is nothing I would wish to burden you with," Ardamil replied, getting to his feet. "I am very proud of you, Haldir. You will make an excellent captain."
Haldir regarded Ardamil with fondness. "You are completely inept at hiding your sadness, and it is an unnecessary sadness. Did you think for one moment that I would leave you?" Seeing Ardamil's questioning gaze, he went on. "I have requested you as my subaltern, and Thlayrah has agreed."
Ardamil froze for a stunned moment, then sprang at Haldir, dropping to the ground on top of him. "How could you torment me like that?!!" he cried joyfully, struggling to pin the elf who would be his new captain. "You like to play dangerous games!"
They wrestled through the long grass until eventually Haldir prevailed. With Ardamil pinned on his stomach beneath him, Haldir said in a smug voice, "You will have to get much better if you hope to stay on as subaltern."
Ardamil retorted good-naturedly without a moment's hesitation. "I was being easy on you, in deference to your new position."
Haldir sat up and rolled Ardamil over. "And now you are making fun of me?"
"I would never make fun of my future captain," Ardamil replied.
"Can I take that as an acceptance of my offer?"
"Did you have any doubt?" Ardamil asked, getting to his feet and extending a hand to Haldir.
Haldir clasped his hand and was drawn up in one motion, reminding him just how strong Ardamil really was and that it might have been no more than the truth when Ardamil had said that he had been easy on Haldir.
Haldir faced Ardamil squarely. "You will be faithful to me, then?"
Ardamil held Haldir's steady gaze. "With all that I am," he replied.
"And loyal?" Haldir pressed.
"Even beyond death," Ardamil said, his voice growing ever softer, ever more intense. "As I say it, so it shall be."
Haldir was deeply moved. He had known that he could depend upon Ardamil, but he had, at that time, no real inkling as to how vast and encompassing Ardamil's love was. And now, what was he to give in return for Ardamil's expression of fealty?
"And what would you exact from me as a pledge of my return devotion?" he asked.
Ardamil shook his head. "I would exact nothing from you . . . Nikerym. You will be my captain. My trust is well-placed."
Again, Haldir was humbled by the simple, unaffected devotion of the elf before him. "Then I will give you my pledge without the asking." He took Ardamil's face in his hands and drew him close until his lips touched Ardamil's forehead. As he drew back, he spoke with a solemnity that Ardamil had only heard before in the recitation of the prayers.
"This kiss is my seal, the sign of my devotion to you. It is the symbol of our bond, of my choosing you. And in so choosing, I accept all responsibility that comes with the forging of this brotherhood. I will be bound to you . . . always. There shall be no sundering of our union." He paused briefly. "There will be many more to follow, Ardamil. It will be my way. But you will always be the first. Even when I am no longer your captain, you will still be first."
"You honor me more than I deserve," Ardamil replied, embarrassed to find his voice shaking.
Haldir deferred. "No . . . the honor has been bestowed upon me by the One. He has put me in this position. I will excel in it only to bring Him glory. And I will excel only if I have you at my side." He grinned. "So, you see, my motives are all selfish."
Ardamil returned his smile. "I will not disappoint you."
"I know that." Haldir put his arm around Ardamil's shoulders. "Come back with me. I would like to tell my brothers, and I would like you to be there."
They began walking under the brilliant sunlight, glinting of the shining grass.
"Shall I sing for you the new melody I learned this morning?" Ardamil offered.
"Certainly," Haldir replied. "I love listening to you sing, as you well know."
Ardamil began to sing, a wordless melody more beautiful than anything that had come before. Haldir felt himself slipping into a dream, floating along with the dulcet tones of the one elf he loved more than any other . . .
. . . a screeching cacophony of sound tore the song to shreds.
Haldir actually cried out in pain. The sound was agonizing, the destruction of order and beauty. Haldir clutched at his ears as the discord continued on, but the sound was not from without. It seemed to be everywhere - within and without, in his ears and in his head. Then a voice spoke, grating and mocking.
"But now Aluvatar sat and hearkened, and for a great while it seemed good to him, for in the music there were no flaws. But as the theme progressed, it came into the heart of Melkor to interweave matters of his own imaginings that were not in accord with the theme of Aluvatar; for he sought therein to increase the power and glory of the part assigned to himself. Straight away, discord arose about him, and many that sang nigh him grew despondent, and their thought was disturbed and their music faltered; but some began to attune their music to his rather than to the thought which they had at first. Then the discord of Melkor spread ever wider, and the melodies which had been heard before foundered in a sea of turbulent sound. But Aluvater sat and hearkened until it seemed that about his throne there was a raging storm, as of dark waters that made war one upon another in an endless wrath that would not be assuaged."
Haldir knew the story . . . the Ainulindale, the music of the Ainur. And he knew intrinsically the voice that was telling the tale in tones of discord and derision; and although he could not even begin to fathom how he had ended up in such a dire predicament, he could not deny that he now knew by whom he was imprisoned, and he was terrified. Against this enemy, he had no defense: only his faith, and that had been grossly weakened.
"Did you believe I had been vanquished? Not even the chains of Angainor can hold back the power of Melkor!" The voice taunted. "Foolish child of the first-born! I have been watching you for centuries. The last of the Consecrated to inhabit Middle Earth shall sing to my theme."
"No," Haldir protested, his voice frail in the face of such overwhelming power.
"Attempt to resist me. I welcome your struggles. Very well, then. What other moments of fondness reside in your memory that I might indulge myself in their destruction?"
And before Haldir could muster a single thought of his own, the search through his memories recommenced, and he could do nothing to stop it.
Ardamil saw the orcs approaching while they were still far off. His blood, already surging through his veins, now moved with pounding speed, heightening his senses, fueling his muscles for combat. He sent out a call of warning to the rest of the patrol, hidden in the woods, then sent a message via the same enaui that had been running all their messages, to Mythis, whose party was keeping concealed on the heels of the orcs.
The instant the orcs entered the woods, Ardamil ordered the attack, which was over almost as soon as it started. The orcs, surprisingly, had shown no stomach for battle. When an initial hail of arrows had taken down a third of their numbers, the rest fled or attempted to flee, fighting only if directly confronted, and then being easily dispatched. It was perplexing. Orcs were not normally given to such passivity, but then it occurred to Ardamil - the orcs already had accomplished their mission. Their purpose was over, and now they simply wanted to return to wherever they had come from with as little complication as possible.
And Ardamil was not inclined to waste time in destroying all of them. Once the patrol had captured a handful of the orcs, he called off the attack. It was answers he was looking for; not utter destruction.
He left the interrogation to Henschel, Enthamis, and Desmone, for they were well-suited to such activities. And he himself was so angry, so distraught that he could not trust himself not to lose control as an interrogator. So, as he waited, he sought out Mythis, from whom he had been far distant during the fighting. He did not have to go far before he saw Mythis approaching.
Ardamil was blunt. "What happened?" he demanded.
Mythis's distress was palpable, but he replied steadily, "We spotted a party of orcs that were headed in the direction of Lothlorien. Haldir took the patrol and we followed them. In the Narrower Pass, they tricked us and . . . Haldir disappeared. We were certain they had taken him . . . we found a poisoned arrow with blood on it, and we could not find Haldir. We tracked the orcs, only to discover that Haldir was not with them. I sent Peredil back to search the area again-"
"He disappeared? How could he disappear?" Ardamil asked. "He could not have just vanished."
"I-I did not mean that he had-physically disappeared," Mythis stammered. "I meant that we did not know what had happened to him. We thought the orcs-"
"Why were you not at Haldir's side?" Ardamil cut him off. "You are his first sword. You are sworn to protect him at all costs - even to the sacrificing of your own life."
"He sent me ahead," Mythis replied. "By the time I realized there was trouble, it was too late. I did what I thought best."
Before Ardamil could reply, Henschel approached. "Ardamil . . . one of the orcs has told us something incredible . . . terrible, if true."
"What is it?"
"They come from Mordor - the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn have spoken of the evil building there - but . . . " Henschel paused to steady his voice. "But these orcs . . . they mentioned only one master . . . "
Ardamil's face was as stone as he attempted to conceal his fear. "Sauron? Has Sauron returned?"
"Not Sauron," Henschel replied. "The orc told us, 'Even Sauron has his master.'"
Ardamil was stunned into silence. It was Mythis who spoke the most dreaded name in Middle Earth.
"Melkor."
Henschel only nodded, fearful that any attempt to speak would bring his own terror overflowing to the surface.
"But that is impossible," Mythis protested, fear of the terrible truth creeping up his throat. "Melkor has long since been cast out into the void . . . ever since the War of Wrath!"
Ardamil continued. "But Haldir was not with the orcs. How could they deliver to Melkor what they do not possess?" He was desperate to convince himself that Haldir could not have possibly fallen into such wicked hands.
Mythis spoke again. "Lostilsil said that Haldir had become frightened while they were at the pass, that he had sensed something evil had arrived and was watching them. He was searching the skies for it."
Henschel knitted his brow. "Nazgul?"
Ardamil dismissed the possibility. "The Nine have not been heard from in centuries. They were destroyed when Sauron was destroyed."
"But the evil that grows in the east-" Mythis began.
Ardamil cut him off impatiently. "Melkor has his own demonic servants. He does not need Sauron, the Nazgul or any other."
"Then it . . . it could be true," Henschel conceded in a quiet voice. "Haldir could be a prisoner of Melkor."
Ardamil was silent in thought for a long moment. At last, he said to Henschel, "We will bring the orc who has given you the information."
"And the others?"
"Bind them and leave them here."
Henschel nodded and parted from them.
"What would Melkor want with Haldir?" Mythis asked.
Ardamil looked at Mythis and for the first time, coupled with the abject fear and horror he felt at Haldir's likely fate, he felt anger and rage towards a fellow patrol mate. It had been Mythis's responsibility to protect Haldir. Mythis had not delivered on that responsibility. "We will likely never know."
Mythis shrank beneath the icy gaze. "What do we do now?"
"We return to Caras Galadhon," Ardamil replied, then as he began to walk away, "And then you find another patrol."
"Another patrol? Ardamil-" Mythis's voice was filled with confusion and desperation.
Ardamil stopped for a moment and his reply was spoken in as neutral a voice as he could manage. "You were sworn to protect Haldir. You failed to live up to your oath, and now . . . now it is likely we will never see him again."
It was a wound that Mythis had never expected, from a quarter he never would have imagined.
Legolas had been wandering all day. Through the woods south of his father's forest dwelling, along unworn paths, across the heather meadows - he had much on his mind, and walking with nature brought some idea of order to his muddled thoughts. At length, he returned to the outer colonnades of the palace, and here he spotted Canhelded sitting at a table, illustrating a manuscript.
Legolas crept up silently, peered over his shoulder and no sooner had he begun to marvel at his brother's skill with ink and quill than a wave of emotion swelled up his throat, finding its culmination in the rendering of a song. Canhelded was illustrating a sheet of music - the song of Anhumat. Such a simple song had come to possess such private, intimate meaning for Legolas.
When Legolas had finished singing, Canhelded smiled. "The solitary wanderer."
"The happy wanderer," Legolas corrected, sitting beside him.
"That remains to be seen," Canhelded said, then adding earnestly, "Although I am sure it will be so." He regarded Legolas with delving eyes. "You have not told father yet."
Legolas lowered his eyes. "Not yet."
"I can not imagine that he would object," Canhelded opined. "Going out into the world will be a good thing for you. It will give you a greater appreciation not only for what is out there, but for what you have here."
Legolas grinned. "Are you sure you do not want to present my case for me?"
"You will need no help." A pause. "Tell me . . . where will you go?"
"Wherever the wind calls me - like Anhumat," Legolas replied with a brilliant glow in his eye. "Wherever the voices of the trees and the woodland creatures and the hedgerow dwellers lead me. I am willing to follow. I am ready to follow."
Canhelded nodded vaguely. "Is there not another voice that you long to hear?"
Legolas could not hide the shadow of sadness that had crept into his face. "That was many centuries ago."
"That is true," Canhelded agreed. "And will you not answer my question?"
"I do not wish to revive those memories, dear brother. I have held fast to Lord Elrond's advice. The best thing I could do for Haldir, I have done," Legolas replied, but he sounded anything but convinced of his own words.
"What are you hoping to find on your journey, Legolas?" Canhelded asked.
Legolas was silent, and his brother persisted. "Is there a truth that drives you out on your sojourn. Is there a fear? A doubt?"
At last, Legolas spoke slowly. "I do not know what I am searching for. I have not yet opened the door onto my reasons. I only wish to see as much of the world as I can. "
Canhelded showed brotherly concern. "And who will comfort you as you tramp these distant lands? Who will answer your songs and cheer you when you are sad?"
A smile spread over Legolas's face. "I will tell you who. My dearest brothers and my loving father, who reside in here," he replied, placing his hand over his heart. "I carry all of you with me, always."
Canhelded put his arm around Legolas's shoulders. "You speak so eloquently."
"My eloquence makes it no less true."
"Will your road lead you to Lothlorien?" Canhelded asked.
Legolas raised his eyes to behold Canhelded's compassionate gaze. "I can not entirely discount it, but it is not my intention."
Canhelded inclined his head in a mixture of consternation and affection. "Legolas, brother, do you not wonder at all about him?"
Legolas got up and walked to the railing, where he stood overlooking the southern forests where he had walked earlier that day. "He is in my thoughts daily, and not of my own will." He hesitated and took a deep breath. "I dreamt of him last night. It was . . . disturbing. I dreamt he was calling out, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. I didn't know who he was calling to. I could only feel an indistinct fear. I imagined that it must have been the fear he felt that day in the cave . . . oh, if I could, I would banish him from my mind-"
"Say not such a thing," Canhelded chastised, joining him at the railing. He turned his younger brother to face him. "Your acquaintance with him has been a great blessing."
"And a great curse," Legolas said. "I have injured him and myself, and I have done all I could to undo that hurt and sorrow. And yet . . . " His gaze grew distant and visionary. " I want him to live in me. I want to carry some part of him in my soul. Perhaps . . . perhaps that's why I want to go out into the world. Haldir was always out in the world. He loved Middle Earth. He loved to see distant lands and experience different peoples. He engendered that fire in me. I have let it wane over the years. I am ready to rekindle it."
Canhelded nodded slowly and resolutely. "Then it is time. Let us go see father. You must not delay any longer."
Legolas squeezed his brother's hand. "You give me confidence."
"No . . . I only strengthen that which already abides in you. Come, we will have you underway before the sun sets tomorrow."
Adramil stood before Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. The atmosphere in the Great Hall was grim as the Guardian gave his report. When he had finished, there followed a long silence as the implications of what had happened took root amid somber countenances.
At last, Celeborn spoke. "It is your belief that Haldir has fallen into Melkor's hands?"
"Yes, my lord," Ardamil replied.
Another deep quiet. Again, it was Celeborn who spoke. "Then he is beyond our help."
Ardamil stiffened. "Beyond our help? My Lord, I do not-I do not understand what you are saying."
Galadriel answered. "I have not been able to see him in the mirror. He is hidden from us."
"Then I will go look for him," Ardamil volunteered.
"No," Celeborn said, shaking his head slowly, resolutely. "Such a venture would be bring nothing but despair. Your place is here, at the head of the patrol which you have served as Haldir's subaltern."
"But my Lord-" Ardamil's voice was passionate.
"Ardamil," Galadriel began, stepping down from the dais and placing a cool, soothing hand against his cheek. "If there were any hope of recovering him, we would grant your wish. We would send legions out to save him. But he is not to be found in Middle Earth. The only one who had any power against such an enemy was Haldir himself. Not even I or my Lord or Gandalf or all the powers of wizardry can combat the prince of evil doing. If Haldir is in his hands, which I believe he must be, then it will be up to Haldir to resist him."
"We do not know for certain that it was the work of Melkor," Ardamil pressed.
Here, Galadriel's expression grew even more grave and compassionate. "There is little doubt. If he were in any other's clutch, I would be able to see him."
Celeborn stepped forward. "There may yet be hope. A sign may still be given, but until then, we can not go dangerously into the world in search of him."
Ardamil held his tongue. He did not care what the lord and lady said. Haldir was his first priority, and it was pointless to argue a command he had no intention of obeying. He gave a curt nod of acknowledgment.
"Go, return to the patrol. They will need you now," Galadriel said gently.
Ardamil looked into her eyes. "The one they need is gone," he said, then turned and left the hall.
Once Ardamil had gone, Celeborn drew a deep breath. "We have not just lost a captain of the Galadhrim; we have lost one of the preservers of our peace."
"The darkness had already started to fall," Galadriel replied. "Now, everything will move faster. Great evil is upon us."
Celeborn walked across the flet to a window overlooking the city. "And if Melkor is able to reach out from beyond this world, who can stop the descent into chaos? If he turns Haldir to his own ends, there will be great havoc . . . and he will destroy Haldir in the process."
"There is a reason Melkor has waited until now to take Haldir," Galadriel said slowly. "The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it. If such were still alive, perhaps they could offer some insight into what has happened, but for my own part, I can not see Melkor's purpose. The ring is moving, but Melkor has no need of it. It is only of use to Sauron. And even in captivity, Melkor's power is immeasurably greater than Sauron's. And what has Haldir to do with any aspect of the one ring? As the last servant of Aluvater in Middle Earth, Haldir would be a great prize in Melkor's hands. But would that be reason enough to take him?"
"The prayers," Celeborn stated bluntly. "Melkor will attempt to pervert the prayers, just as he perverted the music of the Ainuindale. He will turn Haldir into an instrument of destruction."
Galadriel eased her hand into her husband's. "And we are powerless to stop it."
"Only Haldir can resist such an evil, and then only with the help of Aluvater. And he has been weakened," Celeborn replied, and his voice did not have the hope that Galadriel had desired to hear.
"You do not think he can resist," she stated.
"I do not hold out much hope of it," Celeborn admitted. "I hope I am wrong."
Galadriel's voice was ghostly. "As do I."
Ardamil did not return to the patrol's talans, even though he knew the rest of the patrol was waiting for him. He had not the courage nor the heart to see them at the moment. His mind was in turmoil, fear beating down rage and then being subdued by sorrow. Never before had he been in such agony, so confused, and without any clear direction before him. He headed to the only place where he hoped solace might await him. If nothing else, he would have solitude and a chance to let his grief come to the surface.
Haldir's home. Here he had known great joy. Here he had known peace, and here he hoped to find it again in the midst of strife. But as he passed through the doorway into the holy room, he felt only coldness, emptiness. He normally would have walked straight through the room, not being as spiritually or religiously adept as Haldir, but this time he stopped in the middle. He looked at the statue at the head of the room. In the shadows, the image was mysterious and fearsome, and yet never had Ardamil felt as compelled to make an appeal. He took slow, measured steps towards the statue, wondering what words he could use. What words were worthy of the One?
But when the words came, they were from so deep within that Ardamil could not have said anything else.
"Please . . . bring him back. I beg you . . . bring him back." He felt the tears rising in his eyes. "I know I am of no account. I have no right to ask you for anything. But Haldir loves you. You are his life, and I don't . . . I don't understand why you've allowed this. He's borne all the suffering you've put him through. And despite all the fear, he has never stopped being devoted to you. And only you can save him. You have the power, you are the One. Please, I would do anything."
He stood by silently, then dropped to his knees and clasped his hands in front of him. Then he began an awkward offering of the few prayers he knew, going strictly from the memory of hearing Haldir recite them thousands of times over the centuries. He had not made it even through the first one before he broke into sobs.
For many hours, he remained there on the floor, unmoving, growing numb as the reality of Haldir's disappearance took firmer root in his mind. At length, he moved to the inner talan and sunk down onto one of the chairs. And here he stayed until a voice from the doorway drew his attention.
"Ardamil?"
Ardamil looked up to see Maynfeln and Lostilsil standing just inside the door. He acknowledged them with a glance but said nothing.
The two guardians approached him cautiously and sat down on either side of him.
Maynfeln spoke first. "We've been looking for you. The entire patrol is concerned."
"I needed to be alone," Ardamil replied dully.
"Do you wish us to leave?" Lostilsil asked.
"No, no, your presence is welcome. It is a comfort. I have been alone long enough."
Lostilsil went on, "When you didn't return to the talan, we feared the worst."
Ardamil's voice wavered. "The worst? What could be worse than what has happened?"
"We feared you had left," Maynfeln replied., "That you had gone to look for Haldir."
Ardamil turned his haunted gaze to face the healer directly. "I still may."
Maynfeln spoke with sincerity. "You would not go alone."
"I would ask no on else to come with me," Ardamil replied.
"You would not have to ask." Maynfeln was very serious. "We would all go to the ends of the earth to recover Haldir."
Suddenly, Ardamil's eyes widened as he was struck with a realization. "Where are Rumil and Orophin?"
"They are in the patrol's talans. They did not want to be alone, and I did not think it wise to leave them alone," Maynfeln replied.
"They must be suffering dreadfully," Ardamil fretted, feeling a pang of guilt at his own self-involvement.
"They are inconsolable," Lostilsil answered. "Orophin says not a word. Rumil says he will go search for Haldir and will not stop until he finds him."
Ardamil was trembling. "But is he to be found? Or will a search be only an exercise in futility and anguish?"
"We can not know," Maynfeln replied. "Our hopes are all we have."
"Our hopes . . . our hopes . . . "Ardamil leaned forward and put his face in his hands. "I had so much faith when Haldir was here . . . even after he was attacked by those men. He was here - a wounded soul, but he was here, and we could see him and touch him and hear him. But now I feel as if-as if my own soul has been shorn from my body. I would rather see him taken to the Halls of Mandos than live with this uncertainty. Where is he and what is happening to him?"
Maynfeln and Lostilsil were quiet for several seconds, then Lostilsil spoke in a low, grave voice. "If you go, do not leave us behind."
"I give you my word," Ardamil replied.
Maynfeln leaned forward and regarded him intently. "I would feel much better if someone were to stay here with you."
"You may stay," Ardamil replied. "I would be glad of your company."
"Lostilsil will stay. I have another search to undertake," Maynfeln said, drawing back. Then seeing Ardamil's curious expression, he did his best to muster control over his distress as he spoke. "Mythis has not been seen since the return to Caras Galadhon."
Ardamil's feelings were in a tumult at this announcement. His anger at Mythis was unabated, and his response reflected his state of mind. "Perhaps his guilt has driven him out."
Maynfeln and Lostilsil exchanged sad glances over the subaltern's head.
"You may be right. We could not coax a word from him the entire way back," Maynfeln stated. "The light had gone out in his eyes."
Ardamil drew in a deep breath. "He failed in his task as First Sword. It is expected that he would feel that failure most keenly."
Maynfeln knit his brows together. "You blame him for the loss of Haldir?"
"I don't know," Ardamil groaned. "He was sworn to protect him, to give his life for him if necessary. He was negligent."
"He did as Haldir ordered," Lostilsil interjected. "He would never disobey Haldir. The captain sent him on ahead, and he followed orders."
Ardamil was silent.
Maynfeln got to his feet. "Do not let your misery blind you to the example Haldir set for us over all these centuries. He would never permit anger or hurt or sadness to drive him to hate that which he loved. And he loved Mythis. So do you." With that, he strode to the doorway, leaving Lostilsil to look after Ardamil.
"Are you quite sure about this, Nikerym?" Ardamil asked, sounding unconvinced.
Haldir's somewhat whimsical smile was accompanied by a reassurance. "Absolutely."
"But he is so . . . impetuous," Ardamil persisted. "He will require much discipline to mold him into the kind of warrior that belongs in the patrol."
Haldir did not reply right away. His gaze was still fixed on the beautiful fluidity of the elf whose display of sword work was the center of attention that afternoon in the clearing near the Anduin. At last, he said slowly, "And do you not anticipate disciplining him?"
Ardamil almost laughed. "I dread the thought."
"Why is that?"
"Because he is far too fair to contend with," Ardamil replied. "How is an elf expected to be stern with him when he can turn heads by his very presence?"
Haldir nodded a mild concession. "He is beautiful."
"That is paltry praise," Ardamil said. "He is the most beautiful elf I have ever laid eyes on."
"Indeed, he is."
Ardamil was flustered. Haldir could be so difficult. "Would he not be more suitable perhaps after a few more decades or even centuries with Thlayrah's patrol? He will have grown more mellow-"
"Uh!" Haldir made a sound of disgust. "Do I want 'mellow' warriors? You are not so refined, yourself, Ardamil - and I hope you never become so. Look at him. He fights in a way I have never seen before - it is a love of the sword."
"The choice is yours, Nikerym," Ardamil said at last. "We speak of your First Sword; you must feel confident in your decision."
Haldir nodded slightly, noticing the approach of Nikerym Thlayrah.
"Have you come to lure away yet another of my warriors?" Thlayrah asked good-naturedly, drawing up to stand in front of Haldir.
"It is a compliment to your abilities as a leader, dearest Nikerym Thlayrah. You produce the best warriors," Haldir replied.
"And now you turn your eye to Mythis," Thlayrah went on.
"He is a brilliant swordsman," Haldir admitted.
"He is brilliant in all forms of combat," Thlayrah acknowledged. "But the sword is his strongest point."
"But my subaltern fears that he may be too much to handle," Haldir added with a grin.
Thlayrah inclined his head in a gesture of considered agreement. "Mythis is inquisitive, full of vigor and . . . energy. From time to time, you may find your hands full with him." A fond smile graced his features. "But he is one of the greatest joys I have known in all my long life. His zeal is unquenchable. He learned faster than I could teach. His heart is simple." A pause filled with deep silence that bespoke a certain sadness on Thlayrah's part. "He is everything you would want in a warrior, Haldir. And I already know that it is his desire to catch your eye and be taken under your wing. Surely you have noticed it, as well."
Haldir could sense Thlayrah's melancholy. "I will not take him, if he means that much to you, Nikerym."
Thlayrah mustered a forlorn but genuine smile. "It is precisely because he does mean that much to me that you must take him. Only-only take care of him, Haldir. He wants you to believe he has experienced the world . . . but he is pure innocence. His charm is a dangerous thing." He then looked to Ardamil. "You possess a more level head than your captain, Ardamil. Do not let him be carried away by his new charge."
Ardamil smiled. "I will do my best, Nikerym Thlayrah; but you know Haldir."
"I do," Thlayrah replied with a sparkle in his eye, then he addressed Haldir again. "Shall I call him over?"
Haldir nodded. "Yes."
Thlayrah called out to Mythis, who disengaged himself from the exercises and came trotting across the clearing, lithe as a deer, blatant excitement and anticipation beaming from his face. As he drew up in front of them, Haldir marveled at how absolutely stunning Mythis was. Unlike the rest of the Lorien elves, Mythis was dark-haired and olive-skinned. He had Noldor blood in him, going back generations. But despite the sharpness and clarity of his features, there was an overriding gentleness in his appearance. Haldir recognized it as the innocence of which Thlayrah had spoken, and although Haldir had always been aware of Mythis's age, he now realized, for the first time, that he was looking at an elf barely out of childhood. But that did nothing to deter him. Mythis was the only elf Haldir would even consider as First Sword: lethal, enthusiastic, and pliable.
"Yes, Nikerym?"
Thlayrah put a hand on Mythis's shoulder. There was a certain pain in the action, which did not go unnoticed by Haldir. Mythis's departure was hitting Thlayrah hard, but he would not turn down Haldir's request . . . or Mythis's desire.
"You are about to be offered one of the greatest posts among the Guardians," Thlayrah said. "Nikerym Haldir has requested you for his First Sword."
Child-like, Mythis burst into brilliant, joyful laughter. "This was what I was hoping for!! Only I never thought it would come true!"
"Compose yourself, Mythis," Thlayrah chastised with no hint of disdain.
Mythis drew in a deep breath, but he was alive with excitement.
"You accept, then?" Haldir asked.
"I do, Nikerym Haldir. This is the greatest honor I could ever imagine," Mythis replied. "I have dreamt of this since coming to Lorien."
Haldir smiled. "Then I expect you will do an excellent job."
"I shall, indeed."
Thlayrah spoke, and although he tried to sound casual, his voice was subdued. "Then I turn him over to you, Haldir. He is now your warrior." He pat Mythis on the back, then turned and walked back to the rest of his patrol, still training.
It was only then, as Thlayrah moved away, that Mythis suddenly seemed to realize the loss that his gain entailed. In an instant, his joyful mood lessened as he stared after his captain's retreat. Haldir and Ardamil both saw the uncertainty and distress that had seeped into Mythis's manner.
"Are you sure you want to accept the position?" Haldir asked kindly.
Mythis turned back to Haldir, but his attention was divided. "Yes, I am sure. I am very sure. I-I only-I feel like I am abandoning Nikerym Thlayrah. And he has been so good to me."
"Ardamil and I have both felt the same sentiment," Haldir replied. "We both came from Thlayrah's patrol, as you well know. We understand how you feel." But looking at Mythis's face, Haldir suspected that perhaps he and Ardamil did not fully comprehend Mythis's attachment to Thlayrah. There was something in his countenance that spoke of an affection that went beyond that of a captain and his soldier. But it was not Haldir's place to inquire. He knew only that Mythis was the unexpected companion who had one day returned with Thlayrah from some journey to the north. No reason was ever given or even asked for: it had always been assumed there was some familial or historical relation between them. Thlayrah treated Mythis like his own child, and Mythis gave all appearances of accepting Thlayrah as his parent.
"I must thank him," Mythis said, his words clearly not expressing the fullness of his thoughts.
"Yes, you must. And you must do it properly," Haldir agreed. "Parting with you was not easy for him."
Mythis only nodded.
"Report to the Wide Patrol's talans tomorrow evening," Haldir instructed, deciding that would give Mythis enough time to gather his belongings and take care of any parting words that he had for his former patrol mates.
"Yes, Nikerym," Mythis replied.
As Haldir turned to leave, Ardamil squeezed Mythis's shoulder. "Congratulations and welcome."
Mythis returned his words with a nervous smile.
"What distresses you, Haldir?"
Haldir glanced up to see Ardamil peering his head into the nest.
"Why do you say I am distressed?" Haldir replied with his own question.
"You have been up here all afternoon, ever since we returned from Thlayrah's patrol," Ardamil explained. "I know you well enough to see when something weighs heavily upon your mind." He sat down beside him. "What is it?"
Haldir drew in a deep, thoughtful breath. "I am feeling guilty."
Ardamil could not suppress a smile. "You? Feeling guilty?"
"Is that so incredible?" Haldir challenged.
"I have never known you to feel guilty before, so . . . yes, it is incredible," Ardamil replied. "But what cause have you to feel guilty?"
"Did you not see how painful it was for Thlayrah to part with Mythis?" Haldir asked.
"I did see it, yes," Ardamil nodded. "And I also saw that Mythis had not considered the consequences of his greatest dream. Are you having second thoughts, Haldir?"
Haldir did not answer right away, which worried Ardamil.
"Haldir, you can not take back your offer," he insisted. "That would be more devastating than any unhappiness either of them feel right now."
"I would feel better knowing that Thlayrah is truly agreeable to this," Haldir said softly. "You know how deeply I respect him."
"Go talk to him," Ardamil suggested. "In a sense, he is still your captain. You have never ceased to defer to him."
Haldir grinned cheekily. "And you have?"
"I defer to you first," Ardamil replied. "And we are not talking about me. You are the one who was set on Mythis. You are the one who is feeling guilty. You are the one who must deal with this as you see fit."
"You are right," Haldir conceded, standing up. "I will go see him this evening."
"You are not-you are not considering withdrawing your offer, are you?" Ardamil asked.
Haldir crossed his arms and cocked his head to one side. "Now, this is peculiar. You were the one who was not sure about bringing Mythis into the patrol. Have you changed your mind?"
"My objections to Mythis were based on his maturity, nothing more," Ardamil replied. "Your objections are based on feelings."
"That is not what I asked," Haldir pointed out. "I asked if you had changed your mind."
Ardamil stood. "I saw how much Mythis wants this. And I saw something else . . . I saw how much he wants you. He would never fail you, Haldir."
Haldir gave a one-sided smile. "You are so clear-sighted and honest."
Ardamil accepted the compliment gracefully. "Go, then. Speak to Thlayrah. You will not be able to rest until you do."
Thlayrah lived on the outskirts of Caras Galadhon. His talan was in the mid-levels of the trees - a simple, rustic place that suited his straight-forward personality.
As Haldir moved across the high bridges and causeways, drawing ever nearer to the dwelling, he recalled numerous nights of joy spent in the company of his former captain. Thlayrah had been an indulgent leader, building bonds of loyalty and friendship with his warriors through much personal interaction. It was a lesson Haldir had learned only partly, or it might be more accurate to say that he had learned it to the extent that was possible. For while Haldir was warm and inviting on duty, he tended to remain somewhat distant during his off-time. An occasional trip to the fountain was always followed by hours of solitude. Haldir found his greatest peace, his greatest joy in his moments of silent contemplation of the One. Still, he was not a loner, and as he approached Thlayrah's talan, his thoughts were filled with pleasant memories of song and drink and brotherly camaraderie.
He drew near the talan from an overhead route of hung plank bridges and rope strands, but when he came to the final bridge, he stopped. Below him, Mythis stood at the doorway to Thlayrah's home, and an instant later, the door opened to reveal Thlayrah himself.
"Mythis? What are you doing here? I would have thought you would be joyfully packing your belongings for relocation to the Wide Patrol's talans," Thlayrah said, his face kind, his voice patronly.
A troubled expression came over Mythis's idyllic features. "Nikerym . . . are you . . . are you not angry with me?"
"Angry? Why would you say that?"
Mythis did not answer. He seemed to waver on the edge of a response for several seconds before throwing himself into Thlayrah's surprised embrace.
But the surprise was short-lived, replaced by a sad, knowing grin. "All choices involve some kind of loss, Mythis," he said gently. "But I will never be too far away."
Mythis spoke tearfully into his shoulder. "But I-I owe everything to you. I do not want to leave you."
Thlayrah eased Mythis away a bit and raised his head with a finger under his chin. "Haldir will care for you just I do - even more, it is likely."
"That is impossible," Mythis protested, but Thlayrah shushed him with a look.
"You do not know Haldir yet," he said. "But believe me, Mythis, there will come a time when you will be ready to sacrifice all for the life of your captain. He will become what matters most to you. You will not fight for honor, glory, justice, freedom, preservation; you will fight for him, for his protection, and you will do it out of love." He took Mythis's face in his hands. "Right now, you want the honor, the prestige . . . and you want him to love you. But you do not know him yet. You will discover, Mythis, that the flourishing of your own love for him will become of greater importance than your desire to be loved. He will take precedence over all other concerns and desires. That is the way it is with Haldir and with the Wide Patrol under his command."
"But I-I already feel that way with you, Nikerym Thlayrah," Mythis insisted.
But Thlayrah only smiled indulgently. "You have not even begun to experience that of which I speak."
Mythis's eyes searched Thlayrah's face for some sign of greater reassurance. "You will not forget me, will you, Nikerym?"
"That is a foolish question, for who could forget you, Mythis?" Thlayrah replied, then added, "But do not forget, child . . . we shall still see each other often. And when you need the love of a parent, you will always be welcome. My door is always open to you." He fixed Mythis with a serious gaze. "But starting now, your loyalty must begin to shift. And so it shall. And so it shall, until he will become the center of all your concern. You will shortly be bound to his protection . . . by oath and then by love. You will bring me most credit by fulfilling that charge to the best of your abilities. And your abilities are second-to-none, Mythis."
From his hiding place, Haldir looked on in amazement. He'd had no idea of how highly Thlayrah had thought of Mythis, no idea how much Thlayrah had meant to Mythis, and absolutely no idea just how much of a child Mythis still was. Ardamil had been right. While Mythis was physically several decades into adulthood, mentally and emotionally, he appeared little more than a child, leaving home for the first time. While Haldir was not sure of the extent of Thlayrah's "parentage" of Mythis, he was becoming certain of one thing: he would not betray Thlayrah's confidence in him. He would take Mythis under wing; he would ensure Thalyrah's trust in him was not compromised.
And now, as he watched Mythis, full of tears, on Thlayrah's doorstep, he realized that the most beautiful elf he had ever laid eyes on, the elf whose cheerful demeanor could only be a gift of the Valar, had never viewed his beauty or his wits as guaranteers of acceptance. Mythis's next words were proof of that. He was still looking into Thlayrah's benevolent gaze, and yet he could not suppress the need to ask the only question that mattered to him.
"Do you love me, Nikerym?"
Thlayrah's expression grew even softer. "Need you ask me that?"
"I-I would like to hear it," Mythis replied. "It has been a long time since anyone has said it to me."
Fresh pain broke over Thlayrah's face, and he enfolded Mythis in his arms. "Oh, Mythis, of course, I love you."
Haldir was dumbfounded. What sort of history did Mythis possess that could produce such a sad statement? Haldir had not even given a moment's thought to Mythis's background, but now he wondered.
Thlayrah was still talking. "I love you so much that I want to see you go with Haldir, because I know that is where you truly belong. And then you will never have to wonder-" his voice caught for moment, "-if you are loved."
Haldir saw Mythis's face against Thlayrah's shoulder. Serenity had settled on the tear-streaked cheeks. It was an incredible sight of such overwhelming splendor-
--and suddenly his eyes burned from the image. The pain returned, the discord, the tearing of something honest and beautiful into pieces, the agony of a fond memory ravaged and violated.
And then Haldir was thrust back into the darkness. "Stop it, please!" he cried out, clawing desperately at the nothingness around him. But there was nothing physical against which he could fight. He had no strength or power that could combat such an enemy. He could only plead, yet there came no answer - only a horrid sense of pleasure: pleasure in the pain being inflicted.
'Haldir loved Mythis. So do you.'
Maynfeln's words echoed repeatedly through Ardamil's head as he climbed down from Haldir's talan. The healer had been right - on both accounts. Haldir did, indeed, love Mythis - almost as if Mythis were his own child. And Ardamil could not deny that the young, impetuous first sword had always been one of his own favorites. In the horror of discovering Haldir's disappearance, Ardamil had forgotten just how much he truly loved Mythis. He had let his fear and anger drive out all other considerations, including compassion and understanding. He had hurt Mythis even beyond the pain inflicted by Haldir's disappearance, and now he did not know how to make it right.
He went to Mythis's favorite spots but to no avail. He had one last place to check. If he met with no luck there, then it could only mean Mythis had left the city.
He came to Thlayrah's talan and knocked on the door.
His former captain opened the door and a knowing look settled on his features.
"Ardamil."
"Thlayrah . . . have you seen Mythis?" Ardamil asked, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.
Thlayrah stepped aside and swept Ardamil into the talan. He guided him to a sheer on the far end and parting it, inviting Ardamil to look through.
Inside, Mythis lay asleep on the only bed in the room.
Ardamil's relief was audible and visible. "Elbereth be praised. I was afraid he had gone," he said in a near-whisper.
"He was going to."
Ardamil moaned and a pained expression crossed his face. "I was very bad to him, Thlayrah."
Thlayrah placed a hand on Ardamil's back. "Come, you are overwrought. Sit down." He led him to a seat, poured a glass of sweet nectar and gave it to him, then he sat down beside him.
"I hurt him," Ardamil, taking the glass but showing no interest in drinking. "In my fear and confusion, I said some terrible things to him that I did not mean."
"He told me what happened," Thlayrah said. "Haldir's disappearance is a fearful thing, `and now I see that you both compound your sufferings out of fear that you have lost each other."
"Mythis has not lost me," Ardamil insisted.
"He needs to know that. Stay until he wakes up," Thlayrah replied.
Ardamil nodded minutely. "I will stay." He took a sip of the nectar and attempted to portray a steady countenance.
But Thlayrah was not fooled. He regarded him, seeing the struggle that was going on inside him, and he knew intrinsically what Ardamil was contemplating. He needed to draw it out.
"You are now in charge of the patrol," he said.
Ardamil's voice was a whisper. "Yes." A pause. "But not for long."
"Oh?"
Ardamil raised his eyes to face his former captain. "I can not stay here. I must try to find him."
This, Thlayrah knew, had been Ardamil's design from the beginning. "Where will you look?" he asked.
"Everywhere, if I must. I will go first to Mordor, then Angband," came the determined reply.
"If it really was Melkor that abducted Haldir, you will not find him in Mordor - or anywhere else in Middle Earth. He is not within reach of the sphere," Thlayrah said. "You will be forever searching and never finding."
"I can not simply stand by and not even try to find him," Ardamil protested warmly.
"Then you will leave the patrol?"
"They can go with me. They would not hesitate," Ardamil replied.
"That is true." Thlayrah's voice was thoughtful. "So, you would leave Lothlorien undefended?"
"Thlayrah, we are only 24-"
"Twenty-four of Lorien's finest."
"Then I will go alone!" Ardamil burst out, exasperated.
Thlayrah frowned. "And leave them when they need you most. It is their loss, as well, Ardamil. They suffer, too. They need your guidance, your counsel and comfort, your steadiness. You would be selfish to leave them now. And you know well that Haldir would not approve."
Thlayrah had never ceased to be a father figure to his warriors, past and present. He was no-nonsense and direct. He tolerated little in the way of foolishness, even foolishness brought on by grief. And Ardamil was not sure, at that moment, if he appreciated those qualities or not.
"Surely, you feel this as deeply as I do," Ardamil proposed. "How is it you can not understand?"
Thlayrah's eyes softened a degree. "No, Ardamil, I do not feel it as deeply as you do. No one could. Your relationship with Haldir is something no one else could comprehend."
Ardamil lowered his eyes and spoke in a trembling voice. "I can not bear to be separated from him, Thlayrah."
"If it is Aluvater's will, Haldir will be returned to us. If it is not His will, nothing will alter that. Haldir lived by His will. So must you." He paused and nodded towards the shear. "Go inside. What you can not do for Haldir, you can still do for Mythis."
Ardamil drew in a deep breath and got to his feet. "You have always been the voice of reason, Nikerym," he said, then he went into the sleeping room and sat in a chair near the window. The sight of Mythis ignited the memory of how he had treated him, and this was too distressing to entertain. So, Ardamil spent most of the evening staring out the window, yet here he was unable to draw any comfort from views that he loved, feeling nothing but a growing emptiness, an increasing uneasiness. Nothing could diffuse the pain.
It wasn't until long after nightfall that the sound of Mythis stirring drew his attention away from the window.
Ardamil moved over to sit on the side of the bed. When, at length, Mythis opened his eyes, Ardamil was not surprised to see the wariness and anxiety displayed there.
Mythis sat up slowly. He was trembling and did not speak.
Seeing this, Ardamil's guilt was overwhelming. He reached out and pulled Mythis into a powerful embrace. "I am so sorry, Mythis. I am so sorry."
Mythis clung to him in a manner that Ardamil would not have imagined possible.
"Please don't send me away," he sobbed. "Please don't make me go."
"I'm not going to send you away," Ardamil assured him. "I didn't mean any of those things I said, Mythis. I was upset and frightened. I acted badly. I am terribly sorry. Please forgive me."
"I didn't mean for it to happen," Mythis insisted desperately. "He-he is gone because of me, and now I am to lose everything else-"
"Mythis, stop," Ardamil insisted, holding him tighter. "It was not your fault, and I am not going to send you away. You will not lose me, but you must promise me that I will not lose you."
At these words, Mythis drew back and looked at Ardamil with puzzled, glistening eyes. "Lose me?"
"You must promise not to leave, not to go off on your own," Ardamil replied. He looked him deeply in the eye. "And you must not fall into despair."
Mythis stared back at him, equaling his intensity. "I promise. I will not leave - not unless you go. Then I will go with you."
"That decision is still before us. We will discuss it with the rest of the patrol. But whatever the decision, I need you with me, Mythis. We all need you. What Haldir saw in you, so do I."
Mythis lowered his eyes.
But Ardamil was not dissuaded. He stood up and reached out his hand. "Come with me to the patrol's talans. We have much to discuss."
The entire wide patrol was gathered in its talans. The atmosphere was morose as Ardamil and Mythis arrived. No one approached them but rather regarded them from countenances made so melancholy by grief that Ardamil determined, at that moment, that he would never leave them. He berated himself for even considering it. How desperately they needed him. To leave them now would be to betray Haldir, for after Aluvater, the patrol had been Haldir's primary devotion, the most important thing in his life. Ardamil could not leave them to founder, leaderless, in the wake of such a terrible loss.
His gaze scanned from elf to elf, settling at last on the figure of Orophin, lying asleep beside Ascalonn.
Ardamil walked slowly across the talan. Maynfeln met him half way. No words passed, only a pressing of temple to temple. The exchange of sentiments was so powerful, it was palpable even to the rest of the patrol.
As they drew back, Maynfeln whispered, "You found Mythis."
"Elbereth be praised," Ardamil replied.
At that, Maynfeln went to greet Mythis as Ardamil moved over to Orophin and Ascalonn. He placed a gentle hand on Orophin's arm. "How is he?"
"Maynfeln gave him something to put him to sleep. He was wild with grief," Ascalonn replied.
Ardamil sighed. "He has always felt every emotion to its greatest intensity." He felt another pang of guilt at his self-centered disregard for how the rest of the patrol must have been suffering, especially Haldir's brothers. To see Orophin rendered unconscious as the only way to elude the agony of the circumstances drove the point home. And now, seeing the impact Haldir's disappearance was having on the members of the patrol, he was forced to concede that this present dilemma was far worse than anything they had encountered before.
He moved over to where Rumil sat and reached out to grasp his shoulder.
Rumil raised his eyes and met Ardamil's gaze. Ardamil sat down beside him. The two regarded each other for a long silence.
At last, Rumil spoke. "He is lost to us."
"We must not give up hope," Ardamil replied.
"What hope is there?" Rumil asked. "The Lady Galadriel can not see him. Orophin and I are not able to feel anything from him. He is removed to where we can not go. He is beyond our reach, beyond our help."
Ardamil drew him close. "We have no help to offer that would be of any use in this battle. Haldir alone is equipped to fight this enemy. We must have faith that the One will protect and sustain him."
"Aluvater did not protect him from being captured," Rumil countered. "Whatever His will is, I can not reconcile myself to it."
Across the talan, Mythis watched the two of them, and he felt as if the entire situation were his doing, that the rest of the patrol were looking at him and silently blaming him. When Rumil looked up over Ardamil's shoulder and his eyes met Mythis's, the latter looked away uncomfortably.
The sight of this gave Rumil an infusion of strength. He crossed to where Mythis stood alone, looking out of place and petrified. He hesitated as Mythis glanced up, their gazes meeting in a moment of forgiveness, then he took gentle but firm hold of Mythis's arms.
"You must not blame yourself, Mythis," Rumil whispered. "It was not your fault. I was there. I know the truth of the matter. "
Mythis could barely form the words. "I am sorry, Rumil. I wanted to protect him, but I could not."
"You did as Haldir ordered," Rumil said assuredly. "All that is in the past now. We must look at the present, and we must all stay together."
"I will do everything in my power to help recover him," Mythis replied.
Ardamil's voice rose authoritatively. "That is what we must talk about. There is much to discuss, and we are faced with difficult decisions." A pause. "We can not know with certainty what has happened to Haldir. The Lady Galadriel can not see him in the mirror. I can not sense him. Is there any here who can?" When he received no reply, he went on, "It is the opinion of the Lord and Lady - and mine, as well - that Haldir is a prisoner of Melkor. That is the only way he could be so removed from our knowledge."
"If that is true, what can we do?" Ascalonn asked.
"That is the question," Ardamil replied. "The lord and lady say that he is beyond our help. If Melkor has him, he is removed from Middle Earth, and we have no way to find him."
"But we must try!" Peredil insisted. "We can not simply give up!"
"If he is not to be found, then any search will be fruitless and only lead to despair. And as was recently pointed out to me, Haldir would be furious at the idea that we would leave Lothlorien unprotected to go search for him," Ardamil replied. "But the decision does not rest with me. There are only two who can make the choice." He looked to Rumil. "You and Orophin are his brothers. Yours are the only voices that matter."
Rumil stood still and silent, his eyes sweeping over to take in Orophin, still sleeping.
"I dare not speak for Orophin," he said slowly. "But for my own part, I-I can not see which way to go. I should trust the word of the lord and lady. I should trust my own senses. But I do not want to give up without even trying."
Maynfeln spoke up. "Where would we look?"
"Is there no conduit, no pathway from this world to that of Melkor?" Desmone asked.
"Not that is open to us," Ardamil replied.
"We must not search for him." Orophin's voice surprised everyone. He was sitting up slowly, every trace of past gaiety gone from him. "We will not find him, and he would not want us to leave Lothlorien. His abduction is the harbinger of greater evils to come. He was sworn to protect the realm, and we must continue to do so in his absence. The only other thing we can do for him is pray." He paused as Rumil joined him. "I will not go searching for him. I carry him in my soul. Only there will I find him."
Rumil nodded his understanding. "You speak the truth - the truth that I was afraid to face." He put his arms around Orophin , held him closely and whispered, "You know his heart better than any of us."
Lostilsil spoke up. "Should we send out word of Haldir's disappearance? The wilderness may have knowledge of him."
It was Ardamil who replied. "If they have knowledge, they will find a way to get it here. But in the meantime, I think it best not to make the situation well known. There are other forces of evil that would be on the move if they knew Haldir was gone."
"What of Legolas?"
The question, from Mythis, was unexpected and merited a stunned silence.
Ardamil groaned inwardly. Legolas had not even entered his mind. At length, he answered in a sad, resolute voice, "There is no reason to send him word. They have not been in contact for these past two centuries. And there is nothing Legolas could do. It would only cause him pain and open old wounds." After he'd finished speaking, he swallowed down a new fear: how long would it be before the forces of evil learned of Haldir's absence? How long would it be before Legolas learned of it?
And what would happen then?
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