Title: Timeless
Author: Trinity Helix
Feedback: Everything to trinity_cross@yahoo.com
Archive: Yes, please, as long as the .txt file is
intact. Website url, and all.
Website: http://trinitycross.net/lotrhaldir
Warnings: R (for mild language, violence, and sexual
implications.)
Pairings: Haldir/Legolas, Legolas/Other
Genre: Romance
Summary: A chronicle of the lives of Haldir and
Legolas, following the events of the novels of the
Lord of the Rings, and then some. Very book-canon,
though some events were taken artistic liberties with.
Comments: The epic that ate my life. I broke my back
researching a lot of the events of this fic, and yes,
it is definitely book-based. It started off as
something a bit in between the movie and book, but as
I went along I decided to pick one and stick with it,
and henceforth had a lot of “clean-up” duty with the
first two chapters. 

(Some lines in the prologue and first chapter,
however, will be noticeable as I took them from the
movie, but movie-canon extends only to that point.)

*I tried to use as little elvish words as possible to
give readers an easier time, but the ff words could
not be helped:

mellon- friend
melethron- male lover
namarie- farewell
aniron- I desire


Below are notes for each chapter.

PROLOGUE NOTES:
*The poem/song that starts this fic was taken directly
from the Fellowship of the Ring, chapter 6, in which
the eight remaining companions find themselves in
Lothlorien. 

CHAPTER ONE:
No notes for this chapter.

CHAPTER TWO:
Part of the ending of the song in the prologue can
also be found here, and was taken from the Fellowship
of the Ring, chapter 8.

CHAPTER THREE:
The events I wrote about concerning the fate of Lorien
were taken from Appendix B, where there shows a
timeline of the events of the war of the ring. I
expanded on them somewhat, but the events themselves
*did* happen.

CHAPTER FOUR:
The passage where Aragorn tells the faint of heart to
turn back was taken directly from the Return of the
King, page 169.

CHAPTER FIVE:
East Lorien was what Celeborne called what used to be
southern mirkwood. (He and the remaining Galadhrim
moved here after Galadriel left, but grew weary of it
after some years, and moved to Rivendell.) 

The last line was paraphrased from the appendix of
Return of the King.

CHAPTER SIX:
No other history was written past the point wherein
the elves reach the Undying Lands, so everything from
this point is entirely my own invention.


-----------------------------------------



PROLOGUE
“In the Beginning…”


“...the wind was in his flowing hair,
the foam about him shone,
Afar they saw him strong and fair
Go riding like a swan.

But from the West has come no word
And on the Hither shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth evermore…”


"That is all; I can sing no more," whispered Legolas,
and his dark eyes were uneasy as he glanced about the
wood.

Lothlorien was elf-country, true, but it was not his
home and his heart was still heavy with grief. He
climbed atop the nearest tree on nimble feet, and with
his sharp eyes searched the forest ahead.

He was looking for a sign; a sign of the Lady, a sign
of the Lord, and perhaps a sign of any life at all.
Had Elrond not sent word, after all, that the nine
companions would be traveling this way?

For a brief moment he frightened himself into thinking
that Saruman's reach had extended even to the Lady's
wood-- that even this magical place was not safe. But,
he corrected himself ruefully, if this was so, would
there not be evidence of a troop tramping about in the
brush?

It was caught in this musing that he failed to notice
a presence beside him til a leaf next to his arm
shivered, and Legolas jumped from his perch and to the
ground, shrinking back into the fold of his friends.

"The dwarf breathes so loudly we could have shot him
in the dark," an arrogant, familiar voice drawled.

Legolas' eyes widened, as he found himself staring
into the cold face of a silver-haired elf.

"We have come to seek refuge-- we mean no harm,"
Aragorn uttered in Sindarin, holding up both hands in
what he assumed to be a peaceful gesture.

"Come, then. The Lady will speak with you," Haldir's
voice was low and commanding, and it was clear that he
was accustomed to not having to ask twice for
anything.

Of course, Legolas knew this all too well. Aragorn
motioned the others forward, eyes briefly resting on
his own, but Legolas ignored the questioning gaze and
lagged behind.

Haldir of Lorien... it has been far too long, my
friend...



***


It was silly, of course, to have been surprised at
Haldir's presence. He was MarchWarden of the woods of
Lorien, and meeting guests such as they would've
required his presence.

Involuntarily, Legolas' eyes strayed towards Haldir's
back. The elf had been leading the way for some time
now, and his brothers Rumil and Orophin flanked the
group from the west and east.

Rumil, he noticed, had dropped a little behind his
assigned station to walk alongside him. Legolas raised
a questioning brow, and the rather cheeky elf leaned
close. "How are you, then, old friend?" he
stage-whispered to the prince. "We've not seen you
since you poured soap in the Lady's fountain, and that
indeed has been a long while back."

Legolas blushed furiously. He'd rather hoped the elves
of Lorien had forgotten that... 

A bit ahead of him, Boromir turned back with a small
smile of amusement playing upon his lips. Legolas shot
him a withering glance.

"I've been busy," he said to Rumil, shrugging
slightly. "My father has been giving me more
administrative duties as of late, and time waits for
no prince."

"Ah," said Rumil. "And have you been speaking to my
brother?"

He should've known this was coming. "Not since he left
Mirkwood, no," said Legolas. "Our parting was... not
easy."

Rumil nodded. "Aye... Valar knows Orophin and I had to
suffer through his dark mood for years after he came
from visiting you in Mirkwood. He wouldn't say a word
about it, though... no matter how hard we tried to get
him to speak."

At this Legolas fell silent. They had a history,
Haldir and he, and if his friend (?) did not wish to
share the nature of this with his brothers, it was not
his place to do so.

Haldir, of course, chose that moment to turn his head
to survey the state of the party, and for a brief
moment his eyes fell on Legolas'. 

I'm sorry, his eyes tried to whisper, but Haldir's
gaze moved over him as if he had seen nothing.

Beside him, Rumil started. Haldir was glaring at him,
and he did not stop until Rumil had moved back to his
station.

Legolas shivered. A foul mood, indeed.


***


The audience with the Lady Galadriel left the
fellowship’s hearts both at-ease and troubled,
depending on whose hearts and minds were questioned.

Frodo had left her presence much troubled, for his
duty was so much the heavier for knowing about the
coming deceit of a comrade.

Legolas’ heart, by comparison, was at ease, because
she had smiled at him and whispered that she was
pleased to see him once more.

/You look well, son of Mirkwood, and I trust you will
finish the business you left behind, centuries past./

Unwillingly, Legolas’ eyes strayed to the sentry
standing in the corner. /I will./ he vowed silently to
the Lady.

Afterwards, when all were settling down for the night,
Legolas found himself ill at ease and told Aragorn
that he would walk to clear his soul.

“Will you return for the night?” the ranger asked, as
he placed a hand over the evenstar he so treasured.

Undoubtedly, thought Legolas, thinking of his Lady far
away. “Perhaps,” he said. “But do not worry overmuch
if I do not. The woods here are safe, and I will
manage.”

“Aye,” said Aragorn, and looked away. He bore his own
grief over Gandalf’s death, Legolas knew, and the
thought of seeing Arwen once more was perhaps all he
had left.

“What do they sing?” a soft voice asked behind him.

The prince shook his head as he turned to face the
ringbearer. “A lament for Gandalf…” he whispered. “But
I cannot bring myself to tell you the words; for me,
the grief is still too new.”

Frodo nodded and spoke no longer. He had loved the old
wizard for so long, and he scarcely knew a time when
he did not know him. Sam lay a blanket about the
hobbit’s shoulders as Legolas crept away, treading
once-familiar paths that were lost to him now, and
vanished deep into the golden wood.





-----------------------------------------



CHAPTER ONE
“Long-Forgotten Memories”


What magical woods were these that the elves of Lorien
tended, that made Legolas feel heady with sorrow and
passionate with desire at the same time? Gandalf’s
death was surely foremost in the Prince’s mind, but
having seen his friend after so long a time made the
pain he’d felt after their parting seem all-too fresh.

Haldir was as beautiful as he had always been, and
also every bit as arrogant. Age had neither tempered
his flame, nor had it dissipated the depths of
Legolas’ regret.

He’d been wandering in the woods for hours,
reacquainting himself with what had been his home for
many years. The trees knew him still, but they were
not as friendly as they used to be.

Legolas laid a hand on a familiar-looking oak and
sighed, remembering…


Haldir had been his friend a very long time ago, when
he was but a century old and his heart was open to
all. They had carried out a friendship that led them
travelling from Mirkwood to Lorien and back again
several times, staying at each place for a few years
then journeying back from whence they came. Legolas
had been young, then, and his father had let him
wander the world, hoping that his son would gain the
maturity and wisdom that only came with experiencing
the world.

Legolas' first stop had been the beautiful Lorien, and
there he had met Haldir, the newest recruit of the
wood's guardians. They became fast friends, and spent
much time conversing and practicing with their blades
and their bows. They had hunted many a high moon,
protected by the Lady's magic and their trust in each
other.

It was after Legolas' second century that trouble
began to brew. He was far beyond his childhood, and
his father had begun to question what he'd learned
from his time away from home. Legolas, of course, had
thought nothing of his father's concerns and continued
to live his life as he had before-- carefree and,
unfortunately, inconsiderately.

It was a full moon on the night Legolas and Haldir
returned from the Guardian's designated watch. Legolas
had taken a tumble off his horse on the way back, and,
much to his chagrin, found himself softly cushioned...
by a shallow mudhole. 

Haldir had had his fill of laughter, and then he
pulled the prince out of the hole and together they'd
made their way back into the city. Legolas had waved
him ahead into their talan, and he took up a scented
soap-oil to wash his hair and face with.

He was tired, and as his feet took him down a familiar
path towards the lake, he noticed a staircase that
he'd never seen before. It was softly lit by the moon,
and Legolas moved towards it with increasing
curiousity.

"What luck!" he whispered, as he gazed at the large
oval fountain. The lake was quite a ways yet, and he
welcomed the chance to wash in a nearer fount.

Padding to the ivory bowl, he dipped his hands into
the surprisingly cold and clear water and washed his
face and hands thoroughly. Then he uncorked the
soap-oil, poured some onto his hands, and watched in
horror as the glow of Lorien suddenly went out.




"How was I supposed to know it was the Lady's scrying
pool??" Legolas gasped, wringing his hands in fear.
"My father will kill me, Haldir!!"

His friend was trying very hard not to laugh. "The
lady is very forgiving, Legolas," he said, hiding a
chortle behind his hand. "She knows you did not mean
it."

Legolas buried his face in his hands. "The lights of
Lorien are dimmed, Haldir. Not even Sauron was able to
extinguish these lights!"

"I always said you were destined to be someone great,
Legolas," Haldir said.

"How can you make jokes at a time like this?"

"Legolas Thranduilin... I will see you now."
Galadriel's voice reverberated in the large chamber,
and the elf's knees quaked.

He clasped Haldir's hands (not, he fervently hoped,
for the last time), and stood before the Lady of the
Wood.

"Your extended presence here has been a favor I have
granted to Thranduil for many years now," Galadriel
whispered, not unkindly. "The waters of Lorien have
been clouded, and this is the reason the lights dim."

"I'm sorry, my Lady," whispered Legolas, not daring to
look into her eyes. "I didn't mean--"

"Fear not, son of Thranduil. The waters will clear in
a few days time, and that is not why I wished to speak
with you," Galadriel said.

Legolas blinked. "It's not?"

"The path to the scrying pool can be found only by
those meant to see it. Obviously, you were able to
find it for a reason," she went on. "Since you were
unable to see what the mirror had to show you, I took
the liberty of speaking with your father.”

She paused, letting her words sink in for a moment.

"His patience draws thin with the lack of your
presence, young elf, and you will soon be required to
return to Mirkwood."

Legolas nodded. He'd expected as much.

"I suggest you return to your kingdom now, young
prince, and I sense that when next you visit these
woods, you will have vastly changed your heart."
Galadriel said. "Perhaps the fountain will show itself
to you once more when this time arises..."

Legolas bowed low. "I will take my leave, then, my
Lady."

Haldir's bags were already packed by the time he
returned to their talan. Legolas looked at his friend
with mild surprise. 

"Well, I couldn't possibly have the crown prince of
Mirkwood travel home by himself, could I?" Haldir
asked, feigning disinterest.

Legolas hugged his friend. "Thank you," he whispered,
and Haldir's answering smile was all that it took to
lift his spirits.



***


“I was standing on that very spot when my horse threw
you off.”

Legolas’ reverie was cut short as he recognized
Haldir’s voice. He looked up, a hopeful smile on his
lips, and met the Galadhrim’s eyes.

They were as cold and unreadable as they had been
since their parting, and Legolas shivered
involuntarily. “Aye,” he whispered. “It was a very
long time ago.”

A pause, then “I was not the same elf you knew those
years ago, Haldir.”

The elf’s voice was sad. “I know.”

Legolas looked at his hands, and they twisted
nervously on his lap. “I lost someone very dear to me,
Haldir…” he whispered, and when he looked up, there
were tears in his eyes. “Gandalf did not deserve what
happened to him…”

“There are few who do,” Haldir replied
matter-of-factly, but nevertheless went to him and
placed a comforting hand on his back.

Legolas put his hand over the other’s, and he felt him
shudder, briefly, before lying still once more. 

“Do you still hate me?” he asked softly. “For not
coming to you?”

Haldir looked at him for a long moment, and his eyes
flickered with something Legolas could not read. 

“No,” he said, at last. “No, I do not hate you. I
rather thought you wouldn’t, and I was right.”

Legolas looked down. He wondered if there would be
pain, still, after all this time, and he’d hoped
against hope that there would be none.

“Haldir, I…” but his friend held up a hand and smiled.

“A day such as this should not be spent dredging up
events long-buried. Gandalf the Grey has fallen. Come,
I will sing a lament in his honor.”

Legolas closed his eyes and let his friend’s voice
wash over him like a cleansing stream of water. He
tried to remember the old wizard he’d so liked, but
Haldir’s voice and not his words were what caught his
mind.

Memories, unbidden, returned to him…



***


The trip back to Mirkwood was uneventful enough, save
for the fact that Legolas and Haldir became lovers for
the first time.

It was night time, Legolas remembered, and they’d both
consumed a little too much wine from the skin Haldir
had brought from Lorien. As a result they were
relaxed, and leaning against each other in a friendly
fashion, when all of a sudden Legolas reached up and
kissed his friend in a fashion that was anything but.

Haldir let him, and Legolas seized the chance to
deepen the kiss.

“Are you sure?” was Haldir’s only breathless question,
and the prince did not reply.

Instead he simply kissed him again, and reached up to
unfasten the bindings of his tunic with one hand while
slipping a hand between his legs with the other.

So Haldir had shut his mouth, and Legolas had his way
with him for the evening.

The next morning, they were both unsure of how to act,
and so it was too easy to return to their playful
banter and light-hearted friendship.

But Haldir loved him, had always loved him, and in his
heart of hearts Legolas knew this.

When they returned to Mirkwood, their welcome was
stiff. Thranduil had grown tired of the two companions
and their frequent trips from forest to forest, and
was adamant about Legolas starting administrative
duties.

He was, according to Thranduil, no longer an elfling,
and should not be treated as one.

And so Legolas took up his assigned duties, albeit
with a heavier heart and an unsettled spirit. Haldir
accompanied him often, however, and that was all that
kept him satisfied for nearly a hundred years.

Then came the day that the legendary Glorfindel came
as an emissary of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, and
Legolas’ world turned upside down.

Never had he felt such great *want* for
another—Glorfindel was truly the most beautiful
creature he had ever laid eyes upon. He confessed as
such to Haldir, who looked at him with mild surprise
before urging him to act upon his feelings.

After the night they’d spent together on the journey
back to Mirkwood, they’d fallen into bed together
frequently and as friends. They never spoke of a
relationship, and the choice to see and experience
others was entirely agreeable to both.

Or so Legolas had thought.

Glorfindel was a kind elf, and throughout his life his
heroic deeds had gathered for him a throng of admirers
of both elf-kind and man-kind. Legolas was merely one
in hundreds, prince or no prince.

He’d tried his best to attract the elf’s favor, and
briefly he attained it through dinner and wine. They’d
gone to bed together, but the coupling, while
pleasant, was not quite what Legolas had expected.

The elf had touched him with skilled hands, made him
hover on the brink of ecstasy and back again, but in
the end it was, to put it bluntly, a very good fuck
and nothing more.

And so, cured of his adoration, Legolas returned to
his life of administrative duties and Haldir.

It was not long after this, that one night, as they
lay in the aftermath of their love-making, Haldir had
looked at him with deep, dark eyes and asked him if he
loved him.

Legolas had laughed, and kissed him on the tip of his
nose. “Of course, I do!” he said. “How can you even
ask me that? We have been through the ages together,
and you have been my friend for almost all my life!”

And Haldir smiled sadly. “Yes, I thought you would say
something of the sort,” he whispered, and was silent
for the rest of the evening.

Legolas had not understood what his friend had meant
then, because he was young, and foolish, and entirely
too caught up in himself.

And when he woke up, Haldir was gone; he left not a
message, nor word with any of his servants, and
Legolas realized he must have returned to the Golden
Wood. More surprised than hurt, he’d sped out after
his friend and caught up with him easily.

“What, not even a goodbye, Haldir?” he asked in jest,
as he rode up beside him.

“I was never very good at them, my friend,” the
Galadhrim replied. “Besides… you’ve outgrown this, and
I have been away from my people for far too long.”

At the serious tone in Haldir’s voice, Legolas stopped
short. “You really mean it? You *are* going away?”

“Aye.”

“But… but why?” asked Legolas. Everything had been
fine!

“If you have to ask that, then there is no reason for
me to stay,” said Haldir, and in an eye blink he drew
himself up, arrogance and sheer righteousness
radiating from every pore. “I am sure you will find
many other companions willing to satiate you, my
Lord.”

That stung. “How--how dare you speak to me this way?”
he demanded. “I am no whore to be treated as such! Go,
then! Go back to your precious wood! I hope you rot on
all your blasted watches!”

And he watched in anger and shock as Haldir set his
jaw and his horse trotted away.

Legolas stayed on the edge of Mirkwood, waiting for
his friend to turn his head and laughingly call out to
him that it was all just a joke. Just a stupid, stupid
joke.

He waited until Haldir was just a speck on the
horizon, expecting him to turn his head at any moment…

But he never did.

And that was the last time Legolas ever saw his friend
again.



***


And Haldir stopped singing, and Legolas blinked unshed
tears from his eyes. Not for Gandalf, he thought, but
for us. For what I never saw, or was too young to
appreciate.

It was centuries after Haldir had left that Legolas
finally understood what he’d lost. He’d had
relationships a-plenty in the span of those years, and
only after getting his heart repeatedly broken did he
fully understand what had happened.

His pride had let Haldir go. His pride had stayed his
feet from following him to Lorien. His pride had
stopped him from seeking him out.

Legolas looked down, unsure as to how to broach such
an old, ancient topic. 

“Let it be,” Haldir whispered softly, as if reading
his thoughts. “It was when time was young, and now we
are both much changed.”

He looked into his friend’s eyes. “Can you really let
it be?” the prince asked. “After all that has
happened…”

“It is precisely because of all that has happened that
I ask this of you,” returned Haldir. “We both have
separate lives now, and as you swear by the hobbit I
doubt you will live through this age.”

Legolas laughed hollowly. “How practical you’ve
become.”

“Aye. I was forced to rise to the occasion’s needs,”
Haldir said, not unkindly. He removed his hand from
under Legolas’ carefully, pausing to stroke the
other’s cheek with the back of his hand.

“It was good to see you again, mellon,” he said
casually as he strung his bow. “The new moon
approaches and I have duties at the watch, but I am
pleased that we were able to speak.”

And then, with a last wave, he turned on his heel and
left the prince to his own thoughts.





-----------------------------------------



CHAPTER TWO
“Partings…”


The fellowship dwelt in Lorien for a week more, and in
this time Legolas caught but glimpses of the
marchwarden he so longed to see. Frequently occurring
during meals, their conversations would be brief,
polite, and entirely impersonal.

Feeling no less confused then he had a week ago,
Legolas did not think it wise to approach his friend
for deeper conversation. Haldir seemed as less
inclined to do so as he, and thus they kept their talk
turned to trivial matters.

It was after one such encounter that Legolas found
himself feeling strangely amiss. He had excused
himself from the table because he found that he could
no longer bear to see Haldir’s polite, thin-lipped
smile.

And so he’d left, wandering aimlessly out into the
wood, and feeling, not for the first time, as if he’d
lost a piece of his soul. His thoughts were dark as
his feet carried him, trancelike, towards a seeming
random destination.

Surely the ornate steps were familiar, but then so
many things in Lorien were. He slowly took them one at
a time, as if moving any faster would be mar the
glade’s holiness.

*And hadn’t he already done that before?*

By the time Legolas reached the stone pool, the prince
knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d been given a
second chance.

The mirror had tried to show him something once
before, but in his youth he squandered it through
folly. It would not happen again.

Legolas paused to grip the sides of the ivory rim, and
he steeled himself and took a deep breath.

“Show me,” he whispered, and looked into the mirror of
the Golden Wood.


***


The mirror blurred, and Legolas saw himself hundreds
of years ago, seated on a horse and standing on the
edge of Mirkwood.

“Go, then! Go back to your precious wood! I hope you
rot on all your blasted watches!”

He winced as his old hateful words came back to him,
and he watched the edges of the pool blur and unfocus
slightly before turning towards the forest and away
from him.

With a start Legolas realized that he was seeing what
had happened through *Haldir’s* eyes, and that his
friend had wept as he left him.

Then the scene blurred completely, and Legolas saw
Rumil and Orophin looking at him with concerned eyes.

“What is wrong, brother?”

“Where is your prince?”

But Haldir had turned his head away, and Legolas found
himself staring at Haldir’s rough palms, which were
twisting on the galadhrim’s lap.

“He is lost to me,” he heard Haldir’s voice say,
barely above a whisper.

A blur, then Legolas saw the trees on the edges of
Lothlorien rush past swiftly.

Haldir was on a horse, then. 

The images flew faster, blurring and reshaping
themselves, and Legolas saw the golden wood rush past,
and several small towns and villages, until finally
the scene came to a stop at the borders of his home:
Mirkwood.

Legolas’ brow furrowed. He did not know Haldir had
come to his woods after they’d parted ways.

How long ago was this? he wondered, and watched with
rapt eyes as Haldir’s horse slowed to a trot.

Then the scene blurred, and he gasped as he saw
himself and Melpomaen, an advisor from Rivendell,
sharing a waterskin after a brief hunt.

The view was perfectly still, and was partially
obscured by a tall oak. It was not, however,
sufficient to cover the unfolding scene before him.

Legolas remembered that day well—Melpomaen was kind
and unbearably gentle, and their lips had met as
friends and nothing more. It was fleeting, and the
friendship they’d enjoyed had lasted him many years.

However, Legolas had not even *met* Melpomaen until
almost two centuries after he and Haldir had parted
ways, and many years had passed again before they
became friends.

The scene lasted all the way til Legolas broke the
kiss, and then it shifted again, and he saw Haldir’s
red-rimmed eyes looking at his reflection in a gilded
mirror.

Legolas recognized it-- it was a mirror that Haldir
kept in his talan in Lorien. He was running a comb
through his hair, braiding the sides neatly as he
always did, and when he was through he looked up and
smiled.

It was a cold, tight-lipped smile that Legolas had
come to know very well over the past few days.

“He does not love you, and he never will,” he informed
his reflection coolly, and then he turned on his heel
and left.

And then the water bubbled, and one last scene, hazy
with premonition, rose to the surface.

Legolas gasped when he saw it.

Haldir… Haldir was hurt. His silver hair was shining
very brightly in the moonlight, and his eyes were
swollen and his face pale and sickly.

He turned slightly, and Legolas saw Lord Celeborn and
ten other Lorien elves waiting silently. 

“He is not coming,” said Celeborn. “Your paths must
part, my guardian. It was not meant to be.”

And Haldir shook, and Legolas heard him sigh. “I
know,” he said, and he turned again, away from
Celeborn, and the prince saw what they were all
facing.

The sea, with moonlight sparkling on its blue-green
surface, its depths inviting and warm, more beautiful
than the finest mithril and the golden rays of the
sun.

Legolas gasped as he watched, entranced, and he felt
the longing he had kept so buried burst from his
heart. *The sea*…

And then his heart stopped as Haldir turned away. “I
am not going without him,” he said to Celeborn, and
then he walked away.

Legolas watched, open-mouthed, as the elven boat set
sail, and Haldir sat along the docks, watching the
waters with empty eyes. For elves do not pass away
like mortals do, but they may die of wounds, and of
something entirely worse: grief.

And he watched, unable to look away, as Haldir’s soul
slowly slipped into the night, his body releasing it
with a gentle gasp.

Then the mirror was clear again, and Legolas fell to
the forest floor with a shuddering gasp, his heart
constricting with a pain he’d never known possible.


***


Haldir’s sleep was fitful that night, and he tossed
and turned on his talan’s floor, his mind refusing to
accept the welcome darkness.

Finally he gave up, heaving aside his covers and
sitting cross-legged on the floor, tilting his face up
to look at the moon.

Ah, how beautiful she was tonight! A perfect, silver
circle hung in the velvet of the night. Haldir smiled
in spite of himself.

He had gained peace within himself at the cost of so
much turmoil in his life-- indeed, he often felt as if
he’d received more than his rightful share.

He shook his head. It was no use to think of such
things-- they were long past, and impossible to
change.

“Haldir!!”

At first the galadhrim thought he imagined the soft
voice calling his name, but as the sound persisted he
steeled himself and peered over the edge of his talan.

Legolas was standing at the base of the mallorn,
looking up at him with wide eyes glowing in moonlight.

“It is late,” Haldir hissed. “Can this not wait until
tomorrow?”

The prince shook his head, and bounded up the winding
rope staircase so quickly that Haldir feared for his
immortal life.

“What are you doing?” he asked, once Legolas stood
before him, breathless and radiant from the exertion.

“I needed to know that you were safe,” the prince
answered, and only then did Haldir notice that
Legolas’ hands were shaking, and that his skin was
covered with a sheen of sweat.

Before Haldir could ask him what troubled him,
however, Legolas had crossed the small distance
between them and kissed him, deeply and frantically,
as if trying to swallow the galadhrim’s very essence
into himself. 



For a long moment they kissed; an unsteady exploration
of the physical pleasure they’d denied each other for
so many centuries. And then Legolas moved against him
and whimpered, and Haldir could feel the other’s
almost-painful arousal press against his own.

He moaned when he felt it, and through sheer force of
will tore himself away from the prince.

“Haldir…?” Legolas staggered a little as the galadhrim
left his side, and his lips were swollen and red.

“”Why are you doing this?” the galadhrim demanded.
“Why now?”

“Because… because I love you,” whispered Legolas, and
lay a hand against a mallorn branch to steady himself.
“Because I realized what a fool I’d been, and…”

“And?”

“And I was sorry that I did not know you came to me
after we parted ways,” finished Legolas. “What you saw
that day, Haldir… it was not what it seemed… Melpomaen
was very kind to me, and he was a great friend… But he
wasn’t you, and after I kissed him I knew we would not
be right for each other.”

Haldir’s brow furrowed. “How did you know about that?
Did Rumil say something?” he asked. 

“The mirror, Haldir,” said Legolas. “It was trying to
show me something all those years ago, and only now
did I receive another chance to see it. I *love* you,
Haldir… for all the reasons I spoke of before and
more. You are the one constant thing in my life-- you
are my teacher, my companion, my friend, and… only now
do I realize that you are also my love.’

‘I never understood why I never felt anything for the
others…” he continued earnestly. “Now I know that my
heart was no longer mine to give. It is yours, mellon;
do with it as you choose.”

“You know I love you, Legolas. I always have,” said
Haldir earnestly. “But do you deny that if you had not
seen the mirror, you would not be here confessing your
love?”

The prince opened his mouth heatedly, but Haldir held
up a hand. “You would not be here, my prince,” he
repeated, and his voice was deep with regret. “You
would be asleep, dreaming of your coming journey, and
on the morrow you would leave and never give another
moment’s thought about me or our friendship.”

“Then do you deny what happened in the mirror?”
exclaimed Legolas finally.

“You know that I cannot; it is the truth, after all,
but I *do* claim that I have changed much in the three
centuries that have passed us by,” said Haldir. “I
love you, Legolas, but now is not the time to reopen
ties between us. You have sworn an oath, and you must
see it through.”

“Even to the ruin of our friendship?” asked Legolas.
“Because that is what the mirror showed me! You will
perish if we leave our bond unfulfilled!”

An impossibly sad smile crossed Haldir’s face. “But we
do not have a bond, my prince,” he said. “And I do not
need you to save me… we both know that fate will do
with us as she pleases, and neither you or I can go
against our destinies.”

And he went to the prince and cupped his hand against
his cheek. “Return to me when you have seen your
journey through,” he said. “Then we shall see what the
future holds… together.”

“Aye,” whispered Legolas, and closed his eyes as
Haldir kissed him gently, feeling hot tears prickle
against the back of his lids. “I will come back for
you.’

‘I swear it.”


***


Legolas returned to his companions shortly thereafter,
his heart heavy with an unknown grief. Forewarned was
seldom forearmed, and he knew that the path being laid
out before him was one that would not end to his
liking.

His sleep was fitful that night, and when he woke his
heart was no less aggrieved. The pain he felt was
obvious even to the rest of the fellowship, and he
suffered their concerned looks throughout the rest of
the morning.

Haldir led them to the edge of the river they were to
take, and as the galadhrim elves presented each of the
eight with a gift, Legolas felt a shiver go through
him.

His friend had opted to present him with a beautiful
longbow and a quiver of golden arrows, and as Haldir
passed them to him, their hands brushed against each
other slightly.

Legolas’ hand shook so much that he nearly dropped it,
and Haldir looked no less steady. Their eyes met, and
the galadhrim saw such a sadness in the other’s eyes
that he reached out and embraced him.

“Do not be afraid, mellon,” he whispered, as Legolas
touched his forhead to his friend’s. “I will be here
when you return.”

“I know,” said Legolas, and with a last, light kiss,
they released each other and stepped aside.

“Do I not get a good-bye like that as well?” asked
Pippin of his elf, whose name was Uruviel.

“Nay, my good hobbit,” she said. “They were old
friends, those two, and I am pleased to see them
friends once more.”

“Ah,” said Pippin, and he looked so disappointed that
Merry laughed, and pinched his side.

Legolas smiled as he watched them, and his heart felt
considerably lighter. “I will see you soon, Haldir of
Lorien.”

“And I will be watching our borders for you, Legolas
of Mirkwood.”

And as the prince boarded the leaf-shaped boat with
Gimli the dwarf, Haldir thrust a pole into the water
and pushed them off. Likewise the other galadhrim did
with the rest of the companions, and as their boats
drifted down the river, Galadriel began to sing.

“…u falmalinnar imbe met, ar hisie
untupa Calaciryo miri oiale
Si vanwa na, Romello vanwa, Valinar!

Namarie! Nai hiruvalye Valimar.
Nai elye hiruva. Namarie!”

Legolas kept his eyes on Haldir’s as the distance
between them grew, and finally the boats swept around
a bend and he saw no more of him.






-----------------------------------------



CHAPTER THREE
“Dol Guldur…”


Oftentimes during their travels, Legolas’ thoughts
strayed towards his love. Weeks passed, and they
tracked their kidnapped charges to the borders of
Rohan, and there met and joined the horselords in
battle.

Helm’s Deep was an event that marked a scar in
Legolas’ mind forever, and in his heart he lived and
fought and killed for a chance to see his friend once
more.

One night, as he rested on a tall oak and gazed at the
moonlight, he was greeted by Aragorn’s soft footfall
on the ground beneath him.

“Who do you wish for, when you look at the moon with
such sad eyes?” asked the man, and he leaned against
the base of the oak’s trunk.

Legolas smiled. “The one who waits for me, as your
Lady waits for you,” he answered. “He is in my heart
always, and it is for him that I face my destiny.”

Below him, he heard Aragorn’s soft laugh. “Aye,” he
agreed. “I know the feeling. There are times when I
feel that the only force that drives me to be King is
that I may claim her hand in marriage. But I am old
for a man, and I fear that by the time this war is
over I will be a grandfather!”

The prince smiled at the implication, and dropped down
and clasped Aragorn’s shoulder briefly. “Have hope, my
friend,” he said. “For that is all you need to gain
your prize.”

“Hope, then,” repeated Aragorn, and sighed. Once more
his hand found the jewel he wore about his neck, and
he clasped it so hard that the mithril bit into his
palm.

A soft smile lit his face, and as he left Legolas, his
eyes burned a renewed determination.

The prince watched him go. “Ah,” he said, and turned
his gaze to the moon once more. “If only it were so
easy for me, as well.”


***

Haldir was beside himself with worry. He’d heard news
of the coming battle of Rohan from the scouts, and he
knew that three of the nine companions had joined the
men in battle. 

Two days ago, Elrond had sent word for their kin to
join together and march for Helm’s Deep, and many of
the Lorien elves had joined their war march. Haldir
and his brothers had opted to stay, however, and were
thus bade by Celeborn to keep their loyal watch.

An almost-silent tread on the rope staircase alerted
him of his brother’s presence.

“Have you heard news from the front?” asked Haldir of
Rumil, who had fresh returned from his watch.

“Aye,” said Rumil, and there was pain in his eyes as
he spoke. “Many of our kin died at the Hornburg, and
on the morrow we will sing a lament for those who
passed.”

Haldir’s face fell. “Rohan succumbed to Saruman’s
forces?” he asked. “How can this be?”

“Nay, they did not,” claridied Rumil. “Mithrandir came
with thousands of Rohan’s best warriors as the new day
approached, and they defeated what remained of the
opposition. They won the war, but we lost the battle.”

Haldir’s mouth was dry. “Did you hear word of the
fellowship?”

Rumil had been trying to avoid the question. “No,” he
admitted. “But that says nothing-- so many are
unaccounted for, and no doubt the death of *any* of
the companions would cause much stir.”

“Of course,” murmured Haldir, but Rumil’s logic did
little to quell his unease.

He closed his eyes, and his brother embraced him
gently. “It will pass, my brother,” he whispered. “And
he will be waiting for you after it does.”


***


Many weeks passed before the elves of Lorien heard
tell of the outside world once more, but this time it
was not news of the fellowship, but of a threat much
closer to home. Dol Guldur had attacked Mirkwood, and
though the elves had resisted, they had destroyed much
of the forest and set the border trees aflame.

The Necromancer’s fortress had been silent for many a
year, but the Lorien elves knew that they would soon
be the next target. Long ago was Sauron revealed to be
the true master of that place, but as he haunted the
Dark Tower now, Dol Guldur was left in the hands of
orcs and evil spirits.

“Why do they attack now?” asked Orophin, as he settled
atop his perch on the south-east border. “Planned
assaults are far beyond an orc’s simple mind.”

”I know not,” answered Haldir. “But the Lady asked us
to double the wardens at the borders, and to bear full
quivers and sharpened knives. She is expecting them
any day.”

“Then we will welcome them with open arms,” smiled
Rumil, who was sitting across him. “I have
long-awaited the chance to avenge our kin at Helm’s
Deep.”

Haldir shook his head at the anticipation in his
younger brother’s voice. “You are a fool to wish for
battle,” he said, and kept his eyes on the plains
ahead.

Several other elves were hidden scattered in the
trees, and Haldir heard a soft whistle that drifted
from further down. He fired a warning glance at his
brothers, and they nodded and made ready their bows.

Haldir stood and silently made his way to the warden
who had signaled them. It was Samael, Haldir saw, and
he met his eyes briefly before looking out unto the
plains once more.

The guardian followed his gaze across the flatland to
the drop that marked the river’s edge. He frowned.
“What--" he began to ask, but Samael cut him off with
a sharp gesture.

Haldir set his gaze back to the barely knee-high grass
ahead, watching as the brown stalks waved slightly in
the wind. Waved… and walked. Haldir raised an eyebrow.


Yes, that patch of grass was indeed creeping towards
them-- very slowly, and moving in time with the wind--
but walking nonetheless. Haldir gave Samael a terse
nod and motioned Rumil to his side.

His brother dropped down to his branch at once, and
Haldir pointed to the patch. If his brother thought it
strange to be ordered to shoot a hedge he gave no
indication; he merely knocked his arrow and let fly,
hitting the pile with soft *thwip*.

The effect was instantaneous. The grass pile flew up
and a goblin was revealed beneath it, Rumil’s arrow
embedded in its back.

Rumil shot another arrow into him, felling the
disgusting creature, and the other elves let fly at
various piles across the clearing.

The goblins, deciding to abandon whatever pretense
they had at subtlety, began to pop up from the ground,
rushing towards the tree-bound elves. 

“There are quite a number of them,” said Orophin, even
as he shot one in the eye.

“Aye,” answered Rumil. “All’s the more for me, then.” 

Haldir glanced about the field even as he let another
arrow fly, hitting a goblin square in the chest. He
knew that others would not be far behind, and he
doubted the next wave would be comprised of Sauron’s
mere whelps.

The sound of a low, solitary drum filled the clearing,
and Haldir’s fears were confirmed; warg riders leapt
up from the cliff, crossing the flatland in mere
seconds. Unwary goblins were crushed underfoot, and
the guardian had a sinking feeling that Rumil would
have his fill tonight of blood.

Three wargs were felled before they reached the trees,
but so swift were they that the elves had little time
to aim. At once the beasts set their claws to bark,
and in huge, coiled leaps had launched themselves upon
the mallorns.

Finding oneself eye-to-eye with a warg was not a
pleasurable experience, Haldir found, as he set his
bow to the side and slashed at the beast with his twin
knives.

He risked a glance at the cliffs and saw that more
still were pouring from below it; orcs, this time, as
the wargs had taken care to upset the archers and
force them into hand-to-hand combat.

*Goblins to gauge our number, wargs to fell the
archers, orcs to finish us off,* Haldir thought
furiously, even as he took up his bow and climbed the
tall mallorn higher. *No orc captain could’ve devised
this plan…*

From his new perch he let his arrows fly, lessening
the number of advancing orcs. His brothers had taken
the branches below him, defending him from the
tree-climbing wargs.

Around him, his kin were following suit, an archer
climbing high while the others guarded below.

“They will not take this border,” Haldir gritted under
his breath, and his fingers burned with heat from his
bowstring as he shot and repeatedly into the swarm.

Then he heard a cry from further down, and he felt his
lip curl as he saw Samael get pulled down to the
forest floor by a dying warg. Thachiel, the archer
he’d been defending, fired repeatedly around the orcs
that advanced around the fallen elf, but Haldir knew
that Samael would not hold out for long.

His leg was bleeding profusely, and even as he stood
and gripped his knives, his face was pale and pinched
with pain.

“Orophin! Take my place,” yelled Haldir, and at once
his brother complied, leaving Rumil to fend for the
lower branches.

Haldir crouched, coiled, and leapt to the Thachiel’s
mallorn, grabbing a branch and swinging onto the lower
arcs. “Samael!” he called out, as he jumped down to
the floor and cut his way to his friend’s side.

“There are too many of them!” the warden cried out,
and shrank back to the base of the tree, barely
holding off his attackers.

At last Haldir reached his side. “Can you climb?” he
asked tersely, as he impaled an orc on his knife and
braced his leg on the carcass.

“I- I think so,” said Samael, and Haldir stepped in
front of him. Above them Thachiel continued to provide
cover, and the wounded guardian began his slowed
ascent to the trees.

Haldir pulled his knives out of the orc he’d just
killed and continued to fight, his upper lip beaded
with perspiration. Rumil and Orophin were high atop
the trees, and he thanked the Valar that he did not
have to worry about them, as well.

His shoulders burned with exertion, but he fought on
until Samael had reached Thachiel’s side. Moving
quickly, he thrust a knife each into two oncoming orcs
and pushed off, grabbing the lowest tree branch and
hoisting himself up.

There was a cry of warning, and suddenly Haldir felt
himself dragged down as Samael had been, his leg
caught in the maw of a warg.

*Disgusting creature…* he thought, before his head
struck a wayward rock, and darkness overtook him.



***



When Haldir drifted awake, he was in his own talan in
Lorien, his body nude but for several swaddling
sheets.

He tried to move, but there was a pain in his leg that
he could not bear, and also a sharpness in his chest
that he did not remember.

His addled brain tried to offer him a reason for his
condition, but his mind was apparently as weak as his
limbs. His mind was drunk with pain, and Haldir found
his focus non-existent.

“Do not try to move, Haldir,” Galadriel’s voice
drifted to him.

“I don’t think I could even if I wished to, my Lady,”
Haldir tried to say, though through the haze of pain
that washed over him all he managed was a low gurgle.

Galadriel laid a hand on his brow and frowned at the
heat she felt. “Sleep, guardian,” she whispered, and
Haldir felt his lids grow heavy once more, fading into
welcome oblivion.

“How is he, my Lady?” Rumil asked timidly from behind
her. Both he and Orophin were there, having returned
from their latest watch on the border.

“His wounds do not heal,” said Galadriel. “The orc’s
poisons are strong, and the blade that entered his
side bleeds still.”

Rumil and Orophin exchanged a glance. “My Lady, three
times already have the orcs of Dol Guldur attacked and
been repelled. On the morrow we will cross the river
Anduin and take their fortress-- it has been three
weeks since he was wounded. Why does my brother not
heal?” asked Rumil helplessly.

“He does not wake, and his dream-speak cannot be
understood. All he murmurs is the name of his lover,
sometimes, but that is the only word we perceive,”
added Orophin. “Are the herbs not strong enough,
perhaps?”

But Galadriel shook her head. “The herbs have done
their duty-- the remaining task lies within Haldir
himself,” she said. “Rare have I seen an elf succumb
to orc poison for so long. Beyond the first week, they
either revive or die… Haldir does not wish to die, but
all the same his will to live is frail… I am afraid
that Mandos will claim him before the new moon rises.”

“His will to live?” repeated Rumil. “Are we not reason
enough to shun the halls for a few centuries yet?”

“Nay,” said Orophin thoughtfully. “He makes no mention
of us in his dreams-- only one matters to him.”

The warden turned to Galadriel, his eyes narrowed
slightly. “There is a reason for your telling us this
only now, my Lady. What can we do to save Haldir?” he
asked.

The queen smiled. “You are wise, Orophin, and you are
correct,” she said. “Tomorrow the forces of Lorien
will cross the great river to claim Dol Guldur, and
that place is but a few days ride on a swift horse
from the northern border of Ithilien.”

Slowly, understanding spread across the galadhrim’s
face. “And there Estel rides his army?” he asked.

“Aye,” said Galadriel. “Estel rides… and with him
Legolas of Mirkwood.”




-----------------------------------------




CHAPTER FOUR
“Crossroads…”


Aragorn set his eye wearily across the last of the
living lands. Already the paths were changing as they
rode out of Ithilien, and behind him he heard the army
he led murmur in fear and apprehension.

The ranger did not blame them. The way into Mordor was
hellish indeed, and many of his people were but
craftsmen and farmers, unaccustomed to sights such as
those that assailed them.

Abruptly he came to a decision, and Aragorn pulled
back his horse’s reigns and stood in the middle of the
path, facing his men.

“Go!” he said. “But keep what honor you may, and do
not run! And there is a task you may attempt and so be
not wholly shamed. Take your way south-west till you
come to Cair Andros, and if that is still held by
enemies, as I think, then re-take it, if you can; and
hold it to the last in defense of Gondor and Rohan.”

Thus saying he met the eyes of Legolas and Gimli who
rode behind him, and turned his horse and once more
set down the path to Mordor.

“Aragorn has sent back the faint of heart,” observed
Gimli, and the two companions watched as a number of
men took their King’s words and turned from the road
ahead. “That cleaves our number to less than six
thousand, and he will need us more than ever, now.”

“And he will always have us,” answered Legolas
promptly, but his mind was drifting. The mirror’s
warnings had never left him, and he was mindful to
keep the memories close at hand. He could not shake
the feeling of dread that hovered constantly over his
thoughts, and he was filled with a deep desire to see
his friend and ascertain that he was safe.

*Ai, Haldir!* he thought mournfully. *If only you were
not so stubborn…*

He reflected, of course, that Haldir would be better
off protecting the Lady rather than joining in their
crusade, but the memory of their parting still made
Legolas ache.

A small secret side of him constantly wanted the other
elf by his side, and it cared little for the
fellowship and, indeed, the war. It was a selfish
thought, he knew, but there it was nonetheless. 

Valar knew his life since his days in Lorien had been
immersed in duty and honor, and he had risen to the
task in every way. Was it wrong to wish for some small
amount of happiness for himself?

Yet even as he thought it, Legolas knew in his heart
what was the right path, and also that the outcome of
his yet untested mettle would prove his salvation… or
his downfall. 

A commotion from further down the ranks roused him
from his thoughts, and he turned his head even as a
flash of mithril-white hair floated gently before his
eyes.

For a brief moment Legolas did not dare to blink, for
fear that he would lose the vision and his hope with
it. But the elf on horseback paused before him, and
his hope was drained nonetheless-- for it was Orophin
and not his brother, that stood before him.

“My friend!” the prince exclaimed, recovering. “What
brings you so far from the Golden Wood?”

“No good news,” said the galadhrim, and his horse
pawed the ground, neighing softly. “I have ridden for
three days straight to reach you, and I fear that my
time is short.”

“What is it?” asked Legolas, fear beginning to wind
its way into his heart. “What of Haldir? Is he well?”

“Aye, but barely,” said Orophin. “Thrice has Lorien
been attacked by Dol Guldur, and in the first skirmish
Haldir was bitten by a warg and shot in the side while
he lay insensate. The arrow was poisoned, and we fear
that he will succumb to Mandos’ call at any day.”

Legolas paled at the warden’s words, and beside him he
felt Gimli lay a hand on his back to steady him.

“What-- what can I do?” he asked. “The battle…”

“Haldir cannot wait,” Orophin cut him off sharply.
“The herbs we used to treat him have done all they
can-- now my brother requires a will to live that he
does not posses.’

“You must *go* to him, Legolas. Give him reason to
stay on this earth-- it is your name and your name
alone that he whispers in his troubled sleep. Haldir
*needs* you…”

Up ahead, Aragorn was looking at him with unreadable
eyes. Legolas knew that the man needed him and his
bow, but would not speak to sway him from saving
Haldir’s life.

The prince then met Orophin’s gaze, and there saw a
mixture of hope, worry, and grief; his brother’s life
hung in the balance, and Legolas knew that the
galadhrim would move heaven and earth to save it.

His heart sank as he looked from the face of the King
to the Guardian and back again, and as the truth was
revealed to him at last, all his hopes fell. This was
his crossroads—the choice between love and destiny—the
choice that would lead him to Haldir’s side… or his
love’s passing.

“I…” for the first time in his life, Legolas was at a
loss. He knew that all of middle-earth was more
important than the happiness of two elves, and that
his duty to the lands was unquestionable. But all the
same he wavered.

Gimli laid a hand on his arm, and Legolas looked down
at his friend in askance. “Often the fates decide our
ends with how we live our lives,” the dwarf said. “You
know in your heart what is right.”

And Legolas looked at Orophin, fleet of foot and
silver-haired, looking so much like his brother that
Legolas could not bear to gaze upon his face any
longer. “I cannot,” he whispered hoarsely, and looked
away from him.

Orophin’s eyes were dark, and his mouth was sent in a
grim line. “I regret your decision, prince,” he said.
“And I regret leaving his side to bring the love that
was never there.”

Legolas turned back in heated protest, but Orophin was
already gone.

Aragorn and Gimli moved close to him, offering some
small comfort with their presence. “It is the fate of
those who would be the heroes of this life,” said
Aragorn. “And I wish with all my heart that it were
not so.”

“Aye,” agreed Legolas. “But hearts do not fit in the
scheme of the fates, and it would be best if I had
none.”

And he left them and walked a short distance into the
edge of the nearby wood, where he wept bitter tears
into the solid comfort of the trees.


***


It was three days that Orophin traveled from Ithilien
to the now-ruins of Dol Guldur, and from there another
half-day to Lorien.

Rumil watched for his return at the base of their
mallorn, and Orophin saw his brother’s face fall when
he saw that he was alone.

“Where is the prince?” he asked, as Orophin leapt off
his horse.

“Rotting in Mordor’s pits, I hope,” spat the
galadhrim, and swiftly climbed up to the talan.

“How is he?” he asked, feeling Haldir’s forehead. It
was somewhat cooler to the touch, and he looked at
Rumil in surprise.

“The fever broke last night,” the other answered, as
he hoisted himself onto the talan’s floor. “But he is
weak still, and I had hoped that Legolas’ presence
would aid him.”

“So he did not need the whelp, after all?” asked
Orophin harshly, still much aggrieved over Legolas’
perceived betrayal.

Rumil did not answer at that, merely laid a hand on
his brother’s silver head. “There is talk of moving
now, my brother,” he said instead. “Yesterday, the
Lady claimed she would be leaving us for the call of
the sea, and Lord Celeborn spoke to Lord Thranduil
under the stars. He wishes to take southern Mirkwood
as his own, and we may leave with the Lady, or dwell
in a new Lorien, as it pleases us.”

“Or we may stay in Lothlorien, as we always have,”
said Orophin somewhat petulantly.

“Perhaps,” acknowledged Rumil. “But already the Golden
Wood begins to cease being so hued, and our kin make
plans to leave. It is as if the forest knows of the
Lady’s plans to depart, and so sheds its golden color
for dull grey…’

‘The light will fade when the Lady and nenya are gone,
brother… and there is nothing we can do about it.”

The galadhrim walked to the edge of the talan and
looked down at what had been his home all of his life.
“When Haldir is well enough to travel,” he said. “We
will leave.”

“Aye, it is the right choice,” agreed Rumil, and
Orophin laughed bitterly.

“It never was one in the first place,” he said. “For
we are all but fate’s puppets, each ordained with a
set path. And it is a path that we either follow or
die…”





-----------------------------------------



CHAPTER FIVE
“Promises and Partings…”



And it came to pass that Sauron’s shadow was finally
lifted from all of Middle-earth, and the Evenstar and
her King were wed on the mid-year in Minas Tirith.

It was here that the fellowship finally parted ways,
and they each returned to their homes and fashions.
And though Legolas was much saddened by the many
partings that occurred, his heart was at peace for he
had seen his journey through, and his duty was
complete.

And so he bade goodbye to Aragorn and Gimli, who had,
upon the King’s request, stayed on as an advisor in
Minas Tirith.

Legolas rode swiftly on his white mare to the Golden
Wood, and as the days passed him on his journey, his
apprehension grew. He did not know what he would find
upon his return to Lorien, save for the fact that
Galadriel would not be there, for she had passed over
the sea.

As the mighty mallorns came into view, Legolas’ heart
beat wildly upon his chest, for the golden leaves had
dulled into a dusty green, and no light nor magic
could be seen from what had once been fair Lothlorien.

He urged his mare forward and into the wood, and it
was another day still before he reached the place that
had once been Cerin Amroth.

“No…” he whispered despairingly, as his eyes beheld
the once-proud city as empty as a tomb.

Unbidden, Aragorn’s words returned to him once more. 

*It is the fate of those who would be heroes in this
life…*

Legolas closed his eyes against the pin-prick of
oncoming tears, and suddenly he felt very tired.

He had been hoping against hope that Haldir had
battled the poison and had waited for him as he’d
promised long ago, but as he looked at the empty city
he knew that this was not so.

In his heart of hearts he had suspected that it would
come to this, but every night he prayed to the Valar
to grant him his happiness in return for putting his
duty above all else.

“We reap what we sow,” he said bitterly as he left,
and to the Golden Wood Legolas never returned again.




***



Much of the land rejoiced as news of Sauron’s defeat
spread through all of Middle-earth, but in the midst
of this celebration the elves of Lorien were
aggrieved, for it was in this time that their Lady
chose to sail across the sea.

Lord Celeborn made good on his plans to move his
kingdom to the southern forests of the newly renamed
Mirkwood, and it was here that he and the remainder of
the galadhrim made their new homes.

Haldir had fully recovered some weeks before, and
being given the choice by his brothers, he had opted
to follow Lord Celeborn to Greenwood. If either
Orophin nor Rumil thought that his choice had anything
to do with the fact that Mirkwood was his beloved’s
birthplace, they said nothing, though Orophin was seen
to swear and stamp his foot when he thought no one was
looking.

And so time passed in East Lorien, and with each new
moon Haldir grew more and more despondent.

“Do you miss Lorien so much?” Rumil asked him once, as
he lay his hand on an unfamiliar oak and sighed.

“A little,” he said. “Mirkwood is not home, no matter
what name Lord Celeborn gives it.”

“Aye,” agreed Rumil, and lay a hand on his shoulder.
“Though I would think your sighs and longing looks
would stem from something deeper. Will you tell me
what troubles you?”

Haldir did not answer for a long moment, his full lips
twisting in an uncharacteristically wistful frown.

“I do not know,” he said finally. “It has been some
weeks since we heard news that the fellowship had
finally parted ways, and I thought that…”

“That Legolas would be here by now?” Rumil guessed,
and bit his lip when Haldir nodded.

“I know that his role in this war is great, and not
once did I wish it otherwise. But now that it is over,
I had hoped he would come to see me,” admitted Haldir.
“We have not been long-parted by elf standards, but I
feel as if a piece of my soul is missing… I wish to be
near him so.”

“Nay, do not speak like this,” begged Rumil. “This
prince you wish to be near so much does not deserve
your devotion!”

Haldir looked at his brother in surprise. “Why do you
say this?” he asked. “Legolas has always been true…”

Rumil covered his mouth and was looking at his brother
with stricken eyes. “Nay, I said nothing,” he said. “I
meant that he is so far away and is… insensitive… aye,
insensitive… for keeping you waiting for so long!”

But Haldir was not stupid, and stared hard at his
brother until he spoke the truth.

“Your illness was far worse than we made out to be,”
Rumil admitted. “You were sick for many days,
muttering constantly in your sleep. You almost *died*,
my brother…”

“What does this matter?” Haldir asked, confused. “I am
well now.”

“Pray do not be so loose about this,” cried Rumil.
“For it was no laughing matter to the people who loved
you! Orophin and I worried about you day and night,
and often we came close to suffering the same fate on
the battlefield. Our thoughts were never on hand--
indeed, they never left your side!”

The galadhrim had the grace to look abashed, and
gestured for his brother to continue.

“Your condition worsened so that even the Lady herself
came to our talan. She said that your wounds did not
heal not for lack of medicines, but because you did
not desire it enough,” said Rumil, unable to meet his
brother’s gaze. “She said… she said that you needed to
*want* to live, and that only one person could bring
you back.”

“Who?” asked Haldir, though he knew the answer
already.

“Legolas,” answered his brother. “And after we crossed
the great river, Orophin rode hard for three days
straight to fetch him.”

Haldir frowned. “I have no memory of him by my side,”
he said thoughtfully. “My sleep must have been deep
indeed.”

But Rumil shook his head. “I do not know what was said
at Ithilien, but Legolas did not come,” he said.
“Orophin returned more furious than I have ever seen
him, and said that the prince had refused him… You
became well of your own volition, though there were
times when it seemed certain that we would lose you…”

“And I wish you had,” said Haldir very quietly, and in
his voice was a sadness that Rumil could not bear.

“Please do not say such things,” begged Rumil. “I
cannot stand to see my brother so sad.”

The galadhrim closed his eyes briefly, his eyes
watering. “I cannot help it, Rumil,” he said. “I had
hoped…”

But then his voice trailed off and though Rumil
stooped to catch his words he heard nothing more.

“I wish to be alone,” said Haldir after a time, and
when his brother turned to offer comfort he turned
sharply away.

“Please,” he said, and Rumil was forced to concede to
his wish.

And so Haldir lay a hand on the steady oak and bowed
his head. So much was his grief that he could not
speak-- Legolas, after all that he promised, would not
even come to his deathbed.

“Do I truly mean so little to you, mellon?” he
whispered, and a single tear fell from his eye.




…and so it was that East Lorien was his home for but
two moons more, and Haldir of Lorien and his brothers
followed their Lady and journeyed to the Undying
Lands.



***



The memories of the fading trees haunted Legolas as he
traveled back to Minas Tirith, and though Aragorn and
Gimli welcomed him warmly, his heart was cold.

He did not speak of Haldir any longer, for the grief
became too much to bear, and found small comfort in
his friendship with the dwarf. 

Thus they traveled to the Glittering Caves together,
and advised Aragorn for many years, and both were
truer friends than Legolas could have ever hoped for.

But still his heart had not healed, and it did not
heal even as the King’s beard turned white, and nor
was it so even after Eldarion, the king’s son, came of
age.

And so it happened that King Elessar, who lived and
ruled wisely and bravely, finally succumbed to age and
was laid to rest among the tombs of the great kings of
man.

The Evenstar wept open tears as she bade her husband’s
still form goodbye, and Legolas could not bring
himself to comfort her, though they were among the
last of their kin still remaining. She had spent many
years with her love, after all, and the prince had
received no such gift.

Eldarion was made King, and having realized that her
journey had ended, Arwen returned to Lorien and laid
herself to rest upon Cerin Amroth.

“It is over, then,” said Legolas to Gimli one day, as
the two sat in the gardens of Minas Tirith.

Beside him the dwarf said nothing. Gimli, son of Gloin
was old now, and his fiery demeanor had dimmed to but
a shadow of its former self. It had faded further with
the passing of their King, and now with the Lady
Arwen’s death, it had been extinguished to
almost-nothingness.

“What will you do now?” he asked, looking at the dwarf
curiously.

Gimli shrugged. “I do not know,” he rumbled. “Perhaps
I will return to office, and live out the rest of my
days as an advisor to Eldarion—though he seems an able
mind, he is young still and may need me.’

‘And you, Legolas? What will you do?”

And the prince shook his head. “I shall pass across
the sea, as all of my kin is wont to do,” he said.
“Indeed, I have little choice in the matter as the
calling claws at my soul stronger with each passing
day.”

Gimli nodded, wearily. Even his bones felt tired
nowadays, and he longed for a place untroubled by
matters of the state to rest.

“The Undying Lands are a place to rest forever,” said
Legolas, as if reading his thoughts. “Mayhap you would
find joy in gazing upon the Lady Galadriel’s face once
more?”

“Aye, I will go with you,” was all the dwarf said, but
there was a sudden twinkle in his eye that was obvious
only to one who had known him so long.

“Then come,” said Legolas. “Let us finish this journey
together.”

And the prince at last followed the desire of his
heart, and sailed across the sea.




-----------------------------------------



CHAPTER SIX
“The Undying Lands”


As one of the last of the white ships to leave
middle-earth, Legolas saw little others of his
kinsmen. Already the tales of his kind were turning to
legend, and as Gimli and Legolas sailed across the
sea, the elves who accompanied them were few indeed.
Many months were spent upon the trial of the ocean,
and as the fierce winds blew, the elves began to
despair.

On the new moon of their fifth month, however,
Legolas’ sharp eyes at last made out the first spires
of the city on the eastern shore of Valinor. Hope lit
in his chest, and as the underbelly of the white ship
scraped smooth sand, he breathed easily at last.

Even the air was different here, the prince reflected,
as he and his kinsmen shored their vessel. It was
sweeter than the salty tang of the sea, and flowed
smoothly into his lungs.

All around him the elves of Valinor began to draw
near, whispering greetings and brief introductions.
For a long moment the prince of Mirkwood stood on the
shores of the undying lands, gazing at the folk who
were drawing near.

Indeed, some of them were familiar enough-- Lord
Elrond stood tall and regal as he welcomed his fair
advisor, Saelbeth, with open arms. Beside him stood
Glorfindel, who watched Legolas with amused eyes.

The prince was reminded of their dalliance so many
centuries ago, and a brief smile of greeting flitted
across his face. It disappeared, however, as his eyes
roamed the shore and met the eyes of his beloved.

“Haldir,” he whispered in amazement, his breath
hitching in his chest. 

For a full minute Legolas stood there, hardly daring
to breath for fear that he would disturb the mirage
that stood before him. Never before had he been so
glad to see anyone in his entire life-- Haldir was
*alive*. The prince could scarcely believe his eyes. 

Then the galadhrim inclined his head, and the spell
was broken.

At once Legolas sprang to action, making his way
across the sandy dune at a half-run. So intent was he
on reaching the guardian that his inattention towards
his path provided a misstep that sent him colliding
against a pair of embracing elves.

Legolas apologized profusely, and after being assured
of no harm being done, he set his eye to where Haldir
had stood.

Empty space greeted him and left him wanting; the
marchwarden had disappeared.

Legolas made to follow, now heedless of the thickening
crowd of elves as he pushed past them. He reached the
spot where Haldir had stood with little trouble more,
and with his eyes tracked his lover’s path into the
brush.

As he moved further into the dark glade, the
galadhrim’s trail vanished. Legolas might’ve searched
in vain for yet hours more, but Gimli had wisely
followed his friend and placed a restraining hand on
his arm.

“Give it time,” he said gruffly, when Legolas tried to
protest. “It is enough that you have seen him well for
now.”

At his words the prince stilled. “Aye,” was all he
said, though Gimli perceived his friend much
aggrieved.

Then the dwarf clasped his arm once more and led him
out of the glade, back into the sunlight and the cheer
of his kin.



***


“He is here.”

Haldir of Lorien did not ask his brother of whom he
spoke, nor did he ask how he knew. Instead he simply
nodded, and did not look up from the scroll he was
writing.

“Will you not go to him?” asked Rumil.

Haldir did not answer, but his quill was dipped in ink
and set to parchment once more. He felt rather than
heard his brother sigh, and waited as his brother
strode out of his room.

Only then did he allow himself to set down his quill;
his hand was shaking so.

“Legolas,” he whispered, and through the myriad of
feelings that the name brought to him, he felt weak.

He had replayed the scene of the prince’s homecoming
several dozen times in his mind throughout the course
of the years, but now that he was faced with its
actuality, he was lost.

In his mind he knew that the prince had done what he
had to do, befitting no less than that of any warden.
But in his heart he was deeply hurt, for he knew that
were the situations reversed he would have not thought
twice to ride to his beloved's rescue.

Haldir hovered in indecision, but he nevertheless
stood and draped his cloak about his shoulders. He was
certain that the choice would seem clearer after he
saw Legolas.

Hence the way to the shore was brisk, and at his pace
the galadhrim made it there as with the others of his
kin.

There was a flourish of graceful movement as old
friends clasped hands and old lovers embraced; Haldir
saw none of this, as his eyes were only for the lone
elf who stood gazing across the shore.

The marchwarden knew that Legolas was looking for him,
and his eyes softened as he beheld his love for the
first time in almost a century.

Then he saw Legolas smile at someone, and finally the
pointed chin turned and met his gaze. 

The marchwarden kept his face carefully neutral,
though Legolas did nothing to conceal his amazement
and joy. Haldir’s heart was beating very fast, and he
tilted his head in greeting. The prince lost no time
in weaving his way towards him, and in his haste he
fell against two elves.

Haldir chose that moment to slip away-- his heart and
his mind warred inside of him, and he could not face
his love so confused. As he knew that Legolas would
follow, the galadhrim moved into the brush and took to
the trees, taking care to cover his tracks. 

Deeper still he went into the forest, and as he found
his favourite perch, he lay his head against his knee
and closed his eyes. He found peace in this quiet
corner, and his thoughts stilled as the mallorn
shifted her branches above him.



***



Legolas and Gimli spent their first days in Valinor
locating a home for themselves, and agreed on a
towering oak growing near the side of a small hill.

The dwarf had taken it upon himself to dig a home into
the hill’s side, and as it would remain incomplete for
some time yet, he slept in the talan above the tree
that Legolas had constructed.

During the day the elf would try to help the dwarf,
but Gimli would laugh and not unkindly decline.
Legolas’ skill with mining and digging was inversely
proportional to that of his archery; indeed, his
friend often complained that his work went slower when
Legolas tried to help. 

Gimli often urged him to mingle with his kin, but
always the prince would decline, saying that he would
join his people only after he spoke with Haldir.

So as it went the prince spent more days in his talan
thinking than doing anything of use at all, and as his
thoughts went, they were often of a certain galadhrim
and little else.

On the seventh day since their arrival at Valinor,
Legolas woke long after the sun began her ascent into
the sky. Gimli was already hard at work below him, and
he called out to his friend:

“Each day passes far too long on these lands, old
dwarf, and I would wager that his time alone has been
enough. I would see him today, as the morning air sees
the dew with every rising sun. My heart-sickness
cannot bear his absence any longer.”

The dwarf did not need to ask which *him* Legolas was
speaking of. “Go, then,” he said. “If it would cease
your constant melancholy singing and long-winded
laments. Only the Gods will know how much *I’ve*
endured this seven-day…”

The elf chuckled softly. “Ai, Gimli-- you do not
appreciate the nature of my songs and laments,” he
said, as he turned from the edge of the talan to
attend to his morning’s cleanse.

Gimli also chuckled quietly, and set his pick to work.
He thought that it was time indeed, since the
seven-day had proven long enough for his friend to
learn to smile again.

Presently the silence was broken again, this time by a
voice somewhere above him.

“Your pardon, master dwarf, but I wondered if I might
have a few words with your companion, Legolas of
Mirkwood?”

The dwarf looked up at the figure haloed against the
sun and squinted against the rays. “He’s up there,” he
said, once his vision had adjusted, and the newcomer
nodded his thanks.

Gimli watched, blinking, as Haldir made his way up the
rope ladder and disappeared into the talan above.

“Now is an excellent time to visit the Lady,” he said
to no one, and suiting word to deed left the elves
their privacy.



***


Haldir of Lorien woke with the sun at the end of the
seven-day, and he felt no less lost than any of the
days previous. He had received no word from Legolas,
and he was left to think one of two things: the first
being that the prince was otherwise occupied with old
acquaintances, and the second being that he simply did
not wish to see him.

He sorely hoped it was the former, though he did
retain a suspicion of a third option: that Legolas was
trying to give him ‘time’.

Haldir frowned. Time was indeed the very thing he
needed, but after almost a century to make a choice he
had come no closer to it after this week.

He expelled an irritated breath as he finished his
morning necessaries and strode into the gardens below
his home. As one of the Lady’s galadhrim he had been
privellaged enough to build a home nearer into the
city; as such his talan’s view was breath-taking, and
a section of Valinor’s sprawling gardens was right
below him.

It was to these gardens he took to on mornings that he
sought solace, and today proved no exception. What did
prove exceptional, however, was that he was greeted to
the sound of quiet conversation as he walked further
into the gardens.

He was used to having this area to himself, as many of
his kin prefered the flowering plants of the mid-city
folliage. 

In his current state of mind, Haldir was not in the
mood for company, and he tried to make for an
unobtrusive exit.

“Haldir?”

The galadhrim froze at the sound of his name. The
regal tone could belong to only one elf in all of
Valinor, and Haldir bowed low once he had faced him.

“Lord Elrond,” he said, and as his eyes flicked to the
Lord’s companion, “master Saelbeth.”

“I am surprised you are not with Legolas,” the Lord
stated, after morning pleasantries had been exchanged.
“For you both have much to speak of-- your parting has
been long indeed.”

“My Lord?” asked Haldir in surprise; he had not known
his relationship with the prince was common knowledge.

Elrond only smiled. “It is rare when things escape my
notice, young guardian, least of all a relationship
between two so obviously in love,” he said.

“Not so in love, perhaps,” answered the galadhrim,
before he could help himself.

The Lord raised a brow at the bitterness in his voice.
“Ill-favoured feelings towards your mate?” he mused,
and smiled wryly. “Life is far too short for quarrel,
even as immortal as our kind may be.”

Haldir bowed his head. “Perhaps,” he sighed. “And
perhaps it is not short enough.”

At the galadhrim’s obvious melancholy, all trace of
amusement left Elrond’s face. “No petty quarrel,
then,” he murmured, and his eyes narrowed slightly as
Saelbeth reached up and whispered in his ear. 

“And the prince spends his journey to Valinor in
despair,” Elrond frowned. “News travels slowly when
one resides here, though if my thoughts turn correctly
you speak of an event when we all yet lived in
Middle-earth.”

Haldir made no reply, and Elrond went to him and
peered into the sad grey eyes.

“It is rare to find so noble a being-- be he man or
elf or dwarf-- that would sacrifice his happiness for
the sake of others,” he said, and at the sight of
Haldir’s stricken eyes he continued:

“His choice bore him greater grief than you will ever
know: be not the cause for more of it.”

“My lord?” Haldir asked meekly, and Elrond smiled.

“The pure heart desires no wrong,” was all he said, as
he took Saelbeth’s hand. “Namarie, Haldir.”

Haldir watched as the two elves walked away, his heart
bearing a curious ache. Nearly a century had passed
since their last parting, and he realized that only
now did he finally understand what Elrond had taken a
bare minute to see.

His path was clear.

“Ai… aniron…” he whispered, and with a last fleeting
glance back, Haldir turned to the main path and left
his solitude with the trees.



***


Legolas was deep in thought as he set about the task
of plaiting his hair. He did not know what to say to
Haldir when he saw him. An apology could not begin to
convey the depths of his sorrow, and he knew that the
galadhrim would not be looking for one.

He sighed as his fingers began to work his hair,
expertly separating the strands into three braidable
sections. In the brief time he had seen Haldir, he had
noticed that the galadhrim had worn his hair and
clothing different. Perhaps, he mused, a new life
could be gained as easily as one changed the style of
one’s plait.

The prince was still musing upon this when he felt
firm, gentle hands brush back his and grasp the
sections of his hair he was plaiting. He tried to turn
around, but the back of a hand gently nudged his face
forward.

“Let me,” said a warm, deep voice, and Legolas froze.
*Haldir?*

He shivered slightly as the hands returned to his
hair, releasing them from the braid and carefully
twisting them into smaller sections. A hand passed
over the nape of his neck-- a ghost of a touch and
nothing more-- and Legolas trembled.

It had been so long since he’d allowed anyone to touch
him, and his body ached for his beloved. He closed his
eyes as Haldir caressed him, tucking escaped wisps
back into the plait.

Finally the hands wound the edge of the braids and
bound them with the clasps Legolas held. Then they
returned not to his hair, but around his waist, and
pulled him against a strong chest. 

The prince sighed and relaxed against him, breathing
in the familiar, woodsy scent. “Melethron,” he
murmured, and stroked the hands that held him still.

For a long time they stood thus, breathing in the
scent of each other and marveling at the feel of their
bodies held together. Legolas wanted the moment to
never end, but nevertheless it was he who spoke first,
and broke the moment.

“Haldir?” he whispered, and the arms around him tensed
slightly. “We must speak of what came to pass…”

The arms loosened, and Legolas turned, gazing into the
eyes of his love. Haldir’s face was impassive. 

“Aye,” was all he said, but made no move to remove the
arms still loosely circling the prince’s waist.

Two spots of red stained Legolas’s cheeks. “Haldir, I…
before anything… I wished to apologize,” he said,
grasping at words that were suddenly absent. “I do not
know what Orophin said, but… Estel sent back the weak
and we were outnumbered. It was my duty to stay.”

Haldir did not answer, and the prince spoke again to
quell the growing silence.

“I returned to Lorien after Sauron fell,” he said.
“But you were no longer there. I was left with no
other path but to believe that you had fallen to the
poison, and thus I returned to Gondor to serve as
Estel’s advisor.’

‘Haldir… I thought you were *dead*,” Legolas
continued, a note of desperation creeping into his
voice. “Tell me, how came you to these shores?”

“I do not know how I recovered, but suffice to say
that I did through the strength of my own will,” the
galadhrim said. “The Lady Galadriel passed over the
sea while I came slowly to what I once was, and
Celeborn moved the host to southern Mirkwood. It was
here that Rumil told me what had traspired in
Ithilien, and it was… decided… that we join the next
group departing for Valinor.’

‘There is not much to tell,” continued Haldir. “I have
lived here in peace for the past years, knowing that
one day a white ship would bear you to these shores.”

“And here I am,” said Legolas wonderingly, for he had
not expected their conversation to turn as such. “You
are not ill with me?”

Haldir paused at the question, his brow furrowed. “I
will not lie to you, Legolas,” he said at last. “There
were many years that your… choice… to stay with Estel
earned much of my anger and pain. Indeed, when I saw
you on the shores I had not yet released my unrest.’

‘Understand that I wanted nothing more than to take
you into my arms when I saw you,” the galadhrim
continued. “But I could not, for I did not yet know my
heart.”

“And now?” asked Legolas, not daring to hope.

“Now I have found peace,” said Haldir, smiling
slightly. “For everyday that I deny my love for casts
a shadow above all that you tried so valiantly to
protect.’

‘You did the right thing melethron, and it is I who
should be ashamed for thinking ill of you. The Valar
chose you above all elves for a reason,” he continued.
“You were selfless wherein others would have thought
only of themselves, and I shall no longer take part in
being the latter….”

At this Legolas began to speak, but Haldir held up a
hand to stop him.

“If you will still have me, Legolas of Mirkwood, it
would be an honor to share your heart,” he said, and
were Legolas not already in the galadhrim’s arms he
would’ve leaped into them. 

“It has never stopped being yours,” whispered the
prince, and in his eyes shined quiet tears of relief.
“My love, I have missed you so…”

And as the guardian kissed his prince under the shade
of the golden mallorn, he bore him tenderly to the
ground and loved him. 

There they lay until it was the moon that sparkled
over the beauty of Valinor, and in all the ages that
had come to pass there had never been a truer love.



***













EPILOGUE
Beginnings



The year passed swiftly for Haldir and Legolas, and
the new moon found them no less loving than it had the
previous year. Legolas had left his talan to Gimli
several months earlier, and he and Haldir had lived
above the secluded gardens of the city ever since.

Legolas visited both his father and the dwarf on
occasion, as did Haldir his brothers, but more often
than not their days consisted of renewing their bonds
and knowing each other once more.

It was on the eve of the New Year that they came
together with the rest of their kin, and both were
happy to see their friends and family.

If Orophin spoke his greetings a bit coolly to
Legolas, the prince made no comment of it; it was a
happy day, and he welcomed his first year with his
love by his side.

Rumil and Glorfindel also exchanged greetings with
them, as the two had come to the festival together.
Legolas’ smile was genuine for the two, and Haldir had
laughed and pinched his brother’s side.

“Keeping secrets,” he said amused, and Rumil had
winked at him as they walked off.

Gimli was there also, and the two found him deep in
conversation with the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn.
After bowing to their elders, Legolas embraced his
friend; it had been weeks since he’d last visited, and
he realized how sorely he missed the dwarf.

They circled the festival in this fashion, pausing a
moment or two to chat with their friends, before
continuing on their way. 

It was after they realized that the crowd was thinning
before Haldir turned to his love with some surprise.
“We seem to be drifting, love,” he said, smiling
slightly. “Perhaps we should turn back?”

But Legolas only smiled and held his hand tighter as
they walked on unfettered by the darkness, for the
light of the moon was very bright. Presently they
reached a small glade half-hidden by a thicket of
trees, and it was here that the prince stopped.

“Wait,” he said, when Haldir made as if to speak.
“Just wait.”

The galadhrim did so, Legolas gently stroking his arm.
The prince had planned this moment for weeks, and as
he felt his lover impatiently shift his feet, he felt
a twinge of worry.

But then the moon at last hid her shining face behind
the dark clouds, and Haldir gasped as the glade glowed
with an iridescent light.

“By the Valar…” he whispered, as he gazed about him in
wonder. “What magic is this?”

Legolas smiled. “The plants are night-bloom,” he
explained. “I chanced upon them one night before, and
I thought you might enjoy seeing them.”

“Indeed,” exclaimed Haldir, his face glowing in the
moonless night. “They are beautiful…”

“As are you,” said the prince, and clasped the
galadhrim’s hand to his chest. “Melethron…”

Haldir smiled tenderly as he beheld his love, and his
eyes brimmed with unexpected tears. He had waited for
so very long, and now he knew that he would’ve waited
a millenia more if it meant that he would be here, at
this moment, with the love of his life.

Legolas’ expression mirrored his own, and as the
prince dropped down to a single knee, Haldir felt that
all was right with the world.

“/Haldir o’ Lorien/,” the prince began, slipping
slightly as the little-used Quenya rolled off his
tongue. “/Heart of my hearts, bond of my soul. You are
the light of my life, and the bearer of my every
happiness./’

‘/I would be honored/,” he continued, never breaking
his lover’s gaze. “/If you would share your life with
me./”

Haldir’s eyes were soft. “Yes,” he said simply. “With
all my heart, yes.”

And Legolas smiled at his love, and his face shone
brighter than either sun nor moon had ever seen.  



*Fin*