I don't own any of this (other than parts of the plot!) and I am definitely NOT profiting from it!
Prologue, Part I – The QuestionThe indigenous gray of his cape and tunic combined with a tread as light as the breeze on a midsummer's night made Haldir's passage near the roots at the base of the mighty mallorn trees undetectable by all but his fellow elves.
The same tireless pace that had counted the miles around Lothlorien's forested borders thousands of times in the March Warden's long life now led him down the ancient stone steps to Lady Galadriel's scrying mirror.
As he awaited the lady he circled to stand in front of the enormous table facing the stairs. Admiring the slender knotwork that had been carved in the stone by elven artisans so many centuries before, Haldir prayed silently to the Valar any wisdom imbibed by the mirror or its craftmen would serve him well.
Although his visage remained calm, inside his mind seethed with uneasiness regarding the coming war. The only betrayal of his disquiet was his eyes. The clear blue seemed to cloud into the dark green of an ocean stormswell, sweeping his peace before it.
Watching the moonlight gilding the bark of the mallorn silver, Haldir considered the passage of time. Although months were as a drop of water to an ocean in the lifespan of an elf, Haldir felt as though this short span of the coming six months was racing towards an uncertain destiny. Like the slender hithlain ropes gifted to the hobbits, time was coiling into convoluted loops and knots, somewhere hiding an end. But what end?
All of his adult life had been invested in the duty of protecting Caras Galadhon, the noble city of trees, and its elven inhabitants. Haldir loved the city and its surrounds above all things. From each talan he had ever sat he could picture tree-enshrouded meadows of tiny golden elanor starflowers rippling in a grass that never faded beyond the first glaring green of springtime.
His fond allegiance was also owed to the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel, fountains of living knowledge and self-enlightenment the like of which many other races were not blessed to possess. The lady carried the heavy burden of Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, so that healing and intellectual advancement were birthrights among elves, not something sought by a few persistent individuals.
And yet 3 months ago both his city and his brethren had first been touched by a blot of unspeakable evil. Although the hobbit Frodo was endearing and appeared entirely childlike, the One Ring he carried emanated evil, calling to its minions as a carcass emits stench, attracting insects.
Unrest stirred in the city. Caras Galadhon could not harbor the One Ring, nor its keeper, but the Fellowship could be assisted on their mission with such gifts as would prove useful. Shortly after their arrival Haldir as well as several of the other March Wardens had received an urgent summons directly from Lady Galadriel calling them back to the city for a war council.
Lady Galadriel foresaw a great war of Men and the forces of Isengard at the Rhohirrim fortress of Helm's Deep. After much discussion, it was agreed that the old alliance of elves and men must be revived lest the race of Men be eradicated by the Darkness entirely. All were saddened by the prospect of much loss of life, both elves and men.
The elves were slightly mistrustful of the man Boromir, but Haldir had said heartfelt goodbyes to Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and the hobbits. Somehow intuitively he knew that the web of fate would draw him along part of the same path as the Elessar, and that they had not spoken for the last time.
Upon the leaving of the Fellowship, the mustering of the Galadhrim archers and swordsmen had begun. Haldir had been chosen to organize and head the army. He knew the individual warriors and their skills best having served with them, and also understood the overwhelming logistics of organizing a marching army.
Yet while he was honored, he wondered to what purpose this would lead him. His people were leaving these shores for Valinor. Would he ever arrive there, or would this war be his undoing? In an attempt to quiet his mind he had made one last trip to his favorite talan on the Northern side of the forest where he had first greeted the Fellowship. For a few brief hours he contemplated the sunshine spilled in dappled pools over the patches of elanor and niphredil flowers for what he hoped was not the last time. Reluctantly he left to complete his duties. To whatever end….
As he arrived back in the city, the unthinkable, Lady Galadriel had requested his presence that night at The Mirror! This was not a thing normally done. An uncharacteristic nervousness had plagued him for the rest of the day.
Now Haldir perceived on the edge of his hearing the footfalls of Lady Galadriel crossing the open grass in the space above. Clothed in white, she glided down the stairs with the ease of a sylph playing amongst the stars. Stopping, she stood next to the running silver stream, girded in moonlight like a phantom. Surely if any being had a portent of his future, it was she.
Haldir knelt on one knee, still slightly in awe of his gracious queen. "Arwen en amin? (My Lady?)" he questioned. Picking up the great pewter vessel to catch the stream of water, Lady Galadriel curved her neck gracefully to regard him. Silently she continued to fill the vessel, all the while watching him out of the corner of her eye….