Disclaimer: The persons in this story were created by J.R.R. Tolkien, except Bainiel.
Author's Note: This is only my second fan fic for Lord of the Rings, but it is completely redone (2009) since the first time I published it (2006). I've rewritten almost the entire thing. This is a situation which might have occurred had Haldir, Orophin and Rumil decided to do battle with the orcs that crossed the Nimrodel through the forests of Lorien (chasing after the fellowship), if they had received some backup from their kinsmen.
Mornië Alantië
Darkness has Fallen
Orcs filled Lothlorien's borders and the stench could be sensed miles into the elven realm. When the foul beasts entered the forests they slew the beautiful plants that had lived and thrived there for years before their needless destruction. A distinctive trail could be followed far into the woods and orcs could be spotted in what seemed from afar to be legions. The watchers of the Golden Wood shot many with their longbows, and as the orcs journeyed onwards a few in each group were left behind, then later dealt with by the watchers of the land.
The Company slept in the safety of the flets in the high reaches of the trees. The brothers Haldir, Rumil, and Orophin were poised in the branches below, awaiting any enemy that may pass through their encampment.
A gray shadow rested over the Wood, and in that moment, as she glanced into her beautiful and perilous mirror, the Lady Galadriel foresaw a great peril that lay upon the land.
A loud cry sounded from the depths of the forest, as if a bird were attacked by a beast. Terror froze Lorien and in the stillness even the fearless quaked. With each step of the enemy, the peril was closer at hand. The cry faded into deafening silence, but the enemy continued their march.
A host of orcs gathered and there they grouped, spreading widely to avoid arrows from high up in the trees. But one thing they did not think to heed was the watchers on the ground. Three or four arrows hurled down at the orcs, sending grotesque corpses to the earth. Undaunted by their losses, they hastened on in their pursuit. They passed the trees of the bowmen and believed they had escaped the opposition.
They soon realized their mistake. In front of their path stood five elves, swiftly and silently they had come. They were fair and tall, though a frightening darkness flickered in their elven eyes. They rose their bows quickly to block the enemy's passage, but the ignorant orcs were not so easily intimidated. The Moria orcs had come to avenge their slain commander, and they would not flee for fear of death.
The five elves were spread out equally among the company of orcs, pairing eight goblins to each elf. Orophin's bow was quick to pierce orc flesh, and the fight began. The she-elf that stood at Orophin's left was overcome at once. The orcs rushed towards her, gripping their scimitars in their mangled paws fiercely. Her fingers loosened on the bowstring and released the quiver into the air. The orc that was less than a furlong before her dropped to the ground, still as stone. The remainder of their company hesitated for a moment, but continued once again with their charge, now faster than before.
The she-elf quickly glanced at the companions that stood spread out beside her. Her lips formed a grave smile, which was soon returned.
Orcs ran in all different directions; some straight at the elves they faced, but others were smarter and hid behind the great forest trees until their enemy's arrows were spent or they threw down their bows. As the remainder of the charge reached the elf, the most simple of the company held their rusty scimitars out to stab and slash in the normal orc fashion, at any part of her they could reach. Numbers and brute force was what orc victory depended upon, while the elves had more grace and strategy about their battle plans. She shifted her weight and her foot followed, moving her body effortlessly away from the lunging scimitars. Gripping a quiver tightly in her hand, she stabbed the shaft into the orc's neck as it passed her by, pulled it swiftly out again. She held her bow to her eye and strung the bloody quiver onto the bowstring. The arrow flew straight through the air and into the next charging creature.
"Bainiel!" She heard her name called from within the battle. It sounded as if the voice was Halldhor's, but there was little chance of that. He was fighting too far away for her to be of any aid to him. She ignored the call, feeling as though she had imagined it.
Lifting her bow over her head, she placed it into the pack she carried on her back. She pulled out her sword from the sheath at her side, cleanly cutting off the head of an orc as it came upon her from behind. The remainder of the orc's company had began to crowd together in a large circle, in which she could see at least three of her kinsmen fighting. As she made her way towards the battle, a goblin appear from behind a tree, lunging with his scimitar and baring his disfigured, black teeth. Bainiel parried the blow, clinging blade to blade and sliding it across the enemy's. Her feet lightly stepped back amongst the high roots of the tree over which the orc stumbled. She swung her sword about, the hilt being easy to turn for it curved along with its blade in the common elven fashion. Gripping the hilt tightly, she cut through the orc's belly, and black blood poured out of the it's gut. Her sword was now coated with a thick layer of it.
She searched out her kinsmen in the depths of the battle, but she was careless in her search, for an orc grabbed her sword hand and bit into it deeply. Her cry was not heard among the tumult of the fight, but the weaponless creature was no match regardless. The pain of the bite made her drop her sword, but the orc did not expect her to have a spare. She thrust her dagger into the orc's gut and it fell to the forest floor, on top of her sword. With her foot, she heaved the creature off and took up her sword once more.
At last the battle cleared and she saw her kinsmen, but they were not in much better shape. Rumil was fighting an orc, both without weapons and both with hands about each other's necks. The other watchers had their own engagements, so she was quick to move. Bainiel threw her dagger as straight as she could, but the pair of them were in a continuous rotation, and the dagger passed through their brawl as they moved. Cursing aloud, she charged forward clutching her sword in both hands in a renewed sense of fury. When she reached the pair, the blade ran through the width of the orc's body, thankfully catching only a bit of Rumil's cloak as it did so. The orc's paws loosened on Rumil's shoulders, and as Bainiel pulled her sword from its place in the creature's side, it collapsed.
Rumil stood still a moment, then grasped the cloak where Bainiel's sword had pierced, mere inches from his hip. He looked up at her in surprise, whispering hoarsely in the elven-tongue, "Were you watching where you were aiming your sword?"
Bainiel smiled slowly. "It could have been much worse," she replied.
Rumil shook his head as she ran to the other side of the glade to grab her dagger. When she returned to Rumil's side, she looked about them to discover the battle had subsided. The sun was just beginning to rise, but the forest was still dark. A multitude of orc corpses lay sprawled across the ground, sullying the beautiful earth of Lorien. Several still had scurried away past the borders of the forest, and Halldhor and Haldir had pursued the creatures. They would not last long in the light of day unless they reached the posts of their brethren at the east shores of the Anduin, and swimming across the river is treacherous for any creature.
Orophin made his way towards them, wiping his sword with a cloth to remove the black blood that it had collected. He offered it to Bainiel once he had finished and she accepted it, polishing off her own blade. "There is but one elf in the talans where we left the Company," he explained, resting his dark eyes on her face. "The rest speak little of the elven-tongue."
"Who is the elf?" asked Bainiel casually, intrigued by this 'Company' which they had come across the evening before.
"Legolas Thranduilion," Rumil supplied stoically.
"Of Mirkwood?" she said in shock, her eyes widened in recognition of the name. "We have a prince in our midst, a royal presence, and yet you denounce him as little but a trespasser?" Orophin and Rumil looked up, but did not deny her claim. "You have the same hallow heads as the orcs you've just slain."
"It is not in renouncing our northern kin that we do not wish to return to the Company," said Orophin, his brow furrowed at the insult. "We do not speak the Common Language, nor do we wish to. You are familiar with it and can speak with them freely."
"Will you go in our stead?" asked Rumil. "Haldir can speak with them, so you may follow us to the Anduin once he returns."
There was silence between them for several minutes, and then Bainiel said, "You smell terrible, Rumil." Orophin laughed jovially as his brother took the blood-stained cloth out of Bainiel's hand and wiped his neck with the back of it. "Fine, I will go. Who else is with them?"
"Four halflings," said Rumil. "A man of Gondor, the wanderer Aragorn son of Arathorn, and a dwarf."
He spat the last word as if it were poison.
"Halflings? And a dwarf?" she questioned, her brow raised. "An interesting riddle to ponder."
"Your hand," Orophin said softly, looking down at the bite marks.
Bainiel followed his gaze and the pain of the wound quickly resurfaced. "Do you have a clean cloth I can wrap it in?"
"Yes. I have a few herbs I can give you to help ease the pain, but they will not last long."
"I must get back to the Company quickly, before they wake up to discover they've been deserted."
"It will not take long to mend," he said as he pulled the pack off of his back. Bainiel and Orophin crouched to the ground, and he laid the pack on the grass. Out of it he pulled some dried leaves and a small white cloth. Crushing the leaves to dust in his palm, he sprinkled them across the cloth. When Bainiel held out her hand, he wrapped the wound and tied the bandage loosely about her palm. "Now go speak the odd language of men and halflings."
"Thank you," said Rumil as their rescuer stood up.
Bainiel bid them farewell and wished them haste in their hunt on the Anduin. She journeyed through the forest until she could hear the Nimrodel in the distance. Looking up to the flets above, she saw hints of shadows moving. She guessed they were already awake, at least those in the flet right above her. No movement came from the one behind. She lifted her chin so her voice would carry and began to sing:
Bound to fate as fate would have, But soon the doom feared evermore, The kings of old, we seek them now,
The kings of old were cast away,
And ever has that spirit lacked,
The valour of those evil days.
What doom awaits us now and near,
Should come upon us like a storm,
And sweep away those dwelling here.
To come forth from their buried helm,
Renewed to rule the free endowed,
And bound to mend the wounded realm.
When her voice faded into the uncertainty of the last word, she heard a rustling from above and the ladder from the flet fell down to greet her. She smiled.
As she climbed the ladder, she tried to count the years it had been since she had sung that song but even as she reached the top she did not have an answer. Two men, an elf and a dwarf stood across from her on the flet; there was a tenseness about the dwarf and man, but Aragorn and Legolas of Mirkwood stood poised and eager for news.
"Suilaid, friends of Elrond," she greeted warmly, smiling at them all in turn. "I am Bainiel daughter of Althel. I know of Aragorn and Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood," she said, bowing her head. He bowed back. "But I do not know your names. May I ask them?"
"This is Boromir son of Denethor, from Minas Anor as you know it," explained Aragorn.
"The son of a steward of the White City," Bainiel said in recognition, tipping her head. "You are most welcome in Lorien."
"And Gimli son of Gloin, from Dain," supplied Aragorn once more.
"I am afraid," said Bainiel softly to the dwarf, looking down to meet his eyes, "that you will not receive such a welcome here, Gimli son of Gloin. For there has been great unrest between elves and dwarves for many years, and my kinsmen do not look fondly upon your kind."
Gimli grunted and said, "The opinions of elves do not concern me."
"Do not mistake me. I have no quarrel with the folk of the mountains. I have rarely seen dwarves at all in my long life, so who am I to judge their character? There is no unrest between us, friend." She tipped her head to Gimli, and shocked though he was, he returned the gesture.
"I must tell you all of the evening's events, though I do not bring happy tidings. Orcs from Moria were found crossing the Nimrodel, following your trail. We led them east, but there were many in the company. We could not let them cross the Anduin and we feared they would stray too close to the Silverlode. We fought and killed many, but some escaped. Haldir, Orophin, Rumil and Halldhor are pursuing them to the Great River. I am to join their hunt when Haldir returns to take you to Caras Galadhon."
"How many?" asked Legolas.
"Fifty, perhaps more."
Aragorn hesitated before asking, "When does Haldir return?"
"It's uncertain, but I do not think he will be long. He will want your Company to move quickly through Lorien today. The orcs we fought were eager for blood, as many are, and we do not know their numbers outside the borders of our realm. You may be in grave danger."
"Legolas, come down with Bainiel and I. You climb the ladders easily, so you can go to the next talan and tell Frodo and the others the news," said Aragorn. And to Bainiel he said quietly, "I need to speak with you."
"Of course," she replied, and turning to Boromir and Gimli said, "Namárië, friends. May we meet again in more peaceful times."
After their farewell, Bainiel followed Legolas and Aragorn down the ladder to the forest floor. Legolas was already on his way up to speak with the hobbits, and Aragorn was waiting for her. When she reached the bottom, she jumped off the ladder and turned towards the impatient ranger.
"Alae! Dúnadan [Behold! the Man of the West]," she said in a mocking tone, the edge of her mouth rising.
Aragorn put his hand on her shoulder, looking into her face for a moment, then smiled in reply. "Im gelir ceni ad lín. Manen nalyë? [I'm happy to see you again. How are you?]"
"Im maer [I'm well]," she drawled easily. As she switched to the Common Language, her speech slowed. She never had much opportunity to practice it. "It has been some time since last I saw you wandering these woods. The Undomiel has left the care of the Lady and returned to her father in Imladris. But of course you must have seen her already. Why do you cross this way, rana [wanderer]?"
"Henio aníron, boe ammen i dulu lîn [We come here for help]," he continued in the elven-tongue, to ease her understanding. "Our Company must get to the Anduin, but that is all I can tell you."
"I am intrigued by this Company of yours. You must tell me at some later time, if you cannot speak of it now. Though whatever road that lies ahead of you, ná Elbereth veria le [may Elbereth protect you], Elessar."
For a moment, they were silent. A gust of wind rustled the tree leaves above their heads, and a few began to fall.
"A pity you come in winter," Bainiel said suddenly, looking up at the forest canopy. "The trees are losing their golden colour. Such a beautiful sight they are in spring. Renich i lú [Do you remember]?"
Aragorn looked about him as well, gazing around at the forest of Lorien before him, which had not really come into focus until now. "Yes. I remember the Lothlorien spring well."
"How long do you stay?"
"We must leave quickly."
"Then be weary of your stay here," Bainiel told him firmly, looking him in the eye. "You know better than most the dangers that foreigners face in this wood. Do not linger here if your journey requires haste, for speed bears little weight in Lorien. Boe le henio [you must understand], time here is not time out there, and you may stay longer than is your intention."
"I will take extra care."
Looking down, Aragorn moved his cloak away from his sword and laid a hand upon the hilt.
"There is something I must show you," he said, looking her way once more, "that bears great importance in the song you sang." Bainiel stepped back as he grasped the hilt firmly and unsheathed his sword in one fluid motion. The sun pouring in from the canopy above caught the blade, and the light shone brilliantly. The elf gazed at it in admiration.
"Andúril, Lach en Annûn [Flame of the West]," said Aragorn proudly.
"I chatho asgannen [The blade that was broken]," she murmured quietly while she inspected the inscriptions on the blade. When she looked up, her eyes were dark. "War comes to the White City. I feel the doom rising even now. Dagrathach go hain [Will you join their fight]?"
"'Renewed to rule the free endowed, and bound to mend the wounded realm'," he replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "Have you forgotten your own words so soon, Bainiel?"
"You forget the minds of the elves are boundless, fír [mortal]. I can recall the day you were born and much before, but do not expect me to perceive your thoughts. The Lady alone possesses that gift. Just because I have sung it does not make it so."
"But it is so," Aragorn announced, sliding the magnificent sword back into its sheath. "I ride with the Company, but my heart tells me my path will cross through the lands of my kin. Perhaps your abilities are greater than you imagine."
Bainiel laughed softly, but with such blithe he was surprised by it. It was long since he'd heard the sound of laughter. "If only it were so, dunedain, I might foresee what awaits us all. Then there would be no need to flee, for I would know precisely where to hide."
While she spoke, Legolas had climbed down the ladder and strode to Aragorn's side.
"You mean then to leave Middle-earth?" he asked curiously.
"Boe naid bain gwannathar [All things must pass away]. For me, that time approaches," she said, almost sadly. "And what time is yours, Prince of Mirkwood?"
Legolas answered at length, "The stars are too shaded, my path too unclear, to be certain of any fate."
"Indeed?" Bainiel said, gazing at Legolas perplexedly and then at Aragorn in the same manner.
"What is it?" asked Aragorn.
"The more you speak, the more your mysterious journey interests me…but yet again my curiosity is thwarted. Haldir approaches, and with him my steed."
They turned to see two horse running dexterously through the trees, avoiding well the roots and branches and all obstacles the forest conjured for them. They halted several feet away, and Haldir leapt off the bare back of his beautiful white steed.
He made his way for the group, saying, "The orcs we pursued far into the forest, but we have not caught up with them yet. They flee swiftly."
"Are the others still on their trail?" asked Bainiel eagerly.
"They are, but you must hurry if you wish to accompany them east."
Bainiel turned away to mount her horse, but Aragorn had grabbed her wrist causing her to turn back.
"You're hurt," he said, glancing down at the hand he held.
She tried not to wince at the pain he had caused by gripping the flesh above the wound, but she did not succeed. Aragorn pulled her closer, cupping her hand in his palms and unwrapping the bandage to examine the injury. Quickly he took out a leaf from his pack and sprinkled the crushed fragments into the wound itself. The bite tingled for a moment and then the pain faded completely.
Still surprised, Bainiel smiled at him, saying, "You truly are a Healer, mellon nîn. Hannon le."
She turned once more and rushed to her horse's side, grabbing hold of the reins and lifting herself atop the great animal.
"Man lû vin achenitham [When will we see each other again]?" asked Aragorn while he returned his medicines to his pack.
"We will be back before long," she replied, patting the horse's neck, for it was pawing the ground in anticipation. "Before you leave Lorien, I think. If our paths do not cross here, may the Valar keep you both until next we meet. "
Haldir, Aragorn and Legolas stepped back a pace to give the horse space to flee. The elf grabbed the reins in her hands, but looked towards the man standing before her.
"Keep hope, Aragorn, and remember my song," Bainiel told him, and he nodded his thanks. "Tolo hi, drego, Luinaur!"
With that command, the horse reared his head and took off amongst the Mellyrn trees, leaving the Company far behind.