A lowly Rohan peasant woman is left with a lasting first impression when she at last meets an elf, a Lothlorian warrior, before he falls at Helms Deep.

OneShot

Dear Dead Acquaintance

Altair is my name and as I write in this musty weathered journal I can hear a boom of thousands of monstrous feet thumping against damp ground – like a continuous clap of thunder. My hand shakes and the quill in my hand splatters ink all across my precious paper because I am unable to calm the dread which makes me feel ill. My heart hammers and my stomach feels as though it is doing a full turn inside of me because I know what makes that noise; I saw it just moments ago before I entered the caves. As we women and children huddle together in the caves for comfort our fathers, uncles and brothers face a sea of unthinkable brutality.

When I entered the caves just moments ago I was crowded in by women hoping I had heard word from their loved ones. I brushed them aside. I was such a torrent of emotions I just had to find a quill and write it all out. I had just returned from tending to the warriors preparing to enter battle. Eowyn had appointed me to rush around to each warrior and check that he had a sharpened sword and trustworthy mail. I had also carried a bucket of fresh water and dished out cups of refreshments.

Although the oppressive storm had brought a chill – I could see the sweat that dribbled down faces and stuck hair to heads of our men. They were target of hopelessness… and they were taking the bait.

But hope had come!

I was walking along the front wall dishing out water to these disheartened warriors when I heard a most beautiful trumpeting of a horn from outside the walls. When I heard that sounding, I felt refreshed and strained my ears to hear more. The men around me cheered and I turned to see a most breathtaking sight.

My heart had leapt and I almost cried with joy the arrival of those Lothlorien elves. They did not look hopeless! Each elf carried himself like a king. They were calm and collected and made our warriors look mismatched and unworthy of battle.

I turned and made my way towards the elves below me who were standing in orderly lines at the Great Gate, eager to see more of them. As became closer I saw their faces and their beauty astounded me. These were grown men and hardened warriors – where then were their beads? And mighty war scars? I had never seen a beautiful man before. Now all at once before me stood hundreds of beautiful men!

I was jolted back from the beauty when Lord Aragorn suddenly barged past me and threw his arms around the neck of an especially grand elf in a colored cape – whose name (I would later learn) was Haldir. Even now my cheeks redden as I think of the catastrophe that followed. As he brushed past me the bucket of water I held suddenly lost its balance and tipped down the front of me. Its cold contents splashed up my face and saturated the entire front of my grey dress. I gasped in surprise but before the bucket had time to hit the ground, the elf standing in line just in front of me snatched it up mid air. Aragorn's head snapped in my direction, "I am most sorry Lady," he said touched my forearm apologetically.

I couldn't say a word. I had just made a fool of myself infront of some of the most important beings in Middle-earth! Infront of these perfect beings!

"Would you help the Lady clean up?" Called the mighty elf, Haldir, and the same elf infront of me who had caught the bucket silently moved past me to the stairs and waited for me to follow.

I felt very self-conscious making my way up those stairs because I felt as though every eye were on me; and owner of the eye was no doubt thinking how clumsy of a woman I truly was. The incident was enough to convince the Rohirrim men upon the wall that indeed, Altair wife of Tirnoc, was just as clumsy and as foolish as their wives claimed.

"Come now."

The elves smooth voice came kindly and quietly through my gloom like a warm summer breeze sweeping away darkness. I wanted to smile in gratefulness but my mouth was quivering and I was struggling to hold back embarrassed tears.

I caught a brief glimpse of his face behind his golden helmet. Dark eyes with heavy eyebrows made him look serious but sensitive. Long golden tresses poked out the bottom of his helmet.

The cold chill to the air and the water that now saturated me began to make me shiver before I had even walked a few steps to follow him. "Where shall we find you makeshift garments, Lady?" He looked worried.

"The storeroom perhaps? I know not where it is." I mumbled, feeling shy and overwhelmed in the presence of an elven warrior. His eyebrows furrowed in thought. Then he moved infront of me and unfastened the great blue cloak around his shoulders to reveal a great suit of armor. With a quick motion of his hand he swung the cloak over his head and around my quivering shoulders. A little smile curled at his mouth momentarily and he said not unkindly, "You look very small and frail indeed clad in such a cloak."

I felt so precious! That this elf would give his beautiful cloak to a poor woman! Fabulous stories of the elves had kept me spellbound from a small child and I am remembering just now all the hours I spent making these stories and my perception of the elves more and more wondrous as time wore on. But even then my vivid imaginings did not give justice to their beauty and fairness!

I wished to say something but his dark eyes bore into my face and I found myself stammering and could give him nothing but a whisper of thanks. Most of all I wished to know his name.

The coat around my shoulders, which was still warm with his body heat, had me growing warmer by the second as I deliberated whether to speak out. I heard a wall guard yell the elf directions towards the storeroom. I pulled the cloak closer around my shoulders and placed the hood over my head as the sound of a great marching army reached my ears.

"Quickly now!" The tall elf waited for me to move infront of him and had me walking as hard as I could without breaking into a run. Down a flight of stone stairs and a through stone corridor I hurriedly pushed open a rickety wooden door. A rectangular room stretched out infront of me. Rows and rows of provisions were stored against the wall. Lanterns, barrels of mead and more barrels of water, buckets, spare hammocks for the soldiers, crates of stale-looking food, broken shields and blunt swords cluttered the walls. Right at the far end, beside the blankets, I could see clothing. I turned around now. Fear gripped my heart. We had only spent a few minutes together but with the sound of the army approaching the thought of being alone terrified me. He must have sensed this for he seemed hesitant to leave.

"I am frightened, fair elf." I whispered suddenly, surprised I had spoken at all – but pleased.

"What you feel, I feel also." His voice was smooth and soothing. "I fear that I may never see those beautiful shores of Valinor. I fear I will never see the beauty I should have seen and felt the peace I should have felt." The elves' face looked lonely and flashed with such agony as he spoke of the white shores of Valinor, that it made my heart ache inside of me. It was as though he were reaching for something that sat just out of his reach.

I could not will the comforting words out of my mouth I wished to give to him and instead I hurried to the end of the room. I picked up a cream dress that felt smooth and luxurious compared to my current rough smock – a dress I would have instantly surrendered for a promise that he, this elf, would not leave me in this hostile room by myself when the sense of doom and panic felt as though it would smother me.

I turned back to the elf to see him with facing a door, so that I could dress myself in private. I dressed feeling safe and without worry of prying eyes then hurried back to him with his cloak in my arms. I offered the cloak back to him but he shook his head and looked at me with sad eyes. "No lady, it is for you."

I could not bear it any longer.

"I would like to show you something." I gushed. He made no objection and instead pushed open the door. I gingerly led the way back down the stone hall and up the stairs to the open air where I could see the silhouettes of the soldiers lining the stone flooring as lightening lit the night sky.

To the inner keep I went, passing the cave guards who looked in suspicion and awe at the elven warrior who followed closely behind me. I left the dirt path, took a sharp bend to the right, making our way up a rocky bank. We emerged on a little plateau and there beneath us were thousands upon thousands of women, girls and young children who sat or moved about restlessly attempting to comfort each other and hold back frightened tears.

"You fight to save them." I said softly.

I moment passed before he turned to me, a hard look on his face. "Would you lead me from here?"

My heart pounded and I almost physically trembled at the thought of angering him. I scrambled down the bank, not at all gracefully, and we hurried back out into the open air. I could smell rain. Once again he turned to me his eyebrows furrowing in seriousness behind his golden helmet. I must have looked like a frightened cornered animal.

His hand suddenly rested on my shoulder and I jumped in fright.

"Dear lady, you tremble too often; such a noble and beautiful lady need not." He paused, "Thank you."

A drip of rain fell onto his helmet and I felt him shift his attention to the terrible army roaring from the darkness.

Then, it occurred to me that in moments the followed he would disappear, fall into line with the rest of his kind and I would never see him again. I felt an incredible urgency and with his fantastic words still echoing inside of my head I reached for his bare hand.

"I am Altair."

He turned back to me and smiled warmly, covering my hand with his other hand.

"I am Briacir."

It began to rain and the elf moved away into the fray with a slight smile still on his face.

I clutched his cloak to my chest.

I clutched Briacir's cloak to my chest.