Disclaimer: I am in no way associated professionally with J.R.R. Tolkein or his works.
Summary with SPOILER: Here is my Haldir piece. Yes, I know a lot of this are popping up, but I'm hoping mine will still be unique. It will probably be three or four chapters at the most. Basically, Orophin and Rúmil, Haldir's two brothers (remember them from the books?) find out about their brother, and tell their own stories about what they were doing when Haldir was at Helm's Deep.
He had been reluctant at first, yes that was true enough. But he had agreed at last to lead Elves to help the Rohan people at Helm's Deep. Surprisingly, the archers were willing to stay in Middle-earth to fight another battle, one that many would lose. Those killed would never see the Undying Lands that were so highly spoken of. Now, he found himself engulfed in a nightmare he knew he could never wake from. Screams shook the dark air, drowned out by war cries and the rain that poured from the sky. Blades twirled and cut around him, the smooth sound of metal whirring through the air nearly filled his ears. Few arrows whipped through the air, since most of the remaining archers had traded their bows for swords. The Uruk-Hai had broken through the wall. They were storming the battlements; pushing forward, black creatures against a black sky. The words that he had heard so many times pounded in his ears, echoing.
"Hope? There is no hope."
And for once, he felt these words were true. Elves and Men were falling around him to the hooked blades of the Uruk-Hai. The demonic creatures were snarling their way through the forces of Helm's Deep. Then he heard the faint voice of the Rohan king, Théoden. A second later, Aragorn hailed him from the ground.
"Haldir! Pull back to the Keep!"
He nodded, turning and repeating the order to the Elves around him, taking his attention away from the enemy for but a moment. That moment was to cost him dearly. He barely saw the charging Uruk-Hai before it attacked, but he was able to turn the blade away. Still, it cut deeply into his arm. This was a pain he had never felt before. It rushed through his body, a melody singing of sharp pain and spilled blood. And he paused, frozen by the song. The second Uruk-Hai he did not see. It came up behind him, twisted axe blade raised. He caught a glimpse of Aragorn turning towards him, yelling, before the blade sliced into his back, biting deeply.
For a second, there was silence. Haldir had not made a sound when the blade had struck, and no cry came from him afterwards. But then a new song raced through his body and mind. Death, death, it wailed, It has come for you. He dropped to his knees, slowly, nearly overcome with agony and shock. He could see the dead Elves around him, lying sprawled on the stones, eyes still open in surprise, having felt a pain for the first and last times in their long lives. The mournful song was fading; his breath grew loud in his head, slowing down, weakening. Weakened. Fading. A faint gasp, a last plea for life, and he was gone.
Celeborn stood impassively at the gateway to his kingdom, watching the Elves returning from Helm's Deep. So many had left to fight the Men's Battle and so few had returned. So few were left to journey to the Havens.
"Their sacrifice was not in vain," a soft voice said from behind him. Without turning, he knew who it was.
"My Lady," he replied.
"Rohan would have been destroyed had it not been for the help of the Elves," Galadriel continued.
"Perhaps," he conceded. "But more than half of their numbers were lost. Do you think it was worth the price the Elves paid?"
"Elrond does," she replied. "And I do as well. It is their time to rise, Celeborn."
He was silent. The last of the survivors were crossing back into Lórien, their polished armor now dirtied and dull. The wounded were being carried on stretchers by their comrades, who took as much care as possible to bear them smoothly. Their eyes were downcast, their faces solemn and he knew they were grieving for those who had been lost. Then Celeborn noticed one stretcher that was covered with a black cloth. He raised one hand to halt the wearied bearers.
"Who is this?"
"It is Haldir, Lord," one of the Elves replied.
Celeborn bowed his head. He had not expected for his commander to die, but he realized that he knew that the chances of Haldir's survival had been slim. He was not one to stand behind the battle, as he knew Men-kings often did, but Haldir would have stood with the Elves and fought as the soldier he was, not the leader he had become.
"Where did he fall?" Celeborn asked.
"On the wall, Lord," the same Elf replied. Then he suddenly looked up at the Lord of the Galadrim and Celeborn saw that his eyes were wet and pained.
"Orophin," he said, also seeing that the Elf was none other than one of Haldir's brothers.
"Lord," Orophin replied.
Galadriel moved up to Celeborn's side, understanding in her piercing blue eyes. She smiled faintly at Orophin, as though she were trying to comfort him.
"My Lady," Orophin said respectfully.
"Haldir did not die for naught, Orophin," she said softly. "Rohan will survive because of his sacrifice and the sacrifice of all those who fell with them."
Orophin swallowed dryly. "I know," came out as nearly a whisper.
"Dry your tears," Galadriel bade him. "Haldir will be honored, both here and in the Havens."
"Thank you, Lady," Orophin bowed his head, feeling the weight of his brother's body pulling on his arms. The other bearer stood silently, waiting. Another Elf suddenly came out of the forest, his face pale with a slight confusion. He was dressed in the light gray cloak of a sentry and carried with him a bow and quiver.
"Orophin," he sighed softly, relieved. "You survived."
"Rúmil," Orophin replied, greeting his only living sibling. Rúmil had stayed in Lothlorien to guard its borders. Then Rúmil noticed the stretcher that Orophin bore and he swayed on his feet, instant realization coming to him.
"Haldir?" he asked faintly.
"He was killed," Orophin said softly.
"When? How? Where?" the questions spilled from Rúmil's lips.
Galadriel laughed quietly, soothingly, and Rúmil seemed to notice her for the first time. Haltingly he bowed his head and said a soft, respectful greeting.
"Your questions will be answered in time, Rúmil," she said, "For now, let your brothers pass back into Lothlorien without such hindrance. And then Haldir's story will be told."
Later that night, Orophin and Rúmil sat in silence near the black cloth that still covered their brother's body. He would not be buried until the next morning, when the earth was ready to receive such a gift. There was a slight rustling noise nearby and both Elves looked up, but felt no malice from whatever creature was coming. In truth, the newcomer was Celeborn himself.
"Do not rise," he said even as they were doing so. Instead, he seated himself with them, and looked long and hard at the covered body.
"Many will speak of the adventures of Haldir and his downfall," the Lord began. "But what of yours? For I do not wish for you to feel like you are less than he, whether in deeds or virtues."
Rúmil gestured to Orophin. "You were there, Orophin. Tell him."
And so, Orophin opened his mouth and began to spin his own tale…