Author: DMitchell1985
Story Title: Remember
Story Genre: Tragedy, bit of Fluff
Story Rating: PG - for the topic of death
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Lord of the Rings. It is owned by J.R.R. Tolkien's estate and heirs. I am not associated with any of Tolkien's heirs or estate. I am not one of his heirs. I only own those characters which I have given life to through my story. Please ask if you wish to use a character of mine. This story is not written to infringe on any copyright or any other laws. This story was written as a homage to Mr. Tolkien's work. I only wish for the reader(s) to enjoy the story.
Summary: A young Haldir asks his father about death.
Timeline: Before Orophin and Rumil were born.
Major Characters: Haldir and his father, Mulad
Website: see profile
Email: betagirl23 at yahoo dot com
Author's Note 1: Please do not use my work of fiction without my consent first. Feel free to archive my story on your site if you like it, but ask first.
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"What happens when we die ada (1)?" the young elf stared up at his father pensively through wide eyes and charcoal lashes.
"Normally," the father began, crouching down in front of his son, grasping his slender shoulders in his calloused palms. "we don't die. Our bodies, and our souls, were created to withstand the Ages of Time. You see Haldir, as elves, our fate is entwined with that of Arda (2). We must tend to her and her inhabitants."
"Even the humans and the dwarves?" the tyke interrupted excitedly.
"Yes, even the humans and the dwarves. Though we do not always share a mutual love with the other Races of Arda, we must aid them in their need, as they will aid us in ours," Mulad told his only son.
"Why would we need their aid? Elves are strong!" Haldir chirped, and flexed his arms to demonstrate the might of the elven strength.
"Aye, that we are," Mulad beamed, and ruffled the child's neatly combed blond hair, "but everyone needs alliances. No one Race is so strong that it does not need the help of another. Always remember that Haldir, for you never know who you will run into."
"Ada?"
"Yes, Haldir."
"What is it like to love the dead?"
Mulad gasped and choked at the question that caused sorrow's teeth to bite into his heart and claw at its strings.
"Is it like loving nana (3)?" Haldir asked, watching his father slowly recoil and rise to pace the span of grass in front of him.
"Ah, well, yes, in a way. Though I love your nana very much, to love the dead is a slightly different love. I love your nana as my wife, and the mother of my child, but I love and mourn for those who have given their lives to save those of others in a unique way. I pay my respect to them and their valiant deeds through my service to them."
"I see ada. May I have a kiss?" Haldir requested hopefully.
"Of course you may have a kiss, and hug too, pen-dithen (4). You may forever receive affection from me," Mulad replied, stooping once more, circling his muscular arms around a lanky Haldir and lightly placed kisses on both cheeks and one atop Haldir's towheaded crown.
"Melin chen (4) ada."
"Melin chen Haldir." Now run along, I've got work to do."
"Will you tell the dead I love them?"
"Aye, I will tell the dead you love them. Now, go find something to do," Mulad said bidding the tenacious youth to take his leave with a delicate tap on his bottom.
Haldir shuffled his feet, covering the tips of his leather boots in grass stains, reluctant to go as instructed, "Ada, you never answered me about what happens when we die."
Mulad sighed and turned to face his inquisitive offspring, "Perhaps, we should save that story for another time. Hrmm?"
"Okay ada," Haldir resigned to the compromised offered by his father. "I will leave you now ada."
"Thank you Haldir," Mulad replied, tapping the end of Haldir's already prominent nose good-naturedly.
Mulad exhaled wistfully before reconciling himself to the task at hand. The last batch of survivors had returned from the borders, bringing with them the newest casualties of the more frequent, and often larger, clashes with the rogue tribes of Orcs that harassed the settlements of the Free People of Middle-earth.
"Oh Eru, when will my work be done," was Mulad solemn plea as he picked up his shovel to continue his digging. Graves needed to be made, and someone had to see to the proper burial of their people.
Looking out over the tall-grassed field, Mulad's heart shuddered. "Fore this year is through, it will be entirely dug up to make resting places for bodies that should not die," Mulad thought soberly.
He stabbed the point of his shovel into the unbroken earth, certain he could hear it crying in pain and anger at being injured and at the loss of Her (6) cherished elves.
Forlorn thoughts resounded through Mulad's head as he dug deeper, scaring Arda all the while, and tore his own heart in two.
"I want to be a warden of Lorien ada!" the child once told him enthusiastically. "And then I can protect the borders of Lorien, and our people, and you and nana."
"That sounds like a fine idea. You will make the best warden yet. In fact, I believe that you will make March Warden one day."
"Wouldn't that be great ada?!"
"Of course it would be great. Of course it would," Mulad had told him, patting his head affectionately. "Then maybe someone could end our constant mourning for the ever increasing number of our fallen warriors that succumb to Orc-hands," he'd added silently all those months ago.
Mulad heaved a heavy sigh again and buried his shovel clean up to the root of the handle into the moaning soil. Bodies had to be buried, and graves had to be dug. Such is the life of a gravedigger.
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The End
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Author's Notes 2:
1- Ada - Dad
2- Arda - Middle-earth
3- Nana - Mom
4- Pen-dithen - Little one
5- Melin chen - I love you.
6- Her - I am refering to the Earth.