Don't own Haldir, book or movie.
Why this dream?
I dreamed I died last night, though I do not know why. I dreamed that I had been killed by orcs, who sliced their cruel weapons into my armor, slicing it to get to the tender flesh beneath. I dreamed that I saw the death of countless men and Elves. I do not know why I dreamed these things. It looked like how Aragorn described Helms Deep, but that is impossible, I did not die, and I only saw battle here, within the golden wood. So, why this dream? The lady would know, but I dare not approach her with it. So I ponder it here, wishing I knew the answer.
I could almost feel those cruel blades entering my skin, ripping through to my muscles and bones, shattering as they went. I could almost feel the pain. Yet, in some distant part of me in that dream, I remembered, this was not I. I was not in this evil place, but home in Lothlorien. So, why this dream? Would this have happened to me if the Lady had sent a force to Helms Deep? Would I be dead if that had happened?
I do not know, but it is a startling thought. Death is foreign to me, as it is to all Elves, save Lord Elrond, and he has only tasted it from afar. Perhaps this was to awaken me to the fact that even I, or my brothers can die. It is a rather humbling thought, though I feel that is not the only reason.
I find that I cry for this other me, as I begin to realize, that is who that was. Another Haldir, in another place, dragged into a battle that took his life, and I was there to see it, experience it, and live to remember it and him.
I wonder if he has brothers, I wonder if they weep for him now. I remember a man that held him as he died, I remember this man through the haze of death. This man seemed so much like Aragorn, the same soul, yet so very different. Less hardened, younger in years. Perhaps it was their Aragorn, perhaps not.
I can't get the feeling of death coming over me out of my heart; I can't forget the surprise the other felt as he died. He did not expect to die, just as I would not. We were not that different, this other and I. Not so different at all. We were both proud; we had right to be, for we were of the Lady's guards. We never thought we would die; yet he did, and in his death, I realize that I can die as well. It is a painful warning, yet I will heed it well. He died to bring my proud thoughts down, and I must be grateful to him. Hopefully Mandos will be kind to him, if there is a Mandos there.
But, that is not all he died for. He died for the men that were dying with him, he was fighting to save Arda from darkness, and in the end he gave his life. Must this also be a warning to me? To not think myself above the second born, to realize that they are as worthy as we? Perhaps, and I shall take that to heart as well, for the times are changing, even as we leave. Men must be, for they will now have control over Middle Earth.
My thoughts used to shudder at the thought of it, yet now, after seeing from the eyes of the other, I find that it may not be so bad. Hopefully I am right.
Tears still trail down my cheeks as I sit here in the moonlight. He knew I was with him, and for a moment, I think he was surprise to sense my mind with his, yet grateful. He would live on, and with him, his last few moments, and he was not alone. My presence might have also been to give him comfort in his final moments. I hope so, and still I grieve. For he was not just another of myself, he was of the firstborn, a race that cannot die, yet he did, and my heart grieves for the loss of kindred, even if it be another time, another place. I pray to the Valar that his sacrifice would not be for naught, and I shall never forget him, nor the lessons his death has taught me.
Why this dream?
I dreamed I died last night, though I do not know why. I dreamed that I had been killed by orcs, who sliced their cruel weapons into my armor, slicing it to get to the tender flesh beneath. I dreamed that I saw the death of countless men and Elves. I do not know why I dreamed these things. It looked like how Aragorn described Helms Deep, but that is impossible, I did not die, and I only saw battle here, within the golden wood. So, why this dream? The lady would know, but I dare not approach her with it. So I ponder it here, wishing I knew the answer.
I could almost feel those cruel blades entering my skin, ripping through to my muscles and bones, shattering as they went. I could almost feel the pain. Yet, in some distant part of me in that dream, I remembered, this was not I. I was not in this evil place, but home in Lothlorien. So, why this dream? Would this have happened to me if the Lady had sent a force to Helms Deep? Would I be dead if that had happened?
I do not know, but it is a startling thought. Death is foreign to me, as it is to all Elves, save Lord Elrond, and he has only tasted it from afar. Perhaps this was to awaken me to the fact that even I, or my brothers can die. It is a rather humbling thought, though I feel that is not the only reason.
I find that I cry for this other me, as I begin to realize, that is who that was. Another Haldir, in another place, dragged into a battle that took his life, and I was there to see it, experience it, and live to remember it and him.
I wonder if he has brothers, I wonder if they weep for him now. I remember a man that held him as he died, I remember this man through the haze of death. This man seemed so much like Aragorn, the same soul, yet so very different. Less hardened, younger in years. Perhaps it was their Aragorn, perhaps not.
I can't get the feeling of death coming over me out of my heart; I can't forget the surprise the other felt as he died. He did not expect to die, just as I would not. We were not that different, this other and I. Not so different at all. We were both proud; we had right to be, for we were of the Lady's guards. We never thought we would die; yet he did, and in his death, I realize that I can die as well. It is a painful warning, yet I will heed it well. He died to bring my proud thoughts down, and I must be grateful to him. Hopefully Mandos will be kind to him, if there is a Mandos there.
But, that is not all he died for. He died for the men that were dying with him, he was fighting to save Arda from darkness, and in the end he gave his life. Must this also be a warning to me? To not think myself above the second born, to realize that they are as worthy as we? Perhaps, and I shall take that to heart as well, for the times are changing, even as we leave. Men must be, for they will now have control over Middle Earth.
My thoughts used to shudder at the thought of it, yet now, after seeing from the eyes of the other, I find that it may not be so bad. Hopefully I am right.
Tears still trail down my cheeks as I sit here in the moonlight. He knew I was with him, and for a moment, I think he was surprise to sense my mind with his, yet grateful. He would live on, and with him, his last few moments, and he was not alone. My presence might have also been to give him comfort in his final moments. I hope so, and still I grieve. For he was not just another of myself, he was of the firstborn, a race that cannot die, yet he did, and my heart grieves for the loss of kindred, even if it be another time, another place. I pray to the Valar that his sacrifice would not be for naught, and I shall never forget him, nor the lessons his death has taught me.