It was cold and raining. But Haldir wasn't paying attention to the droplets of rain that cascaded down his hair, soaking his clothes, as he sliced through Uruk-hai after Uruk-hai. Blood splattered across his hands and the hilt of his sword, but he kept going. His breath came in ragged breaths as he moved quickly over the bodies of the slain, giving a soft lament to those who have died. He heard the cries of men and elves as the two races clashed with the monstrosities climbing over the wall of the Keep. Just keep going, Haldir thought. I cannot give up on my people now.
The tall, muscular elf swung his sword around, slicing through the ugly creatures charging behind him. Haldir pressed his body to the limits, fighting with all he had. "Retreat! Retreat back to the Caves!" Haldir's gentle elven ears picked up, recognizing the voice as that of Aragorn. The elf pulled his blade out of the gut of the Uruk-hai he had slain. He looked up and around, trying to find Aragorn. He finally spotted him, making eye contact and showing he understood.
He didn't see the sword, but he felt it connect with his stomach. How the Uruk-hai had gotten this close to him, enough to inflict a wound, surprised him. The elf let out a screech of agony as he stepped back from the weapon that inflicted him pain, far enough to drive his blade into the gut of the monster who stood in front of him. The Uruk-hai fell to the side and Haldir's hand went to his stomach, assessing the wound. His hand came back red.
He felt the life seeping out of him, bleeding away in the trail of blood. He couldn't stop fighting though. He must keep going. I must give them time to get to the Caves. Haldir swung his sword in a lazy arch, connecting with the skull of an oncoming Uruk-hai. He wasn't able to down more then a few of the ugly brutes when an ax came down from behind on his spine. Haldir let out a grunt as he fell to his knees, letting his blade fall loosely to his side. Haldir knew when defeat had come. He looked around at the fallen warriors around him, elves and men.
Haldir felt a great sadness befall him, one he had never felt before. Never again would he see the great Mallorn trees of his homeland. Never again would he see his brothers, Orophin and Rumil. Never again would he walk the familiar trails along the Northern Boarder of Lothlorien. He would never stand, overlooking the beauty that was Caras Galadhon. Never would he hear the sounds of the elves singing. And the thing that brought him the greatest sadness in his last moments, was that he would never lay eyes on the beautiful Lady Galadriel and majestic Lord Celeborn again. This made him saddest of all.
"Haldir!" the elf heard from behind him. He blinked slowly, as if in a daze, barely able to make out the voice of the Ranger as he called his name. The edges of his sight started to go fuzzy and black. Haldir knew he was dying. He brought a picture of Galadriel to the forefront of his mind as his vision faded to black and he fell back into the oncoming arms of Aragorn. You died valiantly, Haldir of Lorien. Rest in peace, my friend.
That night at Helm's Deep, a battle was won, but a great warrior was lost. He was an elf with golden hair that lit up in the early morning light. He was tall and muscular and like no other elf ever seen. He was the march-warden of Lothlorien and his death was not in vain. He died fighting the darkness of Sauron. He died with a smile on his face and peace in his heart. He is with Ea now. Bedi ned sidh. Go in peace.
