DISCLAIMER: I, in no way claim ownership of any of the characters alive in this fanfiction. Haldir, Legolas, and Frodo belong to the Professor (though many times I've found myself extremely jealous,) and Angelica and Ciendriel belong to another writer whom I adore. This story was made without her permission so I hope she can find it in her elven good nature to forgive me… it was an idea that I just had to write down. So, in truth, this is more of a fanfiction, based on fanfiction. Fancy that? The female elf character at the end is mine. Enjoy!
A very special addition to a heart-warming romance that breaks my heart every time I read it. This is meant to be digested somewhere between chapters twenty-eight and forty-two of Hobbit Trollop
The skies over the group's newest campsite were as blue as could be asked for, though the mood within could not boast such cheerfulness. Like a sodden rain cloud, an ill mood seemed to have descended on all members of the party wince they had passed out of the wonders of LothLórien, though it was difficult to say whether it was on behalf of recent events, or the fact that every day brought them closer to the shadows of southern Mirkwood. Even in daylight, the forests seemed dark and unwelcoming. The hobbits – who had never been beyond the northern borders of LothLórien before – noticed the changes most of all.
Angelica couldn't help but shiver at the thought of entering such a dangerous looking place. Swaying easily into place next to Frodo – who had until that moment been glancing off into the distance – smiled as she slid her hand easily his, swinging them back and forth between them. Something about her always seemed to brighten his mood; she radiated happiness.
"How is that Legolas is so pretty and joyous all the time – if he lives in such a scary forest?" she asked him thoughtfully. She would have asked the elven prince himself, but he seemed mightily distracted by Ciendriel, who was clutching his hand much as she had done to Frodo's. Between them, they seemed to be having a rather private conversation, whispering back and forth softly in elvish. Now would most certainly not be the time to bother them, when they rarely had a moment's peace as it was.
"Only the southern half of Mirkwood is troubled by the darkness," Frodo answered. "The north, where King Thranduil resides in his palace is protected by elven magic from the shadows of the south."
He was so intelligent, Angelica thought bemusedly. Unlike Merry and Pippin, who only knew the worst phrases, Frodo was fluent in elvish, and could very likely converse in other languages as well. He seemed to know as much about the history of Middle-Earth as someone twice his years that had lived there and travelled around it. Still – there was a distance in his gaze that never seemed to fully disappear. Something in his was lost, and Angelica understood that there was little she, or anyone else, could do to fill that space.
"Will we have to travel through the south in order to get to this palace?" she asked – hoping that Legolas would take them on an alternative route. Even at this distance – the trees seemed foreboding.
"I'm certain Legolas knows a safer path through the wood. He has lived and wandered here for many thousands of years."
"Thousands?" she responded, her mouth falling open slightly. She knew elves were immortal, but she had never before imagined that Legolas could have possibly lived for so long. He seemed so young! She had noticed in Rivendell that none of the elves looked as ancient as they were, but at least Lord Elrond carried an aura of his age. The many eras he had spent on this earth could easily be seen in the deep pools of his eyes, unlike Legolas – whose boisterous blue gaze radiated only youth and joviality.
Frodo, who has been watching her with some interest, could not help but laugh gently at her surprise. "You would never know it," he commented, looking up at the elf walking in front of him. "He seems so full of life and adventure." With a small smile, Frodo recalled the days when he, himself, had once felt that way, realizing with some sadness, that he would likely never feel that way again. There were some pains in life that simply couldn't be healed.
Feeling Frodo's hand go slack within hers, Angelica glanced over – noting the faraway look that had returned to his eyes. Occasionally, when they were travelling like this – endless marches that, to the Hobbits, seemed to get them no where – Frodo appeared to get lost within himself. He would walk along, unaware of the world, or the grass beneath his feet. It was disheartening to watch, but Angelica knew that there was little point in attempting to rouse him from his sleepless reverie. Letting go of his hand gently, she quickened her pace until she stood by Legolas – who was watching Ciendriel's back disappear ahead with the coyest of smirks.
"Legolas?" she asked, staring up at the elf and wondering if there was anyone in their company who wasn't lost in their own thoughts today. Even Haldir, who seemed to be alert even when sleeping, appeared to have left his consciousness back in LothLórien. The blonde elf beside her jumped slightly as he looked down quickly, noticing Angelica for the first time.
"Oh, good afternoon little Angelica," he sighed in a rather dreamy, singsong tone. Hobbits were remarkably quiet creatures. He hadn't even heard the footsteps. Then again – he had been distracted by more important things. Though Ciendriel had vanished from view – he could tell she was not far ahead, scouting out the terrain before them. "Does something bother you?" he asked – recognizing the slightly perturbed look on the female hobbit's face.
"Oh, it's nothing," she responded with a slight sigh. "Everyone just seems so moody, that's all. What with those great black trees looming across the river."
"Yes – a great darkness lies over Mirkwood. Though the power of Sauron has been vanquished, there remain many places within the world that have yet to be cleared of his evils – Dol Goldur, among them." Angelica shivered again, something about that name sent chills down her spine. "There was once a time when my homeland was known for its radiance. It's leaves were of a green so rich that it was known as Greenwood the Great. Now it has fallen into darkness and despair, like so much else in this world."
"Like everyone's faces, you mean."
Legolas chuckled softly at her comment, despite the truth behind it. Even across the water – he could feel the evils of the forest attempting to draw him in. "Many of this company have suffered greatly in the last year, and some longer than that. The darkness brings back those memories, haunting them from within themselves." Angelica's eyes widened at the thought. To be forced to remember the most miserable days of your existence – that was a nightmare she would wish on no one.
"Frodo's pain, I understand," she began slowly. Merry and Pippin had explained the story of the War of the Ring, and Frodo's being a hero to her before they had even been introduced. For a hobbit to have endured so much, it had shocked her beyond words. "And the other boys – war is not something easy for hobbits to walk into. But surely you, you who grew up so close to this…" she paused, searching for an adequate word, "… this evil." There was, in all honesty, little better to describe it. "Surely you, and the other warriors would be accustomed to it?"
Legolas frowned. She had a very valid point. Having spent much of his childhood fighting off spiders and other dark creatures, the dangers of the wood seemed less oppressive to him. They were as dangerous as they had ever been, but they did not weigh as heavily in his mind as they did on the others. "I am accustomed to this, yes," he answered. "But for some of us – this evil, as you have rightfully called it, brings back memories more bitter than anything you or I shall ever know."
"Is that why Haldir seems so cross? More than usual, I mean."
"You must forgive Haldir," Legolas replied, tone softening. "Truly, he has a good heart beneath his cold exterior."
Angelica considered his words carefully for a moment before responding. She, of all people, found it difficult to imagine that Haldir could possibly have any shred of decency within him, much less be anything near what Legolas had claimed. Still – there was a sadness in his gaze that even his stony expression could not hide. "What happened to him, Legolas?" she asked. "Why is he so sad?"
Staring off into the trees ahead of them, Legolas's face remained expressionless. He wasn't lying when he spoke of bitter memories. It was unfortunate that Haldir, whom he had always remembered as devoted and warm-hearted, should have to be the bearer of those troubles. "He has lost much in his life," Legolas answered, unsure of whether to give her the whole story – or if a simple statement would suffice. Look down at her, and seeing her wide, caring eyes staring up at him, he realised that simple statements would never suffice for inquisitive hobbits. In all honesty – he doubted she would do any harm knowing the truth.
Taking a deep breath, he began his tale. "Haldir was not always as cold as he is now. I have known him nearly all of my life, and it pains me to see him so lonely. I fear he will never be the elf he once was." Pursing his lips, he sought the words he needed to continue.
"Many centuries ago – when I was very young, and Haldir had only newly been appointed Marchwarden, he was assigned the task of guardian and escort to an elven princess, several decades younger than myself. She was beautiful – the granddaughter of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel – with the darkest golden hair and bright green eyes. In the decades they spent together, she and Haldir became very close. She loved him, with a fondness and a passion that I have only recently found possible, and I believe that he loved her as affectionately in return."
Angelica listened eagerly, intrigued to know that Haldir had, at one point in his love, managed to actually love some besides himself. "And then what?" she questioned.
"They had been together for a very long time. It was easy to see how devoted they were to one another. One day, however, she was ambushed by orcs while riding along the northern borders of the forest. She fought desperately – but was thrown from her horse, who bolted, and disappeared into the forest in search of safety. Haldir was in the city at the time. He saw the horse – and of course, recognised it immediately – and knew something was wrong. By the time he got to the border..." Legolas hesitated. He was having more difficulty relaying the tale than he originally thought. "Haldir has never forgiven himself."
"What happened to her?" Angelica asked, eyes wide with fear.
A deep voice spoke up from behind them, sending chills down their spines. "She died," Haldir answered. The glare in his eyes was absolutely murderous as he surveyed the pair – who had nearly jumped in the air with fright. Neither of them had heard Haldir approach. "Now that you've finished your story telling, I suggest we pick up the pace – night is falling and we need to cover far more distance if you expect us to reach Mirkwood in the next millennium."
With that last gruff remark, he pushed past Legolas and Angelica, and quickly disappeared ahead of them. The duo, who were still in shock from Haldir's sudden appearance, could do nothing but follow suit, and walk faster.