Disclaimer:
All recognizable characters and places belong to Tolkien, the rest are my creation. No copyright infringements are intended; this story was written purely for entertainment and no money is being made off it.
Feedback: LadyoftheRings35@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13 for some violence and apprehensive situations.
Summary:
When a young Ranger comes to stay with the Elves of Lothlórien and is accused of taking an irreplaceable crystal, Haldir must decide if she is working for the Enemy—or for some deeper purpose.
Series:
None
Spoilers:
None
Note on Elvish:
I won't put a little * behind the elvish words, because I've always found it extremely annoying to have those things in a story. If I don't translate the elvish immediately after the word, check at the end of the story, there should be a translation there.
Note on Pronunciation:
The "dh" in Mîdhlim's name would be pronounced the same as the soft "th" in English, such as in the word then, but not like the "th" in thin. The "i" would be pronounced the same as in machine. So the full name would sound something like "meethleem." Also, "ae" in elvish can be pronounced the same as "ai" in elvish, so in names like Laegheneb, it would sound similar to "Layg-heneb"
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Daughter of the Dúnedain
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Chapter One
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Haldir stalked the intruder, completely silent in the still woods of Lothlórien. Dropping to one knee, he signaled two of his men to flank the intruder on either side. He examined the grass before him, his keen gray eyes noticing the slightest detail.
The person they tracked was good, very good, at keeping unnoticed. All that Haldir could see of his or her passing was the lack of due in the grass—no depression, no broken foliage, nothing. This eased Haldir's worry slightly, but not much. The only person able to walk so lightly was an elf, but an elf would leave no markings at all of his or her passing. So what was this thing? Human or elf?
No orc at least, Haldir knew. Orcs delighted in leaving all growing things shredded and ruined behind them. No, whoever this intruder was, they were trying to enter Lothlórien silent and unnoticed.
A scout? he wondered briefly, running lightly over the grass, his eyes trained on the ground but his ears fully alert for any trouble. What would an elf be doing working for the Enemy, though? And if it is an elf, why has he not hailed us, asking for entry as is expected?
He froze suddenly, blending in perfectly with the surrounding foliage, an arrow held loosely to the string of his bow.
The nearly imperceptible sound came again. Haldir glanced up and made the bird call, alerting his men that there was something in the trees above them.
An affirmative whistle came back, and then silence fell once again in the woods except for the running water of the Nimrodel. Haldir scaled the tree, an arrow between his teeth and his bow slung over his shoulder. Reaching the branches he ran across them as though they were the flat ground many feet below, fearless of the height he had climbed to.
At last, he saw him—or her, rather. Haldir's eyes caught the flash of dark hair through the leaves and immediately dropped to the branch she was standing on.
It was a Ranger from the garb, Haldir knew, smaller than most he had met. She had her dark hair braided into a bun at the base of her neck, and she knelt on the edge of the branch, looking down at the ground nearly twenty feet below.
"Daro!" Haldir shouted suddenly, causing the young Ranger to jump. She spun around, reaching for her sword.
Haldir let off a warning shot that brushed by the human's ear. She jerked to one side, lost her balance, and before Haldir could catch her, plummeted to the ground below.
Haldir sprang down from the tree lightly, his dark tresses kept from his face by tiny braids held in flax clasp. He landed softly beside the fallen human, who was lying on her stomach with her face turned to one side. Blood trickled from a long gash on her forehead, staining the green grass.
Haldir whistled the "all clear" signal as he bent over the girl. She was, he quickly realized, not very old, even by a human's standards, maybe not even seventeen. Gently he rolled her on her back, unclipping her pack and long knife, as his lieutenant, Laegheneb, took the girl's bow and quiver and searched through her packs.
"She looks too thin," an elf by the name of Ellim said softly, kneeling by Haldir.
"She has no food in her pack," Laegheneb added.
Haldir was searching the girl for injuries from her fall. Besides the gash on her head, which was still bleeding slightly, she seemed to be unharmed. "She could be hurt inside," Haldir said with a quiet sigh. "We should take her to the Lady."
Ellim was the youngest of the four elves, but he was also the most skilled as a healer. "I think she twisted to take the fall correctly, but hit her head on the way down. Hence the gash that knocked her out. She doesn't appear to be hurt elsewhere." He lightly traced the wound with one finger. The girl groaned softly and flinched, raising one hand to her head. "Oooh…"
"She is desiccated, however," Ellim added as he slipped the girl into his arms and poured some water into her mouth. She swallowed it, her eyes fluttering weakly.
Under Ellim's instructions, Laegheneb lifted the girl so she was leaning against his chest while Ellim cleaned and bound the head wound. Haldir sent his brother Orophin out to scout the surrounding area, incase the girl was not the only Ranger who had snuck so far into Lórien.
By the time Orophin had returned, the girl was once again conscious, though still a bit dazed. Haldir dropped to one knee in front of her so their faces were even. Catching her slightly glazed eyes with his piercing ones, he spoke slowly and carefully in the Common tongue. "What brings you to Lothlórien, iell uin Dúnedain?"
She licked her lips, trying to shake away the head wound she had received. "I come in friendship only," she said in carefully spoken, but perfectly understandable Sindarin. "My name is Mîdhlim."
Haldir started. He had heard of the girl, though never met her himself. She was kindred to Aragorn son of Arathorn, and supposedly an excellent tracker. He could see the resemblance in her dark eyes and hair, and fair skin, but there the resemblance ended. Where Aragorn was strong and tall she was thin and weak looking, almost too pale to be human. She was certainly not ugly, but was not pretty by even a human's standards.
"Come, we will take you to see Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn." Haldir had to help her stand, she was still shaky on her feet.
Mîdhlim straightened and nodded. The elves would not return her weapons until they reached the City, which surprisingly didn't seem to bother her. "Tog lim, edhel o Lórien," she said tiredly.
* * * *
Three days later, Haldir waited patiently on the edge of the Lord and Lady's talan, his bow strung neatly on his back and his quiver straightened. Haldir was often called before the Lord and Lady, as one of the older and more experienced elves, but his greatest joy was deep in the woods of Lórien where few elves treaded during these dark days, alone save a few companions and the call of the wildlife. Most often, though, he was called to take border patrols along the northern border of Lórien. A shame, really.
When Mîdhlim appeared she looked quiet different from when he had first seen her. Her wound was nearly healed and she looked, if not pretty, at least more respectable with her hair freshly washed and braided, and donning fresh clothes.
"The Lady has asked me to show you where you will be staying," Haldir said in Sindarin.
"I appreciate your hospitality, Lord Haldir," she answered. "But honestly I came here to aid your people in whatever small way I can. I would like to join one of your companies guarding the borders."
Haldir restrained himself from raising an eyebrow at that. The Rangers usually tended to their affairs, consorting often with the elves but not usually joining ranks with them for no apparent reason. "I'm afraid I do not understand."
"I am young still," she said steadily, not quite meeting his eyes. "I wish to learn more about your people, and about the skills I will need."
"Your own people can teach you that," Haldir pointed out, sensing there was something else she was hiding.
"True," she admitted. "But none better than the Elves."
"Have you asked the Lord and Lady?"
"I have. They told me to speak with you."
No lie in her eyes there, but he still sensed there was something she wasn't telling him. "Why did you come here?" he asked bluntly.
She looked up, meeting his eyes briefly. "To find something I lost a long time ago," she said.
Her words rang true but their meaning was a mystery. Haldir stored the words away in his mind as he bowed to her. "Very well then, Mîdhlim. In two days we will depart for the northern border."
Her eyes glimmered dimly. "So be it."
* * * *
Haldir took a route through the trees rather than on the ground to his home talan that he shared with his two brothers, Orophin and Rúmil. Orophin was deep in reverie, the elvish state of sleep, but Rúmil was awake and willing to talk.
"I am not sure what to make of this new Ranger among our mists," Haldir admitted as he sat a short ways from Orophin so as not to wake him. Rúmil settled down next to his brother and offered him some lembas, which he accepted.
"Oh?" Rúmil was perhaps the most insightful of the three brothers, and often they turned to him for advice. "What about her worries you?"
"It is not so much worry as a feeling of discontent. Looking in her eyes was like looking into the eyes of a child, but there was something in her eyes that should not be there, not for a child."
"I suspect you are going to tell me what it is."
"Despair, Rúmil. I sense despair in her. She is desperately trying to find something, something that drove her here on the verge of starvation. She's only sixteen by all accounts—what is it that could force her here, through all that danger, all alone?"
"The question is not what but why," Rúmil said, breaking off a piece of lembas and chewing thoughtfully. "Even if we knew what she is looking for, we still would not know why. But what is here in Lórien that she could possibly be trying to find?"
"I admit, humans are a mystery to me," Haldir said, sipping a small glass of wine and twirling the glass daringly between his fingers. "I do not know what a human would be looking for."
"Money? Power? Fame?" Rúmil sighed, brushing back strands of dark hair. "That is what most look for. But not this one, I think."
Haldir glanced at him sideways. "What do you think, brother?"
Rúmil frowned thoughtfully. "She seeks something taken from her a long time ago, is what I think, after meeting her. She seeks something that she needs for some purpose, and needs it soon."
Haldir's face darkened. "Do you believe she is working for the Enemy?"
"There is no smell of evil on her, but that means nothing. She could be just a toy, a messenger recruited by someone who has connections to someone who has connections to someone who is working for the Enemy. At this point, anything is possible."
Rúmil fell silent for a while, and the two sat without speaking, merely enjoying the other's company. At last Haldir spoke again. "Rúmil, when you said anything is possible, I sense you do not believe she is working for anything but personal gain."
"You've read me rightly, brother," Rúmil admitted. He turned to look at Haldir, his light blue-gray eyes serious. "But the desperation of an individual is often more dangerous than anyone hired by the Enemy. She seeks something on pain of death, and I fear that on pain of death she will find it. I fear for her, Haldir. She will try something foolish, and soon."
"When?" Haldir asked, concerned.
Rúmil's eyes darkened suddenly like a thundercloud. "Haldir, you must find her. Quickly."
Haldir didn't question his brother. Rúmil had a disturbing ability to be right when he had feelings like this. Off he was among the tree branches, leaping lightly from tree to tree, following where his sense told him she should be.
When he found himself headed towards the deeper parts of the City of the Galadhirrim, fear rose in his throat. Something was terribly wrong.
As he entered the most heavily guarded part of the City, where the most valuable artifacts His keen ears caught the sound of a scuffle, and then a scream. His heart almost stopped—the scream was not a human cry.
He jumped the ground inside a small courtyard with only one gate. At the entrance, the guard lay wounded on his side. It was Laegheneb.
"Laeg! Laeg!" Haldir cried, dropping to his knees beside his friend and lifting him into his arms.
Laegheneb looked at him and tried to speak, but the sword wound that was killing him had struck his lungs, and they were filling with blood. A long line of blood was trickling from his nose and mouth, and he kept swallowing the blood that was choking him, struggling to breathe. Haldir felt tears fill his eyes as he held one of his oldest friends. "Who did this to you?" Haldir demanded in a low voice.
He read Laegheneb's lips, though the words came not. The Ranger.
Haldir felt his body go numb and cold. Elves were running now, shouting, but Haldir was deft to it. The crystals! someone cried. The crystals are gone!
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the dying elf in his arms.
*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*
Daro=halt, stop
Laegheneb=sharp eyed
Ellim=literally star-sparkling-light, sparkling starlight
Iell uin Dúnedain=daughter of-the Dúnedain
Mîdhlim=literally, dew-sparkling.
Tog lim, edhel o Lórien = Lead on, elf of Lorien
Talan=flet
So what do you think so far? A bit slow to start off with, but any comments?