{The story of Haldir of Lórien is an essentially unexplored one, which gives his writers some flexibility. I shamelessly pursue such flexibility, heheh. I am obliged to remind readers that the settings and legends in this story belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, as well as all the characters with the exception of Neviâ the Redspear, the other whom this story involves. She's mine. I'm an amateur writer at fanfictions and all fictions, so critiques are warmly welcomed. I'm still new at Tolkein's world, so if something isn't accurate (taking into consideration the artist's liberty), please help! Thank you.. -- Judith.}
[Our story takes place before the War of the Ring, and at the brink of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. For the purposes of the story, Haldir the Wood-elf looks just as he does in Peter Jackson's movies, played by Craig Parker. But the story itself follows more of the book than the film.]
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Rúmil and Orophin talked idly as brothers will, the tune of their singsong voices going no further than the boughs of the mallorn-tree in which they rested. Golden leaves fell from untold heights; the air was calm, carrying an ancient grace that could only be found in the woods of Lórien.
Haldir approached from below, his spirited laughter gaining the attention of his distracted kin.
"Brothers!" shouted he, a grin claiming his triangular lips, "our stranger approaches. Come, let us have what fun we will."
At his words, the others climbed from the center of their tree abode--from the 'talan,' or flet, as such structures are called--and their lithe forms spun from branch to branch as they came down. As their heels hit the ground, they exchanged with Haldir looks of amusement and appreciation. Haldir was well-respected by his kinsmen, and none doubted his will whether in jest, or confrontation. He was a marchwarden of the northern borders of the Golden Wood, and fairly loved. He knew this as a leader who knows that he is counted on, but carried himself as nothing more than a servant of his Lady and Lord.
"Haldir," prompted Rúmil as they walked to the edges of the forest, "what news of our latest trespasser?"
"It is a woman," said Haldir with disregard, "who comes alone, and we have seen that she was not followed. A traveller. Apparently lost; ah, let's make it worth her surprise."
"A mighty foe indeed!" clucked Orophin, and the three stopped and listened and waited for this new company to approach.
Haldir mused. It wasn't often that lone travellers found their way to the realm of Lothlórien; usually they came by groups, though the wiser avoided coming this way at all. But on rare occasions, when danger was not at hand, and a poor wanderer might come from whatever end of the earth seeking refuge, he and his men enjoyed the company. Or, rather, enjoyed toying with the fear such folk displayed upon seeing the Elves of Old. Such drifters often afforded them news of the distant kingdoms; afterward Haldir might offer better direction and command they return from whence they came. Other times, wanderers were forbidden to leave, and forever lost in the minds of their people. Such was the way of Lórien.
The ever-watchful eyes of the Wood hardly allowed a wayfarer beyond the stream of Celebrant that flowed east into Great Anduin, but on occasions as these--a human, alone, and not followed, for instance--they allowed passage, and approached at will. If the Lady of the Wood gave some notice that company was expected, the intruders were immediately brought to her council, and their fate decided thus. But fair Galadriel gave no warning of this new visitor. Haldir was at liberty to do as he and his men wished. Their intentions were harmless, and afforded them some amusement.
As the woman came nearer where the guards hid, Haldir watched with fine anticipation. She was a league away, and he smelt the old leather of her cloak, as keenly as he saw its frayed edges. She bore the trappings of a wearied traveller; her boots faded, the dagger sheath at her waist poorly sewn where it was not ripped. Her hair was amiss; bands of auburn strung down below her shoulders, though uneven around her face and kept in a crude string of leather. So it seemed that her hair was a moderate red, but as the sun shone in her favor, Haldir observed it to be stronger, as a burgundy. Her eyes were blue as the dark sky just after dawn. She was taller than most human women, but probably just as small in build; her clothes were thick and he couldn't tell. She seemed no more a threat as any girl. Dirt patched most of her face, and she frequently pulled her soiled hair from her eyes, as it was thick and wild in the winds.
She was not stunning as maidens Haldir had seen in the past, but something was altogether different. Perhaps it was the lady herself, or perhaps it was her intention. He did not recognize her origins immediately, and so assumed that he was right in guessing she was lost, hailing from afar. His brothers laughed silently amongst each other, sharing the observation.
There was something in the long features of her face--that's what it was that set her apart; she was angular. Her nose was strong and her brows heavy, but not wide. This woman had seen conflict, it was obvious, and she was not altogether terribly unattractive--well, perhaps if she were rinsed and set to dry. If she was hard to approach by men of her own kind, it was on account of her neglected appearance. He smiled to himself, hardly surprised why such a woman wandered alone.
And so she was paused, staring all about her in wonder, as most do. Then a sudden queerness came into her face, and with some surprise to those watching, she smiled. A smile that seemed at first fond, but grew odd and misplaced. She smiled broadly, her teeth glimmering in what would later be acknowledged as an incredibly sharp mouth.
"Guardian!" she called suddenly. "Guards of the northern borders of this Secret Wood." Her smile strengthened, and she raised her hands over her head as if in mocking surrender. "Can you hear me? I know you can! You are the Watchers. I have entered where I should not. I have gone beyond glorious Nimrodel. Come out, and tell me so! Come out," she lowered her voice in a manner of taunting.
Rúmil and Orophin looked strangely at Haldir, who kept his eyes on the woman, and they questioned him lowly in their Silvan tongue. It is not likely that strangers provoke creatures from a land they do not know, a land which most fear. Haldir silenced his doubtful brothers, and motioned that they prepare.
"I do not mean to disturb your precious woods," she continued, her arms still above her. "Well, maybe just a little," she added with a faint smirk.
"Guardians!" she yelled fiercely, her voice echoing through the rows of trees, which in her wake became silent. "I know you hear me," her voice faded, becoming impatient, if not a little alarmed. "Am I to assume, then, that you sacred beings fear harmless girls--"
But her next words never came. A light, but sharp prod went into her side, and the woman gasped and stumbled backward at the sight of Rúmil and Orophin with their bows loaded a mere breath away. Haldir stood between the armed Elves, and a pace behind. His hands were clasped behind his back. He was tall, looking down upon this woman who dared affront them.
"Hold your tongue," he demanded, quite unamused. He used the Common Speech, to match her own. Each word he pronounced with as much care as though they were his last to speak, and her last to hear. She seemed to feel the same.
Her eyes were wide now, but fear passed out of them as quickly as it came. Haldir wondered at this, but was too angered by her provocation to give a care for her mood.
"Lower your arms," he ordered. She hesitated before obeying.
"One move for your dagger, or attempt for escape," Haldir continued, his voice in itself a threat, "and you will cease to exist in the minds of your people, and all creatures."
His words had the desired effect, for the woman made no comment or gesture, and barely did she breathe. He took a step forward, a long and gentle stride that carried him in front of his brothers. His arms still wrung behind his back, he studied the woman from head to foot, observing closely. She was younger than he guessed before, at the most twenty-seven summers. Her eyes were unmistakably blue, but a swirl of amber shown in them.
In a moment, her alarmed expression turned into an icy glare. Haldir grit his teeth and wondered what gave her reason for animosity, when she was in fact lucky to not have been shot down at her first words. He wanted to tell her so, but thought better of his authority.
"Your name, woman," he demanded, his voice matching the coldness of her stare. The arrows of his men did not waver.
"Neviâ."
"What brings you here? You are uninvited, and clearly not lost."
"So you've noticed. I see your perfect Elvish eyes have managed the long quest beyond your nose."
Haldir's arms dropped to his side, but his face did not falter. His anger mounted.
"You will tell us your purpose here now, for you will have no other chance."
"Well met, Guardian. I've come to see the Lady and Lord." Her voice carried a distinct accent, and he suspected that she spoke another language of her own kind, though he couldn't guess any that fit.
Rúmil and Orophin shared a sharp, quick laugh. Haldir did not stir.
"She is not expecting you. What is your purpose?"
"I come with a message."
"For whom do you deliver this message?"
"My people."
Haldir considered, but it took less than a moment for him to decide what would be done.
"Vain were your people to think you would return from these woods," he said coarsely.
Rúmil and Orophin came so near her that the tips of their arrows brushed the skin of her cheek. Haldir turned his back, and made for the woods.
Orophin called to him before he could take but a few steps, and in their tongue, he said with a laugh: "Ah! Perhaps we have no use for the Messenger, when here lies the Message."
Haldir turned sharply and approached the girl, drawing the men back. She was unstirred, though her skin had grown pale with this prospect of death. He glanced where Orophin looked, and saw a rough pouch at her side with a small scroll standing out. He reached for the parchment and slipped it out of her belt, receiving no change in her disposition. He studied her for a moment, noting that she had not taken her eyes off of him. He quickly unrolled the message.
"It's blank," he said with a smirk, and showed the paper to his brothers. They snickered, and raised their bows. Haldir rolled the parchment as it was, and tucked it into his own belt.
"Milady, your time and ours has been wasted on this day. Either you speak plainly, or in a moment, you do not speak again. Do you understand?"
The woman nodded once, reluctantly. Haldir lifted his hand, an order for his kin to lower their weapons. He looked at her expectantly.
"As I've said, my name is Neviâ, but I am called Redspear by my own," she spoke evenly, and Haldir commended her stubbornness, for it nearly matched his own. "Since you will not address yourselves to me, I can only assume that you are fair Haldir of Lórien, and these your brothers."
Haldir looked at her curiously, wondering how someone of a seemingly simple origin seemed to know so much. She continued with no hesitation:
"What is so important I shan't say to any but the Lord and Lady, because I trust no other. I am no threat. Let me pass."
Haldir almost smiled. How she dared!
"Or if I am correct in so saying," she went on, "that perhaps the myth of the courtesy of the Galadhrim is just that: a myth."
Haldir would no more be bothered with her presumptions and rudeness. It was against his opinion, but in the name of truth he decided to wait until her purposes were discovered before commanding her removal. She was unnaturally educated on the goings-on of his kin. Perhaps his Lord and Lady did know of the stranger's arrival, or something of the girl. But he would not bring an insensible human into the fair lands of his people without good cause.
"You will stay here the night."
"Here? In the outskirts of the deep forest?" she asked, with a hint of doubt.
"I will have council with the Lady, and return tomorrow. For your sake, she will know what brings you here."
"Should I be grateful for your kindness?"
"No more talk. If she knows naught of your purposes, the guardians of Lórien will be rid of you. Take her away," he said to his men, and began heading forth.
"Mighty Gaurdian!" the woman shouted unkindly, as Orophin pulled her aside and Rúmil kept his bow on her. "How you hide in your trees and your terrible, pure lands, never minding the worries and misfortunes of others. Of innocents! Hiding, you are," she cried, "I would sooner be dead than hide with you," and she jerked away from Orophin's grasp.
She continued harshly, "If I will not be allowed to fulfill my quest, I will certainly not hide from it. Rid of me now, I bid you!"
Haldir could stand no more. He turned sharply, and marched with ferocity into her shadow. He stood but an inch facing her, and both could feel warmth from the other's body, burning in the other's anguish. For many moments Haldir stared down into her unflinching eyes, and she scowled into his, her lips pursed; a defiance Haldir had not been met with from any but enemies. Still, she was not evil. This beyond all was why she was still alive, and he stayed considerably calm.
"You will stay," he finally said. "Either we will dispose of you here, or place you elsewhere, but do not deny that you will never leave these woods again." He spoke with such authority that his brothers shifted, and gripped their weapons more firmly. The woman did not counter, but neither looked away.
Haldir unclenched his fists and loosened his jaw when a slight fear at last shone in her eyes. It was not a fear of him, or her fate, he realized, but of something she had yet to reveal. Perhaps she came with a message. He was wasting time. Catching his breath that was lost somewhere in frustration, he looked once more over her glowering face, gave a nod to his men, and watched as they carried her off. She resisted no longer, and didn't turn to glance back.
Watching as Orophin pulled her into the soft shadows of the wood, and Rúmil followed with his weapon, Haldir sighed.
At length he collected his thoughts, and made for Cerin Amroth.
[Our story takes place before the War of the Ring, and at the brink of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. For the purposes of the story, Haldir the Wood-elf looks just as he does in Peter Jackson's movies, played by Craig Parker. But the story itself follows more of the book than the film.]
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Rúmil and Orophin talked idly as brothers will, the tune of their singsong voices going no further than the boughs of the mallorn-tree in which they rested. Golden leaves fell from untold heights; the air was calm, carrying an ancient grace that could only be found in the woods of Lórien.
Haldir approached from below, his spirited laughter gaining the attention of his distracted kin.
"Brothers!" shouted he, a grin claiming his triangular lips, "our stranger approaches. Come, let us have what fun we will."
At his words, the others climbed from the center of their tree abode--from the 'talan,' or flet, as such structures are called--and their lithe forms spun from branch to branch as they came down. As their heels hit the ground, they exchanged with Haldir looks of amusement and appreciation. Haldir was well-respected by his kinsmen, and none doubted his will whether in jest, or confrontation. He was a marchwarden of the northern borders of the Golden Wood, and fairly loved. He knew this as a leader who knows that he is counted on, but carried himself as nothing more than a servant of his Lady and Lord.
"Haldir," prompted Rúmil as they walked to the edges of the forest, "what news of our latest trespasser?"
"It is a woman," said Haldir with disregard, "who comes alone, and we have seen that she was not followed. A traveller. Apparently lost; ah, let's make it worth her surprise."
"A mighty foe indeed!" clucked Orophin, and the three stopped and listened and waited for this new company to approach.
Haldir mused. It wasn't often that lone travellers found their way to the realm of Lothlórien; usually they came by groups, though the wiser avoided coming this way at all. But on rare occasions, when danger was not at hand, and a poor wanderer might come from whatever end of the earth seeking refuge, he and his men enjoyed the company. Or, rather, enjoyed toying with the fear such folk displayed upon seeing the Elves of Old. Such drifters often afforded them news of the distant kingdoms; afterward Haldir might offer better direction and command they return from whence they came. Other times, wanderers were forbidden to leave, and forever lost in the minds of their people. Such was the way of Lórien.
The ever-watchful eyes of the Wood hardly allowed a wayfarer beyond the stream of Celebrant that flowed east into Great Anduin, but on occasions as these--a human, alone, and not followed, for instance--they allowed passage, and approached at will. If the Lady of the Wood gave some notice that company was expected, the intruders were immediately brought to her council, and their fate decided thus. But fair Galadriel gave no warning of this new visitor. Haldir was at liberty to do as he and his men wished. Their intentions were harmless, and afforded them some amusement.
As the woman came nearer where the guards hid, Haldir watched with fine anticipation. She was a league away, and he smelt the old leather of her cloak, as keenly as he saw its frayed edges. She bore the trappings of a wearied traveller; her boots faded, the dagger sheath at her waist poorly sewn where it was not ripped. Her hair was amiss; bands of auburn strung down below her shoulders, though uneven around her face and kept in a crude string of leather. So it seemed that her hair was a moderate red, but as the sun shone in her favor, Haldir observed it to be stronger, as a burgundy. Her eyes were blue as the dark sky just after dawn. She was taller than most human women, but probably just as small in build; her clothes were thick and he couldn't tell. She seemed no more a threat as any girl. Dirt patched most of her face, and she frequently pulled her soiled hair from her eyes, as it was thick and wild in the winds.
She was not stunning as maidens Haldir had seen in the past, but something was altogether different. Perhaps it was the lady herself, or perhaps it was her intention. He did not recognize her origins immediately, and so assumed that he was right in guessing she was lost, hailing from afar. His brothers laughed silently amongst each other, sharing the observation.
There was something in the long features of her face--that's what it was that set her apart; she was angular. Her nose was strong and her brows heavy, but not wide. This woman had seen conflict, it was obvious, and she was not altogether terribly unattractive--well, perhaps if she were rinsed and set to dry. If she was hard to approach by men of her own kind, it was on account of her neglected appearance. He smiled to himself, hardly surprised why such a woman wandered alone.
And so she was paused, staring all about her in wonder, as most do. Then a sudden queerness came into her face, and with some surprise to those watching, she smiled. A smile that seemed at first fond, but grew odd and misplaced. She smiled broadly, her teeth glimmering in what would later be acknowledged as an incredibly sharp mouth.
"Guardian!" she called suddenly. "Guards of the northern borders of this Secret Wood." Her smile strengthened, and she raised her hands over her head as if in mocking surrender. "Can you hear me? I know you can! You are the Watchers. I have entered where I should not. I have gone beyond glorious Nimrodel. Come out, and tell me so! Come out," she lowered her voice in a manner of taunting.
Rúmil and Orophin looked strangely at Haldir, who kept his eyes on the woman, and they questioned him lowly in their Silvan tongue. It is not likely that strangers provoke creatures from a land they do not know, a land which most fear. Haldir silenced his doubtful brothers, and motioned that they prepare.
"I do not mean to disturb your precious woods," she continued, her arms still above her. "Well, maybe just a little," she added with a faint smirk.
"Guardians!" she yelled fiercely, her voice echoing through the rows of trees, which in her wake became silent. "I know you hear me," her voice faded, becoming impatient, if not a little alarmed. "Am I to assume, then, that you sacred beings fear harmless girls--"
But her next words never came. A light, but sharp prod went into her side, and the woman gasped and stumbled backward at the sight of Rúmil and Orophin with their bows loaded a mere breath away. Haldir stood between the armed Elves, and a pace behind. His hands were clasped behind his back. He was tall, looking down upon this woman who dared affront them.
"Hold your tongue," he demanded, quite unamused. He used the Common Speech, to match her own. Each word he pronounced with as much care as though they were his last to speak, and her last to hear. She seemed to feel the same.
Her eyes were wide now, but fear passed out of them as quickly as it came. Haldir wondered at this, but was too angered by her provocation to give a care for her mood.
"Lower your arms," he ordered. She hesitated before obeying.
"One move for your dagger, or attempt for escape," Haldir continued, his voice in itself a threat, "and you will cease to exist in the minds of your people, and all creatures."
His words had the desired effect, for the woman made no comment or gesture, and barely did she breathe. He took a step forward, a long and gentle stride that carried him in front of his brothers. His arms still wrung behind his back, he studied the woman from head to foot, observing closely. She was younger than he guessed before, at the most twenty-seven summers. Her eyes were unmistakably blue, but a swirl of amber shown in them.
In a moment, her alarmed expression turned into an icy glare. Haldir grit his teeth and wondered what gave her reason for animosity, when she was in fact lucky to not have been shot down at her first words. He wanted to tell her so, but thought better of his authority.
"Your name, woman," he demanded, his voice matching the coldness of her stare. The arrows of his men did not waver.
"Neviâ."
"What brings you here? You are uninvited, and clearly not lost."
"So you've noticed. I see your perfect Elvish eyes have managed the long quest beyond your nose."
Haldir's arms dropped to his side, but his face did not falter. His anger mounted.
"You will tell us your purpose here now, for you will have no other chance."
"Well met, Guardian. I've come to see the Lady and Lord." Her voice carried a distinct accent, and he suspected that she spoke another language of her own kind, though he couldn't guess any that fit.
Rúmil and Orophin shared a sharp, quick laugh. Haldir did not stir.
"She is not expecting you. What is your purpose?"
"I come with a message."
"For whom do you deliver this message?"
"My people."
Haldir considered, but it took less than a moment for him to decide what would be done.
"Vain were your people to think you would return from these woods," he said coarsely.
Rúmil and Orophin came so near her that the tips of their arrows brushed the skin of her cheek. Haldir turned his back, and made for the woods.
Orophin called to him before he could take but a few steps, and in their tongue, he said with a laugh: "Ah! Perhaps we have no use for the Messenger, when here lies the Message."
Haldir turned sharply and approached the girl, drawing the men back. She was unstirred, though her skin had grown pale with this prospect of death. He glanced where Orophin looked, and saw a rough pouch at her side with a small scroll standing out. He reached for the parchment and slipped it out of her belt, receiving no change in her disposition. He studied her for a moment, noting that she had not taken her eyes off of him. He quickly unrolled the message.
"It's blank," he said with a smirk, and showed the paper to his brothers. They snickered, and raised their bows. Haldir rolled the parchment as it was, and tucked it into his own belt.
"Milady, your time and ours has been wasted on this day. Either you speak plainly, or in a moment, you do not speak again. Do you understand?"
The woman nodded once, reluctantly. Haldir lifted his hand, an order for his kin to lower their weapons. He looked at her expectantly.
"As I've said, my name is Neviâ, but I am called Redspear by my own," she spoke evenly, and Haldir commended her stubbornness, for it nearly matched his own. "Since you will not address yourselves to me, I can only assume that you are fair Haldir of Lórien, and these your brothers."
Haldir looked at her curiously, wondering how someone of a seemingly simple origin seemed to know so much. She continued with no hesitation:
"What is so important I shan't say to any but the Lord and Lady, because I trust no other. I am no threat. Let me pass."
Haldir almost smiled. How she dared!
"Or if I am correct in so saying," she went on, "that perhaps the myth of the courtesy of the Galadhrim is just that: a myth."
Haldir would no more be bothered with her presumptions and rudeness. It was against his opinion, but in the name of truth he decided to wait until her purposes were discovered before commanding her removal. She was unnaturally educated on the goings-on of his kin. Perhaps his Lord and Lady did know of the stranger's arrival, or something of the girl. But he would not bring an insensible human into the fair lands of his people without good cause.
"You will stay here the night."
"Here? In the outskirts of the deep forest?" she asked, with a hint of doubt.
"I will have council with the Lady, and return tomorrow. For your sake, she will know what brings you here."
"Should I be grateful for your kindness?"
"No more talk. If she knows naught of your purposes, the guardians of Lórien will be rid of you. Take her away," he said to his men, and began heading forth.
"Mighty Gaurdian!" the woman shouted unkindly, as Orophin pulled her aside and Rúmil kept his bow on her. "How you hide in your trees and your terrible, pure lands, never minding the worries and misfortunes of others. Of innocents! Hiding, you are," she cried, "I would sooner be dead than hide with you," and she jerked away from Orophin's grasp.
She continued harshly, "If I will not be allowed to fulfill my quest, I will certainly not hide from it. Rid of me now, I bid you!"
Haldir could stand no more. He turned sharply, and marched with ferocity into her shadow. He stood but an inch facing her, and both could feel warmth from the other's body, burning in the other's anguish. For many moments Haldir stared down into her unflinching eyes, and she scowled into his, her lips pursed; a defiance Haldir had not been met with from any but enemies. Still, she was not evil. This beyond all was why she was still alive, and he stayed considerably calm.
"You will stay," he finally said. "Either we will dispose of you here, or place you elsewhere, but do not deny that you will never leave these woods again." He spoke with such authority that his brothers shifted, and gripped their weapons more firmly. The woman did not counter, but neither looked away.
Haldir unclenched his fists and loosened his jaw when a slight fear at last shone in her eyes. It was not a fear of him, or her fate, he realized, but of something she had yet to reveal. Perhaps she came with a message. He was wasting time. Catching his breath that was lost somewhere in frustration, he looked once more over her glowering face, gave a nod to his men, and watched as they carried her off. She resisted no longer, and didn't turn to glance back.
Watching as Orophin pulled her into the soft shadows of the wood, and Rúmil followed with his weapon, Haldir sighed.
At length he collected his thoughts, and made for Cerin Amroth.