Haldir sat upon the soft cushions exhausted and dazed. He had wept bitter tears until his eyes had dried upon their own accord and there were no more tears in him. Now, he sat slumped against the thick material of the couch, completely numb to the world. He leaned his flaxen head against the pillows, the muscles in his neck seemingly unable to support the weight of his head, letting his eyes wander along the intricate leaf work of the ceiling. The gentle pattern blurred into a whirl of green and blue hues, swirling and shifting. It reminded him of Élharma's lifeless, staring eyes, eyes that had once been so full of life, so vibrant and intense just a short time ago. Their now blank and dull gaze haunted his thoughts. He could still feel her limp form in his arms as when he had carried her into the healers' house. She had been so light and utterly cold against him. His eyes strayed listlessly to the door. The door which she lay behind in a desperate battle between life and death.
The sun finished its lazy and indifferent course through the heavens and night fell heavily upon lorien. Still, the door stayed closed. The stars shone brilliant in the sky, glistening in their bright splendor. Still, the door stayed closed. Haldir remained at his post, faithfully watching for any movement, for any sign.
Then, just as the sun peaked over the horizon, one of the healers emerged. Haldir sprang lithely to his feet, hoping against all hopes for good news.
The healer, Anwakala, met his eyes sadly. She shook her head.
Haldir's heart jumped to his throat, he could feel all blood drain from his face.
She murmured quietly, "The hopeful news is that the maiden is alive. Barely, but alive."
Haldir gasped, feeling relieved, rejoicing, ecstatic, and overwhelmingly happy.
The healer shook her head again, the little hope that had crept into her features diminished as she said, "The bad news is that we do not have an antidote for this poison. It has been lodged into her lungs and is slowly growing, filling her lungs with its foul slime. We have been successful in slowing its progression, but our efforts to eradicate the substance have proven useless."
Haldir felt as if someone had physically struck him in his gut. She was dying? And they did not know how to stop it? NO! He would not accept this!
With weak knees, he asked, "May I see her?"
Anwakala gestured to the door, "Yes. I actually recommend it. Sit and talk to her, she may be able to hear you. Speak hope into her mind, encourage her to fight against this thing that threatens her very existence."
He took a deep, calming breath, steeling himself to enter into the room where Élharma lay. He slowly pushed the door open. There, in the middle of the room, she lay. The room was abnormally large and bare, devoid of all furnishings but a bed in the center and a chair on either side. There was a window on the eastern wall, which allowed the slanting rays of the midday sun to shimmer upon the floor.
Élharma lay between the cream colored linens, her skin cold and pale, clad in a simple but suitable cotton wrap. The labored sound of her breathing reached his ears, breaking his heart with every breath. He could see her body fight for every gasp, her stomach convulsed with the effort of drawing the life-giving air past the fluid, which was slowly filling her lungs. She lay stiff and rigid, her mouth agape and fists clenched, fighting this invisible foe.
He crumpled into the chair, his body completely drained of all energy. He felt absolutely helpless. He mourned the fact that he had not had the chance to even tell her how much she meant to him.
He reached out to a stray strand of wavy golden hair and smoothed it against the soft pillow, his fingers grazing the pale cheek. Her skin held the frosty chill of death. Haldir's mind raced. He refused to loose her. He refused to let her go. Not again.
He leaned to her ear and whispered, "You, Élharma, are my love. My one, true and complete love. I will never leave nor forsake you. I am here for you until the end of the age."
He took one of her tightly clenched fists in his strong hand and gently rubbed his thumb over her white knuckles. "Please. Please, I beg you. Don't leave me. I need you, I need you with every fiber of my being."
At the back of the room, Galadriel closed the door softly. She had come to confer with the healers and had looked in on the maiden. The burden of Élharma's impending death weighed heavily upon her heart. It was always sad for her to know of any elf's death, let alone one so close to her heart. Something touched her shoulder lightly. She had known that Celeborn was standing behind her since he had approached. It was one of those the perks which came from being joined for so long. Galadriel leaned deeply into her husband's strong arms.
"Shall we send word for Elrond?" Celebron asked gently, "He is one of the greatest healers in all of middle earth. He might have the antidote for this poison which has laid claim to Élharma's body."
She let her head loll onto his shoulder, "I think we should, my dear husband." She answered.
Celeborn gestured to one of the young elves standing nearby. "Aratan: fetch a horse and take a message to Elrond at Rivendell! Request his presence as a healer here. Tell him that Élharma lies in the balance of life and death."
The lean elf ran out of the hall, the urgency of his mission pushed him to his maximum haste.
"It will be five days before Elrond arrives. Will she last that long?" Galadriel asked
Celeborn fingered one of his wife's pale locks of hair, his face grave, "We must persuade the dear maiden to hold on as long as she can, my love."
They walked to the high courts together with heavy hearts.
Haldir stayed by Élharma's side relentlessly for the next three days. He did not eat, he did not sleep. He just sat there with her fist in his hand, constantly murmuring a steady flow of words into her ear. He told her story after story of his many adventures in the land of men and wizards, of his dealings with dwarfs and hobbits. As the hours passed, her breathing became weaker and weaker. She struggled ever onward to fight against this hand, which kept threatening to shut off the flow of life-giving air into her body.
Food and drink were brought to Haldir at intervals through the days, but he did not touch them. He refused to miss one moment with her just because he was eating.
Once, when one of the healers came in to check on the maiden, she saw the stack of uneaten foodstuff and scolded, "And what do you think she is going to do when she recovers just to find that you have made yourself weak? Eat, EAT!"
On the sixth day, Elrond arrived, with him came Arwen and one of her handmaidens, Alkaor. They rushed into the chambers, Elrond called for various herbs and flora. With a flourish he sent anyone who was not a healer out of the room.
Haldir found himself unceremoniously deposited outside of the door along with Arwen, Alkaor.
Arwen huffed, frustrated at being ousted from her friend's room. She turned to Haldir and asked, "Please, the time will go by faster if we do something. Would you mind accompanying me for a walk?"
He was slightly surprised at the princess's openness, but agreed nonetheless. She daintily took his arm, draping her slight hand over the crook of his elbow. They walked through the mallorn trees, the golden boughs casting a familiar brilliance upon the path.
"So, you are Haldir. Élharma has told me everything concerning you." Arwen said after some time.
Haldir dipped his head in acceptance, "And I assure you I am guilty of all that she has accused me of."
Arwen raised an eyebrow. He must have gone through some sort of change in the time that Élharma was in Rivendell.
"The only thing you are guilty of," Arwen said gracefully, "Is having feelings for the dear maiden."
It was Haldir's turn to raise an eyebrow. Arwen's judgment seemed more accurate than he would have deemed, considering she was obviously a slightly high-strung elf.
Arwen continued, "I am going to ask you something, dear captain, and I do not want you to answer right away. Take some time to listen to everything I have to say."
Haldir nodded gently, this aught to be interesting.
"I must ask you to examine your heart, do you really love her?"
Haldir gave a start, but heeded Arwen's caution of silence.
Arwen kept talking, "I ask you this because one of my brothers, Elrohir, has professed love for Élharma. In fact, at one point, he even asked my father for her hand in marriage. My father refused him because he perceived from Elrohir not true, everlasting love, but pity. Elrohir did and still does pity the maiden's emotional state and feels a physical longing for her body. And that is not true love. I ask you: If you love her, truly love her, I ask you now: Why? I know how incredibly rude and unfeeling she was towards you; what, in her cold angry demeanor, did you find to love?"
The two walked in silence. Arwen's words burned into his mind. As much as it pained him to admit, he questioned himself. Did he really love Élharma, or did he just pity her? He remembered the kythe that Élharma had drawn him into that fateful night. He remembered looking at her pleading face and feeling sorry for that piece of her which begged release from imprisonment. He remembered in the courts gazing at her unfeeling and cold face and longing to break that cloak of ice. But was it true love, as Arwen had asked? To his dismay, he could draw no answer from Arwen's last answer. What about Élharma did he love?
Arwen spoke into the forest sadly, "I only ask you this because I care a lot for Élharma. She is a wonderful friend, and while I can see the many loveable traits that she possesses, I know that it is difficult for others to see. She has hidden those traits beneath her façade of unfriendliness rather successfully. She definitely does not need pity. She needs love. She needs someone to see all of her wonderful assets, and love her for them."
They had walked a small circle, and arrived shortly at the healer's house. Elrond was just exiting the maiden's chambers. On his face was a grave expression. Arwen rushed to her father, a tear fining its way down her cheek. She buried her face in his shoulder, fearing his report.
Elrond glanced back into the room, "I have administered the drug, but it is hard to tell if it will make much difference. It was almost to late. By noontime tomorrow she will either conquer this poison, or succumb to its effects."
Arwen cried into her father's shoulder, her delicate shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
The Lord continued, "When and if she does survive, she will be weak, her energy completely drained. It will take a long time for her to recover. She needs a healer who is willing to be faithful to support her through the entire healing process."
Haldir immediately offered, "I will. I have some knowledge of the healing arts," He paused, remembering her place, "I mean, I will only if I have leave of my Lady."
A soft voice spoke behind him, "As you do, with our full blessing."
He turned to Galadriel and Celeborn, "Thank you. Thank you so much."
In the recesses of her mind, Élharma stood, grappling with an unseen foe on the edge of a cliff. On one side of her was the precipice of the cliff, dropping into a never-ending abyss; on the other side there was the physical universe, life. Time did not exist, time did not matter. It was an eternity that she had been locked in mortal combat with this invisible enemy. An enemy which threatened to fling her violently over the edge of the cliff into the dark, murky abyss. She wrestled, constantly straining, to push this force back and rush headlong into life. But her foe was strong, ever strong and enduring. She could feel her strength ebbing, she was weakening. Her power was slowly but surely failing her. She could only hope to endure until help came. Every so often, a familiar voice would echo from the outside universe, the unintelliglable words gave her strength. Though she could not understand the words, the presence of the voice itself fueled her desire to live.
Haldir sat again beside Élharma. This time, though, his mind mulled and chewed on uncertainty of his resolve. Did he in fact, undeniably, love her? The echo of her labored breathing slammed into his mind. He could tell she was fighting a losing battle. Her breaths were becoming shorter and shorter, the bubbling and knocking in her chest became louder and louder.
True to Elrond's prediction, she endured until late the next morning.
Then, as the sun came to rest directly overhead, Haldir heard silence. Not a sound echoed in the large room. In an instant, a single moment of time, he understood. He understood the answer to Arwen's question. In that singular moment, the entirety of his dealings with Élharma flashed in his mind. And He finally knew his answer.
He leapt with sudden urgency, a wild panic filling his mind. He grabbed her shoulders roughly and yelled, his voice hoarse, "NO! You WILL NOT die! You will not leave me!!! I love you and you will not, you cannot go!" He gave her shoulders a shake. To his utter surprise, she responded. Her eyes snapped open, her back arched away from the bed, her head extended with her mouth open, searching for the air that denied its presence in her body. Her hands raked at his tunic, tearing at an unseen enemy that sought to ultimately cut off her life.
He heard a whistling and her body convulsed violently. The healers had rushed in and now they pulled him away. They turned her over the side of the bed, and she retched foul black tar out of her body. It landed in a smoking pool of foulness upon the floor
Haldir found that he was trembling. He rushed to her side, holding her hand, he stroked it and said forcefully, "Do not die on me, Élharma, don't you dare. I love you and I WILL NOT loose you. I love you for your passion for life, I love you for your joy, I love you for your intense love. I love you for your patience. I love you for your playfulness. I love you for being you. I cannot love another."
Amidst the ruckus, he heard a soft sigh from the doorway. He looked up sharply to see Arwen standing there with Elrond; both wore expressions of satisfaction and utter joy on their faces.
When she was finished, the healers laid Élharma back once again on the pillows. She lay for a few moments, greedily drawing the much-needed air into her lungs, her eyes never left his.
When the din had faded and a sweet silence enveloped everything, Haldir sat perched on the edge of Élharma's bed, the rush of excitement in the last few moments leaving him stunned. She now lay completely peacefully upon the bed; her cheeks were flushed slightly, as if kissed by the palest rose. He watched her gently relaxed features as her chest rose and fell effortlessly and silently in sleep.
He reached out and caressed her warm cheek with the tip of his finger; her creamy skin was like silk beneath his touch.
Emotionally drained, ecstatic, exhausted, joyful, and relieved, he sat heavily upon the chair and put his head in his hands. Tears once again flowed freely from his eyes. This time, though, they were tears of exultation and relief. She was going to live.
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Well, what did you think? I know that Haldir cries a lot in the last chapter, but I think it is okay. He is on an emotional roller coaster, a yoyo of sorts and since he is a sensitive, loving elf, it is rather fitting, I think.