Disclaimer: I don't own Rumil, Haldir or Orophin, although I would love to. These fine Elves belong to the great J.R.R. Tolkien.

I wrote this story after getting sick of seeing only slash fics for Haldir and Co. The main character appears in the next chapter.

Dawn in Lothlorien

The sun burned gold over the tops of the trees, heralding a new day in Middle-Earth. It's warmth seeped into the ground and crept over lake and river. It's rays pierced the branches of trees overhead and settled gently on great boulders flecked with time. Gradually, the land awoke, embraced in the long arms of the sun. Another day had come to the mortal lands after a crystal night full of silver threads and dancing dreams. A new timesong had begun.

In the Golden Wood, nothing stirred. A bleary-eyed elf reclined motionless on a branch in a mallorn tree high above the forest floor. His vigilant gaze swept around the woods once again, finally fixing on some small object of interest straight ahead. He sighed restlessly, once, twice. Countless times, it seemed, had he scanned the mystical dark, straining to descry some intruder, some evil minion set on entering the enchanted realm. But, as usual, none had appeared, and now the tired elf wished only for a nourishing meal and some rest.

He had been on guard all night and part of the day before, never once taking a respite. But ah, the day before..Rumil smiled fondly as he allowed his mind to drift back to the festivities that had been held the preceding afternoon in the beautiful elven city Caras Galadhon, his home. The delicious food, the gay singing, the merry dancing, the wise Lord and Lady glowing with pleasure as they strode among their blissful subjects.All had been perfect, the peace pervading every elf's heart, the mystery of the holiday whisking them back to the olden days, ancient songthreads flowing through the old forest, the cadences whispering in arcane tongues what was, what is, and what shall come to be. The magic enfolding the unity.

A sudden rustle in the nearest tree flung Rumil back into the present, and he quickly snapped out of his reverie. A small panic surged in his breast as he slid silently from branch to branch, searching out the source of the clamor. He had slipped away, had gotten lost in a maze of daydreams, and now someone-or something- was creeping around in his Lady's forest. He cursed under his breath and slowly eased forward. Another rustle brought him to a small shrubbery. He grimly kneeled and nocked an arrow to his bowstring, then waited patiently, his eyes glittering. He crouched, half- concealed in the shadows, liquid steel tensed to explode at any moment. He cursed at himself silently once more. But even as he was berating himself for his foolishness, a small bird burst out of the foliage right in front of him, and in a twittering, flapping rush of wings, was gone sooner than Rumil could compose himself.

Still struggling to stifle a cry of surprise, Rumil stumbled backwards, and in a decidedly unElvish fashion, twisted around and grasped the thick branch he had just nearly plummeted from, hanging on with a death grip and gasping for breath. Consciousness whirling and his voice choked, he found himself unable to cry out or even draw breath. His legs flailed, and his dark green eyes registered a hint of panic before he finally collected himself and steadily pulled his legs, then the rest of him over the massive tree limb. He collapsed as a wave of confusion washed over his mind, and expanded his lungs with several deep breaths in an attempt to slow his racing heart.

His head buried in his arms, Rumil trembled on the platform for a short time before hearing light steps on the flet above him. He opened his eyes a few seconds later and weakly lifted his head to see a hand extended in front of a kneeling figure, backlit by the fragmented sunlight. He sighed and gratefully accepted the proffered hand. The figure rose and deftly helped Rumil to his feet, saying," It gladdens my heart to know that Lorien is now safe from one more marauding songbird that would have otherwise wreaked havoc upon our fair wood. Well done, my brother. You are quite the guard."

Haldir stood tall facing his brother, his golden hair shimmering in the morning sun's rays as if it were burning, his soft gray eyes sparkling with an intensity that mirrored the cold stars in the indifferent heavens. A small smile played about his lips as he regarded Rumil, his expression one of more amusement than concern.

Rumil turned away, bristling at the gentle taunt. He spied his bow and quiver on the leaf-strewn floor far below, and without another word, began climbing down gracefully to retrieve it. He felt Haldir's eyes upon him, but resisted the urge to look back, instead deeply breathing of the heady aromas that permeated the wood, pine frost and floral whispers laughing on the gentle breeze which caressed his face, tossing his long, silken-gold hair about, tugging on his moss-green tunic and cloak. He nimbly leaped down to the ground and took up the gilded longbow and patterned quiver, inspecting each closely to assure no damage had been suffered. Satisfied that none had, he strapped his quiver to his back and nimbly climbed up to the flet where his comrades were reposing, Haldir in tow.

Rumil dropped his bow and slumped to the floor of the large, circular platform encompassing the girth of the mallorn. He sighed and wearily rubbed his shadowy eyes, carefully avoiding the bemused gazes of his companions, wishing now only to sleep and forget all that had just transpired. Sleep. It beckoned and teased, slipping around his shoulders like a cloak and enveloping him in it's sweet darkness. But as Rumil was sliding into bliss, Orophin, his rather loquacious brother, grasped his arms and shook him awake.

Rumil opened his eyes and groaned, realizing that sleep would have to wait as Orophin demanded detailed explanations of all that had taken place at the festivities the day before, launching into a litany of questions faster than Rumil could answer. Orophin and several other border-guards had volunteered to miss the celebrations in order to keep the land safe, and he had been quite sore about the whole thing, having been more pressed into service by Haldir than freely offering. His gray-green eyes glittered with curiosity and a touch of smoldering resentment as he queried about the food, the dances, the music.

Reeling from the torrent of words flowing through and past him, Rumil merely cast a helpless look at Haldir and his friend, Silinde, who smiled and rose behind Orophin, still obliviously spouting inquiries along with the other elves that had stayed with him.

Silinde gently touched Orophin's shoulder and whispered in his ear. Orophin fell silent and withdrew sulkily, gathering his legs up under him and leaning back against the great trunk of the mallorn, glaring into space, his eyes playing upon the sunlight weaving patterns as it descended, tattered and parsed through the tops of the trees, to splash on the shadows below. Rumil felt pity for his younger brother as he watched him, and vowed to tell him everything he could remember of the joyous festival when he awoke. But now. Rumil closed his eyes and surrendered to the echoes of his spirit, embracing him in their soft tendrils, and soon he was walking the silver paths of time and dreams.

The last he remembered was Haldir covering him with a blanket, and then a few moments later, farther away, fearfully muttering, "Who in Eru's name is that?" The sudden commotion of elven voices blended and blurred into nothingness, and Rumil finally lost all consciousness.