"Haldir.I have news from your Lady and your Lord. Will you listen?" a
Lothlorien healer asked him.
The March Warden cast his steely eyes on the other elf, his full lips turned down into a grim frown. His hair was set into its familiar, comforting braids, his clothes as clean as they could ever be for one of his kind. When he moved, even casually, it was with purpose, and lightning fast. Nothing was done by accident, such was his skill and experience.
"Speak of this news," he replied in a soft tone. There was stone beneath his voice, and an urgent heat like molten lead caressed it, helped it to grow.
The healer took in a deep breath, glancing quickly around the woods before looking back to Haldir. "Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn left early this morning, before you awoke."
Haldir knew that sometimes his beloved Lady and Lord would leave early and go for long walks, sometimes not returning for hours, succeeding in worrying everyone sick. With this knowledge, Haldir wasn't alarmed and just looked at the Elven healer, one sleek eyebrow arched in question.
"Haldir, they went West.they are leaving us."
The Warden stiffened, and his blue eyes darkened. "Why did they tell you this and not the rest of us?"
"They did tell most of us, but they felt it would be better if you did not know until they had left. They know you would have gone with them."
Haldir felt cold inside. He wasn't sure how to react, wasn't sure what he should be feeling. "I would have done anything for them. I would have remained if they had asked me to, I would have stabbed myself with my own blade if they wanted it. I would have done anything for them, why did they see fit to leave me without notice?"
"Haldir, it is all right. It-"
"How can you say it is all right? You are a liar!"
Before the healer could respond, the Warden whirled and, against all of his rules, against his very duty, he ran back toward their talen, wanting to see for himself if his Lady and Lord were truly gone. He skidded to a stop when he saw the cold bodies of his brothers, Orophin and Rumil, impaled with spikes through the back, their arms and legs limp, their backs arched with the weight of their own bodies. Others were there as well, but he didn't notice them. His feet started to feel heavy, like the feet of a full-grown mountain troll. He couldn't bring himself to draw in another breath, the colour gone from his face.
The ground began to shift and move around him, and everything was spinning, around and around. He fell to his knees before Orophin's spike and tilted his head back to stare up at him with dead eyes. Blood dribbled like so much spittle down the pole, and some splattered against the Warden's face. Haldir pressed his fingertips into the ground, then lifted his hands and curled them around the pole, gripping it firmly. He clenched it hard and felt his entire world come down around him, shattering, exploding.
"Oh, dear Elbereth," he whispered hoarsely. He leaned his head against the pole, squeezing his eyes closed. Tears slipped from them and trickled down across his cheeks as a long, painful shiver coursed, fire hot, through his veins, scotching them. He could almost hear them sizzling.
Haldir took in a deep breath, his body falling helplessly into a series of violent shudders. He tilted his head back again, looking to both Rumil and Orophin, looking into their glassy, lifeless eyes. He just stared at them, his jaw slack. He sucked in another breath, the tears falling like rain now, so swiftly down his face.
A scream ripped itself from his throat, thrumming through his chest and tearing at his insides, his nails digging into the hard metal of the pole. He felt empty inside, and it was agony, as if Sauron himself had reached down his throat and dug claws into his entrails before ripping them free of his body, somehow keeping him alive.
A hand touched him upon the shoulder, resting there in comfort. But Haldir felt no comfort. He lifted his head and turned it back, seeing the grim, tear stained face of Aragorn. He watched the ranger a moment, then looked back at his brothers, his vision growing dull, colours and objects melding into each other, forming great, unnatural holes of darkness. Haldir cried out again, much softer this time, and it ended in great, racking sobs. He was choking on them, unable to breath through the tremendous force of them.
He was able to speak, barely, and what he said chilled Aragorn to the very marrow of his bones.
"Amin lava," Haldir whispered.
Aragorn caught Haldir's powerful frame as he relaxed and fell, his eyes nearly as lifeless as the elves stuck upon poles all around them. He lifted him into his arms, clutching the elf tightly to his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment to try and seal away the images of the bodies impaled so close around him, but it failed. When his eyes opened again, they glistened with tears. The warrior inside of him fought it, and, after speaking a prayer for all those dead, he turned and slid into the forest.
Aragorn had been there when the Uruk-Hai had come. There were so many of them, so many that they were able to push through the Lothlorien wardens. He had had word that Galadriel and Celeborn had fled, but whether they were alive or dead was beyond his knowledge.
He had fought with everything he had, alongside of desperate elves, some of them children. Those who had tried to run were shot down with arrows or cut down by great blades. The elves left, mostly wardens, had been cornered, left with nowhere to run. And so they battled against the odds, knowing within their hearts that they could not win. They could not escape their fate. They fought on bravely, though, and, one by one as they fell, the odds of survival grew smaller and smaller, thinner and thinner. Each Uruk-hai that was killed was replaced by three or more others. They were like termites coming down upon a great wooden structure, unstoppable and relentless.
Aragorn watched as Orophin and Rumil protected each other with the brotherly love they were known for, each one thinking about Haldir. Where was he, and why was he not here, fighting alongside of them? A sharp sword pierced Orophin through the heart, and he fell without a sound. Rumil let out a cry of horror and fell beside his brother, drawing him into his arms, keeping him close as he cried. The fighting around him was tremendous, and each elf that fell ate away at the hope that remained within his thundering heart. He placed a kiss upon Orophin's brow.
"I love you, Orophin," he said, tears shining brightly in his eyes.
An arrow slammed into his back, and he let out a strangled yelp of pain, clinging tighter to his fallen brother. Two more arrows struck home, one to the back of his neck, the other to his left side. An Uruk-hai came, and he lifted Rumil off his feet, the dying elf staring at him, not giving him the satisfaction of emotion. His lower lip was trembling, and the whimpers he made were enough to make the Uruk-hai grin. He took a few paces to the right, and another Uruk-hai stabbed a long metal pole in the ground, the top sharpened to a point. Rumil closed his eyes, praying that he would die swiftly so he could be with his brother, so he could comfort him and be there for him.
Rumil screamed as the spike punctured his flesh, and his beating heart was destroyed. His body thrashed for but a moment, and then was still, death in his eyes. He was finally with Orophin again.
Aragorn shivered as he walked, half closing his eyes. The trauma of such a grotesque event was trying, and he could feel exhaustion and grief gliding in. He breathed deeply, then dropped to his knees, clinging to Haldir, nuzzling his throat as fresh tears slid down his face. He cried until he slept, sorrow and guilt and rage coming in waves through his dreams, creating catastrophic flashbacks and nightmares that left him sobbing into the March Warden's chest long after he was asleep.
Translation: Amin Lava- I yield
The March Warden cast his steely eyes on the other elf, his full lips turned down into a grim frown. His hair was set into its familiar, comforting braids, his clothes as clean as they could ever be for one of his kind. When he moved, even casually, it was with purpose, and lightning fast. Nothing was done by accident, such was his skill and experience.
"Speak of this news," he replied in a soft tone. There was stone beneath his voice, and an urgent heat like molten lead caressed it, helped it to grow.
The healer took in a deep breath, glancing quickly around the woods before looking back to Haldir. "Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn left early this morning, before you awoke."
Haldir knew that sometimes his beloved Lady and Lord would leave early and go for long walks, sometimes not returning for hours, succeeding in worrying everyone sick. With this knowledge, Haldir wasn't alarmed and just looked at the Elven healer, one sleek eyebrow arched in question.
"Haldir, they went West.they are leaving us."
The Warden stiffened, and his blue eyes darkened. "Why did they tell you this and not the rest of us?"
"They did tell most of us, but they felt it would be better if you did not know until they had left. They know you would have gone with them."
Haldir felt cold inside. He wasn't sure how to react, wasn't sure what he should be feeling. "I would have done anything for them. I would have remained if they had asked me to, I would have stabbed myself with my own blade if they wanted it. I would have done anything for them, why did they see fit to leave me without notice?"
"Haldir, it is all right. It-"
"How can you say it is all right? You are a liar!"
Before the healer could respond, the Warden whirled and, against all of his rules, against his very duty, he ran back toward their talen, wanting to see for himself if his Lady and Lord were truly gone. He skidded to a stop when he saw the cold bodies of his brothers, Orophin and Rumil, impaled with spikes through the back, their arms and legs limp, their backs arched with the weight of their own bodies. Others were there as well, but he didn't notice them. His feet started to feel heavy, like the feet of a full-grown mountain troll. He couldn't bring himself to draw in another breath, the colour gone from his face.
The ground began to shift and move around him, and everything was spinning, around and around. He fell to his knees before Orophin's spike and tilted his head back to stare up at him with dead eyes. Blood dribbled like so much spittle down the pole, and some splattered against the Warden's face. Haldir pressed his fingertips into the ground, then lifted his hands and curled them around the pole, gripping it firmly. He clenched it hard and felt his entire world come down around him, shattering, exploding.
"Oh, dear Elbereth," he whispered hoarsely. He leaned his head against the pole, squeezing his eyes closed. Tears slipped from them and trickled down across his cheeks as a long, painful shiver coursed, fire hot, through his veins, scotching them. He could almost hear them sizzling.
Haldir took in a deep breath, his body falling helplessly into a series of violent shudders. He tilted his head back again, looking to both Rumil and Orophin, looking into their glassy, lifeless eyes. He just stared at them, his jaw slack. He sucked in another breath, the tears falling like rain now, so swiftly down his face.
A scream ripped itself from his throat, thrumming through his chest and tearing at his insides, his nails digging into the hard metal of the pole. He felt empty inside, and it was agony, as if Sauron himself had reached down his throat and dug claws into his entrails before ripping them free of his body, somehow keeping him alive.
A hand touched him upon the shoulder, resting there in comfort. But Haldir felt no comfort. He lifted his head and turned it back, seeing the grim, tear stained face of Aragorn. He watched the ranger a moment, then looked back at his brothers, his vision growing dull, colours and objects melding into each other, forming great, unnatural holes of darkness. Haldir cried out again, much softer this time, and it ended in great, racking sobs. He was choking on them, unable to breath through the tremendous force of them.
He was able to speak, barely, and what he said chilled Aragorn to the very marrow of his bones.
"Amin lava," Haldir whispered.
Aragorn caught Haldir's powerful frame as he relaxed and fell, his eyes nearly as lifeless as the elves stuck upon poles all around them. He lifted him into his arms, clutching the elf tightly to his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment to try and seal away the images of the bodies impaled so close around him, but it failed. When his eyes opened again, they glistened with tears. The warrior inside of him fought it, and, after speaking a prayer for all those dead, he turned and slid into the forest.
Aragorn had been there when the Uruk-Hai had come. There were so many of them, so many that they were able to push through the Lothlorien wardens. He had had word that Galadriel and Celeborn had fled, but whether they were alive or dead was beyond his knowledge.
He had fought with everything he had, alongside of desperate elves, some of them children. Those who had tried to run were shot down with arrows or cut down by great blades. The elves left, mostly wardens, had been cornered, left with nowhere to run. And so they battled against the odds, knowing within their hearts that they could not win. They could not escape their fate. They fought on bravely, though, and, one by one as they fell, the odds of survival grew smaller and smaller, thinner and thinner. Each Uruk-hai that was killed was replaced by three or more others. They were like termites coming down upon a great wooden structure, unstoppable and relentless.
Aragorn watched as Orophin and Rumil protected each other with the brotherly love they were known for, each one thinking about Haldir. Where was he, and why was he not here, fighting alongside of them? A sharp sword pierced Orophin through the heart, and he fell without a sound. Rumil let out a cry of horror and fell beside his brother, drawing him into his arms, keeping him close as he cried. The fighting around him was tremendous, and each elf that fell ate away at the hope that remained within his thundering heart. He placed a kiss upon Orophin's brow.
"I love you, Orophin," he said, tears shining brightly in his eyes.
An arrow slammed into his back, and he let out a strangled yelp of pain, clinging tighter to his fallen brother. Two more arrows struck home, one to the back of his neck, the other to his left side. An Uruk-hai came, and he lifted Rumil off his feet, the dying elf staring at him, not giving him the satisfaction of emotion. His lower lip was trembling, and the whimpers he made were enough to make the Uruk-hai grin. He took a few paces to the right, and another Uruk-hai stabbed a long metal pole in the ground, the top sharpened to a point. Rumil closed his eyes, praying that he would die swiftly so he could be with his brother, so he could comfort him and be there for him.
Rumil screamed as the spike punctured his flesh, and his beating heart was destroyed. His body thrashed for but a moment, and then was still, death in his eyes. He was finally with Orophin again.
Aragorn shivered as he walked, half closing his eyes. The trauma of such a grotesque event was trying, and he could feel exhaustion and grief gliding in. He breathed deeply, then dropped to his knees, clinging to Haldir, nuzzling his throat as fresh tears slid down his face. He cried until he slept, sorrow and guilt and rage coming in waves through his dreams, creating catastrophic flashbacks and nightmares that left him sobbing into the March Warden's chest long after he was asleep.
Translation: Amin Lava- I yield