Author's note: I'm back! Sorry for the wait. The next few chapters will
hopefully continue to come along regularly too. I've made this chapter a
little longer than I normally would, in the hope that it will go some way
towards making up for the extended break!
Disclaimer: Larien + plot = mine. All the rest = not mine.
* * *
Chapter 12
Larien spent the rest of her watch scanning the horizon as thoughts of Haldir flitted across her mind, making her smile. As she gazed at the trees and woodland around her, she also found her thoughts being drawn with greater frequency to her initial meeting with Galadriel and the vision she had seen in her mirror. Only once in her life had she looked into the mirror, and the experience remained etched clearly in her mind.
One vision in particular remained seared into her memory still. Initially, she had thought it had been a scene from the past, she had thought the mirror was showing her the death of her parents as she had seen a battle on the outskirts of Lothlórien. The mallorns were black and dripping with blood, the bodies of the Galadhrim were strewn around her. The body at her feet was face down in the earth, speared with several black orc arrows. His fair hair was lying like a halo around his head, also discoloured by the dark red colour of blood. It was only then that she realised the vision was concerning events that had not yet come to pass, for she saw herself leaning over this dead elf.
There was also another elf with her, talking to her, but she could not make out his face or his voice through the roar of the battle cries and screams of the fallen. There the vision had ended, but the empty, cold feeling in the pit of her stomach had remained with her.
A familiar voice in her head shook her out of her reverie. **You are ready now, child, but have you the courage to look once again into the mirror? ** She shook her head, wondering if she was ever going to get used to hearing the Lady's voice in her head, before feeling the twist in her stomach at the thought of reliving the vision.
* * *
She stood at the threshold of the large clearing housing Galadriel's mirror. Throughout her long walk she had been swallowing back the fear that kept threatening to engulf her, making her run sobbing in the opposite direction. She had to find the courage from somewhere. She was not certain she wanted to continue this vision, but the Lady had told her she was ready, so she steeled herself and stepped into the open.
Galadriel was in the clearing with her back to Larien, her golden hair falling around her shoulders as she dipped the silver jug into the water.
"I am glad you found it within yourself to face this challenge." Larien was speechless for she found that her mouth had dried. She watched silently as Galadriel turned slowly and poured the water into the mirror. "Have faith, Larien. You are ready to see what the mirror has to show you." Larien nodded as she stepped hesitantly towards the bowl of water. The ripples slowly diverged and stilled as all was silent around her. She took a breath and leaned over to gaze into the silver surface. Almost immediately, the surface of the water darkened as the vision began again.
There was a flurry of activity as her eyes slowly focused on the people on the battleground. She could see herself clearly now, and could see and hear the sickening sounds of orc arrows thudding into the elves around her, watching them fall around her like leaves in autumn. She saw the fair- haired elf next to her fall to the ground and watched herself as she leaned over him, trying to help him up. Another elf grabbed her shoulder as he pulled her away, and she turned, screaming something at him, a look of terror and desperation on her face. This had been the extent of her earlier vision, but this time, the vision continued and became clearer.
Rúmil's face came into focus as he tried to pull her away from the dead elf at her feet. She turned once again to drag the dead elf's body up, and managed to roll him over, the blood-soaked hair slapping wetly onto his face. Larien was unable to tear her eyes away from the mirror, as she watched herself wipe the bloody hair away from his face, streaking the elf's red blood onto her hands. As the dirt was smeared off his features, Larien's body grew cold and a scream caught in her throat. There in front of her lay Haldir's dead body.
She continued watching herself in horror as Rúmil dragged her away from Haldir's lifeless body, yelling in her ear over the noise of the ongoing battle. "You are marchwarden now. You must command the troops." The voice reverberated around her skull as she assimilated the enormity of the vision in front of her. She pushed herself away from the mirror in terror and stared up at Galadriel.
"Why was I shown this?" she whispered hoarsely.
"You will find out in your own time, Larien. Since your birth, I have known that you are meant to carry a great responsibility, but only time will tell how you will handle it."
"But this cannot be so. If Haldir were to fall, Rúmil or Orophin would take command."
"Remember, the mirror is dangerous as a guide of deeds. Some of the things it shows may never come to be if those that behold the visions turn aside from their paths to prevent them."
"How can I prevent Haldir from being slaughtered in battle?" Larien asked urgently.
"It may be that you cannot. Your fate may be to lead the Galadhrim, but as Haldir refuses to leave his beloved Lothlórien and pass over the seas, this may be the only way you will achieve your fate."
"I do not want to lead the Galadhrim if Haldir is not with me," she whispered.
"Many do not enjoy the circumstances of their promotion, but if it must be so, you must be strong enough to accept it with dignity." There was a pause as Larien tried to assimilate this information. "Larien, the future is never written in stone," she continued before adding in a low voice, "You may be able to change its course by your actions, but even I cannot see how you could prevent Haldir from going into battle to defend his home."
* * *
Haldir fixed his brother with a steely stare. It had been several days since his encounter with Legolas, but it was becoming plainly obvious that the young prince had not taken his warning seriously.
"I would not stir up trouble in this manner, but you would find out about Legolas' intentions eventually, Haldir," Rúmil told him concernedly.
"You did well, brother," Haldir stated coldly, his eyes fixed menacingly on a distant but invisible point. Rúmil placed a gentle hand on Haldir's arm.
"Haldir, I told you so that you would be warned. Do not seek him out. There is no sense in picking a fight with the King of Mirkwood's son."
"Some would say it is he who has rashly picked a fight with the marchwarden of Lórien," he replied. "If the prince's pretty head does not house the brains necessary for a leader of elves, then I cannot be faulted for teaching him a lesson."
"Haldir," said Rúmil sternly, further risking his wrath. "Do not be led solely by your heart, for it will only get you into trouble. Larien will not thank you for it, and the Lord and Lady will not stand for it." Haldir paused, somewhat surprised by his gentle brother's scolding tone of voice.
"I thank you for bringing me this news, Rúmil, and do not worry, for I shall not enter into any course of action without evaluating the consequences," he replied somewhat stiffly, before murmuring "as I have always done." Rúmil looked into Haldir's eyes for a second and nodded, content that he would do as he said. "Am I allowed to leave now and continue with my duty to the Galadhrim?" Haldir asked with a sarcastic glint in his eye.
"I would not dare impede your departure," Rúmil replied cheekily as Haldir strode off.
* * *
A short while later, an irate Haldir was striding through the mallorn trees, his long strides barely making a noise on the woody ground. He had come to the next watch point expecting to find Larien, but instead found another warden. The warden had explained how Larien had been called away and had asked him to take over her watch, but this had simply angered Haldir further.
To any watching eyes, it seemed that Haldir was making his way purposely towards the Company. As marchwarden and leader of the Galadhrim defences, he knew he should not risk a confrontation with the Mirkwood King's son, if only to spare the Lord and Lady the indignity of having to apologise to the Sindarin king and rebuild brides between Lothlórien and Mirkwood, but the elfling prince was pushing his temper to its limit.
In the back of his mind, he knew he was placing Legolas' affair with Larien before the safety and defence of Lothlórien, but he was an elf with a purpose and could not let the matter lie when the prince was so obviously wooing Larien at that moment. In any case, he reasoned that the woods were safe enough for the moment under Rúmil, Orophin and the wardens he had himself trained.
After tracking the prince through the woods at length, he found him back at the Northern fences, talking to Larien's substitute. The fact that Larien was not in the vicinity did not pierce the fog of wrath and confusion in his mind.
"Legolas Thranduillion, draw your weapon and answer the Challenge of Camthalion," he said, his commanding voice shattering the peace in the glen. Legolas' companion sprang round and moved away from him, eyeing him warily, waiting for a reply. The Challenge of Camthalion was very rarely issued, the last incidence having been several hundred years ago, and usually ended with the death of one of the opponents.
Legolas stood up to face Haldir as he collected his thoughts. "It has been long since the Challenge of Camthalion was issued in my land," he replied.
"Nevertheless, it has been issued. Do you accept, or have the Mirkwood elves softened?"
Fire burned in Legolas' eyes at the intended slander. "I accept," he said steadily as he unsheathed his knives confidently. Haldir reached for his own, acknowledging Legolas' choice in weapon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a crowd gathering to watch the battle: the speed at which news of this kind could spread still surprised him. Soon the cold clash of elven steel was ringing throughout the glen as the two elves tested each other's skill. Both Legolas and Haldir were skilled in the use of elven knives, and both were lethally competitive.
For every slash Legolas performed, Haldir reciprocated with a thrust of his own, each narrowly missing their intended target. The Prince of Mirkwood and the Marchwarden of Lothlórien were concentrating fiercely lest his opponent take advantage of a lax moment, but blood would soon be drawn. The onlookers knew they were watching a Challenge which would no doubt go down in history, and were deathly silent, acknowledging the magnitude of the occasion. Despite the fact that two influential elves in the West were battling to the death, they dared not stop the fight.
* * *
Larien hurried through the mallorns, aware of the time she had taken. She was obliged to answer the Lady's call, but being away from her post always made her nervous. Not bothering to run silently, her light footfall echoed among the trees. Slowly, she became aware that among the comforting sounds of the forest, strange and ominous noises were filtering through. Her step quickened as she identified the source of the battle noises, realising this was a one on one, and thanking the Valar it was not a renewed orc attack.
As she came up to her watch point, she came upon the back of the gathered crowd. Spurred on by her curiosity as to how a fight had broken out at her post, she attempted to push through the crowd of elves, but they remained rooted to the ground, unwilling to give up their vantage positions. She looked around, and spying an overhanging mallorn tree, climbed it swiftly.
The familiar figures in the centre of the crowd slashed and danced around each other, knives flashing in the western sun as a cold dread crept through her body. All her observations quickly slotted into place: the location of the conflict, the reverential hush among the gathered elves, the carefully executed, almost balletic moves. The Challenge of Camthalion was obviously not obsolete, as she had believed.
Both Haldir and Legolas had been injured; Legolas had a deep and gaping wound in his left thigh, his clothes slashed and soaked with his blood, and Haldir had a gash extending from his temple down the side of his face to his cheek. Legolas' injury was impeding his movement to some extent, but the gash on Haldir's face, although relatively superficial, was bleeding into his eyes and obscuring his vision, his blood-drenched locks flicking onto his face as he spun. Although Legolas was younger, more slender and more agile, what Haldir lacked in speed, he made up for with the greater strength and skill. Despite his clouded vision, Haldir had the upper hand and Legolas was beginning to show signs of strain.
Larien restrained herself from crying out their names wildly, knowing both would be momentarily distracted, lethally so. A quiet anger grew within Larien as she watched from the mallorn. She knew as well as any elf in Arda that the Challenge was fatal to one of the opponents, and she was not willing to risk either elf being killed. She crept along a branch carefully. She was not aware of any Challenge in history being prematurely ended, and she did not know the repercussions of this action, but she was determined. When she was almost above the two competitors, she dropped off the branch and into the fray.
A horrified gasp emanated from the gathered crowd as she landed lightly in their midst and unsheathed her own knives, swiftly blocking one of Legolas' thrusts. Using the element of surprise to her advantage, she rid an astonished Legolas of his knives. She turned to confront Haldir, readying her knives should his vision be obscured to the extent of not recognising her, but he stayed his knife, instead pressing her out of his way in order to reach Legolas. He was intent of finishing the battle at hand. Larien returned the move with a block and, dropping her knives, gripped his arms urgently.
"Stop this madness, Haldir. You will both be killed!" Haldir's attention slowly returned to Larien, taking the time to focus on her face. Some of the elves in the crowd had gathered around Legolas and were attempting to tend to his wounds. "Why was the Challenge issued?" she demanded. Haldir swayed almost imperceptibly under Larien's grip, as he blinked slowly, trying in vain to clear his vision. She turned to the group around Legolas and barked an order at them, demanding they take him to the healer. Turning her attention to the crowd of onlookers who were refusing to disperse, anxious to watch the outcome, she used the full extent of her warden rank to return them to their posts.
Once the area had been cleared, she leaned over Haldir, who had dropped to the ground. She wiped the blood off his face silently with her tunic and cleaned his eyes as best she could, as she whispered sadly to him,
"Why Haldir? Not over me, please tell me it was not over me."
* * *
Thank you all for your kind reviews. I hope this chapter has justified all your praise. Just one question, was the fight good enough for you all?
Disclaimer: Larien + plot = mine. All the rest = not mine.
* * *
Chapter 12
Larien spent the rest of her watch scanning the horizon as thoughts of Haldir flitted across her mind, making her smile. As she gazed at the trees and woodland around her, she also found her thoughts being drawn with greater frequency to her initial meeting with Galadriel and the vision she had seen in her mirror. Only once in her life had she looked into the mirror, and the experience remained etched clearly in her mind.
One vision in particular remained seared into her memory still. Initially, she had thought it had been a scene from the past, she had thought the mirror was showing her the death of her parents as she had seen a battle on the outskirts of Lothlórien. The mallorns were black and dripping with blood, the bodies of the Galadhrim were strewn around her. The body at her feet was face down in the earth, speared with several black orc arrows. His fair hair was lying like a halo around his head, also discoloured by the dark red colour of blood. It was only then that she realised the vision was concerning events that had not yet come to pass, for she saw herself leaning over this dead elf.
There was also another elf with her, talking to her, but she could not make out his face or his voice through the roar of the battle cries and screams of the fallen. There the vision had ended, but the empty, cold feeling in the pit of her stomach had remained with her.
A familiar voice in her head shook her out of her reverie. **You are ready now, child, but have you the courage to look once again into the mirror? ** She shook her head, wondering if she was ever going to get used to hearing the Lady's voice in her head, before feeling the twist in her stomach at the thought of reliving the vision.
* * *
She stood at the threshold of the large clearing housing Galadriel's mirror. Throughout her long walk she had been swallowing back the fear that kept threatening to engulf her, making her run sobbing in the opposite direction. She had to find the courage from somewhere. She was not certain she wanted to continue this vision, but the Lady had told her she was ready, so she steeled herself and stepped into the open.
Galadriel was in the clearing with her back to Larien, her golden hair falling around her shoulders as she dipped the silver jug into the water.
"I am glad you found it within yourself to face this challenge." Larien was speechless for she found that her mouth had dried. She watched silently as Galadriel turned slowly and poured the water into the mirror. "Have faith, Larien. You are ready to see what the mirror has to show you." Larien nodded as she stepped hesitantly towards the bowl of water. The ripples slowly diverged and stilled as all was silent around her. She took a breath and leaned over to gaze into the silver surface. Almost immediately, the surface of the water darkened as the vision began again.
There was a flurry of activity as her eyes slowly focused on the people on the battleground. She could see herself clearly now, and could see and hear the sickening sounds of orc arrows thudding into the elves around her, watching them fall around her like leaves in autumn. She saw the fair- haired elf next to her fall to the ground and watched herself as she leaned over him, trying to help him up. Another elf grabbed her shoulder as he pulled her away, and she turned, screaming something at him, a look of terror and desperation on her face. This had been the extent of her earlier vision, but this time, the vision continued and became clearer.
Rúmil's face came into focus as he tried to pull her away from the dead elf at her feet. She turned once again to drag the dead elf's body up, and managed to roll him over, the blood-soaked hair slapping wetly onto his face. Larien was unable to tear her eyes away from the mirror, as she watched herself wipe the bloody hair away from his face, streaking the elf's red blood onto her hands. As the dirt was smeared off his features, Larien's body grew cold and a scream caught in her throat. There in front of her lay Haldir's dead body.
She continued watching herself in horror as Rúmil dragged her away from Haldir's lifeless body, yelling in her ear over the noise of the ongoing battle. "You are marchwarden now. You must command the troops." The voice reverberated around her skull as she assimilated the enormity of the vision in front of her. She pushed herself away from the mirror in terror and stared up at Galadriel.
"Why was I shown this?" she whispered hoarsely.
"You will find out in your own time, Larien. Since your birth, I have known that you are meant to carry a great responsibility, but only time will tell how you will handle it."
"But this cannot be so. If Haldir were to fall, Rúmil or Orophin would take command."
"Remember, the mirror is dangerous as a guide of deeds. Some of the things it shows may never come to be if those that behold the visions turn aside from their paths to prevent them."
"How can I prevent Haldir from being slaughtered in battle?" Larien asked urgently.
"It may be that you cannot. Your fate may be to lead the Galadhrim, but as Haldir refuses to leave his beloved Lothlórien and pass over the seas, this may be the only way you will achieve your fate."
"I do not want to lead the Galadhrim if Haldir is not with me," she whispered.
"Many do not enjoy the circumstances of their promotion, but if it must be so, you must be strong enough to accept it with dignity." There was a pause as Larien tried to assimilate this information. "Larien, the future is never written in stone," she continued before adding in a low voice, "You may be able to change its course by your actions, but even I cannot see how you could prevent Haldir from going into battle to defend his home."
* * *
Haldir fixed his brother with a steely stare. It had been several days since his encounter with Legolas, but it was becoming plainly obvious that the young prince had not taken his warning seriously.
"I would not stir up trouble in this manner, but you would find out about Legolas' intentions eventually, Haldir," Rúmil told him concernedly.
"You did well, brother," Haldir stated coldly, his eyes fixed menacingly on a distant but invisible point. Rúmil placed a gentle hand on Haldir's arm.
"Haldir, I told you so that you would be warned. Do not seek him out. There is no sense in picking a fight with the King of Mirkwood's son."
"Some would say it is he who has rashly picked a fight with the marchwarden of Lórien," he replied. "If the prince's pretty head does not house the brains necessary for a leader of elves, then I cannot be faulted for teaching him a lesson."
"Haldir," said Rúmil sternly, further risking his wrath. "Do not be led solely by your heart, for it will only get you into trouble. Larien will not thank you for it, and the Lord and Lady will not stand for it." Haldir paused, somewhat surprised by his gentle brother's scolding tone of voice.
"I thank you for bringing me this news, Rúmil, and do not worry, for I shall not enter into any course of action without evaluating the consequences," he replied somewhat stiffly, before murmuring "as I have always done." Rúmil looked into Haldir's eyes for a second and nodded, content that he would do as he said. "Am I allowed to leave now and continue with my duty to the Galadhrim?" Haldir asked with a sarcastic glint in his eye.
"I would not dare impede your departure," Rúmil replied cheekily as Haldir strode off.
* * *
A short while later, an irate Haldir was striding through the mallorn trees, his long strides barely making a noise on the woody ground. He had come to the next watch point expecting to find Larien, but instead found another warden. The warden had explained how Larien had been called away and had asked him to take over her watch, but this had simply angered Haldir further.
To any watching eyes, it seemed that Haldir was making his way purposely towards the Company. As marchwarden and leader of the Galadhrim defences, he knew he should not risk a confrontation with the Mirkwood King's son, if only to spare the Lord and Lady the indignity of having to apologise to the Sindarin king and rebuild brides between Lothlórien and Mirkwood, but the elfling prince was pushing his temper to its limit.
In the back of his mind, he knew he was placing Legolas' affair with Larien before the safety and defence of Lothlórien, but he was an elf with a purpose and could not let the matter lie when the prince was so obviously wooing Larien at that moment. In any case, he reasoned that the woods were safe enough for the moment under Rúmil, Orophin and the wardens he had himself trained.
After tracking the prince through the woods at length, he found him back at the Northern fences, talking to Larien's substitute. The fact that Larien was not in the vicinity did not pierce the fog of wrath and confusion in his mind.
"Legolas Thranduillion, draw your weapon and answer the Challenge of Camthalion," he said, his commanding voice shattering the peace in the glen. Legolas' companion sprang round and moved away from him, eyeing him warily, waiting for a reply. The Challenge of Camthalion was very rarely issued, the last incidence having been several hundred years ago, and usually ended with the death of one of the opponents.
Legolas stood up to face Haldir as he collected his thoughts. "It has been long since the Challenge of Camthalion was issued in my land," he replied.
"Nevertheless, it has been issued. Do you accept, or have the Mirkwood elves softened?"
Fire burned in Legolas' eyes at the intended slander. "I accept," he said steadily as he unsheathed his knives confidently. Haldir reached for his own, acknowledging Legolas' choice in weapon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a crowd gathering to watch the battle: the speed at which news of this kind could spread still surprised him. Soon the cold clash of elven steel was ringing throughout the glen as the two elves tested each other's skill. Both Legolas and Haldir were skilled in the use of elven knives, and both were lethally competitive.
For every slash Legolas performed, Haldir reciprocated with a thrust of his own, each narrowly missing their intended target. The Prince of Mirkwood and the Marchwarden of Lothlórien were concentrating fiercely lest his opponent take advantage of a lax moment, but blood would soon be drawn. The onlookers knew they were watching a Challenge which would no doubt go down in history, and were deathly silent, acknowledging the magnitude of the occasion. Despite the fact that two influential elves in the West were battling to the death, they dared not stop the fight.
* * *
Larien hurried through the mallorns, aware of the time she had taken. She was obliged to answer the Lady's call, but being away from her post always made her nervous. Not bothering to run silently, her light footfall echoed among the trees. Slowly, she became aware that among the comforting sounds of the forest, strange and ominous noises were filtering through. Her step quickened as she identified the source of the battle noises, realising this was a one on one, and thanking the Valar it was not a renewed orc attack.
As she came up to her watch point, she came upon the back of the gathered crowd. Spurred on by her curiosity as to how a fight had broken out at her post, she attempted to push through the crowd of elves, but they remained rooted to the ground, unwilling to give up their vantage positions. She looked around, and spying an overhanging mallorn tree, climbed it swiftly.
The familiar figures in the centre of the crowd slashed and danced around each other, knives flashing in the western sun as a cold dread crept through her body. All her observations quickly slotted into place: the location of the conflict, the reverential hush among the gathered elves, the carefully executed, almost balletic moves. The Challenge of Camthalion was obviously not obsolete, as she had believed.
Both Haldir and Legolas had been injured; Legolas had a deep and gaping wound in his left thigh, his clothes slashed and soaked with his blood, and Haldir had a gash extending from his temple down the side of his face to his cheek. Legolas' injury was impeding his movement to some extent, but the gash on Haldir's face, although relatively superficial, was bleeding into his eyes and obscuring his vision, his blood-drenched locks flicking onto his face as he spun. Although Legolas was younger, more slender and more agile, what Haldir lacked in speed, he made up for with the greater strength and skill. Despite his clouded vision, Haldir had the upper hand and Legolas was beginning to show signs of strain.
Larien restrained herself from crying out their names wildly, knowing both would be momentarily distracted, lethally so. A quiet anger grew within Larien as she watched from the mallorn. She knew as well as any elf in Arda that the Challenge was fatal to one of the opponents, and she was not willing to risk either elf being killed. She crept along a branch carefully. She was not aware of any Challenge in history being prematurely ended, and she did not know the repercussions of this action, but she was determined. When she was almost above the two competitors, she dropped off the branch and into the fray.
A horrified gasp emanated from the gathered crowd as she landed lightly in their midst and unsheathed her own knives, swiftly blocking one of Legolas' thrusts. Using the element of surprise to her advantage, she rid an astonished Legolas of his knives. She turned to confront Haldir, readying her knives should his vision be obscured to the extent of not recognising her, but he stayed his knife, instead pressing her out of his way in order to reach Legolas. He was intent of finishing the battle at hand. Larien returned the move with a block and, dropping her knives, gripped his arms urgently.
"Stop this madness, Haldir. You will both be killed!" Haldir's attention slowly returned to Larien, taking the time to focus on her face. Some of the elves in the crowd had gathered around Legolas and were attempting to tend to his wounds. "Why was the Challenge issued?" she demanded. Haldir swayed almost imperceptibly under Larien's grip, as he blinked slowly, trying in vain to clear his vision. She turned to the group around Legolas and barked an order at them, demanding they take him to the healer. Turning her attention to the crowd of onlookers who were refusing to disperse, anxious to watch the outcome, she used the full extent of her warden rank to return them to their posts.
Once the area had been cleared, she leaned over Haldir, who had dropped to the ground. She wiped the blood off his face silently with her tunic and cleaned his eyes as best she could, as she whispered sadly to him,
"Why Haldir? Not over me, please tell me it was not over me."
* * *
Thank you all for your kind reviews. I hope this chapter has justified all your praise. Just one question, was the fight good enough for you all?