Disclaimer: The characters, settings, places and languages used in this work are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: *SPOILERS* - Do NOT read if you don't want to know what happens at the end of the Return of the King.
Based on canon (i.e. book-verse, not movie-verse. The Elves were not at Helm's Deep in the book – this is why.)
Originally written for the www.haldir-lives.org Fan Fic Challenge. Huge thanks to Kissaki and everyone else at www.haldir-lives.org (now www.galadhrim.net).
Thank you for reviewing my story Wife to the 2nd Marshall of the Mark. I'm glad you like it, and I'll try to keep updating it regularly from now on! To anyone else reading this, all reviews are welcome!
Chapter V
"No, no! You must draw the arrow all the way back on the string, no matter how quickly you wish to fire! Speed will come in time. Accuracy and power must come first!"
Haldir took the bow from the young Elf, and taking careful aim, he slowly drew back the bowstring and let the arrow fly, hitting the small target set a hundred paces away dead in the centre.
"But surely, Captain Haldir, you must strive to fire as quickly as possible?"
"It does no good to fire with speed if you do not hit anything." Haldir replied. "And if you do not pull back the arrow fully in the string, it will not hit with enough power to penetrate the enemies' armour."
Haldir handed the bow back to the youth and stepped back, letting him have some room to continue practising. This time the Elfling drew back the bowstring as far as possible, and the arrow flew powerfully fast. He hit the target a little high, but Haldir was satisfied. He was the last of the group to master archery, and it was time for his students to hone their skills with the blade. He had just finished going through some more difficult strokes when his brothers arrived.
They too had been teaching some young Elves the skills they would need in battle. Under normal circumstances the Elves they were teaching would never be expected to participate in a war, but the previous two assaults had somewhat depleted the numbers of the Galadhrim. Many experienced warriors had fallen under the trees, others had sustained injuries that would prevent them fighting in the near future. It now fell to the younger Elves to fill the gap. Haldir shook his head as he surveyed his group: many of them had not yet come of age. For too few seasons had they walked among the trees of Lórien, under Elbereth's stars, and he regretted that their blood might be spilt in the defence of the Wood.
Alas that we cannot live quietly and unhindered in our home, thought Haldir.
"Have I not told you before not to brood, Haldir!" Orophin joked.
"Nay brother," Rúmil said before Haldir could respond. "He was merely worried about how best to keep his new cloak free of black orc-blood should he be called upon to lead us into battle once more!"
Haldir smirked at his brothers, pleased to be distracted from his depressing thoughts, annoyed at being teased in front of a group of highly impressionable young Elflings. He was determined not to be drawn into an argument, and so turned back to his students. But his brothers were not so easily put off.
"I'm surprised that you're not spending more time improving your own sword-fighting skills, Haldir!" Rúmil taunted. "I'd be glad to spend some time teaching all that I know!"
Haldir glared at Rúmil, torn between rebuking him and ignoring the jibe. Orophin, however, felt it necessary to defend his oldest brother.
"Well that should prove to be a short lesson Rúmil! After all, it was you who was nearly killed in close quarters fighting in the last assault!"
Orophin would have done better if he'd stayed silent, as this comment hit home harder than anything Rúmil might have said. Haldir had felt terrible that he had not been there to save Rúmil, as he ought. He looked up sharply at his youngest brother, who suddenly realised that he shouldn't have brought that up. Orophin and Rúmil both tried to say something to ease the situation, but it was too late. Haldir strode off, head bowed, not caring what the other Elves thought. He disappeared between the mallorn-trees before his brothers could see where he had gone.
* * *
Haldir wandered around Caras Galadhon, avoiding other Elves as they went about their business. Most were too pre-occupied to notice him as they passed. He had tried hard not to dwell on his brother's close brush with death, trying instead to remember that his brothers were both expert warriors, fully prepared to face death in battle.
By the Valar, they're thousands of years old! And I've got too many other duties to be burdened with their fates, he told himself.
Haldir leaned against a mallorn, feeling the cool, textured bark with his palm. The captain was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the leaves on the ground rustling, heralding the arrival of another.
"Now is not a good time to be seeking solitude, Haldir."
Haldir visibly jumped. Blushing, he bowed to the Lady of the Wood. She smiled at him, trying not to show how amused she was at his embarrassment at being surprised. She stepped over and cupped her hand under his chin, gently directing him to look her in the eye.
"We cannot stop the Shadow from growing outside the Wood, Haldir." Galadriel said quietly. "But we can fight against it out there, and we can stop it from growing inside our hearts. If we lose hope, we lose the fight, Haldir. I suspect you have already begun to doubt that we can win."
"Was it not you, my Lady, who called our battle against Evil the 'long defeat'?" Haldir asked.
Galadriel smiled sadly, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Yes. I said that, and it is true. Whatever happens, the time of the Elves is over. Even if we win this war, I will not be able to prevent the Golden Wood from fading. If the One Ring is destroyed, the Three will fail, and Lothlórien will become a shadow of its former self, even if the Enemy is defeated. If we win this war, I shall sail West at the first opportunity, taking all those Elves with me who do not wish to see their home wither away."
Haldir fought back tears, as his Lady confirmed what he had feared ever since the Fellowship had passed through Lórien. He had felt the Evil emanating from Frodo's burden. He had seen the effect it had had on Lady Galadriel. He now understood how devastated she had been when she successfully fought the temptation to take the Ring from Frodo. She had saved herself from a terrible fate, but also lost the Elves their last chance to preserve Middle-earth the way they had kept it for thousands of years. Haldir thought of his words to the hobbit Meriadoc as he guided the Fellowship to Caras Galadhon.
" 'Alas for Lothlórien that I love! It would be a poor life in a land where no mallorn grew. But if there are mallorn-trees beyond the Great Sea, none have reported it.' "3
Lady Galadriel stared at Haldir, and he had the feeling that she knew what his words had been, almost as if she had heard them herself. The Lady held out her hand to him.
"Come Haldir. Follow me."
Confused, Haldir followed Galadriel through the forest. They reached a secluded glade, and she led him down a flight of stone steps to a small garden, where clear spring water cascaded down a little fountain into a pool. Haldir looked around in wonder. Though all the Elves of Lórien knew about this place, never before had he come to it; he had never been brought here, and would never have presumed to come unbidden. But now he stood before the Mirror of Galadriel, entranced, watching the Lady carefully pour water from a silver chalice into the Mirror without spilling a single drop.
"Will you look into the Mirror, Haldir? I cannot guarantee that what you see will bring you peace of mind, or hope. But perhaps you have little of either to lose."
Haldir stared at the Mirror, at the stars reflected on its glassy surface, and found himself inexorably drawn to it. Stepping up to the plinth, he gazed into its depths. After a moment in which he thought nothing would happen, the water in the Mirror seemed to swirl. Then he realised it wasn't the water in the Mirror swirling, but a vision of the Sea, an image of surging waves crashing on a far-off shore. Just how far off was revealed a moment later: the coast was revealed in all its glory. A wondrous, all-embracing light seemed to shine from the sky, the sand, and the buildings, which were unmistakably of Elvish design. The Mirror had chosen to show him the last thing he had expected to see, the Undying Lands, the Elvenhome. He gasped as the vision took him inland, away from the Sea, to a glade where tall elegant trees were lit with countless silver lamps.
"Mallorn-trees."
The whisper had barely left Haldir's lips when the vision ended. Awed, astonished and speechless, the Elf stared at Galadriel, silently asking her to tell him that the vision was true, and not merely a false hope. She smiled at him, and spoke in hushed, reverent tones.
"Yes Haldir. Though Lórien may fade, there is beauty in this world that is beyond the reach of Dark Lords like Sauron. It will exist there until the very End of Days, and of all the Free Peoples of Middle-earth, it is the right of Elves alone to dwell there, with the Valar. Elves who do not live to sail there, who perish in Middle-earth, go to the Halls of Mandos on the far western coast of the Undying Lands, and in time are reborn in that timeless land. Elves are truly immortal and we cannot be separated long from those we love."
Haldir, still bent over the Mirror in the vain hope of catching another glimpse of that glorious land, stood tall and looked at Galadriel, with certainty in his eyes.
"My Lady, it is my place to defend my home, to fight in this war, to the death if necessary. But if I survive to see Good prevail, I wish you may let me sail with you to the Undying Lands when you go."
Lady Galadriel smiled and nodded at him. Somehow understanding that no further words were necessary, Haldir bowed low and fairly bounded up the steps, striding purposefully through the wood. He felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, and another weight, no less heavy, but easier to bear, had been placed on them instead. He knew now what he could and could not do. He could carry the burden of command and lead the defence of Lothlórien against the forces of darkness. He could fight to the best of his ability, and if need be, lay down his life for his home and his kindred.
But he could not protect brothers who had long been old enough and capable enough to engage in combat. He could not shield every tree in the forest from every orc of Dol Guldur. And he could not stop Lothlórien from withering like a Man in old age. Nor would he try.
Haldir would face his fate, and let others do the same, to whatever end.
Author's note
3: The Lord of the Rings (one volume 2001 edition): pg 340, 'Lothlórien'.