Title: "You Should Know It's Love That Brought You Here…"

Author: Nefertili

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Pairing(s): none

Rating: PG13

Genre(s): Angst, AU

Warning(s): No slash this time…it is replaced by bits and pieces of violence and insults in the other chapters.

Summary: A glimpse on Haldir's past, and what he has long hidden from the world in his face of indifference.

Author's Notes: Ahee, brace yourselves! Lots and lots of tears and sadness in this chapter. Please don't flame me. This is just the way the story goes. I never would want to write another fic like this, I must admit. Don't worry, this is the last really sad fic I shall ever write, take my word for it. I promise! By the way, thank you, thank you, Whisky and Sparky, for helping me get over my damn writer's block! I don't know how I'd make it without you two!

The war was terrible beyond words to comprehend. Wherever his eyes looked, Haldir saw fear and terror reigning. He had seen Ereinion Gil-galad and his herald Elrond Peredhil in their glory and splendor, and had stood closely observing his father throughout the war.

Mordor was clearly an evil place. The sun could not send her warm rays down the inhospitable land below, and dark veils of smoke and darkness from the mouths of Orodruin blackened the sky and obscured its beautiful blue hue. The ground was tinted black and grey with mud and filth, and red was now being mixed in as blood gushed forth from the gashes of dead or wounded warriors.

A shout from the frontlines, whose voice Haldir recognize to be Elrond's signaled the warriors to ready their weapons. Arrows were drawn and fired. The clang of metal against metal rang clearly amongst the multitude. Haldir had bit his lips and drew forth his sword from the sheath. No more than it had been drawn when it slashed at its first orc. Every now and then, he would be slashed with several minor cuts that did not run deep. Where was Malenardhon? They had been separated as the march carried on.

Just then, Haldir noticed that near the frontlines, there was great commotion then suddenly, stillness. He stopped, but still held his bloodstained blade in front of him. Haldir's mouth dropped when he beheld a dark armored figure, taller than any Elf or Man, approaching the frontlines. His keen Elven vision made out the gleam of a golden ring in a finger of the creature's hand grasping a huge black mace. It could only be…

Haldir's mind went blank when the dark figure raised its mace and struck the people in the frontlines with such force that limp figures of Men and Elves flew in the air. They were dead before their bodies touched the lifeless earth of Mordor.

"No…" he muttered to himself. Then reality splashed upon him like a bucket of cold water on his head. Anar-galad was fighting in the frontlines! "No! No! No! Adar! You can't be dead! You can't be dead! Can't be!" His mother's image flashed in his mind, his brothers who were waiting for him back in the Golden Wood. No, his father must live, for Arthendion's sake! May Elbereth listen!

Haldir ran towards the frontlines, heeding not the danger he faced. He brought down all the orcs which dared to block his path. His eyes scanned his surroundings for any trace of Anar-galad. He found him, indeed, lying down limp near the place where Sauron delivered his first blow of his evil mace. His armor was stained with his blood and the orcs' black ones. Haldir noted that part of it had been destroyed due to the impact of Sauron's blow. Anar-galad's grey eyes were closed, and his usually neat silvery hair was disheveled and dirtied with mud and grime. But as Haldir rushed by his side, he opened his eyes and smiled up at his son, though very weakly and sadly.

"Haldir, my heart is gladdened to see you still living," Anar-galad muttered weakly, his voice broken and hoarse. Haldir let his sword drop to the ground as he clutched his father's frail form close to his heart. He wiped away a tear which was making its way down Anar-galad's cheek and gently brushed the dried silver hair from his father's face.

"Ada, hold on," Haldir said, cradling Anar-galad's gradually drooping head. "Think of Naneth. She is awaiting your return. She still loves you…"

Anar-galad looked up at Haldir. It was evident that he was making an effort to do so. "She…still…does?"

"Yes, Ada, she never has stopped loving you," Haldir replied quickly to reassure his dying father. "Don't waste your strength, Adar. You can make it. We shall find victory over the enemy! Remember Naneth, remember Arthendion…" Before he knew it, fresh tears were leaving his eyes and dripping down his fair face.

Anar-galad gradually raised his left hand to touch Haldir's face. "Tell…your…Naneth…I…still…love…" Those were the last words he heard from his father, for no longer had Anar-galad's hand touched his face when it fell back to the earth again. Haldir gazed at his face, which was now blank and devoid of all emotions. Gradually, he felt all the warmth leave his father's body and he held but an empty husk.

With a heavy heart, Haldir went back to Lothlórien with the remnants of the Elves which survived the war. His heart was further burdened when he found out that his best friend Malenardhon had left as well. His mind could no longer see the beauty of the Golden Wood. All that he saw were remnants of war…his father's death…so many died, so many lives lost…

The only thought that comforted him was that he would gaze upon his mother's face once more. But his mind pondered on what he would say to her. Why had Anar-galad died? He would never forget the prospect of holding his father close to him in death.

Laments filled the air, the trees, as the desolate party entered the Golden Wood once more. Haldir searched each and every face which moved out to welcome the refugees back to their home. He saw not his mother, but beheld the face of Rumil and Orophin. They were conversing with one another in hushed and hurried voices, that Haldir did not understand what they were saying.

"Orophin, Rumil," he called out, approaching them and eyeing them curiously.

His brothers faced him quickly, and Haldir made it a point to look at them in the eye, yet they avoided his gaze. Orophin and Rumil were trying their best to look cheerful at his return, yet Haldir, who can easily tell whether one is hiding something, sensed that the air was filled with an eerie agitation.

"You are…hiding something," Haldir said softly.

"No, brother, you are mistaken," Rumil said. "We are not hiding anything from you-"

"Not hiding anything?!" Haldir cut him off. "Your voices, they sound…different. Your eyes…avoid my glances. What have you to say about them?"

"We are not hiding anything!" Orophin nearly screamed, his voice trembling. Haldir's eyes narrowed upon him.

"Let me get this clear," Haldir replied coldly and resolutely. "I came from the pits of Mordor, my spirits greatly shaken by war and death, and you are here, not telling me anything of your whereabouts! Tell me, tell me where is Naneth. I demand to see her; she is also my mother!"

Orophin opened his mouth to reply, yet Haldir inched closer towards him and leveled his face to meet his eye in the eye.

"I went away for the welfare of our people, for you! Have you forgotten my rights over my own kith and kin? I command you to tell me what you've been hiding from me!"

Before any of his brothers could reply to him, a young elf's chatter caught Haldir's attention. A little golden-haired elfling was softly plucking at the sleeve of a she-elf which he supposed was the mother, and pointing at him at the same time.

"Nana, nana," the young soul said. "Look at him! Isn't he the eldest son of the captured one?"

Haldir pushed his brothers aside, who were trying to block the view from him. He slowly gazed first at the child, then the terrified mother, who was trying frantically to quiet her young.

"Pardon me," Haldir said softly to the she-elf. "What did he say?"

"Oh," she said quickly, her hands trembling as she sought to hide her son from his view. "Forgive my child for his nonsense. After all, he's still very young."

Haldir then gradually looked about him. The crowd of Elves around him was softly whispering with one another. They were we afraid and agitated.

"Poor child, his mother had gone to the Halls of Waiting."

"Hush, don't let him hear you!"

"He looks so shaken. He is not ready to know!"

"Haldir knows truth from wrong. He'll know something is amiss!"

When he could no longer stand their whispers, Haldir looked at one of them and pleaded, "Please, tell me what you mean. Naneth can't be dead! She can't be! I must tell her…Those were his last words!"

The other Elf answered to rid of him quickly, "Ask your brothers. They know."

Haldir did not hesitate to drag both of his siblings away from the crowd and he clasped their shoulders so hard that they squirmed in pain.

"Tell me, Rumil, Orophin! Where is Naneth!? I must find her! I must get to her! I need to tell her what she needs to know! Have mercy on your brother!"

Rumil choked out, tears welling up from his eyes, "Naneth…there was a band of orcs that dared to penetrate Lorien-"

"I don't care for details! Get to the point!"

A silence followed before Orophin managed to mutter the dreaded words.

"Haldir, Naneth…Naneth is…she is dead!"

It took a long time before Haldir let the truth sink in his mind. He let go of his brothers, slowly clenching his fists in rage. He took a step back, and another, and another…

"No, you must be mistaken," Haldir muttered, shaking his head repeatedly. "It can't be. It can't be. No, it's not true. You are lying, all lying!"

His feet broke off into a run as he dashed underneath the golden mallorns. A total sense of loss engulfed him. He ran without a definite path; he did not know what to do. All the images seemed to flash back in his mind, and he longed for it to stop, but he could not do so.

A glimmer amongst the blades of grass caught his eye. A brilliant red flower, with emerald green leaves circled around it, was dropped to the ground. Haldir stretched out his hand to touch the pendant of his mother. It was then that he noticed that the grass nearby had drops of blood on them. He, with reverence, clasped all that remained of the necklace, close to his heart, and the mallorn trees alone held witness to the tears Haldir of Lórien shed for Arthendion the Fair, who had gone off to the regions unknown and reunited herself with her beloved Anar-galad.

"Haldir," a gentle voice slightly lower than a woman's wont called to him. Haldir looked up from the ground and saw the faces of his Lord and Lady, Celeborn and Galadriel of Lórien.

They were as majestic as ever, that amidst his grief, he was obliged to bow low, saying, "My Lord, my Lady."

Lady Galadriel looked at him with compassion in her grey eyes, and strangely, pity. She could not help but pity the young guard who had lost two of the most precious beings in his life at a time so crucial and painful.

"Your brothers came to me, seeking solace," she explained. "They mentioned you acting out of anger, because of the disappearance of Arthendion, who undeniably is one of the fairest maidens in Lothlórien."

At the mention of Arthendion, Haldir's heart cramped once more in misery, and he hung his head in defeat. Involuntarily, he blurted out the words which he had kept so long in his mind.

"And I feel like my brothers had failed her. I had left her to their trust before I left for Mordor. I never expected her to be but a cold corpse upon my return! I feel like I failed her and Adar! I never got to tell her that Adar loved her still; that all her years of sacrifice were not in vain; I never got to fulfill my father's one last wish…"

Celeborn, who knew exactly how it feels to lose one's parents, him having lost his own back in Doriath, placed a hand on Haldir's back to soothe him.

"Fate did not permit you to do so," he counseled him. "Do not blame yourself for all the misfortune that befell you. All the more, blame not Rumil and Orophin for a crime they did not commit."

Haldir gazed up at Galadriel's beautiful face and asked her, "What really happened?"

Galadriel smiled sadly upon him. "Do you think you are ready to know?"

When Haldir nodded, she said, "I know all that goes on within these woods, and I know that your mother ran to the borders out of grief shortly after you left. It so happened that a small party of orcs dared to break in our realm. Your brothers tried their best, but they are few in comparison to the orcs. Alas, when they brought more reinforcements with them, the orcs had gone, and your mother, too."

Haldir choked back his emotions in his throat. Celeborn added, "Your brothers were shaken to have their mother taken from them at so young an age, the way you were burdened when Anar-galad died in your arms. They expected to look up to you for support. Yet you shunned them. All that they wanted was solace, and they longed for you to offer them all the comfort they needed to carry on."

After a brief period of silence, Galadriel then took Haldir's hands and placed a sheathed sword on it to mingle with Arthendion's necklace. Haldir recognized it immediately as his late father's sword. Yet no longer was it matted with blood and filth; it was renewed, its blade shining and silver once more.

"Ada's sword…"

"The sword of the Marchwarden of Lórien," Celeborn said. "We have chosen you to replace your father in his position among the Lórien guards."

Haldir was speechless, but before he can say anything, Galadriel stepped aside to reveal Rumil and Orophin. They looked at their oldest brother with grief and shame in their eyes. Haldir realized he had been harsh with them. He said, holding out his hands, "Rumil, Orophin."

His brothers did not hesitate. They ran and embraced Haldir, crying on his shoulder.

"Haldir, we thought you would never speak to us again," Rumil said.

"Forgive your brother for his harsh words," Haldir replied soothingly, stroking Orophin and Rumil's hair, which were silver like his. "I love you, and I will make you know that it's love that brought you here."

Galadriel then nodded to Celeborn, who tenderly folded his arms around her. They had at least restored the bonds between the remnants of the severed family. But they knew it was up to the three brothers whether to make their love grow or not.

"Evil had crept into his heart upon seeing such violent deaths," Galadriel told Celeborn in her telepathic manner.

"It is up to him to overcome the evil or let it take hold of him," Celeborn replied.

"Hence, we shall not allow it to prevail over him whence we live."

tears, tears Please have mercy on me, don't flame me! I'm sorree!