Chapter 5: Mistakes

Haldir had his travel bags packed along with a store of lembas from the King's kitchen. He awaited Caladhel, who had sent him word late the previous night to meet her at first light at the front gate. He had been waiting for a short time now but was unconcerned. Given their current dwelling's underground location, it was difficult to know precisely when dawn occurred.

"Warden."

Haldir turned to find Lord Túven approaching him. He learned the counselor's name from Haldor, for the ellon had failed to introduce himself the day before.

"Lord Túven." He greeted the ellon with a bow. When Haldir rose he took note of two things – the counselor's contemptuous expression, and the four guards who had gathered around them. He needed no one to tell him something was wrong. "Where is Lady Caladhel?"

"She will not be returning with you," Túven replied. "You will deliver this letter to Lord Celeborn."

The counselor held the letter out to him but Haldir did not reach for it. "I cannot return without her," said Haldir. "If she is to stay I will remain with her."

The King had warned Túven that the Lórien guard could be a problem, but the counselor had known that already. He had seen the ellon's reluctance to leave his lady's side even when she, herself, had dismissed him. "You will leave these halls today, warden. You are welcome here no longer."

Haldir took a step closer to Túven. The guards mirrored his action, stepping closer to him. "I would speak with my lady first."

"The Lady is not receiving visitors."

"She will see me," Haldir replied.

"She will see no one!"

Haldir had not had an opportunity before this moment to study King Thranduil's high counselor. He did so now, and he did not like what he saw. Haldir marked in the ancient elf's eyes something more dangerous than anger. He saw power, the surety of it. It did not lie in his arm, but in his command.

Haldir knew he would not win this fight, but that knowledge did not stop him from trying. "I will not leave without her."

"The King thought you might say that."

Túven lifted his hand and the four guards who had surrounded Haldir closed in. Two of them stepped forward to take hold of his arms but Haldir struck first, laying the ellon to his right out flat on his back. It was not enough. One guard landed a blow on Haldir's face with an armored hand and another struck him in the back with the butt of his sword. The blow brought Haldir to his knees. Two guards took hold of his arms and the ellon he struck first kicked him hard in the stomach with an armored boot.

"Stop this! Now!" a voice commanded from the entryway.

The guard who kicked Haldir stepped away, but the two who held his arms did not release him. Haldir heard more than one ellon approach from the door and a familiar face dropped to a knee in front of him.

"Are you well?" Haldor asked, checking the gash on his face.

Haldir did not answer. His eyes sought Thranduil's counselor, but Lord Túven's attention was currently on the ellon who stayed the guards.

"Lord Iordor," Túven said in greeting, though there was not much welcome in his voice.

Haldir had not yet met the commander of Greenwood's guards, but Haldor's father reminded him much of his own, tall and stern. He had clearly just arrived from the watches for he wore the same style clothing Haldor had when they met on the Forest Road.

"What is going on here?" The scene before him disgusted Iordor and he looked to Túven, for he knew without question where the blame lay.

Túven was unfazed by Iordor's anger. "The King commands this warden from Lórien be sent back home, but he has refused to leave."

"And why would he be willing to take a beating to remain here? Does he long for your continued company?"

"Lady Caladhel," Haldor said, interrupting his father. She was nowhere in sight and Haldor knew she and Haldir were meant to be departing. He rose from the ground, addressing Túven. "Where is she?"

"Who is she?" Iordor added. He was trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together and this lady appeared to be the key.

"She is Lord Celeborn's niece," said Túven, "and his spy. The King has seen fit to detain her."

"He's done what?" Iordor could not believe what he was hearing. He wanted to knock Túven's teeth in, convinced this madness was in no small part his doing.

"You forget yourself, Iordor," Túven snapped. "You have no authority to question the King's orders. You will do his bidding and see this warden removed from our land."

Iordor was angered by Túven's words and in no small part by the power he held over the court. But Iordor composed himself. The counselor was right in one thing. He would not disregard the King's order. "It will be done."

Túven handed Iordor the King's letter for Celeborn, and without so much as a glance at Haldir, he departed.

Iordor moved to stand before Haldir, addressing him. "Warden, if I have these guards release you, will you leave quietly?"

Haldir's head rose to meet the commander's eyes. He saw no malice in them, only duty and honor. When he spoke he kept his voice calm but firm. He did not wish this lord to think he acted merely out of anger. "No," he answered. "I will not."

"Haldir, don't do this," said Haldor. "It will not help her."

Iordor cast his son a sidelong glance, judging rightly that he and Haldir had met more than this once.

Iordor spoke first to the guards. "Remove his weapons and bind his arms." And to his son he said, "Take a guard and escort your friend to the edge of the forest. You may return his weapons there. Be sure he leaves. If he tries to re-enter Greenwood, send him to the Valar."

Haldor frowned at his father, but nodded at his command.

Iordor returned his attention to Haldir. He dropped to one knee and tucked King Thranduil's letter carefully into Haldir's chest pocket, then he met the Lórien warden's eyes. "I am sorry for your treatment here, warden. I wish you a safe and swift journey home."

Haldir acknowledged the Greenwood commander's apology and travel blessing with a nod. Others might have found them odd, given Iordor had also ordered his son to kill Haldir should he return to the wood. Haldir understood. Duty was not always kind.


None in Caras Galadhon liked to interrupt Celeborn and Galadriel when they were spending time together alone, so Celeborn knew the knock at their door to be urgent. He did not rise immediately. His wife lay reclining against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Their conversations of late had run more often than not in the direction of their daughter's wedding, but tonight they were stargazing. It had been Galadriel's suggestion to set work aside for a few blessed hours. Her fingers entwined in his as they lay upon a settee on their private terrace. He lifted her hand to his lips.

"Perhaps if we ignore them, they will go away," he whispered in Galadriel's ear but no sooner had he done so than the knocking came again, louder the second time.

Galadriel sighed and sat up, allowing her husband to escape from the seat behind her. Her eyes followed him to the door but she made no motion to stand.

Celeborn opened the door to find Haldir on the other side. He did not have to ask if something was wrong. Haldir's expression was wrought with dark emotion and he still bore a cut on his face surrounded by the green and purple tones of a fading bruise. He took the ellon's arm and drew him inside, shutting the door behind him.

"What happened?"

"He would not allow her to return with me."

"What do you mean?"

"King Thranduil. He would not allow Caladhel to leave the Greenwood." He held out the letter he had been given to his lord. Celeborn tore the letter open and turned aside to read it.

A hand came to rest on Haldir's cheek. Lady Galadriel stood beside him and he met her worried gaze. She had heard their conversation from the terrace.

"What happened to your face?"

Haldir lifted a hand to his cheek where the Lady's fingers lingered. He knew there was a bruise there though it was fading quickly. He could not bear to look her in the eye when he answered. "I refused to leave her, but was not given any choice. They took me to the edge of the Greenwood and kept their bows trained on me until I departed. They would have fired had I tried to reenter the forest. I thought to turn back, but I had to tell you what happened."

Galadriel lifted his chin and found his eyes. She caressed the bruise on his face, doing what she could to ease what pain remained there and the pain deeper still. She could see he was tormented. The guilt and shame he felt at abandoning Caladhel lay heavy on his heart and mind. "You did right, Haldir, to bring us this news. Do not hold yourself to blame for what happened. It was not you who sent her to the Greenwood."

Galadriel glanced back over her shoulder to find her husband seated at his desk. He was angry and his heart was heavier than Haldir's. She returned her attention to the warden, drawing him to the door. "Go now to the healer and then take some rest. We will speak again tomorrow."

Haldir bowed to his lord and lady but before he departed he whispered, "I'm sorry."

Galadriel acknowledged his words with a nod. She knew he needed to say it though he had done no wrong. She closed the door behind him and turned back to her husband.

Galadriel came to her husband's side. Thranduil's letter lay open on the table but Celeborn was no longer looking at it. His thoughts had turned inward. She reached down to pick up the letter and read Thranduil's message to them. When she was done she returned the parchment to its place on the desk.

"Why did you send her, Celeborn?" It was a question Galadriel had pondered since her niece delivered the news she would be traveling. Galadriel thought it an odd task to give Caladhel when Haldir or another could deliver Celeborn's letter. She had suspected her husband had some other motive, but at the time she did not pry. She wished now that she had.

"I thought it a better use of her talents," he replied. "You have enough seamstresses."

There was an edge to his voice. She felt his anger, directed mostly at Thranduil, some at himself, but also at her. Galadriel felt suddenly grateful for the past few hours they had spent gazing at the stars, for she suspected that peace between them would not return for a long time.

"You avoid my question."

He did. He wanted to. He couldn't. Celeborn lifted his hands to his face and rubbed his temples in hopes of relieving the pressure there. "I wished to gauge his reaction to Celebrían's marriage," he confessed. "Enemies have been made over more trivial matters."

Galadriel had suspected as much when he asked Caladhel to take word to the Greenwood. He trusted her to discover what he wanted to know. He trusted her. That trust was well earned, though it brought discord between Galadriel and her husband afterward. Galadriel was certain Thranduil's counselors knew Caladhel's name and the secret she uncovered in Arnor.

"Did you not consider Thranduil might see some darker purpose in your choice of messenger?" she asked. "He was greatly angered by the knowledge Elrond withheld from him after the war."

Celeborn's anger flared, and this measure was reserved wholly for his wife. "Thranduil was not the only one angered," he replied. "I had not thought to learn such news from Caladhel."

They had had this argument before, more than a century ago. "It was a mistake," she said. "I make them too sometimes."

Galadriel had wounded Celeborn deeply by keeping the secret of the Ring from him. It had been the will of the other ringbearers, not her own, though for the safety of all she agreed to keep silent. Now she feared that choice would remain a wedge between them forever. She prayed it would not.

Galadriel stretched out her hand to Celeborn's, fearing he would not accept it. Her heart sang joyous when he did. He turned his palm up so that their fingers entwined as they had on the terrace only minutes ago. That small embrace meant more to Galadriel than she could measure. She stepped closer to his chair and laid her other hand on his shoulder. The anxiety he felt at Caladhel's fate could be felt there.

"Caladhel's talents are, as you noted, more rightly suited to politics than art. Thranduil's counselors no doubt remember her as the one who brought word of the Ring. And you forget that she is my niece, too, though Thranduil would not have forgotten. Taken together, he may see her as a greater threat than we do."

The obviousness of his wife's assertion was clear to him now. He knew Thranduil, like his father before him, was wary of outsiders, but in this matter Celeborn had seriously misjudged the Greenwood king's level of distrust.

"I should not have sent her."

Galadriel tucked a loose strand of silver hair behind his ear. She could say nothing that would ease his conscience. She closed her eyes, focusing all her thoughts on Caladhel but could sense no immediate danger.

"Have you seen anything of this in your mirror?" Celeborn would not have asked this question a century ago, for he had always believed Galadriel would share anything important with him. He was not so certain anymore.

"No," she answered.

Celeborn saw the truth of it in her eyes. He saw, too, her fear that he would not believe her.

"Will you try?"


They walked together arm in arm down to the forest floor. The glade was not far from their talan and when they reached it the mirror sat as ever cradled in its altar of stone. Galadriel filled the silver pitcher at the fountain and poured the clear water into the bowl.

Galadriel feared what she might see. She often did. This time, however, she feared her own actions might be the cause of harm to one she loved. Galadriel knew Celeborn would never openly blame her for Caladhel's fate, but they both knew it was her actions and those of the other ringbearers that further fueled Thranduil's distrust.

Galadriel turned to her husband who stood silently watching her next to the fountain. She feared to look, but would do so for him, she owed him that much and more. She stepped up to the altar. She closed her eyes, focused all her thoughts on Caladhel, and then she looked down.

The waters in the mirror came to life, rippling as they would had a pebble been dropped in the center. She saw Caladhel with Celebrían as they were as children, holding hands and dancing. Wildflowers adorned their hair and they laughed together when they fell upon the grass. The vision flashed forward in time. She saw Caladhel as she was not so long ago. She climbed the steps up to Thranduil's throne, letters in hand. Galadriel felt her hesitate at the final step. The mirror went dark, only to come alive again with a fiery light. Galadriel gasped as Caladhel had when Thranduil took hold of her in anger, lifting her face up toward his. The image faded, replaced by Thranduil's alone. The left side of his face was hidden in shadow, as it always was when Galadriel saw him in the mirror. When his image faded something happened then that Galadriel could not recall in all the years she had sought the mirror's council. There were two images in the water but no sooner had one come into focus then it faded and the other came to the fore. They danced back and forth, battling each other, undecided on which would prevail. Then the water went still.

Galadriel stepped away, lost in thought. She had nearly forgotten Celeborn was watching and she startled when he laid his hand on her shoulder.

"What did you see?" he asked. Celeborn feared the answer for a grim expression had formed on her face as she looked.

"I saw Thranduil in anger," she said.

"And Caladhel?"

Galadriel closed her eyes, but she could still see the two images at war. She focused on the first. "I saw her dancing with Celebrían at our daughter's wedding."

Celeborn knew that was not all or else her countenance would not be so grave. "And what else?"

Galadriel choked back the bile rising in her throat. "I saw her lying dead in the dark of Greenwood Forest."

"Tell me," said Celeborn, gripping her shoulder tighter now.

Galadriel fought to hold back her tears but one fell away. "Her white dress was muddied and tattered and her body lay amidst moss covered rocks. Her mare, Sídhel, was wounded and dying nearby. She was slain by orcs, an arrow pierced her heart." The only blessing in that terrible vision had been Galadriel's surety that Caladhel's death had been swift. The orc arrow in her heart was proof enough of that, but the second arrow that pierced the elleth's eye was a horror Galadriel would not soon forget. She did not tell Celeborn about the second arrow. He would suffer enough in both dreams and waking hours should this vision come to pass.

When she looked into her husband's eyes she saw despair. Galadriel hoped to allay it, if only for a short time. "The vision would not resolve. They faded one into the other and back again."

"What does that mean?" He had never heard her speak of such a vision before.

Galadriel recalled the image of Thranduil hidden in shadow. The path diverged before him. "It is in his hands now. Thranduil will decide whether she lives or dies."