Chapter 19: The Whole Story

Haldor spied the ellon he sought upon his arrival at the archery field. He stood beside the slight figure of a child, no more than a quarter century old. The young one appeared an echo of the elder, in form if not in expression. The elder wore a frown, while the child's face was lit by laughter as he drew an arrow and aimed for the nearest target. The older of the pair turned at Haldor's approach.

"Good day, Haldir," said Haldor.

Haldir greeted the Greenwood elf with a nod, and gesturing to the boy at his side, he said, "Haldor, this is my baby brother, Orophin."

Orophin was not at all pleased by his brother's introduction of him. "Rumil is the baby," he said. "I am almost twenty!"

"You are both babies to me," Haldir chided, "and you always will be."

Haldor could not help but chuckle at the brothers' competing glares. It startled both ellyn, who turned similar looks of disproval upon their guest. Haldor chose to address the younger first. He laid a hand upon his heart. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Orophin." He smiled kindly at the child, hoping to ease the tension between the brothers.

Orophin's expression brightened immensely at the formal greeting offered him. "Likewise," he replied, before returning his attention to his bow.

To Haldir, Haldor said, "I thought you would be joining us this morning. Did your father not extend the invitation?"

"Oh, Ada invited him," Orophin chirped, "but Haldir decided to help me with my archery instead. He does not like your king very much."

"Orophin!"

Orophin answered his brother's raised voice with guileless eyes and a curious, "What?"

Haldor smiled at the child and raised his hand in Haldir's direction to calm him. "All is well," he told Haldir. "I understand completely."

"You can practice your archery with us if you like," Orophin offered. "Maybe you can help me. Haldir is not a very good teacher."

At his brother's unflattering assessment, Haldir offered one of his own, "You would think me a better teacher if you followed my instructions."

Orophin rolled his eyes before catching Haldor's. "That's what he always says."

"I would be happy to show you the technique we teach in Greenwood," Haldor offered.

Orophin's eyes sparkled with delight. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "I will be twice as skilled when I join Lórien's guard."

Haldir huffed at his little brother's boasting. "And what makes you think I will permit you to serve as a warden of Lórien when you refuse to follow my instructions now?"

"Ada will make you let me," said Orophin, casually shrugging off his brother's threat.

Haldor could not contain his laughter at the child's cheekiness. He shared a smile with Orophin but Haldir merely shook his head in exasperation.

Haldor drew his bow from its holster and came around to demonstrate a few shots for Orophin. "I am glad Lady Caladhel is not here this morning," he told the boy. "She is a better archer than I."

"Don't feel badly," said Orophin. "She is better than Haldir, too."

"She is better than many," Haldir corrected him.

Haldor drew his bow and let the arrow fly. It struck the child's target dead center. "Indeed," said Haldor. "She took down those wargs as skillfully as I have ever seen. Had I not known otherwise, I would have thought her a veteran of the war."

A long silence followed Haldor's words. When he finally turned to gaze upon his companions he saw the same expression of puzzlement upon their faces.

"What wargs?" Haldir asked.

A knot formed in the pit of Haldor's stomach at the question and he cursed himself silently for his mistake. It had not occurred to him that Caladhel would keep the details of her detention secret from Haldir, whom she had spoken of as a close friend.

"Did she not tell you what happened after you were expelled?" Haldor asked, though he feared he knew the answer already.

"Only that your king thought her a spy and freed her again once he was convinced otherwise."

"I see," he said. And he did. Haldor understood all too well now. He had thought King Amroth's court incredibly gracious upon their arrival, considering how discourteously King Thranduil had treated Caladhel. He had not considered the possibility that their generosity stemmed from ignorance. Obviously, he was mistaken.

"What did she leave out?" Haldir asked.

Haldor shook his head. "You must ask the Lady."

"I am asking you." Haldir stepped closer to Haldor until their boots touched, his jaw set, his eyes demanding answers. "Tell me," said Haldir. His tone was equal parts command and threat.

"Haldir?"

Haldor glanced at Orophin. The child's eyes flitted nervously between Haldor and his brother. When Haldor returned his attention to Haldir, the anger etched in the lines of his face was unmistakable. Haldor's mind returned briefly to the scene he witnessed at Limrond's gate. It had taken four guards to subdue Haldir, and Haldor had no desire to learn of the force with which Haldir could kick.

Haldor took a deep breath before plunging in, certain in the knowledge that one way or another he would come to regret this day's dawning.


Amroth was losing handily and was immensely displeased by the turn of events. He knew he should have been suspicious of Thranduil when Greenwood's king suggested they switch from swords to staves. Amroth's instincts with this particular weapon were not nearly as sharp as Thranduil's, and once again his opponent caught him off balance. For the fourth time in so many minutes Amroth hit the ground. Several among the gathered company snickered, but Húlben and Lord Thandaer were respectful enough of their king to at least attempt to restrain their laughter.

Amroth did not rise with haste, for he was in no way eager to continue these repeated introductions with the ground. "It would seem my skill with a stave is lacking," he announced to all and no one in particular.

"It is your own fault for foregoing practice," Thandaer stated. He had harped on the subject for many years, but his prince had not heeded his advice. He hoped his king would do so now.

His wish was unlikely to be granted, for Amroth merely shrugged. "I never saw the point of wasting effort on other than an edged weapon. Beating an orc to death is neither elegant nor efficient."

Thranduil offered Amroth his arm and drew Lórien's king to his feet. "That is true," said Thranduil. "But you may not always have a sword at hand. Ask any farmer working the fields."

Amroth rolled his eyes at what he viewed as an unlikely criticism. "And when was the last time you worked a harvest?"

"Last season," Thranduil replied.

It was not the answer Amroth expected and he had a difficult time believing it. "Truly?" he asked, and looked to the captain of Thranduil's guard. Iordor confirmed his king's statement with a nod.

"We lost as many farmers as warriors to Sauron," Thranduil stated.

"Even so," said Amroth, "I cannot picture you with a rake in your hands. Maybe a scythe."

"You do not know me as well as you think you do."

"Indeed," Amroth replied. "I think I may not know you at all."

Thandaer interrupted their banter when he spied his sons and Haldor approaching. To Iordor, he said, "Ah, our sons finally deign to join us."

When the trio arrived at the field, Lord Thandaer introduced his sons. "King Thranduil, Lord Iordor, this is my eldest, Haldir, second among our wardens, and my second son, Orophin."

If Thandaer noticed the intense expression in his elder's son's eyes or the nervousness in the younger's, he chose to ignore it.

Iordor stepped forward to greet the new arrivals. He nodded to young Orophin and offered Thandaer's eldest a polite bow. "We have met before, Haldir and I," Iordor said. "I am glad to see you well."

Haldir expression softened a small measure upon greeting Haldor's father but hardened again upon sighting King Thranduil, who stood at the opposite side of the sparing ring with a stave in his hands. Haldir failed to greet Greenwood's king as he did Iordor, but the slight was ignored for Amroth was already drawing Haldir aside. He placed a hand upon the younger ellon's shoulder. They were good friends for Haldir was one of the few Amroth could count on not to pull his punches.

"There is only one rule if you and Haldor wish to join us," he said. "You are forbidden to let the kings win."

Haldor, who, like Orophin wore an uneasy expression, shook his head. "I think I will sit this one out."

"Coward," Amroth taunted, but his attempt to goad the younger ellon into the ring had no effect. Haldir, however, was another matter.

"I agree to your rules, King Amroth," he said.

"Excellent!" Amroth replied.

"Haldir," said Haldor, in a tone that was near to pleading.

Thranduil, for his part, had been observing Thandaer's son silently since his arrival. He recognized Haldir's name upon hearing it spoken earlier that day, for Caladhel had mentioned him by name when he took her captive. He was not at all surprised to learn a warden of such high rank was sent to escort Celeborn's niece to Limrond and Thranduil suspected by Haldir's failure to greet him that the ellon was still angered by his expulsion from Greenwood. Without giving much thought to the consequences, he offered Haldir an opportunity to vent.

"Step into the ring, Haldir," said Thranduil. "I have heard much of your skill this day. Let us see if you fare better than your king."

Haldor cast his father a worried look that Iordor read clearly. "Thranduil," Iordor said in attempted warning, but the King ignored him.

Amroth's gaze passed from Haldir to Thranduil and back again, having at that moment realized he might have made a mistake. Haldir took hold of the staff in Amroth's hands but Amroth did not release the weapon. Instead, he looked to Thranduil, to be certain of his decision. Thranduil answered his unspoken question with a nod.

With his consent given, Amroth released his grip on the stave. He stepped away and moved to stand beside Húlben.

Neither Thranduil nor Haldir had previously seen the other fight so they first cautiously tested each other's strength and speed. Thranduil was not overly surprised to find Thandaer's son had greater skill than Amroth with this particular weapon. Indeed, he was good, and he grew better with every move Thranduil attempted to execute. He grew faster as well. And when Thranduil finally reached the limits of his own skill, Haldir smiled. It was not a kind expression and Thranduil had only a moment to regret his invitation before Haldir struck him on the right side of his face. Blinded momentarily by a flash of light and pain, Haldir quickly disarmed him and swept the back his knees. Before Thranduil could hit the ground, Haldir drew the weapon around again and caught him beneath his chin.

Thranduil found himself pinned against his adversary and he could do nothing but push back against the staff in a vain struggle for breath. The harder he pushed against the force of the stave, the harder Haldir pulled against him. It was not a struggle Thranduil could win, for Haldir's position had the greater leverage. Seconds passed, but for lack of air, those seconds passed more slowly.

Never before had Thranduil feared death. Not even on the day his father fell. But he understood now that his lack of fear was not bravery. It was preparation. He had prepared for death before Dagorlad, accepted it, but he had not prepared to have the life choked from him on this day. And as the seconds extended and still he drew no breath, panic rose within him. It was near to exploding when a voice whispered in his ear.

"If you harm her again, you will not live to regret it."

As suddenly as he was pinned, Thranduil was freed and cast forward into the dirt. He landed on his hands and knees and spent the next full minute clutching his throat, gasping for air. He followed Haldir with his eyes as the ellon stormed off the field, his fellow warden, Húlben, following after him. When Thranduil finally regained control of his body he found a hand held out before him, which he took without protest.

Amroth extended a hand to help Thranduil to his feet and when Thranduil was once again standing, Amroth assessed his injuries. His right eye was cut and bleeding and his neck was an angry red. "I believe Haldir has had more practice with a stave than you," said Amroth.

There was no hint of jest in Amroth's eyes. There was, however, a deep well of concern, an emotion Thranduil found oddly touching. He offered Lórien's king a wan smile. "How could you tell?" he asked, and raised his hand once again to his throat at the pain evoked by speaking.

Thandaer interrupted whatever witty answer Amroth might have conjured. "Sire," he said, "I apologize for my son."

He would have said more, but Thranduil halted the Lord's apology with a wave of his hand. "Don't bother," he said. "I believe I had that coming."

Thandaer, confused by the King's declaration, merely bowed his head. Excusing himself, he ushered his younger son from the field. Thranduil noted the boy's eyes did not leave him as his father drew him away and he found himself wondering what the child must think of the scene he just witnessed.

Thranduil turned away from the boy and lord to find Iordor at his side. Whereas the remainder of their gathering wore grave expressions and whispered quietly amongst themselves, Iordor wore a look of unbridled amusement. He waited patiently while Thranduil spit blood before offering him a towel and water skin. Thranduil took both with a grateful nod.

Thranduil rinsed his mouth out with water and afterwards drank his fill before handing the water skin back to Iordor. "So, that was the warden I had you expel from Greenwood."

"It was," Iordor replied.

"I like him," said Thranduil, and while his tone could be read as mocking, the sentiment was real.

Iordor knew his king well enough to discern the difference. He nodded and smiled. "So do I," he said, and afterward he pointed to Thranduil's throat where a bruise was already forming. "That will leave a mark."

Thranduil raised a hand once more to his aching neck. It would bruise, no doubt, and he suspected the mark would linger for many days. It seemed fitting.


Húlben followed close on his commander's heels, but he did not speak a word until they were out of earshot of the training field. "Do you want to tell me what that was all about?" he asked.

"No," Haldir replied.

"Can I guess?"

"No," he repeated.

"But I want to guess."

"I don't care," Haldir snapped.

Húlben ignored him. He had dealt with Haldir's ill moods before, and was not so easily intimidated. "It took you long enough," he said.

Despite his fervent wish for Húlben to quit following him, Haldir could not help but respond to his goad. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I thought you would have noticed before now that the Greenwood king is in love with your lady."

Haldir came to a halt so suddenly that Húlben nearly walked into his back. He spun around and fixed his companion with a glare of equal parts anger and confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

Húlben was unsettled by Haldir's claim of ignorance, for he could not fathom any other cause for the scene he just witnessed. "That was why you bloodied him, was it not?"

"No," Haldir replied.

Húlben swallowed hard and a sick feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. "Then is it possible you can forget what I just said, so I am not to blame for King Thranduil's murder?"

"Unlikely," Haldir replied. "What is it you think you know?"

Húlben hesitated only a moment before offering his friend and commander an answer. "Dûrion saw them together at the archery field two mornings ago. And Alassiel and her sister noted that King Thranduil's gaze strayed to Caladhel whenever the Lady was near. I noticed it, too, when I had the opportunity to observe them."

Haldir's former anger slowly melted from his face, replaced by a mask, unreadable. He said nothing, merely turned away, and continued on down the path. This time Húlben did not follow.


Thranduil climbed the stair to his talan and was met by the unfortunate sight of his aunt reading. She lifted her gaze from the book in her lap and her jaw promptly fell open. She rose from her seat, tossing the book aside without bothering to mark the page. Her hands were on Thranduil's face a second later.

"What is this?"

Thranduil laughed humorlessly. "A token," he replied, before moving past her into the talan.

Beleth followed him inside. "What happened?"

"Haldir - Caladhel's escort to Greenwood - happened."

"I see," said Beleth.

Thranduil sensed by the tone of his aunt's words that she might know more of Haldir than he did. "You know something of him?"

Beleth frowned at his question. "Only that he and Caladhel were children together. They have been friends for a long time."

Those details were useful, but they were unnecessary to confirm Thranduil's suspicions. He needed nothing more than Haldir's actions and his words. "He knows I hurt her," said Thranduil. "He threatened to kill me if I did so again."

Beleth's eyes widened in surprise. She had not foreseen such a confrontation. "He is a brave ellon," she said.

Thranduil did not agree with Beleth's assessment. "It was not bravery. It was blindness."

"What do you mean?"

Thranduil found it difficult to speak aloud what his heart already knew, but there was no other answer to offer. "He loves her."

Beleth was surprised to find that Thranduil had reached the same conclusion. "I suspected as much, when I saw them together."

Thranduil frowned. He was unsure when exactly Beleth had had the chance to study them. "When was that?"

Beleth was surprised by her nephew's question, for she had always considered him to be overly observant. "He was her dinner partner for the wedding feast," said Beleth. "Did you not notice?"

Thranduil had not noticed, not at the time. But he called up his memories of the wedding, and there, among those of Caladhel, was Haldir. At the time he had paid the ellon no mind. He did now, as the memories played out before him, a series of images, painful now to recall.

"He danced with her," said Thranduil. And he did, many times throughout the evening and on late into the night.

Beleth could read clearly enough her nephew's pained expression and sought to soothe him as best she could. "I do not believe Caladhel returns his feelings."

But Thranduil was not the least bit consoled by his aunt's conjecture. "Is that supposed to comfort me?"

When his aunt offered no reply, Thranduil turned away and left her in favor of a bath and clean clothing.


An hour later a knock sounded on Thranduil's door. He knew the hand did not belong to his aunt or any servant who had previously come calling, so he was not overly surprised to find Lord Celeborn awaiting him on the other side.

Celeborn bowed. "King Thranduil," he said in greeting.

"Lord Celeborn," Thranduil replied.

"May I come in?"

Thranduil opened the door wider and gestured for the Lord to enter. He offered Celeborn a drink, but the Lord merely waved away the courtesy. Instead, Celeborn studied the injuries visible on Thranduil's face and neck.

"Do you require a healer?"

After all they had suffered fighting Sauron, and Morgoth before him, Thranduil could not help but find Celeborn's concern amusing. "I am fine," he replied. "What can I do for you?"

"I spoke with King Amroth earlier regarding the incident on the training fields. It falls to me to investigate such matters and to recommend a proper punishment if a law has been broken. Have I a need to do so here?"

Thranduil studied Celeborn's expression carefully, uncertain of what it was the Lord wanted from him. "Do you seek my permission to carry out your duties?"

Celeborn was not deaf to Thranduil's suspicious tone, but he chose not to address it directly. "I seek answers," he replied. "I spoke with Haldir. He offered nothing on the matter and it is not like him to withhold information."

"So you hoped I would be more forthcoming?" asked Thranduil in a tone that failed to hide his disbelief.

Celeborn, himself, thought that possibility unlikely, and he had no intention of pressing Thranduil for answers. He did wish to be sure that none among Greenwood's company would think their king's injuries had been ignored.

"I have no desire to interfere with private matters," Celeborn stated, "but if a servant of the realm assaults a guest, that is my problem. It is also unbecoming of a leader of our wardens to respond to wounded pride with violence."

The end to which Celeborn's logic led him should not have surprised Thranduil. Celeborn had no reason to believe anything other than pride had spurred Haldir's actions. Thranduil knew better, and he did not think it right to permit Celeborn to so misjudge his own, despite the price he might pay for honesty.

"It was not his pride I injured. It was his heart."

Celeborn's face registered the slightest hint of confusion, the cause of which was no mystery to Thranduil. He knew Caladhel had not shared with him the details of her captivity.

"What Caladhel would not tell you," he said, "one of my company told Haldir."

"Told him what?" Celeborn asked. His tone was even, but Thranduil did not miss the intensity behind the Lord's eyes.

Thranduil found it difficult to meet Celeborn's gaze, but he would not look away, and for more reasons than one. "When I questioned your niece about the purpose of her visit, I lost my temper. I took her chin in my hand and the marks of my fingers lingered for many days."

Celeborn was silent for a time following Thranduil's confession. His eyes gave away nothing. All he offered Greenwood's king in answer was a curt, "I see."

"I have apologized to Caladhel for my actions," he added, "and the injury I caused her."

Celeborn considered him for a moment with those ancient, unreadable eyes. Eyes that made Thranduil feel like nothing more than an errant child.

"Then, if you deem it acceptable, I shall lay the matter of you and Haldir to rest."

Thranduil nodded. "I believe that would be best."

Celeborn turned then and moved away to the door. But if Thranduil thought he might depart without addressing the matter of Caladhel, he was mistaken. Celeborn had not forgotten the long gazes cast in his niece's direction and was well aware of the time they spent together at the training fields.

Upon reaching the door, Celeborn turned back to address Greenwood's king. "Thranduil," he said, forgoing the use of any title. "On the night of my daughter's wedding you claimed to wonder why I consented to her marriage."

"I did," Thranduil replied.

Celeborn considered the young king for a moment before speaking. At last he told him, "I allowed it because I knew Elrond would cherish her every moment of every day from now to the world's ending. And I knew, also, that he would protect her with his dying breath."

Celeborn searched Thranduil's eyes for something he might thought hidden in their depths. He shook his head upon failing to find it. "I do not know these things about you," he said. "You must convince me of the same, if you would seek my niece's hand."

Thranduil did not know what to say in the face of this new challenge, so he chose a silent nod instead. It was sufficient for Celeborn, who bowed to Greenwood's king before departing.