Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, save the plot.
Rating: PG 13 for scenes of battle violence and adolescent angst.
Summary: To all, the prince of Mirkwood was Beloved. But to the lone Warden of Lorien, he was a nightmare incarnate.
Author'sNote: Finally, a story of Legolas and Haldir – a standalone, yes, but a backdrop to my ongoing RoadtoRedemption series. I am attempting a change in style (again), so bear with me – and thank you in advance for reviews. Wink.
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By Kasmi Kassim
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Golden Sun, Silver Moon
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Chapter 1: Haunted
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Adolescents. Haldir had had his fill of them.
Rumil had been all help and maturity, of course, but Orophin had been spoiled by his brothers. In comparison, the prince was nothing but charming. Perhaps it was his sweet nature – or perhaps it was his upbringing, no doubt strict if one knew Thranduil. Perhaps it was only due to him barely having entered adolescence.
Whatever it was, denying him was next to impossible, and it drove Haldir mad.
"Join the guards?" he echoed, staring at the bundle of enthusiasm standing in his talan.
Legolas nodded happily. "I would hate to draw you away from duty to entertain me," he said, "and my father has recommended it too. He also suggested, along with the Lord and Lady, that I stay for at least a year."
A year. Such a terribly long time.
"I heard that a Warden could recommend a soldier to the Marchwarden without the preliminary years of training." Legolas bristled with excitement. "Will you test me?"
Something in Haldir wanted to stomp that sunny light out of the younger elf's face. He pushed the ugly thought down.
"I may fail you, Prince," he said sternly, "only to keep you safe within the borders."
Legolas scrunched up his face – a trait Haldir had seen when he was a babe. "I wish you would just call me Legolas, Haldir."
Haldir refused to be swayed by cuteness. "I may still fail you."
The prince's smile broadened. "I do not believe it, Haldir. I have heard stories about you."
When the Warden's face twitched, Legolas laughingly disappeared down the talan. "Come, Haldir, test me!"
Alone in his talan, Haldir stood pensively still. Loyalty could be such an orcbait sometimes. If only this hadn't been Thranduil's child – her child – but then, there would be no such problem, would there?
With a sigh, he drew his sword. "Get ready," he called, stepping out of the talan. "I go easy on no one."
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The prince joined the patrol in his second week in Lorien. The Lord and Lady were appalled, judging by their perfectly serene faces when Haldir reported this, but they were willing to listen to the halting explanations. Thranduil would never send an incompetent child to be a burden to border patrol; Oropherion he certainly was, throwing his elfling into survival camps in a foreign land, but inconsiderate he was not. This line of reasoning did much to soothe the Lord and Lady, though it did little to soothe Haldir himself.
But he kept his unease carefully masked as he introduced the newest member to his surprised squadron. Needless to say, he was met with collective silence. The only son to the most hot-tempered monarch on Arda! A guard approached Haldir that night to question the wisdom of his decision.
"Our peace with Mirkwood is still young," he said carefully. "Perhaps we should assign soldiers to discreetly guard the prince at all times."
Haldir glanced at the campfire, where Legolas sat fletching his arrows. Small hands moved with practiced ease as he chatted; noticing Haldir's scrutiny, he raised his gaze and broke into a broad smile. "Rumil was telling me what a wonderful cook you are," he called.
"And also how I burned down our floor twice, I suppose?" Haldir said wryly.
Legolas laughed. Rumil poked his out from behind a shrub near Legolas' elbow. "I invited Legolas to dine in our family talan so he can see the evidence." He disappeared behind the bushes again, apparently too lazy to hold up his head.
Haldir cocked an eyebrow. "You invited him to our humble talan? Are you hosting?"
"Oh, come now, Haldir," Rumil's voice sang. "You don't want our guest to die of Appallingly Tasteless Food Poisoning, do you?"
Haldir glared at the bush. Legolas grinned. "I almost burned down the kitchen a few times too," he said. "Mostly in Rivendell."
"I can only imagine," was Rumil's sigh. "Poor Elladan and Elrohir."
"They were with me."
"Oh. Poor Lord Elrond."
Haldir turned away from the campfire. After staring hard at the darkened forest, he shook his head at last. "No," he said. "I will not insult our fellow guard thus."
And thus he treated him – as a fellow guard. Legolas seemed to expect nothing less.
The prince settled into patrol easily. He knew how to use his size to his advantage; his intelligence in battle won quick approval of his older peers. It was said that he was a healer-in-training under Elrond's wing in Rivendell, also hoping to expand martial training in Lothlorien; while respected for his ambitions, he was also liked for his easy laugh, his sparkling innocence. A magnet for adoration, he was obviously accustomed to being loved without question.
And who would not love him? That tinkling laugh, those smiling eyes, the quickness to apologize and forgive. The prince's likeable traits added more than a tinge of self-loathing in Haldir's mind.
But he was a captain and a respected one, and was determined to, if unable to beat his misgivings into submission, at least hide them well. He had Thranduil to thank for Legolas' presence in the guard – all that show of interaction, and not a private moment together.
Of course, the Valar would not so easily answer his prayers. But then again, they never did.
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Haldir counted off his troops in the bushes. Only one had fallen behind; he was in plain sight, limping across the meadow on injured legs as arrows whizzed by.
With a signal, Haldir realigned his troops to stand behind him. Strapping his bow into his back, a knife carefully slid between his teeth, he inched forward. Amid the hum of his heart, the perilous rescue became starkly written out before his eyes in blood-splattered black and white. He prepared to spring.
Amid the eerie silence, something flashed before him, and was running ahead to the injured elf.
Valar...
"Legolas, no!"
His scream shattered the silence, and time uncoiled in frenzied speed. Legolas grabbed the injured guard, and as an arrow flew to the two, Haldir's arrow flew to meet it. Haldir broke into a sprint, to Mordor with stealth, and his troops broke from their formation to cover their captain. Orcs surged forward, and elves moved to meet them; the fight broke into an all-out melee.
Legolas dragged the heavier elf with one arm, turning to block the oncoming arrows with a white knife. Haldir tackled him in time to save him from a spear, and drew back to thrust Legolas and the injured elf into the flanks. Legolas bent over the injured elf and gasped as Haldir grabbed his arm and spun him around.
The young elf looked up breathlessly, eyes alight with the battle rush. A seemingly eternal moment, blazing eyes and ragged breaths – and then Haldir jerkily released him and turned away, commanding his troops into a formation.
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It was Rumil who dared to block his march to the tent.
"He only wanted to protect you, Haldir."
Haldir stared at Rumil, dark against the setting sun. He moved to pass, and Rumil blocked him again. "He thinks the world of you."
"Move, Rumil."
"He is but a child." Rumil was unflinching. "He fawns upon you."
Haldir crossed his arms. Rumil moved aside. "Don't say anything you'll regret." His voice was as dark as his warning eyes. Haldir strode inside.
Legolas quickly stood, alone in the lamplight. His hair glimmered deep gold, his eyelashes casting dark shadows against his cheeks. Haldir's heart trembled; he was haunted, and alone with the ghost that breathed the same air as he.
He had no idea where to begin. Or even what to begin.
Legolas took the initiative. "I'm sorry, Haldir." And he looked it.
Tongue-tied, it took a beat for Haldir to start the lecture. "You are well trained," he said with difficulty, "but teamwork is something else entirely. A squadron has many minds, Legolas, and we must operate on common understanding. You placed the entire guard at risk when you bypassed my order." An unplaced heat was beginning to bubble up in his chest, and he did not know why. "You were lucky this time, but what if something had happened in that confusion, in the crucial moment of battle?"
"Yes, I realize that." The youth stared at his feet. "I'm sorry." Lashes drooped, and shoulders slumped. Something burned near Haldir's heart, and it was difficult to breathe.
"This is not something that can be covered by the luck of success. I cannot – we cannot move in perfect trust when we have a link in the chain that moves on its own."
Legolas' head snapped up. "You want me to leave the guard," he said flatly.
Haldir did not answer.
Legolas moved closer. "I'm sorry, Haldir." His voice was desperate. "It will not happen again. I didn't realize – it would displease you so."
Haldir's vision swam. "Do you think I do this out of displeasure, Legolas?"
When Legolas failed to answer, Haldir wanted to throttle someone. "Do you – Legolas." He took a deep breath. "All right," he said, brusquely, "explain."
Legolas fidgeted. "I am the fastest sprinter in the guard, and I've faced orc arrows before. I was confident."
"Confident?" Haldir could not believe his ears. Something was exploding inside, and he could hardly see straight. "Confident that you could go on deflecting all those arrows while you ran?"
"No," said Legolas, daring a glance, "but you could."
Silence.
Legolas peered up once again. "I won't do it again, Haldir. I promise."
Haldir tried once again to gather his shattered wits. Why – why was this so hard? "If you were so sure that I would cover you," he said, straining to steady his voice, "what were you apologizing for?"
Legolas looked doleful. "I – I didn't realize I would scare you so. You looked..." he trailed off, staring at his feet. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
And there it was again, that spinning dizziness. Had his terror really shown so vividly? Had this little elf been able to read him with such ease? Or was it something he was accustomed to? But of course. After all...
Agitated by his silence, Legolas moved closer. "Please, Haldir," he said, eyes wide and pleading, "don't send me away."
Haldir stared, distant and numb. The royal prince of the largest elven realm existent was trembling before his disapproval – and the sweet prince thought Haldir was only worried for him. He could take only so much on his blackened conscience. He shut his eyes, praying that the golden visage standing before him would go away.
"Don't," he breathed, "don't ever do that again."
Legolas broke into a smile. Stepping closer, he quickly embraced Haldir, and left the tent.
Haldir stood, the warmth of the embrace tingling along his skin. The visage did not go away; the glimmering gold in the lamplight, the gentle blue under dark lashes, the soft whisper – and the look of delight. It was all there, and all wrong. He deserved to be more than a substitute in Haldir's ghosts. But as long as he continued to look like her, Haldir had no hope of rectifying this situation.
Twilight was darkening to night when Haldir at last exited the tent, determined more than ever to remove the young prince from his sight.
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To Be Continued
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