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's Note: Finally, a story of Legolas and Haldir – a standalone, yes, but a backdrop to my ongoing Road to Redemption series. 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 3: Falling Apart
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The Lord and Lady were silent. Always so silent, all-knowing. Haldir took a deep breath. "You understand," he said, carefully, "there is no other way."
The Lord and Lady glanced at each other. The Lady turned to Haldir. "Haldir, child," she said, "we fear we do not understand."
Haldir wanted to curse under his breath. Before he could commit blasphemous acts before his lord and lady, Celeborn came to the rescue.
"Tell us again," he said, "why exactly you wish to remove a guard from your squadron."
"With all due respect, my lord, that decision is mine to make."
"Of course it is, Haldir." The Lady smiled. "So why is it that you come to us with an explanation?"
Haldir felt like cursing again.
"Now, child," said the Lady, more sympathetically, "tell us what is bothering you."
Around him, the pavilion glowed with perpetual light. The Lord and Lady's smiles were gentle, like the glimmer of the stars. Haldir was accustomed to such light – the ceaseless comfort in the darkness, unnoticed and yet eternal in their silent vigil. He was not accustomed to brilliant flares that flickered to shadow. Blinding sunlight, bright laughter, sincere sorrow – no, that was foreign territory. He wanted to cry.
"Haldir."
The Lady's fingers brushed against his hair. He realized he was hanging his head, miserable and small, just as he had been when he first came to the Lord and Lady with little Rumil and Orophin sleeping in his arms. She had smiled that gentle smile, full of sorrow, when little Haldir held his head high and demanded sanctuary; and when she had reached out to brush his hair, he had at last hung his head, sad and weary. And in the secrecy of his brothers' slumber, finally wept in her arms.
"Dear child," murmured the Lady, "what is it that you fear?"
Legolas had asked him the same. Did he fear? Haldir had no fears. There was always the possibility of war and death and loss, of course, but that was the reason he trained himself to protect his brothers, and trained his brothers to protect each other. Lorien was safe, he was strong, his brothers were now grown to be capable warriors; he was well-armed against his fears. He would march to war, go down in their stead, but by Valar he would not lose another. Never again.
He looked upon the Lady, and in her silence he once again saw the sparkling eyes, heard the merry laughter of a fair-haired elleth who once walked these woods. Haldir closed his eyes. She was dead. Long dead.
And in her stead treaded a lightfooted boy, singing and laughing as he walked the earth, touched by the golden sun with a bow in one hand and an herb in another, eyes twinkling with the dance of the stars and laughter that rang like the echoes of the wind.
"My Lady," he whispered, raising his eyes with a thick silver sheen – "I fear everything."
The Lady wordlessly pulled his head into an embrace.
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The squadron eased into its new routine, enjoying the luxury of being within city's reach. Soldiers spread thin, reports were scarce, and time was idle. Haldir was restless; he could stay at his family talan in the city, but he often visited his private talan in the outskirts of the forest. It was during one such visit that he saw Legolas charging toward him, radiating fury.
Haldir drew to a halt as the prince approached, eyes ablaze and hair trailing wild. Thranduil, he almost called out in surprise, and bit his tongue with a start.
"What is this?" Legolas spat. "Is it not enough to avoid me like poison? You must now go and use your rank against me?"
"Legolas," Haldir said smoothly, "what ails you?"
"I was dismissed from the guard!" The youth exploded. "Is it because of that incident with the orcs? I assure you, Haldir, it will not happen again."
"No, Legolas, it is not." Haldir smiled, gentle, as the prince's gaze matched him undaunted. "I am a young and hardheaded captain, and I am simply difficult to please, or work with."
"Orc shit," Legolas spat. Haldir raised an eyebrow. "Don't take me for a fool, Haldir. I know you petitioned to the Lord and Lady."
Haldir's blood turned cold. "What did you hear?"
"The Lady asked me if I had any unfortunate incidents in your guard." Legolas scowled. "And I know you don't need permission to recruit or dismiss guards from your squad. This isn't about my qualifications at all, is it?"
Clever Thranduilion. And yet so honest. Haldir almost wanted to clap Legolas' shoulder. Instead he put on a benevolent face. "Legolas, you have much more to do here than to run around shooting things at my command."
"That is my choice to make." Legolas' scowl deepened. "I tire of this game. Be frank with me, Haldir. Would it please you if you never had to see me again?"
Haldir was at a loss for words. Legolas' attacks were quick and fierce, and, he realized belated, well-timed. Haldir, on the other hand, was unprepared for this. He had only run and evaded, hoping to evade forever. He was cornered.
"I think no such thing," he said quietly.
"Then why?" Legolas blew impatiently on a strand of hair, and Haldir almost smiled fondly. He surprised himself by reaching forth and gently tucking the strand of hair behind the youth's ear. Legolas started, and Haldir's self-loathing doubled. The little elf deserved more than this. And Haldir was tiring of this as well. Except – for him, it was no game; it was a battle. One he was doomed to lose.
"You know the nature of my bond with your parents." Haldir's words were slow, measured. "Your father has entrusted me with you. Though I am poor company in entertainment, I am determined to excel in what I can do." He paused. "I cannot have this risk, Legolas. I hope you understand."
"I understand that you are protective." Legolas stared hard. "But if your way of protecting loved ones is to keep them away from battle altogether, how is it that you have both Rumil and Orophin in your guard?"
Haldir found his words with difficulty. "They are as protective of me as I am of them."
"A valid excuse, but still an excuse." Legolas crossed his arms. "What is it, really?"
A chill smile grazed Haldir's lips. Smart, this one. He would have to do it the hard way.
"I am a captain responsible for the lives of fifty guards." Haldir hardened his voice. "I cannot indulge a child's fantasies at the expense of my troops' safety."
Legolas stilled. He began to speak, but Haldir beat him to it. "Your skills matter little in this matter. You are still the prince of Mirkwood, son of my friend Thranduil." He cocked his head. "Do you understand what this means, Legolas? You, in your innocence, would insist that it matters not, as long as we fight together as brothers in arms. But your presence alone puts tremendous strain in our guards' performance; your naiveté puts my entire squadron at risk."
He let the youth digest his words in silence. Legolas' eyes were bright still, and Haldir prayed they were not due to tears. But Legolas smiled instead.
"It is true, what they say," he said softly. "You don't do things halfway." He shook his head a little, and his smile brightened. Haldir's chest clenched.
"I cannot refute that." Legolas backed away. "Forgive me, Haldir, for forcing you to indulge my whim. It seems that I have been childish."
"Nothing to forgive." The words rang dully in his own ears. He watched the youth disappear into the woods.
It was not until Orophin placed a hand on his shoulder that Haldir realized he had remained rooted at the spot.
"The rota, Haldir," said Orophin, holding out a scroll. He peered into his brother's face. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
In a way, he had.
Haldir opened the scroll jerkily. He could not make out the writing, and after a few attempts, thrust it back into Orophin's arms. Orophin opened the scroll, eying Haldir.
"The squadron now reports to Rumil," he said. "As long as the prince is off the rota, you shall be as well. He is to be your charge as long as he stays in Lorien."
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To Rumil's unspoken surprise, Haldir did not contest the Lord and Lady's command. He came to Rumil regularly to hear reports, but he spent most of his time out of the patrol bounds. Orophin called it hiding. And Legolas was apparently a very skilled tracker.
"Are they here yet?" Rumil entered the talan to see Orophin hunched in the corner. "My, Orophin, are you cooking? The Valar must be good indeed."
"What do you mean, 'they'?" Orophin shot up his head. Rumil smiled.
"Legolas is joining us for supper."
Orophin stood immediately. "What?"
Rumil held up his hand. "Keep peeling."
"Rumil, this is Haldir's talan!"
"You're the one who wanted to ambush Haldir's talan instead of eating in the family talan."
"That's because I wanted quality time with all three of us, not an awkward time with that uninvited – "
"He was invited weeks ago, remember?"
"Yes, thanks to you and you only."
"Oh, come now, Orophin." Rumil didn't so much as bat an eye. "We are the three brothers of Lorien. Do you think it would acceptable for me to invite him and for you and Haldir to refuse to show up?"
"That's your fault for – "
"Or for us not to invite him for a single meal while he is guest in Lorien?"
Orophin heaved a breath. "So, you're saying we're cornered either way."
"No," Rumil said breezily, "not if you actually make friends with him. Make the best of it."
Orophin scowled. "Does Haldir know Legolas is coming?"
"No, but that's beside the point."
"How is that beside the point?"
In the end, a moody Orophin ended up peeling fruit in the corner while Rumil sharpened the bread knives. A dark silence settled in.
"This is ridiculous," Orophin suddenly spat. Rumil raised his eyes. Orophin was staring haughtily at his fruit.
"Our peace is entirely ruined thanks to him, and we never get to see Haldir anymore, not to mention a smile-"
"Orophin." Rumil held up a hand. "If you insist on waving a knife at my face to make a point, let us at least be fair. It is not Legolas' fault that Haldir is often elusive."
"Of course it is!" Orophin stared. "If he weren't hunting Haldir down-"
"He wouldn't if Haldir didn't constantly run away from him."
"Haldir can run if he chooses to." Orophin frowned. "All right, then; why is he running away?"
Rumil shrugged.
"Even if he runs away," said Orophin, sullenly, "Legolas has no business hunting him down."
"He likes Haldir, and wants to see him."
"I don't see the point of this whole obsession." Rumil jabbed the fruit. "Over a dead lady."
"Orophin." The voice dropped like ice.
Orophin raised his eyes, daring a glance toward his stilled brother. Pale eyes were cold and hard, warning rippling in waves. Orophin silently returned to his task.
Rumil casually resumed his task as well. Silence filled the talan.
"You don't remember her at all, do you?"
Orophin looked up. Rumil was staring out of the talan.
"She took us to safety, Orophin, when the capital was overrun. She was the one person Haldir depended on – think, Orophin. He had always been the older brother to us, but he was still a child." His words slowed. "Haldir would not have survived the war without her. Neither would we."
Orophin watched Rumil carefully. Rumil tensed. "He must be here." He sprang to his feet and poked his head out of the talan. "Legolas! Welcome!"
Legolas was indeed Thranduil's son. He came with gifts – Mirkwood wine, though Orophin had no clue why he had one instead of having given them all to the Lord and Lady – and insisted on assisting the cooking. He ended up chopping vegetables in another corner as Rumil gave out instructions. Whereas Orophin prepared the food in sullen silence, Legolas chatted away happily to Rumil, who stole glances when the prince wasn't looking. Orophin narrowed his eyes.
Something was wrong.
The young elf's eyes were bright against the burning candles, his lashes darkening in the shadows. His hair, carelessly unbound, tumbled down his narrow shoulders in a softer silhouette than usual. The dancing candles threw startlingly delicate shadows on the wall, and as darkness deepened and the candlelight brightened, Orophin began to feel uneasy. If Rumil's behavior was any indication of the ghosts Legolas evoked, Haldir –
"Isn't that right, Orophin? Orophin!"
Orophin snapped to attention. "What?"
"Arm wrestling." Rumil grinned. "In the Moonlight Festival."
Orophin subconsciously straightened. "Yes, I won the championship in the junior guards."
Rumil's grin broadned. "And then someone claimed that he was cheating."
Orophin boomed, "I was not cheating – "
"No, just a little too tall and big to be in the junior guards – "
"I was junior guard age, for Valar's sake, and that skinny little loser deserved to lose – "
"Far outmatched, that was for sure – "
"Sore loser, that's what he was, it's not my fault Haldir fed me like there was no tomorrow – "
"So it's my fault now?" Haldir stepped into the talan, brisk and breathless, windblown hair falling into a sack of bread in his arms. "Ungrateful pup. No lembas for you."
Orophin started, and Rumil laughed. "Haldir! Welcome home."
"I see you've made yourselves comfortable," Haldir huffed out a crisp breath, and turned to put down the bread sack when he started. He froze entirely.
"Well met." Legolas smiled, looking unsure.
Rumil slid in between them, taking the bread easily from Haldir's hands. "Forgive his rudeness, Legolas. He and Orophin see and hear nothing when they're antagonizing each other."
It was a rare occasion to see Haldir's face so unguarded. Orophin glanced at Legolas, who nearly squirmed.
Haldir seemed to shake off his ghosts with tremendous difficulty. "Well met, Legolas." He searched for the bread sack, looking panicked to see it gone from his hands. "Forgive the crowdedness. My talan is rather humble."
"Here, Haldir," Rumil said briskly, pushing Haldir toward the boiling pot, "take over. I don't want to kill our guest with my cooking."
The cooking was silent on Haldir's part, despite Rumil's chatting, and Legolas seemed subdued. Orophin felt a tinge of pity, and was irritated for feeling it. He viciously went back to chopping. Haldir would have cuffed his head for the noise, but he didn't seem to notice. Orophin began to pray for a messenger from the Lord and Lady, or perhaps a small kitchen fire, something – anything to ruin this awkward evening.
"That," Rumil remarked, "looks absolutely divine."
Legolas smiled as Rumil tasted the batter he was making. "Mm," Rumil purred, licking his lips, and Legolas laughed. Orophin watched the two, and caught a movement in the corner of his eye. Haldir's fist was clenching and unclenching as he watched Legolas. When Legolas half-turned, Haldir took a step forward, eyes riveted on the profile view of the younger elf. Orophin's heart beat erratically.
Legolas was dangerous.
Rumil's eye caught Haldir, and he dropped the bowl of batter. "Haldir!"
Legolas turned, gasping to see Haldir looming over him with a bloody knife; Rumil moved in fluid motion, stepping forth to push Legolas out of the way and catching Haldir's descending arm.
"Now, now," he said firmly, a steady hand picking the knife out from Haldir's shaky grasp, "you could have asked him to scoot over." He picked up the carrot from beside Legolas and handed it to Haldir. "There." His firm grasp remained on Haldir's trembling hands.
Orophin could have hugged his brother senseless.
Haldir looked down at the knife, and the carrot. His hand clenched pale.
Legolas swallowed. "Are you all right?" He took a calming breath. "Your hand is bleeding." He reached for Haldir's hand.
Haldir jerked away. "No." His voice fractured. "I – "
When Legolas' fingertip ventured close to his hand, Haldir moved away, as if burned.
"Forgive me." A gray billow in the talan, and he was gone.
The long silence was broken by Rumil. "I apologize," he said softly. "Please, Legolas, stay." He put a gentle hand on Legolas' arm.
Legolas turned unsteadily, shaking his head. "No, it's my fault." He struggled for smile, and Orophin's heart squeezed. "I should not have come. I'm sorry, Orophin. Rumil."
And with that, he also left in haste, into the silence of the night.
At last Rumil moved, slowly bending to pick up the bowl of ruined batter.
"Let's clean up, Orophin."
Orophin wordlessly followed his brother's lead. The night was long, and in the muffled silence Orophin found himself wishing he could turn back time.
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To Be Continued