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: Thank you all so much for being patient through years of this story while I went through multiple illnesses. Please forgive me if I don't respond to reviews individually – I do read and appreciate every one of them, so so much.
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By Kasmi Kassim
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Golden Sun, Silver Moon
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Chapter 11: Threading the Past
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Sis was crying.
Haldir grabbed the shrubbery, feeling sick. Sis never cried; she was a grownup.
"Forgive me," she was saying in between clenched sobs. "Forgive me."
Haldir fisted small hands around the thorns. If the prince of Greenwood was making her sorry, then he was a bad person.
"Save your tears for the dead," said the prince. "I am alive."
His voice was a tired tenor instead of the great boom he had imagined from Sister's stories. Instead of a great warrior in shining armor, the elf that stepped out of the tent to order his guards to let her in was a slender youth in tattered warrior plaits. But Sis cried before him, which meant she felt safe. Because he was grown up.
"Please," she was saying, "you cannot blame yourself."
"Then who can I blame?" The voice was bitter. "Only the two of us are left of the five now. If I had known that they would lay down their lives at my feet, I would never have climbed trees with them."
Sister's weeping grew. "One had a little sister who lives, did she not?" she mustered.
"You mean the dark-haired little one." He paused. "She was keen on the arts of healing. We…I…will find something for her in court."
"Greenwood will flourish," Sister said, quiet and determined. "You will raise it to greatness once again."
There was silence. Then, "I saw you also with a child."
Haldir felt faint.
"What is your petition? Let us hear it."
"My prince," Her sobs broke anew. "I wish – Thranduil, please. I wish you would allow yourself to grieve."
The guards began to rotate. Haldir crept away from the bushes, needing to hear no more. Winds stung wet cheeks as he ran toward the Lorien camp.
Foolish, foolish.
He should have known. Should have known that he had no one left. That the moment Nana and Ada died before his eyes, he could no longer go back to being a child, being loved by a family.
Panting, he sank onto the muddy forest floor. He hugged his knees, and choked out strangled sobs.
Sister was in love with Prince Thranduil.
Just like everyone else.
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"Rumil here yet?"
Orophin looked up from the bowl of batter to find Haldir standing at the entrance, starlight running down his hair. "No?" he blinked. "He went to get potatoes."
They had just returned earlier that day. They were to meet for a family dinner to celebrate Rumil's first official patrol as a Warden. Word did get out fast, but for Haldir to show up already? He frowned in suspicion. "Are you going to put that down, or..?"
Haldir put down the sack of fruit in his arms, and hesitated. Orophin watched with growing dread. Haldir was wearing his vulnerable face. Then, predictably: "Legolas and I talked."
"Oh, good." Orophin washed his hands. "So, you two kiss and make up yet?"
"He mentioned – I need to apologize to you."
Orophin leaned against the counter. "Go on."
Haldir looked determined and lost at once. "I – I was so intent on being your protector all these years that I refused to see you as equals." He looked down, seeming to gather his courage, and looked up again. "I thought that as an older brother, I should protect you from the burden of – well." He took a deep breath. "I realize now that I was wrong."
So it took Legolas to make Haldir hear what he and Rumil had been saying all those years. Orophin wanted to sigh, but he was tired. He rolled his shoulders. "Legolas has been good for you."
"I'm sorry."
Orophin turned around to see Haldir watching him nervously. "It's all right, Haldir." He felt like he was back in that lonely golden light in that dark tent, watching Haldir relive his past over and over. "There are so many yesterdays and sorries and I – I just want us all to be happy."
Haldir's smile was a broken, vulnerable one. "I know."
Orophin watched, feeling numb and strangely constricted in his chest. Perhaps they could leave that dark tent with his moody shadows behind. Perhaps – perhaps. There was a bright-eyed prince in their midst, and Haldir stood looking like he'd fall over at a whisper, and cool starlight was trickling into the talan. Perhaps they could move on from the yesterdays.
"Well," he turned, "since you're sorry, make that stew that I like, all three pots filled to the brim. Here's the first pot –"
"Orophin, we need those pots for other things –"
"You don't sound sorry at all, why are you even here –"
"Sorry doesn't mean I'm your personal chef, Elbereth, you spoiled –"
"Haldir?" Rumil entered with a sack of potatoes, smelling of evening dew. "Oh, you brought the fruit! Good, because I forgot." He put down the sack and peered at the countertop. "Orophin, why did you abandon your batter?"
"I wasn't done with it, grandpa."
"Rumil, I need to speak with you."
Rumil looked from Haldir's guilty face to Orophin's blank one. "In private?"
"I need to," Haldir said uncomfortably, "tell you something about, that one time."
"That one time." Rumil began to pull out the potatoes from the sack.
"When Sister went away."
Potatoes rolled on the floor.
Orophin realized he wasn't meant to hear this. Rumil stood bent over the floor, Haldir looking at his face with wavering courage. The light that had enveloped Rumil was snuffed out, replaced by thick silence. "Don't," Rumil said in a low voice.
"Rumil, I-"
"Will it make a difference?" Rumi's voice rose. He turned, and Orophin was stunned to find his eyes thick with tears. He had never seen Rumil cry before. "Is this for your sake or mine?"
And Haldir, to Orophin's amazement, hung his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
There was much pain here that he had never known, and was not supposed to know. Orophin slid toward the door. "Right, I'll just," he squeezed between Rumil and the mallorn frame, "go for a little walk."
He didn't go far.
Amid Haldir's frantic words, a crash startled him into turning around. Haldir was staggering.
Rumil had punched him in the face.
Before Orophin could think of what to do, Rumil slipped out of the talan, stumbling and unsure, and fled into the night.
Orophin found Haldir unmoving among scattered potatoes and fruit when he returned. Hearing Orophin's uncertain foosteps, Haldir took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders.
"Let's clean up, Orophin."
Cleaning the talan in companionable silence, Orophin thought back to a lonely night with a teary-eyed woodland prince, and found himself aching to beg forgiveness.
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The rota was changed again. The Lord and Lady looked at each other, perfectly at peace, and Orophin had no idea what to think. Haldir only bowed, murmured his apologies, and the Lady seemed to know why. She disbanded the squadron for the winter.
"A vacation, so that you may be good hosts to our woodland guest," she said with a smile.
It was as good a reason as any. Legolas visited often. At first he came with wine, but Haldir must have told him that Rumil and Orophin drank all of it, because he then started bringing – ugh – music scrolls. The two were often seen together, Haldir on his bed, Legolas on the floor, humming while Haldir carved a piece of wood.
The great chest was open. His carving knife was out. Orophin had never seen them since –
Winter deepened. Haldir's wounds slowly, finally, healed. And Rumil returned.
Orophin spied on his brothers as they met. Haldir did not beg forgiveness. He did not even look guilty. And Rumil, in turn, spoke in raised, jabbing words. Haldir took them in stride.
And Orophin understood.
Sweet Rumil could not bear seeing another in pain. A look of guilt would force him to push aside his anger, abandon his grief, and give the other the comfort of forgiveness.
And Haldir knew, as only he could know, that to love Rumil in the way he deserved was to give him the freedom to rage, grieve, blame. To not burden him with the task of comforting another, for who would comfort Rumil when he was done comforting everyone else?
Haldir laughed, admitted to mistakes. Rumil finally, haltingly, admitted to the reasons he was terrified of interacting with maidens. Orophin watched them, his heart at his throat, as they slowly, gradually, began to smile again.
And when Legolas opened Haldir's great chest and ran his fingers wonderingly down Haldir's newly etched bow, Haldir watching with an intensity he'd never seen, Orophin decided that it was time.
"A word, Legolas?"
Legolas snapped up from his perch and almost fell off. Orophin politely pretended not to see the lumpy piece of wood, clumsily carved, being shoved into his jerkin. "Orophin," Legolas said, face red, "I wanted to talk to you too."
"Well then." Orophin gestured toward the forest floor. "A walk?"
Legolas blushed further, but Orophin looked away from his scrambling and leaped nimbly down onto the ground. Legolas followed.
Frosted leaves crunched under their feet. It was Legolas that broke the silence. "I'm sorry."
"What for?"
"For everything?" Legolas fidgeted. "I put you all through so much – and Haldir almost died."
Orophin could see why everyone doted on him so. But then again, he had always seen, had he not? He had only resented him for it. For making Haldir love him when he clearly didn't want to. "It was his choice," he said carefully.
"That's not really a choice, is it?" Legolas said, peering up at him. "Not really."
Sweet Thranduilion. Orophin thought back to Rumil's gasping breaths, deeper than any cry had been, when he had found them all alive. Haldir's face, when he found out that Legolas was gone. His own shaking hands, picking up Haldir's broken bow. "It's what we signed up for."
"But!" Legolas looked indignant. He gestured at Orophin's shoulder, presumably where he had been shot. "You almost turned into an orc pincushion."
Orophin rubbed his face. "Yes, well, let's keep that between us and fifty other elves, shall we?"
"I'm sorry." Legolas made a mournful face. "I know how much you all care about each other, and I got in the way." he pulled on a braid. "Valar, I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened to any of you."
Orophin watched yellow hair glint under the pale winter sun. How had Thranduil raised his only son that he thought his life exactly as worthy as that of a guard in a foreign realm? But then again…
"You were never really an outsider as you think you are, you know," he said, sounding strange to his own ears. "I'm really not much older than you. And Haldir and Rumil are only a few years apart, and they're not all that much older than me. We could be brothers."
Legolas watching him with his full attention. Orophin shifted. He was no good at this.
"I've been petty." He sighed. "I should be apologizing. I have antagonized you unjustly."
"Yet you saved my life, and encouraged Haldir to come after me. I heard." Legolas's smile was warm enough to melt the frost. "You're far from petty. I would rather think it indicates even greater strength of character, to do that for someone you hate."
Orophin looked down at Legolas's hand grasping his shoulder in a warrior's greeting. Petty he may be, but a hypocrite he was not. "I did it for Haldir," he murmured. "Still want to be friends?"
"Does it matter?" Legolas remained unfazed. "Haldir loved me for my mother, not for my sake. I protected your people for Haldir's sake, not yours. But in the end, did we not all save each other?"
Orophin looked at the hand, voice stuck at his throat. This child had saved them all. Had thrown his life to the orcs to save their city, bartered his life in exchange for Haldir's safety. Yet he stood before him, beaming with warmth, and he knew not how to contain his shame.
He clasped the youth's narrower shoulder. "Just to be clear," he said, level with overjoyed eyes, "I never hated you." He watched the youth's grin widen, and added, "and Haldir did not love you just because of your mother. He just…didn't know what to do with you."
Legolas's smile looked as if it would burst out of his face. "Orophin, you don't know how much joy this brings me."
If only Legolas knew how much pain he was about to bring Haldir.
Orophin pursed his lips. He wasn't about to go about revealing what he had seen through the Lady's Mirror. It was too late anyway – if death couldn't separate them, what choice did he have? Haldir had had his visions and still made his choice. He would go on making such choices. Orophin knew when he was outmatched. This little princeling would decide the fate of Arda, and Haldir would stand by his side through death and beyond.
"Be good to him," he said instead, squeezing with a prayer. "He deserves so much."
The smile that spread across the youth's smile was blinding. "I would never knowingly hurt Haldir, Orophin."
Of course he wouldn't. But Haldir always made his own choices. Even though they weren't really choices.
But this was not his story to tell. He walked on with Legolas, shoulder to shoulder, as everything quietly, gently, fell into place, as natural and inevitable as the deepening of winter.
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"Rumil, I need the pan."
"I'm obviously in more dire need of it than you, so fend for yourself."
"What? Why are you even cooking? Haldir, why are you allowing us to all die of food poisoning?"
"Hey, you were the one who complained that I never lifted a finger-"
"Neither of you will be touching the pan. You, slice, and you peel. I saw that, Orophin, wash that properly. Are you timing the baking, Rumil?"
Legolas watched the cacophony in the talan as three tall Galadhrim warriors crowded the kitchen. Haldir twirled the pan, letting ingredients fly, as Orophin dropped pieces of fruit skin and scrambled to pick them up from the floor while Rumil complained about him scampering about his feet and shifted his weight around, chopping loudly as he talked.
"Here's the first batch," Rumil said, setting down a plate of food and a glass of wine in front of Legolas. "Not used to kitchen chaos?"
"Well, um," Legolas blushed, "I was responsible for quite a bit of chaos myself, with Arwen and Ellahir, but never so crowded and never with…grownups involved."
"Ellahir?" Rumil snickered over the wine glass he immediately pilfered from Legolas. "That is a good one."
"Somehow I don't think you'll get away with that," Haldir remarked loudly over the sounds of kitchen flames.
"Valar, no, don't do that. They hate it." Legolas laughed. "I do like it crowded like this, though. It feels…intimate."
"It has a way of forcing you to be civil." Rumil ate a piece of something unrecognizable off of Legolas's plate. "Sharp kitchen utensils are useful that way."
"Stop lazying around and come help, Rumil!" shouted Orophin, crouched on the floor and grinding something. "The garlic isn't going to grind itself!"
"Love you too, brother."
"Orc shit, get over here!"
Legolas fidgeted. "I can help."
"No, really, three is quite enough crowding this place." Haldir came upon them with a pan of steaming rolls. "More appetizers while you wait. Rumil, eat from your own plate, you filthy pig."
Legolas looked around. He realized that this was how his last dinner in Lorien would unfold – the three brothers coming and going, picking on food with their fingers and taking swigs of wine, while cooking something new continuously all night. "You don't need help?"
"You are a weird prince." Orophin materialized to grab a roll from his plate and stuff it in his mouth. "But if you want to be useful, you can entertain me while my older brothers kindly feed us youngsters."
Rumil gave him a disdainful look as Haldir dragged him back to the kitchen.
Dinner was a long and raucous affair. At the end of it, Rumil's hair was dripping with pudding, and Orophin was licking soup up from the floor with his fingers while Haldir chased him around with a rag shouting obscenities.
"It's a blessing how our prince has good table manners," Rumil said, twisting his hair dry. "At least one of us is acting like a civilized person."
"Unlike you savages," Haldir barked, catching Orophin by the collar as he scuttled by, chasing spilled soup. "Come here and clean up, you implings, I did not raise you this way."
"But it was his fault-"
"I swear, Legolas, our meals are usually not this crazy-"
"No, it's good. I mean, it's nice. I, uh." Legolas chuckled. "It's nice, having siblings."
Rumil pushed Orophin forward. "Take him. He's yours."
"Hey!"
"I swear, if either of you step into that puddle one more time-"
"Oh, look!" Legolas stuck his head out the talan. "Snow!"
Indeed it was. The three brothers tumbled over themselves as they joined him in looking outside. The first snow of the year was falling, soft puffs of white under the glint of the city's lights.
The silence was only broken when Rumil slipped on the pudding and fell onto his groaning brothers.
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The End
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The forest was wild and old, its power raw, singing a haunted song that outdated the magic of Lothlorien. Haldir listened to their breaths as they whispered blessings upon the protector of the lands, who stood at the majestic gates.
"Haldir!" Thranduil pulled him into his chest before Haldir could bow. "How you've grown, my friend."
The young king, once with shoulders hunched with sorrow, eyes bright with grief, now stood as radiant as the sun glinting off his hair. Long robes and glittering jewels suited him well. Haldir swallowed, and touched his heart. "Hail King Thranduil."
Thranduil laughed, and turned to lead him back to the palace. "My queen awaits most urgently. She wanted to greet you outside, but Legolas is fussy when he's sleepy."
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Legolas chomped down on Haldir's hair.
Haldir stretched out on the rug, sleepy and happy. Raising a babe as a child oneself, freshly orphaned on war-torn land, was less than enjoyable. Here, in this kingdom of vibrant green, where lively constructions were taking place, it was easier to relax in the sun and watch a babe roll around.
"Haldir, have you –" The queen entered with a start. "Oh."
Haldir looked up guiltily. "He," he glanced down at Legolas. "He likes my hair?"
"He likes you." The queen kneeled on the rug beside them. "Legolas, my jewel. Come to Nana."
The babe climbed into his mother's bosom, Haldir's braid still clenched in his tiny fist. Haldir indulgently let his head get dragged sideways. "I think he's teething."
The queen firmly plucked the hair from tiny fingers. "I was wondering where I'd find you after my next meeting. I need to hear the architect council's recommendations for my private gardens. Afterwards, I can show you the outer vicinities."
"It's all right, I can explore the –"
"Haaa-!" The babe reached down to Haldir. Haldir stood up to offer a finger, and Legolas grabbed it and happily brought it to his mouth.
"Um," Haldir said. "I, uh, could go with you too, I guess?"
The queen looked scandalized. "I will not be stringing you along because Legolas refuses to stop eating your skin and hair."
"Haaa." Legolas held out his arms. Haldir reached for him without a thought, and was left with a squirming blob in his arms that began to suck on his hair again.
"Maybe I'll stay here," Haldir concluded. "Find us here after you're done."
He ended up falling asleep in the sunlight.
When he jerked awake, Legolas was nowhere to be seen. He looked out the open window in panic. Surely the babe hadn't –
The babe was on a tree branch overlooking the hillside on the rough side of the garden. The garden's makeshift fences had been washed away by the recent rain. Just beyond was a torrent of a river, flooded and roaring. Legolas squealed with delight. Haldir leaped out the window and sprinted to the edge.
"Legolas," he called, getting down on his knees. "Legolas, come this way."
The child looked back. "Haaa!" he cried happily.
"That's right." Haldir reached toward the branch. "Haldir's here. Come to Haldir."
Legolas held out his arms, and promptly fell. Haldir dived.
The fall down the ravine was violent. Tumbling against rocks and roots, he spread his fingers to cover the little head and curled around the babe. He heard a crack. His hair was catching on something, then a thud –
Haldir woke to screams. "Haa!" wailed the babe. "Haaaa!"
"Shh, it's all right." Haldir was lying on his side, Legolas sitting upright. He looked unscathed, save the red face swollen with tears. "It's all right, little Leaf," he said, realizing he'd never seen Legolas cry. Unlike Orophin, Legolas was a happy child. "Don't cry, little one. I'm all right."
"Haa!" cried Legolas. He pulled at Haldir's tunic, trying to get him to sit up. When Haldir didn't move, he looked up toward the sky and wailed louder, squinting tears. Haldir's heart hurt. Orophin used to cry like that, endlessly, and Haldir never knew how to make the hurt go away. But now, he had the power to make the hurt go away. He just had to get up. Show him that he was all right. The realization flooded him with a strange sense of power. He had the power to make the babe stop hurting.
"Dear Eru, Legolas! Haldir!" Sister was screaming from atop the ravine. "Are you safe?"
"Yes," Haldir answered, but his voice was a hoarse whisper. He frowned, and breathed in. A wet cough shook him instead.
"Hold still, Haldir." When had Thranduil gotten down here? Haldir blinked as Thranduil bent over him, gently lifting his wrist, looking into his eyes. "Ethelea!"
A dark-haired young elleth hastened to his side. He had seen her severally at Thranduil's side – she was a young one, still in training. She murmured healing whispers, and Haldir's vision grew blissfully dark as Thranduil gathered a hiccupping child into his arms.
"I'm sorry," Haldir said as soon as he woke, because he could feel Thranduil's eyes on him.
Thranduil laughed, relieved. "Rest," he said, pushing Haldir back down on the healing ward bed. "Fear not; Legolas is safe."
Sister was stroking his hair. "You saved him, my little Haldir," she said, voice full of emotion. "You saved his life."
Haldir felt dizzy.
"Haa," murmured Legolas from his side. He was in a crib attached to his bed through some strange contraption. The babe's plump cheeks were squished against the bedding as he slept, his little fingers curling and uncurling in a kneading motion.
"Why does he do that?" Haldir whispered aloud.
"Healing ministrations," answered Thranduil, amusement in his deadpan voice. "He likes to make people feel better."
Haldir watched the babe long after they left and the healer came in. Sis had a slight figure, and Thranduil, tall though he was, had a figure to match. Haldir wondered how Legolas would grow to look. Between his mother's smiles and Thranduil's famed beauty, he would grow to have many admirers. Haldir's gut twisted with worry, and he sighed at himself for it.
Well, he was now a Warden. He was grown up. It was his turn to protect Sister and her family.
While the healer fussed about, he reached into the crib. The babe's fingers curled around his own. "Haaa," he murmured in his sleep, and drooled.
Wondering at the tender warmth in his heart, Haldir watched the babe's sleeping face. A vision flashed before him, bright and terrible as lightning on a rainy night. A lithe young elf who had Sister's eyes and Thranduil's hair, who stood by the side of a man and a dwarf, facing down death in a dark, wet night. The royal line of Greenwood never did sit back in safe chambers while their soldiers marched.
Haldir grimaced at the vision. It made him cold, as if battered with rain.
"I love you, little Leaf," he breathed. "And I swear to you: when you need me again, I will be there for you. No matter how dark the night, no matter how steep the height – if you need me, I will come marching." He kissed the babe's head.
Around his one calloused finger the baby's fingers hung tight, a frail thread of a promise.