Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1
Chapter 13: The Aftermath
Haldir turned away from Galadriel, never meeting her eyes, and it was then that she saw the dagger handle protruding from Haldir's leg.
"Haldir, let me take a look at that, you..."
But, he was staring at something in the distance. Her mouth dropped open as Haldir tore the dagger from his own flesh and hurled it across the battlefield. It lodged solidly in the forehead of a badly wounded orc that had been trying to get to his feet. She looked back at Haldir, at the ice gathering at the edges of his blue eyes. "My leg will be fine," he growled.
She watched him limp away, blood dripping from his fingertips from a gash in his upper arm. His back was held proudly, but it clearly exhausted him, he looked both formidable and fragile at the same time. He tore one of his sleeves off, a jerky, violent motion and stopped just long enough to tie it around his leg. He was Captain again, always, and barked orders to pile the orcs and bury their own fallen, to get litters for the wounded and chase down their retreating enemies.
He caught the reins of a wandering horse and swung into the saddle. Reluctantly, coldly, he looked down at the hand that rested on his leg, gripping his armor. "Let me go, my Lady."
"Someone else can go, Haldir, you should not have to..."
"I am their Captain," he snapped, too numb to regret his curtness. "If I do not lead them, who will? You? Where has your power been? Where was it today?"
He wrenched the horse's head around without hearing her answer, and Galadriel jerked back so as not to be trampled. She stood for only a moment more, watching as he drove the horse mercilessly on, his armor clattering over his shoulders, seeming to care very little if anyone joined him. Then, Galadriel turned away, to treat those who were wounded in body, for she could do little for one wounded in the heart.
The faces of the orcs were beginning to run together in Haldir's mind, he couldn't tell them apart anymore. He had slain many that day, and as he looked back on it, he began to see the elvish features of the orcs, so foreign, yet so disturbingly familiar. It was never spoken of among elves, their ancient connection to the orc-kind, but he could not help but think of it now. Haldir looked down at the sprawled body of an orc he had just killed, and kicked it over with his boot. It was the eyes. He could see there his own eyes if ever they became twisted and enraged, if ever they felt a darkness elves should never feel. Haldir was glad there was not a looking glass nearby, for he feared his eyes looked no different at this moment from the eyes of all the orcs he had killed. The same nameless anger, the same desire to destroy and cause pain had turned his gaze to that of a wild creature, he had nearly crossed that line that divided elf-kind from the more base creatures that grunted and shuffled along these lands. Today, he was no better than them. Maybe he never had been.
A large group of orcs had broken away, if he didn't take after them now...he searched through the tree trunks and shredded underbrush with his eyes, looking for his horse, trying to remember where it had run. He spun around, but everything around him seemed shaky and blurred while a roaring, rushing sound clouded his ears. He stepped to the side, regained his balance, and stumbled forward, not sure where he was going. He managed to stagger a few steps before he dropped to all fours. His sword fell before him, and in the gleaming metal of the blade, Haldir saw himself. The eyes, the unblinking eyes he had imagined to be wild and evil did not stare up at him. Instead, in his own eyes, he saw pain, he saw exhaustion, he saw defeat. His chest tightened as he refused to weep, and the eyes began to fade. His injuries finally overtaking him, Haldir collapsed onto the damp forest soil, wishing for death.
Halnorel scampered between the slow adults, giggling wildly as her brother tagged her. She spun around and sprinted after him, determined not to be outdone by the younger elfling, but was soon panting with the effort.
"Taurnan, I'll get you yet!" she called.
Silraen smiled quietly, trudging along as her children played. Miradhel walked beside her, and said, "Halnorel looks well today."
"Yes, she seems to spring back faster after each of her...bad spells, and I am glad for that small blessing. The Lady had told me these visions are very confusing for a child. But, she will grow stronger over time."
"And you?" Miradhel asked with a sidelong glance, "How are you feeling today?"
"I am fine," Silraen lied. The truth was she was deeply troubled. Even after she had managed to calm her daughter, a nagging disorientation had plagued Silraen. Something was wrong, that much she knew, but at first she could not name it. Then she realized, Haldir was quiet. She was not powerful enough to communicate with him, but even across all the miles, she could sense him. It was not a sound she could hear, it was more like the murmuring of a voice in the next room, a sound that is more felt than truly heard. She could never make out the words, but it comforted her just to know that he still breathed. But, today, there was nothing. Something had happened back in Lorien, to Rumil, to Haldir, or to both, but for the sake of her family's peace of mind she did not speak of it.
Silraen pulled back on the bridle of the pack horse, and sent back word that they would halt for a meal. It was early yet, but her feet felt heavy and she wanted only to sit for a moment. She was untying a sack on the horse's back when she felt eyes on her.
"What is wrong, Silraen?"
She tried so hard to avoid Orophin's green gaze, to pretend she had not heard and continue with her work, but finally she gave in.
"I am worried about Halnorel. That is all." The distracted glaze over her eyes revealed that it was more than that, but Orophin did not press the matter.
"So, where are we headed anyway?" As he spoke, Orophin gripped the rough-hewn pole making up one side of his litter and began pulling himself to his feet.
"What in Manwë's name are you doing?" Silraen gasped, hurrying to his side. She tried to urge him back to the ground, but he brushed her hands aside as gently as he could.
"See," he said, standing on his good leg and swaying a little, upright, but barely. "Nothing to worry about."
He tipped a little too far to one side, and Silraen caught him, bracing a shoulder against his chest and forcing him back onto the litter, "You've made your point. You are getting stronger all the time. Just warn me before you do anymore demonstrations."
"Where are we going?" Orophin asked again, "You do have somewhere in mind, don't you, or are you making this up as we go along?"
From anyone else, such doubt would have seemed an insult, but Silraen looked down at Orophin's kind face and knew he asked only out of honest curiosity. She smiled slightly as she noticed for the first time that the dull pallor of his skin was gone and he seemed almost as he had once been.
"It doesn't have a name," she began, looking out over the featureless plains with an unfocused gaze, "It is a very deep valley far into the mountains. When you are there, you feel like you are in a place no one has ever seen before, that with every footstep you are touching soil no foot has ever passed over before. My father showed it to me, he told me that it would be a very safe place should someone need a safe place to be. He showed it to me two days before he died."
"You've never spoken of your father before," Orophin said quietly, "I've never even heard his name."
"He was...impractical," Silraen said, setting her jaw as tears sparkled suddenly in her eyes, "He cared only for seeing new places, learning new languages, he didn't always think about things like finding food or getting out of the rain. My brother and I had to take care of such things. He was a fool. But, he..." Silraen hesitated, and the faintest smile flashed across her face, "He showed me the most beautiful places. He was drawn to beauty. On a bare mountainside he could find the single flower that clung to the rock. He had long since released his grip on this world and this life. He existed above it, outside of it, always with one eye in the distance. Long before he died, he had let go."
Silraen shook her head, ashamed for revealing so much. She turned away, meaning to check on Linaya, but then she looked back. Orophin watched as the restless stone-gray clouds rushed behind her, the wind whistling around them both. "His name was Daemenel."
The light, though diffuse, hurt Haldir's eyes and he grunted, tipping his head to the side. He squeezed his eyes shut, not knowing where he was or how he had gotten here, but then he remembered...by the Valar how it hurt to remember. How long would it be like this, that he would wake and for one blissful moment forget that his brother was dead, only to remember? And, every morning as the truth seeped back into his mind he would feel anew the grief and misery, like he was staring down at Rumil's corpse for the first time...again.
Haldir tried to sit up, only to find his body too weak to respond. He lifted his back only inches from the pallet on which he lay before he dropped back with a groan. "How long was I out?" He asked Celeborn without looking at him. Celeborn sat patiently in a chair a few feet away, sharpening a dagger.
"Almost two days," he replied.
"Tell me you're joking," Haldir growled, swinging his legs over the side of the cot and standing, feeling a wave of nausea shake through him, but steadfastly ignoring it.
"My wife will have my hide if I don't make you rest."
He did not draw even a grin from Haldir, who simply said, "What do the scouts report?"
"Our enemies are regrouping. They will return."
"Let them," Haldir said with surprising control, "Let them attack twenty more times, a hundred more times, it doesn't matter. They won't enter this city again until every last elf here is dead."
"Your brother was a great warrior," Celeborn said with great care.
"Don't speak of him," Haldir snapped, his sharp gaze cutting across Celeborn like a blade. "Don't ever speak of him again."
"We will sing songs of him, when this is over. We will not forget."
"No songs. Nothing. Leave it alone." Haldir saw his overshirt folded neatly at the foot of the bed and jerked it over his head, glad for the moment that he could hide behind the cloth and not have to see the world, which seemed now only ugly and dirty to him.
"The wraith," Haldir mumbled, looking around for his armor and finding it nowhere in sight, "The ringwraith was not with them. Why?"
"I don't know." Celeborn had set the dagger aside, and was watching Haldir prowl unsteadily around the room, groping for furniture as his knees began to shake. Celeborn rose, gripping the sides of Haldir's arms as he said, "Galenos has assumed command and we do not expect any more activity for a few days at least. Just rest."
"No," Haldir grunted, trying to step away from Celeborn, but succeeding only in losing his balance. He reached back as he fell, caught the edge of a small table, and it slipped out under his weight. He crashed down in heap, nearly losing consciousness as weakness consumed him. He was being stubborn and a fool, and he knew it. "I am sorry, my Lord," Haldir whispered, "I...I am sorry."
"Rest, Haldir. Just get a little more rest."
Haldir nodded, allowing Celeborn to help him back to his cot. "You'll wake me, if there is news?" Haldir's eyes were glossy, the short time on his feet had exhausted him, "Could you send for Silraen? Could you ask her to sit with me for a while? She might be in the fields."
"I will fetch her," Celeborn said indulgently, "You just rest."
Silraen scrambled over the rough black rocks, glancing back to check the angle of the sun. She liked scouting ahead, liked the quiet and the routine, one foot in front of the other, check the sun, check the weather, check the course. They were several days behind where she wanted to be by now, and she sighed, knowing she would have to readjust her timeline accordingly. It was going to be another month, if not more. They were going to run out of food, there was no getting around that dire fact. She sat down on a larger rock, pulling her legs up to her chest and trying to think of some way to shorten their road. But, she knew, there was no other way.
Silraen's head shot up and a wide grin danced across her mouth. She could hear Haldir, the gentle hum of his deep voice whirling about in her mind like wind-caught leaves. She heard one word in a thin whisper...it was her name.
"Welcome back, sweetheart," she whispered back, and wished with all her heart that he could hear her.
Thank you so very much to my reviewers, eyes of sky, rohannion, moonbunny77, TigerLily, sar, and Puxinette. You guys always keep me going! Thanks!