“Dearest, you need to learn to be stealthier if you are going to steal from the batter bowl.” Galadriel picked up a washrag and dabbed Haldir’s chin where a bit of glaze had dripped.

As soon as Galadriel had turned, Haldir leaned forward, skimming his finger across the thick buttery syrup.

“Haldir!” The elfling nearly fell from the stool he sat upon. His nana took the bowl away from his reach and scowled at him. “Why do you not find your sister and play with her?”

“She is with Adar. He is teaching her to shoot arrows.” Haldir waited until Galadriel had her back to him once again, then licked his thumb and stuck it into the sugar bowl.

Galadriel nodded to herself. “Your Ada has wanted to spend some time alone with Celebrian. I suppose it will not do to send you out to the archery fields.”

“Can I do something with you, Nana?” Haldir sucked the sugar off his thumb, waiting her answer.

“Haldir, I would very much like to play games with you this day, but I must finish this baking.” Galadriel tilted her head, as if she had just had a thought. She turned to look at her son and asked, “Would you like to help me?”

Haldir nodded, and pulled his thumb from his mouth. “Ah, ah, let us have you wash these first,” insisted Galadriel, prodding him to the water basin. Once she was satisfied his hands were clean, she led him back to the table, where he now sat down on one of the chairs. She sat across from him.

“Can we make lembas?” he asked, inspecting the various ingredients on the table.

“I wish we could, but I…uhm…I do not have everything needed to make it,” she said with a smile. “And I have already begun to make glazed sweet rolls.” She motioned to the trays cooling on a counter nearby.

Haldir accepted this answer and began to help out with the tasks Galadriel assigned. Years later, he would be crushed to find out that he would never be allowed to know how to make lembas, even though his sister learned the secrets.

“Nana?”

“Yes, Haldir?”

“Is this too much sugar?” he asked, holding the cup steady over the bowl.

“It is just enough,” she said, sprinkling spices into the mixture.

“Nana?”

“Yes, Haldir?”

“Do you think we should try these before Celebrian and Ada get back?” he asked, poking at the sticky, doughy buns.

“A good cook always tastes the fruit of their labors,” she said, retrieving two plates from the shelf.

- - -


‘Nana!’

But there was no answer, and he was not sure he had even spoken. One moment, he was fighting, calling for the troops to fall back, searching for them. The next, he felt a painful jab in his side, spreading through his body. He knew he should ignore it, fight on. That stopping meant death. He had seen the mistake made by beasts he had hunted in the forest. And now, he had made the mistake himself.

It was just as he had regained his senses that he was struck by something from behind. There was no pain, just shock, as he fell to his knees and his reflex was to call out to his mother, but no sound came. Only vaguely was he aware of the battle now, and only just now did he realize how many others had fallen before him. His one relief was that his brothers were not among them. He had left them behind, safe in Lothlorien - his only regret that he had not said goodbye to them when he left.

Haldir held up the yellow fruit so that Celebdreth had a clear view of it.

“Apple,” he responded in a clear voice.

Haldir nodded, handed the elfling the apple, and pulled another item out of the lunch sack.

“Lemb-uh, way bread,” he corrected himself and was rewarded with the wafer.

“Ai, Elbereth, will you let him eat so we can continue?” Rumil had spoken in Sindarin, and was under a different tree with Orophin, eating lunch as well. The three brothers were trekking their way to Gondor to deliver messages and catch up on news of the realm. “I think you have taught him enough Westron to get by – he speaks it better than Oro and I as it is.”

Celebdreth smiled wickedly. “I speak it better than Uncle Haldir, he only knows more words than I do.” Rumil’s son was much like a younger version of Celeborn, with the exception of his darker hair, an unusual mix of silver and bronze.

“Well, it is very rude.” Rumil wagged a finger at both his heir and his older brother. “You speak so fast, and have not the decency to translate. You could be speaking gibberish for all I know.”

Haldir sighed. “Your father can be very intervententionistical sometimes.” He tossed the water skin to Celebdreth, who grinned.

“Alright, Hal, I do not know what you said, but I know it to be an insult.”

Haldir looked calmly at Rumil. “Dear brother, I merely told my nephew how right you can be, for intervententionistical is another variation for the word ‘correct’. Truly, your words should be heeded, for it is time he be allowed to finish his lunch.” Behind him, Celebdreth bit into his apple, shaking with silent laughter.

Rumil glanced at Orophin, who hid his grin unsuccessfully by turning away. “Just wait, the both of you. I am going to relish teaching my future nieces and nephews the sneakiest of tricks and best of jokes to play on their adars.”

“Not I.” laughed Orophin. “Valarda has made it quite clear that we shall only have elflings if I have the first.” Orophin looked to Haldir, who looked serenely to Rumil. “And I have opted for the safer path, proving once again to be the wisest among us.”

“Just you wait, my brother. One day, it will happen. You shall take but one look into the eyes of your beloved, and the great arrogant Haldir will fall.”

- - -


‘Fallen, I have, but in battle, not in love.’ Was he in Mandos yet? How would he know? How long would he stay?

He remembered how he had contemplated such things once in Rivendell with the three elves he considered himself closest to next to those of his family.


- - -

“Elves live until the end of Arda, but then what?” Legolas threw the small rubber ball above his head, then caught it. “I mean, we are immortal, but everything has a beginning and an end, so at some point, will we cease to be? And then what?”

“What would it matter?” Erestor turned to the next page in his book. “If we ceased to exist, I doubt we would ever know, and even if we knew, there would be little to be done about it.”

Legolas clutched the ball and turned to Haldir. Haldir sighed, looking at his folded hands. Legolas was a bit like another brother, sometimes acting the elder, imparting his knowledge upon Haldir, other times looking for reassurances from the Lorien elf, just as Orophin and Rumil did.

“I think, that although we have a beginning, that the Valar would not be so unkind as to cease our existence. I do not think you need worry.”

“What are we worrying about?” Glorfindel approached the trio, leaning his head to the side a bit. “What in the name of Varda are you doing?”

Legolas dropped his ball, let it come back to him, and dropped it once again. This time, Haldir caught it, tossing it up toward his feet at Glorfindel, who grabbed it with one hand. “Just hanging around,” answered Haldir.

“I can see that. The question should have been why.” Glorfindel studied the three elves that were anchored to the low branch by their knees, hair pooled beneath them on the ground. “You look like three overgrown possums.” He stepped around cloaks, quivers, swords, and bows that had been removed lest they become a hindrance.

Erestor held out his book to Glorfindel, who took it and began to read from the open page. “ ‘It is when one is surrounded by nature, and fused with the sights, sounds, and feelings of the environment, that the mind can be cleared of unwanted thoughts and focused upon more philosophical pursuits. Highly recommended are trees, but areas near steams and rivers are also acceptable. It is not suggested that one attempt such meditations near the sea, as the pull of Valinor tends to supersede any attempts of the following exercises.’ Alright.” Glorfindel skimmed the next few pages, then handed it back to Erestor. “But that does not explain the upside-down part.”

“We got bored of sitting on the branch,” admitted Legolas with a shrug.

“You got bored of sitting,” snorted Haldir. “We got tired of trying to carry on a conversation with you while you stared at the ground.”

“Haldir, you have to admit, the conversation became more interesting once we decided to hang from the branch as well.” Erestor closed the book and gently tossed it onto the pile below. “Though, the setting sun reminds me it is nearly time to head back to the house.” Erestor reached up to grab the branch when he felt the tree sway. All three hanging elves turned to look at the trunk, where they were alarmed to see Glorfindel had begun to edge out onto the branch. “Fin, stop right there. This branch will not hold more than the three of us.”

“Sure it will. It is a good, strong tree.” Glorfindel sat down on the branch, and the others cringed, feeling the tree lean a bit. “And I wish to philosophize with you.” A moment later, Glorfindel was hanging from the tree as well. “See, now, where were you?”

“End of Arda. What happens to the elves?” Erestor listened to see if he could hear anything cracking or groaning under the weight of the extra elf, but the tree seemed well enough.

Before Glorfindel was able to give his opinions on the matter, they were interrupted by a squirrel that decided to hop down from a higher part of the tree, run across their knees, and consequently, most ironically, as the rodent hit the damp ground, so did all four elves, along with a good chunk of the tree.

“I think I have fused with enough nature for the day,” decided Erestor, pulling twigs and bark out of his hair.

“I think I could use a bit of fusing with a stream or a waterfall or something,” said Legolas, trying in vain to wipe the dirt from his arms.

“We could probably all could use a jump in the pond before supper.” Glorfindel pulled Haldir up off the ground, linking arms with him and Legolas. The Greenwood elf pulled Erestor alongside the others. “And while we travel, I shall tell you my theories on such nonsense as the end of all, for I had little else to ponder all those years in Mandos.”

- - -

‘All those years in Mandos…perhaps I am there now. Perhaps this is what it is.’ He felt nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing, saw nothing, tasted nothing. A vast nothingness surrounded him, but at least, it was something. He tried to recall what he had last remembered – Estel, bent over him, the stench of the battle, the yells of the uruks – then nothing.

“Haldir!” The sound of his name perked his ears, and the young warrior turned on his heal. Orophin was running down the hill, pulling an elleth behind him. At first, Haldir thought to shout to his brother that his method of courting probably would not be the most beneficial if the elleth he was leading suddenly tripped and fell on her skirts or ran into a tree. Before he could open his mouth, Haldir noted two very important details: First, this elleth was grinning, laughing even, with glee, and secondly, she was not wearing a skirt. Or a dress.

She was wearing pants.

Haldir closed his mouth.

“Haldir, I want you to meet someone.” Orophin stopped, letting go of the elleth’s hand. Instead of dropping it to his side, he threaded it around his companion’s waist. “This is Valarda, whom I met in Imladris years back, remember me telling you of her?”

“Indeed. Mae govannen.” Haldir bowed slightly, looking over the unusual elleth. Her hair was a rich red color, and was actually cut just below her shoulders, making it shorter than either of the brothers. Besides her clothing, he noted the knives she carried, one sheathed on either side of her leather belt. “I beg your pardon, but have I not met you before?”

“My adar is the Captain of the Galadhrim. You are training with them, are you not?” Haldir nodded affirmative to her question, before she continued. “I used to be stationed on the Northern Fences, but I took leave to visit Imladris. I will be returning to a post in the South in a few weeks time.”

“I see. It was a great pleasure to meet you.” Haldir abruptly turned to Orophin. “A word, please?” The elder brother turned again and began walking.

Orophin soon caught up, falling in stride with Haldir. “What is the matter? Did she grow a second head while I was not looking? Make rude gestures at you behind my back?”

Haldir halted, looking directly at Orophin. “She is the enemy.”

“Beg pardon?”

“The daughter of the Captain – Orophin, you never told me that was his daughter! You know I am hoping one day to gain that post – and here, his daughter is already one of the wardens.”

“Haldir, Haldir, Haldir, calm down.” Orophin placed his hands on Haldir’s shoulder’s. “I do not think that is her life goal.”

“What does it matter? It will be hers for the asking, hers for the taking.”

Orophin sighed. “You hardly know her.”

“I do not have to.”

“Well, you certainly do not know her like I do, and I know for certain she does not want the post.”

“How can you be so sure?” Haldir asked, then narrowed his eyes, and took his brother’s face between his hands, peering deep into blue eyes. “You did not bond with her yet, did you?”

“You are worse than father!” Orophin swatted his brother from him, glancing over his shoulder to see if Valarda was still waiting. “Haldir, I thought you could at least have been a little happy for me, if not enthusiastically so. I am not bonding with her today, nor tomorrow, nor for years, I should think. Even if we were to decide a minute from now to do so, the last thought in my mind would be getting your personal consent.”

“Please, I did not mean-“

Orophin held up a hand. “Honestly, it does not matter. I do not care what you think, one way or the other.”

“Oro, truly, I am happy for you-“ began Haldir again.

“You have a funny way of showing it, brother.” Orophin turned his back then, walking back to the befuddled Valarda.

- - -

“You look upset.”

“I can not find my pants.”

“Pray tell, what is it you are wearing, then?”

“Not my uniform, my pants. The ones I like.”

“I like all of my pants. They help keep my dignity, and lessen the scratches I get on my legs while climbing trees.”

“Damn it all, Oro, I have to attend a dinner with our parents. There is a delegation in from some place or another.” Haldir slammed the trunk at the foot of his bed shut, and sat down on it. He was halfway out of his uniform, wearing only the grey leggings of it. Across his bed were various items he had pulled from the trunk for the evening, but no pants were among them. “You did not borrow them, did you?”

“Hallideer, I am much too tall for your pants. And much too pretty to be dressed in the drab colors you so oft choose,” he teased, going to his own trunk. “I shall help you look, but are you sure you did not leave them in the wash pile?”

“I hardly wear anything but uniforms, as you know. It has seemed an age since I last wore anything else. The brown ones, the ones that lace up the sides,” he added when Orophin held up a navy blue pair, then narrowed his eyes. “Are those mine, also?”

Orophin sheepishly looked them over. “I suppose they are. So, perhaps I still do fit into a pair or two of yours,” he decided as Haldir snatched them from his brother's grasp.

Haldir threw the clothing onto his bed and began to search once again through his own belongings. A dreamy sigh came from the doorway, and both elves looked in the direction of the sound.

Rumil, complete with silly grin and starry eyes, nearly floated into the room, plopping down on his own bed with another sigh. Haldir shot a worried look to Orophin, then closed his trunk and went to his youngest brother’s bed, taking up a seat on the edge. “Are you all right, Rumil?”

“I am so much more than all right. I am fulfilled. I am complete.”

“You are bonded?” guessed Orophin from where he still sat on the floor, now engrossed in the many things he found in his trunk that he had thought to be lost.

“Mmmm…it t’was only to be a kiss at her door, but it ended up as so, so much more.” Rumil sat up on the bed, still wearing his smile. “Orophin, I do not know why you bide your time. It is a wonderful thing to be bonded.”

“You have come to that conclusion after only an hour or so? Wait until you have been living with her for a few years,” Haldir said darkly under his breath, but his words were lost in Orophin’s answer.

“Nay, Valarda will tell me when the time is right for such a lifelong event. I am rather surprised at you, for taking such a step so suddenly, but then Celebrian did not wait long once she fell in love. As for Valarda and I, neither of us are ready to be full grown elves yet, I think.” Orophin pulled a puppet out of the chest, grinning mischievously as he danced it across his leg.

“One does not need to bond to grow up,” Haldir remarked, louder than his previous comment.

“You should know. You have been grown up since you were eighty or so, would you reckon, Rumil.”

“Long as I have know him he has been,” Rumil said as Haldir let out an exasperated sound. “And I do not wish to hear your laments this evening on my finding happiness. Yes, this likely means I shall move to my own talan in the near future, or more appropriately, into Nenniach’s. No, this does not mean you shall never see me again. I am still on your duty roster,” smiled Rumil.

“Why are you not still on fair elleth’s talan, dear brother?” pondered Orophin. “Or, did she toss you from it immediately following? I can not have guessed you would have been that bad-“ Orophin was justly rewarded with a pillow to the head.

“Ah, but I came to pick up something I had been saving. Fine wine, from Rivendell.” Rumil went to his trunk, and pulled from it a pair of bottles, both filled with a dark red liquid.

“Rivendell!” Haldir slapped his forehead down on his hand, closing his eyes. “Rumil, did you not remember where she is from? Her business here was temporary, no doubt she will want you to return there with her.”

“No doubt,” mused Rumil, though his tone was not one of concern.

“Rumil, you would not think to-“ Haldir stopped, looking carefully up at his brother. “My pants.”

“What?” Rumil looked down, then up again. “Oh, you were both on patrol, and I wanted to look especially nice this evening. I hope you do not mind, Haldir, they were a bit short, but my boots seemed to cover that.” Rumil turned his leg a bit, admiring himself.

Orophin dumped the contents of his chest back into it and dropped the lid down. “He needed them for a dinner up at the Great Mallorn.”

“Hold a moment, I can change,” offered Rumil, but Haldir held up a hand.

“I do not even wish to consider the things that were done this evening with my pants, Rumil. Take them, with my blessings, and go back to your fair elleth into the night before my imagination becomes active with thoughts I should not have.”

Rumil grinned once again, and headed back out of the room. Orophin grabbed the blue pants and walked over to Rumil’s bed, sitting down next to Haldir. “Good thing we found these then.” He frowned when he saw Haldir’s sad, lost look. “It will not be so bad, maybe he will just decide to bring her here to live with us.”

Haldir’s eyes narrowed. “Do not even think of suggesting that to him.”

“On second thought,” Orophin said, tossing the pants into Haldir’s lap, “it was getting a bit crowded in here.”

- - -

“Your home is…empty.”

“You are observant.”

“Are you moving?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

Legolas lowered his pack to the floor. In a room which once housed great amounts of miscellaneous stuff now sat two large, comfortable leather chairs, a table, and the sparsest of items adorning the walls. Haldir was lounging in one of the chairs, feet resting upon the table, reading from a scroll that had unfurled haphazardly across the floor. “I thought you had brothers living with you.”

“Still do.” Haldir began to roll up the scroll. “Now, I have a library and an office.”

“A library?” Legolas took up residence in the other chair. “I should like to see it.”

Haldir waved a hand around the room. “You are already there.”

Legolas frowned, taking in the bare walls. “If it is a library, then where are all the books?”

“In my office. The bookcases were built into it. Had been the old dining room, actually, and the cases were where the dishes and such sat. I have found that I have very little need for a dining room these days.” Haldir secured the scroll and slid it back into the case it belonged in.

“I see. So, really, this is more of a reading room then.”

Haldir thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I suppose you are correct. Library sounded more dignified, I think. Although, you are the first to catch that there were no books in it. But then, I have had very few here to see it.”

Legolas added his own feet up on the top of the table. “What would constitute as ‘few’?”

“I think the only others to come up here since Oro left were Nana and Ada.”

“Not even Erestor? Or Glorfindel?”

“Not even. In fact, I have not spoken to either for longer than I have last talked to you.” Haldir disappeared into the adjoining kitchen, returning with a bottle of wine and a pair of goblets.

“And when did Orophin leave?”

“Let me think…” Haldir closed his eyes for a moment. “About twenty years ago.” After a pause, he added, “Twenty-three years, fourteen days, and six, maybe seven, hours.”

“Twenty-three years, and you have not had anyone else in here?”

Haldir shook his head and poured the wine, handing a glass to Legolas. “Wait, there were the upholsterers, they came in to fix the chairs...”

For some time they sat in silence, occupied by thought, until finally Legolas said, “I must say, it is tidy.”

“Aye.”

“And, it is very calm and quiet as well.”

Another bout of silence passed, before Haldir added, “It is dreadful.”

“Aye.”

“I would not be offended if you were to stay at the Great Mallorn, or perhaps with one of my brothers. They live quite close, in fact. I can lead you to their trees.”

“Nay, Haldir, we have not spoken for, what now, forty, fifty years, perhaps more? So much for us to catch up on, and I have little time before I continue to Imladris. So little news has reached me from Lothlorien. There is a rumor, however, that the shortest elf in all the woods is now the Captain of the Galadhrim. I hear it is going to be tough for all of them to look up to you,” he joked.

“Which one of them put you up to that?” asked Haldir, rolling his eyes, but smirking all the same.

“Orophin. He stopped me before I entered the realm. I wish he might have told me that he was no longer living here; I would have given him the present I brought for him when I first saw him. But really, congratulations are in order, it is a difficult post to come by. Just think, one day, you might be Lord Haldir, ruling a realm of his own.”

“I do not think that so, Legolas. And I quite prefer Captain to all other titles.”

“And why might that be?”

“It is the highest honor I have earned on my own merit.”

- - -

‘And a fine mess that merit has gotten me into.’ Haldir had gone through quite the range of emotions thus far – sadness, at how his brothers would react; grief, at how his parents would react; rage, that he was felled by such a foul creature; peace, that he had lived a full and happy life; boredom, that if this was what Mandos had to offer, he was going to make bloody well sure that he kept the Valar as miserable as he bloody well could during his stay here. ‘Bet that was how Glorfindel managed to get out. Annoyed them for so long, they could not stand him one second more.’

‘My mind is being haunted by depressing thoughts. My brothers taking their leave, the last time Legolas came to the woods before times became dark and less merry, and the fact I have been unsuccessful in finding the other half of my soul. But now I shall force myself to think of only the best of things, until I find a better way to disturb those who imprison me here.’


- - -

“Haldir, a word, please.” It was just after breakfast, and though Haldir did not usually come to the Great Mallorn for the morning meal, he was persuaded by Orophin to come to their parents’ table. He had tried his best to assert his independence since the recent move to their own tree, but every now and again, the pull to come back to what truly was home got the better of him. He began to walk back into the dining room, but Celeborn shook his head. “The open hall, if you please.”

Haldir walked behind his father, bewildered at the request, wondering if perhaps he had done something wrong, something offensive. The tone of Celeborn’s voice was so formal, and he spoke rather quiet and stiff. Haldir entered the hall, watching as Celeborn walked up to the platform and took his place next to Galadriel. Silently, his brothers, who had been waiting for him on the stairs, climbed back up to watch whatever was to unfold.

“Haldir o’ Lorien,” began Celeborn in a loud voice, no doubt addressing not only his son, but others who had gathered on the flet. “You have shown courage in battle, leadership in times of need, and loyalty to the woods and those who live in them.”

Haldir waited uncomfortably through the pause, unsure of whether to speak or not. Finally, he answered, “I think I have,” glancing behind his shoulder at his brothers, who both shrugged.

“The watchers of the woods, March Wardens of the forest, have never been chosen lightly.” Galadriel motioned for one of the palace guards to approach, and he handed to her a sword in scabbard. Not unlike the swords of the Galadhrim it was, but it was easily seen to be newly made even in its sheath. “Fewer still are the places of honor within those ranks. I bestow one such rank upon thee.” Stepping down, Galadriel held the sword out to Haldir, hands cradling either end of the blade.

Bowing his head, he accepted the sword, speechless. Grasping the scabbard, he pulled the sword from it. The metal gleamed in the morning light, and upon one side, he read the inscription to himself – Protector of the Forest, Watcher of the Woods, Keeper of the Trees. He turned the weapon in his hands, finding the reverse to be different – Haldir o Lorien ~ Captain of the Galadhrim. He looked up to his parents, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Diola lle.”

“There is but one task left for you before you begin your appointment.” Celeborn stepped down to join his wife. “You will need to choose two of your wardens as your lieutenants. There is a large contingency of elves traveling to the West, and I am afraid your next task will be to recruit.”

“I take pride, and joy, in all tasks I must undertake as your Captain.”

“I never doubted that.” Celeborn smiled, relaxing a little. “Please inform me of your choices when you have made them.”

“Actually, I know of one right away. Rumil,” Haldir called over his shoulder, and the youngest brother stepped forward eagerly. “The other, I think I shall have to give it some thought.” Behind him, Orophin loudly cleared his throat, unable to see the grins on Rumil’s and Haldir’s faces. “Ah. I suppose I might take the other one, as well, then.”

“Rumil and ‘the other one’. Excellent. I shall be sure it is documented.” Celeborn answered back, quite seriously. Haldir wiped the grin from his face, saluted, and left the platform. As he made his way down the stairs, there was a definite hop in his step, and he began to take them two at a time. By the time he’d hit the landing and skipped across, the grin had returned.

“By the Valar – did he just – skip?” Haldir stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to find that Orophin and Rumil had been practically upon his heels.

His face flushed, and he glanced around to see if anyone else was around. Thank Elbereth, they were the only ones there. “No, I did not.”

“Yes, most certainly, you did!” accused Rumil again.

“If you’re going to be skipping, I want no part of this,” Orophin said, crossing his arms.

“It was not a skip!” Haldir protested. “It was…it was more of a trip forward, with a jump or something.”

“Let us see then.” Rumil came down to the landing. “A trip forward, and a hop.” Rumil demonstrated, then shook his head. “Still looks like a skip, I am afraid.”

“It may look like a skip, but it is most definitely * not * a skip. This,” Haldir showed them, “is a skip. This, is a hop with a trip forward.”

“Haldir, you just did it again – twice!” Orophin was hard pressed to keep his solemn face.

“There is a difference!” he argued, then looked at Rumil, who was shaking his head sadly. “What?”

“I am sorry, brother, but I just do not see it.”

“Me either.” Orophin leaned against the rail. “I am beginning to think you are not really our brother if you are going around skipping like those silly elves in Imladris.”

Before Haldir could come up with a suitable comeback, a sound above caught their attention. Celeborn stood on the balcony, looking down upon the trio. “Captain Haldir!”

“Yes, Lord Celeborn?”

“Stop skipping and go guard my forest!”

“Yes, Lord Celeborn.” Captain Haldir continued his descent from the stairs, his brothers trailing behind. All the way down, he caught glimpses of them skipping across the landings as they went.

There was a sharp pain at his side, and Haldir glared at Orophin. His brother did not apologize for pinching him, but instead focused his attention to the empty wine bottles. "It appears the supply of refreshing drink has gone dry," he announced. "I am going to fetch another few bottles from the cellar. Haldir." Orophin pushed back in his chair and was out of the room before anyone could object. Haldir stood, wiped his mouth, and folded his napkin before placing it beside his plate. He inclined his head toward those at the table, then followed after Orophin.

"If you had not been drinking it so fast, we would not be out of wine already." Haldir bounded after Orophin to catch up to him.

"If those two elflings were not making me so nervous, I would not have been drinking so fast." Orophin slowed his pace. "Did you notice how they whisper and look at us?"

"I had not been paying much mind to it. They are curious. They did not know we were their uncles until they arrived here today. Think of it this way – what would your reaction have been if you had been told that Glorfindel was your uncle just after reaching your majority. Bit of an odd situation, would it not be?"

"But Glorfindel is not our uncle, right?" Orophin asked.

"No, of course he is not. That was merely an example." Haldir rolled his eyes. "Why could you not have come down here without me?"

"Because of those twins! They are creepy! I just cannot tell them apart. It is as if Clebri finally found a way to get me back for every nasty thing I ever did to her," Orophin shivered.

"I can tell them apart."

"Then you are one of the few. Ada just keeps calling them ElrohirorElladan, and when I asked Nana, she admitted that she snagged one of their robes with her shoe so that she could keep them straight."

Haldir grinned. "That is why she is so quiet this evening! She must be annoyed that they are not wearing them now."

"And I heard them talking about that grey archer nonsense again." Orophin shook his head. "If only I knew what it all meant."

"More than likely, it is some sort of twin talk."

"Twin talk?" asked Orophin, highly interested.

"Of course." Haldir reached the bottom of the tree and knelt at the base of the trunk. "When Elrond first found out he and Celebrian were to be parents of twins, he shared with me all of his pleasant childhood memories. I had often thought asking him about that part of his past would sadden him, but he remembered his brother with great joy. He and Elros had a language they used to talk to one another -- twin talk, as Erestor named it. Something only they two knew."

Orophin helped Haldir lift the wooden door, which led to a narrow tunnel beneath the tree and shivered. "You are right that it takes but one of us to procure the wine – shall I stay up and guard the door?"

"Nay. I hate the passage and the spiders as much as you do." Haldir looked up at Orophin, and shook his head at the pout and sad eyes directed toward him. "Fine. But you will lose both arms if you even pretend to lock me in down here." Haldir lowered himself into the tunnel and crawled through the passage to where the wine was kept, trying not to see what crept along the ceiling and walls.

"So you think it all a game they play? It just seems awful odd, each time we see them, they act strangely and speak of this cloaked stranger, and never do others question it." Orophin kept the door held high, lest Haldir think he was closing him in.

"Maybe they are all the more used to their behavior than we are," Haldir suggested, shouting his answer back down the tunnel.

"Perhaps. But why has Rumil not deemed their mannerisms to be peculiar?"

"Because," answered Haldir, handing up a pair of bottles, and then two more, "Rumil is himself an odd elf."

Orophin pondered this. "I will give you that, but does it not seem just the slightest bit strange? When last I asked him of it, he did not answer, and that was many a year ago."

Haldir lifted himself from the tunnel and helped to replace the door, carefully rolling the sod back over the hidden yet not unknown entrance. "You do not suspect sweet and innocent young Rumil being a party to the mischief of the twins?"

"I suspect Rumil to be not as sweet nor as innocent as he appears to be." Orophin began the climb back up the Great Mallorn. "We should know. I mean, if he is anything like his brothers..." Orophin trailed off, obviously in thought. "Haldir, did Elrond teach you any of this twin talk that he and Elros made up?"

After dinner, Haldir and Orophin excused themselves immediately, citing the eventful day and need for sleep. They hid themselves near the tree, waiting for their nephews to venture forth.

It was not long before two elves stepped off of the final step, arm in arm as they strolled down the path. They walked on, admiring the woods, and began to speak as soon as they thought they were far enough from elven ears.

"Allumeyay! Ed'hay i'earhay ar'hay eleneahay! Aminhay owenay onray 'kelayanay yelay!**" Elladan kicked a rock near his foot and it ricocheted off of a tree.

"Inaday!" commanded Elrohir, shooting him a warning glance.

"Aminhay iraethahay." Elladan said nothing more for some time, and then the talk continued.

High above in trees overhead, the two brothers listened to the conversation, Haldir translating the majority of the phrases.

"Elladan just asked when they would approach the grey archer, to see if the tales are true. Elrohir has suggested not saying a word to the cloaked stranger. Elladan has reminded him that the cloaked stranger appears never to leave the grey archer's side."

"Who in the name of Arda are they talking about?" wondered Orophin. They kept their distance, speaking low so that the younger elves could not hear them.

"I am just as curious as you, Oro." Haldir listened a bit more, then added, "Elrohir has suggested they return to the mallorn. Elladan is agreeing with him."

"Well, this was pointless." Orophin scuffed his foot against the branch he stood on, immediately knowing his mistake without having Haldir point it out to him.

"Tiro!" shouted Elladan, pointing in the direction of the tree. Within seconds, the two elves below had weapons drawn and were poised under the tree to attack.

"Man?" Elrohir's voice, his bow aimed directly where Orophin had announced his presence.

"Den dago!" Elladan, his sword drawn, pointed up at the tree.

"Daro! Avo!" Orophin dropped from the tree to the ground. A few moments later, Haldir followed, then reached out and tilted the points of the arrow and the sword to the grass.

"The Grey Archer," both of the twins said, looking at Orophin in awe.

"Excuse me?" Orophin glanced at Haldir, who shrugged, then back at the twins.

"You are the Grey Archer." Elrohir began to search in his pockets for something.

"He is?" asked Haldir.

"I am?" questioned an equally confused Orophin.

"You are," confirmed Elladan, who also began to search for something now. Simultaneously, both pulled out half of a tattered sheet of parchment. "This was from the first writing. The Valar – or, we at least believe it to be the Valar because we never knew how else they could just appear in our room – have been telling us the stories of the Grey Archer and the Cloaked Stranger since we could read. We could not decide who should keep the very first message we ever received, so we each retained half. You are the Cloaked Stranger." Elladan handed Haldir his piece. It was stained with dirt, blood, and other substances that the blond elf dare not guess. Elladan took the sheet back and folded it once again.

"And as we have already said, you are the esteemed Grey Archer." Elrohir's half was much better preserved, bearing only slight creases in a few places where folds had not been. "It was a picture, and the frame around the edges, was the alphabet and numbers. Soon after, the stories grew longer, and the adventures more numerous."

"We believe it is a history of sorts, sent to us by the Valar. Now that we know who some of the characters are, we are even further convinced."

"Who are the other characters?" asked Orophin, as he handed the parchment back to Elrohir.

"Well, as we found out, our grandmother is the `Lady of the Mirror', and grandfather is the `Great and Wise Lord of the Forest'. Father is in it, even, as `The Peredhel', and mother, too, `The Flower-Haired Maiden'." Elladan counted off the characters as they were listed.

Haldir looked over at Orophin. "You were right to think him not so sweet and innocent."

Orophin nodded.

"Not to think who so sweet and innocent?" asked Elrohir.

"Nothing, it is a private matter." Haldir did not intend to crush the expectations of two old elflings in love with the idea of being spoken to by the Valar. "Perhaps you might share the stories you have learned with us?"

The eyes of both twins lit up. "We had hoped to ask you the same thing!" exclaimed Elladan.

"We want to know what is fact and what is fiction, and what is slight exaggeration," added Elrohir.

"You are the story keepers, though. Share what you know, we will tell you the rest," Orophin said, settling down under the tree.

"Where to begin?" wondered Elladan once they were all comfortably upon the ground.

"At the beginning, of course," laughed Haldir. "Wentrakay yelay i'narnhay."

- - -

Haldir's memories were not having the effect he would have liked. With each new thought, his mind filled with thoughts of those he would now not see for some time, if ever again. `And with each unhappiness I feel I am growing colder.'

He laid his thoughts to rest briefly, before realizing the last one. `Growing colder. If Glorfindel told the truth, I should not have feeling, I should not feel anything once I am in the halls. If I am cold, I can not yet be there.' He wondered what hell he was stuck in, a place not unlike death, but without life. Without hope.

`But there is always hope,' he reminded himself. When he did think of the joys in his life, he had felt warmer. He would need to concentrate only on what would cheer him, and rapidly think of something else if his sorrow returned. `The happiest time... a time when everyone was happy...'

- - -

"So, you are bonded, you are married, and you are sure you do not want to take this last chance to run away before evening comes and you are dragged away, ever more enslaved to your wife until the end of all time?" Glorfindel motioned in the direction of the stables. "Asfaloth is saddled; I would not fault you if you were to commandeer my horse for so noble a cause."

"Nay, nay, and a thousand times more, nay!" Elrond's smile was broad, and likely had not been shown for so long a time. In fact, he had hardly been able to stop himself from smiling ever since the end of the ceremony. Across the wide expanse of the lawn and gardens of the Last Homely House, guests wandered, sampling food and wine that could be found around just about every corner. The three elves huddled around the groom each held glasses of alcoholic concoctions, though Elrond himself had hardly the time to think of food, let alone eat it.

Haldir grinned, elbowing Glorfindel. "Now, now, that is my sister you speak of. She is not all that terribly bad to live with. Though I must say, days will come in the future when I am glad she is no longer lurking in the woods." Erestor and Glorfindel both appeared amused by the comment, waiting to see Elrond's response.

"Brother, be not hasty with your words," Elrond said, draping an arm around Haldir's shoulder, "or I shall employ an artist to capture the entirety of the wedding night, and send you the results to be hung in the Great Mallorn."

"Lest I should fear going blind at the sight of the paintings in the halls of the tree, I now hold my tongue." Haldir sipped his wine to the laughter of the older elves.

"A dangerous gift that would be, for dare I say I know the father of the bride to be quite the lascivious elf in his own home, and such artwork, I dare say, might cause an undue war to be unleashed." Glorfindel seemed to puzzle the rest, and thus he added, "If you do send such a work of art to Lothlorien, be not surprised if you should see a picture of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Woods illuminating your Hall of Fire with naught but their smiles."

"Ai! Truly, I did not need that image!" Haldir gulped the rest of his wine, the other elves now heavy with laughter.

"What image might that be?" A voice behind him alerted him to the presence of his sister. She tilted her head at the group, and commented, "I thought it was only ellith who traveled in packs."

"We are not traveling, my lady, we are quite stationary at the moment," Erestor said, regaining his composure first.

"And what business is being conducted herein that you boastfully chuckle over the crowd to be heard by all?" asked Celebrian, moving next to her husband and into his arms.

"We are advising his lordship, as all good advisors do," Glorfindel stated.

"On what matters would my lord husband need advice at this very moment?"

"Why, on matters of his wedding night, of course." Glorfindel took Celebrian's hand and pulled her to the edge of their small circle, a move intended to free her from their conversation. Quickly she moved round to Elrond's other side where Haldir stood, knowing her brother would do nothing to exclude her.

"I doubt any of you could add much to the knowledge he already possesses," Celebrian replied curtly.

"That is where you are mistaken," Glorfindel smiled. "There are quite a few things I might instruct him about."

"I am sure there are, Glorfindel. But as they often say, three is a crowd."

"I often say three is a party," he smirked.

Celebrian ignored Glorfindel and turned to Erestor. "You doubt my abilities to advise in such a matter?"

"Erestor, you have never bonded. You have never married. You are quite open, though I cannot imagine why, on your personal choice to be celibate. I hardly see what you could offer to this conversation."

Erestor crossed his arms, still holding his drink. "You can learn a lot from books, you know."

Celebrian rolled her eyes, landing them on Haldir. "Do not think to tell me you were offering advice to Elrond."

"Not really. I was mostly here to absorb what information I could," he admitted, then added, "Though, I did tell him about... your secret..."

Celebrian's eyes went wide. "You did no such thing!"

"Told them all, I mean, they were here, too, so, it was only fair."

Celebrian looked up at her husband, who grinned, then to Glorfindel and Erestor, both of whom had looks of innocence upon their faces. As Glorfindel made to take a step forward, Celebrian wriggled from Elrond's grasp, and excused herself from the group. "It was lovely to speak with you all. You, I will see later," she promised Elrond. "You, I might have to kill," she told Haldir, wagging a finger at him as she swiftly departed.

The group waited for her to be out of earshot, and then huddled closer. "What is this secret, Haldir, you must reveal it now!" Glorfindel pleaded, Erestor and Elrond both nodding.

Haldir grinned and whispered to them, until all four were once again laughing over the whole of the crowd for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

Haldir looked out over the plains of this small town. The horses ran freely, though saddled and bridled, there was an air of respect here that Haldir had not felt in the other cities of men Ada had taken him to. These horses were not just a means of transportation or another resource, these horses were proud, and their riders proud of them. Haldir ran his fingers through the snow-white mane of his Adar’s mare. He was sitting in front of Celeborn on the steed as they approached a long-haired middle-aged man on a snorting, stamping chocolate brown horse.

“I am Lord Celeborn. You are... Aefopin’s grandson?” he guessed, pulling on his own horse’s reins.

“Great-grandson. Eorrel, I am called,” he answered.

“Ah. Long it has been since I was in these lands,” admitted Celeborn as he dismounted. “For many generations, we have traded for horses when we need them in the realm where I live. I can pay you in gold or silver, though I have other things that may interest you, as well.” Celeborn motioned for the elves that drew one of the wagons forward, and he lifted a cloth that covered the goods, revealing a number of wooden barrels. “It is the brew of Lake-town, and I have access to more than what you see here,” he said, motioning to the other two wagons in the party. Haldir took note of the look of interest from Eorrel before Celeborn covered the barrels once again. The elfling had hoped this would be an acceptable form of payment – he really, really, really wanted to go home. Usually, he enjoyed these excursions, but a trip to Greenwood to swap lembas for horses turned into a spider killing fiasco – the king was unable to supply the horses promised, and instead offered the barrels of drink. Celeborn reluctantly took them, heading to Calenardhon in hopes of making a trade. They had been to four other ranches, and had nearly been chased from one of them. Haldir leaned against the neck of his father’s horse, relieved that they would soon be on their way home.

“I need six horses,” Celeborn said. “Tell me what you would accept in payment for each.”

“You will have to show me which horses you are interested in before I decide on a price,” answered Eorrel.

Celeborn nodded. “Very well. Haldir!” Haldir’s head shot up at the sound of his name. “Come, we need to choose horses, and I would have you help me.”

Haldir nodded, then dismounted and followed his father into the crowd of beautiful grazing creatures. Celeborn examined each one he came to, showing Haldir what to look for, how to tell the age of the animal, and how to judge the personality. The second time around, Celeborn began to pull horses aside, sometimes adding one to the reins he held, sometimes letting one go as he chose another, speaking to them all in a soothing voice until he walked back to Eorrel with six horses.

During this time the horse master's wife had brought fresh fruit, bread, and water to the rest of the party, and was speaking with them from atop her own horse. She dismounted when she saw the elfling return from the fields, fretting over his appearance as any mother would, and demanding he eat something even after his first and second refusals. Normally, he would have been upset by this sort of thing, but it had been so long since anyone had fussed over him like this that he felt all the more homesick as he finally began to eat the warm buttered bread and drink the spiced apple cider.

For the next few minutes, he watched as Celeborn bartered quietly with the horse master, each time frowning more and more. Finally, the old elf laughed, and exclaimed, “I understand you only think it fair to take thirty-six of the forty barrels, but I have forty, and can return home to my wife with none of them, lest she think I purposely planned to bring them back with me in the first place!” Both he and the horse master laughed heartily.

“I pity your situation, friend elf, but I am an honest man. I would not take from you what is not rightfully mine,” Eorrel told him.

“A gift, then?” suggested Celeborn. “For the hospitality you have shown.”

Eorrel laughed again. “You are hard pressed to keep from hauling those four barrels back home. One might think you feared your wife.”

“Do you not fear yours?” Celeborn asked, and even the Galadhrim who had come along on this journey chuckled.

“Aye. As all good husbands should.” Eorrel paused, looking down at Haldir, who had yet to laugh, or even to speak unless word was given for him to. “Perhaps I would accept your gift, if I might give a gift to your son.”

Celeborn raised a brow. “You do not need to exchange a gift for a gift, friend.”

“That I know,” said Eorrel. “Your young one reminds me of my own son but a few years ago, though I see he does not ride his own mount.”

“He is an elfling of but thirty-one years,” Celeborn informed him.

“Of but thirty-one years!” laughed Eorrel. “My, but I have stable hands younger and taller! My son was on his first horse at five years.” Eorrel bent over a bit so he could better speak to Haldir. “Young one, would you like a horse of your own?”

Haldir’s eyes lit up like the fireworks Mithrandir released into the skies. He looked up to his father, who nodded his head, and then back to Eorrel. “Yes, please.”

Eorrel laughed once again, and taking Haldir by the hand, led him across the fields to a stable. Along one side, foals ate beside their mothers. On the other, dozens of colts lined the stalls. Haldir was given the grand tour, each young horse named, each of them with their own special talents. His eyes darted repeatedly to a grey colt with a wispy black mane and matching black muzzle.

Two weeks later he rode proudly into Caras Galadhon, leading the group that had left on their mission months earlier. Both he and his horse held their heads high as the breeze swept through their hair.

- - -

Horses. He heard them in the distance, coming closer. Friendly horses. Proud horses. Horses of Rohan. It was undeniable – riders were joining the battle, come to turn the tide. Part of him was being drawn closer to Mandos – that he was not already there he somehow now knew – while another part fought fiercely to hold out. That someone would find him. That someone was coming to find him. If only he could hold on just a little longer.

He wanted to think of something recent, something fresh in his mind. Something happy, something to make him laugh. Something to keep him warm, something to keep him alive. When was the last time that truly had been? ‘Three hundred odd years ago. In Mithlond.’ He could not be sure, but he thought he may have smiled at the mere though of it.

- - -

“What are you going to do for the festival?” asked Elladan of his uncle as they rode through the gates of Mithlond. He and Elrohir had just explained the acrobatic juggling act they had spent the last three years perfecting, and was interested in knowing Haldir’s plans.

“I thought I might watch,” answered the Captain of Caras Galadhon.

“Watch?” Elrohir blinked in confusion. “Watch? No one just comes to watch.”

“I have come to watch,” Haldir confirmed, carefully maneuvering through the elves that had already arrived. The Merende Earende, Festival of the Sea, was a great gathering of elves on the Western Shores. Nearly all who came made some sort of presentation or provided entertainment of some sort. It was difficult for the twins to understand why Haldir would not participate at the event, which was only held every one hundred and forty-four years. It lasted for three weeks, during which time Mithlond played host to great numbers of elves from all over Arda.

“Elladan! Elrohir!” Orophin waved from across the way. He was still astride his horse, as were Rumil, Nenniach, Celebdreth, Arwen, and Celeborn. Galadriel would not attend these celebrations, for her heart ached to look upon the crashing waves of the shore. Her granddaughter had been in Lothlorien these past few years, and Haldir in Rivendell, no longer a student, but a teacher of battle tactics, sword fighting, and mathematics to his nephews and other young elves. Both he and his niece would return to their own dwellings at the culmination of the festival. This saddened Haldir somewhat, for though his brothers had a great bond with the twins, he himself favored Arwen of his sister’s children. It was he who taught her to speak Westron, to shoot arrows, and climb trees, when her brothers refused to instruct their baby sister on such things. When Celebrian had crossed the sea, he tried his best to comfort the poor elleth that he watched stand on the shore, staring into the fog as the ship floated away. He wrote letters to her often as he could telling her stories of her mother’s past in Lothlorien, poetry about the years spent as an elfling with his siblings. His own mother had told him that Celebrian would not see her daughter come to the shores of Valinor, and that somehow made each letter and poem all the more important.

The party Haldir rode in with consisted of himself, the twins, Elrond, Erestor, Lindir, and a pony with Lindir’s musical instruments. The bard had chattered the entire trip of all of the songs he had learned or created especially for the festival, and continued to do so now to Erestor, who was scanning the crowd, still trying to look interested in Lindir’s conversation. Haldir laughed as he watched the dark haired elf make a hasty retreat upon spying Glorfindel and Gildor, and Haldir pulled his own horse up to Arwen’s.

“Uncle!” Haldir silenced her with a warning look, and she lowered her voice. “I’m sorry, I forgot. It is just so wonderful to see you.” After Celeborn and Erestor had determined that the attack on Celebrian was not merely coincidence, Galadriel had insisted on making as little of the family history known. Thus, Haldir and his brothers had become no more than the brothers of Lorien, and the twins dared only call their father Ada while safely in Imladris or Lothlorien. Even as the long years had passed, Arwen still tried to persuade everyone to change things back to how they had once been, but such had not happened.

“Shall we set our horses to graze and find somewhere to watch, or had you planned to present something?” asked Haldir.

“A choral reading with Grandfather, but that will not be for days. Ada has something scheduled for this afternoon.” She lowered her voice and added, “It must be very boring, for in Erestor’s last letter, he made mention that even he attempted to talk Ada out of doing it.”

Haldir looked around, checking to be sure the elf lord was not about, and told her, “I do not think his presentation will be as dull as you might expect. As you know, I myself write letters well, and happen to know just what your father had planned.” He overemphasized the word had, making Arwen giggle. It was long a tradition to sabotage the events of friends and relatives, and the only non-elf to attend the festival, the revered Mithrandir, held the record without contestation of such pranks.

“Let us together find a spot for the horses, but I promised Ada I would sit with him when he finished.”

“Then we will find room for at least three wherever we do decide to watch.” Haldir turned his head in the direction of the snickering he could hear behind him. Dismounting, he handed the reigns to Arwen. “If it would not be such a burden, would you lead them off? I will procure seats for us and Lord Elrond.” He waited until Arwen was some ways off, then stalked over to his brothers and nephews. “Knock it off or I will knock you off your horses and into the sea.”

“I know this concept might be a little difficult for you, Haldir, but we are not from Mirkwood. We do not make it a habit to court our cousins or marry our nieces,” Orophin said in a serious, but low tone.

Haldir placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “You are a very sad lot, all of you. She is my sister’s daughter. I would not think to do such things, and I would thank you not to come up with such foul thoughts.”

“Ah. But were that she was not your sister’s daughter,” mused Rumil.

“Were that she was not, she would be too fair and full of grace for me to think to capture, and too arrogant and coarse am I for such a noble maiden, and no more shall I say of this matter. However, as you know me to be proud and guarding of my honor, and that of my family, I vow that if I hear from any of the five of you further insult upon that honor, I shall bring down Mandos upon you all.” Haldir swept the edge of his cloak over his shoulder and left to find a suitable area to sit. Arwen quickly joined him, and they enjoyed the next few hours of entertainment without interruption from any of their brothers. Time came for Elrond’s presentation. Erestor walked upon the stage, setting up a small table. On it, he placed a stack of thin boards, not unlike those used in book binding.

“Your attention, please.” The counselor wore leggings and a tunic, something rare for one often seen in long formal robes, and looked as if he could use a stiff drink, something rarer. “The Lord Elrond presents an interactive linguistic activity for your... enjoyment.” The last word came out as if he could not believe his own use of it, and he disappeared at once behind the curtain to the side of the stage.

The audience focused on the stage for a minute or so, and then began to hum, wondering where the Lord Elrond was. "Hola." The Lord of Imladris seemed to appear from nowhere, and now stood regally upon the stage, gaze sweeping the crowd. He opened his mouth and paused for a fraction of a second, capturing the audience's attention, before continuing, "Me llamo, Elrond." He quirked one dark brow in an expression of over-exaggerated interest, "Cuáles son sus nombres? Usted tienen gusto de Southron." He nodded in certainty, "Come, let us speak Southron."

Arwen and looked at Haldir with an expression somewhere between horror and amusement. “Southron?”

“A language he claims is spoken elsewhere in Middle Earth. I think it is all complete nonsense that he has created.”

“Repite. Repeat.” A pause. “Me gusta. I like.” He stopped and waited, then cleared his throat. “Repite. Repeat. Me gusta. I like.” He enunciated much more clearly this time.

“Does he really expect?”

“I think he does,” smirked Haldir. Several voices mimicked Elrond’s last few words, and the half-elf appeared to be appeased, and so continued.

Elrond lifted one of the boards from the table. On it was a sketch of Imladris. “Me gusta…Imladris.” He waited for the audience to try out the phrase, then put the card aside and lifted the next. “No.” He shook his head. “No me gusta…Mordor.” He rounded the Rs even more ridiculously than usual, promptly a few of the elflings to imitate only this part of his speech.

“No me gusta Imladris!” shouted a voice across the field; unmistakably, it was Orophin. Laughter rang out through the crowd, but Elrond continued.

“Sí. Sí, me gusta…Lothlorien.” Elrond displayed the next image for everyone, and then it was “No. No, me gusta…Moria.”

“It’s like a magical journey across Arda. Except I can’t understand a word the old elf is saying,” Haldir heard a young elf whisper to the elleth he was with.

“Sí, me gusta…Isildur.” Elrond paused, but it wasn’t to wait for the audience response. He read to himself from the back of the card with furrowed brow. The audience held a collective breath, some of them turning red or purple or even blue, none wanting to be the first to laugh. Elrond turned the card around, rolling his eyes at the image of Isildur. In thick red ink someone had written in the corner, ‘El-It was fun. Sorry about the ring. Love, Issy.’ “* No * me gusta Isildur. No me gusta.” Elrond tossed the card behind his back, and the audience snickered and twitched, doing their utmost to keep respectful.

“Here it comes,” whispered Haldir to Arwen, hiding his grin.

“No. No me gusta…balrog.” No one was able to contain their laughter. From backstage shouts of “Ai! Ai! A balrog!” could be heard. Elrond turned the card around. Someone had painstakingly painted upon it an image of Elrond, adding horns, wings, and lots of flames. The Lord of Imladris cracked the board on the edge of the table, splintering it in half. He began to head offstage in search of those who were laughing in the wings until he suddenly cocked his head, as if listening to some far off voice. A moment later, he began to search the crowd with a wicked grin.

Arwen realized it first. “He was farspeaking. With grandmother.” She looked at Haldir. “You might want to run.”

“Not I.” Haldir watched as Celeborn bolted from his seat down to the pastures, Elrond giving chase, though rather slowly, and with a more menacing grin than before. Upon stage, Glorfindel and Erestor poked their heads out from the back curtain, then walked out to the center to clear away the table and props. Glorfindel picked up the discarded picture of Isildur, displaying it to the audience. “No me gusta Southron,” he told them.

“Sí. No me gusta Southron,” agreed Erestor as they walked off stage to thunderous applause.

Elrond did not return until the evening feasting had begun. At midday and at dusk, large bowls of fruit, bread, cheese, and other easily eaten foods were passed out, the baskets moving through the rows, always being refilled. Wine was available, as were desserts, at certain designated areas throughout the crowd. Haldir and Arwen were nearly done eating by the time the elf lord arrived. “Your Grandfather will be along shortly. He ran into Mithrandir, and the two of them are sharing a pipe.” Elrond scanned the crowd, looking for a food basket he might intercept.

“Why do you not call for someone to bring you one of the baskets?” Arwen asked as her father patiently waited for a large fruit-filled wicker bowl to find its way to their aisle.

“Because part of what I love so much about this gathering is that no one is held above anyone else. There are no lords here, nor any traveling peasants. We are all elves, and that is all.” He carefully selected pears and apples not only for himself, but for Celeborn as well. “It can be guaranteed that if we were in Imladris or Lothlorien, or if this were not the Merende Earende, I would not have rushed from the stage and tried to hogtie your Grandfather in the barns.”

“You what!?” Arwen was not granted further explanation as the next act began upon the stage.

“We would like to introduce to you a very special performance,” announced Elladan, walking across the stage as he pulled a long black sheet of fabric. Elrohir stood at the other side, holding the long spool that it unraveled from.

“Making their puppeteering debut, we present the Three Elves of Lorien and Something to Hide Behind acting company, and their first and newest play, ‘The Maiden, the Captain, and the Balrog Slayer’, which promises to include some minor appearances of a very stuffy old Librarian and a drunken old Elf Lord.”

Haldir paused for a moment, looking up at the stage, as did Arwen and Elrond. “How many Balrog Slayers are accounted for on this side of the sea?”

“Just one.” Elrond shook his head. “If their portrayal of the ‘drunken old Elf Lord’ upsets the already tumultuous relations between Imladris and Mirkwood, I shall take them both over my knee,” promised Elrond.

Elrohir took hold of the end of the fabric on his side, holding it up so that there was a four-foot-high curtain across the stage between him and his brother. Over the top came a masterfully crafted puppet of a beautiful elleth, followed by a golden-haired elf on the other side of the ‘stage’. The elleth bounced across the stage, knocking on an imaginary door.

“Come in!” announced the elf.

“Good day, Balrog-Slayer, whose name be not Golden as his Hair!” announced the elleth.

“Good day, Fair Maiden, who so comes Even as the Stars make to the heavens!” replied the elf.

“I must speak to you on a matter of some importance,” said the elleth.

“Do speak then, Fair Maiden,” said the elf.

“It is my uncle, the Captain of the Guard, who so gives me reason to pause,” said the elleth.

“Ah, your uncle, who is Hidden as a Hero of the forest. Why so does he grieve you?” asked the elf.

“Alas, for I think he is in love with me.” The elleth swooned a bit.

“Grave this matter is! I shall speak with him at once!” promised the elf.

“I thank thee!” The elleth hugged the elf, then dropped down out of sight. A moment later, another elf popped up on the opposite end of the stage, knocking on a second imaginary door. “Come in!”

“Good day, Balrog-Slayer!”

“Good day, Captain!”

“I must speak to you on a matter of some importance.”

“Do speak then, Captain.”

“I think I may be in love.”

There was another dramatic pause, and then the Balrog-Slayer said, “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure,” said the Captain in a serious tone.

“I must tell you, I do not think it proper for you to court your niece.”

Another dramatic pause. “My niece? Nay, it is not my niece.”

“Not your niece?” The Balrog-Slayer was stunned. “Well. Well then. Well, then this is good news!”

“It is?”

“It is! And you should go then to your love and tell them of your longing!”

“I should?”

“You should!” The Balrog-Slayer announced. There was a lengthy pause before the Balrog-Slayer took a bit of a hop back. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked just before the other elf pounced him.

Haldir couldn’t remember at exactly which moment his jaw had dropped to the ground. He did recall the moment that Glorfindel hauled him up out of his chair. “Come. This was funny, but to a point. It is time to defend our honor.” Haldir nodded dumbly as he stood, then placed his hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder.

“We can’t just go up there and rip the curtain from them or start fighting them onstage. I am none too happy with what they have done, but at the same time, I do not wish to cause chaos here at the festival,” Haldir told him.

“True.” Glorfindel crossed his arms and frowned as the majority of the audience laughed again at the antics onstage. “What we need are some puppets of our own.”

Haldir turned around and looked at Arwen. “Give me your stockings.”

Arwen looked at him with slight disbelief, while her father looked appalled. “I begin to wonder how much of this play is fiction at such an odd request.”

“Perhaps we should take one of hers and one of his,” suggested Glorfindel. “Different colors.”

Arwen and Elrond were now both looking at the pair with trepidation. “For puppets,” explained Haldir. “Please?”

Arwen reluctantly removed a slipper and pulled a long violet stocking from her foot. “You will bring it back, will you not?”

“Of course,” promised Glorfindel, looking over to Elrond.

“Certainly not. Use your own socks,” Elrond huffed.

“I’m not above begging,” Glorfindel said. A moment later, he’d gotten down on one knee in front of Elrond.

“Oh, for the love of Arda, take it before they edit the scene you are making into this little production of theirs.” Elrond pulled off a boot and slipped a dark blue sock off, tossing it at Glorfindel.

“Thank you, Lord Elrond.” Glorfindel tossed the sock at Haldir and headed up to the stage, the Captain following close behind.

Elrohir caught a glimpse of them coming first, but was frozen in place, not sure whether to alert the others, or just begin to run. The glare he received from Glorfindel, and then Haldir, kept him in his place. The pair of elves ran up the stairs of the stage, plainly in view of the audience, and ducked down behind the curtain. There was a gasp, a snort, and a laugh from those who were already behind the curtain. All three puppets were ‘on-stage’, but had frozen in their tracks. A purple mesh covered hand appeared suddenly over the top of the curtain.

“Behold!” growled a voice. “I have come to destroy you all! I am fire and shadow!” Glorfindel gave a fearsome roar.

“You’re pink,” stated the elleth, but her voice wasn’t the falsetto it had been throughout the performance.

“I’m a little under the weather,” growled the ‘balrog’.

“Where are your wings?” asked the silvery-haired elf puppet.

“Obviously, I don’t have any wings.”

“I was always led to believe that balrogs have wings,” retorted the Captain-elf puppet.

“Not all of them have wings, Celebdreth. Er, I mean, Captain. Only female balrogs have wings. And now you shall face my wrath!” Glorfindel reared his hand back, looking more like a snake than a balrog.

“Here. Take him. He killed a balrog already, he had loads of experience with this.” The elf puppet shoved the golden haired elf puppet forward.

“Please, Captain, that I felled one already, ‘tis true, I think it is your turn.” The second elf puppet shoved the first forward. The entire audience was in an uproar.

The puppet made a long display of looking up at the balrog, then grabbed the arm of the elleth puppet, pulling her in front of him. “Ladies first!”

Among all the on stage commotion, none of the puppets noticed a dark blue figure (which looked an awful lot like a hand with a sock over it) looming behind them. “Silence.”

All three puppets turned, looking up now at the tall figure.

“What’s this? Another balrog?” questioned the elleth, though she was sounding more and more like Orophin. At either side of the stage, Elladan and Elrohir were doing their best not to let the curtain drop, but their own laughter had caused it to sag around the middle, making the puppeteers resort to further improvisation.

“Ai! A balrog on the hill, and we’re stuck in the valley!” The Captain puppet threw his arms in the air.

“Tra-La-La-Lally, Come down to the Valley…” sang the Balrog Slayer puppet.

“Those are balrogs!” screeched the elleth puppet, as a giant fist came over the top of the curtain and bopped the head of the Balrog Slayer. “Don’t encourage them!”

“They can’t both be balrogs,” reasoned the Captain puppet. “Unless the blue one is shadow and the pink one is flame.”

“I am not pink!” the stocking clad hand said. “I am lavender, more so than pink.”

“I am not a balrog!” boomed the voice of the darker sock puppet.

“You sure?” asked the elleth.

“No wings,” replied the puppet, to which the other puppets collectively said “Ahhhhh….”

“So…who are you then?” demanded the Balrog Slayer.

“I am Mandos! And I tire of the games you play!”

There was a pause, and then what came next was spoken between the puppeteers and not part of the play.

“Well, gosh, Halli, it was just a joke.” Rumil.

“If we’d have known you were going to take it this bad, we wouldn’t have done it.” Celebdreth.

“I think we need a group hug.” Orophin. But he was using the falsetto voice again.

There was a minor scuffle backstage, with only the pink balrog staying above the curtain. A few moments later, the rest of the puppets reemerged over the top, though they were slightly disheveled now. No one seemed quite to know how to progress now. Mandos the sock puppet finally spoke.

“And let that be a lesson to you in the future.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Consider it noted.”

“Or else,” he warned, “I shall be sure to see you sent somewhere horrible. Somewhere worse than the Northern Fences.”

“Worse than the Northern Fences? I hardly believe such a place exists,” scoffed the Balrog Slayer.

“I shall have you sent...” Haldir played out the dramatic pause, grinning backstage at his brothers, but especially, Orophin, “...to Imladris.”

“NO ME GUSTA IMLADRIS!” wailed the elleth puppet. The audience, which had been fully enjoying themselves, were now falling off their seats and leaning onto one another as laughter swept through the crowd. Even Lord Elrond was hard pressed to keep a straight face.

“What about the balrog?” asked the Captain puppet.

“That is not a balrog,” sighed Mandos the puppet.

“Am I not?” the lavender stocking asked.

“No. Show yourself for who you truly are!” Mandos demanded.

Glorfindel looked around the three elves in the middle, trying to get some direction from Haldir, who simply shrugged. As Erestor would have said, they were knee deep in it now. Haldir smirked, made sure the others couldn’t see the exchange, and mouthed a name to Glorfindel.

“I shall!” announced the sock puppet. A hand reached above, grabbing hold of the toe of the stocking. “I am not a balrog, but something more fearsome! I am-” The stocking was removed, and flung offstage. “-the Librarian!”

“Ai! I’m blind!” raged the Balrog Slayer puppet, covering his eyes in true Glorfindel mannerism. Glorfindel himself was mimicking obscene poses with his hand and arm, and doing a rather good job of it, decided Haldir. His eyes widened as he noted a sixth figure creeping onto the stage behind Glorfindel.

“Mandos has to get back to his halls now!” Haldir ducked his puppet down and slid under the curtain instead of going back around it. Most of the others seemed to have caught on, escaping the wrath of Erestor – for now. Even the twins had flown, letting the curtain drop, covering Glorfindel. Erestor stood over him, the audience in a total uproar.

“I think this has to be one of the best Festivals I can remember,” Celeborn said as Haldir approached Elrond and Arwen, finding his father sitting in his former seat. “The lady would have loved to have seen this.”

“Who is to say she has not put her mirror to use while you are all away?” questioned Elrond, taking his sock back from Haldir. “I just hope I can return home with my counselors both in one piece after this.” On stage, Erestor had easily trapped most of Glorfindel under the curtain and was mercilessly tickling the bottom of his right foot.

“Mandos! It was Mandos!” laughed Glorfindel, struggling to get away. One arm shot out of the curtain he was buried under, reforming the puppet hand. “It was Mandos! Haldir! He told me to!”

Arwen looked to Haldir, who had been crouching on the ground behind Elrond. “Now you might want to run.”

“You are wise beyond your years, m’lady.” Haldir took off down the field, hearing Glorfindel’s cry of “Mandos!” echoing behind.

It had taken Orophin the better part of an hour to find Haldir. First, there were the piles of bodies – orc, man, elf, and horse - to contend with. Then, there was a moment of dread – Valarda brought him a sword. Beneath the thick smears of blood, he read the words to himself: Haldir o Lorien ~ Captain of the Galadhrim.

Valarda asked if he wanted to keep looking. Orophin told her it was a stupid question. They pulled bodies off of more bodies, dug into the carnage, hoping to find a familiar face, hoping to find him alive.

Orophin found himself walking in circles, sorting through the same bodies. It was near midday when he finally saw it – a glint of metal, and a hint of burgundy blowing in the wind. “What an idiot!” he began to curse as he marched over and through the death and debris, Valarda following close behind.

“What do you see?” she asked as they approached.

“My brother, the fool. He saves that cape for all these centuries, and wears it to a battle. He would have had more sense to wave it in front of a mad bull.” Orophin halted when he reached Haldir, kicking from his brother the legs of a Uruk that had happened to land atop of him, then dropped to his knees, placing his ear to the elf’s chest. “He breathes,” Orophin smiled in spite of everything that had happened and all he had seen.

Valarda helped her husband roll the unconscious elf onto his side. Estel had explained what he had seen to her, and she hissed when she saw Haldir’s back. “Your fool of a brother saved his life by this very cloak. It has kept the blood from spilling out. Do not remove it until there is a healer.” The thick fabric had acted as a seal, embedded between the skin and flesh that had been cleaved. Valarda carefully placed Haldir back onto his back and snaked a hand under the armor plates on his chest and torso. “Here is the cause for alarm – this wound could be fatal if he is not tended to.” Her eyes met Orophin’s. “He must get to Lothlorien. He can not be helped here.” Orophin nodded, taking off his own cloak.

“Help me wrap him in this, then see what you might find for the wound. And find out what news you can of the war.” Orophin quickly wrapped his brother in the cloak with Valarda’s assistance, then bent down to move Haldir while Valarda went in search of supplies.

“Mandos?” Haldir felt himself being lifted up, but whether it was his body or his soul, he could not tell.

“Not yet,” said a voice he had not expected to hear.

“Orophin?” Haldir winced as the pain in his back hit him, his senses ripped back into focus as he was moved from where he had fallen. “Orophin, you were not to come.” Haldir paused, gathering strength, then asked, “Rumil is still at home?”

“Still at home, yes, I believe so. Though I am sure he is furious with the both of us. You for running off, and I for running off with his horse.” Orophin walked slowly through the dead to what was left of the keep.

“Are you alright?” Haldir scanned over Orophin, worry in his eyes. “You have been injured,” he said, noting the bloody tear on the shoulder of Orophin’s tunic.

“I will be fine. You are worse off than I,” Orophin assured him.

“Brother, it could get infected.” Haldir’s speech was labored and Orophin shushed him.

“I will have Valarda look at it once we have finished with you,” he promised.

Haldir nodded, closing his eyes. “What about Legolas?”

“What about him?” Orophin asked.

“Is he alright? He was fighting here.”

“I am sure he is doing well, Haldir. I saw the old elf jumping around like a squirrel earlier, he can’t be too badly hurt if he’s still hopping around the place.”

“And Estel?”

“Estel. Yes, I am going to have to have a stern talk with him later. If he had not distracted you-”

“So he is alive and well, too.” Haldir breathed a sigh of relief. A moment later, he mumbled something, and Orophin stopped, straining to hear as Haldir repeated himself. “And Gimli? Er, the dwarf?”

“Honestly, Haldir. Worry more about yourself than of others for the moment. The dwarf, last I saw, was checking on the well being of every woman and young maiden, and boring everyone with his talk of the caves of the Deep. If ever anyone survives a battle, it is a lusty little dwarf like that one.” Orophin found a clear spot and placed Haldir upon it. “Rest, Haldir. I will watch over you.” Before he had finished his reassurances, Haldir was asleep.

- - -

Haldir stared up through the leaves at the sky and stars overhead. The night was clear and through the skylight he counted the tiny sparkles in the sky. He listened intently to the sounds below, counted to one hundred (and five, for good measure), then threw off his covers and stealthfully made his way to the doorway. Again he listened, then quickly padded down the stairs until he reached the nursery that had been set up in a spare bedroom. Little had been done to the room thus far, so there was a rocking chair and a changing table with a dresser, but beside these, only one other thing stood in the room – a crib, positioned in the center. Haldir slid over to the edge, peering down at his new baby brother. He sighed and smiled and watched the little elfling breath as he slept, eyes open but unfocused.

Haldir began to feel sleepy himself, until he noticed that the elfling shifted slightly. Reaching a hand into the crib, he had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach him. He pointed one slender finger out and gently tapped the babe on the shoulder. “Oro? Oro, are you awake, Oro?” There was no response, so Haldir tried a different technique. Straining, he managed to place his hand on the tiny shoulder and rubbed it. “Oro? Are you okay? Are you alright?” When again nothing happened, Haldir then lifted himself up, placing his feet between the slats of the crib. Leaning halfway in, he gently tugged on the little one’s shoulder. “Oro? Oro? Are you awake?”

Orophin crinkled up his nose as he moved his tiny legs under the equally tiny blanket. Looking up, he landed a dazed expression on the elfling that curiously looked him over. He blinked a few times, and as his expression fell, he was picked up from the crib and taken over to the rocking chair.

“Don’t worry, Oro, don’t cry. I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe.” Haldir climbed onto the rocking chair, holding tightly to Orophin as he settled himself onto the seat. He repositioned himself and his bundle, cradling Orophin’s head on his chest. “Nothing to worry about. Haldir’s here.”

He heard a rustle in the hallway, and moments later, Celeborn appeared at the door. He spied the youngster in the chair, doing his best to rock and yet keep Orophin steady at the same time. “Haldir, it is late. Do you want me to take him?” offered the elf lord.

“No. I’m going to take care of him. I promised I would,” Haldir said solemnly.

- - -

“Halli? Halli, are you awake, Halli?” Haldir felt someone gently trying to rouse him from the first peaceful sleep he’d had in the longest of times. “Halli? Are you okay? Are you alright?” Someone was poking him now, jabbing a finger at his shoulder. This soon changed, and he grunted as he felt a hand shaking his shoulder. “Halli? Halli? Are you awake?”

Haldir wrinkled his nose, shifting his legs beneath the warm blanket that had been placed over him when it was realized he was still among the living. He opened one eye, and then the other, seeing Orophin crouched over him. He strained to move, to sit up, to stand, but nothing happened. His brother frowned, and so he frowned, and tried again. This time, his energy spent, he lay his head back, exhausted at the attempt, tears welling up in his eyes. A moment later, Orophin had tucked the blanket around him like a cocoon, and he felt his body being lifted, then carried, to his horse. He opened his mouth as if to protest, but no words came, and he felt his back ache, and the pain and sorrow hit him.

“Don’t worry, Halli, don’t cry. I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe.” Orophin climbed onto the horse, holding tightly to Haldir as he settled himself onto the saddle. He repositioned himself and his bundle, cradling Haldir’s head against his chest. “Nothing to worry about. Orophin’s here.”

He heard a rustle nearby, and moments later, Valarda appeared in front of the horse. She looked at Haldir, relief in her eyes, and at Orophin’s protective yet weary look. “Orophin, it is late. Do you want me to take him?” offered the she-elf.

“No. I’m going to take care of him. I promised I would,” Orophin said solemnly.