“I have found that you seem more solemn as time passes,” Celeborn remarked quietly, finding Galadriel sitting beneath a tree in her garden. It was hours after the evening meal that he had found her, though he knew he had searched this sanctuary of hers a half dozen times since then and now. Sinking to his knees in front of her, he took up her hands in his. “Tell me of your troubles, even if I be the cause. I shall do what is in my power to remedy them.”
Galadriel leaned forward, placing a kiss upon his folded hands. “It is not trouble that concerns me, my husband, but a longing that aches my heart.”
“Of the sea,” nodded Celeborn, though Galadriel shook her head.
“Of a child.” Galadriel’s eyes met Celeborn’s. “Of a son.”
He broke their gaze, casting his eyes to the mirror knowingly, then back to her. “Of all things in my power to give you, I would most gladly grant such a request to you, my dearest. If the Valar allow such graciousness.” But her eyes told him no amount of effort upon his part would quell her longing.
“I know it is not for lack of desire for us to have another child,” Galadriel whispered with a remorseful smile. “But I see nothing in the mirror and nothing in my thoughts of such a blessing. And I fear that our daughter, when she has grown, will settle away from Lothlórien.”
“Then we must pray to the Valar for a son who will love Lórien as we do, who will hold in his heart the greatest longing for the Golden Woods.” Celeborn raised a hand to Galadriel’s cheek, stroking the tears from her face. “And we must continue to pray until we have driven the Valar and Eru himself mad with our incessant pleas that they answer our request.”
- - -
Years had passed, and though each night and each morning the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien whispered their wish to the Valar, it seemed the only greeting received was silence. Yet hope remained, and neither refrained from the ritual prayers.
It was in winter, on a particularly bitter evening, that both had retired early, and Galadriel had felt something amiss. In the first hours of the day, when sun had yet to even glimpse upon the woods, she awoke from her reverie. Anxious, she threw off her covers and hastily untangled herself from the arms of the Lord, who was awakened soon after.
“What is the matter? Where do you go?” Celeborn asked softly, reaching out for his wife, who held a hand up as if asking for silence. It was given, and a moment later, the faintest sounds of a newborn elfling could be heard by both.
The pair rushed from the room, clad only in nightclothes, and began to hurry down from the talan. For the first and only time in his immortal life, Celeborn openly cursed the many flights of stairs from their flet to the ground. Galadriel remained quiet, concern openly showing upon her face as she raced ahead by not more than a few steps. As she reached the last stair, Celeborn landed beside her, having leaped over the railing to avoid the last few.
The cries became more insistent now, and more elves had been awakened, though whether due to the elfling or the ruckus made by the Lord and Lady, none would say. An assemblage had formed, led by the leaders of Lórien, into Galadriel’s garden. The rest of the elves stopped just at the edge while Celeborn and Galadriel slowly approached the spot where the wails could be heard.
“To whom does this elfling belong?” questioned Celeborn as Galadriel bent to collect the weeping bundle into her arms. “Why has he been abandoned here?”
Galadriel hushed the babe, calming his cries into soft, weepy sniffles. “He belongs to the Valar, and has been given to us. He is not abandoned; rather he is here at home. He is the answer to our prayers, the hidden one who has been found.”
“He is our son?” Celeborn asked, somewhat wary, but Galadriel shook her head.
“He is the son of Lothlórien.” She paused for a moment, adjusting the child in her arms. Like most elflings, she had expected him to fall asleep when he had been calmed, but he seemed hungry with curiosity, taking in all around him with his large grey eyes. “He is Haldir.”
“Haldir of Lórien.” agreed Celeborn, accepting the elfling from his wife as she stood, cradling the child against his chest to keep him warm. “Welcome to the Golden Woods, Haldir of Lórien.” Celeborn believed he saw the infant raise an eyebrow at that, though he was not positive of it until many years later.
- - -
Again the years passed, though much faster it seemed in this realm of unchanging time, for the woods were filled with greater happiness than they had been. Haldir was joyfully accepted into the Lord and Lady’s family, though mindful they were of whom he truly belonged to. Every elf could see it was not others whom the elfling felt the deepest connection to, but the forest, as if each tree were kin to him.
As he grew, so did his love of the nature that surrounded him, and secretly he vowed to himself to protect such beauty, and those whom lived among it as soon as he came of an age suitable to such a task. Even as a youth, he frowned upon those who tromped through the grass without mind to watch their steps of seedlings that might be in their paths. It was never elves who did such things, but the men and dwarves his parents and King Amroth allowed to walk under the mellyrn.
But of all which mystified him, dwarves clomping over newborn trees was the least of his concerns. It was his parents, of all things, that baffled him most. Other elflings whom he knew seemed to know something he did not, yet did not share their knowledge with him except in mindless taunts and teasing, none of which he ever appeared to pay mind to. His sister was strange as well, never acting as other siblings he saw. Her manner was indifferent toward him at times, though friendly enough, not by any means comforting. His parents seemed similar, though they showed great love, there was still a certain detached feeling he had.
It seemed no surprise to them when he bravely marched into their bed chambers one evening, climbed upon the downy mattress and over the sheets until he was between Celeborn and Galadriel, and demanded an explanation. Haldir had seated himself, cross-legged, back against the headboard between the Lord and Lady before he spoke. “I am different,” he finally said after a few moments of careful contemplation. “I would like to know why.”
“Every elf is different, Haldir,” Galadriel said gently, attempting to pull him closer to her, but he remained firmly planted despite her effort. “The Valar choose each of us to be unique. There are no two elves who are the same – and very few elves that share the same name, either.”
“I know we’re all different, but I’m more different.”
Galadriel glanced sideways at her husband, who had already rolled the scroll he had been reading and was now staring at his hands thoughtfully. “You’re right, Haldir. You are indeed different.” Celeborn placed a comforting arm around the elfling, but did not try to budge him from where he sat. “When your mother and I found we could have no other children, we began to pray to the Valar to give us a son. It took many years, but it was not in vain, for one night, we came upon you in the garden, beneath the mellyrn. It was then that we knew you to be different, nay, special, from other –“
“Wait.” Haldir digested the information, then turned to Celeborn with eyes slightly narrowed. “So you’re not my parents?”
“That isn’t at all the truth,” comforted Galadriel, resisting the urge to punch Celeborn in the shoulder. “Haldir, dearest child, you were a gift from the Valar. We always have been and will always be your parents, though it was the Valar themselves that gave you life and the forest to which you belong. Do you understand those words?”
“I understand them,” Haldir finally confirmed. “But I don’t believe a single one.”
“Our race is a special one, and permissions are given for special things to occur,” Celeborn tried again. “Perhaps there is one who could better explain to you the wonders that come of being an elf.” Haldir looked now with curiosity, so Celeborn continued. “He is named Glorfindel, and had once fallen in times past while fighting a great Balrog. He spent much time in Mandos, the halls of waiting, where an elf goes when they have been killed. The Valar saw fit to allow his return to Arda, and so he was reborn again as Glorfindel, and now serves Lord Elrond in Rivendell. Where there are no Balrogs,” added Celeborn, though he could see that he raised more questions than he had answered.
“Now I know you are lying to me.” Haldir scuttled down off the bed before either parent could scoop him into their arms and stood for a moment by the door. “When you have decided to tell me the truth, I shall be ready to hear it. Or you can have the Ghost of Glorfindel tell me instead,” he said, with more than a hint of disbelief and sarcasm in his voice, before heading down the hall.
- - -
“He called me what again?” asked the smiling blond elf, leaning back on the couch in Celeborn’s study.
“Ghost of Glorfindel – I tell you, he didn’t believe a word I said to him,” Celeborn said shaking his head. “It really was terrible last night, and I have not seen him this morning. He refused to come to breakfast until there was something the Lady and I had to tell him, and laughed when I said that you would be available today and perhaps would speak with him about the Valar. Glorfindel, really, please stop smirking like that. You don’t know how awful it is to be called a liar by your own child – and I have not but myself to blame, for I should have told him of his heritage when he was younger.”
“It isn’t that bad, really. He is young and shall recover from this shock,” Glorfindel grinned. “Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve run into an elf that doesn’t know the story of how Glorfindel of Gondolin slayed the Mighty Balrog!”
“And was himself slain,” reminded Celeborn.
Glorfindel waved his hand as if that part of the tale was of little consequence. “Practically everyone who fights a Balrog gets killed. The point is, I got to come back. The Balrog, he is still dead, as far as I am aware. So, where is this charming and inquisitive young elfling hiding?”
- - -
Haldir had several favorite places in which to keep away from his parents, as well as others who might be looking for him. Some were high above the ground, a few were under trees, in thick underbrush. None were truly hidden from Galadriel, for when she needed, she could find him using the mirror’s power. Since she highly respected the privacy of all of those in the Golden Wood, especially that of her own family, Galadriel forced Celeborn and Glorfindel to seek the elfling using conventional methods instead.
And when conventional methods of walking through the forest and calling for Haldir failed, Glorfindel executed "Plan the Second" for catching an elfling. Plan the Second consisted of laying out a picnic spread under a shady tree in an open area and waiting for the elfling to come to you.
Celeborn was pleasantly surprised at how quickly Plan the Second worked, and how much more enjoyable it was than Plan the First. True, he was forced to listen to another rendition of the Balrog story, but nearing the end, Haldir made his appearance. Finding his way through the trees to the blanket spread along the ground, Haldir listened intently as Glorfindel finished his tale, relating his stay in Mandos, and his eventual return.
“So there really is a Glorfindel,” Haldir said as the story ended.
“And still is, thank the Valar,” grinned Glorfindel. “I see you must be Haldir, and living up to your name with your hiding.”
Haldir shrugged. “I wasn’t hiding. I was just walking. You just happened to be in my path.”
Throwing his head back in laughter, Glorfindel slapped a hand against his knee. “This one has a keen wit, Celeborn, and a quick tongue at that.”
“A quick tongue, yes, but I find he has a sharp mind, and does not speak with haste unless his beliefs are strong.” Celeborn passed a plate of sliced fruits to Haldir and asked, “After seeing that Glorfindel is no ghost, do you concede that perhaps I may have been telling you the truth?”
Haldir sat, holding the plate, saying and doing nothing. At last, Haldir nodded. “It may be the truth, but I still do not know if I believe it.”
The Lord of Lórien tilted his head. “Tell me what I might do to have you believe me,” offered Celeborn. Haldir shrugged, picking at the fruit.
“What of the Mirror of Galadriel?” Glorfindel suggested. “Could not you show him the past? It is sometimes said to see is to believe.”
Celeborn nodded. “Let us finish our lunch, and then we shall place the request upon Galadriel.”
“Splendid!” replied Glorfindel, slicing a bit of cheese from the brick for himself. “For I have a fascinating tale to tell you of the great elven warrior Ecthelion and his valiant deeds that led to his demise.”
‘Great,’ thought Celeborn, ‘another Balrog story...’
They returned to the Great Mallorn late in the afternoon, and after a happy scolding from Galadriel to Celeborn about shirking duties, the Lady gladly consented to letting Haldir look into the mirror that evening.
- - -
As the skies dimmed and the sun took leave from the shimmering stars, Galadriel summoned Haldir to her garden. Celeborn escorted him, moving slowly so that the elfling could take in the full beauty of the surroundings. “This is really where you found me?” he finally asked in awe as his foot left the final step. Galadriel returned his question with a smile and a nod as she glided to the mirror. In her hands she held a large pitcher, which she poured into the bowl that sat upon an ornate pedestal.
“I can not guarantee the mirror will show what you wish to know. It may show the past, the future, or the present. It may show what has come to pass, that which will, and those events which may not happen at all. Haldir, my son, will you look in the mirror?” Her eyes focused upon the elfling who stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Haldir shifted his gaze to Lord Celeborn’s pleasant expression, received a nod, and looked back to Lady Galadriel. Lifting a foot slightly, Haldir paused before placing it forward, looking once more into Celeborn’s eyes, then placed it back upon the ground. “No, my Lady. I shall not.” He swallowed hard as both adults changed their expressions to ones of confusion. “I am sorry for what trouble I have caused. How it is that I would say I could not believe you, I do not know. From this moment, I promise to believe your every word and obey your every command, my Lady. And my Lord,” Haldir added hastily, bowing his head. “I...I shall now take my leave.” Before either could say a word, Haldir had flown back up the stairs, scarcely looking behind or forward, and succeeded in running directly into Glorfindel’s legs.
Haldir fumbled for the words of apology, then narrowed his eyes as he realized how close to the top of the steps Glorfindel had been. He had planned to ask the older elf just that question, but was whisked away around a clump of bushes far from the entrance to the garden. “You were spying!” accused Haldir once the pair had made it a safe distance.
“Hush, little friend, I was merely observing.” Glorfindel peeked over the foliage, ducking when he saw Lord Celeborn’s figure standing near the garden, obviously searching the area.
“If one observes without the knowledge of others, it is spying,” Haldir stated.
“If I admit to spying, would you still your tongue?” bargained the elder elf. Haldir nodded, and Glorfindel sighed. “I was spying, true, but I wanted only to glimpse upon the mirror. I had planned to conveniently happen down the stairs just as you ran up them. Although, I must say, the way you ran just now would make one think you might have been, dare I say, frightened.”
Haldir sucked on his bottom lip, pouting slightly. “I wasn’t afraid. I just...I felt foolish.”
Glorfindel looked amused. “Foolish?”
“For doubting Ada- Lord Celeborn,” corrected Haldir. “If he is as I have heard you say ‘Celeborn the Wise’, how could I not believe what he told me? I have sworn an oath to myself never to question their knowledge or judgments.”
“That seems awfully harsh punishment for an elf of so few years. There might come a time in your long eternal life you may rethink your decision,” Glorfindel warned. “But from the short time I have spent with you, I dare say you seem to have a great amount of loyalty for the Lord and Lady.” When Haldir did not answer, Glorfindel took another look over the bushes, finding the path clear. “It is safe to assume they are worried about where you have run to. Perhaps we should seek them out?”
“I believe I have angered them with my behavior,” Haldir mumbled. “I would rather sleep in the woods than return home this evening.”
Glorfindel shook his head. “An elf sleeping on the ground when there’s a perfectly good tree waiting for him is nonsense. If you would like, I could escort you to your bed, and tell Lord Celeborn you are sleeping already, as I need to speak to him this night for other reasons.”
The elfling chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “Only if you needed to speak to him anyhow...”
“That I do,” lied Glorfindel. “Let us return you to your home, and we shall talk no more on the matter until the morrow.”
“I do not know if I should like to speak with them about it even in the morning,” Haldir said worriedly.
“Then I shall detain you from them until you feel you are prepared to address the issue,” Glorfindel advised. “Though, you will have to speak with them sometime, for I shall be required to return to Imladris eventually.”
Stealthfully as a warrior making his way across the yards of an enemy’s keep, Glorfindel led Haldir back to the Great Mallorn. They crept up the winding stairway in complete silence, hidden by the shadows. Once safely in the room Haldir slept in, Glorfindel turned to go, but turned back upon hearing the elfling heave a sigh.
“Does another matter trouble you, little friend?”
Haldir shrugged. “It is only that my na- that Lady Galadriel,” he began again, “has every night spoken to me a tale of history before I rest. I do not think I shall easily enter reverie without it.” A pair of enormous grey eyes looked up at Glorfindel. “Could you tell me a story?”
The elf sat right down at the bottom corner of the bed. “I do not know many stories, but perhaps something of the heroics of Lord Elrond or the adventures of elves and men might suffice.”
“I would very much like, if it is not too troubling, to hear the story of Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin’s fight with the Great Balrog.”
- - -
“Do you truly have to return to Imladris?” Haldir asked of Glorfindel after supper one evening. Haldir had become a shadow to Glorfindel, and only just in the week he’d been in Lothlórien. Glorfindel was himself even surprised that the elfling still had not tired of hearing the tales of the fall of Gondolin – nay, he requested them especially in the evening before retiring to rest. In fact, Glorfindel himself was beginning to think for the first time that the Balrog story was getting a little old.
“I will have to in the end, my young friend. But I shall be here for some time – many years, in fact. I have promised to your parents that I shall educate you and your sister at the beginning of the next season. I would have begun sooner, but I first needed to know what you knew, and that could only be accomplished by getting to know you.” Glorfindel’s expression twisted into one of confusion as he saw the disappointment wash across Haldir’s face. “What troubles you, little friend? Do you not wish for my instruction?”
“It is not that. I am most delighted to be taught by you, Lord Glorfindel.”
“Then what?” Glorfindel moved to a seat closer to Haldir. They were outside, under the Great Mallorn in Caras Galadhon, so it was more a matter of finding a rock closer to the one Haldir was perched upon. Glorfindel opted for a patch of grass instead.
The young elfling slumped his shoulders and looked out over the sea of grasses and night blossoming flowers that spread out before them. “My adar. He isn’t really my adar, but he says he is. He said you knew about that. That you could tell me about that.”
Glorfindel folded his hands and brought them up under his chin with his elbows propped upon his knees. “That is a difficult question to answer. You were not born of elves, but as an elf, and of the Valar, and from Lothlórien. You were a product of the love between the Lord and Lady, of the graces of the Valar, and of great hope – and perhaps need. Fewer and fewer elflings are born as the years continue, little friend. And though you were not carried in the womb of your mother, is there any other whom you would call to in the darkness? And though your father, as you claim, is not truly your father, has any other picked you up and carried you upon his shoulders when your legs grew too weary to continue?”
He could see that Haldir’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but Glorfindel continued, quickly coming to a conclusion. “You are different. Significantly different. But it is our differences that make us unique, that make us stronger, and wiser, and in the end, all the better for it. Listen not to the sharp tongues of your rival peers, for their words ride upon the waves of ignorance.” Glorfindel cleared his throat, and decided to leave things at that. Behind him, he knew Galadriel and Celeborn were now standing, and so he stood, gave Haldir a squeeze on the shoulder, and headed for the talan he was using during his stay.
Glorfindel smiled, knowing that Haldir had thrown himself into the arms of his parents – he need not turn to look to know. With his first lesson a success, he happily looked forward to the years ahead.
- - -
“Celebrian, tell me, if you began with a bag consisting of twenty apples, fed two to Asfaloth, and gave six to your brother, how many would be in the bag at the end of the day?”
“Twelve apples,” Celebrian announced, then under her breath added, “but I don’t have a brother.”
Glorfindel frowned. It was becoming a recurrent theme during class time. Even more disturbing was her age, for she was many score years older than her brother, yet did not act it. “Celebrian, we do not speak under our breath as would a dwarf. And we do not speak such unpleasentries – tis unelfly.”
“Tis true,” she snapped back, causing even Glorfindel to flinch. For his part, Haldir sat perfectly still upon the ground, staring up only at Glorfindel when he spoke, and to his sheet of practice parchment the rest of the time.
“The lesson is concluded for the day.” Glorfindel pointed to Celebrian. “We will speak to your parents. Now. Haldir, continue practicing your writing – and please, smaller characters, if you will.” Glorfindel marched Celebrian back to the main talan.
Haldir picked up the pen, preparing to dip the tip into the small vial of ink, but he remained motionless for some time. It was not until many minutes later that he realized with horror that he had been sobbing silently, and that what he had practiced earlier was now running down the page in grey streams.
His small hands lunged at the page, crumpling it and throwing it across the grass. Glorfindel continued to assure him that his differences were a blessing, and that others would realize this in time. Haldir kept hope that some day perhaps that would be true, but he continued to feel utterly alone. Even Glorfindel had been born once – twice, in fact - born to real parents, like any other elf, so even he could not share in the same pain Haldir felt.
“I wish there was an elf just like me,” he sniffled aloud, but quietly to himself. “I wish I had a brother or a sister. A real one.” Haldir thought for a moment, then repositioned himself, from sitting to kneeling. He folded his hands in front of him and bowed his head.
It was hours before anyone came to look for him, namely when he did not return from the valley used for classes when suppertime came. Celeborn was the one to find him, still upon his knees and speaking in soft tones.
“For what reason do you kneel so, Haldir?” questioned Celeborn as he stooped down.
“I am praying, my Lord Celeborn,” answered Haldir.
Celeborn quirked an brow, both at Haldir’s admission of what he was up to, and at the formal address of his name. “May I ask of you, Haldir, for what you pray?”
“Praying for a brother,” he said with exasperation before resuming his whispers.
Celeborn lifted Haldir’s chin up with a finger so that he had the youngster’s gaze. “I know of what troubles you, of what your sister said, and have spoken with her-“
“She’s not my sister,” Haldir said in an even tone. “And even as I do have a family, I have no kin. I wish only for a brother, for a friendly companion.”
“Haldir, the Valar are gracious, but you must know they cannot grant every request made of them,” Celeborn told him gently. “Let us at the least find you to your bed, so that you may rest, and if you are indeed set upon your goal, I should like to help you pray. But in the morning.” Haldir nodded as Celeborn helped him to stand. With one hand, the Lord of the Golden Wood held that of his son, while the other scooped up the pen and ink from the grass. “Shall I ask Glorfindel to come tell you a story before you rest?”
Haldir shook his head. Although most nights he would have appreciated the idea, the last thing he needed was to be put to sleep by the tale of the Lord of Gondolin’s fall to a Balrog. He had work to do.
As soon as he was sure that no one would check on him again for the night, Haldir turned on his side, clasped his hands together, and as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the others on the flet, began to make his case to the Valar once again.
- - -
The next morning found Haldir searching Galadriel’s garden with earnest. He looked behind rocks, beneath trees, and beside the mirror. Haldir frowned when he could find nothing, not even a clue of some sort. Befuddled, he flopped down upon the bottom stair.
“You seem to have lost something,” remarked Glorfindel from the top of the steps.
“Nay, I merely look for something,” Haldir said, a bit startled that he had been watched the entire time.
“How are you so sure this is where you will find it?” Glorfindel carefully stayed just at the edge of the top stair. “Perhaps if you tell me what it is you seek, I might help you find it?”
Haldir took a cautious step forward up the stairs. “If I tell you, you must not tell the Lord and Lady.”
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at the request. “Are you so sure they do not already know what it is you seek?”
The youngster opened his mouth to respond, but confusion flashed in his eyes. “I ...what do you mean?”
“I was sent to find you, little friend, for Lord Celeborn has found something he thinks may belong to you.” Glorfindel held out his hand to the elfling. “And I rather agreed, as he seems to have your same features- I would hazard some might even say he looks to be your brother..”
Haldir sprang forward, taking the stairs two at a time – an impressive feet for one with such short legs – until he had grabbed hold of Glorfindel and practically dragged his teacher to the Great Mallorn.
They ran the entirety of the curving stairs, paying little to no attention to those who greeted them along the way. Reaching the living area, Haldir flung open the doors to the master bedroom, not bothering to knock. His legs halted when he saw upon the center of the bed a smallish, squirming elfling, fawned over by Galadriel and Celeborn on either side. “Is that him?” managed Haldir, nearly out of breath. Galadriel looked up at Celeborn with an amused expression, while the Lord nodded and grinned.
“I see you could not wait for morning,” teased Celeborn as Haldir crawled up the side of the bed. Celeborn frowned as Haldir wrinkled his nose. “What is the matter?”
“I did not know Orophin would be so...small...”
Galadriel looked upon Haldir with shock and further amusement. “Orophin?”
“Yes, my brother, Orophin.” Haldir sounded somewhat exasperated at having been questioned. “I fear the Valar misunderstood my request.”
“He is of course your brother, Haldir, but all elves begin as such,” Galadriel explained, waving a hand above the cooing elfling. “You yourself began as a baby, as did Celeborn, Glorfindel, and myself.”
“Huh.” Haldir blinked at the revelation, then crawled down from the bed, where he knelt on the floor and folded his hands before him.
“What are you doing?” asked Celeborn, peering down from his perch, masking the concern in his voice.
“I am praying,” Haldir stated, “for him to be bigger.”
Galadriel bit her lip from laughing as Celeborn rolled his eyes, then came over to Haldir, standing him up. “It seems we have had enough praying for one day, at the least. Please, if you would, clean yourself up, and then join us for a meal before you begin your daily studies.”
“But Orophin –“ began Haldir.
“But Orophin will be here when you finish with your lessons for the day. Now, off to wash up,” insisted Celeborn.
Haldir nodded, crawled up to the bed once more, and kissed the baby elf upon the brow. “I love you, Orophin,” he whispered to the elfling, before bowing quickly to the elder elves, and heading to the washroom.
Galadriel glanced at Celeborn. “Might I ask who or what gave Haldir the idea to pray for a brother?”
“Not I,” defended Celeborn, “for when I found of his plan, I was adamant that he wait until morning when it might be discussed.” Two sets of elven eyes fixed upon the former Gondolin Lord.
“He is awfully cute, isn’t he?” Glorfindel grinned sheepishly, tickling the baby’s foot.
“I do not understand how such a thing could have happened this fast. We prayed many a year before Haldir was delivered. How is it possible such a thing could happen so quickly?” Celeborn wondered.
Glorfindel shrugged. “Haldir was a gift of the Valar...he probably has a direct line.”
In his room, Haldir finished dressing for the day, then settled himself comfortably upon the floor and began to pray for Orophin to ‘get bigger’.
