Chapter Ten

***

Haldir didn’t get much sleep that night, spending most of it tossing and turning, and what little he did get was peppered with nightmares. He counted it as a relief when morning finally crept into the city.

He didn’t stop to eat; instead, he hurried outside, taking deep breaths of the morning air. But the air wasn’t cool and clear as he had so hoped. It was heavy and oppressive. The ankle he had broken in the orc attack weeks ago throbbed dully.

The sky did not seem refreshing, either. It was covered in thick, dark clouds that threatened to pour down rain at any moment. In the distant west, he heard an ominous rumble of thunder. Great, he thought to himself, could anything else happen to make today worse?

Suddenly, from out of the woods burst an elf. Haldir almost fell backwards in surprise. It was one of his best friends, also a marchwarden, Eewyn.

Eewyn was clearly relieved to see Haldir standing there.

“Haldir!” he yelled, gasping for breath, “There’s an army coming!”

“What?” Haldir asked, disbelieving.

“An army! But it’s Elves! There’s about a hundred of them! All dark-haired, all carrying bows and blades. What should we do?”

Haldir couldn’t believe it. An army? They had to be from Rivendell, especially if they were dark haired. But why were they heading to Lorien?

“Come with me, we have to go see the Lady,” Haldir beckoned, beginning to run, limping a bit on his smarting ankle. Eewyn followed.

With a rueful sigh Haldir ran up the steps of the mallorn tree palace. I suppose I shouldn’t have tempted fate, Haldir thought, things can always be worse…

***

Galadriel wasn’t at all surprised when the two marchwardens burst into the throne room. Even Lord Celeborn seemed to have gotten used to constant interruptions, and merely looked at the two with mild interest.

They bowed rapidly, and explained themselves even more quickly.

“An army of Elves!” said Eewyn.

“From Rivendell,” Haldir explained.

“What should we do?”

“What do they want?”

Galadriel stood, Haldir and Eewyn stopped speaking. “Eewyn, son of Tiothmer, go back to your post. When the other Elves arrive, take them here. They are friends and allies of ours, and are to be welcomed as such.”

Eewyn nodded, bowed, and darted out, running full speed back to his post.

Galadriel looked at Haldir. “You and I, Haldir of Lorien, must have words.”

Haldir was struck with worry. He had almost thought he would be dismissed. But as he saw the look in Galadriel’s eyes, profound sadness and carefully controlled distress, he somehow didn’t think that he was about to be asked to sit down for breakfast a talk about Orophin’s new love interest.

***

Haldir sat, his hands folded neatly in his lap, his eyes studying the floor intently. Inside his head, he was turning over the words Galadriel had spoken.

“Will you lead them?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Will you take them forward and reforge the old alliance?”

Haldir was both honored and horrified. He understood what Galadriel was asking perfectly. The Rohirrim would soon be under attack by the armies of Saruman. They were weak and would fall without aid. Elves could give them that aid. Elrond had sent his archers, and now the Lady would combine her own, and send them all to the fortress of Helm’s Deep. There would be danger, she had said, danger and even death. But there would also be hope for Men and all of Middle-earth. And she wanted him to lead the Elven army.

It was an honor he had never imagined, but there was also Corwyn to think of. Galadriel had given him the option to either lead or to stay behind. What an honor it would be to lead the armies, but if he stayed behind he would be with Corwyn. And he would know he had abandoned his people and his friends who were already at the Hornburg. He could not send others in his place. It did not matter how much he wanted to stay with Corwyn, staying was not an option.

As he was on the verge of consenting to lead, his mind wandered. He thought of Corwyn’s smile, and wasn’t sure if he could leave her. But then he saw something worse. Lorien falling to darkness, even the Lord and Lady helpless to stop it, and the Elves killed. Corwyn killed.

“I accept,” he said in a firm voice.

Galadriel smiled softly. “I was afraid of that,” she whispered to herself. Then raising her voice so that Haldir could hear, “Follow me, I will give you your armor.”

***

Corwyn awoke to much clamor outside. She rose from her bed, puzzled. How did she even get there? She certainly didn’t remember going to her room. Then, she smiled.

Haldir.

With a smile still on her face, she looked out her window. What she saw made her smile disappear as though it had been wiped off with a rag. It was replaced by open-mouthed astonishment.

Outside stood rows and rows of dark-haired Elven warriors. They were decked out in armor and carried bows and long Elven swords. Joining them were other elves, all of which were familiar. They were from Lothlorien, all the archers, sentries, and marchwardens. She saw Rúmil and called out.

“Rúmil! What’s going on?”

Rúmil didn’t appear to have heard her, he was too busy strapping on his own body armor, but several of the darker elves looked up. One of them, a thin, wiry elf with raven colored hair and frosted green eyes answered her.

“War, my lady,” he said, “we’re going to war.”

Corwyn’s hand flew to her mouth, and he didn’t even stop to change from her tearstained dress into a fresh one as she ran out her door. She hurried to the bottom of the steps and began looking frantically for Haldir. She had sickest feeling that whatever was happening, he would be a part of it.

“Haldir!” she cried, looking about, “Haldir!”

She could feel the curious eyes of many of the new elves staring at her; they have to be from Rivendell, her subconscious thought, but she didn’t care. Let them look.

“Haldir!”

Another one of the Rivendell elves spoke. “Haldir?” he asked, “I believe that is the name of the elf that will be leading us. If you seek him, he would be with your Lady and our head.”

Corwyn’s stomach rolled with dread. He was leading the army? But she remembered to smile gratefully at the elf who had spoken, then turned and ran to the palace tree.

***

“Here is your armor,” Galadriel said, laying down heavy pieces of golden metal in front of Haldir.

He ran a finger down the ridged breastplate, the cold metal shocking his skin. The protective covering was stamped with the symbol of Lothlorien and looked well used.

“It was Lord Celeborn’s,” Galadriel noted, adding wrist guards and leg protectors to the pile.

“I cannot take the Lord’s armor,” Haldir said quietly.

Galadriel smiled. “He wishes you to have it. It protected him in many a battle, and now it will protect you. And if anything, I insist you take and keep this.” She presented Haldir with a flowing red cloak. He fingered the fine cloth silently.

“A leader must look the part,” she continued. “Now put everything on… the head of the Rivendell troops is here to speak with you.”

Haldir nodded and began strapping on the leg armor as a dark haired elf strode up to him and began to speak.

“Haldir of Lorien, leader of the Reforged Alliance, there is much to say and little time to do so in…”

Story of my life, Haldir thought with a wry smile, turning his full attention to the elf before him.

***

Corwyn took the mallorn steps two at a time, and entered the palace breathing hard. She scanned the room and saw Haldir standing and conversing seriously with a brawny Rivendell elf.

She could not believe her eyes. Haldir was strapping a golden breastplate and lying on the ground was a long elven blade and a couple of daggers. So he meant to go and fight. She stopped in her tracks and stared as he picked up the blade and sheathed it. The Rivendell elf saw her and bowed. That made Haldir turn.

“Corwyn,” he began, but did not have a chance to finish, for Corwyn, frightened, upset, and completely understanding of what was happening, ran out the door.

Haldir stood still for a moment and contemplated going after her. With a sigh he threw the crimson cloak over his shoulders and fastened the golden clasp as he picked up a jog and headed after her, pausing to turn and tell the Rivendell leader that he would be back momentarily.

“Take your time,” the elf replied with a melancholy smile, “I had to say goodbye to my own wife a week ago. She left for the Undying Lands. I was supposed to go with her… but now with this battle I don’t know if I’ll even get to see her again.” The elf must have realized he was depressing Haldir even more, for he quieted. “It is no problem, Haldir of Lorien. Go after your wife.”

Haldir didn’t bother to correct the fact that he wasn’t married to Corwyn. Instead he left the palace and took a turn into the forest, running to the place he knew Corwyn would head: Cerin Amroth.

***

He reached the summit of the hill quickly, and there, as he suspected, Corwyn sat, absentmindedly making wreaths out of elanor and niphredil flowers. Large rings of golden and white lay at her feet.

“Corwyn, you must listen, I haven’t much time,” he said.

She didn’t respond, so he took it as a signal to continue. “The Men of Rohan will soon fall under attack. They are at Helm’s Deep, and with all their women and children. They are only a few hundred strong, and many are too old, or too young to fight properly. Lord Elrond of Rivendell and our Lord and Lady have decided to send troops. We are reforging the old alliance, Corwyn. It is something that will be written in your history books.”

Corwyn picked flowers more furiously.

“Please, Corwyn, we leave soon. The Lady asked me to lead the army, I cannot say no. If we do not go, then everyone at Helm’s Deep will die. Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas. They will all die!”

Corwyn turned, her eyes hard and cold. “You will die!” she said through clenched teeth.

Haldir kneeled beside her. “Perhaps. But perhaps not. All I know is that we depart soon, and I will go. Don’t make me go thinking I am abandoning you. Be strong for me, please, I need it.”

With a determined look, and a watery sigh, Corwyn got to her feet. Haldir stood as well. She turned away, her back facing him.

“Do you not love me as much as I love you?” he asked softly, hurt.

Corwyn’s eyes filled with tears as she turned back to him. With a little sob she laid her head against Haldir’s chest, which was now covered by the golden breastplate, and began to cry. “I will always love you, more than you will ever know,” she said through her tears.

Haldir held her tightly against himself, not wanting to let go and yet knowing time was short. “Mela en’ coamin,” he whispered. Love of my life.

“Mela en’ coamin,” Corwyn repeated, watching her tears run down the breastplate, momentarily magnifying the fine designed metal before gravity pulled them downwards, streaking it.

They stood there for a brief moment, embracing. Then, a loud, long horn call sounded from back at Caras Galadhon. Haldir looked up.

“We are leaving, I must go.”

Corwyn nodded, a lump in her throat. Haldir bent down and kissed her softly. She put her arms around his neck, not sure if she would be able to give him leave to go. But the embrace had to end. Haldir released her, but Corwyn kept her arms around him, studying his face closely, trying to etch it into her mind, remembering his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his hair. Slowly, she bent down and grabbed two wreaths of golden elanors. She draped one over Haldir’s neck like a necklace. He tucked it safely underneath his breastplate. The other she placed over her own neck.

The horn sounded again, echoing forlornly off the trees.

Haldir glanced in the direction of the city, but turned his head back to Corwyn and put a hand to her face. “I will return.”

“Do you promise?” she asked.

“You know I’ll try.” He took a step away. “Amin mela lle… Namarie.” I love you… farewell.

Corwyn kept her tears at bay. “Cormamin niuve tenna’ ta dea lle au’.” My heart shall weep until it sees thee again.

Haldir nodded, and began to proceed back to the city, his scarlet cloak flying out behind him. For a moment it reminded Corwyn of blood… a river of blood and death.

She closed her eyes in horror, then shook the image out of her head and ran down the hill, following.

***

By the time she caught up, Haldir was already standing at the front of the long line of Elven archers. They marched in neat rows of four, in faultless unison.

The horn was blown again, and Haldir shouted to his troops. They began to march. Corwyn followed along the side, trotting after them, her eyes fixed on Haldir. When the troops reached the river, she stopped, but they continued. She watched as Haldir headed away, wanting him to turn back. But he didn’t even turn his head; for fear that he wouldn’t be able to go on.

Even when the army had passed and a light rain had begun to fall, Corwyn stood like a statue, one hand hanging limply at her side, the other clutched lightly around her flower necklace.

It was Lady Galadriel who finally came and retrieved her, bringing her inside and shielding her from the growing storm, which perfectly reflected Corwyn’s mood.

***

It had been a long two days of marching with no stopping for anything. But strangely, Haldir had heard not a single complaint from anyone. The Elven troops marched tirelessly, fueled by adrenaline and trepidation. If they were afraid of anything, their stony faces did not let it show.

Many were veterans of wars long ago, some as far back as the Last Alliance. Others, such as himself, had never been in a true war. Indeed, this battle would be the first time Haldir had ever donned battle gear. And yet, he was not nervous. In all rights he knew he should be, but the feeling would not come. Perhaps it was because he knew and had faith in himself, or because Galadriel had expressed her faith. But as Haldir glanced down at his elenor wreath, he knew why he was not nervous. Corwyn was with him. He brushed his fingers over the silky petals and a sense of calm wrapped about him. He smiled softly and continued to march.

It was not long before he and his troops headed up over a final rise. In the distance he could see the tall walls and the statue of King Helm Hammerhand that marked the fortress of Helm’s Deep. It was late afternoon; they would reach the walls right before nightfall.

He stopped for a moment, and stood quietly. The wind whipped about, bringing the smell of orcs. Haldir shuddered. The army of Saruman was not much further away than his own. And judging by the dark skies, the storm he had heard in the far west two days ago was well on its way. He signaled the elves on. They would reach the fortress, and they would fight.

***