Chapter Two~ Haldir

***

dir? Haldir!? Where are you?”

Haldir of Lorien rolled his eyes. In the blink of an eye he loaded an arrow into his bow and pointed it towards the voice. The speaker, his younger brother Orophin, soon came into view. The light of day was fading out, the dusk creating shadows everywhere, but Haldir was skilled with his bow and focused on his brother. He pulled the arrow back, his face remaining impartial, even when Orophin’s eyes grew wide.

“If you want to be a Marchwarden of Lorien, you must learn to be quiet, Orophin. The Lady trusts us, we mustn’t give her reason to think otherwise.” Haldir said, arrow still trained on the younger elf. “I’m not afraid to use this arrow, either.”

“Haldir… lle tela? Are you joking?” Orophin asked, giving his brother a bewildered look and taking a step forward. Haldir mimed letting the arrow fly. Orophin cursed and ducked to the ground.

“Haldir!”

A hand was placed on Haldir’s shoulder, the voice disapproving. “Let Orophin be.”

Haldir turned, a minute smile reaching his lips. He gave the speaker, his older brother, a slight bow. “As you wish, Rúmil.”

He sauntered over to Orophin and extended a hand. “And of course I was joking, little brother.” He replied, helping Orophin to his feet. “The only things I use my arrows on are orcs.”

Orophin dusted himself off and smiled at Haldir. He had never been one to hold a grudge. Haldir smiled back, not as widely as his brother’s grin, just letting his lips part enough for Orophin to glimpse a bit of straight, white teeth.

Rúmil watched this exchange amusedly. As the oldest brother of the three, he constantly had to keep his younger siblings in line. To some, if not most, of the elves of the Golden Wood, the sentinels were a silent, aloof, and formal subculture. Many also considered Rúmil and his brothers to be the most standoffish of all. Perhaps it was their looks, for they all had matching golden hair that fell lightly to mid-back, and piercing blue eyes that Rúmil was aware Haldir kept a cold look in. Combined, the hair and eyes made for a fierce picture. But no matter what anyone would say, Rúmil knew the truth about his brothers. Haldir might appear to everyone as distant, pretentious even, but underneath that exterior his brother was just a young elf-lord with a love of his homeland and kin, and who was a strong, sure warrior that obeyed his commands to the letter. And Orophin, well, he was the youngest and played to that violin perfectly. He was still learning his duties as a sentinel, but at heart he still wanted to spend more time at Caras Galadhon, being with his friends and flirting with the maidens. Rúmil shook his head. Perhaps that was the point that his two brothers differed at. Haldir cared much more for being a sentinel than a husband, while Orophin was in love with love itself.

“Rúmil!”

The blonde elf looked up, seeing, in the now fully blackened night, Orophin motioning to him. “Hmmm?” he asked, still lost in his thoughts.

“Haldir went on, it’s time for the night watch. We patrol the western edge tonight.”

Rúmil sighed and followed Orophin, who was walking silently on the blanket of leaves and underbrush. No doubt he was taking Haldir’s earlier jab about noise to heart. Oh well, all the better for us, Rúmil thought, heading to the western edge of the Wood without a sound.

***

Haldir surveyed the landscape carefully from his seat on a branch of a large tree. Even in the dark he could see everything perfectly, and he took a moment to allow himself to marvel at the outside world. It was nowhere near as beautiful as Lothlorien, but it carried a sense of mystique about it. He knew that the world outside his home was harsh and dangerous, for years he had learned of the many different dangers. There were wargs, orcs, goblins, giants, wildmen, easterlings, and so many other things that would kill you as soon as look at you. Of course, to Haldir, death was only a word. He knew what it was, and what it meant, but some small part of his mind kept him from fully understanding it. He was quite pleased that he had been born an elf, an immortal. He could stay in the Lady’s wood for as long as wished, and in thousands of years, when he tired of it, travel to the Undying Lands. He could stay in the safe, secluded woods of Lorien forever; or, at least as long as they stayed safe and secluded. He didn’t want to think the security of the Golden Wood would ever be breached, but he wasn’t alienated from all knowledge of the outside like some of the Elves in the Wood. He kept himself aware of everything, and that included the ever-growing evil in the east. Word was being passed about of horrible things: Balrogs, Nazgul, and the Ring of Power, found.

Even in the warm night, Haldir shivered. The One Ring, forged by Sauron to cover the lands in darkness. Used to bring evil to all of Middle-Earth, used to kill thousands of innocents: men, women, children, elves. It was the seducer of men, bringer of destruction. Used to kill Gil-galad, greatest of Elven-kings.

“Is it possible,” Haldir observed to himself quietly, “that the One Ring has been found? And if so, by whom? For what purpose will they use it? What will be the fate of Lorien?”

He mused on this a moment, worry lines creasing his young-looking face, but shook all thoughts out upon hearing a soft bird cry in the distance.

He listened for it again, and it came, the soft “E-ah! E-ah!,” call of the rithalo bird, and the call used by the three sibling marchwardens to alert each other.

“Ah-e!” Haldir called back, answering the call. He leaned forward, waiting for an answer.

“E-ah-e! E-ah!” the answer came. Haldir narrowed his eyes. Orcs! He looked out from his vantage point. It took a moment for his eyes to pick it up, but once they did, he clearly made out the dark shapes of a band of orcs moving quickly across the plain, towards the boundary of the Wood. There looked to be a good number… fifteen, perhaps more. And they weren’t just meandering around like a bunch of mindless, well, orcs, either. They were traveling at a good speed, and heading straight for the Golden Wood.

How did I miss them? He thought to himself. It’s easy; you were too busy thinking about the outside. Too lost in your own ideas to do your duty!

But he realized that now was not the time to worry about one mistake, or others would be made. And he had the notion that the orcs weren’t going to allow him to call a time-out, and come up to him afterwards saying, “Great fight, Haldir. We have to head back to Mordor now, but how about same time next week?”

No, now was the time for action.

“Ah-ah! E!” he called back, letting his brothers know he had heard their cry and saw the danger. He leapt to the ground noiselessly. I’m coming, Rúmil, Orophin, he thought, picking up a soft run across the undergrowth. I won’t make another mistake.

***

Haldir reached the edge of the Wood only moments before the orcs. He was in a fairly large clearing, with trees scattered about the edge, marking were the real forest began. He flattened himself against one of the trees, and readied an arrow for flight. He used the bird cry again to signal his brothers. Rúmil answered first, then Orophin. We’re ready when you are, they signaled.

Haldir glanced out from behind the tree, his eyes searching in the darkness. Pale moonlight lit the clearing eerily, but what he saw was even more peculiar. Nothing was out there. By his calculations the orcs should have been entering the clearing now. But they weren’t. And there didn’t seem to be any sign of them.

He kept his arrow at the ready, but called to Rumil questioningly. The older elf called back. He wasn’t seeing anything either.

Haldir’s stomach gave a little flip. He didn’t like this… not at all. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Rúmil?” he called, not caring about the code any longer, “is there time to send for others?”

Rúmil noted the worry in Haldir’s voice, but answered truthfully. “No, there’s not. We can sound an alarm, but it would take even the riders ten minutes to get here. Why?”

Haldir frowned. “I just have a bad feeling…”

The light breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees, and Haldir felt his hair lift up slightly. He breathed in. Nothing. No smell, no sound. Just then, the wind shifted, bringing the smell of orc to his nose. Haldir’s eyes widened. Knowing what was about to happen a microsecond before it actually occurred, Haldir whirled around and let an arrow fly into the darkness, which was quickly filled with orcs.

He fell backwards, twisting on his ankle violently. He thought he heard it snap, but prayed that it was a simple sprain. In any case, he heard his arrow hit its mark, and with a squeal of pain, an orc fell dead. The rest of the band, enraged, charged into the clearing. And suddenly Haldir was filled with dread. He realized there were quite a few more than fifteen. There were twenty, at the least.

“Kill the elf!” the leader of the band snarled as his group rushed in. “He’s down, kill him!”

To Haldir, everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He pushed himself off the ground and leapt gracefully to his feet, pulling an arrow out of his quiver and loading it in a split second, but his injured ankle gave way when he landed on it, and he fell to the ground once more.

Despite the pain, he shot off the loaded arrow, hitting another orc. He heard its pain filled shriek, mingled with the cry of his brothers, who had both just leapt down from their lookout spots to help him fight. He watched as Rúmil whipped out a blade and took down three orcs, and Orophin took out five more with carefully placed arrows. Haldir got to his knees and began firing as well, noticing several orcs trying to make their way away from the battle.

He loaded his last arrow, trying to make it count, but the pain engulfed his leg, making him jerk suddenly. The arrow missed its mark entirely. He cursed.

“Orophin! Take them out! They’re getting away!” he cried frantically, motioning at the three orcs now running freely, trying desperately to escape the wrath of the sentinels. “You mustn’t let them escape!!”

Orophin didn’t give any sign of having heard his brother, except bending down and ripping an arrow out of an orc carcass and loading it in his bow, aiming at the escapees. He fired, but Haldir didn’t watch, he was crawling towards a corpse on the very edge of the battle to grab another arrow when something slammed him violently to the ground… and immediately he knew he had just let himself make another mistake.

“Thought you could get away, elf?” a cruel voice asked. “Thought y’could kill us?”

Haldir was jerked to his knees by his long hair, and sat facing an orc. “Y’thought three of you could take on a band of orcs from Mordor?” he growled with disdain, ripping more at Haldir’s hair.

“Yes, actually,” Haldir replied, his heart racing, but his voice coming out cold and arrogant, “I know we can.”

The orc look a bit confused at this reply, but when Haldir’s words were understood, it roared in fury and slammed him to the ground. It then kicked Haldir in the side. Haldir clenched his jaw and looked into the clearing. Orophin was too far away to call; Rúmil was having problems of his own with a particularly good fighter. He was on his own.

The orc kicked him again, this time in his face, and when it raised its leg for a final blow, Haldir blocked out the dizziness he was feeling, and the black creeping around his eyes. He reached for the sheath on his belt and fumbled with a clasp, finally removing a long dagger.

When the orc’s leg came flying in, Haldir sat up and thrust the dagger into the leg. The creature screamed in pain, but didn’t stop fighting. He fell on top of Haldir, biting and kicking with his last energy. Haldir shoved him off and with one fell swoop, sliced the orc’s stomach open, exposing the innards. The orc squealed its final note, and then was dead. Haldir wiped the blade on his leggings, and then scrambled to his feet, limping terribly as he made his way back into the clearing.

He got out just in time to see Orophin slam the skulls of two orcs together, and Rumil shoot one lone orc that was trying in vain to escape as the others before it had. It was cut down quickly, leaving the clearing quiet, and curiously empty of movement. Twenty-two orcs there had been, and now twenty-two carcasses lay scattered about to become picking for the birds, and to be burnt by the day watchers.

Haldir stood precariously balanced on one leg, looking at his brothers. It was hard to tell in the pale moonlight, but it looked as though Rúmil had a nasty cut on his shoulder, and Orophin appeared to have been gouged in his thigh. Both were also covered in blood, sweat, and grime. But they were up and standing.

I’ve gotten the worst of it, Haldir thought to himself, feeling the warm blood run down his face, and the pain emulating from every part of his being.

Orophin looked at him and smiled triumphantly. “We did it Haldir! Did you see my skill?” he said.

Haldir tried to smile, but nothing happened. Instead, he felt the blackness close around him and he fell to the ground into a pool of thick, black orc blood, unconscious.

***