Rating: G
Characters: Elrond, Haldir, Gil-galad, Celeborn, Celebrķan, Galadriel, others
Summary: Elrond recalls the days of old to a young Haldir in Lothlorien.
"Pen-neth? Can you recite the names Elrond has asked you?"
The elfling swung his legs alternate of each other on the bench he sat on with his head bowed and his nose scrunched in thought. Celeborn gave him a few moments more and then said, "Haldir, the sons of Feanor. You know this," he prodded.
Continuing to stare at the ground, Haldir continued swinging his legs.
Celeborn sighed and said, "He's really not this shy, normally. Much of the time, we cannot silence him."
"Perhaps he does not remember me, but the last time I saw him he did not appear so withdrawn," whispered Elrond. "I do not normally have such a negative effect on children." He smiled at Haldir, hoping to get him to speak, but the elfling hunched over even further, letting his blonde hair fall over his face.
Saying nothing, Celeborn was not about to admit that it was his elder child who was taunting the younger one and causing his foul moods. "Haldir, do you not remember this from your lessons? Come now, I shall give you a hint, there were seven children of Feanor. Now do you recall them?"
Making a poor attempt to shrug one shoulder, Haldir gripped the bench seat tightly with his tiny hands. Shaking his head, Celeborn looked to Elrond apologetically. "Perhaps tomorrow he will be more amiable."
Elrond gave a nod, and he and Celeborn began to walk away from the elfling. Behind them, a tall elleth with silver-gold hair caught Haldir's gaze and frowned at the child slightly.
"Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras!" Haldir swallowed after saying the names altogether as fast and as loud as he could without shouting. Both older elves turned and looked at him with mild surprise, while the elleth smiled her approval and gave him a nod.
"Well, now," laughed Elrond. "Better late than never, I suppose." He came back around and crouched down in front of Haldir, who had stopped kicking his legs. "What other facts of history do you know?" His little hands clutched the bench and he looked again into his lap.
"Haldir has had all of the annals read to him as bedtime stories," said Galadriel, finally speaking for the elfling, who had remained silent. The smile was still on her face and she nodded approvingly to Haldir when he looked up and met her gaze with huge grey eyes. "He can recall many of the great Elves, as well as the great Men who fought beside them."
"Is it battle which is of the most interest to you, pen-neth?" questioned Elrond. Haldir glanced down at his feet before looking up and nodding.
"Yes, my lord," came the small voice.
"Mmm. And which of the battles is your favorite to hear recalled?"
"The Fall of Gondolin," he answered. "Lord Glorfindel tells me of it whenever I ask."
"Ah, a popular choice," winked Elrond. "If I had but a tale from that time, I would tell it to you, but all I know of it are the same stories you have probably heard."
Haldir fidgeted and chewed at his lip nervously, then asked, "You would tell me a tale?"
"If I had one," nodded Elrond.
"Lord Elrond has a hall in his house just for telling stories and singing songs," Celeborn said. "Perhaps he might tell you a tale during his stay here."
"Might I tell him one now?" offered Elrond. He was pulling himself up onto the bench next to Haldir now, and the elfling was looking sideways at him with wide eyes. He had not moved away, and Elrond took this to be a good sign.
Celeborn nodded. "Haldir, would you like it if Lord Elrond were to tell you a tale? It is a most generous offer," he added, but Elrond waved the comment off.
"I like to tell stories, just as you do," smiled Elrond. "Now, Haldir, would you like to hear a tale?"
Haldir nodded and said uncertainly, "Can it be a tale of a certain elf?"
Chuckling, Elrond said, "It would depend if I knew the elf or not."
"Oh…" Galadriel sat down on the other side of the bench. "Haldir," she said quietly, and he hung his head, knowing what was to come.
"Nevermind," he said, and he stood, thanked Elrond for the offer and declined, then asked to be excused for the night.
Celeborn nodded slowly, and watched as his son bounded to the steps of the Great Mallorn and began the task of climbing them to the flets high above. "Did I miss something?"
Galadriel glared at her husband, before turning to face Elrond. "You must pardon him, he is still quite young," she said. Celeborn seemed to have suddenly understood the reason Galadriel had silenced Haldir, but Elrond did not.
"What was he about to ask for?" questioned Elrond. When Lady Galadriel did not answer, he turned to the lord. "Come, surely whatever it is will not upset me as much as you would lead me to believe. Who is it? Feanor? Maeglin? Eol?"
"Nay, none of those does he have interest in," said Celeborn. "But my lady did not wish to burden you to hear the name spoken of so soon."
"Ah." Elrond nodded. "Then I should have guessed a nobler and wiser elf and named Ereinion instead."
"And so you have solved the riddle," replied Galadriel, content to leave it at that, but Elrond stood and watched as the elfling retreated into a doorway in the great tree above.
"What does he know of the high king?"
"Only that which he has read in books and been told by Glorfindel," answered Celeborn as the lord of Imladris stepped toward the tree.
"Elrond," called Galadriel, and he paused and turned. "You do not need to do this," she said.
The sorrow he had pushed aside and left buried within him began to surface, and for a moment, Elrond nearly sat back down again. "No," he finally said, approaching the Great Mallorn once more, "I do need to do this."
"My, you have a lot of history books for an elfling your age," remarked Elrond, taking one of the tomes from the long, low shelves. Paging through it he asked cautiously, "Do you read these, or does someone read them to you?"
Arranging his menagerie of stuffed animals along the side of his bed, Haldir answered, "Nana tells me stories, but she doesn't read. Adar reads sometimes when he isn't busy, but he makes Celebrian read to me a lot." In a lower voice, Haldir added, "I don't think she likes to read to me."
"No? Why not?"
"Don't know," replied the elfling. "I try to read them to Orophin sometimes, but he fusses a lot."
"He's just a baby now, isn't he?" Elrond pulled one of the thinner volumes from the shelf, opening it to discover it to be a book of illustrations from great battles.
Nodding, Haldir crawled up onto the mattress and pulled up the covers. "I suppose it's to be expected," he answered with a sigh. Elrond smirked and couldn't help but think the young one had perhaps learned the phrase in some other context. Taking the book along, he flipped through it as he sat down on the rocking chair near the bed. Haldir frowned.
"Something wrong?"
"Nana always sits on the bed when she reads to me," he said with a pout.
Elrond stood up from the chair and sat down on the end of the bed, minding the elfling's feet. He reopened the book to a picture he had marked with his finger and looked up to see the elfling frowning again. "What now?"
"Nothing," answered Haldir quickly, slumping against the pillows. Elrond waited as patiently as possible for the elfling to tell him truly before he let out a low sigh. Haldir shrugged and said, "Nana sits up here by me. I can't see the pictures if you're down there."
"The story is more important," reasoned Elrond, but he was repositioning himself as he said this.
"You can even put your legs up if you want," offered Haldir, pushing a few stuffed animals aside to give himself more room. Elrond kicked his boots off and did just that, repositioning the book in his lap. The page was open to a majestic figure dressed in blues and gold with a half-crown around the back of his head, peeking out up over his ears. In his left hand was a shield, and a spear was in his right.
"Ereinion," said Elrond, pointing to the figure in the picture.
Haldir shifted his gaze upwards and said in a slightly haughty manner, "Yes, I know, he's Gil-Galad Ereinion. Star of radiance, scion of kings. Born in Hithlum and made high king when Turgon died in Gondolin. Gil-Galad did not rule Gondolin, the hidden city in the Valley of Tumladen, because it fell in 511 of the First Age after the return of the Noldor. Instead, he was the ruler of Lindon. Shall I continue?"
Elrond shifted one brow up while the other narrowed his eye - Haldir merely mimicked the expression. "No, thank you, that is quite enough. I think you already know all there is to know about him," answered Elrond, closing the book.
Haldir's little hand shot forward, keeping the book wedged open. "How-did-his-spear-get-known-as-Aiglos?" he asked quickly. Elrond looked down to see a pair of large liquid grey eyes looking up at him. "Would you tell me, please?"
"Aiglos. The icicle. That is all there is to it."
Haldir floundered for the words, but ended up sitting with his mouth open. Elrond picked up the youngster's hand, set it onto the bed sheets, and closed the book. "Good evening," he said, standing up to leave. He made it to the door before a little voice called out,
"I don't know what an icicle is!"
Elrond turned to see the large grey eyes spilled over with fallen tears. Frowning, he walked back and sat back down on the bed, watching as the elfling wiped his sleeve across his face and sniffled. Elrond pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the elfling, waiting until Haldir blew his nose to speak. "In winter, when the snow comes, the water drips from trees and homes and makes thin trails of frozen water that hang down."
"What's snow?" asked Haldir.
Elrond crossed his arms. "Snow. In winter, it falls from the sky. Cold, frozen rain."
Haldir scratched his head, trying to recall all of the winters he knew. "We don't have that, I don't think."
Elrond opened his mouth to object, but remembering Nenya and her bearer, he answered, "Of course you don't." Opening the book once more, Elrond flipped through the pages until he reached the image of Gil-Galad once more. "Let me tell you the story of Aiglos," he said, and Haldir smiled and cuddled his stuffed horse as Elrond began the tale.
"That is a terrible way to fish," remarked Elrond, standing on the bank with his arms crossed behind his back. Though the ground was covered with snow and the sky was a dismal grey, he wore only a shirt, tunic, and heavy pants, shivering slightly because of this.
"Why'd you just wear that if you were cold?" piped up Haldir.
Elrond sighed and looked up from the picture, having been interrupted. "Because I didn't want to be different from the other elves."
"Different's what makes us special is what Ada says," offered Haldir.
Elrond nodded and continued the story.
"I asked them all to jump in the bucket and save me the trouble, but they seem not to want to listen," replied the Elvenking, who sat on the shore. He had leggings on that were rolled to his knees, and his feet were at the water's edge so that the waves of the sea lapped now and then at his toes. "Besides," he said as he twisted the reel to bring the line in a little, "I don't have anyone to take the boat out with me." Ereinion looked up and over his shoulder slyly.
"That's still a terrible way to fish, whether on land or in boat," said Elrond.
"Why was he fishing?" asked Haldir. "Wasn't he King already?"
"He was, as I have already said," nodded Elrond. "That was his hobby. He liked to fish."
"Oh," said Haldir.
It was now that Ereinion noticed something that was mostly hidden behind Elrond's back. "What's that there?" he asked, standing up as he began to reel in the rest of the line.
"A better way to go fishing." Elrond brought the long pole around so that Ereinion could see it before handing it to him. It was a long ornately carved pole just slightly longer than Elrond was tall, and at the bottom there was a glint of metal, and a sharp point could be seen. "There are some men I have seen fish this way."
"This isn't fishing, 'tis hunting," argued Ereinion, but he stood and took the spear from Elrond as he handed him his fishing pole. "I've run out of bait," he said, looking wistfully at the sea, "but I do have a boat."
"Should I find you a sailor?" asked Elrond, looking around.
Ereinion shook his head. "Come, your father was a mariner; the least you can do is paddle a canoe." Again, the sly look fell upon Elrond, and he laughed.
"Alright, alright, let us get the boat and test your spear," he answered.
"He went fishing with Aiglos?" burst out Haldir. Elrond closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "The same spear that he carried into battle he used to spike fish?"
"If you would like to continue the story, then please, by all means," said Elrond.
Furrowing his brow, the elfling said, "But I don't know the story."
"Then be silent!" answered Elrond.
Haldir pouted. "Sorry."
The pair walked up the beach toward the boathouse, but as they passed the archery field, Ereinion suddenly turned his head. Without warning, he tossed the spear up a bit to angle it parallel to the ground, and then grabbed hold of it, drew it back, and thrust it toward the target. The spear hit center and kept going, splintering the stand and sending the target to the ground.
"Elrond?"
"Yes, m'lord?"
Pointing toward the ruined target, Ereinion said, "If I use that to go fishing, we won't have to worry about cleaning the fish because there won't be anything left of them." Turning around, Ereinion continued to point. "Did you see how that cut through the target? It sliced right through, like an icicle through snow."
"Yes," Elrond answered, a bit dismayed. "I suppose you won't get much enjoyment out of it if you use it to go fishing."
"Nonsense," replied Ereinion as he walked to retrieve the spear. "Meet me by the shore with the canoe," he shouted. "I'm not giving up an opportunity to see you paddle a boat!"
"So, he did go fishing with it."
Elrond closed the book and nodded. "Yes. Many times."
Haldir was quiet for some time, finally answering, "That just seems wrong. No offense, but..." The elfling shrugged. "That's not the sort of story I expected."
"What did you expect? A long glorious battle, the slaying of many enemies, and so on and so forth?"
"Well... yes."
Elrond's grey eyes darkened and he turned to look down upon the elfling beside him. "There are no glorious battles, no splendor in fighting. War is tragedy, all of it. Make no mistake in that. It leaves scars upon you that none can see, and the price of it is more than anyone ought ever have to pay." There was no answer, and Elrond asked, "Has anyone ever really told you about war?"
Slowly, Haldir shook his head. "I know one side fights another, for power or land or some other reason. I know sometimes..." Haldir looked carefully at Elrond. "I know sometimes, some of the warriors fighting get hurt, and sometimes, some of them die."
"War hurts us all." Elrond placed the book down on the floor by the side of the bed and folded his hands. "Aiglos was Ereinion's spear for fishing, but it saw battle as well, right to the day Ereinion-" Taking a deep breath, Elrond said, "Right to the day Gil-Galad died. Have you ever known someone who has died?"
"Lord Glorfindel."
"Have you known anyone who died and did not come back? Anyone whom you loved who was suddenly taken away from you?"
Shaking his head, Haldir squirmed a little. "You don't have to tell me," whispered Haldir. "I liked the story about the fishing, you don't have to tell me the rest."
"I have told you the beginning of the story," said Elrond gravely, "you should know the ending."
"Stay behind me," Gil-Galad insisted, shoving Elrond back.
Elrond defiantly stepped back in front of Gil-Galad's path. "I am your herald, I go before you!"
"Elrond." Gil-Galad pulled the younger elf away from Elendil and the others. "Elrond, I don't know if this plan is going to work. It goes against every strategy I've planned, but I honestly don't know if we have another choice. Now," he said as calmly as he could, "what I need you to do is bear witness to what happens, and listen carefully to the words I say."
Elrond nodded reluctantly, lowering his sword. He stared, unblinking, into the patient eyes of his friend and mentor. Not far away, he could hear the sounds of horses- the cavalry was charging, just as he had ordered Erestor and Glorfindel to. One last chance, one final strike. The loss of Oropher and most of Greenwood's troops had been devastation and lowered the morale substantially. Some elves spoke of leaving and sailing now; others, such as himself, merely thought it. Gil-Galad, however, was ready to make one last stand, to take the chance most would not. Elrond would go with him.
"Yes, I know you would," chuckled Gil-Galad. "You'd follow me to the fires of doom if I asked. But that isn't what I need you to do." His voice became solemn once more. "I need for you to follow my instructions. If I fall-"
"You, fall? You are our King, you are-"
"Elrond, I've not the time for poetics," apologized Gil-Galad. "If I fall," he repeated, "get as many out as you can. He will revel in his defeat, but that will give you some time to fall back and take what ships you can find. Go north if you must, but get as many out as you can."
"We're not going to just leave them," argued Elrond.
"If it is their fate-"
"Then it is my fate as well!"
"Elrond." Gil-Galad shook his head. "Elrond, don't be foolish. If you die- Elrond, you are peredhel, you won't come back."
"I am not about to let my brother's kin perish, and with them all of mankind!"
"Then hope that the outcome is not the first. Now listen," Gil-Galad said again, grasping Elrond by the shoulders. "Listen," he repeated as the horses hooves pounded rock and mud. "Elrond, if I fall, but if we should defeat him-"
"Stop saying that!"
"Then listen to me, and I won't have to! If we take him down and I fall, you must make sure that the ring is destroyed. The ring must be destroyed!"
"How?"
"In the fires!" Gil-Galad pointed toward the volcanic rumbling. "Take it to the center and throw it into the flames, but do not keep it."
The rumble of the horses closed in on them quickly as the few elves still upon their mounts came to their position. "My lord, word comes from King Elendil, he wishes to strike after our next pass," shouted the dark haired rider. "He awaits your-" Erestor was cut off abruptly and dropped from his horse as a short spear lanced through his left arm, the impact causing him to lose his reigns and balance.
"Glorfindel!" Elrond waved an arm toward his other captain, still upon his steed, and pointed toward some rocks as two more elves were taken down off their horses. Elrond and Gil-Galad made their way to the elf on the ground, who was more angry than he was injured.
"Bloody orcs, think they could aim better," spat out the elf on the ground, clutching his arm where the spear had lodged itself. "I suppose I should consider myself lucky that he didn't hit my better writing arm," he added.
"I have to pull it the rest of the way," answered Elrond, giving the dark brown eyes an apologetic look. "I hate to have to do it."
There was a nod. "I doubted you were going to find it a pleasurable experience. Truth be told, I'm not expecting it to be a picnic, either," he said, gritting his teeth as Gil-Galad took hold of the hand of his injured arm, while Elrond placed one of his upon the shoulder of the same arm. Grasping the bloodied side of the weapon, he yanked it the rest of the way through, then quickly bandaged the wound as well as he could. "Go, go do what you need to, I'm useless now," insisted Erestor. "Just go, I'll be here when you get back."
"I don't doubt that," Elrond said, handing the spear that had pierced him back to the elf on the ground.
"As will I," said Glorfindel, riding back up. In one hand, he held the head of an orc by the hair.
"Must you do that?" complained the injured elf.
Glorfindel held up the head to eye level and sneered at it, then threw it over his shoulder. "You want me to do something with the snipers other than kill them? Drag them here to be insulted by you, perhaps?"
"Glorfindel, we need to attack now. You're going to have to lead the cavalry around while we attack Sauron."
"What? Ereinion, are you mad?" Glorfindel did not watch those crouched on the ground, but the paths that led to where they were, and the rocks and piles of bodies where enemies could be hiding. He coughed on the dust and smoke and said, "That's ten times worse than throwing yourself at a balrog! And I know! The heat alone will kill you!"
"We have to try! We're running out of soldiers, running out of time!" answered Gil-Galad as Glorfindel side-stepped his horse to keep from being an easy target.
Erestor sat up. "Get me on my horse, then. I'll go after him, I'm nearly a casualty as it is."
"No!" shouted all three, and a fourth voice. Another elf ran up, close to the ground, to join the group. She threw off her dented helmet to reveal her fiery red hair. "I can ride, let me lead the other half of the cavalry around."
"Mount up!" commanded Glorfindel, whistling for the fallen elf's horse. "For a minute there Valarda, I thought YOU were going offer to ride up against the dark lord," he grinned.
"Lady Galadriel's still upset Ada and I are here, no need to get her royally pissed because I decided to go end the war myself."
"Such language you've learned in the company of men, m'lady," joked Glorfindel. He lifted the horn that hung from his side and blew it to signal a second charge, then lifted the flag pole from the stirrup and held it high. "I'll be right back," he said to the injured elf.
"I don't doubt that."
"Don't go running off."
"I have no intention of that, Fin."
"You'd do it just to spite me."
"Will you lead the bloody charge already, or I'm going to put a hole the size of the one in my arm through your head! Not that you'd notice," he grumbled.
"Good! If nothing else, your humor is still intact, counselor!" Glorfindel spurred his horse, and not a moment too soon as a volley of arrows rained down near where he had been.
"I hate to leave you-"
"Oh, Elrond, not you, too!" The dark elf pushed Elrond away with his right hand. "Go! Gil-Galad's already going to beat you to the glory!"
"Gil-Galad?" Elrond turned and looked to see Gil-Galad had followed right behind the charge of the cavalry, with Elendil, Isildur, and a few others coming in from the other side. The cavalry swept the path clear for the small group to race forward to their doom.
"DARO!" Haldir was clutching his stuffed horse to him, eyes huge. He was pale and had his back up against the headboard, and was looking up fearfully at Elrond. "Don't tell me the rest!"
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want him to die!" Haldir sobbed. "I want him to go fishing on the beach again and I want him to throw Aiglos at the target on the archery field. And I want him to talk to you and everyone else, but I don't want him to die." Haldir's words became inaudible as his sobs turned to outright wails, and he cried into his stuffed horse. "He's gonna die... and... and the other elf... that got... hurt... he's gonna die... and... and..."
Celebrian came into the room suddenly, tilting her head and frowning at the scene before her. "Why are you crying now, silly elfling?" she asked, approaching the bed.
"Be-case-Gil-Ga-lad's-gon-na-die," he said between choked breaths. Uncharacteristically, he dropped his horse and reached out to grab hold of his sister, who just as uncharacteristically scooped him up into her lap. She gave Elrond a puzzled look.
"It's my fault," he mumbled. "I was trying to... make a point, and he's obviously too young. I'm not very good with children sometimes," he trailed off, making to stand up and leave. The young elleth placed a hand on his shoulder, and he felt compelled to stay.
"Haldir," spoke Celebrian. "Haldir, it's just a story."
Haldir shook his head, his crying diminished. "It's real and true and he was there," he added, pointing an accusing finger at Elrond.
"Haldir," began Celebrian again, "it's a story because it already happened. It can't happen again. It's over with, and though it is sad, there is a happy ending, because Gil-Galad was an elf, and I think, because of the good he did, that the Valar will send him back again. Now, you do want to know everything about Gil-Galad, right?" Haldir nodded. "Well, not everything is going to be good, but if you want to know the whole story, you have to listen to the bad things to get to the good things. Do you want me to stay here while you listen to the rest of the story?"
Haldir thought for a moment and finally nodded his head. "Yes, because he won't try to scare you," he decided, scooting closer to Celebrian, who held him firmly on her lap as she nodded for Elrond to finish his tale.
"What did I tell you about staying behind me?" Gil-Galad pushed himself harder, casting off his cloak to relieve himself of the extra weight. Moments later he was even with Elrond. "Now, behind me, as I told you!" His arm thrust out to push Elrond back, but it was caught, and the two of them came to a halt.
"Why do you keep me back? Let me stand with you!" yelled Elrond defiantly.
"No!" roared Gil-Galad, shoving Elrond back. "For the love of the Valar Elrond, listen to me, and listen to me well. If we succeed, you will still be needed in this world, not me. You are young, you have goals, thoughts of a family. I have achieved all I ever wanted to accomplish, and more. Perhaps your time will come tomorrow, or in a week, or perhaps never, but my time is now," he said, clasping Elrond's hand with his own.
Gil-Galad pulled away and began to run once more to his destination, while Elrond stood and clutched his hand around the small object within it. His pause was brief as the enemy began closing in again, and Elrond drew his sword and charged his way up behind the Noldorin King.
The seconds it took to reach him seemed an eternity for Elrond. Somehow he managed to fend off anything that tried to move into his path, but his efforts, in his mind, were too little too late. Years of fighting had come down to this final stand, and Elrond was too far to be more than an observer of the events that occurred.
"M'lord," spoke Celebrian sharply, "perhaps you should conclude your tale for this evening," she advised. She looked down at the trembling elfling in her lap, his eyes closed tight. "He can be very emotional," she whispered to Elrond. Haldir said something that was muffled between the folds of Celebrian's dress and the plush fur of his horse. Celebrian translated by saying, "He says he is sorry to make you remember."
"No, I'm the one who should be sorry," sighed Elrond. "I'm sorry I scared you, Haldir," added Elrond.
A few more inaudible words were offered as Haldir still had his back turned to Elrond, and Celebrian said carefully, "He says isn't scared now, just sad. He also wants to know..." Celebrian offered an apologetic look. "He wants to know if Ereinion was buried in Lindon or Mordor, because the books never say."
"Neither," answered Elrond. He closed his eyes, remembering back only a few years ago when the incident had occurred. "There was nothing left to bury. His shield, his spear, his crown, those things remained, but his body... there was nothing but ash."
Turning around slowly and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Haldir asked, "But then how will he come back if his body is gone?"
Elrond smiled. "The part of him that matters is not gone. His spirit is waiting in the Halls of Mandos, and one day, if the Valar permit it, he will be reborn into a new body, just like his old one. But what he looked like, that never was the important part. The important part is the part that made him who he was."
"When will he come back?" asked Haldir.
"Oh, I don't know the answer to that," replied Elrond. "If I did, I'd be able to plan a big party for him ahead of time, and invite everyone to celebrate."
"Could I come?"
Elrond nodded and chuckled. "Of course you could come. And we could listen as Gil-Galad told you stories about himself. And one day, we will," he added with confidence, looking much happier than he had since the end of the last age. "Until then, he can still live on through memories, and through these tales like the ones I have told you and the ones you have read. And if you keep telling those tales..."
"...then the generations that follow will know the stories of our past, and give hope and reassurance to those in the future." Haldir stretched his back and rubbed his neck, glancing up over the wall. From the clouds in the sky, it appeared there would be rain, but he did not dare lower the morale of the troops. Looking around at the small crowd that had assembled around him, he could not believe the vast differences in ages. Some had faces fair as elves, but were no higher than his shoulder, while others stooped with the many years they had spent in fields or bent over their anvils. He took in each of their faces, some with bold looks, some with bold looks covering fear, some with bold looks covering panic and despair. The little elfling inside of him wanted to stop this story before it even began, to go home to the tree where his Nana and Ada and brothers lived and to be rid of this horrible nightmare.
The proud and noble elf, however, merely sipped from the water skin that was passed to him and sent it to the next person in the circle. Something tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned his head ever so slightly to see one end of a Lorien bow resting over his armor. Pushing it away with the back of his hand he excused himself, much to the annoyance of the younger members of the army.
"You've got to tell us another! Please, m'lord!" begged one of the boys as he tugged on the crimson cape, a stable hand by the looks of him.
One of the older soldiers laughed and said, "Sit down, Garren, he'll not return if you act like that!" This brought on laughter as the boy stuck out his lip and plopped down on the ground, his straw-colored hair flopping back into place.
"I shall return, fear not," Haldir assured him. "Good sir, why do you not tell them a tale in my stead?" he asked of the soldier who had spoken.
"I should be the storyteller, then?" The soldier turned to another and asked, "Does he insinuate I have lived so long as to know so many tales?"
"Nay, Gamling, he's insinuating you can't stop talking, and might as well put your mouth to good use!" chuckled the second.
Haldir laughed with them, but then the impatient tapping began on his shoulder again, and he followed the insistent elf away from the crowd to a secluded part of the wall. "I haven't seen your brothers. Did they not come with you?"
"Yes, good to see you, too, Legolas," Haldir smirked. "Faring well, I see," he continued as Legolas stepped away and rolled his eyes. "What, me? Well, the march was tiring, but we all arrived on time-"
"Alright, quit it." Legolas stomped back over. "How are you?"
"I'm well, and yourself?"
"Peachy."
Haldir snorted. "Peachy? Where did that come from?"
Legolas shrugged. "I don't quite- Oh! It's something Ereinion used to say."
"Ereinion?"
"You know, Gil-Galad," said Legolas.
"You know Gil-Galad!"
"Knew, yes. Or, well..." Legolas trailed off and looked up toward the sky. "Lovely night for a battle, isn't it?"
Haldir shook his head. "Someday, I will find out how old you are."
"Not today," promised Legolas. "Ask me tomorrow."
"What if tomorrow does not come?" Haldir frowned upon saying the words, and Legolas put a hand upon his shoulder.
"You're afraid," whispered Legolas. Haldir bowed his head. "I am, too," he added, quickly averting his gaze as Haldir lifted his head. "Glad I'm not the only one."
"There's nothing to worry about," Haldir said confidently, "now that you've got a real bow instead of that toy your father gave you."
"Toy?!" Legolas motioned toward Haldir's sheathed sword. "And I suppose you've got a sharp one in their for once?"
"Well, I don't know... give me your hand, we'll find out," he grinned making to draw the blade. Legolas jumped back and laughed, sighing himself back into a state of apparent calm. "The lady said we need to make it to morning. If we can hold them off that long, all will be well," said Haldir. Legolas nodded, and the two elves walked back to the crowd that had been gathered to listen to stories.
"I have kept your place for you, Captain, though others wanted to sit here," said the youth who had begged him to return as Haldir and Legolas approached.
Haldir bowed his head. "I thank you. I wonder, you seem as if you might be the eldest in your family."
"My father is the eldest," he said solemnly. This gave way to more laughter, and Haldir was glad for it and joined in.
"No, the eldest of your siblings. Do you have brothers? Sisters?"
"Many!" replied the boy. "Why, I have four, and maybe another come the harvest months!"
"A family of six, that's quite a few," nodded Haldir. "What would you say to a family of seven?"
"Seven? Seven would be fine," said the boy. "There are a few families here with eight, ones of nine! They have twice been blessed with twins," he added.
"Well, nine I could not begin to imagine," said Haldir, "for the largest family there ever was among the elves was seven- and all of them boys. They were the seven sons of Feanor." He waited to see if there was a flicker of recognition from anyone in the group. Opening his mouth to speak again, he silenced himself as the boy he had been speaking with recited:
"Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras." When no one said anything, the boy said, "I always thought them rather interesting, but I don't know much more than what was in a book my grandmother once read me, and it wasn't much."
"Let me tell you their stories," offered Haldir, wishing the sun would rise before the enemy came.
The End
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