After Marty had gone away, thoroughly disgusted with himself, the Orcs looked at each other without a trace of triumph. They now knew that they had the prisoner they wanted, but they had all become rather fond of the cheery ‘Ravi Shankar’ in the short space of time that they had spent with him.

“We need to think this over,” said Garbazh. “We need to think over what to do…”
He sighed heavily. “I’d better go tell him that we now know who he is.”
The others looked at each other as he walked away to speak to Haldir.
“Ravi’s not a bad sort,” said Ashnazg.
“And he’s the poet Mardir’s friend, too,” said Szlash.

Garbazh found Haldir wrestling with an enormous sitar that Trazhcan had found for him. He grinned. “That sounded terrible,” he said. “Even worse than Sewazhe’s horn.”

“Eastern music is an acquired taste,” said Haldir, with an intellectual air.

Garbazh’s grin widened. “But what you played just now wasn’t Eastern music,” he said, and then his face sobered again as he remembered why he had come. “Ravi, we now know who you are. Haldir. Of L’Oreal…”

The sitar toppled over and hit the floor with a crash. HaldirÂ’s usually cheerful face turned white with fear. This was the end. There was no hope of escape now. He wondered what the Orcs were going to do to him, now that they knewÂ…

Garbazh looked at him with sympathy, although his face was stern. “To be honest, I don’t think much of the jobs that my superiors assign me,” he said. “But Ravi… Haldir…I’m afraid that we are all mindless machines in the service of Mordor.”

Haldir found himself shaking his head. “I cannot agree,” he said. “I don’t see you that way. You are intelligent, thinking people who have treated me with great courtesy and kindness…”

“Stop that,” snapped Garbazh.
“I’m sorry,” said Haldir, startled.
“It’s all right,” said Garbazh, “it’s just that…”

It was just that he always hated the cruel tasks that he was asked to do. And it made him feel even more guilty when this blasted elf talked like thisÂ…

“Haldir,” he said, “if it will make any difference to you, you will continue to be treated with courtesy. As long as I have anything to do with it…”

He paused. Haldir bowed, not knowing what to say.

“When I am taking you away from your friends, your family and all the people and places that you love, I suppose it’s ridiculous to talk of courtesy. But that’s the very least that I can do for you.”

Garbazh abruptly turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He turned and looked thoughtfully for a moment at the closed door. He could not officially release Haldir, but he could certainly allow him to escapeÂ… The door was closed, but not locked. Garbazh left it unlocked and walked away.

But several hours later, Garbazh found that Haldir was still in his room. ‘He has to be the dumbest elf I’ve ever met,’ thought Garbazh, in frustration. ‘What’s he thinking of!’

Haldir’s mind was unfortunately far away from the here and now. He was thinking of a summer’s day, many years ago, when he was walking home in the soft evening light that filtered through the golden mallorns. There he was, a young elfling called Haldir, walking sulkily home on leaden feet, walking slower and slower as his home drew near. For his father and mother were waiting for him… and they would ask him, “How did your archery class go today?” And he’d have to tell them, again, that his archery class had not gone very well today, and that he had humiliated himself in public once more.

But that day had been different. There had been a new boy in the archery class that day, and Haldir had warmed to him at once. For here at last was someone who was as bad an archer as he was. And he had such a pleasant smile, too. He had said that he lived somewhere nearbyÂ… Haldir decided, on the spur of the moment, to put off the impending interview with his parents, and visit his new friend instead.

His new friend had a pretty long name, for such a tiny person. Mardir Soronúmë Wood. He had said that his home was somewhere around hereÂ… ah, here it was! His fatherÂ’s name was on the mallorn trunk – ‘Mr. Elijah Wood.Â’ Haldir tentatively knocked on the trunk, and when a friendly hobbit voice invited him to come on up, he climbed up the white ladder. Marty hadnÂ’t been home, and Haldir had met his father that day, for the first time.

He had bowed to Mr. Wood politely, but hadnÂ’t said much to him at first, for this strange father looked so different from any other father he had ever met. But as he sat there, waiting for Mardir to get home, he had found himself talking to this kind, reassuring person, telling him the story of his life, telling him how he hated this new place, LÂ’Oreal, to which his parents had moved, and even telling him that there wasnÂ’t a thing that he was good at, at school.

And Marty’s father had smiled when he heard that. “Well, Haldir,” he had said, pausing for a moment to light his pipe. “I’m many years older than you are, and I have never once met a person who was no good at anything.”

And Haldir had replied, “Well, now you have, sir. There’s a first time for everything.”

“No,” Mr. Wood had said, “There must be something you’re good at. Probably lots of things. You just haven’t found out what they are yet, because you’re still so young.”

“You’re very kind, sir, but…”

“There are no buts, lad. One day, when you’re grown up, and you’re excelling yourself at whatever job you’ve chosen to do and you have a beautiful lady who’s in love with you, come and see me.”

“Come and see you?”

“Yes, come and see me so I can say ‘I told you so’”

Haldir gazed out of the window of the room in which the Orcs had imprisoned him. The mallorns shimmered in the evening light, just as they had shimmered, that beautiful evening long ago. He had come so closeÂ… so close to achieving everything that MartyÂ’s father had said he would. But now, it was not to be. This was the end of his career at Radio Mallorn. The end of his relationship with Mary Sue. And MartyÂ’s fatherÂ…damn Caradhras! Damn snowstorms!

HaldirÂ’s vision blurred as he studied the window, measuring its dimensions, its distance from the ground, trying to see if he could jump out of it and make a dash for his freedom. It never once occurred to him to try the door.

Hearing a sound behind him, Haldir hurriedly dashed the back of his hand across his eyes, before turning around to see who it was. He saw no one at first, as his gaze was fixed at a spot roughly six feet from the floor, and the person who had entered was only three feet and six inches tall.

“Marty!”

All the hope that he had lost flooded back into him again. But it was too much for him to take.

“Just hold on for a little while, Hal,” said Marty, gently. “We’ll be home soon…”

Haldir nodded.

“Come on,” said Marty, “We’ve got to make a run for it. Leggy’s waiting outside.”

“Marty, I thought I’d never see you again…why did you go away like that when I asked you not to…”

“Was that why you coughed and coughed, Hal? I’m so sorry – I didn’t understand…”

“And I was so rude to you before the Orcs took me away… suppose that had been the last time I ever saw you…”

“Now don’t be ridiculous, Hal. D’you think I don’t know what’s what?” Marty clambered up onto a chair to give his friend a hug.

“I’m warning you, Marty, if you keep carrying on like this I’m going to cry.”

From his vantage point on the chair, Marty looked at Haldir. He really was very close to tears.

“That’s just too bad,” said Marty, hard-heartedly. “I’ll carry on any way I want to.”

“You midget,” said Haldir.

“You monster,” said Marty.

Haldir burst out laughing. Marty smiled too. “Now, that’s more like it,” he said. It was wonderful to hear a loud, infectious Haldir laugh again. He took Haldir’s hand in his.

“Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky…” *

“You bloody poet,” said Haldir.

* from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot.