Disclaimer: The characters belong to JRR Tolkien and the Tolkien dynasty. Not mine, no profit intended. I have mickeyed with canon, making a certain trio of Lorien Marchwardens related to Lord Celeborn. Forgive the expansion of characters we barely saw in either book or movie. With deep respect to both the Professor and Peter Jackson for their vision, no matter how much I might have wept at PJ’s inclusion of the Elves and their sacrifices.

Sacrifices

Orophin, guardian and Marchwarden of Lorien, had remained behind when his brother Haldir led the combined troops of the Golden Wood and Imladris to join the battle at Helm’s Deep. Most of Elrond’s people had already begun the trek West, yet a few gladly agreed to join with the Lord and Lady’s people to lend assistance to the Men of Rohan in their struggle against the Darkness. With a heavy heart, Orophin had watched his brother gather supplies and direct the preparation. He had heard many tales of the terrible losses suffered in the Last Alliance, so many centuries ago, yet then there had been many more to stand against Sauron and his minions. Every night since Haldir’s departure with the contingent of one hundred warriors, Orophin had climbed to the highest branch of the palace talan and gazed at the stars. His prayers to Elbereth, he feared, fell on deaf ears. It seemed the Valar had abandoned Middle-Earth and all its denizens.

This night, seven risings of the sun from the last sight of his brother, his soul felt a terrible weight upon it. He and his brothers had always had a deep bond and though Rumil had stayed behind as well, he did not share the awful foreboding Orophin experienced. With a shake of his head, Orophin lay back against the mallorn’s trunk and closed his eyes. In times of stress, he could sense Haldir and tonight what he felt troubled him.

Cold rain sluicing down and tunneling between cloak, armor, and flesh… The close quarters of the Elven warriors and Men, the fear of their allies, the Men, nearly palpable and with good reason, for they faced a horde of yrch, Uruk-hai, and Men under Sauron’s sway such as none had seen since the fabled Last Alliance. A short way from Haldir stood the Dúnedain, Aragorn, last of the line Númenoreans descended from Elrond’s twin, Elros. Beside him, Legolas Thranduilion, and Gimli, the Dwarf awaited the word to begin
the battle.

Take care, brother! Orophin cried out, the sense of doom growing nearly unbearable. His hands fisted on his thighs in his frustration, wishing he had not been so proud, so disdainful of the venture the Lord of Imladris and his own Lord and Lady had agreed upon. How he regretted his harsh words to Haldir.

“You throw yourself away on this, Haldir! The Wood needs you more than this ill-fated mission.” He had paused, gripping his brother’s arms. “I need you. I beg you. Do not go. I have no little worry this will end badly.” He had nearly begged Haldir, but his brother had stood firm and now…

Now he felt all his fears coming to pass. In his extended state, Orophin saw what his brother saw, felt what he felt… The cold rivulets of water trickling beneath his armor, the chill air against wet clothing and skin, the excitement of battle, waiting to level his bow and shoot a well-placed arrow between evil eyes.

Time passed ever so slowly in this state and it seemed hours had gone by… He retracted his senses from Haldir, not wanting to distract him from the fight before him. Instead, he sang to the Valar, though he wondered again if they listened to those in Arda any longer. He prayed for them to watch over his beloved brother, to guide his arrow and his sword… To bring him back, hale and hearty. For Orophin knew many would not return after this battle ended.

He must have fallen into reverie, unaware of his surroundings, for Ithil stood high above him when a terrible burning pain slashed at his right arm, bringing him upright. His eyes flew open, but he did not see the mallyrn trees under the silvery light, no branches, no lights of Caras Galadhon.

No, instead a nightmare unfolded before his mind’s eye. There he saw the dead, Elf, Man, Orc as if they had just recently fallen. The view swayed and another searing blow came to his back. He cried out, knowing now he truly felt his brother’s pain.

“Ai, Haldir!” he wept, feeling his brother’s presence fade gradually. Alone… so alone. No one to hold him… A Man’s face, Aragorn came into view briefly, sorrow and concern written on his features before the vision darkened completely. Orophin curled against the trees, sobbing, and the tree shivered beneath his touch in sympathy. From below him, he heard a wail of grief. The Lady knew… She knew…

It made it no easier, but he managed to scramble down to the palace level and make his way to his lieges. Celeborn and Galadriel embraced beneath the arch leading inside their home as she gave way to her own grief… A thing Orophin had never thought to see. She had experienced so much loss in her very long life he did not think she would express any over the loss of a few of her people… Or his brother.

As Orophin approached, Galadriel straightened, her face much sadder than he ever remembered in his lifetime. She extended her hand to him and he went to her, kneeling as he took it, but she would not have it. Instead, she pulled him to his feet, looking into his eyes.

“Orophin, I grieve for our loss. Though Mithrandir returned with aid, it came too late for many of our people…” A ragged sigh passed her lips. “You must go, guardian, and bring back our dead. Legolas bides with them. He will know what to do to preserve them. I have something to give you that will assist in proper burial for most of them… But Haldir… He must rest here… Must.” She turned and accepted a flask from her husband. “Here, take this. Make certain you pour at least half of it into his mouth and use the rest to wipe down his body. It will keep him from corruption.”

“My Lady…” he began, his voice still choked with tears. “My brother Rumil…”

“Will stay here. I cannot spare another of my Marchwardens. Take others with you, but I will not send another in your place. You know what to do. I would not have our kinsman lay in a common grave, though it grieves me that any need do so. Please… I entrust you with this sad task. That you may ensure they all receive their due for their sacrifice.”

Orophin bowed his head, clasping the glass to his breast. “I willingly do your bidding, my Lady, as ever.”

With that, he pelted down the talan stairs, calling to four trusted friends and fellow guardians. A short time later, a wagon, padded with furs and moss and filled with provisions made its way from Lorien south and east, toward Helm’s Deep and the costly victory won there. Beneath Orophin’s gray cloak hung the precious liquid the Lady had given him.

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Aragorn ordered a search of the dead, separating the Men and Elves from the Orcs, yet he too moved among them, looking in desperation for that certain golden haired Elf he needed to find. How glad he had been to see him. How sorrowed at his fall. All around him others pulled bodies apart, tossing the Orcs into a huge pile for burning once they finished the gruesome task. Those Elves who survived helped as well, taking their slain brethren away to prepare them for burial. At Aragorn’s side, Legolas and Gimli worked silently, grim determination lighting their faces.

A sobbed intake of breath spun Aragorn around. Legolas stood over a still form, a fist pressed to his mouth. Tears not shed for other lost companions, not even Gandalf, shimmered in the Mirkwood Elf’s eyes. He fell to his knees, pushing the Orc bodies away from the fallen silvery form. Legolas reached out to brush away strands of hair from the pale face and close the staring eyes. Then he looked up, as fierce an expression on his beautiful features as Aragorn had ever seen.

“We must move him inside, Aragorn. There are things we must do for them all… But especially for him.” His voice begged more than his words and Aragorn nodded, squeezing his own eyes against tears.

He had not had gotten to Haldir’s side in time to do more than catch him and keep him from falling back to the stones like a sack of vegetables. At his agreement, Legolas hefted Haldir’s body over his shoulder and headed for the keep. He shouted to the surviving Elves to gather their dead and lay them out beside each other, identifying each one. All around the Rohirrim did the same with their own slain brethren and the sound of women’s cries arose around Helm’s Deep.

Inside the fort, Aragorn followed Legolas to one of the rooms they had been assigned to sleep in. Once there, the prince lay Haldir on his own bed, then assessed the wounds, both fatal and non lethal. The blow to Haldir’s arm had fractured it and splinters of bone protruded from the skin. Tears streamed down Legolas’ face as he gently turned him over to expose the vicious slash down the Marchwarden’s back, surely breaking ribs and puncturing his lungs.

“Help me undress and wash him… I would do it myself alone, but…” He trailed off and Aragorn realized that Legolas had known… Had known that he and Haldir had grown very close before they left Lorien. And that Haldir had come not just for the Alliance, but because both he and Legolas fought there. The Marchwarden had comforted Aragorn in Lorien, aware of the burden he carried. Yet in that comfort, Aragorn also discovered the guardian’s heart belonged to another and one who would face as much danger as the others of the Fellowship did.

He met Legolas’ gaze and put his arm around the deceptively slender shoulders. “Aye, I would be honored to help you prepare him,” he told the prince. “He meant a great deal to many and his loss will be felt for a very long time.”

The sapphire gaze lowered and pained grief marred the beautiful face as Legolas struggled with his feelings. At last, a shivery breath left him. “I would have you gather warm water, soap, and soft cloths. In our own realms, we have certain… things we use, but we will have to make do with what we have. The others that came with him… They will do this for their own, but he… He should have only those who loved him best here care for him.”

For a moment, Legolas’ words stunned Aragorn, and then he pulled the Elf into his arms, feeling the shudders passing through his friend’s body. They had grown so close during these troubles, had shared more than the battles and the hardships. Raised around Elves and loving Elrond’s daughter, Aragorn had never sought a relationship with any of the males. He had stayed to himself, alone and feeling out of place with both races. Until the Fellowship, when he found himself thrown into a mixed company facing the trials of a dangerous quest.

Despite his long life as a Man and the dangers he had frequently faced, the unique challenges of the quest he had begun told another tale. Never again would he feel so deeply for others as he did for those fellow members of their failed mission. So many, complex emotions roiled within him. Love, protectiveness, friendship deep and abiding, all jumbled together in an oft-painful mixture. And he knew the others felt it as well as he met Gimli’s eyes over Legolas’ shoulder.

“He did not have to come,” Gimli said softly in his gruff voice, his brown eyes gleaming with unshed tears as they looked over at Haldir’s body. “He could have stayed with his brothers in safety. Another could have come in his place. The Lady will miss him.”

Legolas reached over to pull the Dwarf close. “Ai, Gimli, you have it right. Yet I fear Man’s history will not even mention his name. Would you help Aragorn and I care for him?”

Gimli nodded and together the three began to undress and wash the stain of battle and wounds from the marble flesh, so cold and still. Flashes from the past passed through their minds as they worked.

“The Dwarf breathes so loudly we could have shot you in the dark.” An arrogant look followed by a smirk.

“Welcome, Legolas Thranduilion.” Innocuous words yet the expression in those dark blue eyes making Legolas want to fall into the Marchwarden’s arms.

“We have come to honor that Alliance.” His gaze reaching for Aragorn and Legolas, reassuring them he had come for them.

Washing his silvery hair, drying it, rebraiding it in the manner he had worn it in during his life, cleaning his clothing and armor, setting his arm as best they could and then redressing him and laying him with his sword, bow, and quiver in a semblance of sleep. No stiffness had taken his limbs, despite the time passed since his death and weeping, Legolas pressed his lips to the beautiful cold ones beneath his.

“May you return one day to Valinor, mellon-nin… melethron-nin,” he whispered, then caressed a pale cheek for a last time.
Aragorn’s heart joined his friend’s pain. At least Arwen still loved him, even if she journeyed West with her kin… At least she lived.

“I can do naught for him, Legolas, but make certain that he is not forgotten,” Aragorn tried to reassure his friend.

Legolas looked up, searching Aragon’s eyes, and then clasped his arm. “I know you will, Aragorn. I would wait vigil with him until his kin arrive.”

The Ranger nodded, understanding his friend’s need to remain at his lover’s side until relieved. “Then I will bring you food and drink and help where I can with the others.”

He and Gimli left Legolas sitting beside Haldir’s body, head bowed, one hand clasping Haldir’s limp one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Orophin and the others drove themselves and their horses as if possessed, making Helm’s Deep in two days and nights. They arrived as the sun rose on the third day and Gandalf greeted them, deep sorrow in his eyes and on his face.

“Sad welcome, Marchwarden, but glad I am to see you.” He nodded at the large wagon and those that followed Orophin. “We have prepared them as best we can, given the circumstances. Tell Galadriel and Celeborn the battle has been won, yet the war has just begun. Their sacrifices have not been in vain, yet I fear much more blood will be shed in the near future.”

“My thanks for your caring, Mithrandir. The Lord and Lady have foreseen much, yet they do not regret sending assistance to the Rohirrim.” Left unsaid, I regret my brother’s death, but could not have stopped him from following his heart.

As those who had followed dispersed to gather their wounded and dead, Gandalf led the way into the fortress where Aragorn stood watch before a door. The battle seemed to have left a lingering grief within the Ranger, one that fled briefly when he met Orophin’s gaze.

“Orophin! You have come! Please, come inside,” he asked, opening the door to reveal a tableau not unlike one Orophin had witnessed in the past.
Legolas of Mirkwood lay across Haldir’s chest, his arms embracing the Marchwarden’s body. Yet no returning caress came as it had in the past. Instead, pale flesh lay still and cool, the radiance dimmed. Orophin closed his eyes against the prick of tears.

“Brother,” he whispered, and then moved to kneel beside the bed. One of Legolas’ arms moved to rest across his shoulders in comfort.

“He died bravely, Orophin. We have done the best we could to honor him,” Legolas’ soft voice murmured.

Orophin turned to the Mirkwood prince, seeing terrible sorrow within the sapphire eyes and knew his brother had been mourned deeply here. He placed a hand over Legolas’ as it lay on Haldir’s chest, then bent forward to press his lips to the prince’s warm ones.

“He loved you dearly, Legolas. Though his death tears at me, I am glad you have been here to care for him.” Orophin turned to take in his brother’s dear features. “I… I have a gift from the Lady to give him and though you have washed him as best you can, I must undress him again and bathe him with part of her gift.”

Legolas nodded, then rose and went to speak to Aragorn, his voice a murmur in Orophin’s mind as he gazed at Haldir’s face again. He looked so peaceful, yet the inner light that had shone from his brother had dimmed. Not extinguished, just very faint. It gave Orophin hope, though he knew all too well such hope would most likely prove vain.

He pulled the flask from beneath his tunic and gently opened Haldir’s mouth, dribbling about half of the contents between the straight white teeth and onto the tongue. Though he knew not what the Lady’s magic would do, he would not think to disobey her in any way. His fingers released Haldir’s jaw and he rose a bit to kiss those cold, pale lips, and then lay his cheek against his brother’s.

“My heart will grieve for you as long as I draw breath, brother. When we return to the Golden Wood and lay you to your rest, I will beg the Lady’s permission to finish what you began. For Mithrandir tells us this has just begun. I would not have your death and those of our friends and kinsmen be futile.”

The prince returned and Orophin rose. Together, they once again undressed Haldir, and then took the soft cloths Legolas provided and smoothed the remainder of the liquid over every inch of the chill skin. They rubbed it in until no trace showed, and then redressed him.

“I know not what the full purpose of this treatment might be, Legolas, but the Lady remained adamant that I do this. Now, we must rest and tomorrow we will depart for Lorien with our warriors,” Orophin told Legolas.

“I would go with you, Orophin, but Aragorn and the others need me to see this to the end… It grieves me that I cannot accompany you and him to your home.” Legolas sighed, bowing his head.

The Marchwarden could not bear his brother’s lover to feel so torn. He embraced Legolas again. “He would not expect it of you, mellon-nin. I know your heart feels rift in two with this, but I will make certain he rests, as he deserves. His fea will know how you feel,” he told Legolas, then pushed away to look into the tortured eyes. “Go, rest… Aragorn and you could use to comfort each other as well. My men and I will gather the others together and at daybreak, we will leave.”

Legolas’ shoulders straightened and he gave a grateful look to Orophin. “Then I will leave him to you, Orophin. I will be there before you go.”

With that, he pulled Orophin close for a moment, then left the room with a last longing look at the quiet body on his bed. The guardian took Legolas’ place beside Haldir’s bed, holding his brother’s cold hand in his own. Slow tears dripped from his eyes as he studied the set features.

“Mell-penn, I miss you so. Pray the Valar your sacrifice has not been in vain.” He lay upon Haldir’s body, in the same pose he had found Legolas, and closed his eyes. Those who had followed him would see to the others for he had no heart to leave Haldir. Instead, he would stay at his side until he carried him to the wagon to make their way back to Lorien.

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Dawn had barely broken over the White Mountains, painting the plain before Helm’s Deep a golden color. Orophin rose and took his brother’s body into his arms, still soft and yielding as if he had not died days before. No smell of corruption and death, just his sweet Haldir’s own scent rose to Orophin’s nose and nearly brought him to his knees. He pulled Haldir closer, steeling himself to present a strong face to those outside.

A pall of smoke still lingered from the burning enemies’ bodies, but only Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli, Gandalf, and those from Lorien stirred this early. To one side of the gate a huge mound of earth represented the burial of the Rohirrim that had fallen. Orophin carried Haldir to the wagon and laid him beneath the canopy, beside those who had followed him. The wounded rode the horses Orophin’s company had brought, some requiring others to hold them.

Legolas and the other remaining members of the Fellowship approached. Aragorn came forward first to make his farewells. He drew in a shocked breath.

“Orophin… He… He almost looks alive,” he whispered, his gaze remaining on Haldir’s face.

The Marchwarden shook his head. “I carried him, Aragorn. No life remains in him, no breath… Perhaps my Lady’s magic sustains the appearance, for she cares for him as well and would not see him corrupt. My men have taken steps to keep the others from the effects of death until we lay them to rest beneath the Golden Woods earth.”

He touched Aragorn’s arm. “Give him your farewells, properly, Isildur’s heir. He would want that.”

The Man bent to place a kiss on Haldir’s forehead, then brushed his knuckles across the sculpted cheek. “My thanks to you, Haldir of Lorien, for all you have given. I will not allow your name or memory to fade from history…”

He rose and backed away, allowing the others their goodbyes. At last, only Legolas remained and his friends moved a space away to give him time to truly say farewell. The golden prince pressed his lips to Haldir’s then laid his forehead against the fallen warrior’s. He spoke no words, but Orophin knew the prince spoke to Haldir’s fea, promising never-ending love. When he rose, Orophin moved closer.

“Return to Lorien, my friend. Though he will not be there in spirit, I would have you visit us again. I will not leave Arda when the others do, for my heart will remain here. Only if he calls to me from Valinor will I make that journey.”

Legolas gave a weak smile and clasped Orophin’s arms. “My thanks for the offer, Orophin, but it will be many long years before Lorien sees me again. I fear we have a fearsome war upon our hands.”
Orophin bowed his head in acknowledgement of Legolas’ words, then mounted his horse and gave the word to move forward. The wagon’s wheels slowly turned, heavy with its sad burden. He looked down at his brother and the others who had given their lives and vowed he would do what he could to prevent such tragedy again. He would speak to the Lady upon his return.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The trip back to Lorien seemed endless, though Orophin knew it took no longer than it had to reach Helm’s Deep. They entered the Golden Wood and made for Caras Galadhon, accompanied by the song of mourning all around them. Families and lovers of those who had accompanied Haldir began to follow and by the time the entourage reached the palace, numbers had swollen to a crowd. Galadriel and Celeborn awaited them, descending the stairs to meet the sad group as Orophin dismounted and gave his horse’s care over to a sentry.

“Welcome back, Orophin. Let us allow those who grieve to take their loved ones and we will attend to our fallen Marchwarden,” the Lady told him, loud enough for all to hear.

He bowed his head and one by one, the slain returned to arms that missed them. Their grief swelled so greatly he nearly staggered beneath it, yet he forced himself to remain strong. Once more he gathered Haldir into his arms and followed the Lady and her Lord into the palace.

Rumil stood outside a door and opened it to let him enter. Rather than a bier, Orophin found a bed and table laden with potions beside it. He turned to his leaders with a question in his eyes.

“Look at him, Orophin. Truly look at him,” Galadriel commanded.

He swung around to study his brother’s body and gasped. No longer pale, but with the blush of life in his cheeks and lips. Faint, granted, but more than he had seen before in Helm’s Deep. During the journey home, he had tried not to keep going back to Haldir, afraid he would keep opening the fresh wound of his own grief. But now… Now what he saw defied all he had ever known.

“His soul had not left us, Marchwarden. The love of others bound it here in Arda and though Mandos would have him, another Valar refused to allow him to leave. He has other things to attend to before his time in Middle-earth ends.” She moved toward Haldir and sat beside him, assessing his wounds. “Sorely wounded he may be, but between my and his own healing skills, he will mend.”

Orophin fell to his knees. “How, my Lady? I saw those injuries.”

She smiled her secret smile and looked up at her mate. “We have seen this. Your brother has the favor of the lady Elbereth herself. She has interceded for him and gained his life in return for another’s.”

The words caused Orophin to tremble. “Whose? If I might take his place–”

“No, Orophin… He would not separate you from your brothers. ‘Tis another. One who has pledged herself to a mortal and believes she will join him when he finally passes onto whatever Doom Men have in store for them. She is mistaken in this though, for Mandos has demanded that no other Firstborn join a mortal there.”

A mixture of joy and curiosity tumbled within Orophin’s mind. The only Elf he knew of to pledge to a Mortal would be the Lady’s own granddaughter. But… Such sorrow that would bring her. First, to watch her beloved die and then not to join him later would seem cruel at best.
He shook his head, unwilling to pursue the thoughts and still dazed with the knowledge his brother would live. “Legolas…”

“Yes, he will know and this will give him strength when he most needs it. The son of Thranduil will linger here in Arda after most of us have departed for the Undying Lands. But now I must concentrate on my healing. Stay if you will, but only to aid me. I must set his arm properly and heal his ribs and lungs.”

Orophin rose and went to her side. “Tell me what to do, Lady. I am yours to command as always.”
She gave him instructions, and then set to work.

Anor rose and set, giving way to Ithil’s pale light and yet they labored. Outside, Celeborn saw to the preparation of food for them, the mourning of those who had fallen and given their lives to aid Men, and he waited as Rumil did. The youngest guardian seemed distracted and unable to sit still.
“What troubles you, Rumil?”

“I have not been as close to Haldir as Orophin, yet I feel as though I have no place here,” the guardian admitted.

Celeborn gave him a gentle smile and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You are his kin, and though distant, mine as well. Your presence here gives your brothers and the Lady strength. Be at ease and exercise your patience.”

Rumil thanked him and tried to stand guard quietly, though the waiting drove him near distraction. Life went on outside and behind the door, Lady and guardian continued to work.

“He will require many days of rest and will not regain consciousness for longer than that. Such a brush with death takes much from any, no matter their strength of spirit,” Galadriel told Orophin, her eyes shadowed and her face pale.

“Aye, Lady. I believe that. You should rest yourself,” he replied. Though exhausted himself, he would remain beside his brother until he opened his eyes.

“I will, but only if you will agree to do the same. Allow your brother Rumil to keep watch over Haldir. He sorrows that he has not been here at his side.”
Orophin’s eyebrows rose. Rumil felt left out? He nodded, then went to open the door. “We have finished. The Lady would take her rest, as would I, but Haldir will need someone to stay beside him. Rumil?”

His brother turned to him, hope in his eyes. “He… he lives?”

A broad smile broke across Orophin’s face. “Aye, through the Lady and the grace of the Valar. But now we must seek our own respite. Would you be there for him, brother?”

“Gladly, Orophin, gladly,” Rumil replied, then hugged Orophin closely. “I thought I had no place near him.”

“Why? We share the same blood in our veins, the same parents, the same loyalties and duties. What would make you think we did not need you?”
Rumil hung his head. “I have ever been outside your circle. Too young… too inexperienced. I did not think you wished me beside you.”

“Nay, brother. My own fears for you kept me from asking. Come, stay beside him now. If he wakens, you may call me.” With that, Orophin turned to the Lady. “Will you leave now, my Lady?”

Galadriel rose and smiled, moving toward her husband with a weary gait. “I would take my rest in my dear one’s arms if I might. I have missed him greatly these days and nights.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thus, the changing of the guard over Haldir took place and Rumil sat beside him, gripping his brother’s hand as if he might disappear before his eyes. Orophin took his rest in one of the guest rooms rather than return to their talan, falling into bed and closing his eyes in exhaustion. No reverie this, but a healing sleep for a sorely wounded soul.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadows swirled in Haldir’s mind, visions of death and sorrow sifting across his memory. Cries of friends and enemies mingling… The sight of so much loss wrung his heart, troubled his mind. Then a friendly face came into view briefly, concern and sadness written on those features. Dear Aragorn… Why did he grieve?

For me. He grieved for me. I have died and surely walk Mandos’ Halls now.

Almost afraid to open his eyes, Haldir lay quietly, feeling his hand gripped tightly with a very solid and real grasp. Who? He dared a look through slitted eyes and found himself gazing into his youngest brother’s worried face.

“Rumil?” he began, his voice a mere croak.

“Haldir? Haldir!” Rumil burst out, then began to weep as he flung himself over Haldir’s chest.
With an effort, Haldir moved his left arm to hold Rumil. How it ached… And the memories rushed over him.

Aragorn calling to him to fall back, the clash of metal against metal, the cries of wounded Men, Orcs, Uruk-hai, and his own Elves. Yelling above the clamor to pass on the message. From the side, an Uruk-hai struck his arm and he lost his grip on his sword as another, some friend, struck his enemy down. His gaze looking about him at the destruction… Men, Elves, Orc… Lying together in death… So much loss. And for what? Then searing pain in his back and a triumphant Uruk-hai voice behind him, cut short with undoubtedly a deadly blow. Coldness stealing through his veins and the realization that he had met his end. The light fading from his eyes just as Aragorn reached his side, catching him in his arms. Too late… too late…

Haldir took a shuddering breath. He should be dead… His body beneath the earth and his soul among others who had lost their lives over the Ages. Yet here he lay, his brother weeping in his arms.

“Where… where am I?” He looked at the curving ceiling and knew he must be in Lorien, yet how had he come here?

Rumil looked up at him, tears streaming from his eyes. “Orophin… He brought you back and he and the Lady… They worked some sort of magic on you, brother. I know not what or why the Valar released you. Only that I am beyond joy that you live.”

“Orophin… He rests?” A sudden fear took hold of him. “What of Legolas and Aragorn? How fared they? Did we win the battle?”

He struggled to sit upright only to find himself pressed to the bed. “Nay, do not try to rise. The Lady said you would not regain consciousness for a very long time. I never expected to see you wake so soon. You must rest. I will have someone call them.”

Rumil rose and ran over to the door, calling out to someone outside. The sound of feet pattering on the floor moved away for a few moments, joined by several others returning. Orophin appeared, followed closely by the Lady and the Lord.

“Brother,” Haldir began, only to have his words cut short as Orophin pulled him into an embrace, carefully avoiding his arm or gripping him too tightly.

“I thought I had lost you,” his brother whispered fiercely. “That I would spend the rest of my days mourning you.”

“Then I have you and the Lady to thank for my return.” Haldir’s gaze sought the Lady’s face, surprised at the expression he saw there. She cared for him. Though he had always been loyal and more than ready to die for her and the Lord, he never thought he had any special place in her heart. Yet, her face…

“You and your brothers are kin to my husband, Haldir,” she told him, moving forward on Celeborn’s arm to stand beside the bed. “I would not lose you so easily. And it seems your brother’s prayers have been answered.”

Celeborn put an arm around her waist and she curled into the embrace. The Silvertree continued. “Long ago in Doriath, I had a brother. He fell in love and married, but when Doriath fell he and his wife met their death. They had three very young sons who I brought with me to Lorien. I placed them in the care of others, not wishing to intrude on their lives… You three are those sons. You are my nephews and I have watched you grow with great pride.”

“But… I died,” he protested.

The Lady smiled at him. “And your soul remained here, bound by the love others felt for you. That and the prayers offered to Elbereth.

The Lady took pity and begged for you to return to us. We should all give thanks to her. I know of no other case like this in all my years.”

Though he should be thankful, his worry nearly overwhelmed him. “What of the battle? Legolas? Aragorn? Gimli?”

Orophin answered. “They won the battle, Haldir. Mithrandir has returned and he brought help to them.”

Haldir visibly relaxed as if a great burden had lifted from him. “Then… Perhaps we did not die in vain.”

“No, brother, though the war remains far from over, your part has ended. I would not see you put yourself in harm’s way again,” Orophin told him, then turned to the Lady.

“My Lady, will you send more troops to this war? Will we chance further loss?”

She sighed and after a laden glance between her and Celeborn, answered. “I cannot say at this time, Orophin. Our time draws to a close here. Whether or not the Ringbearer succeeds, Elves have come to the end of their lives on Middle-earth. Those who remain may fade away until nothing, not even a memory, remains. None of us know what will truly happen if we remain, but I tire of my life here and long for the Undying Lands more and more.”

Orophin shared a look with his brothers. “For ourselves, my Lady, we would remain here if possible. It grieves us that Lorien will fade, but we love this place we would stay until the end.”

Celeborn spoke up again. “Though I will be alone, I too feel I cannot leave yet. When the time comes and my wife departs, I will remain here for a bit, though I will join her eventually. My task here will not end when she goes and I cannot leave it undone.” With an apologetic look at Galadriel, he continued. “Whether here or in Imladris, I will finish what I have laid before me before I can follow my heart.”

“Then I will remain as well, my Lord,” Haldir told him, surprised gazes. “All must make sacrifices for the things and people they care for. None will change my mind. If my brothers wish to stay at my side, I would welcome them. But if they wish to follow you, my Lady, I will not think less of them.”
Orophin and Rumil each took one of Haldir’s hands as if to say they would not leave him. He smiled at them; his heart lighter than it had been for many years. “This place and you mean home to me. And those I love will not find themselves alone.”

“Indeed, Haldir, you represent Lorien and have the love of more than you know,” Galadriel told him, her eyes shadowed with hidden meanings. “My beloved Silvertree will have the best companions at his side when I leave and this makes my leave taking less painful.”

She gave him a smile. “Now you must rest. I will send word to your friends, Haldir. They deserve to know of this. Especially the golden prince of Mirkwood,” she murmured with a glint of understanding in her eyes.

Haldir felt his face heat, yet he did not look away. “My thanks, Lady,” he replied. “Now, I am hungry and feel as though I have not eaten in a month.”

The gathered company laughed and Orophin told him, “Not surprising, brother. All that occurred happened over a week ago. You have had no sustenance since before the battle.”

“Then I would greatly appreciate something to fill the gaping hole in my stomach!” he remarked and grinned as Rumil ran off. His brother had lit out of the room as if a horde of Uruk-hai chased him.
“‘Tis good to be alive,” he said, lying back with a feeling of warmth and love surrounding him.

“‘Tis good to have you back,” Orophin told him, certain his brother would always be there to find trouble and protect those he loved. For himself, he would gladly make any sacrifices his brother wanted him to make. Anything for the dear one he cared so much for. “I will follow you, no matter where you go.”

End

Elvish words: Forgive me if I’ve messed up. I am hardly a scholar at this.

fea: soul
mallorn: golden trees of Lorien
mellon-nin: my friend
melethron-nin: my lover
mell-penn: dear one
talan: platform built among the trees, called a flet in Westron