Author’s Note: WHEW! I managed to write this short little vignette before midnight! WOO! Go me! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. I know, I know, I should be working on Blood and Stone but this little idea popped into my head after reading a truly lovely story

A couple of hours of staring at the computer and listening to Clint Black, produces- a headache and this story.

Enjoy!

Summary: The Darkness is deepening. On the borders of Lothlórien, the storm is beginning to break. In these shadowed times, the races of Middle Earth must stand together or fall into eternal darkness. (This is a small one-shot vignette I made for my friend. It is really a conversation of sorts between the elven prince and captain of Lórien on the Fellowship’s first night in the Golden Wood.

Dedication: This story is proudly dedicated to someone whom I have the great honour and privilege of calling my best friend. We have killed centipedes, drooled over countless pictures of certain elves and eaten boxes of Jello pudding by the dozen. I trust you know who you are so I need not embarrass you in front of any others who read this.

You make me laugh until I cry and irritated enough to poke or throw Reese’s pieces (best shot in the dark, ever!) We have fun and I hope we will continue to do so for the rest of high school and beyond.

Ok, enough of this mawkishness, read the story already.

Oh, and your chocolate elf is in the mail.

The Shadows of Twilight

The full moon shone bright and cast long shadows leaping away across the darkened land. Vast trees rose high into the air, their smooth trunks painted silver in the dimness. A brisk wind shivered their leaves and dappled moonlight onto the watchful guardian below.

He ran his fingers lightly along the smooth grain of his bow. The dark wood, made from the heart of a mallorn tree, glimmered faintly in the moonlight. He thoughtfully removed an arrow from his quiver, placing his bow with reverence beside its fellow brethren.

The arrow was of a good make; stout, strong, made of yew and with a spiral fletching unique to the elves of Lórien. The white swan feathers were perfectly balanced along the shaft and the tip of the arrow was icy, deadly and subtlety shaped like a mallorn leaf- pernicious in its beauty.

The smooth leather of his quiver strap tightened against his chest as he drew in a deep breath of the night air: cool and clear with a breeze fresh from the mountaintops white with snow still even in the fall.

The sturdy leather of his vambraces constricted slightly as he flexed his arm, feeling the muscles bunch as he drew an arrow to the string meditatively. He aimed at nothing in particular and after a few seconds lowered his bow again.

He had used these weapons many a time in battle and they were as close as his dearest friends- perhaps even more so. They were a part of him. Most recently, they had been coated in dark blood from an orc attack they had repelled earlier in the evening.

The stars wheeled overhead, their positions subtlety changing as the hours wore away unnoticed by the watchful elves. The night was still but not quiet. It was never quiet in these beautiful woods: something always sang, always stirred, always moved guardedly perhaps but never was the forest utterly silent.

The night crickets chirruped softly, blending their staccato cadence with the song of the rustling leaves. Illùvatar’s Song was all around them, the Elf could feel it as surely as he could feel his own heart beating in his chest.

A soft, blue glow emanated from an ornately crafted lantern swinging gently in a breeze as it hung suspended from a mallorn branch high up on the flet above him. His brothers spoke in hushed voices- mere musical whispers carried to his keen ears by the whispering wind.

Haldir caught the wind now as it brushed past, lifting his silvery hair and tossing it lightly over his shoulders and around his face. He looked around the flet. The four hobbits lay curled near each other. The two mischievous hobbits, Merry and Pippin, slept soundly, snoring softly. The loyal one, Sam, twitched uneasily in his sleep, as he rested as far away from the hole in the middle of the talan as he could without falling off the outer rim. Frodo, however, did not seem to be asleep for his breathing was soft but not heavy. He lay quite still and did not move.

~*~

His heart was heavy with loss.

It was only a few short hours ago, but even by elven standards it seemed an unbearably long time. Mithrandir had fallen. He had been their guide, their friend, their greatest hope when the darkness seemed infinite and death a surety. His strong presence- so warm and comforting- could not be gone from this world! Not when they needed him most!

Legolas gazed sleeplessly out into the dark night. This place was strange to him for he had never been within the borders of Lórien before. The trees here were strange to him and sang a different melody than he heard in his home. The land here was watchful and tense, as though holding its breath against some unknown danger.

His companions slept near him- Aragorn close to the talan’s edge with his sword close to hand. Boromoir, with his horn at his side, slept uneasily. Legolas wondered for a moment what troubled the son of Gondor. But his eyes were caught by a sudden movement below him.

He crossed the flet on silent feet and peered down into the undergrowth with the keen eyes of his kind. Two, pale orbs peered up at him but whatever the thing was, it did not wish to linger and disappeared almost immediately with a soft scuffle of padded feet. Legolas frowned: Aragorn had told him that some creature followed the Fellowship. If Gollum had indeed pursued them here, even to the Golden Wood itself, it could bode naught but evil.

He did not hear a sound and very nearly started as Haldir suddenly appeared beside him, dropping lightly onto the wooden flet from a branch above. His pale face glowed in the dim light of the blue lantern suspended from a high branch as he faced the young prince.

“Is all well here?” the captain questioned. Legolas nodded.

“All is quiet. Though not a moment before you appeared, I caught sight of a shadow, slipping around the bole of the tree. It vanished.” Haldir nodded absently.

“I saw it also though I dared not shoot for fear of arousing any cries.”

“Not long ago, I heard orcs,” Legolas said, remembering the foul noise they had made, tramping through the forest like a herd of mûmakil. Haldir shook his head absently as he reached up and shuttered the lamp, netting them in a cloak of darkness.

“Yes. They passed near to us before the moon wheeled westward. A hundred or more, I should think by their cries and footpads. My brothers and I led them off with feigned voices…” Haldir glared out into the night, his face dark. “The orcs will not pass the river again.”

“These are dark times indeed if orcs dare to tread so boldly across the Nimrodel into Lórien,” Legolas said quietly, his sapphire eyes glittering in the silvery light of the stars that fell upon his face and crowned his fair hair.

“The perian [hobbits] rest uneasily. However, Frodo is awake- my brother Orophin watches over them,” Haldir said as Legolas cast his gaze towards the talan on which the four smallest members of the Fellowship slept.

The two elves fell silent, each turning inward to his own thoughts.

Haldir looked out into the silent shadows. The soft, night sounds had quailed with the passing of the orcs. Even now, the Marchwarden’s keen ears could hear them growling and cursing in the underbrush though they had long since vanished from sight. He sighed quietly, ignoring Legolas’ curious look at the noise.

The Shadow was growing. He could feel it and he was sure Legolas could too. It tugged at his heart and choked him with its foul stench. Orcs dared to enter the sacred haven of Lothlórien as they had not in countless centuries past; wolves howled at the very edges of their borders. Isildur’s Bane slept not five yards away in the hands of a young hobbit. Doom had come with heavy tread to the elven forest. Haldir knew it in his heart and his mind felt shadowed with the dark knowledge that he and his kin could not long outlast the storm that would surely break upon them…

“Your thoughts wander on far paths this night, mellon-nin (my friend),” Legolas drew the older elf from the deep wells of his memory as the stars flickered like frost overhead. Haldir looked up at him.

“They do, indeed. We have traveled far in the memory of Mortals, you and I, Legolas,” he said in a voice scarcely above a hoarse whisper. The young prince’s face grew grave, able to guess the older elf’s thoughts as his grey eyes turned eastward.

Another silence grew between them as the soft sounds returned- the leaves whispering again- clamoring with outrage at the orc’s bold passage; the wind howled its protest but the animals were quiet. Legolas felt the tenseness in the air and sought to break it.

“Your forest is beautiful- these trees- this land is inviolate, untouched by stain of evil or darkness.” Haldir thought he heard an accusatory note in the younger elf’s voice. But when he turned to look at the elven prince, Legolas’ youthful face was suffused with peace and joy as he gazed at the great trees, their massive trunks silver in the moonlight. Legolas lowered his gaze as he caught the other elf staring at him.

“Your people are safe within these borders- protected by the power of the Lady.” There was a definite note of bitterness there. Haldir heard it clearly and his fine brows drew together in a puzzled frown.

“Long has Lothlórien been a haven for her people,” Haldir replied stiffly. “And it is true that not only by the vigilance of her guards and the song of elven bows are these woods protected.” His grey eyes locked onto the prince’s sapphire ones and held them.

“It has been long, indeed, since our Mirkwood kin have journeyed to us,” Haldir said quietly but his eyes had gone icy. “Perhaps you have forgotten how we have fought against the evil so many years ago.” Legolas, in his turn, was bemused. Was that an undercurrent of threat he heard in the Lórien captain’s voice?

“I have not forgotten.” But the words sounded harsher than he had meant them to be. Haldir’s eyes flashed.

“The elves of Mirkwood have long been kept at bay by their enemies. What is it to them if the elves of Lothlórien desire peace?” Legolas blinked and took a step back as though the elven captain had struck him.

“It was not-” He hastily lowered his voice as Aragorn stirred in his sleep, sighing softly as he rolled over and fell still again.

“It was not the elves of Mirkwood who shut the rest of the world out! Who distrust even Men who are friendly to elves in these days! The elves of Mirkwood would not disregard the word of Elrond or deny a Dwarf passage out of pure stubbornness and pride.”

“Might I remind you, ” said Haldir coolly in a carefully-controlled tone, “That your father locked twelve dwarves and one Master Baggins in his deepest dungeons not sixty years before out of pride!” Legolas stopped speaking abruptly, his face flushing angrily.

“That was a mistake- one long since rectified.”

A pregnant pause passed between them.

Haldir realized, with a surge of shock and surprise that his right hand tightly clenched the hilt of his sword. Legolas was fingering his bow. A sudden thought occurred to the Lórien captain and it turned the blood in his veins to
ice.

The Ring. He turned from the heat of Legolas’ stare and peered instead over the branches of the trees

Even from this distance, he could hear it singing sweetly- calling seductively, beckoning beguilingly, offering promises and fulfillment of all desires. But the undercurrent of enmity and discord pulsed like a gushing wound. It sought to divide them, drive a wedge between them, keep them from uniting under one banner.

The dwarf gave a great, grunting snore suddenly, breaking the tension that had arisen between the two elves as they both turned to stare at him. Haldir looked gratefully at Gimli. He could not quite give voice to these troublesome thoughts but the spell seemed to have passed and Legolas looked at him with friendly eyes again.

Haldir touched the prince lightly on the shoulder- a rather intimate gesture for the soldier- one of forgiveness and respect. Legolas’ lips twitched in a small smile and he bowed with a hand over his heart.

“The Shadow deepens- you feel it as well as I,” Legolas said suddenly, startlingly echoing the Marchwarden’s previous thoughts. Haldir’s gaze lingered again towards the East, now cloaked in heavy shadow. The darkest time of night was approaching. The stars were fading slowly from the sky.

“We must stand together in these dark times. We must put aside all past grudges- or we shall fall.”

“We may fall anyway at the last,” Haldir said. Legolas looked at him. The memory of the blackness of Moria darkened the young prince’s blue eyes and horror lingered in his gaze. Haldir, himself, felt pierced by the sorrow in that intense stare but countered it with his own.

“The time of the Elves is over. Every day more leave for the Grey Havens and will not return. In beautiful Lothlórien that I love, it is winter. Our Spring and Summer have long passed and been forgotten by Men and Dwarves and Hobbits. At that last, we shall fade and will not be remembered save in song.”

“But we shall do all we can to fight the growing Darkness. We owe our beloved lands that much. If we fight, we shall be remembered in the history of the world. If we do not, perhaps even the race of doughty Men shall fall and all the lands of Arda shall be consumed,” Legolas countered quietly. Haldir bowed his head, thinking. After a moment, he nodded.

“Yes. We shall fight- even if we must do it at the sides of the dwarves,” he added wryly, casting a stern glance at Gimli who slept, unperturbed by the elven stare. He bade Legolas a peaceful rest and situated himself in the crook of large mallorn tree above the sleeping hobbits, reflecting upon what his friend had said to him.

~*~

As dawn crept slowly nearer and a soft grey light began to tinge the dark blue sky, Haldir stretched stiff, cramped muscles. He gazed out upon his home, bathed in a pale light. The mallorn leaves, once silver, had been washed a watery grey slowly brightening to gold as the sun burnt crimson and gold over the horizon.

Lavender and orange tinges streaked the sky as the sun rose ever higher. It was dawn and the Fellowship would travel south as soon as it was fully light. To what doom? They did not know and nor did Haldir. But as he stood and let the morning light wash over him, he felt the wind change and the Shadow dwelling in the East lengthen its arm.

The Song had altered slightly: a stirring, a slight discordant note jangling starkly with the clearness of the notes before of Ages past. But, as Legolas had reminded him, if they fought together, they stood a chance. They would fight side by side until the end- whatever that might be.

* Parts of the dialogue are taken from The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Chapter: Lothlórien. I hope you enjoyed this and I brought a little snippet of the world of Tolkien to your hearts.

-Lady of Light-

“Nihil Sine Labore” (Nothing without work)