With Honor

By: Siona

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of The Rings. Peter Jackson, Wingnut Films, or whoever-else owns it. I just toy with it when their heads are turned. Also, please excuse the fact that some lines will be screwed up. I have seen the Two Towers only two times, after all!! @_@

*****

“Will we leave them to stand alone?”

I stand silent in the shadows, awaiting Lady Galadriel’s word on what to do. She is speaking with Lord Elrond of Rivendell, debating whether or not they should aid Helm’s Deep, Rohan’s greatest fortress.

The fortress that was falling.

She closes her eyes, in uttermost concentration and in deepest thought. After a few moments of inner contemplating, her sapphire orbs reopen and turn their gaze to me. I straighten immediantly, to my fullest height. “Yes, milady?”

“Gather our finest men,” she instructs, “and take them to Helm’s Deep to assist King Theoden and his men. Go as swiftly as you can.”

I bow, then rush out, and yell out to my fellow Elves an order that has not been uttered in centuries: “Assemble!”

*****

The sound of the marching troops rings in my ear. The rattling of both my armor, and the armor of the several hundred archers I have brought with me, echoes through the air. But those sounds are not the only noises to be heard.

The chatter of the Men of Helm’s Deep could be heard before I even reached their gate. As it opens, I catch a few comments from the warriors of Rohan, most of which I notice are either far too young for battle, or far too old.

“Look, sir, Elves!”

“Look at their armor, how it shines in the sun. Like mithril, it does!”

“Now we will win, with Elvin warriors by our sides!”

The astounded and stunned faces I pass almost makes me smile; more than half of the boys had their mouths hanging open. But this is not the situation to smile about.

Theoden King, ruler of Rohan, comes forward and says, “What is this?”

I look at him square in the eye and say, “We have been sent by Lord Elrond. Men and Elves once stood together and died together. We wish to bring back an old alliance.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli come around the corners and down the stairs. I turn to Aragorn and he rushes forward, grasping me in a tight hug. A bit startled, I’m not sure how to react.

When he releases me, he says, “It is good that you have come, my friend.”

I nod at him and his companions, taking mental notes that the four Hobbits and the Man Boromir is no longer with them.

I wonder where they are.

*****

Much later, we stand upon the top of the wall, Men and Elves together. It makes me think of all the stories of the battles against Sauron, then I think of how history is being made every second. Will I be part of the story?

The thunder claps and rain begins to pour from the heaven, soaking my hair and making a tinkling sound on my armor. But no one complains about the downpour; their minds are on much darker things than rain.

And then they come.

Tens of thousands (possibly even a million?) of Uruk-Hai march to the top of the hill. They are clad in their black armor, their helmets adorned with the White Hand of Saruman.

I hear the Men gasp in terror, seeing their possible deaths coming right towards them. Seeing a boy next to me, his chain mail shaking with chill and fright alike, I put a hand on his small shoulder for reassurance.

He smiles shyly up at me and we both turn back to the gargantuan army. They stop several meters away from the wall, looking up at us with looks of utter hate.

I hear an order from Theoden behind me, and I raise my hand to signal the archers to load their bows. The strings creak as arrows are fitted and pulled backwards.

The Uruk-Hai begin to beat on the ground with spears again and again, filling the entire stronghold with the booming sound. They roar so loudly that their voices ring in my sensitive Elvish ears.

Suddenly, an arrow whistles past me, cast from a shaking, elderly hand. It strikes one of the Uruk-Hai. The warrior of darkness wobbles, then falls face forward into the mud.

The Uruk-Hai charge.

“Arrows! Release!” I order my comrades to fire, which they do with unbelievable accuracy, shrieking past me madly into the masses below us. Dozens of Uruk-Hai collapse before I can even see the arrows strike them down.

The Uruk-Hai hoist up ladders, each one laden with at least five of the Orc warriors. I take aim with my own bow, and fire at one of the fiends holding the ladder. He screams, thrashing wildly in his death throes, and falls. The ladder collapses back upon its own people, crushing both the unfortunate beneath it and its riders.

But more ladders have made their way unto the wall, and many of the Men and Elves are falling. I rush to their aid when-

BOOM! The part of the barricade that allowed water to flow into Helm’s Deep suddenly explodes, showering me with loosed dirt and rocks. Blinded by the soil, I look for Aragorn, desperate to see that he is alive.

I do find him, battling an Orc. He stabs it, spies me, and yells, “Get out of here!”

I nod and begin to follow him when something hits me square in the chest. I look at the aching spot and am stunned to see my blood, along with my very life, flowing like a crimson river out of my body.

I feel my face begin to pale, and I stumble down the steps. Aragorn, seeing that I have been gravely wounded, rushes to my aid, but is delayed by Uruk-Hai.

Another Orc strikes me from behind with their sword, and yet I do not feel it. It is simply an impact that knocks to my knees, and more blood rushes from my body. I bite my cheeks and tongue, and they too begin to lose blood, streaking my cheek.

A swift movement strikes down my attackers with a swirling sword. Aragorn, I believe; it is hard to tell, for my eyes do not focus and the battle scene seems to blur.

“My friend, my friend,” Aragorn coos as he cradles me in his arms. “Do not die!”

But he knows it is too late, as do I. Everything begins to fade; the stars seem to grow brighter until their silver glow fills my entire vision. Aragorn’s voice fades from a desperate wish to a dim whisper from far, far away, until even it is gone. And so I, Haldir, die.

With my friend, the future king of Gondor.

With regrets.

With honor.

*****

~Whoever tells me that Haldir doesn’t die in the book (which he does not. Hurrah!) gets the Horn of Gondor shoved up their ass. *snarls*