Part Six
Haldir escorted Lady Galadriel out of her glade. How frail she seemed, how soft she had
been in his arms, but he dared not be deceived by her appearance of tender femininity. She
was never weak, in any way, and he would do well to remember it. He kept her arm in his
as he led her up the small set of stairs, to where he knew others would be waiting, worried
by her scream.
Even now he wondered what she meant to do with him. She had asked him to take her to
her chamber. Did she wish him to lie with her? He wondered what would happen if he said
that he would. Many times had he imagined it. Who would not? The Lady of Light
possessed a beauty nearly unrivaled among elvenkind. And yet, he knew that in his heart,
he did not wish for such. She was the lady of Celeborn, and he was bound in duty to both
of them.
Celeborn had tried to seduce him once, Haldir reflected. It had been many years now
since. He had been flattered, and tempted, but... there seemed a darkness, a possessiveness
in the Lord of Lórien and Haldir knew that if he submitted, he would be ever marked as
Celeborn’s property. That he could not bear, for Haldir belonged to no one but himself,
and perhaps his brothers.
It would not be the same with Galadriel, he knew. They would share a night, then
everything would appear as it were before. It would never be spoken of and it would very
likely never be repeated. It would hurt nothing, would it? Or would he sit in his talan for
many nights after, dreaming of her? Would he be unable to stop a blossom of affection
from growing inside his heart? Would he begin to long for the impossible?
Was he even allowed to refuse her, in her great power? Would she be dreadfully insulted if
he did? Would he be punished, and would Rúmil and Orophin suffer for it?
“Haldir, too many worries fly across your mind. They are like wild birds shrieking in the
brush,” she murmured.
“Forgive me,” he said in a low voice, and wondered exactly how much she knew of him,
suspecting that it was everything.
Galadriel nodded to those elves who had gathered at the top of the stairs, some dozen
who had come in response to their lady’s cry. With relief evident in their expressions, they
dispersed and Haldir headed towards her tree.
Celeborn stood on the stair. He looked majestic, Haldir thought, in his white robes, his
long golden hair braided and falling around his shoulders, his chin lifted and his jaw set.
He also looked perturbed.
“Galadriel, are you well?” he asked, his tone cold. His gaze fell not on Haldir.
“I am,” she replied, her tone matching his. “The mirror robs me of my strength at times. I
am going upstairs to rest.”
“I will escort you,” Celeborn said, offering her his hand.
Without hesitation she took it, and Haldir could sense a change in her manner. This was
what she really wanted, not him. This was better, even if Celeborn seemed so distant.
Haldir let go of Galadriel’s arm and took a step backwards, hoping that he was correct
and that this was indeed what she desired.
Galadriel stepped forward and allowed Celeborn to take over Haldir’s duties. Haldir
waited until they were out of sight before he turned around with a certain sense of relief.
Before he could go, he heard the familiar voice of his brother Orophin calling his name. He
turned. Orophin came from the direction of the bathing pool, and with him walked Lord
Amroth. They both, Haldir noted, had wet hair. A light shone in Orophin’s eyes. He
smiled widely at Haldir.
“My brother,” Haldir greeted Orophin, then gave a slight bow to the other. “Lord
Amroth.”
“You must not call me Lord, Marchwarden,” Amroth said in a cordial tone. “I am such no
more.”
“No more perhaps, but I think you always shall be. Nobility is not easily turned aside,”
Haldir said politely.
“I wish to bring no harm nor conflict here,” Amroth said firmly. “Let no one think I have
come to take what is not mine.”
“Even if it is freely offered to you?” Haldir asked meaningfully, glancing at Orophin, who
suddenly seemed slightly nervous.
“I was just showing Amroth the waterfall,” Oro blurted out.
“It seems you did well, for you are both wet,” Haldir replied.
“I felt the need for a bath,” Amroth said, putting his hand on Orophin’s shoulder.
“A curious urge, for one who has spent so much time underwater of late.”
“Your brother has been very kind to me, Haldir.”
“Orophin has a kind heart, and a tender one.”
Orophin’s ears began to turn pink, and Haldir knew he was embarrassing the younger elf,
but it was for his own good. It was a bad idea for Oro to get involved with Amroth. A
very bad one.
“I have not lost my hearing, Haldir,” Orophin said stiffly. “Do not speak of me as if I had,
and as if I were not present.”
Haldir did not regret his words to the lost king, nor was he through here. “Where is
Rúmil?”
“I know not,” Orophin said, sounding frustrated.
“Perhaps you should go search for him,” said Haldir.
“Perhaps you should go search for him,” Orophin snapped back.
“Orophin,” Amroth interrupted, “Would it pain you greatly were I to speak privately with
your brother for a few moments?”
Orophin raised an eyebrow, masking the emotion which flashed through his large blue
eyes, so like Haldir’s own. He nodded slightly, then stalked off silently in the direction of
his talan.
“He is moody,” Haldir remarked, watching him walk away.
“It seems to run in your family,” Amroth replied lightly.
With Orophin out of sight, Haldir could truly look at the handsome king of old. He was
not as tall as Haldir, but his bearing was undeniably regal. No wonder Orophin was so
attracted to him. Ancient wisdom deepened his fairness. Still, age and beauty gave him not
the right to seduce Orophin.
“What do you mean to do with him?” Haldir demanded.
“Orophin, you mean? I do not mean to ‘do’ anything with him. We have only been
speaking together, Haldir. No more than that. He has been telling me much of what has
passed in Lórien since my... departure.”
“You have not touched him?”
“No. I am not ready to take a lover. I am barely living,” Amroth said, laughing, but a hint
of bitterness flavored his laughter.
“He looks upon you with desire.”
“Perhaps. Yet this is not something I have asked for.”
“So you do not desire him in return?”
“I cannot say,” Amroth replied, and Haldir was grateful for his honesty at the least.
“Certainly I am flattered by his attention, and after so long under the sea, well, there is a
need for touch. Orophin may be willing to gratify that for me, but I do understand the
complications of allowing this.”
“Oro seeks more than gratification. If you let him, he will love you without boundaries. He
does not understand your boundaries.”
“And what are my boundaries, Haldir?” Amroth asked, tilting his chin.
“Nimrodel.” Haldir spoke the name of the elf whom Amroth had loved. “Was she not the
reason you were in the bay? Was your love for her not suspended within you? Was that
washed away with the current, leaving your heart clear for my brother?”
Amroth took a step backwards. He stumbled against a tree, clutching it as if to stay on his
feet. His blue eyes, dark as midnight, glazed over. His jaw fell slack, his full lips parting.
He whispered her name in an echo to Haldir’s words.
“Nimrodel.”
“Yes. If you are truly the lost king, surely that name means something to you? Or are all
the legends wrong?”
Amroth looked at him and there seemed such pain in his eyes then that Haldir nearly felt
ashamed of his goading words. Nearly. When one of his brothers was at stake, he would
risk anything.
“Understand, Marchwarden, that I am not fully...recovered,” Amroth whispered. “No one
has dared speak that name to me before you. I had forgotten...”
Haldir lifted an eyebrow, then gave in and went to help the staggering elf. He took hold of
Amroth’s elbow firmly and led him to a place where he might sit down. Haldir did not sit,
but stood looking down at him, deep in thought. He waited, not so much patiently as
turning over this information in his mind, for Amroth to speak again.
“Nimrodel. Yes. It was for her that I jumped into the Bay of Belfalas. I did not wish to
leave Arda without her. That wish in me burned so strongly that even when I lost hope, it
kept me from leaving my body, from dying and entering the Halls of Mandos.” Amroth
looked at him, and the glazed look in his eyes seemed to lift some. A sparkle began to
arise in them, as if he had taken one more step back towards life, Haldir thought.
“Perhaps this is why you have returned. To find her again.”
“But, how? Has there been word of her?”
“No. She is no more than legend,” Haldir said gently. “Her name is that of a stream
besides the Mines of Moria. It is not far from here.”
“I remember the stream. It was not called after her in my day.”
“I believe Lord Elrond named it that. He has a statue of her in his garden at Imladris,”
Haldir said thoughtfully.
“Truly.” Amroth frowned. “So Elrond still reigns in Imladris.”
“Indeed. Did you know him?”
“Not very well. He married the daughter of Galadriel, did he not?’
“Yes,” said Haldir, “But Celebrían sailed for Aman long ago.”
Amroth’s eyes widened. “Galadriel did not tell me this.”
“Why should she?”
“I remember the birth of Celebrían,” Amroth said softly. “Yes, I remember. So much of
my past is still dark to me, Haldir, but that day comes to me as clearly as the light of a
midsummer afternoon.”
Haldir mused on how strange it seemed to know an elf so very much older than himself,
who remembered the times before Haldir had been born. Of course, there were others in
Lothlórien who were much older than him, Celeborn and Galadriel among them, but he
had known them all of his life and they rarely or never spoke about the past.
In any case, he got the feeling that Amroth did not care much for Elrond, which he found
odd. Haldir had always liked the Lord of Imladris. He had even shared a bed with Elrond
on occasion, though few knew of this. Elrond had had the statue of Nimrodel in his garden
since time immemorial and Haldir had never thought to ask him why. He had simply
assumed that Elrond was a big admirer of the ballad.
“Why do you dislike Elrond?”
“Do I?” Amroth asked with surprise. He shook his head. “I cannot recall. Perhaps in
time.”
“Perhaps,” Haldir agreed. “Meanwhile, I must ask you to walk carefully with Orophin. I
am not certain he understand the complications.”
“I am not certain you give Orophin enough credit,” Amroth said calmly. “Leave him to
live his own life, Haldir.”
Haldir’s nostril’s flared slightly and he glared at Amroth. “I only ask,” he said, “That you
do the same.”
