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Title: Never a Brighter Shore (#218)
Author: Halfwest
Chapters: 1

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings (Movieverse)
Description: Haldir comes to a stirring conclusion about death.
Published: 20 Aug 2003
Updated: 20 Aug 2003
Warnings:
Type: General
Characters: Haldir; Aragorn; Legolas


Chapter 1 - Never a Brighter Shore

The rain swept at our heels across the plains of Rohan as we marched our armies onward. I had seen rain before—too many rains to tell of, to remember. How many ages have our kind walked this Middle Earth? How many years have passed me by? How long is it since anything seemed new?

But this is new to me. Though made from old alliances, the look in the Men’s eyes is new to me. I realize as I speak the words how true it is that I am indeed honored to fight beside these brave children. New to me, the future King of Gondor’s happy greeting, the feeling of his arms around me. It startles me. I am taken aback by this show of brotherhood. Rarely are our kind filled with so much emotion. Our hearts have grown weary of this world. So much life makes even the purest of souls numb.

But his touch fills me with wonder. That he can feel so much! I look at him, and I do see a King.

And close behind him, Legolas Greenleaf. A very old friend indeed. I thought I had known him, but now I see that living among Men has rubbed some of their spark into his eyes. We may be blessed with the very light of the stars themselves, but Men have a fire that comes from the earth. We glory in our trees because they reach for the stars, but only Men can know what the trees feel. We can hear their songs as they grow and stretch their roots, but only Men can sing those songs without corrupting them. Only Men know what it is like to live as trees do, knowing that one day it will end.

Legolas leaps from the stairs. His hands grip my shoulders. I return the gesture, smiling. “Haldir!” he cries to me, his voice rising in laughter. “Then we have a chance!” Our native tongue, our words, the language we were born with. So sweet do they sound on the lips of a Prince in this land of darkness. What light has come into him?

“Did you think in such times that even your own people would leave the world without hope?” I reply, smiling.

He merely shakes his head, half in wonder. “I had thought...” His voice trails off. “Ah, but that is in the past. Haldir, my friend, welcome. When this battle is done, you must sit with me and let me tell you what has happened. So many things!”

And with that, practically in the middle of a sentence, his is off again into the crowds. I stare after him, amazed. Such fire! Are all Men so bright that even a small piece of their flame can give an Elf the glow of heaven? Perhaps we do have something to learn from them after all. Ennui is a sad way to live for a thousand years or more. Yet many of our kind do.

I lead my army, I take my place. The battle begins. I fight. My sword flashes in the lightening, reflecting the orc torches and our own tiny candles. My army fights with the single-mindedness of countless years of training. Their only thoughts at this moment are drenched in the blood of the enemy. Defend. Keep the fortress standing. Defend always. Then bite your enemy in his throat when he thinks he has you cornered.

I am alive! At last, at last, I think I know the fire. The fire in Aragorn’s eyes, the spark in Legolas’s. It is life, brilliant life! I feel it flare in me even as I feel the blade in my side pierce my armor and my flesh.

There is a moment when I see my own blood. There is a moment when I feel the second blow. There is a moment when I fall to my knees and see the twisted faces of Elves who have fallen before me. Their faces are white and blue and red with blood and brown with mud. Mangled in death, their bodies like half-formed clay statues, their faces melting off their bones. I see them, and I see the fire.

They shine! They shine brighter than all the stars in the sky! These torn remains, these gruesome, disemboweled, broken necks, broken limbs or lost, beheaded, eyes gouged out, jaws torn away, sunken noses, joints bent backwards.... These are beautiful. These are stardust. These are starlight.

The rain makes rives that flow down the stones of the Keep, making a river in the mud. So much death, yet there was never a brighter shore than that upon which I lie down to sleep. The King’s arms are around me again, but I do not see him for more than a fleeting instant. Bright, so bright! The rain sounds like the moving sea. I feel the mud in my hands, I taste the salt... is that the ocean? Or merely my own blood? The grains of dirt below my fingers feel like sand... gentle yellow-brown flowing with the tide.

This is Valinor. This is the Undying Land. I feel it in the battlefield. I taste it in my own blood. The pain of my death goes unnoticed. Bright, so bright! The bodies lying all around me burst into flame. Rejoice! Rejoice! We do not die. Oh, how wonderful to taste this life as Men do! How exquisite is my demise, for I now know what fire they have in their souls!

Never a brighter shore... The sands of Valinor are dull and lifeless compared to this mud, this gore, these glistening torches, this starlight. This is what we live for. This is life. Death is life. And I melt into light.

So bright... so bright...
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