The Littlest Warrior

By the time Fael rode into Caras Galadhon carrying Andras, the lad had awakened and was writhing in agony. The herbs that Elwaith had managed to get into him had worn off, and the elf was delirious with pain.

“Boe enni nestron! (I need a healer,)” Fael shouted as he neared the gates, and what seemed like a small army of elves ran out to meet him. As he brought his horse to a stop he found himself surrounded by a sea of upturned faces, all confused by the ruckus, each coming to see what was happening. Calling again for the healers he could see three running their way, as eager hands reached up to take the wounded elf from his arms.

“Careful,” he called out; “his arm is badly injured!” Gently the elf was taken down from the horse, and carried in the strong arms of Timagol, one of the Galadhrim, towards the healing kiosks that were set up at ground level. The elves had learned long ago that tending the injured was made easier if the healers did not have to traipse up and down the many stairs that wound around the great Mallorn trees. As Andras was carried away, Fael doubled over with his hands on his knees, and was finally able to catch his breath. It had been a long and harrowing ride, for all of them, but for him most of all. As he stood there, bent, hair falling forward almost obscuring his face, an overwhelming feeling of nausea hit him. For a moment as he stared at the ground he thought that he would indeed vomit, but his eyes caught sight of the one thing, the only thing that could make him hold it together just a little bit longer…boots, boots that he knew belonged to the March Warden, Haldir.

Haldir was a no nonsense kind of elf, even if he hadn’t held an important position in Lórien, he was not one you wanted to find yourself coming up short against. Used to being obeyed, as always he was quick, and to the point.

“Report!”

With difficulty, the exhausted elf stood straight, and faced the infamous March Warden eye-to-eye.

“Andras was attacked while hunting for game, he is badly injured,” he said still trying to catch his breath. “We have ridden almost non-stop for four days to get home, none of us had ever seen such an injury, there was aught else to do but ride hard…ride home.”

“Attacked by whom?”

“We never saw the attacker, we ran to him as soon as we heard him call out, but there was no one in sight.”

“Where is the rest of your party?”

Fael turned slightly as he heard a rider approaching behind him. “Elwaith comes now, Hedrían and Malrin are probably still at the border, I took the horse of Rúmil, as mine was spent. He will need a replacement if he is to reach the city this eve,” he said timidly, knowing it was not always wise to tell the March Warden something he already knew.

“Are there other injuries?”

“No sir, Andras alone was hurt.”

“Where were the rest of you when he was attacked?”

“We were setting up camp.”

“And Malrin? Where was Malrin in all of this?”

“He had an uneasy feeling about the forest and …”

“Forest, what forest?”

Fael hesitated, and Haldir instantly knew there was something he was not being told.

“I asked you a question youngling, must I repeat myself?”

“No sir…it…it...it was Fangorn…Fangorn forest.”

“Fangorn! Haldir exclaimed. “Are you telling me that Malrin allowed the youngling to hunt in Fangorn forest?”

“No! Fael shouted. “I mean no sir; he specifically warned him against it, I swear he did! He told him he was not to go into it, to find game elsewhere! I do not think he listened,” Fael said as he lowered his head, tears filling his eyes, exhaustion, and remorse finally overcoming him.

Haldir turned from the tired elf as Elwaith pulled to a stop and dismounted.

“Warden Haldir,” he said in a rush “where have they taken Andras? I must speak to the healers at once, and I have medicines from our journey that we may be able to use.”

“They have taken him to the second tent with three of the healers.”

“Thank you,” he said as he rushed off. Turning back to the worn out elf in front of him Haldir continued his interrogation…

“You were saying,” he queried.

The elf looked at him puzzled.

“You were saying that Malrin had an uneasy feeling,”

“Yes sir,” the elf continued, “he was uneasy…said that he could not shake the feeling that we were being watched, and he ordered us to pack up camp and ready ourselves to ride, then he went after the lad. A few minutes later we heard Andras scream, I rode after Malrin and came upon him carrying the young one out of the forest. Hedrían and Elwaith came shortly after that bringing the horses and we mounted up and rode until we crossed the Entwash.”

“I see, and you never saw the attacker?”

“No, we saw nothing…”

“Do you think you were followed?”

“No sir, I do not believe so, Malrin rode rear guard until shortly before we reached Lothlórien. There was nothing behind us.”

“Very well Fael, you make take your leave, I am sure that after everything that has happened your wife will be happy to see you home safe. Rest tonight and I will speak with all of you in the morn. Assemble in my office after the morning meal.”

“Yes sir.”

Haldir stood there quietly contemplating the information as the tired forlorn elf began to walk away. Then, just as suddenly, he said over his shoulder…

“Fael…”

“Yes sir?”

“Do not blame yourself youngling, you did everything you could do…you all did. There is an enemy in our midst, and I promise you…I will not leave him alive.”

The young elf straightened his shoulders, bringing himself up to his full height, pride in who he was, a Galadhel, returning again to his face. There was a reason Haldir was March Warden he thought, someone would pay, and pay dearly for what they’d done to Andras…his March Warden would see to it.