The Littlest Warrior

Haldir, his brothers, and Ingorn accompanied Malrin and Hedrían to the healing tents at the foot of the great trees. Malrin was still shaking, each step he took brought him closer to the confrontation he was dreading. As they approached, Haldir could see Daenir pacing back and forth in front of the tent; his face was fraught with desperation and fear, his red-rimmed eyes finally focused on the approaching elves. At last they stood face to face; Malrin placed his hand over his heart and bowed respectfully to the ancient ostler, standing quietly as the old elf’s voice rang out on the night air.

“How did this happen?” he screamed at Malrin. “How could you have let this happen? Have you seen his arm? he yelled as he pointed back towards the tents. “Have you seen was has been done to him?”
Malrin drew a deep breath and tried to calm his already shaken nerves, his next words were spoken softly.

“Im dihenalin Daenir, hiraetha im, lammen na lung as naeth. (I beg your forgiveness Daenir, I am sorry; my tongue is heavy with grief). I know not how to say the words…it is my fault, I was not vigilant, I allowed the lad to go alone to hunt and he was attacked; I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Sorry?” "You are sorry,” he shouted, “the healers tell me that they have never seen an injury of this kind – never in all of their years. Pengûr is 2000 years old and Filgail twice that, not even Celeborn has seen the like of it…my son may lose his arm…and even if he does not, the flesh is useless. Do you know what that means? Do you?" he screamed. "It means he will not wish to continue here in Arda, it means he will sail, or worse – he will fade, it means that his life here…our lives here are over, for I will not abandon him to this grief – to live alone through this devilry. What have you to say for yourself? He was your charge, what say you? For I would hear your explanation of how you have allowed this foul deed to come to pass. Speak!”

Malrin stood speechless, tears of remorse and grief flowed freely down his cheeks. In that moment he knew Haldir to be right – there were no words that would make things easier, none that could assuage his guilt. Dropping to one knee he bowed his head and gave Daenir the only answer he could.

“Master Daenir my words, though heartfelt, can only sound like the pittering of rain upon the leaves of the trees in this your hour of grief. The blame for Andras’ injury is planted firmly at my feet, for t’was I who sent him into the wilderness alone to hunt. I should have been more cautious, and for that lack in judgment nothing will stop the weeping of my heart until such time as he is well and whole. For I swear to you this day, Na Aear a Geil, (By the Sea and Stars), Na Belain! (By the Valar). I shall not rest until the maker of this witchcraft lies dead at my feet, until this wizardry is lifted from Andras’ Fëa. I swear this oath to you by all that I hold dear, by all that I am – by the blood of my fathers I will see it done.”

It was then that Haldir stepped forward and addressed the old ostler, “I too add my voice to this oath Daenir, for as this enemy has harmed one of us he has harmed all of us. This act will not go unpunished.”

Rúmil and Orophin moved to stand beside their brother adding their sentiments to the pledge.
“Our brother speaks for us as well,” Rúmil intoned. “Know that by whatever power we have within us we will fight to bring you justice, Andras will be avenged.”

“Aye iauron , (ancient one) ” said Orophin, “Rest assured we will find the answer to this spell, and the caster will repent the day he drew breath and sought to befoul one of the firstborn.”

“These too are my thoughts,” said Celeborn as he stepped from the healer’s tent. “For never in all my days in Arda have my eyes beheld such as this. We are befuddled, the healers and I, as to how this wickedness could have been done. There is naught to think of but a spell, only someone of great power could have achieved such a thing.”

“My lord,” said Daenir “what of Andras, what of my son, will he heal?”

“Would that I could tell you what you wish to hear meldir, but I cannot speak those words with certainty. The herbs that Elwaith brought from Rohan have helped, but only to keep the limb from further withering, we believe if the arm is kept sheathed in the soaked herbs it will prevent the skin from further drying, but it is all we have been able to do. My Lady has gone to her mirror and sees only that we must send Andras to Elrond along with the herbs; there is a ripple of hope in what she sees, that he may be able to stem this affliction – perhaps even to turn the tide in our favor. However, she senses that there are other powers at play; that this drama has yet to completely unfold. For this reason I have decided that Andras will be sent to Elrond; Haldir, you and your brothers along with Malrin and a small party of warriors will accompany him.”

“Then I will go as well,” Daenir, responded.

Celeborn’s response was quick and firm, and left no room for argument. “No my friend, you must stay here, for the Lady has foreseen that Andras’ recovery would be hampered by your presence.”

The great elf Lord slowly approached his old friend with outstretched arms, enveloping Daenir in a strong embrace he then spoke more softly.

“Hear me now old friend, you are frightened, as would be expected. However, the Lady has foreseen that your fear and confusion will create serious misgivings in regard to Andras’ treatment. Lord Elrond and his staff will have their hands full trying to find a solution to combat this condition, your presence will only create situations of second-guessing, and conflict. Hear me Daenir, for even I must place my pride aside, and bow to the fact that Elrond Half-Elven is the best healer in Arda, your son could not be in better hands.”

Releasing Daenir he then turned and spoke again to Haldir.

“March Warden, you will assemble a traveling party that will include Malrin, your brothers, Ingorn, Timagol, and Elwaith. You will lead them to Imladris, to the House of Elrond, where you will present yourselves into his service; you will stay in Imladris for as long as Elrond deems necessary, and you will do whatever you are called upon to do to further Andras’ recovery.”

Haldir bowed placing his hand over his heart and answered, “Yes My Lord Celeborn.”

“Prepare to leave as soon as the healers have the lad ready to move.”

“As you will My Lord.” Turning then to Daenir, Celeborn spoke again. “Come my friend, Andras has regained consciousness, he has been asking for you.”

With that, the two ancient elves slowly began walking back to the healer’s tent, as they went, Daenir turned and gave Malrin one last fleeting look. The glance was brief but it spoke volumes, and Malrin knew in that instant that he had been forgiven. Daenir was many things, but first and foremost, he was an elf, and he could no more hold his heart hardened against Malrin than he could against his own son. That was the way of elves. They loved fiercely, and they protected their own; and in his heart Daenir knew that Malrin would have given his life if it meant that Andras could have come safely home. In that moment when their eyes met, Malrin felt as if the weight of Arda had been lifted from his shoulders.

Slowly he got to his feet and again placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head in respect to the elder elf. Daenir inclined his head briefly in response. It was done then. Forgiveness had been asked and granted, and for the first time that day Malrin breathed a sigh of relief. But as relieved as he was, he knew that this was just the beginning; the beginning of a journey that would take them far from home, from family and friends, and possibly into danger; danger unlike anything any of them had ever faced.