The Littlest Warrior

The War Room was filled to capacity as more than 30 warriors and residents circled the table and took various positions around the room. Glorfindel called the room to order and advised everyone that another attack had occurred. Asking Haldir and Elrohir to stand, he bid each of them to report on their encounter with the assailant. Elrohir was the first to speak, recounting their arrival at the outpost and subsequent search of the immediate area, the heir to Imladris detested what he knew he must say next.

“We searched the surrounding area as much as we dared. Aphrod’s condition was grave and we knew we needed to get back to safe territory as quickly as possible…however, Rilloth was able to find track…from what we saw we have reason to believe that the attacker is an elf.” His allegation made, astonished cries of ‘nay’ were heard around the room.

“An elf?”

“That is ridiculous!”

“That cannot be Elrohir, you must be mistaken.”

“No elf would do such a thing milord.”

“Quiet, quiet down!” Glorfindel’s booming voice ordered, and then a softer voice in the corner inquired, “Elrohir…could Rilloth have been mistaken?”

“No…unfortunately there was no mistaking the sign Erestor…it IS an elf.”

Concerned whispers floated around the room as more and more questions came to the fore.

“Glorfindel, if this is an elf how are we to protect ourselves? Why would an elf attack other elves? What now Glorfindel…are we all suspects?”

The commander raised his hand to silence the room, “No my friends, no one here is suspected of this. Whoever this is it is someone not known to us…Haldir if you would apprise them of what you found.”

As the march Warden began to speak all eyes in the room were trained on him. “On our way here we passed through the village of South Gundabad, it is a small settlement with which, I am sure, many of you are familiar.”

“Aye,” came a response from the back of the room, “we trade there often.”

“I am grieved to have to tell you that you will trade there no more, the entire village was decimated, every man, woman and child – all dead.” A ripple of shock rolled through the room, as stunned elves looked at each other in disbelief.

“At least seventeen humans were killed, and of course by now all of you are aware of the attack that brought us here to begin with; Andras was set upon at the edge of Fangorn Forest, and Eru only knows how many others have fallen prey to this beast between there and Gundabad.”

“Fangorn, Gundabad and now here,” Erestor mused as his eyes scanned the map in his hands.

“Yes, and although I cannot swear to it, I believe it trailed the Rohan trading party to the outskirts of Lórien - and I believe it trailed us as well. At some point it gave up stalking us, we were too well armed, and it passed on ahead of us…where it found easier prey. In any event, it is cunning, and stealthy, for although there were times when I thought I felt its presence, neither I nor anyone in our party saw any sign of it.”

“Rúmil…no sign of it at all?” Erestor questioned.

“No my lord, nothing, nothing and no one came near us.”

“Interesting…very interesting.”

~~~~~~

As the meeting continued, the patrol was gathering in the courtyard. While they waited for the last two members of their party to finish tacking their mounts, a wager had been thrown down by Braneth, as to who it would be who would actually rid them of this terror. Braneth was convinced that if this thing made its way to Imladris that either Glorfindel or Cilinwë would be responsible for its demise. Malrin, on the other hand, was equally convinced that either he or his March Warden would be the source that rid them once and for all of this un-godly terror. As the conversation wore on Malrin sat with a wistful look on his face, remembering a time not that long ago. “Haldir is tougher than you think,” he finally piped in, “a lot tougher.”

“How so,” Braneth inquired, “what makes him any more able than any other elf? Our Master of Swords is renowned across the four realms…nay, across Arda as the best swordsman alive.”

“Yes…,” agreed Imril, “and do not forget Lord Glorfindel, his trials with the balrog are legendary.”

“True my friends, all true, but I do not think even they have ever been put to the test the way Haldir was.”

“Tested? I admit that the duties of a warden are stressful, but one can hardly consider sentry duty as particularly …overtaxing,” Rilloth laughed.

“I agree…aside from the loneliness, sentry duty can not be considered as ‘difficult’, I know, for I have been doing it for a while now,” he said winking, reminding the others that they were talking to one of the senior-most wardens in any realm. “But that was not the test to which I referred, I was speaking of how he came to be in Lothlórien in the first place,” he said as he moved toward his horse.

“All right Malrin, you have us hooked like four squirming fish, you cannot just walk away now…come tell us of what you speak.”

Settling on the bench beside Rilloth the Lórien sentry began to give an account of the tale. “Well, it was a long time ago, but I still remember it as if it were yesterday. His family was traveling with five other elves from the Havens to Lothlórien. Just four days, as the crow flies, out from the Golden Wood they were attacked by orcs.”

“They were that close,” Rilloth asked, “was there no one that could help them?”

“Unfortunately no, the trees tried to warn them, but there was little time. They came upon them suddenly and Haldir’s father had only enough time to get the children up into the canopy. Haldir was young, and wanted to fight, but his father forbade it, and ordered him to stay in the trees to protect his little brothers. The orcs quickly separated those fighting; poor souls, they never stood a chance, there were simply too many of them. They fought with bow and sword and dagger, and then with their bare hands, to no avail. As the end of the battle neared, three of the foul beasts grabbed Haldir’s mother attempting to drag her away. She screamed for her husband, who by that time had been pushed back to a point where he could not reach her side. In all these many years Haldir has only spoken of that moment once – the moment when he watched his father kill his mother.”

Flashback:

Adarian was screaming, struggling, fighting to get away, but the orcs held her fast. As the others backed Heson further and further from her she glanced furtively at the treetops – steeling Haldir to the spot with a look that said both ‘Stay where you are!’ and ‘I love you’. In that next instant she made eye contact with her husband, and he read in her face what must be done…what had to be done. He could not leave her to their torment, and her eyes pleaded with him to end it quickly before their son saw too much. In his last move before he was overcome, he drew his bow and let fly the arrow that pierced her heart, ending his beloved’s life.

End Flashback.

“Haldir forced his brothers to turn away from the scene of the battle, telling them to close their eyes and not to look. At one point he covered Orophin’s mouth and whispered in his ear ‘not to make a sound’ that he would ‘keep them safe’, and he did. It was over quickly, if not mercifully, none was left alive. The attack came at night, so the lads were forced to stay hidden in the trees while the orcs set up camp beneath them. Rúmil once commented that it was the longest night he ever lived.”

“What happened next?” Braneth asked eagerly.

“In the early morning hours, just before sunrise, the orcs began to move off, searching for somewhere to conceal themselves from the daylight. The children sat there in the trees for hours after the orcs departed; then Haldir climbed down and salvaged what he could in the way of supplies. There was not much left, but he did manage to find his father’s map case, a blanket, and a water bag that the orcs had missed. He did what he could for the dead, what was left of them, and he placed his Naneth and Adar side by side and covered them with willow branches and leaves from the forest floor; he allowed his brothers to come down only for a moment to say goodbye and then back up into the trees they went. He made a makeshift sling from the blanket, put Orophin in it, and tied it to his back. Then carefully and as quietly as he could he led Rúmil through the treetops following their father’s map.”

“Sweet Eru,” said Panír “what an awful experience for children to have to endure.”

“Aye…,” Malrin continued, “it was rough going, and they probably would have done better on the ground, but Haldir said he did not want to chance it, that they might run into orcs or other foul beasts, and with only his dagger…well, he refused to put his brother’s lives in danger. He would secret the little ones in the treetops and then climb down and forage for food, berries mostly. They came upon a stream once, but Haldir would not fish, he told his brothers that they could not chance the smoke from a cooking fire calling attention to their whereabouts – he was smart and savvy even then. Instead he bathed them and filled the water bag and continued to look for fruit trees.”

“How awful,” Imril interjected shaking his head as Malrin continued…

“It took them longer than expected to get there, nine days actually…he probably could have done it in five were he alone, but the little ones’ legs were decidedly shorter than an adult’s, and they tired easily. Orophin often tells the story of his first glimpse of the Golden Woods, he remembered Haldir smiling and saying that they ‘had made it’, that ‘they would be fine now’, and remembering the first time he saw one of the Galadhrim silently slip down from the trees, he thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.”

“What a harrowing experience,” Panír added, “thank the Valar they made it safely.”

“Yes, one minute they were alone in the world and the next they were surrounded by our people. Although I have to say, there were some tense moments there for a while…as Haldir told what happened to them, one of the sentries (a foolish youngling), tried to take the baby from him and he refused to allow it.”

“Now that sounds more like our Haldir,” Imril said laughing.

“Aye,” Malrin replied, “the fledgling border guard was very young, and mistakenly thought that Haldir would be easily intimidated and made to ‘take’ Orophin. Imagine his surprise when Haldir wheeled on him and pulled the sentry’s own blade from his belt, settling it right under his chin. Then, grabbing his own dagger from his boot, the youngster stood there, arms outstretched to the side, with a blade in each hand and made the pronouncement that ‘no one would be separating his brother from him without a fight’.”

“Even little Rúmil got in on it…he picked up a good sized rock and reared back to throw it. He told the sentry that he would ‘bash him a good one if he touched HIS Halli'. Well, poor baby Phin thought for sure that they would be thrown out of the Lady’s woods on their ears with nowhere to go, and immediately started crying, an issue with which young Haldir was not at all pleased.”

“I can imagine,” Braneth said jokingly, “he does like things to be orderly…and a wailing babe does not exactly fit into that picture.”

Malrin allowed the laughter to settle down a bit before he continued with the story…

“Apparently he had spent the last three miles of their journey softly singing to the little one telling him about all the wonderful things he would see, and the nice people he would meet once they got to Lothlórien – doing whatever he could to sooth and reassure him. The poor child had spent their entire journey sobbing almost non-stop for their parents. Haldir had only just found a way to quiet him and now here were the guardians dropping out of the trees, trying to take him from his brother and scaring the little one half to death in the process. He was not a happy little traveler; but thankfully calmer heads prevailed and as you can see all turned out well in the end.”

“Whatever happened to that sentry?” Braneth asked, “Is he still in Lothlórien? Haldir has never impressed me as one to forget that kind of a slight…they are probably mortal enemies by now.”

“On the contrary, I would say that he and Haldir are rather good friends.”

The look of shock that registered on Braneth’s face was quite telling. “After that kind of a beginning they became friends?”

“Oh yes.”

“Who is this magical creature that can turn the irate March Warden from foe to friend? For I must surely meet someone with that kind of magical power.”

“You already have…”

“Already have? Who…?”

“Me.”

“Surely you jest?”

“No, t'was I – young and foolish, trying to impress my elders; it was the first, and I hasten to say, the ONLY time I have ever gone up against Haldir; I may not be the smartest elf in Arda, but I am a fast study, and that was one lesson I learned very quickly.” He stopped then, gathering his thoughts, measuring how much more to say.

“Yes my friends, he is considerably tougher than one might think. From that time to this he has spent his life protecting those he loves - never wager against him my friend for you will surely lose your purse. He has sworn to put the blade to this “thing” that has brought such harm to the firstborn. In this, I would not wish to be the one who stood between him and the fulfilling of that oath.”

Just as Malrin was finishing with his story, Geleph and Golros emerged from the stables with their mounts. Looking at all the serious faces, Golros asked, “What did we miss?”

“We will tell you later in the Hall of Fire,” Braneth answered, “provided we make it back safely, everyone mount up. Open the gates!” As Anor began the descent to its resting place on the western rim of the valley, the patrol rode out to bring their people home.

~~~~~~

Inside the house the meeting continued with Glorfindel giving his final warnings. “So, as you have heard, this thing has the ability to somehow conceal itself. Elrohir and the others rode down upon it only moments after it attacked Aphrod – and they found no one.”

“The same is true of the attack on Andras,” Haldir added, ”Malrin was at his side within minutes of the onslaught and yet he saw nothing.”

“We must be doubly careful,” Glorfindel continued, “take no chances, do not allow any elf that you do not know to approach you, and whatever you do, if confronted by this thing…do not engage it alone.”

“What?” the cry went up around the room, “Glorfindel you cannot be serious, after what this thing has done?”

But the balrog slayer was insistent, “Draw your weapons and protect yourselves - yes, but I repeat, do not challenge it, call for help. Considering the number of casualties at Gundabad, our only means of defeating this thing may lie in our armor and the strength of our numbers. From what we know so far it does not use a weapon, it does not need to; its touch is lethal.”

The commander now looked pointedly at Elrohir as he spoke, “I do not want anyone trying to be a hero,” and then at Haldir, “nor do I want to hear of any personal exploits that amount to the taking of revenge. Our strength lies in our ability to communicate, and our willingness to cooperate with each other – to do whatever is necessary to see this blight upon our lives removed – permanently. For some of you this will mean longer shifts on duty, others will be asked to fill in doing work they have never done before.” “Remember,” he said, “we are not without skill as warriors, those skills have brought us through millennia after millennia, carried us past enemies far worse than this one, and they will again.

Nodding heads and a chorus of ‘Aye’ went up around the room.

“So, you all know your assignments, return to your posts, stay alert, and remember, call for help – do not try to end this on your own.” He quickly checked the faces of everyone in the room to make sure they were all in agreement. “Very well then…you are dismissed. Elrohir, Haldir…a word please. Cilinwë, and you too Erestor, if you please.”

The room cleared and as the last warrior closed the door behind him Glorfindel turned to Erestor.

“You had a thought counselor?”

“You know me too well commander; I see I must apply more practice to schooling my features if I wish to keep anything closeted from you.”

Glorfindel smiled coyly. “It will take more than practice at this point seron vell (beloved). Tell us.”

Erestor spread open the map and used it to illustrate his point. “I find it ‘curious’, he said, “that there has been no indication that this ‘elf’ attacked anyone in Rohan.”

“Why curious Erestor?”

“First because there are so many potential victims – most of their warriors would have been out on the Riddermark with the other éoreds, yet the first attack that we know of was Andras…here at the edge of Fangorn.”

“Haldir believes, and I think rightly so, that this attacker trailed them to Lórien, here…,” he said pointing, ”and then again when they set out for Imladris.” “It then moved ahead of them and attacked Gundabad, here, and now it has attacked on our southern outpost, here…”

“What do you find curious about that counselor?”

“It is obvious to me that it did not come from Rohan, otherwise you would have heard stories of it from your trading party. No, it attacked here at Fangorn, that was probably its first attempt,” he said as he studied the map and contemplated other scenarios. “Since, as logical beings, we know that nothing just ‘springs up’ out of thin air, it is reasonable to assume that this thing had some help. And the only place that lies between Rohan and the edge of Fangorn is…”

The revelation hit them almost in tandem, like a slap in the face, and they responded in one voice…

“Isengard!”