Agarwaen

Aragorn curled his shoulders inward and drew his knees closer to his chest as a current of cold air teased dark tendrils across his cheeks. The flat ground and merciless wind leeched the body heat right out of him. Finally he sat up and pulled on every piece of spare clothing, cloak and blanket he possessed; and once his limbs thawed a little, pushed a few more pieces of dry timber into the fading ashes, coaxing the fire back to life.

Why had no one kept it alight? He glanced around the cavern. Most everyone was still asleep. Most…but not all. Aragorn frowned as he stared at his friend’s empty sleeping place. Where on earth would he go? This was getting a little more than worrisome. This was the second night he was gone. What if something happened to him? What if...what if the rogue found him? The memory of that russet hood and piercing, unseen gaze sent a shiver crawling the length of Aragorn’s spine but he forced it ruthlessly aside as he picked up his broadsword and slid icy feet into his fur-lined boots.

“Stop shuffling about will you, ranger? Some of us are trying to sleep,” grumbled a hoarse, sleepy voice from the back.

“Haldir is gone,” Aragorn told Carlóme.

“Again?”

“Something is amiss,” He couldn’t explain it but he knew this wasn’t right. Haldir wouldn’t leave them so close after an attack by orcs-no matter how little the danger seemed or how troubled he might have been.

Lintedal, pressed close to Maethor and covered in a blanket and a shallow drape of snow, snorted at him as he slipped down beside her. At the bottom of the slope he found it. The trail was fresh but very faint. Haldir had come this way and not long ago by the looks of it. The ranger’s boots were already dusted with white powder, leaving a very visible path behind but he couldn’t help that. He had to find him.

“Strider.”

Aragorn spun around to see Carlóme at his side, her javelin protruding over one shoulder and a thick cloak pulled around her body. “I’m going with you.”

He didn’t stop to argue.

----------

Haldir’s mind froze like ripples in a cold snap. He couldn’t think or move or even blink. He could only stare at the two figures. Dimly, the still-functional part of his brain chimed a warning. He remembered danger, recognized danger, and realized that danger stood in front of him now, but he couldn’t react to it. As if all his limbs were frozen stiff, for all his countless hours of training, all his experience, he couldn’t stir sword or hand. And part of him didn’t want to. These were undeniably elves and they hadn’t made a move to harm him. Yet.

“Who are you?” he asked again, rather proud that his voice came out above a whisper this time.

“Your face…It is known to me.” the russet-cloaked figure spoke first, shifting a little closer. “It is you, Lieutenant. I almost didn’t recognize you…”

The achingly familiar voice so recently recalled from his dreams sent a sweeping pang through Haldir’s body. His brain thawed and his lips moved, numbly, but they moved. “It is ‘Captain’ now actually…sir.”

“Yes…it would be wouldn’t it? I am sorry I missed the ceremony.” The russet cowl fell back, unleashing a fall of golden hair and unveiling the features of Haldir’s ex-commander.

Fedorian for his part looked unchanged, mostly. Nevertheless, years of nightly excursions and daily living rough in the wild had taken their demanding toll. Always slender, Fedorian’s once-handsome face was wasted, the high cheekbones sunken, the eye sockets vividly hollowed. For a split second Haldir allowed his regard to rove over the ruined eye, over the wound that had nearly cost his old friend more than his life.

The eyelid drooped over it as Fedorian rubbed the corner absently as though he were quite as shocked to see his once-pupil as Haldir was to see him. But he came no closer, standing stiff and uncertain. The knowledge of their last parting hung heavy between them.

A twinge of nervousness began to flutter in Haldir’s stomach region just as it had when he was still a private and the sergeant roared at him to keep his back rigid, head up, shoulders aligned with the heels. Unconsciously, he straightened his posture.

A flash of a grin glittered across Fedorian’s face at the movement. “Never forgot did you?”

“What are you doing in this part of the world, Haldir?” a new voice asked and he turned towards his ghostly guide who had also pushed back his hood to reveal smaller, less severe features with blue-eyes and a soft, mournful mouth.

“Well, Arenath, poor friends we are,” Fedorian walked slowly forward with a mild chiding laugh and took Haldir’s wrist in a deliberate warrior’s clasp. His eyes lit up as he inspected the other at armslength who, when he had left Lothlórien, had been but a fledgling on the verge of his skills. “It has been a long time.”

-----------

The blood drained out of Aragorn’s face as he watched the exchange in the clearing. He was sure the one in the russet cloak was the same elf who had accosted him yesterday. But the other…? And Haldir was…He was just standing there without even his saber in hand. Somehow seeing him outnumbered and unarmed looking very much alone made Aragorn’s stomach squeeze into a tight knot, his hands slick on his sword pommel.

“I knew it.”

The voice nearly startled Aragorn out of his skin. He had completely forgotten Carlóme’s presence until she spoke.

The Harad woman’s tawny features tightened, the javelin trembling in her hand. “That’s him,” she hissed. Though she did not understand the elves’ language, she didn’t need to to recognize the obvious familiarity between the three elves.

Aragorn hastily seized her shoulder to keep her from charging right then and there into the midst of the clearing. “Wait.”

The smaller, grey-cloaked elf glanced in their direction.

Aragorn dragged her down and pressed his face as close to the snow as he could. Doing his best to ignore it as it soaked through his tunic, he remained perfectly still, holding his breath. He could have sworn the other elf had looked right at him but that unnerving gaze shifted away again without comment. He cast a reproachful look at Carlóme who thankfully did not struggle against his grip.

“‘Don’t rush into things until you know what you’re facing’—heed your own counsel,” he warned her. “Wait.”

The woman sank back down on her heels, her eyes still fixed on the three figures in the clearing. “I won’t wait long, boy.”

----------

“We have heard nothing from you all this time. We hoped—thought you had taken ship long ago,” Haldir said, his mind still desperately reeling to absorb this sudden surprise.

The other elf released him and backed up a pace, his expression guarded once more. He looked over his shoulder at Arenath who fidgeted with his bow. “I had unfinished business remaining here.”

Haldir knew exactly what that “business” was if Caleb’s death and Ral’s wounds were anything to assume by. "Why?"

"Why?" Fedorian echoed, his voice deadly soft as though he couldn’t believe Haldir had asked. "Have you forgotten what they did to us? To me?"

Arenath shifted nervously, scanning the underbrush. “We shouldn’t linger.”

Both Fedorian and Haldir ignored him.

“I meant why come to me?”

Fedorian seemed a little pacified by this response and relaxed his white-knuckled grip on the knife in his belt. “Arenath said he saw you near the streambed—with a group of humans no less.”

“He didn’t believe me,” Arenath said, taking his eyes off the leaf litter long enough to cast a little, triumphant smile in his companion’s direction.

“Yes, Arenath. My apologies,” Fedorian said with a roll of his eyes. “Even after all these years, he still doesn’t know his place. I never thought you one for traveling willingly amongst humans, Haldir. And yet you have not renounced all your skills—you found our little woodsman a night ago.”

Haldir raised his eyes, wondering how close Fedorian had had to have been to know that. “Ral.”

Fedorian tilted his head, frowning a little.

He clarified. “That is his name. Ral.”

His captain smiled, a dangerous crook of the lips that somehow did not melt the iciness from his features. “Not anymore. Why do you travel with these men? I watched you with that ranger. He seems oddly fond of your company.”

“He is...a boy I met on the road. He owes me a gratitude,” Haldir lied, straightening his shoulders and meeting the other’s eyes squarely this time.

Fedorian’s ravaged face registered a moment’s shock before deadpanning. “Once, Haldir, you would have given a man a knife stroke rather than a greeting.”

Aragorn frowned.

“I was brash in my youth.”

“And you are not now I suppose?” Fedorian laughed again but it was a much more grating sound than before. “Rather ‘brash’ going off alone with one you did not at first recognize.”

Haldir knew he was right but bristled anyway.

“And yet now you freely walk with humans as though they were—what? Comrades in arms? The War is long over, Haldir. Men are not worth what they were then.” He curled his lip knowingly when no reply came. “You were always quick to let your willingness to forgive overcome you, Haldir. It kept you from doing greater things.”

Haldir forced himself not to flinch. Fedorian was pushing his face in things he preferred to forget. “It was not forgiveness; it was guilt.”

“Even that does not excuse your present company. How can you stay with them? You should know by now Men cannot be trusted—after what they did to you before I left," he shook his head. “Surely you have not forgotten that at least.”

Haldir kept his eyes cast downwards. He hadn’t forgotten—still vividly remembered his youngest sibling’s grief when Rúmil with a Galadhrim patrol led by their captain rescued their then-lieutenant from the humans who had taken him captive. Memory never faded enough to take away that sick horror or the image of Rúmil’s cheeks raw with tears.

“The ones I travel with have nothing to do with your old grievances.”

“Ah, but you don’t know my new grievances.”

“Don’t mistake us,” Arenath intervened, catching his comrade’s arm warningly. “It is good to see you again, mellon nin,” He spoke with much more warmth than Haldir had ever expected. They had not always gotten along in Lothlórien though those youthful days were now long behind both of them.

The younger of the pair locked eyes with his commander and whispered in a voice Haldir could still hear. “Don’t provoke him. It was long ago.”

“Yes, well, however good, it is ill-timed.” Fedorian shook off Arenath’s restraining hand and warning easily.

“You must end this now, Fedorian. Whatever game you are playing has gone on for too long.” Haldir warned him with a shake of his head. “They are too close on your heels.”

Fedorian waved a careless hand. “They call me a ‘ghost’ around the firesides. Or some such human superstition. They fear me too much to hunt me now.”

“She does. She will never stop hunting you.”

“You speak of that child of Harad?” Fedorian’s eyes glittered as he scanned the clearing with a sharpness that belied his unconcern. “You know, she’s been searching for me for years. She and her women have forced Arenath and me to move more than once. Even by the stretch of elves, I grow tired of her! My small comfort is if she looks long enough, eventually she will succumb to the fate that awaits all Men. How is Rúmil? Still behaving himself?”

The marchwarden blinked at the change of subject. “He—he is well. He made sergeant,” he said awkwardly, reticent to speak of his youngest brother with this elf he barely recognized as his mentor.

“Good. I am glad he found something to his liking.” Fedorian glanced up at the sky as though gauging the hour.

“She is very determined. It is not safe for you here.”

“What makes you so anxious?” Fedorian brought down his gaze to level an inquisitive one at Haldir. “They are only human.”

“You and I both have seen what humans can do. You are…” Haldir changed his mind at the last moment and didn’t finish. “I would not see more blood spilt. If she finds you, she will kill you. For whatever reason is in her.”

“She is not my concern. If anything, she is a distraction from my other pursuits like chasing a rabbit instead of a deer. Nothing more,” he sighed and lifted his face to the heavens again, searching. “Still no starlight.”

Fedorian rubbed his eye as though it pained him, a slight grimace passing across his features like a shade. “All right, Arenath. Stop fidgeting, we’ll go,” he turned amused eyes on his partner who paced restlessly leaving little trails in the snow-dusted grass. “I would like to see you again, Haldir—unless you wish to come with us now?”

Arenath stopped.

Haldir’s chest constricted as he realized what lay beneath Fedorian’s friendly offer. Long before, he had had to choose between his commander’s friendship and his conscience. He had chosen the latter. “I will be missed.”

Fedorian gave a reluctant nod and reached forward to take Haldir’s wrist once more. When Haldir began to let go, he did not and tightened his clasp to keep the other from pulling away. “I bear no grudge for what happened between us. When I left. I understand you did what you thought best. You were young and weak—it happens to the greatest of us. But perhaps… now if we can—?”

Something tore the air at an angle between them, ruffling Haldir’s hair as it sped out of the dark. But Fedorian was already moving; and the deadly javelin meant for his chest went wide of its intended mark.

As the rogue lithely regained his feet, Carlóme leapt out of the brush, a dagger already drawn. Muttering what might have been either a curse or a prayer under his breath, Aragorn sprang after her.

Arenath leapt to his commander’s side and tugged at his arm. “I told you we lingered too long. He was followed!”

Fedorian thrust him aside, a long, black knife, the same he had threatened Aragorn with the other day, appearing instantly in his hand. “Why should we flee? There are three of us and two of them.”

“She may have roused the others,” Arenath warned.

“No, Fedorian, go,” snapped Haldir, who had snatched out his saber the instant he felt the projectile pass. “This isn’t the time.”

Fedorian bared his teeth in silent frustration. Straightening slowly out of a defensive crouch, he mockingly bowed his head to the fuming woman and sheathed his knife. “Another then.”

A chill shot straight up Aragorn’s spine as he found himself snared once more by those strange, unblinking eyes; and then they were gone. All that remained to mark the elves’ passing was a light stirring of snow.

Carlóme snatched her weapon violently out of the ground, ripping a hunk out of the grass as she did so. “You let him go! I ought to push this through your skull and out the other side!”

Haldir still held the blade crosswise across his torso, never once taking his eyes off the fierce-eyed woman.

“That’s enough!” Aragorn wrestled the javelin out of her hands before she hurt someone, including herself.

Stiff with shock, Haldir wondered how long the human had lain concealed there. The Dúnadan was becoming too good a tracker for his own benefit if he, an elf, hadn’t picked up on him until now. At least Carlóme couldn’t understand Sindarin.

How much had Estel heard?

The ranger’s face was inscrutable as Carlóme batted snow off her shoulders, her dusky skin oddly incandescent with rage. “We had him!”

“Don’t,” Aragorn ordered, stepping between her and his friend. “You are a fool, Carlóme. He saved your life tonight.”

She drew her lips back in a snarl. “Oh, yes? I’d forgotten you know elfspeak. Tell me then, Strider—he was defending our cause, was he? He told the rogue to surrender himself. Told him we would kill him. Or did he warn him?”

Aragorn flung the javelin at her feet, his expression surprisingly stony.

“I did not betray you.” Haldir lifted his eyes to his young friend’s face.

The ranger’s smooth visage gave away nothing but concern. “I know.”

----------

Heat pulsed against the side of his face and neck, the rekindled fire reflecting in his golden hair. But Haldir remained utterly still, the only concession to movement the half-arrow rolling between his long fingers. He could feel the eyes of the now wide-awake company fixed on him and none more so than Aragorn’s.

“Either you tell us everything you know or I won’t hesitate to tie you up again.” Carlóme stood with her back braced against the cave wall, her jet stare never leaving the elf’s face. It wasn’t an idle threat.

Haldir stood up.

The Harad woman pushed herself away from the wall, her chin lifted though he towered above her. “You recognized him. Or at least, he recognized you. They both did.”

Aragorn touched his friend’s shoulder gently. He knew the presence of a familiar face in the murderous rogue had shaken and alarmed Haldir as much as the rest of them. The marchwarden shrugged him off and began to pace as though constant movement on firm ground kept him from being swept away on the black tide of memory.

Still he waited longer to speak, the memories he had pushed away for so long only slowly bubbling up from the mind-well he had dropped them in. But they were clear and clean when they surfaced at last. Sometimes he rued the easy clarity of elven memory. It made difficult and painful experiences far too hard to forget. Sometimes they seemed more like reality than remembrance—especially now.

“Tell us what you know.”

Kari had to jerk her legs out of the way to avoid being stepped on.

“I…was a lieutenant when Fedorian became my commanding officer in Lothlórien. Men had been troubling our borders at the time—chasing a band of Haradrim who had roamed too far,” he shot a look at Carlóme. “They believed we had allied ourselves with their enemies and any elf who chanced unfortunately across their path was detained as a spy,” He had been an idiot to get involved in the first place. Fedorian had warned him. “They were… unjust…in some of their treatment.” His voice was surprisingly level.

Carlóme’s eyes had narrowed at the mention of her people. “These men thought you were a spy?” She sounded as though she might laugh.

Haldir’s eyes flashed. “Would you like to see the scar-shadows on my back?”

Tension crackled in the air between them.

Brenn with disheveled blankets wrapped around his shoulders shivered and hugged them closer. Carlóme was the first to drop her eyes though they still glittered. Forcing himself to unclench, Haldir gritted his teeth against a wave of self-loathing. It had all been so long ago, he shouldn’t care about this anymore. Why was it suddenly so hard to—?

“The men were angry and afraid enough to kill us. They shot Fedorian when he, my brothers and a patrol came to my aid. In the chaos, we—we were forced to leave him behind. We believed him dead.” Rúmil’s tear-stained face flashed across his mind again. “My brother and I found him ten days later in a ditch where they had left him to die. The soldiers had not been kind. I do not know what they did to him in full. To be truthful, I do not want to know. But his injuries were…severe. Some wounds have still not healed.”

The blue eye. Aragorn bit his lip.

“Afterward, he grew…angry and cold, uncooperative with others, making reckless choices. He engaged the men in battle again against Lord Celeborn’s will and parts of Lothlórien burned.” The mellyrn hadn’t been the only ones to burn either. Haldir shivered unconsciously and prayed no one had noticed.

“So,” Zaren ventured as though afraid to break the silence when the elf ceased. “Because… of what happened to him he-”

“I—I don’t understand,” Narturi interrupted, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. “Why is he doing this? We aren’t the ones who hurt him.”

Haldir opened his mouth to reply but Carlóme beat him to it. “What does it matter ‘why?’ The truth of the matter is he does what he does and needs to be put down before more of our boys get killed.”

“But there were two of them, you said,” Zaren tugged at the ends of his black hair as he fixed the elf with a bewildered stare as though unsure what to think now. “Who is the other?”

“Arenath, once second-in-command.” And incidentally Fedorian’s son-in-law but Haldir didn’t think that was worth mentioning. Fedorian’s daughter had gone to the care of Mandos long ago.

He rubbed a tired hand across his face, not catching Aragorn’s concerned glance. He hadn’t told them everything. They didn’t need to know and he wasn’t sure he could tell it even if they did. The grief of that particular summer was so indelibly stamped upon him even conjuring up those faces made his throat close up.

“How did he—they—get here?” Saeryn asked with a softness that belied the intensity of her gaze.

“Fedorian was responsible for the mistreatment and—and deaths of several prisoners of war,” Haldir confessed. “He was formally discharged of service…”

“And you banished him from your woods to plague us,” Carlóme retorted.

“He left of his own accord.” He did not rise to her taunting, his eyes focused on the red-lit wall as though he could project the mental images there instead of having to say them aloud. “And Arenath with him.”

“So it is your fault he’s here.”

“He made a choice. I had no knowledge of his departure until it was already too late.”

Saeryn shot a sharp glance in her leader’s direction before returning her gaze to the agitated elf. “Could you not have restrained him in some way?”

“How? I thought you knew of Elves,” Haldir leveled his haunting gaze on her until she flinched. “To deprive them of their freedom is one of the cruelest offenses. We do not do that to one another.” He tactfully did not add you clearly have no such misgivings.

“Even if it saved lives?”

“We did not believe him a danger at the time,” Haldir dropped his eyes to the fire once more and added so quietly he could barely be heard over the crackle of burning wood. “Save perhaps to himself. But this questioning is useless. I cannot change what is done.”

“So we change what we can. We hunt out the bloodthirsty snake’s lair and kill him,” Carlóme spat.

“That is easier said than done.” The marchwarden shook his head, knowing that after tonight he would never have her trust. “This is his territory and despite your knowledge he has been here longer. If you try to search for him, no doubt he will find you first.”

“Of course you would defend your friend. Do you know how many he’s killed already?”

“Blindly seeking revenge will get you killed—or worse. Would you rather—?”

“You’re a coward! You think you’re—”

“What do we do now?” Kari interrupted, uncertainty playing over her thin features as she shot an unquiet look at the mouth as though half-expecting to see the murderous elf shadowed there against the crags. “He knows where we are…”

“Leave,” Haldir was adamant and had not taken his blazing eyes of Carlóme’s feral ones. They had found their ghost but instead of something from a fireside tale they had found all too lethal a reality—one he knew they were not prepared to deal with.

“Out of the question,” Carlóme barked. “We finally have a chance to capture this elf and put an end to him.”

“And how many are you willing to lose to do that?” Haldir rejoined, his gaze sweeping the silent group. “Which one of you is wiling to die because of her lust for danger?”

“All of us have lost someone we love to this murderer. If death means we get to rejoin them then that is a price I am willing to pay,” their leader snarled, her voice low and fervent.

But Haldir noticed Zaren wince and Kari lower her eyes. The others were quiet and still as stone figures. “It does not seem that all of your band share your enthusiasm for death.”

Carlóme looked around at them. Zaren was the only one who would meet her eyes. Her thin hands balled themselves into fists at her sides then abruptly relaxed. “You know I never asked any of you to come with me on this crazy task.”

Saeryn who had never really gotten along well with her leader spoke up. “You offered us shelter when we had none. You gave us a purpose, something to live and work for. None of us can ever repay that. We would follow you into death—but not for death’s sake. For yours.”

Silence met this pronouncement but every one of them had raised their heads and eyes; a few nodded their heads in mute agreement.

Haldir admired their loyalty though he couldn’t see how Carlóme had earned it. It made him think of the command he’d left behind.

“You’re all not going to cry are you?” Brenn’s voice sounded vaguely horrified as he glanced around at the adults.

His comment broke the solemnity of the moment and they laughed. Even Haldir smiled.

“So it remains to be seen. What’s to do now?” Carlóme continued when the laughter died away. “I won’t take any of you further than I need to but I want this thing’s head.”

“Then we’re with you all the way, lady,” Kari said, pulling Narturi playfully against her.

“Good,” The sky was lightening with the first blue streaks of dawn. “And I know exactly where we should start.”