In the Forests of the Night

A friend of mine suggested I write a story starring a small Haldir. He seems to be about the equivalent of a six or seven year old mortal in this one.

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Haldir glared ferociously up at his mother, only to meet a blue gaze that mirrored his own and lacked none of the steel.

“Why not?” Haldir demanded, small fists bunched at his side.

“You are too young, Haldir. The Games are only for elves who have reached their majority.” Haldir’s mother’s voice remained calm and smooth, a smile tugging her mouth.

“You told Rumil that he might go!”

“Rumil is older than you, and is proficient with bow and sword.”

“I can fight, Mama, truly! I have been practicing very hard.” Haldir begged his mother, who shook her head, long golden hair sweeping her shoulders and waist.

“That may be so, Haldir, but a dagger and practice blade are not sufficient to protect you in the deep woods, should trouble arise. You know this.” Haldir planted his fists on his hips.

“Orophin agrees with me.” Haldir’s mother looked down at the child on her hip, who sucked his thumb in quiet contemplation while huge blue eyes gazed intently round.

“I am afraid my opinion outweighs Orophin’s. You are not going, Haldir.” Haldir’s mother watched as the anger snapped in his eyes, and again repressed a smile. So like her husband, that child, all spitfire and determination.

“Have you finished your lessons for tomorrow, Haldir? Your tutor will be most displeased if you have not.” She watched as the straw-haired boy shook his head.

“A soldier has no need for lessons, Mama.” Haldir’s mother crouched down, gently setting Orophin on his feet to toddle about. She placed a cool finger under her son’s chin, meeting his eyes.

“All soldiers, no matter how gifted and brave, must be able to read and write their letters and numbers. You have seen your father at work. He writes a great deal, and commands the entire army of the Galadhrim. If a soldier cannot read nor write, then how will he know his orders, or make a report to the Lady?” Haldir looked at the floor. His mother was always right.

“Lady Galadriel would be very unhappy if she could not read her reports,” he finally acquiesced.

“Yes indeed,” replied his mother. She gently enfolded Haldir’s small hand in her own, and could not help thinking that one day those soft little fingers would be strong and calloused with hours of training and practice, equally skilled with bow, knife, and sword. They would be her hands, and her husband’s. For now, however, they were the fingers of a little boy who needed much practice with his letters.

“Come Haldir, Orophin and I will listen as you recite for us.” Haldir’s face brightened somewhat and he squeezed his mother’s hand. She scooped up Orophin and led them to the small studio. Arranging Orophin carefully in her lap, she put on a serious face.

“What shall I recite, Mama?”

“I would like to hear your spelling lesson…”
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Much later, Haldir lay in bed, still wide awake. How unfair it was that he could not participate in the Autumn Games with the others! He was not so very much younger than they, after all, and even with a dull practice sword and small dagger he was more skilled. He looked at the empty bed next to his, where Rumil usually slept. It was neatly made and empty, for his older brother now slept on cool grass.

The Autumn Games were the annual test of skill for the soldiers in training, consisting of a series of challenges designed to employ all of the skills required of a good soldier. Aside from the obvious physical aspect of the tasks, mental acuity and creative thinking were also required to win each challenge. The winners and participants of the Games were awarded the title of cadets and given a true sword, not the small, light version used in mock combat.

Haldir had often stood with his family as the winners crossed the practice fields, the termination point of the Games. He knew the challenges were not without risks, as often the participants returned bloody and occasionally seriously injured. He realized with a pang that Rumil could be hurt, and hoped his brother was well. The more the young elf thought about the Games, the more determined he became to participate.

“I am big enough,” he said aloud to no one in particular. “And Mama said I am already better with the sword and dagger than Rumil.” He drew his knees to his chest and rested his chin upon them. His small sword and dagger gleamed dully in the moonlight where they lay across the chair. Quietly getting out of bed he hurriedly dressed, pulling on a thick tunic and warm leather trousers, followed by soft boots. He wrapped his weapons in his heavy wool cloak, tucking the bundle under his arm. Into a small pack he put several slices of bread and some apples, as well as a flask of water. He stole silently past his parents’ room, where his mother slept alone in the high bed, his father away at the Games.

At the sight of his sleeping mother, Haldir stopped, suddenly torn. He knew he was disobeying, and his mother would be angry with him. He frowned. He desperately wished to make his parents proud of him. He wanted nothing more than to be a soldier. He pushed away the guilt and blew a gentle kiss to his mother.

“Goodnight Mama. Sleep well. I will make you proud. Papa too.” He stole quietly out the downstairs door and the steps, sneaking away to the practice fields and the path which led to the Games. Excitement bubbled in him. He was going to be a real soldier! His soft boots made no sound and he hurried down the dark path, searching for the encampment. The shadows around him grew long, and the trees began to blend together. Haldir hardly noticed, lost as he was in visions of killing monsters.

Haldir walked for a long while, until his legs felt leaden. He was unused to the weight of a sword on his back, and his shoulders ached. He wanted to rest. His stomach rumbled. He looked around for a place to sit, and found a tangle of tree roots that he thought would do nicely. He ate some bread and an apple and feeling better, resumed his walk. He had never been allowed to walk this far into woods by himself before, and his stomach fluttered with excitement.

However, the moon cast long shadows and Haldir still had not found the camp. In fact, he had seen no sign of any other living soul in his entire walk. A tingle of fear ran down his spine, and he stopped and looked around. The woods were very dark, the huge mallorn trees tall and eerie in the pale moonlight. He had never realized how quiet a great forest was at night, when the animals slept. Barely a breeze rustled the bushes. Haldir swallowed, suddenly afraid. None of the trees looked familiar at all, and the air smelled different here than it did in the places he knew. The bad tingling feeling returned again, and Haldir shivered, drawing his cloak tighter.

<i>Why am I afraid?</i> He asked himself, touching the dagger on his hip. <i>Lorien is safe. Papa says so.</i> Even so, he was not convinced. How many times had he gone to see his father in the infirmary, injured from fighting orcs? Haldir swallowed and straightened. <i>I am not afraid of orcs! I will kill any I see! Even a little elf is better than a big orc!</i> Feeling reassured, Haldir turned and walked the way he thought he had come, deciding to perhaps try another path. He walked for a long time, but still found nothing. The bad feeling was back. Haldir sat dejectedly on a tree root. The cold reality that he did not know where he was had slowly been sinking in for hours now. He shivered. He wished his mother were there, or Rumil.

He set his shoulders firmly.<i>Even if I am lost, I am still not afraid. These borders are safe. It will be morning soon.</i> Haldir’s eyes swept around the dense forest. He felt so small and insignificant sitting among the ancient trees. His eyes began to close, and he sat straight up, startled. <i>I must not fall asleep. I must keep watch, like a good soldier. Morning cannot be far. It will be light then and I will find my way home. Mama will be so worried!</i>

The little elf sat huddled in his cloak, comforted little by the stars. He tried to stay awake by singing songs and reciting his lessons, but eventually he ran out of songs and lessons, and his head drooped to his breast. A cold breeze fluttered the mallorn leaves, and iron-clad feet crunched through the bracken, hunters searching for a kill. They moved in the darkness; dawn was coming soon.

For the little elf who huddled in the trees, it would not be soon enough.
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Haldir woke because his toes were cold. He blinked several times, hoping that he would wake up in his own warm bed, the smell of breakfast in the air. As his vision focused he realized with despair that it was not so, only enormous dark trees greeted him. Haldir realized with horror that he had fallen asleep, and he stood, stretching his cramped legs. He began walking in what he hoped was the right direction; he was angry that he could not remember what his father had taught him about using the stars to find his way.

As he walked his fear mounted, every small noise and rustle startled him, and the woods only seemed to grow darker. Haldir realized with a sinking feeling that he was truly lost and it was no longer a game. A loud crunch and murmur of gruff voices made him freeze in place, wide eyes searching the shadows.

“Hello?” he called timidly, his small voice barely breaking the silence. “Who is there? Show yourself!” his hand trembled even as it grasped his sword. The crunching footsteps- he was sure they were footsteps now- drew closer. The hair on Haldir’s nape prickled- elven footsteps made no sound. He drew the sword, realizing coldly that the dull blade would do little against an enemy wearing any armor. His hand was shaking and he tried to stop it. Soldiers did not shake in battle, or their aim would not be true. He swallowed hard, easing into the ready stance as he had been trained, breathing in strength and exhaling his fear.

Even as he relaxed, five black shadows burst from the foliage, yellow eyes glowing, rotted teeth bared in fierce, feral expressions. Haldir felt his stomach flip. He had never seen so much as one live orc and now he was mere yards away from five- who all looked at him as if he were some fine delicacy and they had not eaten in days. Remembering what he had learned about orcs, Haldir realized that very well might be true. It seemed though, that the orcs were surprised at what they saw.

“Well would ya look a’that! It’s a little one!” The first orc to speak wore a ragged shirt of mail and leather and gripped a saw-edged scimitar. Haldir glared fiercely, understanding little of their speech.

“Oooh! I’d bet ‘e’s nice and tender… not all wiry like these other types.” The second orc gave Haldir a look of raw apetite, and worse.

“What should we try first? The little thing’s got pretty eyes! I bets they’d be tender!” Haldir unconsciously began to back away, preparing to run. A hand clamped on his shoulder stopped him cold.

“Not so fast little darling. We ‘avne’t been properly introduced. I’m Sleezbak, and you’re supper.” With that, he violently brought his scimitar hilt down on Haldir’s head, making the elf stumble and howl in pain. Haldir felt as if stars had exploded behind his eyes, and he couldn’t seem to stand properly. He felt blood trickle into his hair and down his scalp.

“Did that feel nice, my dear? We’re not done with you yet, pretty little thing.” The orc drew a finger down Haldir’s cheek, a touch that made his skin crawl. He flinched away, feeling sick.

“Leave me alone!” he shouted, trying to twist out of the iron grip on his shoulder. Fire suddenly blossomed down his arm and chest and his knees felt weak as the orc’s nails dug into the pressure point along his collarbone.

“Not yet.” Sleezbak looked to his companions. “’E’s got spirit!” He then looked darkly at Haldir, who squirmed in agony. “They all do…at first.” Haldir’s stomach turned at the orc’s foul breath, a disgusting mixture of rotting meat and raw spirits. He cuffed the child carelessly across the mouth, drawing blood, dark in the moonlight. Haldir whimpered, his head throbbing. He knew he needed to get away, and soon, or something very bad was going to happen. He flung his weight away from Sleezbak and spun, bringing his sword around in a level swipe. The dull blade bounced harmlessly off the tough hide. Sleezbak laughed and brought his own scimitar around.

“Wanna fight, little flea? We can do that too. Take ‘im boys. I want him screaming.” The big orc lunged at Haldir, scimitar slicing toward his chest. Haldir barely blocked to blow, but found another orc at his elbow, axe ready to cleave him in two. Haldir tried to block this blow as well but the heavy axe cleaved his sword in two, the blade flying in a shining arc into the darkness. A heavy fist met his temple, and Haldir knew no more.
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Haldir woke to a terrible headache. He had never felt such pain in his life and his stomach twisted threateningly as the ground spun under him. His mouth tasted foul and he realized he couldn’t open one eye. He raised his right hand to rub his eyes, and found his hands tightly bound together at the wrists. He tried to roll to his knees, which proved a foolish idea when the ground suddenly lurched and heaved. The motion proved too violent for Haldir’s aching head and he vomited into the grass. Being sick had only made his head hurt more, and he closed his eyes, trying to breathe deeply. He desperately wanted his mother.

A hard kick in the ribs took his breath away and he cried out in pain. Rough hands jerked him up with bruising force, yanking at his tangled hair. Sleezbak leered down at him, an evil light in his yellow eyes.

“We’ll get a pretty penny for you I bet. Do you miss your mother? What would she do ta ‘ave you back safely, little flea?” Haldir did not understand the words but the tone was mocking and cruel, and he blinked back tears. Haldir found himself forced against a tree, a bony hand around his throat.

“Who misses you, darling? We’re going to find out.” Haldir felt another hand yank one of the braids in his long hair, placed so carefully an eternity ago. Realizing with horror what was going to happen he kicked out, catching his captor in the groin. The orc howled in pain and swung at Haldir, but the nimble elf ducked away, and the orc’s hand smashed into the tree. Haldir ran as fast as he could, but the ground seemed to wobble underfoot and he was feeling sick again. Screaming curses and orders, the orc rose to his feet and his companions gave chase.

A solid weight struck Haldir in the back and he fell. His tied hands landed awkwardly beneath him and he heard a snap like a branch, and white hot pain tore up his wrist and forearm. Tears of pain welled in his eyes. The orc’s weight pressed him and he felt cold steel at his throat.

“Move an inch, little whoreson, and your life ends now.” Haldir froze. A hand stroked his cheek, then twisted his broken wrist. He screamed, feeling dizzy from the pain.

“Much better,” cooed the orc. Haldir sobbed, in terrible pain and knowing he was going to die. He thought of his mother and family; he wished he had never left his bed. He felt the knife kiss his cheek, then his hair was pulled and a line of fire flashed over the sensitive point of his ear. He felt blood trickle and the world became very still. His wrist throbbed with a sickening pain, and Haldir’s vision dimmed. Even so, he did not miss the faint orange glow of the sunrise and the dimming stars.

“Mama I am so sorry,” he whispered through split and bloody lips. A vicious blow to the head silenced him, and the last thing he heard was the laughter of the orcs.
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The tall elf moved swiftly through the trees, the chill wind masking any sound he might have made. The ground below revealed the marks of orcs, and he had heard screaming throughout the night from the same direction. These orcs, though craftier than most and obviously familiar with the area, had still not been clever enough to conceal their tracks, and the elf now followed them easily. It was a small group, not more than five, he guessed, and when he came upon them in a small clearing, his heart filled with disgust.

Five arrows dispatched the creatures with hardly so much as a squeal, and the elf agilely descended the tree to inspect his kill. He kicked the body of an orc to ensure that it was dead, and his eye caught on something odd. Looped through the straps of the orc’s crude breastplate was a braid of fair hair. Pulling loose the orc’s trophy, the elf felt his blood chill when he realized it was elven hair. As he looked around the clearing, his breath caught in horror.
Cast to one side in an almost-careless manner lay a small body, hidden from view by its wrapping of grey cloak, made visible only by a fall of straw-colored hair. The little body did not move or stir as the elf approached and pulled back the cloak, revealing the bloodied form. A gentle hand cleared the heavy curtain of hair from the little face, and the elf gasped in shock. His hands shook as he gathered the elfling close, and tears pricked in his eyes.

“Haldir, what has happened to you my son?” The child did not respond, and Haldir’s father picked up the bloody bundle and ran swiftly to Caras Galadhon, fearing for his child’s life.
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Haldir woke slowly, ascending through layers of fog as his senses gradually returned. He could hear soft voices around him and he was laying on something warm and soft. Even with his eyes tightly closed, he knew something had changed from when he was awake before; he knew he was no longer in the forest. His eyelids fluttered and he managed to open them. Even the dim light made his eyes and head ache, and his eyelids felt too heavy to keep open. The ceiling above him looked familiar, and realized he was in the infirmary, tucked safely in a large bed.

He tried to raise his hand to touch his aching head, and found that his right arm was bound in a tight splint and rested in a sling across his chest. The scuffle with the orc returned to him vividly and he remembered hurting his arm when he fell. With his good hand he reached up and touched his head, finding a soft bandage wrapped around his temples. He let his hand drop with a sigh, knowing that his mother was surely going to finish the job the orcs had not been able to complete. He remembered nothing after his attempt to escape, and had no knowledge of how he had come to be at the healers.
The edge of his bed sank down as someone sat and held a cup under his nose. He looked over and saw his mother, who offered a small smile. He knew he was in trouble.

“Welcome back Haldir. Would you like some water?” Haldir nodded and drained the cup, feeling better. His mother said nothing, merely watched him drink. Haldir’s cheeks burned with shame. He stared at the needlework on the quilt that covered him.

“Mama I’m so sorry… I should never have left without your permission.” A warm hand cupped his chin, and he found himself looking into his mother’s blue eyes, dark with concern and sadness.

“Haldir do realize what nearly happened because you disobeyed?” Haldir was surprised to see her eyes cloudy with tears. His mother never wept. “I thought my son was dead.” Her voice broke, and Haldir had never felt so miserable. He wrapped his good arm around his mother and buried his face in her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry Mama… if the orcs had killed me I would have deserved it, for being so foolish,” he sobbed. His mother held him tightly, stroking his hair, fingers smoothing the place where the orc had cut it. Gently, she pulled away from her sobbing child and wiped his face with her sleeve.

“Haldir, you may have acted foolishly, but you certainly did not deserve for the orcs to hurt you. No one deserves that.” Under his mother’s touch Haldir felt something in him crumble, and tears washed down his face.

“Mama I was so frightened… I tried to fight the orcs but my sword broke and I could not. And they were so big… he hit me on the head and I could not see properly. I was not a brave soldier at all! I tried to run away from them, but they only kept hitting me.” A huge choking sob wracked him. “They…they cut my hair… and hurt my ear.” Haldir’s mother gathered him into her arms, horrified at the orcs’ treatment of her son. Her cool fingers gently soothed the cut on the point of his ear. She would never have imagined that such a small hurt on her child would have caused her so much rage. She was glad it was her husband and not she who had killed the orcs, for she would have shown them no mercy in a quick death.

“Your hair will grow back Haldir. I can hardly see where it was cut.” She smiled a little as she smoothed the bright strands. She gently kissed her son’s ear as she held him.

“Haldir you were very brave to try and fight the orcs. You did not run away like most children would. But you are too young yet, to know what it is to kill. Promise me you will never disobey me in this again.”

“I promise, Mama.” The voice was choked and almost a whisper. She gently laid Haldir back in the huge bed, handing him a wet cloth to wipe his tear-streaked face. She tucked him in gently, settling him against the pillows.

“You need to rest now Haldir. Your body must heal itself.” Haldir nodded, already feeling exhausted. As his mother left the room, he remembered something.

“Will I be punished, Mama?” His mother smiled gently.

“I think you have been punished enough, Haldir. There are reasons I do not let you do some things, and I think you understand my reason this time. Am I correct?”

Haldir nodded, so ashamed of his actions he could hardly speak. His mother returned to his bedside and took his hand in hers.

“When you are well, if you feel you need further punishment, we shall speak.” Haldir swallowed, nodding.

“When will I get to be a big soldier like you and Papa?” The child’s earnest question nearly broke her heart. Her child, so eager to become a killer.

“When you are old enough, sweetheart, to know that there is more to being a soldier than just killing orcs.” Haldir nodded.

“Will you teach me, Mama, so that I will be a good soldier?” His mother kissed him on the forehead.

“Of course Haldir. I will teach you anything you wish to know. For now though, you must rest so your arm heals and you can practice again.”

“Yes Mama.” Haldir felt his eyelids drooping heavily.

“Sleep well, Haldir.”

And he did.

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Notes: Some will notice I did not use the elvish names when Haldir addresses his mother and father. I have always thought doing so seemed a little odd, as obviously the entire conversation would be occurring in elvish anyway. Sleezbak the orc is indeed a play on the word "sleazebag." As always, any and all commentary is appreciated.