Slash (=two male Elves in love), Haldir / original character, Legolas / Gimli hinted, PG-13 rated.
Book-movieverse.
Lord of the Rings and all its characters are owned by Tolkien's estate. The story itself is owned by the author. No copyright infringment intended.
He cast a questioning glance at him. Eomer said nothing, but pointed straight ahead. Aragorn followed the line of his finger, and detected a faint glimmer of black. Not the foul, stained black of an orc, but the glittering midsummer night black of an elvish cape.
“He is far back in the hole,” said Eomer, “and we cannot reach him. I know not if he speaks common; he will not answer my calls. He may be too injured to come out, or he may be trapped. He has wedged himself into the farthest corner, and we cannot reach him.”
“We cannot leave him in a hole to suffer,” said Aragorn. He cast a look over his shoulder at Legolas and Gimli. “And we shall not while we have one so skilled underground to aid him.”
Gimli sighed heavily. He passed Legolas his axe, then motioned for the tall elf to kneel before him. Legolas did, and Gimli removed his helm, placing it gently on his friend. “Guard them with your life.”
“Oh I shall,” said Legolas, smiling.
Gimli grinned and lightly touched his face, then turned and began walking toward the distant glitter of black. Legolas rose to his full height and looked at Aragorn, his intense blue eyes barely visible beneath the helm, his face a mask of elven superiority. Aragorn turned his head and managed not to laugh out loud, but could not keep his shoulders from shaking.
Gimli crept into the hole. It was dark, and the broken rocks were slimed from the ages. He could smell the witch-powder Sauruman had used to explode the wall, and the faint salty smell of blood. The stone above had slid down, and the hole was now hardly large enough to creep through. If a stone had trapped the elf, there would be no getting him out; it would take a thousand of his kin to clear away the mess.
He edged further and further into the darkness, and finally saw the brilliant shine of elvish eyes. He heard the silken cape shift, and he sat down, facing the beautiful forest child. He was unusual for his kind; his hair was black as his cloak, and his elves were not blue, but green. His fine face was streaked with blood and slime, and the angle of one long leg told the dwarf it was broken.
“You’re all right, laddie, you’re all right,” Gimli said softly. “Don’t be afraid. Bit far from your Lady Galadriel, aren’t you? Let me have a look at that leg, now…”
He moved forward, and the elf jerked away from him, like a trapped and frightened bird. Gimli sat back down. “All right, don’t hurt yourself further, there’s quite a few of your brethren out there and I don’t want them thinking I hurt you. Do you speak common?”
The elf eyed him nervously, then glanced around at the walls of crumbling stone. Gimli himself had helped carve deep halls. He well knew how unnerving a blast could be. He could not imagine how it must have frightened a forest-elf.
“Look laddie, you don’t want to die here, do you?” he asked gently. The elf abruptly looked at him, showing he did understand. “You let me help you out of here, and there are some of your friends who will be able to help you. Is it just your leg? Let me look.”
He edged forward. The elf flinched, but permitted Gimli to come closer. The dwarf carefully touched him, feeling blood, and the sickening warp of broken bones. Gimli deemed it small wonder he had not wanted to move. Removing him from the hole was going to be hard and painful.
“You let me carry you out,” he said softly. “It’s going to hurt, but you won’t have to die all alone here. This is no place for an elf, laddie.”
He carefully gathered the elf up and slowly, gingerly, carried him out of the cave. Aragorn immediately took the elf and hurried him off to the chamber the Healers were using to tend to the wounded. Gimli stood, covered in blood and slime, but pleased with himself.
“Did he say anything to you?” asked Legolas.
“Nay, he’s frightened, poor lad. An explosion is no place for anyone, let alone an elf.” He looked up at Legolas, who was still wearing his helm. “I quite like that on you.”
Legolas bent down and whispered in his ear; “Then I shall wear it the next time we lay together.”
Eomer did not hear what Legolas said, but found the dwarf’s sudden crimson flush amusing.
Aragorn brought the elf to the Healing Chamber. He carefully lay him down on the nearest bed, then began examining him. There was little doubt at least some of the injuries were from the blast, and the additional wounds were inflicted by orcish weapons. The hip and leg were badly broken. Aragorn feared the elf would be lame the rest of his considerable life.
“Aragorn?” said a weak voice. He turned, then felt a shock of surprise and joy at the sight of the elf on the bed before him.
“Haldir! You live!”
He was pallid and looking frail. He did not open his eyes as he spoke. “That is the rumor. I am not sure I believe it.”
“I have seen you look better.” Aragorn moved to his side, gently stroking back the gold hair. “When I saw you fall…”
“I assure you, none were as surprised at my survival as I.” He slowly turned his head and looked at the elf Aragorn had carried in. “You have found my dark archer.”
“He is badly injured, and will not speak.”
“He has never spoken. He wandered into our realm, I know not from where. He has been living as a wild thing, always eluding any who sought him, yet leaving gifts of arrows for our guards. When Elrond and Galadriel deemed we should honour the old Alliance, he came forth, dressed as a warrior in the garb of a realm I have never seen. He is a feral creature, but he is not without honour and a sense of duty. I know not his name. Can he be healed?”
“He can. Rest now, you are badly wounded. I will tend to you both before I depart.”
Haldir closed his eyes once more, than smiled slightly as he felt Aragorn kiss his brow. He sighed, then allowed himself to drift into a healing sleep.
It was dark when he awoke. The moon was shining blue-white through the small archer’s slots, streaking through the chamber. His back ached, but not as painfully as before Aragorn had tended him. The Healers of Rohan were kind, but Aragorn knew Elvish medicine. Now Haldir knew he would not only grow well, but that he would walk also.
He glanced towards the bed beside his own. The black-haired archer was not there. Haldir could not sit up; his back was too badly damaged. He searched the room with his eyes, and finally saw him. He was perched near one of the archers’ windows, staring longingly at the night sky. Haldir was not fond of the accommodations, but this nameless wild thing must be going mad.
“Forest child,” Haldir said softly, and the green-eyed elf looked towards him. “You must rest.”
The elf looked back out the window, then towards Haldir once more. At last he came away from the slot in the stone wall, moving slowly and painfully to his bed.
Gimli had assumed the elf was young, but Haldir sensed great age on him. There was an air about him, such as he had only felt in the presence of the oldest parts of Lothlorien. He was sure the nameless elf was far older than any he knew; a lone survivor of the distant past. Haldir well understood that living forever did not mean one’s friends lived forever also.
The elf lay down on his cot, but did not rest. His green eyes examined the great stone hall nervously. After a brief time he was up one more, dragging his broken leg as he moved restlessly. Haldir was pained and exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to sleep.
“If thou had a name, Creature of the Forgotten Wilds, I would be cursing it. Go to sleep.”
The elf snorted and tossed his shaggy black hair. Haldir was unimpressed.
“A dear friend took the time to mend my broken back. Pray, do not make all his labour be in vain when I break it once more getting up to strangle you.”
The elf was equally unimpressed, but relented, and returned to his cot. Before he lay down he removed his tunic and shirt, then eased himself down. He did not stir from his bed again that night, but never once did his eyes close.
The days passed slowly. Elves mend quickly, but for Haldir it seemed nothing less than an age would pass before he could rise again. The black-haired elf was already up and driving his caretakers mad with his wild ways. He was an exotic being, and the more Haldir watched him, the more he was convinced this elf was older than all other beings, save possibly the great and ancient Ents.
Stranger still were the markings on his white skin. Haldir was unfamiliar with any art that could permanently create a picture on flesh, but the elf bore several distinct images. About his right bicep was a ring of thorny briars. On his right wrist was a black wolf, and on his left a raven. Three horses crossed his collar bone, racing over ocean waves set between two trees. Beneath the tree on the right hand sat a rabbit on its hind legs, one paw raised in a strangely ceremonial and unnatural manner. The other paw rested on a covered basket. Haldir had no idea what the pictures could mean, though there was no doubt they were significant. As he had no name, the Healers began to call him Rabbit, after the strange creature on his skin.
Rabbit healed well, and fast. The limp Aragorn feared he would have did not appear. He was as he had been before the battle. He was also as wild and silent, and now that he was well none could approach him, Man nor Elf. He roamed the plain near Helm’s Deep, clad in his black uniform, his heavy black hair blowing in the dry cold wind of late winter.
Haldir was not mending as well, however. The poison of the orcish blades fought the skill of the Healers, and he began to sicken. The other elves were anxious to return him to Lothlorien, but it was quite clear he was not capable of such a long journey. Instead they moved him to a higher chamber with more air and sunlight. There they left him in the care of the Healers, and marched on to Gondor. Haldir was alone.
Yet he was not quite as alone as he at first thought. From his bed in the lofty chamber he could look down on the plain, and there he saw a lone and wild figure. Haldir did not for one moment think Rabbit had stayed for him, whatever Rabbit did was for himself. Certainly there was no one else the strange and ancient elf was answerable to; his kind had long ago disappeared from the shores of Middle Earth. Still, it gave Haldir some comfort to feel he was not the only elf in all Rohan.
Haldir’s caretaker was an old matronly woman named Isabeth. She seemed to delight in having an elf to care for, and she would bring him books and other things to occupy his time. More often than not, however, he was too weary to read, and would lay and listen to her sing, or chat about her home. Haldir learned more gossip about the denizens of Rohan than he knew what to do with, but it was highly entertaining stuff. He decided that since humans lived such short lives, they had to get up to as much nonsense as possible to make up for it. Certainly it had never occurred to him to get drunk, sneak up to a sleeping cow and tip it over.
Rabbit meanwhile remained a shadow, a distant flutter of black. Still he roamed the plain, be the weather fair or foul. Haldir could not understand what he was doing. There was nothing to fight, and if he wished to return to the forest he was free to do so. Instead he wandered the plains like a lean and tattered ghost, growing more ragged as the days passed.
“I don’t know what he’s waiting for,” said Isabeth one grey rainy evening, “but it’s not coming or it has passed already.”
Haldir opened one eye and looked at the busily knitting woman. “Why do you think he is waiting for something?”
“What else would he be doing, haunting the plain like a ghost? Singing those songs.” She shuddered. “Enough to turn a body cold.”
“He sings? You have heard him?”
“Have you not? I would have thought Elves could hear better than I But you have slept a great deal. Yes, he sings. To the wind, to the rain, to the stones in the earth. Some of the folk here in the Deep say the wind and the stones sing back to him, and the grass tells him tales. Others say he is waiting to keep a promise to one who will never return. The Dark Lord of Mordor means not a thing to him. I wager he was here well before and will be here well after. He’s waiting, and he’ll wait until the clothes rot from his back, and the grass turns to dust, and all the Kings and Stewards have been dead so long they never were.” Isabeth pulled some yarn from her basket. “Of course, being an elf, that will probably be your fate some day, too.”
“No, I am going to the Havens, where I shall be safe from orcs and old women alike.” He closed his eyes, listening to a distant rumble of thunder. Without meaning to, he fell asleep.
He awoke, sensing a presence in the room. Isabeth had left hours ago for her own bed. This was not her. This was something old and wild, smelling of earth and winter rain. As Haldir opened his eyes, he saw the dejected form of Rabbit.
“They have gone,” he said softly, the first words Haldir had ever heard him say. “’Tis an empty thing, to fulfill one’s duty for no one.”
Haldir slowly and carefully sat up. “None can fault your honour, aged one.”
Rabbit sat down on the bed, dripping wet, his vibrant green-yellow eyes glistening. “Not my honour, but my wisdom, perhaps. My vow is complete. Wither now shall I go, in a world so empty of my own kind, and soon of all elves? Shall I wander this land alone? It is my home, I was born here, as was my mother, and her mother before.”
Haldir raised one hand, wishing to offer comfort, but uncertain if Rabbit would permit himself to be touched. The old elf made no move as Haldir gently brushed the wet black hair back from his face. “Who are you?”
“I have no name anymore, other than the one these Healers bothered to give me. Rabbit will do. I was born before Men or Dwarfs or Halflings arose from the earth, and recall when the Golden Elves first arrived in their silver ships.”
“And your vow?”
“Lost to the winds, and to my own mind. I recall not what it was, only that I must wait here until the stars we call the Three Horses showed themselves three times. They can only be seen once an age. The skies cleared briefly an hour ago, and I looked upon them and made my final prayers.” He looked towards Haldir. “But here I complain about my own troubles, when you are ill and weak. Lie down and rest.”
“Your marks, upon your collar. That is you, greeting the Three Horses. What means the briar? And the wolf and the raven?”
“As all children, you are inquisitive.”
“I am no child.”
“I saw thee fat with milk in thy cradle not two ages ago. But there is time enough for tales, after you are well. Sleep. I am well used to holding vigil.”
Haldir lay down once more, but was uncertain he would be able to sleep. Rabbit pulled the covers over him, then leaned down and kissed his brow. “Sleep,” he whispered, and Haldir did.
When he awoke at the first light of dawn, his pain and illness were gone, and Rabbit was once more roaming wild on the plains. Isabeth came into the chamber to see Haldir standing at the window, and the old woman actually cried with joy to see him well. Then she cried again when she realized he would now be leaving. Isabeth barely reached Haldir’s breast when they stood face to face, though her girth more than made up for her lack of height. Haldir smiled, and embraced her firmly.
“Fear not, Isabeth. I will not depart these shores while you live. I shall visit you every season, and woe betide the scamps who tipped your cow.”
Haldir left the cold dark stone of Helm’s Deep, walking onto the plain. It was raining hard, but he was glad to be outside once more. Rabbit was waiting, but as Haldir approached, he saw that he was no longer wearing the black uniform of the archers of Lothlorien. He had abandoned the gear for garb Haldir had more frequently seen on him; boots, breeches, and a loose shirt. The only things he carried were a bow and quiver, and a long knife. He had not even a cloak with him, and his hair was wild and unkempt. Rabbit was as he had always been, unadorned and shaggy.
“Whither now will you go?” Haldir asked.
“I know nor care. And you?”
“To Fangorn, I think, since I was so rude as to sleep through the Dark Lord’s defeat. I have found myself curious about old and ragged things of late.”
“Then I shall follow, if only see thee burped after thy milk.”
“If thou can keep up. Have thee a cane?”
Rabbit gave him a sidelong look and smiled. “Only for swatting unruly youngsters. Keep up if thou can.”
Rabbit leapt forward and sped away. Haldir paused and watched him with disdain. He rather fancied himself above such displays, but the old elf was moving very fast. He sighed, then leapt after him. Rabbit slowed enough to let Haldir catch up, and they continued together across the plain.
Finally as darkness fell, Haldir made a small fire and spread his cloak on the ground. Rabbit vanished into the darkness for a time, returning with a goose recently back from distant winter lands. After weeks of rations, it seemed the finest thing Haldir had ever tasted. They ate in silence, savoring the young goose. Then as they tossed the last of the bones into the fire, Haldir once more looked towards his companion.
“Who are you, Creature of the Forgotten Wilds?”
“I told you. I am Rabbit.”
“What means the briar, and the wolf and raven?”
“Another old vow, not quite as forgotten. Shreds of the memory of the memory of a lover.” He looked up at the clearing sky, then allowed himself to fall onto his back and pointed up. “Behold,” he said softly, “the Three Horses, fleeing Middle Earth like so many other things.”
Haldir looked up, and saw the close trio of stars. “They are very faint.”
“They were closer yesterday. Soon they will be gone from sight. If I am alive, I will come here to greet them in another age.”
“Then you mean not to go to the Havens?”
“I have been asked to accompany no one. And this land is my home. But even if I go to these Havens, my feet are not like the roots of trees. I can return to where I have been.” Rabbit curled his lip in displeasure. “’Havens’. It has been a long time since any place has been a haven.”
“Has your solitude made you bitter?”
“Yes. But not greatly. There is no hate or malice in my heart. All things must pass, and for me the past is finally gone. It only surfaces to answer a child’s questions.”
“You have answered none of my questions.”
“I have told you the important parts. I am Rabbit. Be content with that. Thou art far too young to concern thyself with my long pain. A darkness has passed, across the land there is joy, and we are off to explore the only thing mouldier than I.”
“A darkness follows thee.”
“’Tis only my shadow.”
Haldir sighed quietly, then lay down on his cloak and pulled a blanket over himself. A moment later, he felt Rabbit lay down beside him. Haldir smiled, and brought the blanket over his lean form. Rabbit said nothing, but shifted closer to the other elf. A pleasant silence settled, and soon both were asleep.
They roamed the plains of Rohan, traveling down to Fangorn, finally making their way up to Gondor to see how Aragorn was faring. The visit was brief; Rabbit would not enter the city and spent his time roaming wild. But it gave Haldir a chance to do something he greatly desired. Together, he, Aragorn, and Arwen explored the great libraries, looking for any record of Rabbit’s race.
Frodo managed to get close enough to sketch Rabbit for Bilbo, then showed the drawings to his friends later that day. They showed a feral, wary creature. Arwen looked at them, then at Aragorn.
“He rather resembles a Ranger I knew once.”
“The Ranger was more handsome,” said Aragorn.
Come the end of the visit, however, they had learned nothing more about Rabbit’s past. He would not approach the city, and spoke to no one until Haldir joined him once more.
“Did you miss me?” Haldir asked as they met.
Rabbit moved close and touched his brow to Haldir’s. “Yes. But I am used to vigils.”
“I would have brought you a gift, but knew not what to bring.”
“You did bring me a gift. Your company. Whither now, in our travels?”
“Minas Tirith, to deliver a message for Gandalf.”
“Ah, very good. I understand their library is larger than Gondor’s.”
Haldir stepped back in surprise. “You knew.”
“Dear Frodo was kind enough to explain to me why he wished to sketch my likeness, then mentioned he thought it odd you were spending your visit sorting dusty papers.”
“Hmph. Should have put an arrow in the little hamster when I had the chance.”
“I’m certain Galadriel would have been pleased to award you the One Ring and the company of Frodo’s former companions as well as the Quest.”
“At the very least, I’m sure. Well, Lord Rabbit, am I to assume there is no record of your existence in Minas Tirith, either?”
“I would be very surprised to find a record of myself anywhere. Are we still bound for that city?”
“No.”
“Oh good, can’t abide cities myself. Let us go to the hills, I have not been there in a long time.”
“In that case, they may not be there any longer. Will you tell me nothing of yourself?”
Rabbit looked surprised at the annoyance in Haldir’s voice. “I had not realized this was vexing you.”
“It vexes me greatly.”
“I am only Rabbit.”
“Thou are not ‘only Rabbit.’”
Rabbit’s green eyes were sad and concerned as he looked at the younger elf. He reached out to touch his face, gently taking Haldir’s jaw in his hand. “I am fond of thee, Haldir, and it pleases me to think you feel the same. Let me stay Rabbit to thee, and we shall wander this land before the Havens call thee. I have little enough time to enjoy thy presence, let us not cut it even shorter with old times and tales.”
The anger left Haldir’s blue eyes, and he hung his head. “I am fond of you, Rabbit. That is why this vexes me. But perhaps time is a better enticement to your tales than demands. I am sorry.”
Rabbit gently raised Haldir’s head, then leaned forward and softly kissed him. “Then let us go to the hills, or at least, where the hills used to be.”
The Fellowship had gathered in a drawing room for an early dinner, and to enjoy one another’s company. After the meal, they reclined about the room to converse. Frodo bent over the drawings he had made of Rabbit, studying them with a scowl. Across the drawing room, seated before the fire, Gandalf drew his pipe out of his mouth.
“Frodo, you look like a young mage trying to learn his first spell. What causes your brow to furrow so?”
He glanced up and Gandalf, then smiled. “A more perplexing question than all the ages have ever seen.”
“Good gracious. What is that?”
Frodo looked once more at his drawing. “’What colour were Rabbit’s eyes?’”
“Green, were they not?” said Gimli.
“Green, and yet not green,” said Frodo.
Merry and Pippin came to his side and looked at the drawing. As he saw it, Merry’s face went white. He picked up a piece of chalk, and bent forward. Carefully, he touched the chalk to the green eyes and added a faint trace of yellow. Pippin abruptly turned away, looking shaken. Gandalf and Aragorn rose quickly and came to see what had upset the hobbits.
“I have seen those eyes,” said Aragorn, “but not on an elf.”
“The Uruk-Hai,” said Merry, “they had eyes like that.”
“That was no orc!” said Gimli.
Gandalf picked up the drawing and studied it carefully. He looked at the wild, thick black hair, the feral, yellow-green eyes. “No,” he said quietly, “he is no orc. But he may be an ancestor.”
Legolas and Arwen quickly came to look at the drawing as well. “It has been said orcs were once elves,” said Arwen, “but they were tortured and broken, turned by pain to evil.”
“Could this be the last of that race?” asked Legolas.
“He could well be,” agreed Gandalf. “A shame he and Haldir have left. I would have liked a look at him.”
“He was like a spirited and untamed horse,” said Frodo. “He watched me so carefully, but there was no evil in his eyes. I was not afraid of him.”
“Should we go after him?” asked Gimli.
“I see no reason to,” said Gandalf. “Frodo saw no evil in him, certainly Haldir does not. He has made it clear all he wishes is to be let alone. So we shall let him alone. Still, I would have very much liked a look at him. He must be as old as the land itself.”
Haldir and Rabbit made camp on the plain. The night was clear, and the stars shone like crystals. The moon was a thin crescent, and the plains were silent save for the gentle song of crickets. Haldir roasted a hare, while his companion rested upon the cold ground.
“Lay upon my cloak,” he said softly. “The earth is cold.”
“I shall when you are ready to sleep.”
He smiled and shook his head. “You are like a wolf my brother raised from a cub. He would not sleep on a cloak, either.”
Rabbit rolled lazily onto his back. “Woof woof.”
Haldir moved to Rabbit’s side. “I do not like to think of you here alone.”
“Nor do I, but this is my home. I know every stone, every blade of grass, the song of every breeze.”
“If you came to the Havens, you could learn new songs.”
Rabbit opened one eerie, yellow-green eye. “And who would sing them with me?”
“I would.” Haldir leaned forward and gently kissed him.
Rabbit put his arms and around him, and drew Haldir down upon his chest. “You are becoming very dear to me, Haldir.”
Haldir kissed him again. “I would become more dear.”
“Your rabbit is burning.”
“Which one?”
Rabbit laughed. “And to think I once thought thee so cold, so aloof!”
“I am when I need to be. Certainly to command my archers, I must appear firm. But even they have made merry with me, and know I am not unkind.”
“Not a few were hard put to not laugh when Aragorn embraced thee.”
“I believe relief had overwhelmed his sense.” Haldir kissed Rabbit, then sat up to rescue their burning dinner. He set the hare aside to cool, then lay once more beside his companion.
“Would you lay with me this evening?”
Rabbit gently traced the lines of Haldir’s face with one long finger. “Thou would have me, knowing I am keeping secrets?”
“They are yours to keep. I see no evil in thee. I see sadness, and loneliness, but nothing foul.”
Rabbit embraced Haldir and kissed him firmly. “You are a dear, kind friend, the first I have had in many years.”
“Then I mourn those who would have known thee. Their lives are the emptier for not having thy friendship.”
“You are a great comfort to me, Haldir.” He stroked his golden hair. “This I vow. I will tell you all my secrets before we depart for the Havens.”
“But not tonight?”
“Nay. Tonight we have other things to discuss beneath the stars.” He smiled as he caressed Haldir’s throat. “Perhaps now we should lay on your cloak? The ground is cold this time of year.”