Set in Stone - Haldir's Story -

Chapter 19 - Galadriel's Pendant

When he left he took with him all the warmth and all the light, as if his splendid armour did not merely reflect the morning sun, but held it captured. Daëra felt a shiver running down her spine, yet from cold or from fear she couldn't tell.

Daëra hadn't brought Náre and missed the ring's heat. Nowadays it was hot all the time and although it burned Daëra even when she was carrying it on her necklace, she found the heat rather comforting. Daëra didn't quite know what to do except praying to the Gods to spare Haldir in the war to come, but she didn't trust on them hearing her. Probably she was causing too much trouble by delaying her decision for as long as she possibly could - perhaps they thought she was being disrespectful and abusing the gift they granted her. Yet if they were gods indeed, shouldn't they know that Daëra wasn't trying to take advantage of the choice she had been given? - Not on purpose, at least. She just... she couldn't... She just couldn't take the step for some reason, although it couldn't be that hard, surely. Going to Galadriel and telling her she had decided. That was all. The Lady would see to the rest, or the Valar would. Someone would, in any case: it would happen. Suddenly, a vision flashed before her eyes. She saw Haldir marching at the front of the large army when he stumbled, clinging onto the shoulder of the next best elf, breathing heavily, staring at his fingertips... Daëra had seen this before, just in a different setting. If she decided now, it would still make him mortal. It would weaken him before the battle. If she decided now - if she was forced to decide before he was back - he would die for sure. The Valar knew that, as they knew everything. They couldn't be so cruel... and yet, they had run out of patience with her long ago. And the world, as a matter of fact, was cruel. The Valar never really seemed to mind that. Daëra slowly slid to the floor, all hope having dissolved into thin air. All that was left now was pain.

It was the night before Lord Elrond's army was going to arrive in Lothlórien. The elf-soldiers would never stop, Haldir and his wardens would join them and they would march on together. He had said good-bye to Daëra - it had not been as he would have liked it, he hadn't had the chance to say half the things he would have wanted to say. To be quite honest, Haldir had not expected, had not even wanted her to come and bid him farewell. He had been scared of what would happen to him if he saw her one last time. She had come though, and seeing her had just been as painful as he had thought it would be. And yet: for some reason, surprise had drowned out the pain and his instinct of self-preservation had made him seem cooler on the outside than he had been on the inside. Now Daëra had left his flet again and he felt he should have said... more. Yet there weren't any words for the things he wanted to say to her.

The Lord and Lady had told him to see them at nightfall, so Haldir stepped out into the open and went to the biggest tree in the centre of Caras Galadhon. Even though the way and the steps up to the highest flet hardly took him any time at all, the stars were out and shining by the time he arrived at the top. Celeborn and Galadriel were both waiting for him. Celeborn spoke first: he pointed out why the elves were joining the humans and what their chances were of winning this war. Haldir could only concentrate on the Lord's words half as much as he would have liked, his thoughts kept drifting away...

"I have something for you." The deep, mighty voice of the Lady Galadriel woke Haldir from his trance. He met her gaze. "Something for me, my Lady?" - She smiled as if he had said something extremely funny. Then she pointed to a delicate wooden table at one side of the room. A silvery pendant on a chain was lying on it: it was a little globe, decorated with flowers and twirls carved into the metal. It was clearly a woman's jewellery. Haldir shot the Lady a side-glance, at which Galadriel smiled even more. "Take it," she said. "Hopefully, it will bring you luck." - Haldir took the pendant on the chain and let the moon light be caught in it. The embellished ball was quite small: it was no more than half an inch in diameter. "Will I need it? - Luck?" Haldir was watching Galadriel's expression closely and so was Celeborn, but when she answered she didn't give anything away - at least to Haldir. What Celeborn had seen, Haldir couldn't tell. - "Not even the Valar know the outcome of the battles of mortals. They have learned it is something that cannot be predicted." - Before Haldir put the pendant into his pocket, he had one last question: "Is it your pendant?" - She just looked into his eyes, her face expressionless, and he knew it meant 'yes'. - "You should not give it to me. Lothlórien will need every bit of luck it can get, especially with all the wardens gone." - The smile reappeared on Galadriel's face. "Celeborn and I will be able to look after our beloved forest - even without luck - until the wardens are back. It will not be easy, yet be assured we have managed to do so before. Also, we have lost our March Warden before. My opinion is firm on which of the two events I would rather have repeated." The Lady's smile was gone again, her eyes deep and blue like... well, the sea probably: there couldn't be a deeper blue in this world than the colour of the Lady's eyes. Realising she wouldn't accept any opposition, Haldir thanked her and pocketed her pendant. A little bit of luck would do him good, he supposed - a battle wasn't about fighting skills, or at least not only. 10,000 orcs they said. But then, the walls of Helm's Deep were strong: it had never been defeated. There was always a first, though.

The next morning was probably the strangest of his life: leaving Lórien just didn't feel right, especially knowing he might never return. When he had left Mirkwood these many years ago he had expected, known he would come back and him not doing so had been an utter shock. Haldir wasn't sure he had made good use of every chance that had been offered to him, now that he was thinking about it. How could he have - how could anyone have - when one never knew what was to come and what the future would be like? Before he could get any more philosophical, the war horns of Lord Elrond's army sounded and the elf-soldiers came into sight. Haldir attached his bow to his quiver and slung the latter on his back. Then he marched to the front line and led his wardens out of the forest to meet the other elves on the grassy plains. He never looked back, since if he said farewell to Lórien, he would truly have said all good-byes to everyone and everything he cared for - and what would then be left that was tying him to this world?

Watching his brother leave was the weirdest thing Orophin had ever done in his whole life. Of course he had seen Rumil leave as well, yet at that point he had still thought this farewell would be the last for quite a while. He would never have expected to part from his other brother, too, and not even a fortnight later. Standing on the highest flet of the highest tree, Orophin could just about make out the elven soldiers who were leaving the Woods to join the others. By now Rumil would have arrived in Mirkwood and pledged himself to Thranduil's service. He wouldn't even know Haldir had left Lórien.

Orophin heard the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood talk inside the flet. At first he had thought they would lower their voices when talking or even go somewhere else, knowing that he was just outside the door, guarding the entrance of the hut. But no, Galadriel and Celeborn didn't seem to mind very much who was overhearing their conversations - or of course they trusted Orophin very much. He himself tended to think the latter possibility slightly more likely. Usually, Orophin could hear the voice of the Lady much better than the Lord's, and so it was that day as well. For some reason, Galadriel's voice seemed to cut through walls and wood and reach Orophin's ears no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on something else and not to listen. So quite soon, he had given up trying to stop himself from hearing words he would understand anyway and was just listening patiently.

"I know her plan might not work at all. Yet unless we try, it is sure to fail," the Lady was saying. - "You are clinging to a hope we both know does not exist. It will not work. You have seen it." Celeborn sounded dark and sad at the same time. - "The future can change, my dear husband. Nothing is set in stone." - "And yet sometimes it is." Silence filled the room for a while after that, then Celeborn said something Orophin couldn't make out. He understood his next words, though. "I feel we have been influencing fate too much already. This time, the players will have to find a solution for themselves - or a solution will not be found at all." - Orophin heard the smile in the Galadriel's voice when she answered: "They already are working on the solution. I am not doing anything at all." - Celeborn sucked in a breath. "It was you who gave the pendant to Haldir." - "Yet it was not me who thought it up." - Footsteps ruffled over the wooden floor when one person crossed the room behind the door Orophin was guarding. - "It might not have been, but still: it will not work. Another ending might be achieved, but not with the help of the pendant."

Orophin had no idea what pendant they were talking about, but as a matter of fact, he did not really want to know. He did not even want to hear any more of their words. He did not want them talking about his brother and all the other soldiers as if they were merely puppets on strings led by some higher beings, unable to walk their own paths. We have been influencing fate too much already. What had they done? What were they doing? And most of all: how many incidents, twists and changes of direction had been the Lord and Lady's fault already?