The light was the only thing that prevented him from closing his eyes. He was an elf, but still he felt he had never been as tired in his life as he was now. He had expected this to be easy, but still he had expected his first battle would be... well, not as gruesome as it had turned out to be, at least. And he had hoped more elves and men would survive. When finally help in the form of Gandalf and the Rohirrim had arrived, it had almost been too late. And now... indeed, the orcs were defeated and driven into the forest that had suddenly appeared not too far away from the city, men and elves had won... yet at what cost? – There were dead bodies everywhere, the smell of blood and death was filling his nose, he felt sick and queasy... – "You over there!" – He wasn't used to being addressed like that so he didn't know he was being spoken to until the man was standing right next to him. He was a human with long-ish brown hair, covered in dirt and blood. – "How many elves have survived?" – He shook his head. "I do not know. Not many, I fear." – The man – as if remembering his manners – then asked: "What is your name? – I am Aragorn." – He greeted the man the elven way. "I have heard about you. My name is Rohir." – Aragorn nodded. "Find as many of your soldiers as you can, we have to try and find the wounded that might still be healed."
Rohir blinked a few times and then slowly walked towards the heaps of dead bodies that were surrounding him. He climbed the steps up to the outer wall – that was where he'd last seen Elladan. He knew his March Warden was dead, but perhaps Elrond's son had made it... An empty elven face surrounded by copper hair destroyed that last hope. Rohir didn't quite know how he had survived himself, yet he was sure breaking that piece of news to Daëra would finish him off. He knew so much more than anyone expected, he'd always had the gift of patience and observation. Even elves could be read, if one knew how to do it. Rohir sighed. At least now Daëra would be able to make her decision without any regrets. Now she need not be worried about killing Haldir in the process... The Lady would have seen his death by now, probably she had told Daëra already – most likely she was becoming human this very moment, seeing no sense in her life anymore... In this second someone behind him was drawing in a ragged breath. Once Rohir had recovered from the shock and realised who had just shown some vital signs, he prayed he had been wrong about Daëra just this once.
It was the fever dream that kept him alive. There were two constants in his life, pain and the vision. The latter was a woman and he knew her, he just couldn't think of her name... He couldn't think at all, this woman, she was touching where it hurt most, he just wanted her to go away and leave him in peace. He was so taken up in telling her to disappear that he forgot to let go. He forgot that he had been about to leave this place. The vision only faded away after someone else had arrived. – "Haldir? My Lord?" – The woman appeared behind the man and gripped his armwhere he had a deep cut. The elf gave a little cry and looked back and forth between the woman and the wound, before his features suddenly relaxed in relief, as if his pain had just been taken away.
"Haldir! Cousin! Are you awake?" – Slowly, very slowly Haldir opened his eyes just long enough to see some fair-haired elf standing in front of him. Then the daylight started piercing his head like blades and he quickly closed them again. The effort of that one blink almost killed him; there was just pain, no matter what he did. – "Haldir, can you hear me? Can you ride? – King Theoden said you could have one of his horses to get back to Lórien with the rest of the survivors... Are you listening to me, you have to return to the Golden Wood somehow. You do not have a choice, do you hear me?" – Since the volume of the other's voice was steadily increasing and causing Haldir an incredible headache, he finally opened his eyes and made them stay open.
The elf – he seemed familiar – came closer. "Did you hear what I said?" – Haldir had already forgotten, but he nodded to keep the elf from repeating it. His effort was in vain though, since the other did anyway. "You will have to ride back to the forest or you will die, do you understand?" – Yes, he did. Dying hadn't seemed too difficult and by far not as painful as life proved to be at the moment. Perhaps he should just let go... – "How did you survive that blow anyway? Aragorn told me he saw you die, he said he held you in his arms and you were dead. – I am so glad you are not, though. I will have to go now. I fear my friends will want to move on..." – What else the elf might have said, it faded away in darkness.
The next thing Haldir knew was that he was leaning to the side of a horse, the smell of the animal filling his nose and keeping him from falling. "Riding, my Lord, do you remember?" – Another blond elf. Rohir. Had he been there before? Haldir couldn't remember. He was hot, he felt sweat or blood running down his face and back; he felt he couldn't stand for much longer. Somehow he seemed to have gotten into the saddle though, since suddenly he was riding. He couldn't bear the bouncing of the horse's trot, yet he could sort of keep his balance in walk or short gallops. Everything worked quite well for a while... until it didn't. A creepy cold seemed to take hold of him, taking turns with unbearable heat. There were others just as severely wounded as Haldir and there was no way the horses could walk any quicker. Haldir, for his part, had stopped caring for where his horse went. The reins were dangling loosely and he let the horse pick his own path. Not for the first time it occurred to him he would have preferred the quick death on the battlefield to this. At least now it definitely would be over soon.
The rustling of leaves above his head woke him from his unconscious state. The scents he had come to know so well filled his nose. At least he would die in Lórien. Haldir decided he had ridden enough, brought his horse to a halt and slid off without a word. – "My Lord, we are not quite in Caras Galadhon yet..." – The second his feet hit the ground, the earth seemed to start swaying, making it impossible for Haldir to stand without holding on to his horse. For a second he had thought he would make it, but no. Now he knew he wouldn't. All of a sudden, something had changed, turned for the worst and he was sick of trying to stay alive. Haldir let go of his horse's neck and sank to the floor. The cut on his left arm hurt so much it seemed to be on fire, his head as well. He couldn't, wouldn't bear it any longer...
"Haldir!" Someone knelt beside him... Orophin. – "Look at me!" – Haldir would have pushed him away, had he had the strength to do so. – "Watch out, Daëra is coming, she is almost here. Yet do not be surprised, she had to..." – Haldir heard a ruffling sound when someone nudged Orophin to prevent him from saying any more. But Haldir knew anyway, she was human now, wasn't she? He wanted to tell them they should tell her to go away, he didn't want to see her... But he was an elf, and elves do not lie.
And then she was there, her scent was all around him, her hands were everywhere, she was saying something, but Haldir was too far gone to understand. He felt quite happy, actually: he had feared becoming human would somehow make her... different in an essential way, yet now it seemed it hadn't. Was there anything he had ever wanted more? When he slowly turned his head up he saw the sky was filled with stars.
The streets of Mithlond were just like she remembered, nothing seemed to have changed. She walked through the streets to where she had lived when she was small, where all her friends had lived, friends that were long dead now. And yet she was happy: for once she didn't get any stares that pierced her like knives, suspicious faces that were wondering what she was doing here. For the first time in a long while she could actually just blend in and didn't even have to put on a mask to do so. The city was so familiar to her the closer she came to her old home and people never gave her a second thought... until they did. Mithlond was no big town, it had always been more of an elven than human place. The humans kept to themselves, everyone knew pretty much everyone else. And they didn't know Daëra - not anymore. The people that had known her and her mother were dead almost 200 years now, maybe a little less. She had always considered herself to be human and expected they would just accept her back. They didn't. She had been gone too long. With desperation slowly creeping up to her, she turned to look over to the sea. For the first time she really felt the deep, blue waters calling and for the first time she knew she would never be crossing them.
Sometimes it seemed the brain kept working even while one was unconscious, presenting one with ready-made decisions once one had woken up. When Haldir finally regained consciousness, the pain was still there, but his head was clear. He was glad he was alive, yet death hadn't been the worst thing. No, Haldir knew now that a life that didn't mean anything to one was the danger: it was the reason he had got hurt in the first place. When his arm had been cut he had been torn between keeping on fighting and just giving up, swaying in mid-air, until a battleaxe had relieved him from the decision. So if Daëra really wanted to become human – if that was what she wanted – than he would give up his immortality. After all, what was a long, meaningless life going to be to him?
Haldir knew when he had arrived he must have misunderstood something, since Daëra wasn't human yet, having fire-healed him. Nothing else could have saved him, except perhaps the Lady herself. Yet for some reason, Haldir knew it had been Daëra. Also, he felt the life of the Eldar hadn't left him yet: even though every part of his body was filled with a numb pain, Haldir still felt quite elven.
He was lying on a bed somewhere in the North of the city, as he had deducted from the view. His bed was standing opposite the window, so it was easy for him to look out. He heard elves rustling in other sick-flets around him, but none had yet come to see him. It had been just as well for Haldir, since he had needed time to think. When Haldir had just started to wonder whether they had forgotten about him, he heard steps outside his door and next thing, Daëra was standing in the doorway. She had her hair tied back and was clad all in white, yet not in one of her dresses she was usually wearing, but trousers and a tunic she had tucked into the waistband. She was carrying an armful of bandages and a pot with some medicine in it, as Haldir supposed. When Daëra saw he was awake, she froze dead for a second. "You're... that was quick," she breathed, obviously astonished. She came closer, letting the bandages fall onto the far side of his bed and putting the pot on the ground. "How... I mean, how are you feeling?" – Slowly, Haldir sat up, ignoring the painful stings in his back and careful to support his weight with his right arm instead of his left.
"Not too bad. You did a good job." – Daëra sat on the edge of his bed, her eyes were wide and she looked agitated. "I had thought I was too late. I couldn't completely heal you in one session, but I think a third one in a day or two will do. I was just... You know when I saw you at first I couldn't find the ring; I could feel that you had brought it back, yet it could have been in any of your pockets. My healing powers are so much stronger when I am wearing it..." – Haldir frowned, she hadn't given him her ring, he wouldn't have accepted such a precious token. Daëra just smiled. "I will be back in a second." With swift, noiseless movements she left the flet and returned a minute or so later, carrying the lucky charm Galadriel had given him: the ball was open, the two halves connected by a tiny hinge that had been disguised as an ornament. "My plan had been to reach out to you during the fight or afterwards and heal you and everyone else, but then..." She had sat down on the bed again; her train of thought seemed disrupted by their sudden closeness. Haldir took the pendant from her and put it onto the bedside table without even looking at it further. He propped himself up a little more into a full sitting position so his face was a little higher than Daëra's. – "I am so glad you are alive," she whispered, barely audible to anyone but Haldir. He didn't need more encouragement than that and their lips met in a crushing kiss. He could feel her passion and relief leaving their mark on the kiss, for once she didn't worry and didn't regret. He put his good hand at her waist, feeling the shape of her body beneath it. Gods, how he had missed this.
When their lips finally parted, she carefully leaned her head on his shoulder. As soon as Haldir felt he could talk again, he said quietly: "I do not think I would mind being mortal so much now – death awaits even elves around every corner. There is no escaping it no matter what anyone does in this world. And I intend on living my life in a way that is worth living. Worth living to me." – She drew away and looked at him at first in puzzlement which soon changed into amazement. "You would become mortal? For me?" - Haldir nodded, but his eyes were fixed on her face. Something was... different. There was something she wasn't telling him. Perhaps she had found a way to change to humanity without him becoming mortal with her – now that he had decided to join her way? He felt his heartbeat quicken. This was bitter irony indeed. The features around his mouth hardened, although he tried very hard not to show the disappointment and hurt and... It seemed, he could have died after all on the battlefield – because if there was one thing he certainly couldn't do, it was living on after Daëra would have gone.
Daëra of course noticed his change of mood and leaned over to the bedside table, taking the pendant into her hand. Haldir realised she must still be wearing the necklace with the ring her father had given her, although the silver chain he had just spied around her neck seemed somewhat finer. – "You know..." she finally started, the pendant held up to swing in front of her eyes as if she were hypnotising herself. "...the feeling when I realised I couldn't reach you was the worst I had ever felt. I didn't know what to do." She met his glance. "So I went to see Lady Galadriel and I looked into her mirror. I had never dared to do so before, since she said she could not predict what it would be showing me. I expected to see Helm's Deep, the battle, you. I didn't, though. I saw my hometown." – She sighed and let the pendant fall into her lap. When she slightly tilted her head, Haldir's breath got caught in his throat. He clearly hadn't completely come round yet, or how could he not have noticed something as obvious? – "I was devastated my powers as half-elf, half-human weren't strong enough to reach all the way to Helm's Deep. So I became an elf."