A full moon had risen over Lórien, its soft glow coating everything in pale silver. The fair hair of the Silvan Elves shone white, almost as white as their gowns. Only here and there an elf was clad in a grey cloak covering the white and so being almost invisible between the bluish shadows of the mellorn trees. It was wintertime in Lórien and although it never snowed in the elvish wood, the trees were devoid of their golden leaves and the shadows were scarce.
"Blood will be spilled tonight." The sentence was calmly spoken, so quietly it seemed to fade away into the dark almost immediately. The tone was low for a female voice, so grave and monotone as if the Lady who had spoken didn't mind whether anyone would hear her at all. But someone did, she knew he was still at the other end of the flet, although she hadn't turned around these last few hours and was well aware he could disappear without making a sound, if he wished to. – "The humans never cease killing each other and I fear they never will," Lord Celeborn finally answered, crossing the flet and coming to a halt next to his lady. – "They might." – "Do you wish to help them?" – Lady Galadriel turned to face him. "It is too late now. The time when we are helping humans again shall come. But it is not now." She turned her head to look out at the forest again. "We will have to deal with a different issue in a few weeks' time. Thranduil has sent his nephews. "
Celeborn nodded slowly. He was curious as to what his wife would decide when the three elven boys had brought forth their message. He had promised himself not to interfere – Thranduil's younger sister had been one of Galadriel's closest friends in the times of old. Unfortunately, she had never done anything of consequence, so no one remembered her name nowadays. Another reason for the perhaps a little too quick fading of her memory was that she had never been married, yet given birth to three sons. It was told their father had been of a higher elven-kind than Woodelves, but not even her brother knew who he was. When she died 220 years ago, the secret had died with her. Even though Galadriel had talked to no one about it, Celeborn felt her grief as if it were his own. The youngest boy had never known his mother, since she had died giving birth to him. She might have been saved, if elven medicine had been at hand – yet she hadn't talked to anyone about her pregnancy and just withdrawn to a solitary corner of Mirkwood, leaving her other two boys in the care of her older brother. They had only been 16 and 12 at the time – it hardly ever occurred that elf babies were born in such a close succession.
"Thranduil won't have told them that I knew their mother," she stated, still looking outside but actually seeing nothing, as Celeborn was well aware. – "No. It is unlikely he talked to them about their mother much. The youngest was not even named by her." – "Indeed, he is called Orophin, after his Grandfather. Diniel would not have chosen that name." – Celeborn felt the suppressed expectation in the air. His wife's opinion of Thranduil was still undecided, despite her wisdom. It was probably depending on how he had brought up his nephews – if he had taught them to despise their mother, Galadriel's good opinion would be lost forever. She could watch them now in her mirror, yet she didn't dare. To humans and dwarves it often seemed as if the dignity of the elves was just covering a void which was preventing them from feeling anything, especially love and fear and anger. Yet this just proved that they didn't understand: Elves felt all of that, even the wisest. Even his wife.
The nights weren't as beautiful in Mirkwood as they were in Lórien. The shadows were darker and its creatures were dangerous. Sauron's poison had transformed the Great Wood into a realm of dark magic the Woodelves were struggling to fight off. Rumil had been searching the whole labyrinth of caves for quite a long time without being able to locate any of his two brothers. Most of the other elves in Mirkwood thought they had a special mind-connection, since they had been born with just a few years parting them, yet Rumil had never experienced anything like it. Normally, he didn't approve of the other Elves believing it, for it led them to think of the three brothers as one, some not even bothering to distinguish between them and just calling one of them by the first name of the three they could think of. The question "Which one of them shall I bide to see you?" was more often than not answered with "Any". Now was the only time Rumil wished there actually were a connection between them, so he wouldn't have to search the whole castle over and over again.
Finally, he had an idea. He went to the rooms of the Prince and found one of the Prince's teachers sitting at a desk and writing down a text in the common language for the Prince to translate. – "Excuse me, where do I find his majesty the Prince?" – The old elf looked up to check who was inquiring. "He is outside practising archery." – "At night?" – "Yes, he is in the front clearing and we have a bright moon tonight." – "Is he on his own?" – The teacher screwed up his forehead and looked clearly annoyed. "His Majesty sent someone with him, of course." – "Indeed. I thank you." Rumil left and went to see Prince Legolas.
The castle was awake as always, since elves were never sleeping, yet usually during night time they never left the protection of their caves. The front clearing though was a vast space without any shadows, so it was probably as safe as it could get. When Rumil stepped outside, the cool night air made him slow down his speed and enjoy the undisturbed quiet. Undisturbed, yet only for a second, then a boyish shout was carried over from the far end of the clearing. Rumil saw immediately that he had been right and sped up again to arrive at the spot where the shout had come from just in time to see the Prince try and pull an arrow from the thick bark of a shadowleaf-tree. He had hit the knothole exactly. – "Well done, Prince," Rumil remarked benevolently. Legolas looked up, slightly surprised. He obviously hadn't seen him approach – he was only 10 years of age. "Good night, Rumil. Do you want to do some practising?" – Rumil smiled slightly. "I hope I shall not need any more practice. I was looking for..." – "Brother." A voice from the near shadows of the trees. – Rumil didn't even have to turn his head to know who was speaking. "I thought you would be with the Prince, Haldir." – Haldir stepped from the trees, his blonde hair reflecting the moonlight. Rumil was blonde as well, though not quite as bright, Orophin's hair was even a shade darker. He had a bow in his hand, ready to shoot at anything that might emerge from the woods, but also to show the Prince how archery was done, if necessary. He wore the mossy-green and mud-brown garments typical for the elves of Mirkwood.
Haldir went to pull the arrow from the tree and give it back to Legolas. "Try and hit the knothole again." – "Okay!" The young elf grasped his bow and ran a few metres back. Haldir took Rumil by the arm and pulled him into the shadows of the trees and out of reach of the Prince's arrow. "You were looking for me?" – "Yes, and for Orophin as well, but I have not able to find him yet. Thranduil wants to see us." – "Immediately?" – "As soon as possible. I was on duty tonight so his messenger found me first and told me to look for you and Orophin." – "Why would he want to see us?" It had been a while ago that any of them had last spoken to their uncle. Being a little older than 250 years, they had found their place in the community of the Mirkwood elves, they didn't depend on their uncle anymore. – "I do not know. But we had better go." – "Yes. Legolas!" – The Prince, who had shot about five or six arrows while they were talking and hit the tree most of the time, came running towards them. "Yes, Haldir? You were talking about Father?" – "You have excellent ears, Prince. Rumil and I need to go and see him, so you will have to come inside with us." – The Prince was tall for his age and a beautiful child, even for elf standards. Now he thoughtfully twisted an arrow in his hands. "I could stay outside..." – "That is out of the question, Mylord." – Legolas sighed and gave in. "It cannot be that dangerous in the forest!" he exclaimed in that light-hearted way typical for children – no matter what race. – "It certainly is and when you are older you will see it with your own eyes."
"How are we going to find Orophin?" – Haldir said nothing for a few seconds. "Let us just go and see the king, we can tell Orophin afterwards." – Rumil nodded. They left Legolas outside the King's study and knocked. The guard in the anteroom recognised them and let them pass. Thranduil was sitting behind his dark wooden desk, writing something on thin paper. He looked up when they entered. After the formal greeting he began: "Haldir, Orophin. Where is your brother?" – "It is Rumil, your Majesty," the middle brother corrected, never showing his annoyance. – "We haven't been able to find Orophin yet," Haldir added. He was sorry for Rumil, since the other elves rather tended to confuse him and Orophin – their faces looked quite similar and rather edged, Haldir's was softer. "Well, tell him then that the three of you will have to ride to Lothlórien to bring the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood a message for me." Thranduil handed them the piece of paper he had been writing on and while Haldir held it, Rumil read the contents over his shoulder.
"To Celeborn, Lord of Lórien, and Lady Galadriel his wife,
Unfortunately I have to report that my forces found the dead bodies of the messengers you sent.
We were too late to aid them or help them in the shadows of Mirkwood. Therefore, I offer you my apologies. Please do send me your response and furthermore if there is anything you need I that is in my power to supply.
Yours etc. etc. King Thranduil of Mirkwood"
"So they died." Haldir's voice was calm, but sad. – "It is a most unfortunate business," Thranduil exclaimed almost forcefully. Haldir wasn't quite sure whether it was because the Lórien elves had died or because now he had to offer the Lord and Lady a wish. – "They went along the path guarded by our forces, it is inexplicable how the creatures could fool us." – "What was it?" Rumil asked hesitantly. – "Living trees – yet not the good ones that our forefathers sung to life ages ago. No, the bad kind that do not care for elf song or gentleness! They have forgotten who elevated them from mere plants to creatures with will and spirit. Everything is changing."
Haldir rolled up the letter as Thranduil continued: "I need you to set off at sunrise. I have known you since you were boys so at least I can be sure you won't be turning on me suddenly. The journey will not be easy. I would advise you to stay close to the river until the long lake; then follow the Celduin until it meets the road through the forest. The road will lead you to the Anduin beyond Mirkwood and the Anduin will bring you to Lothlórien. I will send some more elves to accompany you until you have reached the Anduin." – The brothers' eyes met. "We had better go and get Orophin," Haldir finally stated. – "Indeed, you better had. Legolas is outside, if I am not much mistaken – send him in to me." – "Yes, your Majesty."
Legolas was waiting for them outside, as expected. "Well, what was it?" – "Me and my brothers will have to leave Mirkwood for a while." – "What?" The boy's face fell. "But who is going to practise with me, Haldir?" – "I am sure you will find someone suitable. Your father wants to see you." – Legolas was already halfway through the door when he turned around once more. "Make sure to be back soon." – "We will stay as long as is necessary. Good bye, Prince." – "Good bye, Haldir, Rumil." The Prince entered his father's study and the brothers went to find Orophin.
"You will have to talk, Haldir," Orophin remarked while he saddled his horse. "I'm hopeless at the common tongue, and so is Rumil." – Haldir stopped tacking up to stroke his horse's soft nose. "I do not expect we shall meet many people on our journey." – Orophin frowned. "We might. Humans, Dwarfs – they are all over the country. At least we won't happen to meet a Dwarf in Lórien. I am actually quite looking forward to our stay there. I wonder what it will be like. It is a forest just like Mirkwood, but they say its trees have golden leaves." – "Mellorn trees." – "Yes. Mellorn. And the Lord and Lady. They say they are always clad in white." – Haldir tightened his horse's saddle girth and tied his bundle to the back of the saddle. "If they are, it tells us a lot about their forest, for wearing white in Mirkwood would be a rather deadly mistake." – Orophin smiled bitterly. "Yes, indeed." – He turned to look around. "Where is Rumil?" – "He wanted to fetch his cloak."
A few minutes later Rumil arrived, the elves who were supposed to guard them on his heels. Haldir threw them a slightly annoyed glance. He wasn't fond of being babysitted. If Thranduil didn't trust them to get safely to the other side of their own forest, he should've sent other messengers from the beginning. While Rumil was still busy with his horse, Haldir went through his common-tongue knowledge in his head. Orophin was right, they might meet people, especially when they were coming close to the long lake. At least Haldir was familiar with the dialect of the lake people, since his uncle had sent him often to sign trade treaties in his name. He was the eldest of the brothers, so he had always been the one to go, which had helped to improve his skill with the common language. He hadn't been down there for several years, though – the dragon that had settled in the Lonely Mountain a century ago was scaring the people of Long Lake and even the Mirkwood elves, they didn't do much trading nowadays.
"Are you ready, brother?" Orophin called over to Rumil. – "I am. Let us go." Their horses cantered on, leaving the palace behind them. They never looked back.
*So this is it, the first chapter. I could hardly find Haldir-Fanfictions so I've decided to write on myself - it is about time he receives the credit he deserves! Please comment and tell me your thoughts on the chapter!*