*Hi to everyone, so this is chapter no 5! Please, please, pleeease vote and/or comment if you like the story, for I'm not sure whether I shall continue... Tell me what you think! Jazzlin xxx*
When the sun rose the next morning, Haldir and his brothers were already waiting at the southern gate of Caras Galadhon to meet the caretakers of the woods. After a short while, a man joined them. "My name is Thilion – I am this group's leader." – Orophin looked back and forth between his brothers and the new elf. "This group? Shall you be our personal teacher?" – Thilion smiled. "By no means. Furthermore, I would not go as far as to say I were to teach you – I doubt I am more leaned in the matter of forests than you. My knowledge might just slightly exceed yours concerning this forest." – Haldir exchanged a glance with his brothers. "Well, we are really curious indeed what there is to know about this forest." – "You will see – right now even, since there are the others."
A group of five elves, male and female, had just stepped through the city gates. Thilion introduced them one after another and Haldir stowed the names and faces away where he they would be easy to recall, since it was very likely he should need them again. The fifth member of the group was a woman, Thilion pointed at her, saying: "And finally, this is..." – "Daëra," Haldir completed in the leader's stead. – "Have you met?" Thilion and Haldir's brothers asked in the same instant. – "Indeed, we have: we met yesterday in the woods," Daëra replied. – "You never said a word," Rumil whispered. "I did not see why it would be of any importance to you." Haldir looked away haughtily. Orophin laughed at that. "It is truly a shame you are not heir to the throne, brother: you have mastered the facial expressions already." – Ignoring the teasing among the brothers, the group set out to into the forest.
Rumil and Orophin were walking next to each other to continue their joking under their breath just loud enough for their brother to hear, so Daëra dropped behind to walk next to Haldir. "I would not have expected to meet you here," she remarked. – "It will probably take some time until the Lord and Lady have made up their minds, so Galadriel suggested we get to know the woods a little better." - "That is a very good idea. There isn't a more beautiful place in Middle-Earth than Lórien in winter – except perhaps Lórien in summer, when the mellorn trees are wearing their golden leaves. But I have never been here during summer – I am hoping someday I will." – Haldir tried to picture the wood all in gold, but found that his imagination could not come up with a suitable image. "Tell me," he finally asked, "what do caretakers of the wood do? And how come you are one of them?" – The edges of her lips were twitching at that as if she were suppressing a smile. Then she reached out to run her hand over the smooth bark of the trunks while she was walking. "Healing trees and animals, mostly. And we are planting herbs and flowers... Making sure that the forest is healthy. I know it does sound a bit like mere gardening, yet after a while one starts to feel whether something is amiss. That is why I am doing it, even though my status is that of a visitor. It is fascinating." – "So it is like... chopping wood and digging holes?" Haldir had to admit he had thought there was a more... elvish way to do such things. At that Daëra laughed openly, a crystal sound not often heard among the elves nowadays. "No, most of the things are achieved with the help of the old songs: in this forest, the trees are still listening to what we say." – Haldir crossed his arms. If back home they would ever try to sing totheir trees, the plants – had they mouths – would just laugh maliciously, before devouring them alive. "I do not think I will be a huge help," Haldir had to state somewhat grudgingly. "I do not know any of the old songs." – Daëra looked up to him reassuringly. "You will memorise the words quickly. Besides, someone who can lift the big boughs is always quite useful as well," she added with a somewhat mocking smile. – "They obviously already have someone who can creep into the brushwood." He returned her glance, not willing to let her win this battle of wit.
Daëra's lips twitched again as if she were about to smile, then she directed her eyes back onto the path with a swing of her head. Her hair brushed Haldir's arm in the process and he could just prevent himself from jumping out of the way – it was not that he was scared of the touch or thought her hair was dirty... on the contrary, her hair looked soft and it seemed all shades from blonde to brown when the sun was shining on it. Yet for some reason he had the feeling something like this had never happened before. All elves had long hair, females usually longer than men, and they too swirled around quickly which had to send their hair flying – yet somehow Haldir could not remember that hair had actually brushed him like that before. It was probably because elves were usually controlling their every movement to a great extend – even the swing of their heads. Daëra though never seemed to notice, so they just went on.
By nightfall they had un-blocked a pathway, healed several ill trees, harvested some winter-apples and put a suffering deer out of its misery. Thilion had never exactly known where they would be going next, he had "followed an inner feeling", as he had described it. Haldir guessed this was what Daëra had been talking about, the being familiar with a forest. She had told him that by now she could slightly feel it as well. To Haldir, Lothlórien was still a forest beyond his grasp, but in the evening he was sure he wanted to grow familiar with it. Furthermore, it would give him something to fill his days with until he and his brothers would have to set off for Mirkwood. So when Thilion asked at the end of the day whether they'd be joining them again tomorrow, Haldir didn't hesitate to answer.
Haldir's brothers decided to stay with the caretakers as well, even though – or maybe just because – this was "the most non-hazardous thing they had ever done". On their third day, Thilion – when he met the group at the gates – was followed by an unknown woman. She was heavier armed than everyone else: she was wearing a sword like Haldir and most of the others did, but she had also a bow slung around her shoulder and several knives tucked into her belt. As well she was dressed in trousers and not the traditional tunic for females. – "This," Thilion gestured towards the woman behind him, "is Cirya. She is a warden and will be accompanying us today, since we will have to go close to the border." – "What will we have to do there?" Daëra asked. – "Some of the trees near the outside have grown too high for the wardens in the raised hides to watch the immediate surroundings of Lórien. I am talking about the northern boundary, so we had best set off now and walk briskly."
Walking briskly obviously meant running, since Thilion was dashing off without making sure the others could follow – and there was no need to. Haldir was used to running through forests; he jumped the roots and ducked away from low branches without thinking about it. This was how they usually covered distances in Mirkwood. Haldir started to feel strangely at home, his senses filtered what they absorbed and put it together to a diffused, unconscious picture of the Wood. Haldir could feel its boundaries and knew all the time where he was within them, he felt the animals and heard the noises, but as long as there wasn't anything suspicious they just added to the image of the forest. He was flowing and almost before he knew he was shoulder to shoulder with Thilion. Haldir could've easily outrun him, yet he knew he needed his guidance as to where they were headed. Even though the group's pace was that quick, it was noon before Haldir felt they were coming close to the border.
Daëra felt hot needles and pins every time she took a breath, yet she did not allow herself to slow down. It looked so easy and light when elves ran, but if people thought it was as easy as it looked and that elves never got exhausted, they were clearly fooling themselves. At least for Daëra it wasn't exactly a piece of cake. Maybe the stitches also resulted from her irregular breathing which was mainly caused by her secretly watching Haldir and at the same time trying to prevent herself from doing so. He was at the very front with Thilion and somehow Daëra knew that for him running was indeed as easy as it looked. He jumped over roots without ever looking on the ground, he rather felt than saw what was about him. It was clearly visible now that he had grown up in a forest. It looked quite similar with his brothers, only they weren't running as fast.
When they were quite close to the border Haldir suddenly stopped. His youngest brother – not quite accidentally, as it seemed to Daëra – couldn't slow down in time and knocked them both to the ground. Haldir pushed him away in an irritated manner, then he got up and exchanged a look with his brothers at first and then with Cirya. Thilion – who had run on before realising all the others had stopped – rejoined their group with a questioning look on his face. "What is it? We are not yet there. You can have a break when we have arrived." – "I am not exhausted," Haldir was quick to clarify. Then he continued with a scrutinising look on his face: "The birds have stopped singing." – It was only then that Daëra realised how quiet it indeed had become. Thilion frowned. "The birds usually do not live close to the border. They stay near Caras Galadhon where the power is strongest. Is it not so, Cirya?" – The warden nodded slowly, yet her expression was doubtful. She looked at Haldir and his brothers who were looking up to the treetops. "Yet they were singing; just a minute ago," Haldir pointed out. Rumil nodded thoughtfully. "I heard it as well. One second they were here, the next gone. Flown away." – Daëra looked up as well: all she could see was leafless, grey boughs obstructing her view of the grey winter sky. Thilion didn't seem convinced. "They probably just randomly moved. Birds do that." – Orophin crossed his arms. "We are certainly aware that birds do move." – "But usually there is a reason for their movement," Haldir added.
Cirya narrowed her eyes. "You are the messengers from Mirkwood, am I not right?" – "Indeed we are," Rumil answered for the three of them. – "What would you do if we were in Mirkwood right now?" – Without exchanging a look the brothers simultaneously drew their swords and turned so they were standing back to back, facing three different directions. It all happened so naturally and fluently that Daëra had to remind herself not to gape in awe. Thilion, though, took a step back, his eyebrows raised disapprovingly. "This is not Mirkwood, as I may have to remind you." – Cirya scanned the trees surrounding them. "Still, Thilion, we are close to the border. Nothing has happened for a while, yet the brothers have been trained to notice any suspicious signs. And I have to agree, I realised the ceasing of the bird song as well, although I – at the time – only felt that something had somehow changed, without being able to name what exactly it had been." Slowly Cirya looked at each of the members of the group, before she silently drew her sword as well. As if this had been a secret sign, Daëra and the others followed. The long, elvish blades pointed into every direction, a deadly circle and no one daring to move or say a word. For an instant nothing could be heard.
The trees were standing closely and the elvish swords were long, they could hardly move without risking to injure the other group members. This was the least ideal place for a fight, Haldir thought as he was watching their surroundings with narrowed eyes. We won't be able to fight anything without obstructing each other, he mouthed, catching Cirya's glance. She nodded slowly and then whispered: "Into the trees!" All of them being Wood-Elves, they had climbed onto the closest trees within seconds without making a sound. Haldir and Daëra were standing on the same bough in the same tree, Daëra closer to the stem. Haldir noticed that she was still breathing heavily, probably from running all morning. He didn't feel tired at all, his eyes never leaving the ground beneath him. And then he heard it. Steps of a species that was trampling everything down except trees, accompanied by a clanking of swords and armoury. Haldir exchanged a look with Daëra. Orcs, she mouthed. He nodded, this having been his guess as well. He hadn't seen many of them in his life, since they were usually too scared to enter Mirkwood, yet he immediately recognised their heavy steps and disgusting stench. They hadn't noticed them yet.
Cirya stood on a branch opposite to Haldir and Daëra's tree, her bow drawn, waiting patiently for the right moment. The orcs came into sight, they were hitting at small plants and trees with their swords, but they weren't talking, probably thinking they were being sneaky and quiet. Haldir smiled contemptuously. He wished he'd brought his bow as well. Cirya would probably be able to kill about three of the 20 orcs, before they would have gathered their thoughts and started sending their arrows up into the trees in response. This was the point at which they would have to jump down on them. The orcs were now in the right spot, the trees the elves were sitting on were surrounding them. It was only milliseconds before Cirya would release her first arrow... when Haldir received a push from behind and found himself flying off his bough right among the orcs.
The cacophony of their surprised screams was all of a sudden filling the air and if not Haldir had somehow managed to land on his feet, they would have stabbed him before he'd had a chance to fight back. Being as it was though, only one orc could pierce Haldir's shoulder with his blade before he had sorted himself out enough to be able to defend himself. Killing the ones in front of him, Haldir was aware his back was unprotected, yet there was nothing he could do about it. With a thud Daëra landed on the grass behind him, followed by the others. The attention of the orcs finally got diverted from Haldir and they stopped surging only at him. In the heat of the fight it was difficult not to lose sight of the others, but Haldir made sure he always knew where she was – he would have to have a serious word with her, once most of the orcs were dead. Haldir felt his heart pounding, not that he was exhausted, but the shock of being pushed into a group of orcs had left quite a mark. He knew he was playing with fire, since he was concentrating on his own fights as well as hers, but he was determined to save her, should she be about to get killed, no matter the cost. He needed to know why she was trying to kill him. Soon though he realised he probably would not have to intervene: Daëra wasn't a bad swordswoman, yet it was obvious she had not fought much during her life – which surprised Haldir; he had estimated she must be about 500 years of age which was lots of time to get into trouble. Haldir had just beheaded a disgusting orc who had chunks of various limbs already missing when he realised his left hand was slippery not only from orc blood, but his own as well. His shoulder was bleeding more than he had expected and slowly but surely it really started to hurt and handicap him.
There were only about five orcs left, all engaged in fights with the other members of the group, so Haldir was just turning to see where Daëra was – his eyes had left her just for a second – when he found she was standing right behind him. She was a little out of breath from fighting, so he took the chance and spoke first. "Are you out of your mind? Or have I ever given you any reason to wish me dead?" – She threw her sword on the blood-stained grass, lifting her hands. "I am so sorry; I didn't mean to throw you off the tree! I slipped, it was not on purpose. I jumped right after you to help you," she added apologetically. – Haldir frowned. "You slipped?" He could not imagine how that could happen, for him it didn't make much of a difference whether he was up in the trees or down on the ground. "You are a Wood-Elf, though?" – She blushed slightly before shooting him an angry glance. "Yes, indeed. My father is Silvan. But I have not grown up in a forest and..."
Before Daëra could finish her sentence, Cirya joined them, sheathing her sword. "That was a courageous jump, Haldir. Courageous, almost to be called reckless. I could have hit you with my arrow." – Haldir frowned. How could they possibly think he jumped off the tree? He was by no means insane. Haldir was not quite sure yet how to offer an explanation without lying, when to his surprise Daëra started talking. "He followed a sudden impulse because he thought if the orcs got shot with arrows first, their shooting back might hurt some of us up in the tree. He told me to jump down with him right away, but I... my tunic... got... entangled." – Cirya nodded. "You might have been right. Yet it was dangerous still. You could easily have been overwhelmed and killed in a most cruel manner." Cirya turned and called out for Thilion, not noticing that Haldir hadn't listened at all but was gaping at Daëra incredulously. You lied, he whispered, audible only for her. She looked at him, shrugging slightly. "It was a white lie. At least now they think it was on purpose," she mouthed back. – "A white lie? – I do not quite under..." His attention was drawn to Cirya whose eyes had focussed on his left shoulder. "Are you badly hurt?" – "I am fine," he answered curtly, moving his shoulders as proof – when a sudden surge of pain made him draw a deep breath and close his eyes, all muscles tensed. He clutched his shoulder and dared a look. The gash was deeper than he had expected and bleeding still. It felt as if his whole arm were on fire, perhaps the blade had been poisoned.
Cirya frowned. "I am not learned in healing, I was trained to be a guard. But I am sure the Lady of the forest will be able to help you. We have to go back immediately, though." – Haldir groaned inwardly when he thought of the return journey. For some reason, he did not quite feel like running. He hadn't had a serious injury for at least a decade or so and now he realised it had led him to thinking he could not be hurt – that he was too vigilant, too good at his job for it. Well, obviously he wasn't – although being thrown into a group of orcs certainly wasn't a part of his job description. And it had happened out of the blue as well. An inward voice told him sneeringly that the bough might have broken off to the same effect and without the failure of another person involved. Haldir clutched his shoulder a little tighter. Beyond doubt he would not have settled on an unsound branch. Pride will have a fall, the voice reported back. In fact – it actually just had one.
"Let me have a look." Daëra woke him from his thoughts. She had put a hand on his that was holding his shoulder to indicate he should take it away. Reluctantly, Haldir gave way. "Can you heal?" – "Yes," she answered while inspecting the wound and then added in a quieter voice: "At least in here. The power is strong in Lórien." – "What does that mean?" Haldir asked suspiciously. – "It means I cannot make it any worse than it is so I shall try to at least stop the bleeding." Before Haldir could even shrink back, Daëra had covered the gash with her palm and started murmuring words. As far as Haldir could understand it was something concerning the trees and a power of some kind. He was only listening for a short while, since his attention got drawn to his shoulder: the first remarkable thing was that the bleeding indeed did stop and after that the pain receded. By the time Daëra reopened her eyes, the wound looked a lot less lethal. "Thank you," Haldir said pensively. – "Don't mention it." Her answer was kindly spoken; she seemed a little bit exhausted and could just prevent herself from mopping her forehead with her blood-stained right hand. After looking around a bit at a loss, she finally wiped her hand on her sleeve, hardly paying any attention to the dirty red stains it left.
Thilion approached Haldir. "You are quite a daredevil swordsman! – I have to admit at first I had thought you fell." He chuckled. "But that would not have happened to you, am I not right?" – Haldir just nodded. – "You fell alright," a quiet voice came from behind. Haldir could hear the mischievous grin in his brother's tone. – "You cannot fool us," Rumil added, grinning as well. "You properly fell of that bough." – Haldir sighed, dreading the way back. They would be going on about that forever.