Warning: Some sexual innuendo in this chapter.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Thank you for your report, Haldir,” the Lady of the Golden Wood answered wearily, inclining her head. “I am most grateful to you and your patrol for helping Rumil bring my family and Glorfindel here so quickly.  They…they might have died if not for your assistance. We are very fortunate that you happened to return from your news gathering in time to help clear the debris from the fallen talan and bind their wounds.”

Haldir smiled, giving a slight bow in gratitude. “My Lady, we are honored to have been able to be of assistance. It was indeed…fortunate we were where we were when we were most needed.”

“Please give my thanks to your patrol as well. You may go.”

“Yes, my Lady. Thank you, my Lady.” He bowed deeply then turned and departed Lord Celeborn’s study.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Once Haldir was safely back at his talan, he slipped into a chair and sighed in relief. Rumil pressed a glass of wine into his hand, sitting down across from him.

A curiously annoyed expression lit Rumil’s face as he considered his brother. “All right, Haldir. We have succeeded in lying to everyone –- including our beloved Lady whom we are sworn to serve and protect –- making them believe the tale of the fallen talan, thereby completely humiliating the Lord of the Galadhrim, the revered Lord Elrond, his mighty sons, and perhaps the greatest Eldarin warrior who ever walked Middle-earth. I believe I deserve an explanation for why we have done this. And this time, I want to hear the truth of the matter.”

Haldir took a long pull on his wine, nearly draining it. He held out the glass and Rumil obliging refilled it. Taking another savory swallow, he set the glass on the table between them, sat back, and began his tale.

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxx

“Adar, why are we climbing trees in the dark to spy on a Dunlander village?” Ferevellon whispered, his curiosity getting the better of him as he settled in a tree with a clear view of a series of bonfires in the center of a village of thatched huts. “What does this have to do with the gathering of news? Does Lorien fear an attack from the Dunlanders?”

“Well…” Thandronen paused, shifting uncomfortably and stealing a glace at Haldir and Orophin who snorted and smirked, shaking their heads.

“No, we do not fear the Dunlanders attacking the Golden Wood –- at least not these Dunlanders.” Orophin explained highly amused. “They have no quarrel with us. They are a group who split off from the rest of Dunland for they hold religious beliefs and follow practices which are, well…different from and not accepted by those of the rest of Dunland.”

“So why does this matter to us” Fereveldir asked, confusion clearly evident on his fair face.

“Well…It…If one is going to protect Lothlorien, then one must be…aware, yes aware of the local customs and practices of neighboring countries, so that…” Orophin hesitated again, collecting his thoughts. “So that one can better determine if anything is amiss in those lands and report it back to the Lord and Lady.” The last words came tumbling out in a rush.

“I see,” Ferevellon replied dubiously.  “And the Lord and Lady are so concerned about the goings on in a village of deviant wild men clad in pelts that they send 30 of their finest warriors away from protecting the borders of our land to spy on pitiful woodland mortals who obviously only bathe when they cannot find shelter from the rain.”

Orophin drew a deep breath and paused before letting it out in answer. “The danger of an enemy is not measured by how often it bathes, young one. You have battled enough orcs in the last 150 years to know that.”

“Yes, but…”

“Adar,” Fereveldir said, interrupting his twin brother. “I cannot believe you thought this was so important that you would leave your post like this every year…”

Haldir glared at the young ellon ominously.

“Albeit under orders on a patrol with the Captain,” Fereveldir continued hurriedly, briefly saluting Haldir. “And come spy on a mortal village in the middle of the night.”

“Thandronen,” one of the other warriors complained. “Why did you bring them along without explaining?”

“They have never been on patrol on the southern borders at this time of year. I just thought…” Thandronen defended.

“Silence! The ceremony is beginning,” Another warrior admonished.

In the village below, the leader, garbed in furs, came forth from a hut. Immediately he was surrounded by men and children, similarly clad in pelts, who stood listening intently. The leader gestured to a pitiful heap of prisoners chained to a tree who lay unmoving as he spoke.

“Haldir,” Orophin whispered from his perch beside his brother on a branch within earshot of the leader’s comments. “I wonder what those sorry sots did to earn execution.”

“The leader said they did something which seems to have interfered with the usual rituals involving the herd,” Haldir answered.

“I bet they killed that beautiful stag. The one that the villagers revere as being the king of the herd,” a warrior on Haldir’s other side suggested. 

“Oh, yes. That would certainly earn someone death from this lot,” Orophin agreed “The other times we saw such a change in the ritual, that was what had happened. The prisoners died horribly, too. They were beaten repeatedly for days and then publicly eviscerated at dawn like a hunter would open an animal.”

“Do you think they will change tonight’s ritual in light of this?” The warrior asked, disappointment creeping into his voice.

“I have witnessed the night ritual every year for the last two hundred years and have yet to see them cancel it for any reason,” Haldir reassured.

“Good, then we will receive our reward for making this journey,” the warrior replied cheerfully.

Moments later, four men began beating on drums of varying sizes eliciting a multi-pitched rhythm which stirred even the blood of the elves. The village men joined in with a song half sung and half chanted, which blended with the drums. Suddenly, the doors of the huts opened and their occupants burst forth.

Thandronen’s twin sons stared in wide-eyed amazement as women danced around the center of the village, weaving among the men and children and then into a tightening spiral. As each woman reached a fire, she leaped through it, twirling and waving her arms all the while.

“They are naked!” Fereveldir exclaimed.

“Be quiet! They might hear us,” Haldir admonished.

“But they are only wearing paint!” Ferevellon continued in wide-eyed awe.

“Be quiet!”

“Only paint…from head to toe…” Fereveldir whispered equally awestruck.

“Wow! Look at that one in green over there.”

“Oh, I hope she will jump again!”

“Adar, it is no wonder that you always volunteer to patrol the southern borders at this time of year!”

“How comes it that our ellith do not dance naked and jump through fires for us?”

“Thandronen, you really should have prepared them instead of surprising them like this.”

And the banter continued until the fire dance ended.

XXXXXXXXXX

Haldir silenced his warriors’ comments just as the chanting ceased. Heavy clouds obscured the stars and moon though there was still enough light from the fires for the appreciative elves to observe features and details of the dancers mingling afterward. The village children were shoed off to bed and the women paired up with men for the night. A large man carrying an armload of weapons approached the leader. 

“My lord, their weapons are already sharp enough. They are ready for use in the sacrifice in the morning.”

The leader nodded his approval. “Leave them beside my door.” Then he disentangled a giggling red woman from his arm, pushing her in the direction of the man. A green woman took her place at the leader’s side while a blue woman took his other arm. “Blessings on your evening, my friend.”

The man grinned wolfishly. “And on yours, too, my liege.”

The leader went into his hut with his women as the man left the weapons by the door and proceeded with the red woman to another hut.

Once the rest of the villagers were safely indoors, Orophin observed, “Those are some nice swords and bows, are they not?”

“Indeed they are,” Haldir admired. “I wonder how Dunlanders came to possess such fine arms.”

“Perhaps the prisoners are not Dunlanders,” Thandronen offered.

“Who else would be foolish enough to come here but Dunlanders? Unless perhaps they are rogues who stole the weapons from some unsuspecting travelers before they were stupid enough to hunt in these lands and get captured by the villagers,” Orophin speculated. 

“I doubt that pitiful lot chained to the tree intended to get caught,” Haldir remarked with a gesture toward the unconscious prisoners.

“Do they even yet live?” Thandronen asked.

“Yes,” another warrior answered. “I have noticed some small movement from all of them since we have been here. They are gravely wounded, but they do live.”

“I pity them,” Ferevellon whispered. “If their deaths are to be as Orophin has said, it will be a horrible way for them to die.”

“Mortals are weak and these have lost much blood, unless my eyes deceive me.  Perhaps Eru will be merciful and they will die of their wounds before the dawn,” Fereveldir said quietly.

Haldir smiled briefly at the twins. It was good to see that they had not been so hardened by their years of orc hunting that they failed to know compassion in their hearts.

“Captain,” Orophin commented casually. “It would be a waste of fine weapons to see them sullied in the slaughter of mortal by mortal. There is no watch in the village tonight -  never has been on this night that I have seen.”

“Indeed, my brother, indeed,” Haldir agreed. “Perhaps we should preserve the weapons and the prisoners from the fate intended for them in the morning.”

After several minutes of silent waiting, Haldir motioned to the five warriors nearest to him. “Orophin and I will retrieve the weapons. The rest of you, dispatch the prisoners. Be swift and silent so we do not rouse the village.”

“I believe many of them are already aroused enough as it is,” one of the warriors snorted. “I do not think they will pay any mind to us.”

Soft snickering wafted among the trees, but Haldir scowled. “The rest of you remain here and cover us.”

As the group descended from the trees, 23 arrows silently met the strings of 23 bows, ready for drawing and firing.

Soundless and swift, Haldir and his group passed through the village. Just as he and Orophin arrived at the leader’s hut and bent to pick up the weapons, soft curses and exclamations arose from the warriors intent on the deaths of the prisoners.

“Oh my…”

“By the Valar!”

“Captain!”

“I do not believe it! It is…”

Angrily Haldir whirled on the warriors. “Orophin, get the weapons and return to the trees. Now!” he hissed.

The warriors he chose were seasoned veterans! What could possibly have them so riled that they jeopardized such a simple mission? As Orophin complied, Haldir furiously strode over to the tree where the others were crouched each cradling a prisoner.

“C-C-Captain,” Thandronen stuttered in disbelief as his commander loomed over him. “It…Look, sir.” He gently brushed matted hair away from the bloodied face of the unconscious mangled man he clutched to his chest.  “It is Lord Celeborn.”

Horrified, Haldir sank to his knees in dismay as the other warriors stated the names of those they held. Mouth agape, he stared at them, slowly shaking his head unable to speak.

How?

How could this possibly have happened?

What were they doing here anyway?

He knew his lord had gone hunting, but surely he would not have been so foolish as to….

“They must have hunted the great stag and slain it,” Thandronen ventured, completing Haldir’s thought. 

Finding his voice at last, Haldir commanded, “We have to free them and get them out of here now!”

Rising to his feet, he motioned to those he left behind in the trees to come and help.

Time seemed to stand still as the warriors worked to remove the manacles. Worriedly Haldir paced, keeping his eyes on the huts, praying to every one of the Belain he could think of that they would not be discovered.

“We will bind their wounds once we are safely away. Hurry!” He waved his soldiers away as each unconscious prisoner was released. “Away to Lorien. Now!”

As soon as the last manacle was removed, the patrol was off and running, bearing the freed prisoners draped on the strong shoulders of five of the warriors.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

An hour past sunrise, they finally stopped. Thick clouds gathered, strangling the new light of day from the sky.

“We dare not remain here long,” Haldir warned as the warriors set about tending the wounds of the captives.

“Captain,” one of the warrior’s commented as he gently cleaned and bound the injuries to Celeborn’s chest. “I do not think our lord even knew about this village and their strange customs.”

“I agree,” Haldir sighed. “I do not think he did know about it. They have never troubled us before, and the Lord and Lady would never have allowed us to spy upon these mortals during their festivals if they had known.”

“Haldir, their wounds are grievous,” Orophin said. “It looks as if they have been held captive for days. We need to get them back to Caras Galadhon where proper healers can tend them.”

Nodding in agreement Thandronen added, “The sky does not bode well and the villagers may already be on the hunt for us.”

After tying a few last bandages on the still unconscious patients, they sped off again. Two hours later rains came, drenching the runners and slowing their escape. A little past noon, the winds picked up and lightning flashed across the sky. The trees around them complained loudly amidst the pounding rain and the booming thunder. Still the elves ran, branches grazing their faces and snatching their hair and cloaks in their haste.

Just as the patrol entered the outer fringes of the Golden Wood, the rains poured so heavily none could see more than two strides in front of him. The thunder shook the ground as lightning slashed the sky and split trees. Fragments of bark and branch showered down around them as they ran sideways to escape the falling trees. As the lightning claimed yet another tree, they took cover near an embankment, shielding the injured with their own bodies and waiting for the storm to pass.

Once the storm eased up and the thunder echoed like a distant memory, Haldir and his warriors tended to the injured once again for many of their wounds bled anew.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Mae Govannon!” a familiar voice called from afar a few minutes later.

Haldir looked up from Elrond’s side where he had been helping to stop fresh bleeding. His brother Rumil and one of the new recruits serving on the southern watch approached in the distance, waving in greeting.  Several other members of the watch picked their way through the wreckage of branch and tree behind him.

Waving in return, Orophin casually leaned over to Haldir, gesturing to the injured lords, and whispered though all of their patrol could hear, “So, Captain, how are you going to explain all of this when the watch asks us what happened?”

Thandronan observed, “We were not exactly supposed to be where we were when we found them.”

“How do we explain their injuries?” his younger son nervously added.

Ferevellon glanced at his twin and paled considerably. “Could we be court-marshaled for what we have done, spying on the village and disrupting their sacred rite?”

“But if we do reveal what happened, it would start a war with the Dunlanders,” another warrior pointed out.

Swearing angrily, Haldir picked up a rock and threw it at the remains of a nearby tree. Then he took a couple of furious deep breaths and rose to his feet. “Go along with whatever I say and everything will be fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

The members of the patrol nodded worriedly, their faces full of fear and dread. Only Orophin had the nerve to quietly asked, “So, what are you going to tell them?”

Turning to greet the watch, Haldir shook his head helplessly. “I have no idea.”

XXXXXXXXXX

The End

Note: Belain - Sindarin for Valar