The ellon smiled and waved, gesturing to Haldir.

His bandaged left arm around his pregnant wife whose rounded belly was starting to show, Haldir nodded to his children and grandchildren accompanying him. Nervously, he limped forward, giving the ellon a formal greeting in Sindarin.

Sweeping back the hood of his forest green cloak, the grey-clad ellon smiled and returned the greeting.  “What brings you here to the borders of Doriath? Do you seek passage across the river?”

Haldir smiled amiably, yet humbly as well, trying to be an unassuming as possible. “Aye, we do. My kin and I wish to enter Doriath. We heard that King Elu Thingol is most generous to those seeking refuge inside his borders.”

The ellon sized up the family of elves before him, obviously noting the pregnant elleth and the infants and toddler. “Why do you travel at a time such as this? Whence are you come?”

Haldir bowed his head briefly before meeting the other elf’s eyes. “We travel under these circumstances,” Haldir paused and patted his wife’s belly with his splinted left hand for emphasis “out of necessity. We have crossed many leagues for many turns of the stars to come here from Taur-im-Duinath. Our village of Celos Galen was destroyed. We seek a new home.”

The ellon cocked his head to the side, starring at Haldir quizzically. “Taur-im-Duinath…,” he echoed, then slowly shook his head. “I was unaware that any folk dwelt in that dark forest. Of what kindred are you?”

“We are of the Galadhrim,” Taurion answered proudly.

“Is that so?” The ellon looked dubiously at Taurion. “Why do folk of the trees wander beside a river of all things and journey so far from the safety of bough and limb? I seem to recall folk of your kind dwelling high in the canopies and seldom treading on the ground.”

“When the need is great, one does what one must in order to protect one’s family,” Haldir replied looking contrite. But as soon as the ellon turned his head away, Haldir shot his eldest son a warning look to silence his mouth and his pride. Taurion scowled in return, but complied.

The ellon gestured in the direction of the river and four more ellyn approached, carrying long poles. “I suppose you look harmless enough, a small family such as yourselves. You are not the first to come here seeking refuge in our lands, nor, do I deem, will you be the last.”

“Castamir, ferry these good folk across the river,” the ellon called to a slightly shorter ellon clad all in brown with dark gold hair pulled back in a single braid.

“You have our deepest gratitude,” Haldir said, giving a low bow which his sons copied. “However…we are not the only ones seeking refuge.” He straightened and turned, waving his good arm and immediately the rest of the refugees of Celos Galen swarmed out of the woods around them.

The ferrymen looked stunned. The ellon with whom Haldir had been conversing gazed about, mouth agape, taking in the large number of ellith and children, then finally said, “Ah…I suppose I was rather presumptuous to assume that you were the only survivors. We shall see that all of you safely cross the river and are taken to the king.”

Haldir smiled, “Thank you. Again, you have our deepest gratitude. Any assistance you can provide to us would be most appreciated.”

The Galadhrim with the exception of the ellyn of Lórien regarded the rafts uncertainly, clearly not trusting them to carry them safely. With knowing smiles, the ferrymen kindly began helping folk onto large wooden rafts made of logs lashed tightly together. Using long poles, they guided the rafts across the wide stretch of river, finally docking on the other side some minutes later. As soon as a raft was unloaded, the ferryman started back and retrieved more passengers. Even with five rafts making the journeys, it took nearly three hours to bring everyone across the river.

“Well played,” Angaril commented once all of the rafts were out of earshot of the elves on the Doriath side of the river. He glanced over at the crowd still waiting for passage on the opposite shore. “I must admit I never knew you could look so pitiful and unintimidating as you did when trying to convince that ellon to give you passage.”

Haldir shrugged. “I was not feeling very intimidating, I must admit. Also, I knew he was not alone. I figured our chances were better if we appeared tired and weak and in need than if strong warriors showed up demanding passage.”

“Well, it worked very well, Captain. Have they said what will happen once we are all over on this side?”

“No, they have said nothing yet. My heart warns me that we should continue to play the refugees in need and do nothing threatening or to reveal our strength if we can help it. I do not want to jeopardize our chances of obtaining help and a new home for our people.”

“But why, Adar?” Taurion asked affronted. “Why must we pretend to be weak? We have great warriors among us who are strong and capable.”

Haldir turned to his son and grasped his shoulder with his good hand. “We must appear weak and tired so that they will help us and not feel threatened by us. They are less likely to extend their welcome to an intimidating powerful unknown.  But pity for pregnant ellith, small children, and injured ellyn will likely move them to give us easy passage. I know as a former march warden that I would be kind and lenient to folk in need but respond more harshly to the armed and arrogant. Do you understand my reasoning?”

Taurion sighed, reluctantly nodding his assent, but clearly not liking it.

“Good lad,” Haldir smiled.

“Understood as well,” Angaril nodded. “I will pass the word along to be humble and grateful and follow your lead in this.”

“Now we just have to wait for the rest of the folk to cross,” Haldir said, taking his wife’s hand as he sat on the ground and drew her down to sit with him. Many others joined him, sitting as well while they patiently waited.

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“Tell me, Castamir,” Haldir asked casually as they walked along the well-worn path northward beside the river, “Are you ferrymen part of the border patrol for Doriath?”

“Border patrol?” Castamir looked at Haldir curiously.  “Ahhhh…I must admit I have never heard of such a thing. My kin and I are fishermen and the king asked that the ellyn of our village help folk to cross the river if there is need. If we meet folk who seek passage while we are about our tasks and they do not seem threatening, then we assist them if there is need. We deemed that you were in need, so we helped you. Our village is just south of where we met you.”

“Thank you for helping us,” Haldir humbly replied.

Castamir smiled, “Your folk number more than our whole village. I do not know that I have ever seen so many children and pregnant ellith before. Even in Menegroth, I do not think there are as many as in your…ah…group.”

“Group is a good way to describe us,” Haldir chuckled. “We are all that remains of three settlements.”

“All that remains?” Castamir asked in shock. “How…how many were you before the attack?”

“It was a series of attacks on three settlements. Before it all happened, the population of the three settlements combined numbered more than five hundred,” Haldir replied.

“Five hundred!” Castamir exclaimed with a whistle for emphasis. “Five hundred…” he shook his head. “Your settlements must have known peace for many ennin indeed for you to number so many. Only in Menegroth are there so many gathered together in one place here. In fact, there are thousands who live there. Have you ever even seen one thousand elves gathered in one settlement?”

Haldir walked in silence for a few moments gathering his thoughts. Many thousands had lived in Lothlórien and he had seen many thousands die in the Last Alliance. At last he replied, “We knew many ennin of peace in our forest in the south. In Cuiviénen there were thousands, but in our forest, our greatest population was what we had right before the attacks started.”

“I am sorry for your loss. It must be very difficult to leave beloved lands and start again, but is that not how we all arrived here in Beleriand anyway?”

Haldir smiled at the ellon. “Indeed it is.”

A while later, Haldir took his turn holding a child, gathering his infant grandson in his arms much to the relief of the boy’s weary naneth. The child immediately snuggled close and drifted off to sleep while Castamir hummed a spritely tune.

Haldir watched Castamir in curious alarm until the tune ended, then at Gilwen’s prodding he asked, “How…how do you know that tune?”

The guide paused and smiled. “It is the song of the river. If you recognize this tune then you have heard the water speak to you as I have heard it speak to me and others in my village.”

Haldir stopped dead, his younger son nearly running into him.

“Adar!” Handir exclaimed.

Gilwen swatted at her son to silence him and he growled back at her in irritation, “I am not a child, Naneth.”

“Then stop acting like one and pay attention to your surroundings,” she snapped back.

“The song of the river!” Haldir exclaimed ignoring his family.  Castamir stopped as well and retraced his steps to join Haldir.

“Why, yes,” The ellon replied as if it were extremely obvious. “All ellyn who dwell by the river know the song. It is as if the music flows in our very blood.”

Haldir stared open-mouthed at the ferryman. Finally he managed, “But I played that tune at Nan Tathren never having heard the melody before.”

Castamir laughed merrily then clapped Haldir on the back sympathetically. “Perhaps my friend your fae is more of the water than it is of the wood.” He chuckled some more then leaned close to Haldir’s ear and whispered. “Do not worry, my friend, I will tell no one so your woodland folk do not think less of you.”

Haldir scowled in reply, but Castamir took him by the arm, careful not to disturb the sleeping baby, and tugged for him to continue the walk.

When they matched pace once again, the ellon confessed, “Haldir, I must admit that I liked you from the moment I met you. Something in my heart told me that it would be well to befriend you. If you hear the song of the river as well, then I believe our spirits must be kin even if our blood is not.”

The words struck Haldir and he realized that this ferryman had been sent by Ulmo to guide them.

“As a further gesture of good will, I will help you when you arrive at Menegroth. My kinsman serves the king as his chief protector. I will introduce you to him and perhaps he will be able to speak to the king on your behalf and find you a place in the service of the king.”

Haldir stared in surprised. “You know Beleg Cúthalion?” Suddenly he felt embarrassed that he was unable to keep the awe from his voice.

Castamir stared at him blankly. “Who?”

“Beleg Cúthalion. The greatest bowman in all of Doriath. The leader of the king’s march wardens.”

Castamir looked askance at Haldir, then groped for his next words in an overly polite manner. “I…ah…oh…Perhaps rumors you have heard of Doriath have not been entirely factual. Dwelling as far from this land as you have, it would be understandable if tales become…ah…more enhanced? Mablung is the one of whom I speak. And I must confess that I do not even know what a march warden is.”

Haldir stopped again.

“Friend, please keep walking. You are confusing those behind you,” Castamir gently chided.

Resuming his walk, though at a slower pace with much grumbling from his family travelling behind him, a rather crestfallen Haldir hollowly stated, “Mablung is your kinsman and you know nothing of Beleg.”

“Do not sound so disappointed! ‘Mighty Strongbow’ is a rather presumptuous name for an ellon is it not? Obviously he comes from a tale made up to encourage children to be good hunters. What a horrible burden to a son to give him such a name! Now my kinsman Mablung, let me tell you of him…”

Haldir was so disappointed, he had difficulty paying attention. No Beleg Cúthalion! At least not yet... He had been weaned on stories of the mightiest warrior of Beleriand. Idolizing him his whole life, he patterned his methods of fighting and commanding after the noble ellon. It was not fair that here he was in the time before Anor and Ithil against all odds and beyond all reason, and it was his misfortune to be before the time of Beleg as well… It simply was not fair!

Angrily, he kicked every stone he encountered in his path until the irritating kinsman of Mablung finally ended his proud rant about the great defender of the king.

Yes, it would be interesting to meet Mablung, but Beleg was the one he wanted to meet most of all. Briefly he wondered why they were even bothering to go to Doriath since Beleg was not there. Then he got a grip on himself and accepted that going to Doriath was the right thing to do, and if Beleg were not there yet, then perhaps he would get to meet him soon, perhaps as a young warrior. Clinging to that hope, he continued on in silence.

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Haldir tried not to gape, but every time he clamped his mouth shut, he saw something else which made it open wide in wonder once again. Being a son of the Galadhrim he really had no desire to ever see a palace of caves. Yes, he had seen Thranduil’s Halls many times, and they were indeed impressive with the detail and care taken to bring the semblance of a lively outdoors to dead stone. And he of course had seen the grandeur and terror of Moria on more than one occasion as well…But this…He had never before wondered about Menegroth nor dreamt of coming here, but now…

The words to describe the wonders before his eyes thoroughly escaped him. It was unfortunate that only seven of the refugees were allowed to enter Menegroth to go before the king. Haldir had no idea of how he would ever adequately describe this place to his kin waiting outside for him in the forest of Region. He felt like a foolish child unable to look around enough to satisfy his curiosity at the glorious beauty of…of caves. Tapestries woven by Melian the Maia, queen of Doriath and her maids covered the walls. Fine intricate carvings in the ceiling and walls made it seem as if Haldir walked within a glorious forest full of trees and animals and streams and…and as if life had grown within the caverns.

And this was a cave? He kept forgetting this small detail as he walked in awe.

Behind him, Angaril kept starting to say something and stopping until he succumbed to swats and punches in the arms delivered by his comrades from Lórien who felt he was disturbing their own awestruck experience with his gibbering. It did occur to Haldir that perhaps Angaril was indeed part dwarf, but then, if he were simply responding to the wonders around him as Haldir was, then it was possible that Haldir was part dwarf, too… If it were not for the fact that Haldir had visited other dwarf dwellings before so he knew that they failed to compare to the majesty of Menegroth, then he might have feared the real possibility of having gone dwarfish as well. He would chuckle about the absurdity of it all, if he were not so concerned that he might miss seeing something.

He had no idea how many corridors and twists and turns of passages they had followed before they finally arrived at the throne room, but upon entering it, Haldir truly did not care how he came to be there. Many lords garbed in obviously Sindarin grandeur lined the aisle to the throne. Damrod seemed to be very uncomfortable bordering on terrified, but Haldir was used to being surrounded by nobles and treating with lords from his many ennin serving as guard or escort in Lórien. However, he was also used to respect and well-earned honor from such individuals, unlike what he saw in the ellyn surrounding him here. Contempt shown in some eyes, while others seemed to dismiss his party as unimpressive and unworthy of a second glance. A few curious gazes looked upon his group as an oddity from the dark wild lands of a forest none of them had ever explored.

Haldir would like to have dismissed them all from his thought, but he knew he needed to gain their acceptance in order for his people to have a safe home here. Steeling his resolve, he whispered to Damrod to let him do the talking and the chieftain gave no argument. Haldir raised his chin proudly and looked to the thrones ahead of him, ignoring those surrounding him. He would make his case whatever way he could to try to win hope and succor for the Galadhrim. However, when he reached the end of the walk forward, he felt his confidence and resolve melt at the vision before his eyes.

King Elu Thingol sat tall and straight, garbed in robes of shadowy forest green with his silvery hair flowing about him like a waterfall cascading off a cliff. A crown of silver, gemstones, and flowers rested lightly upon his brow.  His queen (or was it more appropriate to think of him as her king? Haldir briefly wondered) graced the throne beside him. Her dress of silver and green was studded with tiny shimmering gems, while similar sparkling jewels adorned her pure black hair like stars in a moonless sky.

To the king’s right stood an ellon with a tall wicked spear who was obviously his chief protector Mablung. A scowl and a cool appraisal met Haldir’s steady gaze and he knew immediately that he would have to prove himself well to this obviously harsh ellon if he ever wanted to have a chance as a march warden here. The chief of Lórien’s march wardens never backed down under the scrutiny, which seemed to surprise Mablung.

To the queen’s left stood an elleth whom Haldir could have sworn was Lady Arwen, the Lady Galadriel’s granddaughter, but he knew it could not be so. The maid’s beauty surpassed that of the queen and the longer he looked, the more he realized she surpassed Arwen’s as well. Her bright eyes met his and he felt himself go red for his staring at her so. She smiled in puzzled wonder, seeming to perceive his instant recognition of her for he could not possibly have seen her before. Mustering his resolve, he managed to avert his eyes and look back at her parents who now added mild amusement to their noble regard.

For all of the kings Haldir had seen in his many long years, all of the ruling lords, ladies, and princes, Oropher, Thranduil, Amdir, Amroth, Círdan, Gil-Galad, Elrond, Celeborn, and Galadriel among them… none compared to the king and queen seated before him now. Without thought, without hesitation, as soon as Haldir was led before the thrones, he bowed and fell to his knees with bowed head as did his brethren and Damrod the chieftain. Perhaps it was not such a good idea for him to do the talking after all…

“Arise and speak your names and purpose,” Thingol commanded, his voice deep and melodic.

Haldir and his group obediently rose to their feet. “My name is Haldir of the Galadhrim. This is Damrod my chieftain and the adar of my wife. These are my brothers Rúmil and Orophin, and my gwedyr Angaril, Ferevellon, and Fereveldir.”

“If he is chieftain, why does he not speak for you?” Thingol asked, gesturing to Damrod.

“He newly speaks Sindarin and is not as comfortable with the language as am I,” Haldir replied humbly.

“I am told you journeyed here from a village that is no more,” the king said.

“That is correct. In truth, we are the survivors of three villages which are no more. Wargs attacked one settlement, killing ellith, children, and ellyn, including the chieftain and his son. A few turns of the stars later, orcs attacked destroying the two remaining settlements, including Celos Galen which was the last stronghold of the Galadhrim in Taur-im-Duinath. Trained warriors fought bravely to defend each settlement, but we were outnumbered. We have led approximately three hundred survivors here to Doriath seeking succor and safety. There are many ellith and small children among the refugees, including many ellith who are with child.”

“Taur-im-Duinath is far from here, my King” Mablung commented. “I know of no one who has ever explored that forest, but rumor tells of secretive folk who hide in the trees, seldom treading upon the ground. How could such a group have made such a long and dangerous journey? And crossed the Andram AND the Fens?” he glared dubiously at the ellyn of Celos Galen.

Haldir gave a small smile. “We have indeed travelled far on a long and difficult journey. And while you may not have heard tell of us, rumors of the might of Doriath and the generosity of the king have travelled far and wide. You helped Denethor settle Ossiriand with his Green Elves. We knew the kingdom of Doriath was to the north of our lands bordered by the River Sirion, so we followed the river north through Nan Tathren. Carefully we made our way over the perilous wall of Andram and across the Fens of Sirion. We are a hardy folk, as comfortable on ropes or in the branches of trees as we are on the ground, so we were able to make this journey.” He held up his hand which still bore the splint. “Not all of us came through this venture unscathed, but we are here now and we seek refuge.”

“We have heard report of orc attacks throughout Beleriand and wargs attacking from southern lands as well,” Thingol agreed, “However we have yet to hear tell of trained warriors. What would those be?”

Looking at the ornate floor for a moment, Haldir sighed. No Beleg Strongbow and no warriors in Doriath. So, in all likelihood, no march wardens either. This would be like coming to Celos Galen from Lórien all over again, only worse. He glanced up at Mablung who was glaring at him dubiously in open challenge.

Much, much worse…

“Warriors are ellyn who are taught fighting skills and held to a higher standard of prowess with arms in order to defend others. My comrades and I…” He gestured to the ellyn behind him, excluding Damrod as he patiently explained, “are trained warriors. We taught select ellyn of the three settlements of the Galadhrim to fight with the skills of a warrior using sword, spear, bow, and bare hands, as well as employing maps and well-contemplated strategy. For a number of ennin, we kept all manner of evil creatures at bay and brought safety to our lands long enough for the populations of the three settlements to more than double to a little more than five hundred total. Our warriors held off some early attacks by orcs, and we hunted and killed wargs before the final assaults that overwhelmed us with sheer numbers and destroyed our homes.”

“If you have…warriors,” the words rang with contempt, “as you have so proudly boasted, then why do you need our help? Can you not simply hide in the trees again somewhere else in your dark forest as appears to be your wont?” Thingol asked, clearly unimpressed. His expression suggested that Haldir was wasting his time.

“Your Majesty,” Haldir said in supplication, choosing his words carefully, “while it has long been the way of the Galadhrim to move settlements as soon their safety becomes compromised, we finally have reached a point where moving within our forest is no longer an option. It is only a matter of time before the growing evil in our forest threatens any and all who seek to dwell there. I felt that Doriath was our only option, so I led the survivors here.”

“YOU felt…YOU led…” Thingol laughed derisively. “You who are not the chieftain! Obviously you do not know your place or you would not seek to thwart the rule of those who are your betters. Do you use your wife’s title as daughter of the chieftain to exert some semblance of authority and gain power for yourself? Were you hoping to come here and be made a lord or gain more power or authority for yourself just as Denethor left his people’s chieftain and was made a king, THE King of Ossiriand?”

Haldir gaped in shock. How did the king ever arrive at such an outrageous conclusion? Anger welled up within him, but he tightly clamped it down. Breathing heavily, he tried very hard to calm himself. King or no, how could anyone ever accuse him of such a thing? He would freely admit that he was arrogant to a fault, but he never tried to gain power for himself nor to lord it over others. All he did was with the safety of his people in his mind and heart. He was willing to die for his people and here he was being accused of leading them to this land simply to gain power for himself!

“How dare you!” Damrod suddenly spoke up. “King or no, how dare you accuse him so! Ever has this ellon sought to aid and protect our people – a people who were not his own by birth, coming from a far distant land to the east as he does. He may not be a lord or chieftain, granted power and sway by birth, but he is a captain – the captain of the warriors of the three settlements of the Galadhrim.” He paused looking around, then continued, anger and contempt dripping from his voice.

“I see from your eyes that none of you in this great kingdom appear to know what captain is. Captain is a position of authority in defensive matters appointed by a lord or chieftain. A captain rules warriors, guides defense, sees to the protection of others, willingly endangers himself and his sworn brethren to keep others safe. He uses wisdom and right judgment as well as skill at arms to see to the safety of all. Captain Haldir rules and has always ruled the warriors of our three settlements. The chieftains of our settlements agreed to the wisdom of this and watched our people not only survive, but flourish beyond all expectation in his care. Do not disparage what you do not know or simply do not understand!”

The king gripped the arms of his throne until his knuckles were white while Mablung brought his spear around, pointing it at the ellyn before them.

Haldir felt the eyes of the queen upon him and he glanced up to find himself suddenly caught in the depths of her bright eyes. Unable to look away he endured her gaze for a length of time that seemed to surprise her greatly and her eyes grew wide with marvel. To him, it was not at all unlike enduring the scrutiny of the Lady Galadriel in matters of great importance where perceiving thoughts and intentions  was of more value than using mere words to convey information and meaning. When she finally released him, he did his best to remain calm.

“Because you are a chieftain and as close to a king as your kind appears to have, Damrod, I will excuse that outburst,” Thingol said through gritted teeth.

“You are correct that we know naught of warriors nor captains here,” Queen Melian said, speaking aloud for the first time. “However, I believe the time may have come for us to explore the benefits that such protectors could provide.”

She turned to Thingol and met his eyes, obviously exchanging many unspoken thoughts. “I perceive no malice nor threat nor desire for power from Captain Haldir nor from those accompanying him. Indeed, I perceive the blessing of one of the Belain upon him, though how this can be, I do not know.”

“A Balan?!” Thingol exclaimed, his eyes widening in very surprised wonder, then he looked at Haldir expectantly, his irritation visibly fading away.

Melian looked back at Haldir again. “Haldir, how comes it that you know the Balan Lord Ulmo? Why is his blessing upon you when he is away in Valinor across the sea? How is this possible?”

Haldir struggled to take a deep nervous breath. “I knew word of Lord Ulmo from my ennin in Lothlórien, the land of my birth far to the East. When our people were slain and our settlements were lost, I called upon him in my despair as we crossed each stream on our journey out of the forest. After a few turns of the stars, he came to me in a dream and told me that his power is strong in the Sirion and he would help us find our way to Doriath. He said that our knowledge could be useful here in Doriath. He it was who guided me and I, in turn, guided my people along the Sirion and over the Andram and through the Fens. We would not have been able to make this journey had it not been for his wisdom and guidance. As it was, we barely survived even with his help.”

Haldir paused giving a weak laugh. “His idea of safe paths and mine did not entirely agree, but we all live and we are here now at your mercy.”

The king looked long on Haldir in silence, but the captain endured his searching gaze.

“You and your brethren are unlike Damrod and the other Galadhrim who have journeyed here,” Melian observed. “I will speak with you and your five brethren in private later. There is much I perceive in you and still more I would learn of you and the lands from whence you came.”

“Damrod, do your folk wish to dwell in trees once again?” Thingol asked.

“Yes, my King. It is where we are most comfortable, and to us it is the most defensible,” Damrod replied.

“One of my servants will see to it that you and my other guests here,” the king gestured to the seven Galadhrim before him, “receive rest and refreshments and then I would have you tell my steward here,” he gestured to another ellon who nodded politely to the group, “what you require in order to settle in the Forest of Region.” Thingol said.

“Thank you, my king,” Damrod said graciously, giving a profound bow.

“Captain Haldir, when your chieftain has no further need of you after consulting with my steward, and after your audience with my queen, then I would have you and your warriors meet with Mablung and some of my guard to demonstrate for us the skills of a warrior.”

“Yes my king. Thank you,” Haldir bowed deeply as well, his relief at the king’s acceptance now overshadowed by the new obstacle of impressing Mablung.

Mablung glared at Haldir, obviously unimpressed with the story of a Balan bestowing his blessing on him. “I look forward to testing the might at arms and the supposed skills of a warrior.”

The king dismissed them and as Haldir turned with his group and exited, he felt the overwhelming curiosity of the lords in the hall as they stared at him. Many still looked on him with disdain and obvious disbelief, but none would dismiss him nor his folk now as a triviality hardly worth their time.

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Note:

Beleg Cúthalion means “mighty strongbow”.

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