Gilwen could not get away from Menegroth fast enough, or so she kept telling Haldir as they walked through the woods with the warriors and the elder edair of Celos Galen, and some Sindarin guides, looking for a new place to settle.

“It is for the best for us to be away from all of those strange fancy people,” Gilwen said. “They know nothing of our kind and I weary of their constant questions.”

“We are strange to them as well,” Haldir replied diplomatically. “They ask questions in order to get to know us and our ways better.”

“Well,” she sniffed disdainfully. “They have forgotten much of what it is to be an elf and dwell among the trees as Eru first intended for us. I am appalled at what they do not know.”

Silently Haldir reviewed in his mind all of the things that the Sindar and other folk of Doriath were appalled about the Galadhrim not knowing, but he wisely chose not to disclose any of it to his wife. He had no qualms though about disclosing such things to his children who he knew needed to find their place in Doriath much more so than their naneth did. The children had listened and started adapting though Taurion refused to back down on his pride in what he was and his subsequent arrogance. It would be the boy’s undoing someday unless he by some miracle grew into the full potential that Haldir saw in him. With continued training, the boy could grow to become a captain in his own right. Of course, Haldir’s sight concerning his son was often clouded as this was his son – the kind of son he always dreamed he would have. 

Young Handir brought him much pride as well, but Handir was more like a son of the Galadhrim and not a son of Lórien as Taurion was showing himself to be. Unfortunately the proud, arrogant sons of Lórien tended to die in battle. Haldir blinked a few times and looked about, trying to distract his thoughts, but he could not shake the realization that Taurion very likely would meet his end on the point of a blade before he could ever sail to Valinor.

Given his current circumstances, Haldir also wondered if he himself would ever sail to Valinor. There were so many battles which had not yet occurred, and he could not determine when any of them might. Once Anor arose he would know when things would happen, but until that time not even Melian seemed to know what was to come next. In some ways this comforted Haldir with no doom foretold, but in other ways it was quite disturbing.  Would the First Battle of Beleriand occur before the birth of his twins or would their children be old enough to fight in that battle alongside him?

He shook himself at that and looked around again. However, the possibility that his world could come to an end for real was all that loomed before him. In which battle would HE die? Or would it be a skirmish on the borders somewhere? Or would he live to fight the sons of Fëanor in the second kinslaying and flee to the Havens at Sirion and dwell beneath the willows once again?

What would happen to his wife and children and grandchildren? What of the families of his brethren? In Lórien, the ever-present danger never unsettled him like this. His family was far safer here under the protection of Melian and the future march wardens than they would have been in Celos Galen.  Unfortunately the candle of Doriath was burning and at some point it would burn brighter and faster than he could ever prepare himself for before it was completely snuffed out.

Veering off from the main group of explorers, he wandered alone over to a stand of tall trees and climbed up into their branches. Once he felt he was high enough above the ground, he rested in the crook of some limbs and closed his eyes. The trees sang sweetly to him, calling him by his kind and asking for his name. Tenderly the limbs began to sway, the leaves gently shushing and swishing as if blown by a soft breeze. The soft music of a waterfall crept into his mind, the rush of waves close enough to perceive with his fae but not necessarily to hear over the branches.

This…this was a good place, a place of comfort and of hope. He could sense his unborn children seeking his presence and feel the pull of his wife’s fae on his own, seeking him as well. If only he had brought his harp. There was a music here in this place, in Doriath. The birds leant their song to it, but the water of the surrounding rivers gave harmony to it as well.  Was this the presence of Melian he sensed? Or was there something more here? If Ulmo’s power still flowed in the waters in Beleriand, then who was to say that others of the Belain had not entirely abandoned this land as well?  Giving a great sigh, he allowed himself to relax completely, resting in the Presence of something other than himself…. For now, for this one brief moment, he was safe, he was at peace, and he was home…

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“You could have told us where you had gone,” Rúmil scowled.

“Where would the fun have been in that?” Haldir replied sleepily, not wanting to disturb his respite.

“I think you have found it, my friend,” Galadin observed.

“At least we have found him…” Taurion commented as he reached Haldir’s perch and joined him on an adjacent branch. Haldir could have sworn the boy was part wraith for the stealth of his movements.

“We have a great many large and welcoming trees, a fresh supply of water… even a waterfall! The game is plentiful and there are many berries and edible plants close by. Yes, I believe this is it! Haldir has found it for us! Ever does that ellon look after our needs before his own,” Damrod exclaimed.

“I swear they are part squirrel the way they scurry up the trees,” one of the guides commented to the other guides in Sindarin.

Haldir laughed as did the guides. “Yes we are, are we not?” he hollered back down to the guides.

One of the guides punched the arm of the one who commented. “You forgot about that one understanding Sindarin.”

“And the rest of us who understand Sindarin as well,” Rúmil added cheerfully.

“A well-aimed rock might take that one down,” another guide observed, rubbing his chin with one hand and pointing to Rúmil with the other as if he were contemplating pruning the tree.

“And a well-aimed accidental release of my dagger might take you down as well…” Rúmil replied amiably, shifting his position in the branches to a spot directly over the guides.

Suddenly Rúmil’s tree trembled near the top, dropping a branch which hit Rúmil and then tumbled down through the lower branches to hit the guides as well.

Angaril laughed loudly from his perch in a nearby tree. “Oh, I love this place! We definitely must settle here. Where else could we find trees with a sense of humor to rival that of Rúmil and the other smart asses on the ground below us?”

“I believe I have a name for our new home,” Damrod proclaimed, grinning broadly. “Gladhol Gelaidh.”

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Indeed the land of Laughing Trees was a place of joy for the Galadhrim as well. The refugees spread out among the canopies, building a vast web of bridges connecting the many levels of telain very much after the fashion of Caras Galadhon in Lothlórien. On the advice of Haldir and his comrades, the telain were constructed using the techniques and architecture of Lothlórien rather than building them after the fashion of Celos Galen.

Joining Haldir and some others on the ground to take a break, Damrod drained two cups of water and started on a third.

Gesturing at the ongoing construction above them, Haldir asked, “So what do you think?”

“I hate the hall.”

Haldir choked on his own swallow of water, then lowered his cup. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had a hall equal to that of a great hall of men. It only made sense that a chieftain should have a hall. “But why?”

Damrod took a deep breath, then explained. “Haldir, we all know that the ground is the place for gathering in large groups or even the branches of a tree will suit that purpose. I see no reason why we need a giant building for gathering. In a tree, if it rains the leaves will protect us or we will simply gather in a smaller group in a talan. Halls like King Thingol’s require tall tables and chairs and other…things to fill them and simply are not practical high up in a tree.”

Haldir pursed his lips as he contemplated a reply. “Damrod, you are a chieftain. King Thingol wishes that respect be to shown to you equal to the respect which is shown to the other lords and clan chieftains who dwell in Doriath. They all have halls for use when meeting with lords and for gathering with the chieftains of other clans and for meeting with the king. It is a way to show respect to these esteemed visitors as much as it is a way to show you the respect and honor you deserve as our leader.”

Haldir’s comrades and their sons as well as his own sons looked at Damrod from their resting places on the ground nearby, clearly interested in this exchange.  Damrod’s expression betrayed the obvious toll this conversation was taking on his patience. “My son, I realize that you are in awe of these strange folk and have been ever since we arrived here. They have indeed accomplished many impressive things not the least of which are convincing so many unrelated clans to dwell side by side in peace and delving deep into the earth to make a home in one thousand caves. But…these are not OUR ways. Quite frankly, I am appalled that you have been so quick to forget our ways and so eager to embrace theirs. Seldom do I hear the tongue of the Galadhrim from your lips. Do your ennin in Lothlórien and later in Celos Galen mean nothing to you? Does your heritage as a son of the forest mean nothing to you anymore? Are you so ashamed of us that you wish to be like…like them?”

Crossing his arms defiantly, Haldir glared back at his father-in-law and chieftain. “You think I am so ashamed of my heritage and eager to please and so shallow that I would stoop to change my ways just to please them? Is that what you really think is going on?  I do not think this is about a hall, Adar. I think it is about your fear that their ways will change us. In truth, to an extent we must change and adapt in order to blend in with them. However, we can still maintain that which is uniquely us. King Thingol, who is now your liege and the one whose generosity and good graces allow us a safe haven here, is the one who ordered that a hall be built. My comrades from Lórien and I saw it done in Lothlórien and it can be done safely and honorably for both the trees and the folk involved.”

He paused glancing over at the others, but only five nodded encouragement for him to continue. “I have given my strength and my blood to protecting the Galadhrim for thousands of years.  Do not ever presume to question my loyalty to my kin and clan. I may know much about other clans and races, but I use that knowledge to try to aide my own people in whatever ways I can. At this time, we need to be gracious and try to blend in, and in some things capitulate to the wishes of OUR new liege and his folk. When we are here among our own kind we should do as we have always done, adhering to our own language and customs. However, when others not of our kind are among us, it would be courteous to try to make them feel welcome. That may mean that we speak Sindarin or we offer them a chair to sit in. It also may mean that you meet with them in a hall – but it will be a hall among our trees.”

Damrod glared mutinously, “I refuse to use a hall to meet with my own people.”

“That is your right and a choice for you to make,” Haldir replied.

“And I refuse to dwell in it. I will dwell near my children and grandchildren.”

“That choice is yours to make as well. King Thingol only wishes that a hall be available for meetings.”

“I am not sweeping the floor of it either and neither will my wife.”

Haldir bit his lip for a count of ten. “Again, my chieftain, that choice is yours to make and you can even order someone else to sweep the floor in preparation for meetings. King Thingol has servants who sweep the floors of his halls.”

Damrod looked at him incredulously. “What a waste of the time and talent of an able-bodied elf! That is preposterous! That ellon or elleth could be out gathering food or hunting or sewing or any other of a hundred different tasks which are more useful to the settlement as a whole rather than simply sweeping floors so that an ellon can sit in a big chair and talk to people.”  Red-faced he stood, throwing up his hands in disgust and walking a few paces away then turned to face Haldir again.

“Go ahead and build the damn hall if my liege so orders it, but you can tell King Thingol that I refuse to have someone in my clan whose sole purpose is to sweep the floors. I simply cannot abide such a waste of strength and skills.”

Unable to think of anything helpful to say in reply, Haldir bit his lip again and simply nodded. “As you wish.”

After Damrod angrily scaled the nearest tree to return to constructing a talan adjoining Haldir’s own new home, the five from Lórien arose and took turns clapping Haldir on the shoulders and back.  The sons merely sat on the ground trying to hide their grins.

“Congratulations, Captain,” Angaril said not even bothering to try to hide his amusement. “I strongly suspect you are going to find yourself sweeping the floors of the hall before meetings.”

“It would make an excellent punishment for wayward children,” Taurion added with a snicker.

“Or for disobedient or overly arrogant warriors,” Rúmil added, looking pointedly at Taurion who glared back at him defiantly.

“Dear Eru, what have we gotten ourselves into?” Haldir asked shaking his head. Without further comment, he finished his drink then climbed back up the tree to continue work on his own talan.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Damrod refused to help with the building of the hall and forbade all but the ellyn of Lórien and their sons from working on the construction of it. The finished product was not equal to what Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had in Caras Galadhon, but it served its purpose well.  And true to his word, Damrod and his wife refused to be the ones to sweep the floors.

Though Gladhol Gelaidh was large and built to accommodate a growing population, there were no high walls surrounding the settlement and no great gate like Caras Galadhon had or would have. With Haldir’s march wardens on patrol much as they had been before in Taur-im-Duinath, (and with Haldir’s undisclosed knowledge of the Girdle of Melian which was to be erected at some point in the future) the chieftain and edair felt that there was no need for the settlement to be surrounded by walls like a fortress.  Also considering they were only two turns of the stars away from Menegroth, they felt rather secure in the safety of their new location.

The construction took longer than any of the Galadhrim had expected, but they all felt it was well worth it. Ferevellon and Fereveldir and their sons constructed finely carved tables and chairs and Damrod, in a token effort to capitulate to the ways of the Sindar, put his eldest grandson in charge of learning the craft of constructing feather beds. Taurion was most unhappy with this assignment, but he knew better than to defy his daeradar. Haldir was delighted at this for he thought it might teach his son some humility having to learn such a craft from the Sindar and then teach it to others.

True to his word, Haldir built his family’s large talan, composed of many rooms complete with walls to accommodate his children and grandchildren, on the side of the settlement furthest from Menegroth. According to his wife, the trees there sang the sweetest songs for they were not encumbered by being too close to rock and caves like the trees on the other side of the settlement. In Haldir’s mind, two days away from the caves of Menegroth was two days away and the distance across the settlement was miniscule in comparison, but he humored his pregnant wife and dutifully agreed with her.

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Gladhol Gelaidh - Laughing Trees

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Author's note: I'm still not in good health and am struggling mightily with real life issues. I'm only part way through writing chapter 25 and will post it when I have time to finish it. Sorry about the delay in the story. At least I managed to get this far without missing any weeks of posting :-)  Happy reading!