Eglan (Forsaken)

Title: Eglan (Forsaken)
Author: Iamme
Type: FPGen
Cast: Haldir
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: It’s not mine it belongs to Tolkien and Dumas.
Warnings: Mention of character death, and possibly actual chartcer death later on (not Hal) angst, mental anguish, wrongful imprisonment, and lashings. Torture, Violence, AU. It’s morbid. If you find such things offensive then don’t read it.
Beta: Belle Bayard , Alex
Summary: Haldir finds himself wrongfully accused and imprisoned for an Elf’s murder. Who hates him so much that he or she would kill another Elf and blame it on him? Based loosely on Alexander Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo
Author's Notes: This is a story also based loosely on a rp I have done with both Mirasaui and Hockeygrl. Also k yok you to Belle Bayard for the title.

Glorfindel led Haldir through his office door where the three Elves waited. The former Marchwarden saw no sign of Melpomaen, but

Lord Celeborn’s presence eased Haldir’s mind some. Glorfindel had him stand in room’s center, and then remained behind him.

With a respectful bow to those who would judge him, Haldir waited for them to speak.

Lord Celeborn sighed, avoiding Haldir’s hopeful gaze as he looked at the parch bef before him. After he read it for a moment, he

finally met his loyal servant’s expectant look. “Haldir O’ Lorien, this council examined all evidence presented to it as well as your

defense. We have no choice but to find you guilty.”

Haldir paled, his heart hammering in his chest. “I...I thought I would receive a trial, my lords.”

Celeborn shook his head. “We found no need for such, Haldir. The evidence speaks loudly and you have no alibi. We have

determined the cou course for all. While Elves remain in Middle-earth, you will be imprisoned. Furthermore, we banish you from any

Elven realm with which we hold allegiance. You will be transported first thing in the morning.”

Glorfindel took Haldir’s arm and Haldir jerked away. “No! I am innocent! You cannot do this to me! It is wrong! I demand a proper

trial!”
“I am sorry, Haldir. We can do nothing else now.” His voice held some hint of the regret he felt, but also the veracity of his words.

Glorfindel tried to grab him once more and Haldir spun on Glorfindel. “I will go nowhere until I receive proper justice!” he cried.

“Come, Haldir. Do not make me call in help to carry you out of here,” Glorfindel quietly begged. Though the seneschal had backed

off a bit, he still stood near enough to grab the irate Haldir if necessary.

“I will not go, Glorfindel! I have done nothing!” Haldir’s eyesd a d a desperate look, his body tense as he turned back to the Elf

lords. “Just allow me to leave and I will not return to Imladris.” The moment he heard his sentence, Haldir’s usually steely

composure had crumbled, leaving him beside himself with the need to escape.

“We cannot do that, Haldir. Thranduil wants justice and we feel that Saelbeth’s family has a right to that,” Elrond stated, his voice

unyielding in its determination to see this through.

“Even if you condemn the wrong Elf?” Haldir asked, a note of pleading in his voice.

“Even rep replied Elrond. Haldir’s stomach clenched as he realized he would receive no fair trial, nor recourse in the light of this

disclosure.

Glorfindel grabbed Haldir’s arm again. “Come, Haldir. Do not complicate this any more than it already has become.”

Haldir silently pleaded with Glorfindel, but the seneschal did not relent. “I am only following orders. You must return to you cell until

you make your final journey from here,” the Imladris Elf told him.

With a sense of doom, Haldir knew none would relent in their decision. Passive in his shock, he allowed Glorfindel to lead him back

to his cell. Once inside, he remained standing just inside the door, staring blankly at the straw bedding.

As the door slammed shut, Haldir jumped. He had believed his lord would find a way to free him, but that hope had died and with it,

all chance of return to his life. He fell onto his rough mattress, silent tears rolling down his face. How he wished for his brothers! He

could give up his duty, his home, but not his brothers. What would they think when they heard? Would they believe it? He hoped

not, but he felt uncertain about everything, even their faith in him. Something smelled of dead Orc about this whole situation, but

he could not put his finger on the exact source. He rolled over, studying the ceiling and turning everything over in his mind in an

effort to figure out how he could get out ois. is. At last, exhausted, he fell into a fitful slumber.

He had no idea how long he slept. The click of the lock had his eyes focused as the door swung wide to admit two masked figures.

One held a large piece of cloth that he could not make out in the dark, the other a clu club. Haldir sat up, eyeing them warily.

“Is it time to go?” he asked, his gaze traveling from one to the other as they approached.

They did not answer and Haldir scrambled to his feet, ready to fight. When they moved to grab him, he kicked the Elf with the cloth’s

knee while dodging the other one’s club. Despite his valiant effort, he could not hold out against the addition of two guards who

joined the fray. Soon, Haldir knelt on the rough stone floor, the cloth over his face. The thing smelled of sweat and dirt. The air

around him stirred and then a sharp pain caught him across the face.

“Saelbeth was a good friend of mine!” a voice hissed near his ear. He could not tell which Elf spoke, nor did it matter as another

blow landed, then another. Blood ran down his face, the coppery tang filling his mouth as it poured from his now broken nose. He

lost count of the blows as darkness began to consume him, unaware of the three Elves watching from the hallway. They were there

to carry this through to thd. Wd. When the guards and hooded Elves finished, they took the cloth and headed to another cell. There

they fired arrows into the bloody material, then soiled it with fresh dirt and shredded it in a few places. Once this task had been

completed, they returned to Haldir’s cell. Elrond, Celeborn, and Erestor joined them, gazing down at the former Marchwarden’s

crumpled form. All three felt they had made the right decision.

“Make certain no one sees him leave here, “Celeborn ordered before leaving with the bloody cloth in hand. He would return this to

Haldir’s grief-stricken brothers as all that had been found of Haldir.

Before the guards gagged Haldir, Elrond trickled a combination of painkiller and sleeping draught into the unconscious Elf’s mouth.

He made certain Haldir swallowed a sufficient amount to keep him quiet for a number of hours. Then the guards lifted and placed

him in a wooden crate with a couple holes for air. Lord Elrond had contracted with a party of rough Men to take the Elf to the prison.

All those concerned knew no Elves would do this. If the truth were to ever come out... For the sake of his sons, that must never

happen.

Had it not been for the beating Haldir had received, the Men might have worried about him escaping. However, the brutal treatment

and Elrond’s medication reassured the group they would not need to worry of that for some time. He gave them more of the

concoction, instructing the most intelligent of the ruffians on how much to administer in Haldir’s food to keep him docile. When all

was ready, the crate was loaded and the men mounted their wagon and horses heading out for the most forgotten and forsaken

place in all of Arda.