Oathbound, Heartbroken *COMPLETE*

Title: Oathbound, Heartbroken 9/?
Author: Eawen Penallion
email: cross_stitcherire@yahoo.com
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/eawen_penallion/
Type: FPS
Pairing: Haldir/Melpomaen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, explicit sexual encounters between two males.
Beta: Most excellent Nienna, so encouraging!
Disclaimer: all rights to the characters belong to JRR
Tolkien – I’m only playing with them.
Timeline: Middle of Third Age
Feedback: Yes please,
Archive: OEAM, AFF, LJ, anywhere else, please ask

Summary: Haldir has waited for his soulmate for all his life, and now seems to have found that elf. But to claim his love, he must break an oath.


Chapter 9


The response was immediate. Clerks dodged swiftly out of the way as Haldir and Glorfindel leapt from their seats, leaving the chairs to crash upon the floor as they vaulted the tables to make their urgent exit from the room. The steps were as nothing as they shot down the stairwell and flung themselves out the door.

The distance to the Royal Talan was short but each footfall, each pounding stride seemed as a mile in Haldir's mind. That the injured warrior had used such a word as 'disaster' boded an evil that he could scarce believe, save that Haldir had trained the Galadhel personally and knew him to be a sound and strong soldier. His thoughts focused on his counterpart, Berenon, who was Commander of the Northern patrol on this month's watch. Each of the four borders had a Marchwarden and his Commander, the two officers leading the patrols alternatively. The Commanders were senior wardens and answered first to their own Marchwarden, then to Haldir as overall leader of the Galadhrim. Always there were two full Marchwardens on patrol per month, with two commanders of the other borders. Haldir had the greatest faith in Berenon and if his wardens had been bested then the incursion must have been overwhelming.

None stood in his way as he burst into Lord Celeborn's council chamber, Glorfindel but a step behind him. The room was full of councillors and senior wardens, including Orophin, but Haldir directed his attention to Celeborn alone.

"What news, my lord?" he cried in his urgent need. Celeborn looked at him and Haldir's heart leapt into his throat at the haunted look on the Sinda's face. Celeborn's words confirmed the Marchwarden's fears.

"The worst, Marchwarden. A cohort of at least six hundred yrch attacked the Northwest edge of the boundaries of Lothlórien under the cover of darkness, inflicting heavy losses on our patrols there. Commander Berenon is dead, as are at least a quarter of the patrol. In addition they have suffered heavy casualties. There is a lack of information as to the intent of the incursion. Sauron would not commit such a large force without a specific design."

Celeborn looked at Haldir meaningfully but the Marchwarden of the Galadhrim of Lothlórien knew his task well enough. Knowing that the eyes of all were upon him, he turned to one of the junior wardens who attended upon the Royal Talan and issued his orders.

"Muster the Galadhrim. They are to assemble at the North Gate within the hour, ready for war. We march at that time."

Even as the young warrior ran to sound the alarm Haldir turned back to the war council. He would need as much information as possible to prepare to repel the enemy - and to plan for punitive action. Celeborm began to elaborate upon the scant news he had extracted from the northern Galadhel, pointing to the maps spread out on the large council table. The gathered councillors leaned forward, their cream robes contrasting softly with the home-spun grey of the warriors who jostled for equal space.

"The attack began after the midnight hour, with penetration here, here and here."

Haldir followed the indicating finger, noting with regret that the leader of the orchoth had showed an unusual intelligence above that which they normally saw. Those were areas where the patrol would be weak at that time. Even though the Marchwardens shifted the routes of the patrols so that no distinct pattern ought to be detected, someone in the enemy camp had done just that. The attack had been timed so that Berenon's men were elsewhere upon the border.

"Messages were sent to both west and east, and reinforcements have probably now arrived," Celeborn continued. He looked at Haldir again. The fair-haired warrior nodded.

"A quarter of the muster will be sent to fill those vacated posts, another quarter to set a loose perimeter around Caras Galadhon along with the City Guard. They will therefore also be available for relief, depending on the length of the conflict. The remainder will come with me to the Northern Fences."

"And a replacement for Berenon?"

"The lieutenant, Sarnon, is excellent and I will give him Orophin too, in case he has taken some injury." Orophin nodded in passing as Haldir turned to Glorfindel. "I know that you are a warrior beyond reproach, my lord, but my men need someone they know and trust. I would rather have you at the front of the battle with me, if you will. The reknown of the Balrog Slayer is enough to strike fear into the stoutest heart - not that the orc-spawn could claim such."

Glorfindel understood his counterpart only too well, and clapped his large hand firmly upon Haldir's shoulder. "My sword is yours, mellon nín. Im lín cauno."

"And I stand too, Haldir."

There was no argument from the Marchwarden as he turned to face his Lord. This was Celeborn of Doriath, of Lindon and Evendim; of Eregion and now of Lothlórien. Celeborn, Lord and Prince, dweller of many realms was a warrior at heart, an expert with sword and bow and no stranger to warfare. Celeborn had stood shoulder to shoulder with King Amdir's men of Lothlórien - with Haldir's father - on the Plain of Morannon. He led his men from the front, as he would now.

The Marchwarden turned to the councillors around the table. "Provisions will be required, my lords. I will leave the necessary orders in your capable hands." He turned to face his officers, seeing the determination on their faces and the pride on Orophin's.

"Warriors of the Galadhrim - to arms!"

****

The passage of time was swift and to Haldir it was as if bare moments had passed. He had returned to his talan to change into his grey uniform, donning for the first time in many years his red cloak of war. It was a risk for it made him more of a target for orc arrows, but it also gave him an identity amongst the dark and concealing greys of the Galadhrim, when his men needed him the most. It also meant that runners could find him easily in times of urgency. Buckling on his fine-honed sword and strapping a bulging quiver to his back, Haldir took one last look around his talan for a final check before lifting his bow. A sense of disorientation came over him, for it was as if he had experienced this moment before, until he realised that this was the way he had seen his father for the last time, in this very room. Girded and buckled, ready for war, making his final checks, saying his parting farewells. He shivered at the memory, then said a silent prayer for strength to his father.

As he turned his eyes fell regretfully upon the open door to his room, and the lavishly covered bed. The postponement of tonight's ceremony was a given and although he longed to complete his union with his beautiful 'Maen it was not love that sang in his veins right now but bloodlust, crying out for revenge against the murderers of his kin; his commander, his warriors. Quickly, with the precision delineating him as a soldier, he turned from the silken sheets of the enticing bed and exited the talan to join the avenging army.

The muster was complete and Haldir nodded in approval as he saw that his wardens and commanders had executed his orders, for the perimeter guards had already departed, as had the reinforcements for the other borders. The Galadhrim in front of him were now at attention, the epitome of a well-trained, finely disciplined fighting force. The edges of the yard surrounding the inner gates were filled with the warriors' families and friends, come to make their farewells to their loved ones. Out of the corner of his eyes amongst the light-coloured robes of the Silvan elves he saw the rich reds of Imladris and the pale face of Melpomaen flanked by Doron and Meluiwen. His little scribe had fixed his chocolate-brown eyes firmly upon the solid figure of Haldir, and anxiety shone forth, echoed by the wringing of the tiny hands. Haldir felt his heart wrench when he saw this but duty bound him and he could do nor say naught. Looking to his law-sister he saw that she cradled a tired and confused Tólaes in her arms, and Alagion - ah, his eyes moistened to see his nephew stand proudly saluting his father in the ranks, carrying his own small bow in his hand.

Haldir finally gave in to temptation and turned now fully to capture the gaze of his lovely scribe. He smiled, and it was a smile of love and reassurance and promise. The dark elf took strength from this and the smile that was returned spoke of reciprocated love and trust.

The only elleth to approach the awaiting warriors was the Lady of Lothlórien, who gave a final formal embrace to her lord before raising her hand to lay her blessing upon the troops before her. As Haldir bowed his head he felt a familiar warm tingle sweep across his body and he knew that within that blessing there was magic and power to protect and strengthen them for the days ahead. Haldir took one glance at Glorfindel, resplendent at the head of a cohort in his light armour, then he turned and bowed to his lord. Celeborn nodded.

"Marchwarden, lead our troops to victory!"

That was his signal. His strong voice echoed in the stillness of withheld breaths and stifled sobs.

"Galadhrim - move out!"

And the Galadhrim of Lothlórien marched to war.

****

Haldir felt rather than heard the conflict ahead, despite the clarity of his elven hearing. The Lórien force had moved swiftly and frequent runners to and from the valiant patrols brought news of both gains and losses in the continuing fight. These orcs had maintained their pressure on the elven warriors, a change to their usual tactics. Haldir felt that this behaviour had to be due to the size of the attacking forces, causing an increase in the confidence of the back-blooded minions of Morgoth.

"There are reports of splinter groups breaking off from the packs, delving into the copses and thickets of the outer forest," Haldir said in conference with the other two lords during a break in their advance. They crouched upon the forest floor, leaning against fallen trunks of ancient trees, gaining rest that they had not had for many days in their drive to reach the forest edge and their foes. "Normally the orcs would be picked off by the archers but our forces are spread so thin that they are breaking through."

"And what of their burden? The bags that they are reportedly carrying into the Golden Wood?" asked Celeborn anxiously. Haldir shook his head.

"I do not know, my lord. The messages we have received state that the sacks obtained from the orcs that they have killed contain dark spherical objects, organic for certain. They exude some substance that can burn the skin of the palm if touched, so I have ordered that gloves must be used if handling them. All captured sacks have been quarantined pending investigation. A sample is being brought to us as we speak."

Glorfindel looked puzzled and aggravated. "Damn!" he exploded in frustration. "The hairs on my neck are prickling Even as you spoke of them I felt their evil intent and a flash of recognition as to their description. I simply cannot remember why."

Haldir shrugged in resignation, his silver-blue eyes meeting Glorfindel's sapphire blue in understanding.

"I too, my friend. My skin is veritably crawling. This is bad, my Lord." He turned once again to Celeborn. "Very bad."

Celeborn nodded, his eyes shining with a dark light not often seen in the silver lord.

"We will prevail, Haldir. I have fought the Darkness for too long to allow Him a foothold into *my* realm. I will not suffer Laurelindlórenan to become another Taur-nu-Fuin!"

The depth of rage in the Sinda's voice caught in the other warriors' hearts and they too knew that if necessary they would make the journey to Mandos' Halls before allowing that to happen. Glorfindel cleared his throat.

"Celeborn, a question if I may? How can the orc army penetrate into Lothlórien this way? I thought that Galadriel's power kept all evil out of the Golden Wood?"
The silver mane shimmered as the ancient lord shook his head.

"The range of Nenya is finite, centred on wherever Galadriel is and extends to the edge of the woods. In reality the Celebrant, the Anduin and the exit to Moria define its area of protection. More than that is draining on her life force. That is why we rarely travel, my friend. To leave behind our home Galadriel must place layer upon layer of spells upon the wood and upon Haldir here. It is simpler to stay." He looked around at the silver birch and slim poplar, shining in the innocuous sunshine - belying the evil invading the stand of woods. "The sheer physical scale of this attack is beyond the scope of supernatural protection. What can befuddle one orc mind to the point of insanity is as but a light brush against brutish sensibilities when facing such numbers. The sword and the bow are our protection now."

The ire building within the Marchwarden could be contained no longer. He leapt to his feet.

"I have whispered the prayers of the dead too many times in the last few days. Let us make an end of them!"

Celeborn grinned, an almost feral grimace as he recognised and concurred with his Commander of the Lórien forces. He stood too and clasped Haldir's arms in a warrior's greeting, and the Balrog Slayer added his strong hands to the convocation. His grin became positively feral as he faced his two long-time friends.
"My lords - it is time to go hunt some orcs!"

****

Haldir wiped his brow wearily, unaware of the black smear of orc blood that now lay upon his forehead as a result. The Marchwarden surveyed the scene with great sadness as he saw red-stained grey amongst the grotesque forms piled high in death. He called to one of the nearby wardens.

"Mellon nín, let us be more vigilant in the removal of evil from this land. Please, have a care to separate our fallen brothers and sisters who have passed into Námo's arms, so that their bodily remnants are given the due respect and honour they deserve."

The warden nodded in understanding and regret and soon the fallen warriors were separated from the carcasses of the foe, and were arrayed in honour under the pale green foliage of the birch trees in a nearby copse. In the distance of his thoughts Haldir was caught unawares, and stiffened as strong arms came around his body from the rear, a chin resting on his shoulder. He calmed when he heard the deep tones of the Balrog Slayer.

"My condolences to you, my dearest Haldir. They fought well. *You* fought well." Glorfindel pulled back and turned the Marchwarden in his arms, looking down into the silver blue eyes from his considerable height. Haldir was not small but Glorfindel of Gondolin had been blessed with a stature beyond that of a normal edhel. The golden lord smiled.

"Melpomaen would be very proud could he see you today. *I* am very proud, and my heart will burst with joy on the day I can call you 'ion nín'!"

The words lightened Haldir's heart as he lifted an arm to clasp Glorfindel's - but he could not resist a smirk when he responded to the praise.

"I thank you for the words, old friend - but do not think that I will *ever* call you 'Ada'!"

Glorfindel laughed, a great shout that brought attention to the two legendary warriors, and he clapped his hand to Haldir's shoulder.

"Manwë forbid, dear Haldir. But come," he sobered, "Celeborn has received samples of the orc-sacks and has asked us to help identify this evil."

The friends made their way over to the silver lord who stood with two of the Galadhrim, a large hessian-weave sack on the ground between them. As they reached him, one of the Galadhel lifted the sack with gauntlet-protected hands, tipping the contents onto the grass. Glorfindel groaned and Haldir hissed in recognition of the objects, the recognition arising from his travels to Thranduil's realm.

"Ungol-spawn!" he growled. He turned to the warriors standing guard. "We need to soak these in alcohol and set them alight. Send word to the other groups to do the same."

Celeborn was horrified. "Ungol? Spiders? Here, in the Golden Wood?"

Haldir nodded. "Aye, my lord. It is obvious now what the Dark Lord's plan was - to infect Lothlórien with the same evil that has taken over the Greenwood. Unless we root out and burn them, these eggs will hatch and breed."

The Sinda's eyes burned in fury and the lord grasped Glorfindel's arm. "Lend me your strength, meldir," he said as his eyes glazed over into waking reverie. Haldir waited patiently for he knew the 'signs of farspeech. A moment later the spiders' eggs were ash as fire spontaneously combusted within the sticky mass. Celeborn sagged as he focused once more. He smiled wryly as his friends looked at him with concern.

"Galadriel is as disgusted as I am, my lords, and that was but a small demonstration of the extent of her disgust. She will not be able to repeat that act, but know that she now has the psychic imprint of the eggs. She will be able to look for and inform us of any caches undetected by our troops. Proceed with your actions, Haldir. We will rid this realm of these evil creatures and cleanse ourselves of this filth." The silver-haired lord looked around the devastated battleground wearily. "And we will mourn."

Haldir nodded and proceeded as he had been instructed. Even now that they knew the reason for the invasion, there would still be much work to do. He thought of his little 'Maen and he knew that he would not be seeing him anytime soon. As he prepared himself for the long campaign, Haldir brought to mind the dark velvet hair, chocolate-brown eyes and sweet pouting lips of his lover.

"Melin le, 'Maen."

And as a whisper on the wind there came a touch upon his cheek as if it had been brushed by a butterfly's wing and the essence of love poured through him from a distance…

'… I love you too, my Haldir…'

TBC


Elvish:

yrch - orcs
orchoth - orc-host/army
Im lín cauno - I am yours to command
Mellon nín - my friend
elleth - female elf (sing.)
ion nín - my son
Ada - 'Dad'
ungol - spiders
meldir - friend
Melin le - I love you