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The battle waged on. Ten thousand Uruk-hai, originally, against three hundred Rohan Men, and a host of a few thousand Elves. How many of them all were left, Legolas could not guess, even if he had the time. Earlier that night he’d tried to make light of the situation by comparing his kills to Gimli’s. But now the circumstances were dire. Everywhere he looked, mingled with the dead Uruks, were bodies of Men, and Elves – some, he had known, for he’d fought alongside them in Mirkwood. Haldir had led the host – Wood-Elves of Laiqataure, Rivendell Elves, and the Galadhrim’s best warriors, all who met at the borders of Lothlorien and marched to Helm’s Deep.
Legolas didn’t dare think of what fate had met Haldir, not so soon after the death of their mother. He was stationed on a different part of the Deeping Wall than Legolas, so it was safe to assume that Haldir was simply not in sight at the moment. It was also safe to assume that the warden was alive and well, cutting down every Orc that was unfortunate enough to get in his way. Legolas clearly remembered his days as a child, watching his older brother train, aspiring to one day be just like him. When it came to battle, Haldir was unstoppable, and quite the force to be reckoned with. He took after Thranduil in that way, and it was no by chance that Lord Celeborn made him march warden of Lothlorien.
Legolas kept his concentration of his own, short-lived fights against waves of Uruk-hai. Much of what he accomplished was now by knife-work – though he was one of the greatest archers Middle-Earth had known, compared at times even to the likes of Beleg, his arrows were long spent, and except when he could pilfer from the quivers of the slain, he would rely on his knives, light and slender, as lethal as they were beautiful as they glinted coldly in the night. Many foes had made the mistake of thinking that without use of his bow, Legolas was nothing. His dexterity with a blade always surprised his enemies greatly in the short time before their demise, and Legolas used this to his advantage.
Suddenly, he heard a cry from one of Théoden’s men, though he could not make it out over the sounds of screams and shouts. He ignored it. He then heard Aragorn’s voice commanding that sector of Elves: “Nan Barad!” They were falling back. An Elf, who looked to be of Lorien, was struggling nearby with a very persistent Gimli. Legolas ran over to help him.
“He won’t stop,” he told the Elf in their own tongue. “He’ll have to be dragged away.” The soldier nodded, and together they lifted the kicking Dwarf by the arms and carried him off.
“What are you doing?” Gimli grunted, trying to wiggle out of the Elves’ grip, “Why are you stopping? Let go!” They took no heed of this.
Legolas would never be able to figure out just what possessed him to turn around in that moment. He and the soldier where halfway to the keep, when the sudden urge to look back at the wall overtook him. And there, he saw Haldir, caught unawares by an Uruk-hai, who buried its scimitar in his back. He fell to his knees, and Legolas could feel the blood drain from his face. Shaking, he turned to the Elf.
“Take him,” he said, gesturing to Gimli, who was still fussing. He dropped the Dwarf’s arm, and ran as quickly as he could toward where he had seen Haldir. The soldier called after him, but he ignored it. Aragorn came running toward him.
“Legolas!” he called, “Fall back to the Keep!”
“I’m going to Haldir,” he replied.
Aragorn shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Legolas. We’re needed at the-“
“I’m not leaving him!” he said sharply, and after a moment went on running.
He wouldn’t listen. Haldir wasn’t dead. He wasn’t. His mother was gone. He would not lose his brother too.
In his rage he was able to fell Orcs with a single slash of a long, white knife, and made his way to the top of the wall. There, he saw Haldir, lying motionless on his back, eyes wide. No, Legolas thought. He couldn’t be dead.
He heard another wave of Orcs coming their way. Desperate, he put his hands under Haldir’s shoulders and pulled him away, trying to think of what to do. Orcs were infamous carrion creatures, and would be more than happy to gorge themselves on a body, dead or living. Legolas would not leave his brother to that fate. He slid a shield under Haldir’s back, and carefully pulled him down the stairs, making as much haste as he could without causing further harm. Once on the ground, Legolas abandoned the shield, realizing where Haldir had been injured, and instead draped the warden’s arm around his own neck, carrying him as best he could. Legolas had strength, no doubt, but he was growing tired, and his brother had a larger build than he did.
After a few minutes, he saw a hole in the side of one of the towers, made by rubble from the earlier explosion. It was hidden behind a large chunk of wall… the perfect place to hide a body until he could come back safely. Lying Haldir down for a moment, Legolas pushed the debris away, keeping a sharp eye out for any attacking Orcs. He then pulled his brother into the crevice. He stood and stared for a moment, praying silently that his beloved older brother were alive, and covered the hole again, before making his way quickly back to the Keep.
***
The battle was over. Gandalf had come with Eomer and the Rohirrim to their aid at the last minute, and many angered Trees had traveled from the forests to take their revenge on the Uruk-hai for the destruction they had caused near Fangorn. Bodies were now being recovered, and there was a search for survivors. Though many of his own kin had perished in the night, Legolas was relieved to learn that none of the boys were killed or hurt too severely, a fear that plagued him for much of the night.
Beckoning another Elf to come help him, he ran to where he’d left Haldir in the hours before. He was still there. Legolas and his companion carefully carried the warden to the House of Healing. He didn’t bother to check for any signs of life, out of fear for the worst.
***
Hours later, Haldir awoke. He was unable to move, and his entire chest and back were bandaged, along with his left arm. He felt pain all over, but it was concentrated in his back. When he opened his eyes, he found healers running to and fro, many occupied beds, and, most surprisingly, his younger brother, alive and well, sitting almost in vigil at his side.
“Legolas?” Haldir said, his voice weak. The young prince looked up.
“I’m here, Haldir,” he said, his face pained, eyes grey with worry.
“What am I doing here?”
“You were injured,” Legolas said, looking at his own hand. He was quiet, quieter than usual. He was still young, and this was one of the fiercest battles he had seen. Haldir thought he was just shaken up. “You were unconscious.”
“Then how am I here?” Haldir asked, trying to catch his brother’s eye, “I should have been at the hands of the Orcs.” Legolas was silent. He never liked to brag about anything he’d done, no matter how brave or noble. But he knew all too well his brother’s impatience, and that he would want every word of the truth.
“I went back,” he said at last. “I hid you, after I saw you fall.”
“Are you mad?” Haldir said. “You were ordered to go to the Keep, and instead you decided to bring me here?” He always was a bit too proud to thank people.
“Do you think I would have left you there?” Legolas said, becoming stern, his eyes becoming darker. “Do you think that I would have just left you to the mercy of the Uruk-hai? You know how they are. I wasn’t going to leave you to that fate. Not after…” he began to trail off. “Not after what happened to our mother,” he said quietly, looking down again. Haldir was quiet.
“And even if I did leave you,” Legolas said, “what of Ada? How would he have taken it?” He looked Haldir in the eye, feeling his heart ache. “You haven’t seen him. When Mum died, when you left… He hasn’t been the same.”
“You should have stayed in Mirkwood, then,” Haldir said. “You should have stayed with him, he needs you.”
“I only left because he needed me to. He needed a message sent to Rivendell, it was too crucial to send a bird or some courier. I didn’t want to leave.”
“No, but you should have gone back.” Haldir was becoming stern, as he’d always been. It was only because he worried for his brother. “Instead you decide to go to Mordor?”
“Haldir!” Legolas said, lowering his voice to a whisper. They had been speaking in Westron, and the Men could easily have heard them. “No one is supposed to know of this.” Haldir exhaled sharply. The two were quiet for a time.
“You should rest,” Legolas told him. “The healers say you were fortunate. If the Uruk had aimed only an inch to the right, your spine would have been broken, and you could have been killed.” Haldir said nothing, only sat, wide-eyed, not remembering the Orc coming up behind him.
“Will it leave permanent damage?” he asked. Legolas shook his head.
“A scar, perhaps, but not much else, once you’ve healed.” Haldir nodded. Legolas got up to leave, allow the warden to rest.
“And when you’ve healed…” Legolas said, turning to his brother with pleading eyes, pausing. “Go back home. Go to Father. He needs you now. Tell him I’m alright.”
“I will,” Haldir said. Legolas nodded, and wandered out to the castle. Haldir smirked.
“You’re foolish, Legolas,” he whispered to himself, “and I thank you for it.”
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Author's Note:
Happy NaNoWriMo! I decided on more drabble, but I'd had this in mind for a long time.
My headcanon is that Legolas and Haldir are brothers. Haldir left for Lothlorien shortly after Celendriel's death, thinking that leaving Mirkwood would allow him to better cope with her loss. I also didn't like the idea of Haldir dying, but instead that he was just knocked unconscious. Let's just say that luckily, that Uruk didn't have very good aim.
- "Nan Barad" - "To the Keep"
I hope you enjoyed this! Stay tuned for a new fic every day in November!