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Notes: Yes, "Broken Hearts" is also the title of my spin-off centred around Thranduil and Celebrían, but it just fits this
chapter as well. Btw, thanks to Undomiel for the idea of the "two-hour version of Glorfindel's Balrog Tale" *grin*
Translation of Elvish: Mellonen - my friend. Ada - father. Ion - son. Peredhel - half-elven. Anor - the sun. Meleth - love.
Estel - hope; Elvish name of Aragorn. Arda - Middle-Earth.
Chapter 11 - Broken Hearts
Legolas had been following his friend to the rooms he shared with Éowyn, chuckling to himself.
Hopefully his father had managed to calm the Shield-maiden and convinced her that Haldir had never
intended to hurt her; that what had happened in the glade had been an unfortunate misunderstanding.
Still smiling to himself, he was about to put his hand on the door handle when the door burst open
and almost knocked him over.
Haldir, who had seemed so happy only minutes ago, came storming out of the chambers, anger radiating
from him. "Mellonen, what happened?" Legolas tried, but the Lórien elf was deaf to the Prince's
words. Helplessly, Legolas stared at the corner Haldir had just rounded and thus disappeared from
view. What in Elbereth's name had happened?
Slowly stepping into the softly lit lounge, he beheld the open bedroom door. Drawing a deep breath,
he walked on. And stopped, hand flying to his mouth. Éowyn had sunken to the floor, cradled in his
father's arms. The sound of her sobs filled the small chamber and made Legolas' heart go out to her.
Whatever Haldir had done this time, he had finally succeeded in breaking all of Éowyn's defences.
There was nothing left of the proud and wilful Shield-maiden he had first met at Edoras. Nothing of
the warrior who brought down the Witch King. And nothing of the carefree maiden he had seen in the
Golden Woods. This small form in his father's embrace was a scared child, hurt and abused. Her tears
stained her fair features, her hands clutching his father's robes as if they were her only anchors in
a world that had lost all its beauty.
"Ada," he whispered softly. Once Thranduil's gaze had met his he continued, "What has happened?"
Closing the distance, he kneeled by Éowyn's side. Slowly taking on of her small hands in his, he
gently pulled it from its grip on his father's robes. "Éowyn, what is wrong?"
Bloodshot eyes met his, but her voice was sharp and cold, "He accused your father and myself of being
... of having..." Shaking her head, she added, "He called me a whore! That's what happened. He
doesn't trust me, not one bit." Unable to hold back the pain that pierced her heart any longer, she
fell forward, her head coming to rest upon Legolas' chest. "Why," she whispered, "Why? I would have
gone with him, wherever his feet carried him. I loved him with everything that I am! Why wasn't it
enough, Legolas, why?"
Searching his father's gaze, the Prince replied, "I have no answer but for this. He needs you, every
moment you spent apart now weakens him, taints his perception. He is terrified of losing you, yet I
know his actions imply that..." Éowyn raised her head and nodded. Then, she lowered her eyes, and, as
if talking to herself, muttered, "Then why would he not allow the bond to form completely? Why did he
draw back?"
Valar no! Legolas had sensed it, but had refused himself to draw the right conclusions from Haldir's
changed demeanour. Once, during their journey to Calen Glad, had Haldir spoken to him about his bond
with Aragorn, a mortal just like Éowyn. It had been obvious then that Haldir desired the same; that
he, too, longed to be one with his beloved. Still he had hesitated to approach her, to even discuss
the topic. And Legolas had known the reason for this.
Haldir had always tried to prove his strength and valour. He had been a father for Rúmil when their
parents had left for Valinor, or at least he had attempted to be. Orophin had never been much of a
help in that respect as, just when Rúmil needed his brothers' love most, Orophin had been caught up
in a little charade, which finally led to his marriage with Míriel. But where Haldir had failed,
Thranduil had come in. In his thoughts, Legolas had always considered the youngest of the three
brothers more like a sibling that a friend.
When Haldir had been promoted and became Chief Guardian, he had done everything to keep harm from the
Golden Wood. He had led the elves of Lórien and Imladris to Helm's Deep. And what could have been the
moment of victory for him became the hour of his greatest defeat. He had to witness those under his
command, his friends, fall at the hands of Saruman's Uruk-hai. But in that minute of despair, he had
found what he had been lacking all his life. His love for Éowyn. And he loved her as he did
everything, withholding nothing, giving her everything he had and more...
But his newfound love also opened his eyes for yet another misfortune in his life. His relationship
with Anduriel. Hundreds of years he had been with her, knowing that there was no love lost between
them, that the only reason for her to even look at him was his position within the Guards of
Lothlórien. Had he not failed her as well? Because of his disability to end what should never have
started, he had kept her from finding her own destiny. And now, as he had told Legolas, he had an
enemy in her. An enemy with many resources...
Could Éowyn truly wish to spend eternity with him if everything he began led to a disaster? For the
first time since Legolas had first met the proud March Warden, he saw what was behind that arrogant
exterior. The elf who had gazed at him in the light of the fire they had started more to keep the
beasts of the wood away than for warmth, was insecure and uncertain of everything he did. And now he
feared claiming his beloved in the presence of the Valar, of binding himself to her. What if he was
doomed, and by binding himself would transfer his curse on to Éowyn?
Or worse, what if she refused his proposal? Legolas had tried to console his friend. Had told him of
the small glances he had seen Éowyn send Haldir's way when he was not looking. The Valar had destined
them to be together, they would not part them now... No, Haldir could do that on his own. How could
he be so blind?
Brushing back some strands of golden hair from Éowyn's face, he gently kissed her forehead, "He is
afraid you could turn him down, that you do not feel the same way as he does..." Éowyn smiled weakly
and shook her head, "It doesn't matter anymore now. He made his opinion of me clear, very clear
indeed. I will not beg for him to take me back, never!"
---
Thranduil closed the door behind him and turned to face his son. He had given Éowyn a draught to make
her sleep, but still had been reluctant to leave her side. Whatever had stood between the two lovers,
he had made matters worse by his mere presence. He seemed tired, as if the energy that had been
flowing through him ever since he had received Elrond's letter, had seeped out of him again. Dull
grey eyes met the dark blue of Legolas. "My power ends here. I can think of only one whose council
might reconcile them yet."
Legolas nodded. He knew very well whom his father was referring to. "We were meant to take that path
anyway." Taking the King's hands in his, gently stroking them he added, "Will you join us, Ada? It is
high time you put the old grudge behind you, do you not agree?" Seeing Thranduil stiffen, he added,
"Besides, Éowyn will need you by her side. You have become a father to her..." He was still surprised
to see the change in his father, but treasured every new display of kindness and love he beheld in
Thranduil. After long years, he finally had his ada back.
"You are right as always, Ion. Yes, I should speak to Elrond. Even if only to tell him to take care
of Éowyn. All her strength seems to be gone, and it frightens me to think what may become of her."
Suddenly he realised that no one had checked on the March Warden. As impulsive as Haldir was, he was
anxious to think what he might have done ... to himself. "Legolas, go and find your friend. Explain
to him that what he has seen was nothing but an embrace of..."
The Prince nodded, "...father and daughter. I shall do so, Ada." Letting his father's hands slip from
his, he turned to leave. "And I shall tell him that we will be leaving for Imladris soon."
When the door had closed behind him, Thranduil sighed and whispered into the emptiness, "Make him see
his error, Ion. It is their only chance." Remembering the last words Éowyn had muttered before
falling into a hopefully healing sleep, he froze. 'I never want to be near him again if he really
thinks I'm ... that." And only Haldir himself could make her believe that he did not. But would his
pride allow him to pray for her forgiveness? Here, indeed, Thranduil could be of no help anymore.
After all, his pride had kept him from begging Elrond to release Celebrían from their marriage vows.
His pride and the stupid hatred he had felt for the Peredhel ever since he had kept Serinde from
being with her beloved...
---
Haldir had run from the Caverns, not heeding where his feet were leading him. When he finally ran
into tree, he hit the bark with his fists again and again until he slumped to the ground and buried
his face in his hands. The moment he had left Éowyn behind, he had known. Had known how foolish his
accusations had been. But he had not been able to turn back. He had vowed! Vowed never to harm his
beloved again. And now...
Suddenly he felt hollow, as if something vital had been ripped right out of his chest. Where his
heart had once been, was an emptiness as large as the void Morgoth had been banished to. And the one
to blame was himself. He had not trusted Éowyn enough, had not believed in her love. At least not
enough to risk his heart and soul by asking her to bond with him. His heart and soul he now knew he
had lost a long time ago. The moment he had first seen his sun-maiden.
Even when a bond had began to form between them, which could only happen if both parties involved
longed for it with their whole beings, even then did he draw back for fear of... Of what? Not being
able to live up to her expectations? He never would be able to, he knew that. But still she wanted to
be with him, did she not? Or had he been scared she might change her mind in the end? No, that was
not possible. The way she had gazed at him in that moment, her soul laid bare to him. She loved him,
would always love him... But he had intended to right the wrong he had done. Had meant to talk to her
about bonding with him, or rather consuming the bond that was already there. The bond that had saved
Éowyn. Only through it had Haldir been able to find her in time. And now...
Now he could barely feel the weak bond between them anymore. It was fading, just as he would before
long. Hot tears began to flow freely from his eyes, for the first time since he had been a small
elfling and his mother had scolded him for ... he could not even remember what it had been he had
done wrong. Done wrong... Again and again he was doing things the wrong way, because he would not
listen to the voice of his heart...
---
Anor was already setting behind the trees when Legolas finally found the March Warden. And what he
saw was causing his troubled mind to paint the most dreadful pictures. Haldir sat beneath a large
mallorn tree, one of the few that had survived in Mirkwood. His legs were drawn up to his body, arms
embracing his own knees on which his silver blond head rested.
Approaching him quietly, he finally whispered the Lórien elf's name. Haldir's head snapped up, and
Legolas was shocked to see those large, indigo eyes clouded by tears. "What you saw was..." Shaking
his head, Haldir stopped him, "I know. I know, Legolas. I hurt her deeply, did I not?" Hoping against
hope. But the small inclination of Legolas' head crushed all his hopes. More to himself that the
Prince he mumbled, "I shall not hurt her ever again, no matter what the cost might be..."
"Haldir no!" In a second, Legolas was kneeling by Haldir's side, shaking his shoulders. "Ada thinks
Elrond can help you. He can also perform the bonding ceremony once these misunderstandings have been
cleared. Please, do not say things like that." He could not watch someone else close to his heart
whither and fade, not again.
"Very well, let us journey to Imladris. Maybe Lord Elrond will be able to help us..." To himself, he
added, 'Or better, help Éowyn. She will need all assistance she can get after what I did, what I
said...' No, he would no longer fight for her. All he had ever brought her was pain. That was all he
had ever been good at...
He had made up his mind, and even though he was talking about reclaiming Éowyn when he returned to
the Caverns with Legolas, he knew he would do no such thing...
---
Cold and proud she stood in front of the Caverns, her horse's reins in her hands. Thranduil was
giving his advisors some final orders before setting out on a journey he should have made years ago.
Turning towards her, he smiled and nodded. Mounting the faithful steed, she glanced around. There was
no sign of Haldir.
When Thranduil had suggested travelling to Imladris, she had meant to decline at first. But Legolas'
pleading eyes had made her reconsider. However, when he started to talk about the March Warden, she
had made it clear that she did not wish to hear anything about him, or see him for that matter. His
words were still echoing in her mind, and even though she had at first hoped that he would seek her
out to undo the hurt he had caused her, his lack of doing just that had pointed out a clear message.
He still believed each and every of those stinging words.
Last night she had sent a message to Éomer, asking him to come to Imladris to take her home. The
world of the elves no longer held anything for her but grief. Her heart still insisted that Haldir
loved her, but the pain she felt was enough to overrule every other emotion. Yes, she would go back
to the Riddermark and live the life she had always dreaded, caged in Meduseld. But rather a cage than
this!
Haldir had finally appeared and mounted, without even sending her so much as a glance. He looked
pale, but that was probably due to the morning light. Also his hair had lost some of its silvery
gleam, but that, too, she told herself, must be due to the dimness of the early morning.
Thranduil joined her, and slowly the horses began to move down the Forest Road. Haldir waited until
all guards had past and only then followed the party. Legolas looked worriedly at his friend. The
first signs of fading where visible on Haldir's features and he wondered why the March Warden had not
yet tried to at least see Éowyn. But maybe he wanted to wait until they reached Elrond's Realm. Well,
it would not be long now. In his heart, however, he began to wonder if Haldir ever intended to seek his beloved out.
---
The door to the library opened noisily and once again Erestor noted that it had to be fixed. Settling
back, he only managed to read a few words before the book he had been reading was taken from his
hands. Startled the raven-haired advisor glanced up and beheld his lover. Elrond seemed to be upset
for some reason or another, sparks were flying from his eyes and he dropped the book forcefully to a
nearby table. "What is amiss, meleth?" He was still trying to catch up with what had come to pass
between himself and the Lord of Imladris after all those centuries he had spent longing for the Peredhel.
"He is coming! It is not enough for him that I set her free. No, he has to come here!" So it was
about Thranduil. The King of Mirkwood was still a difficult topic with Elrond, even though he finally
accepted that Celebrían was never really intended for him. "Maybe he wishes to put an end to the
hatred that has been keeping Imladris and Calen Glad apart for so long. Please, listen to him. It must be hard for him as well..."
"He is bringing Legolas with him. Well, at least Estel will be pleased to hear that." Erestor smiled.
He knew how happy Elrond had always been for his foster son and Legolas. "And," Elrond's eyes finally
softened, "Éowyn of Rohan. The one who has killed the Lord of the Nazgûl. Apparently she is much more
than a Wraith Slayer. She and Haldir of Lórien are, or were..." Erestor chuckled. So Haldir had
finally found his match. "Thranduil writes that they need my council. Can you believe it? He asks me for help!"
"Then he is indeed changed." Or rather, restored to his real self. Erestor still remembered a time
when Thranduil had asked both Lórien and Imladris for assistance in his constant battles against Dol
Guldur. If only Elrond had not gone against the High King's wishes back then. Many things might have
taken a different turn had Thranduil been in possession of...
"Your council is wise, Erestor. Maybe you should speak with them rather than me..." Secretly he
admired Thranduil for his courage, he always had. Despite everything that had come to pass, he now
asked for Elrond's help. But now Elrond would finally give it, and gladly. Maybe he could bury the
memories of Oropher, the way he had always tried to defy Gil-galad, and find out who Thranduil really
was, and what had made Celebrían fall for him...
---
In the corridor, Elrohir was slowly retreating from the still open library door. Turning to his blond
companion, he whispered, "Did you hear that? A Wraith Slayer! Do you think she will also have such a
charming story of her deeds as you do?"
Putting a hand on both of Elrohir's shoulders, Glorfindel pushed the Peredhel against the wall. "So
you find it charming, do you? Then it must have been the wine that made you fall asleep last time I
told the tale in the Hall of Fire?" An evil smirk crossed the features of the Balrog Slayer. "Very
well, I shall make it a priority to tell it to you again tonight, the long version..."
Why could he never keep his mouth shut? Two hours of the most boring tale existing in the whole of
Arda, at least when told by Glorfindel himself, was not the thing he had planned for the evening.
Sighing, he muttered, "Alright, if you insist... But first we should seek out Estel and inform him
that Legolas will soon be here. I am sure he will be glad to hear it... And we can tell him to be
very surprised indeed when Ada tells him, again..." Grinning madly, he dragged his lover into the
gardens where he believed his foster brother to be.
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