Notes: Recently, I discovered that most of my Elvish was not that of Tolkien but of the Grey Company. The new and hopefully
now correct terms and sentences are courtesy of Orchyd Constyne. Thanks again for your help.
Translation of Elvish: Inquista (Quenya) - please. Melin chen - I love you. Adar - father. Peredhel - half-elven. Uireb -
forever. Calen Glad - Greenwood; Elvish name of Mirkwood. Ion - son. Goheno nin - forgive me. Mellonen - my friend. Anor - the sun.
Ada - daddy. Hannon chen - thank you. Melethen - my love. Seron vell - beloved.
Chapter 14 - The Edge of the Knife
He had always thought that dying would be relatively painless. But as Haldir gradually regained
consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the ache in his chest that made him wish he would not
have to draw breath at all. Well, that need would be taken care of as well once he had spoken to
Námo. He had no wish to spend eternity in Mandos, nor did he want to be reborn. Only the end of his
existence could ever stop the agony he felt. Agony at having failed his beloved, his sun-maiden.
A warm hand was brushing his cheek, and a voice he would always recognize whispered, "Inquista,
Haldir. Come back to me..." But how could Éowyn be in the Halls of Waiting? Unless... Warmth flooded
him, warmth and love, giving him a new lifeline, something to hold on to. But how was that possible?
Slowly he opened his eyes and gazed in wonder at the figure next to him. Éowyn was kneeling by his
side, her head resting on his shoulder, tears streaming from blue eyes. 'You made her cry, again. You
did not even manage to set her free. Is there nothing you can do right?' Wincing, he moved away from
her and tried to sit up.
"Haldir!" The joy in her voice was almost enough to make him reconsider. But, no, he did not deserve
her. Hardening himself, he slowly pushed her from his mind, locking the bond against her. A startled
sound, and a sorrowful moan. No, he would not burden her ever again. "Why?" The same voice that had
sounded so happy only moments ago, was now filled with unshed tears. He could not bring himself to
face her.
Instead, he murmured, "It is too late, Éowyn." And, with his heart breaking anew, he added, "Go.
There is nothing left to be said." The sound of rustling fabric followed his words, and suddenly he
found himself looking into the determined face of the Shield-maiden. "Not again, Haldir. You might
push me away, but you won't be able to keep on fighting me forever. I will be there, waiting for you
to understand that no matter what happened, we still belong together. Melin chen..." New tears
stained her face, but she didn't notice them. "Nothing will ever change that."
As she was reaching out to touch his face, Haldir felt his resolution crumble. The sound of the
opening door rescued him. "I see you decided to join us again. I told you it was just a question of
time, Éowyn." Elrohir beamed down at the Rohirrim. "Now, March Warden. You better lie down again or
Adar will have your head. As for you," his attention shifted again to the human maiden, "Arwen wanted
to talk to you about something, and she said that if you did not come quietly, she would get you." On
second thought he added, "Oh, and Glorfindel was searching for you as well. Now, as I believe you
have no intention to be bored to death, again, you better go find my little sister..."
At the mentioning of Elrohir's lover, Éowyn's face fell. Oh, she liked him, very much indeed.
Unfortunately, he seemed to be of the opinion that everyone around him was simply dying to hear his
stories again and again and again. Sighing, she raised herself to her feet and moved towards the
door. "I think I shall. Is she in her rooms?"
Elrohir nodded and winked at her. "I think Glorfindel will be crestfallen when he hears that you
prefer her company to his." Patting her on her shoulder, the Peredhel added, "But I understand. His
tales can be, well, shall we say ... tiresome?" Gesturing towards Haldir, he added, "Do not worry
about him. I shall take good care of him."
"That is exactly what I worry about," Éowyn replied with a smirk. As her eyes met Haldir's, the smirk
turned to a smile, and sending all her love and determination through the bond, she whispered,
"Uireb." But when her emotions turned in their path and came back to her, sadness crept into her
features and she turned and left the room. But she would not give up, not now, not ever.
---
A week had passed since Haldir had first awoken. And with every passing day, Éowyn's determination
had more and more given way to first blind rage at Haldir's unwillingness to listen to reason, and
later to greater sorrow than she had ever known before. Those rare moments when she saw him it became
painfully obvious that once again he had given himself over to Námo.
No one seemed to be able to get through to him, and even Éomer's apology for losing control had been
met with only a weak 'There is nothing you have to apologize for.' And Legolas had begun to blame
Éowyn. Of course only out of sorrow at seeing his friend in such a state, but it still hurt the
Shield-maiden to see those normally warm eyes pierce her icily.
The Lords of Imladris were trying all they could to bring Haldir out of his apathy and self-induced
doubts and fears. But to no avail. Elrond had finally contacted Galadriel in Lothlórien, and now
Orophin was on his way to Rivendell. Maybe his brother could help Haldir heal.
---
A quite form was moving through the dark corridors of the Last Homely House. Once again, Éowyn had
not been able to find any rest and was now on her way to the chambers of the King of Calen Glad. But
even Thranduil could no longer console her. Only that evening, Haldir had almost run from the Hall of
Fire when she entered. And he still would not face her emotions, would still block her out.
The sound of raised voices made her hasten to find the source of the noise. Thranduil's chambers...
And the two that argued were undoubtedly Legolas and his father. Quietly, Éowyn opened the door and
hid in the shadows.
"He is one of the First Born, Adar! It is him you should support, not the mortal who caused him all
this pain." The Prince's voice was roughened by anger, and his eyes shot sparks towards his father.
"She should have sought him out earlier, before he nearly died." Thranduil raised his hand in an
attempted to stop his son and cool him down.
"Can you not see that this will destroy her as much as him? Only together will they be able to bear
whatever the Valar have in store for them. If what you tell me is right, Ion, Haldir did not know
love before meeting her. How can he throw this away so easily now? Why will he not fight for her, for
them? Why does he choose the simple path again, the path that will kill her as well?" He placed his
hands on Legolas' shoulders, but the Prince shrugged them off.
"She caused his self-loathing and doubts. Only because of her does he deem himself unworthy of any
happiness. I will not stand by and let this happen..." Interrupting his furious son, Thranduil
questioned him, "But the only way to restore him to his former self is to make him speak to Éowyn,
and to accept that she forgives him for everything..."
"She forgives him? She stood back and let him fade!" His voice dropped, and got dangerously quiet.
"Tell me, my Liege, once and for all. On which side do you stand in this?" Shaking his head,
Thranduil turned to the small table by the window and dropped into a chair, "Legolas, do not make me
choose. For I would have to choose her... She needs all the help she can get if she wants to win
Haldir back. And that is the only way out of this that I see..."
"Very well, Sire." Bowing before the King, Legolas turned and walked towards the door. But before
reaching it, he beheld Éowyn and snarled, "This is your fault. I hope you are happy now." Then he
resumed his steps and left his father's chambers. For a moment, Éowyn stood petrified. Then she also
turned to the door and with a whispered, 'Diheno nin,' retired to her chambers, her mind suddenly set.
---
Elrond cleared his throat as he stepped into the chambers of his Seneschal and his son. "Lord
Glorfindel, I would like a word with you." Fearing to see Elrohir and the Balrog Slayer indulging in
rather carnal activities, he was surprised to see only the blond warrior standing by the window, clad
in azure dressing robes.
Turning around when he heard he Peredhel, he smiled, "And what, may I ask, can I do for you this
sunny morning, mellonen? Anor has not fully risen yet, and I had hoped to spend the morning with
that," gesturing towards the bed, "sleepyhead." Only now did Elrond notice Elrohir, still deep in
slumber.
Shifting his gaze back to the smirking Elda, Elrond explained, "I need your help, Glorfindel. I fear
that nothing anyone says to our guest from Lórien can change his opinion of himself. And worse yet,
this has started to influence others. Legolas is terribly worried about his friend, and has had a
confrontation with his father about it. Thranduil has just talked to me..."
The Lord of the Golden Flower raised an eyebrow at that. "You are talking to that, and I quote,
'slimy woodland dweller who coerced Celebrían into giving herself to him'? You never cease to amaze
me, my Lord Ada." Elrond scowled, almost as well as Erestor. Glorfindel would have to tell the
Advisor to instruct his lover in the art of the perfect scowl. "Be that as it may, I will help
wherever I can, you know that. I have grown rather fond of Lady Éowyn, so..."
"Tell him. Tell him your story and make his see that he is not alone. Tell him the truth." Elrond
knew it was a lot to ask of the Balrog Slayer. So far, he had only confided in three souls in the
whole of Arda, two of them currently in his vicinity, the third being Erestor.
Glorfindel paled and turned to gaze out into the valley. "Are you absolutely sure this will save him;
save them? I ... I do not know, Elrond. I still... I still see it all; hear it all when Elrohir is
not with me. He keeps the nightmares at bay, has ever since he saved me with his love. But... If you
think that it is the only way..."
"I do, mellonen. If you fail, all is lost. For he will not listen to anyone. Least of all his own
heart. Show him that no matter what happened, forgiveness can be granted. Tell him that love forgives
everything. Teach him to accept Éowyn as his saving grace, like you did my son." Lowering his stormy
gaze to his hands, he added, "I shall never be able to forgive myself for thinking him to be a child
still when he saved you, for asking you to fight him. I could have lost him then, could have lost you
both."
Facing his Lord again, Glorfindel whispered, "To accept his love was harder than facing the Balrog."
And suddenly he understood that he might, indeed, be able to help the two lovers. "You want me to
tell him that, do you not? That to accept love is a far braver act than to face all the demons in
Mandos." Chuckling to himself, he winked at Elrond, "But then, as Námo told me, I was the only demon
ever to haunt the Halls..."
Smiling, the Peredhel nodded, "And he removed you from his Realm for that very reason, I guess."
Turning serious again, he asked, "So you will do it? You will talk to the March Warden?" Glorfindel
just nodded. "Hannon chen, mellonen."
As soon as the door closed behind Elrond, two arms were wrapped around the Balrog Slayer's waist, and
a gentle voice murmured, "I know no one braver than you, melethen. I am proud to know you, to love
you. Even though, as you said yourself, you can be quite a demon at times." With a chuckle, Elrohir
moved around his lover until he faced him. "What do you think of this... You go to Haldir now and
help him get over his stupidity, and when you return I shall reward you for your bravery..."
---
"Haldir, a word?" The Lórien elf turned and came face to face with a beaming Balrog Slayer. That did
not bode well. "There is a particular story I wish to relate to you." No, that definitely did not
bode well at all. But if there was only one thing he had learned during all his missions to Imladris,
it was this: Never ever annoy Lord Glorfindel of the Golden Flower.
"Very well, my Lord. I was about to take a walk in the gardens..." The smile on the Elda's face
broadened, "Excellent. Lead the way." To himself he thought, 'You look pale, mellonen. It must be
hard to fend against something you desire with every fibre in your being. Why torture yourself so,
and why torture her?'
Haldir stopped by a bench in the Rose Garden, and as Glorfindel noticed their surroundings, he
sniggered, 'Perfect.' Sitting down next to the distraught March Warden, he began, "You know, of
course, how I killed the Balrog..."
---
Éowyn was moving slowly; there was no need to hurry anymore. Taking in every little detail of the
room her beloved was currently occupying. Her eyes were red, but no more tears would come. She had
shed them all the night before. After witnessing what she had done to the person she had come to
think of as a father. And all of a sudden, her mind had been clear. Haldir would not fight death, he
had not done it the first time, he would not do so now. But without him, her life was no longer worth
living. And if she acted soon, it might not be too late for Thranduil and Legolas.
Opening a chest, her eyes fell upon the two daggers that had been her undoing. Now, taking them out,
she caressed the cold metal tenderly. Haldir had held them, probably not long ago. "Seron vell," she
whispered, her fingers gliding over the sharp blades. Hiding one of the knifes in her robes, she
replaced the other. Taking out a small, dried flower, she put it next to it.
Closing the chest again, she went to the adjoining balcony and down the steps into the gardens.
Choosing the same path Haldir had only seven days ago, she came to the very rock where she had found
him, only barely alive. Sitting down in the same spot the Lórien elf had so recently occupied, she
gazed up into the skies. It was rather warm for mid-October, but Arwen had told her that last year,
when the Fellowship had gathered, it had been still warm in November.
Not even a year since they had all gathered here, and only little over seven months since Helm's
Deep, since she had met him. The days of the ride to Gondor, the battle... Images began to blur
before her eyes. The fear for Éomer when he rode with the Last Host of the West to the Black Gate.
The joy at the Armies victory. Her uncle's burial. The days they had spent in Lórien. The ambush in
Mirkwood... Haldir had been with her through all of it, but would be no more.
At least she would not witness him die. Raising the sharp blade of the dagger with both hands, she
pointed it to her throat. 'I will soon be with you, Théoden-King. And with you, dearest Theódred.
Goheno nin, melethen.'
---
"Do you understand, Haldir? Elrohir saved me when I was sure that I deserved no happiness at all.
When I was sure that my new life was only Námo's way of revenge. Now I know that it must have been
Elbereth's doing. She send me back so that I could find a forgiving Erestor, but furthermore, the
love of a small elfling, who grew up to be my greatest wish come true." Glorfindel's voice was
shaking; the memories of the Fall of Gondolin once again clear before his mind's eye.
Before Haldir could reply, Thranduil appeared before them. "Lord Glorfindel, have you seen the Lady
Éowyn today?" Éomer and Arwen came running behind the Mirkwood Ruler, and when he turned to face
them, they both shook their heads. "Glorfindel?"
"I am sorry, my Lord..." Haldir's heart cramped inside his chest. Jumping to his feet, he raced to
his rooms, followed by two startled elven lords, one half-elvish maiden and the King of Rohan. When
the four finally caught up with the March Warden, he was kneeling in front of a wooden chest, holding
the dried blossom of an Elanor flower. Raising his head to the others, he all but yelled at them,
"Find her, you must find her!"
Turning on his heels, he ran down onto the balcony. Pulse racing; he reached out to Éowyn, opening
their bond, only to be flooded by her sorrow. What he had not said back in his rooms was that one of
his daggers was gone. The other was now secured inside of his tunic, yearning to be reunited with its
mate. Dreading what he might find, he realised where he was. Éowyn had chosen the spot by the rock
to... No, he would not think of it.
Glorfindel's words had made him realise what he had been doing ever since the day of the attack in
Mirkwood. And what he should have been doing. He had used it as an excuse to push Éowyn away, fearing
that she would tire of him eventually anyway, as soon as she found out what a failure he had been.
But had not everything in his past lead up to Helm's Deep? Had the Valar not given him that one
chance to be happy? Why had he pushed it away at the first opportunity? He had been doing it already
in Minas Tirith, but now things were worse.
Rounding the final corner, his heart almost stopped at what he saw. A scream tore from his throat and
his voice was hoarse when shouting, "Éowyn, no!"
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