Title & Chapter Number: Of Elves and Myths Series: Laer Uin Fern (Song of the Dead) 1/1
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: Tolkien/Mythology
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Haldir. He belongs to Tolkien. I also do not own the Rusalka, if anyone would it would be the Slavic culture. All other characters belong to me. And since my mythology books did not give a lot of info on Rusalki or how they looked, I'm sure I took some liberty with them. I do not know any Elvish really... the title I pieced together from using Dragon Flame... half asleep I might add. Hopefully it's right. Yarilo is actually the name of a Slavic God, but I was looking for the name of a town on a spur of the moment, since I decided I really kind of needed one, and I thought it would be appropriate to keep with the Slavic trend.
Warnings: None
Betas: AmyB
Cast: Haldir
Timeline: TA
Spoilers: Nope
Summary: Haldir stops for the night by the lakeside and encounters someone... or is it something?
Notes: This plot bunny came from just me browsing through one of my mythology books. Ok, so I was kind of looking for some fair maiden to put into another story and then this bunny popped up. And despite any murderous tendacies an evil ghost may have towards the living, whether you believe in them or not, I still think one can "feel" remorse and mercy caused perhaps by unexpected, even to them, occurences.
SPECIAL THANKS: To Amy B. for being such a great beta reader! :)
Rusalka -- singular form
Rusalki -- plural form~*~*~*~
Haldir settled himself against the tree as he gazed around his home for the night. He did not see what could possibly have the people of Yarilo so concerned. He talked with few people while he was in town, content to listen and learn what news he could to bring back to Caras Galadhon. Some of the older villagers he had talked to, however, had fearfully told him to stay away from the lake, almost a day's walk, by night. He had, of course, asked why, but had only received fearful looks, a repeated warning. The only explanation he'd managed to get from one particularly frightened old woman was that it was haunted. He'd been tempted to roll his eyes, but had held back out of respect. Humans were so easily frightened into believing things that were not true. Figments of their imagination made real.
Haldir pushed the day's events out of his mind and leaned his head back against the tree, closing his eyes, his one pack settled on his lap. After a few moments he became aware of a distant sound. He sat listening for a long while, ears strained to listen to that one sound only. The light wind and rustling of the trees made it hard to pick it out from among the other nightly sounds. It seemed to be moving closer, however. Within a few minutes it was close enough to identify. Humming. Someone was humming. He assumed it was another traveler looking to stop and rest for the night. Why on Arda was the person humming, though? It was a foolish thing to do in this time. Enemies would be drawn to it in a heartbeat, did the person not realize this? Still... it was beautiful humming. It was beautiful in an eerie way. It sounded almost like a lullaby. If that's what it was, that also did not make any sense to him. He listened to it for a while longer, finding the sound haunting and a bit hypnotizing, even if he thought the person was a fool for humming in the middle of the night. Several minutes later the sound moved closer and closer. Haldir thought if there hadn't been so many trees, if he simply looked around he might be able to see who it was. They were not all that far off even if they weren't extremely close.
His curosity piqued as to the identity of the traveler, he stood up, tilting his head to better gauge what direction he should go in as he pulled the pack onto his shoulders. He set off in a direction that took him along the lake's edge as he quietly weaved his way through brush and trees, the humming growing steadily louder. He finally came to a small clearing and he stopped for a moment to stare.
A beautiful maiden, clothed in a long, white dress, her long hair blowing in the wind, sat perched on a sturdy branch hanging out over the lake. Her back was slightly to him and though she hadn't looked at him, he got the sense that she was aware of him. She seemed to be filled with the moonlight, as if she absorbed it and made it her own. What he could see of her face held a serenity like that of the stillness of the lake. Calm and peaceful. He could not really place his finger on why it was, but it did not seem strange to find her alone here. It was as if she belonged alone. That hardly made sense to him, like so many things this night it seemed. Her haunting sound seemed more beautiful than before now that he was closer. He could detect a hint of sadness under the beautiful soothing notes.
He knew nothing about her, except what sweet music she made, but he found himself wanting to be closer to her. He took several steps nearer until he was little more than an arm's reach from her. She turned suddenly towards him, almost as if she had been ready to jump at him, and suddenly he knew... she was not what she at first appeared. Her skin was not of the smooth, milky complexion he expected. It looked sickly, almost ghostly pale, and her eyes held the look of death. The hair that had seemed to fall down her back in lustrous waves were actually wet strands decorated with weeds one might find at the bottom of a lake. Her fingers were not at all slender and delicate, but bony and reaching for him.
Her gaze fell fully upon him and the eerie humming stopped as she let out a shriek, but then she was shielding her face from him in near terror.
"Leave now! While you can!" she hissed at him. Her voice seemed to be carried on the wind itself, as if it spoke for her.
The need he had felt to be near her left him suddenly, as if it had all been a spell the humming had woven over him. He took a few steps back, but still his curiosity held.
He took one step forward. "Why?" He tried to peer around her hands, but she had turned her head away from him anyway.
"You are not a creature of this world," came her rasping voice. "An angel such as you does not deserve to be dragged down to the depths for all of eternity. Leave now! Never return! Others would not show such mercy!"
She had not dared to look at him again and dove off the branch into the lake, shattering the stillness of the surface. He waited for several long moments, but she did not break the surface again.
Logic told him he must've been dreaming... but he was awake. Despite what he thought, he heeded her warning and retreated some distance from the lake's edge. He rested uneasily for the rest of the night. He was not sure if he was listening for the others she spoke of, whatever that had meant exactly he was not sure, or if it was to listen for her strange humming.
When the morning came, bringing light to his surroundings, it had all indeed seemed like an odd dream and, trying to forget it, he started out for home. Halfway through the morning he came across a pair of Men; one who had begun to see the graying of his hair a few years before and the other at the peak of his life. Father and son, perhaps. They stopped to exchange pleasantries, they held heavy packs on their backs, probably traders. Haldir learned what news of them he could and learned they were from Bree, a few days walk to the west. They began to go their separate ways when the events of the night before came back. The Men seemed as if they had made this journey often and Haldir thought they might have heard something relevant to his night's adventures.
Haldir turned around. "Pardon me." The Men paused and turned in their place to face him. "I was wondering what tales either of you may have heard of the lake just outside Yarilo?"
The Men cast an odd glance at each other, almost fearful. The younger softly whispered, "It's said to be haunted."
"Yes, I have heard that." Haldir paused a moment. "Has it ever been said by what, however?"
The elder took a step forward. "They say a Rusalka makes her home there, in the lake's deepest depths, coming up in the night to lures males to their death."
Haldir frowned. "Rusalka... I've never of such a thing. What is she?"
The man took a shaky step forward and cast his eyes around, as if he dared not be overheard though there was no one but the three of them for some distance. "Rusalki are the souls of drowned girls. They take the form of beautiful maidens... until you get close enough to see through their tempting appearance, by then it's usually too late... for you. They are death. Do not ever stay near a lake or any water said to be haunted. There is a reason." He shivered, as if he had been touched by the icy hand of a Rusalka himself.
Haldir could only stare at the look on his face for a moment before he seemed to remember himself. He gave a nod. "Thank you. Most interesting information. I shall keep it in mind."
"Take care, friend. May you never run into one of the Death Maidens of the Water." He gave Haldir a gesture of peace and turned to join his companion.
Haldir thought it best not to relay the details of his night. As he set off once more, he wondered if the Lady Galadriel had ever heard of such creatures. In any case, he'd seen it for himself. He knew he had not been dreaming and the March Warden of Lothlorien was not one to hallucinate. He said a silent prayer to the Valar for the soul of the maiden who had let him be, thankful he was not sitting in the Halls of Mandos just now... or worse. He was puzzled, however, as to why she had spared him. >From the little information he'd gathered it was something rarely, if at all, done. He knew many mortals, especially, found the Elves to be magical and quite beautiful, but did that hold any sway over a lost soul? Haldir doubted he would ever discover the answer.
The End
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