Title & Chapter Number: Before the Dawn Trilogy 3: To Live, To Breathe 1/3
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Hith a Naur
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: No money, no suey
Warnings: Slash, Character Death
Betas: Silvara, the most patient beta in existence
Cast: Celeborn/Haldir
Timeline: October 25 - December 25 3018 TA
Spoilers: None
Summary: During the attacks from Dol Guldur against Lothlorien, Celeborn's March Warden is struck down by the forces while saving his brothers and their company. Celeborn must face eternity without Haldir.
Notes: Yes, I know. I said only three trilogies, didn't I? ^^ "Time Until the End of Time" is complete, yes. This story, though, touches on the few facts we are given in that series regarding Celeborn and Haldir. In the second trilogy, I let everyone know the two Lorien Elves were lovers when Celeborn sent Haldir to retrieve Glorfindel. Here is their story. ^^ Just like the others, it is based on the songs that inspired them -- these are Evanescence.
Dol Guldur -- March 28th 3019 of the Third Age
"Adanno!" Haldir motioned for his men to regroup, to return to Celeborn's side. They needed to check their wounded and to ready the assault once more. "Adanno!" he cried again. He counted the Elves as they ran past him. There were three missing. He scanned the area around them and saw that two had fallen and the third was defending himself against one of the Nazgul.
That third was his youngest brother. "Keep going!" he yelled to his men. He then turned his attention to his brother, who was growing exhausted with the effort to keep the demon from him. "Rumil! I'm coming!"
Haldir ran as fast as he could, slicing Orcs as he went. He watched Rumil trip, stumble to the ground and drop his sword. "Rumil!" Just as the Nazgul was going to strike, Haldir reached his brother and thrust out his sword, blocking the death blow. "Adanno, Rumil! Now!" He barely registered his brother's wide-eyed shock and nod of acknowledgement. The Nazgul had engaged him and now he had to fight.
Haldir tried to face the Nazgul head on, but one parry was enough to convince him otherwise. The force of the Nazgul's swing was enough to send a jarring pain through the Elf's arm, driving him back a step. The dark form pressed the advantage, and Haldir almost wasn't fast enough to evade the next attack. The Nazgul swung again, and Haldir leapt backwards, out of the creature's range. The arc of the great sword carried the blade around too far, leaving the enemy open, and Haldir thrust for the exposed side.
The wraith recovered itself quickly, though, and brought its blade back to block Haldir's attack with a deafening clang. Haldir stumbled to the side from the strength behind the swing. He concentrated on evading the fell beast's attacks, not realizing that the creature was driving him away from his allies toward the dark of the forest. The Elf blocked when he could, used every opportunity that was presented him to counterattack, but was consistently pushed back. Light though the Elven blade was, it began to feel heavier and heavier in Haldir's grasp. Whether from fatigue or some power of the Nazgul, the Elf didn't know. All he knew was that he was struggling just to remain standing.
Haldir gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his sword. He barely sidestepped yet another fierce thrust from the Nazgul, who never seemed to tire. The sweat from his exertions dripped down his forehead, clouding his eyesight. More than once, he came perilously close to being skewered. Finally, he saw his chance. The Nazgul overextended himself and Haldir swung to his open side. At the last moment, the creature raised its other arm and the blade bit deep into the forearm.
Haldir moved to retrieve the sword, but found that the blade had lodged in the Nazgul's bone -- or whatever unholy force kept the beast together. The Nazgul made a sound, a chuckling sound like hooves crunching over gravel, and Haldir understood the truth. He had been lured in deliberately so that his sword would be trapped. Haldir pulled frantically, but when the creature lifted the arm above its head, Haldir lost his grip, and the hilt was torn from his hands. He blinked slowly, accepting the dark realization. He was alone, unarmed, far from reinforcements, and desperately exhausted. He breathed a last goodbye to those he loved and charged the Nazgul with a howling battle cry of "Elbereth!"
~*~*~*~
His men stood behind him with Galadriel's tall and terrible form at his side as she laid Dol Guldur to waste. Suddenly, his heart clenched and he felt the urge to wretch. Celeborn fell to his knees, clutching his chest and panting.
Haldir was gone. Not just from his sight, but from his mind, his soul. It was as if half of his very being had been cleaved from him in an instant. Tears fell freely from his eyes, anguish seeping into his heart. Rumil knelt beside the Elf he had called father for so many years, not understanding what had caused the great Lord to fall as he did.
"Ada?" he asked, worry coloring his tone.
Orophin place his hand on Rumil's shoulder, looking with fear at their Lord. "Ada, what is it?" Rumil asked again.
Panting, desperately trying to find his voice, he rasped out, "Hal... dir."
Orophin became stiff and Rumil's throat threatened to close. "What about Haldir? Did he not come back after me?"
Celeborn shook his head. Drawing himself up and swiping his hair from his face, he turned his tear-streaked face to the youngest Elf. "He is gone, Rumil."
"No," was all Orophin said.
"He can't be gone, Ada... he was right behind me... he told me to fall back and..." Rumil's voice hitched in his throat, the reality of the situation sinking in the longer he looked at the lost eyes of his Ada. "No..." he whimpered. "No."
Orophin fell next to his family and pulled Rumil close. "Haldir," he whispered, his tears now falling.
~*~*~*~
Lothlorien -- May 10th 3019 of the Third Age
He had not moved in the last six hours. And only then when he had to get up to relieve himself. He had not left his rooms in over a month, simply sitting where he and Haldir had last watched the sun set over the mellyrn. Could it really have been such a short time ago that his lover had graced this room, his laughter bringing Celeborn such happiness?
There were no more tears in him to cry. Galadriel had tried to console him, but he had pushed her away. She soon went to Rumil and Orophin, comforting them, loving them in only a way a mother can. He remained in his solitude; the hollow, cold feeling where there was once warmth -- the place that Haldir's soul had occupied -- slowly eating at him. To be alone in his mind, in his spirit after so many years of Haldir's presence, was almost unbearable.
He could not live his life without his love.
He would not let Haldir go.
Lord Celeborn of Doriath, a great Elven Prince with such a connection to Arda that he hummed with power from the lands, had chosen to reclaim his lost love.
Tonight, he would challenge Mandos for his lover's soul.
~*~*~*~
Night had long since fallen, the great mallorn and its occupants asleep and deep in dreams. All but one. Celeborn made his way down the massive stairway, landing without a sound on the forest floor. He walked slowly, but purposefully, into the dense woods. The trees whispered the sorrow to him at the loss of his love, begging the Lord to not seek the great Lord of the Dead. He beseeched them, though, as he walked, speaking of great love and need. By the time he reached the small clearing where a pool of still water lay, the wood agreed to lend him the power he needed.
Celeborn removed his formal robes, revealing pale leggings and a simple silver shirt. He bound his mithril-like hair back in a thong and fastened his sword to his hip. From a bag he had brought he pulled herbs, phials, and a small dagger. Near the edge of the cool pool, Celeborn sat an earthenware platter. In the dish he put the various herbs, lighting them and setting them to smoke. He inhaled deeply, hearing the sounds of his wood grow louder, feeding him immense quantities of power. Raw, liquid gold flowed into him and he brandished the dagger.
Speaking words as ancient as Arda, in a long forgotten language, Celeborn drew the blade over the center of his palm. It bit deeply, blood welling immediately and flowing onto the ground. Holding his arm out, he dipped a finger into the warm crimson and drew various symbols onto the surface of the dish, his voice rising as he called for Mandos to hear him, to head his desires. He demanded entrance to the Halls, he cried out his pain and heartbreak as his blood slowly fell to the ground of his beloved wood.
With a final cry, and one last surge of hot power from the very essence of the Golden Wood, Celeborn howled a challenge to the Valar for the very soul of his lover.
Silence filled his ears, his cheeks wet. Celeborn had not known he had begun to cry. He looked around the clearing. Nothing had changed, he had failed. He lowered his head, a sob catching in his throat.
Suddenly, Celeborn knew he was not alone. His head snapped up and he looked into the darkness between the trees in front of him. A figure moved, slowly and deliberately, into the moon drenched circle. Celeborn's lungs burned, his breath refusing to come. Standing before him in rich, maroon robes and hair as dark as night was an Elf, tall and fell looking. The Elf's hair was free of ornaments and plaits, his eyes such a bright, clear blue they seemed to glow in the small light. There was a look of superiority mingled with slight amusement; the being's arms crossed lightly over his chest.
"You have called, Celeborn of Doriath, and I have come."
He let his breath out in a gush. The voice that addressed him was melodious, gentle with a slight edge to it. It reminded Celeborn of what he always thought the voice of water would be, cool and lilting. Yes, he had called and now Mandos, Keeper of the Dead, stood before him in all his glorious majesty.
Celeborn stood, meeting the eyes that were hidden behind thick, dark lashes. The Vala had spoken in the ancient Quenya, and Celeborn responded in kind, surprised at how easily the old tongue returned to him after centuries of not using it. "You took something of mine. I want it back."
Mandos raised one eyebrow. "You should not make demands of the Valar, Celeborn. Demands are never met."
"I want Haldir back."
"Why should I care about the wants of the Quendi?"
Celeborn allowed a small smile to grace his lips, though it did not touch his eyes. "But, you have come."
The Vala chuckled, walking closer to the Elf. "That I have. Make your request."
The Lord of Lothlorien drew himself up into a formal posture. "I request the right to quest for my fallen love."
"It is no small thing you ask."
"Then I ask the right person."
Mandos snorted. "Flattery is beneath you, Celeborn of Doriath."
"Desperate times, my Lord."
"Very well. I will allow you to undertake the Quest of Mandos. Be warned, though, that the price of failure is your own Fëa, stripped from you and shut away in the darkness of my Halls, never again to see the light, even the light of Eru Iluvatar that is within all things."
Celeborn swallowed and nodded. "I understand."
Scarcely had he breathed the words when he was no longer in the wood of his home, but in another place, surrounded on all sides by tall hedges beset with brambles and thorns broken up by various stone walls. But no, he realized, not all sides were blocked. The path to his left was open, so he cautiously stepped through the gap. Another hedge stretched out in front of him, with paths to the left and right. Celeborn realized he must have been transported to the center of an enormous labyrinth.
When the Elf-lord turned around, he came face to face with the fierce blue eyes of a She-Elf with hair as pale as Galadriel's and just as long. His voice caught in his throat when she smiled warmly at him. "I am Yavanna," she said, also speaking in Quenya as Mandos had done. "You are in my maze by Mandos' request. You must complete the maze in one hour or you fail. Do you understand?"
Celeborn nodded dumbly.
"Very well. I wish you all the luck of the Valar, Celeborn." She chuckled and walked to one of the turns in the maze and disappeared. One hour. That was all he had. All right.
He lightly ran to his left, following where the Vala had gone. A turn here, followed by a second, and ending in an impassable hedge. Celeborn swore under his breath. He'd hoped Yavanna was giving him a hint. He retraced his steps and started down the right-hand path, trying to keep his mind on Haldir and not on the time limit.
At a four-way junction, he turned left, then right, then left again. The path twisted around and led him down several fruitless paths. Celeborn finally saw another junction ahead of him, and he quickened his pace. He paused in the small clearing, considering his next move, when he was struck with an uncanny sense of familiarity.
He looked closer and realized that this was indeed the *same* junction that he'd just come from, only approached from the south rather than the north. The path ahead of him would led him back to the start, while the path to his right was the left he had taken the first time. The Elf Lord winced at the time he'd wasted on this trap, then turned left and started down the only unfamiliar path, his steps considerably slower.
It was several minutes and countless turns later when he made a right turn and found a large stretch of straight hedge. Hoping he was nearing the finish, he rushed the 50 or 60 yards down to the end, took the right that was offered, and then another. After dashing back another 35 yards or so, the path ended with a left turn followed by a second. Celeborn ran between the columns of hedges, expecting a turn at the end, but finding only thorns. Yavanna's Maze had tricked him again.
Celeborn fought back tears of frustration. Time was slipping; he could not fail. He ran faster, navigating the twists and turns with mounting fear. He had exhausted the swear words in both Sindarin and Quenya and was now muttering several vile expletives in Khudzul as he ran.
Out of breath, and coming to his twenty-ninth (or was it thirtieth?) blocked path, Celeborn howled in anger. He took a moment to regroup his thoughts and to allow his breathing to slow. He *would* find a way through this labyrinth; he had to. More corners and halls, more time wasted. Finally, driven to the ends of his patience, Celeborn cried out and punched at the wall before him. Or, he would have, if his fist had not slipped through the stone he was facing.
His eyes opened wide when he realized this was the secret to the maze. He pushed through the wall, moving to the next area of stone he found and passing through it. He kept finding the stone walls mixed with the hedges and finally walked through the final one and returned out into the familiar forest of his home.
Yavanna and Mandos stood before him, looking at him appraisingly. In spite of the fatigue he felt, Celeborn drew himself up to his full height, and narrowed his eyes as he looked upon the Valar.
Yavanna nodded in approval, saying nothing. She bowed slightly to the Elf and then to Mandos before disappearing through the thick wood of Lothlorien.
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