Haldir’s Diary – chapter 3, so it begins.

by Sep 16, 2003Other News

Haldir’s diary; part 3

STILL day 3

Anyway, I’m standing on the battlements of helm’s deep.

With the ELVES in the range of fire.

Theoden flipped a coin to decide who’s troops would get to stand at the front of the wall in the firing range, and guess what? Heads won. The Elves won. I KNOW he cheated. Stupid Rohanic currency; who’d have thought that they’d used the horse symbol on BOTH sides of the coin?!?!

Ok… breathe, calm.

I’ve decided: in case I die, I have a will. I don’t have much to leave to the world, and I don’t know how I’m going to do so, but this comforts me, in a way.


I, Haldir Ammalinde, son of Nunaur, march warden of the Golden Wood solemnly pronounce the following in case of sudden and/or violent death:

-I leave all my possessions to my faithful, loyal brothers, who never squealed on me about my crush on Elladan, a long time ago.

(Then again, if I die, Rumil and Orophin are probably also dead since they can’t fight as well as I can and it took them 479 years to shoot a single arrow – and they both hit Celeborn in the groin.) So, try again:

-In case Rumil and/or Orophin are also dead, my possessions go to Galadriel, the mother I never had.

(No. Why should I leave my possessions to anyone, especially Green Queen?) Take 3:

-If I should die in this here battle, I would like my body to be burnt WITH my beloved possessions into ashes.

(Hah! Take that Rumil! You can’t have Mr. Honeybunny!! It’s my Mr. Honeybunny!! Mine!)

…-And my ashes sprinkled in the fair wood of Laurelindorenan, under my tree.

(Which is MY tree Rumil! Also mine!)

I should die; I would like a messenger to take the following message to lady Arwen Undomiel of Rivendell:


And the picture of drunk Legolas streaking sent to King Thranduil of the woodland realm.

(But ONLY if I’m DEAD; I don’t want to face their wrath alive! I’m too young to die!)

…Which brings us back to our current situation:

We are about to be slaughtered by 10,000 uruk-hai who have never known what a bath is. (Which reminds me of a certain hairy friend)


Oh, eru-i’mnervous.

My bow is poised. My hand is steady. My first arrow ready to aim.

Aragorn calls out to draw the arrows, and I am ready to fire. Legolas mutters some advice about shooting some weak body part of the uruks and expects the whole regiment to hear.

I don’t care what he says; I’m just aiming for the groin.

Somehow, I think we’re going to win this battle…

Oh crap.

Some lousy Rohan peasant just fired an arrow, right when we’re still at our non-violent stage. i call it the glaring stage, where the whole vibe is basically: ‘slaughter us if you can you whiny little–‘

I was really enjoying the view as well. Ah well, sooner is better than later. I think.

Quote Theoden: “so it begins”

At least the arrow killed an uruk.

Ah well. Must look to the bright side. Only 9,999 evil killing machines to go.


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