As always, I am borrowing the world of JRR Tolkien whose work I love and respect, and I promise to return it unharmed. Chathol-linn © January 2003.
– Tell us a story you never have told.
A story of Mortals and Elves of old!
Haldir was his name. His king, Celeborn.
His joy, the woodland of gold mallorn.
As a lad he hunted with his wolfhound.
As a man his true love he had just found.
His father was Silvan, his mother, Sindar.
His two-sided nature was oft at war.
He was a great warrior with arrow and blade.
Celeborn sent him to Théoden’s aid:
“Saruman’s battle emperils us all.
Err but a little and Rohan will fall.”
– “Rohan shall stand, and when battle is done,
I’ll dwell with my love in Lothlorien.”
Now ten thousand soldiers of Saruman’s horde
March toward Haldir and he draws his bright sword.
The wave of the battle sweeps in like a flood.
The stones of Helm’s Deep are thirsty for blood.
The Elves slaughter hundreds as if they were one.
Then crash! goes the wall, and inward they come!
The bloodsong of battle sings loud to Haldir.
His heart knows no pity; his feä, no fear.
O Haldir! Thou heardst the call to the Keep.
O Haldir! What thought thee, that night in Helm’s Deep?
When first thou didst realize an Elf can feel pain?
When next thou didst realize an Elf can be slain?
So fought Haldir of the forest mallorn.
He died in the arms of Lord Aragorn.
Aragorn threw back his head and he howled.
The ghost of good Huan awakened and growled.
Celeborn King shed a silver tear,
Pleading, “Boe bedich len, O Haldir?”
NOTE – “Boe bedich len?” “Must go thou?” (Sindarin)