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As the early April morning sun crept tantalisingly through the window, crawling further up her bed and onto the pillow, the Silvan elf - Tauriel of Mirkwood - groaned, pressing her head further under the duvet.
“Already April?” she grumbled to herself. As the second month of Spring, April signified glamog loacasta: orc season.
“Every year it’s the same. You would think the grimy foes would at least have the courtesy to leave us in peace during the warm loacasta for a bit of spring archery or cloudless stargazing but oh no, that’s too hard... too bloody nice for orcs!” Reluctantly rolling out from under the cosy covers, the Daughter of the Forest continued to mutter foul obscenities under her breath.
In an adjoining room in those living quarters, there was a shift in the atmosphere, and the overall mood of the April morning crackled with ecstatic, exciting potential. A surprisingly short elf, though not short enough to be mistaken for a dwarf - more like a hobbit resemblance with his snowy, curly mop of hair - finally sat up after hours of lying awake, tossing and turning, waiting impatiently for the sunrise. Haldir had turned nine years of age this year, which meant today marked the beginning of the first glamog loacasta he was allowed to fight and participate in. Well... sort of. It marked the first day of his training.
“Still, I’ll be able to learn archery and fencing - maybe I’ll even earn my first Elven rapier or long-sword,” he whispered gleefully. Today marked promise, the promise of a journey... his journey.
* * *
If Tauriel was honest with herself, it wasn’t that she hated orc hunting, it was simply the fruitless late night patrols that occurred with freakish regularity in this loacasta that she wasn’t so keen on. In point of fact, hunting was one of her favourite things to do. For the most part, it was Tauriel’s job, and she loved her job. Despite the obvious drawbacks of almost being killed every loacasta, working in the Mirkwood Elven Guard had its perks: unlimited access to the military training area and armoury (not that she would ever need a new bow - the gift from her father was her most prized possession, precious above all else, and she wouldn’t dream of being careless enough to break it), twilight hunts with the Guard, and of course the opportunity for information - and revenge - that those hunts provided. But even with that revenge she craved for her father set aside, Tauriel had a deep passion for the Guard and dreamed of a Sentry position.
“If only I could prove myself to Thranduil... but how?”
Lost in her thoughts, Tauriel didn’t even notice that she had reached the platform above the military training field. Looking out, she grinned and murmured, “Newbies today!”
In accordance with the start of every loacasta, the nine year old elflings began their training with the Guard. Occasionally some found and made a connection bond with their mentor immediately, just clicking straight away. They were called the Lhigen (the few/little) who formed a fairly strong Gwend. However, a minimal proportion grew into it, taking longer to get to grips with one another, almost fighting it, thereby forming a stronger inexorable bond. They were supposedly the Orchel (the superior), although no Gwend bond had been that strong in centuries... few pairs were even heard of in all of Elven history. Most elflings and mentors never actually made the Gwend.
Although it was never clear why an elfling and a mentor were drawn together and bonded, Tauriel hoped this loacasta she would finally meet the One elfling perfectly suited for her... although she doubted that would occur. The Gwend was in theory a bond of friendship and protection, almost unbreakable but for death parting it, but few ever actually found their One elfling...
* * *
Approaching the cluster of Guard mentors and elflings, so far Tauriel could only see one pair that had formed an immediate bond, becoming Lhigen: the stockiest elfling had bonded with the exceptionally tall, muscular second commander of the Guard, Poldo (the strong one).
“That’s ironic,” she thought. “The two bulky boys being instantly drawn to one another. They’ll make a strong, powerful team... if lacking a little in the brain department, given Poldo is such a dim-witted idiot.” Smirking, she stalked through the rest of the huddled group, searching for the other new Lhigen. She frowned. That was it. The only Gwend. Shit. Lhigen were usually more likely to bond than Orchel, so usually made up more numbers, and this loacasta there was only one Lhigen bond, which really narrowed down the chances of any other Gwend bonds being formed.
“But we needed more to build up our strength in the Guard this loacasta. Funnily enough when you have your own elfling to protect and guide, you are far more alert and focused on patrols, especially if battles ensue. And of course there’s the Athae that comes with the Gwend bond, we need that miraculous healing power between elfling and mentor to survive.” Tauriel continued her depressive train of thought before being aroused by the shuffled movement of a young elfling who was attempting to break away from the shy pack of little ones and persuade any Guard mentor to teach him how to shoot.
“Bold move,” she mused. “If a little unsuccessful on the coarse, unrefined and genuinely unhelpful Guards.” The boy turned then, allowing Tauriel’s gaze to fully envelop him. He was remarkably short for his age, though for some reason it didn’t make him appear weak. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect. Perhaps it was simply the feisty look in his eye, but his daring first move on the other hundred year old omnipotent Guards gave her the impression of a stubborn little fighter.
Reminiscent of Hesin (winter), the boy had a halo of snow-white hair crowning his head, reminding her surprisingly of the blondness of Thranduil and Legolas, the Mirkwood Elf king and his son. However, differing from them, his luscious locks curled in waves at the back, with endearing hobbit-like tendrils of baby hairs tickling his forehead. Then his little ears peaked out - so unlike her own pointy ones - which were mainly curved with only a small upward quirk symbolising elfhood, reminding her of how Legolas’ used to look when they grew up together in Mirkwood. The elfling sported startlingly blue eyes like ice that pierced straight through to her soul. His pupils were wide and black as liquorice with a dark ocean navy lining the outside of the iris. Leading on, the elegant, haughty, glacial arch of this eyebrows manifested to flow into a small, snub, upturned button nose which somehow managed to encapsulate a sweetness and an arrogance simultaneously. The boy’s deep Cupid’s bow superseded thin magenta lips that seemed set in a semi-permanent scowl. His chiselled face, despite the frosty reception it incited and the unwavering grimace that was fixed there, was actually severely beautiful...in a contemptuous, elegant way that possessed knowledge and expressed hardships beyond his years. The elfling wasn’t lanky, neither stocky, but had an evident film of taut muscle enshrouding his figure, lacing its way across his torso and spreading along his arms. He held his posture in something that didn’t quite resemble a slump, yet allowed room for growth if the boy would choose to stand up a little straighter.
However, above all else, the child clearly needed help with his archery skills - help that the Guards seemed unwilling to comply with. Due to Tauriel’s exceptional mastery with a bow, and the fact that the elfling had clearly spotted her staring and matched her gaze with his own steely one, Tauriel proceeded towards him to offer her aid, teaching and guidance.
* * *
Surreptitiously, Haldir began to weave through the assemblage of timid elflings, attempting to escape to the fringes closer to the front. Gaining confidence with every shuffled step, he advanced more boldly towards the nearest Guard to declare himself. Noticing the Guard’s stare, Haldir stalked further forwards.
“This is it. I’m going to form the Lhigen bond! Damn, that was too easy,” he snickered to himself. Just when Haldir was practically upon the Guard he came to the embarrassing realisation that the Guard was staring at the tallest stocky elfling still hovering among the rest of the huddled group. Nudging past Haldir, the Guard introduced himself to the elfling as Poldo and they smiled at each other, striking up a comical conversation which eventuated in laughter by both parties. Though it wasn’t altogether clear at which point they had bonded, it was now obviously clear that they had formed their Lhigen Gwend.
“Crap... seriously? I was right in front of your nose, mate!” Deep down Haldir knew that wasn’t how it worked - the Gwend bonds were already predestined - but it still stung. His annoyed thoughts only preyed on him a little, before the sullen elfling strutted forwards to the next nearest Guard. Abandoning all propriety and hopes of forming a Gwend now, Haldir addressed the Guard without introduction, just plainly asking for archery guidance. Nonchalantly, the Guard peered down at the seemingly petty, smallest elfling for a moment, superfluous to his charms, then proceeded to move past him towards the rest of the elfling group.
“Jeez, dude. Just because I’m small doesn’t mean I won’t be able to shoot...” Now thoroughly pissed off, Haldir twisted around, thereupon beholding one of the few female Guards, who had arrived slightly later than the rest, walking slowly towards him.
Reminding him of Endien (autumn), the She-elf possessed flaming red hair that fell like auburn leaves over her shoulders and down her back, wavering from straight at the top to curl in loose loops and waves that practically kissed her calves, alighting at the bottom to catch the sunlight like glowing sparks. Haldir had never seen such long hair paralleled in all his life, even among the Lothlórien elves like Galadriel, who were infamous for their luscious blonde locks. In addition, the Guard gave off a positively regal aura of elegance with her exceptionally pointy ears, high cheekbones and straight edged celestial nose that was lined with endearing freckles. Although she had serious, almost stern looking adult features, her lips played into a cheeky, ridiculing smile when she looked at him, a smile that reached the creases of her eyes, making them sparkle like twinkling star constellations. Haldir could tell she was evidently amused by his unsuccessful efforts to persuade the other Guards to teach him. Haldir tried to glare at her, but when those emerald green eyes that he deemed simultaneously fierce, protective and irritatingly mocking caught his, he found he couldn’t. Annoyed, Haldir settled for the scowl that was always plastered across his face to keep people at bay; she approached him.
“What?” he glowered up at her.
“I couldn’t help but overhear that you might need some,” she smirked, “or a lot, of archery guidance.”
“Maybe you should keep your big ears to yourself,” Haldir whispered under his breath.
Surprising him, Tauriel responded, “Yes, you were right about one thing, they are exceptionally big... all the better for hearing muttered insults from small, snarky elflings, don’t you think?”
Rather than following with one of his usual witty quips, Haldir’s scowl wavered; he glanced up guiltily.
Satisfied, she continued, “Alright, first we have to find you a Cú - your first bow.” Tauriel purposefully marched towards the armoury, dragging a protesting Haldir in her wake. He followed in her shadow, trying desperately not to make it obvious to the other elflings that for every one of her steps, he had to scamper on with three due to his height.
Converging at the weapons facility, the She-elf turned to face him.
“I’m Tauriel, by the way.” She paused. “It just means ‘Daughter of the Forest’, nothing special among elves.”
Suddenly remembering where he’d heard the name before, the boy remarked, “But you are special aren’t you - you’re friends with the King’s son?”
“Legolas and I grew up together in Mirkwood, yes, although just because we have a companionship doesn’t mean Thranduil favours me in the slightest... I wish he would though.”
Haldir gave her a weird cheeky smirk. “Ew, that’s kind of weird; isn’t he old enough to be your grandpa?”
Tauriel swatted him jokingly and they both giggled.
“Not like that, doofus. He’s like, what, 5000 years old...?”
Their laughter continued as Haldir picked out a bow, before she sobered up and uttered begrudgingly, “I only wish he’d pay more attention to me - so I stood a chance at a Sentry position. There are few She-elves in the Guard itself, and none with a Sentry position; I don’t see why I shouldn’t be allowed just because I’m not a man!”
Growing up with the other elflings, Haldir had always been treated as the runt due to his height, despite the fact that he was a natural at fighting. He fully empathised with Tauriel’s point against discrimination, but was she that good of a warrior to be a Sentry?
“Woah. You want to be that important in the Guard? That’s a dangerous position, surely you have to be incredibly skilled, mastering a particular weapon, right?”
“Yeah I guess so, but kid, I am alright with a bow,” she winked at him.
Haldir just dismissed her as crazy; if Tauriel was only ‘alright’ she had no chance of a Sentry position, but then again, the wink suggested otherwise.
* * *
She aced them all. Every. Single. Target. After seven consecutive bulls-eyes Haldir was seriously rethinking his judgement. Tauriel was easily the best archer among the Guards, putting them all to immense shame with her pinpoint accuracy and the rapidity of her swift reload.
“ ‘Alright’, huh...” Haldir mouthed at her, grinning at his mentor.
She fired back with another wink followed by the modest remark, “Yeah, I’m okay right?”
As if it wasn’t already obvious, she reiterated the statement to hammer it home by firing at the same target as before, so accurately that her second arrow sliced the first clean in half on the bullseye.
Still grinning, Haldir attempted to replicate her stance with his own new bow from the armoury. Within the next hour, he managed to hit the target once, although only just at the edge. A nearby elfling sniggered. Tauriel glided over and corrected Haldir’s posture, instructing him to reciprocate the stance by lifting his elbow higher and resting the taut string of the bow and the arrow tail against his cheek. Haldir fired. Bullseye. He shrieked with joy and bounced around in a celebration dance. Tauriel laughed.
“Nice one Dae, my little shadow,” she exclaimed, giving Haldir an unconventional clap on the back. “ I still don’t even know your name yet kid,” she giggled.
“Oh yeah, it’s Haldir.”
“Wow, meaning ‘hidden hero’ in the Sindarin elf language... so we are expecting great things from you then?”
“I hope so, now that I can shoot!” For the first time in a while, Haldir smiled, gazing up at his mentor. “I like to think my name is like that so that despite people underestimating me because of my height, someday I will prove them wrong and fulfil my own destiny.”
“I was the shortest in my elfling group too, a long time ago. And the teasing about how ‘She-elves can’t fight’ wasn’t exactly a confidence booster either, but I made it, and you will too.”
Haldir raised an eyebrow doubtingly at the former.
“It’s true,” she chuckled. “I may be tall now but it was not always so. I was essentially the runt of the pack, but don’t worry Hald, you’ll grow out of their teasing... literally!”
Together they burst into chortles of laughter and rejoined the group of elflings and mentors.
Sniggering at their joy, a jealous elfling, who hadn’t formed a Gwend bond or had any help with his fighting skills that day, yelled “The midget runt and the ginger She-elf, what a perfect match!”
Haldir stiffened as he was greeted by a chorus of jeers and taunts by some other elflings that joined in. Soon enough the taunts manifested into one cruel chant about how She-elves can’t fight. The bullying was aimed more at Tauriel now than himself. In his mind, the scene played out with him defending Tauriel saying, “she’s the best archer here, worth ten of you fucking lot,” swearing in his anger and incredulity. Yet as a nine year old child who didn’t want to be seen allied with the bullied, what came out of his mouth was, “You’re not even my official mentor yet, get away from me you stupid She-elf!”
Half-expecting a slap from sarcastic Tauriel, Haldir was completely torn at what he beheld. Initially Tauriel’s face crumpled into one of hurt and betrayal after their archery and banter together, but before anyone except Haldir had noticed her expression, she brushed it off into a disdainful look of disappointment at him. She was evidently used to hiding her true feelings and morphing her countenance in the presence of bullying.
“Alright then Beleg (mighty one),” she scorned back, voice dripping with sarcasm, chucking the small bow she had been carrying for him on the ground. “See how you manage without me!”
Tauriel stalked off, annoyed, although not altogether surprised. Being one of the only females in the Guard, she was used to plenty of She-elf taunts... although not from a child whom she had actually rather liked the friendship and company of just a moment ago.
After a momentary, brief period of relief, Haldir started to feel the daunting guilt setting in, and longed to run after her with his little legs to apologise. One of the horrid instigators who had teased him just a second ago gave him a rough slap on the back, cheering at him. This only made Haldir feel more sick of his own actions, reminding him of the supportive clap on the back Tauriel had given him after he shot straight, and how she had called him Hald - like a friend or older sister would...
* * *
The trail they were following was an old one; you could tell by the overgrown foliage that the path hadn’t been traversed in many years. Tauriel was still seething at the boy’s foolish words, yet she knew deep down that he hadn’t meant any malice in them - after all, he was only a child that lacked guidance was merely trying to fit in. Brushing the thoughts from her head, she advanced stealthily with her unit - bow in hand and arrow notched at the ready. Currently they were hunting a particularly gruesome orc pack, who were in the habit of kindly leaving the decapitated heads of their prey speared on sticks for the unfortunate elves to discover. Amongst the mutton and horse heads, Poldo stumbled upon one further ahead. This wasn’t on a stick, simply placed mockingly in the centre of the path. Poldo groaned in anguish and leased an arrow into the sky in rage.
“What the hell did you do that for? Now they’ll know our whereabouts!” Tauriel scolded him, before she looked down at what had triggered Poldo. Swallowing the bile that rose to the back of her throat, she glanced quickly away from the putrid decapitated head that stared back at her from under an Elven helmet. This was one of the Guards who had suspiciously not returned from patrol the previous night. Tauriel bent down and with shaking heads covered the repulsive horror in leaves and brambles. Then she rose up, flicked her flaming hair over her shoulder, re-notched her arrow and stalked forwards, leading the hunt. Neither Poldo nor the first commander resisted this, simply following her natural lead towards their prey.
Some paces behind, darting secretively amongst the tree trunks, the smallest elfling followed the Guards, still holding the little bow his mentor had held for him just earlier that day. Technically Haldir wasn’t intending to involve himself in the imminent battle (he wasn’t stupid enough for that), only he wanted to observe how the Guards, and especially Tauriel with her incredible archery skills, fought in a real battle. Some would call it spying... Haldir simply thought of it as learning on the go, despite the fact that he’d surely be thrown into the Elvenking’s prison if he was caught. Upon rounding the next bend, Haldir side-stepped a strange mound of leaves in the centre of the path. Thinking nothing of it, he crept on, until he heard an inhuman shriek. Haldir grinned. The Guard had caught up with the orcs, then!
* * *
Despite the element of surprise that allowed them to gain the upper hand, and the fact that their numbers far outweighed the orcs, Tauriel knew that the elves would still experience severe casualties. Orcs fought in a brutal, aggressive manner that always left the survivors - if any - gravely wounded, and this fight would surely exhaust her unit. Compartmentalising, Tauriel stored these intrusive thoughts and focused entirely on each step of the battle at hand. Release arrow. Kill orc coming at Poldo from behind. Ignore look of gratitude and notch next arrow. Shoot orc in tree using slingshot against elves. Switch to Elven rapier for close combat. Parry blow. Block from behind. Slice in arc. Plunge forwards. Next. It became a monotonous droning chant of instructions in her head, and Tauriel became enslaved by the robotic heat of battle.
Haldir was crouched in some neighbouring bushes, peering out through the frondescence. His mentor was unbelievable. Tauriel was like a beautiful machine that wiped out every orc that dared to cross her path. He watched as she swirled in gracious arcs with her long sword, her footwork on pointe like a deadly dance as her hair spiralled into a deep mahogany and shimmered like a waterfall of untold depths under the moon’s watchful gaze.
Once most of the orcs had been dispatched and sent back to Hell, Haldir dared to crawl slightly further out of the bushes, so that he was perched right next to the path. As he did so, his eyes faltered from Tauriel for just a moment, yet when he glanced back up he was met with the fearsome, terror-inducing sight that she was backed into a corner by two orcs. One was an average monster with heady black eyes and a snout-like nose, the other was a spine-chilling, menacing creature that towered forebodingly over Tauriel, almost twice her height, with hands that festered into talons and a wicked grin depicting blackened, rotting teeth. The former spat at Tauriel, causing Haldir to bristle as his hairs stood on end whilst he became overcome by an overwhelming urge to protect Tauriel and kill anyone that moved against or insulted his mentor. He notched an arrow in his little bow, placed it against his cheek like she had taught him, and prepared to take his shot at the larger foe. In the interim, the smaller orc’s awful accomplice made some leering sleazy slur about what he took pleasure in doing to red-headed She-elves that put up a fight. Haldir stood up. No one was going to speak to her like that. He fired. The arrow sliced through the air with pinpoint accuracy and found its mark buried deep under the orc’s darkened flesh into its ugly heart. A bullseye, just like Tauriel had taught him. She spun around with the speed of a hawk, turning her fierce protective eyes onto Haldir.
“What the fuck are you doing here? You could’ve been killed!”
Just as Haldir prepared a feisty retort underlying how he was just as protective of her as she evidently was of him, he spotted a different grey-tinged orc spring out of the bushes and club Tauriel ferociously about the face. Haldir saw her eyes go blank as she stumbled back, falling to her knees.
“No!” he screamed. “Don’t you dare touch her you filth!” He ran at the orc in a fury, wielding a tiny dagger from his boot. The orc laughed.
Tauriel’s vision went black. As the spots began to clear she vaguely remembered falling to her knees. Looking up groggily, she tried to discern where her little elfling was; she prayed that he had had the good sense to flee. Instead through her faint, still blurred vision she perceived the child racing towards her attacker with a baby knife gripped tightly in his little hand. She cried out for him, rising to her feet to keep him out of harm’s way. Before she could reach him, Haldir nimbly feinted, dodging the orc, then stabbed him with the ferocity of a warrior, puncturing his side. The orc sunk down. Tauriel glared at her elfling with a mixed look that encompassed a sister’s exasperation, a mother’s anger at him coming, a friend’s relief at his survival and what could only be described as a mentor’s fierce pride at how he had first shot, then stabbed, saving her life twice. Twice. But there were three orcs... seeing Haldir’s expression change from one of triumph and joy at making her proud to one of pure terror, she kicked out behind her in a perfect arabesque. Her foot connected harshly and the smaller beady-eyed orc that had been creeping up behind her with an axe grunted out a whimper, then fell like a sack of potatoes to the ground in a ball, clutching the affected area of pain with both hands. Haldir grinned.
“You despicable dirty bitch, what’d you do that for?”
Tauriel contemplated her response to the orc as Haldir ran over.
“Because I had the balls to do it...unlike you!” She high-fived Haldir and they both laughed.
“Yeah. Jeez, Tauriel, that was a bit of a low blow,” Haldir scoffed, making her clutch her stomach in laughter.
“You just protected a girl, stupid elfling,” the orc targeted Haldir, still wincing in pain.
“And you just forgot to protect your crown jewels!” Haldir quipped back wittily.
Tauriel showed this last orc mercy, instructing him to give a message to the rest of his kind: to stay off Elvish soil. Then she bent down and whispered,
“Tell them that I, Tauriel, daughter of Elrohir, pledge revenge for my father, and will come for them.”
Once the orc had fled, Tauriel turned her worried eyes onto Haldir. With shaking hands she checked his face for bruises or cuts, before he grabbed her hand and reassured her that nothing was wrong, he was alright and hadn’t been hurt in the fight. Tauriel calmed slightly, and only just realised how much her heart had been palpitating with her pulse pumping in her ears like a thunderstorm in fear for Haldir’s safety. She had never felt such protectiveness before - as though it was completely out of her control. Tauriel couldn’t explain the rush except for what she imagined a Gwend bond would feel like. But that wasn’t possible; Haldir and herself had certainly not bonded straight away like Lhigen! But the only other explanation was...never mind, it couldn’t be, she must just be imagining things, there hadn’t been an Orchel bond for centuries. Sweeping the crazed thoughts from her mind, Tauriel realised that Haldir was looking at her with concerned eyes.
‘Shit, I must look a right sight after that orc punch to the face!’ She thought aloud to herself.
“Don’t worry Hald, I’m fine, it barely even stings, see?” Tauriel touched her face to prove her point, then winced as she saw stars again. Haldir’s eyes turned urgent and he grabbed her arm to support her as she careened backwards.
Haldir could tell that the hit had been bad. Tauriel was tough, if anything she was under-reacting. An ugly purple blue colour had snaked across her cheek in a devilish bruise, and she sported a split lip to complete the look. But Haldir wasn’t worried about that; he was worried about the dizziness. There must’ve been some form of internal bleeding in her head from the force of the blow. That could be dangerous. Driven by an energised willpower that Haldir couldn’t explain, he moved his hand to cup Tauriel’s cheek. When she didn’t flinch back, Haldir focused on her injuries and felt a force flow from him to her.
At first Tauriel felt the Athae healing power as cold, an ice block placed against her cheek. Morphing into something fresh and cooler like a winter morning’s breeze, the healing took hold, and Tauriel felt her pain dissipate like snow. Suddenly her vision cleared and she saw her own shocked expression mirrored in the little elfling staring back at her.
“Your face... it’s, it’s... a miracle,” Haldir stammered.
Tauriel grabbed Haldir and pulled him behind a large oak tree. She peeped around the trunk to check that none of the Guards had witnessed what had just transpired, then swung around to face him.
“You can’t tell anyone what just happened, not even the Guard. That Athae power only comes from a Gwend bond, meaning we must be...”
“Orchel,” Haldir breathlessly finished for her. “But how is that even possible?”
“I don’t know Önwe, my child, I don’t know. But if anyone found out we’d surely be hunted throughout all of Middle Earth. Nobody I have ever spoken to knows the true extent of Orchel powers... it’s not just the Athae that comes with this bond, and people throughout the lands will try to track us down and harness that power for themselves. This must remain a secret.”
“Okay Tauriel, I trust you,” Haldir replied shakily.
Changing the conversation, Tauriel responded on a lighter note,
“Ríë mírë, huh?”
“What?” Haldir questioned, still in a daze.
“Ríë mírë - crown jewels - seriously? I can’t believe you said that to the poor orc!”
Tauriel smirked.
Haldir grinned up at her.
“Well, he deserved it, nobody messes with us!”
They walked back along the path together, arms slung around each other’s shoulders (in Haldir’s case just about as far as he could reach) and giggled all the way.