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Tag this Story:
reunion humor

TITLE: Lament
AUTHOR: Silivren Tinu
BETA: the wonderful Imbecamiel (((hugs)))
RATING: T
SUMMARY: Aragorn and Gimli watch the surviving elves grieve for Haldir and their other fallen comrades after the battle of Helm’s Deep. Movieverse gapfiller, set after the battle of Helm’s Deep and before the confrontation with Saruman in Isengard. Characters: Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli. Written for Prompt #126 “Sing” in the Aragorn Angst yahoo group.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the places or characters in this story, I only keep them alive by playing with them from time to time. :)

 

 

 

~ Lament ~

 

In the midst of the field before the Hornburg two mounds were raised, and beneath them were laid all the Riders of the Mark who fell in the defence, those of the East Dales upon one side, and those of Westfold upon the other.

The orcs were piled in great heaps, away from the mounds of Men, not far from the eaves of the forest.

(J.R.R.Tolkien, “The Lord of the Rings”, Book Three, Chapter VIII “The Road to Isengard”)

 

Aragorn walked slowly along the remains of the Deeping Wall, staying out of the way of the Rohirrim, who were working hard gathering the bodies of both men and orcs, to take them either to the greensward between Helm’s Dike and the Deep, where the fallen riders of Rohan would be buried in two burial mounds, or further out into the Deeping Coomb, where the orc corpses were piled in great carrion heaps. He had helped to tend the numerous wounded, unable to seek any rest before he had done all he could to alleviate the suffering of those who had not been fortunate enough to escape from the battle unscathed.

Beyond weary in body and soul, he sat down on a boulder, watching the coming and going of the men around him for a while. The stench of the orc corpses was nauseating, and the faces of the men were grim as they laboured in silence, their eyes darkened by grief and weariness. Beyond the deeping wall, the wailing voices of women could be heard, mourning the dead.

Some distance away from the men and the remaining corpses, Aragorn’s searching gaze found Gimli, standing close to the steep rock wall of the ravine like a silent sentinel. Aragorn could not stifle a sigh. After he had treated the dwarf’s head wound, Gimli had promised to rest, but it seemed sleep had eluded him, just as it had his healer. The dwarf was still wearing his armour, and his hands were resting on his battleaxe, whether for support or ready to wield it, Aragorn did not know.

Gimli’s eyes were riveted on something in front of him, and when Aragorn followed his gaze, he noticed a group of motionless figures standing in a half-circle, with their backs towards him and the Rohirrim. The ranger felt a stab of remorse and a hint of worry when he recognized the familiar stance and golden hair of one of the figures. Even among his own kind, Legolas was unmistakeable.

He had not seen his friend for some hours, though he had promised himself that he would keep an eye on the elf and make sure he was faring well, when they had last seen each other after the battle. Legolas had helped Aragorn to take care of his various wounds, but there had been no time for talking, just some short moments of taking comfort in each other’s presence. The elf had wanted his friend to take some rest, but the ranger had once again refused, knowing very well that sleep would elude him until the wounded had been taken care of. Understanding Aragorn’s reasons, if not liking his decision, Legolas had argued no further.

They had gone their separate ways afterwards, Aragorn joining the healers and the elf seeking out the surviving Galadhrim, intending to lend them a hand in recovering their own dead, and likely attempt to comfort them in their grief as well. Knowing how dangerous grief could be for an elf, and that Legolas himself was grieving for Haldir, Aragorn had been loath to let his friend go alone, but, seeing no other way, had chosen to stay silent. Since then, he had lost himself in trying to save as many lives as he could, and to at least ease the pain where he was unable to help.

He could see now that the elves had been working just as hard as the Rohirrim in the meantime. Their dead had been recovered and carefully placed in a long row. The faces of the fallen warriors had been cleaned from gore and dirt, and their hands were folded, resting upon the weapon they had last wielded in battle. In spite of all efforts, some of the faces were barely recognizable, and some were no longer attached to the body they belonged to.

Aragorn looked away, unwilling to remember the fallen that way. He would never forget the moment when the Galadhrim had arrived at the Hornburg, bringing hope to the besieged in their darkest hour, when all had appeared to be lost. The elves had paid dearly for honouring the old alliance between their two people. None but five of the elves of the Golden Wood had survived. Part of him wished they had never come, but another, stronger part, was immeasurably grateful that they had.

Aragorn’s gaze was drawn to his hands. He had washed them before he had gone to join the healers, but now they were covered in dried blood. Many had died during the long night, but without the elves it might have been so much worse. If the Hornburg had fallen, the hope of all free people of Middle-earth would have fallen with it. Aragorn raised his head again, his eyes seeking out first Gimli and then Legolas, his heart finding solace in the fact that those two had survived where so many had fallen.

Again, his gaze came to rest on the small group of elves standing in a half-circle before the long row of dead warriors. The ranger knew that the fallen elves would be buried in a third mound, close to the two mounds where the dead of the Rohirrim would find their last rest. Haldir himself would be laid to rest in a grave of his own next to Háma, the captain of the King’s guard. The Galadhrim would have preferred to take their dead back with them, but the fallen were simply too many, and the survivors too few.

Whatever the fate of Middle-earth would be, it was unlikely that any elf, save perhaps one, would ever set foot into this land again or visit the graves to commemorate the dead. Aragorn knew that the survivors had gathered one last time to mourn, try and heal the grief, and say goodbye to the friends, perhaps even relatives, whom they had lost to the Halls of Mandos and would not see again for a very long time.

Watching Legolas stand silently between the Galadhrim, Aragorn wondered how well his friend had known Haldir. The two had met several times over the years, when Legolas had been on patrol along the southernmost border of Mirkwood, near Dol Guldur, and they had clearly gotten along well, but the ranger did not know if they had been friends. For Legolas’ sake, he hoped not. First losing Gandalf, then Boromir, and then Aragorn himself had been hard enough for the elf, though only one of them had truly been lost.

A voice broke through Aragorn’s musing thoughts, directing his attention back to what was happening in front of him. One of the elves had started to sing, and one after the other, the others joined him. The song sounded familiar, and Aragorn recognized one of the laments that had been sung for Gandalf during their time in Lothlórien. The words had been altered, and the song was for Haldir now, but the melody was still hauntingly beautiful and sad in a way that was almost unbearable for mortal ears and hearts.

Looking around, Aragorn saw that the Rohirrim had paused in their gruesome task and were now facing the elves, listening intently. Not even Éowyn’s fair voice could compare to what they now heard. Some of the grim, stern faces were now softened by awe, wistfulness, and sadness, though the pain and the grief they felt was still etched deeply into their features. Gimli was still standing where he had stood before, but his head was bowed, as he paid his own respect to the fallen warriors. Aragorn could not help smiling at the sight. Not too long ago, Gimli would rather have threatened to kill an elf himself, than be willing to grieve for one.

Aragorn closed his eyes, listening to the words of the song. He was easily able to make out Legolas’ clear voice among the others. For a long time, the elves sang about Haldir, praising his deeds and mourning his loss, then, one by one, they began to include the names of the other fallen warriors into their song, a single voice rising above the others momentarily, whenever the one, who had been closest to the deceased, took the lead.

Finally, one song ended and another began. This time, Aragorn knew both the song and the words. It was a lament he had been taught a long time ago by his brothers. Without conscious thought, he rose and walked over to the small group of elves, his heart knowing where he needed to be. Without turning or looking at him, Legolas moved aside, allowing him to take the place to his right. Taking his place in the half-circle at his friend’s side, Aragorn joined in the song without hesitation, his deeper voice mingling harmoniously with the fair ones of the elves.

Finally, the elves fell silent, again one after the other, and the song faded away. In its wake, a deep silence lingered, as if none of the men dared to move for fear of breaking the spell the song had woven. Then two of the Galadhrim stepped forward, kneeling down beside one of their fallen brethren. One taking the legs and the other the shoulders, they lifted the body and began to carry it towards the burial site. As if waking from a dream, the Rohirrim slowly moved aside, making room for the elves and their burden.

Legolas, too, left Aragorn’s side and walked over to one of the fallen. The ranger followed him slowly. He was not surprised to see that Legolas was standing beside Haldir. In spite of his violent death, the marchwarden’s features seemed almost restful now, and his skin was white as snow. Legolas did not move for a long time, and Aragorn did not try to push him. He waited patiently, knowing that his friend needed the time to deal with his feelings. The ranger bowed his head, allowing his own grief to consume him for this one, fleeting moment.

When he looked up again, he saw that Legolas was watching him, both gratitude and a hint of worry in his eyes. Understanding the unspoken message, Aragorn answered, “I will take some rest after we have buried our dead.” Legolas nodded, accepting the answer. Out of the corner of his eye, Aragorn saw Gimli and several of the men of Rohan carrying off the bodies of other elven warriors. Legolas smiled at him a bit wistfully, and the ranger knew that his friend had seen them, too.

Legolas moved to Haldir’s shoulders, and waited until Aragorn stood at the marchwarden’s feet. Silently, they lifted Haldir between them and carried him to what was to become his last resting place in the shadow of the Hornburg.

 

- The End -

 

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