The Revenge of the Wood Elf (Telerius galadh)

Disclaimer: 

I own none of the characters of this story and make no profit from it. All those characters from canon belong to the Tolkien Estate and New Line Cinema.

BW, BP, Telerius galadh and galadhrima and the concept of the dissection team are the creations of Bryn, as is the Scientific Research Department of Middle Earth and its mailing address. She tells me that all scientists have signed a waiver to forgo suing this fine nonprofit institution if harm befall them in the course of their work

Dedicated to Bryn,

whose scientific expertise in the preparation of "Dissection" and "Notes from the Field" first amused and then inspired me. Please do read her stories to better understand the warped paths down which we are about to tread. Those stories are hysterically funny, if somewhat dark, and can be found at this site. For her graciousness and support, I also thank her, and I send my condolences to the families of the dissection team.

N.B., character thoughts, however vicious, and the entries of BW in her journal are indicated in italics.

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Prologue: The Halls of Mandos

Haldir decided he was weary. It had been a confusing time. He forced his thoughts to return to it again:

OK, I’m guarding the northern border of Lothlórien that night with Rúmil and Orophin We heard a great noise as if an army of orcs approached. I told them to stay in the shelter of the tree tops and go to investigate. Tracking them was as easy as oliphaunts, and they made almost as much noise. When I found them, none knew of my presence so intent on their own kinstrife did they seem. A strange tongue it was, harsh as the black speech of Sauron, and the accents hurt my ears. I crept closer until I saw them on the path before me, and I leaped quickly into the sheltering arms of the tree above me. They huddled together below, consulting a tattered and folded parchment in their hands, which also held torches of a kind I had never seen for there was no fire in them and yet they gave forth light. Each wore a black cloak of a foreign cut, for they were short and had tight sleeves and some sort of wrought silver device with interlocking teeth that held them close to their bodies, no doubt for ease in battle. Runes in white such that I did not recognize were on the back of each cloak. I fixed the runes in my memory, for the Lord Celeborn is wise and learned in all the tongues of Middle Earth and will surely decipher them: "C-A-S-T-I-N-G". I know not if this be the name of their folk or the one they worship for in my heart I know full well these savages have ne’er heard Ilúvatar’s Song. All at once, there came a great light that illuminated the sheltering darkness of the forest. So sudden was this coming of false day that I was startled and fell to the ground and knew no more.

Haldir knew he was supposed to be thinking as he sat here in the Halls of the Dead, but he really was tired, and these particular thoughts were not helping that. He had awoken in a fell land called New Zealand and had been consumed in his mind so that he knew naught but that he must return to Lothlórien where lay his duty to the Lord and Lady, and he had become confused.

Haldir sighed. Maybe he would think about his brothers. He missed them and wondered how they fared without his guidance. That was not so confusing. He sighed yet again.

"Mae govannen, Haldir o Lórien."

He knew that voice and he lifted his head and leaped up to face his friend. "Legolas! Mae govannen, mellon nîn!" He drew closer and then fell back in horror, feeling the bile rise in his throat. Legolas it was and yet while his fair face seemed the same except for some fading scars upon it, the body look as if the very wargs had torn it. What evil of Sauron had done this to his friend?

Seeing the horror on Haldir’s face, Legolas kicked himself mentally. He kept forgetting how sensitive the Galadhrim could be to all that was not fair and good and beautiful, although he privately considered them an improvement over that bunch in Imladris, the ones who even used tack when they rode. Much as he admired Glorfindel, Legolas always thought those bells were a bit much. Trained to courtesy, he of course expressed this thought to no one.

"Peace, Haldir, the wounds are nothing for you know full well that we elves are resilient and quick to heal." In his deep courtesy and concern for Haldir that he might be relieved of this great distress, Legolas kept his voice bright and cheerful, nay even perky. "See, one can scarce still note what they did to my head and that was a mess in truth. Soon the wounds will all be gone." Ai, you’d think he was an elfling, this one, and never seen anyone carved up in battle! At least the spawn of Udûn had not poisoned their blades. Not that that will move me to pity when at last I track them to their foul lair and grind them beneath my foot.

"Devils they must be to treat even an enemy so!"

"Well, I was dead at the time. It’s called dissection." Seeing Haldir’s confusion, Legolas sighed. He really would rather not go into details as he still found them a bit disturbing himself. "Think of it as the desecration of the fallen that is oft seen among the orcs. A cause for vengeance and retribution but not good to dwell upon." That seemed to do the trick for a thirst for vengeance awoke in Haldir’s fair eyes. Ai, Galadhrim! thought Legolas, but he smiled politely.

"Legolas?"

What now? he thought even as yet again he smiled politely. He’d noticed that being dissected seemed to leave behind a lingering foul mood, so perhaps it was unfair of him to wonder if you hit someone who was already dead it would have the desired effect.

"Forgive me, but it was always my impression that we weren’t really supposed to bring our bodies with us. I recall all those solemn ceremonies we observed as we buried our gallant comrades." Haldir finally got to the point. "Do you think they might be displeased with us?"

It was a point that had crossed Legolas’ own mind. As nimble of thought as he had ever been of foot, he had come up with a rationale. "Well, that’s all very well if you happen to be slain in battle with your comrades in arms left behind to take care of all the niceties or you manage to kill the balrog at the same time you are killed by it so it doesn’t end up having your remains for lunch." Must remember to ask Glorfindel how he managed that trick. "I mean, what were we to do, Haldir? There I was on this stupid metal table" I really must ask Gimli what that metal was; it was very cold. "and with some silly bit of parchment they insisted on tying about my toe. They’d already cut me to pieces, and it really doesn’t bear thinking about what they might do for an encore!" Oh, I will have my revenge upon those spawn of Udûn growled his thoughts. "Besides, there was the time factor as you recall. This Námo fellow only gives you a finite amount of time to accept his invitation and hie thee hither to his halls. If you muck about too long, you turn into one of those dwimmerlaik like as not. All that spectralish wandering about is not my cup of tea. I don’t know about you, but I was not about to leave my body there as it’s served me rather well, and that’s all I have to say about that." Legolas could be very stubborn as all well knew, and Haldir took comfort from that. Perhaps even the Valar might hesitate to argue with him? He listened attentively as Legolas continued. "And what of you? Oh, you don’t even have to tell me the details. It’s the first story I was hit with when I arrived. It’s all over the place. It seems that somebody somewhere must have forgotten to write down at least one stanza of Ilúvatar’s Song for the buzz is that even the Valar can’t seem to recall where they put New Zealand. What’s it like by the way?"

"What’s what like?"

"New Zealand!" Honestly, these Galadhrim.! What does he think I mean? I think the altitude gets to them. All those talans; can’t be completely stabilizing to the mind. Legolas smiled politely

Two can play at this, mellon nîn. You don’t want to speak of the dissecting or whatever you call it; I’d rather not speak of New Zealand. "Tis a fell land and better not spoken of in such a sacred place as this." Haldir smiled politely and inclined his head gracefully to the other elf for good measure.

Oh, right! I’d forgotten that insufferable little head dip they do. Celeborn’s the only one who can really pull it off, but they all insist on it. "Anyway, to get back to my point. There you were in this fell land called New Zealand and some stupid Uruk shows up and cleaves your head in with his sword. It was a sword, wasn’t it?"

"Yes, one of those odd bent ones they use."

Legolas nodded, Gimli says they’re too dim to figure out how to forge a straight sword, stupid gits.

Haldir continued. "There were a lot of the Uruk-Hai actually. I managed to kill the first one." They made a lot of fuss about that one. Kept screaming for something called an ambulance. Very confusing. Haldir sighed.

"Well done, Haldir! You bring honor to your house." It was the courteous remark to make. "A lot of the Uruk-Hai in New Zealand? Saruman’s got to have his dainty little fingers in this someplace. Anyway, I digress." Legolas took a sip from the cup of wine Haldir had handed him. Not bad. Not great as you’d expect here, but not bad. " So, there you were with your head cleaved and nothing but the Uruk-Hai about. I mean, you know what those guys do to dead bodies, don’t you? One simply couldn’t leave one’s behind, could one? It wouldn’t be clear thinking, now would it? They’ll just have to make allowances."

It made a certain amount of sense to Haldir, but then he was already confused, and Legolas was well schooled in politics by Thranduil. Haldir, of course, was not about to mention that there were other type of fell folk about other than the Uruk-Hai. The Uruk-Hai were difficult enough to explain, and Legolas shared a little of his father’s impatient temperament. Least said, soonest mended as Haldir’s mother had taught him. "Perhaps you are right."

Legolas started to reply but was interrupted by a horrible retching sound. So loud was it and unexpected in these sacred halls that he reached at once for his white knives. Great, just great! I keep forgetting I lost those when that pond scum attacked me. Somebody had better have rescued them for me afterwards or there will be a real problem when I get back. Bad enough they all ran away when that wand-like thing exploded. Must remember to ask Mithrandir what that was all about. He looked at Haldir. "Did you hear that?" The retching sound was repeated.

"It sounds as if a soul in torment is retching." Haldir’s voice was sad and troubled.

Soul in torment? Ai, it is some elf puking, probably had too much wine, but for the Galadhrim it must needs be a soul in torment!  "No, doubt you are right, my Lord Haldir, and it is our duty to assist such soul. I believe my eyes see him in the distance." He shaded his eyes with his long fingers, which was no mean feat in one still healing from dissection as the Wise would tell you. But, he had been raised to courtesy and saw his duty. "Let us fly to his assistance!"

"I follow you, Lord Legolas!"

Swiftly and silently they ran to the fallen elf. As they approached him, they recognized him as the stranger from Imladris who had but recently passed them as they spoke together. Of course, they had arisen as he passed to exchange fair words of greeting with one of their kindred as had been their training. The stranger, for his part, had made appropriate reply. However, Haldir, who was not often so perceptive, had noticed that the stranger had seemed to become paler as they spoke, and his glow had diminished, and he had turned his eyes from the sight of Legolas’ ravaged body that was visible beneath the strange cloak of thin white cloth he wore. The cloak seemed to have been much torn in Legolas’ journey and the odd and terrible sword wounds upon his body were readily to be seen beneath and his dried blood was upon it. Haldir made a mental note to ask Legolas why it was tied at the back if opportunity arose.

The Imladris elf rose from his knees and assured them that, while he full well appreciated the depths of their courtesy to him, a stranger, and was indebted to both their houses, his honor would not let him trespass further upon their thinking in these hallowed halls, and he bade them a sad farewell. Haldir wasn’t sure, but he thought the stranger had his hand to his mouth as he hastened away.   It was all very confusing.

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Dwimmerlaik:  Rohirric for "work of necromancy, specter"; used by Éowyn to describe the Lord of the Nazgûl.

Udûn:  Sindarin for "un-West", possibly akin to "hell"  

Ilúvatar:  Quenya for "All-Father" In a very over-simplified explanation, the Song or Music of Ilúvatar was the creation song wherein he revealed to the Ainur the three great themes of this music. Melkor created discord therein and the rest is history.

Mae govannen, Haldir o Lórien: "well met [archaic form of greeting], Haldir of Lórien" 

Mellon nîn: Sindarin for "my friend" .

Galadhrim:  Sindarin for "tree people"; refers to elves (primarily Silvan) who dwell in Lórien under the rule of Galadrial and Celeborn; also spelled Galadrim 

Námo/Mandos: A Vala. He is the ordainer or judge for all the Valar and keeps the Houses of the Dead. Very rarely, as with Glorfindel, he will be moved by pity or some other motivation and allow a being to return from his halls. 

Talan:  Sindarin for "flat" (in Westron, "flet"), living platforms in trees used by elves; in particular, the Galadhrim

Uruk-Hai:: generic name for a large and singularly unpleasant species of orcs; Uruk (singular) and Uruks (anglicized plural) for individuals or groups within this generic designation