Here…hold it level. Aye, there. It will draw harder than you are accustomed.

He held his elbow firm, just as his father had instructed, but as he pulled, he could feel the effort of his muscles. His chest burned; a twinge flared deep between his shoulder blades.

Further, now. I know it is not easy. Draw it all the way back and hold. Yes…good.

His arm shook, but though he was embarrassed by his weakness, he was desperately proud of the weapon he held, and determined to be worthy of it.

Let out your breath. Loose your arrow.

In the wooded wilds, he had taken his shot and watched the arrow soar. It had easily flown twice as far as he had ever sent a shot before. But there was no arrow on the string now and he would not dare harm this stunning instrument by firing it dry. Slowly, he released the string.

The first day of summer had marked Haldir's begetting day, and Haldir's father had taken him into the borderlands beyond the Celebrant to give him his first lessons in the soldier's craft. Though the youths of Lorien could not begin formally drilling with the guard until their 40th year, Haldir was determined that in the seven interminable years still left to pass, he would practice his shooting every day so that he might make a showing at his novice trials that would make his father and brother proud. The bow had been his father's gift to him, and an exquisite one it was: no short, stocky hunting weapon, this. It was a recurve bow nearly as tall as he was. Only the great bows of the Lorien guard were taller or finer.

Haldir had accompanied his father and brother on hunting excursions for some time now, though his hunting bow had been small, and the arrows his father made for him fit only for short ranges. He might take a few coneys or a pheasant in the bush, but he could not hope for a buck or a bird on the wing. Late in the night he had watched his father and Orophin sparring with swords in the firelight, old enough to witness the rituals of father and first son, but not to take part. Orophin had grown tall and strong, and their bouts had become more evenly matched over the years, and while their father would nearly always claim victory, Orophin was able to hold him off longer and longer, often surprising him at the last with some clever maneuver he had been practicing. Haldir would hold his breath, fervently wishing that they would offer to teach him, imagining the weight of the sword and the feel of the worn leather grip under his hand, but as yet, the offer had not come, and he did not wish to be importunate. He knew he should count himself lucky that they included him in their outings at all. Yet the knowledge did little to curb the longing.

But Orophin had not come on this latest venture, and Haldir had been alone in his father's company. He had learned how to judge a branch that would yield the best staves, and how to compensate the tree with his own blood. His father taught him how to shape the staves and straighten them over a flame, taking care that they did not scorch or turn brittle, and how to cut goose and turkey feathers for the fletching, which were longer and narrower than the flights on his game-arrows. They had camped together for seven nights, and he had returned home with the bow and the skill to make the arrows to fill it, which had been his father's gifts to him, and with the knowledge that his father found him worthy of following in his path, which Haldir thought the greater gift by far.

"Haldir!"

Haldir spun around at the unexpected voice, annoyed at being caught off his guard. He had been so engrossed in contemplation of his new gear that he had turned all but deaf to any sound beyond the creak of yew-wood and the groan of sinew.

"Where have you been? We have looked for you for days!"

There before him stood the twin sons of Elrond. Elladan was smiling at him eagerly, oblivious to Haldir's dark look, or perhaps simply impervious to it; after all, Haldir had levied many a grimace at him over the previous season of their acquaintance, and he seemed to recognize it intuitively as nothing more than bluster. Whether Elrohir felt similarly was debatable; he had tended to match Haldir glower for glower.

"I am not a child any longer, with endless hours for play. I had important matters to attend. My father took me into the borderlands near Fangorn for my begetting day."

"Your begetting day!" Elladan cried "But you never told us! We would have brought you a gift!"

Haldir grinned indulgently and pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "It is kind of you to say so, but there is no need for gifts. Nothing could be finer than my bow in any case."

Elladan piped up that there were many fine things he might have given Haldir, but Elrohir nudged him hard and the flow of his words trickled away. Haldir examined the string notch on his bow and pretended not to notice the silence, though the sudden illustration of the vast chasm between their stations pricked him. Of course his bow would seem a simple present to such rich blood. But Elladan was young, and he could not understand that for the Galadhrim, whose existence depended on hunting as much as woodcraft, it was an acknowledgement of one's ability to defend his home and feed his family, and that was a gift finer than gold.

"It is a beautiful bow, Haldir." Elladan offered, chastened. He reached out and petted the glossy wood. "I have never seen finer."

"If you are going to linger, you may as well make yourself useful," Haldir sniffed, somewhat mollified by the gesture. "You may help me find wood for arrows." He pulled a face at Elrohir, who had groaned at the suggestion of work, and Elrohir returned the expression in kind.

Elladan, however, was off in a flash, clearly attempting to compensate for his gaffe with his diligence, stalking through the nearest thicket and examining every tree. He quickly gathered an armful of pine twigs that he happily toted to Haldir, who thanked him for his effort.

"They will not serve for my steles, but they make excellent kindling."

A few feet into a nearby thicket, Haldir spotted a leafy young ash bough a recent storm had sheared from the tree. Ash, his father had taught him, made fine arrows: it was hard to straighten, but heavy and durable. The wood was still supple within; he was fortunate to come across such a fine piece without having to cut it. When he found the wounded tree, he discovered another damaged bough. It would die soon and fall away, so he murmured the words of thanks his father had taught him and pulled out his little hand-axe from his belt. Once the bough had split from the bole, he ran his thumb swiftly over the sharp blade and let a few drops of his blood drip into the soil at the roots. The leaf-mould rustled behind him and he swiveled his head. The twins were observing him with unease.

"Each time we fell a tree, or cut from its branches, the tree is sacrificing itself for our good. Does it not seem right that we should give a bit of ourselves so that the trees know we revere their gift to us?"

He liked to think the expression he read in their little faces then was one of wonder, for he felt very wise at that moment, having taught them something they would not have learned in their cloistered valley realm.

He sat down with his back against the ash tree and traded his little axe for his knife, stripping the bark from the ash branches with long, sure strokes. The young ones stopped briefly to rest, but when they made to sit down beside him, he shooed them off.

"Two branches will not yield many arrows," he chided.

Elrohir dragged over a chestnut limb, but it had been too long on the ground and had already begun to molder.

"Can you use it for kindling? Like the pine twigs?"

Haldir shook his head. "Chestnut throws too many coals when it burns."

"You know many things about trees," Elladan murmured appreciatively.

"Of course!" Haldir's eyebrow rose jauntily. "I am a Galadhel!"

"By which he means merely that he has acorns rolling in his empty skull. For certes nothing useful lies within that thick head!"

The trio snapped their heads around to regard the interloper: an older Elf with a shrewd and taunting look, and the grey woolen togs of the Lorien guard.

Haldir clambered to his feet, frowning. He was not keen to lose face in front of his young friends. "At least I can climb like a true Galadhel, high and fast! How you ever made it into the guard with your leaden feet is a wonder!"

The older elf snickered at the jape, but there was a challenge in his eye. "Oh, are you so very swift, then?"

"Swifter than you!" Haldir shot back.

"'Ware, youngling! The braggart's mantle is heavy and not easily set aside."

Haldir lifted his chin defiantly. "I merely speak the truth. I am the faster climber between us, and well you know it."

The Elf chuckled with eyes slightly narrowed. "Bold words, wee braggart, and they carry the stench of a boast."

Elladan, who had been hanging warily behind Haldir, stepped forward to face off with the impudent stranger, his arms akimbo. "Haldir is no braggart! You are a villain to call him names!"

"Be that as it may," Haldir interjected tiredly, "this villain is also my brother."

That news seemed to catch Elladan up short. He retreated back to Haldir's side and sought his hand, which Haldir readily gave him, watching the little one's eyes widen in recognition as they rose up the lean legs and strong torso to see a smirking face which bore a remarkable resemblance to his own, albeit with features bolder and more handily chiseled by the fresh onset of maturity. Though Haldir had often regaled the twins with tales of Orophin's various exploits, his brother had been long away with his patrol when last they had been in Lorien, and they had not been introduced.

"Your elder as well," the Elf reminded, as if that were not readily apparent. "Orophin, by name. I would not be surprised if he did not tell you he had a brother; I know how diligently he wishes he did not. So tell me, little ones, does this feckless imp now require his own protectors, or has he merely shed his aspirations for the guard to play nursemaid to a pair of wee Noldor pups?"

Haldir bit his lip against the impulse to protest, schooling himself to the diffident expression that had long proved his best-- and only-- defense against Orophin's teasing. "This is Elladan and his brother Elrohir. They are the sons of Lady Celebrían, and grandsons to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. They are sojourning in Lorien for the season."

Orophin arched a brow. "Fancy friends my brother has! The companionship of such rustic folk as his own must pale in comparison!" The twins' sharp glances must have taken him aback, because he laughed and squatted down before them. "Peace! I only jest with him. It is our way. Do you never needle one another?"

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged looks, but said nothing.

"Hmm," Orophin considered, rising. "Perhaps not. In any case, I mean you no harm, nor my brother, either. But I must steal him from you now, for he has chores to complete before evening falls. Our father and I have returned from a long tour this night, and our mother would have us met with a hearty meal… and I, for one, do not intend to cook it!"

Haldir took a step away from the twins and toward Orophin, who draped his forearm casually over Haldir's head in a fraternal gesture of mild torment. Though he huffed loudly, he made no move shirk it off.

"May we seek you out tomorrow?" Elladan asked, a sideways flick of his eyes the only concession to Elrohir’s grunt of annoyance. It was clear Elrohir would rather do nearly anything else than tag along behind Haldir again.

"Perhaps," Haldir shrugged, twisting his head to look up at Orophin. "My brother may have need of me, but I might make some time for you." He bid the twins good night and turned away then, following Orophin down the path toward their home.

Orophin regarded Haldir curiously as they ambled over the winding trail. "I am surprised you tolerate their company. They are quite young. Do you not find them trying?"

Haldir chuckled. Oh, for certes, they could be trying—Elladan was overeager and underfoot while Elrohir, in contrast, was too quiet and often aloof —but he enjoyed their company more than he let on. He knew it would not do for his Silvan friends to think that he preferred the company of a couple of visiting lordlings half his age over their own, and yet there had been an easiness and familiarity to his dealings with the twins, and Elladan in particular, which he found lacking elsewhere, and he was happy to see them returned.

Within the first decades of the Third Age, the Silvans of Lothlorien had been blessed by a wave of fecundity. These were the fruits of victory, conceived by couples long sundered by the campaigns of the Last Alliance, or by starry-eyed young lovers who cleaved to each other in the burgeoning peace. Ionnath-Estel they were named: the sons of hope. It was a blessed consolation to the Wood-Elves, so heinously decimated on the Dagorlad, to see their numbers bolstered.

But Elves expanded their families slowly, and when Haldir was born some decades later, there were few playmates of an age with him, and he was often left to amuse himself, waiting desperately for the day when he might be old enough to be considered Orophin's peer and equal, rather than merely a tolerated burden. But for all his attempts to show himself worthy of Orophin's esteem, he knew he was still a child in his brother's eyes. Haldir was not accustomed to being anyone's elder, and he relished the opportunity, however fleeting, to take the upper hand, to be for once the master rather than the perpetual apprentice.

"They are bright for their years. I find their company no hardship. I can teach them our woodcraft, for they have little enough of that in Imladris."

Orophin shrugged. "It is nothing to me if you befriend them, but remember that they are from a family far greater than ours, and a Noldor family at that. No doubt the time will come that their elders will decide a simple Wood-Elf is not a fit companion for them. I only hope your pride will not be overly bruised by it."

Haldir had not considered his position so bluntly, and the thought that he would be so easily set aside by merit of his indifferent birth was a distressing consideration. He tried not to let this revelation show in his face.

"I suppose you are right. I will eventually be supplanted by some highborn stripling with fancy airs."

"Well, that is not tonight's concern. Tonight's concern is your bold little tongue. I do not suffer boasting, especially from my brother. Especially in front of his little Noldo pets."

Haldir snorted disdainfully. "And I still say it is no boast. I am the better climber, and the faster. You simply have a dislike of the truth."

Orophin shot him a calculating look. "We shall see," he smirked.

The boisterous shouts of hale voices carried through the trees and the twins followed them to their source: a passel of youths much older than they at the sprawling foot of a mallorn with Haldir at their center. Around the grove they gamboled and laughed, pointing up into the canopy and jostling the young Galadhel standing unhappily in their midst. The twins craned their necks and spied high in the leaves one Elf alone leaping nimbly from branch to branch.

"Fetch it down now, beef-witted troll!"

Elladan's head jerked at the strident timbre of Haldir's voice. At the colorful insult, his compatriots sent up a cheer, but it was clear Haldir's dander was up. Then Elladan saw it: a bow tucked in the crotch of a branch high above the forest floor, and Orophin perched nearby, grinning.

He called out to his friend, thinking perhaps to distract him from his vexation, but Haldir did not hear him above the din of the other voices. He jostled his way through the others, none of whom paid him any mind. Orophin, meanwhile, had swung down from the tree and struck a victorious pose before his brother.

"How now, wee braggart! Did you not name yourself the better climber and the faster?" His voice was teasing and snide, and the others laughed. Haldir's cheeks blazed, which only prolonged his tormentor's pleasure. "Well, King of Eagles, this tree should not be so very high for your skill. Fly up and fetch your weapon!"

Haldir's look of vexation was more than Elladan could countenance. He threw himself before Orophin, fists planted imperiously on hips, and barked out his indignation.

"You are wicked! Return Haldir his bow!"

A raucous chorus rose up behind him, and to Elladan's great consternation, Haldir appeared absolutely mortified. Orophin howled with laughter.

"Quail not, mighty Thorondor! An eaglet has come to your rescue!"

"Name yourself, eaglet," demanded one of Orophin's grey-cloaked comrades, amusement thick in his voice. "Though you seem more bantam than bird of prey!"

"I am Elladan," he declared, turning toward this new offender. "I am the grandson of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel," he sputtered, puffing up his chest, still uncertain why the gales of laughter had not yet passed. "I am Haldir's friend," he added.

"My brother flocks with no ordinary fledglings, Raegorn, but with noble birds!" Orophin jeered at Haldir, whose face was now crimson.

Elladan opened his mouth to object, but before he could say more, Haldir's hands closed around his shoulders and pulled him out of reach of his foe, sighing as he did so.

"Do not tease him, Orophin."

"I would not stoop to such ill sport," his brother retorted with feigned affront. "You are a far better target! But I tire of this game, and unlike you, young one, I have duties beyond the nursery. You'd best begin your climb; Father will like it not that you have already mislaid that fine bow he crafted for you. Perhaps he will reclaim it when he learns you would prefer to be a royal handmaiden than a Silvan archer."

To the tune of a dozen laughing voices, he cuffed Haldir's ear and strode off, and the others, their entertainment ended, milled about aimlessly for a few moments, chafing Haldir with continued jibes before dispersing.

Elladan was still livid at the offense against his friend, but Haldir would not even look at him. He stood stiffly, his jaw set and his face still rankled with displeasure, then turned his angry gaze behind him to Elrohir, who maintained a sulky distance.

"I should think you would laugh with them, Elrohir," he spat out rancorously.
The younger twin wisely bit back his response.

"Elrohir and I climb the trees in Imladris," said Elladan meekly. "Perhaps we could help you fetch your quiver."

"Nay!" Haldir snapped. But the toll of his tone must have told on Elladan's face, for he gentled his voice. "These trees are much too tall for you."

Indeed, the valley realm was plentiful with aspen, ash and pine, but not with trees that grew so high or wide as these, and a bit of a shiver thrilled through him when he imagined the perilous elevation. But he would not be so easily set aside.

"But I have grown much since the last time I visited! Soon I will be as big as you!"

Haldir snorted. "Not so soon as you think." He scratched the back of his neck irritably. "You had best run along. Orophin made no jest; my father will be livid should I come home without my bow."

He looked determinedly up at the mallorn's lowest branch, which was still a goodly ways above the ground, crouched low, and then leapt skyward to grab it with audible effort.

For a moment, Elladan was crestfallen. He had hoped with the sort of impatient desperation found only in the very young to be lauded for his new growth and welcomed as Haldir's equal, never once considering that Haldir would continue to outstrip him in size and strength for years to come. But never one to be easily dissuaded, Elladan decided that if Haldir did not fully recognize just how great he had grown as the seasons had passed, he would simply have to give show.

He glanced to Elrohir, who knew immediately what he was about and shook his head sternly. Irked by his twin's reluctance, Elladan issued a loud harrumph and darted around the base of the tree, leaving his brother alone on the pathway simmering in silent frustration.

He could not reach the mallorn, no matter how high he jumped, but there was an oak adjacent. If he could grasp one of its lower branches and haul himself up for a ways, then he could shimmy out along a higher branch to reach the mallorn. The bark offered little purchase and his feet scrabbled at the trunk as he sought to climb further. He slipped once, managing to catch himself, but the sound of his gasp caught Haldir's attention and he barked sharply.

“Nay, Elladan… you are too small! Get down, wee fool!”

Elladan turned a deaf ear and reached for the next branch, a pink tongue peeping from the corner of his mouth in testament to the singular focus given his task. When he reached that next pinnacle, his chest expanded with delight. Surely Haldir would now see how easily he could keep up. But Haldir had gone high into the boughs, his attention focused on his bow, perched in the slenderest of branches. Elladan would have to move up yet again if he hoped to capture his friend's attention. He stretched on his toes, just barely able to reach, yet growing ever more impressed with his facility at this new skill.

But Haldir moved through the trees with the deceptive dispatch of those who had been born in the shadow of their lush canopies and had walked from bough to bough from the time they could stand unsupported. Elladan, who had been reared on the gently sloping paths of the valley, overestimated both the ease with which he could move, and the height to which it was safe to climb. Haldir soon noted his precarious position and the balance he only tentatively maintained.

“Elladan, ‘tis no jest! Climb down now!”

But Elladan, spurred on by the rush of satisfaction from having climbed nearly as high as his friend, believed he could come to no harm. Surely Haldir could see that he could climb nigh as fast and high as he could. He had watched the Silvan scurry to the end of a long limb and make a graceful leap, barely disturbing a single leaf. The mallorn must be nearer than it looked for such a crossing to be so handily made. He could be at Haldir’s side in an instant, and then Haldir would surely be impressed and not send him off like a toddling child!

Gingerly, he inched toward the branch’s end, his eye gauging the distance to the mallorn.

“Elladan, no! It is too far! Wait there and I will come to you.” Haldir’s voice was now tinged with panic, but Elladan tuned it out. Just a few steps more…he crouched… closed his eyes… and jumped.

He knew even before he heard Elrohir shout out that he had misjudged the distance. He screwed his eyes shut as the rush of air swept up around his plunging body, but he was jerked out of his plummet by a swift hand that seemed to come out of nowhere and clasp him by the collar. He tremulously looked up. Haldir hung by his knees, as he had the first time Elladan had laid eyes on him-- however this time his features were contorted in pain and fear. Elladan was too stunned to do anything but whimper.

Haldir gasped for a breath and then cried out raggedly for his brother, but no rolling Silvan taunt answered his call.

The fraught silence that followed was soon grimly split by the sound of rending cloth. The fancy ribbon Elladan had only that morning preened over had begun to tear free of his tunic. Haldir’s eyes opened wide and locked on Elladan’s, neither daring so much as a breath. With another sickening rasp, the collar gave way. The burden of weight was suddenly gone from Haldir’s arm, leaving nothing behind but a handful of blue in his clenched fist. His screams mingled with Elrohir's as Elladan fell without a sound.

*****