A/N: I am actually more than a little apprehensive about publishing this story. Firstly because LOTR is obviously such a good book, and if I write badly, I'm afraid I might shame Tolkien T_T Secondly is this definitely sounded better in my head, and I'm not really an angsty type of person.

Disclaimer: Did I mention I own nothing in here? Well, I own nothing and I intend for it to stay that way.

Notes before you read: First that the entire conversation in here is in Elvish except for the italics which would be Westron (Rúmil and Orophin don't speak Westron, remember? And Gimli doesn't speak Elvish)

Secondly is that this is not a oneshot (although if I change my mind it will be): It's a series of stories surround Haldir, Orophin and Rúmil which will be written BACKWARDS. So if you want to read for beginning to end, start from the last chapter (which I may or may not be finished yet, depending on when you see this). I just wanted to try something new, and now I'm doubting myself.

Chapter one: Orophin and Rúmil desperately search for news of their brother after the battle of Helm's Deep.

Thirdly is that this is Movie-verse, simply because Haldir appears more and this Nuzgul wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.

When sounds of steel and metal faded away, cries and soft calls replaced them. The battle of Helm's Deep was over, but celebration was not in order, and nor was there time for it. Already a party was ready to march to Isengard – to confront Saruman – but before that the bodies of the many thousand who died on the field needed to be attended to.

Wives now from the safety of the cavern appeared and began crying, voices splitting the night sky not unlike those of battle cries. The young screeched for their fathers; the old mourned for their sons; and the now widowed wives weeping and calling, endlessly lamenting for the dead and lost.

Amidst the cry of women another language could be heard: gentle and yet rough, flowing and yet hesitant, fair and yet not so. The Elves were not spared from the horrors of war. Many voices now arose from the Elven soldiers who spilled out from the battlements, and at times their lament reached higher in pitch than those of Men. Each to look for their own, they quickly separated across the wide battlefield, and unlike Men, they had no need to bend down, as was a gift of their keen eyesight.

The swift footsteps of one Elf flew over the grounds, breath ragged and eyes alert. "Haldir!" he cried, leaping over the corpse of a Man in search of his brother. "Haldir! Answer me!" he cried in his Elven tongue. But no fair voice was to respond as it had over the many centuries. But the Elf neither tarried in his search nor turned back to the keep. In his desperation he kept searching wildly, rolling aside corpses of Uruk-hai, Elves and Men.

Within the battlements, the situation of another Elf was not dissimilar. He flipped a corpse over, scowled hopelessly, and moved on. Lightly stepping past a body of which he had no concern, the Elf ran on and on until he suddenly stopped, eyes widening. With a desperate cry, he flung himself down beside a fallen corpse and cradled the body, tears streaming down his fair face. "Rúmil!" he cried to his brother, "Rúmil! Come quickly!"

Rúmil, hearing his brother's voice, sprang up immediately and sped swiftly up the stairs, racing past the bodies and skilfully avoiding the obstacles. When he was on the same level as his brother, his breath hitched and his pace increased. "H...Ha..." he gasped, kneeling down beside his brother. His voice shook and he could not prevent the tears spilling from his eyes.

"HALDIR!"

Rúmil sobbed and hurled himself over Haldir's body, screaming his name over and over again. His voice grew hoarse, and his tears flew until they dried, but he did not let go nor cease. Behind him, Orophin was caressing Haldir's hand with his own shaking ones.

"Haldir..." Rumil gasped, "Haldir...Haldir...you're not dead...not dead...not..." But he found that he could speak no more.

He didn't know how long he lay there, shaking and weeping in denial. But eventually Orophin came to his senses and reluctantly pulled his brother away. "Come away, Rúmil," he murmured, "come away. We will carry him back to Lothlórien and give him a proper funeral he deserves. He will go to the halls of Mandos and he will...he will dwell there eternally happy. Come, Rúmil."

But Rúmil shook his head and clutched on tighter. Seeing this, Orophin could control himself no longer and allowed unchecked tears to fall. "Rúmil," he tried again, "let us go. There are many things to do. We will mourn for our dead in our own time, but that time is not yet come. We will take Haldir back to Lothlórien and bathe him in sweet Nimrodel. Then we will lay his body to rest and bid his soul peace."

"If we are to leave this place, Orophin," Rúmil said, "we will take him with us. He will lie here cold and broken no more."

Orophin agreed, and gently he picked up Haldir's body and began a slow walk back towards the fortress. Rúmil walked by his side in silence.

In time they reached the room where the Men of Rohan now piled their dead. Orophin set his brother down near the centre of the room and Rúmil wrapped him with an Elven cloak. They both knelt there, staring at the Elf whom if fortune had shined on him brighter, would have lived evermore. But alas, there was no cure for the timeless death.

And now Aragorn son of Arathorn entered the hall, and with him Legolas of Mirkwood and Gimli son of Gloin. He glanced around little, but walked purposefully to the place where Haldir's motionless form lay.

"You have suffered a tragic loss, my friend," he said to Rúmil in their own tongue, also kneeling. "I saw him fall. But he was brave and true and fought to the end. May the Valar be with you, Haldir. I will forget neither your friendship nor aid, and should Lothlórien ever be in need, Aragorn son of Arathorn will forever be at your service."

"Will you bury him here?" Legolas asked.

Orophin shook his head. "Nay. He would much prefer to see the lush trees and elanor of our homeland."

"So you will not stay?" Aragorn said.

"We will hurry back to Lórien with all the speed," answered Rúmil, "and a messenger shall go ahead with the news. Though many will cheer, many others will be left with sorrow."

"I know not what has passed between you just now," Gimli said, "and I do not wish to know, for it is surely something better kept amongst Elvish folk. And though I did not know him well, I too grieve for all that lie dead here."

"What does he speak of?" Orophin asked.

"He says that he understands your sorrow and mourns for you also," Legolas said. "As do I. I have no blood relation to Haldir, but he is my kin, and you are also. Truly, I am sorry. The war of Sauron has involved many who need not have shed tears otherwise."

"Perhaps you understand, Legolas," said Orophin, "but I do not expect sympathy from the Dwarf. Despite his lengthened lifespan, he is yet mortal and do not understand the sorrow immortal beings associate with death."

"And do I?" Aragorn replied. "I am a mortal, as you say, and I have had my share of deaths in this lifetime. Do I too not mourn for the dead and curse it when it takes another victim? Do I, as you say, have no understanding of how sudden or how sad it can be?"

To this Orophin had no reply, but Legolas answered for him. "You must forgive him, Aragorn. The sorrow presses heavily down on us all, but especially them. Time passes quickly for the Elves – it is too soon to discuss such dark things. Turn your mind to lighter matters. We have won a great battle."

"Forgive me also, for I spoke carelessly and without thought," Aragorn said. "We ride to Isengard tomorrow. I will not have time to bid you farewell, so I will do it now." Raising a hand, he smoothed Haldir's brow and whispered, "Farewell, Haldir of Lórien. A long journey it has been, but know that many will mourn you, like your two loyal brothers, and your death will not be in vain. May you be received nobly in the halls of Mandos. Farewell." He pulled Orophin up and embraced him, and Rúmil also. "I am sorry for your loss. May the Valar be with you."

He had already turned to leave when Gimli jumped to his feet. "What is this, Aragorn!" he exclaimed. "Leaving so soon?"

"There are still many things left hanging, Gimli," Aragorn smiled. "It would not do to abandon my duties now."

"But alas, you cannot say goodbye without telling me, at least," the Dwarf answered resolutely. True to his word, he stood by Haldir's side, head bowed. "If it may please you, Haldir of Lórien, know that this is the first time a Dwarf has bid his respects to an Elf since Durin's day. May it also please you that this Dwarf, at least, is sincere in his bidding."

Orophin and Rúmil needed no translation this time – it was plain as day what the Dwarf was doing, and they tried naught to stop him. "Thank you," Rúmil whispered, and Gimli bowed awkwardly. "Haldir will appreciate it, I am certain."

"Rúmil sends his thanks," Legolas translated for Gimli.

"And I send mine too," Orophin said.

"Then I will take my leave," Aragorn said in Elvish, and then in Westron, "Come, Gimli. There is much to be done." And so the ranger and Dwarf departed.

"I will stay a while longer," said Legolas.

When Aragorn and Gimli left the room, Orophin settled his eyes on the prince of Mirkwood. "What was it?" he asked, his voice steely cold, and controlling himself by will alone.

"What was what?"

"The Uruk-hai or Orc or other hellish creature that killed my brother."

Legolas was silent for a moment. "It was an Uruk-hai," he said at length, "though I did not see it firsthand. Aragorn saw him as he fell, and perhaps it would comfort you to know that he slew his enemy before his fall, and died in Aragorn's arms. Haldir was a warrior to the very end."

"He may be a warrior," Rúmil said, "but he is our brother, and the Galadhrim of Lothlórien will no longer march to the defence of Men. We will take him home."

"I understand and respect your decision," replied Legolas.

And together the three Elves knelt, paying tribute to not only Haldir, but the many thousands of Elves and Men who had died in that fierce bloody battle. Each let their own tears fall, and each wept in silence, for the grief was too great and too sorrowful to express in words. And though they bore Haldir back to Lothlórien and gave him a proper burial, it was said that Rúmil and Orophin were never exactly the same again.

A/N: It sounded better in my head. Remember, next chapter will be set before this one. Unless I change my mind.

Review~? Any comments on OOC-ism (I'M SO SORRY!) or constructive criticism is appreciated!

~CC