Little Lord of the Home: Teaser

Lothlorien, T.A. 2509

“Indilwen’s day of birthing approaches,” Lord Celeborn commented to his wife.

“Yes,” Lady Galadriel responded softly. “The first birth in far too many years.”

“Not since our dear Arwen,” the Lord of the Wood stated.

Galadriel smiled at the mention of her beloved granddaughter.

“It is a shame she plans to stay in Rivendell during Celebrian’s visit,” the Lady of the Wood murmured, gazing into the Mirror of Galadriel. “It has been too long since Lothlorien has seen her last.”

Her husband nodded in agreement, then started at the look on the face of his Lady of Light.

“Galadriel?” he asked as she stared in horror at whatever image she saw within the Mirror.

“I thank the Valar that Arwen was not with our dear daughter,” she whispered weakly, clutching at her husband’s arm.

“Galadriel? Galadriel?” Celeborn called as his wife collapsed. “Guards! Call the healers!”
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One month later…

“Congratulations, Neurion,” Lord Celeborn said weakly to the marchwarden. “You shall make a great father.”

“I will do my best,” Neurion responded, smiling sadly upon The Lord of the Wood who had so recently lost his own child.

“And what have you named our newest Elfling?” Galadriel questioned, though surely she already knew.

“Marcaunon,” the new father answered. “For he will surely be the little lord of our home.”

“The whole of Lothlorien shall look upon him fondly. May the leaves of his life never turn brown,” Lady Galadriel blessed.

“Thank you, my lady,” the dark-haired Elf murmured, bowing before leaving the room.

“And life shall go on,” the lady murmured to her husband. “I am glad Indilwen’s birthing went so well.”

“We shall see Celebrian again some day,” her husband comforted. “Though we are banned from Valinor now, it will not always be as such. And until then, we shall keep our daughter fondly in our hearts and keep Lothlorien as a haven for those Elves who need it to be such.”

“You are right, my lord,” Galadriel agreed.
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One year later…
Northern Border of Lothlorien, T.A. 2510

“Marchwarden!” a golden-haired Elf called as he stumbled upon his superior. “Such wounds!”

Neurion was pinned to the tree of his talan by an orc’s axe through his stomach.
The orc who had done so lay dead at his feet, a dagger through one eye.

“H-Haldir,” the dark-haired Elf whispered weakly, coughing up blood. “I am not long for this world. See…see Indilwen and Marcaunon to safety.”

Haldir stared sadly upon his friend as the life bled out of hazel eyes. He climbed the tree to the talan to check upon Neurion’s wife and child.

“Indilwen?” the grey-eyed Elf called. “Indilwen? Where are…”

He trailed off at the sight of blood seeping underneath the bedroom door.

Unsheathing his sword, he swung the door open cautiously.

“Indilwen?” Haldir called again at the sight of another dead orc.

“Ha-ha!” Marcaunon called from his crib, reaching for the guard.

“Marcaunon!” Haldir cried in relief upon seeing the Elfling safe and sound.

But he stopped dead upon seeing Indilwen on the floor before her son’s crib, her fiery hair made redder by her own blood seeping from a wound on her head.

“Indilwen,” he whispered as he fell to his knees.

Reaching a shaky hand to her still-warm neck, he felt for a pulse. There was none.

“Ha,” the tiny Elfling called. “Nan?”

“She is in a better place, my little lord,” Haldir stated sadly as he brushed his hand through the Elfling’s dark hair.

It came away sticky with blood.

“Wh-what?” Haldir cried, raising the dark bangs to spy a shallow wound upon Marcaunon’s forehead. “How did you get this?”

Marcaunon raised his arms to be picked up, and Haldir conceded. As he lifted the Elfling from the crib, he spied an axe stuck to the talan wall.
It bore traces of blood.

“You are truly blessed by the Valar,” Haldir whispered as he left the scene of so much death.

The first Elfling born in many centuries was now an orphan.

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Haldir entered Caras Caladhon, Marcaunon held tightly to his chest.

“Neurion and Indilwen are dead,” Haldir called to The Lord and Lady of the Wood. “Slain by orcs.”

Galadriel nodded sadly as her husband closed his eyes in dismay.

“I Saw too late,” the Lady of Light whispered. “But Marcaunon…”

“Is the luckiest Elfling to ever have lived,” Haldir replied. “Indilwen must have struck the last orc a killing blow before her death. The orc’s axe was pinned to the wall behind Marcaunon’s head, as if thrown. He lives with nothing more than a shallow wound upon his forehead.”

Marcaunon raised his head from Haldir’s shoulder upon hearing his name.

“Da?” the dark-haired Elfling cried for his father. “A-da?”

“Hush, child,” Galadriel whispered softly to Marcaunon as she approached.

He turned to her with wide green eyes full of tears.

“Your ada and naneth will be with my Celebrian, soon,” The Lady of the Wood murmured. “Would you mind so terribly if I took care of you until we can all be reunited in Valinor?”

The Elfling blinked and reached for her silver-golden hair. His chubby fingers grabbed a lock, and he pulled once, hard.

“Da!” he cried demandingly.

“I know you want your ada, darling,” Galadriel replied sadly, tears brimming her beautiful grey eyes. “And he would be here if he could, along with your naneth.”

“Nan?” Marcaunon responded tearfully.

Celeborn opened his arms to take the Elfling from Haldir.

“You are Marchwarden of the Northern Borders now, Haldir,” the Lord appointed.

Haldir nodded sharply, sad that his promotion came at the expense of his dear friend’s life.

“May your winds be green and golden, little lord,” the marchward whispered, grey eyes only for the Elfling of his dear lost friends. “I swear upon my honor that I shall be your protector forevermore.”

Haldir composed himself quickly.

“My Lord and Lady,” he bowed deeply, then quickly left the room.

“You hear that, Marcaunon?” Galadriel cooed as she took the Elfling from her husband’s arms. “You are truly the little lord of the home, now. And all of Lothlorien will shield you until time comes that you can stand strong on your own.”

“Orc?” Harry questioned sadly.

“Especially against the orcs,” Celeborn swore. “They will not steal another of my children.”

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Five years later…
Northern Border of Lothlorien, T.A. 2515

“Help!” a dark-haired Elfling called as he sprinted through the forest. “Haldir!”

His green eyes widened as he fell, a band of orcs stumbling through the trees behind him. He struggled to get back up, but his foot was tangled in a vine. An arrow whizzed past his head, making his breath catch in fear.

Marcaunon turned upon his back, tearing his foot free of the vine but twisting his ankle. He scrambled backwards weakly, away from the quickly approaching orcs.

“H-Haldir!” he screamed as loudly as he could as the first orc bore down upon him with an axe.

A tall, broad form dropped down from the trees to land on the orc’s head, sword thrusting through the thick skull and spattering blood upon Marcaunon’s pale face.

Two other blonde forms appeared in the trees, quickly engaging the other orcs in battle and distracting their attention from the trembling form of the Elfling who had not yet seen seven summers. They took down an orc each in the time it took for the first form to run his sword through two more.

“What were you thinking?” the tallest snarled, turning upon the fallen form of the little Elfling once the orcs were dispatched. “How many times must I tell you to stay away from the border! The Lord and Lady ordered Locien to protect you, and how is he supposed to do that if you constantly wander away?”

“Haldir,” Rumil cautioned his brother, Orophin at his side.

“I…I am sorry, Haldir,” Marcaunon whispered softly, wiping tearfully at the blood decorating his pale face.

“You are lucky,” the tall blonde yelled. “If I had not heard your calls, you would be dead!”

“You will always be there to save me,” the Elfling countered defiantly as he turned onto his knees. “I do not have to fear, you said, because you will protect me.”

“And what if one time I am too late?” the marchwarden questioned passionately. “You would punish me with the sight of your dead body and the knowledge that it was my fault because I failed to protect you?”

“No!” Marcaunon shouted, scrambling to get up. “You always save me!”

Marcaunon winced as he stood, his ankle tender from his fall.

Haldir lifted Marcaunon into his arms when he saw pain upon the pale face.

“You are so fragile,” he whispered softly into the small pointed ear. “I can not bear the thought of you in even the slightest bit of pain. Do not make me bear the thought of you dead, and Valar forbid I live to witness it.”
Marcaunon stared, shocked as those grey eyes began to tear.

“I will stay with Locien from now on,” the small Elfling whispered, cowed by the pain in his hero’s eyes.

“You say that every time,” Haldir countered sadly. “And every time I find you wandering the forest alone not long after.”

“I just want to help protect Lothlorien like you!” Marcaunon admitted. “Ada and naneth do not let me do anything!”

“You can help protect the forest when you are older, little lord,” Rumil assured the pouting Elfling.

“And until then we will protect you,” Orophin added.

Haldir was silent for the remainder of the journey back to Caras Galadhon. He was busy planning how exactly he was going to keep his little lord safe from now on.

He would not give orcs another chance to stumble upon Marcaunon alone.

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“Locien!” Haldir growled to the younger blonde Elf. “What were you doing this afternoon? Marcaunon was almost run through by the axe of an orc near the northern border! You are supposed to watch after him!”

“I was speaking to Lothiriel in her talan. I turned my head for just a second, and the little balrog was gone!” Locien defended. “It is not my fault he cannot follow simple directions.”

“It is your fault for not keeping him entertained. You know by now how easily
Marcaunon gets into trouble. This is the sixth time this month I have found him wandering the forest alone, and the second time I have saved him from certain death!” Haldir accused.

The pale Elf just stared back at him levelly.

“I have spoken to the Lord and Lady about your failure to do your job,” Haldir stated. “They were not happy that the little lord again found himself in danger. You will not have to worry about such important responsibilities in the future, as it is clear that other thoughts occupy your mind.”

“You got me removed from my post?” Locien questioned, incensed. “What right do you have…”

“I care about Marcaunon!” Haldir shouted. “That gives me the right to make sure that he remains safe and alive. And he will obviously not remain so much longer under your lackluster care.”

“And who is going to replace me?” Locien sneered. “Are there many guards lined up for the position of glorified babysitter to the little balrog we are forced to call our lord?”

Haldir shot Locien a glare.

“I have given up my position as marchwarden until time comes that Marcaunon can defend himself to my satisfaction. The Lord and Lady have promised that the position will be held by Rumil until such a time that I am ready to return. I will no longer trust the safety of my lord to any sword but my own,” Haldir declared passionately, storming from the room.

Locien snorted once the door slammed shut.

“Well, if he has to learn to defend himself to your satisfaction, I am sure that you will never be returning to your post as marchwarden,” the blonde muttered nastily. “Perhaps ada can find a way for me to fill that position for you…”

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Four years later…

Caras Galadhon of Lothlorien, T.A. 2520

“Naneth,” Harry whined. “When can Haldir begin training me to fight? I am nearly grown!”

Galadriel smiled fondly at her beautiful child. What a heart-breaker he was going to be once fully grown…A beauty to rivel her own and that of Arwen put together…

“You are but eleven summers, my dear Marcaunon,” she told her son. “Why do you wish to grow up so quickly?”

“I am the only Elfling in the entire realm!” Marcaunon complained. “I do not wish to be protected any longer. I want to help Lothlorien like Haldir, instead of forcing him to protect me!”

“Who told you that Haldir is forced to protect you?” Galadriel asked gently. “He cares for you very much, and it is no chore at all. Of that I am certain.”

“Locien said…” Marcaunon began.

“Do not listen to him, my son,” Celeborn interrupted. “Locien just enjoys causing trouble and confusion…it is very unbecoming of an Elf.”

Marcaunon pouted.

“But he said that he was going to be Marchwarden of the Northern Border, and that Haldir would never get the position back because of me!” he whined.

“Do not worry yourself with such things, my son,” Galadriel advised. “Haldir was promised his position whenever he wishes to return to it. Until then, Rumil and Orophin are leading the northern guards well.”

“Hmph,” Marcaunon huffed. “Well, if you would allow him to train me, Haldir could return to his post sooner!”

Galadriel smiled as Marcaunon stomped off dramatically, upset at not getting his way.

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A few hours later…

“Are you well, my little lord?” Haldir asked, concerned when the fair Elfling winced.

“I…I have been feeling strangely, as of late,” Harry admitted.

“We shall go to see the healer then,” Haldir commanded as his charge grimaced yet again.

“No!” Harry said loudly, embarrassed as his perceived weakness. “Just…stop being so loud.”

“So loud?” Haldir repeated blankly. “Marcaunon, I am not speaking any louder than usual.”

“Your presence,” Harry replied. “Your presence is too…too strong.”

Haldir caught the dark-haired Elfling as he crumpled to the ground.

“Guard!” he snarled to the blonde Elf guarding Marcaunon’s talan. “Send for the healers and request the Lord and Lady!”

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“I should have anticipated this,” Galadriel whispered as she sat at her son’s bedside. “Indilwen had some weak mind gifts, though she rarely used them.”

“Why did my presence pain him so, my lady?” Haldir questioned quietly, concerned about the pale Elfling lying still upon the bed.

“Yours is a strong personality. The sudden onset of your aura, your feelings, perhaps even some disjointed thoughts or memories…it would have been too much for Marcaunon without any shields guarding his own mind. It would be like…drowning,” the Lady explained, brushing Marcaunon’s dark hair back from his pale face.

“I hurt him so,” Haldir whispered sorrowfully, regret lining every inch of his beautiful features.

“You could not have known,” Galadriel responded. “I…I cannot use Nenya to shield him much longer. Sauron will take advantage of my distraction. I shall ask Lord Elrond to take care and train Marcaunon in Rivendell until Marcaunon can defend his own mind against attack.”

“When do we leave, my lady?” Haldir questioned.

The Lady of Light smiled sadly.

“You cannot go with him, Haldir. You care for him too much, and the quick shields I will teach him to guard his fragile mind will not long stand up against your concern. Not enough for Marcaunon to reach the safety of Rivendell and the healing of Lord Elrond with you at his side,” Galadriel explained softly.

“You ask me to abandon my promise?” Haldir asked. “What if he needs me? I do not trust the other guards…”

“The other guards are much more detached from the situation,” the Lady stated levelly. “Do not argue with me, Haldir. I know what is best for my son.”

“Of course, my lady,” Haldir agreed immediately, obviously upset.

“Marcaunon will depart for Rivendell as soon as possible,” Galadriel whispered, gaze locked upon her son’s pale face. “Say your farewells to him now, Haldir, for you cannot once he awakens. I will explain the situation to him.”

Haldir wanted to protest.

“But, my lady…” the guard began.

“Do as I bid, Haldir. I know you care for Marcaunon, but there are things in this world which you cannot protect him from. His own mind is one such thing,”
Galadriel declared, rising from her seat.

Haldir nodded, submitting to the decree of the Lady.

How he would miss his little lord…

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A few months later…
Rivendell, T.A. 2520

“Elladan?” Marcaunon questioned. “Why does everyone call me ‘little lord of the home’?”

Elladan smiled fondly upon the son of his grandparents – he could not consider this tiny Elfling his uncle.

“Marcaunon means ‘lord of the home’,” he replied. “And they add ‘little’ because that is what you are.”

The dark-haired Elfling pouted at that.

“I do not like my name,” he announced.

“Oh?” Elrohir asked, locking eyes with his twin in amusement. “Then what shall we call you? Henry?”

“Henry?” Marcaunon said, curling his lip in distain. “Where did you get such a name?”

“It is your name in Westron,” Elrohir replied. “Well, that or Harry.”

The little Elfling’s emerald eyes lit up.

“Harry!” he shouted. “From now on, everyone shall call me Harry!”

He ran out of the room to share his lordly decree with all the realm – or at least any Elf within shouting distance.

And we all know how sensitive Elvish ears are…

“You have done it now, brother mine,” Elladan commented to his twin. “Once Marcaunon gets an idea in his head, he never gives up. He is as stubborn as Gandalf himself, that Elfling. Soon the entire realm shall know him as ‘Harry’.”

Elrohir winced.

“The Lord and Lady of the Wood are not going to be happy, are they?” he questioned.

“I would worry more about Haldir, if I were you,” Elladan replied mirthfully.

His brother paled.

Marcaunon’s guard was extremely overprotective and strict in all things dealing with the little lord. And Elrohir did not have Marcaunon’s bright green eyes to help get away with murder…

It was a good thing Haldir was still in Lothlorien…
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