Title & Chapter Number: Misfits 7/30
Author(s): - Author's Index
Fandom: Middle Earth
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own these settings or characters, and am making no profit from the writing and sharing of this story.
Warnings: Haldir's in it. Need I say more? /snicker
Betas: Circe
Cast: Haldir/Melpomaen
Timeline: TA AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: Arwen and Melpomaen go on a day trip; Haldir gives archery lessons; Arwen and Melpomaen talk.
Notes: Please accept my apologies for not having a complete list of thanks for chapters six and seven. Once again, stupid me lost my list. I promise to have it together for chapter eight.
Arwen's bow was smaller and lighter than those carried by the Galadhrim, but it was a real weapon rather than a lady's toy designed only for short range target shooting. She was a fair shot with it, too, and Melpomaen suspected that if she had the time and inclination to take archery seriously she'd eventually best Elladan, if not Elrohir, in the annual contests of skill. As it was she contented herself with watching the tournaments from the stands, and occasionally calling out instructions and advice - much to her brothers' annoyance.
Melpomaen tried not to fidget, or to look either Arwen or Haldir in the eye. Arwen knew something was being kept from her, and that had done nothing for her mood over the last few days. He didn't think she was capable of violence, but the idea of an irritated, bow-wielding Arwen was enough to make him nervous. As for Haldir… well, sooner or later Arwen would badger Melpomaen into taking a shot at the carefully placed target, and when that happened he was sure he'd sink through the ground in sheer embarrassment.
Silence reigned. Several yards away the ubiquitous lady's maid turned a page in her book, continuing to ignore the ongoing farce taking place within the clearing. Arwen cast Melpomaen a narrow glance before refocusing on her target. She drew and released, and her arrow flew straight, if not true, striking the edge of the third ring from the center. Melpomaen thought he heard stifled laughter from above them, and judging by the dark look on her face, Arwen had heard it, too.
"Some of us," Arwen spoke loudly to the mellyrn, "have other things pressing on our time besides target practice."
No reply was forthcoming. Melpomaen pictured gray and green clad defenders lounging amidst the concealing foliage, smirking. Arwen jerked another arrow from her quiver and fired, this time a bit more successfully. Colorful expletives reached Melpomaen's ears, and behind them Haldir chuckled.
"Did you learn that language from your mother, Arwen?" he asked snidely, and she cast a glare over her shoulder at him.
"No, I learned it from Lord Glorfindel, and I had advanced lessons from your little brothers. I wonder from whom they learned it?"
This time the rustling in the trees was more distinct, but it was Haldir instead of Arwen who directed a blood-curdling stare into the upper branches. Whereas Arwen usually settled for addressing the empty space above her head, Melpomaen got the clear impression that Haldir was actually marking the identities of the guardians who had drawn this particular detail. Silent stillness immediately resumed above them, and Melpomaen could not quite suppress a small trill of laughter.
It had been a bad move. Arwen's attention shifted from Haldir to Melpomaen, and, for the first time since they'd set out, a sincere smile curved her lips.
"I'm sorry, Melpomaen, I haven't let you have a turn yet."
"Oh, that's alright, Arwen." His heart abruptly plummeted into his stomach. "I didn't bring a bow."
She frowned in puzzlement. "So? You can use mine. It wouldn't be the first time."
Melpomaen took a deep breath and stepped forward as if he were approaching the gallows. It would do no good to argue, and would only draw more attention to himself. In Imladris it didn't bother him to fire off a few arrows alongside her, more in the spirit of comradery than out of any real interest in the sport. She wouldn't understand his sudden reticence, and Arwen was not known for her ability at picking up subtle hints. Best to get this exercise in humiliation over with quickly.
Arwen's bow was a little too light for him, as was its pull. Since she'd commenced teaching him archery, he'd learned to compensate for this, but he'd never practiced enough to be even remotely skilled, nor did he own a more appropriate weapon of his own. Heaving an interior sigh, he tried to block awareness of their invisible audience from his mind as he took a red fletched arrow from Arwen, nocked, drew, and released. It landed solidly in the outer ring, but Melpomaen felt grimly relieved that he'd at least managed to hit the target. He was about to step back when Arwen placed another arrow in his hand.
"I think you're improving," she said brightly, and Melpomaen suddenly and fervently wished that a freak bolt of lightening would strike him, thereby ending his silent misery. He felt as if he was moving in a nightmare as he released the second arrow, managing to do no worse than he had with the first. Melpomaen closed his eyes when another arrow was pressed into his hand, and blinked in confusion a moment later when he opened them to see that this one was white fletched instead of red.
"You shoot like a girl," a low voice spoke in the vicinity of his ear, and Melpomaen felt heat rising in his cheeks.
"And what's wrong with the way girls shoot?" Arwen asked. Her tone was calm and perfectly level; it could have been mistaken for the voice of reason by anyone who didn't know her. Melpomaen was familiar with the deceptive quiet that could precede Arwen's storms, and he froze, hands clenched on the smooth wood of bow and arrow.
"Nothing," Haldir replied smoothly, "if you're a girl. There's a difference to the way males and females handle a bow."
"I taught him," she said, and, though far from relieved, Melpomaen felt a lessening of silent tension.
"And a good job you've done of it. But…," large hands moved over him, adjusting his stance, re-aligning his shoulders, "I think this will help some." Haldir patted Melpomaen's arm lightly. "Now try."
Melpomaen doubted that any force under heaven could now carry any arrow of his to the target, but there was no way to back out. He swallowed and heard a dry click as his suddenly arid throat contracted, then he drew back and released Haldir's arrow.
"See?" Haldir said, and there was only the slightest tinge of amusement in his tone. Melpomaen stared. It had been a far from perfect shot, but he'd done much better with it than he had with the first two. He dared a glance over his shoulder, and Haldir smiled down at him. "You really need something heavier…," Haldir started to reach for his own bow, glanced back at Melpomaen and seemed to think better of it. "But Arwen's will do for now. Again."
Another arrow was handed to him, and again Haldir's hands arranged and re-positioned him. And then again. And again. And again. Melpomaen had no idea how the arrows were reaching the target; he had ceased to focus on the red inner ring after the second white fletched arrow was handed to him. His awareness was centered on strong hands, on the heat of Haldir's body so close behind him.
"You might as well be doing this for me," he finally said, and he could hear the smile in Haldir's response.
"Would you like me to?" Haldir didn't wait for a reply. Instead, he stepped closer, until his body was pressed firmly against Melpomaen's back. His strong hand covered Melpomaen's on the bow, and he drew an arrow from his quiver smoothly, placing it in Melpomaen's hand. Melpomaen's heart fluttered madly as his arms were raised higher than his own ability to aim would allow for, as the bowstring was pulled back as easily as if it was a strand of spider silk.
"Release," Haldir whispered, and Melpomaen barely felt the string leave his numb fingers. The whine of the arrow's flight was indistinguishable from the ringing in his ears, and he could only stare mutely as the projectile impaled the target's center ring. His head lolled back against Haldir's chest, and he could feel the soft breeze of Haldir's breath ruffling his hair.
"See? We'll make an archer of you in no time."
And to that Melpomaen had no reply. He nearly staggered as Haldir stepped away from him, and could not summon up the courage to glance back once more. Somewhere behind them he heard a book slam shut with heavy authority, and his eyes darted to Arwen. She stared back at him, eyes swallowing her face.
"Lady Arwen," a voice called from the clearing, "I think it's time we return to the palace."
"Yes, I quite agree." The smile she bestowed on Melpomaen held a glint with which he was all too familiar. "I'm sure you won't object if Lisaebette and I ride on ahead?"
"Not at all," Haldir answered for him, and Melpomaen nodded, stomach churning in expectation.
~*~*~*~
An hour later, Melpomaen opened the door to his room and was greeted by a well-aimed flying pillow. Arwen had further armed herself with the cushion from her rocking chair, and Melpomaen raised his hands to fend off the rain of ensuing blows.
"Why didn't you tell me!"
"I was going to!" He managed to get a grip on the cushion, and a brief tussle took place before Melpomaen wrested it away from her. "I was waiting for the appropriate time."
"The appropriate time?" Arwen asked. "And when would that have been? Three weeks after we'd returned home?"
"No… well, actually, I was going to tell you tonight."
"Uh huh." Her lips tightened, and she dropped down onto the edge of Melpomaen's bed. "May I have my cushion back?"
He eyed her warily but complied, stretching to maintain the greatest possible distance between them as he returned her weapon. Arwen snatched it from his hand, but appeared somewhat mollified.
"So… Haldir," she said contemplatively. Melpomaen fidgeted nervously, and Arwen's miffed expression abruptly shifted to a wide grin. "I guess you must have decided he's not so bad, after all."
"Aye." He felt a smile tugging at his lips, and he crossed the room to sit down beside her. A moment later his arms were crossed over his head as the cushion plummeted down in an unexpected attack.
"That's for going out without me," Arwen said primly, and Melpomaen laughed.
"Truce!"
"Alright… but only if you tell me everything."
"Everything?" He asked wickedly, and Arwen's eyes widened.
"Did he kiss you?" Melpomaen's face flushed scarlet, and Arwen squealed with delight. "He did! Ai, Elbereth, he kissed you! Did you like it? What was it like? I always thought that kissing Haldir would be like kissing Elladan while he's half asleep."
"Well, unlike you, apparently, I have no reference point on Elladan." He clamped his hand over the potentially deadly cushion before she could raise it. "But Haldir… well, Haldir," he paused, searching fruitlessly for words. "It's nice."
"Nice? That's all you have to say for it?"
Melpomaen thought of tangled limbs, tousled hair, and twining tongues, and blushed even more brightly. "Very nice."
"Oh, you. I would think someone as educated as yourself could do better than that." Melpomaen began to reply, but Arwen abruptly clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a new burst of giggles. "Was he the reason you were asking me about gifts?"
Melpomaen nodded, and Arwen collapsed backward onto the bed laughing until tears flowed. "You gave Haldir flowers!" Her words were barely intelligible through her giggles.
"I didn't actually give them to him." He shifted slightly, glancing back at Arwen's tear-streaked face. "It didn't seem like such a good idea once I'd actually left the palace."
"I would have loved to have seen the look on Haldir's face if you had given them to him. Or even better - the look on Rumil's face." She wiped her cheeks with her knuckles and grinned at him merrily. "Seriously, though, Haldir would have liked them; wouldn't have had any idea what to do with them or what to say about them, but he would have liked them."
Melpomaen's brow knit. "So you think I should have given them to him?"
"No!" She fought off a fresh wave of incipient laughter. "I don't know if either of you would have ever recovered from the trauma if you had! I'm just saying that Haldir is not so stiff and proper as he seems, not so lacking in sensitivity."
"I know," he said quietly, and her expression grew serious.
"Be careful, alright?" she asked. Melpomaen cast her a worried glance.
"You think Haldir would play me false?"
"No." Arwen bit at her lip, seeming to consider her words. "I mean be careful of him. Haldir… he's not like Rumil."
"I'd gathered that much."
Arwen slapped him lightly on the arm. "That's not what I meant. It's just that he does have feelings somewhere under there, and, though most people don't know it, they are hurt very easily."
"I'd guessed that." He glanced down into his lap, contemplated the backs of his folded hands before looking back at Arwen. "I promise I'll be careful."
"Good enough, then." She pushed herself upright and rose, reaching to tousle his hair. "I had better go back to my room to prepare for dinner. See you later tonight." She grabbed her cushion and headed for the door, pausing once before letting herself out. "Keep me informed!"
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