Title & Chapter Number: Misfits 14/30
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: Rumil and Orophin talk.
Notes: Thanks to everyone who has given commentary, feedback and support.
First light had not yet dawned when Rumil emerged from his room, fully dressed in the greens and grays of the Galadhrim, hair braided and weapons at the ready. Unlike his brothers, he was not by nature an early riser, and, aside from the necessity of it during his tours of duty, he had no great desire to watch the sunrise. His face was set in a scowl as he strode into the small kitchen, and Orophin's presence at the stove did nothing to alleviate his ill temper. He paused in the doorway, resigned to the cheerful greeting he knew awaited him.
"I'm making breakfast," Orophin said, and Rumil cocked an exasperated eyebrow at his brother's back.
"I noticed. Eggs and…?" he asked. It was a given that there would be eggs; Orophin seemed to feel that eggs were a requirement in the morning. It was one of the few things on which he and Haldir concurred.
"Griddle cakes." He glanced back over his shoulder, his expression oddly guarded. "Is Melpomaen still here?"
"Yes, indeed he is," Rumil said through gritted teeth. "And I can tell you exactly what time he and Haldir went to bed, what time they actually fell asleep, what time they woke up later in the night, and when they fell asleep again."
"Oh." Orophin flipped a cake in the skillet, and bowed his head in thought. "Do you know if Haldir is upset?"
"He didn't sound upset at third watch this morning. Why?"
"Well, I know what time they went to bed, too. They were… um, in the living room when I got home." He transferred the cakes to a plate and cracked a couple of eggs over the skillet, attention fixed on his task as if it required complete focus. Rumil frowned ponderously as his brother's words filtered down through his sleep-fogged mind.
"You walked in on them - in the living room," he said, reaching the correct conclusion in a sudden lightening flash of deduction.
"Haldir didn't sound angry…"
"Huh. So that's what they were arguing about for the first half hour."
"They argued?" Orophin's expression was concerned as he carried the plate to the table. "I didn't mean to, Rumil. I mean, that was truly the last thing I expected…"
Rumil sighed as he dropped into a chair and set about buttering the cakes. "You don't need to apologize for walking into your own home."
"But you know how Haldir is."
"Yes, and I think Melpomaen was probably the one upset, not Haldir. Haldir should have had enough sense to take it to his room, and I have a hard time believing that he'd have that kind of lapse in judgment."
Orophin frowned. "Melpomaen seems nice."
"Uh huh." Rumil frowned into his plate as he began shoveling alternating bites of eggs and flat cakes into his mouth. There was half an hour to spare before he would have to depart - not enough time to explain everything to Orophin. Rumil cogitated as he ate, pausing to take a swallow from the cup of juice Orophin set in front of him.
"Too much grease on the griddle, Orophin," he mumbled around a mouthful of food, and Orophin frowned defensively.
"Maybe you put too much butter on them," Orophin suggested.
"I know exactly how much butter I like on my flat cakes, and the butter is not the problem."
"Next time you can make your own breakfast if you'd prefer," Orophin retorted. Rumil said nothing, and Orophin stood irresolutely between table and stove, spatula still in hand. His frown wavered, and at last he dropped the spatula into the wash basin. "Next time I'll try the corn oil."
"That might work. Now, listen, because this is important; Haldir needs guidance."
"Haldir needs guidance," Orophin repeated uncertainly. "Rumil, Haldir has never needed my guidance on anything in his entire life."
"Yes, but this is different. He's going to ruin things with Melpomaen if someone doesn't help him out, and I'm not going to be here to do it. That leaves you."
"You're not saying this just because they argued last night, are you? Everyone argues from time to time; it doesn't mean anything."
"This time it does." Rumil leveled his egg-laden fork at Orophin, expression serious. "Now you're going to need to be aware of a little more than your dog because this is important. This is Haldir's first lover."
"I'd think that it's his business." Orophin wore a mulish expression, and Rumil inwardly groaned. Overall, his youngest brother was of a tractable nature, but when his mind was set he could be difficult to persuade. "You might feel up to nosing into his personal life, but I have no desire to spend the next six months in the outback of nowhere. Do you remember the time I decided to paint his room for him?"
Rumil winced. It had actually been a quite attractive shade of blue, but Haldir had taken exception to it in a rather spectacular way. It had been almost a year after the incident before Orophin had quit calling Haldir "Sir," even at home.
"This is not like that, and I promise that if there are any problems I'll take care of it. Or at least trade duties with you."
"No matter what he comes up with?" Orophin looked skeptical.
"No matter what," Rumil replied. He willed away the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Orophin would not have been his first choice had he any other options; though he was hopeful that their efforts would be beneficial, he had no doubts as to how Haldir would feel about their meddling. Their eldest brother had never taken kindly to others doing things for his own good, and Rumil knew it. Still, he had to make the attempt.
"What exactly do I need to be aware of?"
"Well, you know…" He waved his free hand vaguely as he neatly dispatched the last bite of griddlecake. Orophin stared perplexedly at him.
"No, I don't."
"Get him to talk. That's important."
"You must be speaking in jest." Orophin rolled his eyes. "Haldir talks at me. We don't talk with each other."
"Now, that's not true." Rumil wiped his mouth absently with his sleeve, gazing across at his brother with all evidence of sincerity. "Think of how he's been lately. I bet you didn't really think he'd let you keep Peony, now did you?"
"Well, no. Not really." Orophin's face lit up. "And he wasn't angry with me for forgetting my pack in front of the door, either."
"Yes, he's been in a remarkably good mood. Talkative. He came to see me a while back at the White Swan." That was true enough, though Haldir's motivations for the visit hadn't been social. Rumil saw no reason to explain that to Orophin.
"Talkative. Hmm. Did he bring Melpomaen to The Swan?" Orophin asked.
"No, that was actually a little before they became an item."
"I see." Orophin frowned as he took a seat opposite Rumil. "So, what manner of advice do you want me to give him?"
"Well, don't advise, at least not per se… you can't make him feel that you're telling him what he should do."
"Uh huh. This sounds manipulative, Rumil."
Rumil closed his eyes and mentally composed a brief and fervent prayer to the Valar. "I am not asking you to trick Haldir, or to do anything that would be… upsetting. Just talk to him, and use your own best judgment."
"Rumil, that won't work!" Anxiety gave way to alarm. Rumil made an emphatic hushing gesture at him, eyes darting to the archway. Orophin lowered his voice, but his tone still carried an edge of panic. "You can't just expect me to know what to say."
"You don't give yourself enough credit, little brother. You've had lovers before; I daresay you know more about it than he does."
Orophin blushed. "It's different. This is Haldir we're talking about. He's not going to listen to anything I have to say."
"We've already been over this." Rumil rose to his feet. "He will listen, and I have every confidence in you." That was straining matters quite a bit, but he mustered all the sincerity he could manage as he clapped his brother on the shoulder. "You've a talent for seeing through complications, getting down to the basics. I don't think either Haldir or Melpomaen are much good at that."
"But where do I begin?" Orophin nearly wailed, and Rumil produced another manufactured smile.
"Keep him happy. Ask him about the trials and travails of being a leader among the Galadhrim. Ask him to teach you how to do something. Tell him how much you admire the way he handles his bow. Just get him talking. And be subtle."
"Subtle." There was hopeless puzzlement in Orophin's tone. Rumil felt his smile wavering at the edges, but held onto it grimly.
"Yes. And now I have to go. I know you'll manage."
Orophin trailed after him to the door, eyes downcast as if he were being led to the gallows. He'd been looking forward to returning to the city, but now he wished he were still on patrol. There would be no parties or trysts with pretty elf maids for him, not if he had to take care of Haldir, as Rumil wanted him to do. Orophin shivered; the mere idea of taking care of Haldir made him shake in his boots.
"Rumil, maybe I could go instead of you. You're better at these things."
"I would if I could, but you know Haldir would have my head if I switched with you this late." Rumil beamed at him, and Orophin managed a smile that looked more like a grimace. "See you later, Orophin."
"See you, Rumil."
Orophin swallowed hard as his brother strode out the door, leaving him in oppressive silence. Outside he could hear the sound of Rumil's boot heels carrying him down the walkway, away from their talan and their eldest brother's troubled love life. Heaving a sigh, he turned back to the kitchen to wash the breakfast dishes and formulate a plan. Not that any plan of his would make any difference to him, Orophin reflected resentfully. If matters didn't work out with Haldir, he'd be in trouble with Rumil. Either way, he'd almost certainly end up in trouble with Haldir. All around, his choices looked bleak.
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