Title & Chapter Number: Misfits 16/30
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: Haldir and Melpomaen talk.
Notes: Thanks to everyone who has given commentary, feedback and support.
Special thanks to Circe and Jess, whose insights and suggestions have been invaluable in the writing of chapters sixteen through twenty-five.
Haldir was grateful for the narrowness of his bed, the lack of space in which to stretch out or move away. Melpomaen had no choice but to lie in his arms during those tender moments before and after lovemaking, nor could he curl away from Haldir when sleep began to settle. Within the confines of smooth sheets and soft pillows, Haldir did not have to wonder whether his touch was welcome, or how contact might be interpreted.
Since the night Haldir had made love to Melpomaen, his urge to touch had become insistent, almost obsessive. It was almost as if he half-believed Melpomaen to be a ghost, and had to lay hands on him to continually reassure himself of his lover's reality. Haldir did not want ethereality or ghostly gossamer, but solidity, undeniable in shape, weight, and heat. His hands had become butterflies constantly dancing about his lover's form, skating lightly over braids, resting on shoulders, brushing against hips. Each time he touched, Melpomaen was still there, and every time his hands moved away doubt would encroach once more.
"I should have realized that your parents were gone, Haldir. I'm sorry." His cheek rested in the hollow of Haldir's shoulder; his voice was soft, his breath a warm, gentle breeze against Haldir's bare skin. Haldir touched his hair lightly.
"It was a long time ago."
"Does that matter?"
Haldir considered the question, letting his thoughts drift back, not to the day his mother and father had left - he had not actually seen them leave - but rather to the week following that day. It had not been the same as watching Rumil for a few weeks while their parents visited Imladris; not the same at all when the only guardian to survive that ill-fated journey had settled baby Orophin into his arms. The archer had not given Haldir any words of sympathy, he himself had been too grief stricken at the deaths of his comrades to spare much sympathy for anyone.
"No, I don't suppose it does. I still miss them."
"Was it very difficult?" Melpomaen asked, and Haldir shrugged.
"Yes and no. Not the way Orophin thinks, anyway. He's always seemed to feel that he held me back somehow, and that's not how it was. What's a few decades, more or less?"
"A lot to someone his age, or mine," Melpomaen answered. "How old are you, Haldir?"
"One thousand and thirty eight. I'm not exactly ancient, you know." There was amusement in his tone rather than irritation, and Melpomaen dared a small chuckle. Haldir squeezed him in a one-armed hug. "I didn't mind working in the city, but I hated it. Do you understand what I mean?"
"You didn't mind it because it was for your family, but that didn't mean you were happy about it."
"Right." Haldir closed his eyes and sighed softly. "I was only officially off duty for a few months; long enough for Rumil to learn how to take care of Orophin while I was at the palace or on city patrol. That…" he licked his lips, frowning as he searched for the appropriate words, "that was the best and the worst time."
"How so?" Melpomaen asked. He shifted in Haldir's arms, turning his head so that he could see Haldir's face. The older elf's expression was both contemplative and strained, an odd combination that set incongruously on his softly molded face.
"I loved Orophin, but I hated being tied to the talan," he said abruptly. "There were times when he'd have me laughing so hard I could barely remain upright, and times when I thought I'd run screaming into the forest if I had to stay with him for another minute." His jaw tightened, and when he spoke again there was tension in his voice, along with guilt and shame. "There were times when I wished I could give him away. Then, later, I'd be feeding him or playing with him with his rattle and I'd think of that and feel… I'd feel terrible. It was better after Rumil learned to help."
"I can't even imagine that," Melpomaen said, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice. "Being alone with two elflings under such circumstances."
"Well, it wasn't so difficult. I was still entitled to everything I received while on duty; we weren't starving or lacking for anything."
"Still…" Melpomaen shook his head, his hair sliding against Haldir's chest. "Was Rumil good with him? Orophin, I mean."
"Yes, and I daresay he can't wait to marry and have a passel of elflings of his own." Haldir rolled his eyes. "He was easily distracted, though. Those first few weeks after I'd returned to duty I did nothing but worry from the time I left the talan until the time I returned to it."
"I can imagine."
"No, I don't think you can." There was nothing defensive or accusatory in Haldir's tone. He spoke calmly, surely. "It is not in our natures to feel so strongly, or to be so divided in our feelings."
"Really?" Melpomaen said. His brow furrowed as he considered Haldir's words, but when he looked up into the blond elf's face he saw it was once again smooth, serene. "There are many things I feel strongly about, and there have been times when my emotions have worked at cross purposes."
"But you weren't trapped, Melpomaen. You had a choice, whereas I had nothing but the task of reconciling my feelings with my situation. So much of what I felt was wrong; but that, at least, no longer matters."
"You can't help what you feel, Haldir," Melpomaen spoke tentatively. "It seems to me that when you speak of reconciliation, what you mean is that you think you should have been happy with the circumstances, or at least content."
Haldir shrugged. "Well, if that is what I mean, then it's something I never succeeded in. Rumil was always better with Orophin than I, and if matters improved it had more to do with Orophin growing older than with the development of patience on my part."
"You tried," Melpomaen said softly, and Haldir chuckled. This time the sound was low and bitter, and Melpomaen fidgeted uncomfortably at the sound of it.
"It's not those who try who take the gold medallion in the tournaments, but only those who succeed." Haldir glanced down at him, cocked a sarcastic brow. "And, besides, you were not there. How would you know if I tried?"
"Because I know you."
"Aye, that you do. And in more ways than one." The bitterness faded from his expression, leaving behind a slow-spreading smile that had nothing to do with questions of effort and success. Melpomaen returned the smile, but the expression he wore was troubled.
"You imagine yourself to be more unique than you are. I, too, have had opposing feelings on a single matter."
"Moving to Imladris?" Haldir asked. There was a hint of patronization in his tone, but Melpomaen ignored it. "You'd mentioned something about that."
"Yes. And other things."
"What things?" He pulled Melpomaen atop him, gazing into the younger elf's deep brown eyes. "What troubles your peace in the library of Imladris?"
"Does it matter?" Melpomaen responded, tossing Haldir's own words back at him.
Haldir smiled. "If it matters to you, then it matters to me."
"You needn't worry yourself on my account." He lowered himself and pressed his lips to Haldir's effectively cutting off any further words. When at last they parted, Haldir's cheeks were flushed, his eyes closed in an expression of purest bliss. "I only feel one way right at this moment," Melpomaen purred.
"As do I, dear one," Haldir breathed, and again their lips met, doubt temporarily banished once more.
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