Title & Chapter Number: Misfits 20/30
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; Orophin comforts Haldir.
Notes: Thanks to everyone who has given commentary, feedback and support.
Haldir had not expected Melpomaen to come that night, not through the pouring rain and fierce winds that rocked the suspended walkways in a manner that seemed precarious to those unaccustomed to them. He had not given the matter much thought, but had planned to make the trip to the royal talan before sundown in order to take advantage of what little light there was on this gray and dismal day. Orophin had brought Peony up, not wanting to leave her alone in her house through the storm, and Haldir had accepted that, anticipating being absent from the talan during her stay. He'd been preparing to leave when he'd heard the knock at the door, and had been surprised and gratified to find Melpomaen standing there, soaked to the skin and looking thoroughly miserable.
The dark-haired elf had refused a change of clothes, but gladly accepted the offer of a towel. Instead of dripping on the divan, he'd taken a seat on the floor beside an equally wet Peony, unmindful of the odor of wet dog and the loose fur that was now clinging to his green leggings. Haldir had brought him a mug of hot cider, and then he too had settled onto the floor with his lover and his brother's animal.
"Are you sure you don't want something else to wear?" he asked, and Melpomaen shook his head. Strands of wet hair stuck to his cheeks, and he brushed them aside with an irritated scowl.
"No, I'm fine, Haldir." Even white teeth briefly appeared as he bit his lower lip. Haldir frowned, a familiar feeling of giddy nervousness twisting his stomach.
"Is something wrong?" he asked carefully, uncertain as to whether he wanted to hear Melpomaen's answer. There was only one thing that he could think of that might be bothering Melpomaen; a time and a date that Haldir did not want to think about.
"Haldir," Melpomaen said. His eyes darted to the floor, then back to meet Haldir's gaze. "Haldir, we're going to be going home soon, and I'm going to miss you."
Haldir had known it was coming. He'd known it was coming since the moment he'd seen Lord Elrond's entourage at the edge of the Golden Wood, known it since the first night he'd spent in Melpomaen's arms. They had come from Imladris; they would return to Imladris. It was as simple and obvious as the rising and setting of the sun, the one a perfect predictor of the other. Nevertheless, Haldir felt himself freeze, felt the uneasiness at the pit of his stomach form into a hard, desperate knot.
"Must you?" he asked, numb lips moving as if of their own accord. He could hear his voice, but it seemed to him as if it was some other elf speaking, certainly not himself. Haldir of `Lorien would not ask such a thing. Still, the voice was his, and so it had to be him. "Could you not remain yet a while longer?"
"No," Melpomaen said softly. "Haldir, you must understand. My work is in Imladris, as are my friends, and my family is near. I can not forsake what I have now."
"Of course not," he replied. His tone was even. There was no hint of harshness to give away his feelings, and he mentally congratulated himself even as he blinked hard against an unaccustomed stinging in his eyes. "You want to be an archivist there."
"Yes, and other things. You understand, don't you?"
"Aye. I am sworn to my duty, as well." It was different, and both of them knew it. Haldir had sworn an oath to defend and protect Lothlorien; his work was not mere duty or the following of a whim, but the ongoing fulfillment of a vow. If Melpomaen had sworn an oath to Lord Elrond, he had never spoken of it.
"I do care about you, Haldir. A great deal."
"I know." He rose abruptly to his feet. "Well, I didn't have a chance to clear the talan tonight. I wasn't expecting you to come through the rain." There was not much to clear, but Haldir began picking up the few odd dishes Orophin had left out, then swiftly began shelving the books lying on a table beside the rocker. Melpomaen stared, eyes round and wide as Haldir hurried about the room. It didn't matter. Haldir knew he was behaving oddly, but the thought of sitting back down across from his soaking wet, beautiful, leaving lover was more than Haldir could take.
"Do you want to stay the night?" he asked, his back turned as he set a small yarn doll back in its place on a high shelf. Behind him, Melpomaen cleared his throat.
"It's up to you, Haldir. Do you want me to?"
He didn't know if he did or not. Melpomaen was leaving. Everything he'd done and said had not succeeded in changing Melpomaen's mind. He thought of all the times he'd held his temper, all the careful words, the effort he had made for Melpomaen. Time had grown shorter and shorter; Melpomaen had said nothing and neither had he, and he'd thought that perhaps that meant something. Maybe, just maybe, the lovely, dark-haired elf truly did love him. And now…
"It doesn't matter to me," he said flatly.
"Maybe it would be better if I returned," Melpomaen said uncomfortably.
Haldir's shoulders slumped, but his voice did not waver. "That's why you didn't want a change of clothes."
"I didn't know what you would say, Haldir. I do love you."
"But you're leaving." He began to say something more, than stopped, reconsidered his words and then began again. "I'm sorry, Melpomaen. You never gave me reason to think you would do otherwise. I merely hoped that you might."
"I'm sorry." Melpomaen's voice was low and gentle, coming from directly behind Haldir. The taller elf turned, and was surprised to find Melpomaen standing close behind him. He had not heard him rise, nor had he heard his approaching footsteps. Inwardly he berated himself for his inattention. "Haldir…" his eyes were deep, eloquent with pain, and Haldir could not help himself. He pulled the bedraggled elf into his embrace, held him tightly, forcing down the knot that had formed in his throat even as he refused to loose his hold.
"I love you, Melpomaen," he whispered into wet, wind-tousled hair, and he thought he heard a small sob in reply. "I understand."
"Why do you love me?" Melpomaen mumbled into the taller elf's shoulder, and Haldir shrugged, helpless to translate feelings into words. At last Melpomaen pulled away from him, eyes downcast, hands clasped before him. "Do you want me to stay tonight?"
"No." Haldir's voice was thick with unvoiced feeling. "I don't think that would be such a good idea. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Melpomaen whispered. He turned toward the door. "I do love you."
"Get out." There was no heat in his words, only hurt and the desire to finish swiftly what could not be salvaged. "I don't want to hear anymore."
"Alright." Melpomaen's hand rested on the door latch. He turned back to face Haldir, his expression one of pure misery. "I didn't know what to do."
"Fine. Good night, Melpomaen."
The younger elf stood as if frozen, and at last it was Haldir who left, turning his back on Melpomaen's slender form and walking, head down, into the shadowed kitchen archway and thence to his chambers. A few moments later he heard the snick of the door latch, and he sank down onto his bed, burying his face in his hands.
~*~*~*~
There was not so much as a single candle burning when Orophin returned to the talan, and he nearly tripped over Peony as he carefully crossed the darkened family room. He frowned as he rounded the corner to his room. The hour was not that late, and Haldir almost always left a light for him; indeed, he was surprised that Haldir was not still awake. There was no sound of quiet voices, nor any of the other sounds that Orophin had grown accustomed to hearing when Melpomaen stayed the night. A quick glance back into the family room revealed Haldir's cloak, still hanging on its hook by the door. His brother was home, and for some reason he was alone, either asleep or lying awake in the dark.
Orophin paused in the archway, for the first time consciously trying to hear what might be going on beyond his brother's door. His eyes widened as he listened. There was a sound, faint but there, inaudible unless one was straining to hear it. Haldir was crying. Orophin had never in his life seen or heard Haldir cry, and his own heart ached at the unfamiliar sound.
For a long moment, he hovered in the short hall, caught between knocking on Haldir's door and slipping past to his own room. The sound of those low, choked sobs frightened him, left him feeling unsure, unbalanced, lost. Haldir was not supposed to cry. Haldir was the strong one, the one who had comforted him when he had cried, the one who did not need comfort. Orophin wavered, started to turn away from the forbidding blankness of his brother's door and the sounds behind it, and then abruptly turned back. Swiftly, before he could lose his nerve, he rapped his knuckles against the smooth wood.
Silence. Orophin felt tears prick at his own eyes as he strained to hear. There was nothing, no sound at all, and he felt a sudden jolt of inexplicable fear. Once more he rapped at the door, listening. Still nothing, and then the sound of renewed sobs, lower than before and nearly inaudible.
"Haldir?" he called. "Haldir, please, are you alright?" He berated himself for the frightened quality of his voice, but there still was no answer. He knocked again, louder this time, more insistent. "Haldir?"
"I'm fine, dammit. Go away." It sounded like Haldir, impatient and at the edge of his temper, but there was a faintly watery quality to his words that made Orophin's stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot. He let his hand fall to the door latch, and, though he'd never entered either of his brothers' rooms without leave, he turned it and pushed the door carefully open.
The sight that met his eyes caused his heart to rise into his throat. Haldir sat on the edge of his bed, head bowed, golden hair shimmering in the moon's light. His shoulders were slumped and trembling, and he did not look up as Orophin stepped tentatively into the room.
"I said I'm fine!" he snarled. "Go feed your dog. Or bathe her. Or something."
"You're not fine," Orophin said, his own voice trembling. "You're crying, Haldir." He crossed the room and, greatly daring, sat down beside him. "What happened?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It does." He wrapped an arm tentatively around his brother's waist. Haldir did not give in to the embrace, but neither did he pull away from it. "When I was an elfling, you used to sit with me when I cried."
"Do I look like an elfling?" Haldir snapped. He still had not raised his head, and, though he had brought his voice under control, his shoulders still shook with silent sobs.
"No. But I love you, Haldir," he whispered, and Haldir abruptly stiffened, twisting away from his brother's gentle hold. Fresh tears began to flow, and this time the flood of emotion was more than he could hold back. Orophin blinked, utterly unprepared for his brother's reaction to his simple declaration of caring. He didn't think, but immediately acted, sliding over to hold his brother in his arms just as he had once been held, and though Haldir resisted at first, he finally allowed the warm contact. Cold refusal became almost desperate neediness, and Orophin found himself caught in his brother's steel grip, helplessly stroking Haldir's broad back as the older elf wept against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Haldir, it's alright," he soothed. "Please stop crying."
"Melpomaen's leaving," Haldir said, the words somewhat muffled. "I knew he would be, but…"
"I know. You wanted him to stay. I'm so sorry I couldn't help you, Haldir, so sorry," Orophin said. "I didn't know what to do."
"It's not your fault, Orophin. It's me." He inhaled deeply, at last raising his head. Orophin reached to push his loose tresses back behind his ears, and was appalled to find him red eyed, cheeks flushed and tear stained. He felt a moment of nearly nauseating vertigo as he looked at Haldir - saw the bloodshot eyes and trembling lips. This was not the way things were supposed to be, and he felt a brief, vicious stab of hatred toward Melpomaen as he gently caressed his brother's cheek.
"It's not you; it's him. He should be proud to stay here with you." Haldir did not dignify that statement with a reply, and Orophin sighed, tongue darting out to touch his upper lip. "You're the best, Haldir; I know because you've told me so. All the Galadhrim are jealous of you, and you're Lady Arwen's best friend. You took care of me and Rumil, and you do everything better than everyone else."
Haldir's expression twisted into a sneer at his brother's words. "Not everything, it seems. You think too much of me, Orophin."
"I don't," his brother replied. "I couldn't. There will be someone else for you, I know there will be."
"And what if I don't want anyone else?"
To that, Orophin had no answer. "Do you want me to stay with you?" he asked instead, and again he saw a flash of pain in Haldir's eyes, bright and jagged edged. No answer came, but Orophin had not been expecting one. Silence was the closest his eldest brother would come to admitting need, and Orophin accepted that silence without comment. Kicking off his boots, he pulled Haldir back against the coverlet and lay down beside him, enfolding him in his arms. It felt wrong to be holding Haldir instead of being held, but he forced back that shamefully selfish thought, and gently kissed Haldir's cheek.
"Thank you, Orophin. I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for. You can sleep now. I won't leave."
"I know you won't."
No further words were spoken, and the elder lay in the embrace of the younger, quietly shattered and seemingly held together only by the strength of Orophin's arms.
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