Title & Chapter Number: Misfits 23/30
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 Rumil talk.
Notes: Thanks to everyone who has given commentary, feedback and support.
There was always tension in the north and east, those borders of Lothlorien that were near to Mirkwood and Dol Goldur, where the bastard offspring of Shelob yet haunted as well as Sauron's orcs. The council had driven the darkness from the land which had once been called Green, but the wood elves yet fought the creatures of darkness that attacked and then fell back, their numbers falling and then rising, and falling again, in a constant cycle of jealous hatred born of evil. At times, those creatures dared greater quarry, or wandered from their courses to fall into the sights of the archers of the Golden Wood. There, at the northern and eastern borders, they were slain, cut down by arrows raining from above or pierced by steel wielded by the merciless Guardians.
Haldir had returned to the north the day after Lord Elrond's entourage had left, rewriting the schedule to keep himself far from the city for as long as possible. The tension suited him, as did the sporadic engagements with the enemy, and occasional sorties over the border to make preemptive strikes against those fell creatures who came too near for comfort. His swift rescheduling had made it necessary for him to place himself with Rumil for a longer stretch than he liked, and it also left Orophin with an unexpectedly lengthy leave of absence. Haldir could have cared less; in his opinion, the elder of his two brothers deserved the extra duty, and the youngest had earned a vacation.
Looking Orophin in the eye had been difficult on the morning after Melpomaen's last visit. Haldir's memory of that night and the following day was one he tried to keep at arm's length, but which tormented him nevertheless. It was not like him to weep, not like him to need comfort. Orophin had given that comfort, though he'd obviously been distressed himself by Haldir's unexpected and unnerving collapse. Shame had mingled with the pain of loss as he'd wept in Orophin's arms, listening to the soft words of gently sympathy spoken by his tenderhearted brother.
He'd let Orophin stay with him, unable to ask but also unable to drive him away, and when Haldir had awakened in his youngest brother's arms he'd been momentarily and uncharacteristically disoriented. It had not been Melpomaen's slight figure nestled close to him, Melpomaen's small hands resting on his back, nor Melpomaen's chest his head had been resting upon. Memory had returned when he'd opened his eyes to see blond hair, slightly lighter than his own, trailing across the pillow, and he'd immediately shut his eyes again. For the first time in his life, he'd felt the urge to simply keep his eyes closed until everything around him went away.
Orophin had not allowed that. Instead, he had dragged Haldir out of bed and fixed a bizarre breakfast that included virtually everything in the pantry, a meal fit for an army of hobbits served by his overly solicitous, subdued sibling. He'd had little appetite, but his urge to argue with his brother had been at a remarkably low ebb. It had been easier to eat, mechanically forking one bite after another into his mouth while Orophin fussed about him. However, he had drawn the line when Orophin had attempted to comb his hair for him. As soon as he'd eaten enough to satisfy Orophin's worry, he'd dressed and braided his hair, and departed for the barracks office to prepare for duty.
Now he sat cross-legged in the middle of one of the small wooden flets hidden in the trees, staring blankly out at the softly glowing mellyrn, gold blended with Ithil's silver light. This tour of duty had been quieter than he'd either expected or wanted. A small group of orcs had been slaughtered a few days back; a small group of travelers had been politely but firmly redirected around rather than through Lothlorien's borders. That had been all, and the unwanted quiet left him with nothing more than time. Time in which to remember; time in which to think.
"Haldir," Rumil's voice was soft, barely above a whisper. It was his on-duty voice, different from the bright tones Haldir was accustomed to hearing at home, a voice meant to carry no further than the person to whom he spoke. Haldir narrowed his eyes, offering his brother a blistering glare.
"If you wish to complain about the new schedule, you can feel free to direct a memorandum on that topic to the high general's advisory staff, or to Lord Celeborn, or send it by ship to the Valar themselves, but do not bother taking it up with me."
"I'm not here about the schedule," Rumil replied, ignoring Haldir's harsh tone. "I'm here because of you. What happened?"
"Nothing has happened." He replied.
Rumil made his way to Haldir's side, gracefully seating himself by his elder brother. For a long time neither said a word. Haldir cast his brother an oblique glance, licked his lips, and finally spoke. "I do not care to discuss my personal affairs here."
"Haldir." The look Rumil gave him was reproachful. "How long have we served together that you think that I would forget my place here so easily, merely because I am interested in you?"
Haldir grinned, but it was steel-edged rather than humor softened. "I am so blessed. In the past three months, both of my brothers have declared their interest in me."
Rumil blinked, the reference escaping him, but he refused to be diverted. "Please tell me what happened - with Melpomaen."
"You could always wait and ask Orophin next time you are on leave," Haldir said sharply, and Rumil winced.
"He told you."
"You should have known he would," Haldir said impatiently. "Of all the people whom you could have chosen to mind my business, why Orophin?"
"Because he loves you." He was also the only one whom Rumil could have asked, but he decided to leave that out. "Orophin looks up to you. You know that, Haldir. He'd do anything for you."
To that Haldir had nothing to say. He returned his gaze to the trees, jaw set, fingers tightly interlocked where they rested on his lap. There could be no argument, no rejoinder to that, nor means to express the many ways in which he found his youngest brother's simple adoration suffocating rather than reassuring. And then there had been that first night without Melpomaen, and Orophin's gentle pleading: --Please stop crying, Haldir-- The memory of that made him feel guilty, weak, undeserving of the constant admiration that he so often lost his patience with, and which seemed to be shared by no one else.
"What happened?" Rumil asked again, and this time Haldir shrugged, the gesture almost angry in its sudden ferocity.
"As I said, nothing happened. Lord Elrond's entourage went home. Arwen decided to go with her parents, and Melpomaen returned to his duties, just as I had to return to mine."
"I see," Rumil replied softly. "I'm sorry, Haldir."
"For what?" he asked brusquely.
"I know you wanted Melpomaen to stay."
"Want does not consult necessity," Haldir recited. It was a proverb his mother had used, a comfortless saying which he'd first said to himself on the day that word had come to him that his mother and father were not returning home, but traveling on to the great ships docked at the Gray Havens' harbor. He'd recited it to both Rumil and Orophin on countless occasions, and now, once again, he was saying it to himself.
"Want and need are not always separate things. I know you love him."
"I'm moving when we return," Haldir said abruptly, changing the subject. Rumil frowned.
"You've talked about that off and on for years. Why now?"
"Why not now?" Haldir replied. "I'm tired of never having any privacy."
"Orophin will be upset," Rumil offered. Haldir shrugged.
"Orophin will get over it. And it's not as if I'm moving to Mordor; he will still see me. You and Liaane can have the family talan; keep Orophin and Peony as pets."
"Why must you always be so callous toward him, Haldir?" Rumil asked. Though he did not raise his voice, there was more than a hint of irritation in his tone. Haldir glanced at him sharply, raising a slender eyebrow.
"Because I won't remain in the family talan forever? Because I assume you will eventually want to settle down and have a family of your own?"
"No," Rumil said tightly. "Because you treat him as if he was nothing more than an annoyance, something of only slightly greater significance than that barking mop he brought back from patrol."
"That is not true," Haldir said stolidly. "He is of great value on patrols. I never doubt him in the field."
"In the field," Rumil repeated acerbically. "Has it not occurred to you that your relationship to him as an officer is the least important in his eyes? You're his hero, Haldir!"
"Maybe I shouldn't be," Haldir retorted. "He's a bit old for hero worship, and I'm not really hero material, now am I?" His words were heavily laced with sarcasm, and Rumil flinched, momentarily stunned by the vitriol behind his brother's words.
"Haldir… I do not understand."
"Really? Do you think I do not see the pitying looks, or the curiosity? Do you think I do not know why Melpomaen-" he stopped abruptly, his words cut off as if by a knife.
"Why Melpomaen did what?" Rumil asked carefully. Haldir turned to stare at him, his hazel eyes full of bitterness.
"What you expected him to do. Why else would you have set Orophin to `take care of me,' as he put it? But, since you're interested, I'll spare you the wait and give you the details myself. He told me he was leaving, I sent him home, then wept like a child who'd lost his favorite toy and had to be comforted by Orophin. Are you satisfied now? Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"No, Haldir," Rumil whispered. "Do you truly think us so unfeeling that we'd hope for your suffering?" Haldir made no response, and Rumil continued. "And, if Melpomaen chose not to stay for reasons as shallow as those you ascribe to him, then he is not worth having."
"Again I am gifted with the wisdom of the ages. Though, I must say this is better than your last two bits of advice. `Take down your hair,' and `bring him a bottle of massage oil.'"
"I'm sorry, Haldir," Rumil said. "I only wish you the best. You know that, don't you?"
Haldir looked down at his hands, still interlaced, still white at the knuckles. "I do, Rumil. I am the one who should be sorry. This is not your fault."
"Give it time, Haldir."
"Aye, time. That we have plenty of." He turned his gaze skyward to where Ithil rode the night sky. "You should get some sleep before it is your turn for watch."
"And what of you?"
"I'll sleep. Eventually." He waved a hand at Rumil, shooing him away with a gesture that was almost comical. "Go."
"Alright." Rumil rose, lightly brushing his knuckles across Haldir's braids as he did so. "You believe me, though, that I only wanted the best for you?"
"Yes, Rumil. Good night, Rumil."
"Good night, Haldir." He knew he would get no further with his brother, and with a final, abbreviated salute he stepped over the flet's edge and onto the first nearly invisible rung of the half-ladder beneath it. Instead of continuing downward to the forest floor, he moved with light dexterity from rung to branches and boughs, finally coming to another flet both higher and broader than the one Haldir had claimed. The shapes of several sleeping guardians could be discerned, each wrapped in thin, green mottled blankets. Rumil silently stepped around and over them, working his way to his own blanket on the opposite edge.
Far below, Haldir remained, still staring into the golden glow and midnight darkness, body still, hands interlaced.
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