Title & Chapter Number: Misfits 26/30
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 goes shopping; Haldir and Rumil talk.
Notes: Thanks to everyone who has given commentary, feedback and support.
Talans were not locked in their owner's absence in Lothlorien for thievery was not an issue among the elves who resided there. The talans were so built as to use the mighty trees that held them to protect their inhabitants from all but the worst of the elements, and it was a rare thing for an elf to return from his business to a shuttered home. Only in the event of a particularly fierce storm would such be necessary, and then the homeowner could count on neighbors to let themselves in to shutter the glassless windows.
Haldir's mood was not lightened by the bright sunlight streaming through windows, or by the familiar comforts his family talan had to offer. He would have preferred to remain on duty, but Lord Celeborn himself had ordered this leave, and he'd been none too gentle in the giving of that order. Haldir still felt raw-edged after the reprimand he'd received from the Lord of the Golden Wood, and, though not pleased to be home, he was at least grateful to be away from the audience hall.
It had all come down to the thrice blasted schedule, and the chaos which had ensued when he'd attempted to place himself permanently in the field. If he'd been thinking it wouldn't have happened, but Haldir had to admit to himself that it had been a long while since he'd thought clearly about much of anything. He was not the only March Warden in the Golden Wood, though he was the highest placed, and what he had done had effectively barred two others from duty. Complaints had been made, and those complaints had led to this day's early morning meeting with Lord Celeborn himself, who wanted to know if he could handle such simple matters as managing the roster or if he needed someone to do it for him.
"You're still moping about Melpomaen," Rumil said. He lay sprawled across the divan, gazing at Haldir over the rim of a three-quarters full wine bottle. Haldir might have taken umbrage at the words, but his brother's tone was sympathetic. Sighing heavily, he dropped into the rocker.
"I can't seem to stop thinking about him. I don't know why." Haldir glared at the rug as he spoke, noting for the first time how truly old and ragged it had become. Its colors were faded, and he could see the floorboards through it in three different places. Looking up from it he felt a sudden surge of disoriented nausea. Everything was old; everything was faded, paling into a grayness of memory in the bright sunlight.
"This place is like a mausoleum, Rumil," he muttered darkly. "We need new… everything."
Rumil blinked, eyeing his brother warily as Haldir rose from the rocker and strode to the nearest window. "I never really thought about it, Haldir. It's just… home."
"Did you know these used to have a pattern of song birds on them?" Haldir said, plucking at the curtain. "The sun's faded it completely away." He gripped the fabric in his hand and abruptly yanked, jerking the offending material from the window - rod and all. Rumil jumped, sloshing wine onto the front of his tunic.
"Haldir…" he said, licking his lips, and Haldir cast him a smile that was both pleasant and disturbing.
"Orophin likes it to be bright. I'll get new curtains, maybe in pale green. And furniture. And a new rug. That one saw the last of its usefulness a thousand years ago. Orophin did me a favor not so long ago; we can pick designs to suit him for a change."
"Haldir, I don't know if that's such a good idea." Rumil licked his lips, eyes moving between his brother's face and the downed curtain rod. "Maybe you should give this some thought. Right now you're upset; maybe you'll miss mother's things."
Haldir's expression tightened. "She's gone, Rumil. Saving her belongings won't bring her back."
Rumil bit his lip, thinking quickly before trying a different approach. "If you want to do something for Orophin, maybe you should wait for him to come back from duty and ask him what he'd like. He'll be home tomorrow."
Haldir stiffened. It was exceedingly rare for the three brothers to be on leave simultaneously for any length of time, and that they were now led back directly to the conversation he'd had with Lord Celeborn. He did not comment on that, however, but picked up where his and Rumil's discussion of redecoration had left off.
"And spend the next thousand years waiting for him to make up his mind?" Haldir had begun removing the hooks from curtains and rod, finally dropping the mass of nearly sheer material to the floor at his feet. "No, I think we can handle this ourselves. You do want to help, right?"
It had been a long time since Haldir's dictatorial tone had completely worked on Rumil when they were within their own home, but now he found himself being swept along as easily as Orophin might have been. "Sure, Haldir. I'll see if any of my friends could help us move things."
"Good. Let's get going."
~*~*~*~
It was well after nightfall when Haldir and Rumil slumped down onto the new sofa and chair that graced their hastily redecorated family room. Rumil's friend, Terryn, collapsed on the floor, as exhausted as the brothers by their whirlwind shopping spree. Haldir's approach to shopping had been dizzying, and though his characteristic impatience with all things domestic had been evident in both his quick choices and refusal to wait for custom designed furnishings, the final arrangement was actually quite pleasant. In only a few instances had he allowed the shopkeepers to talk him into specialty items, and even in those cases he'd picked up furnishings to fill the temporary gap. The only thing to survive the final cut had been the rocking chair, and it had been taken to be re-finished, and an order for new cushions for it had been placed.
Haldir surveyed the family room from his seat beside Rumil, grimly satisfied with the new décor. The room seemed larger, airier, and brighter than it had previously been, and he was sure that it would meet with Orophin's enthusiastic approval. As a matter of fact, Haldir expected that Orophin's enthusiasm for it would likely drive him out of it. A small smile curved his lips at the thought. Terryn, catching sight of the smile, grinned.
"Melpomaen's going to be surprised when he sees this," the elf commented. Rumil's eyes flashed open, and his face paled as he looked swiftly to his older brother. Haldir's eyes narrowed.
"Why would Melpomaen be seeing it at all?" he asked, bitterness creeping into his tone, and the sprawled elf frowned in uncertainty.
"I'd just assumed you were doing this for him since he's staying in the city now."
Haldir restrained the urge to lick his lips as he considered which part of the elf's sentence to pursue. Melpomaen had returned. Had Lord Elrond or Lord Erestor sent him? That seemed unlikely; someone more experienced both in the ways of travel and with the court of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel would have been a wiser choice for a political mission. No message had come to him informing him of the arrival of Imladris dignitaries; no special detail had been assigned. All that went against the idea that Lord Elrond was directly involved. What other reason could Melpomaen possibly have for returning to Caras Galadhon? Haldir's heart skipped a beat.
"I would not change my home to suit another's pleasure," Haldir said stiffly, none of his racing thoughts revealed in the set of his face or tone of voice.
"No, I suppose not," Terryn said, his expression doubtful. Sighing, he rose to his feet. "Well, the hour grows late, and I must be getting home. Morning comes too early."
"I'll agree with you there." Rumil had stretched out on the sofa, feet propped on its arm. He waved his hand languidly toward the door, making no effort to rise. "You'll excuse me if I don't show you the way out."
"I think I can find it," Terryn chuckled. "Have a good night, both of you."
"Thanks for your help, Terryn," Haldir said. He began dragging himself out of the chair, but Terryn waved him back.
"Stay where you are - I don't need an escort. And you're quite welcome."
Haldir waited for the length of a slow ten count after the door had shut behind Terryn before turning on Rumil. "No one sent word to me. -He- sent no word to me." He leaned forward in his seat, fingers interlaced and elbows on knees. "What is he doing here, Rumil?"
"How would I know?" Rumil asked. A look of worry appeared on his face as he pushed himself upright. Haldir frowned.
"Take your boots off if you're going to have your feet on the sofa. And tell me what you think."
"What I think?" Rumil asked warily, leaning forward to unlace his offending footwear.
"Yes, what you think," Haldir snapped. "I've had enough of you and Orophin tip toeing around me. What do you think Melpomaen is doing here?"
"You think he's here because of you," Rumil stated. The boots fell to the floor with a thud, landing in their accustomed positions under the new table. Haldir glared.
"No, I think he's here early for the harvest festival."
Rumil scowled as he peeled off his socks. "You're not talking to Orophin, Haldir. But, since you ask me so nicely, I'll tell you what I think." He dropped the socks next to his boots and sat up straight, bare toes wiggling in the new, thick rug. "I think half your problem is your attitude; that's why Melpomaen left, and I have no idea why he's back. I will grant you that it was wrong of him to lead you on as he did, but this is not entirely his doing and I'm done mincing words with you."
Haldir stared. For a long moment neither spoke, and when at last he broke the silence his gaze dropped to the floor. "I know it was my fault, that I expected too much."
"Dammit, Haldir, that's not what I said." Rumil's eyes flashed with a mixture of frustration and irritation. "When did self pity become a part of your repertoire?"
"I am not pitying myself." His voice had taken on a tone of warning, his gaze lifted from the floor to squarely meet his brother's. Rumil rolled his eyes.
"This is exactly what I'm talking about."
"I'm relieved to know that one of us, at least, knows what you're talking about," Haldir shot back. "I asked for your thoughts on this, and-"
"No, you didn't," Rumil cut in. "You demanded information the way you might have asked a scout to make his report. Now tell me, why are you asking me for my thoughts?"
Haldir gritted his teeth. It was clear Rumil was not speaking rhetorically; the expression on the younger elf's face was one of intense, anticipatory interest. "You have more experience in these matters than I," he finally said, voice low and embarrassed. Rumil nodded, but there was no hint of self-satisfaction in his expression, only grim agreement.
"Yes, and that's fine, because there is yet plenty that you know more of than I do," Rumil continued, eyes never wavering. "Now tell me this, Haldir; when you ask a question of others to which you require an answer, do you do so with sarcasm and a demanding tone?"
Color suffused Haldir's face. "You would dare to speak so to me in my own home?"
"Your home? And it's not mine, also? And what of the way you speak to me, brother?" Rumil rose to his feet, his patience at an end, and he did not back down when Haldir rose, towering over him. "Orophin and I have both bent over backward for you during this-"
"I never asked you to," Haldir said through gritted teeth. "I do not need a caretaker, nor do I thank you for involving yourselves in my business."
"No, no thanks from you, and I didn't expect any." Rumil shoved a tendril of loose hair behind his ear, and narrowed his eyes. "Though of course you feel differently about my `involvement' when you want my advice – so long as it's given sweetly and politely, and with all proper deference. And as for Orophin, well, you've done him such a favor, now haven't you? You've -allowed- a grown elf to have a pet in his own home, and you've even chosen new furniture for him! And don't bother telling me it's because you owe him. We both know perfectly well you've done it to assuage your own guilt."
"I have done absolutely nothing for which I need feel guilty," Haldir said, his voice low and flat.
"I know that, but I don't believe you do. How was it that you put it? You wept like a child crying over the loss of his favorite toy?"
Haldir's hand locked into a fist at his brother's words, and for a terrible moment it seemed that momentum alone would draw that fist back, and then propel it forward. Rumil did not cringe away. His eyes dropped to his brother's knotted hand and then moved upward to meet hazel eyes. When he spoke, his voice was conversational, dangerously even. "I swear to you, Haldir, if you take a swing at me, you're going to have a fight on your hands. I'm not Orophin."
The color drained from Haldir's face at Rumil's words, even as his eyes dropped to his own fisted hand, shocked at how a conversation that had begun so innocently had gone so far out of control. "I am sorry, Rumil," he muttered, eyes still downcast. "I would never, ever strike either of you… I wasn't thinking."
"Haldir." Rumil's voice was soft, unexpectedly gentle. He placed his hands on his brother's shoulders and stepped closer, forcing Haldir to look into his face. "This is the problem. This is what always happens. You won't back down from the simple things; you won't relax, even a little. You're like a pull chain that's nearly reached its breaking strain, and, when you finally do reach it, you're always sorry afterwards." Rumil sighed, his expression sympathetic. "All of this started because I want you to show me the same respect that I willingly show you."
"Rumil… I'm sorry." Haldir's tongue darted out to touch his upper lip. "You push me."
"No," Rumil said, shaking his head. "Do not blame me. I fight beside you, remember? I know that the March Warden of Lothlorien is not so easily swayed by the words and actions of others. No one makes you do anything."
"Dammit, Rumil!" Haldir nearly wailed, but there was no anger in his voice. Instead, there was something almost like desperation, a sense of uncertainty that was rarely, if ever, heard in Haldir's speech. "You don't understand."
"No, I don't," Rumil replied. "Come sit down and explain it to me the way brothers do, rather than like an officer to a soldier."
"Alright."
Rumil was relieved to hear the steel returning in Haldir's voice. He let his hands drop, and returned to the sofa, this time patting the cushion beside him. "Start at the beginning."
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