Title & Chapter Number: An Arrangement of Thorns 34/36
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: BDSM, twincest, angst.
Betas: None
Cast: Erestor/Elladan/Elrohir
Timeline: TA AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: Elladan, Elrohir, and Melpomaen talk.
Notes: This was an idea that struck me a while back when I was tossing around ideas on what to do when I'd finished with Glorfie and Erestor. Seems I haven't quite gotten Erestor out of my system. This is NOT the same Erestor as the one I wrote in my previous series.
Elrohir stood frozen, aware that he was gaping at Melpomaen like a farmer at the Spring Festival but utterly unable to do anything about it. He abruptly became aware that he appeared to be brandishing a signal whip at the narrowly smiling secretary, and with a mumbled curse he tossed it carelessly into the wardrobe. With that, breathing again became possible, and a weak chuckle passed his lips.
"You… want… Erestor?" He managed, and the narrow smile became something sharper, razor edged.
"Erestor is mine as I am his, and this has been so since before he ever cast his gaze upon you. Let's just say that you've had him on loan."
Elrohir felt his knees grow weak, but there was no conveniently placed chair to sink into. He settled for tightening his grip on the wardrobe door. Anger was beginning to stir, but at the moment shocked confusion still stood at the forefront of his emotional storm. The tip of his tongue flicked at his upper lip, and he spoke with careful deliberation.
"I assume this arrangement wasn't what you wanted."
It was Melpomaen's turn to laugh - a brief, harsh sound that held no merriment. He made no other response, and Elrohir's thoughts turned almost frantically to Elladan. Elladan would come looking for him if he took too long, and this was something that Elladan should not, could not discover. All of his fine thoughts of telling his brother everything evaporated under the heat of Melpomaen's angry, hurt smile.
"Then he never did love Elladan; it was all a lie." His own anger was gaining ground, and now his expression had settled to stone. "You can't speak of this to Elladan."
The look of frustrated, angry amazement on Melpomaen's face was almost amusing. "You and Erestor are so alike. This is beyond belief, beyond all sense or comprehension!"
"I am not in the least like Erestor. If you mean to say something, say it. Quit speaking in riddles."
Melpomaen rolled his eyes. "I'm speaking of poor, dear Elladan whom you two seem to think must be treated like an injured dove. I am so damned tired of hearing from him about how much he loves Elladan, how he must be so careful of his precious, fragile heart."
The ability to stand unaided returned, and Elrohir strode across the room, stopped in front of the seated elf. Color bloomed in his cheeks. "Elladan does not deserve this." He nearly growled, and Melpomaen rose to his feet, glared at Elrohir eye to eye.
"And I do? Do I deserve to stand back and watch my lover make a fool of himself with a pair of elves not even a quarter of his age while he worries about the condition of your brother's heart?"
Elrohir looked away, swore. "Why, then? Why don't you cut your losses; he's not worth it."
For a moment he thought the smaller elf would hit him; his right hand curled into a fist, and Elrohir saw the movement of his arm, barely begun before aborted. Instead, Melpomaen smoothed the fabric of his sleeves, bared his teeth in something that could almost be classified as a grin.
"He is worth it, damn you. You never would see it, but he is. That hasn't made it any easier."
"No, I don't suppose it would." Elrohir replied. The realization that Melpomaen was hurting as badly as either he or Elladan began to dawn, and he struggled grimly against it. He had come to return a few borrowed items, nothing more. Complications had arisen, but those complications did not involve comforting Erestor's abandoned, ill treated lover. "I think I can understand how you feel, but I still do not want Elladan harmed by this. You love Erestor; surely you can understand that I love Elladan."
Melpomaen shook his head tiredly, gestured past him to the door. "It doesn't matter, Elrohir."
Again he felt that moment of freeze, but this time it did not last. He turned slowly, knowing what he would see, but hoping against hope that he would not. Elladan stood within the doorway wearing an expression that was more thoughtful than hurt or angry, and Elrohir felt a sudden tightening in his chest. Control was lost; it was far too late to manipulate this situation. Melpomaen stepped back and again sat on the bed, pulling his feet up under him like an elfling awaiting a bedtime story. Elladan moved forward toward them as silently as he had entered the room.
"How long have you been here, Elladan?"
"Long enough." There was a tinge of bitterness to his smile; it was a smile like Melpomaen's, and Elrohir's heart quailed at the sight. He said nothing as Elladan moved him gently aside and knelt before Melpomaen in order to look him in the eye.
"I'm sorry, Melpomaen." Elladan said softly, and Elrohir's eyes widened in amazement and nearly untinctured frustration.
"What do you mean, you're sorry!" He nearly wailed. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Erestor's the one who needs to be sorry! You didn't do anything, didn't know anything -
Elladan glared over his shoulder, rose to his feet. "Elrohir, would you, for once, just shut up."
Elrohir's jaw snapped shut with an audible click. Thought failed him as he was confronted with his brother's angry countenance. Elladan was angry. Not with Erestor, and not with Melpomaen. With him.
"You're right, Elrohir. I didn't know. I haven't known much of anything, have I? What was it that he said, that you two treat me like an injured dove?"
"Elladan, I swear I'd decided to tell you everything."
"It looks like Melpomaen has saved you the trouble." His voice was even and firm, and somehow that was worse than if he'd raised his voice. Elrohir glanced down at his feet. Elladan turned back to Melpomaen.
"I am sorry, and it's not all Erestor's fault. I knew they were keeping things from me, that there was more going on than met the eye. I decided it didn't matter, that I didn't want to know, so it's my fault, too."
"Elrohir didn't know about this, about me, until tonight." Melpomaen did not blanch before Elladan's flat stare, but neither did he bait him. "Erestor wouldn't have told you."
"No, I don't think he would have, either. But Elrohir knew other things, didn't you, Elrohir?"
"Not much." He responded weakly. "I knew that he wanted out, and that he was afraid of hurting you. He said he loved you, but that he couldn't do this anymore."
"So you knew enough that you could have brought this farce to an end much sooner than this."
"It wasn't supposed to have ended this way!" He cast Melpomaen an angry, harried glance. "You were never supposed to know, not until it was over, not until -
"Until it couldn't hurt me, right? Poor, fragile Elladan." Now his voice was beginning to shake as the outer edges of his control were reached. "This will come as a surprise to you, Elrohir, but I'm not stupid, nor am I fragile. Did it never occur to you to simply tell me what you knew if you love me so much? To let me make my own decision? And quit looking at him that way." Elladan snapped, nodding toward Melpomaen. "It's not his fault, either. Not everything can fit inside of your plans."
"He does love you." Melpomaen said quietly. "Erestor, I mean."
Elladan closed his eyes briefly, sighed. "He's certainly done a good job of persuading himself that he does, such a good job that he's persuaded the both of you as well as himself." He cast his brother one final, disgusted glance before settling on the bed next to Melpomaen. "He was infatuated with me, and it seems to me that the need to call that love rises proportionately to the extent of the disaster that infatuation causes. One would look extremely stupid, not to mention pathetic, to risk what one already has otherwise."
Melpomaen's eyes shifted to his lap. Elrohir stared incredulously as Elladan slung his arm around the smaller elf, sympathy shining in eyes that had once been flat and cold in their perusal of this same person.
"I truly am sorry, Melpomaen, and I am not angry with you anymore. I would have done the same over Elrohir if it came to that. I understand. It's over now."
"Is it?" He asked, shrugging aside Elladan's comforting arm. Elladan said nothing, folded his hands in his lap. "Could you finish with what you came here for and go?"
"Of course." Elladan rose to his feet, stared pointedly at his brother. Elrohir swallowed his objections and turned stiffly back to the wardrobe. When he'd finished, the two of them headed for the door. Elladan nodded his farewell, but Melpomaen did not look up.
"What's left is between you and him. We won't interfere."
"I know. Good night, Elladan."
The door shut behind them. Elladan's expression was frosty as he regarded his brother. "You could not even find it in you to apologize."
"Elladan…"
But Elladan was gone, walking swiftly, stiffly away.
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