THE KNAVE
Overall rating: yellow/orange
Category: slash (two male Elves in love), romance, drama, ANGST, h/c, humour.
Pairings: Orophin/Elladan, Erestor/Glorfindel, Haldir/Rabbit - and some surprises
Warnings: mpreg, ANGST
Beta: Miss Eveiya
Summary: this is the story of Orophin and Elladan, and how they finally found happiness. Some ties not even death can cut - and life is a never ending gamble. It is also the story of Erestor and Glorfindel, and how they cope with their little Elfling, Estorel.
Short author's note: I know that a dog would wag "its" tail in the English language, not "his". Alas, it is my firm belief that animals are beings, not objects, so I hope you will forgive me for bending grammar to my ethics.
CHAPTER 2
"Tell me your sorrows, tell me your fears,
My Brother, my Brother, I'll always be here."
Aaron Neville
* * *
"Why is he doing this?"
Amrun stood in front of the chest Orophin kept his few personal belongings in, rubbed his chin and stared down at what he had called "Orophin's hamper" some moments ago - clothes, two loafs of Lembas so hard you could hit nails into walls with them, some dried meat, a couple of shrivelled apples, but also a dagger, two bottles of Miruvor, two of Amrun's wooden hair clasps and, oddest item of all, one of Haldir's soft toys.
The captain of the Galadhrim raked his hands through his hair, obviously at loss what to make out of this. His wife put her hand on his arm in a calming gesture.
"Amrun - please don't be angry, this is all so new to him."
"You also said so when he set the rug in the kitchen on fire."
"He can't voice his problems."
"This was your argument when he stole Celeborn's horse."
"Amrun ..."
The Galadhrim patted her hand, giving her a sad smile.
"I am sorry, Mya - I know the youth has problems, and I was well aware that it would not be an easy task to get him back on the right track, but I can't tolerate that his thieving continues. He steals, he lies, and he shows none of us any respect. For the Valar's sake, he even spat at Lady Galadriel!
He's been with us now for two months, and there is not the tiniest sign of improvement, and the Valar know we have tried all we could to make him feel welcome and loved."
She sighed, taking his hand in hers.
"My love - I think he was carrying these things together because he still expects somebody comes along and takes everything he has away again. He hoards the food because he fears we might not feed him one day."
"This is all well, Mya, but he must learn that he cannot just take what he wants. Elves do not steal."
She slung her arms around her husband's middle, hugged him tight and rested her head on his shoulder.
"Beloved - do you not deem it interesting that he stole your hair clasps, though he has short hair, and a soft, cuddly toy? "
Amrun muttered something, then he turned around and embraced his wife.
"You are too good for these woods, Mya. So you think I should not confront him about this, I reckon?"
"No. Not yet, anyway. I hope the day will come when he trusts us enough to ask when he needs something."
Amrun nodded, and promised to let the matter rest for the time being. But secretly, he wondered if his willingness to take up Orophin as a fosterling had not been one big huge mistake.
* * *
Orophin couldn't decide who annoyed him more: Lord Celeborn and his sarcasm, Amrun and his lectures or Haldir and his dummy. But no, it was none of them, he mused, while he strolled through the wood, hitting bushes to the left and right with a stick, the most annoying one of them all was Rúmil, no doubt.
The Elfling followed him around like a puppy day in, day out, but never talked, only stared. For a while, Orophin had tried to drive him away with rude words, a tactic which didn't work. Then he had thrown stones, but Rúmil was quick and ducked in time. Now he tended to ignore the little pest, but by all he held dear, what wouldn't he give to get rid of the dimwit! Even Haldir's crying was better than Rúmil's emotionless staring.
Didn't Mya and Amrun see that the younger Elf was a complete idiot? If it had been up to him, Rúmil would have been sent back to where he had come from, or left somewhere in the wood; Orophin didn't really care just as long as he would be somewhere far, far away from him.
"And here we go again..." Orophin growled, when he felt the well-known and much-loathed presence of his younger 'brother'. He turned around, and really, there he stood, staring and gawping, and as Orophin was in an exceptionally bad mood today, he thought it would be a most splendid idea to make the little one feel miserable, too.
"What do you want, you dimwit!" he called, and threw a pinecone after Rúmil. Alas, his aim was bad, and the other simply stepped aside.
"Get lost - I don't want you around here! Go home to your 'nana' and leave me alone, you cry-baby!"
Again, as expected, there was no reaction from Rúmil, he just stood there and stared. From Mya he knew that Rúmil hadn't spoken a single word since his arrival in Lothlórien.
"Traumatized" she called it. "Idiot" was a more fitting description, Orophin thought, but he was clever enough to keep his mouth shut when Mya was around, for although he would not have have admitted it even under threat of death, he liked her very much, and didn't want to see her upset with him.
Fine. Insults didn't work, but maybe he could scare Rúmil off? Orophin turned around, and stomped over to the tree where Rúmil stood. At least he didn't have his ugly, stinking dog with him today, thanks to whatever deity they had here for small favours.
"You - I'm talking to you! Spit in the wind! Get lost! I don't like you!"
No reaction.
"And your 'nana' and your 'ada' don't like you, either! In fact nobody likes you!"
It was with no small satisfaction that Orophin registered the tears that began to pool in the pale blue eyes of the young one. Ha! It was working! One last blow, and he would be rid of the pest.
"If they are fed up with you, they will lead you into the woods and leave you there, and you know what will happen? Every Orc in the neighbourhood will come along for a fine meal!"
Orophin made a big show imitating an Orc, growling and grinding his teeth, and Rúmil was really crying now, his face crunched up in terror, and he turned around and ran like Orophin's imaginary Orcs were already on his heels.
Orophin grinned, and turned to walk back home. But with ever step, his delight got smaller, and the voice of his conscience began to nag. When he finally arrived at the Talan, he only saw the Elfling's terrified face in front of his eyes, and he wished he hadn't been so harsh with him, that he had left it at throwing pinecones. Ah well, Orophin thought, he will survive it.
He hasted up the stairs to the Talan, looking forward to having lunch without his annoying 'brother' for once.
* * *
Orophin's wish was obviously granted - Rúmil was not home for lunch. He was not home for the afternoon tea, either, and when dinner approached, Mya was getting worried.
"Have you seen Rúmil anywhere, Orophin? It's not like him to stay out so long."
Orophin only shrugged.
"What do I know. I'm not his babysitter."
Mya sighed, and turned to prepare dinner.
But dinner came, and still Rúmil wasn't home.
"I will go and look for him, my love", Amrun finally said, "do not worry, I guess he was playing with the dog again and forgot about time."
His wife shook her head.
"No, the dog is here - in his room, actually. I feel it - something bad has happened."
She sat in the rocking chair she had gotten from her mother on her wedding, held Haldir and gave him the bottle. The little one was blissfully unaware of his family's worries - if you're only five months old, you don't care much for things which are not connected to eating and sleeping. Right now, Haldir's entire focus was on the bottle with the sweet milk, and he was cross-eyed with pleasure, making cooing noises and complaining with a groan every time the teat slipped from his mouth.
"The little dimwit will be back soon, no reason to get your apron twisted in a knot," Orophin grumbled, as if he was angry with Rúmil, but in truth, he was angry with himself. He knew very well that he had pushed the boat out too far, but there was nothing he could do now, was there?
He chased a pea over the plate with his fork, and muttered something about idiot Elflings.
"Orophin. When was the last time that you saw Rúmil?" Amrun asked, regarding the young Elf with growing suspicion. There was something odd about Orophin's behaviour - more odd than usual - and he couldn't fight the feeling that the young one knew more about Rúmil's whereabouts than he admitted.
Orophin shrugged, didn't look up and kept on chasing the pea.
"Don't know. In the morning, I guess. I didn't take notes. Good riddance, I say."
Amrun hit his fist on the table, and the cutlery danced dangerously close to the edge.
"By the Valar, Orophin - my patience with you will come to an end very soon! We are worried that some ill might have befallen Rúmil, and if there is something you know, you better tell us NOW!"
Orophin swiped the plate with one quick move of his hand off the table, it broke into a thousand shards and the remains of the evening meal were scattered all over the floor.
"Leave me alone about the dimwit! What do I know! If it was up to me, the Orcs can have him for lunch, annoying little pest that he is!" he screamed, and kicked the chair through the room.
Amrun had gone completely pale.
"Did you tell him this?" he asked, shocked.
"YES! SO WHAT!" Orophin shouted, now losing his temper completely.
"He is an annoying, miserable dimwit, he gets on my nerves and I hope I will never have to see him again!"
Orophin had barely finished his sentence when Amrun grabbed him by the collar and shook him like a rag doll.
"You have no idea what you have done!" he hissed, shaking the surprised youngster. "You think you are the only one who had a hard life? Do you really think your own misery entitles you to be a selfish, egotistical brat? Tomorrow, I will return you to Lord Celeborn. I cannot bear to see you around this place anymore!"
With that, Amrun pushed Orophin away, and the youngster stumbled and fell to the floor. Amrun fixed the quiver to his back, grabbed for his bow and said to his wife: "I will alarm the guards. The Valar know where the little one is hiding. I hope we will find him in time."
He gave his wife and Haldir a quick kiss, then he hasted out of the Talan, without wasting another word or look on Orophin.
Mya carried Haldir, who was now screaming at the top of his lungs, to her room, and put him back in his cradle. The baby calmed almost immediately, and she gave him his dummy to suck on. For a few moments, she stayed beside the cradle to be sure the baby was about to fall asleep, lovingly stroking his face and the fine, silvery hair, then she returned to Orophin, who still sat on the floor, confused, angry and shocked at the same time, and she knelt down beside him.
"Oh Orophin - why do you try so hard to push us away."
He didn't answer, just glared at her.
"You know - some of us carry our scars outside, visible for the entire world." She gently tracked the fading scars on Orophin's neck with her finger, and strangely enough, he didn't flinch away
"Others have scars on the inside. You can't see them, but they are there, and the scars of the soul hurt just as much as a blow you took from a sword."
Orophin fiddled with one of the carrots on the floor, and muttered: "I was only joking."
"No, Orophin - you weren't. I know you well enough by now to know that you were hurting Rúmil intentionally, just to make sure he couldn't come close to you. He likes you. He looks up to you - why do you consider this a bad thing?"
Surprised, Orophin looked up, and seeing the hurt in Mya's eyes made him feel even more like a miserable bastard.
"He likes me?"
"Of course he does. That's why he's following you around where ever you go."
She sat down beside the youngster, putting an arm around his shoulder.
"I will tell you the story of Rúmil as far as I know it. Maybe we should have told you earlier, so you could understand, but Amrun thought you had enough on your plate already.
Rúmil came to us after the guard of the High King ambushed a couple of Orcs outside of Lothlórien. Elrond Half-Elven - he is the Herald to the King, you must know, son of Eärendil and a fine and noble lord - led the guards, and they slaughtered all of the beasts. They found the little one tied and gagged under a tree - quite obviously, the Orcs had intended to devour him eventually. He was absolutely terrified, and he hasn't spoken a word ever since, so we don't know who he is or where he came from.
King Gil-galad and Lord Elrond brought him here, and we called him Rúmil. You think he's a 'dimwit' - but see, I think he doesn't speak because he is frightened he will have to tell what happened back there in the wood. And now you certainly understand why he reacted the way he did to your - joke."
Orophin hung his head in shame.
"I didn't know that. I am sorry. But Amrun is right, I'm no good. I will leave the Golden Wood - I can manage on my own." he whispered, and tried very hard not to cry. Only now, at the prospect of leaving this place, he realized how much this simple Talan and the people here had become home and family to him, and losing this seemed to be worse than living chained up in a blacksmith's workshop for fifty years.
Mya hugged the youngster, and her heart did a joyful skip when, for the first time, Orophin allowed such intimacy, and she pressed a light kiss on his short, ruffled hair.
"I don't want you to leave, Orophin, and Amrun doesn't want you to leave, either. He worries about Rúmil, and he is angry, but he will calm down."
She gently touched Orophin's chin with two fingers, and turned his face so she could look into his eyes.
"I love you very, very much, Orophin, you are bright, you are lovely, and most of all, I know that you have a good heart. Let us love you, îon-nîn, and maybe, one day, you can love us in return."
Orophin swallowed hard, and he allowed the hug which followed, even returned it.
"Mya - what is the meaning of 'îon-nîn'?" he finally asked.
"It means 'my son', Orophin."
The youngster froze in her embrace.
"And you know, Orophin, there is another word you need to learn."
"Yes?" asked a hesitant voice.
"It's a very important word, Orophin, and I want you to call me like this in future."
Orophin gulped. Maybe she wanted him to address her more formally from now on? Who cold blame her, after all the trouble he'd been.
"The word is 'nana', Orophin."
* * *
It was 4 o'clock in the morning, and still Amrun hadn't returned, nor had Rúmil. Mya had finally fallen into a restless slumber, but Orophin was awake and sitting on Rúmil's bed. Guilt was eating him up and he wished, oh how he wished he could take those evil words back. He could only think of the huge, terrified eyes and Rúmil's tears, and he felt like the most unworthy, most evil creature on the face of Arda.
Rúmil's dog, sensing that something was amiss, padded into room, sat beside him and rested his head on Orophin's knee, looking up expectantly at him, as if he tried to say: "And what are you going to do to bring my young master back? Sit here and watch the daisies grow?"
Orophin patted the dog, something he'd never done before, and the animal started to wag his tail. Despite his worries, Orophin had to smile. He remembered the dog he had sometimes fed some kitchen scraps back at the blacksmith's house, and suddenly, he had an idea.
"Dog - let's go for a walk, what do you think?"
The dog got all excited when he realized Orophin was talking to him and heading for the door, he understood the youngster's intent and ran ahead down the stairs, closely followed by Orophin, who stuffed Rúmil's toy rabbit, which lay discarded on the bed, in his pocket. It was a weird plan he had, but at least he had the wits to gird one of Amrun's swords before he left the Talan and headed out in the dark.
Once he arrived on the ground, Orophin crouched down beside the dog.
"Now listen, dog - your master is somewhere out there. And we need to find him. Do you understand?"
He took out the toy from his pocket and held it under the dog's nose to sniff. The dog barked, wagged his tail, and looked up to the young Elf, anxiously awaiting instructions.
"Go dog! Go find Rúmil!" Orophin ordered, and indeed, the dog didn't need to be asked twice; he darted into the shrubbery and Orophin had a hard time following him.
They fought their way through the bushes for what seemed like hours to the Elf, but the dog always waited for him to catch up, barking encouragingly.
"Yes, yes, I'm coming," Orophin huffed. He was not a child of the wood, so he didn't know how to find his way through the bushes without being scratched or how to run through the wood without stumbling over dead wood or roots which stuck out from the ground.
Orophin had Elven hearing, Elven sight - but he didn't have any Elven skills, and so this march through the wood, which might have been an easy walk for Amrun or one of his guards, was a demanding and very exhausting task for the youngster.
Finally, the dog stopped dead in his tracks, and started to growl.
"What happened?" Orophin asked, "What did you hear?" and knelt down beside the animal, who showed his teeth, growled and stared out into the darkness, sniffing.
Orophin patted the dog, and tried to hear or see anything. Yes, there was some movement, out there somewhere.
He slowly, carefully crept closer, but where any Elf would have managed to walk on dry leaves without a sound, Orophin made as much noise as an Oliphant, so whatever - or whoever - was out there had been warned now of his approach, and Orophin took a tight grip on the hilt of the sword.
The further he walked, the louder the noises became - and his heart contracted painfully - Wargs! It was the panting and barking of Wargs, two at least, maybe more - and the most terrifying sound of all: the fearful crying of a child in panic!
"Rúmil!" Orophin shouted, and stormed forward, ignoring everything he had ever heard from Amrun on the subject of "how to approach an enemy without getting caught", for all that was driving him now was fear for Rúmil.
And there he was, clinging to a tree like a squirrel, and underneath him a pack of three Wargs who were howling, barking and snapping after his feet. So far, the little one had managed to stay high enough up on the tree so they couldn't catch him, but it was clear to see his strength had come to an end, he was slowly sliding down the trunk. It was only a matter of time before one of the beasts would catch his foot and tear him down.
"Hey, you ugly bastards! I am here!" Orophin shouted, completely ignoring that it was madness for one young, inexperienced Elf to face a warg, not to talk about THREE of them!
The beasts turned around, distracted from their unwilling dinner which was up in the tree, and they slowly started to approach Orophin. They were not stupid, these beasts, they tried to attack him from three sides at once, but Orophin possessed the determination of the desperate, and when the attack happened, he dealt out blows with his sword to the right and to the left, and how it came about, he didn't know, but the first Warg fell down, dead.
There was no time for him to cheer about this success, a terrible pain shot through his back when the second beast, taking use of the Elf's momentary distraction, attacked from behind and dug his claws into the Elf's back.
Orophin cried out and fell down, and he already felt the hot, stinking breath of the beast on his neck when an angry bark was heard, and the Warg let him go, trying to get rid of the unknown attacker.
Orophin quickly jumped to his feet, wincing at the pain in his back, but he was determined to ignore it.
It was the dog - the animal had attacked his enemy, and now Orophin quickly stabbed the Warg before he could harm his courageous little friend.
But despite this, the third Warg was not willing to let his prey escape, and this one was a an old, seasoned fighter, easily escaping the Elf's clumsy blows and attacking again and again, clearly sensing his victim was getting weaker, and weak he got, indeed. Orophin was no warrior, he didn't really know how to handle a sword which was heavy in his hand, but thanks to the many years of hard labour, his body possessed a strength far beyond that usually found in an Elf as young as him.
Despite all this, he knew he was losing, and he only hoped that Rúmil had been clever enough to use the fight and the distraction to flee. Orophin didn't care much for his own life, but strangely enough, he cared for the life of the little one, and when the animal started his last attack and ran towards him, he only thought: please, whatever god is in charge here, please keep Rúmil safe.
The Warg stopped his race just a few feet before Orophin, turned around with an angry bark, and glared at Rúmil who, against Orophin's hopes, hadn't run away, but started to throw stones at the beast. Orophin used this moment of the Warg's distraction to land a final, lethal blow. The animal howled, rolled around on the ground a few times, gave one last spasm - then he was dead.
Orophin tried to catch a breath, but his lungs seemed to refuse to work, his back was hurting horribly, and he felt that he was losing blood. A freezing weakness came over him, but he kept on walking toward the Elfling, who still stood there, looking at the cruel scenery with horror.
"Rúmil..." Orophin gasped, and dropped on his knees in front of the young one, crushing him in a tight embrace.
"I am so sorry," he sobbed, hugging the child to his chest, "I was so mean, and I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you, I only wanted you to leave me alone."
Rúmil returned the hug with enthusiasm, and he, too, was crying. Orophin froze and kept still when he felt the small hand stroking his hair, and his heart was filling with a feeling of protectiveness for the young one, and with protectiveness came affection, and with affection came love. It was the first time in his life Orophin felt the power of these emotions, he was overwhelmed, and he feared his heart couldn't take this rush, but it did, and he vowed he would always, always look after Rúmil and make sure nobody would ever hurt him.
"They ate my brother." the child whispered, his face hidden in Orophin's neck, but he understood well Rúmil wasn't talking about the Wargs, and he shuddered. He could only imagine what the young one had gone through, and considering all this, who could blame the Elfling for not wanting to speak about it.
"Everything will be good now, Rúmil", he tried to calm down the sobbing child, not knowing how to comfort him, due to lack of experience, "the Orcs are dead, and the Wargs are dead, and the blacksmith is dead, but you and me, we are alive, and this is all that counts."
Though he was in pain, he managed to get on his feet, picked up the child and carried him back to the Talan, followed by the dog who carried the ear of a Warg like a trophy.
* * *
To the innocent bystander, it was the cry of an owl, but Orophin didn't even turn around from his task at hand, and simply called over his shoulder: "Come in, Rúmil!"
And in fact, shortly after, his brother stepped into the Talan. He still wore his uniform, the traditional black and grey of the Galadhrim, but he carried neither his bow nor a quiver, so he must have gone to his own home first to drop his weapons.
"So – busy packing?" Rúmil asked, helping himself to one of the apples in a bowl on the side table and taking a hearty bite. Orophin, who was folding his clothes methodically to put them in his saddle bags, shrugged.
"So it seems. I have to leave early in the morrow and want to have everything ready in time."
Rúmil took another bite, and for a while, the only sound heard in the Talan was his chewing.
"Would it be possible for you to eat without sounding like a Warg on heat, Rúmil?" Orophin finally asked tartly, but his younger brother only chuckled.
"My, are we in a splendid mood again today. Pray tell, dear brother – when can I expect your return?"
Orophin shrugged. "I don't know how long my services will be needed. Could be months, could be years."
"Ah yes, I remember – 'Orophin, I told my daughter that you will look after my grandsons for a couple of weeks', and when did we see dear Orophin again? Ten years later. You know, for somebody who so carefully clings to his independence, you let yourself get ordered around very easily."
Orophin tried to ignore Rúmil's sarcasm.
"Better not let the lady hear such fresh speech, or you will count Orcs in Mirkwood for the next millennia."
"Phff, and even so – still better spending a thousand years in the company of our slightly undomesticated cousins in Mirkwood than sitting for ten years in Rivendell. I for one am glad we are back. The place holds no attraction for me."
With that, Rúmil took another bite, and Orophin finally turned around, facing his brother.
"Now really – no attraction, yes? So how come you got yourself a bloody nose when you tried your luck with Erestor?"
Rúmil frowned, and touched his nose. The small bump which had remained after the healer had fixed the bone could still be felt, and secretly, he wished all the punishments of Mordor down on the head of Lord Glorfindel, the damnable territorial alpha-elf.
"Ai, he was worth a try. Though, looking back, I am glad it didn't work out – I feel much too young to be a father already."
"Now stop it, Rúmil. This is not even remotely funny."
"Indeed – but you know what is funny?"
Rúmil threw the core of the apple out of the window, and stepped behind his brother.
"The really funny thing is that you, who for the last 4000 years have told me on every suitable and unsuitable occasion how very much you despise humans, are now heading off to spend another decade or so in the illustrious company of Lord Elrond Half-Elven and his two spoilt brats, and all this just because you can't say 'no' to Lord Celeborn. Did he even ask you, by the way? Or were you ordered? Have you already forgotten that your last stay as a guardian in Rivendell was the result of a deal which got him a new steed, and Elrond your services?"
"I have not forgotten. But I was treated well, and I liked the Elflings," Orophin commented, trying hard to keep calm.
"Ah yes, you liked the Elflings. How adorable. Orophin and his little rascals. And you still like them, don't you? Or at least one of them."
Orophin had absolutely no wish to discuss this matter with Rúmil, who obviously was in one of his most annoying moods, so he shrugged and returned to packing his saddle bags.
But Rúmil had no intention of letting the case rest yet.
"Well, I wish you a pleasant journey. Enjoy your stay. At least one of us knows where he belongs."
Ah.
"You are angry because I'm leaving you behind, is that it?" Orophin said, not turning around.
"Angry? Why should I be angry? It is something I have come to expect - first ada and nana left for Valinor, then Haldir decided for the Valar know what reasons to bind with this half-wild - being, and now you leave as well, making a fool out of yourself by mooning over fair young Elladan, whose father - not to talk about our lord and lady - would rather send him off to Mordor than let him get involved with a simple Galadhrim of questionable ancestry."
Orophin angrily threw the tunic he held on the bed, turned and grabbed his brother by the shoulders.
"I am not of questionable ancestry! Nor are you! Stop this nonsense, Rúmil! What has come over you?"
Rúmil shrugged free, and Orophin's heart contracted painfully when he saw the tears in his younger brother's eyes.
"Go! Just leave! You all leave! And I'm left behind! And you promised never to leave me alone! You promised! You promised! Promised!" Rúmil pushed Orophin at every word, but despite millennia of training, he had never managed to outgrow Orophin in height or strength, so his older brother stood unmoved
Orophin drew Rúmil in a hug, and after an initial fierce struggle, the younger Elf finally gave into the embrace. Orophin gently stroked his hair, murmuring soothing words.
"Rúmil - you will never be alone. And I will never leave you. Haldir had to follow his heart, and so do I, and one day, you will go where your own heart leads you, but nothing," and he took his brothers face between his large hands, "nothing will ever sever the special bond we three share, Rúmil. Nothing. And nobody. You will always be my brother, and I will always love you."
Rúmil, ashamed of both his outburst and his tears, stepped out of the embrace, fiddling with his belt.
"I'm sorry, Orophin. I don't know why I said what I said. I'm sorry about ... you know, you and Elladan and everything. I just ... don't want to be left behind."
"Well then - why not accompany me on my journey?" Orophin said, and smiled at his younger brother.
"How - accompany you?" Rúmil said, looking at him with a rather confused expression.
"Well, I made your schedule, you've worked for six weeks, now you've got six weeks off. Why not come with me to Imladris, spend some time there rather than sitting here alone?"
"You - you think I would be welcome?"
Orophin grinned.
"Well, I can't guarantee for Lord Glorfindel, to be honest, but as long as you don't try to kiss Erestor again, he should be fine. I'm sure Haldir would be over the moon to see you again, not to talk about Bramble. You are her favourite uncle, after all."
"Is this why she scratched me?"
"Yes. She only scratches those she loves. The ones she doesn't like she bites."
* * *
Estorel was crying.
It was 4am, and he had also cried at 2.30am, 1.17am, 11.43 pm and many, many times before.
As a matter of fact, Glorfindel couldn't remember a time when his son had NOT been crying, and now he was torn between the wish to hide his head under his pillow and ignore his vocal offspring, or getting up to see what was wrong this time, but in the end, he groaned and rolled out of bed.
Erestor watched him through half-lidded eyes, stifling a yawn.
"How sweet of you to get up," he murmured, snuggling deeper into the pillow.
"Next time it's your turn", Fin growled, but Erestor was already asleep again.
With a last, not overly friendly look at the dark-haired Elf, Fin opened the door which lead to the adjoining nursery, and lit a candle.
"There, there …" he soothed the crying Elfling, picked him up and started to carry him around. Estorel almost immediately finished the concert, and started to hiccup.
"So, that's much better. You don't want your ada to wake up again, do you? You know," he said to the Elfling, while he carefully sat down in the rocking chair by the window, "if your ada doesn't get enough sleep, he is very, very cranky in the morning. And I will be the one who has to suffer his moods."
Estorel continued to hiccup, which was hopefully a sign of agreement, and Glorfindel started to gently rock the little one, humming a lullaby:
"The tavern is closed, the landlord is sleeping,
Eärendil travels, Ithil is peeping
Even Lord Elrond is gently snoring,
Fall asleep, Estorel, it's getting boring."
This impromptu poetry would most probably not make it into history books, but it seemed to work, for the tiny Elfling closed his eyes, and soon enough, he was deeply asleep again.
Fin released a sigh of relief. At least no nappies to change, the Valar be praised, for Estorel went through nappies and his parent's nerves at an alarming speed.
Fin looked down adoringly at his son, so small but already perfect, the small hand balled in a fist, holding tight to Glorfindel's index finger, and Fin felt an all-consuming happiness. He had feared that the arrival of the infant would wake painful memories of his lost son, but strangely enough, this hadn't happened – on the contrary, he felt like the wound in his heart had finally been closed and stopped hurting, and like so often lately, he got a little tearful, looking down at his beautiful son, and pressed a reverent kiss on the tiny, pointed ear.
Carefully, so as not to awake the Elfling, Fin walked over to the cradle, and laid Estorel down, covering him with a blanket, putting the hobbit-doll within reach of the tiny hands and finally pressing another gentle kiss on the baby's brow. Estorel hiccupped one last time, then he was quiet, and Fin hushed back into their chamber.
Erestor was still asleep, and with quite some worry, Fin took in the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his skin. Sure, the birth had been difficult – and who would know this better than Fin, who had to hurry out of the cave twice to throw up – but he had hoped Erestor would regain his strength and cheerfulness soon.
Alas, the dark-haired Elf had stayed weak and every so often, he just sat in the rocking chair, holding the baby and staring out of the window. He had not talked to Glorfindel about what he called a "strange dream", but if Erestor had really been in the Halls of Waiting, Glorfindel could well imagine that he might have encountered some things there which had shattered his peace of mind.
He slipped his arm around Erestor's waist and pulled him closer, finding comfort in the familiar scent and the softness of his hair. Erestor stirred, and turned around, facing his mate.
"You are a truly magnificent father, Fin." he murmured, and kissed Glorfindel gently.
"I wonder if you know how happy you've made me", Fin whispered. Erestor snuggled closer up to him, his warm hands gently moving over the warrior's back.
"You have made me very happy, Fin," he said, kissing Glorfindel's neck, "and I wonder if you could make me even happier now..." he added with a cheeky grin, then ran his tongue up the ridge of Fin's ear and nibbled on the delicately pointed tip.
"Maybe", Fin chuckled, and sent his hands on an expedition to the Promised Land, "are you sure you're up for so much happiness?"
"More than up, my dear", Erestor purred, flipped Fin over and straddled him.
"Mmmmm ... indeed, more than up", Fin gasped, but of course, the very moment Erestor bent down to kiss him, Estorel started to scream again.
Fin rolled his eyes, then he tried to get up, but Erestor grabbed his arms and pinned him down to the bed.
"You stay here, Fin. We can't run every time he cries, or he will never sleep through."
"But maybe he needs something ..." Fin began, the pitiful crying of his son ringing in his ears.
"I need something, too," Erestor stated, attacking without mercy that specific spot behind Fin's ear which always produced amazing results, "and I need it NOW!"
"You are a wicked Elf." Fin gasped between two kisses, "where does this new masterful way of yours come from?"
"Ai", Erestor grinned, and he stretched his body out, covering Fin. His hand started to stroke slowly up Glorfindel's inner thigh, and the warrior gasped.
"I sure learned a thing or two from the way Lady Firinwë was ordering poor Elrond around," Erestor purred, and Fin chuckled.
"Will you paint my study in pastels, too?"
Erestor gave a short lick to Fin's right nipple. Glorfindel squirmed, especially when Erestor's hand came to rest on the part of his anatomy which was seriously craving for some tender, loving care by now.
"No," Erestor said, gently caressing his lover, "but I have every intention of dusting your thimbles!"
* * *
tbc
* * *
Author's note:
Thanks a lot for all the feedback. Yay! I'm floored again, thanks so much. Us likes you, yes, yes, you are precioussss!
Heroic children! Valiant dogs! Maybe I should write for Disney. I would like to dedicate this chapter to Joshka, who used to be the dog of my sister, but if you asked him, he would have told you that he was my dog. He started his career in our family when my sister got married, I as 7 years old back then, and he was some kind of wedding present. And what a start it was - my mother left him in the kitchen, and the pup managed to climb on the table, and when we found him, he was sitting in the middle of the cake, covered with whipped cream from head to tail!
Joshka died at the high age of 16 - that's A LOT for a dog. My sister has long forgotten about him, but I haven't. So this is to you, little dog with the big heart, from me, with love.