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.
Author's notes: Thanks so much for all the wonderful feedback I got after the last part - never before have so many people simultaneously claimed that I have caused them a heart-attack.
The more chapters I write, the longer they get, so very special thanks go out to the wonderful Eveiya who did a most splendid beta-job. Any remaining mistakes are mystakes.
CHAPTER 5
Me
I'm the one you chose
Out of all the people
You wanted me the most
I'm so sorry that I'm falling
Help me up lets keep on running
Don't let me fall out of love
"Falling" - No Doubt
~°~
The army of Gondor was marching - thousands of men, their heavy boots producing a thundering, deafening noise.
And they were marching directly from the back of Celeborn's head to the front.
"Varda..." he groaned, and immediately closed his eyes when he came to awareness, blinded by the sun which reflected from a giant, golden framed mirror above the bed.
Mirror above the bed?!?
He didn't have a mirror above his bed. He might suffer from the hangover from Mordor, but his brain was not that fogged that he would have forgotten such a detail. And unless Galadriel had discovered a slightly more adventurous side of herself (which was highly unlikely), this only left one conclusion the Lord of Lothlorien could come to: he was not in his own bed.
Oh.
But in whose bed was he then?
Double oh.
What in Elbereth's name had happened last night? Celeborn desperately tried to remember. First, there had been another row with Galadriel, as usual. Then he had saddled his horse and ridden out to drown his sorrows in at least two decanters of wine. He remembered the tavern, the dancers and a pretty little thing who had told him she wished to see his battle scars, and Celeborn had been only too happy to oblige.
Afterwards, there had been some more wine, even more wine, a lot of wine, actually, and the rest of the evening was only a blur. So whether he liked it or not, he had to open his eyes and face the music.
What he faced first, however, was himself, reflected in the mirror above. His first reaction was 'not in bad shape for your age, Celeborn', but then the serious lack of any textile cover on his body gave him certain ideas on how the last night might have ended, and then his eyes fixed on a huge love-bite on his neck.
Triple oh.
'Galadriel will have my balls with chopped onion and parsley for this', he thought, and groaned.
"Oh, darling ... are you in pain? Are you exhausted? Shall I fetch you something? Maybe a glass of wine?"
Celeborn almost dropped out of the bed when he heard the voice sing-songing in his ear. Frantically, he gathered the blanket around his middle in a rather pitiful attempt to cover the vital bits and pieces that had been on public display so far, then he turned to the owner of the voice, and by the Valar, he was sure he would be the first Elf in history to die of a heart-attack.
"Firinwë ...!" he squeaked, and the cold hand of terror squeezed his heart.
"But of course, my love - who else?"
Who else? Saruman, maybe. Or a dwarf. By the Valar, even the amusing Orc who ran the perfume shop in Rivendell would have been more tempting than, of all the horrors in Middle Earth, Lady Firinwë.
"What am I doing here? And what are YOU doing here? What madness is this?" Celeborn howled.
"I am most hurt, Celeborn, I have to tell you this. All night, you've been giving me – standing ovations, and now you pretend you don't even remember the wonderful moments of passion and love we shared?"
A bucket. Hopefully there was a bucket somewhere close; for Celeborn was sure he would need it very, very soon.
"Admittedly, I have not the foggiest clue what happened last night, but I am most certain about the things that did not."
"Oh but how can you forget!" she squealed, "You actually begged me to take you with me!"
He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger, then he glared at Firinwë, who treated him to the full service of female indignation: tear-brimmed eyes and The Quivering Underlip.
"Firinwë. I have fallen for you once. I cannot imagine that I fell for you a second time. Right now, I am naked. You are naked. We are both naked in this bed. I am known to bed about every attractive female who is not quick enough to climb the next tree when I'm approaching. So, considering all this, does not the fact that the only thing standing up at the moment is the hair on the back of my neck maybe, just maybe, indicate that I am not attracted to you?"
If Celeborn had hoped for reason, he was disappointed.
"Well," she purred, and ran her finger down his chest, "I am sure I can do something to increase your interest…".
She slowly began crawling over the bed, and he retreated, pressing his back to the headboard and clutching the bed sheets for dear life.
"Do not touch me, Firinwë – whatever your intentions are, they better not include any kind of physical contact!"
Celeborn was only saved from certain maiming and worse by a heavy knock on the door.
"Oh, for crying out loud…" Firinwë groaned, rolled her eyes and quickly slipped into her dress to answer the door.
Outside stood two of Galadriel's guards, lances shouldered and wearing shiny armour. 'I bet Galadriel polishes them herself every morning', Firinwë thought, then she demanded to know the reason for their visit at such an ungodly hour.
"We are here to escort you and Lord Celeborn to the Lady Galadriel", said Polished Guard No. 1, glaring at the lady with obvious disgust.
"Why this? Well, you can tell Lady Galadriel that I have no intention leaving in such a state, and anyway, the Lord Celeborn is not here," she snapped, giving the two an arrogant look.
"My lady, you misunderstand the situation," Polished Guard No. 2 replied, trying hard to keep his eyes focused on the lady's face, not on her rather impressive cleavage. Alas, he failed. "This is not a request. It is an order."
"You better keep your eyes at eye level, Elfling. What are you going to do if I refuse to come along – carry me?"
"If I remember correctly, the lady's orders were to bring you in front of her 'dead or alive', so I hope you will agree with me that the first option is less troublesome for all involved than the second."
"This is most certainly arguable," Celeborn's voice grumbled from behind the lady, "enough of the commotion already, we will follow you."
"My lord … I am most sorry …" Polished Guard No. 1 stuttered, bowing deeply.
"Rest assured - not more than I. Let us go."
Firinwë wondered how he had managed to dress so quickly, but this was a task Celeborn had mastered out of pure necessity – one could not risk fidgeting around with laces and buttons too long if the husband of a lover turned up unannounced and a sudden exit was the only way to escape unharmed.
The Lord of the Golden Wood looked regal even in his dishevelled condition. Always the gentle-elf, he threw a cloak over the lady, then stepped down the stairs of the talan, followed by Firinwë and the two guards who felt absolutely uncomfortable with the situation.
To bring Firinwë in front of Galadriel was one thing - her insistence on feeding the guards strictly vegetarian had not exactly won her many friends - but Celeborn, the much-admired and loved lord – that was another thing altogether!
* * *
Rúmil began feeling most uncomfortable under Rabbit's silent, scrutinizing look. And by the Valar, now he was sniffing again, like a wild animal!
Rabbit, on the other hand, was thoroughly confused. Something was wrong here, but maybe it wasn't right to address this issue now - the question of why Rúmil didn't carry the scent of Haldir's tribe. How could this be? They were brothers, were they not?
Bramble, who so far had been happy to sit on Rúmil's lap, now climbed down and ran to Rabbit, clinging to one of his legs. He crouched down and lifted the little one up, touching her forehead with his in greeting, growling softly.
"Rúmil let me chew on his braid," she declared, and smiled, while Haldir grinned. It was clear to see Rúmil was reluctant when it came to Rabbit, but at least he had warmed up to their daughter. Orophin watched the scene in silence, noticing the alert expression on the dark elf's face, and somehow he felt Rabbit's confusion. As he saw Rabbit’s questioning gaze shift between Haldir and Rúmil, he wondered what was going on.
"I came to greet your kin."
"Aye, and I appreciate it." Haldir gave him a warm smile, and Rabbit felt glad he had ignored his own fears to come here tonight, despite the visitors. It meant a lot to Haldir that he met his family, and if this was the way to make him happy, so be it. He would question his mate later about the missing connection between him and Rúmil.
"Come, sit down with us", Haldir said. Rabbit wanted to leave again, feeling his social duties had been fulfilled, but when he noticed the pleading look in Haldir's eyes, he changed his mind, and settled on the floor beside his mate's seat, resting his arms and his head on the younger Elf's thigh. Haldir started to run his hand gently over the dark hair - he would have loved to run his fingers through it just once, but the black mass was so heavy it was not possible.
Orophin smiled inwardly. Sure, the dark Elf was strange, and not at all like one of their kin, but he was obviously very much in love with Haldir, and Haldir seemed to be happy. The two had a wonderful daughter, which was a miracle in itself, and Orophin trusted his instinct, telling him that Haldir was loved and safe. This was all Orophin needed to know - at least one of them was happy, he thought, and sighed, his thoughts straying for a moment to a pair of grey eyes and two different coloured hair clasps.
Rúmil was not as confident as Orophin when it came to Rabbit. He felt uncomfortable in his presence, so, after a couple of minutes of silence, he got up.
"I thank you for your hospitality, brother - but I am very tired, it has been a long day, and tomorrow, I shall get up with the rising sun to accompany Lord Glorfindel on a patrol, for I wish to see more of Imladris. Rabbit - it was... interesting meeting you."
Rúmil hugged Haldir; Bramble, who had sat under the table and played with her doll, crawled out from her hiding place and reached up with her arms, demanding a hug as well. Rúmil smiled and lifted her up, squeezing her.
"Goodnight, princess. Sleep well, and have sweet dreams."
She giggled, and tugged on his braids with such force that tears came to his eyes.
"Night night!" she said, and hugged him. Rúmil set her back on the floor, and put on his cloak. Orophin decided to join him in his departure, hugged Haldir as well, then, after a moment of hesitation, he knelt down beside Rabbit, who eyed him watchfully. He opened his arms, turned the palms of his hands toward Rabbit to signal that he was neither armed nor had any bad intentions, then he rested his forehead on Rabbit’s for a short moment.
"I hope this was the correct greeting among your kin, Rabbit. If it was not, I apologize, for I wish to respect your customs."
Rabbit looked at him with those strange yellow eyes, then he nodded, and growled softly, almost like the purring of a cat. Orophin got up, and Haldir mouthed a silent "thank you". Then he followed Rúmil into the darkness.
* * *
After Bramble had been tucked into bed, Haldir settled with Rabbit in front of the fire. His mate was often away for days, and though he knew Rabbit was never too far away and would come if he called for him, Haldir missed him very much, especially when Rabbit took Bramble with him on his excursions, leaving Haldir all alone.
So the Galadhrim enjoyed it all the more that Rabbit had decided to stay here for the night; another pleasant surprise after his completely unexpected appearance this evening. Rabbit held Haldir, who sat in front of him, close to his chest, and chewed gently on his neck and shoulders.
"Rabbit... I have to ask you something. When Orophin and Rúmil were here ... what was wrong?" Haldir finally asked. He was angry with himself for disturbing this rare intimate moment, but he had noticed the confused looks Rabbit had given his older brother, and he wanted to know the reason - he knew Rabbit well enough to know that it must have been something of significance.
Rabbit didn't say anything for a while, but continued his ministrations to Haldir's neck. Finally, he pressed a tender kiss behind the other Elf's ear, and rested his chin on his shoulder.
"His scent was not right," he finally said, and Haldir turned around, trying to look into Rabbit's eyes, but his mate held him too tight for this.
"His scent? What do you mean by this?" he asked, puzzled.
Rabbit nipped his neck again.
"His scent. It does not fit yours. He is your brother, so he is of your tribe. But his scent does not fit. It is of another tribe."
Haldir sighed, then chuckled.
"Why are you laughing?" Rabbit asked. It was not exactly the reaction he had expected from his mate.
"I am sorry, Rabbit. I guess I should have told you long ago, but we have sworn each other to secrecy. See - Rúmil, Orophin and I are not brothers by blood. I was brought to the Golden Wood when I was only a few weeks old, Rúmil was the only survivor of an Orc attack on his family when he was an Elfling, and was saved by Lord Elrond, and Orophin – I guess he had the hardest lot of us all. He lived in slavery for the first decades of his life. We all found a new home and a new family. So, naturally, our scent is not the same, but we are as close as brothers by birth could be."
For a moment, they sat in silence, then Haldir added: "Maybe our bond is even closer, for we are brothers by choice and fate. Unfortunately, a lack of family history is considered a blemish by many, so we swore an oath not to reveal our destiny to those outside of our family. But you are my family now, so you should know."
Rabbit kissed Haldir gently, then he shook his head.
"I thank you for telling me this, though you had no need to worry - the conceit of the Elves means little to me. I understand now why Rúmil does not carry the scent of your tribe. But if Orophin is not your brother, who is he then?"
Haldir freed himself from Rabbit's hold and turned around, looking at his mate with a rather confused expression on his face.
"Why - as I just told you, he was an orphan, like me and Rúmil."
Rabbit cocked an eyebrow.
"So he is your cousin then?"
Haldir pinched his eyes - he felt a headache approaching. It was not at all like Rabbit to be so slow on the uptake.
"We are not related. None of us is related to the other - maybe in mind and heart, but not in blood."
"But why does he have the scent of your tribe then?"
Haldir thought he'd scream if he heard the words "scent" and "tribe" once more this night, but he pulled himself together.
"Rabbit - he has not the same scent, for he is not related to me."
Rabbit got up, and stretched his long, lean body.
"Let us go to bed. Do not fret, it is of no importance. But his scent is strong, easy to identify. And though yours is weaker, it is the same."
"Weaker? What do you mean by weaker?" Haldir asked, now having the headache of Mordor.
"Weaker. Watered down. It happens when first born mix with men."
Haldir threw his arms in the air.
"Rabbit! Have you set your mind to drive me out of mine? What is wrong with you tonight? You talk about tribes and scents, and I cannot follow you. I am not like you, Rabbit, I don't have your senses. What are you talking about?"
Rabbit gently held Haldir by the shoulders, looking down at him with the same expression he usually reserved for Bramble when he had to explain something complicated in a way the child could understand.
"Your scent is weaker because of your human ancestry. The mortals have weak scents, for they do not live long enough to imprint nature in their soul."
Haldir shook his head so violently he thought it would burst.
"But I am not a mortal."
Suddenly, realisation dawned to Rabbit.
"Love - have you not known that you are partly human?"
Haldir thought his legs wouldn't be able to carry his weight any more. Seeing his mate's suddenly very pale complexion and the terrified expression in his eyes, Rabbit wondered if it had been wise to reveal his knowledge. It was obvious Haldir hadn't known, and knowing how proud the Lórien Elf was of his Elven heritage, this revelation must have been a horrible shock to him.
Rabbit hugged his mate, gently stroking his hair.
"I am sorry, Haldir. I thought you knew."
Haldir shivered, then he moved out of the embrace, turned around and stormed into the other room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Rabbit sighed, then he settled in front of Haldir's door, holding vigil through the night.
* * *
Erestor never felt more like "Lady Glorfindel" than in moments like these, when the mighty Balrog-slayer prepared to leave on his proud steed to do heroic deeds while he, the boring advisor, stayed at home, looking after the baby and waiting for the hero to return from his work.
He hated it. Not only being separated from Fin, but also feeling more and more like an appendage to him rather than an independent person. By the Valar, all that was missing was him wringing his hands in despair about Fin's departure and sobbing into the sleeve of his robe!
Things had improved a little with Orophin's arrival, though. The quiet Galadhrim had taken up his duties plus some of Erestor's without being asked and without getting into discussions about whether changing nappies or bathing the baby were tasks fitting and honourable for a warrior. He just did what he felt needed doing, and otherwise kept to himself.
Erestor remembered well how he had first called Elrond a fool when the Lord had suggested that Orophin would stay in Imladris, looking after the twins. But it quickly became clear that he doted on the twins, and in return, Elladan and Elrohir had adored their quiet guardian. Twice, he had saved their lives, once when Elladan - who else - had fallen in the Bruinen and almost drowned, and another time Orophin had fought back a band of stray Orcs who had thought the twins playing in the woods would be easy prey. He had fought them back alone - escaping severely wounded, but not a hair on the twin's heads had been bent. For this and all his other services, Orophin had won the eternal gratitude of Lord Elrond, and seeing how lovingly the tall, feral looking Elf cared for Estorel, Erestor had enclosed him in his heart as well.
At the moment, Orophin was on his way to the House of Healing. The night before his departure, Glorfindel had been in one of his more peculiar moods, insisting that Orophin bring Estorel to the Healing House for a general check-up the next day. The baby was as healthy as one of the birds singing above, so Erestor most certainly didn't see the reason for Fin's persistence, especially as Elrond would not be on duty, but Elladan.
But Fin had simply waved off Erestor's protests, muttering something about "prevention" and "better safe than sorry", and he had a mischievous expression on his face.
"Fin," Erestor had said, "you are up to something. And I would very much like to know what this 'something' is."
Glorfindel had only grinned and planted a big, wet, sloppy kiss on Erestor's lips, an action which had proven in the past to be most efficient when it came to shutting up the advisor.
"I am afraid this is a business of highest secrecy, my dear, so I cannot tell you what this 'something' is, but if you are a good little advisor and tell the chef to skip the steamed snails for a day or two, I might show you some thing tonight that you will find most enchanting."
With that, he began unfastening Erestor's tunic, and though the advisor tried very hard to look stern, he literally melted under Fin's skilled hands.
"You know," he muttered around Fin's demanding lips, "I really do not like you very much."
Fin grinned, dropping Erestor's robe.
"This is most splendid, Erestor, for I do not like you either, so we can spend the rest of eternity despising each other."
Finding himself covered by one very eager Balrog-slayer nibbling on his ear, Erestor asked: "Are you sure you mean 'despising' and not 'devouring', Fin?"
Glorfindel, busy kissing his way down Erestor's chest, quipped: "Who knows, dear Erestor – you know how bad I am with words."
He continued his journey further down Erestor's body, which prompted the advisor to gasp: "This may be - but you are very good with your tongue!"
* * *
Elladan was washing some herbs in a wooden bowl when Orophin entered, carefully balancing the basket with Estorel on his arms, for he refused to carry the basket by its handle. "It is an Elfling, not two pounds of potatoes," he used to say when Erestor tried to convince Orophin to carry his son the "proper" way, an argumentation Erestor couldn't deny a certain logic.
Elrond's oldest son turned around, his eyes lit up when he saw who had come for a visit, and he blushed, something he did a lot lately. Orophin had well noticed, and allowed himself a small smile.
"Greetings, Master Orophin", Elladan said with forced merriment, and Orophin returned the welcome with a short nod.
"Mae govannen, young lord."
One, two, three, breathe, one, two, three, it is only Orophin, one, two, three, oh my god, it is OROPHIN! One, two three ... Elladan went through every trick in the book to stop his skin from flushing and his breath from coming faster, but to no avail. He was fidgeting, dropping this and that, talking nonsense with hardly a break to take a breath, and the more he tried to appear the normal, confident and calm healer, the more he looked and behaved like a hyperventilating youngster nervous about the first encounter with his loved one.
Orophin watched Elladan's performance with increasing amusement; after the young one had dropped the same bowl for the fourth time and looked like letting Estorel drop as well, the Galadhrim decided it was time to step in.
"...and so I said to Elrohir, 'Elrohir' I said, 'maybe the swords of Gondor are of good quality, but they can't compare to the ones our own smith's forge, and he said 'Elladan', that's what he said, 'you have no idea', and so naturally, I got upset, and ..."
"Young lord ..." Orophin tried to interrupt the stream of babbling.
"...then we were discussing the Lórien bows in comparison with our own, and it was 'Elladan, you have no clue' again, so I told him: 'Elrohir', I said, 'you really should ...'"
"Elladan. Do not forget to breathe."
The younger Elf stopped in mid-sentence, staring at Orophin open-mouthed. Oh ye Valar, he had made a complete fool out of himself again! Now Orophin surely thought him to be even more of a clumsy child than he previously did, and Elladan seriously wished he had the ability to kick himself up the backside.
Orophin smiled warmly at the flustered young elf, resting a hand on his shoulder in a gesture which was intended to be calming, but for Elladan, Orophin's touch was all but soothing, and he hung his head in shame, shuffling his feet and preparing for one of the dry, sarcastic remarks Orophin was notorious for - indeed, a word by him could kill just as effectively as one of his arrows.
"My apologies for interrupting your tale, young lord, I would love to hear the rest of it, but should we not care for your patient first?"
Elladan's head shot up - such friendly words were the last thing he had expected.
"Oh ... yes ... sure, you are right ... my apologies ..." he muttered, and turned his attention to Estorel, who had slept all through the commotion.
"He is beautiful", Elladan sighed, and gently stroked the baby's head.
"Yes, indeed," Orophin confirmed, and he added: "You were a very fair Elfling, too."
"Was I? From what I heard, Elrohir was fairer than I."
This came out a little more bitter than intended, and Orophin wondered if he had said anything wrong. Of course, maybe it was not too intelligent a move to remind the one you pursue of the fact that you are so much older than him that you used to change his nappies when he was an Elfling ...
"You were both very fair." Orophin finally said, and, looking at Elladan, he hastily added: "And you still are."
Elladan briefly flirted with the idea that this "you" had been meant as a general remark on both himself and his twin brother, but the look in Orophin's eyes left no doubt, not even to him, that the Galadhrim had just paid him a compliment.
"Thank you", Elladan said, and smiled shyly at Orophin, who fought hard with himself, for a part of his mind insisted that somebody who smiled in such an enchanting way should be rewarded with a long and thorough kiss, while the other, more sensible part of his brain flashed pictures of Lord Elrond (in full armour, cinescape and technicolor), wielding a sword, which was enough to scare even the most courageous heart.
Since Orophin was a warrior, the rational part won the battle, and he returned his attention to Estorel. He gently lifted the sleeping baby out of the basket, and Elladan quickly checked the Elfling over, but as expected, everything was fine. Estorel woke up, blinking at Elladan, then one tiny hand reached out to tangle in a strand of Elladan's hair.
"Ouch! You have quite a tug for such a young one!" the twin laughed, and the baby giggled.
Elladan freed his hair and tickled the baby, who began to giggle and squeak, then he turned to Orophin.
"All is fine with him. Glorfindel and Erestor need not worry, he is as healthy as he can be. Of course…" Elladan added, a little unsure, "… you can come back later when Ada is here, surely his word weighs more than mine, but I cannot see anything being wrong with Estorel."
Orophin looked straight into Elladan's eyes.
"Your word is as good to me as Lord Elrond's. And you were right about the hair colour, too."
Elladan sighed, looking at Estorel who lay in the basket again, sucking on his fist.
"Ai – Mauburz will be delighted – another red-haired Elf in Imladris. Glorfindel will have a fit."
Estorel, who cared little for everybody's worry about the shade of his hair, got bored and tried to suck on his big toe, which, Elladan thought, was cute beyond belief.
Finally, Orophin picked up the basket again, and Elladan went to the door, attempting to open it.
"So when will you tell me the end of your tale, young lord?" Orophin asked, standing in the doorway.
"Tale? What tale?" Elladan asked confused.
"The one about you, Elrohir and Lórien bows in comparison with Imladris bows which I so rudely interrupted."
Elladan stared at Orophin, wondering if he had misheard.
"You – you mean you really want to hear this?"
Orophin nodded.
"Indeed. And I might be able to tell you some things about Lórien and its bows you did not know."
Elladan was all flustered, and he couldn't believe his luck – Orophin wanted to spend time with him? Talk to him? Listen to him? This was more, far more than he could have ever hoped for.
"I would love to – I mean, if you have time for this."
"I have, otherwise I would not have asked. I am on duty till dusk – shall we meet in the tavern?"
Elladan had a big smile on his face, a smile Orophin thought would outshine even the sun.
"Yes! I will be there!"
Orophin nodded, and stepped out into the afternoon, while Elladan made a spontaneous somersault over the examination table, for once without crashing furniture or breaking a limb.
* * *
"If you brush your hair one more time, you will be bald, Orophin," Rúmil joked, watching his brother applying what was at least the 1000th stroke to his long, silver blond hair.
"And if you do not stop with your pitiful attempts at humour, I shall shear your head, and you can wear a knitted cap for the rest of the winter." his brother threatened, and finally put the brush aside, throwing back his mane. He slipped into his tunic, buttoned it up and closed the jerkin over it.
Orophin wasn't one to care for clothes, he preferred the colours of the earth to the vivid colours Rúmil liked, but he didn't want to look the Galadhrim tonight. The tunic was of a soft fabric in a mossy green, the jerkin of fine, grey leather, and both garments emphasized the colour of his eyes. He took a last look in the mirror. Acceptable.
"Pray tell, Orophin – what innocent Elf do you intend to bed tonight?" Rúmil grinned, watching his brother's efforts with increasing amusement.
"None." was the short answer, and Orophin reached for his cloak.
"None? Oh, come on – you are talking to me here, dear brother. Admit it – you are out to taste the sweet fruits of Imladris, and who could blame you – there are some rather fair and tasty fruits available here."
"That is not what I have in mind. I will only meet up with Elladan for a glass of wine, he asked me for advice about our archery training."
Now this was a blatant lie, of course, but Orophin didn't feel the need to discuss this issue with Rúmil.
"Orophin. Is this wise?" his younger brother asked while he buried his hands in the pockets of his breeches.
"What could be unwise about exchanging our knowledge of archery skills?"
"I am not a fool, Orophin. I have well noticed how your eyes follow the young one."
Rúmil stepped behind his older brother, resting his hand on his shoulder.
"Do not think that I meddle with your business, Orophin – I only mean well, and if I can spare you heartache, I will."
Orophin caught his brother's gaze in the mirror, and sighed.
"Do not worry for me, Rúmil. I shall not do anything which could get me in trouble."
Rúmil shook his head.
"You are not like me, Orophin. You do not take matters of the heart lightly. Your heart is a precious thing, and I would hate to see it go to waste."
Orophin frowned, and tried to say something, but Rúmil didn't let him.
"There is no need to defend the young one, Orophin. I know he would never consciously harm you or play foul. But even his kind heart cannot change the fact that he is the son and heir of Lord Elrond, and never, even if they respect you, would his family accept a mere Galadhrim in their midst. We don't have their wealth or their connections, and we do not even have a name."
The older Elf didn't answer, for Rúmil had only spoken aloud the fears he carried in his heart as well, and really, what was there to add?
"Please be careful, Orophin. I do not want to see you hurt."
Orophin turned around, gazing down at Rúmil lovingly.
"You are a true friend and brother, Rúmil, and I appreciate your concern. I promise you, I will be careful."
He pressed a soft kiss on his younger brother's brow, then he left, heading off to meet up with Elladan.
Rúmil stepped to the window, his eyes following his brother's figure till he could see him no more, then he sighed deeply.
This would not end well.
* * *
Elladan and Orophin sat in a corner of the tavern, each with a glass of sweet red wine in front of them, and after an initial mutual shyness, they had quickly engaged in a lively discussion – lively in so far as Elladan talked and Orophin listened, occasionally uttering an "ah", "I see" or "hm". He loved to listen to Elladan's chatter, and the young Imladris Elf equally enjoyed the company of the Galadhrim. They were talking about their realms, families, fancies and worries, and time passed like a breeze by the sea. Two minstrels were entertaining the guests, there was laughter in the air and the smell of wine and mead, and nobody bothered the two Elves who were gazing at each other dotingly.
The wine had been sweet, and more intoxicating than they had noticed, so when the two finally got up, Elladan swayed a little, and Orophin steadied his arm.
"Oops, I guess I am a little tipsy!" Elladan announced, and Orophin laughed. "A little, indeed!"
Elladan liked Orophin's laughter. It was deep and throaty, as if there was rust on his voice, but at the same time warm and winning. 'He does not laugh nearly enough', he thought, 'I like the small wrinkles he gets in the corner of his eyes when he laughs.'
The two Elves stepped out into the cold night air, their breath white steam, and the night frost was sewing closed Elladan's nose with an icy needle.
"Huh! It is cold!" the younger Elf said, shuddering slightly. Orophin cocked his head, surprised, then he remembered that Elladan was not full-Elven and felt the cold more than he did.
"Would you like my cloak?" he asked, offering the garment to the twin, who shook his head, but stared at him, cheeks flushed from the wine, eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
"No, but I need to warm up, anyway," Elladan grinned, and maybe it was the wine, or it was the night, or it was simply because he had been longing to do so for a long time, but before Orophin could say anything, Elladan had slung his arms around his neck and pressed his lips on the Lórien Elf's.
Orophin stood there as if frozen; this had come so unexpectedly, and Elladan's heart sank when he noticed the Galadhrim didn't react. By the Valar – had he just made a terrible mistake? Read all the signs wrong? Made a fool out of himself?
Any further thoughts were cut off when Orophin relaxed, putting his arms around Elladan and pressing the younger Elf close to his body. He finally parted his lips, allowing Elladan access, and by Elbereth, was this kiss sweet! Orophin's head was spinning, Elladan's body, moulded closely to his own, was radiating heat despite the layers of fabric and leather that separated them, and he felt the heat rise in his own body, spreading through every vein and vessel, waking a need and a longing of an intensity Orophin had never experienced before.
Finally, their lips parted, less by free choice than by lack of oxygen, and when they looked at each others’ flushed faces, both Elves began to laugh, and if someone had been there to witness this remarkable scene, he would have been treated to a sound like two crystal glasses clinking together.
But as the two were all alone, the only one who enjoyed the scene was the moon, who decided not to comment on it.
* * *
Haldir had shed all his clothes and stood in front of the long mirror in his bedchamber. It had been a present from his mother – now how ironic was that, he thought – given to him with the half mocking, half serious advice not to stand in front of it too often, for he was already vain enough.
It was, however, not vanity that drove Haldir to muster his mirror image now. Rabbit's words were gnawing at him – had his mate been right? If so – how had it been possible not to notice anything? Haldir knew that Elrond and the twins felt the cold more than full-elves did – and the twins were really far more than half-Elven, 3/3 or 7/8 or something equally complicated.
As far as Elrohir was concerned, there were no differences – he was as fair as any Elf, or even more so, and despite the occasional head cold and shivering spell in winter, there was not the slightest hint that would have indicated Elrond's youngest son was not full-Elven.
Elladan, on the other hand… beside his legendary clumsiness, he was more heavily built, that was true. Haldir examined his mirror image again, taking in the strong arms and broad chest – true, he was not willowy lean like Rúmil, but certainly, there were other Elves who were a bit on the – stronger side?
Assuming that Rabbit was right – and so far, he had never erred – why had Haldir never noticed anything unusual? His senses were as sharp as any Elf's, cold didn't bother him, nor did heat, and hadn't he lived for many millennia already? Why had the Valar not asked him to choose?
Haldir's world was falling apart – he really didn't know anymore who he was, he already heard the hushing and whispering that would ensue behind his back once the truth – if it was the truth – came out. Would he be looked down upon? How often had he witnessed snide remarks about Elrond and the twins, about lady Arwen even – muffled remarks, and not spoken aloud, for who would have dared to insult the family of the Lord and the Lady? And he, Haldir, could not hide behind a big name or a famous family – as a matter of fact, he didn't even know the Elf who had committed the indecency of bedding a mortal woman and fathering him.
His mother – it hit Haldir like a bolt of lighting that his mother had not been an Elven noble lady, killed by Orcs, as Celeborn had told him, not a myth which had grown to unearthly beauty over the millennia in Haldir's fantasy, but a mortal woman who, after giving birth to him, had probably lived only a few decades and then withered away and died.
He was surprised at the pain he felt – somehow, this felt more real, and even if he wished that Rabbit had been wrong, Haldir knew, deep in his heart, that his lover had spoken the truth. There was only one who could shed some light on this – Lord Celeborn.
And what about Orophin? Maybe he was a cousin, or even a lost brother, he had not even reached majority when Celeborn had brought him to Amrun and Mya – yes, maybe he was kin. Haldir needed to talk to Celeborn, for he wouldn't know a moment’s peace until he learned the truth.
Haldir dropped to his knees, still staring at the Elf in the mirror, who had become a stranger to him.
"Who are you," he whispered, touching the smooth, cold surface with the tips of his fingers.
But there was no answer, and the Elf in the mirror began to cry.
* * *
Orophin's presence meant that Erestor could attend all meetings again, and only now, that he was back, did Elrond realise how much he had actually missed him. It was so easy to get used to the quiet, slim, black-clad figure by his side, whispering a word of advice or warning when appropriate, but by the Valar, those advices and warnings had been missed – Elrond relied on Erestor, he was his crutch and his strength, and the Lord of Imladris hoped that Fin and Erestor wouldn't expand their family any time soon. Paperwork had collected, the books were in a desolate condition and during meetings, Erestor's calming, sensible presence and occasionally sharp tongue had been painfully missed, resulting in heated debates and a general aggressive atmosphere.
Now that he was back, Elrond was more aware of Erestor, and he noticed things he had never noticed before – how straight he stood, how his black hair flowed over his shoulders like the water of the Bruinen in winter, how his dark eyes sparkled – and how very much Erestor was in love with Glorfindel. Indeed, even when his seneschal's name was mentioned in a mundane connection, such as unpaid bills at the tavern, Erestor's eyes lit up like a candle in the dark, and Elrond couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous of the Balrog-slayer – he had a mate who loved him, a home and this precious little Elfling.
And what did he have, the Lord of Imladris? Here he was, sitting in his study, which had turned from a homely place to a museum, with memories of his lost loved ones to the left and right. There was Gil-galad in shining armour, looking regal and boring in the painting, but how could any painter have caught the adorable expression on his face when he slept? And the illumination of his beloved Celebrían, lying on a white fur – the picture had captured her beauty for all eternity, but not her laughter, or her sometimes rude jokes, so unexpected from a noble lady, and while the artist had carefully painted her lovely features, he could not portray her wicked sense of humour or the touch of her hands on his skin.
"Ada – it is your turn."
Elrohir had noticed his father's brooding look, and tried to distract him. They were gathered around the small table, a game of chess between them. Erestor sat close by, watching the game while he gave Estorel the bottle; standing behind him, an ever-present shadow, was Orophin.
"My apologies, Elrohir – my thoughts were wandering." Elrond said, bowing his head in apology. Estorel complained when Erestor took away the bottle for a minute to give the baby some time to breathe before the next round of feeding, and Elrond smiled.
"Penneth, still hungry? My, you have an appetite."
Then, with a pleading look to Erestor, Elrond asked: "Would you mind if I held him for a moment?"
Erestor was a little surprised by the request, but of course he immediately agreed.
"But certainly, my lord – you have more experience with Elflings than I have, after all."
He got up, and carefully placed Estorel in Elrond's arms. The lord smiled, and started to talk to Estorel in the language most adults use when talking to babies, under the erroneous impression that the wee ones would think this to be cute. As a matter of fact, Estorel thought it was about the silliest thing he had ever heard, but as he couldn't speak yet, he settled for giggling, which only encouraged Elrond in his attempts to entertain the Elfling.
Fin used to talk to Estorel as if he was a grown-up, stating that there were enough childish individuals in Imladris already, and that his son was wiser than all of Elrond's council, and even produced twice the waste.
Elrond looked at Erestor, and smiled.
"Ai – 't is wonderful when they are this small. But they grow up so quickly – seems like yesterday my children were born. Sometimes," he added, a sad look sneaking into his eyes, "I wish I could turn back time and enjoy those years again. They were the happiest of my life."
Elrohir gently stroked his father's arm.
"Do not be sad, Ada – you have your lovely grandchild, do not forget! And Arwen's little one is cute as a button, is he not?"
Elrond nodded. "This is true, he is very fair, like his mother, and thankfully cleaner than his father, but they are so far away, I do not see them nearly often enough. And I guess I shall be in the Undying Lands before you decide to settle down and have some Elflings of your own!"
Elrohir blushed, and if Elrond hadn't been so occupied with Estorel, he might have noticed and asked some questions.
"Ai, I shall not complain. Elladan will settle down with a noble maiden and give Imladris an heir – so I shall sit and wait in patience and spoil this little gem here rotten in the meantime."
Erestor and Elrohir laughed, and Elrond joined in, but there was a shadow falling over Orophin's face, and his heart grew heavy with sorrow.
* * *
The Galadhrim arrived when dinner had almost finished. He looked tired and worn, the dust of the road covered him, and it was plain that urgent business had brought him to Rivendell. He bowed deeply in front of Lord Elrond, then he took a scroll out of his bag.
"I have a message from the Lady Galadriel for you, my lord. It is most urgent, and she insists that her orders are carried out immediately and without any delay."
Elrond cocked an eyebrow – now this certainly didn't sound promising. He took the scroll from the hands of the messenger, broke the seal and read. The frown between his eyes deepened, and every conversation at the table stopped, all eyes resting on Elrond. Finally, he dropped the scroll, and it was clear to see that he was angry.
"Bad tidings, my lord?" Erestor asked, knowing his lord well enough to see that he was upset.
"Yes, bad tidings, dear Erestor." Elrond answered, then he turned to Orophin, who sat with the other Elves of lower rank on a seat further down the table.
"Orophin – the Lady Galadriel orders you to leave for Tíngel forest this very night. The troops there need reinforcement."
Erestor and Elladan got up at the same time, protesting.
"My lord, this is not possible!"
"Ada, you cannot allow this!"
Elrond made a calming gesture.
"Please, sit down again. Erestor – Elladan – peace. I am not the one to order Orophin, he is sworn to Galadriel, there is nothing I can do about this, though I must say that I am most displeased with this unexpected development and shall farspeak to her to let her know my feelings about it."
Which translated in: 'Galadriel, this is your son-in-law speaking. Been in the sun too long?'
Everybody talked at once, till finally, Orophin got up.
"As you say, my lord – I am sworn to the Lady Galadriel, and her order I obey. I shall leave immediately. Please excuse me, I need to pack my bags."
With that, he left, and when Elladan wanted to follow him, Elrohir held him back.
"This is the wrong moment, Elladan", he said, a knowing look in his eyes.
"Do you know Tíngel Forest, Elrohir?" Elladan asked, his eyes still fixed on Orophin's back.
"I have heard about it."
"Then you know that no moment can be wrong to stop him from going there."
Elrohir shook his head.
"Do not interfere with grandmother's wishes, Elladan - she can be horrible in her wrath."
Elladan's eyes were sparkling with a dangerous light.
"So can I, Elrohir, so can I."
* * *
Orophin looked calm and concentrated while he checked the girth one last time and fixed his bags to the saddle, but there was a turmoil in his heart he had never experienced before. He was no fool - he could well imagine why the lady had called him off and sent away to the outermost border of the realm, where nine out of ten Galadhrim lost their lives, where doing duty was a life-sentence, not an honour – a place as far away from Elladan as possible.
Sure, the message had spoken of "urgent business", of "security for Lothlorien" - but Orophin was a mere Galadhrim, he had no skills which would have made him so valuable that his absence would have had any consequences for the security of the realm. So the only conclusion left was that Galadriel knew of his infatuation with her grandson, and had found him to be an unwelcome suitor.
So Rúmil had been right all along - it could never be. Never would Elladan's family tolerate a simple border guard among them, not to mention one without a family, and no matter how friendly they were to him, even if they showed him respect - he could never be equal. It had been folly, and he should have known.
A cold wisp of air blew through the stable when Elladan pushed the gate open. He had been looking for Orophin high and low, almost panicking at the thought that the Galadhrim might leave without the chance of saying farewell.
"Orophin!" Elladan called, and Orophin started. Why did the young one have to come here? - he had hoped to leave without a painful farewell.
"You cannot leave - I do not want you to leave! And you do not want to go, either - I know it!"
Elladan's voice was wavering with barely suppressed anger, and Orophin pressed his forehead to the cool leather of his saddle, closing his eyes.
"My young lord - I must obey the order of the Lady of the Woods. What I want is of no importance."
The words were calm, but Elladan heard well the unhappiness underneath.
"I could talk to grandmother, sure she would understand, and I..."
"No. Young lord, this is not a matter which is any of your concern. I am a servant of the Golden Wood, sworn to protect it, with my life, if needed. I must keep that oath."
Elladan shook his head. This was all wrong.
"Orophin ..." he began, lightly resting his hand on the Galadhrim's shoulder, but he shook it off, turning his head away.
"Please ... young lord ... do not try to hold me back. I am not free to make a decision, and I have to obey."
Elladan shook his head.
"Stop talking to me like this, Orophin. I ... you must know that ... what I feel ..."
He broke off, unable to put his thoughts and feelings in words. Surely Orophin must have realized that he had Elladan's heart?
Orophin hit his fist on the saddle, startling the horse.
"My lord - please do not speak any further, and please leave. My Lady would not approve of this discussion, nor would your father. It is not appropriate."
"Appropriate?" Elladan asked, his face taking on an expression of utter disbelief.
"Why do you speak in such a cold way, Orophin - I know you... I thought you would..."
Orophin spun around, unable to bear the tension any longer. He grabbed Elladan by the collar of his tunic, and slammed him hard against the stable wall. The wood rattled, and a terrified rat hurried across the straw for a safe hiding place.
"Elladan! Stop it! Can you not see what you are doing to me? How can I live on when I..."
Yes, how could he live on when he had to remember those grey eyes, Elladan's hurt expression, the reflection of the moonlight playing on the dark hair, how could he live on with the memory of the warm, hard body under his hands, and the certain knowledge that he would never, never be his. How could he? And how could he tell Elladan?
"When you what?" Elladan whispered, not moving a muscle even when Orophin's fingers dug painfully hard into his flesh. He leant forward as much as Orophin's firm hold allowed, but Orophin moved away.
"Do not do this, Elladan. It is not right," the Galadhrim hissed, his breath ragged and face flushed. The Valar knew how much discipline and willpower it cost him not to give in and take what he had craved for so long. If only Elladan would see, and let him go.
But Elladan was determined. He closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek on Orophin's hand which was still resting firmly on his shoulder.
"Enough!" Orophin hissed, and slammed Elladan several times against the wall, "why are you doing this to me... why do you torment me so... would you really want me to take you here, on the floor? Is this what you want? Is it?"
Tears ran down Elladan's cheeks, and it was hard to tell whether they were caused by grief or anger.
"I do not mind when and how, Orophin ... I only know that I want to be yours, only yours, where I do not care, either, I do not care what father says or what grandmother thinks, I want you, Orophin, I want you, I love you..." he sobbed, and his tears were more than Orophin could take. He let go of the younger Elf, and Elladan threw himself in his arms, clutching onto him like his life depended on it, and it probably did.
Orophin closed his eyes. It felt so good to hold Elladan, even better than the night before. He felt so - right. And this made the knowledge that this love couldn't be even more painful. But at least it was something he could remember when he was on watch in some Valar forsaken Orc-infested forest.
Elladan muttered some incoherent words, raking his hands over Orophin's back, lips seeking for his mouth. For the fraction of a second, Orophin considered avoiding what was to come, but in the end, he gave in.
Unlike their first kiss, this was not a gentle one. Nothing was gentle about this encounter between two warriors, tongues were duelling for dominance and strong hands left marks; Orophin bit Elladan's lip and the metallic taste of blood mixed with the saltiness of Elladan's tears, but nothing could have stopped them now.
Elladan hooked his leg behind Orophin's knee, an old battle trick which didn't fail its purpose, and the surprised Galadhrim fell and hit the floor hard before he had the time to react. Luckily, there was some straw; otherwise he'd have ended up with a concussion, no doubt.
The thought that Elladan was neither clumsy nor slow when it came to this crossed Orophin's mind, before Elladan kissed him again and drove out even the last coherent thought from the Galadhrim's brain. His head was spinning, never would he have expected such passion and strength from Elladan, and never before had he been held in such an iron grip, one strong hand tangled in his hair, the other roaming over his body.
"Who said that you would take me, Orophin? Have you thought me weak?" Elladan hissed, claiming the older Elf's mouth once again, "Do you still think me to be an Elfling? You had better readjust your judgement, for I am neither."
He ground hard into Orophin, there was neither a system nor a rhythm in his movements; he was driven in equal parts by passion and desperation, but this did not diminish the sensations which overwhelmed Orophin. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a nagging voice told him to put a stop to this, to get up and leave, but how could he have followed this voice of reason, with the sight of Elladan above him, beautiful and terrifying alike in his passion, tearing open Orophin's tunic and jerkin with one grip, then seeing the dark-haired Elf move down to rasp his tongue over a nipple. He had always imagined himself being the one to initiate this, to take the lead - but Elladan was in charge, and this whole new side to the younger Elf made him even more irresistible in the Galadhrim's eyes.
By now, Elladan had pulled the tunic completely out of Orophin's breeches, ripping a seam or two in the process. Now he was licking slowly a wet trail from Orophin's throat down to the top of his breeches, always keeping his grey eyes fixed to Orophin's green ones, and the Galadhrim started to fear for his sanity.
Elladan would do it. He really would. He would take him here on the floor, and Orophin knew he would not be able to depart once he had given himself to Elladan. He had to leave, now, while there was still time. Elladan would get over it, forget about him and find a nice noble maiden to marry, he would have a couple of Elflings, become the Lord of Imladris or whatever realm was at disposition in the Havens, and this was the way it was supposed to be.
Orophin collected whatever he had left of his wit, and struggled under Elladan, trying to roll him off. The younger Elf was stronger than he thought, but eventually, Orophin had straddled him, and before Elladan's body under his made him lose the last bit of common sense he had, his fist shot down, hitting Elladan right on his weakest spot, and the young Elf lost consciousness immediately.
Orophin panted hard atop of him, struggled to his feet and picked Elladan up, carrying him to a soft bed of hay. He laid him down carefully, then he bound his hands and feet with a rope - not too tight, but tight enough to keep him in place till Orophin had reached the borders of Imladris. He wanted to avoid under all circumstances that the young one could follow him.
Finally, he knelt down beside Elladan, stroking his face and pressing a last kiss to his lips.
"Namaarië, loved one."
He felt tears burn in his eyes, and angrily wiped them away. He would not cry. He was strong. He needed to be strong. And maybe the Valar would have mercy on him and let him die fast, for he doubted he could bear the pain he felt in his heart looking down at the young one.
Orophin turned around, got on his horse and rode out into the night. When Elladan woke up, he had already left Imladris and was on his way to Tíngel Forest.
The place no Elf left alive.
* * *
Author's notes:
There is no Tíngel Forest. There never was a Tíngel Forest. I made it up. But we will all spend quite some time there, so better polish your swords and pack up an extra-pair of warm, hand-knitted underwear.