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: Can it get any more complicated? Yes, it can!
Special thanks go out to my wonderful betas, Ye Incredible Magic Rat and the most splendid Mistress Eveiya for their hard work.
CHAPTER 7
Through these fields of destruction
Baptism of fire
I've watched all your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms
"Brothers in Arms" - Dire Straits
~°~
Elladan sat by Rúmil's side and read a book on herb-lore. Time after time, he would check on his charge; alas everything seemed to be fine, and Elladan didn't expect any complications - Rúmil's wound was healing just nicely. After a while, his eyes got tired, and he put the book aside. He was looking at Rúmil, and for the first time, he saw him as Orophin's brother, which was rather an odd feeling.
‘Funny', he thought, 'how different brothers can be'. Rúmil and Orophin had - hair colour aside - absolutely nothing in common. With a smile, he remembered a drawing Bramble had done of her family some weeks ago. She had portrayed Rabbit, despite his name, as a black wolf, Orophin as a big cat, Rúmil as a ferret, Elrohir as a swan and, a fact which had contributed to much merriment, Haldir and Elladan as bulls. When asked why, of all animals, her ada and Elrond's eldest were supposed to be bulls; she had only shrugged and answered: "Because they look the same."
The only one who had been worse off was Elrond, who ended up as a turtle with bushy eyebrows, wearing a circlet. Elladan had to grin when he remembered the drawing; childlike as it had been, Bramble certainly had a point there.
"Would you share the joke with me?" the 'ferret' muttered, seeing the young Elf lord grinning.
Elladan quickly hid his smile behind his hand, blushing.
"My apologies, Rúmil – I was not aware you had woken up. I was merely remembering an amusing incident. Do you need anything?"
Rúmil tried to sit up, but his head was spinning, and he lay back down again.
"No, I am fine. What incident are you referring to? Pray tell - I could do with some laughter."
"Bramble's drawing – remember? Where she portrayed us as animals?"
"Oh, that one!"
Despite his headache, Rúmil had to chuckle. Haldir had been sulking for weeks, especially as Glorfindel felt compelled to 'moo' every time he crossed Haldir's path. And they all had stayed well out of Lord Elrond's way for quite a while, too.
"I was just thinking how spot on her drawing was, in an odd way,” Elladan remarked.
"Why – do you think that I look like a ferret?" Rúmil quipped in feigned insult, and Elladan placed his hands on both sides of his head, index fingers stretched out. "Indeed, and would I not make a most convincing bull!"
Rúmil mooed, and they both roared with laughter.
After this, they sat for a while in companionable silence; finally, Rúmil thought this was as good a moment to ask as any other - at least they were alone now - so he fixed his gaze on Elladan.
"Do you love Orophin?"
Elladan, completely taken aback by this question, stared at Rúmil as if he had grown a second head. Ever the diplomat, the Galadhrim!
"What? Why… oh I… actually…"
Rúmil made a calming gesture with his hand.
"I hope you do not mind my straightforward approach, but I am not one to beat around the bush. I ask because I am concerned about my brother, and so I demand an honest answer. Do you love Orophin?"
Elladan looked down at his hands, and he started to fiddle around with the ring on the middle finger of his left hand.
"Yes," he finally said, almost whispering, "I love him very much."
"This a good start," Rúmil said. "I will talk to him tomorrow."
Elladan's face dropped, and he shook his head.
"You cannot talk to Orophin anymore, Rúmil."
Alarmed, the Galadhrim propped up on his elbows, giving Elladan a sharp look.
"What do you mean by that?"
Elladan sighed. Of course – Rúmil couldn't know, he had been away. "Grandmother has ordered him to serve in Tíngel Forest."
"What? Tíngel Forest?" Rúmil sat up, ignoring the fact that his head was spinning and his stomach turning. "She has sent him to Tíngel Forest and you let him go?"
"I did not want him to go, but…"
"I cannot believe what I hear! You claim to love him and you let him go to certain death? What kind of love is that? And do you happen to know why he was sent there at all?"
Elladan shook his head, ducking under Rúmil's harsh words as if avoiding blows from an axe.
"I do not know, Rúmil. I can only suspect that grandmother did not approve, but it is not like her to interfere in such a way. I am greatly worried – I feel something evil, but I cannot put my finger on it. I tried to far speak with her, but she did not answer."
Rúmil picked up a glass from the bedside table and threw it across the room, where it collided with some medicine bottles; everything fell to the ground with a shattering noise, but he paid no attention to it.
"I cannot believe this!" Rúmil repeated, infuriated. "What do you intend to do now? And why are you still here in any case? Why did you not follow him?"
Elladan kept fiddling with his ring. "I cannot tell. I need to think about it."
"You need to think about it? Well then, young master Elladan, you better think quick, for I do not know of many who returned from Tíngel Forest alive, and I would hate to see my brother return only to burn on his funeral pyre!"
With that, Rúmil tried to get up, but he swayed. Elladan offered him his arm as a support, but Rúmil pushed him away.
"Do not touch me. It is as I told Orophin: this will not work out. He would not have hesitated a moment to ride after you and give his life for you, this I know, for this is the way Orophin loves: unconditionally. He deserves better than an Elven lord's spoilt son who sits here, fiddling with his ring, hanging on his grandmother's apron strings and hiding behind his ada. You are not worthy of his love."
With that, the Galadhrim, collecting all remaining strength, slipped into his tunic, and made for the door.
"Rúmil! You cannot leave like this – you are injured!" Elladan called after him, but Rúmil only waved him off.
"Leave me be, young lord – go and play with your sister's dolls, or polish your ada's gems. You can play 'warrior' some other time."
With that, he was out of the door, leaving a devastated Elladan behind.
The young Elf still stood on the same spot when Melpomaen slipped through the door quite a while later, tugging on Elladan's sleeve when he got no response to his greeting. He caught his attention and told him that his ada wished to see him – now.
Elladan looked at Melpomaen as if he had just woken up from deep slumber, then he nodded and followed the young advisor to his father's study.
* * *
It was autumn. Leaves in all shades of red and brown fell from the trees, covering the ground like a carpet, rustling softly underfoot.
There had been no autumn in Lothlórien for thousands of years, and the Galadhrim felt as if their home was falling apart with every leaf softly landing on the ground. Gone was the sun, gone was the warmth, no comforting glow lay over the Golden Wood anymore, and they all felt that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Galadriel stood on the balcony of her study and watched how, one by one, the leaves fell, and with every leaf, her heart was breaking a little bit more.
Never in her long life had she felt so lonely. It was not the loneliness caused by absence of company; it was the loneliness of the heart, the knowledge of standing alone and having not a single soul to turn to.
Autumn had begun in Lothlórien on the very day Celeborn had left the Golden Wood, and she could still see him, riding straight and proud through the rows of Galadhrim who had come to honour and bid farewell to their lord, despite Galadriel's express orders that nobody should witness Celeborn's departure.
Had she done the right thing? Oh, she didn't know, and she certainly had not taken her decision lightly. But after millennia of being lied to and cheated on, this had been the final straw; something inside her had snapped and she knew she couldn't take anymore of Celeborn's escapades.
She remembered how he had stood in front of her; Firinwë by his side, accusing him of taking advantage of her drunken state, Celeborn pleading that he had not touched the lady - not this time at least. In the end, Galadriel had banned him from the Golden Wood not for the questionable adultery with Firinwë, but for the many, many times he had broken her heart before.
This she could remember, and she also remembered the cheerful times, how they had loved each other, and laughed, and cried, the joy over the birth of their precious daughter, the grief over her loss, and then – nothing. One day she found herself alone, cut off from everybody, no love and light for her anymore, only the duty of keeping the Golden Wood safe. Nights and nights of negotiating treaties, spent bowed over the mirror to spot possible dangers for her home and her people, while Celeborn was out, playing, drinking, whispering sweet nothings in the ear of every wench or Elf who was willing to listen.
The mirror still beckoned her, calling her, but Galadriel didn't listen. There was nothing to see and feel anymore, and she envied the mortals their gift. Soon, the time would come for her to go out in the woods, to lie down under a Mallorn tree and fall asleep. She was so tired, both in mind and body. How nice it would be to close her eyes for once, to sleep, to forget everything and never feel pain and loss again.
Without noticing it, Galadriel dropped the small piece of white silk her restless fingers had been playing with, and it sank to the ground, blown away by the wind, like to the falling leaves of the Mallorn trees.
* * *
"Mauburz doesn't care. Mauburz doesn't want her here. 'No stooped Elf ladies allowed here', see sign above counter?"
Erestor sighed.
"Mauburz – dearest, sweetest – there is no such sign, and it is not an order of Lord Elrond, but his wish – do you not think you could do him this small favour?"
"Sign not up yet," the Orc stubbornly insisted, "but will be tomorrow!"
Erestor took the large paw of the Orc in his hands.
"Think about it, Mauburz – if she stays here in the guestroom, you can keep an eye on her. If she stays in the Last Homely House, she would have a room close to Lord Elrond, and who knows what would happen."
Mauburz grumbled, but Erestor felt her resistance melting, so he hurried to add, "And just think how annoyed she would be, ordered to stay here."
The Orc thought about it. "Hm. Lord Elrond wants it?"
"Yes."
"Stoopid Elf lady doesn't want it?"
"No."
"Good. Send stoopid Elf lady here. Can help stock up shelves and mopping floor. And you tell her, if not behaving, Mauburz will eat her for luncheon, with gravy."
Erestor laughed.
"Mauburz – you are a vegetarian!"
The Orc shrugged, and grinned.
"You know. Me knows. But stoopid Elf lady doesn't!"
* * *
It would have been an understatement to say that Elladan was surprised to see his grandfather sitting in his father's study, hair still wet from the bath and dressed in one of Glorfindel's robes. He stared at the Elf lord, his mouth open.
"Grandfather! What - what are you doing here?"
"I am also pleased to see you, Elladan,” Celeborn sarcastically replied, "and I am here because your grandmother has banned me from my own home."
"Banned? But - how? And why?"
This was all a little much for Elladan to take in, so he just flopped down into one of his mother's chairs and starred at his father and grandfather, expecting some kind of explanation.
"Why? Ah, let me see..." Celeborn said, and started to count on his fingers. "There was 'repeated adultery', 'negligence towards the realm', being an 'irresponsible bastard', 'lousy husband', 'even lousier father' - yes, I think that about covers it. I am sure there was more, but when she came to 'emotional cruelty', I was already escorted half way out of Lothlórien by her personal guard."
Elladan shook his head; he could hardly believe what he was hearing. "But - why? Why now? With all due respect, grandfather, your - extra-matrimonial activities were no secret."
Celeborn shrugged.
"Your grandmother has changed a lot since we lost our only child and you lost your mother, penneth. And I am most ashamed to admit that I was not a big help or support to her. I guess I deserve being left - alas, being banned from my own realm, this takes it a little too far."
Elrond nodded. "Indeed. Public flogging would have been more appropriate."
"Elrond!" Celeborn gasped, and Elladan's eyes widened to the size of saucers, but the Lord of Imladris only shrugged.
"As we are about to be honest with each other, Celeborn - you are a nightmare of a husband. You were a wonderful father, and Celebrían loved you dearly; the way you reigned your realm was always in favour of your people, at least it was when you still cared to reign, but as a husband - as a husband, my dear Celeborn, you were a hopeless failure. I would have left you long ago if I was your wife."
Celeborn crossed his arms defensively and glared at Elrond.
"Some son in law you are, I must say."
"I am only being honest with you, Celeborn."
"Waitwaitwait - this is getting a little surreal now," Elladan interrupted, steadying his head between his hands. "Grandfather - are you telling me here that you let grandmother ban you from your own realm without opposing her? What did the guards do? Did nobody speak in your favour? After all, she is not within the laws, you rule Lothlórien together."
Celeborn got up, and stepped closer to the fire, resting his hands on the mantelpiece.
"She was so upset, and so distraught - see, one word from me, and my guards would have come to my help. But what would I have won - I had certainly lost her forever, and how could I justify a battle between my guards and hers - among kin? We had one kin slaying already, penneth, and that was one too many. I decided to comply, to find some peace and decide my further action, and I hope that, in the meantime, she has calmed down."
Elladan got up.
"I will talk to her, grandfather. After all I’ve heard now, and seen during these last weeks, I have come to the conclusion that something is not fair in Lothlórien, and I will find out what it is. I was already surprised that she sent Orophin to serve in Tíngel Forest, and..."
"She sent Orophin to Tíngel Forest?" Celeborn called out, "When? Why? How come I do not know about this?"
Elladan looked at the ground, burying his hands in the pockets of his breeches. "I think she did not approve."
"Approve of what?" Now it was Elrond's turn to be confused - it seemed that, somewhere along the way, he had lost track of this conversation.
"Of Orophin."
Celeborn shook his head, ruffling his hair.
"What is there not to approve of? He is an excellent, loyal warrior and has served us well for many millennia. He was your guardian when you and your brother were Elflings."
Elladan sighed. There was no way around the truth, so he decided to come clean with everything.
"She did not approve of our love."
Elrond's eyebrows became one with his hairline.
"Your love? What love? Elladan?" he gasped.
"Our love, ada. I love Orophin. And he loves me, too."
The Lord of Imladris dropped in a chair as his legs suddenly refused service.
"You - and Orophin? But - Elladan ... you are my heir... do not misunderstand me, my son, Orophin is a fine Elf, and he is certainly fair of face, but he is almost as old as I am - and he is a 'he'!"
Elladan felt his blood rise, and his curled to fists, the pressure so great that his fingernails left bloodied half-moons on the palms of his hands.
"Yes, ada, he is a male. So was Gil-galad, or am I wrong here?"
Elrond paled. "Elladan - you forget your place!"
"No, ada, I do not. For the first time in my life, I know my place. And I chose it to be my place, not you, grandmother or anybody else! And that is why I will ride to Lothlórien, will get Orophin out of that Orc infested forest and will talk to grandmother!"
Elrond got up, straightened and was all Lord of Imladris, from circlet to toe, and it seemed to Elladan as if he was twice as high as he usually was. This was not his father; this was his judge, his lord.
"I will not allow it!" he boomed. "I will not lose another child of mine! This is a folly you will overcome. You will stay here and in time, you will have a family of your own, and you will rule this realm - I will hear no more of this nonsense!"
Elrond had fought many battles, faced great dangers and stared into the face of death many times in his long life, but nothing had ever scared him as much as the transformation his usually so mild-mannered son underwent the next moment.
Elladan roared, and kicked the table across the room so that it crashed against the wall next to the fireplace, sending splinters in all directions. Celeborn jumped up, and made a step towards his grandson, but when he saw the wild fury raging in the young Elf's eyes, he stayed where he was.
"You can neither allow me anything nor forbid it! I am my own lord and master! And I will ride out to Tíngel Forest first thing in the morning, and the Valar forbid anybody here should try to hold me back! I am not an Elfling anymore, forced to obey your orders! I am not Elrohir's dim-witted twin, I am not the heir of Imladris, I am not the untalented healer, I am not Elrond's son, and I am not a stud for the House of Elrond waiting for a noble mare - I AM ELLADAN!"
Elladan was beautiful in his anger, eyes blazing and long hair flying, and for the first time, Elrond saw who he really was, saw the fire that burned in his oldest son. It was the same fire that had driven Elrond himself out on the battlefield, had made him take risks and do things nobody else had dared - Elladan had become a strong, proud warrior, and he had to let him go.
Elladan's anger faded immediately when he saw how his father's shoulders dropped and how his outburst had affected his sire. This was not the Lord of Imladris anymore, this was only a father who faced the prospect of losing another child after having lost his beloved wife, and Elladan bitterly regretted his harsh words. He had not intended to hurt his father, ever.
Elrond looked at him for a long time, and none of the Elves moved. Celeborn watched his grandson and his son-in-law, and his heart ached for both of them. Both were right, and both were wrong, but this was one of nature's rules: sooner or later, the young ones would leave the nest, and there was nothing any parent could do to prevent this.
"My son..." Elrond whispered, then father and son took a step towards each other and finally were in each others arms, hugging. Never had Elrond felt a deeper love for his son, or Elladan a closer connection to his father. When they finally parted, Elladan's face was wet with tears, and they were not only his. Elrond placed his hand on his son’s cheek, gently stroking it.
"When did you grow up, penneth," he whispered, more to himself than to Elladan, "and how came I to have missed it."
Elladan rested his forehead against his father’s, and smiled, despite everything.
"You have not missed it, ada-nîn," he said, "it only just happened a minute ago."
Father and son stood for a long while, and Celeborn made sure the fire in the fireplace kept on burning.
* * *
Haldir turned his face to the wall and pretended to be fast asleep when Rabbit entered the chamber. Under normal circumstances the Galadhrim would have been delighted that his mate preferred his company to a night of wild hunting in the rain, but not today. Since that fateful night when Rabbit had told Haldir about his origin, they had hardly spoken five words with each other; the revelation of Haldir's ancestry dividing them more effectively than any wall could have.
Rabbit did not like this - never before had Haldir been in such a peculiar mood, and he was not willing to bear this any longer.
"Haldir - I need to talk to you,” he said, but Haldir continued to feign sleep.
This was a game you could play with Galadhrim or Hobbits, but not with a Mordorian Plains Elf. Before Haldir could take another breath, he found Rabbit atop of him, pinning his hands to the mattress, and there was no way to avoid facing Rabbit and looking him in the eyes.
"Leave me be, Rabbit - I am not one of the fishes you catch for luncheon!" Haldir growled, trying to free himself of Rabbit's iron grip, but it was a waste of effort, for whatever Rabbit held in his grip, he would either let go by free will or not at all.
"No, you are not a fish, you are my mate, and I wish to talk to you. Now." Rabbit growled, his strange, yellow eyes sparkling in the darkness like two small flames.
"But I do not wish to speak to you!" Haldir spat, struggling again.
"Then be still and just listen. You are angry. Because you are also mortal? Why is that a problem? You have eyes. Mortals have eyes. They love their children. You love your daughter. So where is the difference?"
Haldir didn't answer but continued to struggle.
"There is no difference, Haldir. The only difference is that you, like most other Elves, considered yourself special. You get upset when they look down at me, for they cannot see me with your eyes, but you, you cannot see mortals the way they are, either. You have a family, you are lucky. I lost my family, I was not. Do not complain about the things you do not have, Haldir - be grateful for those you have."
Rabbit released Haldir, and he could have slipped out from under his mate now, but he didn't. He stared at the ceiling, and tears ran slowly down his temples into his hair, soaking his braids.
"I do not know anymore who I am, Rabbit - everything I thought to be real has turned out to be a lie, and I cannot stop looking for signs of my mortality. I stand in front of my mirror and I see the same Elf I saw before, but I know it is not me - I am somebody else, but who? How did I come into this world? Was my father a firstborn who bedded a mortal woman? Or did my mother fall for a human? I have a thousand questions, Rabbit, and no answers, and this is driving me insane, can you not understand this?"
Rabbit pulled the distraught Elf into his arms, curling protectively around him like a wolf around his cubs, and gently stroked Haldir's hair.
"Today, I told Rúmil - he only said that now finally my extraordinary appetite was explained, and that was all. He was not upset, he was surprised, yes, but he did not seem to care. So why do I?"
"Because he sees you as who you are to him, Haldir - his brother whom he loves. Just like I see you as who you are to me: my mate, the other half of my soul, the father of my daughter, the bearer of my heart. This will never change. Do not value those around you by their ancestry, by their people or on the grounds of whether their ears are pointed or not. There are no beings of higher or lesser value - the only thing which really is of importance is whether their hearts are pure or not. And accept that we judge you only for the way you are, not for where you come from or who your parents were."
Haldir had silently cried all through Rabbit's speech, which must have been the longest his mate had ever made. Rabbit kept on stroking his mate. Finally, the Elf looked up to his lover, kissing him softly.
"I wish we all had your wisdom, Rabbit."
Rabbit cocked his head, then he hugged Haldir closer to his chest.
"Sleep. I will watch over you."
The Elf snuggled closer; soon, his eyes glazed over in reverie, and for the first time in weeks, he slept peacefully - not even nightmares dared to appear where Rabbit held vigil.
* * *
Even for an Elf it was impossible to walk without a sound on this rain-soaked ground. Orophin deeply disliked the wet, sucking noise every time his boots sank ankle deep in the mud and he had to pull his feet out again. At least, he thought, he heard a sound coming from an Elf, not from an Orc. One learned the distinction pretty quick out here; if not, one hardly got a second chance. One also learned to distinguish fellow Galadhrim by their coughing. A dry, short bark – Fendir. Rattling coughing – Turmíl.
Orophin huddled under a blanket, pressed close to a tree, covered by a makeshift tent, but still, his clothes were damp, and had been so for weeks. The few spare clothes he had brought along were covered in mildew by now, but like everybody else here, Orophin was beyond caring. There were only two things of importance in Tíngel Forest: keeping the Orcs out of the Golden Wood and surviving. In this order.
Orophin tried to get some sleep, but to no avail. The sharp, stabbing pain in his chest kept him awake, just like his longing for Elladan. How did the young one fare? Was everything in order at home? Odd, he thought, to think of Rivendell as 'home', but he guessed that every place was home to him as long as Elladan was there.
The Galadhrim turned onto his other side, coughing again, and when the attack was finally over, he gasped, trying to take a deep breath of air, but failing. Faint, light red sprinkles on his bedroll showed that he had been coughing up blood again. Well, this had to be expected; they all did, sooner or later.
A week ago, re-enforcements from the Golden Wood should have arrived, but they had waited in vain. Had the Lady forgotten about them? When three days later still no troops had shown up, they had sent a messenger to the Lady to inquire what was going on, but of course, it was one week's ride to Calas Galadhon, so news couldn't be expected for quite some days.
And then there were Haldir and Rúmil – he missed them very much, and the thought that he was not there to watch over them pained him greatly. And what about Elladan? Was he angry with him? Or sad? Or had he accepted the situation? Had he told his father? And what had the Lord's reaction been? Maybe Elladan had found another lover? One as young as he certainly was fanciful. It would be better, anyway – things between them just couldn't work.
These thoughts tormented Orophin more than his infected lungs, and kept him up at night. He had fought in many battles, and a soldier's life was second nature to him, but this place got to his core, and the longing for Elladan added to this. He felt light-headed, despite his exhaustion, and at times, it was like he was watching himself, sitting in the mud. When he stood on guard, he saw himself, a tired, pale Galadhrim with dark circles under the eyes, but strangely enough, he didn't care.
Orophin had faced death often before – on the battlefield, in the woods, by sword, by the claws of a Warg or the blade of an Orc, but he had never seen an Elf fading. So he couldn't know that the fading had begun, and that soon, he would hear Mandos' beckoning call.
"Orophin, here – drink this, it will help you."
He turned around, and saw Turmíl crouching by his side, offering him a mug with a steaming fluid which stank like ten unwashed Orcs.
"Ew, what foul draught is that!" He frowned, but took the mug nevertheless.
"Boiled roots. Good for your lungs. It will not stop the illness, but it makes breathing easier. That is, if you survive the taste." The other Elf pulled a face, and Orophin quietly laughed. He took a sip and shuddered.
"Delicious," he gasped.
"Yes, is it not? Who would want Miruvor when given the choice."
The two Elves laughed, and Turmíl sat beside Orophin for a while, making sure he emptied the mug.
"Thank you,” Orophin finally said. "I appreciate your concern."
Turmíl shrugged.
"We cannot survive if we do not help each other. I wonder, Orophin – how come you are here?"
Orophin looked up at his captain. "What do you mean by that?"
Turmil shrugged, then he lay down beside Orophin, propping himself up on an elbow.
"I know you and your brothers. You are one of Lord Celeborn's personal guards. You are highly respected and known as an Elf of honour, whereas we here…" he made a sweeping gesture towards the other sleeping Elves, "…are not exactly what I would call the pride of Lothlórien. We have thieves here, liars, troublemakers, gamblers… you are not like them."
Orophin frowned. "I do not know for sure, but I suspect the family of my beloved did not agree with my choice."
"And that is why you were sent to this rat hole here? What are they – mad?"
Orophin shook his head. "I do not wish to talk about this, Turmil."
"I see,” the other said, and though there were many questions he really wanted to ask, he respected Orophin's wish. Turmil cupped Orophin's cheek, gently caressing the dirt-streaked skin.
"I will not inquire further, but I am not surprised one as fair as you has a beloved."
Orophin gave Turmil a disapproving look, but did not move out of the touch.
"You should not speak to me in such a way," he said.
Turmil moved closer.
"Normal rules do not apply here, and you, as a warrior, certainly know this. My beloved is at home, with our Elflings. I miss her every second of the day, and the only reason I still live is because I want to see them all again. But right here and now, in the wet and the cold, I want you. Let me comfort you, let me make you forget, and all I ask in return is that you hold me, too, and we both can make it sane through another night."
Orophin sighed, closing his eyes. When he felt Turmil's lips on his, he didn't move away, and while his response was not enthusiastic, he returned the kiss. Turmil's skin was hot – the fever, Orophin thought – and he craved the warmth, and the touch of another being.
The captain of the Galadhrim was gentle and caring, and Orophin returned his caresses with the same respect as he received them. But in his mind, he saw Elladan's slate grey eyes, and the hair he ran his fingers through was dark, not silver blond. And without any doubt, Turmil's thoughts were not with him, either, but it didn't matter - not here. Not now.
Later, they lay entwined, Orophin's head resting on Turmil's shoulder.
"I thank you for this gift," the Elf simply said.
Orophin didn't answer, for what could one say to this?
* * *
In the meantime "Operation Orophin" was well on its way, and Rivendell was buzzing with activity.
Swords were sharpened, armours repaired, horses shod, and a small army prepared to head for the Golden Wood to "seriously mistreat Orcish backsides", as Fin had so eloquently put it. Alas, he was not fit for riding, not to mention fighting, so his activities were restricted to giving orders, barking commands, being in the way and driving everybody out of their minds.
Finally, Erestor had enough of the nonsense, and confined the furious Balrog-slayer to his quarters.
"Fin, here is the baby, there is the bottle, and if this should not keep you entertained enough, read another chapter of 'Nana Goose' to Estorel. Just stay out of our braids for the time being, will you?"
"Insult! And you expect me to bind myself to you? Who do you think I am – the Elfling sitter?" Fin howled, though he was secretly grateful to have an excuse to retire to his rooms, for he was in pain, and he was tired. Alas, a warrior like him couldn't admit this, of course.
"No, for the time being, you are Mrs Erestor, and I expect you to fulfil your wifely duties,” Erestor stated, already rushing out of the room again to oversee the kitchen and make sure the warriors got all provisions they needed.
"And how about your wifely duties, Mrs Glorfindel? Any chance before the next age?" Fin asked grumpily, and Erestor laughed.
"Only if you change Estorel's nappies yourself and do not again bribe a chamber maid to do it."
"Me? How can you even think I would do such a thing!" Fin snorted, though it was nothing but the plain truth.
"It is totally up to you, beloved – full nappies, empty bed, cold heart. Make up your mind."
With that Erestor was out of the door, leaving one displeased Balrog-slayer behind. He looked down at his son, who was lying on a soft blanket on the floor and trying once more to catch his own toes, and sighed.
"Estorel, Estorel – we will not have an easy life in this family."
Estorel giggled, thinking that this might be true, but that, on the other hand, this family he had chosen was highly entertaining.
"Yes, just laugh about me, you little Orc – you really are your father's son!"
This, too, was true, and Estorel once again admired the sharp intellect of his father, but being still a tiny Elfling, he decided it was not in his place to comment on this.
* * *
Celeborn looked up from his desk when he heard the faint knock on the door. He was working on the 147th draft of a make-up letter to Galadriel, but somehow he never even made it beyond the first line of greeting.
"Come in,” he called, and he was glad to see it was Haldir and Rúmil, not Elrond, who had an annoying tendency to hold long lectures which were only too true, but not really welcome at the moment.
"My lord," Rúmil greeted him, and bowed; so did Haldir.
"Drop the title, Galadhrim. I am not a lord anymore."
"Nay – you will always be my lord, and nothing will change that," Rúmil firmly stated, and Haldir nodded in agreement.
Celeborn gave the two a warm smile.
"You might as well sit then, my rebellious Galadhrim. Now - do you come to see me about your trip to Tíngel Forest?"
The two brothers exchanged a worried look.
"It is also about this, my lord," Haldir began, rubbing his thighs nervously, "but it is mainly a matter of – family."
"Of family? Why – ah yes, sure – Orophin," Celeborn replied, looking at them expectantly.
"Not only Orophin – my lord, this might seem like a strange moment to raise such questions, but I really need to know how I came to Lothlórien - when I was an infant," Haldir finally said, and it was clear to see he was not comfortable with this discussion.
Celeborn cocked an eyebrow.
"How you came to Lothlórien? Why – you know how this happened. You were an orphan, and I brought you to Amrun and Mya, where Rúmil already lived. He was the first they offered a home to."
"No – I need to know what really happened. The truth. You told me my parents were of noble blood, killed in an ambush, and that I was found and brought to you. But – this cannot be the truth, my lord, with all due respect."
Haldir told Celeborn the whole story of Rabbit's revelation. Celeborn listened intently, and when Haldir finished, there was silence. Celeborn stared at the former captain of his personal guard as if trying to read his mind, and who knew, Haldir thought, maybe this was exactly what he was doing.
"This is the most amazing tale I have ever heard, Haldir. And I understand well why you are so confused. Is Rabbit right? This I cannot tell you, mellon-nîn. To me, you look like a full-elf, and I have never noticed anything to indicate the opposite. But this does not mean anything. Look at Arwen – she was never ill, she never felt the cold, and she is as much or as little human as her brothers. Maybe it is different for each half-elf."
Haldir winced at the term, but Celeborn continued.
"I will tell you what happened back then, Haldir. Many millennia ago, I used to visit a tavern in a town of mortals. You will not be surprised to hear that I was there to play cards and throw the dice rather than to deal out treaties. One night, a very young mortal woman came to see me there. She carried a basket with a tiny Elfling, and that was you, Haldir. She told me to look after you and bring you to your own people.
At first, I suspected that she had stolen you from somewhere, and that a distraught mother was looking for you. But she also seemed seriously concerned, told me that she could not look after you and so I came to the conclusion that there must be some kind of connection between her and you. I admit, I had the suspicion over the years that she might be your mother, a mortal who had gotten involved with some thoughtless Elven warrior passing the town on his way back home, but when you grew up, there was nothing to indicate there was mortal blood in you, so I dropped the idea. But now, after hearing your tale, I must admit: yes, it is possible she was your mother. Very likely so."
Haldir shivered, and Rúmil put his hand on his brother's arm, comforting him.
"My Lord – Rabbit said that Orophin had the 'scent of my tribe'. Is it… is it possible he is a half-elf, too? My brother, maybe?"
Celeborn shook his head.
"The young woman who brought you to me was, oh, it is difficult to tell with mortals, but she cannot have seen more than 17 or 18 winters, and Orophin, when he came to the Golden Wood, was close to reaching majority already, so he was four times her age. Of course, he could be your half-brother, maybe the legitimate son of your father, but this, I am afraid, we will never know. He was abducted when he was very young and has no memory of his parents."
Haldir clutched tightly to the arm rests, not saying a word. Celeborn walked over to him and rested a hand on the shoulder of the distraught Galadhrim.
"Haldir – I understand that you need to know about your roots, your family. But could Orophin be any closer to you if he was your brother by blood? Would you love him more? I do not think so. Do not wear yourself out over this."
The archer nodded.
"No, my lord, I could not love him more if we were really kin. But why did you not tell me the truth earlier? Why have you kept me in the dark for so many years?"
Celeborn sighed.
"You know how some feel about half-elves. I wanted to give you every chance to grow up and lead a life unburdened by the past. Maybe this was wrong, and I beg your forgiveness – but please believe me, I only had your best interest in mind."
Haldir nodded. "I thank you, my lord – for everything."
He wanted to get up, but Celeborn stopped him.
"Wait a moment, Haldir – there is something I need to give to you."
He went over to the desk, opened it and took a large, heavy tome out of it. He flicked through the first pages, then he picked out a small, folded piece of parchment.
"This is my diary – only short notes of the most important things that happened in my life. Shortly after I brought you to Amrun and Mya, I made this drawing. I did not think much of it back then, but for some reason, I wanted to preserve the face of the woman who had brought you to me."
He handed the parchment over to Haldir, who took it hesitantly and finally unfolded it with shaking fingers.
While the drawing would not have stood competition to one of the Great Masters, Celeborn sure had certainly managed to capture the features of a young woman. She was not fair by the standards of the Firstborn, but there was gentleness in her face, and warmth. Haldir stared at the picture for minutes, taking in every line of the young face portrayed, then he gently touched the parchment with the tips of his fingers.
"Nana," he said, and he smiled at Rúmil, "I finally know what my nana looked like."
He carefully folded the parchment and tucked it away in his jerkin, close to his heart.
* * *
"Get away with that cushion, Erestor! I want to die a warrior's death, not be suffocated by a skinny scroll shuffler!"
"Scroll shuffler yourself!" Erestor hissed, and stuffed the extra cushion between the back of the protesting Balrog-slayer and the head-board. He woke up Glorfunkle, who had held a little nap, and the crow protested vocally. Erestor shooed the animal away, then he turned his attention back to his mate.
"You are a nightmare for every healer, Glorfindel of Gondolin, but you will stay here and rest, as you were ordered, even if I have to tie you down!"
Fin grinned at his mate cheekily. "My, Erestor - are we finally getting adventurous?"
Erestor whacked him with another cushion, slightly blushing.
"Are you complaining that your life with me has not been adventurous so far? Do I bore you, Lord Glorfindel?" Erestor cocked an eyebrow, and poked Fin's side.
Fin squirmed and pretended to think carefully about his question. "Now that you ask me, Master Erestor ... indeed, I find our relationship a little - lacking."
"Lacking? Lacking? Nothing is lacking here save your wits, Fin! Why - what is it that lacks? Ropes? Shackles? WHIPS? By the Valar, Glorfindel - you have spent way too much time in the locked department of Elrond's library!"
Fin perked up.
"Locked department? There is a locked department? How come I do not know about this?"
Erestor mentally kicked himself for mentioning this - now that Elrond's well-hidden secret was out, he would never hear the end of it.
"As a matter of fact - yes, there is. And it is none of your business, seneschal," Erestor replied, tilting his long nose arrogantly in the air.
Glorfindel got the all-too-well known predatory expression in his eyes, freed himself of blankets, quilts and cushions, and slowly crawled towards Erestor, careful not to bump his injured arm anywhere, but determined to get to the advisor who sat at the foot of the bed.
"My dearest Erestor - is it possible you had a peek in those books? Have you found anything - interesting? Some forbidden fruit you wish to taste now?"
Erestor groaned.
"Fin, you are unbearable when you are injured - but then, you are also unbearable when you are not. Now be a good Elf and lie back down, you need to rest and I have no patience for your - peculiarities."
Fin, who by now had reached his mate, rested his head in Erestor's lap, stretching out and looking very much like a lazy cat.
"Oh come on, Erestor - humour me. I am an old, weak, crippled Elf, and I would appreciate it very much if you could raise my spirits - among other things."
As usual, all Erestor’s resistance melted under Fin's longing gaze, and he gently ran his fingers over the other Elf's neck and chest. Fin promptly started to purr, and Erestor secretly thought that, if the Balrog-slayer behaved any more catlike, he would have to feed him the milk, rather than Estorel.
"I am waiting..." Fin sing-songed, while he submitted to Erestor's gentle ministrations.
"What for?" Erestor asked, absolutely not willing to get tied up in a discussion on the books in Elrond's secret library. Which, he had noted with interest, all bore Gil-galad's seal and were mostly of a highly erotic content.
"For a detailed description of the content of those secret books, my love. Come on - I'm your soon-to-be-husband, we should have no secrets."
Briefly, his little encounter with Rúmil came to Fin's mind, but he dismissed this immediately.
"There is not much to tell, Fin," Erestor stated, the tips of his fingers gently tracing circles and ornaments on Glorfindel's chest, occasionally brushing a nipple in the process, which resulted in another moan from Glorfindel.
'You beast', Fin thought, 'you know exactly how to drive me out of my mind!' But he was not willing to let go, even if the distraction was as tempting as Erestor in his light sleeping pants, already divested of his tunic, hair unbraided and falling down his chest like a black waterfall.
"Any information is of interest to me, sweet advisor mine. Pray tell - what dark secrets does Elrond hide?"
Fin snuggled closer to Erestor, rubbing his cheek on his belly. There was still a faint scar to be seen from the birth, and his stomach was softer, not as taunt as it used to be. As a matter of fact, all about the willowy advisor had become softer, even his attitude. When Fin watched him holding Estorel, seeing the enchanted expression on the beloved features, he often wondered if this was the way Erestor had looked before duty, losses and pain had taken their toll. 'If I have contributed even a tiny part to this change, I have lived a life worthy of an Elf', Fin thought, then he placed tiny kisses all along the scar.
Erestor looked down, and ran his hands through Fin's hair. He loved the feel of it - it was not soft to the touch, despite its look, but rather wiry, and Erestor never ceased to marvel at its texture. He could sit for hours, just playing with the golden strands, and Fin was not one to deny him the pleasure.
"You are a little bit obsessed with this scar, Fin."
Glorfindel chuckled, then he licked along the pink line on the pale skin.
"I am not. As you know very well, I am obsessed with all of you. But I must admit, you have a very delightful scar here."
Erestor laughed quietly, and Fin turned in his lap, facing the scar in question.
"Indeed - this is by far the most beautiful birthing scar I have ever seen on a male Elf, though it pales in comparison with this exquisite belly-button."
Erestor squirmed when Fin's tongue dipped into the hollow, swirling around the edge.
"This is, I am absolutely sure, not what Elrond meant by 'resting', Fin!" Erestor chided, but since he leant back to give Fin better access, he was probably not completely averse to Fin's ministrations.
Fin grinned. "Elrond said I was not allowed to leave the bed for the next two days, and I have every intention of following his advice."
With that, he lay on his back, taking Erestor with him so the black-haired advisor came to lie on top of him. Erestor bent down, and their lips met for a long, loving kiss. 'Amazing', Fin thought, 'five years already, and still it is like the first time every time we kiss'. He couldn't imagine ever getting used to this, to the comfort of Erestor's warm body next to his, to the bliss of waking up in his arms or, occasionally, on the floor, when his dark-haired mate had a restless night.
Erestor gazed lovingly down at Fin, and closed his eyes, leaning into his touch when the Balrog-slayer cupped his cheek and gently stroked the soft skin with his thumb.
"You know - I feel a little guilty, lying here with my lame wing, while others ride out to battle."
Erestor kissed Fin gently on his nose.
"I know, Fin. I feel the same. Especially as I was the one who encouraged Elladan to do this - but I feel, deep down, that everything will end well, beloved. There is something special about the young one - he has grown up, and there is strength in him he has not yet discovered. You and me, Fin, we have fought our battles. Now it is their turn."
"What - you think me too old to join in battle?" Glorfindel snorted.
Erestor laughed, a merry, heartfelt laughter that Fin loved to hear, then he kissed his mate again.
"I knew it!" Fin howled, "You only love me for my wealth! Without a doubt, you have already got yourself a beautiful young lover somewhere, and the two of you plot how to dispose of my body! Confess! You are having an affair with Melpomaen!"
Erestor pulled a face, then he cocked an eyebrow and pretended to consider this option.
"Oh, this is certainly something I need to think about, dear Lord Glorfindel. To inherit your collection of empty Miruvor bottles is definitely a most tempting thought. But how, I wonder, could I send you to the Halls of Mandos?"
He bent down, and licked a slow, torturing path from Fin's lobe to the tip of his ear.
"I could drown you in a container of Mauburz' perfume," he murmured, then sucked gently on the delicate tip, which elicited a deep groan from his mate. "Or," he continued, nibbling his way back from ear to throat, hovering there for a while, "I could read you the memoirs of King Oropher and bore you to death."
Erestor slowly worked his way down Fin's body, caressing, kissing, stroking, nipping, and when he reached the waistband of Fin's sleeping pants, Fin was as far away from 'resting' as one could possibly be.
"Now that I come to think of it,” Erestor continued his little lecture in an almost bored tone while he unlaced the pants and slipped them over Fin's hips, "the appropriate death for you would be being teased to death".
Fin propped up on his one good arm, looking down at his lover, who was watching him with a downright wicked grin on his face, wetting his lips with his tongue in a very slow, very seductive way.
"Erestor - are you about to do what I think you will?"
Erestor thought about it for a moment, as if he was undecided, then he looked down at the task at hand, so to speak, and nodded.
"I think I can confirm this."
"Then," Fin said, dropping back in the soft cushions, sighing happily, "I shall die a happy elf."
* * *
Rúmil was saddling his horse and checking one last time the contents of his two saddle bags. It was still early, but he wanted to be prepared and ready to leave on time. He was deeply worried – for Orophin, but also for the Golden Wood and the Lady Galadriel. Something evil was lurking, and as much as he enjoyed staying here in Rivendell, Lothlórien was his home, and he couldn't wait to return.
Celeborn entered the stable, dressed in a borrowed robe of dark green colour. A leftover from Thrandúil's last visit, Rúmil thought, but he was wise enough to hold his tongue.
"My lord," he greeted Celeborn, and bowed. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Yes, there is, Rúmil. With Haldir no longer under my command and Orophin in Tíngel, the command over the guards – the ones still obeying my orders – is upon you. I just wanted to wish you good luck, mellon, and – the first priority is to keep Lothlórien safe, Rúmil. I know that you are very upset with Lady Galadriel for sending your brother to Tíngel. But the blame has to be mine as well, that things have gone so wrong, and I wish you to promise me that, no matter what happens, no harm shall befall my wife."
Rúmil nodded.
"You have my word. I swore my bow and arrows and life to the Lord and the Lady of the Golden Wood, and nothing can make me break my vow. I shall die for her if necessary."
"This I know, though I would certainly prefer that you live."
For a while, the two stood in silence, and Rúmil had the feeling that this was not the only reason the Lord had sought his company. And he was right.
"Rúmil – I would like to tell you that, as far as you are concerned, I have always been honest. You were really found and freed by Elrond and brought to my care."
"I know. I remember well," Rúmil said, patting the horse.
"You remember? But – how can you?" asked Celeborn confused.
"I remember everything, my lord. My rescue and – the things that happened before."
A shadow fell on the younger Elf's face, and Celeborn knew better than to touch on memories too painful to recall.
"I also remember my family."
"You do? But why did you never tell me?"
Rúmil shrugged.
"First, I did not want to talk about it, and then the memory faded. I had long become Rúmil of the Northern March, and this is who I am. What good would it have done to call up the past?"
Celeborn sat down on a bale of hay, staring up at the Galadhrim, shaking his head.
"So, tell me, Rúmil – who were your parents then, and where did you come from?"
"My father was Beleth, a Galadhrim. My mother was Rhinwë. She was the town healer."
"YOU are the son of Beleth and Rhinwë?" Celeborn cried out, and jumped up. "I knew your parents! Your ada was a great and noble warrior, he was captain of the Galadhrim. We all mourned his early death, so soon after your birth. And your mother – oh, she was a formidable lady, one of the best archers we ever had, and a stunning beauty. She cured more than one sore head of mine! I – held her in very high regard."
Rúmil smiled at his lord – if only he had said something earlier, then he could have talked about his family years ago, but it warmed his heart to know that his loved ones had not been forgotten.
"So you are Orod then. By the Valar, that I live to see this day."
"No," Rúmil replied, and he choked down the lump forming in his throat, "I am not Orod - I am Calen. Orod was my older brother. He and my mother – they both died."
Celeborn shook his head.
"Calen? But Beleth and Rhinwë had only one son -– Orod. Beleth died when his son was still an Elfling."
Rúmil was confused. "I cannot say, my lord – maybe you confuse things? It was a long time ago, after all. My father died when I was still an Elfling, that is true – I actually cannot remember him."
If somebody had poured a bucket of ice-water over Celeborn's head, he couldn't have shivered more. His legs refused to carry him, and he dropped back down on the bale of hay.
"My lord – what is wrong with you? Are you not feeling well? Shall I go and fetch Lord Elrond?" Rúmil asked, worried at the sudden change in the so-far very cheerful mood of his lord, who now sat in front of him as pale as if he had seen a Ringwraith.
"NO! By the Valar – NOT Elrond!" Celeborn gasped, raking his hair with his fingers, staring at the younger Elf in front of him.
"My lord – I hope that, if I return safely and you will feel better, you can tell me some tales about my ada, as you knew him. It pained my mother to talk about him, so I never asked, but I would dearly like to know what he was like."
Celeborn closed his eyes for a moment, recalling a discussion he had once had with Amrun over the three Elflings the captain had adopted.
FLASHBACK CELEBORN
"You know that Orophin was a menace when he reached majority, my Lord, but believe me, he was not half the trouble Rúmil is! If I had a gold coin for every angry father who claims the young one is responsible for the loss of his daughter's innocence, I could retire and buy a cabbage farm in the Shire! Last night, he came home, his brain fogged with wine, and last week, I caught him teaching Haldir how to throw the dice!”
Celeborn laughed and slapped his old friend's back. "Ai, Amrun, do not despair, it will pass. This is the way the young ones are – I was the same when I came of age."
Amrun sighed.
"This is not a prospect I am too happy with, my lord!"
end of flashback
Celeborn opened his eyes again. His head was spinning, and he desperately needed to get out of the stable and take a breath of fresh air.
"Rúmil," he said, and he successfully managed to get back on his legs, "all I can tell you right now is that you are every bit like your father."
The Galadhrim smiled, proudly, and Celeborn would have given anything for a bottle of Thrandúil's 2948 2nd Ager.
For indeed - Rúmil was every bit like his father.
* * *
Author's notes:
Yes, that's really Orophin in the picture (or rather: an Elf who was portrayed by the same guy as Orophin, for we are all VERY grateful Orophin was NOT in Helm's Deep!)
I have noticed something rather confusing through the course of this story. Celeborn is married – you know, the one-for-all-eternity-thingy - but he cheats on his wife on every possible opportunity, he was little to no support to her when they lost their daughter, he has neglected his realm – and still I get feedback about what an evil "bitch" Galadriel is.
Now don't get me wrong – I like Celeborn, a lot. And he is not the baddy in this tale, nor is Galadriel. But I can't help but wonder how come women are so ready to forgive a man (or Elf, in this case) all kinds of bad behaviour? And would you, my dear ladies, not kick a husband out the door if he cared more for wine, dice and other women for a couple of centuries? Would you really put up with such a guy? Well, I wouldn't, and Galadriel neither, obviously. I guess they both got the wrong partner. Celeborn needs somebody who kicks his backside if needed, and Galadriel needs somebody who really cares for her and shows her that she is special.
And as I'm the almighty author of this story, this is exactly what both of them will get. Ha! Go me!