My Heart's Desire - Part 2. If You Go Away.

Chapter 11. Pain Management.

Haldir

Amarion watched Haldir do his hunting routine like he watched him do it many evenings during these three years since Haldir’s return from Imladris. Actually Haldir did not have to do much. He just surveyed ellith and ellyn around him appraisingly and his potential bedmates held their breaths hopefully. Though all of them knew that it most probably would not be more than a one night stay, they were still drawn to Haldir like moths to fire. Each of his casual lovers hoped secretly that he or she would be the one to break Haldir’s self-imposed rule of not getting involved in a relationship. Amarion felt sorry for them for theirs were futile hopes: Haldir did not do relationships any more.


When Haldir came back to Lórien after his one year’s stay in Imladris, Amarion did not notice anything amiss about him at first. True, his friend was quieter and less jovial than he used to be but it was understandable: he had just ended up a relationship after all. He said it had not worked out for Gildor and him but refused to elaborate. Amarion was living with Narmacil by then and his lover, who had known Gildor for many millennia, was not surprised by Haldir’s quick return. He said Gildor had never been one for long relationships. Though Narmacil admitted that Gildor had seemed infatuated with Haldir before they left for Imladris, he was inclined to think that it had been just the wrong impression Gildor allowed them to have.

Haldir fell back into his old ways easily. He once again led his patrol as Marchwarden and divided his free time between his numerous friends and even more numerous lovers. If the former were happy to welcome him back, the latter were absolutely ecstatic for they had been mourning his loss ever since Gildor had taken him away from Lórien and off the market. Haldir seemed to revel in the attention and it was a rare night that he would go to bed alone.

Amarion was amused at first, thinking that Haldir was making up for the time he had spent in monogamy. But then he started noticing that there *were* changes in his friend after all. He was still a flirt and a rake and his notorious charm was still irresistible but it had lost its sunny, carefree quality as if some shroud enveloped Haldir, dimming his inner glow, making him colder and harder, less open and more cynic. Amarion thought he could see something familiar in Haldir’s behaviour. But it took him some time to realize that in fact Haldir was acting in very much the same way Amarion had seen Gildor do when the Vanya was in Lórien. Amarion did not like that.

He watched the endless train of Haldir’s bedmates, trying to understand what his friend was striving to find in their arms or perhaps what he was so eager to escape. It looked suspiciously like he was afraid to remain alone and felt safe only if someone else was around. It was not like the Haldir Amarion had known before. Obviously his love affair with Gildor had affected him more than he was willing to reveal. Amarion knew for sure that his assumption was correct after a scene he happened to witness three or four months after Haldir’s return.

He was spending an evening with Haldir and Rúmil in the Silver Goblet. The tavern was overcrowded that night. All was well until Amarion noticed that Haldir was listening with a frown to the conversation taking place at the nearby table, occupied by a large and noisy company. One of the elves was Celeg, who served as a messenger to the Lord and the Lady and who appeared to have just returned from Imladris. He was sharing news with his companions. Amarion’s attention was alerted by the sound of Gildor’s name.

“That elf is insatiable,” Celeg said laughingly. “One lover at a time is no longer enough for him. He must have two at once to please him. And the notorious princes of Imladris, no less. But then, who could blame him? Anyone would wish to be meat in that kind of sandwich.”

The next moment Haldir was on his feet. He grabbed Celeg by his tunic and slammed him into the wall.

“How dare you!” he hissed at him. “How dare you speak so of him! It’s none of your business what he does and with whom!”

Celeg was so stunned and Haldir looked so ominous that Celeg thought it wise not to argue with him. It took Amarion and Rúmil quite an effort to drag Haldir away.

Haldir’s passionate display set Amarion thinking. Apparently Haldir still cared for Gildor. But why had he left him then? He went to question Orophin but Haldir’s eldest brother knew no more than Amarion, only that Haldir claimed to be the one to have ended his relationship with Gildor and bristled up at every mention of Gildor’s name. Orophin said there was no surer way to raise his brother’s hackles than to speak to him about his former lover. Amarion decided to have an experiment and to see for himself how bad it actually was.

One warm afternoon Haldir and he took their horses to the stream to bathe them and as they were chatting about this and that, Amarion said casually, “Do you know Gildor was badly wounded shortly after you left?”

Haldir grew instantly quiet and tense but Amarion pretended he did not notice and went on, “The twins found him hardly alive and brought him back to Imladris. Elrond managed to save him and after that Gildor gave up his rank of Captain to hunt yrch with the princes.” [orcs]

“Amarion,” Haldir said flatly, “I did not ask you to tell me that.”

Amarion shrugged nonchalantly. “I thought you would be interested.”

“Well, I am not.”

After that Amarion had to do all the talking on his own.


Amarion woke up from his daydreaming and saw that Haldir had finished another bottle of wine. That was another thing that worried Amarion to no end: Haldir had been drinking a lot lately. Though, to give Haldir his due, it never affected his performance of his duties. He was an even more efficient Marchwarden than before, if that was possible, though much more demanding. And he was definitely a more accomplished swordsman now. Amarion had seen him beat Orophin spectacularly. And Orophin was one of the best swordmasters in Lórien.

Haldir put down his goblet and Amarion recognized the expression on his friend’s face: Haldir had chosen a bedmate for the night. Amarion followed the direction of his stare and frowned.

“Narthan? Haldir, this is appalling! He is but a child.”

“He is past his majority,” Haldir argued.

“Ten or twenty years, no more. He hardly can pass for an adult.”

“I do not think he will agree with you on that,” Haldir smirked, still gazing at the young elf.

Narthan had green eyes and hair that had a golden tint to it. Haldir gave him a slight nod of invitation and the youngster blushed with pleasure.

“I am ready to leave,” Haldir announced. “Are you staying?”

“No.” Amarion rose to his feet as well. “I must be off. Narmacil is leaving for Mirkwood tomorrow early in the morning to deliver Lord Celeborn’s dispatch.”

“Oh, so you are going home to give him something to remember you by?” Haldir asked archly as they moved to the door.

“Exactly,” Amarion replied, unfazed.

Narthan followed them out into the street and walked some distance behind them as they made their way to their talans. Amarion glanced over his shoulder uncomfortably.

“I still think you should not take to your bed elves that young, Haldir.”

“And why is that?” Haldir smirked but his smirk lacked sparkle. He seemed to be in somewhat less high spirits now and Amarion decided that the wine Haldir had consumed started to affect him at last.

“Why?” Amarion sighed. “Because at that age one is overly romantic and tends to consider every tryst as the beginning of a life-long relationship. He can easily fall in love with you and get hurt afterwards as a consequence.”

Haldir gave him a scornful look. “Do you truly believe there is something in me to fall in love with?”

“Even as little as your pretty face could be enough at his young age,” Amarion retorted.

Haldir shrugged. “It is his choice anyway. It is not like I am dragging him to my bed by force, is it?”

“What are you *doing*, Haldir?” Amarion asked, driven almost to frustration by Haldir’s attitude. “Why have you become so heartless?”

“What am I doing?” Haldir stopped and turned to face his friend. He suddenly looked dead tired, even sick. “I don’t know… Coping... Surviving... ”

Amarion saw the wild turmoil of feelings in Haldir’s eyes. Instinctively he took a step towards his friend. Haldir curled his hand around Amarion’s neck and pulled him closer, pressing their foreheads together.

“But you are right about one thing, Mari: I am heartless. Because I have no heart any more.”

“What happened to it?” Amarion asked softly.

Haldir closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “Maybe I lost it. Or maybe it was broken… It’s just not there any longer. There is a gaping hole in the place where my heart used to be.”

Amarion swallowed a lump in his throat. “You are drunk, Haldir,” he whispered. “Drunk and emotional.”

Haldir pulled away and shook his head. “Drunk? Watch me.”

He easily walked the rope that was strung between two platforms. Amarion held his breath: Haldir had been drinking rather heavily that evening. But Haldir did not swing even once. He stopped in front of Amarion again.

“No, meldir, I am not drunk. I am never drunk enough these days… Have a good night, Mari.”

Haldir climbed the stairs to the platform of his talan where Narthan was waiting for him patiently. He opened the door and ushered the young elf inside. Then he threw one last glance over his shoulder at his friend and disappeared behind the door to his house. Amarion sighed and headed for his own home.


Haldir woke up at dawn. He moved away from the warm body pressing to his own, rolled over and looked at his current bedmate. Green eyes, clouded with reverie, mussed golden hair, youthful face – and right there the similarity ended. Where Gildor *looked* young, Narthan *was* young with all the ensuing consequences… In no way could he equal Gildor, but then no one could… Haldir had no illusions about that. He had not been trying to find a *new* love among all those elves going through his bed; he had been trying to forget the *old* one. He was able to manage it, even if for a short time, losing himself in the body of yet another bedmate, as he was able to relieve the pain he still felt by blocking out everything but the moment. Not to think, not to remember, not to regret…

But it was impossible not to think and not to remember. Each time he made love, he imagined it was Gildor in bed with him. He even had to learn to bite back his climax cry after several embarrassing times when Gildor’s name spilled from his lips traitorously. However, the brutal reality of his present life never let him out of its clutches completely: even at the moment of his climax he was acutely aware of the difference between ‘now’ and ‘before’. No one could match Gildor, let alone surpass him. Every time disappointment would come as aftermath, then hopelessness and despair.

Haldir stopped taking ellyn to his bed, hoping that this way he would be able not to think about Gildor and not to compare his current bedmate with his former lover. But it felt even more wrong with ellith. It was hopeless: Gildor had spoiled him for everyone else.

The problem was that Haldir could not stop bringing lovers to his bed because every single night he spent alone he would dream of Gildor and of what they had shared. Those were poignant dreams and in the morning Haldir would feel sick with pain and longing, his hardly healed wounds bleeding anew. He had tried all the methods to get rid of those visions. He spent long hours on the training grounds, wearing himself out to the point of numbness; he took double shifts at the border; he drank the strongest wine by bottles. But neither exhaustion nor hard work nor liquor could exorcise Gildor from his dreams. The only means that guaranteed him a dreamless night was sex. So he had a lot of that. He would take a lover to his bed, do the job, earn his sound sleep and then wake up in the morning with a cold void in place of his heart.

Several times during his first few months at home Haldir was within an ace from going back to Imladris. But then Amarion told him that Gildor was no longer there. Haldir was shocked to learn that Gildor had left his patrol in order to be with the twins. It really hurt him to realize how deeply Gildor must care for them to give up so much for their sake. He knew then that it was a point of no return and now there was truly no hope for him and no way back…

Haldir did not tell anyone about the reasons for his split-up with Gildor. Neither did he reveal how hard it was for him to deal with it. He knew Orophin would tell him he had warned him from the very beginning and he would be right, of course. Rúmil would get angry for his sake and would blame Gildor for everything, and Haldir wanted that least of all. And Amarion…

Haldir saw considerably less of his best friend now that Amarion had a lover. Besides, Haldir had a suspicion that Narmacil, being of Noldorin nobility himself, had not approved of him as Gildor’s mate. The twins were a much better match in this respect as they were princes and Noldorin princes at that. Haldir was not sure his suspicion was grounded but he preferred to spend time with Amarion when his friend did not have his Noldorin lover with him. But to be completely sincere, there was one more reason why it was hard for Haldir to see them together. No matter how Narmacil felt about Haldir, he did care for Amarion. Only a blindman would fail to notice it. It was painful for Haldir to witness their happiness as it reminded him with acute intensity of what he had lost.

No, Haldir did not talk to anyone. He tried to cope with everything on his own. But at times, when it became unbearably difficult, he would allow himself a moment of weakness, stay alone for the night and let Gildor into his dreams. He would see him, beautiful, wild, passionate; his feline green eyes ablaze, the waves of his golden hair streaming down his bare shoulders and back. He would hear him whisper endearments and cry out his name in passion. He would feel Gildor’s hands on his skin and his breath on his lips. He would dream of being incased in the hot body that welcomed his invasion and squeezed him tighter than a fist, demanding from him everything Haldir could give. And then Haldir would wake up, hard and aching. He never was granted completion in his dreams. But he would still feel Gildor’s lingering presence and he would bring himself to climax, crying out Gildor’s name.

Such nights made his life seem even more intolerable and bleak. He would seek oblivion and begin the vicious circle anew.


Haldir sighed, sat up in his bed and shook Narthan by the shoulder. “Time to get up.”

Narthan blinked at him sleepily. “It is way too early yet,” he whined.

“No, it is not.” Haldir swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up and stretched. “Surely you want to get home before your Nana wakes up to find out you did not spend the night at home.” [Mom]

“Are you kicking me out?” Narthan inquired, sitting up.

Haldir found a bathrobe and put it on. “That is too blunt a way to put it.”

Narthan watched Haldir tie the belt. “I take it we won’t be doing it again?”

“You are a very intelligent young elf.”

Narthan bit his lip. “I just wonder what you will do when you have slept with every eligible elf here. Will you start on a second round?”

Haldir looked at him with barely concealed irritation. “Could we discuss my plans for the future some other time, please?”

“I think, Haldir, the one you are looking for is not in Lórien.”

Haldir’s eyes became hard. “I am off to my bath,” he announced. “And you are off to your home.”

Narthan winced at the bang with which the door to the bathroom shut behind Haldir.


Gildor

Gildor, Elladan and Elrohir were heading for Imladris. There was only a week left before the Solstice and Elrond had asked them to be home for the holiday. To travel the roads of Eriador was not as dangerous now as it had been four or five years ago. The three warriors had to really *hunt* orcs nowadays instead of just riding out of the borders of their realm.

The twins were in high spirits, anticipating the rest and fun they were going to have at home. As their horses trotted merrily through the summer forest, they talked to each other about this and that. They were used by now to Gildor being mostly silent and did not try to engage him in their discussions any longer. Elladan seemed to be in a philosophical mood.

“Can you believe orcs were elves once?” he asked his brother. “No matter how hard I try, I cannot find even a trace of resemblance left between our species.”

“How about pointy ears?” Elrohir offered jokingly.

Elladan snorted. “Hobbits have pointy ears too. Were they also elves once?”

“Perhaps,” Elrohir smirked. “Then for some reason they had to starve for a long time and thus shrank to half-size.”

“And they eat so much now because they still remember the Great Hunger,” Elladan developed his brother’s theory even further.

“Exactly.”

“Uh huh. And how will you explain their hairy feet, you wiseacre?”

“Er… ” Elrohir failed to come up with an answer to that at once.

“No, seriously, Ro, do you think it is still possible? I mean, to distort an elf into an orc?”

But Elrohir refused to be serious. “You would make the prettiest orc I’ve ever seen, tôren,” he teased. “And I would hunt you down and make you beg for mercy.” [my brother]

That shattered Elladan’s contemplative mood completely. “You? Ha! What makes you think you would be the one to do the hunting? Maybe it would be me. Imagine all the horrible dirty things I would do to you when I got you.”

“Like what?” Elrohir inquired interestedly.

Gildor listened to the twins with a half ear. He was used to their bawdy banter. It did not bother him. As it did not bother him any more to wake up with an arousal pressed to his thigh or to both thighs if they had a chance to spend the night somewhere safe enough for the three of them to sleep at once. His own body had not woken up even once since Haldir had left him five years ago. He had died then and what walked Arda now was no more than an empty shell. He had found to his dismay that to get himself killed was more difficult than he had believed it to be. He was unwilling to bare his throat for just any orc blade and he had not met his match so far. He did not know what orcs saw in his eyes but they would quiver and flee as often as they would fight. Gildor wondered if he should have fallen on his sword in the very beginning instead of chasing his death, which had proved to be so evasive.

Gildor sighed, lost in thoughts. No, the twins’ unbridled sexuality did not bother him. What *did* bother him though was the fact that he was constantly in their way and interfered with their private life. He still woke up screaming if no one guarded his sleep. The twins took care of him as if he were their brother, and a younger brother at that. He was infinitely grateful to them but he felt bad about his inability to cope with his demons on his own and being a burden to his friends.

From the corner of his eye Gildor saw a small object flying his way. His reflexes took over at once and he beat it off with his bracer. Elladan ducked the crab apple he had plucked from a nearby tree and flung at Gildor.

“Ever so watchful,” he teased the Vanya, grinning. “Never off-guard.”

“Never,” Gildor confirmed calmly. “There is a group of mortals ahead.”

The twins grew alert at once.

“It is not large,” Gildor reassured them. “And I do not think they are dangerous."

It turned out to be a family of farmers who had stopped for the night a little distance off the road. The head of the family rose from his place by the fire when he saw three warriors of the Old Folk ride out of the forest. He was not worried, though: they lived close enough to the valley of Rhivendel and the Elves were more than just a legend to them. But still they did not see the Old Folk too often and his children stared at the fair creatures open-mouthed.

Gildor kept back and scrutinized the humans while Elladan greeted them in the Common Tongue. Besides the head of the family and his wife there were four children around the fire: two boys of about eighteen and ten and two girls of fourteen and five. They were looking at the twins and him with awe and fascination. Obviously, the family was traveling to the nearest town for the summer fair for there was a loaded cart under the tree and a sturdy little horse was grazing nearby.

The man, whose name was Borric, invited the elves to spend the night by their fire. Elladan looked at Gildor and the Vanya gave a little shrug: they were going to stop somewhere for the night anyway so they could just as well accept Borric’s invitation.

Borric’s wife offered them shyly to try the stew she had made and the twins accepted the filled bowls from her gratefully, even if a little hesitantly.

“Do I want to know what can be in there?” Elladan murmured.

Elrohir jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow and turned to Gildor who shook his head slightly when offered a plate with food.

“You should take at least a little,” Elrohir told him in Sindarin in his best Elrond-like instructive tone.

“I am not hungry,” Gildor dismissed him.

“You have not eaten anything the whole day!”

“Ro, I said I am not hungry. I think I shall go and have a swim instead.” Gildor nodded his head in the direction of the murmuring sound of the water.

“Are you sure it is safe?” Elladan asked.

“Yes.”

Gildor shucked off his jerkin and tunic, leaving on only his leggings and his thin shirt, and disappeared behind the trees. He did not have to go far. He stopped by the water and shed the rest of his clothes. Then he undid his braid and ran his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. He felt tired, even weary. What he badly needed was a good hot bath and a shoulder rub from a professional. He was so lost in thought that he did not hear the footsteps. He was jerked back to reality by the sound of a twig snapping. He reacted with lightning speed, snatching a dagger from his clothes and swirling around. But what he saw was no enemy but Borric’s elder son, looking stunned and frightened.

“What do you think you are doing?” Gildor growled at him. “Sneaking up like that! Never do that again!”

Gildor was angry at himself for being caught unawares and his voice sounded harsher than he intended.

The boy swallowed, his eyes glued to Gildor’s weapon. “I didn’t… I wouldn’t… I just… ”

The white of his face was quickly replaced by violent red. Gildor sighed.

“Well, never do *that* either. Now go back to your family.”

The boy nodded, his cheeks and ears burning, turned on his heel and fled.


The twins watched with amusement as Borric’s eldest slipped away only to return a short time after, looking embarrassed and guilty. But at least he came back in one piece and in dry clothes too. It meant Gildor was in a fairly good mood and had not even tossed the insolent youngster into the river for spying upon him bathing. They did not make any comments though: the boy looked miserable enough as it was.

They were telling their hosts about the lands they had visited when Gildor finally reappeared in the glade. He was carrying his shirt in his hand, his damp hair sticking to his bare shoulders and chest. He sat down with his back against a tree a little away from the fire.

“Are you still not hungry?” Elrohir asked him.

“No.” Gildor closed his eyes.

Elladan stared at him for some time, enjoying the sight. He had almost forgotten how beautiful Gildor looked with his hair down. His golden mane seemed to shine in the dancing light of the fire. It turned out he was not the only one fascinated by the picture. Borric’s little girl sidled up to Gildor and stroked his soft tresses with her small hand.

Elladan sighed theatrically. “What is it that we lack and that just any Goldilocks seems to have that all the girls around are drawn to them so inevitably?”

“And boys too,” Elrohir laughed.

Gildor shot them a look but did not take the trouble to respond.

“Mala, come back,” the girl’s mother called, afraid that the intimidating silent elf could be annoyed by her little daughter’s intrusion.

“Let her be,” Gildor told her. “She is no bother.”

Mala felt encouraged and grew bolder. She climbed into Gildor’s lap and made herself comfortable. He cradled her in his arms, talking to her quietly. She put her head on his chest, enchanted by his melodious voice. The twins exchanged a glance: they had not seen anything of the kind since Arwen’s childhood. Then they resumed their conversation with the rest of the family, leaving Gildor to enjoy the company of the little lady.

Elladan was telling the boys about the fight with giant spiders his brother and he had had once in the forests of Mirkwood when he suddenly paused in the middle of a sentence. He could not believe his ears. He turned his head Gildor’s way and saw that his hearing had not failed him: Gildor was singing! True, it was very soft and sounded more like humming than a proper song. But it was the first time Gildor was doing it since the time before his split-up with Haldir. The twins smiled at each other: that girl seemed to be a real Valarsend.

Very soon Gildor’s little companion was fast asleep, lulled by his voice, and her mother came to collect her. Gildor handed her over carefully and saw Elladan grinning at him.

“You know, Arassuil is right,” the elder twin said teasingly. “Why don’t you marry and have your own children?”

“Why don’t *you*?” Gildor retorted. “After all you are the Crown Prince and are responsible for producing an heir to the throne.”

Elladan laughed. “I’m afraid I won’t produce any heir. Unless, of course, Ro is willing to bear me one. What would you say, Ro?”

“I would say: go to Mordor.”

“Oh.” Elladan turned back to Gildor. “I do not think he likes the idea. So Ada will have to look to Arwen for that.”

Gildor shook his head and set about to comb his hair, which had got dried and tangled. Elrohir watched him pull and tug on his strands till he could stand it no more.

“Oh, let me do it!” he exclaimed, taking the comb away from Gildor.

His skillful hands did the work fast but gently.

“Let me make several braids,” he asked.

“No, just one.”

Elrohir sighed but obeyed. That was one more thing that they had quitted arguing with Gildor about.

“Go have a swim,” Gildor offered when Elrohir was done. “There is a good place for bathing over there. I’ll make sure that no one follows *you*.”

The twins laughed.

“Oh, did you mind it then?” Elladan asked. “We thought you could actually like him.”

“I don’t do children, El, and humans at that.”

“You don’t do anyone nowadays.”

“It is none of your business. Now make yourself sparse, could you?”

“All right, all right, I am taking him away already!” Elrohir laughed. “But it can take us a while. Swimming, I mean. Do not fall asleep without us.”

Though Elrohir’s request sounded playful, there was a shadow of concern in his eyes.

“I won’t. I do not feel like sleeping at all,” Gildor said. “Just go.”

It did take them a while and when they returned, they looked like they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves or to be more exact – each other. Gildor was the only one awake in the camp by that time. The twins joined him by the fire. Elladan sat down by Gildor’s side and Elrohir stretched out on the grass and put his head in his brother’s lap. For a long time all three of them watched the dancing flames silently, Elladan’s hand absentmindedly stroking up and down Elrohir’s bare arm. Suddenly Gildor spoke.

“Sometimes I wish I had a twin,” he said softly.

“A twin?” Elladan turned his head in surprise and Elrohir rolled over and raised himself on his elbows to look up at Gildor. “Why wish for one twin when you can have two any time you like and in any way you like?”

A faint smile touched Gildor’s lips in gratefulness for Elladan’s attempt to raise his low spirits.

“No, El. This is *your* bond. I cannot share it even if I wanted to. No, I wish I could have my own. But that is too much to ask, I am afraid.”

“You know what?” Elrohir propped his head on his hand. “If you cannot share our twin-bond, I shall allow you to marry El. In this way you will have both: a twin and a bond of your own. How about that?”

This time Gildor almost laughed. “I told you I do not do children.”

“You said you do not do human children and we are only half human,” Elrohir grinned.

A warm wave of gratitude flooded Gildor’s heart. “Valar, what would I do without you? I really love you. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, we do,” Elladan said, wrapping his arm around Gildor’s shoulders. “But it is still good to hear you say that.”


Ithil looked down, frowning in confusion and concern. From his place in the sky he could see both, Lórien and the road to Imladris and he was puzzled by the complex nature of the Firstborn. He himself was doomed to chase the fiery maid of Arnor and not to be able to get close to her, not till the end of the world. But why those two elves chose to stay apart of their free will was beyond his grasp.