The Half Breeds

Author: Bird
Title: Half Breed
Chapter: Of potters and mud.
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: Rumil falls into the mud, and removes his shirt. Haldir returns to the wine shop. Orophin is caught in a compromising situation...sexual situation.
Disclaimer: I own the OCs … but not much else, Nurwë and Morwë are Tolkien’s
Timeline: Post War of the Ring during the early-ish Forth Age (no exact date will be given)
Setting: Endore (otherwise known as Middle Earth, and basically the whole of Arda.) All places will be in their elvish names as this story is completely from Elven points-of-view.
Betas: Amy and Kath (the sweet dears putting up with my lack of focus and constantly changing mind…:P)
FEEDBACK - I always accept feedback. If you wish to make a critical analysis, do not hesitate to PM me...I'll read through it and take into consideration your questions and suggestions...Thanks. Just a reminder, I am playing loosely with canon…
Archived: Finally…:D www.scribeoz.com , adult-fanfiction.org , www.tongueincheekscribe.com

~~~~~~~
You see, I’ve been thinking it over…
You see, I have a four-leaf clover…
It should bring a little luck.
(Abra Moore, Four-leaf Clover)
~~~~~~~

Haldir and his brothers found much with which to amuse themselves, waiting on the promises of the slimy merchant. It was in the processes of these amusements that Rumil discovered trouble. Or rather it was not trouble, but instead merely a new friend.

An elleth.

Haldir had banished him and Orophin away.

“Take your rowdiness far from me.” The elder had growled at his brothers, wishing for a moment’s peace from their follies.

Orophin had taken the opportunity of escape as the invitation to find yet another tavern to impress with his presence. He’d quickly disappeared into the bustling crowded streets of the city. The search for company would be short in this city of red night.

Rumil, however, had taken the chance to explore. Since they had arrived, not one had taken the time to explore anything not involving fermented fruits and grains, or busty maids.

With one sharp glance from Haldir, Rumil had disappeared into the crowd as well, in the opposite direction of Orophin. He found himself in the artisan district of the city.

It was not yet night, and the sun blazed orange in the west, casting the city in a warming glow despite the chilling winter air. Seagulls filled the sky with their cawing song, and salt permeated the breeze with a fishy scent.

Rumil wondered if coastal towns resembled this inland-sea town.

The breeze rearranged the strands of his silver hair across his shoulders and back.

The streets were lined with shops, no space between them, painted in almost gaudy bright colors. Paned and paneled storefronts greeted him, wares of the merchants and artisans arranged attractively in windows for the customer, toys, clothing, jewelry, furniture and potteries of all kinds.

Rumil wandered up and down the walk, his carefree disposition evident on his face.

Then he tripped. Stumbled perhaps, but either way, Rumil found himself face down in the muddy sidewalk of the potters’ lane.

After a moment of stunned reverie, he looked up, his hands pressed into the mud to raise his body. The metal-tipped point of a cane greeted him, and two very soft feminine slippers. He thought he was meeting an elderly woman who would undoubtedly whack him with her cane for being clumsy.

A concerned voice called out to him. His eyes followed up the cane to see quite the opposite of his fears. An elleth crouched down in front of him, her voice filled with quiet concern.

“Sir? Sir? I am terribly sorry for this!” Her hand reached down, groping for his blindly; her other hand held on to the wooden cane for support.

Unaware of anything else, Rumil gaped in silent wonder at the apparent blindness of the elleth. Or so it seemed. Her eyes were closed as if sleeping like the humans, and her face turned to the side so that it seemed that she focused on something behind him.

“Sir?” She found his hand, feeling it all over as if trying to memorize its contours. Her fingers crept up his arm. “Please, I have I done you a great injury?” Her voice pleaded.

“No.” He whispered in awe. Her hair was a snowy white, strands of silver accenting her tresses, and her whole countenance exuded innocence and peaceful beauty.

A small smile appeared on her lips. “Thank Eru, sir. Allow me to help you stand. I apologize for my clumsiness.” Continuing to support herself on her cane, and with her other hand firmly gripping Rumil’s, she rose to her feet. In an effort to keep from bringing her down into the mud with him, Rumil could do nothing but allow her to aid him.

“Please, sir, come inside, and take a moment to cleanse yourself.” He did not argue but followed her into the potter’s shop. Her cane bounced with a click and clack against the floor and furniture inside.

How different it felt inside compared to the crowded streets and smoky noise of the taverns. The potter’s shop was a quiet sanctuary. Shelves lined the walls, filled with pots, pitchers and other oddities and vessels. Each ceramic was painted with bright colors, rich and fluid in their glossy, glassy appearances. Some exhibited scenes of elves and other creatures, while others were painted in abstract patterns. He gawked at the thought of this blind elleth painting such exquisite pictures.

Besides the shelves and wares, the room was sparsely furnished, a small table gracing the center of the room, two chairs set beside it.

Rumil stared about him, forgetting for a moment to walk, till he felt the tug of her hand on his.

“And sir, what is your name?”

“My lady?” Rumil felt embarrassed for missing her question and gazed at the back of her head.

She guided him into a small room consisting of two counters parallel to each other against opposite walls. The doorway opened between them, and the two elves passed into the room. On one of the counters sat a small grey cat casually cleaning itself. Its golden eyes warily watched Rumil and its mistress. Next to the cat was a tub of clear water and towel.

“Your name, sir?” She paused between the counters, feeling out with her left hand, her fingers caressing the furry head of the feline. Fingertips danced about the cat’s head, and it stretched, forcing its way deeper into her caress. After a moment, she pulled her hand away and felt for the tub and towel.

“Rumil, my lady.” She nodded in response and pointed to the tub.

“You may use this water and towel to cleanse the mud off of you, and I shall bring you something to wear instead of those clothes.” Before he could protest, she was gone. Shrugging, he peeled his muddied tunic off, trying to wipe as much mud from his body before washing. She appeared moments later, startling him.

He felt foolish blushing in front of her, knowing that she could not see his undressed state, especially when he was so bold before others.

“Rumil…you are elven. We do not see many elves here…at least not of your kind.”

She handed him a tunic of soft muslin, woven plainly in cream and pale blue, and leggings of beige. Silently, she stood awaiting his answer. He gripped the clothing in his hand, nervously, unsure of what to do.

“My kind?” He was confused.

“Yes. Are you not from the western lands?” How could she tell? “You are probably wondering how I can tell. It is all in the accent of your voice.”

“I am from Lorien…”

“One of Celeborn’s kindred?”

“One of his wardens…”

She smiled, and Rumil stood uncomfortably, his eyes darting between her, the clothes in his hand, and the water basin.

“You must want to finish changing; I will leave you to it.” Again she was gone, leaving him alone with the cat and water. Her cane clicked softly.

-------

Haldir made his way to the merchant’s shop. Two weeks had flown by, painfully slow, since the promise of ‘mysterious allure.’ Everyday Haldir had gone to the shop to see if the anything had arrived yet.

He was beginning to be discouraged, thinking that the wine-merchant spouted empty promises.

A bell tinkled overhead when he passed through the door; immediately the merchant was at his side, the smell of unwashed human making Haldir’s stomach churn.

“Lord Elf! Again you come! And you are in luck today…”

Haldir could only hope…

“We have an arrival from the south.” In flourish of dust and stale velvet robes, the merchant indicated for Haldir follow him out to the back. Cautiously, Haldir went.

Haldir followed him through the shop and out into narrow yard surrounded by fence. Barrels stood stacked haphazardly in all shapes and sizes, all about the area. At the far end of the yard was a closed gate, and the merchant stopped there, flipping through a large ring of heavy metal keys. When he found the correct one, he flung the door wide revealing the most sorry looking caravan.

Five dark skinned humans stood beside a wooden cart over flowing with straw and another loaded with barrels. The quintessential gypsies, three men and two women, dressed in a motley array of dingy colors, bowed to the merchant respectfully.

Haldir recoiled. The merchant seemed unfazed. Perhaps he could not smell the death and blood among them.

Before the merchant could even speak, Haldir boldly stepped forward.

“Where is your injured?” The dark man in front whipped his head to the elf, revealing his surprise through tired eyes. A little girl approached from behind the leathery and wrinkled man.

Her accent thick and heavy, she bowed and spoke. Haldir took note of her short hair, tightly kinked and stiff against her head like little black peppercorns, and her broad nose. She was dressed in trousers that came to her knees in tattered hems but brightly colored in a rainbow to match her embroidered shirt, its short sleeves coming to just below her elbows.

“Elf-man, sir. My father does not speak your language. The elf-man is in the cart.”

Time paused for all present, and the little girl explained to her father what had been said.

Haldir looked over to the merchant, wanting to see exactly what he thought of all this; all he found was a look of annoyance and distrust. A hand found its way into his, and he gazed down to see the little girl clutching his hand trying to tug him toward the cart.

“The wine, Lord Elf…” The merchant sneered his disapproval.

“Can wait.” The march warden commanded, and none would dare to question the tone.

His shock wore off quickly at the figure presented to him, his warrior mindset quickly taking over. Next to his left, the girl’s father stood nearby, his eyes filled with compassion and hope. The strains of the foreign tongue reached his ears, the man and his daughter conversing.

Haldir’s hands and fingers reached down to examine the elf, but jumped back when the figure moved and groaned.

“Under his tunic, Elf-man.” From another, the title would have probably insulted him, but the girl obviously said it with great respect.

He lifted the edge of the elf’s dirty and hole-covered shirt, understanding now the dark stains covering the cloth. The sight that greeted him filled him with repulsion and pain. The elf was alive, and the human had done well to keep him in such a state, but barely controlled infection oozed from the wounds.

Closing his eyes, Haldir pulled the shirt back down.

“How long has he been like this?”

The girl turned to her father, and again they exchanged words. Her father looked up to Haldir who now turned to face the two. Haldir’s hard eyes softened at the concerned expression of the man. Looking around the small group, he could tell that these were not a violent people.

“We have been traveling and two full moons have passed; we found him between the first and the second…” Haldir was amazed; the elf had survived that long in such a state. “We are looking for an elven healer, Elf-man.”

“I can help him. Tell your father that he has done an amazing job keeping this ellon alive.” Haldir’s voice softened, and he turned his attentions back to the groaning elf in the cart. The merchant and wine could wait.

----------

Orophin found his companions to be most delicious, a bouncing brunette and a blushing blonde.

Settled comfortably within the confines of an overstuffed booth against the wall of the bar, he sat between them, completely taken by their administrations. Brazen, both barmaids’ lips found the tips and contours of his ears, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

An arm wrapped around both delightfully soft women, pulling them closer to his side. Their bold fingers explored the soft skin stretched over the hard muscles of his chest. Lips and tongues became more adventuresome, and Orophin groaned in protest.

“My dear ladies! We must take this elsewhere, or we all will be most terribly embarrassed!” The bemused tone of his voice gave away his lack of true fear. Both women giggled, and Orophin carefully removed his limbs from around their bodies, planting a kiss on each pair of reddened lips.

The other customers of the tavern did not take any true notice of the trio. This sort of scene played out before prying eyes many times before, and none were shocked. In fact, several others were likewise engaged or found the playful trio entertaining in their own private way.

Standing, he stretched his long limbs over head, giving the two barmaids a delightful show of his backside. A smile upon his lips, Orophin listened to their excited and appreciative laughter behind him. His sudden pivot to face them elicited squeaks of surprise from the ladies. Silver eyes darkened to a light grey, and he growled playfully, pulling them up to him.

“Let us find a more private place for our adventures…”

-----

The elleth guided Rumil back into the main part of the shop, pulling out a chair for the elf to sit. The clothing she’d give him fit snuggly but comfortably.

“I am sorry if the fit is not quite right, but in order to know your proper size would have involved more intimate wanderings…”

Rumil blushed, knowing exactly what she meant.

“It is fine, my lady.” His voice cracked, revealing his nervousness. His fingers idly shifted about his lap, locking, unlocking, and never finding a position of comfort. She stood a slight hair’s breadth away. Rumil could not help wondering about her.

The silence hung heavy between them. Normally he was chatty, but not here.

“I am Yestahine, Rumil.” She turned away, and he was amazed at how deftly she moved about, barely using her cane as a guide. “This is my shop, my wares. Another should be joining us soon…” As if on cue, he heard soft footsteps behind him.

“’Tah?”

Rumil pivoted in his chair.

Another elleth stood behind him. Her hair matched the other’s in color, but that is where the similarities ended. Instead of being straight and long, her hair frizzed into tight bouncy spirals, very odd looking on an elf… Wide dark blue eyes caught his, her head cocking at him in curiosity. She crossed the room and embraced the other, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

“’Estel, you have returned much sooner than expected.” Rumil felt like a fly on the wall. Both seemed to not recognize his presence any longer. He noticed ‘Estel’s appearance; she wore breeches and a tunic like a male… “This is Rumil. We collided in the street, and he fell in the mud…”

“Is that why he wears those clothes…” Her attention back on Rumil, ‘Estel’s curious façade lightened to a grin. Some private humor passed between the ellyth.

“Oh dear, which ones did I give him…” Yestahine’s face flushed.

“A set of mine…” ‘Estel laughed, her dark eyes taking note of Rumil’s sudden deep red blush.

-----

Orophin screamed when Haldir burst in the door of the tavern’s private room. He was not completely naked…yet. And he wondered, how in Arda Haldir had found him among all the inns and taverns of the city?

A blonde head bobbed above Orophin’s pelvis still clad in his trousers though obviously unlaced. The brunette had her arms laced about his chest from behind, her fingers playfully teasing his nipples.

“A promiscuous silver-haired elf is not hard to find. One tends to stick out in the minds of humans…” Haldir’s voice made Orophin wince. Neither the brunette nor blonde moved, but continued their administrations.

Orophin’s voice cracked between pleasure and distress at his brother’s presence. “What do you want!?”

The brunette had let go of him and now moved away. Orophin’s face darkened at bit in anger at Haldir’s interruption. The blonde, however, continued to bob.

“I cannot find Rumil, and I need help. Now.”

Orophin groaned in disappointment coupled with a squeak at something the blonde did.

“My lady,” Haldir addressed the bouncing blonde head at his brother’s pelvis. “Please, if you will, I must have my brother.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Orophin snorted at the brunette’s cheeky comment, and Haldir growled, and clasping the blonde’s shoulder, pulled her off his brother.

“Lace your breeches.” Ignoring her comment, Haldir tossed a few coins on the bed beside his brother, grasping his arm at the same time.

Fumbling with his laces as his brother dragged him out the door, barely giving him enough time to grab his shirt, Orophin cast the ladies a woeful look.

------

“Haldir…” Orophin let out a hushed whisper.

“Hush, Orophin, he can hear us. He is awake…” Orophin bit back a sarcastic barb regarding how he was fully aware, considering the elf moaned and tossed.

Haldir bent over the dark elf now settled on a bed in an upper room of the same tavern Orophin had found the two women.

The elf’s shirt had been removed, and Haldir could now see clearly the barely healing wounds. Passing his hands over them, he whispered quiet words of healing. The pained moans subsided, and the elf laid still.

“Haldir…” Orophin hissed again, this time outside the room. “Have you ever seen the likes of him before?” His silver eyes were wide in wonder and shifted between the closed door and Haldir.

“No…” Haldir mused for a moment, tapping his forefinger on his pursed lips. Dragging the finger down chin and neck, he scratched at the base of his neck idly. Then, as if Orophin had not spoken at all, he changed the subject. “I have decided to not purchase from the merchant. Come with me to find the travelers who brought the elf. They are traders carrying wine, and I wish to buy directly from them…”

Confused by his brother’s dismissal of the elf inside, Orophin nodded his understanding for wanting to avoid the merchant.

-----

Under ‘Estel’s scrutinizing gaze, Rumil shifted uncomfortably. Her dark eyes flashed between confusion and recognition before she blurted out.

“I saw you at the Swinging Door tavern…” Rumil blushed deeply. That had been a few weeks ago, and he remembered exactly what had happened at that tavern, the fight, the maid, and Haldir dragging Rumil and Orophin outside for a chat. “There were two others with you, silver hair just like yours…”

Yestahine, having moved to prepare them tea, cocked her head toward them, angling her ears to hear them better.

“Um, yes. My older brothers…Haldir and Orophin…” His fingers and eyes found his borrowed tunic’s hem quite fascinating.

“Really…” ‘Estel smiled and stood to help bring the teapot and cups to the small table, pulling up the chairs so the three could sit. “One of you seemed quite irate…”

Rumil silently wondered how she remembered something so clearly that had happened a while ago, especially to three elves she didn’t know… ‘Of course,’ he thought, ‘three tall sylvans would stand out, especially under the circumstances.’ How could she not remember them?

“Our eldest brother still thinks he can command us like elflings…” He quickly sipped his tea, instantly sputtering as he burned his tongue.

Yestahine, who’d been quietly listening, chuckled. “Sir, be careful, the tea is fresh and quite hot.” She made her way to the table, settling into one of the plain, straight-backed chairs, and propping her cane against the side. ‘Estel stood, and leaving the room, came back with a cloth for Rumil to dab the tea off him.

Wiping the tea off his hands, and dabbing the splatters off his pants and shirt, he changed the subject, not wanting to delve deeper into what ‘Estel may or may not have seen his brothers and himself doing…or who.

“Are you from the land of Dorwinion?” He finally looked up, and ‘Estel smiled at him again, knowing exactly why he was changing the subject. But she kept his secret.

“No, we are not,” answered Yestahine. “We are only seasonal merchants. When the winter months pass away, we will return to our forest homeland…” Rumil nodded absentmindedly, taking note of the dark streets outside and the lantern lighters making their rounds.

“I have noticed a distinct lack of elves, though I am not surprised. So many have sailed, trying to escape, or give way to, the Age of Man. Are you not planning to sail?” Remembering her mention of their forest homeland, he contemplated the possibility of them being from Eryn Lasgalen. “Are you from Thranduil’s realm; I understand that very few of those elves are sailing.”

“Are you going sail,” ‘Estel avoided answering the question by asking her own. Rumil nodded his head.

“Eventually. Cirdan still has a few ships.” The late hour dawned on him, and he stood politely. “I am afraid, but I must ask your leave. My brothers must be wondering where I am…”

Yestahine nodded. “Do not worry about the clothing, but do not forget yours.” She smiled, motioning for ‘Estel to take his cup. He downed the rest quickly and handed it to her. ‘Estel left again and returned with his muddied clothing wrapped in a cloth.

“Try not to collide with someone again,” she chuckled as he took the bundle from her. He thought his face would never return to its normal color when he blushed again.

Bowing politely, he voiced his thanks for their hospitality and returned to the now darkened streets.

Out in the cool air, he took a deep breath, wondering exactly what had happened and how the time had passed so quickly while in the company of the two odd ellyth.