The Half Breeds

Author: Bird
Title: Half Breed
Chapter: Leaving Dorwinion
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: mild references to sexual activities; violence in a barroom
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.
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

-------------

Rumil hummed a jovial tune he’d learned in his youth from Glorfindel. The wintry air did nothing to darken his spirits; cool and refreshing, it playfully brought the fine silver threads of his hair to life around his shoulders; and he made his way through the streets toward the section of the city where his brothers would most likely be.

“Maidens fair
With long flowing hair
And all laid bare
For my lusting stare…”

Rumil stopped for a moment and chuckled to himself at the obscene lyrics. It was simple—not an example of a masterful composer and songwriter, but Rumil liked it for its human and rough simplicity. Where exactly had the slayer learned such a song, probably in a brothel in Rohan on one of his many treks?

Continuing his swaggering stroll, Rumil caught the eye of many along the way. Ladies of the night dressed in rich silks, lacy, frilly, and barely there, all mortals. He nodded respectfully and winked at each; their voices called out to him, not concealing with flowery words what they offered him.

But in the back of his mind sat the blind elleth, regally perched on her chair, her cane in her hands, and the other one, also. It had been long since he’d seen a female of his kind, and his system was in shock. He chastised himself for losing his ability to speak intelligently in their presence…

Despite his thoughts, Rumil continued to nod, smile, wink, and greet each offer…

“Master Elf, I have offers beyond any you’ve ever experience…” Another whore…

“Silk sheets, Elf Lord…” And another…

“Do you seek creativity, Elf sir?” Yet another…

“One should not be alone on such a wintry night…” Another.

Joviality surrounded him, the nighttime sounds of happy lovers, brawling friends, and those who’d had a little too much, or even a lot, to drink. A group of propositioning young men, arms thrown over each other fondly, accosted young ladies who dared to venture out at the late hour, probably seeking the type of adventure the young men offered. The males reminded Rumil of himself and Orophin; they’d behaved in a similar fashion just the day before, and all the previous ones as well.

Now if only he could find his brothers. They had moved so often, from inn to inn that Rumil was not sure where they would be tonight. The Swinging Door Tavern was within his range of vision, but he doubted that Orophin and Haldir would be there; nearly once a week they switched their lodgings, and they had left that inn sometime ago.

Peering over the tops of the symmetrically carved swinging doors into the smoke-filled barroom, Rumil scanned the room for the silver hair that stood out so drastically among the humans. He did not believe his brothers would be there, but he decided to check just in case. His brothers could not be seen among those in the bar, and he turned to leave.

His movement was interrupted by the force of a heavy body slamming into his back, pushing him into the bar through the doors. He dropped his bundle of muddied clothing as he rolled forward. Momentarily stunned, Rumil picked himself and his clothes off the floor of the entrance and faced whomever had fallen into him. The unshaven grim face of an angry young man greeted him—one of the men from the brawl weeks earlier.

Dusty blond hair stuck out in dirty mats from the man’s head, and his face, sun-burnt by hours laboring in the vineyards of Dorwinion, was screwed up into a scowl upon recognizing one of the elves that had bested him and his friends nearly two weeks earlier. The reminder of the whore who had turned down her own kind to fuck an elf spurred a renewed surge of anger, and coupled with the consumption of a large amount of alcohol, dulled his senses so that he had the courage to instigate, or at least renew, a fight with the much taller, and obviously stronger, elf. But the man was not alone, his friends standing only a few feet from them, and his courage increased.

Rumil shoved aside any thoughts of his brothers and the two ellith as the man’s first awkward punch landed squarely on his nose. He fell backwards and felt the first flow of blood out of his nostrils. Gingerly touching his bruising nose while watching the blood splatter on his tunic, Rumil regained his balance, and growling, ran forward into the man, knocking him flat. Chairs skidded loudly, scraping across the barroom floor as other patrons moved hastily away from the elf and man rolling on the ground.

It did not take him long to subdue the man beneath him, pinning the human’s arms and legs easily. The smell of liquor so permeated the man that Rumil barely kept his face turned toward him; but he leaned in closer to the man, taking his collar in his fist and jerking the man’s face up to him. Rumil could sense that the man’s friends were nearby, but their hesitation was obvious. Though he was greatly outnumbered, many did not want to take their chances against an angry elf. It was pitiful that he so easily overtook the man, and all the while holding a bundle of dirty clothes in one hand.

His opponent’s courage failed under the close scrutiny of the elf, and his compromising position.

“Stay away from my brothers and me.” There was no emotion in his voice but annoyance, almost as if he were swatting at fly that continue to buzz in his ear despite his efforts. His silver-blue eyes, so cold and unnerving, stared into the man’s. His opponent’s mouth hung open in terror, and the man rapidly nodded his head in understanding. With a hard thwack, Rumil released the man and swiftly rose off him. One last glare at those standing around them, he shoved his way back out the doors and into the night.

Finally standing in the cold night air, he lightly pressed his forefinger against his nose again. He had not even had to throw a punch at the man to defeat him, and except for smacking his head against the floor, he would not have a mark on his body from the fight; but Rumil would possibly have a bruised nose for several days.

A congealing trail of blood led to a large soaked spot on his chest, and he crinkled his brow at the ruined borrowed tunic. Not that he was sure he would have been able returned the item, but it still irritated him.

Peeling the tunic off, he wiped the rest of the blood off his face and balled up the garment in his hand with his other clothing, shivering slightly when the wintry air hit his warm skin. He smirked at the impressive sight he most certainly afforded the women and men still prowling about in large numbers. Not many could say they had seen an elf, in the nude or otherwise.

-------

“Tell your father that I wish to purchase the wine directly from him.”

The little girl faced her father and translated. Black eyes, the whites of which had turned yellow with age and hard work, met Haldir’s with calm exhaustion. Not the kind of tiredness from lack of sleep, but the kind wearied with the world. His aging voice, watery, answered slowly, each of his words followed by a translation from his daughter.

“Yes…Lord Elf…you who have shown much mercy and pity on the injured Half-breed.” Haldir blinked at the unusual term, though it explained why the elf’s skin was so dark, the combination of the dark skinned humans he’d seen about the city and elven blood. “But why, my lord?”

“Tell him it is because I do not wish to see such humble traders, and apparently honest and good-hearted people, ripped off by the sniveling merchant.”

Again the flow of words--they would trade.

The dark alleyway kept the elf hidden from prying eyes, especially the merchant’s, behind whose shop they made their secret dealings. Gravel ground beneath the feet of the human’s, though Haldir walked and moved silently.

A time and place for the exchange of wine and coins was set, and Haldir bid them goodbye. As he turned, he felt that same small hand tugging his.

“Elf-man, sir, may I ask you one thing?” Her eyes matched the inky darkness of her father’s, though they were still pure white with youth around the edges. He stopped and looked down at her curiously. “May I see the dark elf once before we are parted?” How could he say no? She had taken personal responsibility for watching over the elf.

“When your father and I meet for the trade, then you may say goodbye.” Haldir gave her a benevolent smile, and in an unfamiliar act of fondness, tried to tousle her hair, but as it was so short he just rubbed it.

Then, his heart lighter than it had been ages, he turned back toward the inn.

---------

The low light of two flickering candles cast shadows across the living corpse on the bed. Infection and blood filled the room with a reeking stench, and Orophin sat as far from the bed as he could. He slouched low in his chair, his legs outstretched and crossed in front of him, one hand supporting his head on the table next to him. Though his outward appearance was of one sleepily keeping a half-hearted watch over the sick, Orophin was completely aware of every labored and erratic breath the dark elf managed.

With his free hand, Orophin reached over and picked up the tankard of ale he had requested. Keeping his silver eyes trained on the stranger, he tried to drink, only spilling a few unnoticed dribbles onto his tunic.

He was still irritated with his brother for interrupting his most pleasurable activities from earlier, and even more annoyed that Haldir had changed his mind about Orophin accompanying him to the caravan of wine-traders.

And so now, Orophin was stuck inside the small room with the stranger.

Like Haldir, he had been shocked by the physical appearance of the elf, though logic quickly reasoned with him and gave him an explanation that settled his mind. If Elrond could be half-blooded, so could others, and what would have kept the dark skinned humans from breeding with elves?

------------

Haldir eased the room’s door open, careful to not make it squeak, but still Orophin turned to him a frown upon his lips.

“Brother--”

“The traders have agreed to an outside arrangement, avoiding anymore contact with that slimy man.” Haldir cut off his brother as he approached the side of the bed. Pulling back the covers, he again examined the wounds of the peredhel. Placing a hand over the ellon’s closed eyes, Haldir murmured a prayer of healing, then wiped back a few dirty and limp strands of hair from the elf’s forehead.

“We need to bathe him more than anything,” Orophin mused before standing, and stretching his lithe form. Without looking up, Haldir nodded, and Orophin left the room in search of serving wenches to assist him in his quest.

Haldir winced as the door slammed shut, but he felt the ellon shift upon the bed and groan.

“Hush, dark one, we watch over you and you are safe.”

The dark elf stiffened in his sleep, then relaxed as if accepting Haldir’s promise.

---------

Fires roared brazenly in the main part of the tavern, and Orophin was blasted by the warmth and scent of ale permeating the bar. Wenches bustled around tables, squeals of delight and flirtatious laughter aroused him. Trays were carried high over heads as curvy hips pressed between tables.

A set brushed against his rear, and he turned abruptly.

“My lady,” Orophin purred, taking the serving girl’s hand in his and kissing it. The buxom wench giggled and jerked her hand away.

“Sir Elf,” she answered in between her pretty little laughs, “How can I be of service to you?”

A lecherous grin spread across his face at all the possibilities the girl suggested with her comment. “Later my dear,” he answered, his face growing a bit more seriously, “My brother and our guest are in need of a bath. Could we have tub sent up and fresh hot water?”

“Of course my lord, perhaps some companionship as well?” She winked at him boldly

And Orophin felt his groin pulse at the thought, but shook his head negatively, “Not at the moment, but perhaps I shall search you out later.”

“And who is this dainty morsel,” Rumil startled his brother from his flirting, clapping him upon the shoulder. Orophin bowed to the wench, bidding her to remember his instructions, and once she was gone, he turned fully to his brother.

“That was my entertainment for later, what happened to you?” Reaching out, he touched the bruising already disappearing on his brother’s nose. A few flakes of dried blood rimmed Rumil’s nostrils.

“Someone wanted to open up an old fight, but--”

“--but, they still got one good punch in, eh?”

Rumil frowned at the laughter in Orophin’s eyes, and then smiled.

“Whose clothes are these? What in Mordor has happened to you?” Orophin grabbed for the clothes balled up under Rumil’s arm while eying the leggings that were a bit too tight.

“Take me to our rooms, then I may tell you and Haldir,” a twinkle in Rumil’s eye, as he kept the clothes from Orophin’s grasping hands.

-----------------

Haldir leaned over the sunken cheeks and pained sleeping expression of the dark-elf. Sindarin words of healing flowed from his lips, silver hair brushing lightly over the dark skin of the other. He praised the mortal girl and her father for the care they had taken to keep the elf alive.

Gently, ever so, he sought a connection with the fea of this elf, but found a block. Not a wall, but a series of images that horrified him. Through the dark flashes of gore and death that apparently had infiltrated this elf’s life, a life long and filled with the dry heat of the desert, Haldir caught a glimpse of a female, blood red hair and crystal clear eyes, staring through as the images played across her face.

Behind her, he could see the light flickering of the elf’s fea.

A shadow drew across her, another elf, dark in hair and eyes, but fair of skin. He turned into a wolf with black fur, leaping at her. But she grew and changed into a huge scaly beast, and swallowed the dark creature whole.

Haldir sat up straight and stared at his stumbling and laughing brothers as they crashed in through the doors.

Both of them looked up sharply at the expression of horror on their brother’s face. Rumil drew in a sharp intake of breath once he saw the ellon laid out on the bed.

“Haldir, what is it?” Orophin crossed the room.
Silence, and Haldir glanced back down, his face drained to white. He closed his eyes and winced.

Rumil shut the door, and leaned against it staring at the scene on and near the bed. Listening to his brothers’ quiet conversation, he searched through a satchel for a change of clothes, and ignoring Haldir’s curious glance, peeled himself out of Lomestel’s leggings. The faint scent of the pottery shop still lingered in the material.

He balled them up with his muddied clothing and her tunic, tossing them into a corner near the door.

Someone pounded on the door, a feminine voice calling through muffled.

“Your bath, Lord Elf.”

Quickly, as he pulled on a dark blue tunic and black leggings, Rumil caught the handle of the door, and in stumbled the wench smiling at him, three others with her, arms laden with bathing necessities.

“Several boys will be bringing up buckets of hot water, my lords,” she curtsied, well practiced for wealthy guests and elves. Towels were laid on a chair, vials of sweet oils and soaps upon a table next to the bed. A large wooden tub, enough for one elf to sit barely comfortably, was set upon the floor. “Do you desire assistance,” she saw the elf asleep on the bed, and dropped her voice to a respectful whisper.

“No,” Haldir smiled, though he suspected his brothers both, or at least Orophin would have desired such.

Orophin stood and bent to kiss each slender hand, his eyes alighting on breasts raised and powdered, rising with each breath, whispering his sentiment to seek them later after all was finished here.

Haldir rolled his eyes after glancing back down so that none would see.

Rumil held the door open and offered each maid a smile as they curtsied and left the room. Grabbing one, he held her back for a moment, ignoring her curious stare as he grabbed the clothing from the corner.

“Can you have this washed?”

“Of course, my lord,” she smiled. The door shut quietly behind her.

“I swear, Oro,” Haldir chuckled, immediately throwing back the covers from the elf, working the lacings of the elf’s breeches in the manner of a warrior aiding another. “We will hire a waggoner and team to help bring the wine to Lorien. I plan to purchase a large supply.”

Another knock upon the door, and Rumil opened it again, this time allowing the scraggy boys to bring in buckets of steaming water, which they poured into the wooden tub.

“Sir elves,” one of them spoke, “if you need more, we will bring it.”

Rumil nodded their thanks, catching some coins thrown to him by Orophin, which he passed out among them with instructions to give the rest the wenches who had come up earlier. Then he shut the door quietly, making sure it was locked from the inside, thinking that if he assumed correctly, they would not want to be disturbed.

Haldir swiftly and gently removed the dark-elf’s leggings, tossing them to the floor, which Rumil quickly cleaned up and burned in the fire along with the elf’s tunic that had been laid across a chair. The middle brother dug out another set of clothing from their satchels for Haldir to redress the elf in once he had been bathed.

“Drag the tub over here, Oro.”

Water sloshed onto the floor, and Haldir leaned the elf forward into an upright position, working to remove the bedding from the mattress.

Rumil turned back to them and frowned at the naked elf.

“Grab the vials off the table,” Haldir waved his hand at Rumil and felt the press of cold glass in his palm. Tearing the cork out with his teeth, he poured the soap into the hot water. “Towels.”

Orophin brought the towels and laid them beside the elf on the bed. Unfolding one, he tucked it behind the elf’s back to catch the water before it soaked into the bed.

“Do we even know his name?” Rumil nibbled on his bottom lip, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“Not yet,” answered Haldir. He wondered if he tried to enter the elf’s mind again if he would not hear the female speak. He now remembered her mouth moving, but had not heard what she said. What did she know?

Haldir dunked a cloth into the water, lathered it with soap, and scrubbed it over the elf’s back. As he cleansed the elf, Orophin followed with another towel to dry him.

“He reminds me of someone,” Rumil mused idly dragging his fingers through the soapy water. He shook the droplets off, watching them drip back into the water. He knelt beside the tub, his chin resting on the side as his brothers washed the elf. “Where did you find him?”

Haldir retold the events of the day to both his brothers in all the details.

“And where have you been brother, that you have lost or dirty your clothes and returned to us dressed as you were?” Orophin smirked at Rumil as Haldir asked.

Rumil blushed, and stammered out his explanation, of tripping and stumbling into the blind elleth, of the younger one with short curled hair, of the brawl and his bloodied and bruised nose.

“Centuries as a warden on the Lorien border, and yet you cannot walk down the street?” Chuckled Orophin, despite Rumil’s glare. Haldir silenced them with a look.

“Rumil, bring me that clothing you found.”

Orophin carried away the towel, pausing before the door for a thoughtful moment. “I am going to take these down, possibly request some more water for our personal baths, and definitely find some ale…” He trailed off after opening the door and shut it behind him.

-------------

Rumil aided his brother in redressing the elf.

“Did you have any luck with the merchant today?” Rumil laced up the elf’s leggings and tied them while Haldir gently tugged down the tunic over his head.

“Aye, and we are going to trade tomorrow. We are not going to buy from the merchant, but directly from the traders.” Haldir eased the elf back down on the bed. “I want out of this town before evening. At dawn I will go out and seek a waggoner for hire, bring him here to load up our injured companion, and then we shall go to the traders and head off to Lorien.”

“The snows across the plains will be thick. We will find a waggoner that is willing to go?”

“If not, then we shall offer him enough that he cannot refuse selling his wagon to us.”

Rumil stood up and crossed to the table, picking up Orophin’s left over tankard and sniffing the ale. He turned it upside down examining the last few drops remaining. Frowning, he set it back down.

“Orophin said he was going to bring us more.” Haldir watched his brother glance about the room as if unsure what to do with himself. Hands behind his head, he put his feet up on the bed and crossed his ankles, leaning back against the wall. “You look like you could use a warm bath.”

“A hot bath, more likely,” Rumil muttered, finally settling in the chair. He sighed and changed his position, then changed it again and stood.

Haldir quirked an eyebrow. “Sit, Rumil. Surely a run in with an elleth in the street is not that unsettling?”

Rumil acted as if he had not heard, but sat anyway.

Orophin burst back into the room moments later, surrounded by a flock of bucket-carrying wenches. His lips were parted in a huge grin as he carried a tray of food and tankards of ale. Two tubs were set next to the used one, and it was emptied and refilled. Scented oils were poured into the water, and Orophin fondled at a rounded bottom here or there as the females bent over in their tasks.

Haldir looked away, hiding his grin at their most lascivious brother. Rumil often shared in Orophin’s exploits, but Orophin was the master, who made it his business to master the art of whoring. Haldir and Rumil had often joked at their brother’s expense that if it had tight wet hole, Orophin had pierced it. Orophin would only grin at this, a twinkle in his eye.

“Now,” Orophin clapped his hands together to get the maids’ attentions, then spread his arms wide and turned around for their viewing pleasure, “Who will attend me and my brothers?” He looked pointedly at Haldir, who glared at him harshly--he did not approve of this, not at this moment.

Leaning his head close to the dark elf’s ear, he whispered a sleeping spell, for even if he did not participate, Haldir knew that Rumil would not resist Orophin’s invitation. The expression in Orophin’s eyes let Haldir know that this was also some sort of payback for the incident at the other tavern with the blonde and brunette.

Soft hands and plump breasts rubbed against Haldir, pulling him from the bed and toward one of the tubs.

“My lord,” the pretty little auburn-haired wench ran her hand over his leggings, awakening his desire.

-------

Rumil wrinkled his brow as Orophin entered the room boisterously, frowning at the debauchery soon to follow if neither Rumil nor Haldir stopped him. He flicked his attention to his oldest brother and his frown deepened. He could see the displeasure on the former march warden’s face, but was surprised when Haldir did not call a stop to it. Instead their brother merely leaned over and whispered something into the dark elf’s ear. Rumil suspected it was a sleeping spell.

Two wenches approached him despite his defensive position in the chair. His thoughts strayed occasionally to the two ellith at the pottery shop, and he could not help thinking of Lomestel’s knowing expression when she had first met him. She knew of his exploits. Suddenly a grin spread across his face, and it thrilled him to think that she might even know of this one. He wasn’t sure how it would happen, but he wished she was watching.

He and Haldir allowed the wenches to undress them and lead them to the hot water-filled basins, emerging them as they rubbed oil-soaps over their well-muscled and toned bodies. Leaning his head back against the metal tub, Rumil closed his eyes and lost himself in the pleasure of the wenches’ practiced and knowledgeable hands as they eased his tension, and his brothers’.

------------

An hour before the rising of Anor, Haldir threw the blankets off his brothers.

“Wake-up, we must find a waggoner this morn and meet the traders.”

Orophin rubbed his eyes and groaned, turning over on his pallet on the floor, away from Haldir. But Haldir grabbed his brother’s bicep and pulled Orophin to his feet. Rumil did not need such handling, and was already searching around for his leggings and tunic.

Tenderly touching his nose, Rumil smiled that the bruise was already healed.

Haldir was busying himself with the dark elf, calling out his instructions to Orophin and Rumil. They were to head to the stables and find a waggoner, and three horses for riding, then meet him back here at the inn. They would load the dark elf and make way to the small camp of the traders.

Not an hour later, just as Anor pinked the sky with its rising, Orophin and Rumil were aiding Haldir with gently carrying the murmuring elf to the wagon. Soft hay and blankets had been arranged for the comfort of the injured elf.

Haldir ran his hand over the elf’s covered and almost healed wounds. The dark elf should have healed quicker than this, especially under the human healer’s care despite his lack of knowledge of elven medicine. But Haldir thought of what he had witnessed in the elf’s mind. Something was keeping the elf from healing properly, or at least from wakening. Celeborn would be able to figure out what, Haldir hoped. Surely the ancient Sinda could do something.

A team of two mules pulled the wagon toward edge of the city, the agreed upon meeting place. Here Haldir and his brothers met the camp of dark-skinned humans. The man and his daughter immediately saw the elves and greeted them. Pleasantries were translated and exchanged, then Haldir left with the man to look at the selections of wine. Orophin and Rumil remained with the wagon and the girl.

She was so tiny, and they looked at her with serene smiles, watching the sweet child climbing into the wagon to sit beside the sleeping ellon. She was whispering to the elf, murmuring her in her childish voice the tenderness of her child’s heart to him.

Orophin felt a pang of something, but he was not sure what as he watched the child. Perhaps it was guilt at witnessing such a tender and private moment between the child and elf, though the elf seemed unaware of what the girl did. The innocence, he decided, it was the innocence and care of the moment. These were the people Haldir had gotten the elf from, and surely the child had spent much time caring for the dark elf and formed an attachment to him.

Leaving Rumil’s side, Orophin leaning lazily over the side of the wagon. “Tell me child, how old are you?” From the corner of his eye, he saw Rumil leave the side of the wagon and join Haldir and the men in carrying crates of wine.

“I have seen seven summers, my lord elf,” she murmured, looking up from her task of stroking the elf’s forehead. Her dark eyes were bright and her dark brown skin rich. Those eyes bore into his soul, and Orophin stepped back suddenly from the wagon, his own eyes widening. He was an elf, and no human child should have the ability to unsettle him so.

Before he could fully ponder this, or she could say anything more, a heavy crate jostled the wagon as it was set in the hay. A voice in a harsh language called out to the girl, and she jumped to the ground quickly and clung to her father‘s side. Orophin blinked, but cleared his head and went to task helping them load the wines safely around the elf. Haldir handed a large bag of gold to the elderly man who was the girl’s father. Orophin heard Haldir make promises to trade with this man again, inviting him to bring his wares closer to the west so they could more easily trade. The elves would make it worth his while. The man shook his head and declined, indicating that he was heading into the far east for the farthest reaches of the lands, across the expanse of unknown leagues. Though neither of the three elves had ever traveled that way, they knew it was a journey of several years for a human’s life. They might never meet again.

Hands were clasped in mutual respect and the elves mounted their horses, one to guide the wagon, the others to ride beside.

Orophin turned back and looked at the girl smiling so serenely up at them, her lips curving into an innocent smile as Orophin nodded his farewell. How odd, he thought to himself, as they left the city and traders behind, heading west toward their forest home.