Oathbound, Heartbroken *COMPLETE*

Title: Oathbound, Heartbroken 14/15
Author: Eawen Penallion
email: cross_stitcherire@yahoo.com
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/eawen_penallion/
Type: FPS
Pairing: Haldir/Melpomaen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, explicit sexual encounters between two (or more!) males.
Beta: Nienna, beta reader extraordinaire!
Disclaimer: all rights to the characters belong to JRR
Tolkien – I’m only playing with them.
Timeline: Middle of Third Age
Feedback: Yes please,
Archive: OEAM, AFF, LJ, anywhere else, please ask

Summary: Haldir has waited for his soulmate for all his life, and now seems to have found that elf. But to claim his love, he must break an oath.


Chapter 14


The swaying motion of the horse beneath him could have been called hypnotic, but Haldir of Lórien was nowhere near a spell of entrancement. Even as the plodding horses neared Imladris, heading down through the final pass into the gorge of the River Bruinen, his mind had been constantly racing. Thinking of Melpomaen. Thinking of their reunion, and the now beautiful promise that it held. Thinking of holding his lover in his arms and savouring that pine-fresh scent of the glorious auburn hair. Thinking of the malevolent figures of Glorfindel and Erestor.

It was the thought of these last two that caused him to glance into the surrounding forest, and only his warrior-trained eyes caught the barest of movement in the trees. The movement only confirmed what his innate senses had detected - that they were being observed and monitored by Rivendell's defenders. He nodded approvingly, acknowledging the excellent training of these warriors by their seneschal. That, of course, was as it should be. Glorfindel of the Golden Flower was renowned for his attention to every detail of his command.

No, Haldir of Lórien could not be lulled by the soothing motion of the horse's gait, nor by the beauty surrounding him. His body was tense and his mind tortured as he playing within his mind the many possible scenarios that could take place on their arrival - and the inevitable confrontation with Melpomaen's fathers. The reunion with his lover he did not fear for he knew that their link, their communion of spirit, was as strong as ever. The intensity of that extraordinary lesson in love had somehow allowed 'Maen to be with him as he was awakened to the physical joys of love with an ellon. After that night in Lórien however, the immense distance seemed to have intervened and now he leaned into every breeze or listened carefully to every whisper on the wind as he hoped for a communiqué from his darling.

No, he did not fear losing Melpomaen's love, nor did he fear physical retribution from his fathers. It was the possibility of an impossible choice being laid upon the scribe that hurt his heart. How could he ask Melpomaen to sever his bonds with his fathers? That 'Maen would choose him he had no doubt, but the probable rejection of his choice by Glorfindel and Erestor would be devastating to the little elf and would forever be a blight upon their happiness. No, Haldir felt that he must somehow overcome their objections and reconcile them as a family.

Looking ahead now he saw the slim arch of the stone bridge across the ravine, and the multitude of buildings of the House of Elrond Peredhel. Although the graceful union of the mallorn trees and the architecture of Lothlórien could not be surpassed in Haldir's eyes, still there was a welcoming blend of buildings and natural beauty in this home of an elf lord, a blending that gave substance to its title of being the 'Last Homely House'.

A brief glance back at the elves behind him allowed Haldir to note the happy chatter of the scribes of Imladris, the last members of their cohort to be returning to their home. In their possession were the final conclusions of the work of the united archivists of Lórien and Imladris and the hope of a conjoined strategy for the defenders of both realms. Within a pouch strapped to the bags on his own mount were missives from the Lord and Lady to their son-in-law some of which, Haldir knew, concerned him. By acquainting Lord Elrond with some of the history of his saga, Galadriel hoped that Elrond would provide the Marchwarden with support when Haldir was faced with Melpomaen's fathers. Haldir had protested, but Galadriel had been adamant.

The clatter of hooves as the grit of the trail turned into the cobbles of the courtyard heralded their arrival. As Haldir pulled up in front of the main entrance he saw a figure emerge from the shadows of the atrium and for a moment his heart lurched in hope. The sentiment quickly passed for although the ellon had a luxurious head of long and very dark hair, he now registered the height, the bearing and the reserved presence of the Chief Advisor. Erestor of Imladris stood at the top of the stone steps, and there was definitely no welcome in his austere attitude.

Haldir's dismount was as controlled as his demeanour - slow and deliberate - and the Marchwarden nodded his thanks to the stablehand who took the reins of his horse, retrieving the saddlebags before the stallion was led away. Around him the courtyard resounded with the happy reunion of the returning scribes with their family and friends, a celebration that no doubt would last well into the night. Haldir did not heed the cries for there was only one elf he longed to see - but from the cold silence emanating from Lord Erestor, Haldir realised that he could not hope for that reunion to be speedy. Instead, the absence of 'Maen at this arrival spoke of some kind of barrier to their happy greeting. With his position in Elrond's household, there was no way that Melpomaen could not have been cognisant of the arrival of a party from Lothlórien, nor the identity of the warrior who led them. No matter - this was but another trial in his path, and Haldir had overcome so many already.

The crowd had finally thinned and now Haldir faced Erestor, their confrontation witnessed only by the small troop of Galadhrim and Erestor's secretary, Saelbeth. Haldir's bow was respectful, of the correct depth and length appropriate to the status of the chief counsellor.

"Lord Erestor."

A curt nod.

"Marchwarden."

'Ah,' though Haldir. 'First blood to the Noldo'. In the absence of his honorific title and the sketchy acknowledgement of his greeting, Erestor of Imladris had made a very sharp point. Haldir felt his temper start to burn. Their dispute was personal, and to display such disrespect in front of his men was unworthy of the dark-haired counsellor. Still, he would not rise to the bait. He spoke again, attempting to keep his tone level.

"I return to you the scribes who have sojourned in Lothlórien these past six months. My Lord and Lady extend their grateful thanks to you and Lord Elrond. I forward these greetings in both my words and in the letters I hold here."

He lifted the smaller courier bag in exposition of his duty. Saelbeth took the bag from him at a signal from Erestor.

"Saelbeth, please take the letters to my office and sort them. Any addressed to Lord Elrond personally should go straight to him. The rest I will peruse when I can."

Saelbeth bowed in acknowledgement of his duty and entered the house. Erestor did not return the bow for his gaze had never left Haldir's face. Haldir remained still and silent. 'The next sally should be Erestor's,' he thought, aware of the discomfort now impinging upon his men, for they recognised the increasing tension in the air.

Erestor did not break the silence. He stood, magnificent in his shrouded form, his dark hair bound in elegant braids befitting his station; his long burgundy robes framed the slender figure and his slim hands were enfolded in the voluminous material of the draping sleeves. Haldir winced inwardly as the coal-black eyes bore into his silver-blue, but showed no outward signs of his discomfort. Finally one of the troopers spoke up, his questioning voice dissonant in the vocal silence.

"Lord Haldir, may we - should we find our billets in the warrior barracks?"

Erestor finally spoke, his voice measured in its tenor. Still he did not cease his intense scrutiny of Haldir.

"Quarters have been prepared for your troops in the barracks - and for you too, Marchwarden." His lips pursed in sardonic amusement. "We seem to have been - inundated - with transient residents recently and guest chambers are scarce. I have thus assigned rooms for you with your men." His lips curled unpleasantly. "I was sure that you would not mind." He pulled himself up to his full and imposing height. "I will send for you when Lord Elrond is able to receive you."

Haldir could tolerate the disrespect no more. As Erestor turned to retreat into the main building, the warrior spoke out.

"I do mind, *Lord Erestor*!"

The dark counsellor halted, caught by the note of command in Haldir's voice. The Lórien elf mounted the stairs to stand behind the dark elf, who turned slowly to face the blonde archer. Haldir felt the burn of wrath as Erestor presented him with a look of contempt. His voice betrayed his anger as he protested in his low voice.

"You may express your personal dislike of me all that you want Lord Erestor, but you *will* show due honour for the office I hold. I am *Lord* Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien. You must respect the position, even if you do not respect the person."

"I respect neither!"

The blow was sudden and forceful and Haldir flew off the steps to land hard upon his back on the cobbles. The warrior gasped with the sharp pain that shot through his spine, and his Galadhil surged forward to aid him, their astonishment at this treatment of their lord apparent in their faces. Haldir sharply waved them back, rising shakily from the hard cobbles. This was his fight. Erestor's eyes were alight with barely contained fury. Haldir made his way to the steps again, placing his feet firmly on the treads.

"*That* was for the blow to my son's head," the dark elf cried as he lashed out once more. "And this is for his split lip!"

The second blow was no surprise and although once again he was thrown onto his back, Haldir was able to roll to his feet in seconds. He ignored the hot blood that flowed from his own lips. He felt the anger of the Galadhrim behind him, for they were aching to rush to his defence, but he could not allow them to interfere. Not now. He had to let this father's wrath burn itself out - but seeing the fire in Erestor's eyes he doubted that the anger would be extinguished any time soon. The solid fist connected with his jaw once more, knocking him off his feet for the third time. Haldir shook his head, trying to clear the daze, and rubbed the point where the blow had landed.

"And *that* was for a broken arm!" The counsellor loomed over him and he made to strike Haldir for a fourth time. Haldir rolled into a crouch, launching himself to one side into a defensive stance. Erestor lurched into the now empty space, stumbling as he tried to stay upon his feet. Haldir turned to face him in vehement denial.

"Three blows I allowed, Erestor, for each of the blows I laid upon my beloved. Three blows I allowed, to give voice to a father's grief - but no more. Only to 'Maen will I yield. Only to 'Maen will I lay myself bare." He looked around the courtyard that had filled once more with astonished onlookers. "Where is he, Erestor? Where is my 'Maen?"

"*Melpomaen* is unavailable. He will not be seeing you during your stay. He will not return to Lothlórien with you. Take care of the business that brought you here, then return to your trees. Mel is staying right here."

The words stung but even as they were uttered Haldir knew them for what they were.

"You lie. These are your words, not 'Maen's."

"My husband does not lie. He does not need to. The words he spoke are true. Our son will not return to you."

In the clamour of the happenings within the yard Haldir had not heard the patrol ride in. He had not been focusing on anything save the ellon before him. So - now there were two fathers to deal with. Haldir turned, circling so that he could keep Erestor in his view even as he attempted to bring Glorfindel within his line of sight.

Glorfindel, Re-Born Lord of Gondolin looked as if he was fire incarnate as his golden hair blazed in the rays of the late afternoon sun, and a golden halo shone around his form. Was this how he had looked when he had faced the balrogs? Ai, surely - for he had then worn his famed mantle of gold, which would have been as Anor itself, caught in the dawn of Tarnin Austa. His sword was now as it would have been, drawn ready to do battle. Exactly as Glorfindel had once promised Haldir would happen if the Lórien elf had ever hurt Melpomaen the scribe. His son. Haldir pondered on the ferocious vision before him and wondered if the balrog had trembled even as *he* did now. No coward in battle, Haldir found that he was taking shallow breaths in the face of living fury. Dimly he heard the clatter of metal scraping on the stones and saw that one of his men had flung a sword across the cobbles to him.

'Elbereth, does he think that I must defend myself against 'Maen's father!?' he mused silently in shock. 'Does he think that Glorfindel wants to kill me?'

Looking at the advancing lord, Haldir realised that his warden thought precisely that, for the mien of the approach was in deadly earnest. Haldir initially made no move to pick up the sword but a moment later he flung himself upon it and raised it above his head even as the warrior's blade swung down. The clash of edges rang loud in a now silent yard, the crowd stunned into silence. An elf to raise a sword against another elf? Two lords to fight in the elf refuge of Imladris?

"You were warned, Haldir of Lórien," the deep voice growled. You should leave and leave now. He will not be going with you. You will *never* see him again. He does not love you."

Haldir smiled wryly, and slowly climbed to his feet, aware that Glorfindel's blade now was aimed at his throat. Deliberately Haldir dropped his own sword, refusing to participate further in this violence. He knew the words for deceptions, lies that the fathers wanted to believe. He would not strike against them. With a determination in his voice borne of love unbounded, he answered Glorfindel.

"Shall we not ask *him* that? I did not want to come between fathers and son, but I say that the choice belongs to 'Maen, and 'Maen alone. Not you, nor I." He turned his head towards the house and drew a deep breath, calling out with both voice and mind.

" 'Maen! I have come, meleth nín!"

The answering voice was audible to him alone but, from Haldir's smile, the fathers knew that he had received a response.

'… I know, Haldir! Wait for me, I come to you, ind nín…'

Haldir's grin widened at the love in the thought. "He comes!" he cried out in his joy.

"No!" Erestor stood before him, a smirk upon his lips. "He will *not* be coming to you. Mel is staying here, where he belongs!"

"Aye, it is you who should depart, Marchwarden," said Glorfindel. The sword tip now cut the skin of the throat where it was pressed and Haldir felt a trickle of hot blood roll down his neck. "You are not welcome here in Imladris."

"Don't you think that is my decision, Glorfindel?" a smooth voice spoke softly from behind them. With a start, Glorfindel flinched back, the sword falling slightly. The golden lord rallied quickly.

"Elrond, he hurt Mel, both physically and emotionally. He broke both my son's body and heart. He has no right to be here, making these demands."

Elrond Peredhel did not seem to be impressed with his seneschal's reasoning.

"I am a father, Glorfindel," he said quietly. "I too would ache to right any wrongs done to my own children - but this is not the case here. Even Melpomaen has said so." He lifted the piece of paper that he held in his hand. "As do Galadriel and Celeborn. They have written of the trials faced by Haldir in his pursuit of Mel's love. Haldir is right - the choice belongs to Mel."

Glorfindel glowered as he tried to retain a righteous anger, but he did not return his sword to Haldir's still-bleeding throat. Elrond look around, searching for the missing elf.

"Where is Mel anyway? I would have thought that nothing could have kept him from this 'happy' family reunion."

"I am here, Lord Elrond!"

The full body of gathered elves looked around but the scribe was nowhere to be seen - until Haldir raised his eyes.

" 'Maen!"

The cry was almost a shriek as the warden saw his beloved upon the heights of the roof of the Last Homely House, precariously making his way across the sheer slates. His robes did thankfully not hinder Melpomaen for he wore but a tunic and leggings, but his soft shoes could find little purchase upon the slippery tiles and he was hard pressed to find handholds to maintain his balance.

" 'Maen, do not move!"

The white-faced scribe nodded, gripping tight to one of the decorative buttresses. He looked down at the gathered crowd, noting that both his fathers were there with Lord Elrond. His face darkened as he saw the frightened look on Erestor's face.

"How could you, Papa? Did you really think that a locked door could keep me from my soulmate? I would climb Caradhras in the fiercest gales of winter to be with Haldir, never mind out of my bedroom window! Although -"

There was a collective gasp as the buttress cracked, causing Melpomaen's hold to slip. Desperately the young scribe flung out his fingers to grasp at the nearby chimney. He panted with effort and with no little alarm, and his voice was shaky when he next spoke.

"Ai, Haldir! It seems that I am still no Wood Elf, agile at climbing… Meleth…?"

Melpomaen's plea was not necessary for both Haldir and Glorfindel had already sprinted across the yard to the colonnade and were even now climbing the entwined trellis and ivy. Their ascent was swift, the Lothlórien archer leading the way. His heart raced as he reached the verge of the roof and saw how steep the incline was - and how precarious was 'Maen's hold on the chimney.

"Stay where you are, 'Maen! I am coming to get you!"

Melpomaen nodded but then added in bravado, "I - I can make it across to you…"

"No, Mel!" his father cried, but it was too late. The brave but foolish ellon released his hands from the safety of the brickwork and placed his foot forward gingerly - and slipped.

"NOOO!"

"Haldir!"

Haldir flung himself down the roof tiles, his hand flung out to grab at his falling love. In stabbing desperation he snatched at 'Maen's wrist and cried out with joy when the scribe yelped with the pain of its capture - then roared as he saw 'Maen's body slip over the edge of the roof.

" 'Maen!"

Oh god, no, no, no! No, I can't lose him! He cried out again.

" 'Maen!"

The screams from below drew his attention from Melpomaen's danger to his own - and ultimately, theirs. Haldir scrabbled his feet on the slates, frantically searching to latch onto something to stop their fall. His relief when he felt a strong hand grasp his ankle was beyond all words or emotions as their hurtling plunge was suddenly halted. The hand pulled and Haldir felt the strength and power behind the effort as he and Melpomaen were drawn back up the roof.

" 'Maen," he gasped. "Twist yourself. Reach up and take my hand. Come now, my love. You can do it."

The dark haired elf nodded and turned, his supple body contorting itself so that he could clasp hold of his lover.

"Now, 'Maen, climb over me. Take hold of Glorfindel, and climb to a safe spot. Please, ind nín…"

Melpomaen saw the plea in Haldir's eyes and knew that he had to obey. With great care he pulled himself over his beloved's back, using the warrior's tunic and leggings as leverage until he once more was at the chimney, holding tight. Glorfindel helped Haldir to do the same until all three were stable once more. Glorfindel nodded to Haldir.

"I will go down first. You help Mel to the parapet, and I will be below him to help him down the trellis."

Haldir nodded and, with Melpomaen's arms around his waist, he manoeuvred them to the edge. Glorfindel descended and Melpomaen followed, aware that his father was ready to catch him. It seemed to take forever but it was but minutes before the young scribe was pulled frantically into Erestor's arms and the courtyard echoed with resounding cheers. Haldir hung back as the fathers held and embraced their young son with profound relief, but he was not alone for long. Enduring only moments of solitude, Haldir's arms were suddenly filled with a loving scribe who latched onto his lips as if he were drowning - and Haldir was the air that would save him. The kiss was fierce, reckless in its demands and Haldir could only tighten his arms about his love and revel in the soft lips devouring his. Tongues battled for supremacy, neither wanting to win or lose.

The cheers continued, not only for the daring rescue but also for the evident love and devotion exhibited now. As the seneschal and advisor stared in astonished bemusement, a hand clapped both of them on a shoulder and the chuckling laugh of their lord sounded in their ears.

"So, my dear Erestor - you tried to keep them apart?"

Erestor spluttered, somewhat annoyed that his motives were being questioned.

"I thought - I did not want - Mel has been hurt enough already! I did not want him to face more abuse."

Elrond gently turned the advisor to face him and rested his hands lightly upon his friends' shoulders. He smiled, knowing that Erestor knew what he would say and knowing too that the dark elf did not want to admit that he was wrong.

"Mel's hurt came from his separation from his soulmate, not from mere physical pain. Haldir's task tormented him beyond what most elves could endure, and the blow that he landed upon Mel came from terror and confusion. Yet at no time did Haldir deny his love for our little Mel, aside from what I am sure were the usual occasions of minor disagreements. At no time did he look upon him without tenderness in his eyes. Not for him the false defence of sneers and rejections; he did not spear his soulmate's heart with caustic jibes or refutation of desires. *Haldir* did not waste centuries avoiding his heart's mate when he could - or attacking him with vicious words when he could not."

The two fathers blanched for both knew that the pointed remarks referred to their own denial of love, all those thousand years ago. They had clashed from the start and it took many centuries for them to reconcile their conflicting feelings with the overwhelming emotion of love. Elrond knew this well, and he did not hesitate to press the point home.

"Well do I remember the verbal sparring, the physical separation and the intense denial of Eru's wishes that lay between you for - oh, for years beyond measure. Do not deny that you two caused each other more heartache and misery than Haldir has ever inflicted upon Melpomaen. Look at them, mellyn nín. Can you deny their love?"

No, they could not. As one kiss had ended so another had begun. Now Haldir and Melpomaen were fully entwined with hands fisted in hair, tunics taut with the pull of firm fingers, and leggings straining with the full evidence of desire. The continuous plundering of mouths had caused more than one elf in the still circling crowd to become aroused, and there was open yearning on some faces and notable shuffles of discomfort. Elrond grinned wryly.

"So you locked Mel into his chambers, like an errant child, to prevent him meeting Haldir?" he repeated to an uncomfortable Erestor. The advisor scowled, unrepentant.

"Mel is stubborn. He would not have listened to reason."

"Oh. I wonder where he got *that* from," Elrond snickered. He nodded his head towards the two lovers, where the duel of tongues had now led to roaming hands and loosened laces. "I think that you should return the key to Mel, Erestor - else we might find all Imladris set aflame. As it is," he said, glancing around the courtyard, "there will be little work done in Rivendell this day."

Glorfindel, now alerted to the avid stares of the witnessing elves, cleared his throat loudly and with purpose. As if awoken from a spell, the abashed elves looked at the disapproving Balrog Slayer and the arena emptied within a minute. Elrond laughed again and turned once more to mount the steps into the house. Erestor had gathered his senses and now hurried towards the still entwined lovers, who were as yet totally oblivious to the erotic nature of their performance - and the advisor pulled a large key out of the pocket of his formal robes…

TBC


Elvish:

Peredhel - Half-elf
ellon - male elf (sing.)
meleth - love
ind nín - my heart.
mellyn nín - my friends