Tonight and Any Other

Mreep! o.o; This is sort of a short chapter; it's merely a wrap-up of what Celeborn told Haldir in chapter 5. Chapter 7 will take place approximately 1,500 years in the future, still pre-LotR, but during the period in which Aragorn ("Estel") is being raised by Elrond at Imladris.


Title: Tonight and Any Other [Part 6/?]
Author: Silvertree (Megumi Takahashi)
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Legolas/Haldir, Orophin/Whitelock, eventual Legolas/Aragorn and Celeborn/Haldir
Setting: Pre-LotR
Disclaimers/description: Please see chapter one of Tonight and Any Other.
Dedications: CryKat - You rock, chica. (Without you, where would I get my happy little LotR lemon piccies? Elrohir with his nice hips. Rowr!)

'...' Denotes speech in the Elvish languages.
/.../ Denotes thought.
Passages in italics denote scenes occurring in dreams.

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"Silver flow the streams from Celos to Erui
In the green fields of Lebennin!
Tall grows the grass there. In the wind from the Sea
The white lilies sway,
And the golden bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin
In the green fields of Lebennin,
In the wind from the Sea!

-Song of Lebennin


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'A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!'

The soft music made itself known slowly in Haldir's mind, and he moaned quietly, rolling onto his back. The feeling of a hand stroking his hair, soothing and gentle in its motions, was lulling him back into a deeper sleep, and he leaned into the caress, unaware of his actions. His mind unconsciously turned back to Celeborn, remembering the shimmering silver of the Elven-Lord's hair, of his concerned words and soft voice.

'Silivren penna míriel...'

Another hand joined the first, stroking Haldir's cheek. Haldir dimly registered a slight shift as weight was placed upon the mattress next to him, but then the voice came again, closer to his ear.

'O menel aglar elenath...'

Then it was right in his ear, low and husky, full of emotion and strained with an emotion Haldir placed as longing. Warm breath ghosted over the guardian's ear as the intruder sang, and a sweet, familiar smell hung in the air by Haldir's nostrils. Apples and cinnamon, the Elf's mind supplied as it struggled, mostly futilely, to bring Haldir back to a completely conscious state.

'A, Gilthoniel! Elbereth! Haldir, melin onóro...' [1]

The last words, Haldir's own name and soft syllables in Elvish, were whispered without melody. Haldir gave a soft sigh, inhaling the scent of his visitor, feeling the tickle of long hair against his face.

'Rúmil...'

The semi-conscious guardian didn't register the first drop of water as it landed upon his closed eyelid. Then, however, a steady stream of drops follows, splattering his face and hair. Haldir cracked his eyes open, staring unblinkingly into the beautiful face that hovered above his.

'Dear Rúmil, if you do not stop that, I shall rise and find something to throw at you.'

The other guardian laughed, sitting back in his chair as Haldir stirred and wiped the water from his skin with a sleeve. Haldir watched his brother, and Rúmil gave a forced smile, an expression that graced his full and pouty lips but never reached his saddened eyes.

'You've slept away the hottest part of the day, my lazy brother. Lest you forget, the archery competition is tonight. Celeborn's managed to recruit Greenleaf to help with the preparations, but it seems that you and I are to go out on patrol until the evening meal is called. Celeborn threatened to keep us out there all night, if we didn't leave immediately. He was joking... I think,' Rúmil added as Haldir sat up in bed.

The guardian snorted as he rose, intentionally stepping on Rúmil's booted foot as he did so. It seemed suspiciously like an idea of Celeborn's, an attempt to get Haldir and Rúmil to talk with each other about Rúmil's love for his brother and, hopefully, come to terms about it. It would be no easy task, Haldir concluded, as he draped a grey cloak about his shoulders and fastened it with a mithril clasp. The guardian had no memory of Celeborn stripping him of his weapons, but nevertheless there they were, sitting in a pile next to Haldir's bed. Haldir buckled his sword about his waist, then slung his quiver of white arrows over his shoulder and took his bow in hand.

'Ready?'

Rúmil stood by the door of Haldir's quarters, leaning lightly against the wall. He opened the door for his brother as the other Elf approached, pacing himself respectfully behind Haldir, two steps back and to the left. Haldir felt uncomfortable as they walked out of the palace and across the lawns; Rúmil insisted on the formality, and no matter how hard he tried Haldir could not dissuade him.

The brothers moved silently as they entered the denser woodlands, booted feet silently carrying them over twigs and fallen leaves. It was cooler in the shade of the great forest, and despite the relative heat of the day, Haldir became glad of his woven grey cloak. He did not relish the thought of having to cross the river; despite the agility of the Elves, water still came into contact with their clothing and flesh through the will of the river itself.

Rúmil paused when he reached the bank of the Celebrant, and gave a long, low whistle. Within seconds two Elves materialized out of the woods, one, whom Haldir recognized to be Whitelock, on the far bank and one next to Rúmil. Whitelock gave a low whistle in return, and, with a single powerful throw, cast the knotted end of a rope across the churning water. Haldir caught it and made it fast to a tree trunk, looking up to see if Whitelock had done the same. The dark-haired Elf had, and without hesitation Haldir leapt onto the rope and ran lightly across it. Rúmil soon appeared next to him, and the rope followed him as the flaxen-haired Elf on the other bank untied it and threw it back. Then both he and Whitelock melted back into the trees as swiftly as they had appeared, leaving the river Celebrant uncrossable by most and the guardians alone by the edge of the water.

Haldir started off deeper into the woods, wincing involuntarily as Rúmil took up his customary position. The guardian glanced over his shoulder at his brother, and receiving the nod of confirmation broke into a run. Rúmil followed suit, and the pair covered perhaps five miles before they stopped at the base of a large tree. A silvery ladder of rope descended to their feet, and Orophin bounded lightly down it, tossing his golden hair from his face.

'I was starting to wonder where you were. The city of the Galadhrim is not so far away, and I was indeed beginning to worry if harm had befallen you.'

Haldir shook his head, drawing the hood of his cloak over his head to hide the telltale shimmer of Elven hair.

'Nay, we were not harmed. Dear Rúmil simply decided that I needed to bathe before we left.' He raised an eyebrow at his brother. 'You will be certain to have someone collect us for the evening meal and competition afterwards? Lord Celeborn gave orders that we were to remain here until then.'

Orophin chuckled and slung his quiver across his back, adjusting his cloa res rest comfortably beneath the tooled leather.

'Oh my, Celeborn the Wise giving orders? What is the world coming to? Usually he just asks.' Orophin paused for a moment, as if considering something. His brow furrowed, and Haldir brushed a hand against his shoulder.

'Is something wrong, brother?'

Orophin shook his head, clearing his mind.

'Yes and no, Haldir. There is something that Celeborn is not speaking of, but I cannot place it at this time. I've had a feeling for a while, and yet... And yet I don't see how it could be possible.' Orophin raised a hand, forestalling any questions. 'Do not concern yourselves with it, brothers. I am most likely wrong, simply jumping to conclusions that will end up leaving me with the appearance of a fool. Forget I mentioned it.'

Turning on his heel, Orophin trotted lightly away, calling back over his shoulder to remind his brothers that he would send someone for them when their watch was completed. He maintained his pace for about a mile, before he slowed to a walk, giving himself time to think. It was almost as if Celeborn was eager to be as far removed from Haldir as possible, a move Orophin would not have expected from their revered Lord. If anything, Celeborn seemed to enjoy Haldir's presence, even if the older Elf did become tense whenever flesh or even clothing brushed together.

Orophin shook off the feelings that were nagging at his mind, and continued his journey towards the river.

In times such as these, an overactive imagination could get one into serious trouble.

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Haldir collapsed gracefully onto one of the furs that the Elves kept in their talans to make the long periods of observation a bit more comfortable. Rúmil sank down beside him, then tipped the distinctive white-feathered arrows of the Galadhrim from his quiver and began to count them. The Elf's mouth was dry with fright; even the mere act of sitting this close to his brother sent a thousand fires burning through his veins, hot and merciless. But Lord Celeborn had told him to talk with Haldir, and a direct command from the Lord of Lórien was not to be disobeyed. Rúmil licked dry lips and turned towards Haldir.

'Haldir, there's something I need to tell you...' The blond Elf trailed off when he saw the look in Haldir's eyes, a look of mixed sadness and pain. A gentle hand settled over his, and Haldir's voice, when he spoke, was soft, husky, and strained, as if he had to force the words from his throat.

'I know, Rúmil. Celeborn told me earlier this afternoon.'

Perhaps it was Haldir's tone of voice and perhaps not, but Rúmil flinched, and quickly averted his face. Haldir immediately seized the delicate chin in his hand, turning his brother to face him once more. He studied Rúmil for long moments; the Elf was undeniably beautiful. His hair was not the pale color so prized among the Elves, but rather the color of a sunrise, and baby-fine. The eyes were not Haldir's sharp grey ones, but rather of a softer hue, and the dark lashes that framed them brushed the high cheekbones when Rúmil's eyes were closed. Elegant, honey-brown eyebrows arched delicately, contrasting the pale skin. His lips were full and dark, the lips of a woman, but on Rúmil's face they were both beautiful and perfect.

In truth, Haldir supposed, Rúmil was so beautiful that it hurt him. Many desired him, both male and maid, aet aet all were afraid to approach him, despite Rúmil's ndlyndly nature. Haldir had noticed more than a few pairs of eyes watching his brother, and yet Rúmil saw none of them. He saw only one, an elf related by the blood of birth.

Haldir felt the face he held in his hand suddenly jerked away, and he blinked in surprise. Rúmil's cheeks were streaked with tears, and the guardian rose quickly to cross to the other side of the talan. His stiff posture betrayed the agony he was feeling, and Haldir suddenly realized that the only thing he wanted at the moment was to relieve his sibling's pain. He rose gracefully to his feet and approached Rúmil carefully, trying to keep his own mind and body calm. He was within arm's reach when Rúmil whirled around, his beautiful face contorted into a mask of pure rage.

"Do not touch me!"

Haldir stopped dead; whether he was obeying his brother's order or simply in shock that Rúmil had spoken in the tongue of Men, he did not know. Rúmil radiated fear and anger, but he spoke no more in the foreign tongue, for he did not know much of it, and neither cared enough for it to learn nor liked traveling outside of Lórien, as did Haldir. Haldir took a step away from his brother, hands raised in a gesture of peace.

'Please, Rúmil, do not be upset with me. I would only know what troubles you so, that you would lash out at a kinsman and cry as steadily as the rains fall in the spring.'

Haldir barely had time to drop into a protective stance before Rúmil lunged towards him, and for a moment Haldir believed that his brother would attack him. But then Rúmil slammed into him and buried his face in the soft material of Haldir's tunic, soaking the cloth with his tears. Haldir was at a loss for long moments, before he sank back to the floor of the talan, bringing his brother with him. He managed to shift the weeping Elf into his lap, gently brushing strands of golden hair from R&ua;mil;mil's face. Finally the Elf managed to pull back for long enough to look at Haldir, his eyes reddened and his face painted with tears.

'It is because you are kin that I cry, Haldir! How horrible you must think it, that I should love one of my own blood, my brother. What must Lord Celeborn think of me, and what of Legolas? How would he react if he knew that I cared so deeply for the one that belongs to him and him alone?'

Thus having spoken, Rúmil buried his face aldialdir's tunic once again, remaining there until his brother coaxed him into raising his face. Haldir smiled softly at his bewildered brother, gently wiping the tears from the flushed cheeks with the hem of his c. He. He offered Rúmil a drink of water from a large waterskin the Elves kept in the talan, and the Elf drank deeply, splashing some of the liquid onto his face. Haldir wiped that away as well, before he moved his brother back to look at him.

'Rute;ute;mil, you may not believe me, but I don't think it a bad thing to love one's kin. Very few of our people do; look at the Elrohir and Elladan. The twin stars of Imladris, and they are both brothers and lovers. No one thinks ill of them; why should I or anyone else think ill of you? Lord Celeborn simply desires your happiness; that's why he told me of your feelings. He was worried that I was causing you more pain by being so obvious about my relationship with Legolas. As for Legolas himself, he is not so childish as to become overly protective and jealous. He does not even have to know, if you don't wish to share the information with him, and even if he did know, he would not be upset with you or harbor any ill feelings.'

Rúmil lowered his eyes, trying to avoid Haldir's gaze. Yet every time he was drawn back, attracted to the compassion that softened the sharp grey eyes of his brother. He stuttered when he spoke, and had to make a second attempt to speak.

'And what of you, Haldir? How do you feel, knowing that I care for you in such a manner? How will you be able to treat me in the same way when I am in your presence?'

Haldir sighed and pressed a light kiss to Rúmil's forehead, gently hugging his brother and rocking him back and forth.

'To be honest, Rúmil, I'm rather surprised. There are so many that would have you, and yet you love me. There are others more beautiful, more talented, more useful, and you ignore them all. It hurts me to know that I am the source of such pain for you, and I only wish there were a logical, plausible way for me to help rid you of it. I suppose I should be flattered, but instead I only feel angry at myself, upset that I hurt you even without meaning to.'

Rúmil's eyes widened, and he made as if to speak. But Haldir pressed a gentle finger to his brother's lips, quieting the protest before it was voiced.

'Hush, brother, hear me through. I can easily treat you in the same way as I do now, regardless of how you feel for me. You are my brother, Rúmil, and I love you. I could never think less of you or treat you any differently, because you have not changed in my mind. You are still the same beautiful, friendly, kind brother I have known for countless years. And you are more than a brother, as well. You are my friend, a fellow warrior, one of the few people I can trust completely, without reservation.'

Rúmil gave a soft sigh and allowed his head to fall upon Haldir's chest. His eyes were dry again, and his voice did not waver when he spoke.

'Thank you, dear brother. I will try to remember what you have said to me.'

Haldir simply drew his sibling closer, stroking the sunny, golden hair. Rúmil would not sleep, Haldir knew, but he needed rest. The Elf let his brother simply lie there in his lap, and he cradled the golden head to his chest. His eyes were pained as he turned them skyward, as if searching for an answer that was persistently elusive, hovering always just out of reach.

/Celeborn... What I would do for your wisdom and council on this matter./

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To be continued...

[1]- 'Haldir, dear brother...'