Oathbound, Heartbroken *COMPLETE*

Title: Oathbound, Heartbroken 6/?
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 males.
Beta: Most excellent Nienna, so encouraging!
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 6


Haldir's steps across the connecting bridges and walkways to the library were slower the next morning, for the brightness of Anor's rays had illuminated the dark corners into which he had crammed his doubts and fears. That he loved and desired Melpomaen he no longer denied. It had been so very hard to leave him - unkissed, untouched - at his talan the night before; he did not doubt Melpomaen's reciprocation of those feelings. No, the doubts were those of the veracity of his oath, and the fears were of the physical intimacy that would be needed to consummate the union.

He had never wanted to be an oathbreaker yet he could see no way to ask for it to be rescinded. His father either still resided in Mandos' Halls or walked the shores of Valinor. Either way, the oath that had been taken in love and duty to his sire was now as a millstone around his neck, and a barrier to his happiness.

The second - aye, that too was painful to contemplate. The events that had occurred to make the oath so easy to say were not dimmed with the passing of millennia, but now Haldir regretted them even more. Rationally he knew that ellyn who loved other males found enjoyment in their coupling, but he had avoided pondering the acts performed between such pairings, even those of Doron and Orophin. Thus as he thought with longing of the silken body of the scribe beneath his own he shrank from the agony he knew awaited him.

He stopped in his path, eyes tightly closed to prevent the tears that had formed from falling. He loved Melpomaen and he believed that he could trust the beautiful ellon not to hurt him in any way. He did not trust himself, however. He did not know *how* to avoid hurting his bewitching love, either emotionally or…

Taking a deep breath Haldir opened his eyes, recognising that he was but a few steps from the entrance to the library. He was late but that had been unavoidable. He had fulfilled the promise of the night before and had met with the Marchwarden of the Southern Reaches, who had concurred with Haldir's judgement. Eruant was even now en route to Orophin to complete a week's duty there. He was then to be allowed a further week of rest before rejoining his own patrol once more to secure the southern borders.

His meeting with his counterpart had also cancelled his daily sparring session with Glorfindel. What would Melpomaen have said to him, to his Ada? How would Glorfindel react to his new friendship with his young 'son', especially considering the manner in which Haldir had left him and departed from the tavern only the night before? He could only find out by proceeding as normal to his task, for he must continue with his work regardless. He took a deep breath and entered into the library.

All eyes turned onto Haldir as soon as he walked into the room though some of the occupants were more obvious in their curiosity than others. The more discreet made their interest known by allowing themselves the barest of glances to touch upon the Marchwarden; others fixed their intrusive gazes to linger upon his stoic face, finally dropping their eyes only when they registered the disdainful expression in the icy-blue chips, their creeping blushes showing their embarrassment at being caught. One elf approached, his face a mask of deliberate blandness as he greeted Haldir.

"Suilad, tôren," Doron said in a measured tone. "Our work awaits us, dearest Haldir. Will you come?"

Haldir returned the greeting with a smile and a word and moved to the arch leading to the stairs to the North Room. He was very surprised when, once out of the lower library, Doron suddenly tugged at his arm, pulling him forcefully into a nearby storeroom. The librarian shut the door quickly after checking that they had not been observed, then turned to look at Haldir expectantly. Haldir tilted his head and returned the excited look with a silent, non-committal gaze, although he allowed a slight curve to form on his lips. Doron gave in.

"Well?" he asked in a hushed but urgent voice. Haldir held his nonchalant expression, enjoying his brother-in-law's impatience.

"Well what?"

Doron glared at him. "Well - is it true?"

Haldir shrugged, enjoying this too much to give in too quickly. "Is what true?"

"Haldir!" Doron swatted the Marchwarden in annoyance, pouting even as Haldir grinned. "It is all over Lothlórien - well, Caras Galadhon at least," he amended as Haldir's eyebrow rose in disbelief. "The famed Haldir, Lord of Lust and favoured lover of the ladies of Lórien was seen, in a *very* public place, to dance and flirt with the most *delightful* ellon, and had no eyes for any other. Not only that, he then apparently came to blows with a rival for the fair ellon's attentions before exiling that warrior so as to give him sole possession of the little scribe. Oh, and that the wonderfully strong and muscular arms of the Marchwarden cradled the scribe firmly and seductively as they sped to an assignation in a tree-top boudoir!"

Haldir's eyes had widened at this very erotic interpretation of the previous evening's events and were now as round as a full moon. Ai, the gossipmongers were obviously going to have a field day. And now it seemed as if Doron was at the front of the crowd baying for more gossip. He looked into his brother-in-law's eager, expectant eyes.

"Well?" Doron repeated impatiently. Haldir lifted his head, his expression scornful.

"Doron, does the scene that you so 'eloquently´ described sound like *anything* that I would do? Remotely?"

The librarian's face fell and his disappointment was glaringly obvious.

"No," he admitted sorrowfully. "No, I suppose it doesn't. Oh rats…"

Haldir smiled, relenting in the face of such sadness on his behalf. Doron loved him, he knew. He only wanted the best for his brother-in-law.

"The details are somewhat overblown, meldir, but yes - it is essentially true. I did dance with Melpomaen, and I did escort him to his talan when he felt unwell. I carried him because he was too weak to climb the many stairs to his talan. However, Eruant was disciplined for making unwanted, drunken and lewd advances upon 'Maen, not to 'remove him from the field'!"

Now it was the turn of Doron to widen his eyes and his lips curled into a grin, but Haldir held his hand up in warning.

"Do not prepare for a binding ceremony *just* yet, tôren. Our kind traditionally takes our time in confirming the unity of our fëar, and I am in no way ready for that."

Doron nodded in understanding, for it had taken Orophin a decade to woo him. "But you do like him?" he asked.

Haldir smiled wistfully. "It is more than that, Doron. Much more, but remember - this is all very new to me. There are things - obstacles - that you do not know of and of which I cannot tell you. I have much to face before this love can be counted as definite."

Doron nodded once more, not fully understanding Haldir's motives but knowing that even this first step towards happiness was an enormous undertaking for the Marchwarden.

"I understand, dearest brother, and you have my full support." He glanced at the closed door. "I suppose that we had better go."

Haldir laughed. "Aye, and make sure that the coast is clear before we do, else even more rumours will start and we will have Orophin racing back to confront me!"

The way was clear and Doron and Haldir joined their colleagues in the North Room. The response to their arrival was similar to that of the lower library and Haldir had had enough. Lifting his head proudly he looked down his patrician nose as he surveyed the room, daring any elf to make a comment upon *his* actions. The haughty attitude worked as heads were swiftly lowered, save for two. Glorfindel of Imladris simply smirked in amusement and Melpomaen - Haldir smiled gently at the dark elf, who responded in kind, and a tinge of relief and thanks was conveyed in that gentle curve of pink lips. Melpomaen glanced around at the elves who were once again most visibly engrossed in their work and he gave a final communicating grin to the Marchwarden before lifting his pen once again to his own parchment. Haldir's eyes softened as he gazed upon that dark head, hardly believing how blessed he had been. Melpomaen was not only beautiful, warm and openhearted; he was also discreet in his attentions. With one last glance at the auburn fall of hair, Haldir crossed to the golden lord and took his usual place at the small table with the seneschal.

Their studies had reached the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, that fateful and devastating massacre of the First Age, and it had been decided to re-enact the battle upon a model so that they could better see the strategies that had been employed by Morgoth's army. Sauron had by this time become a trusted lieutenant of the fallen Vala, insofar as Melkor had trusted anyone, and so it was believed that the Dark Lord had devised many of the battle formations of the Army of Angband. It was also significant in that Turgon had taken the decision to leave the protection of the Hidden City and bring his host forth into the fray.

"Turgon often said after our losses that it had been a terrible decision," Glorfindel commented in recollection of those times. "Although we undoubtedly reduced the elven losses with our intervention, it was then that Morgoth began to search in earnest for Gondolin."

Now he bent forward over the mock battlefield, adjusting the tiny lines of figures representing the elven army. Haldir stood overlooking the three-dimensional plan, seeking an insight into the battle plans of the evil warlords. Pointing to one of the breaches in the ranks of the orcish forces, he asked a question.

"Morgoth seemed to have left this flank unprotected. Did he not see it?" he turned to Glorfindel. To his surprise it was Melpomaen who answered, his slim hands describing the troop movements in elegant gestures to match his eloquent words.

"That flank was part of his trap," the young scribe explained, pointing to two discrete units at the rear of the vast army. "See here and here? They were to close around the elven incursions, in a pincer movement."

As the dark elf continued his expansive explanation, Haldir could only admire his remarkable grasp of tactics and ponder upon the hidden depths of this young elf. When they finally broke for lunch Haldir was pleased when both the scribe and the seneschal approached him. As he rose and bowed in greeting, Glorfindel grinned.

"Well, Lord Haldir, what do you think of our young Mel now that you have seen him in action?"

The pride in the golden lord's voice was obvious and, on observing Melpomaen, Haldir could see an embarrassed flush form upon his cheeks.

"Aye, most impressive, meldir - although with you as his tutor I suppose that I should not be surprised."

Glorfindel waved away the compliment, although he was clearly gratified at the positive acclaim for his foster son.

"Do not forget Erestor, my dear Marchwarden. With the distillation of knowledge from both myself and my husband Melpomaen had no option but to learn voraciously!"

They all laughed at this for Master Erestor's attention to detail could have been an extreme burden to a less diligent student. Melpomaen had obviously experienced a well-rounded education. Haldir thought back to his last visit to Imladris, no more than two hundred years ago, and another question came to mind.

"One thing puzzles me, Melpomaen. When last I came to Imladris, there was no mention of your existence from either you, Glorfindel, or from Erestor. This visit is the first that I have heard of a 'son' to Rivendell's Chief Advisor and its Seneschal?"

Haldir looked enquiringly at the two elves and saw Melpomaen blush and slide a sheepish look at Glorfindel. The seneschal slid an arm over the back of the chair and leaned against its cushions, raising an eyebrow to the young elf and grinning widely at Melpomaen's obvious discomfort. Melpomaen burst out laughing.

"All right, I confess! It was my fault, Haldir. For a long time I went through an independent phase -"

Glorfindel rolled his eyes mockingly and mouthed 'Obnoxious!' to Haldir, much to Marchwarden's amusement.

"So, I rebelled!” Melpomaen laughed. “I didn’t want any privileges just because I had been adopted by Ada and Erestor, and so I tried to downplay our relationship."

"You *disowned* us!" Glorfindel burst out laughing. Melpomaen blushed again and his chocolate eyes flashed.

"I wasn't *that* bad!"

Glorfindel snorted. "Oh yes you were. You were worse!" He turned to Haldir, who was grinning at the exchange. "It was about the time that you came that he was undertaking his training in the Medical Library, so he decided to live in the Healing Halls - he ate, slept, worked and rested there. We were lucky to see him twice a year!"

Melpomaen reached out his hand to his foster father in atonement for his early behaviour.

"Thankfully I came to my senses soon after your visit, and Ada and Erestor eventually forgave me."

Glorfindel squeezed Melpomaen's hand and Haldir saw the great love between father and son, and he felt a pang in his own heart for the loss of his own father, and for the ill-spoken oath that his love had birthed.

"So Glorfindel is 'Ada', but Erestor is…?"

The two Rivendell elves laughed.

"Erestor!" they exclaimed together.

"Ai, Haldir, can you see my bereth ever being a cuddly 'Ada'? No, we both love our Mel very much but he remains as always - Erestor."

The movement of elves about them indicated the end of the break and reluctantly the small group returned to their respective duties for the afternoon. It was as the scholars were packing up for the day that Haldir spoke to Melpomaen again. He did not want to be apart from this young elf whose spirit and heart shone so bright before him. Even as a darkness tugged at the back of his mind, Melpomaen' s light succoured him.

"Melpomaen, I believe that this is your first visit to Lothlórien...? I presume that, with your injury, you have had little chance to explore the Golden Wood. I therefore invite you and Glorfindel to be my guests for dinner, and then I could guide you around the city at least."

Melpomaen looked pleased, but then a shadow fell over his face and he looked sadly at the Marchwarden.

"Oh Haldir - as much as I would love to accept, I cannot. Tonight I am engaged to dine with Ada, as guests of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Perhaps I could accept for another night?"

Haldir was disappointed but knew that and invitation from the Lord and Lady could not be refused. He therefore was very surprised when Glorfindel joined them, shaking his head.

"You go with Haldir, pen neth. This was no formal occasion and I only requested that you be included because I did not want you to be alone. I will make your excuses to Celeborn and Galadriel. We would only have been three old elves, reliving memories that are so ancient that they should have been gracefully retired long ago. Anyway," his grin became full of mischief, "this means that Celeborn and I can get into our cups all the sooner. Galadriel will then pout, express her disgust and retire to her chamber, grateful to leave behind two sodden lords. And that is when we will bring out the *real* anecdotes, ones that could only possibly be amusing to a drunken mind!"

All were satisfied with this and Haldir made arrangements to collect Melpomaen from his talan as the sun was fading. So it was that Anor's light was yet above the horizon when Haldir arrived at the guest chambers. He wore the same tunic, the same outfit that he had worn for his first visit to the Healing Halls to see 'Mel'. He felt that it was appropriate for the bronze tunic was a favourite of his and he did not always want to associate it with negative connotations. He had originally worn it with hope for a new future, as he did how. The future was 'Maen not 'Mel' - but this was what he truly wanted now. 'Maen was his future, if he but had the courage to attempt this love.

The tunic was obviously appreciated by Melpomaen for his dark brown eyes glowed in approval at his first sight of the Marchwarden. Aye, and the desire too was obvious within their chocolate brown depths, a possessive gleam that contrasted sharply with the almost virginal appearance of the scribe. Haldir's breath was caught in his throat as he beheld the slender figure, so shapely ensconced within a slim-cut tunic of fine ivory brocade. The auburn tresses flowed softly over the creamy fabric, just as he had once imagined. Melpomaen was perfection in his eyes. His voice was an awed whisper as he reached out his hand to touch a stray strand of hair that caressed the scribe's soft cheek.

"So beautiful," he murmured, feeling the texture of warm sun in the tress between his fingers. Melpomaen lifted his hand to Haldir's, pressing it to his cheek and leant into the palm. He then brought it away so that he could look at and stroke the calluses upon the fingertips. The brown eyes turned up to pale blue and the corners of them crinkled as his smile filled his eyes.

"Strong - yet so gentle."

The moment encompassed them, swelling within their hearts until it was almost too much to bear. Smiling gently Haldir enfolded the small hand within his and quietly led his little elf down the steps.

Dinner was taken at a small inn in a quiet corner of the city, yet neither elf could recall what they had eaten. Conversation had been focused upon an exploration of each other's histories and recounting of tales of the many years before the momentous event of their first meeting. Haldir spoke of his brothers and their families, and Melpomaen told anecdotes of his life in Imladris. Each word was savoured as they devoured every moment of their lives but once the food was removed both were keen to escape the company of other people, even in such a discreet establishment.

The restful calm of the city permeated their flesh as they walked the aerial pathways of Caras Galadhon. Now that Anor was finally resting, a soft blue-white glow shone through the silhouettes of the mellyrn, and tiny lights proliferated in the tree-top abodes. The city was the epitome of the union of the Firstborn with nature, for the elegant arches of the elven homes were in sympathetic mimicry of the sweeping curves of the mallorn branches. No stone intruded amongst the smooth wood forms nor comprised the ground-level paths. Only grasses, mosses or bark-strewn walkways wound through the thick roots of these magnificent arboreal excesses. Natural beauty abounded through the elf haven - but to Haldir nothing could compare with the elf now by his side. All doubt, all pain was melted away by a single smile from Melpomaen, whose hand he had not released in this stroll through the green city. Neither had noticed the warm and approving looks of the elves they had passed in their perambulations, so wrapped as they were in a world of just two.

As they entered a quiet part of the city, where the architecture faded to more natural forms and the talans were less evident, Haldir pointed to a narrow set of steps leading down from a junction in the path.

“Those are the steps that lead to the Grotto of the Mirror and must not be traversed except at the invitation of the Lady. It is a sacred place, a grove of mystical truths and foretelling.” He gestured around him, pointing to various alcoves and glades leading from the winding path.

“There are many private gardens in this part of the city available for quiet reflection, meetings or lover’s trysts. A twist of hawthorn branch is placed at the entrance to show that it is occupied. One of my favourite groves has a small pool, and I often go swimming there alone so that I can ease myself of the burdens of my post.” He looked shyly at Melpomaen, seeing those chocolate orbs look at him so full of warmth and trust. “Would you like to see it?” he asked hopefully. Melpomaen nodded, his gesture requiring no words to break the mood. Haldir led the way through the groves to his own, thankfully finding it to be free.

The glade was indeed beautiful, for Ithil had now risen and was at such a point in the sky that its rays could penetrate through the dense leaves of the mellyrn, to reflect its globe upon the still waters of the pond. Haldir led Melpomaen to the water’s edge where they sat side-by-side upon the warm grass. Haldir moved his arm to encircle Melpomaen’s slim waist and was gratified when the young scribe leaned against him, resting his head upon the warrior’s shoulder.

“Haldir?”

“Yes, ‘Maen?” he answered softly.

“Have you ever gazed into the Lady’s mirror, or ever wanted to? I am not sure how I would feel if I knew my future. It seems that this would negate the purpose of life, to reveal what the years may bring.”

Haldir shook his head. “Nay, sweet ‘Maen, your words are true. The mirror, so I hear, does not always show the future, only possibilities. And no, I have not taken that opportunity. Until recently I thought that my path was set, and I did not seek my future. I thought that I already knew it.”

Melpomaen shifted in his arms and the scribe lifted his head to look calmly at the warden.

“And I was not in that future.”

It was not a question, simply a statement and Haldir could only answer in kind.

“No. I - my future - I saw only a wife, children. The continuance of my father’s blood in our line.”

Melpomaen became very still and Haldir knew that this had struck as doubt to his ‘Maen’s heart. With his free hand he caught one of Melpomaen’s, captured it and stroked it, feeling the soft skin so pliable beneath his thumb.

“ ‘Maen, you have turned my life upside down…”

Haldir lifted his head to the night sky, his eyes filling with stars even as his throat filled with an ache so fierce that he found it hard to force words past the obstruction. How could he tell Melpomaen of the pain his past? How could he tell him of the oath he had sworn so foolishly, so long ago? He could not. He could not break his little 'Maen's heart; he could only contemplate breaking the oath.

“ Maen, my life has been so - empty - as I searched for the elleth who would make me whole, and I had long since begun to despair. Then you arrived and I -“ He shook his head. “In my life I have loved but once before, and that was a disaster… I had never thought that I could love an ellon, I never sought one in my life since -“

His throat tightened even more and he found that he could hardly breathe, never mind articulate his thoughts. Melpomaen looked at him in both hope and fear.

“So you have never - lain in love with an ellon?”

Haldir shook his head, thankful that he had not needed to say those words, that Melpomaen had taken them from his recalcitrant mouth.

“ ‘Maen, I - I think that I am in love with you, but I do not know if I can - love - you. I do not want to hurt you in any way, pen vuin, but I fear that I will not be able to prevent it.”

Melpomaen leaned further into Haldir’s arms, his own firmly wrapping around his warrior, holding him and comforting him.

“I cannot believe that you could ever hurt me, Haldir. Although we have known each other but a short time, I have come to care deeply for you. I am stronger than you think, my warrior. I will not break easily, or take hurt at the slightest offence.”

The scribe pulled gently away from Haldir who tried to reach for his little love. Melpomaen smiled at him, evading his touch. Instead he knelt before the Marchwarden, capturing his hands and bringing them to his lips to kiss them each in turn. An authoritative gleam shone in his eye and his countenance became solemn.

“Haldir of Lórien, you have caught my heart with your love, your strength of soul and your openness of mind and heart. I now ask for permission to formally court you in the hope that our fëar will resonate in a song that will last forever.”

The Marchwarden’s mouth dropped open in astonishment at the forwardness and resolution of this little elf. A formal request of courtship always placed a relationship beyond the level of a simple love affair, for it indicated a hope for the future binding of souls. Nay, more than hope - it was the first step towards betrothal. A courtship usually entailed a long, slow exploration of self and of the intended partner, eschewing brief or torrid encounters for a gentle movement towards bodily and spiritual unification. It was precisely what Haldir needed. It was also traditionally requested by an ellon of an elleth. Unsurprisingly Haldir had never thought of himself in the latter role - though he had never before thought that he would be madly in love with an ellon.

Melpomaen now knelt before him, chuckling happily with much amusement at the stunned look upon Haldir’s face. As those startled eyes looked at him in astonishment, Melpomaen took it upon himself to clarify his statement. Leaning forward, Melpomaen pressed his soft lips against Haldir’s, savouring the fresh mint taste of the succulent mouth in the gentle touch.

The touch was light, but electric. Haldir felt a tingle, a wave of heat pass through him and he longed to extend this sweet kiss, but Melpomaen broke away gently, pulling back to smile once more.

“Why so dumbfounded, Haldir? It is what we both want is it not, meleth nín?”

The endearment slipped naturally from the pale pink lips, and Haldir could only shake his head in wonder.

“Ai, it is indeed to my taste, yet somehow I never envisaged that I would receive a proposal of courtship!”

Melpomaen laughed, his smile now more of a self-satisfied smirk.

“Do not think because of my diminutive stature that I do not have a strong heart or will, Haldir. My guardians have ever imbued me with a firm sense of self-worth. *I* am the more experienced partner in this relationship, therefore I took it upon myself to initiate the courtship.” His smile softened. “I hope that is to your liking, my warrior?”

Closing the distance, Haldir cupped the small face between his large hands. Gazing into the trembling eyes, so merry with joy, he could only whisper, “Very, very much to my liking, my adorable scribe.”

Then he claimed that pouting mouth once again in a tender kiss that was sweeter than honey.

TBC

Elvish:

ellyn - male elves (pl.)
ellon - male elf (sing.)
Suilad - greetings
tôren - my brother
meldir - my friend
fëar - souls
meldir - my friend
bereth - spouse
pen neth - little one
ellyrn - mallorn trees
elleth - female elf (sing.)
pen vuin - dear one
meleth nín - my love