Chapter
5
Lindir
knew he could not tell Rúmil about his feelings. Rúmil’s
self-esteem was more fragile than glass; Lindir knew that if
he approached him now, Rúmil would assume it was pity.
Instead, he struck up a tentative friendship with the galadhrim,
becoming his almost constant companion. Orophin had initially
protested, for he felt Lindir was taking Rúmil away from
him, unadvisable under the circumstances, but even he could
see the positive effect the minstrel had on his injured brother
and had eventually let him be. After all, he wanted what was
best for Rúmil.
The
minstrel had taken to going to Rúmil’s rooms first
thing in the morning to ensure the elf actually left them. Orophin
tended to walk on eggshells around him, meaning that Rúmil
often got away with things that he shouldn’t, but Lindir
had no such compunctions. Though generally gentle-natured and
soft-hearted, he could be as stubborn as any warrior when the
need arose. He forcefully ordered Rúmil out, be it to
the gardens, or his own rooms. He ignored the glares Rúmil
gave him, though if looks could kill Lindir would have been
walking Mandos’ Halls for some time.
Yet
despite the glares, Lindir knew that Rúmil didn’t
truly hate him. Every once in a while he’d grace the minstrel
with one of his small smiles and Lindir knew his efforts were
not in vain.
He brought Rúmil wherever he went, whenever possible.
He knew that it wasn’t fair to drag the self-conscious
galadhrim to parties and concerts, but when he practiced, or
spent time that would have been spent alone, he tried to make
sure Rúmil was there. Maybe in time Rúmil would
consent to being seen at more public events.
Today
Lindir sat on the floor of his rooms, near the open door leading
to one of the gardens. A violin was in his hands and he was
carefully rubbing polish into the wood. Rúmil was nearby,
staring out into the gardens.
Though
the galadhrim still didn’t react to very much he was clearly
comfortable here. His relaxed posture told Lindir that. A mug
of tea sat within easy reach and from time to time he sipped
it. The tea had been prescribed by Elrond to ease the pain in
his throat; thankfully it also had a pleasant flavour. The graceful
lifting of the mug was the only movement from the elf; other
than that he could have been made of stone.
After
a time Lindir laid the violin back in it’s case and stood
up. It had taken him all morning to clean and polish his instruments
and in all that time Rúmil had not moved from his position
by the door. He had not even acknowledged Lindir when the minstrel
had brought him a fresh mug of tea.
“It is a beautiful day.” He commented. “Shall
we take a walk?”
Slowly Rúmil turned and gave Lindir the look which he
had quickly determined meant, quite simply, ‘no.’
Lindir however, ignored him and gently urged him to his feet.
Rúmil stood, not because he did want to leave the rooms
but because he had developed a deep affection for the minstrel
and found that he did not wish to upset him.
Lindir smiled and held out his hand. Rúmil took it and
the two headed out into the gardens.
*********************
Elladan
watched as Orophin systematically pulled every single fletching
off a quiver full of arrows. The galadhrim practically radiated
frustration and Elladan was hesitant to approach his lover.
“Is something wrong?” He asked from a short way
away.
“These feathers are terrible quality.” He growled.
“I’ll have to replace them all.” He continued
pulling off the offending feathers. Elladan let him be for a
few minutes hoping he would speak of his own accord. When he
showed no sign of doing so Elladan reluctantly stepped forward
and stilled his lover’s hand. Orophin looked up indignantly
but was silenced by Elladan’s fingers on his lips.
“It is more than badly-fletched arrows bothering you.
Has Rúmil upset you again?”
“It is not right to be upset with him.” Orophin
replied rather stiffly. “It is not his fault.”
“But you ARE upset with him.” Elladan said. “Whether
you wish to be or not.”
Orophin looked away, the arrow idle in his hands and Elladan
sat next to him.
“It is natural, I am sure I would be the same in your
position.” He mentally shuddered at the thought of Elrohir
enduring what Rúmil had.
“Why can I not get through to him?” Orophin burst
out. “Why am I not enough? Am I so useless? First I failed
to help Haldir and now Rúmil!”
Elladan drew him into his arms.
“It is not your fault. They have both been through much,
so much that they cannot think clearly. Both of them love you
greatly, they will remember that in time.”
Orophin could not meet his gaze; he was still unconvinced.
Elladan
sighed and bent his head, trailing soft kisses down Orophin’s
neck.
He was unprepared for Orophin’s reaction.
Orophin
jerked back as if he’d been slapped, turning to glare
accusingly at Elladan.
“What are you doing?” He yelled. Elladan was shocked
and snapped back.
“I was TRYING to make you feel better!”
Orophin glared at him. “Sex is not the answer to everything,
Elladan! Why must you think it is?”
Elladan fought to keep hold of his temper.
“I do not recall any previous complaints.” He spat
out.
Orophin almost screamed in his frustration.
“Sex will not give Rúmil his voice back, or convince
Haldir to live!”
“Neither will yelling at me!” Elladan retorted.
“Or perhaps you have tired of me and I am of no interest
to you any more!”
Orophin looked up in horror.
“No! How can you think that? I love you!” Suddenly
he was scared, had he lost Elladan to a childish temper-tantrum?
Elladan caught the fear in Orophin’s eyes and calmed himself.
“I love you too. But you cannot go on like this. It will
destroy you.”
Orophin closed his eyes.
“I know. I can feel myself falling apart.” He looked
desperately at Elladan. “You’re the only thing keeping
me together. I never meant to hurt you.”
Elladan gently took him into his arms.
“I know that you did not, for you love me as much as I
love you. But you must calm yourself and be patient with Rúmil.
Do not lose hope, Orophin, he will overcome this. As you are
there for him, I am here for you.”
Orophin held his lover in a tight embrace.
“Not a day goes past when I do not thank the Valar for
sending you to me. Thank you, Elladan.”
Elladan smiled. “You are most welcome. NOW can we make
up properly?”
Orophin had to laugh. “Aye. Let us go and make up!”
Elladan
grinned and quickly dragged Orophin off. Neither were seen again
for the remainder of the afternoon.
***********************
Rúmil
walked with Lindir through the lush gardens. The minstrel sang
quietly as they walked, trying his best to pick songs that he
thought Rúmil would like.
Rúmil appeared to appreciate his efforts, until he sang
a particular verse about Gil-galad. Then the galadhrim wrinkled
his nose his disgust and gently but firmly placed his hand over
Lindir’s mouth, stopping him from continuing.
Lindir had not been able to stop himself from laughing.
“You do not like that one I take it?”
Rúmil had shaken his head and looked pained.
“Very well then!” Lindir said. “I’ll
sing something else!”
They
had carried on like that for some time, Lindir singing softly,
Rúmil enjoying the peacefulness of the gardens and Lindir’s
company. He was amazed at the amount of time the minstrel spent
with him; still wrapped in deep depression he could not understand
why anyone would willingly seek his companionship.
Not
until they came to a carved fountain did they stop to refresh
themselves, for the day was hot, even for elves.
Rúmil splashed the cool water onto his face, before drinking
as much as he could. Still healing, he felt the heat and the
cold more than a healthy elf would.
Lindir also took a drink, noting the relief on Rúmil’s
face as he cooled himself down.
“He’s too hot.” He thought. “Maybe I
should not have brought him here.”
But Rúmil did not look particularly unhappy, especially
now that he was cooler.
Rúmil
sensed Lindir looking at him as he pushed a now-damp strand
of hair behind his ear and graced the minstrel with one of his
rare smiles.
Lindir smiled back, every time Rúmil did that his heart
skipped a beat and reinforced his desire to see the galadhrim
happy again.
On
impulse, he reached into the fountain and splashed a large amount
of water into Rúmil’s face.
Rúmil spluttered, spitting water and glared at Lindir.
The minstrel gave him an innocent smile.
For a moment Rúmil was shocked, such games were no longer
a part of his life. Oh, they had been commonplace once, but
that was before the attack ripped his life apart. But when he
looked at Lindir he could not refuse the minstrel his fun. After
all, Lindir had done so much for him.
Determined to try, he splashed the minstrel back, hitting him
directly in the face. Lindir blinked, surprised at Rúmil’s
accuracy. “He is a galadhrim!” He thought to himself,
splashing back.
Rúmil retaliated again and soon the two were engaged
in a water-fight that any elfling would have enjoyed. Clothes
were soaked and Lindir’s laughter rang throughout the
garden.
It
wasn’t until Lindir breathlessly called a halt that Rúmil
realised something that shocked him. He really had enjoyed himself!
For a few minutes he’d forgotten all about his pain and
despair and lost himself in the game, something he had not thought
possible. It cast a light in the shadows of his heart and he
knew it was all thanks to Lindir.
He pulled Lindir close to him, hugging him in a gesture of thanks.
“You’re welcome.” Lindir murmured, returning
the hug and wishing he could tell Rúmil just how much
he meant to him.
Instead he broke away and took Rúmil’s hand in
his.
“We should head back. Our clothes will dry as we walk.”
Rúmil nodded and kept his hand in Lindir’s as they
walked slowly back. He felt more at peace than he had done in
some time and wondered just what it was about Lindir that made
him feel that way.
Orophin
looked at his brother as he returned to the house with the ever-present
Lindir. Though he looked impassive as always there were strange
wet patches on their clothes and more importantly, there seemed
to be a long-absent sparkle in Rúmil’s eyes.
Though
the changes were slight, to those that cared about him, they
were signs that there was hope yet. Orophin had yet to send
word to Haldir; in his heart he had still feared loosing Rúmil.
He had received a message from Lord Celeborn that Haldir was
still ill but was being cared for Anoriel.
But he was heartened by the progress, finding fresh hope that
his family might one day be whole again. At the very least,
it was time to send word to Lórien.
*************************
Haldir
remembered a time long past, when another tragedy had struck
them. Their parents had just been killed, both falling in the
same attack. He was just short of his first millennium; Rúmil
had just turned seven hundred. Orophin at twenty was but a baby.
Then, as now, he had fallen into depression. Though nearly three
hundred years younger, it was Rúmil who had been the
family’s strength, caring for both his older and younger
brother. He had worked tirelessly, never complaining. Nothing
was too much trouble, as long as his brothers were well cared
for. Not until years later would Rúmil admit that he
had finally broken down in Lord Celeborn’s arms from the
strain. In time he had pulled his brother from the depths of
his pain, distracting him with Orophin. As Haldir taught his
youngest brother to read and write he’d come to realise
that there were still things left to live for, that he still
had a family.
But
things were different now. Now not even Orophin had been able
to rouse him. He had tried, but this pain was even deeper than
the first and Haldir could not move past it.
Though many called him arrogant the truth was that he was anything
but. He was a skilled and confident warrior, but he had a terribly
fragile heart. Despite the rumours, he rarely took lovers and
for many long years had found the contentment he desired from
simple brotherly love. So close had he held them to his heart
that Rúmil’s death was as his own. There was an
emptiness inside him that would not go away. Even the thought
that his fading would leave Orophin alone was not enough. He
had been almost glad when he had been sent away, knowing that
he could forge a new life in Rivendell. He loved Orophin dearly,
but his heart was too badly broken.
Anoriel
watched, as she always did. She had hoped that Haldir would
regain the will to live, but he had not. He was fading; she
suspected that he did not have much longer. Her heart went out
to Orophin and she prayed to the Valar that he would not follow
his brothers, rather than be left alone. But she knew that there
was a possibility that this may well turn into a triple tragedy.
Slowly
she made her way to the small kitchen, to prepare the broth
she daily forced Haldir to eat, wondering if anything could
pull him back from the edge.
END
CHAPTER 5
