Misfits

Part 2

Posted: July 2003
Title: Misfits
Author: Kharessa Bloodrose
Notes: The card game described later in this chapter is not strictly accurate since Tarok is a three player game. A couple of friends and I once tried to play it with the aide of some extremely limited instructions, and couldn't get anywhere with it. On those grounds I feel comfortable tossing in additional players since the requisite amount didn't work for us either. /snicker

*****

Arwen glared, and Melpomaen cringed. "Look," she hissed as she buckled her sword belt, "Grandmother isn't going to say anything about it because Ada and Nana are here, and Ada and Nana aren't going to say anything because I'm with you."

"I'm not a guard or a chaperone!" he retorted.

"No, and that's why I'm carrying my sword. As if I'll need it." She rolled her eyes, and Melpomaen wrung his hands. He did not bother to remind her that a lady's maid would make a more appropriate companion; Arwen was too tender hearted to point out that he was the next best thing. No one would even imagine that he'd dare to make any advances on the princess of Imladris; even if the idea did occur to anyone, a person would immediately acknowledge that Arwen would be more than capable of fending him off. Arwen would no more rub his nose in the fact that he was considered widely to be Erestor's pet library mouse than he'd tell her that she and her brothers were assumed to be strange were-creatures who turned into baying humans when no one was looking. These were things that were known, but stringently ignored.

"You'll like Haldir, trust me," she said.

"He seemed rather… cold. At least, that was the impression I received."

"That's just his way, Melpomaen." She shot him a steel edged glance, and Melpomaen swallowed hard. He'd had to listen to her rave about her brothers' reaction to this proposed outing for the past hour. Elladan and Elrohir had shown no interest in visiting the overdeveloped, arrogant March Warden, and, in all honesty, Melpomaen couldn't say that he blamed them. Haldir had done his duty with all proper respect and formality, but his personality was as warm and inviting as a glacier.

"He's probably lonely. I don't think he goes out much, and usually he's away on business for Grandfather and Grandmother. I was looking forward to introducing him to the twins, but if this is the way they're going to be…," she trailed off. Arwen's lips compressed as she pulled her belt tight and turned to face her reflection in the mirror.

"You look ridiculous," Melpomaen said.

She did. The tunic Arwen wore was a compromise made with her grandmother, one that satisfied Galadriel's principles on modesty while still allowing freedom of movement. The result was something that looked like a cross between a man's tunic and a long nightshirt that had been slit to the waist at each side. Instead of leggings, she wore loose trousers beneath it that left the shape of her legs a mystery, and which would have led to insufferable chafing if it hadn't been for the tights she wore beneath them. Excess material flared over the tops of her finely made yet utterly plain black boots, and leather gloves covered her hands. Arwen grimaced.

"Come on. Let's get out of here before Elladan and Elrohir see me. Not to mention Glorfindel."

*****

Twenty minutes later Melpomaen found himself staring up into the arrogant face of the March Warden. No light had shown from within the talan, but Arwen had rapped briskly at the door nevertheless, ignoring his suggestion that perhaps the occupants were asleep or away. She had not left off rapping until sounds of movement were heard from within, and had evinced more enthusiasm than the situation warranted when a much put upon Haldir appeared in the darkened doorway looking tousled and muzzy eyed.

"Arwen." He stared down at her in worried puzzlement. "You're looking very war-like tonight."

"That's because I'm guarding Melpomaen's hide while he guards my honor."

"I see." Clearly, he didn't. His eyes flicked over Melpomaen's slender figure in bemusement. Arwen frowned impatiently.

"Are you going to invite us in?"

"Oh! Of course, come in." Haldir stepped aside and waved them through, hazel eyes quickly perusing the darkness beyond them as if a mob of curious elves might be lying in wait. Melpomaen smiled nervously and ducked his head as he followed Arwen into the shadowed talan, and Haldir quickly shut the door behind them.

"Where's Rumil?" Arwen asked.

"The Valar alone know. Wait here." He vanished into the back of the house and returned a moment later with a lit taper. Candles and lamps were lit, and Melpomaen began to relax as the small room brightened.

"This is nice, Haldir," Arwen commented as she sank onto the divan, gamely ignoring the pair of socks lying beneath the bottle strewn table. She glanced toward the window, and Melpomaen neatly hooked them under the divan with his foot. For a split second, he thought he saw a look of relief cross the larger elf's face.

"It's not the royal talan," Haldir shrugged, standing stiffly in the middle of a braided rug that looked the worse for wear. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you'd be spending the evening with your family."

"Ada and Nana are visiting with grandmother and grandfather. My brothers are being difficult." She glared balefully, but then brightened. "But, since Melpomaen's here, I thought I'd take advantage of the opportunity to see where you live."

"Ah. Melpomaen?" He cast a cautious look toward the dark haired elf, and Melpomaen offered him another nervous smile.

"Yes," Arwen answered. " Melpomaen, this is my best friend in Lothlorien, Haldir the March Warden. Haldir, this is my best friend in Imladris. Melpomaen's a student archivist who works with Erestor."

"Greetings, Melpomaen." Haldir did not offer his hand, and Melpomaen nodded, clenching his hands in his lap. "Is this business or pleasure for you?"

Melpomaen's mind went blank. He'd finally taken a seat beside Arwen, but glancing around the small talan he couldn't appreciate that his visit qualified as either business or pleasure. Haldir sighed as he folded himself into a chair.

"Your visit to Lothlorien." There was an edge of sarcasm to Haldir's clarification, and Melpomaen blushed.

"Um, both. Lord Celeborn's library contains books that Lord Elrond's does not, and I've been looking forward to following up on some footnotes and researching certain areas that I have only limited access to in Imladris."

"I can see how that would be a draw." Haldir felt more than a little nonplussed. His area of work demanded more than the average level of education, but he could not honestly say that research was ever something to which he looked forward.

"Haldir sometimes does ambassadorial work among the humans for my grandparents, so he knows quite a bit about history, too," Arwen supplied, and Melpomaen nodded.

"Are you part human like Arwen?" He asked tentatively, and shrank at the curdled smile he received in response.

"No, I'm not."

"Well!" Arwen said brightly, rising to her feet. "Maybe we could get some drinks, clear the table, and play cards?"

"Arwen, it's late. And you shouldn't be here anyway." Haldir's voice was remote, his mien turned dark and brooding.

"Nonsense!" Her smile had grown a trifle too wide, her tone a bit too vivacious. "The moon isn't even fully risen yet. And I've never been able to come here before. Ada won't say anything as long as I'm with Melpomaen." She picked up a few of the bottles and turned her smile up another notch. "Where do I take these?"

"He doesn't look like a lady's maid or a guardian." Haldir glowered as he grabbed the remaining bottles, easily carrying them all in his large hands. Melpomaen flushed crimson and cringed back against the couch cushions.

"No, but he's… Melpomaen." Arwen shrugged, stood poised beside the table, and quirked an eyebrow inquisitively. Haldir nodded toward an arched doorway.

"That's the kitchen." He stalked toward it, leaving Arwen to flutter along behind him in her bizarre nightshirt and weaponry. A moment later he returned bearing a wet rag and greasy deck of playing cards.

"Do you need any help?" Melpomaen asked hesitantly, and Haldir grunted in response.

"No, I think we have this under control, Melpomaen," Haldir replied. Arwen was still chattering, and the sound of her artificially cheery voice was beginning to grate. Haldir handed her the rag as he began clearing the table, haphazardly stacking the odds and ends that had accumulated on it on the floor. Melpomaen's eyes widened at the sight of a stack of drawings of elf maidens bathing – among other things – that had been hiding under a pair of riding gloves. Those were swiftly placed face down upon the floor and slid under the divan to join the socks. Arwen blithely pretended she hadn't seen them as she commenced swiping away moisture rings and crumbs.

"You do know how to play tarok?" Haldir asked, and Melpomaen nodded.

"Erestor taught me," he affirmed. Arwen and Haldir had settled on the floor, and Melpomaen followed their lead, slipping off the divan to sit cross-legged across from the blonde elf. The illuminated cards were nearly swallowed in Haldir's large hands as he shuffled, and Melpomaen stared, feeling an indefinable shiver pass through him. Haldir glanced up and shot him an icy glare.

"Is something wrong?"

"Well," Arwen said hesitantly, "you do have something stuck on your teeth."

The March Warden swore colorfully, lips pursed in a most undignified manner as he ran his tongue across his front teeth. Arwen giggled and leaned against him, wrapped a companionable arm about his waist. "I'm just teasing you, silly."

"That's not funny." A faint smile curved his lips nevertheless, and Melpomaen blinked. When he wasn't glaring or frowning, the blonde was actually rather attractive.

"Sure it is." She gave him a final squeeze before resuming her position at the table's narrow end. "Dammit, we forgot the drinks."

"I'll get them," Haldir replied. He began to rise, but Arwen waved him back down.

"No, I'll do it. Fruit juice or spirits?"

"There's wine in the cupboard, next to the glasses. Unless Rumil drank it all."

She disappeared into the kitchen once more, leaving them alone at the table. Haldir continued shuffling, eyes fixed resolutely on the cards as if they held all the secrets of life and death. Melpomaen squirmed.

"If I said anything to give offense, I am truly sorry…," he began meekly, and hazel eyes flashed cold fire over the top of the divided deck.

"No offense taken," Haldir replied gruffly. Melpomaen felt his own seldom-roused temper kindling at the clear displeasure reflected in those eyes.

"It seems to me there was." He knew his tone sounded priggish and superior, a direct result of too much time spent with Erestor, but he could not manage to shift into a less defensive mode. "It is an insult to Arwen and her background that you would take such umbrage at so simple a question."

"Is it?" Haldir bit off the words. "I'm sure that if Arwen feels insulted, she'll be the first to tell me."

"Here we go!" Arwen called merrily as she re-entered the room carrying three tumblers in her hands and a bottle under her arm. "I couldn't find any wine glasses, but…," she trailed off, smile slipping as she took in the scene. Haldir and Melpomaen faced each other in silence, the March Warden's false, frozen smile answered by the scholar's livid glare. "Is everything alright here?"

"Just fine. There aren't any wine glasses," Haldir replied.

"These will do just as well." She swiftly set them on the table and poured before resettling on the floor. "Are you going to deal, or just shuffle all night?"

"Erm," Haldir muttered, but whatever else he had been about to say was cut off by the sounds of voices and laughter outside. A look of pure horror crossed his face as he twisted around to face the door, and Melpomaen felt more than a twinge of unease at the prospect of facing whatever it was that made the warrior elf look ready to hide beneath his bed.

"No, it's okay Liian. Just as long as everyone is gone before morning." Feminine giggles met this remark, and then the door was flung open. A tall male elf made a memorable, if unsteady, entrance supporting, or being supported by, a lovely female. His ash blonde hair was tucked back behind his ears rather than braided, and over half of his shirt buttons were undone. The female attached to his side wore her hair similarly loose, and no modest breast panel concealed the hint of cleavage exposed between her bodice laces. Melpomaen stared, his thoughts flying unbidden to the pictures stashed under the divan.

"Haldir!" the blonde vision cried. "I didn't know you were expecting company."

"Neither did I." Haldir glared, lips compressed. The elf maid's eyes widened, and she tightened her grip.

"Maybe we should go, Rumil…"

"What's going on?" someone in the darkness beyond the threshold called, and Haldir closed his eyes tightly.

"Lady Arwen?" Rumil asked, blinking, and Arwen grinned. "What are you doing here?"

"They are so alike, Melpomaen," Arwen said, ignoring the question completely. "I'm sure if Orophin were here that would be the first thing he'd say to me as well."

"This is your brother?" Melpomaen asked Haldir, his voice tinged with incredulity. Haldir gritted his teeth.

"Yes, this is my younger brother, Rumil."

"Pleased to meet you." Rumil staggered inside, dragging Liian with him. Several nameless others followed behind them. "Melpomaen, right?"

"Yes, I'm a student archivist traveling with Lord Elrond's company."

"Ah. That must keep you busy." Rumil said. The blonde maid giggled, and Melpomaen nodded, clearly at a loss.

"Yes, quite…"

"Rumil, do you think perhaps this might be a good night to visit the river, or a tavern, or someone else's house?" Haldir asked tightly, and his brother shrugged.

"Well, I wasn't planning on coming home this early, but there was an… incident at the White Swan and it seemed like the best idea."

"Tell me you are not in any trouble."

"No, no, no trouble. We left before that could happen."

"Are you playing tarok?" one of the others asked, and Arwen nodded enthusiastically.

"We were getting ready to. Do you want to play?"

"Sure." The half-drunken group of elves crowded around the table, arranging themselves as best as they could on the floor. Melpomaen found himself crowded between Rumil and a narrow faced elf woman who sported a long tail of corn floss hair caught up in a blue ribbon. Rumil's hand came to rest on his knee, and he yelped, nearly jumping backwards onto the divan. Arwen scooted around to sit pressed against Haldir, her previous effervescence turned into half-panicked excitement.

"Sorry about that," Rumil smiled good naturedly as he reached across Melpomaen for the bottle. "Worth a shot, as they say." He brought the bottle to his lips and then frowned as he set it aside. "Oh, stupid me. I forgot. You're Erestor's lover, right?"

"No." Melpomaen could feel his face heating. "I'm a student archivist with– "

"Yes, yes, we caught that," Liann said dismissively as she snuggled up against Rumil. "But isn't this exciting? Lady Arwen, I never would have expected to see you here. Or to see you at all, for that matter."

"I came to visit Haldir," Arwen said crisply, sipping from her tumbler. Eyebrows raised; Haldir looked as if he wanted to slide under the table.

"Well, well, Haldir," a male dressed in forest greens that matched the glass beads strung in his braids grinned. "You've been holding out on us."

"Mind your tongue," Rumil said and shot the elf a glare, his dark expression somewhat impaired by his difficulty in focusing on its target. "Lady Arwen's reputation is not to be questioned."

The narrow faced girl sniffed, but Liian nodded agreeably. "Everyone knows they're just friends." She rolled her eyes, and glass beads jingled as the first elf shifted uncomfortably, muttering under his breath. "I mean, really!"

Haldir stiffened for a moment, and Melpomaen felt a moment of sympathy. He offered the older elf a hesitant smile of commiseration, but the expression was wasted. Cards continued to riffle between his fingers, flying with dexterous speed from hand to hand.

"So, what's the royal talan like? Haldir never tells us these things," Liann asked. Arwen began to answer, but the other female cut in, a mischievous grin spreading across her features.

"More importantly, tell us what your brothers are like. Identical twins… how interesting."

"Stop, Elaida!" Liann laughed, cheeks flushed with curiosity and amusement.

"Tell me you don't want to know!" Elaida shrugged her shoulders disbelievingly, and turned back to Arwen. "I have heard they are excellent archers. Do they ever talk about it to their younger sister? Is it true that their arrows fly true and never miss their mark?"

Melpomaen blushed scarlet in mortification; Arwen looked confused.

"I do not often practice with them…"

Arwen's hesitant reply was met by a storm of laughter. "I should hope not!" Elaida gasped, red faced with tears of mirth streaming down her cheeks. Arwen stared perplexedly, and Haldir abruptly rose to his feet.

"That is enough. Rumil, you will show your guests the way out. I believe it is time for Arwen and Melpomaen to return home." He stood over them forbiddingly, arms crossed in front of him, and the seated elves craned back to stare up into his coldly furious face, expressions of disappointment and bafflement predominating. Rumil swayed unsteadily to his feet also, unhappy awareness seeping in around the edges of his drunken merriment.

"I agree; this isn't a good night for this. Everyone up and out," Rumil deferred.

"C'mon, Rumil, not me," Liian pouted, clinging to his leg. She cast Haldir a pleading look. "I wasn't trying to upset anyone."

"She can stay." Haldir said shortly. His glare intensified and the others dragged themselves up from the floor, stumbling doorwards and muttering darkly about inhospitality and certain people getting above their place. The March Warden said nothing as they departed, finally heaving a sigh of relief when the door was shut. The girl, Liian, was still seated on the floor staring up at him wide-eyed in what could have been either intense curiosity or fear.

"I'm really sorry," she said with a slight waver. "I didn't know she wouldn't understand."

"It's alright, Liian," Arwen said, still clearly confused but doing her best to bring her diplomatic training to bear in this new and unexpected situation. Haldir reached to take her hand, and Arwen found herself wishing that she had the option to wrap herself around his leg the way the blonde girl had wrapped herself about Rumil. Across from her, Melpomaen looked utterly lost, but he, too, rose when he saw Haldir helping Arwen stand.

"Brother, truly I didn't know you'd be having company. I never would have brought everyone back here if I'd known."

"Well, it's too late now." Haldir's voice was cold. "Can she be trusted?" He stabbed a finger at Liian.

"Yes, she's alright," Rumil averred.

"Good. Get her a decent cloak. She's going to be a lady's maid tonight."

*****

The return to the royal talan took place in near total silence. Swathed in the concealing layers of one of Orophin's festival cloaks, Liian walked formally beside Arwen, doing her best imitation of the maids she had seen attending the court ladies at public functions. Melpomaen had taken Arwen's other arm, and Haldir marched grimly behind them.

"I really am sorry, Lady Arwen," Liian whispered as they stepped into the shadows of the royal talan's servants' entrance. Her eyes darted about, attempting to pierce the darkness. Arwen smiled.

"All is well, Liian. Have no fear." She took the cloak from her, folded it swiftly and handed it to Melpomaen. "Thank you for the escort."

"Anytime, my lady."

Haldir snorted, rolling his eyes. Arwen glanced up at him worriedly.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing, aren't I?" She said softly. Haldir's shoulders slumped.

"It was… inappropriate."

Arwen looked away, the stony set of her face not concealing the sadness in her eyes. Haldir sighed.

"It's alright, though, and I appreciate the thought. Hopefully, nothing will come of this. I bid you goodnight, Arwen, Melpomaen."

"Goodnight, Haldir," Arwen said, and Melpomaen echoed her. The two disappeared into the darkness, and Haldir turned, taking Liian's arm and steering her toward the back stairs.

*****

previous | Chapter Index | next

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Kharessa Bloodrose