Nirnaeth am mbar (Homesickness)

Disclaimer: Most characters belong to Tolkien. Figwit (Melpomaen) is the pretty elf from Peter Jackson's movies.


Heartsick


Melpomaen struggled to open his eyes. His head ached fiercely and everything looked hazy and dark. He heard a voice speak his name as he tried to order his jumbled mind - he was in his room, he realized, and someone was stroking his hair. His mother - no! Lord Gildor's words came back to him and his stomach lurched. "I think I will be sick," he said thickly.



Someone helped him to sit up slightly and produced a basin. Melpomaen clung to the arm holding him for dear life - he was so dizzy he was afraid he would fall off the high bed. When he was done, he closed his eyes and lay down, the thumping of his head overwhelming all other sensation.



A cool cloth was pressed to his forehead. He heard voices speaking in quiet tones. "Here is some water," someone said, helping him to sit up again. He opened his eyes as he lay down. The room was dim, slivers of sunlight - shards of glass to his aching head - peeked out from the edges of the curtains. Lord Elladan had been sitting by his bed, but now he got up to make way for his father. The ancient peredhel felt gently behind the elf's head.



"You have a good-sized bump on your head, but I think you will mend. The swelling is going down already." He turned to Elladan. "I will get one of the students to come up and sit with him."



"I will stay with him. I do not mind, Adar."



When Master Elrond had left, Melpomaen stirred as Elladan resumed his place. "You do not need to sit with me." It did not seem right to him. "I will be all right with one of the students."



"Hush. Let me decide that."



Melpomaen felt behind his head. "How - ?"



"You fainted and hit your head on the floor."



Melpomaen blinked back tears as he recalled the events of the morning. His breathing quickened, his hands knotting around the sheets, and Elladan put a hand to the elf's brow, worried about the youngster's agitation. "Easy, little one. You will feel better if you cry rather than hold the pain inside." With these words, the dam broke and Melpomaen cried until exhaustion claimed him.



When he awoke, the absence of light around the curtains told him it was night. Lord Elladan still sat by his bed, reading by the light of a candle. He looked up. "Are you hungry, Fileg?"



In spite of his churning stomach, Melpomaen blinked in surprise at the epessë, one his father had sometimes used - 'little bird', it meant, and he found it strange that his lord would call him by this endearment. "No, I do not think I could eat."



"Perhaps later, then." He stood up and poured some water, which the elf took eagerly, draining the glass in a few gulps. "More?" Elladan asked, faintly amused. He refilled the glass at the elf's nod.



"Do not think your parents did not love you. The call of Aman is loud and many elves grow weary of the darkness that falls," the peredhel said, when Melpomaen had drunk his fill. "You know my mother left," he continued, his eyes hooded to hide his emotions.



Melpomaen had been a small child when Celebrian had gone to Aman, but he remembered the adults whispering of something terrible, of some injury that could not be healed. "But that was different - she had to go, did she not?"



Elladan gave him a twisted smile. "Sometimes I wondered. I thought that if she loved us enough, she would have stayed. But that was not true. And it is not true of your parents, either."



"Then why did they leave me behind?"



"You are too young to leave Middle-Earth. You would have regretted it - the Undying Lands do not call to you yet. Believe me, if I could have left, I would have gone with my mother. But I could not bear to leave this land yet."



Melpomaen lay in silence for a while, realizing that he was utterly alone. Would he be sent back to Lord Gildor's people? He was not sure how his room and board had been paid. In the midst of his thoughts, he felt a pressing need to use the chamber pot, and shyly admitted this to Lord Elladan. When he was done, the peredhel helped him to wash up a bit and change into a fresh nightshirt.



Once he had helped the elf back into bed, Elladan undid Melpomaen's braids and began to comb out the silky, soot-colored tresses. This seemed to calm the young elf, who looked sleepy again as he lay down.



"I suppose I will have to leave with my lord's people," Melpomaen murmured.



"If that is your wish, you may do so, of course. But I think it would be better for you to continue your studies."



"But there is no one to pay my room and board, and I am not yet fifty…"



"Imladris takes its students on merit, not payment. You certainly shall not be cast out. My father is responsible for you now."



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Elrond glanced out the window of his study as shadows fell briefly across his desk and then retreated, and watched with approval as the pair, deep in conversation, continued toward the gardens of his much-lamented wife. He was glad that Elladan had taken an interest in the young elf. Melpomaen needed a friend - as far as he could see, the elf was not close to any of the other students, and his roommate, Saeladh, had completed his studies in May and returned to Mirkwood. Erestor and the apothecary had reported that the youngster was distracted and Elrond had noted his absence at meals.



Moreover, he hoped that this friendship would help his son to heal old wounds. He worried about his sons' frequent journeys with the Dúnedain, about their bitter wish for revenge on the orcs who had so wounded their mother. The twins had remained home longer than usual this time, and Elrond thought his son's concern for this fragile young elf was the reason for this.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Melpomaen saw his fiftieth begetting day come and go with little ceremony. He had received a few gifts, but it was a melancholy affair. In place of his parents, Master Elrond formally recognized his majority, and his family's absence on such an important day stung - he went to bed early and woke the next day with his pillow damp with tears.



The summer meant a lighter study load, though he spent more time assisting Saer-duiw. The warm weather kept the healers busy with broken limbs and near-drownings. Orcs hated the long hours of sun, but made the most of the short nights, sending warriors both mortal and elven to Imladris' halls of healing. Melpomaen learned how to make antidotes to orc poisons and poultices to heal fractures and bruises.



Still, he had much time on his hands for brooding, and he welcomed Lord Elladan's invitations to walk in the garden or share a picnic with the twins. He found himself looking forward to his days off and was disappointed when the peredhel did not seek him out on those days. He was most comfortable with solitude, and it surprised him that he now preferred Lord Elladan's company to being alone. The faint scent of cloves from the scented oil the peredhel wore lingered into sweaty dreams and he felt a tingle in his hand when their fingers accidentally brushed one another.



Late one morning, they rode out to the Bruinen with Elrohir, seeking relief from the searing heat of recent days. The spray of the wild river, swollen with run-off from the mountains, cooled them pleasantly as they ate dinner on the banks.



"Here, try one of these sandwiches," Elladan said. The elf had nibbled at some of the fruit and cheese, leaving most of his plate untouched.



"I am not very hungry, I am afraid. I had a large breakfast."



"Nonsense! We cannot eat all of this, and the cook will be insulted if we bring back half the food. You do not want to get me in trouble, Fileg?" he teased.



Melpomaen knew the peredhel was trying to feed him. Everyone seemed concerned with his lack of appetite, but he could not help it - food tasted like ashes these days. Still, to please Elladan, he ate the sandwich. This seemed to amuse Elrohir, though he could not fathom why.



After the meal, they stripped down to their vests and went swimming in a pool protected by rocks from the rushing Bruinen. The elf laughed to see the twins behaving as children in the water, splashing and dunking one another, bickering good-naturedly as they played. The swim did not last long, however - the icy water soon forced them out, and they lay in the hot afternoon sun, waiting for their clothes to dry.



Elladan was the first to fall into light dreamscapes. Melpomaen watched the peredhel, wondering of what he dreamt. He was tall, wite ste strength of men and the beauty of the elves. His hair coiled like silken rope behind his head, the indigo-black plaits tangling as they dried with locks left unbraided. He drew the young elf's eyes to his broad, muscular chest and flat abdomen. He had the power of a horseman in his thighs, tight with intricately carved musculature. Shyly, the elf allowed himself to briefly glance at the peredhel's groin. He felt a response in his own body and looked hastily away, thankful that the others were asleep.



They returned to the house just as the bell announcing the evening meal sounded, and with oaths of dismay, the twins hurried up their quarters to change.



Elladan poked his head in Elrohir's bedchamber. "Have you got clean robes I might borrow?" His own lay in a heap at the bottom of his wardrobe, rather than in the basket for the chambermaid to collect.



Elrohir came out of his dressing room, dressed and ready but for his hair. He threw a set of robes at Elladan, who shrugged into them and began to braid his brother's hair. "One plait will have to do."



"I think you have an admirer," Elrohir said, as they switched places. "Elladan, how do you manage to get so tangled?"



Elladan was not sure whether his twin referred to his hair or his heart. "He is adorable, you have to admit. Ai!"



Elrohir continued to comb out the snarls with little mercy. "Quit yelping like an elfling, Elladan." He set the comb aside and began to braid his brother's hair. "Do not tell me these feelings are returned."



"And why not?"



Elrohir stopped and faced his brother, all mirth gone from his face. "He is hardly more than a child."



"But he is not a child."



"You are over 2,000 years his elder."



"Which is nothing to an elf."



Elrohir tied off his brother's braid and they walked quickly downstairs. "Be careful with him, Elladan," he warned as they entered the dining room.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++




Summer was drawing to a close, signaled by Anor's early retirement. They had fallen into the habit of walking together after the evening meal. On this night, the young elf fairly glowed in the twilight, and Elladan suddenly wanted more privacy. "Have you ever been to the falls?" Melpomaen shook his head and they headed toward the path along the river.



It was a favorite place for young couples of Imladris. Elladan could hear the murmurs of lovers hidden in the woods along the path, and felt a stirring in his loins. Without warning, he turned to his quiet companion and kissed him, gently and with far less ardor than he felt. The elf stood woodenly still, then responded with hungry lips, artless with inexperience but not lacking in enthusiasm. Abruptly, Melpomaen broke the kiss. Elladan saw a strange look pass over his face before he fled, heedless of Elladan's voice calling after him.



With a weary sigh, Elladan returned to the house and went to his rooms, falling into a chair in the sitting room he shared with Elrohir. The latter looked up from his book with a raised eyebrow. "Your little bird?"



Elladan groaned. "I kissed him and…"



"…he did not take it well. What did you say to him?"



"Nothing!"



"So, without warning, this little elf finds himself the object of his lord's desire. What did you think would happen, brother?"



"I did not think…"



"That is clear," Elrohir broke in sharply. "Oh, Elladan," he continued in a more sympathetic tone, "he seems to be quite fond of you, but he is very young. You probably scared the wits out of him." He leaned forward. "Talk to him. I am sure he has no idea what to think, and he most likely feels he cannot refuse you."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Several days passed before Elladan saw the young elf again - he was sure that Melpomaen deliberately avoided him. When he found the elf in the library late one night, he waited by the door, determined to speak with him. Melpomaen left the library at last. Elladan stepped from the doorway and the elf hurried his steps, hunched over the books he carried.



"Melpomaen, stop. Please stop." Elladan reached out a hand to turn the elf's shoulder.



Melpomaen twitched anxiously under his grip, like a frightened rabbit. "My lord?"



"Can we go somewhere private?"



Elladan saw a look of alarm pass over the elf's eyes and recalled Elrohir's words. Had he so badly misread the elf? He had not thought his advances would be so unwelcome, but the little elf, though he nodded and followed Elladan to a little-used study room, literally shook with apprehension.



Elladan shut the door. Melpomaen stood, refusing to look at him, wringing his hands in anxiety.



Elladan sat down several feet away from the elf, hoping the distance would help calm him. "Please do not look so frightened! I am not going to molest you."



The elf's pale features flushed with color.



"I apologize if my actions the other night were untoward. I would never impose myself upon you - I hoped my feelings might be returned." He ended the sentence with a slight rise in tone, making it almost a question.



"Oh!" Melpomaen breathed. The elf glanced at him shyly, then looked down again, his soot-black locks falling forward to cover his face.



Elladan walked over to the elf. He pushed the curtain of hair aside. Melpomaen flinched. "Stay! Hear me out - you are free to refuse me, but let me speak first.



"You are very fair. From the first time I saw you, I was drawn to you." Elladan fingered a silky tress. "Very fair. You were so unhappy, and I wanted to give you a home in my heart and soothe away your misery, but I feared you would not return my feelings. But you have recently given me hope - can I hope you might feel as I do?"



Melpomaen was a maelstrom of emotions. He remembered the feel of soft lips on his own, how he had lain awake late that night with a yearning - for what, he did not know. His solitary ways had kept him innocent, even among the bawdy bards of Lord Gildor's theatrical folk.



He could not deny that a certain pair of grey eyes and the memory of a kind smile brought some relief from his sorrow. Yet he was mistrustful - it seemed unlikely that a lord of Elladan's stature might care for him.



His mother and father had not been the most doting parents, and much of the young elf's anxiety and insecurity arose therein: a baby left to cry a bit too long, a child whose nighttime monsters went unvanquished by a soothing touch. Among mortals, such a child might have turned to mischief to attract his parents' attention, but Melpomaen, being of elvenkind, had only tried harder to please. A fear of abandonment niggled in the back of his mind, and now that his fear had materialized, he could only conclude that what had seemed to be was true: his parents did not care at all.



And something had happened to his heart when the first shock of his family's departure had worn off. He had closed it tightly, fearing that, as unlovable as he saw himself, anyone else allowed into his heart would leave him alone.



"Melpomaen?"



The elf came out of his thoughts, realizing that Elladan wanted an answer. "I - I cannot return your sentiments, my lord."



Was it hurt that flittered across the peredhel's features? "I do not believe it. It did not seem so in the garden the other night. You did not respond to my kiss without feeling."



"Please, my lord, do not press me!" The elf moved swiftly away from Elladan, anguished.



Elladan could not understand. Why was Melpomaen so frightened? "I will leave you alone, then, if that is your wish."



He went upstairs and began throwing clothes into his pack.



"Elladan?" His brother entered without knocking and sat down, watching his twin. "It did not go well."



"No," the older twin answered shortly. "I am leaving for a while. Will you come?"



Elrohir sighed. He had no choice - in his present state of mind, he could not allow his brother to ride out alone. Elrohir remembered how his brother's recklessness after their mother's departure had verged on the suicidal. He would need someone to watch out for him.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Left alone in the little study room, Melpomaen sank into the chair Elladan had so recently occupied. It smelt faintly of cloves. He pulled his legs to his chest, resting his forehead on his knees. He felt heartsick and more alone than ever. His chest burned with the effort to breathe, his eyes stung with unshed tears.



He awoke in the morning to a gentle touch to his shoulder. "Melpomaen! Awake, child."



He blinked in the bright sunlight. Stiff from his unnatural position, he looked owlishly at Saer-duiw.



"We have been looking for you everywhere! The twins were to have left to patrol the mountains this morning, but instead they have been searching the grounds for you." He patted his apprentice's shoulder. "Gather your wits and wash up. I will tell Glorfindel that he can call off the search."



So, Elladan was leaving. Melpomaen told himself that he had made the right decision. Yet the plain light of day refused to hide the lie.