Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Path of Honor	By : IdrilsSecret Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1995 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor the characters from it. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter Seven

What is it about firing arrows at targets that is so soothing? I could have stood there all day, lost in my concentration, feeling the softness of the fletching against my cheek, the tightness of the bowstring cutting into my calloused fingers, and the release of tension when I let my arrow fly. There was something satisfying about the sound my arrow made as it sunk into the target, and seeing it within the inside circle, close to center. Being a Captain had its rewards, but I missed being just a regular soldier.
I had said something similar to Romon, as we took turns firing our bows. The tension I’d felt from him earlier seemed to be dissipating. He was actually enjoying himself, and so was I. We spoke no more of daily problems, at least for the moment. All we did was talk about technique, and show each other our skills.
It was the end of the day, and when everyone else left the training grounds, I asked that Romon stay behind with me. I think we needed some mindless practice to allow us to relax. Funny thing was, we didn’t know the specifics of each other’s problems, but we knew there were difficulties. I think it helped us to connect. Although Romon was one of my men, and a very important one at that, we really hadn’t spent personal time with each other. I learned that he was raised very much in the same manner as I was, a strong background in soldiering. The odd thing was, it was his uncles who were soldiers, and their sons. Romon’s father was a musician. He’d never felt the pull of battle, let alone held a weapon. His talent was to sooth the warrior soul with a lullaby. And so, Romon’s upbringing was a mixture of music and archery. It was an odd combination, but it worked. He understood not only war and strategy, but the poetic uses of technique. He had remarkable patience, unlike many young elves at this stage. Most just wanted to get to the borders and engage in war. Romon wanted that too, but he had an ear for the sounds of war, not just the sights. I found that I could not wait to pick his brain and understand his views better. I thought that if I could really get inside his head and see how his thought process worked, see how his ear for music related to his ear for war, then perhaps I could use this as a training tool for the rest of my men. As archers, it was a perfect situation. My regiment’s position in battle would be mainly held to the trees, where we would have the best overview of the battle below us, and then we could help the ground troops from our aerial positions. I wanted us to be able to predict our enemy’s actions better, so that we could exterminate more orcs before the swordsmen ran in to battle. And I thought that if I could tap into Romon’s use of sounds, that my troops could use more than their eyes to search the forest floor below.
I thought I would use this as our conversation piece once we arrived at my office. Then perhaps we could slowly work our way to the center of his problems as of late. Romon was unwilling to discuss his private affairs. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t have done so myself when I was a new recruit. I did, however, know what it was like to have troubles and not have anyone to discuss them with.
We entered my office and I pointed to a chair next to the hearth. It was summer, and too warm for a fire, but I had arranged several candles within the fireplace. While Romon got comfortable with his surroundings, I lit the candles, giving the room a certain charm by the soft glow of light. I had always found fire to have a calming quality, and I hoped it would work with my guest. So while I busied myself with the fireplace, I asked him to describe his use of sounds.
“Well, I’m not sure exactly how I do it,” he began. “I mean, there are the usual forest sounds that everyone listens for, the calls of birds or the chattering of squirrels and chipmunks. But there are no animals to use as warning when enemies are close by. The forest creatures will have been gone for days in advance. They are very susceptible to danger, and they will not risk it.”
“Then what do you listen for?” I asked, lighting the last candle and standing back to see my handiwork. Satisfied of the illumination, I went to my desk to check and see if I had any messages awaiting my attention.
“Well, orcs are very clumsy, and they are not careful of their tread. An elf can hear them approaching from a long ways off. But if you ever pick apart the sounds they make as they walk, it’s possible to determine from which direction they will approach. As you know, the forest can throw sounds, as the reverberations will bounce off of rocks and trees. We can get a general idea of their location, but I’m able to pinpoint exactly where they are,” he explained. He seemed eager to share his methods, and I was just as eager to listen. “For example, have you ever listened to the trees?”
I smiled as I sorted through a small stack of messages. “Of course, all the time, though many are so old they have forgotten how to speak to the elves, and their language is so ancient that I do not understand them.”
“Um … that’s … not … exactly what I meant, but . . . Are you saying you can actually speak to the trees, Captain?” he asked, curiously sidetracked from his explanation.
“It’s a gift.” I had a sudden vision of Túron and I talking about this same subject. It made my heart sink to think about him, and I curved my emotions quickly.
“That’s amazing, if you don’t mind my saying so. Not all elves obtain such skills.”
“So I’ve been told. But do go on. I’m curious to know about your own skills,” I said trying to turn the conversation back towards him.
“Oh, yes … well, what I meant was, different trees have different sounds. It all depends on their wood. If you tap on an oak, it sounds different than tapping on a pine or a beech. Same can be said for the rustling of their leaves or the breaking of branches.”
“That’s quite intriguing,” I said, looking up from my notes for a moment. “So you’re saying that if someone steps on a fallen branch of, say … a cedar, you could distinguish it from the breaking of a branch from an ash?”
“Exactly!” he cried, happy to have someone who actually understood his way of thinking. “Cedar is a soft wood, and it makes more of a cracking sound, while ash is harder and has a sharp snap. As long as you know the layout of the forest, you’ll know where the enemy is by what trees grow in that area.”
While he was explaining, my eye caught sight of a note lying to the edge of my desk, away from the others. I picked it up, and noticed right away the emblem on the wax seal. It was from the scribe’s office. My heart leapt to my throat. I listened to Romon for a moment, and he was in deep explanation about the different trees and their breakage sounds. I returned my attention to the letter, broke the seal, and carefully pulled at the bottom fold, looking for a signature. There is was, the distinctive T that I recognized as Túron’s handwriting. I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. I couldn’t do this now. Whatever he had to say to me would distract me from my guest, and I felt I owed it to Romon to carry on with our conversation. Besides, I wanted to gain his trust so that he might open up to me and tell me his concerns. I’d been waiting for days to hear from Túron, but now that there was correspondence in my hand, I became scared to read it. If it was rejection, I didn’t think I could handle that right now. I still had hope in my heart. I didn’t want that destroyed just yet, so I folded the letter and pushed it beneath the stack of notes to read at a later time.
“Not now, Túron,” I whispered silently, but not quietly enough.
“What was that?” Romon asked.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I must say, I find this very interesting, Romon. I think your knowledge will be useful with the troops, if you are willing to share with them.”
“I would agree wholeheartedly, Captain, though it is not all that easy to learn if one does not have an ear.”
“I think just the basics can be taught, and perhaps in the short amount of time that is left before we strike out for the borders. Wouldn’t you agree?” I asked.
“Yes, Captain,” he answered eagerly.
“Well now, you can finish telling me about this skill while I pour us some wine,” I said, and I went to the shelf where I kept my private stock. My usual red was there, but another bottle sat to the side. I didn’t recognize it, and I knew I hadn’t put it there. “For a job well done,” it said, written on a rolled up parchment wrapped around the neck of the bottle. It must have been from Haldir. I hadn’t had a chance to read his report on the inspection of my troops, but he hadn’t approached me in person. So I figured everything must have gone well. Nice of him to send me some refreshment, though. He knew how I liked to sit and read my messages while enjoying a glass of wine. I could always count on Haldir to see that I continued my personal traditions.
I uncorked the bottle, and poured out two glasses, which I brought back to Romon. He took the offered glass and settled back into his chair, and I joined him in the matching chair by the hearth. I raised my glass and so did Romon. “Here’s to our futures,” I toasted and we drank deep. The wine was delicious, but it was not familiar. Haldir must have ordered it special, had it hidden away for such an occasion. I felt guilty, as though he should have been here to share in the toast. At least I had Romon’s company.
After we finished our silent observations of the wine, Romon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Captain,” he addressed me with inquiry. “What will it be like at the borders?”
It was the one question that burned in the minds of all new recruits. Fear of the unknown was always an issue, and until a soldier experienced it for his own, he would never know the true feeling of battle. “Well, it will be tense, and there will always be a certain level of awareness. You’ll find that all of your senses will be heightened, even when trouble is not near. Somehow, you learn to live with that sensation. It becomes second nature. But never ignore the hairs that stand up on the back of your neck,” I warned. “It’s the waiting that is exhausting. Battle is battle. You enter into a fight and you do what you’ve been trained to do. You stay alive, and you extinguish your enemy. In some ways, the fighting is easier than the waiting.”
“I think I can understand that,” he agreed. “But what do you do to pass the time?”
I took another drink of my wine, settling into the warmth as it traveled through my chest and to my belly. The sensation was very comforting. I’d have to ask Haldir where this particular vintage came from and order more. “Everyone passes the time differently. Some whittle carvings, some play games with dice or cards. You can only string your bow so many times, you know,” I laughed. “It’s a good time to make more arrows. Lots of the men tend to do that. Other’s keep a journal or write letters to loved ones.”
I heard him sigh, and knew I’d struck a nerve. “Not everyone has someone to write to,” he said softly under his breath.
“No, not everyone,” I said in agreement. His head lifted slightly, but he did not look at me. He seemed almost ready to share his problems with me, but he was still hesitant. I took another sip of my wine, feeling myself loosen and relax, like my insides were turning to liquid. Would he think it odd if I stretched out on the floor in front of the hearth? I laughed internally at the thought.
“Can I ask a personal question, Captain?” he asked. Here it finally was, the reason for his dismal mood as of late.
“Yes.”
“How do you handle being alone? Not to imply that you, personally, are alone, sir. I just mean, how do you get by day after day at the borders while loved ones are so far away?”
“My loved ones are with me. My brothers will be at the borders with the rest of the army.”
“I understand that, sir, but what about … others?” he asked carefully.
“For me, there is no one,” I admitted openly. I was surprised to hear the words come out. Until now, I hoped that something might still exist between Túron and I. The fact that I couldn’t bring myself to read his note was enough proof that I wanted to keep that hope alive. But now, I wondered if it was evidence that I wished to be done and move on. I finished the wine in my glass and spoke before I realized what I was saying. “I thought I had something real for once, but again my life as a soldier took precedence over a chance at true love.” I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Romon about this. Somewhere deep down, I knew it was wrong to discuss personal dilemmas with one of my men, let alone a new recruit, but I just couldn’t help the emotions that were boiling over, like a pot of water left over the fire for too long. I stood and went to retrieve the bottle of wine, looking for an escape. “I apologize. It is wrong for me to speak so openly.” I poured another glass, filling it almost full, and when I turned to go back to my chair, I found Romon standing beside me, empty glass in hand. I poured more for him also.
“I’m actually glad you have. I believe we have something in common, for someone has recently broken my heart, too,” Romon admitted as he stared into his wine.
“It’s not my first loss, mind you, but it is the first one I’ve lost that really mattered.” I didn’t know what came over me, but it felt so freeing to be able to admit this to someone. Until now, I’d only discussed my feelings with Túron, but never to anyone else. Now he was gone, and the turmoil within my heart was mine to deal with alone.
Romon went to the hearth, and placed his free hand upon the mantle. His head hung down as he gazed into the candles’ dancing flames. “We were in love. We thought we could manage our relationship and the army, but when we were separated, I still made an effort, yet . . .” His words faded as he spoke. Then he stood silent, staring into the yellow orange glow of the hearth. When he came out of his brief trance, he took a big swallow from his glass. “To Udûn with it,” he uttered fiercely. His eyes lifted to meet mine, their blue-green hue flashing dangerously in the candlelight. “I tried to make it work, but he did not.” Upon revealing himself and his preference, Romon gasped and looked as though he’d stumbled upon his own execution.
In that one moment, I felt what Romon was feeling … the need to confess the truth, to be able to tell someone exactly what problems laid before him instead of coating it with anonymous references. I’d spent most of my life avoiding this affirmation, and I’d become good at it, but hearing Romon say it without any inhibitions made me want to confess my own and be seen as imperfect. Yet, that’s not what we were, was it? We were not immoral because we loved someone of the same sex. We were not harming anyone, or bringing injustice to the army because of our choices. We had loving hearts that just wanted a chance to know what it felt like to have someone in our lives that we knew we could trust with our souls. It didn’t mean we were any less of a soldier than the elf who went home to a wife and child.
“What have I done?” Romon said worriedly. “What have I said?” He looked at me with pleading eyes. “You’re going to report me now, aren’t you?”
I did the only thing I knew to do in this situation. I stepped up to Romon and cupped his face in my gentle hand. “No, Romon. I would never do that.”
We looked at each other with mirrored wonder. Romon and I were the same. We needed someone to talk to, someone to understand us, and our eyes spoke volumes about one another. “It was my fault, I’m afraid. I took you from him, didn’t I? At the Choosing, when I called upon you to change to my regiment, I saw you glance back at someone, an ellon. I saw the dismay upon your face, and I knew.”
“Are there others that know?” he asked.
“That depends. Have you been threatened?” I wondered if the same scoundrel who was watching me was watching Romon, too.
He shook his head, and my hand came away from his face. Suddenly, I felt weightless. Everything looked as though I were seeing through water; my vision would focus for a moment and then blur and ripple. Romon morphed between himself and Túron, and I realized something. “You … remind me of him,” I said automatically. “Your hair.” I involuntarily reached out and took a lock of in between my fingers, reveling in the smooth coolness of the strands. “It is so much like his.” It must have been the wine, I thought to myself. It was making me drunk, and with my emotions out of control and the harshness of the last two days . . .
“Silef liked it when I did that to his hair,” Romon observed. He didn’t move away, but instead, he closed what little space was between us. He must have been drunk, too.
It’s unclear what came over me, or what came over both of us as we spoke of our lovers. As we described them, our hands and fingers drew to touch one another in those places. And every time I gave an account of how lovely something of Túron’s was, it morphed into that very vision. I wondered if the same thing was happening to Romon. It seemed like it was, for he touched me sensually, as though I was his lover. I couldn’t distinguish the differences anymore. Soon, it was Túron standing before me. All I wanted was to feel his touch, to hear him tell me everything was going to be fine. We no longer spoke to one another, but we communicated with our hands, touching each other intimately. And then, his lips were upon mine, red, full lips that tasted like the richness of the wine. My body heated to an unbearable degree. I needed to feel Túron’s flesh upon mine, to disappear into the oneness of coupling with my lover. I could feel his desire for me against my own, through the thin fabric of our leggings. His tongue slipped along the edge of my ear, sending tendrils of arousing static down my spine, making me pulsate with life. Unable to control my cravings a moment longer, I shoved him against the wall. My body pushed against his, and I devoured his mouth, tongues entwined, tasting, longing for much more. He writhed against me and I kissed him harder. My hands roamed to the laces of his leggings. His began searching for a way into my tunic, flesh needing to touch naked flesh. Our breathing had become erratic, and we moaned with need. I no longer knew what was real and what wasn’t. All I saw was Túron before me in my watery world of illusion. The heat between us was real, as well as the sensation of touch. I wanted him desperately, and he was ready to yield to me. I kissed him along his neck and jaw, finding his swollen lips parted and hungry. And as I covered his mouth with mine, I heard the door open, but I didn’t care. I would have this tantalizing creature convulsing beneath me as I thrust every inch of my . . .
“Rúmil!” someone called in a demanding voice.
Who was this pest, I wondered through my lustful haze. I didn’t flinch, but kept on with my ministrations. I couldn’t stop now or I might burst.
“Rúmil, you must stop this at once,” said the nuisance.
Without missing a beat, I waved my hand behind me, trying to fend off my interrupter. “Not now, you wretched fop. Can’t you see that Túron and I are about to–”
“Rúmil, look at me,” said this scourge of an elf. A hand gripped my shoulder, pulling me away from the object of my desire, and I thought my vision had doubled.
“Túron?” I said, confused. I looked back to the one whose lips had just been on mine, and he wasn’t Túron. “What?” I closed my eyes and tried to refocus.
“We don’t have long. You must leave. Is there another way out of here?” said the real Túron.
“What is happening to me?” My head began to swirl.
“Didn’t you get my note?” Túron asked. Without waiting for an answer, he rushed to my desk and searched through the papers.
I shook the fuzziness from my head and concentrated on Túron, but someone was pawing at me, groping for my flesh, cupping me, bringing me standing again. I was about to turn and embrace him, fondle him as he was doing to me, and finally take my gratification. I was still under the influence of the wine.
“Damn it, Rúmil,” Túron berated me. I saw him take his note back, and he stuffed it into my pocket. Then he pulled me away from ethereal Túron, and he shoved me.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“You’ve been drugged. The wine, it was laced with some kind of hallucinogenic herb. It heightens your sexual desire and makes you see whoever it is you want to see,” the real Túron explained. He was looking desperately around the office, pushing the other Túron … wait … no, Romon … pushing Romon in different directions.
Suddenly, the doorknob started to twist. I looked to Túron and he looked at me. Then time slowed down and everything went to pot. As the doorknob rattled, Túron pushed me towards the door, and I fell onto a small table that sat next to it, making a loud clatter. I stumbled, but caught myself before I fell to the floor. Next, he grabbed Romon and pushed him against the wall. To my astonishment, Túron kissed him hard and fervently. I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but whatever was in the wine was still affecting my judgment. It might have been another hallucination, but what happened next made me realize that all of this was actually happening.
The door almost burst off its hinges and Raenor, along with two of his cronies, charged into my office. Before he was even in the room, he was yelling my name, demanding that I stop what I was doing. Midway through his threat of bringing down the laws of the army upon my head, he stopped and stared drop-jawed at Romon and Túron, who were all over each other, kissing and touching. Obviously, Romon was still in his opiate driven illusion. Túron, who I was sure hadn’t drank any of the wine, was playing along, writhing against Romon, moaning.
“Rúmil, I demand that you–” Raenor yelled, bringing himself up short. It only took him a second to see me standing by the door. It looked as though I had just come in myself, and caught my ex-assistant with my best new recruit. I was completely dumbfounded, and remained silent. My legs were giving out on me, so I stumbled to the nearby seat and collapsed. My elbows rested on my knees and I planted my head in my hands. When would the spinning stop? The contents of my stomach were desperately trying to find their way up and out, but I swallowed and calmed myself quickly.
By now, the two elves with Raenor had separated Túron and Romon, each guard holding them in a vicelike grip. I couldn’t look, for fear that I might give myself away. There were parts of my body that weren’t cooperating, especially in the lower region. Not even this invasive situation could make my rigid flesh go placid. Whatever was in the wine worked extremely well, and it worked no matter how fiercely I concentrated. There were worse things to worry about at the moment.
Raenor seemed confused, and he looked back and forth from me to the others. “What in the name of the Valar is going on here?”
“I … I don’t know,” I stammered. The act of opening my mouth to speak made my stomach want to spill its contents. I couldn’t do this, not now.
“Well, I’ll tell you what it looks like to me,” Raenor accused. “I’d say something fiendish is taking place.” He pointed to Túron and Romon. “These two are carrying on like deviants, and you are sitting here watching it instead of stopping them. Look at you. The blood’s all rushed out of your face, gone somewhere lower, I imagine.”
I hadn’t the strength to argue with him, nor to stand up for myself. I was beginning to feel very sick, and I was about to tell Raenor that, when Haldir came rushing into the room, and he answered for me.
“Can’t you see my brother is in shock!” he called out with harshness in his tone. Thank the gods he was here, though I was confused as to why.
“Ai, in shock … my arse,” Raenor answered pugnaciously. He rounded on Haldir, abandoning everyone else in the room. “Seems as though he’s no respect for army laws, sitting here in participation to this military crime.”
“And what might you be doing here anyways, Raenor. This is not your district,” Haldir implicated.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m taking care of what you seem to be blind to. You know our laws. There will be no fraternizing between soldiers. But this . . .” He looked back at me, determined to ruin me. “This is more than enough to have your brother decommissioned.”
Haldir went to Raenor and brought himself face to face with his foe. “You bloody bastard,” he seethed. “That’s what you were after all along, isn’t it? For years, you’ve tried to find some reason to see me tossed out of the army, and when you failed, you thought you’d go after my brother.”
“I’ve heard things about Rúmil,” Raenor accused.
“Lies! And unless you have solid proof, I’ll not stand here and bandy words with the likes of you.” Haldir turned and looked at all of us. “As for those two, I’ll not argue that something … immoral … has taken place here, and I will deal with them myself. But leave my brother out of your witch hunt.”
“Well then, all he needs is to answer a few simple questions,” Raenor said with austerity.
“I’ll not have you badger him,” Haldir defended. I could see that I was going to have to say something in order to end these accusations. I would have to stick to the truth as best I could, and not divulge too much.
“It’s alright. I’ll answer for myself,” I managed to finally say.
Haldir came to me, leaned down as if to check me over, and whispered in my ear. “Simple answers only. I don’t trust him.”
“Let me handle this,” I said, and I pushed Haldir away. He knew that I understood what he meant.
Raenor gave my brother a smug look and approached me. “What were you doing here?”
I smiled arrogantly. “It’s my office. I have a right to be here.”
“And what about these two?”
“I asked that Romon come to my office to discuss his performance. He’s been … lacking as of late.”
“And what about the other one, your friend?”
I dared a glance at Túron, and our eyes locked briefly. He gave me the slightest notion of a nod, as though to say it was alright for me to continue “He … was … a friend.” The truth was, I didn’t really know. I hadn’t heard from him in days, not since he confronted me about my request for a new assistant.
“And just why is he here? He is not under your employment anymore. He should not be on the base at all.” Raenor was shifting his interrogation, trying to put Túron and I together, but I was too smart to fall for his line of questioning.
“You’re right.” I turned to Túron with a harsh eye. “He should not be here.”
Raenor glanced at Túron. “Mind explaining why you are here in the Captain’s office with one of his men performing this nefarious act?”
“Don’t you mean, why wasn’t he with me?” I denounced, trying to figure out why he had showed up when he did.
Raenor gave me an accusatory glare. His slit eyes could not fool me. He came expecting to find me with someone, whether it was Romon or Túron, and have me ousted.
“That’s enough, Raenor,” Haldir interrupted. “You asked your questions. I’ll take it from here. Go back to your own regiment.”
“You’ll be sure to know the Lord and Lady will be notified of this mishap,” Raenor threatened as he signaled for his men to follow him from the office. I could hear the slightest bit of worry in his voice, and I thought that all this was only an act. Raenor was involved somehow, and if he was, last thing he would do was to go to the Lord and Lady.
We waited until Raenor was gone. Haldir led them to the door and watched him disappear. When he came back into my office, he went right to Túron, which surprised me. I thought for sure he would address me first.
“What is going on?” Haldir demanded.
“It’s not what it looks like, I assure you. We were right to assume that Raenor was involved, but I’m not so sure he is responsible for this.” Túron picked up my wine glass and handed it to Haldir. There was a small amount of wine in the bottom. He handed the glass to Haldir, and my brother took it, sniffed and dabbed his finger inside. He touched it to his tongue and furrowed his brows immediately.
Meanwhile, Túron, who was behaving soberly now that Raenor was gone, retrieved the bottle from the shelf and sniffed. “Moon flower,” he said with some kind of knowledge that I hadn’t known he’d had. He was a servant. What could he possibly know about herbs, especially illusive ones?
“Moon flower?” Haldir asked. He looked up and saw the bottle in Túron’s hand. “That is a very rare plant. It only grows in certain places, and it is very difficult to retrieve.” Haldir turned to me and took my face in his hand, turning my head this way and that as he looked into my eyes. “Did you drink any of this?”
He released me and I nodded and looked to the floor. “I … I thought it was a gift … from you. There was a note attached.”
“Where?” Haldir didn’t wait for me to answer before he was at the shelf looking for the note. He found it and looked it over carefully. “It is a good forgery.” As though piecing a puzzle, Haldir looked from one to the other. Then his eyes darted from the bottle to Romon and finally to me. Was it sorrow or disappointment that I saw form in his eyes? I looked away, ashamed, confused, and betrayed. Haldir turned from me and regarded Túron once more. “You found them then?”
Túron nodded in answer, and it suddenly occurred to me that he and Haldir spoke to each other in a familiar manner. “I’d been trailing Raenor, and when I learned where he was heading, I charged off ahead of him.” Túron glanced at me, and then back to Haldir. “I came in and saw them . . .”
“So you took my brother’s place,” Haldir said.
“There was no time, and I couldn’t let Raenor find Rúmil in that kind of compromising position,” Túron explained. Why were they behaving so familiar with each other?
Haldir still seemed confused by this turn of events. Túron could see this, too, and he went on with his explanations. “I’m fairly sure that Raenor knew about the wine, but I’m even more convinced that he did not supply it. The bottle was almost gone. There were two glasses. I could not let him discover that it had been Rúmil who drank it.”
Haldir lifted his chin in cognizance of the situation. “Unfortunately, Raenor has seen you. This will not bode well, and not for you either, Romon.”
Romon looked sickly, and I didn’t think he had quite comprehended anything that had happened thus far. Túron, however, seemed less worried for himself, and more concerned for me. “It was Rúmil that I fretted for the most. I know how important the army is to him. I couldn’t let him be ruined.” As he spoke, his eyes rested on me, and a trace of the love we had recently admitted still lingered within. I knew his reasons were for more than just my military career.
“Well, we know Raenor is responsible for this, but there is still the mystery of the wine. If Raenor did not place it here, then who did?” Haldir concluded.
While my brother and Túron discussed their findings, I began to rethink my earlier musings. Who could have helped Raenor complete his mission to ruin our family? It had to have been someone who knew enough about me as to give Raenor enough suspicion to follow out his plan. Yet he did not give away my secret completely. Whoever it was must have known that it would mean an end to my career as well as Haldir’s and even Orophin’s, though he was not involved in any of this. The question was … was he after ruining Haldir or me? He was working with Raenor, and Raenor was out for Haldir’s banishment. That goal began to fall apart after Raenor was finally promoted to the March Warden’s position that he’d always wanted. Of course, it was with the Eastern Border Guard, but I don’t think that would have mattered much. Obviously, Raenor still wanted to hurt my brother, and when he could not find anything to hold against him, he decided to go after me. I just couldn’t see Raenor wanting to take things this far. Not unless he had a solid reason for doing it. That’s where the mystery elf comes in. Set on his own agenda, he reignited Raenor’s original wicked intentions, and helped him from the shadows. He didn’t want to get caught, leaving all of the attention to Raenor.
While I contemplated this mystery, Haldir flagged down a guard passing through the hall. He asked that Romon be escorted to a healer, on account that he was not feeling well. The tainted wine seemed to affect him in a worse way than it did me. As I was the one filling our glasses, I remembered filling his once more than my own. Guilt began to ebb through my chest, even though I hadn’t known the wine was tampered with.
Moon flower, I thought to myself. I’d heard the name before, but a very long time ago. I knew nothing about herbs, outside of the most common ones. It obviously made one hallucinate, and it preyed on a person’s desires. It would have to be an aphrodisiacal herb. However, it also caused Romon and I to become sick to our stomachs. Poison? I considered this a moment and suddenly I remembered where I’d heard of moon flower.
“Rúmil,” Túron said from behind, causing me to lose my train of thought. I hadn’t heard him approach, and with Haldir and Romon out of the room, he was taking the interrupted moment to confront me. “I need to explain.”
With everything that was going on, I hadn’t had time to think about Túron’s reason for coming here in the first place. He’d known about the wine, and he behaved as though he knew my brother better than I had thought. I could tell by the apologetic look on his face that he had something important to confess.
“The wine, Haldir showing when he did, your act to save me from exposure … how did you know any of this?” I asked. There was no smile upon my face, and I buried my emotions as deep as I could. I realized that Túron was not who he said he was. “You’re no servant, are you?”
He knelt down before me, his eyes keeping a wary look on the door as he spoke. “Rúmil, we need to talk.”
My equilibrium came back, but it left me with a throbbing headache. It was actually a good sign. I recovered quickly once I had stopped drinking the wine. It gave me hope that Romon would recover too. Remembering a temporary solution for headaches, I pushed the heels of my palms against my closed eyes until bright flashes, like shooting stars, appeared in the darkness behind my lids. Not only did it help to tame the pounding in my head, it kept me from having to look at Túron. “Just tell me what is going on.” I felt him gently take my hands and lower them from my face.
“I am not a servant,” he finally answered honestly.
“Then who are you?” I asked, my eyes squinting as though they needed protection from the sun. But before he could answer, Haldir came back into the office.
“How is Romon?” I asked, abandoning our conversation for the sake of secrecy.
“I think he will be alright. He just needs rest and a quiet place to do so. The healers will take care of him.” Haldir looked from me to Túron, who was still kneeling before me. He cast a stern look, and Túron stood quickly.
“We need to find out where the wine came from,” Túron said to bring the situation back at hand.
“I agree, but we can’t ask Raenor. He knows we are onto his scheme. He’ll not reveal any names.” Haldir went to Túron with a look of malcontent. “Are you going to tell me how Raenor knew he would find my brother in a compromising position with this young recruit?”
Túron looked as though he wished to disappear through the grooves between the wooden floor planks. It was obvious to me that Haldir didn’t know everything that was going on around here either. That made two of us, and I began to wonder if Túron was a suspect. I didn’t want to think this, but I couldn’t help it.
After what seemed like hours, Túron sighed and his shoulders slumped in capitulation. “It wasn’t supposed to be Romon.” He looked away from Haldir, and focused on my face. “It was supposed to be me.”
“But I requested your reassignment,” I added. So I had been the target all along, and so had Túron.
“Then how does Romon work into any of this?” Haldir questioned.
Feeling my strength return, though my head still hurt, I stood and went to my desk, shuffling through papers. I had no idea what I was looking for, but the answer was in my thoughts. “Romon’s skills have been suffering lately. I asked him to come to my office to discuss it. He told me that someone he’s been involved with for many years has recently left him. It was … sudden … and unexpected. He’s been suffering from the loss for days.” I looked to Haldir. “About as long as Túron has been gone.”
“It’s true,” Túron added. “I’ve been looking into things, and it seems as though the two occurrences comply with each other. When Rúmil let me go, threats were made to Romon’s lover. He broke off the relationship before they were both discovered and discharged permanently from the army.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about everyone,” I accused. I turned to Haldir. “And you are alright with this?”
Haldir gave Túron a glance, and I knew right away that they had kept something from me. “Rúmil, I–”
“Let me tell him,” Túron interrupted. “Will you give us a moment?”
Haldir furrowed his brows and watched each of us in turn. “Only a moment,” he said and left the room.
Túron came to me and laid his hand upon my arm. I moved away from him. All I wanted was an explanation. I wanted the truth as to what was going on around here. Túron felt me recoil and chose to treat my aloofness with respect by staying away from me. I walked across the room, crossed my arms and scowled. “If you are not a servant, then who are you?”
“I am a scout and a spy. Your brother hired me to keep a watch out for you, and to spy on Raenor. When you were promoted to a Captain position, he worried that Raenor would come after you, and he was right in his assumptions.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Shock made me go numb all over, and my heart hardened as I felt like a fool. “And was getting me into bed part of your façade?”
His eyes danced in the candlelight, a small bit of mirth for my brave comment. Just as quickly, they flitted away to hide the sadness that replaced his previous emotion. “I guess I deserved that.” He came to me then, but I did not move from my protective stance. I’d built my wall, and he knew he could not pass unless his words tore out the first bricks. “This is the honest truth. Haldir hired me. The night we met was all a set up. I befriended you so that I could get close enough to keep watch over you. Through my investigations, I learned that Raenor was beginning to enforce certain rules by having some of his men watch for suspicious behavior among the soldiers. It was right about the same time that my orders were changed, and I was made your assistant. I’m still not sure who was responsible for that, but whoever it was knew about us, or at least suspected something. Haldir thought it best to let things play out, but then, you unexpectedly received that warning and had me reassigned to another service. Haldir and I both thought it best to let everyone think we’d had a falling out with our friendship, and in turn I hoped it would cast away the wary eyes set upon us by Raenor.”
I was so angry that I barely registered what he’d said. “It was all a front. None of it was real. Basically, you were paid to be my friend, to tell me lies, to … to sleep with me.”
“It started out as a job, yes, but … Rúmil, please believe me when I say that I never lied to you.” His eyes locked on mine, and try as I might, I couldn’t stop my soul from calling out to him. “I know you felt it, Rúmil. I felt it too. What started out as another assignment, became unexpectedly so much more. I knew it the moment I saw you. I sensed that you had a very kind and loving soul, Rúmil, something I’ve searched for my whole life. Suddenly I was not playing a game. I wanted to be with you. I wanted to protect you. I wanted all of you, and not because I’d been hired. I know what I did was wrong, and that I broke the first rule of spying; never become emotionally involved with your charge. But I couldn’t stop what my heart had already claimed. I thought that if we could just get through all of this, then I could tell you the truth, and by that time you’d love me enough to forgive me.”
“I don’t know if I can ever forgive you, Túron. You played upon my vulnerabilities. I told you things that I’ve never told anyone. I trusted you with my heart and my life. And now I find out that it was all part of a bigger plan, a set up to catch a wrongdoer.”
“I know what this must look like to you, but–”
“Do you?” I interrupted. “Do you really know? Because if you do, then you must know that you’ve not a dwarf’s chance in Mordor of seeing this situation end in any other way than badly. I’ve been deceived by the one elf that I thought I could spend eternity with. That’s what it looks like from my perspective.” I glanced at the shelf and saw the bottle of wine still sitting there. “Did you use me? Did you let me and Romon drink that wine in order to catch Raenor?”
“Of course not,” Túron defended himself. “I tried to warn you.” He nodded to the pocket of my tunic. “The letter I sent, read it.”
I took it out slowly, and unfolded the paper. Reading it, I discovered that he was telling the truth. It was a short note warning me not to drink anything, especially something that looked like a gift. “How did you know?” I asked.
“Remember the night at the dining hall, and you found the warning in your napkin? I went after the servant girl while you followed Beldor. She was responsible for leaving the message, but she had other information.” Túron went on to tell me that someone had come around asking to retain a bottle of wine, the same wine that Haldir was known to favor, but he was refused. That particular vintage was reserved by Haldir, part of his private collection. When Túron later followed up on his lead, he learned that after continued persistence, the girl gave in and snuck a bottle out of the kitchen, giving it to the mystery elf. She had no description of him. He had dressed in bulky robes and a hood to hide his identity. Finding it very suspicious, Túron assumed that the wine would be used in some deceitful plan. He befriended someone from the messenger’s office, found out that the wine was being delivered to me, and sent the note that I now held in my hand. By the time it was all said and done, the bottle had already left the hands of its messenger and sat upon my shelf. Unsure whether or not I had even read his note, Túron decided to risk a meeting and warn me in person. But while on his way to my office, he spied Raenor and two of his men heading there also. “I knew it had to be a set-up, and figured the wine had been tampered with. I got there as quickly as possible, barely making it before Raenor arrived. You know the rest.” Túron finished his explanation and closed the distance between us. “If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t have pushed you away and let Raenor find me with Romon instead you. I exposed myself to save your reputation. I couldn’t let Raenor find you like that.”
“Only because my brother was paying you to protect me,” I stated, my words tainted with a venomous edge.
“No, Rúmil, I did it because I know how important your career and your family is to you, and because I love you enough to sacrifice my own exposure in order to save you from any kind of harm or humiliation. It didn’t matter what anyone might think of me. Only your opinion mattered. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.”
“A sacrifice?” I asked, feeling my ire begin to diminish. I did love him. That was something that I could not change.
“Raenor has seen me. He knows which way I lean. He will probably tell others soon, and word will get around quickly.” Túron shook his head and closed his eyes. “If anyone sees us together now–”
“They’ll assume the same of me,” I finished for him. It all began to sink in at once. Túron purposefully exposed himself with Romon in a desperate attempt to keep me safe and protect my secret. But in doing so, it meant that he had to let go of any chance we might have had together.
I slumped against the wall behind me, feeling like my heart had been ripped from my chest. I looked up at Túron after a while, and saw the love he held for me as well as the despair that we could never be together after all of this. He really had made the ultimate sacrifice to keep me safe, and it came at a price for us both.
“Couldn’t you have let me make my own decision about us?” I tried to reignite my anger, but I couldn’t, not after what he had admitted to. I knew there could have been no other way.
“You made your choice long ago, Rúmil. You love being a soldier. You thrive best in this environment, and you’re good at what you do. Lothlórien is very fortunate to have someone so dedicated as to put aside his personal life for the good of his people. It’s what I love most about you, but it’s also the reason I cannot have you.”
And just like that, it was over, but my heart would not accept the loss. What I’d felt for Túron was real, and it was tearing my soul to bloody shreds to think this was it. I found the strength not to let this show, but I knew my eyes could not disguise the truth. Túron looked into them now, and I turned away quickly. “Where will you go when this is all over?” I didn’t know what else to say, but the silence in the room had become much too weighted.
“Oh, I don’t know. Wherever someone needs my services, that’s where I’ll be. I never know from one day to the next. But I do know that this mystery has not been resolved just yet. There is still someone out there who wants to ruin your career, and I have to stop him,” Túron said. He managed to pick up the broken pieces of what we might have had together, tuck them away, and move on with matters at hand while I was still reeling on the inside. But, being a warrior trained to deal with sudden and shocking change, I picked my damaged soul up off the floor, and carefully put it away until I had time to mend the tears.
I’d abandoned my earlier contemplation about the moon flower used in the wine, but now I had a pretty good idea of who it was that was after me. “I believe I can help you find out who delivered the wine.”
“How?” Túron asked.
“Come to the gardens in a couple hours, to the gazebo. I think I know who this mystery elf might be. If I’m correct, we’ll be at our meeting spot, and I’ll need a witness to verify his confession.”
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Path of Honor