Title: Whispers of the mind
Pairing: Haldir/ Elrond.
Summary: 1st person narrative. 21st century Scotland, Haldir feels his husband is neglecting him.
Warnings: Mpreg, fatalism, depression, self-harm, eventual character deaths.
When I wake up the next morning, the sun is already shining brightly. How long have I slept? I turn on my side, and I am surprised to see the bed next to me already empty. It is unusual. He is only half elf. His body demands more sleep than mine. I often lie awake in bed and watch him sleep in my arms, I love to watch him drift off into his dreams at night, and watch him sleepily drift awake in the morning. He mostly sleeps with his eyes open like an ordinary elf, but every few weeks, or when he is really tired, his mortal blood asserts itself. I love to watch him sleep with his eyes closed. He looks like an angel.
I close my eyes and imagine him curled up beside me with his eyes closed. He looks so beautiful in my vision. He looks calm and at peace, he is restful the way he never thoroughly is in his lighter elvish sleep. I love my peredhil. I love all the signs of his manhood. I love that he sleeps with his eyes shut, because that gives me the chance to kiss him good morning on his closed eyelids. He hates it because it reminds him of his mixed blood, but I find it absolutely irresistible. I love that he is built like a man, dense and broad-shouldered unlike most other elves who look too delicate for their own good. Most elves look so fragile I think that I can snap them in two with my bare hands. I very probably can. I am built heavier than an average elf, and it gives me that slight advantage over them.
I love his dark colouring, though whether it comes from his Noldor blood or his Man blood I know not. He has beautiful, dark hair and skin of a honeyed golden hue. It is so unlike my own pale and whitewashed features; he isso rich and stunning, so unlike my own stale whiteness. I adore him.
And though he is thoroughly ashamed of it, I love that he has a light dusting of bodily fur. It fascinates me. It isn't coarse and curly like most full-blooded men are. I dislike man fur,the average man isbuilt like a hairy gorilla, but Elrond is different. His is soft like a chick's down feathers, just a hint of the velvety smoothness across his chest, slightly thicker at his groin and underarms. It is just thick enough for me to run my fingers through it. I love to run my fingers through his fur. I love to play with his fur. It fascinates me. He fascinates me. He is the perfect balance between his two races; dark without being sunburnt, dense without being chunky, velvety without being hairy, and best of all, blessed with the lifespan of an immortal.
I hear a noise to my left and open my eyes. I look up and see him step out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. The water makes his hair appear so dark it looks almost black. He glances casually at me, probably thinking I must still be asleep, but freezes and shrinks away when he sees me watching him. He pauses for awhile, uncertain, before he averts his gaze and starts to dry himself.
Is my husband afraid of me?
I think back to last night and remember the awful fight we had. Ai, Valar, what have I done! I close my eyes and groan inwardly. "Hervenn?" I whisper, too afraid to face him. What if he ignores me the way he did last night. So I avert my eyes when I say that, but my ears I keep sharp. I hear him freeze in the middle of drying his hair. There is a pause, as if the earth itself was waiting with baited breath for one of us to act. But I don't know what I should do, and neither does he, and the moment passes. He returns to drying himself, and I am plunged back into my guilt.
I rise from the bedto help him dress. He does not resist. I straighten his collar and smooth down his shirt, and later I smooth down his jacket when he puts it on. I ask him where he is going, and he responds that he has a meeting. All this time, we have not met the other's eyes. We cannot. I ask him where his meeting will be and he tells me it is somewhere in America. I do not press him for details. I do not want to stifle him.
And suddenly, I am struck bya fear that he might be having an affair. I know that it is completely absurd for me to even think that, I know that Elrond just isn't that kind of person, but this is the first time he has not told me of his movements before hand. And it is the first time since our binding that he has not volunteered the details of his travels. It is the first time in years that he has not asked me to come with him on his trip.
I shudder and grow cold. "I love you," I whisper softly, dreading that I no longer have his love. He is silent for a long while, then he swallows hard andlooks away. He bites his lip. He sighs. He glances at me, and then fidgets and purses his lips into a thin hard line.
"I don't feel it," he says at last, echoing my words to him the night before. The force of his statement knocks the air out of me. I step backwards and sit down heavily on the nearest chair I can find.
"But I do," I tremble. I fold my hands in my lap to quell my distress but I am every bit as shaken as I was before. "I do love you."
He comes up to me and kisses my forehead gently. "As do I," he says, then picks up his suitcase. He pauses in the doorway and turns around partially. "I know youdo," he says hollowly. "I just don't feel it." And with that, he turns around and walks off.