Ballad AU. All romances are not perfect. But they've got perfect moments. "Human" names used. So Caranthir is called Morris at least once (I think). And yes, that's a play off Moryo. And reincarnated!Haleth is Haley, of course. This is a continuation of "Ballad", "Edge", "Euphoria", "Afterlife" and "Second Chance", among other arcs. Takes place in modern times.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion
Pairings: Caranthir x Haleth
Characters: Haleth (Haley), Caranthir (mentions the Feanorions)
Warning: non-canon compliant, reincarnation stuff, elf-mortal relationship, nonconformism, sexism, feminism, fluffy romantic shit
Words: 1,210
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card (noun): something (as an advantage) compared to a valuable playing card in one's hand; a flat stiff usually small and rectangular piece of material (as paper, cardboard, or plastic) usually bearing information
That man. Sometimes she just did not know what to do
with him. More stubborn than any mule
and more pigheaded than any Victorian gentleman. At times she swore he went out of his way to
be the most trying man in the universe.
But Haley would admit, if at the
moment reluctantly, that he had strengths and not only faults. And it was times like this—when he was
channeling his rare domineering and misogynistic persona—that she liked to
remind herself of all the reasons that she loved him anyway. Despite the fact that he was more ancient
than any surviving forest upon the earth and grew up in a time when women were
wall ornaments, to be seen and not heard, rather than powerful individuals in
their own right.
“Your
independence is refreshing and admirable. Your determination and perseverance are
astounding. And your inability to allow
me to overpower your will and desires make you all the more enticing.”
When she had first received that card,
it had been the creepiest thing she had ever gotten from an infatuated
male. Most cards attached to bouquets
had horrible and cliché poetry scrawled in poor handwriting and signed with an
“I love you” that could not possibly have been sincere.
None of them had ever said anything
like that.
And part of her—unwillingly, for she
had been of the mind that she did not need a man and thus would never acquire
one—had been just a little flattered.
Normally, men did not enjoy her personality and straightforwardness. They hated how she treated them as equals and
refused to be cowed just because their shoulders were slightly broader and
their stances slightly taller.
He had seemed the same.
Condescending and annoying. Looking down upon her more as a sexual object
than as a person. From the moment their
lives had intersected, he had been nothing short of an arrogant ass, and Haley
had decided immediately that she despised him from every last hair on that
(perfect) head to the very tips of his (designer) shoes.
But then, she had also considered him
hypocritical. After all, who was he to
judge her? He had been a man working in a designer shoe store.
A man who had continued to intrude
upon her life. Running into her all over
the place. As though some hand of fate
was determined to make her life miserable by subjecting her to his gloomy,
depressing presence.
And his gifts.
For someone who struck her as derisive
and unpleasant in personality and character, he tended toward such silly
gestures.
“These are
flowers.”
A scowl, but
it was countered by a deep scarlet flush.
Haley could not help but stare; she hadn’t thought the man capable of
something like blushing. “Of course they are flowers. I bought them for you.”
In offering,
he held them out.
And though she
wasn’t a flower sort of woman, Haley had to admit that they were tasteful. The blend of reds and yellows and purples was
attractive. Not as attractive as the look
of utter shyness on his face when she
looked past the gift into his visage. Eyes averted and cheeks still smarting, he
reminded her of a young man with shuffling feet, waiting with baited breath for
the answer after he asked a girl out for the first time.
It was… almost
charming…
“Fine.” She
took them, cradled them in her arms, and promptly slammed the door shut in his
face.
It was only
once she was safely tucked away in her living room that she noticed the card
half-hidden between two large blooms.
Plucking it from its hiding place, she opened the folds and received an
eyeful of handwriting that would make professional calligraphers jealous.
“Do not let
anyone tell you that you are not beautiful.
I have yet to meet a woman more enchanting.”
That man…
And it was a pattern that had
continued.
Now, she still had all those little
cards hidden away in the drawer of her dresser, buried underneath her underwear
where she knew her husband would not venture without her permission. Each little one was plain and white, some
slightly bent at the corners from wear after ten years of marriage. But she held them no less dear now than she
secretly had then.
“Lose not your
spark. It makes you glorious.”
No man had ever appreciated her personality before.
Most looked at her once and dismissed
her. A boyish figure, a lack of feminine
clothing, and rather small breasts. Not
to mention, her face was not particularly attractive. Haley wouldn’t have called herself ugly, but she rarely wore makeup, hated
dressy lace and frills, and definitely didn’t care much about her appearance,
especially what those sexist pigs thought of it.
Men didn’t want a woman who was
tomboyish, independent and stubborn.
Like a boy in a girl’s body.
“I would pay
good money to see you put your boss in his place.”
Morris liked her personality.
Sure, sometimes he could be protective
and uncooperative—after all, he had grown up in a family of the most stubborn
and pigheaded men that Haley had ever had the misfortune to meet and was
definitely one of the most mellow and flexible of the group—but still he always
gave in to her eventually. It quickly
became obvious, after they had moved in together and begun waking to each
other’s face each day, that he was a pushover.
A damn marshmallow.
“It’s time to
get up. Come on, sweetie.”
Grumbling, he
rolled over and glared at her, though the entire expression was more hilarious
than frightening with his hair mussed and splashed every which way. A hand closed around Haley’s arm, pulled her
down and spilled her onto the bed beside him so that his arms might wrap about
her and pull her fully-dressed and laughing form close.
“Too early,”
he mumbled against her hair. “Come back to bed…”
Before she
could even protest, he was asleep again.
And Haley allowed herself a few minutes to watch the uncompromising,
intimidating man cuddle up to her side and nuzzle into her neck. Looking more like a child than a grown man.
Too cute.
Flipping through those cards, their
sarcastic little comments and their near-declarations of awkward love and their
not-quite-poetic expressions of appreciation, Haley felt her heart in her
throat.
So, he was being annoying today. So, he was being overprotective and
pushy. So, he was driving her up the
wall.
But her frustration was waning.
Carefully, she tucked the cards away,
hid them amongst their forest of lace and closed the drawer, withdrawing the
light that had exposed their fading inked words written in his graceful hand. Her hands traced over the smooth, polished
wood as they trailed away.
It should not have surprised her that,
later that evening, she found a bouquet waiting for her upon the dining room
table. With a card.
“Try to
forgive this old miser’s ancient misogynistic tendencies.”
She shook her head and smiled.
That man…
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