Beard trouble

[moonshadows]

“…nothing but trouble…”

Illidan and I looked at each other.

“…just cut you off and be done with it…”

Cautiously, I crept to the door of the room that housed washing and bathing facilities. Inside, Broll uttered an expletive filled with pain and something impacted the tiled floor.

“Broll? Are you okay?”

Utter silence greeted my inquiry.

“Broll?”

“Send Illidan in,” he said shortly. “Let me preserve some shred of my male dignity.”

My brother-buck quirked an eyebrow at me. I raised my hands in disavowment and walked a few feet away. Illidan slipped into the bathing room, mind shielded so that I could not overhear his thoughts, and a quiet discussion ensued. A moment later, the door opened.

“Come on in, sister-doe. I’ve promised that you’re good at preserving male dignity.”

Inside, Broll Bearmantle sat on a stool, clad only in a towel. His hair hung in a wet tangle, dripping halfway down his back, and his beard looked even more unkempt than it had a day and a night ago when I’d first arrived. The expression he wore was one of pure pathetic misery.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.

Illidan picked up the wooden comb Broll had thrown to the floor. “He needs a woman’s touch. On his hair,” he clarified as my gaze dropped to the towel.

I took the comb and moved behind Broll. “I’m very gentle,” I reassured him. “I comb Illidan’s hair all the time.”

“Thank you, Ellekayne,” he sighed. “I’m usually better at this, I swear, but…”

“Kayne,” I corrected firmly.

In the polished glass that hung the length of the wall, I saw him frown. “Such familiarity wouldn’t be proper.”

“Broll, I’m carrying your child. You’re allowed to be familiar with me.”

“The seed hasn’t taken root yet.” His jaw was set stubbornly.

I sighed. “Fine. The night I wake up riding you because the seed’s taken root, will you call me Kayne?”

He thought about it. “…yes.”

“Alright then.” The tips were clear; I started on the first of the matted tangles. “Now. You were about to assure me that your hair is only this tangled because of grief, and that’s perfectly understandable. Do you normally keep it this long?”

He winced, keeping his head perfectly still in a way that told me Valeera had combed it more than once. “When I was victim of my own rage, I didn’t trust myself with a blade. Afterwards…”

I didn’t want to push him into painful memories. When he trailed off, I asked, “Do you want to keep it this long?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “But I’m afraid that it will take me a while to get used to combing it again.”

He did have an impressively thick mane of hair. “Brother-buck, what do you think?”

“I think it’s too thick to pull back entirely,” Illidan said, “but it’s hard to tell with it matted like that. Maybe just the top part…?” He shook his head. “We’ll have to see.”

At my unspoken request, he hooked the other stool close enough that I could sit on it. This was going to take a while. Patiently, I picked at the matted tangles while Illidan meandered out to cook lunch. After several minutes, I glanced up and caught tears on the cheeks of Broll’s reflection. Instantly I stopped combing and leaned forward, my cheek pressed against his wet hair, hugging him as best as I could from behind.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered thickly. “She used to…”

“It’s okay, Broll. There’s no shame in weeping. If you didn’t cry for her, with all the time you spent caring for her, I’d be concerned.”

“Maybe I should cut it,” he said. “She liked to comb it out.”

“Would it help the grieving process if you did? Overwrite sad memories with new ones as it grows back out?”

He thought about that for a minute. “I think it would,” he said finally. “To comb it out now and keep it long feels like trying to pretend nothing’s wrong. Will you cut it for me?”

“Of course,” I said, giving him another squeeze before sitting up. “How short?”

Broll stared into the mirror as Illidan brought me a pair of scissors. “To the shoulders.”

Gently, I sheared away most of that thick mane and trimmed the ends before combing what few tangles remained out of the rest.

“Thank you,” he whispered when I was finished. “Ellekayne, I have another request of you.”

“The beard?”

“We’ll talk about that later,” he said dryly. “For now…may I hold you? In my lap? It would…” He swallowed. “It would comfort me.”

I put the scissors down and walked around him before sitting gingerly in his lap. He held me tightly to his chest, head bowed, and I rested my head on his shoulder and ignored how it shook. His chest was broad and firm and warm, and I relaxed into his muscular embrace.

“I’m sorry for imposing on you like this,” he said, but I put one finger on his lips.

“Barring disaster, you’re the father of my unborn child and the only one I won’t have forced myself to give up. While I haven’t lost a loved one as you have, that separation from my children wounded me greatly.” I licked my lips and reached out for Illidan’s comforting presence. “When I left my firstborn with her father, the madness and grief drove me to try to kill myself through exposure.”

Broll’s massive arms tightened around me, and I felt very secure indeed.

“If you need to comfort yourself like this,” I continued gently, “don’t hesitate to ask. I feel your arms around me, and I can’t help but think how good it will feel to be in your embrace like this when I’m tired and cranky from being kicked by our offspring and feeling huge as a whale.” Slowly, I freed one hand and ran my fingers through his now-short hair. “You have a big heart, and Valeera left a big hole in it. How can I blame you for being hurt when I know that you will love our child every bit as much?”

“More,” he vowed, trembling slightly. “I will love our child even more, and you for bringing it into the world.”

“Then how is it an inconvenience when it brings us both comfort?”

“If you allow me this,” he warned, “I am liable to demand much more.”

“And I will be equally demanding over the next year, if not two, or twenty. The father of my first two is married, and wasn’t comfortable doting on me the way he would have had I been his wife. I am quite looking forward to demanding physical reassurance from you now that I know how good it feels. Now hush,” I teased, “and hug me, and tell me what you want to do with your beard.”

“Keep it,” he said instantly. “…even though I’m a miserable failure at keeping it from being a coarse, knotted mess.”

“I could ask Dad how he keeps his soft,” I offered, but Broll shook his head.

“Please don’t. If you do, he’ll want to know why and then I’ll have to live with the shame of my Shan’do knowing what a failure I am.”

“You’re not a failure, Broll, and Dad’s not like that.”

“Even so, he’ll suspect something whether or not my name comes up, and I don’t think I can face him right now.”

“I’ll ask,” Illidan said from the doorway. “I’ll tell him that I’m thinking of growing a beard, but only if I can keep it as soft as his.”

Broll lifted his head. “You, Illidan? You would do this for me?”

My brother-buck met his eyes and held them solemnly. “I was the one who held Kayne as she cried, convinced that her daughter would hate her and everyone in the world would look down on her for giving her baby up. She may look fine, but I know that wound still bleeds. She told you she tried to kill herself? She nearly succeeded. You, Broll Bearmantle, are the father of the child she will not have to give up. I would do this, and much more, for the man who will teach her how to be a loving parent and prevent her from feeling that pain again.”

Although his jaw was clenched firmly rather than dropping in shock, I could see the horror in Broll’s eyes. “Ask, then,” he said shortly, “and I thank you for it. I won’t let you suffer like that again,” he said to me, softer, one finger caressing my cheek.

Speechless, I nuzzled his shoulder. “I should try to comb the tangles out, at least,” I said, voice muffled.

He thought about it for several breaths before his arms relaxed. “I’ll be fussing over you soon enough,” he said slowly as I stood up and retrieved the comb. “I think my male dignity can withstand your attentions.”

I hooked the other stool and dragged it around to the front before going to work, one hand combing gently while the other held the greater mass still. It was very coarse, but that worked in my favor because the tangles weren’t nearly as bad as his hair had been. By the time Illidan called out that lunch was nearly ready, I was running the comb through the whole thick mass and Broll was sitting straighter, his self-image visibly repaired.

“Thank you, Ellekayne,” he said again as he stood up, one hand holding the towel to ensure it didn’t fall. “You and Illidan lounge against each other as nightsabers, do you not?”

“Frequently.”

“Then after lunch, perhaps I can show you my nightsaber form and we can take one more step towards being fully comfortable with each other.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” I grinned. “I’ll leave and let you get dressed, unless you want to eat lunch in a towel.”

Broll blushed, the color traveling a significant way down his massive chest. “Ah…thank you.”

 

In the warm glow of the magelight sitting in the fireplace, Broll took a deep breath. “Bear is my favored form, of course,” he said slowly. “I haven’t had occasion to take nightsaber form in quite some time.” Abruptly, he closed his eyes and shifted.

The mane wasn’t a surprise, of course. Not with his antlers. It was the same deep green as his hair, lightly dappled to give an illusion of leaves. His coat was a mahogany that seemed plain, but on closer inspection was shot through with fine lines of a golden color that made it look like polished wood.

“Oh, Broll, you’re gorgeous!”

His eyes, wild gold, opened in surprise. “I am?”

I dropped to my knees and hugged him, burying my face in his mane and scratching beneath his chin until despite his apprehension, he was purring.

“I think I’m jealous,” Illidan teased.

Broll half-flopped onto the floor, one broad paw pulling me off-balance so that I fell on my side in front of him where he promptly lowered his head and licked my face.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, ears back in shame. “I let the instincts of the form overwhelm me.”

I melted into my own nightsaber form, midnight blue dappled with deep green, and pawed lightly at his muzzle. His purr deepened and a breath later he was holding me down and washing my ears while my own higher purr vibrated a counterpoint. Naturally, that’s when Illidan pounced.

Several enthusiastic minutes later, all of us were sprawled half on each other, panting and purring from the fantastic bout of play-fighting.

“That,” Broll said finally, “was not what I had expected, but I’m glad for it.”

“Bears are solitary creatures,” I purred. “Nightsabers prefer company.”

“I never could manage bear,” Illidan confessed cheerfully.

“Ellekayne, I assume you…?”

“I can, but it’s not my favored shape.” Pushing aside two legs and a tail, I paced a few feet away and concentrated. After a moment, my form shifted.

“By the stars,” Broll breathed. “You’re adorable!” Before I could do more than open my mouth to protest, mahogany paws had my bear form pinned down and Broll was licking me. I yowled and swatted his nose, but all that got me was buried under his mane while he purred thunderously. I struggled harder, managing a small roar that was mostly muffled, and he let me up. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help it. You’re the most adorable bear I’ve ever seen.”

I shed my inky fur and sat on the floor, arms crossed. “Now you know why I don’t take it often.”

Unperturbed, he sprawled next to me. “Bear is the form of solitary strength. You and Illidan are two-who-share-a-destiny.”

“And she’s a priestess of Elune,” Illidan added.

“True. So while she undoubtedly can exert solitary brute strength…”

“…I’m much stronger as part of a group.”

“You’re still adorable as a bear,” Broll purred.

I rolled my eyes and flopped over to lean against him. “I learned it in my second decade and haven’t used it enough to shift it from the template. I hear yours is pretty impressive, though.”

“It is,” Broll said uneasily, “but part of that was using it for gladiator fights while filled with rage. It nearly became a weapon in its own right, scaring the other fighters before combat started.” He coughed. “My deer form is…ah…much less impressive. I’d put it on par with your bear.”

“Whereas it’s my deer that’s the impressive form.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime when we’re outside. I’d like to see yours, too, Illidan.”

“And you’ll show us your bear?” my brother-buck asked.

“If you want to see it. You know, I believe I’m growing fond of nightsaber.”

I dug my fingers into his mane until he purred. “This probably helps.”

“It does indeed. But it’s a form that feels…like me. Not that the others don’t, because all our forms are aspects of ourselves, but…”

Illidan nodded. “I know what you mean. It’s you as you are in private, with friends, with no expectations weighing on you. Stag is public, bear is solitary, but nightsaber is casual.”

Sighing, Broll laid his head on the floor. “Shan’do Stormrage’s nightsaber form is still more impressive than any nightsaber I’ve ever seen.”

I smacked his shoulder lightly. “You’re a close second, you know.”

“I’m not sure whether that’s comforting or not,” Broll said mournfully.

 

Doubtfully, Broll looked at the thick cream on his fingers. “I smear this on my beard, and then what?”

“Not just on your beard,” Illidan corrected. “It has to coat every strand. Then you add warm water, and it foams up. Rinse it out, let it dry, and you should be soft and fluffy.”

“And if not?”

Illidan shrugged. “It’s easy enough to make, we’ll just keep doing it until you’re satisfied.” And you can stop snickering like that, sister-doe. I can hear you even if he can’t.

Chastised, I took the bowl from my twin. “Here, I’ll help you.”

Broll sat on the stool, towel around his hips, and I sat facing him on the other. Together, we worked thick, herb-scented cream into his beard until it looked less like facial hair and more like some paste that had been spread lavishly onto his face and chest.

“I don’t think we can get any more of that stuff on,” he said at last. “Time for warm water. How do we…?”

I dipped my hands into the larger bowl Illidan held, and laughed as the cream on my fingers began to foam. “It tickles!”

“I think dipping might work better,” my brother-buck said, trying not to share my giggles.

Warily, Broll lifted the sodden mass of his beard and dipped it into the bowl, bending down to get it all up to his chin. As he straightened back up, he started laughing as well.

“Oh, it does tickle. Oh…” Frantically, he scratched at his chin and throat and cheeks, anywhere the cream had touched his skin, massaging the foam deeper.

Still laughing, I stuck my hands into the foamy mass now dripping on his chest, working  it until I was sure that everything that could foam, had. It got very silly, with Broll squirming and flicking foam at me and me flinging globs of it back, and finally the hilarity faded with the foaming reaction.

“You two,” Illidan said with mock-sternness, “are like overgrown children.” Impishly, he grinned and tossed the contents of the large bowl at me. “There, now you’re both soaked. Strip, sister-doe. Both of you into the tub and I’ll rinse you off.”

Broll flushed a deep purple.

“I’ll keep my back turned,” I reassured him.

“You’ll stand side by side,” Illidan corrected, “so I can spray you both at once. Now move it.”

Clutching his towel protectively, Broll retreated to the tub where he stood, eyes shut tight. I stripped out of my tunic and leggings and climbed in to stand next to him, one hand on his wrist in silent reassurance. He opened his eyes, discovered that the mirror let him see my nude body, and closed them again.

“Incoming,” Illidan warned, and then the water hit us squarely in the face.

The foam had only lightly splattered me; I was clean in seconds. Broll, on the other hand, was having trouble rinsing the suds out of his beard while holding the towel up. I reached out to help, but startled him into raising his other hand. The towel, gloriously, fell. I admired his displayed assets for several breaths until Illidan chided me silently, then turned my attention to rinsing the foam out of Broll’s facial hair. Once he was clean, Illidan tossed me a dry towel and I promptly unfolded it and held it out to Broll, who took it gratefully and wrapped it around his waist. This, however, left him with an eyeful of my assets, and with another deep blush he fled for the safety of the bedroom.

“I think he’s attracted to you, sister-doe,” Illidan teased as I dried myself off.

“You going to tell him the feeling’s mutual?”

He glanced at the doorway. “I think he needs to get used to us more, first. Let him make the first move. If he doesn’t…” Illidan shrugged. “The baby will make the move for him.”

Once he was dry and clothed again, Broll ventured into the den where we were waiting. I sat up from my formerly prone position – lying on the couch with my head on Illidan’s lap – and gestured him over to sit.

“Did it work?”

Broll sat gingerly, both hands nervously fingering the mossy mass that nearly covered his chest. “I think so, but my fingers still tingle from the foam.”

“Here, let me see.” I leaned over and brushed it with my cheek, since my fingers still tingled as well. Froze. Brushed it again. Braced my hands on his thighs and buried my face in it, fingers curling in a reflexive urge to knead even as my throat tried to purr. “Oh, it’s so soft…” Blindly, I reached up with one hand and pushed at his shoulder until he lay down, then crawled onto his lap and lay on his chest, cuddling that soft, silky mass.

From behind me, Illidan chuckled. “I think it worked. I also don’t think you’re going to get her off your lap anytime soon.”

Tentatively, Broll put his arms around me. “I think I can deal with that.”

“You better,” I muttered into his beard, “because it’s soft and fluffy and I’m going to use it as my pillow.”

Fingers climbed my back until they could caress my hair. “I can deal with that,” Broll repeated softly.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

I absolutely ADORE unconventional families, and this verse has some of the best ones I've ever read! Love your fics!