Pen-Estel

Chapter Thirteen

After Glorfindel and Legolas left the breakfast table, Elrond listened with half of his attention to Erestor – but his mind was on other things. Elladan had left Imladris again, and while it was a relief in some ways, it was also a worry. Elladan did not fare well without Elrohir, and his passion might make him fearsome, but one day it might make him just thoughtless enough to lose to the enemy. Elrond admitted to himself in a kind of helpless despair that he hadn’t made it any better.

As well as those worries, he still hadn’t found out why Glorfindel was allowing Legolas to stay with him, and they still hadn’t spoken about it.

There had been conversations in the presence of others, of course. But there, nothing was said that did not relate to the defence of Imladris, or else it was a slight triviality, a polite enquiry as to how the other was. For his part, Elrond was wishing for the inevitable. It had to come sooner or later. Thinking that, he made his excuses and left the table.

Only a short way down the deserted corridor, lost in his thoughts, he gasped when a hand pulled him roughly into a hidden alcove. He recovered quickly; he and Glorfindel gazed at each other steadily, neither of them willing to be the first to look away. The atmosphere felt familiar, and he realised there was the same tension between them as that long ago day when Glorfindel had returned – and found out the truth.

Now Glorfindel stood too close for it to be anything but a threat, and he was very intimidating, there was no doubt about that. Briefly, he supposed that if a physical fight broke out between them, Glorfindel would most surely win. He should have been afraid perhaps, but Elrond didn’t react to Glorfindel’s nearness – he was too proud for that. He felt Vilya take notice though, and so did Glorfindel. His eyes flickered down to Elrond’s hand, and then he smirked, stepping back only slightly. It seemed they were equal then.

“Elrond,” Glorfindel remarked coldly, in greeting, as though he hadn’t dragged Elrond back here, where no passers-by would see them. Again, they looked at each other, both determined not to be the first to back away.

“Glorfindel,” Elrond returned, just as politely… and just as emotionless.

As Glorfindel looked on the Lord of Imladris, he seethed. He felt his lips compress into a tight line when Elrond spoke his name – as if he were good enough! But as well as his anger, there was a sense of treasured friendship that couldn’t be so easily tossed aside, and that demanded respect. It was a confusing state of affairs, but he couldn’t back down. There was really only one choice, only one way he could begin.

“Having fun?” he asked carelessly, as if the answer would matter little to him. But it did matter. Not only did he know that – Elrond knew it too – he could see it in his friend’s eyes. But there was no apology in Elrond for what he had done, and strangely, Glorfindel reacted positively to that. He thought that if Elrond had attempted to express regret, he would have killed him, friend or not. Lord of Imladris or not.

“Yes,“ Elrond answered, just as carelessly, pretending like Glorfindel that the object of the question did not matter to him. Of course that was not the truth, and Glorfindel knew it as well, but as Glorfindel had started this by dragging him into the alcove, he would let Glorfindel start the discussion as well.

Elrond waited, watching Glorfindel as the moment was dragged out, and still Glorfindel did not speak. Yet Elrond was still determined to let Glorfindel be the one to speak first, and so he stared at his seneschal with an expression that slowly changed from emotionless to impatient.

Finally Glorfindel smirked, as if he had already won by forcing that emotion from Elrond, and leaned casually back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, as if he felt totally at peace – as if Elrond were no match for him at all.

“How long do you want this to go on?” he inquired casually, and then grinned when Elrond could not suppress a sound of annoyance.

Elrond knew that Glorfindel was trying to play with him – but friend or not, Glorfindel should know that he would not accept that kind of behaviour, not even for Legolas.

“You were the one who sent him back to me!” he said stiffly without even bothering to hide his anger. “What are you playing at, Glorfindel?”

Oh, he wanted to laugh! Right in Elrond’s face; but he settled for a cold smile. He rested one hand against the wall next to the Lord and leaned in suggestively. He closed his eyes in perfect confidence and nuzzled his face into the Lord’s hair, only to whisper to him.

“I’m going to make him choose,” Glorfindel said gleefully, celebrating when he felt Elrond stiffen up. “Publicly,” he added in delight, and then pulled back. But his victory wasn’t what he had expected it to be. Glorfindel frowned in confusion, but quickly recovered. Elrond may be a lot of things, but he was not one to be intimidated – even by him. It reminded Glorfindel why they were friends.

“You know I am,” he said, more seriously. “You know I have to do it.” And if there was regret anywhere in Glorfindel, then it was here. Elrond closed his eyes briefly, but when he opened them, Glorfindel saw an honest acceptance there that almost humbled him.

“Yes,” Elrond said with a nod. Glorfindel sighed in frustration, and his hands curled into fists.

For a moment he reflected that Elrond was not seeing much of his anger. The thought occurred to him that Legolas had endured most of that – unfairly, and as well as a sudden awareness of his sympathy and regret, Glorfindel came to realise he felt gratitude to Legolas too, for although he was angry with Elrond now, it was not so much as to make their friendship irredeemable.

“Why?” he demanded, almost pleading as he curled his hands ever tighter in suppressed violence, uncaring now if there was anybody to hear it, only wanting some reason – anything! – just something to make what had happened bearable. He watched Elrond stoic, calm demeanour dissolve into alarm – but he didn’t want Elrond’s fear now, damn it!

“I really was –” Elrond began quickly, and then stopped, as if he knew what he was about to say wasn’t enough. He shook his head in obvious sorrow. “I was wrong,” he finally admitted with a sigh, offering no apology or excuses. And to Glorfindel, although it wasn’t enough – it was what he needed.

“I’m glad you recognise it,” he said stiffly, unable to help the sarcasm creeping in. But Elrond didn’t flinch before it, he accepted it as he should, and once more Glorfindel was unable to just let go and hate him. He smiled tightly, and with his next words he breathed forgiveness. Both of them knew it.

“If I was you I would enjoy him while I still could,” Glorfindel advised, and then left swiftly, not looking back at the Lord once.

Elrond stood for a few moments against the wall, his eyes closed as he relived every moment of their conversation. So, that was it. In all honesty, he knew it would have to be something like that, and he knew he deserved it, but he worried. Not for himself; he would gladly endure anything if it meant that not only would he and Glorfindel regain something of their former friendship, but that Legolas, too, would find peace at last with the one he loved. Because he did love Glorfindel. It was clearer to Elrond with every passing day… or night – as the case may be.

Worry gnawed at him though, because it wasn’t going to be that easy. Glorfindel still had to find out about the child. Eventually, he moved again, and continued on his way back to his rooms, feeling weighed down by the knowledge that it wasn’t over yet.

Glorfindel as well had returned to his rooms, and every last remnant of anger he might have felt was forgotten as soon as he could see Legolas outside in the sunshine, playing with Gîlríon there in the grass.

He smiled when he joined them, kissing first their son, then Legolas. His smile widened when the youth breathlessly sank against him, overcome by the kiss, and again he thought gleefully of his plan. Oh yes – there was no doubt whom Legolas would choose.

With a contented sigh Legolas finally settled into his arms, and they both watched Gîlríon make excited sounds when a small, brown bird landed on the ground next to them, only to quickly fly away again with a worm in its beak.

Legolas giggled. “Gîl will get the wrong idea – he is going to try that for himself next, I can already see it!”

“But why should he want a worm,” Glorfindel said huskily, brushing his thumb against one of Legolas swollen nipples, “when he already has the sweetest food imaginable?”

Legolas moaned and shivered, but still shook his head. “Please, my Lord, not here!” he begged, although he made no move to push Glorfindel away.

“Why not? We are all alone,” Glorfindel said with a smirk, watching how his words made Legolas flush with excitement. “And if I remember right, you have always rather enjoyed it to be claimed in the sunshine – but then, you always enjoy it no matter what I do. Is that not right, roch neth?” he purred, and Legolas moaned softly.

“You know it is, my Lord!“ he admitted helplessly, and Glorfindel smiled slowly, thinking of Elrond.

“Do you think our little star feels tired at all?” Glorfindel asked hopefully, and Legolas looked down, smiling a little when he saw Gîl’s wide eyes and happy expression.

“I don’t think –” he began, but Glorfindel spoke smoothly over his assessment, and Legolas fell quiet again.

“It’s just that you failed to keep your appointment with me early this morning,” Glorfindel said deeply against his throat, flicking his tongue out to lick at Legolas’ skin as though he were claiming possession. Legolas swallowed nervously, remembering how he had awoken in Elrond’s bed, late… Usually he made an early visit to Glorfindel’s rooms, ostensibly to feed Gîl if he required it, but really because he loved to crawl into his Lord’s bed and fall asleep there for a few minutes, so that they woke up together.

His Lord usually claimed him in a morning, before he would go back to Elrond, to be there before the Lord of Imladris awoke too. He moaned as Glorfindel's arms around him became less comforting, his Lord’s hands settling on his belly to pull him back so that he felt how hard Glorfindel was behind him.

“I think that he could spend an hour or two with the nurse, roch neth,” Glorfindel suggested, and Legolas could do nothing but nod. “He does not need to see you reminded of my orders, does he?” Legolas whimpered in a mixture of fear and desire at the threat in Glorfindel’s voice, but he didn’t dare to disagree.

He allowed Glorfindel to pull him to his feet, and carried Gîl through their rooms to the nursemaid’s door. He felt strangely distant and faint already at the thought of what Glorfindel might do to him. He left Gîl in the nursemaid’s care with a hasty word of thanks, sure that the elleth could see his embarrassment. But that didn’t matter when he returned, and Glorfindel was waiting for him.

Immediately he fell back into his ordained role, undressing in silence and kneeling at Glorfindel’s feet. “Forgive me, my Lord,” he said softly, already breathless, and Glorfindel laughed in pleasure. His hands rested on Legolas’ shoulders until he looked up.

“You always enjoy it, no matter what I do. Is that not right, roch neth?” he said again, encouragingly, and Legolas wanted to melt, because Glorfindel was right.

“Yes, my Lord,” he admitted, trembling slightly in anticipation, since he still didn’t know what Glorfindel intended.

Glorfindel smiled as he slowly looked him over, taking his time to enjoy his naked body, his obedience, and his total, perfect submission.

“I think I have been too lenient with you – you have grown wild, roch neth, and you need a strong hand to discipline you, so that you are reminded of what is your place. Is that not so?” he asked again, raising Legolas’ face to his so that the youth could not look away.

“Yes, my Lord,” Legolas breathed, and although his voice was weak, his body already betrayed how excited he was.

Glorfindel smirked and let go of Legolas’ chin, only to get up and walk around Legolas, pretending to be deep in thought, while he continued to hungrily study the slender, perfect body of the youth. “What do I do with you...” he mused.

Legolas blushed. “Punish me, my Lord... I know that I deserve it,” he whispered, swallowing when Glorfindel stopped behind him.

“Yes, you do,” Glorfindel agreed. “Go and fetch my brush, Legolas – and stay on your knees. That’s really the best position for you.” He smirked when Legolas looked up as if he wanted to protest, but as soon as he met Glorfindel’s eyes he blushed and lowered his head in mortification.

Slowly, he crawled towards where Glorfindel’s brush laid on a low table, feeling his Lord’s eyes on him all the time. It would have been no use to protest in any case – Legolas was all too aware that Glorfindel had a perfect view of the fact that his body enjoyed what he was being made to do.

Once he reached the golden brush, he remembered what Glorfindel had once told him, and carefully carried it back in his mouth. He knew that this was meant to be humiliating, but there was just no denying the fact that it excited him to obey Glorfindel’s orders, even when he knew what Glorfindel was going to use the brush for.

Glorfindel took the brush from his mouth, and smiled, so that Legolas blushed a most becoming shade of crimson. “Lie on the bed face down, Legolas,” he commanded, and watched with satisfaction as the youth scrambled to obey him. It never failed to arouse him to know that he had but to breathe a wish and Legolas would strive to obey it. But he would not have Legolas knowing what to expect – not knowing was all part of what submission should be, after all.

For his own part, Legolas obeyed Glorfindel’s orders without question, slightly scandalised still at the realisation that he would enjoy this – even if Glorfindel hurt him. It confused him, and made him wonder about himself, especially after his time with Elrond, who didn’t treat him like Glorfindel did. For a moment he considered raising his voice against the fact that he should endure a punishment for being missing that morning, and with that thought he knew he deserved it.

When had his thoughts become such? He tried to remember how it used to be, and a fog descended over him when he remembered his early punishments, and his level of submission then. It was just not the same now, and at the same time as feeling afraid of what was to come, he also felt strangely excited. And he knew it wasn’t the punishment itself he desired and feared – it was what it would do to him, what it would mean to his mind to be marked by Glorfindel again.

He rested there for some time, alone with his thoughts, and just as he thought to look up and see where Glorfindel was, he felt the first touch of hands against his behind. He jumped several inches from the bed, but then realised it didn’t hurt. He heard Glorfindel sigh, and then grab at his wrists to place Legolas’ hands above his head.

“Do I have to tie you, roch neth?” Glorfindel asked, and Legolas swallowed.

“I do not know, my Lord,” he admitted nervously, wishing it would just begin so that it would be over sooner, and relieve his conflicting feelings of dread and excitement.

“It really has been too long,” Glorfindel mused, as if to himself, and Legolas shivered to hear it.

When the brush finally descended, Glorfindel only brushed his hair down, over his back firmly so that he felt the bristles of the brush scratching pleasantly against his skin. Down further the brush went, over his buttocks, and down over the backs of his legs, so that he sighed in pleasure, relaxing against his will at the treatment.

The brush came down again, from the top of his head, almost to his ankles, and this time Legolas moaned beneath it. This carried on for a while, until Legolas couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so wonderfully warm and comfortable.

“Are you enjoying this?” Glorfindel asked ominously, and Legolas replied without thinking.

“Yes, my Lord,” he sighed, so relaxed he felt he would soon drift away, and then cried out in shock when the brush came down suddenly on the skin of his backside.

“Good, for I will enjoy this as well,” Glorfindel grinned and placed one hand on the middle of Legolas’ back to hold him down. His other hand let the brush fall down again and again, and when Legolas yelped and tried to wriggle away, he only hit him harder.

“Did you not agree earlier that you deserve this, roch neth?“ he asked, trying not to let his amusement show too much. “I could almost think that you were trying to escape... But I do not think that you want me to get that impression, do you?”

Legolas immediately stopped his struggling with a low, miserable moan. “I am sorry, my Lord,” he gasped, realising for the first time that there were tears in his eyes. “Please, forgive me...”

Glorfindel smiled and bent down, so that when he spoke, his breath moved against Legolas’ ear, making him shiver. “Or maybe it is that you truly want to be restrained? Is that it, Legolas? You only have to ask, roch neth...”

Legolas whimpered, knowing that even if that were the truth, he would never dare to ask for something like that. And Glorfindel was wrong, he did not struggle because he wanted to be restrained... he struggled because it hurt!

But just when he wanted to give Glorfindel an indignant look, he realised that it was not true... It did hurt, but he had known far worse pain. And he had borne far worse punishments at Glorfindel’s hands quietly, without struggling...

No, he realised suddenly, sobbing in despair at the thought, Glorfindel was right, he had grown far too used to Elrond’s leniency, and forgotten what was asked of him in his Lord’s chambers. “I am sorry!” he sobbed again, feeling as if he had betrayed Glorfindel somehow. “I will be good now, I promise! Please punish me, my Lord, like I deserve it!”

Glorfindel smiled and rested a hand on his head, slowly stroking his hair. “Calm yourself, pen neth... leave it to me to know what you deserve, and what you don’t.”

He kept the hand in Legolas’ hair, calming him with the gentle caress, while his other hand took up the brush again to deliver more of the stinging strokes to Legolas’ reddening backside, until Legolas was crying again.

But this time, his gasping moans were only partly from pain. The other part was excitement, need, a terrible, mortifying desire that made him feel ashamed, because it was so humiliating to not only be punished like this, but to grow aroused in this position as well.

And then, when Glorfindel continued, even that passed, and Legolas whimpered submissively, trying to move into the strokes now because more than anything, he wanted to be Glorfindel’s, and he wanted to be marked as his until his body would never forget it again.

He began to feel an almost forgotten tiredness – not the exhaustion he was used to, but more of a drifting away – and it was only then that Glorfindel stopped. From the corner of his eye he watched Glorfindel lay the brush on a table by the side of the bed, and he began to relax, only to cry out when he felt the first slap of Glorfindel’s hand on the abused regions of his lower body, reminding him that his Lord did not need the brush to show him his place.

The hand descended again and again, the loud shocking slaps different to the feel of the brush, but just as bad in their own way. There was a heaviness to Glorfindel’s hand that the brush didn’t have, and he pressed his body into the bed as if to get away from it – but there was no escape.

“Spread your legs a little,” Glorfindel ordered quietly, and Legolas whimpered but obeyed, only to have the hand move lower and place stinging slaps against the skin of his thighs. When Glorfindel finally did stop altogether, Legolas gasped at the sensation of his skin when it began to burn, and he almost wished Glorfindel hadn’t stopped. It felt hot and sore to him, and he knew it must look that way.

“Very nice, roch neth,” Glorfindel breathed, and stroked the bruised skin with his fingers gently as if in admiration. Legolas cried a little, but said nothing, and stayed perfectly still as Glorfindel touched him. He saw the Lord reach out for the oil he kept on the nightstand, and swallowed.

The Lord prepared him gently but effectively, and then moved behind Legolas to take him. He held his breath as Glorfindel breached him, and then moaned as his body was filled by the Lord’s hard length, only to cry out in surprise and pain when he felt Glorfindel’s skin touching his at the end of the slow movement.

“You will feel this,” Glorfindel noted darkly, and Legolas understood. Glorfindel drew back, only to plunge deeply inside him again, and as before, the shock of Glorfindel’s skin meeting his own made his moan turn into a whimper. “I do not appreciate being made to wait, Legolas. Don’t do it again.”

“No, my Lord,“ Legolas whimpered, meaning it with all his heart. Then he sighed when Glorfindel slowly pulled back, grateful for the cold air that now soothed his abused skin.

Again and again Glorfindel took him, and although he was not truly rough, each of his thrusts was nevertheless deep and hard, so that every time, Legolas cried out again when Glorfindel’s skin brushed against his own at the end of them.

It hurt – every contact with his reddened skin hurt, and yet in a strange way Legolas found himself cherishing the pain each contact brought. This was how it had been between them before... This was how it was meant to be. In these moments, he was Glorfindel’s, completely, and they both knew it without a doubt.

“Please...” he moaned, trying to make it even easier for Glorfindel to take all of him, by spreading his legs even more, although that also meant that there was more pain that way. But he did not mind the pain now, no – he welcomed it! His Lord had marked him once again as his, and this was what he wanted more than anything!

For a moment he thought about Elrond, seeing his skin all red and sore later on... Was that why Glorfindel had done it?

The thought of his Lord so possessive, so jealous that he would mark him, aroused him so that he began to tremble, and only the knowledge that he must not come before his Lord held him back.

But then, with a final growl of satisfaction, Glorfindel hardened even more inside him before he found release, and when his Lord’s teeth caught the skin of his shoulder to mark him there as well, Legolas finally gave up and surrendered himself to the pleasure that flooded his body.

Rolling over onto his side, Glorfindel pulled Legolas with him, and then they simply lay together for a while. He gently ran his hand down over Legolas’ body, feeling the youth’s trembling ease somewhat as he relaxed, the youth’s submission to him total and perfect. Oh, this was just what it should be like between them! Glorfindel knew it, because he knew that however harsh his punishments were sometimes – he would never harm Legolas. And he would kill anyone who attempted to do so.

It filled him with a sense of satisfaction and pleasure to feel how Legolas relaxed against him. “That’s right, roch neth,” he murmured soothingly, running the fingers of one hand through the beautiful silver hair. “You have done well. It’s over…” Legolas sighed in complete trust, and it made Glorfindel feel wonderful, and extremely protective. “For now,” he couldn’t help adding, and he felt the slightest tremor from the youth – but he knew it was more anticipation and excitement than anything else. There was nothing really dark about their relationship. Glorfindel had never felt the world contained so much light and happiness as when he felt that Legolas was completely his.

Tonight Elrond would know it too. Tonight he would see it. Glorfindel growled a little possessively, and leaned in to kiss Legolas’ neck. No matter what I do, Glorfindel thought, echoing to himself his own words earlier. No matter what I do, he enjoys it. He smiled, and almost spoke again, but then realised he didn’t know what he was going to say. “You are mine, Legolas,” he settled for at last, and the body in his arms pressed against him invitingly… lovingly.

“Yes, my Lord!” Legolas breathed happily, as though he had just been waiting for a chance to say it. Perhaps he had. They were still joined, but now Glorfindel withdrew, only so that he could turn Legolas onto his back and look into his eyes. What he saw there made him smile, but there was another reason for having Legolas face him like this… He bent his head to the youth’s chest, registering his shocked gasp when he closed his lips over one of the swollen, sensitive nipples. He suckled, taking a long draught of the sweet liquid from Legolas, listening to the expressive moan that came from him.

He wondered if Legolas would stop giving milk. Elrond had once told him that as long as it was being taken from him, then Legolas’ body would not stop producing it. That would be a happy circumstance if it were true. After all, it didn’t necessarily have to be Gîl taking the bounty from him… Glorfindel stopped to smile against Legolas’ chest.

Elrond had also been of the view that Legolas would not fall pregnant again while ever he was nursing. It thrilled him to think that he had that control over the youth’s body too – he couldn’t deny it. But sooner or later, he would have to forgo this particular pleasure if he wanted another child. Just not yet, he thought, as he sealed his lips over the nub of flesh again, feeling Legolas shake and tremble beneath his lips. It must feel so overwhelming and demanding, he realised suddenly, and understood why Legolas reacted so strongly to him doing this.

Gîl was only a small child, and his suckling must feel quite gentle in comparison. Feeling wicked, Glorfindel deliberately pulled long and hard at Legolas, until his mouth was full and he had to swallow. Legolas arched up, betraying his reaction when Glorfindel felt the youth already hard again, despite his recent release. Legolas cried out in a way that made him stir too… sounding somehow lost and astonished all at the same time.

“Please, my Lord!” Legolas breathed at last, when his passionate reaction was over, and Glorfindel only looked up and smiled at him, laughing at the youth’s faintly horrified look when he realised he had sealed his fate… at least for a little while…

“Please what, Legolas? Please more?” he teased and laughed when Legolas could only weakly whimper at the threat. “But you don’t need to do anything... you only need to lie still and let me take from you. I know you enjoy it... don’t even think of pretending otherwise.”

Glorfindel grinned when his words made Legolas close his eyes with a moan of dismay, but when he rubbed his callused thumb against the nipple he had earlier tormented with his lips, Legolas arched up in unmistakable arousal.

“Please, my Lord!” he begged again, throwing one arm over his face as if to hide from the Lord who knew how to tease his body until he just could not bear the pleasure any longer. But despite everything, Legolas did not move away or do anything to discourage Glorfindel, and the Noldo smiled when he realised that.

“But there is so much you still have to give, Legolas!” he said, pretending to be astonished. “And do you not grow uncomfortable sometimes, when you have more to give than Gîl can take?” Again he teased the wet nipple with his thumb and watched Legolas arch and whimper.

“Yes, but...” Legolas gasped and stopped, distracted when Glorfindel moved on to his other nipple. “Oh, please!” it broke out of him when his Lord’s lips brushed against the swollen nub, and he panted even when Glorfindel drew back with a grin.

He gasped for breath, then tried to calm himself and gave his Lord a pleading look. “Please, no more, I can’t – it is too much! And... you need to leave some for Gîl! He will be hungry as well!”

Glorfindel smirked and bent down again to let his teeth lightly graze the sensitive nipple, just until he could feel Legolas start to tremble. But then he drew back and laughed softly when that, despite his earlier begging, made Legolas moan with frustrated longing.

“All right, roch neth,” Glorfindel said soothingly and drew the youth into his arms again to rest for a while longer. With joy he realised how instantly, Legolas curled up trustingly against him, sighing once with obvious pleasure when he buried his face in Glorfindel’s hair.

He would not let this go on for much longer, Glorfindel mused, but until then, he would enjoy the thought of what would happen once Legolas was forced to choose. There was no doubt at all whom he would choose... even if one was gentle to him while the other disciplined him, there was really no doubt. Both of them knew whom Legolas belonged to – no, all three of them knew it. And soon, all of Imladris would know it as well...