Pen-Estel

ElenaDiVita: Sorry for the cliffhanger! *laughs* I'm not sure if the end of this chapter is better or worse, though. ;)


Chapter Twenty

“What do we have here?” Glorfindel asked, and Legolas forgot everything else, wondering what he could say that Glorfindel would believe. He couldn’t possibly tell the truth – he had the idea Glorfindel would forbid him to learn if he knew… His eyes roved over the desk in front of him now, and he thanked the Valar that today he had returned to the innocent-looking herb lore books again – leaving the Westron ones alone for now.

“I was practising my Quenya,” he replied with a gulp. Again, he looked to the empty space that could at any moment house a spectator to this game of theirs. Glorfindel didn’t treat him any differently while they were together in his rooms. There they were still friends, but nothing more. Times like these were the only chance he had to believe that they had a future – and as much as the feeling they would someday be caught terrified him – he couldn’t refuse to play. He needed Glorfindel, even if it meant he would lose everything else he had gained since they parted.

“Good,” Glorfindel said, loudly enough to be heard. “While I am here I will test you.” And then he pulled the chair from under Legolas, supporting his hips, so that he had no choice but to stand bending over the desk. Legolas still watched desperately, fearing at any moment to be observed. “Stay still and don’t dare to moan, aras neth – we are not alone,” Glorfindel whispered, and Legolas was silent as the Lord gently pulled at the leggings that were in his way.

“Read some to me,” Glorfindel commanded, dropping the whisper, only to breathe into Legolas’ ear; “start there.” Tearing his gaze away, he looked down to the desk, and saw Glorfindel pointing to a passage in the book he was ‘practising’ with. He almost groaned.

He felt more vulnerable now, knowing that he could be observed and he wouldn’t even see it, forced to look down and read from the book. And the words… Legolas knew what this was, and he shook his head, but he didn’t refuse.

“Time and care should be taken with preparation,” he began, already feeling his face burning in embarrassment, praying that his voice sounded normal enough. But then he felt Glorfindel turn his attention to other things, and he stopped reading. “Glorfindel!” he hissed quietly, trying to push back against the oiled finger that was teasing him already.

“Go on,” Glorfindel commanded easily, no sign of what he was doing audible in his voice, and Legolas looked down at the book again. He swallowed.

“The plant will lose many of its –” he halted, uncertain in his knowledge of the language. Just then Glorfindel finally did begin to prepare him and he gasped as he tried to make out the word. “Pleasurable?” he hazarded, seeing how fitting the words had been so far, and Glorfindel laughed silently against his ear, the hot breath fanning his desire so that he almost betrayed them with a moan.

“Beneficial,” Glorfindel corrected in amusement, falling quiet then for Legolas to continue, and when he read what was next he began to wish for Erestor to disturb them.

“...beneficial qua-qualities,” he continued, his voice breathless when Glorfindel slipped a second finger into him, “if not properly prepared.”

“That is correct,” Glorfindel said, and Legolas shivered when he realised that he was the only one who knew what the dark amusement in his Lord’s voice meant.

He swallowed, staring at the next sentence while Glorfindel pulled his fingers out and moved against him, letting him feel his hard length – but doing nothing.

Legolas almost whimpered before he remembered that he had to be silent, and then tried to push back against his Lord instead. But Glorfindel did not oblige him. Instead he moved back as well, so that the head of his erection kept rubbing teasingly against Legolas’ entrance, but he did not give the youth more than that.

“And?” Glorfindel asked without even the smallest hint of impatience. “Go on... There is more than just the preparation, isn’t there?”

“Yes, my Lord... there is,” Legolas said weakly. He took a deep breath, then read on. “After the plant has been properly prepared, it is put into...”

His eyes widened, and then he quickly bit down onto his lip when Glorfindel finally slid into him. “...put into the mortar to be crushed with the-“

“Pestle,” Glorfindel helped out.

Legolas took a deep breath, staring blindly down onto his book while he tried to relax around his Lord’s huge length. His voice was breathy now and a little rough when he continued, and he prayed to the Valar that Erestor had better things to do than listen to them.

“...crushed with the pestle,” he repeated, pausing again as he stared in dismay at the next sentence. But there was nothing he could do now but go on...

“The plant should be crushed by a... a steady, hard pounding motion,” Legolas read almost fearfully, and then Glorfindel did indeed begin to move. For a moment, Legolas closed his eyes, concentrating on nothing but the need to stay silent while Glorfindel took him with deep, hard thrusts over the library desk.

“For infusions,” Legolas carried on breathlessly at Glorfindel’s insistence, “only the tender tips of the leaves should be used, and a rough –” He stopped to gasp when Glorfindel became rougher. “…mixture will suffice.” Legolas closed his eyes. “I hate you,” he whispered.

“Very good,” Glorfindel announced, then more threateningly under his breath. “Be careful, aras neth.” Legolas had never felt so helpless, even during his first days in Imladris. At least then, he had been able to make a sound. “And?”

Legolas opened his eyes wide, sure that he couldn’t read any more. But he could. “Alternatively, a fine powder can be made which can be combined with a base ointment for direct application to…” His voice trailed off, because he knew just what this part was about. “Oh, please!” he begged urgently, but quietly enough so that only Glorfindel would hear him. “I can’t, my Lord!”

“But you are doing so well,” Glorfindel whispered back. “I know it is hard,” he said more loudly, laughing silently when Legolas flinched in humiliation at the words. “I know you want it,” he breathed as an aside into Legolas’ ear. “But you have learnt well, haven’t you?”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” he answered dutifully, then turned his eyes back to the page, determined to speak it all as quickly as possible. But that was difficult, for he did still have trouble recognising some Quenya letters, and the entire thing became a kind of lesson, burning the shapes into his mind so that he would never forget them again. “For direct application to the skin,” Legolas continued, then bit down hard on his lip when Glorfindel began to stroke him. Still, the Lord took him so deeply that his body shook with the demands made on it. “The… salve should be massaged… and rubbed deeply… and… thoroughly into the skin for best results.”

He had reached the end of the page, and at last Legolas was free to give himself over to the pleasure that coursed through his veins at Glorfindel’s touch. At Glorfindel’s possession of him. Truly, he no longer cared if Erestor were watching. Let them all look, he thought spiritedly. He came in silence, and so did the Lord, breathing heavily into his ear still, making him shiver. “I love you!” he vowed quietly and desperately on an outward breath, his orgasm drawing the truth from him, and it was important that Glorfindel knew.

“Legolas,” Glorfindel said, just as quietly, sounding torn. Then his voice regained its usual confidence. “You lose again, aras neth.” Legolas smiled; even though his Lord hadn’t said it, he had thought it, Legolas was certain.

“No. I am going to win.” And now he really believed it. He would not lose Glorfindel. There was a long silence then, while Glorfindel’s heat left his body and they re-adjusted themselves to be presentable. Legolas sought the Lord’s eyes, but he looked away.

“I want you to,” Glorfindel confessed quietly, making Legolas’ heart leap in joy. But before he could say anything in reply, Glorfindel was gone.

For another long moment, Legolas rested his head on the desk, but now the frustration was gone – as was any interest in his earlier research. Dreamily he thought of Glorfindel, and how, one day, they would no longer be in need of a desk in the library, or quiet corridors. One day he would return to the bed he still thought of as his, the large, soft bed with its scent of Glorfindel and passion.

Then he straightened himself with a sigh and closed the book. As pleasurable as this encounter had been, it still had cost him his remaining free time. The nursemaid would watch over Gîl for another hour while he went to his archery lesson, and if he wanted to clean himself before, he would need to hurry now.

Slowly he got up, his eyes widening when he realised that he could still feel Glorfindel. It was a good thing that archery did not involve much running – somehow he doubted that his teacher would accept soreness as an excuse. Legolas blushed. Not that he would ever dare to use it as an excuse.

Still, for the first time in weeks he once again felt insecure about facing Erestor. Had he listened to them? Did he know what it was they had done?

But Erestor was not at his desk, and Legolas sighed in relief, walking over to the side of the library that housed the medicinal section, as he now knew. He put the books he had taken back into their place and then turned to leave – only to find that Erestor was standing in front of him, holding several books in his arms as well.

Legolas swallowed, trying to calculate the distance between the shelves and his lonely, hidden desk. Had Erestor been able to hear anything from here? Certainly he would have heard Glorfindel’s loud words about Legolas’ translation. But had Erestor believed that ruse?

Erestor had in fact known from the moment he heard Glorfindel’s voice what was afoot. It was true that Legolas did not stay with the golden Lord anymore – indeed, now he stayed with Elrond, which to Erestor meant only one thing. That the leader of Imladris had lost his mind. If there were any indication that Elrond was not as capable in other areas, he would have brought the subject up, but as it was, there was no perceptible difference in Elrond’s ability to rule.

No, they were not together anymore, but Erestor doubted Glorfindel would have let it go there, whatever had happened between them. The news that Legolas was pregnant again had only illuminated one thing. Whatever had happened, it surely hadn’t been pretty. Those thoughts made Erestor glad that he had not bothered to seek that kind of pleasure for himself. Though were he to do so, he would never choose something like this.

Legolas turned and then immediately jumped when he realised Erestor was stood behind him. How could either of them want such a thing? Perhaps it was for the best that Thranduil had forsaken and exiled him. Whatever royal blood flowed in his veins was being put to shame by the way Legolas acted. Whether Legolas realised it or not he was asking to be treated like some plaything. However he denied it, he deserved to be passed from one to the other like an object. He, however, had no difficulty in refusing to take advantage. The thought was disgusting.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked blandly, knowing full well why Legolas had blushed at the sight of him. He knew why Legolas was embarrassed, and so he should be, but Erestor wasn’t about to encourage him to bring the subject up. He could play those kinds of games with Elrond – the Lord seemed to appreciate them.

“No, Erestor,” Legolas said awkwardly, and Erestor felt a smirk pulling at his lips as he walked past Legolas to replace the books he held. He disliked Legolas as much as ever – still, it had been surprising to see him spend time in here. With a mission too… that was interesting. Just not interesting enough to pay that kind of attention, Erestor thought with a shake of his head. All the same… he doubted Legolas relished having these ‘studies’ of his interrupted by Glorfindel. He thought he knew what Legolas was looking for. Soon he would want to learn Westron…

“Do you not think that you are a little too… unskilled for such reading?” Erestor could not resist asking when he took a closer look at the books Legolas had chosen to read today. “Those are for the healers’ apprentices. Can you even understand what you are reading?”

While he could not help but feel at least a grudging respect for the dedication with which the youth focused on his research, the teacher in him felt exasperated at the waste of time and energy.

This kind of dedication to research was laudable in a student, but yet at the same time it was foolishness to not ask for help when it became obvious that one could progress no further on their own.

“I manage; thank you,” the youth answered him firmly, but the haste with which he put his books away made it all too obvious to Erestor that he was still embarrassed about the subject of his research.

Erestor allowed himself a slow smile. “If you decide that you need further help – ask me to show you where the books on Westron are.” His smile widened a little as the only show of triumph when Legolas froze in shock at having been found out, and then he just could not resist the little dig. “After all, your knowledge of Quenya seems to be quite acceptable already.”

He didn’t wait and thereby give Legolas the satisfaction of blushing. Elrond and Glorfindel might find it becoming – he didn’t – and he strode away, certain that soon, Legolas would ask for his aid again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trailing slowly, Legolas went to retrieve his arrows from the distant target. Why didn’t he have a partner for this? He looked enviously towards the other youths, who practised in teams of two. Not that it would stop him having to get the arrows back, of course – but at least it wouldn’t be so terribly lonely.

True to Elrond’s word, the exercises he was asked to do weren’t too vigorous. A little running here and there, a few stretches. Archery was something new to him. Before, all of his time had been taken up with learning how to handle the wooden sword Thalaron had provided him with.

At first he had jumped at the chance to learn something new, and although his arms ached after every session, he had thrown himself into it wholeheartedly – determined to become much stronger. But Thalaron had made him reconsider that, insisting that he pay proper attention to his aim and technique, and the master always seemed to be watching him. Legolas had lost count of the number of times that the teacher had been stood right next to him, correcting his posture, making sure he aimed perfectly, rather than just use the bow as an exercise.

Indeed, Thalaron even made him use the bow left-handed sometimes, as if to test him. But, Legolas reflected with a grin, at least he had made progress. Already he had progressed to the same, smaller, targets the other youths practised with…

He froze when he realised that Thalaron was talking to Glorfindel a short distance away from him. His heart began to pound when he thought about what the Lord might be doing here. They were conversing about something – maybe him – because both of them kept looking in his direction.

Afraid of being caught out taking a rest, Legolas reached the required range and immediately fitted one of the retrieved arrows to his bow. As much as he detested the weapon’s master’s bullying – he did actually enjoy this bit. The entire world quietened for him, everything seemed to slow down, until there was only the bow and his target.

Glorfindel had indeed been talking to Thalaron about Legolas. The youth turned out to be so talented at archery that he was considering introducing him to moving targets. After only a few weeks. Even Glorfindel had to admit his progress was startling.

“Hello, Legolas,” he greeted, making the youth aware of his proximity before embracing him from behind. While he enjoyed it to disconcert the youth – it was another prospect entirely when he was already pulling the bowstring back. He could hurt Glorfindel – or worse – himself. And for a change he used Legolas’ name. Aras neth just didn’t seem right when his quarry was aiming like that, deadly concentration in his eyes.

“My Lord,” Legolas answered, already starting to relax as he leaned back against Glorfindel. But then the Lord stepped back deliberately.

“No, I do not mean for you to stop,” he chastised lightly, smiling when Legolas sighed. Thalaron hadn’t told him, so in all likelihood he had no idea how good he was. Neither did Glorfindel, and he wanted to change that right here and now. “See if you can hit dead centre,” he teased. “There’s a present in it for you.”

Glorfindel smirked. Of course, Legolas would be getting the ‘present’ whether he hit it or not, but he didn’t know that. He retreated some more to give Legolas room; standing as far back as he could while still resting one hand on his back. While Legolas took aim, he moved that hand down further, and just as Legolas was to shoot, he squeezed.

He had been hoping to make the shot go wild, just to see Legolas’ dismay before Glorfindel made it up to him by watching him without interference. But he was in a difficult position now, because the arrow Legolas had let loose had found it’s way to the centre of the target – from this distance – with distraction. He found himself looking over at Thalaron, who still stood watching from some distance away, and the elf nodded his head as if to say: “Now you see.”

Then Legolas turned around to face Glorfindel, and the Lord could not help but feel a stab of pain at the bright smile of joy the youth gifted him with.

"Did you see?" Legolas asked, excited now that the concentration on nothing but his target was gone. "I hit the center!"

Glorfindel smiled ruefully when he realised that Legolas had most probably not even felt his touch. "That was very good, Legolas!"

Legolas' smile grew even brighter at his Lord's words. "My grip on the bow is not very good yet," he demurred nevertheless. "I get corrected all the time - but I am glad I hit the center! Because now you will have to tell me what kind of present I will get!"

Glorfindel laughed at Legolas' mischievous look. "Yes, I will... after all, I promised," he agreed. His plan had failed, but what was a missed opportunity of teasing Legolas? He would be able to do so countless times, but how rare were moments like these, when the youth was so joyful and filled with accomplishment?

"And I do have a present for you - one that you have truly earned yourself now," he then continued. He had had a different thing in mind when he came here, but now that he had seen just how much Legolas had progressed in such a short time, he truly wanted to reward him. And Legolas need not know that the idea had only come to him just now...

"Come find me this afternoon, Legolas, after you have spent some time with Gîl. I will be overseeing the training of the new recruits – and as soon as I am finished with that, I will take you to the bowmaker. I think you have just proved that you deserve to have a bow of your own."

Legolas' eyes widened, and for a moment he stood frozen, finally speechless.

"Don't you want to thank me, Legolas?" Glorfindel asked teasingly, and with a soft cry of joy Legolas then threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you! Thank you, my Lord!" Legolas exclaimed, and Glorfindel laughed and wrapped his arms around the youth. Even if this was not what he had originally planned to do, Legolas' reaction was reward enough. And he could always tease him later...

But even if his mind had given up on what he had come here for, his body hadn’t, and the feel of the youth in his arms was beginning to have an effect on him.

“You tried to distract me,” Legolas accused playfully, and Glorfindel chuckled, feeling in his rightful place at the youth’s words. So Legolas had felt it. But was he actually daring to tease? He pulled Legolas close and forestalled any further comment by taking his lips in a deep kiss that left them both breathless and aroused, and Legolas trembling.

He drew back far enough to admire the flush to the youth’s cheeks and the way his eyes were half closed in desire. But he could also feel the slight swell of his belly, pressed against him, and Glorfindel quietly let him go. Legolas was unaware of the reason though, and only looked back at him longingly.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, my Lord?” Legolas asked softly, almost begging, and Glorfindel smirked, throwing a deliberate glance to their audience. Thalaron had turned his attention to something else, but the other youths who should be practising were all of them watching to see what would happen.

Legolas blushed and stepped back from Glorfindel so suddenly he almost stumbled, as if only now aware of how wanton he had become.

“I am s-sorry!” he breathed, shocked at his own behaviour. Glorfindel said nothing, and only took a deliberately menacing step forward. Legolas took two steps back, and Glorfindel felt himself reacting to Legolas’ fear and excitement. Now this was easier, because they were once more the hunter and the hunted. Legolas felt it too.

“But…” he began faintly. “But… the bow…” He looked nervously towards Thalaron, as if fearing his disapproval. “M-my arrows…”

“I would suggest you leave them, aras neth,” Glorfindel said softly, taking another step forward. Immediately Legolas unshouldered the quiver of arrows and laid them on the ground at Glorfindel’s feet along with the bow. He looked up nervously from that position – and Glorfindel was captured. He had to have Legolas now. He advanced slowly, stepping over the bow, while Legolas continued to back away.

When the youth broke into a run, Glorfindel became still, watching him flee over the fields to a strip of woods in the distance. He thought about how the reminder of Legolas’ pregnancy had made him pause, and how Legolas had teased him. He was changing… maybe a little too much, too fast. He watched the youth running from him, torn between two choices. To let him go, or to give chase.

In the midst of that thought, something nudged at his shoulder, and Glorfindel smiled faintly, reaching up with one hand without looking around to rub the nose of his horse. Glorfindel had more than one horse, and this one was the youngest of them, still quite wild and impatient.

“Faron,” Glorfindel said, with a slow, thoughtful smile at the name he had chosen. “I know. You wonder why I linger.” Then he grinned. “So do I.”

A moment or two later, the two were fairly flying over the grass, following the trail of their prey into the woods.

Legolas too thought that he was almost flying, and although he was already starting to feel breathless, the exhilaration of flight and chase gave him strength to run even faster. He jumped over fallen trees and stones, hearing nothing but the pounding of his heart, and still he knew that he would never escape – because, in the end, he wanted to fall to his faron.

But first – first he would lead Glorfindel on a chase worthy of such a formidable hunter.

Legolas’ breath was audible now, and he gasped when he jumped over a little rivulet, only to start running with renewed strength when for the first time, he heard sounds behind him. He had still quite a headstart, but it seemed that Glorfindel was gaining quickly – and that was no wonder, he realised when he heard the rhythmic pounding of hooves. Glorfindel was chasing him on his horse...

Legolas groaned in desire. He no longer even felt embarrassed for his wantonness. He needed Glorfindel, and they both knew it. And the thought of being prey, of being hunted by a rider as if he were truly no more than a young deer the Lord was chasing...

Legolas moaned with helpless lust and need, but then he stumbled for the first time, only to quickly get up again. It had not been a stone that had made him fall – it was his arousal, the one enemy he could not fight, that had brought him down so quickly. Glorfindel was much closer now, the hoofbeats so loud now that he was certain that he would be able to see Glorfindel should he turn around.

But he did not turn. Instead he tried to run even faster, although he was already starting to tire now. If it had just been him and Glorfindel, he knew that he could have made this game last hours – but even a woodelf could not outrun a horse, especially not in an airy, lightfilled forest like this one.

But still, he would make this last more than a few minutes!

With renewed determination, Legolas turned to run towards where he thought he would find trees and bushes growing more densely which would at least slow down the horse. But soon, the hoofbeats came closer yet again – and this time from the direction into which he was running! Had Glorfindel guessed what he would be trying?

Again Legolas turned, running into the opposite direction. He did not know what lay that way, all he wanted was to prolong the chase – but again the rider behind him changed his position as well, driving him back from that direction too, and for the first time Legolas was beginning to suspect that there was a plan behind all this – that Glorfindel was trying to drive him to a particular place.

He ran until he no longer knew where he was. Lainell and he had never come out this way before, and yet he never seemed to catch sight of Glorfindel – he could only hear the Lord’s horse, always too close behind him, closing in.

When the woods suddenly ended, Legolas almost fell. He had been running headlong away from his pursuer, and the sudden blinding glare of the sunlight reflecting off rock threw him off of his stride. When he looked up again, he was glad he had stopped. The ground changed from soft earth to solid rock, and a few feet further there was a cliff face. Turning, Legolas saw now that the cliff formed a kind of shelter here… either that or prison, he thought as he backed away, waiting for Glorfindel to appear from the woods.

As much as he wanted to be caught, the pursuit made him truly nervous, until he felt that it wasn’t Glorfindel chasing him, but some kind of enemy, intent on harming him. It was silly, of course, but he couldn’t help it, and he pressed back against the natural wall, looking apprehensively into the trees.

The whinnying sound of the horse made him whip his head to the left, and suddenly the young stallion walked sedately from the trees – riderless. It meandered happily off to the side, as if waiting for its Master to conclude his business. The moment of distraction had taken Legolas’ attention away from the trees long enough for Glorfindel to appear, and when he looked around again, he jumped and cried out when he saw the Lord advancing on him.

“Hush, aras neth,” Glorfindel said softly, coaxing. He walked slowly forward, and Legolas almost moaned in desire at the way the Lord spoke to him, as though he were some kind of wild, frightened animal. Maybe he was, he thought ruefully as he felt his muscles tense at Glorfindel’s steady approach. His mind was ready for whatever Glorfindel wanted of him, but his body hungered for action. Run or fight, it demanded, and Legolas trembled with the force of it.

“Easy…” Glorfindel soothed, and Legolas felt that softly spoken word in his cock as it filled with blood and heat. He was cornered, and his traitorous body betrayed him by jumping again as soon as Glorfindel reached out a hand to touch his face. He could speak, but he decided not to, perhaps because he liked this game. Maybe he wanted to be soothed. Yes, he thought with a secret smile.

His instincts calmed when he was faced with the Lord’s touch. So gentle and undemanding like this. Legolas tilted his face up happily to meet Glorfindel’s lips, showing no resistance to the Lord’s claim on him. He was thrilled when he was pushed back into the cliff face – nowhere to go – Glorfindel’s own heat and hardness pressing against his. He moaned quietly in pleasure as the kiss continued, Glorfindel’s tongue sliding against his, dominant as always, but so welcome…

The quiet sense of coming pleasure was destroyed when Glorfindel’s hands ripped his tunic open, and he wrenched his mouth away suddenly, gasping in shock. Again his body returned to its earlier insistence on escape or attack as the Lord looked down on his nipples with a dangerous intent. Now he had to speak.

“No! Don’t,” he pleaded, closing his eyes so that Glorfindel would not see what he shouldn’t – the hope that his weak, helpless protest would be ignored. Too late he tried to move his arms to cover himself, only to find that Glorfindel had dragged the torn tunic behind him capturing his arms inside it. He whimpered in arousal, feeling his cock pushing into Glorfindel’s hard thigh, but there were no soothing words from the Lord now.

“You are mine, aras neth,” Glorfindel said darkly, as if reading his mind. “I will take whatever I want now that I have captured you.” Legolas only moaned, his knees almost buckling at the promise in those words. But he also sensed the Lord shifting position before him, until –

At the first touch of Glorfindel’s lips against his nipple, Legolas nearly came. He surged forward, offering himself to the Lord’s lips and tongue, unable to help the reactions of his body. Just the thought of what Glorfindel was about to do was enough to bring him such ecstasy that he sobbed.


To be continued…