Cuil Eden

Title: Cuil Eden
Part: 34/?
Rating: NC-17
Series: Sequel to Anestel and Ethuil'waew
Pairing: Glorfindel/Legolas
Warnings: mpreg, d/s
Disclaimer: All the pretty elves belong to Tolkien, I'm just playing with them and will give them back afterwards.

Betaed by the wonderful Calenharn Elflover who makes these much better chapters! :)

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It was dark when Legolas woke, and for a moment he felt disoriented, as if somebody or something had called out to him. There was a strange sense of urgency in him, a feeling of being needed somewhere, yet all around him everything was quiet, and Glorfindel held him securely in his arms.

Still feeling uneasy, Legolas carefully disentangled himself from his lord’s limbs and sat up to light the candle on his nightstand. The room gave him no answers; everything was silent and undisturbed. Glorfindel slept on – that was unusual, and Legolas frowned. His movements should have been enough to wake the warrior, yet despite his unease, Legolas felt that he should not wake him. He did not know what was happening, but he could not change the feeling that he was awake for a reason, and that this reason concerned only him.

Slowly, he got up. He was naked, and he knew that his skin still bore the scent of their sweat and their passion, but whatever was happening was important enough that he simply slipped an unadorned, pale robe over his head without bothering to wash.

Although the call was strong now, he hesitated to leave their talan. Finally, he quickly moved back to their bed, kneeling next to it and raising a hand to gently stroke over the mane of golden hair that framed his lord’s face. He did not get to see him this unguarded very often; his warrior’s reflexes ensured that Glorfindel woke when Legolas did. But now, Glorfindel was relaxed and deeply asleep, his blue eyes unfocused as he wandered the paths of his dreams.

Often, Legolas had heard a sleeping person described as vulnerable-looking, yet that was not a word he would have ever used for the Lord of the Golden Flower. Even in reverie, Glorfindel was magnificent; like a lion asleep he was threatening even at his most relaxed, beautiful and lethal.

“Sleep, my lord,” Legolas whispered and leaned forward to gently brush his lips against Glorfindel’s. “Sleep and do not worry – I shall be in your arms once more when you awake.”

Then he stood and left the talan, feeling secure in the knowledge that both Glorfindel and Gîlríon were deeply asleep and felt nothing of the strong call that had woken him, even though he did not know how he came by that knowledge.

Outside, it was dark as well – Ithil was not visible in the sky this night, yet Elbereth’s gift, the multitude of stars, shone all the brighter for it. And the light was enough for Legolas who walked along thin bridges and steep stairs with the security of one who was not sure if he was not walking through the landscape of a dream after all.

Yet very soon, Legolas had reached the forest floor, leaving behind the telain where elves were fast asleep. This part of the forest was filled by the incandescent luminance of the stars to such an extent that it almost seemed as if each blade of grass, each leaf and branch were glowing. The thick moss beneath his bare feet was cold and wet, yet it felt unbearably good as it caressed his toes. There was a strange power at work here, Legolas was certain of that, and although he had no idea what was happening to him ever since he had woken, he knew what had brought him there as soon as he entered the glade where Galadriel waited for him at her Mirror – and perhaps he had known all along. A deep sense of preordination filled him, and he slowly walked towards the Lady of Light, bowing his head in greeting as he reached her.

“Greetings, child,” the Lady said, and like the grass, it seemed to Legolas as if her voice was glowing as well. “I know that you have questions. If it is your desire, you shall look into my Mirror.”

“Will it show me answers?” Legolas whispered, staring in awe at the calm surface of the water that seemed not only to mirror the light of the stars but to glow with the same power, as if one of the stars had chosen to sleep within the Mirror instead of joining its brethren in the night sky.

“Answers, questions, riddles – sometimes they can be one and the same. You will see what was, what is, and what might be – yet often, things are different than they might appear. You might come by knowledge you do not wish to have. No one will blame you if you choose not to look.”

Legolas was silent for a time. “I thank you, my Lady,” he finally spoke again. “It is true, there are many things that I would not like to see, and perhaps it would indeed be better for me to leave this glade without looking – yet for all of my life, there have been secrets that have been kept hidden from me. If I let this chance pass, I fear that I will always rue it. No, I shall look into your Mirror, Lady, and see whatever visions the Valar send me, even though they might hurt me. I would have the truth that my father always denied me.”

Galadriel smiled, and gently touched his cheek. “Fear not, son of Thranduil. The Valar have blessed you – there shall come a day when you will know all that you have always wished to know. Now come, child of the Great Wood, step closer and look into my Mirror.”

Slowly, Legolas did as he was told. He did not feel fear – it all seemed unreal, like a dream that Glorfindel would wake him from any moment now. Yet he did not wake when his hands touched the rim of the bowl. Instead, the stars mirrored on the water’s surface began to move and rearrange, showing other constellations and paling as Tilion began his nightly journey among them.

The stars were shining down onto a dense forest – it was Mirkwood, although it had not yet come to be called by that name. This was Greenwood the Great, a light and airy forest of verdant leaves and moss-covered glades, and in a clearing surrounded by ancient oaks and beeches, he saw his father standing. He looked young, and happier than Legolas had ever seen him before. He was holding the hands of a lovely, young maiden – his mother, Legolas suddenly realized. Her face, her hair... she looked just like him! And she could not have been much older than he was now; she looked as if she had only just reached the age of majority. Then the stars moved, and the moon waxed and waned. The two elves were no longer alone; now they were surrounded by a large crowd who wore festive clothes, while his parents were clad in white and had flowers woven into their hair. Two rings of gold gleamed on their fingers, and as they spoke, a light filled their eyes.

As Legolas realized that he was witnessing the wedding of his parents, the vision began to change, the stars paling as the brightness of Anor filled the sky. It was a beautiful day, but it was no longer Mirkwood he beheld – instead he saw mountains, higher than any mountains that he had ever seen. He saw a city of white stones hidden among them, and when he breathed the word, Gondolin - for how could this be anything else? – smoke shrouded his vision, smoke that came from the burning city. And then there came fire, red and yellow flames that hissed and burned, and at their center a shadow. Legolas gripped the rim of the Mirror tighter and cried out, yet he could not look away when an elf with golden hair and golden armor stepped forward, raising his sword to bar the demon’s path.

“No, my Lord!” Legolas breathed in horror, reaching out as if to touch Glorfindel. Yet the warrior was now gone, and with him the sun - leaving Legolas in a vast cave, alone with the Balrog, who roared and rushed towards him in a fury of flame. He saw himself, armed with a bow, and behind him a grief-struck figure, small as a child, and a sense of loss assailed him, a grief so unimaginable that he felt like he was being torn apart.

And yet, in the blink of an eye, the dark cave was gone, and once more Anor’s light filled his vision. The scene he saw was now familiar – it was the lake in the forest, and he was guarding the horses. And there was Glorfindel, coming out of the water, naked and wet and the epitome of masculine beauty. Legolas trembled as he saw himself stare at the stranger, and tried to force himself to close his eyes, but the Mirror would not let him. Ai, Valar, do not make me see this... I cannot bear to see this! I will hate him if you make me live through this again, and I cannot afford to hate him! Yet the Valar did not seem to listen, for there they were, sitting beneath the apple trees, Glorfindel’s arm slung around his shoulder, and then there it came, his first kiss...

Legolas sighed as he remembered what it had felt like, how pleasurable it had been despite his surprise at the stranger’s action, and resigned himself to witnessing how his innocence had been taken from him by a Glorfindel who seemed so much darker, so much more ruthless than the Glorfindel he now knew. Yet, something was different now... there was no fight, he was not thrown to the ground, his clothes ripped off. Instead, there were more kisses, gentle and sweet, and Glorfindel leaning close to whisper words into his ear. From the shy smile on his face, he was certain that these were words of praise and adoration – words which Legolas had never heard before at that time in his life. He shivered, feeling strangely betrayed as he saw himself trustingly surrendering to Glorfindel who made love to him so gently that he began to weep at being forced to witness this.

The scene in the Mirror grew blurry, but it was not caused by the tears that slid down his cheeks – the image had changed and now showed him pregnant, his belly swollen, seated next to Glorfindel at a table in Imladris. Elrond was there as well, as were Celeborn and Haldir, but Glorfindel did not pay them much attention as he smiled at Legolas, resting his hand on his belly from time to time and trying to feed him with small pieces of fruit while Legolas smiled and stole a kiss from his lips. The elves around them seemed to be discussing something, and there was his brother Galuron, obviously uncomfortable, yet still signing his name on a piece of parchment that had already been signed by Elrond.

Legolas’ eyes widened when he realized that there were slender rings of silver gleaming on their index fingers. Betrothed... nay, that cannot be! he cried silently, shaking his head in disbelief and horror, and then the image was gone, swept away by scenes of a battle flashing by in rapid succession. There were orcs and warg-riders, hideous creatures of darkness running through a forest - Mirkwood! There was a battle, flying arrows and spears... and blood, blood everywhere! Elves of Mirkwood were dying, helpless before the onslaught, and soon the only ones left standing were Sauron’s creatures.

A cry of unimaginable pain and grief filled Legolas’ ears, and for a moment he feared he would be sick as in front of his shocked eyes, a fair-haired Sindarin warrior was held down by two orcs and raped by a third. Then another orc came, and another, and then, mercifully, the image changed again.

Legolas was panting, his eyes wide and fearful as he tried to steel himself for more horrors, yet what he saw next was a relief – a pregnant elf lying on a bed with his face turned to the side, hidden beneath the fall of his long, fair hair. A golden ring adorned the forefinger of the hand that was resting on his belly. Legolas recognized the window-less chamber – from the layout and decor, it must be situated in the royal wing, and there was only one elf in all of their family who had that exact hue of hair.

That was him then, a future vision of himself – pregnant again, but then, he had always known that Glorfindel would want more children. And certainly that price was not too high to pay if it meant that he would be allowed back into his father’s realm, even given a room in the royal wing. His father would forgive him one day - would one day even love him!

Legolas tried to make the vision stay, begging for answers, begging for something that would reassure him that it would indeed one day happen that way, but he could not command the Mirror. The image blurred and morphed, but there he was again, the fair-haired elf that could only be his future self. Legolas sighed but then fell silent, frozen with horror when the elf moved and revealed a face wounded so horribly it was hardly recognizable as that of an elf anymore. Long, deep scratches filled with dripping red blood gouged his face, and more blood dripped from his fingernails which clawed the bedding. His lips were bitten through and dripping blood as well, twisted into an animalistic snarl of hate and agony. Then he opened his mouth in a silent scream, screaming and screaming and twisting on the bed to which he was bound until the blanket slipped down, and now it was Legolas who screamed in horror as he saw the swollen belly dark and disfigured and covered with oozing, dripping wounds and something moving inside it...

A healer was there, as was his father, his cheeks wet with tears and his eyes filled with horror. The healer was gesturing towards the pregnant elf, speaking fast, and Legolas thought that he understood what the elf was saying... Monster... cursed... tainted!

The king shook his head violently, but the healer’s anguish only grew. He took Thranduil’s shoulder, shaking him, and when the king closed his eyes and seemed to almost fall apart from the force of his sobs, the healer turned away and picked up a dagger, now crying as well as he walked towards the suffering elf...

“No!” the voice of his father sobbed in his head, and No! Legolas screamed, and “No...” his mother breathed as she took one last step forward off a ledge, her pale face covered with tears and her golden hair fluttering behind her like a banner as she fell and fell and fell...

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talan (pl. telain) – flet
Ithil – moon
Tilion – the steersman of the moon
Anor - sun

Legolas' comparing Glorfindel to a lion might look strange at a first glance, but there must have been lions in the southern areas of Middle-earth. There are words for "lion" in both Sindarin and Quenya, and certainly Legolas might have chanced upon a description and maybe even a picture of one in Elrond's extensive library.