Pen-Estel

Over the next few days and weeks, Legolas’ guilt lessened, although his fear remained the same. Nothing was ever certain while ever Glorfindel was not with him, for he feared that Elrond would seek him out now, and he knew that Gîlríon would not keep him safe. But it seemed that Elrond must have lost interest, because Legolas didn’t find himself alone in the Lord’s company again, and the way Elrond treated him, he might wonder if it had ever happened at all.

Still, he was nervous and jumpy when Glorfindel wasn’t near, until one day when they were alone; Legolas heard the news he had been dreading for the last few weeks.

“I will have to leave you for a while again, roch neth.” Legolas was resting in his arms, drifting happily in the security of being near his Lord, but now he almost jumped in fear.

“When?” he asked, his heart sinking in dread – wanting to know even though he didn’t know what he was going to do about it.

“Tomorrow.” Now he inwardly cursed Glorfindel for keeping the news from him, because surely he must have known for some days before this. But then the guilt chased down his first feelings, and he sighed heavily. Hearing that, Glorfindel chuckled. “Do I take it you are going to miss me, then?”

Legolas couldn’t answer, and settled for burying his face in Glorfindel’s hair. He was surprised to find real tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat. And it was due to more than the fear of being alone without Glorfindel to protect him. He really was going to miss Glorfindel, he realised suddenly.

“Yes,” he replied at last, the upset showing in his voice. But deep inside he knew what this would mean for him, and he knew that if Elrond had been waiting for a time to use him again, then this would be it. “Don’t go, my Lord,” he pleaded, knowing it was useless.

“I have to, pen neth,” Glorfindel said gently, although there was also an undertone of amusement in his voice. “Are you not glad? You will only have to look after Gîl during those days, after all, and I will not be around to make sure you behave. But you will behave, will you not?” he said, suddenly strict and masterful again as he took hold of Legolas’ chin to force him to meet his eyes.

“Of course I will, my Lord,” Legolas said weakly and cursed himself for ever having given in to Elrond. “I promise, I will spend my time with Gîl and otherwise cause no trouble for you.”

“Good,” Glorfindel said and then laughed, as if an idea had suddenly come to him. “If you do misbehave, though, maybe I should tell Elrond that he can punish you in my stead then? You would not want that, roch neth... would you?”

“No, my lord!” Legolas protested in shock, shaking with dread as he thought what Elrond would do with that kind of power over him. “Please, anything but that! I promise I will be good, oh please! If I do anything that does not please you while you are away, I will offer myself for your punishment when you return... But please do not do that to me! I could not bear it!”

Glorfindel stared at him for a moment longer, until Legolas feared he might have given something away. But then he laughed in amusement. “Very well, I will ask for your transgressions when I return, and you will be truthful. I have but to ask others about your conduct in my absence to know if you are lying.” Legolas heard the teasing words, but he also paled, realising that although Glorfindel had no intention of telling Elrond to punish him, he would ask Elrond for a report on his behaviour.

He looked away in misery, but Glorfindel turned his head again. “Do not worry, pen neth. I will be back before you even know I am gone, and I will be hungry for you too then.” Legolas still felt utterly helpless, sure that he knew what was to come, but he still managed to smile, and somehow, Glorfindel was happy with that.

Saying goodbye to Glorfindel was worse the next day, and he felt Elrond’s eyes on him all the while. As soon as his lord was out of sight, Legolas retreated swiftly to their rooms with Gîl in his arms, in the hope that he would find safety there. But soon he had a visitor.

A sudden rapping on the door made him jump, and he stared at the door, willing whoever it was to go away. Should he even answer it? But would that be called ignorance by Elrond? He walked to the door slowly, and unlocked it, but he didn’t open it. Instead he backed away as the door opened, and it was as he feared. Elrond stood there, and looked around critically before looking at Legolas.

“Well met, my lord,” the youth said bravely, although he felt like fleeing from the room as soon as possible. “Is there anything I can do for you? My lord is gone, as you know, and will not be back for several days... I’m certain he would be able to help you if he were here, but I fear that I do not know much about... about those things you are... interested in...”

His voice died and he swallowed, taking a step back as Elrond came closer.

“I am... I still need to take a bath,” he started babbling out of fear, so that he would not have to think about what Elrond wanted from him. “And it is almost time for the midday meal, is it not? I am certain that you are needed elsewhere as well, I know how important your work is – will your counsellors not need you? I am sorry, I truly do not want to keep you from your work...”

Another step, and Elrond stood before him, while Legolas’ knees had hit the settee – there was no escape for him now. Legolas closed his eyes, feeling weak and helpless. He could not fight the Lord of Imladris... But he did not want this, not again!

“Please,” he begged softly, although Elrond had not even said one word, “oh please, don’t...”

A soft sound saved him, or so he thought; his child had woken and demanded his attention.

“I need to see to Gîlríon,” he explained nervously, “he will be hungry... If you will excuse me-“

And then Elrond’s mouth was on his, kissing him slowly, gently, yet so insistently that Legolas did not dare to move away. Instead he just stood there, allowing Elrond to take what he wanted, while the first tears ran down his face.

He remembered it all so well now. The Lord of Imladris was not at all the same as Glorfindel. He was so subtly overwhelming, and Legolas closed his eyes against it, but it didn’t help. It wasn’t just the kiss but the way Elrond held him. One hand cradled his face, tilting his head upwards to make him accept what was being done to him, while the other splayed across his lower back, so that he was flush against the heat and hardness of Elrond’s body. It was like being drunk. But still, Legolas whimpered as Elrond took what he wanted, until the Lord of Imladris pulled back a little, and he could speak again.

“Please, don’t do this, my Lord,” he begged, remembering his guilt and wanting to put a stop to this for Glorfindel’s sake as well as his own. That hand was still cradling his face, the fingers moving slightly against the skin of his ear, so that soon he would have to turn away, or sigh.

“Be quiet!” Elrond said coldly, and Legolas fell silent immediately. He didn’t want to, but there was something about Elrond’s voice that frightened him like this. “Listen,” he suggested, more warmly, and Legolas realised that Gîl had become quiet too. A thumb brushed over his cheek, smearing the tears that had fallen.

“You may cry,” Elrond said quietly, with sympathy, and Legolas knew then that he wasn’t going to escape. He felt more tears behind his eyelids as if the Lord had given him an order. He tried to hold them back, but they fell when he opened his eyes to look up at Elrond.

“What do you need?” Elrond asked softly, and Legolas shook his head in confusion, not understanding the question. All he wanted was to be left alone! “Is it this?” And then suddenly Elrond’s hands moved, imprisoning Legolas’ wrists behind his back so that the kiss could begin again. It was as before, so long ago, demanding and yet gentle, and Legolas could do nothing but allow it, surrounded by Elrond’s scent and warmth, feeling the Lord explore him, taste him, take from him. And it continued until, as before so long ago, Legolas moaned low in his throat. Then Elrond broke the kiss, and smiled as if he had discovered some secret.

“I see,” he said gently, as if in understanding. Then he glanced towards the bed. “But I will not take you here.” So saying he took Legolas’ hand in his and began walking back to the door.

“No! I will not! I cannot leave Gîl…” he said in a kind of panic, trying to twist his hand free of Elrond’s grip.

“Stop!” Elrond barked out, and at once Legolas stilled in his struggles, remembering how cruel Elrond could be. “Of course you will leave him… in the care of the nurse,” he said reasonably. “I have already given her instructions. She waits outside.”

Legolas felt all of his strength leave him suddenly. “And I?” he asked almost soundlessly, his voice fading to practically nothing as he realised for the first time what all this meant. This was no idle fancy – Elrond had planned it. After all, who else had sent Glorfindel away? Elrond turned once more to face him, and the hunger he saw in the Lord’s eyes made him want to cry again.

“You will stay with me for the next few days. Gîlríon will be moved to one of my rooms too while Glorfindel is away, so that you can continue to nurse him.” Elrond smiled strangely. “In a couple of hours time,” he added. With that said he turned back to the door, and this time Legolas had no strength to fight.

He was silent now - he did not dare to protest again, not after Elrond's earlier reaction, and there was nothing else to say. Instead, he tried to look as inconspicuous as possible as he was led to Elrond's rooms, wondering if every servant they encountered on their way knew what their Lord would do with him, or if they simply believed that he needed the healer's attentions again.

Oh, how he wished that Glorfindel had never left...

Yet Elrond had sent him away, and now Legolas was all alone. The realisation hit him with full force suddenly: He had no friends in Imladris, no acquaintances even to talk with. There was not a single person in this realm who cared about what would happen to him, except for Glorfindel, and he was gone now. Elrond was truly the only one who neither ignored him nor showed him outright hate...

No, he could not afford to displease the Lord. He needed his kindness - even if it made him feel cheap and dirty to admit that to himself. With lowered eyes, he clung to Elrond's hands, following him to his rooms as meekly as a tamed animal, and even when Elrond closed the door behind them, locking it to trap Legolas in his bedroom like once before, he still did not utter a single word of protest.

"Do you… do you want me to undress, my lord?" Legolas asked tonelessly, feeling completely defeated now. It would happen again, and there was nothing he could do to make it stop. Slowly, mechanically, he began to unbutton the robe he wore; staring at the ground so Elrond would not see how truly ashamed he now felt.

He tried to see through his tears, and yet it was so slow, and he felt Elrond’s eyes on him all the time – watching. At last it was done, and it was with a strange, fearful kind of relief that he let the robes which covered him fall to the floor. And he stood, still aware of Elrond’s attention, trembling and frightened of what was to come.

“Good, Legolas,” Elrond said at last, and he closed his eyes against the praise, trying to ignore it. After all, Glorfindel did at least play like that with him, and so he knew what Elrond was trying to do – or thought he did.

When the Lord’s hands touched his shoulders he almost jumped.

“And yet you tremble so,” Elrond said softly, “as if you didn’t want this.” He opened his eyes and looked up then, making no attempt to hide his feelings. He didn’t want this! How could Elrond even suggest such a thing? But Elrond only chuckled at his expression, and then looked meaningfully at Legolas’ abandoned clothes. He let his hands begin to roam Legolas’ body leisurely.

“Legolas,” he said, as though he were teaching a child a lesson. “You and I both know I didn’t even have to ask.” It was like cold water in his face, and he realised that Elrond was quite right. He had assumed for himself what Elrond wanted, and then done it. Did that mean he was willing? Was there some part of him that invited what was about to happen?

“But... I...” Legolas began, then helplessly fell silent. He could not protest – he could not say that he didn’t want this, not after what he had just done... It would make Elrond angry, and he could not bear that cruelty again. Yet if he said nothing, did that not mean that he agreed with Elrond then?

Legolas felt trapped, and still so very ashamed. He tried to blink back the tears, wrapping his arms around himself as if to shield himself from Elrond’s gaze, although it was far too late for that now. And when Elrond gently drew him into his arms, his trembling only intensified.

“Shh,” Elrond murmured into his ear, then pressed little kisses to his jaw, until Legolas at last relaxed at least a little. Then he moved on to his lips, the kiss strangely chaste at first, yet eventually Legolas gave in with a sound that was half sob, half sigh, and parted his lips for Elrond’s questing tongue. The Lord’s hands stroked down his sides, calming him, and then moved to his back to hold Legolas firmly, but gently, in place.

When it finally ended, Legolas was still trembling, although he was so confused now that he was not even sure anymore what he was feeling. “Please...” he said helplessly, starting to weep again, “please, I do not want him to hate me...”

“Hush!” And suddenly Elrond put a finger to his mouth, to stop him. He looked into Elrond’s eyes, and for a moment he saw the same uncertainty he felt himself. He wanted to plead then, because surely he wasn’t imagining the sympathy, but then the moment was over, and the truth in Elrond’s eyes was replaced by lust. Elrond’s finger moved down, pulling on his lower lip. Legolas turned his head away, but it was just too late. He felt hands pushing him down, and he did what Elrond demanded of him, ending up on his knees before the Lord of Imladris.

He knew what Elrond wanted, and noticed now that Elrond had half-undressed while Legolas had been busy with his own clothes. His robes were already open, and yet instead of looking there, Legolas looked up and away, to plead with his eyes if he couldn’t speak. But at his glance, Elrond groaned, and Legolas felt strong hands in his hair, pulling him forward.

With a sigh of acceptance, Legolas closed his eyes as the scent of Elrond’s arousal filled his senses. He wished he could pretend that this was Glorfindel – but it was impossible. They just weren’t the same. But he did what Elrond wanted, hoping that if he pleased Elrond now with this, the Lord wouldn’t require anything else of him.

He expected Elrond to be rough, so that when he wasn’t, Legolas found it even more difficult. Elrond was allowing him to set the pace, and it began to feel more and more as if he were doing this of his own free will. But then he remembered Elrond’s words earlier, and knew he didn’t have any choice. Forced or not, Elrond was going to use him while Glorfindel wasn’t around.

He also remembered the threat of being sent away from Imladris, and he became scared again that he would be separated from Gîlríon.

Forcing back his unwillingness, he focused on the task, and he was aware of it when Elrond was nearly there. But before the Lord found release in his mouth, Legolas found himself being pushed back and away. It was only then that he realised Elrond fully intended to take him, and he felt cheated in some way. Looking up at Elrond again, he was astonished when Elrond laughed at his expression. He looked away in complete misery while Elrond pulled him to his feet.

“Onto the bed,” Elrond said, not unkindly, yet Legolas still felt fearful, dreading what was about to happen yet again. His senses were filled with the taste of the Lord – so strange, so unlike Glorfindel, and it drove home the fact of his betrayal just as much as when he had first felt Elrond find release inside him.

He slowly climbed onto the large bed, then stopped, kneeling and with his face bowed, so that his hair hid his expression. He heard Elrond moan then, and felt the mattress dip when Elrond joined him on the bed. Yet still, Legolas did not look up, until he felt Elrond’s fingers running through his hair. It was open and unadorned, the way Glorfindel liked him best, and for a moment Legolas wondered if it was maybe this that made Elrond ignore his protests. He had the look of a slave, without name, rank, family, or worth... Maybe it was this that called out to Elrond; maybe it was this that had marked him as such easy prey!

Legolas shivered and wished for a moment that he could have thought of that earlier – maybe if he had put Glorfindel’s knots into his hair himself, it would have made Elrond realise what he was doing to his friend?

But it was too late for these thoughts now... Legolas moaned when Elrond’s gentle touch suddenly became demanding, and – while not willing – allowed himself to be pressed down onto the bed without protest at least. Elrond was hard and hot against his thigh, ready, in need now – Legolas himself had made certain of that with his mouth.

“My Lord,” he said weakly, and once again hated himself for the defeated acceptance he could hear in his voice, “I did not prepare myself... I... It will hurt without oil.”

Elrond chuckled and moved Legolas’ hair so that he could kiss his shoulder. “And you don’t want it to hurt, do you?” It wasn’t a question, but a suggestion. He sounded solicitous and concerned, and Legolas trembled in relief.

“No… please don’t hurt me, my Lord,” he said, sure that Elrond would listen to him – and he did. Legolas saw Elrond reach out to a table by the side of the bed, and soon enough, he felt the Lord’s fingers searching for entry inside him, to prepare him for what was to come.

“I won’t hurt you, Legolas,” he promised, his voice husky with want. “I will make it pleasurable for us both.” At that Legolas tensed, when he had relaxed to allow Elrond to touch him. Was this what he wanted then – to enjoy it? Why shouldn’t he feel physical pain when he was betraying Glorfindel? Legolas moaned in dismay, but he just couldn’t ask Elrond to hurt him. He couldn’t!

“Thank you, my Lord,” he breathed, when Elrond waited for him to respond before continuing. It felt awful to thank Elrond for his kindness but he couldn’t do anything else. Not when he knew that the Lord could have just taken him cruelly, as Glorfindel had done at first. His thoughts confused him, but they didn’t relieve his guilt. Especially not when he moaned as Elrond massaged the oil deep inside him, deliberately making it feel so good…

He was still trembling, but now it was more pleasure and anticipation than dread. Even if he told himself that he wanted to hate this, his body knew the pleasure that was waiting, and the little sob that escaped him when Elrond's mouth touched his chest was more relief than anything else.

He would not plead, not for this, he told himself, but still he was moaning, he just could not stop himself. His chest was soft, swollen with milk, and he was so sensitive there - being touched there was too much, too intense, but it was also so pleasurable that he did not know whether to flinch back or move into Elrond's touch.

When Elrond's lips closed around a nipple, he gasped and tried to move away, afraid now - Glorfindel loved to tease him that way, using his teeth as much as his tongue so that Legolas never knew whether to expect pain or pleasure.

Yet Elrond did not let him escape. Again he held him in place with one hand on his chest, while he slowly, tenderly, took the swollen nipple into his mouth to soothe it with his wet tongue until Legolas relaxed.

Legolas released a trembling breath, still too afraid to fully surrender himself to the pleasure of Elrond's caresses. Yet his body seemed to believe in Elrond's gentleness more than his mind did, for soon he found himself moaning again, writhing while the pleasure built in him until, finally, he was almost surprised to hear himself crying out Elrond's name.

His hands came to rest on Elrond’s shoulders as though he would push him away. The Lord was still touching him inside too, as if teasing, and soon he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please, my Lord. Take me,” he moaned, not caring now that he was begging for Elrond to use his body. He spread his legs wider and arched up a little in encouragement.

Elrond stopped and looked up then with a smile. Legolas’ hands relaxed on Elrond’s shoulders, but soon he was laid with his arms linked loosely around the Lord of Imladris’ neck while Elrond kissed him. He couldn’t help but respond. This time Elrond’s encouragement was not in vain, and rather than passively accept the kiss, Legolas gave something of himself to it too. Elrond groaned, and the fingers left him as the Lord guided his hardened flesh inside Legolas.

When he was in position, Elrond brought his arms up and rested them at either side of Legolas’ head. By necessity, Legolas’ arms dropped for a moment, only for him to embrace Elrond again. With his palms resting on Elrond’s waist, he broke the kiss and gasped as the Lord suddenly thrust inside him, filling him and claiming him completely. He raised his legs and wrapped them around Elrond in encouragement.

“Yes!” he cried out, almost in relief, and looked up at Elrond. He raised his head from the bed so as to make the kiss begin again. He knew Elrond could have hurt him, and Legolas was truly grateful that he hadn’t. It was as Elrond promised, pleasurable for them both, and Legolas wanted to give pleasure as much as receive it. When the kiss ended this time, both of them breathless and exhilarated, Legolas continued to do more than passively accept the Lord of Imladris. Between his moans as Elrond took him, he pressed urgent, needy kisses all over Elrond’s neck and throat, his hands now resting on Elrond’s back, holding him close as though he were afraid that Elrond would go away.

“Ah, Legolas!” Elrond groaned out loud, and he was jubilant at the reaction. He had forgotten all about Glorfindel by now, and only lived in these stolen moments.

There was no teasing here, no tormenting him – it was simple, pure pleasure, and Elrond did not even try to dominate him. Although he had been unwilling at first, this was far more equal than anything he had ever known with Glorfindel. He knew with a sudden certainty that Elrond would not make him beg, would not even mind if he found his pleasure first – all Elrond wanted of him was that which he gave willingly by now, his affection, his desire, his need...

He pressed his mouth to Elrond’s again, demanding another kiss now that he had had his first taste of what it felt like to kiss like this, to do more than just be overwhelmed and passively submit... It was just as intoxicating, and despite all of the experience he had gathered in Glorfindel’s bed, everything felt so new!

He cried out Elrond’s name then, clenching tightly around the hard length deep inside him, and gave himself over to the pleasure that ran through him. There was no desperation here, no pleading, no holding back for his lord... He just gave in and let the pleasure run its natural course, moaning in deep gratitude because it felt so right like this, and it was all sweetness, without a tinge of pain or desperation.

When he had calmed again, he could feel Elrond still inside him, hard and huge and certainly even more in need now! Yet Elrond had stopped, and was no longer moving but watching Legolas instead.

“You are so sweet,” Elrond said breathlessly, like once before, and smiled, and this time Legolas smiled back without hesitation and kissed him again. “Can I go on... or is this hurting you?” he then asked, and Legolas could have wept at the concern in his voice. To be asked this – certainly this was the way a lord would treat a lover. This was not about humiliating him at all!

“You are not hurting me... not at all!” Legolas said shyly, and then pressed himself against Elrond with far less shyness. “Please, you have given me such pleasure – I want to feel you find your own pleasure, like this, inside me!”

Elrond laughed then at his enthusiasm, and at first Legolas was frightened, yet soon he relaxed, hearing nothing malicious in it this time. But then the moment of levity passed, and Elrond began moving again, fast and purposeful now while Legolas held him close.

There was a different kind of satisfaction when Elrond found release inside him some minutes later, and Legolas moaned too, wanting the moment to stay forever, so that reality could never intrude and take it away from him.

But when it was all over and done, and they rested beside each other, Legolas’ thoughts finally turned to what had happened. Now this really was cheating, as he lay spent and tired in Elrond’s arms, loving the way Elrond didn’t stop touching him.

“My Lord,” he began uncertainly, but he couldn’t continue. Tears of self-recrimination welled up in his eyes despite his best efforts to remind himself of his position here. He had asked! He had welcomed it. How could he ever forgive himself?

“I did say you may cry, pen neth,” Elrond said gently, playing with his hair, and Legolas realised that Elrond had known how this would go all along. But he didn’t have the energy to wonder what that meant, and he did cry, clinging to Elrond in his guilt because there was no one else to turn to.

“What will happen?” he asked at last, when he had calmed somewhat. And every question he could think of was contained in that one. What would happen to them? And if Glorfindel found out? What would happen to Imladris? More importantly, what would happen to Glorfindel? He felt like driftwood, having no choice but to go where the current took him, and at the moment it was pushing him towards Elrond.

“I do not know,” Elrond admitted, and Legolas drew back to look at him. “All I know is there will be no secrets. They can’t be kept forever.” The seriousness of the situation returned to haunt him, like a spectre it placed a cold hand on his shoulder, and he shivered, as if to shake it off.

“He will blame me,” Legolas said sadly, knowing it, and knowing that he deserved such a thing. Elrond didn’t answer, and then he knew the Lord wouldn’t help him when it all came out. He felt Elrond pull him closer, and he would have resisted except what choice did he have? And what did it really matter now?

He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the world while he burrowed deeper into Elrond’s arms. It was too late now anyway... Even if it was selfish, he wanted to remember how it felt like to rest like this. This must be what it felt like to be a lover – to be loved, and he wanted to remember it, to store the memory of this comfort somewhere deep in his heart where even his guilt could not reach.

“Will I be sent away?” he then asked softly, and he was glad now that his face was well hidden away against Elrond’s chest, so the Lord would not be able to see the tears in his eyes. If Glorfindel found out, at the very least it would mean to be parted from Gîl, and he was not sure if he could survive that – if he even wanted to survive it!

For so long he had told himself that he had to live so that his child would live, so that it would have a chance at a better life than that which he had known. Even then, at the beginning, he had never truly believed that he would be live to see his child grow up – coming to Imladris had been no difficult decision at all, although he had been certain that he would be taken prisoner, and hurt yet again. But that prospect had been easy to face because he knew that he would not need to survive for long – just long enough for the babe to be born, and to see if Glorfindel would bring it up as his.

And Glorfindel was a better father than he had ever dreamed... No, he could only blame himself for destroying the only chance he had ever had at maybe, finally, knowing what it was like to be part of a family.

“Not while I am still Lord here… I won’t let you go.” Elrond reassured him sleepily, and Legolas allowed himself to hope at last. If there wasn’t a place for him with Glorfindel – might there be a place for him here? Then something utterly new occurred to him, and he felt tears threaten again at the tightness in his chest. He didn’t want to lose Glorfindel! He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to live without his demands, his touch, and his laughter… even his occasional cruelty. He wept silently, having discovered too late that to know this feeling he so craved – he had only needed to recognise it.