Cuil Eden

Title: Cuil Eden
Part: 44/?
Rating: PG-13
Series: Sequel to Anestel and Ethuil'waew
Pairing: Glorfindel/Legolas
Warnings: mpreg, d/s
Author's website: http://www.loes-valthen.de.vu
Disclaimer: All the pretty elves belong to Tolkien, I'm just playing with them and will give them back afterwards.

Lots of thanks to my wonderful beta for her hard work! :)

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Haldir sneered at the prince. "And you beg so prettily! Does Glorfindel like to see you cry? He must - why would he keep you with him otherwise?"

Legolas froze at Haldir’s taunt, despair quickly making way for the realization that Haldir knew nothing about what was between him and Glorfindel.

"And that is where you are wrong," he replied softly, raising his head to look at Haldir, an air of quiet dignity surrounding him although he was naked and his cheeks were still streaked with tears. "He loves me, that is why he keeps me with him. And I..." Legolas sighed, his eyes growing soft as he thought of the noble Lord whom he had sworn his life to just yesterday.

"And I love him. As I love the child that has been given to us. There is nothing that you could possibly say or do to destroy that, Haldir."

"You think that he loves you?" Haldir said incredulously, and then began to laugh. "Oh, that is precious, even for you."

"Yet it is the truth," Legolas said simply, smiling again when he thought of Glorfindel, who was all that was good and noble, and who was wicked only when it brought pleasure.

It did not matter quite so much anymore that Haldir had succeeded in defeating and humiliating him. Oh, he knew why Haldir had chosen to bare him to the eyes of all the gathered warriors - to teach him his place, to show him that he was no warrior but a whore, whose body was to be used for pleasure and not swordplay. Yet Legolas knew now that it was not true, for how could he be a whore when Glorfindel had named him beloved?

He pulled the certainty of his Lord's love around him like armor, then turned away from Haldir without deigning to give him another glance. With an annoyed sigh, he kicked his leggings away and then bent to take his ruined robe, but just when he had closed his fingers around it, he heard a surprised sound and a hand gripped his shoulder harshly.

"What is that?" Haldir demanded, and although he sounded triumphant, there was also a strange undercurrent of disbelief in his voice which Legolas could not place.

"Is that what you mean when you talk of love? You poor, besotted thing - you have mistaken the touch of the whip for love," Haldir declared with false compassion.

His hand still held Legolas' shoulder in a tight grip, and he used it to yank the youth around so that his back was now to the warriors clustered behind Haldir. With his other hand he ungently traced a large bruise, and at his touch Legolas cried out and tried to pull away.

"Do you cry when he hurts you?" Haldir said, gloating at the secret he had discovered. "Do you whimper and beg to be allowed to serve him, just so that he will put the whip down? You little liar... a warrior like Glorfindel would never be able to feel love for such a whimpering, weak coward as you."

Legolas had stood frozen with shocked dismay when Haldir had started to talk about the welts on his back, but at this latest insult his anger returned with a force that he had never felt before.

"How dare you?" he asked, his voice trembling with fury. "Does Ellonúr know that you think him a whimpering, weak coward? Did you tell him that what he undoubtedly thinks is a gift he gives you, is in truth something that makes you despise him? It is no wonder that Lord Celeborn tried everything he could to keep him away from you!"

Haldir was silent at last, his eyes wide with shock. The grip he had on Legolas' shoulder weakened, and the youth violently pulled away.

"How do you know all of that?" Haldir demanded, his voice dangerously soft, but before Legolas could answer, there was a sudden commotion as another Marchwarden forced himself through the circle of warriors, while one of the guards behind Legolas came forward to wrap a cloak around his shoulders, which the youth gratefully pulled tightly around himself.

"That is enough, Haldir," the newly-arrived Marchwarden said firmly. "You are overstepping your bounds. It is inexcusable to so insult one who is an honored guest of our Lord and Lady - and the consort of the famous Glorfindel... Ai, Haldir, what were you thinking?"

"Consort?" Haldir laughed scathingly. "He has a child, but I see no ring on his finger. No, it is obvious what Glorfindel thinks of him, and it is not 'consort'!"

"Haldir! Enough!" the guard who had given Legolas his cloak said with exasperation. Then he sighed and shook his head before he continued. "What were you thinking, Haldir? He is but a child - and he has done nothing whatsoever to excuse such behavior."

"Do not call him child," the other Marchwarden said, giving Legolas a reassuring smile. "He fought well for one who cannot have seen his majority more than a few years ago."

"He has not seen his majority at all," the guard who still stood with Legolas said dryly, and Legolas frowned, wondering how he knew so much about him. "He is still a few years shy of that - but you truly fought well, Legolas. For how long have you been using a sword?"

Legolas flushed at the questioning, feeling very young all of a sudden. When he looked up, he found that Haldir was sneering at him - although it seemed like the presence of the other Marchwarden was enough to keep him silent for now. But then, Haldir had already succeeded in humiliating him in front of the warriors...

"Almost a year..." he admitted softly and looked down again, ashamed of his inadequacy.

"Only a year?" the other Marchwarden exclaimed, and there was some surprised murmuring among the warriors. "You are truly very good for that! For how long have you been practicing with a real sword, then? Did Glorfindel see your talent and let you use steel right from the beginning?"

"I..." Legolas felt hot and miserable with shame at the way this questioning made him admit that he was truly not much more an a child. "When we left for Lórien – he gave me a real sword as a present." He swallowed when he looked up and found everybody staring at him with surprise in their eyes. "I am much better with my own sword," he said belligerently. "This one, it is very heavy..."

"Yes, I can see that you would be much better with a lighter weapon - you are very quick, and if you keep at it, I would not be at all surprised to see you beating him one day."

Legolas smiled tentatively at this praise from the guard who still stood with him, although Haldir was gifting them both with an icy glare now. If not for the fact that the other Marchwarden was still standing with Haldir, Legolas might have been afraid of being attacked again, but now it felt as if the situation had shifted in his favor.

And despite Haldir's continued animosity, it felt good to hear the guard's praise, because even though Legolas had heard the same from Glorfindel and Thalaron, it felt different to hear it from someone who did not know him.

Only this elf seemed to know him, somehow... Legolas frowned.

“Come, let me see if I cannot find some new ties for you somewhere,” the guard now said and picked up the pair of leggings before he wrapped his arm around Legolas’ shoulder to lead him away. When Legolas looked back, he saw that the other Marchwarden was now sternly interrogating the warriors while Haldir kept his silence, although he was starting to look uncomfortable at the way things had turned out.

“I am sorry for what my brother did to you, truly,” the guard at Legolas' side sighed, once they had taken a few steps away and could no longer be overheard.

“Your brother?” Legolas stopped, startled by this revelation.

“Forgive me; I did not introduce myself… My name is Rúmil,” the elf said and bowed. “And I am truly sorry for what my brother did. I wish I could say that he did not mean it, but we both know that that is not true. There are reasons for the hatred he feels, but that does not excuse what he just did to you. I must apologize again, Highness, I should have intervened sooner, but as you can see he is of higher rank than me, which sometimes makes it very difficult for us to keep him from making mistakes.”

“It is not your fault,” Legolas said automatically. “It is my fault for even agreeing to such a thing. I should have known better – I should have thought about Gîl.”

“No – he should have known better than to bring a small child into this,” Rúmil said, his eyes narrowing. “That is truly unforgivable, and I will make sure that our Lord hears of it.”

“I fear that my Lord will hear of it too, and I do not think that he will be happy – either with Haldir for forcing me to a duel, or with me for accepting.” Legolas shook his head, still puzzled by Haldir’s dislike of him, which he could see no reason for.

“Your brother seems to hate me solely for the reason that I am Thranduil’s son, but does he not know that I am an exile? That I was told by my father that I am no longer his son? If my father had been here to see, he would have applauded Haldir – he would have told him to finish it, and take my life,” Legolas said sadly.

Rúmil shook his head. “That is nothing you should dwell upon… You are very young yet, and do you not have a family of your own now? I know Glorfindel, at least in the way that a soldier comes to know his commander, and he is a good and noble man. And you have given him a child – the family that he has longed for for millennia, but which he thought he would never have… Ah, he must cherish you more than the stars themselves!”

Legolas blushed, but found himself agreeing with Rúmil’s words. “As I cherish him,” he said with a sigh of longing, thinking of the comfort he found in his Lord’s arms. More than anything, he wanted to find peace in his embrace after the excitement of this morning – but before that, he knew that he would have to endure his Lord’s questioning.

“If you do not mind, I will accompany you back to Lord Glorfindel. I want to apologize for my brother’s misconduct again, and reassure him that only a negligible minority shares his views.”

“But what are his views? Why does he dislike me so?” Legolas asked in frustration. “Because of my Sindarin heritage? But is not your Lord himself a Sindarin prince? And neither your Lord nor your Lady seem to bear me any ill will!”

Rúmil laughed, but there was no warmth in his voice, and for a moment Legolas thought that he had gone too far with his questions.

“My brother is a complicated man – even our Lord Celeborn has given up on changing his opinion about this particular matter. Rumor has it that you grew up very sheltered, but certainly you must know that when relations between our realms became more and more strained, there was a part of Lórien’s population that agreed with your father's prejudices? Even though our Lady’s daughter married the Lord Elrond, there were still many of the Galadhrim who had not forgotten what sorrow the Noldor brought upon us.”

Rúmil sighed and shook his head. “I think it is utterly foolish,” he said frankly, “and blaming the Noldor of Imladris for the Kinslaying is like blaming you for your father’s mistakes. Did the Lord Elrond not lose his parents through the war brought upon us by Fëanor? In the end, he is as much a victim of the Kinslaying as those who would blame him for it.

"And what my brother blames you for – you were not even born when our father decided that Thranduil’s cause mattered more to him than the love of his family. He left Lórien, abandoning his wife and children, and in the end, died in Mirkwood – and not even for your father’s ideals. His patrol was beset by spiders.”

Rúmil fell silent for a moment, then shook his head and sighed before he quickly continued. “I do not suffer from my brother's helpless anger, yet I do not like to dwell on this either. Our mother never ceased to wait for our father, believing that in the end that he would return to her, and the children he begat with her. Yet once she heard what had happened, her light died along with her hope, and she could no longer bear to stay here, not even though we were still with her… She sailed west in the end, leaving us parentless, and that is why Haldir blames your father for the destruction of our family.”

Rúmil paused again, and when he continued, his voice was soft and he did not look at Legolas. “I have not told you this because I want you to forgive Haldir… but maybe now at least you can understand why he seems to hate you. It is not truly you whom he hates, but you are the closest he can come to the one whom he holds responsible.”

Legolas was silent for a while, thinking about Rúmil’s words. It was true – he could understand now just why Haldir treated him the way that he did. He could understand… but he could not forgive, not as long as Haldir did not apologize.

“I am sorry for what happened to your family, and thankful for your explanation – but you are right,” he finally answered, hesitating over his next words. “If he realizes that I have done nothing to deserve his scorn, and if he apologizes, then I will gladly forgive him. But if he continues to hate me simply because I am the son of my father… I do not want to dislike him, Rúmil, but I cannot feel charitable towards him either. I will simply take more care in the future to stay out of his way, and I will never agree to a challenge like that again.”

Rúmil laughed warmly and surprised Legolas by wrapping his arm around his shoulders once more. “No, that is not what I wanted – do not let him intimidate you! What you did was a brave thing, and all those who watched you today will remember it. Haldir may have won the duel, but your courage won the hearts of Lórien’s guards.”