Cuil Eden

48

Legolas was breathless, disbelief at what he had done warring inside him with a strange giddiness at for once having the upper hand.

Oh, it would have consequences – certainly Haldir would never let it rest now; but for this one moment, Legolas did not care.

Gîlríon was still where he had been left with the merchant, and as soon as he saw his father, he called out for his ada to come look at what he had chosen. Dutifully, Legolas praised the halter – light brown leather with etchings of leaves for decoration, which must have been why Gîl had picked it – and then lifted him to hold him close for a moment, sighing softly when he told himself that this was a happiness Haldir would never be able to take from him. Never become like me, Gîl, he thought, then slightly shook his head, surprised at the dark turn his thoughts had taken.

"Haldir should be back down in a few moments with more purchases. Would you wrap this up together with them?" he asked the merchant and handed him the halter at his ready nod.

"Certainly, Prince. If there is anything more you need, you can return whenever you like, even if it is not market day – and you, little one, come back once you get your pony. I'm certain we'll find another nice halter for you," the merchant said and winked at Gîl, who beamed in delight at the reminder that soon he would get a pony of his own.

Legolas kept Gîl in his arms for a part of the way, allowing the reassuring, excited chatter to wash over him. Gîl was happy, there could be no doubt about that, Legolas thought and pressed a kiss to his son's crown. That, at least, seemed to be one thing he was good at – and so in the end, did it truly matter if he never became a great warrior like Glorfindel, like his brother – like his father?

That was what he had dreamed of for as long as he could remember. With an unfocused optimism he had imagined some point in the future when he was an adult, leading the life everyone else was leading – having friends, a family, a position among his father's soldiers. That was the way life went for everyone else, and although he had been painfully aware of his own shortcomings, he had been able to make himself believe that in time he would grow out of his shyness, his insecurities, and become just like all the other elves around him.

That had been only a dream, he told himself now. It would never happen – his fears would not leave simply because he grew older. He was not his brother, he was not Glorfindel, and he would never be like his father.

But there was happiness in what he had now. He had Gîl, whom he loved more than anything else, and he had Glorfindel, who loved him despite all of his flaws. Maybe he would never be a warrior, and maybe he would always be an outcast, without friends – but he had a family now, and was that not already more than he deserved?

"Let me down, ada!" Gîl finally demanded and squirmed in his arms, so that Legolas had to release him, his thoughts turning lighter almost immediately at his son's exuberance.

"You will get your toy horse now," he promised with a smile. "We just have to wait for Haldir to return, so that he can show us the way. He will be grumbly, because he has a lot to carry for me."

Gîlríon giggled a little at his words, but he was so excited at the prospect of the toys waiting for him that he could barely keep still while Legolas perused the offered oils and herbal infusions to distract himself from his thoughts about Haldir. The vendor, a maiden not far from his own age, tried to engage him in conversation, but Legolas' cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment, and in the end he wound up with a small phial of rare mallorn blossom oil – more to silence the girl than because they were in need of it.

Still, the thought of slowly rubbing the fragrant liquid into his Lord's skin made him smile – the scent of golden blossoms for his golden Lord. It seemed strangely appropriate, and although earlier he had worried about whether his purchases would please Glorfindel, he now felt certain that, although perhaps not very imaginative, it was something his Lord would very much enjoy.

His smile vanished once he saw Haldir striding towards them, his arms full of all the things he had purchased earlier. For a moment Legolas paled when he imagined his Lord unwrapping whatever it was Haldir had chosen for him – would his Lord be displeased at how he had once again let the guard provoke him?

Legolas doubted it. If anything, Glorfindel would take great pleasure in teasing him about whatever kinds of torturous devices laid well hidden in the package – but still Legolas felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment at the mere thought.

He swallowed, then faltered when Haldir came close enough so that he could see the cold anger on his face. For a moment, Legolas felt words of apology forming, but then he bit his lips and forced them away, concentrating instead on the resentment that had been growing in him ever since Haldir had humiliated him so in front of the guards.

He might be no great warrior, but he would not give Haldir an apology either – he was not that weak!

The guard gave him a cold smile, as if he had read his thoughts, and Legolas tried to suppress a shudder.

"We are finished here – lead us to the toys now, please," he asked with forced politeness. It earned himself another dangerous flash of temper in Haldir's eyes, but then the guard wordlessly turned, marching away from them so briskly that Legolas had to gather Gîlríon up into his arms to keep up with him.

Legolas felt shaken, still not quite able to believe his own courage, and tried to keep from meeting Haldir's cold eyes lest he flush again with embarrassment at what he had allowed Haldir to do. Yet for the time being, the guard was silent, and when they reached the stall with children's toys, he allowed Gîlríon's infectious excitement to distract him.

Gîlríon did indeed find his white horse there which he immediately clutched to his chest and called Asfaloth. Legolas watched him silently from behind a shelf for a moment, trying to find out if there was anything else he would like to have so they could get it for his begetting day, and found himself nodding in agreement when someone nudged him towards a brown horse which Gîl had been eyeing covetously. "Of course – Lainiell!" Legolas exclaimed softly, shaking his head with a smile, but then he swallowed and froze as he realized that it was Haldir who was now whispering into his ear.

"Just like his father, don't you agree? Obsessed with little horses... roch neth."

"Don't call me that!" Legolas said indignantly as he turned around, his eyes wide and hurt at having this most intimate detail of their relationship used as a weapon against him.

"But is that not who you are?" Haldir continued, still standing far too close so that Legolas had to swallow against the rising panic. He wanted to move away, but the wood of the shelf was already pressed against his back so that he could not escape unless Haldir moved to release him.

"I am... No! That is not for you!" Legolas cried softly, remembering all the other things people had told him he was. It was not true! He was Legolas, just Legolas… weak, frightened, submissive Legolas maybe, but still neither slut nor whore nor traitor!

"I am his, nothing more – oh please, stop!" he begged, his voice breaking at the thought that Gîl would see him like this.

"How he must cherish you," Haldir murmured intimately, his breath continuing to tease against his ear. "Did he break you so well, or are you truly just so naturally obedient?"

"Please, I – Gîl!" Legolas whispered urgently, blinking rapidly against the threatening tears. "Please, stop! I will apologize, Haldir – anything, just don't–"

"Yes," Haldir breathed in satisfaction. "I like to hear you pleading... Apologize, little prince, and I might let you go."

Humiliation burned in him like a fire, heating his cheeks and curling in his belly until he felt sick with it. He heard his own voice coming as if from a stranger, rough with suppressed tears as he was forced to humble himself by begging one who hated him for forgiveness.

"Good," Haldir said, his voice deceptively warm and gentle, and Legolas sobbed softly when Haldir pulled him close, kissing his tears from his cheeks in a mockery of Glorfindel’s tender affection.

"Don't forget your place again, sweet little prince, and we might even become friends in time."

"Yes, Haldir," Legolas said meekly, trembling when Haldir finally took a step back, then turned and went to get Gîl and his horse.

Legolas wiped his face. He felt weak with shame, and numb – Haldir had indeed reminded him of his position, and shown him in the most cruel fashion that all of his dreams were truly just dreams. He would never be like others, confident and accepted. He would always only be Glorfindel's roch neth, and while it was something that had come to mean pleasure and great joy, he still had not quite been able to stop himself from dreaming of having more.

Surreptitiously, he tried to wipe the tears from his face, forcing himself to smile when Haldir returned with Gîl. Yet his child's attention was still focused completely on the toy in his arms, and Legolas felt glad that at least he would not be upsetting Gîl.

Still he felt subdued now and empty inside, as if all happiness had faded away to leave an aching hole inside him. When he hesitantly suggested that it might be time they returned, Gîl had given him a look of such disappointment that Legolas could not bring himself to insist on it, and so he followed silently while Haldir led them towards a place where they would be able to buy food and drinks.

Gîlríon immediately began to let Asfaloth gallop across the table of rough wooden planks, and Legolas breathed a sigh of relief when Haldir left them for a moment to get them their food and a pitcher of water. Shame and humiliation were still twisting in his stomach, and he did not think that he could actually eat anything, but he was glad for every minute spent out of Haldir's presence.

He sat close to Gîl, wishing he could just pull him up onto his lap and hold him tight, but that would just make his child realize that something was not right. He had to be content to let the warmth of the small body and the excited chattering distract him, although his thoughts were still filled with guilt and shame as he kept remembering just how Haldir had humiliated him.

They ate mostly in silence, except for Gîlríon who kept talking with his toy Asfaloth as if it were a real horse, and even if Legolas still did not dare to raise his eyes from fear of what he would see on Haldir’s face, it made him smile a little.

A short while later, Haldir stood, not only to return their empty plates, but also to let the serving maid fawn over him some more, Legolas realized with a frown as he watched the guard lean against the counter with practiced carelessness. He shook his head slightly, feeling glad that soon he would be rid of Haldir's hated presence, although he already wondered how he would explain to his Lord that what should have been an uplifting experience had only served to darken his mood.

"Oh, look what we have here... The little traitor, basking in his Noldorin master's fame," a voice said behind him in a staged whisper that made him flinch. Even before he turned around he knew from whom the voice came. It was not the voice of his brother, but there was no mistaking the Silvan accent. It was a distinctive manner of speech which had developed over centuries in the isolated forest of Greenwood the Great, and when Legolas did turn around, his cheeks once again burning with embarrassment at the abuse that he knew would be heaped on him, he saw three elves of Mirkwood, wearing the green and brown garb of his father's soldiers.

These soldiers had to belong to the group of guards that Galuron had brought with him, Legolas thought with growing despair. As if being humiliated by Haldir was not enough, would he have to live through more abuse now? Haldir at least had been generous enough to keep Gîlríon out of it – but he did not think that these would.