Cuil Eden

Sorry for the cliffhanger... but I can at least promise you to post the next chapter later this month, as I've already written a good deal of it. :)


56

Legolas did not even hear what words of greeting Glorfindel and Rúmil exchanged, as he was too distracted by the need to stay silent even though the clamps were still tightly squeezing those most sensitive nodes of nerves. His breathing sounded far too fast and loud in his own ears, his heart seemed to thunder in his chest, and although a covert glance down showed him that his tunic hid the evidence of his need, he felt as if his entire body was thrumming with arousal, and that certainly it had to be all too obvious to Rúmil.

“Legolas, go and pour our guest some mead,” Glorfindel said, and although his voice was mild, Legolas wanted to groan at the perfect malice of it. He could not simply decline – he was certain that even the presence of a visitor like Rúmil, who did not know or approve of their games, would not be enough to keep Glorfindel from disciplining him for such outrageous disobedience.

And then, he did not want to disobey! The very notion of displeasing his Lord filled him with dread, and to do so willfully... No, he could never do that; he truly wanted only to please, no matter the consequences.

He swallowed when he got up, desperately trying to keep straight, all movements slow and graceful so that he would not jar the bells, but it was impossible. Once again his face heated at the tell–tale sound of his golden decorations, and even though the tinkling was muffled by his tunic, he could not help but think that Rúmil must certainly have heard it, and know what caused it, too.

His fingers shook a little as he poured the mead into a goblet, and he walked very slowly, holding himself straight even though his eyes were lowered as he offered it to Rúmil. “Thank you, your Highness,” the guard said, and then there was a small, awkward pause while Legolas' heart beat ever faster with fear and excitement at the thought of Rúmil discovering what Glorfindel had done.

“What brings you to our talan, Rúmil?” Glorfindel inquired. “I hope it is not another of your brother's escapades?”

Rúmil looked uncomfortable. “You could say so... At least, it was his doing that caused this.” He sighed, looking from Glorfindel to Legolas, and frowned as if he did not approve of what he saw.

Legolas flushed with shame at this reaction – to be found wanting yet again was a feeling he knew all too well, and he hated how much he was still affected by it.

Legolas knew how it had to look... He, clad in his simple clothes of linen, his hair open and unadorned like that of a child, or someone without rank and rights, ordered around like a lowly servant and following every command as if he were afraid of his master's wrath. And then Glorfindel clad in his tunic of fine velvet, wearing rings and hair clips wrought of gold, well aware of his standing and his power...

It was this inequality between them that Rúmil was seeing, and his narrowed eyes showed only too clearly that he did not approve. It made Legolas feel ashamed, even though he did not think that what he did was shameful. He obeyed and served because that was what he liked – he did it for love of Glorfindel, and not from cowardice or fear.

“I already told Legolas a day ago, after my brother had challenged him to that so-called duel,” Rúmil began, then took a sip of the mead. “Many did not approve of what Haldir did, especially when they heard the Prince's true age. And more so – during that duel, many saw Legolas' back. I am afraid that it was quite obvious how he had been abused...”

“Abused?” Glorfindel asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Rúmil looked uneasy, but nevertheless continued, even in the face of Glorfindel's anger. “Ai, I do not claim to understand these things – it has never appealed to me! Legolas has assured me that he has consented to everything that passes between you, yet even so it will still be eight years before he can be considered an adult. It does not sit well with everyone, and I am certain that you must be able to see why that is so. A few of the guards have sought an audience with our Lord Celeborn... I thought you should know that, at least.”

“My Lord does not abuse me!” Legolas exclaimed with a vehement anger that surprised even himself. “Ai, how dare they meddle with my affairs? Two years ago they should have intervened, when I knew nothing but abuse and humiliation day after day! No one helped me then – and now they dare to call my Lord abuser, when I know nothing but love and kindness from him?”

Rúmil looked abashed. “Forgive me, Highness. Yet none of us were in Imladris two years ago... I hope that at least one of us would have helped you, had we been there.”

“Ah, but you are wrong,” Legolas said bitterly. “Your own brother was there – did he tell you what he did to my brother and me? Did you laugh about it? Back then, I was already so heavy with child that a simple stair left me out of breath and exhausted, yet that did not deter your brother from abusing me. No – it is easy to pretend outrage now, when what I have at last is good, and precious to me.”

“I am not my brother...” Rúmil began softly, yet stopped at Legolas' stricken expression.

“Your own Lord,” Legolas said in a low voice, “who calls me kin now, who is as good and kind as any friend I could wish for, who you told me yourself would grant me asylum should I seek it! – your Lord Celeborn himself laughed when he saw me flaunted as a prisoner, a slave in Imladris... as Glorfindel's whore.” The word brought tears to his eyes, yet still he continued. “He did not call me kin then... he did not offer me help. He laughed to see me sentenced to punishment by my Lord's belt, for daring to protest his insults...”

“Beloved,” Glorfindel said softly, ignoring Rúmil as he very gently pulled Legolas into his arms, wiping a tear from the youth's cheek. “Do not fear... No matter what happens, you shall never lose my love. I am yours, as is all my heart. And if in the end, we are not welcome in Lórien, then we shall return to Imladris. And if we cannot find happiness there – why, then I shall take you and Gîl over the sea, to build another life there for ourselves. You shall always have my love, Legolas... always.”

Legolas sighed, finally relaxing against the strong body of his Lord. “I know,” he said simply. “I would never doubt you, my Lord, never!” Then he turned his head to look at Rúmil again.

“What you call abuse, I call trust. You cannot understand, for you have never needed it, but there are times when I need that which only my Lord can give me. You do not know what it feels like when doubts and fears smother you like a heavy blanket, when your every thought is full of despair and shame – when you truly and deeply loathe every part of yourself. There, I have said it... that greatest horror of all. There were times when I wished I could leave this world behind, to escape to the cold, dreamless sleep of Mandos' Halls. And before you seek to blame that on my Lord as well – there were times I longed for it even before I met him for the first time.

“What my Lord gives me takes away all these terrible thoughts. It is a precious thing I give him – my body, my heart, my trust! – and he treats it as a great gift. Ai, he can hurt me, humiliate me, and yet always, always, there is love shining from his eyes! I shall not let you declare me a victim, or a child for allowing this. Even if I had led a different life, I would still need this! Look at your brother – look at Ellonúr! No one would call him a victim. He is neither weak, nor a child... he is a warrior, and well–liked and respected, yet still he plays these games with your brother. Nay – you cannot save me, Rúmil, for I do not need to be saved, and I shall not allow your friends to destroy the happiness that I have found.”

"I am sorry," Rúmil said with a deep sigh. "Maybe I should not have come... Truly, I am sorry if I hurt you, Highness, that was not my intention. I would not seek to part you from Lord Glorfindel or your son. And the other guards... they understand these things no more than I do. What they saw were bruises and welts on the back of one who is still several years too young for such games in their eyes... They know of your lord's reputation, and I swear that it is not from malice but from true worry for you that they seek for our Lord's intervention."

"They are too late then," Legolas said bitterly. "Very well, let them go to your Lord. Considering that he is well acquainted with just how my skin bruises, and even complimented me on the prettiness of it, I do not think that he will be swayed to meddle with my private affairs at the words of a few guards."

Rúmil had flushed at Legolas' words and now refused to meet their eyes, quite obviously uncomfortable at having to hear such intimate talk about his Lord.

"I shall leave it to you and my Lord, then, to deal with this... Forgive me for disturbing you," he said, still visibly unsettled by what he had heard. "I truly hope that you will not think badly of us. Many of us still think you very courageous for your duel with Haldir! None of us would wish to cause you hurt..."

Legolas did not answer, but Glorfindel sighed and gave Rúmil a thoughtful look. "I do not blame you, nor your fellow guards, for thinking Legolas mistreated... Indeed, it would be sad should signs of abuse be passed over in the Golden Wood. Yet things are not always as they seem... Your fellow guards might have sought a conversation with Legolas or myself first."

Legolas groaned at that and buried his face against Glorfindel's chest. "Valar, I am glad they did not – I would have died of shame!" he said with a heartfelt groan. "It is bad enough that everyone already knows so much... Celeborn at least will be able to understand, and tell them so, too."

"I hope so," Rúmil said softly, abashed at their reaction to the news he had brought. "I will take my leave then – forgive me for disturbing your evening." He bowed, still looking distinctly unsettled, and then finally left their talan.

Only when the door was at last closed behind him did Legolas allow himself to sigh. "Ai, why must this happen now?" he complained tiredly. "It was such a good day too... with the exception of what happened at the market, maybe, but still..."

Glorfindel frowned. "I think you still have not told me all about this morning; but that can wait. As you said, we – or at least I – were having a very good time before he showed up... and I hope you know me well enough to realize that I will not allow a simple guard to keep me from abusing you." Glorfindel smirked, and Legolas moaned softly when his knees grew weak, just as if nothing had happened. Oh, his body knew its master well – and that was just how he wanted it.

He swallowed, looking up to give Glorfindel a look of pure need from eyes that had grown dark with desire once more.

"My Lord," he breathed, then gasped when Glorfindel reached out and slowly began to open button after button of his tunic. He felt light–headed with desire, trembling a little as more and more of his chest was bared to Glorfindel's possessive hands, and when at last his Lord's fingers encountered his tormented nipples, he cried out softly, his eyes fluttering closed. It felt a little like fainting, like climax, and even though it hurt he only wanted more.

"Please!" he gasped, tears gleaming in his eyes once more, and when Glorfindel playfully tugged at the chains he gasped at the pain, achingly hard now and desiring only to feel Glorfindel sheathe his hard length in his body.

"What are you begging for, roch neth?" Glorfindel asked with another wicked smile. "Do you want mercy? You will not have that from me... I will hear you whimper and cry even more tonight, before I take them off. And it will not happen before I have found release."

Legolas gasped when Glorfindel let go of the chains, the bells tinkling once again, and then fell to his knees, blindly pressing his face to his Lord's groin to hungrily seek out the shape of his arousal. He breathed in deeply, moaning almost as if in despair at the wave of lust and need that overcame him at the aroma of musk, and mouthed at the large bulge, desperate for the smallest hint of taste.

Glorfindel groaned and grabbed a handful of Legolas' hair as if to pull him back, so that the youth whimpered in despair and renewed his efforts, licking and nuzzling at the hard shape he could feel through the fabric.

"Please, my Lord!" he begged fervently. "Please, let me! Let me serve you! I need to feel you!"

Glorfindel chuckled. "Need it that badly, do you?" he asked in a dark purr, and Legolas moaned at his words.

"Yes," he breathlessly agreed. "I do... I need you so much! I need you inside me! Make me serve you, my Lord... use my body for your pleasure!"

Glorfindel laughed softly. "Do you want this?" he murmured, using his grip on Legolas' hair to press his face against his length. "Say it... tell me what you need, roch neth."

Legolas swallowed, so light–headed with need that he thought he could come here and now without a single touch, if that was what his Lord commanded.

"I need your cock," he moaned recklessly, too aroused now to even blush at what he was saying. "I need it inside me... I need you to use me, my Lord, hard and fast. Make me hurt for you, Lord... make me cry for your pleasure!"

"Ah, roch neth..." Glorfindel groaned. "Valar... if you cry, it will be your own fault. You had better be able to take what I will give you, because there truly will be no mercy for you! Get up, and get rid of those leggings, or I swear I will rip them off and send you out to buy new ones yet again!"

Legolas whimpered as he obeyed and quickly pushed down his leggings, his own aching shaft springing free. Then Glorfindel's hand was in his hair again, grabbing a hank of silken locks so that tears welled up in his eyes as he was pulled to Glorfindel's desk by it, but despite the pain he spread his legs in ready obedience as Glorfindel roughly bent him over it.

"Ready for me?" Glorfindel breathed, hurriedly opening the ties of his leggings, then cursed when he tested Legolas with a finger to find him unprepared.

"I do not care! Please, my Lord, take me... it is my own fault for not taking better care!"

Legolas almost sobbed when he found himself suddenly denied the warmth of his Lord's powerful body, but it took only a moment until Glorfindel returned with a phial triumphantly clutched in his hand.

"It would not do to have you scream too loudly, roch neth," Glorfindel breathed maliciously. "For even with this, I will use you so hard, so deep, that you will scream for me..."

Legolas moaned with desire, yet when Glorfindel pulled the stopper from the phial, a delicate fragrance filled the air – a scent he recognized.

"Ai, stop, my Lord!" he breathed. "That is too precious... it is the mallorn blossom oil!"

Glorfindel leaned forward, so that he could feel him smile against his neck while a slick finger probed at his opening. "Not as precious as you," he murmured, then moved back again and added a second finger, giving Legolas no more than a few quick thrusts before he deemed it enough.