Cuil Eden

62


Legolas paused and wiped the sweat from his brow. This was his third training session with Fairion, and the guard was a kind, but demanding taskmaster. Still, even though sparring with the guard was hard work, Legolas could not help smiling, for Fairion did not lose his humor even as a teacher.

And what was more important was that they were alone. Fairion had chosen a secluded place behind the barracks for their sparring, and even though every now and then one of the other guards wandered by, they never stayed for long, and Legolas never heard anything but encouragement from them. It was quite unlike his daily training sessions with the other youths at Imladris where he perpetually feared that he would give the others cause to laugh at him, and where he had always only been an outsider.

This was only their third such meeting in Lórien, yet already a trust had been built between him and Fairion which was quite unlike the respectful obedience that Thalaron's position demanded. Legolas would not dare to call the guard a friend yet – he had had little of those, and in the few cases where he thought there was friendship, it had later been proven to him that he was the only one who thought it friendship, when in truth his so-called friends had looked down at him.

Legolas did not think that he even knew how to build a friendship anymore, yet Fairion was so kind, so patient and encouraging, treating him not as a whore or a child as most others had in Imladris, but someone whose opinions and ideas he was genuinely interested in. Legolas worshipped him for it, idolizing him as he had once idolized his brother, and then later Glorfindel. If only he could become like the guard, a well-liked, accomplished member of their community who had certainly never spent days on end doubting himself or worrying about the most inconsequential things as Legolas was wont to...

No, Fairion was the embodiment of all that he had ever aspired to be, and Legolas was resolved to show that even though he was far from gaining mastery with a weapon, he was still a diligent and attentive pupil.

"You do very well with your sword, Legolas," Fairion said after another bout. "I did not witness your duel with Haldir, but I was told that he gave you a heavy weapon to further his own advantage. You should not see your build as something negative to be overcome, but instead as giving you the advantage of quickness. Once you have gained the sword skills of someone like Haldir, it will always be to your advantage – there will be more force in his thrusts, but yours will be faster."

"If I ever do reach that skill... Truly, I will be glad if I gain sufficient skill not to embarrass my Lord."

Fairion shrugged and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. "I do not have the experience of Thalaron who has taught our youth for many decades now, but you are as alert and hard-working a pupil as one can ask for. You might be behind in skills compared to the others, but you make good progress; if we keep up our sparring, I am certain that Thalaron will have quite a surprise if you decide to rejoin his sword lessons.

"Still, I have been thinking... We get along well, do we not? I might not have Thalaron's expertise, but I do enjoy our sparring. We could continue even when we return home. I might not find the time every day, but Laindir and the others would be just as glad to help, and if we are away on patrol, you could still join the other youths. How would you like that? I shall ask the Captain myself, if you agree..."

Legolas' eyes widened in surprise – never so far had any of the Imladrian Noldor offered to spend time with him, and he flushed a little with both pleasure and a slight embarrassment at his obvious happiness. "I would like that very much!" he exclaimed, wondering whether his Lord might agree to such a thing. "It seems much easier to understand when you explain things. In Thalaron's lessons I am always the last to master a skill, as the others already know so much more than I do. I do not feel quite so lacking in talent when you teach me, and you do not make me feel awkward or laugh at me ... "

"I wager that most of them are jealous of you. The Captain is much admired and coveted, and certainly most of them begrudge you his love for you."

Legolas frowned, for he had never seen it in such a way. He was an outsider in the lessons, as he had always been, yet he had not given it much thought. Thalaron was strict in his own way and had made certain that there was no further bullying of him, and for that he was glad. He knew that he was neither liked nor accepted by the others, yet unlike during lessons in Mirkwood when his status as pariah had left him with helpless despair at every new day, here in Imladris he needed no friendship with those his own age to fill his days. His time – and his heart – was well taken up with his Lord and little Gîl.

"I am certain he will agree," Fairion continued. "It is not so unusual in any case. Glorfindel himself was the twins' tutor with the sword, and they would join regular training only every now and then, when Glorfindel wanted them to spar with someone at their own level of training."

Fairion slung a companionable arm around Legolas' shoulders as they slowly walked back to the barracks to avail themselves of the pump there, washing the sweat from their faces with water that was shockingly cold on their heated skin.

"There is something else that I have wanted to say for some time..." Fairion sighed deeply and gave Legolas a searching look. "You must think us Noldor all monsters, but I am very sorry for how you have been treated in Imladris. We mostly live at the barracks, at least those of us without families of our own, and do not take our meals in the great hall, but I know that most there have not been kind to you. That is inexcusable, truly, and in the future, those of us who encounter someone who refuses you the respect you deserve will make certain that they learn that we do not agree with such behavior. We have known your Lord for a long time, and love him well; you have made a dream come true which he has held since before leaving Aman, yet which he thought was out of his reach for all eternity. And yet we have not come to support you only because you gave him the heir he has longed for for so many Ages...

"You are kind and compassionate, and you have come to love him as we who have know him for so long do. And we see him so unabashedly, proudly in love with you and Gîl, giving you all his heart when before, he would share only pleasure with lovers, but never more. It pleases us to see that he has finally found the happiness he has always wanted, for there is no one who deserves it more than he. I know that he wronged you greatly, but what has grown between you is stronger and truer than any bond he has ever shared with a lover before, and I am certain that he would now give his own life to protect you and Gîl from any harm."

Legolas blushed, not quite certain what to say. To know himself supported in such a way filled his heart with warmth, for the days in Lórien were the best he had ever known, and Fairion's promise made him yearn to continue to have such after their return to Imladris. He did not know what the likes of Erestor would say if their treatment of him was ever opposed by Glorfindel's men, yet if his Lord agreed to Fairion's suggestion, he would spend an hour or two every day in the company of people he had come to like and admire, and who in turn seemed to enjoy his company as well. But would leaving the lessons with the other youths behind be running away again? He did not know, yet he was an outsider in their company just as he had been in Mirkwood, and nothing he could do or say would ever change their opinion of him. No, even if others thought him a coward for shunning the company of the Imladrian youths, certainly it would be better to spend his time with those who made him feel courageous and secure in himself and his abilities. If what Fairion had predicted indeed came true one day, then certainly he would be much better equipped to win the respect of the others if he was skilled with the sword and no longer afraid of being ridiculed.

"Thank you. I am glad to have your support," he said softly. "He swore a sacred oath to protect Gîl and me. He cannot change the past, but now... No, I do not fear him. If I bring him happiness, as you believe, then I can ask for nothing more."

"Ai, he is proud as only a new father can be, and completely besotted with you – and we are all glad to see it." Fairion clasped Legolas' shoulder and grinned, trying to dispel the youth's pensive mood. "And it is your begetting day tomorrow, too. Are you afraid yet? I am certain that your Lord will have planned something completely outrageous to surprise you. At least we know that it has to be small enough to carry it with us through the mountain pass."

"Ai – you make it sound as if he will give me a young oliphaunt!" Legolas looked truly worried for a moment as he remembered the illustrations in a precious tome out of far Harad which had been bound in the thick, grey hide of that very creature.

"Oh, I doubt that; we would not get it over the mountains," Fairion said, laughing at the thought. "But just imagine their faces if we arrived home like that, with an oliphaunt trailing after our horses! Still, I am certain that he will make it an unforgettable day for you – he is good with celebrations, as are we!" He grinned. "Truly, we are beholden to you; after the morning drills, we have naught else planned tomorrow until the evening feast, and the day after that he has declared a holiday for us."

"Certainly he knows that will be needful," Legolas said teasingly, and Fairion grinned but did not protest.

"Ah, but that is why we are invited, I thought. There will be enough stuffy advisors and diplomats to make up for our overindulgence. How about that stiff-mannered brother of yours? Will he be there as well? I heard the last time he was present for a dinner, he showed that he knows neither tact nor manners..." Fairion's eyes darkened to a stormy grey as he pondered the incident that Legolas remembered only too well.

"No, Eru be praised," Legolas said fervently. "My Lord wanted him there just as little as you or I, but he said it would be impolitic to flatly refuse to invite him. Lord Celeborn had a missive sent which was worded in such a way that my brother is only obliged to send one of this companions to keep up appearances. My Lord says that the one who will come is much more diplomatic than my brother, so he will not bother us or try to sow discord."

"Ah, good news indeed!" There was a satisfied look on Fairion's face. "Now will you wait for your Lord here, or will that arrogant bastard of a former Marchwarden be available to do his duties for once?" Legolas' eyes swept across the wide, plain space between the barracks, lighting up in pleasure when there indeed was his Lord coming forward to meet them, holding Gîl in his arms who excitedly called for his ada.

Legolas took his son into his arms and kissed his cheek, setting him down with a small laugh when Gîl began to squirm. He tilted his head up to kiss his Lord in welcome then, only to bite back a soft moan when Glorfindel noticeably stiffened and pulled him roughly against his body. "I want to strip you, lick the sweat from your chest," Glorfindel breathed, his voice deep and dark with sudden hunger so that Legolas melted into his embrace for a moment, a similar hunger curling in his belly and groin when strong, possessive hands grasped his hips to pull him even tighter against Glorfindel's body.

"Yes, just ignore me," Fairion said with a long-suffering sigh. "I wonder why Laindir never greets me in such a way – might that be because our Captain would have us flogged for such a display? Come, Gîl, let us look for the cat with the striped kittens; I saw her near the mess this morning."

Glorfindel grinned when the guard led Gîl away, leaving them alone so that at last, he could kiss Legolas the way he had wanted to since first seeing him still flushed from exercise. "Spar with me," he said hoarsely when their lips parted at last, "Strip to the waist, let me appreciate your beauty while we fight."

Legolas' fingers flew to the hem of his tunic in unthinking obedience, pulling it over his head, but then he swallowed and gave Glorfindel an uncertain look. "Here, Lord?"

"No – let us return to where Fairion took you. I will not share what is mine and mine alone with the eyes of others..." He trailed a hand down the youth's chest, the silken skin hot and damp with perspiration, then shrugged off his own tunic. They left the garments and their sword-belts in the grass next to the pump before they returned to the space which Fairion had chosen mostly for its solitude – which was exactly what Glorfindel wanted at that moment.

They were both flushed and a little breathless, and Legolas felt no apprehension at all at being tested against Glorfindel's mettle – his Lord's eyes showed his emotions all too clearly, and there was an excited hunger in them. He would not perform for the detached and critical eyes of a teacher, but instead be expected to show off his body for the admiring eyes of a lover.

When his Lord attacked, the way the sun glistened on Glorfindel's muscled chest stole his breath, his mouth dry with a sudden surge of desire. He remembered then Glorfindel's words how his beauty could come to his advantage in a fight, if his opponent could be roused by the beauty of a male body, and knew them to be true, for instead of thinking about how to best block and parry his Lord's slow attacks, his arousal grew at the paragon of virile beauty flaunted before him, strong muscles flexing beneath smooth, golden skin. Already he ached for his touch, wishing nothing more than that his Lord would make use of his unrivaled skill to disarm and subdue him, using him for the pleasure they both wanted.

"Very good – I see that you progress well under Fairion's tutelage," Glorfindel said at last, distracted by the sheen of sweat that gleamed in the hollow of Legolas' throat.

"He wants to suggest to you that I should keep sparring with him even when we return," Legolas volunteered shyly, his chest heaving from the exertion. "He thinks that I will profit more from single lessons than from sharing those of the others..."

"You certainly seem to get along well, and I can see the improvement in your technique even after so short a time... Very well, I will talk to him about it."

Again Glorfindel attacked, smiling to see Legolas sigh and then laugh at his own clumsiness, glad to see the youth for once not despair at lacking a skill it was impossible for him to have. Once more he attacked, his movement much faster now, swiping aside the sword that had come up in a helpless parry and driving it from Legolas' hands so that it fell to the ground. His hand opened and his own fine, Valinor-forged blade joined it in such open neglect that Legolas' eyes widened and even when his Lord's body bore him to the ground, he exclaimed, "Ai, Elbereth! Thalaron would have us stay for an hour of additional work for such a thing!"

"Oh, I will give you additional exercise," Glorfindel groaned and grabbed Legolas' hands to pull them up, forcefully pressing them into the grass above his head with one hand while he frantically scrambled at the ties of his leggings with the other. Impatiently, he freed the youth's quickly hardening length from its confines, then yanked open the ties holding his own breeches closed. He lowered his head, groaning again as he tasted the youth's skin, the clean, salty sweat, the uniqueness that was Legolas even more pronounced than usually now.

"How I want you!" he breathed, holding himself motionless and balanced on his elbows above the youth as he took in the flushed, aroused body beneath him. "You drive me mad as no one else has ever done! So beautiful, so innocent still, yet so wanton, as though Eru himself created you solely for this most flattering responsiveness to my every touch, the way you make me feel as if there is no one else in this world as important as I am to you..."

He took the youth's lips with enough force to bruise, both frantically trying to get rid of their remaining clothes, and when that was achieved, he could not even bring himself to stop for long enough to see if the youth was prepared for him. He had smugly watched when his Prince had dutifully applied some oil in the morning, but that had been long before he had left to spar with Fairion... Yet even if Glorfindel had thought to bring oil or salve, he doubted that he would have been able to wait long enough to use it, for the need for his Prince grew to almost madness in him. He took him roughly, the residue of oil easing his way at least somewhat, yet both of them cried out, tears running down Legolas' face from the sudden shock and the stretching that as always seemed painful beyond bearing.

"Please, please..." Legolas gasped, his slender thighs sliding up over Glorfindel's hips, clenching around his waist almost painfully, and Glorfindel growled when he realized that the youth was not resisting the rough treatment, pleading for mercy from his Lord, but instead was begging for more, needing to feel him deeper, harder inside him.

He slammed into him, hearing the youth cry out for him again and again, so sweet and tight around him, so yielding, surrendering himself without holding back anything...

"I want to fill you with my seed until you are with child again," Glorfindel groaned, hungrily staring down at the way Legolas writhed beneath him. "I want to see you heavy with my child once more..."

Legolas whimpered and arched against him. "I want it too, Lord," he moaned breathlessly, closing his eyes to give himself over to his Lord's complete domination of him, utterly overpowered by the strong body that held him pressed down to the ground, that cleaved him to the core of his being with every powerful thrust. And when Glorfindel came inside him at last he cried out weakly, trembling beneath him as he found release as well, knowing himself a possession in truth, a willing slave, owned, desired, loved.