Cuil Eden

64


Legolas' eyes were alight with pleasure when he opened the box, and Glorfindel smiled, touched by the genuine awe in the youth's face, for he knew it was not caused so much by the nature of the gifts he had chosen, but by the simple fact that he had been thoughtful enough to do such a thing for Legolas. He did not think anyone had ever done something solely to make the youth happy, and it saddened him, for it took nothing more than this little gesture to make the usually so reticent youth open to him like a flower towards the sun.

How was it possible that no one had seen the beauty of his Prince's compassionate heart? They had taunted him for the gentleness of his soul and called it weakness, and Legolas had believed it, yet Glorfindel could see to the depth of his heart, and loved him the more for what he found there. Legolas had known pain, and because of this, he would not willingly cause another the same. It was a gentler nobility than that of many others Glorfindel had known and loved in his long life – save maybe for one, who still was first and foremost in his mind even now when he thought of what ennobled a man.

Yes, such gentleness was not weakness, Glorfindel thought, and in a prince who had been raised with love, a prince who did not continually doubt himself, it would have been a much praised trait.

“Do you like it?” he asked when he saw how Legolas reverently stroked the leather-bound spine of the book that had been placed on top. “No children's tales this time...”

“Lays instead – I love it, my Lord! Thank you!” Legolas gifted him with a smile of overwhelmed happiness, so that Glorfindel laughed and pressed a kiss to his brow.

“Continue then, there is more to come!”

Next, Legolas uncovered a belt of linked discs of gold, inlaid with mother of pearl. “That is beautiful!” he exclaimed, marveling at the way the light was reflected by the polished surface, gleaming in all the colors of the rainbow when he tilted it.

“There is more that belongs with it... I hope you will like it,” Glorfindel said in unwonted insecurity. “'Tis in the style of the Teleri, and mayhap you will think it but ancient affectation, as indeed an age has passed since last I saw it worn, yet I think it will look beautiful on you. And as it has greater similarity than our Noldorin robes to the styles the Sindar favor, and as this day is to honor you, I thought that you might prefer a more familiar garb, ancient though the style may be...”

“How fine this is!” Legolas said in wonder and lifted a shirt of white cambric from the box, which had been embroidered all over with silver thread, showing flowers and leaves and the beech trees of his native forest. Beneath it rested a tunic, and when he lifted that out of the box as well, he made a soft sound of surprise at the weight. Although it was made from silver silk, it had been likewise heavily embroidered, and not with thread or gems but with a multitude of small pearls, which gleamed in the light almost like small drops of fresh water. The tunic itself, he now saw, was indeed cut in an ancient style, more similar to the garb worn at his father's court, though longer. The belt would be needed for such a garment, he thought, imagining how this would look on him – certainly the tunic would reach past his knees, yet it was slitted at the sides to allow for comfort of movement. To complete the outfit, there were breeches of white doeskin embroidered with more silver thread and pearls which showed pictures of a hunt beneath beech leaves.

“I... My Lord!” Legolas whispered, overwhelmed. “I have never seen anything so fine!”

“You would do me great honor if you wore it today,” Glorfindel said softly, so that Legolas laughed in purest joy and threw his arms around his Lord's neck, pressing himself close in helpless gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly, then moaned almost as if in surprise when his still-hard length rubbed against the hard planes of Glorfindel's stomach.

“Ah, not yet, beloved.” Glorfindel laughed at Legolas' sigh and pushed him gently back. “In any case, there is more yet – we are not finished with the presents, even though I fear there are no more pearls to come. If Celeborn seems wroth with me today, 'tis because I spirited away all the pearl and nacre the coffers of his private tailors had to offer, and forced them to sew your garments instead of seeing to their lord's fitting. And yet, when he sees you in this, even Celeborn will have to agree that it was worth whatever inconvenience I caused him...”

Legolas reverently stroked the pale silk again, marveling at the slightly rough texture that was so in contrast to the way it gleamed in the sun, changing from steel-blue to icy white to the silver sheen of Ithil. It was the garb of a prince, nay, more than that, this was far finer than anything he had ever seen his brothers wear. And it came from Glorfindel, who had chosen it to please him, who had put so much thought into this, solely to see him happy...

"My Lord, I will be honored to accompany you in this," he said and took Glorfindel's hand, kissing it reverently. His shaft still ached with need, swollen and dark with the blood that could not escape, and though even now a part of him wished that his Lord would just push the clothes out of the way and take him right then and there, another part of him indeed found enjoyment in the thought of forcing his body to obey his Lord's wishes.

Glorfindel kissed him then, tenderly, lovingly, the kind of kiss that made Legolas' heart ache from the strength of emotion that flooded it, and then afterwards, there was more for him to lift from the box, smaller things, trinkets and tools – small pieces of jewelery, inconsequential things which Legolas had never truly realized he had missed. This pleased him almost more than the rich garments he had been given, for only now did he see what he had missed, and his eyes filled with helpless love at what his Lord was doing. He had had no need of such things when he had been little more than a possession, when he had owned nothing and the clothes he wore, even the food he had eaten were not his own but simply an indulgence of a Lord who could take all away at a whim if he so pleased.

Legolas touched a small beech leaf cut from a semi-precious stone, on its back a needle to hold a cloak closed, beautiful to look at but not too precious to be worn whenever he pleased. The small, simple tools of everyday life, things that were his own and which he could use or discard as he saw fit... This too showed his Lord's thoughtfulness and the truth of his love, and Legolas closed his fingers around the leaf, smiling as he tried to find words for how much this meant to him.

“One last thing, Legolas nín,” Glorfindel said softly and now took up the silk-wrapped parcel he had so far kept on the bed next to him. Legolas' eyes widened as he accepted it, and he exhaled in shock when the silk slipped away and revealed the last – and grandest – gift to his eyes.

A sword.

A sword, and even to his own inexperienced eyes it was at once apparent that this was a weapon forged by a true master. The steel gleamed blue in the light when he reverently drew the blade from its sheath, and when he turned it, he saw that there were words etched into the steel.

“Thárist I am; I cut through my foes like grass,” Legolas read, awed, then turned the blade again to speechlessly study the intricate design of leaves interwoven with small flowers - celandine, Legolas realized, and felt his cheeks flush with pleasure. The guard was embellished with more beech leaves, and the pommel crowned with another stylized golden celandine, the insignia of his Lord's noble house; yet apart from that, the sword was plain, the blade slim and much lighter than Glorfindel's own, Valinor-forged blade. Indeed the weight was much similar to the old sword he had been given ere they left for Lórien, and Legolas smiled when he realized that despite the obvious costliness of material and embellishment, this blade was meant to be borne into battle and not to dinners of state. It was too plain to be a mere symbol; no, this was a sword that had been forged with only the thought of defending its bearer's life in mind, and the tasteful decoration did not distract from that task. There were no gleaming jewels that would give away its owner's position in the dark, and Legolas was glad for it, for this was the weapon of a warrior, not a courtier - this was the weapon of the person Legolas wanted to become.

"Forged by a true master, one of the few yet remaining on these shores - I pray that in times of need, it will prove a true friend and servant to you. No greater joy could I imagine than if this gift were to spare you the loss of even a single drop of blood to our enemies,” Glorfindel said softly and covered Legolas' hands with his own.

"I have no words with which to thank you, Lord," Legolas breathed, and Glorfindel gently shook his head.

"None are needed. Truly, nothing would give me greater joy than if this weapon were to protect you from harm. 'Tis the only thing I wish for."

"Then I will learn how to protect myself, and learn it well, Lord... Well enough to not bring you shame."

"You could never bring me shame," Glorfindel said, gentleness in his voice. "I do not expect you to try to become myself. Learn how to wield this blade - learn how to wield knife and bow as well – and I shall be well pleased. Further than that, you will discover for yourself what suits and what pleases you, and in time you will find the path you shall walk in life. I will be there to provide guidance and support, that I swear to you, but I shall never force you to do something that does not please you, nor will I dissuade you from the path you will eventually find, whatever it may be."

"My Lord, I know not what to say, for I cannot yet see such a path before me, but with your guidance, I swear I will do the best that is possible for me," Legolas whispered, looking down at where their intertwined hands rested on the gleaming blade.

"You shall have that guidance, for as long as it pleases you - for you know that it pleases me well to guide and protect," Glorfindel murmured, his voice growing throaty as his mood changed back to playfulness. He took the sword from Legolas' grip and put it carefully down where it would do no harm, then pulled the unresisting youth into his arms so that Legolas' naked back rested against his chest.

"One last present then, I think? Before Gîl wakes?"

"Oh yes, please, my Lord!" Legolas sighed with such yearning that Glorfindel laughed.

"You do need it now, do you not? Very well then..." With a tender kiss to the flushed tip of Legolas' ear, he ran his fingers down the thighs that eagerly spread for him, laughing in true amusement at the youth's willingness.

“I have not made you wait too long, have I? I did promise not to tease you on this day... But you will see that it is much sweeter for having waited a while,” he murmured, lightly gripping the straining shaft, his other hand curving around the youth's bound testes while Legolas' moaned and tried to move into his touch.

"Hush... No more teasing," Glorfindel said in reassurance and at last loosened the leather straps that had so tightly confined the youth's genitals. "Is this better then?" he asked and chuckled against Legolas' ear at the moan that was his sole answer, then wrapped his hands around the straining erection, stroking him slowly and watching himself doing so over the youth's shoulder.

"Open your eyes, Legolas," he then commanded. "Watch... just keep watching. That is all I want you to do. And you may come whenever you want..."

Legolas moaned again, trembling lightly when he obeyed and watched his Lord give him pleasure. His hands rested on the strong thighs that were splayed alongside his own, and though there was nothing that held him but his Lord's order to watch, he felt bound by it more tightly than by rope or chain. As always, his Lord's touch, his Lord's embrace rendered him completely helpless, and so he watched how the skilled, strong fingers expertly stroked him to climax, feeling secure in his Lord's arms, feeling himself completely owned.

Even at the end he kept watching, though his eyes were half-closed and his head rested against his Lord's shoulder, obedient to the last; and to see his own seed spatter all over his belly, dripping over Glorfindel's fingers, heightened his arousal to such a height that he gasped his Lord's name almost in fear – dreading, hoping that it would never end.

Yet end it did, and when Legolas had calmed at last, he became aware of his Lord's own arousal, hard and hot against his back. He sighed in languid pleasure then, reaching for the hand that was covered in his own essence and slowly proceeded to lap up the salty fluid, well aware of what an effect that had on his Lord.

“Oh, Valar... there is little time left, roch neth, Gîl might wake any moment,” Glorfindel groaned, and Legolas smiled, turning in his arms.

“Then my mouth would please you mayhap?” he breathed into Glorfindel's ear, answered by a helpless sound of desire when he freed the large erection and lowered his head, almost smug at the knowledge that he could please his Lord just as well as his Lord could please him.

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Legolas nín – my Legolas
roch neth - colt
Thárist – Grass-cleaver [ thâr – grass, rist – cleaver (as in the swords Orcrist and Angrist)]
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