Cuil Eden

Title: Cuil Eden
Part: 66/?
Rating: PG-13
Series: Sequel to Anestel and Ethuil'waew
Pairing: Glorfindel/Legolas
Warnings: mpreg, bdsm
Disclaimer: The elves belong to Tolkien, the situations are mine.
Lots of thanks to my beta for her hard work!

Once again I can only say that I'm sorry for making everyone wait so long, but I hope that the content of this chapter will make up for it. :)


66

Speechless and completely overwhelmed, Legolas looked at the rulers of Lothlórien, and the Lady Arwen standing with them. He felt so inadequate, so far beneath this kingly gift that he had been given, and he knew not how he could possibly thank them for something that he was not even worthy of touching, much less wearing!

“Thank you!” he said, searching for words until at last he shook his head in confusion. “I know not what to say, this is... This is far too grand for me!”

“No, 'tis of equal beauty,” Glorfindel gently corrected, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him close. “Yet it is indeed of amazing loveliness. I would take you to Tirion, present you to my parents wrapped in this cloak, and watch them marvel at this exotic prince of a far-away country who has followed me over the sea to the place of my birth...”

“I would follow you anywhere, Lord!” Legolas quickly swore, eyes wide at this improbable declaration. To be taken to see his Lord's parents... The thought was frightening, and yet, that his Lord would even contemplate such a thing, even though it might never come true, it made his heart beat hard and fast in his chest.

“I know you would. I would not have it any other way,” Glorfindel said and pressed another loving kiss to his brow. Celeborn took the cloak from Legolas' hands then and placed it onto the large table that already seemed to be overflowing with gifts. Awed whispers arose from the guests crowding around them once more, and Legolas knew that his own face was still hot and flushed from surprise and embarrassed, disbelieving joy. He could imagine neither how he deserved such a gift, nor what it might be for – yet he had sworn himself to his Lord, he reminded himself, and it was no longer his task to worry about such things. He would do whatever Glorfindel asked of him, no matter what, and if it meant returning to his father's halls one day, then he would obey and entrust himself to his Lord in that as well.

Arwen came then to clasp his hands and kiss his cheeks, alight with pleasure at his reaction to their gift, and Legolas felt humbled once more when he realized that they must have worked through the nights in order to present him with so glorious a garment – him, who had not even been worthy of a simple embrace by his father on his last begetting day at home!

Legolas smiled shyly at Arwen, overwhelmed by gratitude – not just for the gift but more so for her kindness. It was no simple pity he felt from her; instead, she made him feel as if she truly enjoyed his company, and that was wondrous enough. Legolas could not help but think of her brothers then; he knew all too well what their reaction would have been had Glorfindel invited them to celebrate the day of his begetting, and Legolas prayed to Elbereth that on their return to Imladris, Arwen would not be swayed by Elladan's low opinion of him.

It was overwhelming, and one of the happiest moments in his life, to simply stand here and know that he was surrounded by people who bore him no ill will – more than that, many of whom seemed to genuinely like him! For once the constant, secret fear that he might do or say something wrong was gone and he felt safe and at ease among these people, able to relax and allow himself to believe that he could be truly liked and accepted simply for who he was, instead of facing laughter and derision for who he was not.

There was one last test of his new-found confidence when belatedly, one of his brother's companions entered and curtly wished him a happy begetting day, a wish whose insincerity Legolas was well aware of. He could not remember his name, though he thought he recognized him from the group of young nobles his brother had always surrounded himself with at home. The advisor had brought no gift, yet that came as no surprise to Legolas, who would have been astonished had Galuron truly seen fit to spend even a small amount of his father's coffers on him. Even so, he was embarrassed by the attention bestowed upon him by someone who he knew disliked, if not outright loathed him.

No, there was only one reason why the advisor had come, and that too was politics, Legolas thought, like the braids that Glorfindel made him wear. It seemed that even for his brother, curiosity outweighed his loathing of Legolas; the advisor was here only to be able to tell Galuron – and Thranduil, mayhap – about what happened here, and not for any sort of support of Legolas.

And yet, what did it matter when for the first time in his life, he had the support of so many? Certainly not everyone in this room was a friend, yet there was Glorfindel, the Lady and Lord of the Golden Wood and Arwen, and of course Glorfindel's men. It had become difficult for him to believe that someone could truly show him kindness, and yet he knew that the friendship offered by them was genuine.

No, let his brother bear back tales to his father of how his treachery was rewarded with gold, fine clothes and jewelry; he did not care what they thought of him, not anymore. It had been almost two years since his father had exiled him, and there was no use in fearing what tales they told about him at home. That was the past; all that could matter to him now was the present, and the future.

And what did he care about the lies they spread in the Greenwood when at last he had found happiness at Glorfindel's side? It had been hard-won, and he still felt that his Lord's love was more than he deserved, but all the same he knew that without it he would surely perish. He took his Lord's hand then, and when Glorfindel turned to look at him, he gave him a smile. “This is wonderful,” he said softly. “I could not have imagined such a thing – thank you!”

“Just wait until the food is served – and I think there will be dancing afterward,” Glorfindel said, his eyes warm with love. “Reserve your judgment until I have made a fool of myself in the Silvan dances they favor here.”

When they at last went to take their seats, Glorfindel could see the emotions running across Legolas' face - thrill, surprise and embarrassment – when he found that he was given the place of honor at the head of the table. Yet Legolas bore himself well, and Glorfindel could not take his eyes off him, for here at last was the promise of all that was to come, plain for everyone to see – great kindness and empathy married to a compassionate heart, innocence of the soul combined with that heartbreaking lissome beauty of the wood-elves, and with it not the striving for power, but the earnest desire to please, to do good, and bring harm to none. Legolas, Glorfindel thought, might never be a leader of men, for the easy authority that came to Glorfindel was as strange to him as the broadsword, and yet he was blessed with a wealth of talents that would only have needed the love of family and friends to flower.

Now, at last, with the rich dress, and the confidence instilled by being surrounded by people he had come to know and like, the true nobility of his heart was revealed – at least to Glorfindel's partial gaze. Proud and possessive, he rested one hand on Legolas' arm and was immediately rewarded with an upturned face bearing a warm smile that made him want to kiss those soft lips until they were red and swollen from his ardor. He returned the smile and raised Legolas' hand for a more courtly kiss suitable to the High Table, unable to take his eyes from the youth's resplendent beauty, although a small part of his mind was wondering how Galuron's ambassador would take this display of gallant affection.

As treachery, without a doubt; but further proof of Galuron's claim that Legolas had turned his back on father and people alike to seek out the protection and wealth of a Noldorin Lord for his own gain.

Nothing could be further from the truth, and yet what was about to transpire would only give further credence to that rumor. This, Glorfindel could not change, as much as he wished otherwise. Winning the respect of Legolas' father was a battle that must wait for another day, if indeed it could ever be won. For now, all that mattered was giving Legolas the joy he so sorely deserved, no matter how it would be taken by those who hated him.

The feast began with a short speech, if speech it could even be called, and Glorfindel saw frowns among the gathered when Celeborn simply thanked them for coming and announced the first course served to them. With a certainty, they had expected the long-winded, oft-pompous speeches Noldorin banquets were infamous for – yet the true reason for the gathering would be obvious soon enough, Glorfindel thought to himself with a smile.

The food prepared was sumptuous, lavishly decorated and catered to a multitude of palates, from at first glance simple Silvan dishes that made masterful use of the herbs of the forest, to the more ostentatious creations of Noldorin origin which were the favorite of the Lady of Wood. To these, Glorfindel himself was partial, for while over the Ages the favorite dishes of his childhood had evolved into dishes no Noldorin lord from Tirion would recognize, especially as on these hither shores many vegetables and herbs could not be found, to Glorfindel they still brought the memory of a happy childhood, and of places and people sorely missed these long Ages.

In such a way, course followed course. There was a plethora of game yielded by the forest and prepared by the Lady's cooks, and dish after dish was served of of coney, doe, grouse and pheasant; another course of fishes caught only this morning in the Celebrant, and the first tender lambs the spring had yielded. And from course to course, Glorfindel could feel the confusion and baffled excitement of the crowd rising, waiting for the speeches or announcements to be expected at a banquet – and which Glorfindel had refused to give so far.

Yet the announcement would happen soon enough, though for once, Glorfindel would let his actions speak for him. There was only dessert waiting for them now, honeyed cakes of nuts and dried fruits as well as concoctions of cream and liquors, which Legolas as well had developed a liking for, Noldorin though such extravaganza might be deemed.

Before dessert though, a new wine was served, sweet and heady to go with the honeyed confections, and Glorfindel smiled when he saw Legolas marvel at the heavy goblet of cut crystal that was placed before them. He gave Glorfindel a questioning look, who nodded with a smile towards a small bottle that stood next to the goblet, and with an expression of perfect, still somewhat disbelieving happiness, Legolas poured for them.

Immediately a scent of honey filled the air, and with it the perfume of roses in full flower, so that Legolas smiled in delight at the liquid of pale rose that sparkled in the crystal goblet.

Carefully, he lifted the cup with both hands to present it to his Lord, and with a happiness so keen he felt it as a pain that threatened to rend his heart apart, Glorfindel covered Legolas' hands with his own, drinking from the rose-colored mead when they had lifted the cup to his lips. Legolas looked at him with breathless joy, his eyes full of love, and Glorfindel realized with satisfaction how the entire room had fallen silent. Yet still he could not tear his eyes from Legolas to observe the effects of his action, for what he saw on Legolas' face was far lovelier. He drank in the love, the happiness, the joyful trust when Legolas sipped from the crystal cup as well, noticing the tender shadow of the long lashes on pale skin, the fine, honey-colored hair with its own, unique tempting fragrance brushing against the inside of his wrist, and he knew then that what he did was right, that this obsession would never end, for Legolas' innocence was an innocence of the soul, not the body, and he would never fail to delight in feasting on it.

“Do you like it?” he asked tenderly, cupping that lovely face in one hand when Legolas nodded.

“It is white mead brewed with the petals of roses, gathered by the Lady and her maidens during the last full moon of summer. It is a special cordial, which they say is tasted only once during a lifetime.”

Legolas had eyes only for him, and Glorfindel knew that he had never even realized that the entire room had fallen silent and was now staring at the High Table in breathless anticipation or, in one case, disgusted outrage.

“'Tis a drink served at a betrothal feast,” he said intimately. “The to-be-wedded pair drinks from the same cup, and thus seals their promises to one another.” The smile he gave Legolas was very, very tender, and he did not wait for doubt or fear to replace the puzzlement on Legolas' face. Instead, he slid to the floor, kneeling humbly on the ground before the youth.

“My beautiful, beloved Legolas. I have seen many Ages of this world. Twice have I crossed the ocean: once on the ice, once on a ship of the Teleri. I have beheld many wonders. I have seen the Two Trees in all their splendor, the light of the Silmarilli, the first rising of the Sun and the Moon. I have danced at the court of Finwë in fair Tirion upon Túna; I have braved the heights of the Pelóri and looked down on Aman spread beneath me like the jewels of a king's hoard, and flowers sprang beneath my feet when first I stepped onto the soil of Mithrim under Fingolfin's banners of blue and silver. I have fought dragon and demon of fire; I have died and been reborn. Yet in all these Ages, not once has someone touched my heart as you do. No one has ever come close to your beauty, your nobility of spirit, your courage, your capacity to love, and to be loved in return. Every day that I have looked upon you, this knowledge has grown. I am yours, Legolas... I am yours, and I want to always be yours. I want to swear myself to you with a vow I shall never break, with the holiest vow there is, the vow that I feared I would never swear.

“I want to be yours, Legolas... Wedded to you before Eru himself, one until the end of Arda.” He hesitated, looking up into shocked, blue eyes, then asked the question – a simple thing in the end, and the only thing that truly mattered anymore: “Will you have me?”

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I hate to end this chapter, which is something I have long looked forward to writing, on such a note; still, I feel that I have to adress this comment left to the last chapter.

To Avidreader:

I'm sorry that you are not enjoying this story. Still, something your comment really makes me wonder is whether you really think that you can shake off a lifetime of first emotional and then later sexual abuse just like that? After all, it has been reinforced to Legolas at every turn of his life that he is of no worth. This is not something you shake off in a few months; it's going to take Legolas a very long time to believe in his own worth.

Furthermore, I think that calling Legolas 'weak', 'pathetic' and 'whiny' because he can't just brush it off, is very hurtful to abuse survivors. Do you really think that after a lifetime of emotional abuse and neglect followed by rape and sexual slavery, it's OK to mope for a few months, but then you have to bounce back and show that none of that really mattered? I hate to break it to you, but abuse of that calibre leaves scars on the psyche which will affect the victim for very many years, probably for their entire life.

The 'submissive' I'm going to ignore, because even though you obviously mean it in a derogatory way, it should have been obvious by now that this is simply a part of Legolas' sexuality, and that it has nothing at all to do with his worth as a person.

If you do not like the story or the way Legolas is developing, that's OK; I know I can't please everyone and I'm more than happy with the amount of people who seem to enjoy this story despite everything. It's just that I really can't understand how you can despise Legolas if it is more than obvious that his self-consciousness and constant doubts and fears are a sign and result of neglect and abuse; IMHO it shows an apalling lack of empathy.