Cuil Eden

Title: Cuil Eden
Part: 67/?
Rating: NC-17
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!


67

Later, Legolas would be unable to recount the full details of the events of that evening; it had all swirled together in his mind, blending into a kaleidoscope of jewel-bright colors of joy, laughter, Glorfindel's smiling eyes, and the overwhelming love that filled his heart until he thought it would burst. He could not remember the full details of his answer, only knew that it had been yes, a thousand times yes breathed into Glorfindel's hair, against his skin, against his lips when he slipped from his own chair to throw himself into Glorfindel's waiting arms, his eyes bright with tears. He could not remember why he had wept either, only that the kisses had been salty from his tears, and that there had been nothing but Glorfindel at that moment, for all else had ceased to be of importance. Only later, when there was a throng of people surrounding them with congratulations and smiles, did he slowly realize what the proposal meant, and was speechless from the awareness.

Glorfindel had slid a slender ring of silver onto his finger while they were still half hidden by the banquet table, and Legolas marveled at the sight. It still seemed like a dream to him, for while he had guiltily fantasized of being acknowledged in such a way, to have it actually happen seemed stranger still than anything else that had happened thus far in his life. Then Glorfindel dropped another silver ring into his palm, and with trembling fingers Legolas moved it into place. He looked at their hands for a moment, wide-eyed with wonder to see themselves so connected, Glorfindel's intention to wed him plain for everyone to see.

“I will never bring dishonor to you, Lord!” he swore breathlessly, then buried his face against Glorfindel's neck when his Lord wrapped his arms around him once more.

Glorfindel stayed by his side the entire evening, and Legolas knew that he had never been happier. There were more congratulations, this time for the both of them, and Legolas flushed with helpless pleasure when he realized that he was standing by Glorfindel's side like an equal, clasping the hands of all those who came to wish him joy. This was what Glorfindel's proposal meant; his Lord proclaimed him to be his equal in all things – save for the bedroom, Legolas thought, and blushed when he realized that he did not want things to change there.

The evening was as perfect as anything Legolas could have imagined. He did not even feel uncomfortable any longer at being the center of attention, for with Glorfindel's declaration, his Lord had taken that burden from him. It was the Elda now about whom the diplomats and advisors thronged, vying to clasp his hand and deliver well-wishes, and though Legolas stood next to his Lord, and indeed was the recipient of the same congratulations, he felt secure in the knowledge that nothing was expected of him but simple words of thanks, and that his Lord would deal with anything else.

There was only one moment that had the potential to break through the nearly-tangible happiness that surrounded Legolas. When Arwen came to envelop Glorfindel in her arms and press a kiss to his cheeks, she brought Gîlríon with her, who had sat with her during the meal – so that his Lord could propose to him in peace, Legolas realized and flushed once more with overwhelmed joy.

Gîl wrapped his arms around Glorfindel's neck when his atto lifted him, beaming with exuberant happiness even though Legolas was certain that he could not yet understand what had happened. “What are you doing, atto? Why are all the people standing here?”

Glorfindel smiled and pressed a kiss to his head. “They are offering their congratulations, because your ada and I will be wed soon.”

“Wed?” Gîl frowned, and Legolas bit his lip in worry, wondering whether Gîl already had any conception of what a wedding meant, and how strange a position Legolas had held so far. He had always lived with the fear that one day, Gîlríon would be told just how he had been conceived, and just how far his adar had allowed himself to be humiliated and degraded. As much as Legolas feared that day, he knew that it would come – but certainly not yet? Certainly Gîl was still far too young to truly understand what had taken place here, and what it meant?

“Like the Lord and Lady are? But... you are not?”

“No, we are not, not yet,” Glorfindel said calmly, and though Legolas could not bear to look at any of the gathered advisors for the shame of having this humiliating topic talked about openly, he still could not help but feel deep gratitude and love for his Lord, who took this difficult task on himself without a second's doubt.

“At a wedding, both families should be there – but your ada's family does not like me. So I have not wed your ada yet, because I hoped I could make them like me after all. Yet you have met your uncle, and I do not think his opinion of me will change. We shall not wait for them anymore, and instead, we will have a wonderful feast without them next year.”

Glorfindel smiled at Legolas, who waited with bated breath for someone to make a disparaging comment – but none came, and Legolas allowed himself to relax a little, grateful that his brother's ambassador did not seem to be nearby at this moment. After all, what Glorfindel had told Gîl was not exactly the truth. It might not be an outright lie, but there were so many omissions in this explanation that Legolas did not want to know what Galuron's reaction would be.

Gîl, on the other hand, seemed to be content with the explanation, and Legolas was grateful that he had been given more time until that day he so dreaded would come. And perhaps it would not be as terrible as he feared, to have his son know of his shame... If he dared to believe his Lord – and how could he not? – they would be wedded by then, and his Lord had sworn that no one would be allowed to humiliate him any more. All he had to do was to trust in Glorfindel to keep his promises, and that seemed to become easier every day.

There was dancing later, as Glorfindel had promised, after Arwen and her maidens had taken Gîlríon off with them once more. The music started when Legolas stood well-ensconced among Glorfindel's men, grimacing in disgust at his first taste of the ale the guards shared. They laughed at his expression, though it was good-natured laughter, and Laindir slung an arm around his shoulder and assured him that it was no surprise at all that this was not to his liking, not after the sweet mead Glorfindel had plied him with.

The music broke up their little group, and Fairion took Legolas' hands to pull him towards the space in front of the musicians that was now slowly filling. "They like their Silvan dances here... None of that stuffy, courtly dancing. Do you know this one?"

Legolas smiled in relief when he saw the people gathering into a large circle and nodded. There had been dancing lessons in his childhood as well, and though those did indeed encompass the slower and more courtly dances Fairion was obviously not very fond of, they had also spent time on the faster Silvan dances. Legolas remembered the lessons well - they had not been so bad, indeed he had enjoyed them, for that had been before he had lost the friendship of the one person who had seemed to like him.

He took a deep breath, resolved not to think about the past now, not when his Lord had taken such care to give him a future he still would not dare to believe in – if it were not for the very tangible proof on his finger. "Do you know your Silvan dances then?" he asked and laughed at Fairion's smug expression.

"I have had very good teachers - do you want to find out?"

Legolas made a sound of surprise when arms wrapped around his waist all of a sudden from behind. "Has no one ever told you that it is very bad manners to steal the betrothed of your captain away, guard?"

When Legolas turned in Glorfindel's arms, he was rewarded with a brilliant smile and a chaste kiss to his brow. "Would you like to dance? I have heard you tell him that you know these dances, but I will have to warn you that my expertise lies with the stuffy, courtly dances the younger members of my guard so revile.“

"But these are not difficult, my Lord! I am certain that you are much better at it than you claim."

"Let us find out then." With a firm grip around Legolas' waist, as if he were afraid that the youth might balk after all, Glorfindel pulled him right into the throng where they were immediately awarded a place in the circle. Fairion and Laindir joined them there as well, as well as a few others of Glorfindel's men, who soon had their arms wrapped around the waist of a maiden, or a few of the equally willing Silvan guards. The music was loud and lively, the tune – just as the dance – a well-loved favorite, and soon he found himself turning and twirling and jumping at Glorfindel's side, breathless with joy. They switched partners many times in the course of the song, dancing a few steps with whomever they found themselves stopping in front of, until at last Legolas found himself in Glorfindel's arms once more when the circle had finished turning. He laughed in delight, certain that he had never enjoyed himself as much as he had this evening, and then quickly took a step to the side, neatly eluding Haldir who now found himself standing in front of Fairion, with Laindir glowering at him.

"If you want a dance with me, you could just ask, Haldir!" Legolas pointed out, but happily leaned back into Glorfindel's arms, breathless and glad for a moment's rest.

"Do you want something to drink? More of the mead?" Glorfindel asked, and Legolas nodded eagerly.

“Yes, please, my Lord.”

He watched Glorfindel walk towards a table with refreshments, wanting to sigh at the splendor of him, aglow with pride that this noble lord was to be his – and then once more arms wrapped around him from behind.

“Truly, Haldir, you could just ask for a dance – I would say yes, you know.” Legolas shook his head with a sigh, though he was still smiling. For once, he did not mind dealing with Haldir, although he suspected that most of his courage came from the warm glow of the mead in his belly. Still, today he felt as if he could indeed stand up to Haldir, and whether that had its foundation in the liquour, or in the knowledge that Haldir could do nothing to him on this of all days, did not matter to him.

“Mmh... who says I want a dance?”

Legolas suppressed a shiver at the intimate sensation of Haldir's breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of his throat.

“You would be more foolish than even I would think, to want more from Lord Glorfindel's betrothed at his own betrothal feast...”

Haldir laughed softly. “Maybe I just want to offer more personal congratulations – I am your personal guard, after all.”

“I think you only want to see if you can make me uncomfortable. But you will not succeed.”

“No?” There was a teasing light in Haldir's eyes when let go of Legolas, only to force him to turn around. “Not even if I want to offer my congratulations with a kiss?” He leaned closer, and Legolas turned his head just in time so that Haldir's lips brushed his cheek instead of his mouth.

“Truly, Haldir, do you want to annoy my Lord?”

Haldir shrugged. “Not particularly, but you really are too sweet to resist sometimes. He should understand – we value the same characteristics in a lover, after all.”

“And that should be reason enough to forgive you bullying him, at his betrothal feast of all places?” Glorfindel's voice was calm, yet there was a coldness to it that made Legolas tremble, and feel grateful that it was not directed at him.

“Are you not glad that I am finally seeing what attracts you to him?”

“He was not bullying me, truly,” Legolas interjected, resolved to not allow anyone to disturb this day. “I think he simply did not dare to ask me for a dance – but there is no need for you to be afraid, Haldir. I will gladly dance with you, but first I need a moment of rest.”

Glorfindel wrapped his arm around Legolas and pulled him close, not even trying to hide his possessiveness of the youth. “Come, let us go outside for a moment – it has grown hot in here, and a moment without being importuned will do us both good. And then, Haldir may have a dance – if he asks politely.”

Haldir bowed, amused rather than cowed, and then wandered off, while Legolas gratefully followed his Lord outside. The cool, fresh air almost came like a shock, for while the large talan was airy and seemed to consist more of windows than walls, Legolas still felt hot and breathless from the lively dances.

Glorfindel led him into a dark corner, and there they found a small, winding stair which led to a tiny platform – a small pavilion, Legolas realized when he brushed against what he thought was a wall, and found that it was a curtain when it moved beneath his touch. Inside, they found a settee with plump cushions, and when Glorfindel drew open one of the curtains, they could sit quietly together, Glorfindel still cradling the goblet of mead he had fetched, and before them, above them, spread the stars as multitudinous, as bright as they must have seemed to those who first awoke beneath their light.

Everything was quiet around them. As if from very far away, they could hear the music to which they had danced only a moment ago, and yet, here in this secluded little bower, it seemed as if they were all alone in the forest.

Legolas leaned his head against Glorfindel's shoulder, content to look at the stars while safe and warm in his Lord's embrace. This was more than he had ever dreamed of, this intimacy – sharing this quiet moment, knowing that right now, they were enough for each other, that neither of them could wish for more than this contentment found in simply being close, being with the other.

Silently, they emptied the goblet while the stars moved on their slow paths above them. They had no need for words, and when at last Glorfindel put the cup aside and rested his hand against Legolas' cheek, the youth moved into his touch with a sigh, soft lips parting when Glorfindel covered them with his own mouth.

Glorfindel smiled at him when at last they drew apart. He raised one hand and slowly drew his fingers down Legolas' cheek, over the full, rosy lips that now gleamed wetly in invitation, biting back a moan at the need that hit him all of a sudden with full force.

“Eru be praised for creating something of such amazing loveliness... To think that I might have never known you! Ai, I cannot even bear to think about how empty my life would be.”

Again he moved forward to claim Legolas' mouth, though instead of the earlier gentleness, there was only ravenous hunger now, the need to taste the youth, to claim him to the deepest core of his soul, to feel him give all of himself without hesitation – and to give all of his heart in return.

Legolas whimpered when they broke the kiss, out of breath and just as overcome by need as Glorfindel.

“My Lord,” he breathed, “my Lord, oh please...”, and Glorfindel laughed, breathless, drunk on mead and the youth's beauty, and utterly in love.

“To hear you beg like that every day of my life – what greater prize could I possibly ask for?” His eyes had darkened with lust, and there was a threat in his voice that made Legolas tremble and look at him with sweet, helpless surrender.

“I want to be yours, only yours, always, to do with whatever you please,” Legolas whispered, and then moaned when Glorfindel raised his hand to press a kiss to the silver ring that now adorned one finger.

“Always,” Glorfindel answered, gazing at the youth with such dark desire that Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, too overcome by what Glorfindel made him feel.

“What do you want, Legolas?”

“You... Only you. I want to feel you, touch you... Oh, please, my Lord, let me!” Legolas breathed, biting back another moan when Glorfindel softly laughed at his pleading. Trembling with disbelief at his own audacity, he rested a hand on Glorfindel's thigh, swallowing when he felt the hard, powerful muscles – and then, before his courage left him, he moved his hand into Glorfindel's lap, moaning in unison with his Lord at the hardness he found there. First slowly, fingers shaking from insecurity, then faster with helpless need and impatience, he fumbled with his Lord's robes, parting the outer robe of heavy velvet, then beneath it an under robe of stiff, embroidered silk. He moaned in almost despair when his fingers encountered a long shirt of silk beneath, yet at last, when that was pushed out of the way as well with no thought to the garment's cost or the creases he might leave, his fingers encountered the breeches, ties stretching to contain his Lord's arousal.

Now it was Glorfindel who groaned when Legolas freed him at last and curled his fingers around him, looking at him with unveiled worship and hunger. His Lord's shaft was hot and hard in his hand, and the sheer size of him, the heat, the sensation of velvet-smooth skin over hard steel made him breathless with desire. His Lord was magnificent in all things, but in this, perhaps, most of all. Legolas knew he would never tire of looking at him. Touching him, pleasuring him in this way truly was a reward, and to feel him so heavy and hot in his hand aroused him more than being touched himself would have.

Glorfindel had relaxed back into the plump cushions and was watching Legolas from heavy-lidded eyes, a small smile on his lips when the youth met his eyes only to flush with embarrassment. Legolas lowered his head, looking at his own pale fingers encircle the swollen, dark length. A bead of translucent liquid welled from the small slit at the top when he carefully smoothed the foreskin back, and he bit his lower lip, wanting to taste his Lord now, feel him fill his mouth...

“Oh no. Just your hands, roch neth. I want to watch you watching me.”

Legolas swallowed at his Lord's command but obeyed despite his embarrassment, allowing his Lord to see his enjoyment, and what touching him like this did to him. He made a helpless sound of pleasure as he admired the heavy shaft in his hand, once more taking in his Lord's sheer size which even now made him feel disbelief at the thought of sheathing this inside.

He felt breathless from his own daring and the overpowering need caused by feeling Glorfindel's desire for him. He felt his own submission to his Lord's will keenly, a thrill brought by nothing but knowing that he was serving him, would do whatever he asked, and that even though he had taken the initiative for once, in this too he was showing his surrender to his Lord's desire.

“I want you, my Lord!” Legolas almost sobbed when the large, hard shaft swelled even further when he began to stroke him, his own length pressing against his tightly laced breeches, the ache so maddening, so delicious that he felt lightheaded.

“Not here, roch neth... Someone might come any moment. Please me well now, and you will be rewarded later...”

Legolas moaned again at the promise in Glorfindel's voice which was hoarse with lust, imagining just what his Lord might do to him – imagining himself on his knees before him, servicing him with his mouth, his Lord's knot in his hair to mark him as his possession for everyone to see...

He squeezed Glorfindel harder, his hand moving faster, breathlessly taking in the picture of his Lord slumped back against the cushions, utterly abandoned to the pleasure Legolas brought him, and then swooped down to close his lips around the crown of Glorfindel's erection just in time to swallow down all of his Lord's salty release.

“Good... Very, very good, roch neth. Perfect...” Glorfindel rested a hand on Legolas' head, breathlessly petting to show his approval while Legolas cleaned him and then set to straightening his clothes once more. When he was finished at last, Glorfindel drew him into his arms and kissed him again, smiling when he rubbed the heel of his hand over the bulge in the youth's leggings, making him moan into the kiss.

“So sweet. My dear beloved. My betrothed...” Glorfindel took another hungry kiss, leaving Legolas panting with pleasure and need. Glorfindel slowly massaged him through his leggings, but just when Legolas ceased caring about his fine garb, he pulled back and shook his head. “Not yet, roch neth. After the feast, when we are alone. If I am not too tired then...”

Glorfindel laughed softly when Legolas moaned with frustrated need, yet as always the youth yielded so very sweetly to his Lord's every demand, and Glorfindel endeavored to reward him for that delightful trust with the pleasure he had earned, once they were safely ensconced in their bedroom with Gîl asleep.

Yet for now...

“Mmh, so hard for me. I love how you can never hide what I make you feel – how much you need me. But you will just have to cope this evening, Legolas nín, as we will have to return now before they start looking for us.”

“And I have promised Haldir a dance...” Legolas groaned, ruing his earlier teasing now, for certainly Haldir would know what state he was in, and what had brought it about.

“He will behave – or face my wrath. Teasing you I will allow, but making you feel uncomfortable at your own betrothal feast is something I will not stand for.”

Legolas looked pointedly down, to where his swollen length was still pressing uncomfortably against the confines of his leggings. At least his Lord had chosen well for him in this garb, for the ancient cut of the tunic as well as the stiff, heavily embroidered fabric hid the tell-tale signs of his arousal – but it would not stop him from yearning for his Lord's touch all through the evening.

“Ah, but that kind of discomfort is bound up with pleasure, is it not?” There was laughter in Glorfindel's eyes, and no compassion at all for the state he was in. “You will just have to cope, roch neth. Still, bear yourself well for the remainder of the evening, and there will be a reward for you afterwards.”

Legolas swallowed and nodded. “I will, Lord,” he promised earnestly, and Glorfindel's mien lightened even more.

“I know you will,” he murmured and rewarded the youth with another loving kiss. “Now come, it seems they have already sent someone to fetch us.”

Legolas frowned at the faint set of voices that slowly came closer, then sighed when he realized just who had come after them.

“Ai, not Haldir again! How does he always manage to show up in moments like this? He is like a wolf scenting wounded prey.”

“You did promise him that dance, roch neth,” Glorfindel said and chuckled at Legolas' expression. “You handled him well earlier, but if he gets too obtrusive, I will be there. I truly will not allow anyone to disturb this day. You mean too much to me, Legolas nín.”

Legolas flushed with pleasure, but there was not even time for a quick kiss now, or they would risk Haldir coming upon them in their little bower. Instead they stepped outside to meet him, Legolas smoothing his tunic surreptitiously to make certain that there was indeed no hint of his unabated arousal, for he knew what Haldir would have to say to that.

Glorfindel loosely rested an arm around his shoulder, keeping him close as they stepped down the small stair, and just as they had expected, there Haldir stood waiting for them – only he was not alone.


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Legolas nín – my Legolas
roch neth - colt
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