Cuil Eden

71

The feast continued for a while, but in the end, there came a time when even the excitement, the dance and mead could no longer hide the fact that Legolas was becoming tired, especially when the large talan slowly emptied as more and more of the gathered crowd filed out into the moon-lighted darkness. He felt himself drawn into his Lord's arms and sighed, happy, tired, and yet also sad to see the night end.

A night out of a song this had been for him. To think that this feast had been given to honor him, that so many people had come to celebrate the day of his begetting, and most importantly, that no one had insulted him or tried to otherwise destroy the joy of this day...

It had never happened before, and although sometimes, like a naive child, he had dreamed of a day like this, deep in his heart he had always known that such joy was not meant for him.

And now he had been given such a gift - oh so many gifts, the ring and Glorfindel's oath to wed him, the jewel on his breast cut by famed Finrod himself, the cloak of gold and emerald so richly embroidered that it was almost too heavy to wear - yet the most important gift was this day itself, which made him feel as if he deserved such joy, as if, just maybe, even for someone of such little worth as he, it could be possible after all to not be despised or pitied, but to live the life he had seen others lead.

He kissed Glorfindel so eagerly that for the first time, his Lord's brows raised in surprise, but there was a pleased gleam in his eyes that made Legolas remember in breathless excitement that tomorrow, he would wear his Lord's knots once more, and find such wicked pleasures at whatever games his Lord would devise for them.

This life was good - too good for someone like him, but oh, right now he almost felt as if it were possible to become the kind of person who would deserve to have such joy every day.

"Let us go home," Glorfindel said softly, and Legolas nodded and smiled to see that the crown of celandine his Lord wore had opened and hung askew on his head, the small golden flowers strewn all over his hair, shoulders and tunic.

Gîl was deeply asleep on a small settee, watched over by one of Arwen's handmaids, and remained asleep even when Glorfindel lifted him and they carried him back outside into the colder night air all the way back to their talan. It was quiet and dark and peaceful, the leaves rustling in the wind, the stars diamond-bright above them, and Legolas thought of falling asleep in his Lord's embrace, skin to skin, heart to heart, warmed to the deepest part of his soul by the knowledge that he was loved.

~~~

They slept until the sun was well up. Gîl woke long before them, but though Legolas woke at the sounds he made, he slid back into reverie when he felt Glorfindel leave the bed to see after him. A short while later, Glorfindel slipped quietly back into the bed, and Legolas made a soft, pleased sound and curled up against him once more, walking in dreams at his Lord's side just as he rested against his heart in the waking world.

When they finally woke, it was close to noon, and a luxurious breakfast was waiting for them. Legolas' stomach growled at the sight of smoked ham, eggs and cheese, for it seemed that last night's celebration had left him with a healthy appetite, and a thirst for clear water and strong, steaming mint tea. Yet apart from those cravings, he felt no adverse effects at all, and so once they had managed to clear almost all plates, he leaned back in his chair and looked at his Lord, wondering just what the day would bring him.

Glorfindel smiled back at him. "Arwen will watch over Gîl for as long as we need today. And I would like to swim. Let us go to one of the lakes, and afterward... Afterward, I shall weave my knots into your hair, and you will do as you are told, will you not?"

Legolas blushed and nodded. "Of course, my Lord," he said weakly and swallowed when he wondered just what he might be told to do then.

Glorfindel gathered their clothes, and Legolas breathed a sigh of relief when he saw what his Lord had chosen for him. A shirt of the thinnest white cambric, unembroidered and simple, save for the fineness of cloth and cut, and loose trousers of a pale green linen. His Lord liked to see him in such clothes, and Legolas was relieved that it was not something outrageous or revealing, even though he was well aware that the simple, light garments underlined his youth and inexperience.

Yet once they arrived at the lake, all apprehension was quickly forgotten. The water was cool, but it felt good on his skin, and his Lord was as playful and affectionate as he could have wished for, making it easy for Legolas to forget all inhibitions as he tried to dunk his Lord under water. Glorfindel retaliated by splashing him, and for half an hour they played in the water just as children might, until even Glorfindel grew exhausted at last and they climbed out of the lake to dry themselves in the spring sun, finishing the remains of their breakfast they had brought along.

Legolas brushed his Lord's hair and wove the intricate, formal braids of Glorfindel's lost house into the golden locks while his Lord sang the song of Nimrodel for him, the notes interweaving with the murmur of a small brook and the wind in the leaves while he saw the story unfold, the leaves of the mellyrn as golden as they were now when a tall-grown man chased after a maiden with eyes as deep and mysterious as a dark lake.

At last, they exchanged positions, and Legolas knelt obediently before Glorfindel, his eyes lowered though his lips were parted and his breath came faster with the first stirrings of excitement when his Lord wove the knots of possession into his hair.

Maybe he should have been ashamed, or afraid, remembering that terrible time when he had known nothing but humiliation and fear - but it always felt so good to obey his Lord. And his Lord had promised that he would never hurt him in such a way again.

Legolas looked at the band of silver that gleamed on his finger and once more let the certainty wash over him. He was loved. He was wanted. His Lord might put those knots into his hair and pretend that he was a possession, but that was but a game, and he would order him to take them out again before they came into a situation where he would be shamed by them.

"Most here will not know what those knots signify," Glorfindel said, and Legolas was almost glad to hear that his Lord's voice was husky, that he was not the only one so affected by the situation. "I would not make you wear them in public at home, because I do not do this to shame you - though you look very lovely when embarrassed," he added, and Legolas felt himself flush as if on command so that his Lord laughed.

"Here it does not matter, as the only ones who know what my knots look like are those with a liking for the same games I enjoy. So today, you will wear these while we visit a friend, and I hope you will remember that while you know what the knots truly mean, no one else does."

"Yes, my Lord," Legolas said obediently, and Glorfindel's face was lightened by another glorious smile.

"Always so obedient. Always so good," he murmured and brushed his lips against Legolas' in a quick, affectionate kiss, but then he raised a hand to Legolas' cheek, giving him a searching look. "There is another thing. When I put these knots into your hair, I expect you to be respectful.”

Legolas shivered at his tone, which was not quite menacing, but firm enough to leave him in no doubt about just what his Lord would do to him should he not show him the respect that was his due. Glorfindel laughed softly at his reaction, his voice still dark and intimate when he leaned in to continue, so that Legolas had to bite back a whimper of pure need at the force of arousal that swept through him at his Lord's effortless dominance.

"No, I do not have to tell you to be respectful. You always strive to please me. Yet I want you to know that when you are not wearing my knots, you need not be. I like it when you show me such respect, there is no denying that – and I think you know me well enough to know that about me. A part of me would hate to command you to no longer call me Lord - for I am your Lord!"

His eyes grew fierce for a moment, and Legolas trembled, not from fear but from excitement at the truth his Lord spoke. He did belong to him - he wanted to belong to him, to do his bidding, to please him, to be given that indescribably peace and exhilaration that filled him whenever his Lord gave him a chance to prove his obedience to him.

"But what I want you to know is that you need not refer to me in such a way," Glorfindel said at last, his eyes gentle once more, though there was an amusement in them that told Legolas that his Lord knew his thoughts only too well. "When you wear my knots, yes - and believe me when I say that any infraction will be punished. But when you not wear them... you may call me however it pleases you. Know that it does please me to hear you acknowledge me as your Lord, but it would please me just as much to be Glorfindel to you."

"Yes, Lord," Legolas breathed, then blushed an even brighter shade of red while Glorfindel laughed. "I... I am honored. No, that is the wrong word, I - thank you!" He was still flushed with embarrassment, but smiled at his Lord all the same, not certain if he would ever dare address him lightly in such a familiar fashion, but knowing that he could, that was... It truly meant so much! And all the same, he knew that Glorfindel was his Lord. He needed him to be, as much as he needed his love and support; it was... a constant, something he could cling to when doubt overwhelmed him and he felt as if he were all alone in the world with his fears.

He fell to his knees once more, embarrassed too at what must to his Lord seem like a penchant for dramatics, but he knew no other way to express what he felt save to express it in the trappings of fealty. He took his Lord's hand and pressed a reverent, fervent kiss to it.

"You are my Lord; despite everything, you are and you always will be. I swore myself to your service, and I meant that oath. I would have begged for a position as your squire, or as whatever else you bade me do... I might have no experience and no great knowledge, Lord, but I do love you, and I yearn to serve you in whichever way you will have me."

Glorfindel raised him gently and kissed his brow. "I know that; I know that your heart is true. I take your oath seriously. I would not jest with such matters! You have sworn yourself to me, and as your father has renounced you, I consider you mine. You are of my house; mine to protect, mine to demand service of."

He pulled Legolas closer all of a sudden, his embrace becoming fiercely possessive, protective. “You do me proud, Legolas; never forget that.”

~~~

Legolas was still filled by love and almost disbelieving pride when they at last left the glade of the small lake. He was not certain where they were going, but he did not dare to ask either. He would do as his Lord asked no matter what, he had sworn he would, and so it did not matter whether his Lord took him to see the Lady of Light with the knots of possession in his hair, or just intended to show them off by a walk through Caras Galadhon.

Of course, it soon became apparent to Legolas that his Lord did in fact have a particular destination in mind, and when they entered the glade where he had looked through stalls with Gîl and Haldir on market day, Legolas knew whom they would meet even before his Lord drew him along to step into the saddler's shop.

It was not market day today, yet even so the shops scattered among the mellyrn trunks were opened as the artisans and master craftsmen with their apprentices plied their trade. As soon as they stepped through the door and the saddler saw just who had come to visit him, a smile spread over his face and he abandoned his work to come and embrace Glorfindel.

“I am sorry that I could not come and see you earlier, but from what I have heard, Haldir has already shown Legolas your selection...”

The saddler laughed and grasped Glorfindel's shoulder. “I have heard that you were busy, and now we all know the reason too. Congratulations! I was so pleased to hear the news this morn.”

Legolas flushed with pleasure when he realized what the saddler was talking about.

“This is Daerthón,” Glorfindel then introduced him. “I know that you have met him before, when Haldir showed you around, and that he showed you his entire selection.”

Daerthón grinned. “From what I heard later on, you managed to handle Haldir very well. My wife and I had a good laugh at his expense, in any case. But I see that Glorfindel brought you here for a reason...” He took hold of the strands woven into that unmistakable sign of ownership, and Legolas' flush deepened when he realized that Daerthón belonged to those who were aware of what the knots meant.

“That suits you very well. I knew from the moment I first saw you just why the rumors said that you had bewitched Glorfindel. But come, I am certain you are not here for saddles and headstalls!”

“Indeed we are not,” Glorfindel said and laughed, and then led them to the small room at the back of the shop which Legolas had entered once before at Haldir's side. Legolas tried to not let his apprehension show – and it was not as if he were truly afraid, yet he could not help but feel embarrassment still, even though he knew that Daerthón delighted in the same games as his Lord did. But despite his best endeavor to remain unaffected by the display of instruments which he knew awaited him, once more he flushed a bright red when he entered the room and saw that it was not empty. In one corner, a woman sat, her stature slender and her hair a distinct, Silvan silver, and in her hands-

Legolas swallowed. In her hands she held a half-finished flogger, her delicate fingers deftly weaving thin strands of black leather into an exquisite instrument meant for the delivering of pain.

“Glorfindel!” Any impression Legolas might have formed of a calm, demure Silvan girl was forgotten when she jumped up and almost hurled herself at his Lord, then stopped and grasped his hands to curtsey at the last minute as if remembering just in time that it would be untoward to greet a Lord of Imladris and cousin of her Lady so familiarly. “How good to have you back with us at last!”

Legolas could only stare with wide-eyed astonishment when she turned to look at him, and he realized that despite her energetic exuberance, it was no young maid that stood before him but a woman many times his age and experience.

“And that is your new pet? How lovely he looks! Almost too sweet and innocent to be bedded by you, but we all know that looks can be deceiving.”

Legolas blushed brightly as everyone laughed, and then she gently tugged on the strand of hair that bore Glorfindel's knots.

“Marked as yours, too... Why, did you bring him here today to play with him? That would be a most intriguing and welcome entertainment!”


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Daerthón – great pine
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