Cuil Eden

72

“I fear we are not here to entertain you.” Glorfindel rested one hand on Legolas' shoulder, feeling the youth relax again at the reminder of his support. “This is Eithellin, Daerthón's wife. Do not let her scare you. She is not as wicked as she would have you believe.”

“In fact, I am not wicked at all!"

Legolas' gaze fell to her hands which still held the half-finished flogger and she laughed.

"Maybe I am at that, but certainly only a little wicked. At least compared to the infamous Glorfindel."

Legolas found he could not take his eyes from Eithellin while she and his Lord exchanged banter with the ease and affection of old friends. Ah, sweet Valar, did everyone in Lórien play these games?

He flushed anew when they paused, realizing he must have voiced his thought aloud.

"Not everyone - but more than you might think," Eithellin said, amused, and gently put down the half-finished flogger.

"No one at home was doing anything like this!" Legolas said almost primly, his mind not quite able to believe that a lady could truly indulge in the same games as he and his Lord. Meeting Arwen had scared him, yet she at least had behaved as he would have expected of a well-bred maiden; she had not mocked him for appropriating something never meant for one like him, as had been his secret fear all along. So many had mocked him in Imladris for this thing he had never asked for, yet would a woman not have even more reason to loathe him?

And yet, Arwen had been kind, far kinder than he deserved.

"Believe me, Prince, they were!" Eithellin's eyes gleamed with barely suppressed laughter. "I have cousins in the Greenwood, a rowdy bunch, but much given to gossiping. I shall not name names, but there are more than you think."

Legolas looked down, unable to argue, fearing for a moment that he had once more shown himself to be little more than a child in such manners until Glorfindel tightened his arm around him in encouragement.

"You truly must think everyone in both Imladris and Lórien has desires like mine, but it truly is not so. It is only that I know nearly everyone who feels as I do. It is good to have friends who feel similarly, with whom I can talk without fearing to be judged. It is only natural to be drawn to those who share your desires,” Glorfindel explained gently. “Especially if those desires are something which is rarely a suitable subject of conversation. Take Daerthón here, who, like I, knows just about anyone who plays the same games we do."

Daerthón pointed at the small room they were gathered in. "This is not a craft I could make a living by doing - I began making certain tools for my own enjoyment, and then was asked by a few friends to make something similar for them. The news slowly spread, and now orders for my tools arrive even from places as far away as Imladris. People enjoy coming here for a chat, though, and to meet people who feel likewise. Apart from private gatherings, there is not really anywhere we could meet; thus I'm only too happy to provide this place, small though it is. Unfortunately not everyone is in a position where they can be as open about their desires as your lord is."

"I would just like to see Elrond try and tell me what I can do in the privacy of my bedchamber," Glorfindel said, canting his head arrogantly.

"He needs you," Daerthón agreed. "But unlike you, I am merely a saddler, and there are others who could do my work. Therefore, I do not brandish a whip in the middle of the market place."

"Have I ever done so?"

Eithellin laughed. "You have, lord. You said you wanted to try your purchase."

Legolas' eyes widened. "Did you truly do that, my Lord?" he asked breathlessly, awed and disturbed by the thought of what it would feel like to be disciplined in such a public place.

"I did... though I did not use it on a lover. How about you, Legolas? Do you like that thought?" Glorfindel cupped Legolas' face in his hand, and the youth released a trembling breath, staring up at him with worship and fear. Glorfindel relented.

"I would not do that to you," he said gently and kissed him. "Not now, in any case; and maybe not even if you begged me. Like Daerthón said, I am allowed many things others would not be, but there is an end even to Galadriel's patience. Now go, look around to see if you find something you like."

"Something I would like?" Legolas repeated with obvious disbelief. "Say rather something you will like, my Lord. I think I will have no trouble finding something you will like here."

"Already becoming willful, roch neth?" Glorfindel raised a brow and laughed when Legolas flushed, then kissed him again before pushing him towards the display of whips and floggers he had previously admired at Haldir's side.

Legolas trailed his fingers over the smooth, dark leather, still not quite able to believe these had been woven by Eithellin's slender hands. No matter what his Lord said, the thought of a lady enjoying such things was still strange to him; although, as had been shown, it was true he knew nearly nothing of life yet. Once upon a time, he would not have been able to imagine the Lord of Lórien or famous Glorfindel indulging in such games either...

He wandered on, past a display of small clamps which made him blush and wince in memory. No, his Lord did not need more of these devices; the ones he had were already more than enough. He eyed the next display case with wary curiosity, expecting to find more devices of pain or pleasure; but instead, the case was filled with small rings in silver and gold and steel, some unadorned, some encrusted with small gems.

"You have jewelry too?" he said, and there must have been a hint of relief in his voice at finding something so benign, for his Lord shook his head as he came to stand beside him, a wicked smile on his lips.

"Jewelry, yes... but a special kind of jewelry. Is there anything you would like in here?" Glorfindel voice was soft and intimate against his ear so that Legolas shuddered, caught between curiosity and fear. Yet he could trust Glorfindel... couldn't he?

"I would like these on you," Glorfindel murmured, opening the case and taking up a pair of golden bars with small emeralds embedded at each end. "Though these might be something for a special occasion - too gaudy for everyday wear. I usually like to see you in something simple, yet costly; for that is what you are to me – a rare treasure all the more precious because of its purity. Rings of unalloyed mithril for you, yes... That is what I would like to see on you."

Legolas trembled, aroused by his Lord's words, even though he had not forgotten that they were not alone. "But my Lord," he whispered, "they are far too small for my fingers. Are they earrings?"

Glorfindel laughed against his ear, and then without answering, began to open his shirt of fine, thin cambric. Legolas swallowed but did not dare protest, watching as his Lord bared his chest.

"This is where these belong," Glorfindel said at last and held the small, golden bars against Legolas' nipples, which were already tightly drawn up from helpless arousal. "Pierced through your flesh. It will hurt - but for a moment only, quickly over. Once healed, there will be pleasure even more intense than what you have known before."

He slowly rolled a small, erect nub between the tips of two fingers and Legolas made a soft sound of breathless pleasure, his eyes closing as he leaned back into his Lord's embrace. "Do you like the thought?" Glorfindel murmured intimately into his ear. "Pierced by my jewelry... marked as mine, wearing it for my pleasure as well as your own?"

Legolas swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry; he could not say whether from excitement or fear. "I do," he heard himself reply. He trembled, frightened by his own courage.

Did he want this? He wanted to please Glorfindel, and the thought was intriguing - but his Lord had mentioned pain also, bringing to Legolas’ mind thoughts of the clamps. Those had hurt, too; and though his Lord had changed the pain into pleasure more intense than anything they had done thus far, it would not be a game this time, to be abandoned once they had both found release. To wear jewelry pierced through his flesh at all times... What would others think of him? What would Fairion say, the next time they sparred together bare-chested; what would Laindir say if he joined Glorfindel's men for another bath?

And yet, they knew Glorfindel and loved him... No, Legolas thought; they would not say anything which might hurt him. It would be different in Imladris, but he felt no inclination at all to share a bath there with someone whom he did not know. Nor would he be forced to return to the lessons with the other youths. Still, there would always be a chance that someone would see, and mock him for it... Yet would Glorfindel ask this of him if he knew it would worsen his standing in Imladris?

And his Lord was excited by the thought of him pierced through by the small golden bars.

Legolas looked down to where his Lord's fingers still teased a nipple that stood out dark and firm and Legolas moaned softly, feeling reckless and bold.

"I do, Lord!" he repeated - because he did. He wanted to belong to Glorfindel, to be claimed so completely he would never have to fear rejection again. Had his Lord desired to brand him like a horse, he would have consented to that too, he thought breathlessly; whimpering softly when his Lord pinched his nipple until it hurt.

“Do you?” Glorfindel asked, the darkness in his voice making Legolas feel lightheaded. “Do you truly? Would you let me pierce you – right here? Right now?”

“Yes, Lord,” Legolas breathed, and then found himself turned around, Glorfindel's mouth against his so that he moaned and clutched at his shoulders.

"I think maybe I should not - but I will." Glorfindel's eyes were dark with hunger and desire when their lips parted at last. Legolas' legs felt weak, and he thought if Glorfindel's arms had not held him, he might fall to the floor like a swooning maiden.

How Glorfindel did this, he could not say, but he felt as he had the evening before, only now he was drunk on desire and need instead of the sweet mead. Only Glorfindel had ever affected him in such a way. The scent of his skin, the taste of him, his voice thick with lust when he spoke...

Legolas slowly shook his head, as if to free himself from the spell he was under, but there was no escape from how Glorfindel made him feel. There had never been; and if he was honest with himself, he did not want it to end, not ever.

His heart ached with the force of the yearning that drew him towards Glorfindel, even though they were standing so close together he could feel the rapid beat of Glorfindel's heart against his skin; and for one moment he wondered if this was the sea-yearning he had heard of in songs - only his heart did not yearn for the salty waves of the ocean and the cries of gulls. Glorfindel. Glorfindel was all he wanted, with a longing so intense it was a pain like that of a sharp blade sliding deep into his heart. There was only Glorfindel – there had only ever been Glorfindel, and there were no words to express this aching need to know himself fully owned by his Lord.

“Anything you ask of me, Lord,” he said with breathless devotion; and Glorfindel closed his eyes for a moment and groaned, a shudder running through his body. They still stood so close together that he could feel Glorfindel hardening; Legolas made another breathless sound, wanting, needing, fearing.

“Little tempter... I never was very good at denying myself. And why should I? Why should I deny myself something I want? And I want you, roch neth, more than I ever wanted anything before.” Glorfindel's breath came fast; his voice deepened, dripping seduction and dark desire like honey oozing from a comb. Legolas shuddered and suppressed the urge to throw himself at his Lord's feet and beg for he knew not what.

“I am yours!” he vowed again. “Until the very end of this world and past it... I will always only be yours!” He thought of the silver ring on his finger, imagined a golden one in its place; his fëa bound to Glorfindel's fate for all eternity and his heart ached again with yearning.

“I do not want you to deny yourself, Lord...” He breathed the words against Glorfindel's lips; captivated by the storm of emotion in Glorfindel's eyes, trembling like a deer facing its hunter.

“I shall not,” Glorfindel said, his voice a threat, a promise; Legolas moaned when Glorfindel's thumb rubbed across a sensitized nipple once more. “I will mark you as mine, roch neth, and you shall bear the pain for me. Cry if you want... It will not make me cease.”

“Yes, Lord,” Legolas whispered again, and nearly fainted when Glorfindel's hand slid lower to find him hard and needy as well. He moaned brokenly and tried to move into his touch, but then Glorfindel gripped his shoulders and pressed him back and down. Legolas found himself sitting in a chair, unmistakably erect and aroused, facing not just his Lord, but the owner of the shop and his wife as well.

Legolas' cheeks colored. He had all but forgotten about them, and embarrassment came rushing in with the realization that they had seen him come close to begging his Lord to take him right then and there. And yet, what did it matter, as long as he pleased his Lord?

“You have a needle here, Daerthón?” Glorfindel asked, his voice still hoarse with need, so that Legolas shivered and bit back a moan. “And some strong spirit to clean it with?”

Legolas shivered again, trying to imagine what it might feel like to have golden jewelry pierced through his nipples – certainly the pain would be terrible? But then, his Lord had said it would be over quickly...

He gasped and flinched when something icy cold brushed against his chest, then flushed with embarrassment once more when his Lord laughed and hushed him as he would a skittish horse. He flinched again despite himself when his Lord rubbed a spirit-soaked cloth against his other nipple. And then swallowed when he saw the needle in Glorfindel's hand. It was not the small needle a woman might use for embroidery, but instead was long and thick enough to pierce leather. Or skin...

He breathed in deeply, feeling lightheaded as he watched Glorfindel place the point against his nipple.

“Look at me,” Glorfindel commanded, and Legolas obeyed, his mouth parting for a silent gasp at the sharp pain when the needle was driven through his flesh. Tears rose to his eyes, but he looked at Glorfindel's face as he had been commanded, feeling as if he could drown in the force of desire his Lord exuded.

“Very good,” Glorfindel murmured at last, and Legolas took a deep breath, realizing for the first time that he had been holding it since Glorfindel had first put the needle against his skin. He dared to look down at last and whimpered softly at what he saw – the cruel, gleaming needle driven straight through the sensitive nipple, small droplets of blood beading at either side.

“Beautiful, roch neth!” Glorfindel's voice was breathless, and Legolas gasped again when his Lord pulled the needle out and licked up the droplets of blood that had appeared like red beads at either side of the small punctures. His nipple burned and throbbed, but it was quite unlike the pain of the clamp, which had been sharp at first and then had dulled to a persistent ache. This pain was not dull at all – it was sharp and hot and intense; and when Glorfindel took up the small golden bar and pushed it through the tiny hole he had made, Legolas whimpered and closed his eyes; more tears flowing at the painful sensation. Glorfindel kissed away those tears as well when he was finished, then kissed Legolas' lips, taking his mouth with blatant possessiveness while Legolas clutched at him in abject surrender.

“Begging for mercy, roch neth?” Glorfindel asked at last, and Legolas shook his head, still trembling and crying.

“No, Lord,” he whispered devoutly, holding still when the needle was placed against his other nipple, even though his tears were still flowing freely. There was more pain that forced a sob from him, and then the needle retreated and Glorfindel soothed his aching nipple with his tongue, so that Legolas moaned at the intensity of it, sharp pleasure mingling with the ache of the puncture wound. Then the second little bar was pushed through his flesh, making Legolas gasp again. Yet despite the hot, throbbing ache, he held still in surrender while Glorfindel secured the jewelry in position with the emerald-studded ball which fit onto the bar's pointy end.

“There. All finished. How beautiful you look like this,” Glorfindel breathed. “All mine.” He gently wiped the tears from Legolas' cheeks, smiling at the way the youth looked at him with worship in his eyes. “It will take a few weeks until it is truly healed. I will be gentle until then, I promise.”

Legolas looked down at his chest again, breathing deeply at the strange arousal which filled him at the sight of his nipples pierced straight through by the golden bars. He touched one hard, swollen nub and gasped; squirming a little on his chair until Glorfindel rested one hand on his thigh and used his thumb to stroke along the side of his swollen shaft, pressed uncomfortably against the confines of his breeches.

Legolas closed his eyes and groaned, his head falling against the backrest of the chair. He had not forgotten that Daerthón and his wife were watching them, but Glorfindel was just too overwhelming, and he could not think... He would leave it to his Lord to decide what was appropriate for them to see and what was not.

“Be careful with him,” Eithellin said, while Glorfindel continued to slowly stroke Legolas with the pad of his thumb. “You truly have found a rare treasure. He is indeed very beautiful, as everyone says, but there is the real reason why you cannot let him go. The way he reacts to you. So expressive... He cannot hide what you make him feel. That must please you immeasurably! Oh yes, I can see the appeal – enough to almost feel jealous.”

Legolas kept his eyes closed, even though her amused, clear voice came from directly in front of them. But Glorfindel kept stroking him, tormenting him with the lightest touches just there at the crown of his shaft, and his lips parted in a voiceless moan, needing more, no matter who watched...

Glorfindel chuckled at his moan of disappointment when he stopped. “Not now, roch neth - not here. But later...” There was a dark promise in his voice, and Legolas shivered with nervous delight. He tried to get up, but his legs refused to carry him. He fell against his Lord, who wrapped his arms around him to hold him up while Legolas buried his hands in his golden mane to kiss him once more, aflame with desire and hunger and the sweet, sharp ache of his pierced nipples.

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Eithellin – fountain gleam
roch neth - colt
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