Cuil Eden

74

"Forgive me for my behavior, Legolas. I was rude and insulting, and I am sorry."

There was no menace or derision on Ellonúr's face now, and for once Legolas could see the similarity in them, or thought he could. Legolas did not feel intimidated now... And then Ellonúr leaned forward and pressed his lips to where Legolas' hard length was straining against the thin fabric of his breeches. Legolas gave a strangled moan at the sensation of soft lips, hot, moist breath; a teasing flick of Ellonúr's tongue dampened the fabric where it had already soaked up the first few drops of silvery liquid that Glorfindel's touch had drawn forth...

Legolas stiffened and gasped for air, and then Glorfindel's hand was on him again, opening his breeches enough to release his shaft and grip him firmly. Legolas could not breathe when he looked down and found that the red, glistening crown of his shaft was pointed directly at Ellonúr's lips, the rest of his length firmly imprisoned in Glorfindel's tight grasp. At the pressure, another drop welled up from the small opening, and Legolas thought he would die or explode when Ellonúr leaned forward eagerly and pressed his tongue against the sensitive slit to lick up his essence. Then, his mouth parted and Legolas cried out as he watched himself being devoured by Ellonúr's soft, red lips with such obvious pleasure; as if he were a sweet...

"No," Glorfindel said, biting back a groan himself. "Just watch." Ellonúr leaned back obediently and Legolas whimpered again, embarrassed by the thought of meeting his eyes but not certain where else he was supposed to look. Glorfindel lovingly massaged his length, his touch slow, yet so utterly familiar with what Legolas liked. He teased the exposed glans with the pad of his thumb, slickening it with the clear liquid that welled from the slit, and Legolas kept making breathless, whimpering sounds even though he knew that Glorfindel was only showing off his body and reaction to his touch. Oh yes, Glorfindel was showing off his mastery over him, and Legolas wanted it; wanted to be mastered and used, wanted only to please his Lord... He felt himself growing impossibly harder in Glorfindel's hand while he looked at Ellonúr's wide, dark eyes and tempting lips. Then Glorfindel's strokes came faster, squeezing him almost to the point of pain, and Legolas cried out helplessly as he gave himself up to his Lord's demands.

His seed splashed against Ellonúr's chest in a ribbon of pale liquid, some of it hitting his face, glistening on those soft, red lips so that Legolas cried out again at the thought of Ellonúr’s mouth on him. Yet once Legolas was spent, the heat of desire turned heavy as lead, and the sight of what he had done made him inexplicably break into tears.

He sobbed inconsolably, not quite certain what he had done, or why he had done it. Where before he had felt only breathless, reckless desire and need, now he felt sick and ashamed, shocked by the view before him. Yes, Ellonúr had frightened him and hurt him with his words, but now Legolas himself felt sick with remorse. What had seemed so arousing before now made him feel wretched, so that he was suddenly afraid of Glorfindel's games once more. He did not mind what his Lord did with him, but never had he wanted to hurt another; seeing his glistening seed drip from Ellonúr's lips made him tremble with dread.

He could not stop crying, even though he felt ashamed of weeping like a child in front of so many others, but the sobs shook his body and the tears blurred his vision until he could no longer see clearly. Then he was suddenly drawn forward and held, a hand soothingly rubbing his back while he continued to helplessly sob into Ellonúr's shoulder. He could not believe that Ellonúr truly held him in his arms, but he was too distraught to fight the embrace, and blessedly, for once Ellonúr did not mock him.

While his body shook with the force of the sobs he had bottled up for so long, Ellonúr kept gently rubbing his back. “Hush,” he murmured. “Glorfindel is right; you are very young and inexperienced yet. It is not unusual to be frightened. We were all frightened at first. And no one thinks less of you for it. This means nothing – this does not diminish your worth as a person. Nor does it change my worth, just because I let you spill your come all over my face.”

Ellonúr laughed softly and drew back a little, his hands coming up to frame Legolas' tear-streaked face. “You did not hurt me. You did what your Lord demanded of you, and you did so very well. Glorfindel is a true master, and yes, I do envy you his attentions. But you did not do this to me.” Ellonúr slowly licked some of Legolas' seed from his own lips, smiling wickedly when Legolas' breath hitched. “Your Lord did this to me, and you had no choice but to obey him. He punished me, not you. He did it not to shame you, but to shame me – and because he knows how these sort of games make me feel. He knows that I like it when he treats me like this... and how it is even better if he does it in front of others. Haldir knows it too, which is why he allowed it – that, and because you were most lovely to watch, let me assure you. We understand, Legolas, all of us do. No one here thinks less of you for it. We think more of you, because you are so sweetly obedient to your Lord.”

His eyes were kind, but unapologetic, and then he leaned close again to whisper into Legolas' ear. “I just wish he would have let me suck you...”

His eyes gleamed when Legolas blushed hotly, remembering that single, electric touch of Ellonúr's tongue and how it had made him feel. He still could not stop crying – the tears just kept coming, as if a dam had broken which he himself had never even known he had erected. Then he was drawn back into Glorfindel's arms once more as Ellonúr returned to Haldir's side and was thoroughly kissed. Legolas found his cheeks heating again despite his tears at the knowledge of Haldir still being able to taste him on Ellonúr's lips...

He half-moaned, half-sobbed at the thought, and Haldir gave him the gleaming smile of a predator; making a display of licking his lips as well. “Just think… most of us in this room have now had a taste of you. And when next we meet, you will know that I will be remembering this. Mayhap one day I will get a taste of you in truth?”

“Not anytime soon.” Glorfindel's lips quirked near Legolas' ear before turning him around so that Legolas could hide his tears against his throat.

“The next time you visit the Golden Wood, perhaps?” Haldir's suggestion made Legolas tremble, but the tableau was broken as Haldir sighed and threw Ellonúr's shirt at him. “Clean up and get dressed. Let us give them a moment to themselves.”

Daerthón and his wife filed out after them, though Eithellin stopped to press a kiss to Legolas' brow. “Stay as long as you like,” she said kindly. “There is spring water in that pitcher on the table, and I know Daerthón hides a bottle of blueberry spirits beneath the heap of old leather in the corner.”

Then they were alone and all was silent. For the first time, Legolas allowed himself to cry in Glorfindel's arms, all his grief and despair released from the dark corner of his heart where it had lain hidden for so long.

"I do not want to be like this," Legolas sobbed at last against his Lord's shoulder; the stiff material of Glorfindel's tunic already soaked through with his tears. "I want to be like you, but I am not; I am not… and I will never be. I want you to love me, but I know I do not deserve it. I want to be liked. I just want to belong, but I know it is impossible; no matter what I do, I just do not seem to be able to make people like me. I wish I could be as everyone else, but I just do not know how!"

He felt like he was choking on the despair and hopelessness that seemed to accompany him every day, and though a distant part of him was shamed to death by his humiliating display, the tears just would not stop.

"I hope and hope that someday it will all be different, but it just does not happen. I feel like I am walking a maze, and whenever I think that I am finding the way out, the way is blocked and I find myself walking deeper into the darkness at its heart. It just does not stop… it does not ever stop… How will I ever become someone of any worth whatsoever, when I feel nothing but fear and guilt and shame every time someone even looks at me?"

Legolas felt as if his heart were breaking. He had dreamed of one day becoming more than the lost child he believed himself to be, but even now, when he was no longer Glorfindel's slave but his betrothed, the fear and doubts did not let up, continually tormenting him almost every waking moment. He had never been able to see a way out of his maze of despair, but had made himself walk on and on, clinging to the slim hope that one day, it would be different- one day he would feel the same self-assurance as Haldir did, as Ellonúr did, or any of his Lord's men. But how this was to come about he could not say, and a part of him had long since decided his hope was little more than a dream that would not come true.

"I cannot escape," he whispered, still shaken by his sobs. "I want to, so badly, but I do not know how to be any different. I do not know how to be someone who is liked. Every time one of your men looks at me I fear that I will say or do something foolish that will make him mock me. Every time Fairion spars with me I am afraid he will see that I worship him the way a young child does, and that he will laugh at me for it. Every time one of your men invites me along, I fear I am forcing my company on them, and that someone will tell me to stop following them around. I want to be liked so badly, Lord, but I do everything wrong, and I do not know how to stop being like this."

Glorfindel simply held him. Legolas buried his face into his hair, his sobs quieting at last, now that in a moment of recklessness he had given voice to his deepest, darkest secrets. He breathed in the familiar, comforting scent that clung to Glorfindel's hair and skin. He smelt of sunshine and warmth, of joy and freedom, and also of comfort and safety, making Legolas wish he truly were just a child, to be held and soothed in these arms and to know that Glorfindel would let no harm come to him.

Had he ever been held like this by his father? Legolas could not remember, though he thought he would. He remembered Celeirdúr, when he was very young, coming into his nursery in the evening and rubbing his back while telling him stories. It had not happened often, for his brother was the crown prince; thus his time was precious and spoken for, but the evenings when he did come, Legolas felt like he was the center of the world, almost bubbling over with happiness.

Yet he did not stay a child forever, and the time for storytelling and falling asleep while having his back rubbed soon passed. Had he ever been embraced since then – truly embraced, so that he felt safe and loved, if only for a moment? Not until Glorfindel, Legolas thought, and clung to him more tightly.

It was shameful, to cling to him like a child. He should be old enough to voice his needs, to give and receive affection equally, like any adult in a relationship. Instead here he was, needing to be held and reassured – how Glorfindel could not despise him Legolas did not know, for the truth was, he despised himself for his shameful behavior. He did not doubt Glorfindel's love for him – how could he, when the warmth of Glorfindel's love shone on him like the sun whenever Glorfindel was near? And yet, the fears that plagued him were insidious, and he could not help but wonder if Glorfindel would still feel compassion rather than exasperation if a thousand years passed and Legolas was still in need of constant reassurance.

“Shh,” Glorfindel murmured, gently stroking his hair. “There is no shame in tears, my heart. Tears help you heal.”

Legolas silently shook his head, not trusting himself to speak after his shameful outburst, and Glorfindel pressed a kiss to his hair. “You have always cried alone.” It was not a question, and shame rose in Legolas anew when he thought of how obvious it was that he had never had any true friends.

“But you are not alone anymore,“ Glorfindel continued quietly. “There is nothing shameful about crying in the arms of the one who loves you. Especially not after what I did to you. Legolas, I know I told you that I expect you to be respectful while you wear my braids, but what we do can be so overwhelming that it breaks down barriers we did not even know we had. Ellonúr knows this. I once did something to him that afterward made him cry and cry in my arms, and he did not even truly know why. He held you because he knows what that feels like, and because there is nothing shameful about it. I know that so far your experiences have been different, but neither Fairion nor any other of the men who came with us would pretend to be your friend only to hurt you. You are not equally close to all of them, but so it is for the rest of us. Yet the ones you have come to know more closely truly enjoy your company. You bear my ring on your finger, and you have borne me a son – for that, they show you respect. But anything beyond this – affection, comradeship – they show you because they like you.”

“But what is there to like about me?” Legolas asked so softly that Glorfindel's heart was breaking at the insecurity and self-loathing which seemed firmly sequestered at the root of Legolas' entire being.

“Fairion especially has taken you into his heart. He is open and easy-going with just about everyone – a good guard, though I would refrain from giving him more responsibility just yet. But in all the years he served beneath me, I have never known him to speak an untruth in order to hurt someone. He is a good man, and a true friend to those he loves. He is good with our youth, too – I sometimes let him teach, because I know that he enjoys it. So if he offers to teach you, and wants to spend time with you beyond your lessons, then that is because he enjoys the time he spends with you. You are very easy to love, Legolas. Beneath those doubts and fears, I see a true and loving heart. A gentle heart – which does not mean cowardice,” Glorfindel insisted, “but an unparalleled capacity for love and compassion. You would do anything for those you love.”

Legolas shook his head. “I only ever think of myself,” he whispered, and Glorfindel took hold of his chin to raise his face, wishing he could make Legolas see himself the way he saw the youth.

“In what way are you selfish?” he asked gently. “Because your thoughts are trapped in those fears at the bottom of your heart? I wish it were otherwise, my love, but there are valid reasons why you doubt yourself. Have you not been taught that any kind of attention means pain or shame for you? How is your heart to know that it can be different now? Wounds need time to heal. Wounds of the soul might need decades. But even if it takes centuries, I will be by your side, loving you faithfully, this I swear. And in time, your wounds shall heal, and there will come a time when they will barely ache at all.”

“I like Fairion,” Legolas forced himself to admit, even though he feared his Lord would pity him once the day came when Fairion's interest in him would wane. “But how can I be his friend? He knows so much more than I. I must be little more than a child to him. And I know my doubts and hesitation are not endearing. I... I fear I do not truly know how to be a friend.” He looked down, ashamed by how pathetic he must sound, but then forced himself to go on. Did love not mean that you trusted the one you loved with your fears and hopes? It scared Legolas more than anything else he had ever done. It felt like removing what final little remnants of armor which remained to his soul, but at the same time he was so tired of ceaselessly fighting his fears and doubts that he forced himself to continue. Certainly anything would be better than to continue to walk this maze alone in the darkness.

“I had friends once. Or I thought I did. When I was very young. There was a group of us children who received lessons together from various tutors. Between lessons, we were allowed to play in the small gardens by the entrance, safely behind my father's great gates. Three of those children I considered my friends, and most of the time you would find us in the lower branches of an old beech that was just perfect for climbing.” Legolas smiled, though there was sadness in his eyes. “Thuldir I considered a very good friend… until one day, after a lesson, we walked to our tree and he asked me why I always had to follow them around.

“See, there was the truth revealed to me. I was not their friend. I was just someone who annoyed them by following them, even though he was not wanted. After that, I... did not follow them any more. But I had no other friends among the children there, and I did not know how else to spend my time between the lessons. Standing there alone in the garden while the others played, not knowing what to do or to whom to go... I think that was the first time I ever felt like an outcast.”

Legolas sighed and again rested his head on Glorfindel's shoulder. The tears had stopped a while ago, and now all that seemed left was a bone-deep weariness. He felt as if he had been flayed inside and out, all his skin gone so that only flesh remained and even the lightest touch brought agony. And yet he belonged to Glorfindel, did he not? How often had he sworn to his Lord that he belonged to him completely, body and soul? Thus these secrets belonged to his Lord as well, and it was up to his Lord to decide what to do with Legolas' confession.

“It makes me sad to think back on it, but it does not hurt any longer. Thuldir is a good person,” Legolas insisted. “His father belongs to my father's council. He is part of the faction of Silvan councilmen who always think of the good of our community before such things as power or wealth. And while I was yet guarding horses, Thuldir began to serve the council as a page. He did not dream of swordsmanship, as I did, but only of the good of our people. I am certain that one day soon, he shall follow his father into the council and accomplish good things there. He was no bully, he just...”

“He just hurt you. And because he was no bully, you think he was right in what he said. I do not believe that, Legolas. It matters not to me what he said, or why he said it. What matters is only that you were hurt. You think it was your fault? I tell you now, it is of no importance. You were hurt, and that is real – you bear the scars to this day, whether he desired to hurt you or not.”

“But I cannot expect people to know I am so...sensitive, so easily hurt,” Legolas said, full of loathing for himself. “That is something I have to deal with, not they.”

“You are so hard upon yourself. You set yourself impossibly high goals, and then punish yourself because you cannot reach them. But do you remember what this means?” Glorfindel gently pulled at one of the knots he had woven into Legolas' hair. “This means that you are mine, truly mine. I told you that this is but a game, but at the core of things, what we are, who we are, that is reality. You belong to me, because you cannot be any different, and I own you, because I cannot be any other way either. You are mine, and I think that you know that for both of us, it must be this way, and it will always be, no matter what outer form our games will take. At the heart of it, this is our truth.”

Legolas found himself nodding, for Glorfindel did speak the truth, even though he himself would not have known how to express it in words. But the feeling was there, deep in his heart, and instinctively he knew that he could not be any different, even if he tried.

“You belong to me. All of you belongs to me. I shall punish you or reward you however I see fit. And I shall take measures to remind you that I am the only one who has the right to punish you. Only I, do you understand?”

Legolas nodded again, his mouth suddenly dry.

“You have no right to punish yourself,” Glorfindel continued relentlessly. “Just as you have no right to pleasure yourself. You accepted that easily; I fear this new rule will take a little longer to be accepted, but fear not, I will make you accept it. Every evening before we go to bed, you will list all your transgressions for me to judge and to punish. All of them; you will leave nothing out. You will tell me anything you said or did or even thought for which you think you deserve to be punished. And then I will judge you, and I will punish you accordingly. And if I find out that you have been holding back and punishing yourself for something you think you did – believe me, roch neth, I will make you wish you had not.”

His smile was threatening and predatory, yet full of love at the same time, so that Legolas felt as if something inside him was melting, and heat returned to his blood at this show of his Lord's strength. He lowered his eyes submissively, but then wrapped himself tightly around his Lord once more, needing to feel him close. “I will, Lord,” he whispered breathlessly. “I promise I will.”