Cuil Eden

76

Later that day, Legolas ruefully remembered Glorfindel's words when Haldir took one look at him, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. As Legolas had feared, one look was all Haldir needed to know exactly what his Lord had done to him, though Legolas found his teasing easier to bear after the revelations of the past few days.

He still felt trepidation every time he met Haldir's eyes, and could not help the way he flushed and stumbled over words when Haldir purposefully moved too close for comfort. Yet at the same time, there were no insults, no derision, and Legolas thought that maybe Haldir could simply not help who he was; the same way that he himself could not help his own reaction to Haldir's insouciant arrogance. Anyway, as puzzling as Haldir was and as much as Legolas still could not make himself trust him, Haldir also knew how to be entertaining, and how to put Legolas at ease with their conversation.

At times, Legolas wondered whether Haldir realized how much this delighted him. To interact with someone who seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, in what he thought – it was something Legolas had known only very rarely, and he always feared that his pleasure in being taken seriously by another revealed that so far, he had only ever been a bystander watching the lives of others.

“Brooding again?” Haldir smirked when Legolas started and thrust his cupped hands forward, showing off a huge newt, dotted with black spots and a large, jagged crest on his back. It raised its head to peer at Legolas, giving him a baleful look. “Must be the king of the pond, coming to greet our visiting prince. Say hello, your highness. Or better yet – give him a kiss? He might be one of those unfortunates cursed by Melkor early in the First Age – another arrogant Noldorin prince, mayhap. They say that a few unfortunates still wander these shores in the warty guise of a frog, waiting for the one who might break the curse. Or – you know the story of Amroth and Nimrodel, yes? My father told it quite differently, and I cannot help but wonder...”

Haldir studied the put-out newt with a raised brow, as if to compare the irritable lizard's facial features with those of the erstwhile ruler of his forest.

“Thank you, but no.” Legolas gently pushed Haldir's hands back. “Even if it were true, Amroth the lizard seems to enjoy his life as king of the pond. And I need no arrogant Noldorin prince – I already have an arrogant Noldo of my own, as you well know. Give him to Gîl and let him put him back into the pond.”

“Poor Amroth. No kiss for you. And no kiss for me.” Haldir sighed and then turned to hand the newt to Gîl, who seemed deep in an earnest conversation with a toad.

~~~

"You will miss me," Haldir remarked as they slowly strode back, and Legolas could not help but smile at the casual arrogance of those words.

"What makes you think so? I will rather be glad to escape from your continual tormenting, I would say."

"Oh no, you will miss me, little prince. There is no one like me in Imladris, and you well know it."

Legolas wanted to roll his eyes at Haldir's smug self-satisfaction.

"And a good thing it is. I do not think I could deal with another like you."

"Perhaps I'll accompany Ellonúr when he returns," Haldir mused as if he had not heard Legolas' answer. "In any case, it will be interesting to see how things will change. You are going to cause quite a stir when you return with his ring on your finger, did you not realize? Not everyone will be happy about such a development."

Legolas looked down for a moment. "No one will be happy about it; I know that. But what can I do, but trust my Lord in this? There is no sense in listening to those who do not care for me. They disliked me before, and they will not think any better of me now. But my Lord knows this, and if he is prepared to deal with all of that, then what can I do but to trust, and to follow? In any case, you know my Lord. There is nothing that fans his determination like being told he cannot do something. He is almost as bad as you in that regard." Legolas gave Haldir a quick glance to find him smiling broadly at the description.

"If such were true, I would have collected more than a single kiss from you by now. But you are right, I think. He cares nothing for their opinions of course, and why should he? But I do hope he remembers that you are in a quite different position. He should not just thrust you into such a situation and then leave you to deal with the fallout. And there will be fallout," Haldir warned. "They like their hierarchy in Imladris. For many of them, seeing you at Glorfindel's side as little more than... well," he interrupted himself with a glance at Gîl, who was walking a few paces in front of them. "You know what I mean. That will still be easier to bear for them than hearing you proclaimed Glorfindel's betrothed, or indeed seeing you wedded to him. They could look down on you before, but now, you will gain a standing in Imladris rivaled only by that of Elrond and his children. A large part of his nobles will resent you greatly for that."

"Oh," Legolas replied weakly and flushed when he thought of the many unfriendly faces that had met him during the numerous dinners at Elrond's table. "You are probably right, but I know little about important things. There would be no reason for any of his nobles or councilors to even talk to me. And - I like my Lord's men; they do not seem to mind my presence. Fairion even wants to tutor me in swordsmanship himself from now on. I expect I will simply stay out of everyone's way and stick to my Lord's men. And maybe one day, I too will be one of them. Have you seen the sword my Lord gave me?" His face flushed with pleasure as he thought of holding it in his hands, the weight of it, the sharpness of the blade, the thoughtful decorations of beech and celandine.

“Perhaps I shall test your prowess when next we meet. It is a pity Glorfindel rendered you unfit for swordplay for now – although I am sure that he will be very appreciative of the results.” Haldir's eyes lingered thoughtfully on Legolas' chest. “But at least I am gladdened by the thought of you taking my gifts with you as well, to remember me by. Tell me, has Glorfindel shown you all of their many uses yet? You liked the little crop very much, as I remember...”

Haldir laughed softly when Legolas blushed once more.


~~~

Their remaining days in the Golden Wood seemed to pass at once slowly and yet too quickly for Legolas, who continued to spend much time with Fairion and Laindir, or Haldir and his brethren. After a few days, he was able to resume the work on his swordsmanship with Fairion, though they went more slowly than before, per Glorfindel's orders. The little bars of metal pierced through his nipples still felt uncomfortable and sore betimes, the barely healed wounds aching when Legolas turned or twisted too suddenly. Yet at the same time, Legolas could not deny the effect they had on him. Of course Glorfindel had always been a master of seduction, but now, even though he was still healing, a gentle touch or the merest hint of Glorfindel's breath against his skin was enough to make his nipples tighten into aching little points of pleasure.

And then there were the evenings, when Legolas invariably wound up crying against Glorfindel's throat from pain, from shame, from a helpless, instinctive fear of baring the secrets of his soul to another. Still, Glorfindel never betrayed his trust, and Legolas could not help but feel eased afterward, as if his Lord's advice, even the mere fact he was willing to listen without judging him for what he heard, was enough to lighten the burden he was carrying.

These were good days in Lothlórien; the best, Legolas thought, that he had ever known. He wore a silver ring on his finger and a fine sword at his side, both signs of the high regard in which his Lord held him. He wore small bars of gold pierced through his flesh, a sign of his Lord's desire for him; something which still awed Legolas, who had never been desired before. He had Gîlríon, whose mere existence sometimes still made Legolas feel almost sick with fear – how was he, who could not even order his own life, to bring up a child? And yet Gîl was happy, and Legolas learned more and more to trust in Glorfindel's strength and to believe in his own capacity for love. Gîl knew he was loved, there was no doubt about that, and had no qualms about demanding the same love and adoration from every stranger he met. Sometimes Legolas looked at him and wondered if this was what he had been like as a child. Sometimes his heart contracted with fear and he wanted to tell Gîl to not trust so easily, to not open himself to hurt and rejection, but he could not bring himself to do such a thing. This was, after all, what he had wanted for Gîl. To not grow up as Legolas had. To walk through life with the same self-assurance as Glorfindel.

It was difficult, but at the same time Legolas felt such fierce pride in Gîl, who already made friends far more easily than Legolas ever had. He knew he would never be able to make himself damage Gîl's confidence in any way.

No, the time they had spent in Lórien had been like a dream, and now Legolas simultaneously hoped he would find the same confidence if they returned to Imladris at last, and feared that all his new-found courage would melt like snow in spring with one disdainful glance from Erestor. Yet so much had changed for the good, and he tried to hold fast to the knowledge that he had won friends among his Lord's men. He might never win the hearts of the greater part of the valley's inhabitants. He was, after all, the son of Thranduil, though disowned, and now gifted with a new name by his Lord. Even in the forest that was still the home of his heart, he had not managed to find friends. But what he had now was good, and more than he had ever dreamed of having. Was it not ungrateful to desire more?

Sometimes he felt as if he were blindfolded, stumbling along the path of life which everyone else navigated freely and with confidence – yet now he had Glorfindel to lead the way. All it took was trust in his guidance.

Thus the days in Lórien passed quickly, with walks beneath the golden boughs of the mellyrn, hours whiled away with Gîl who was excited about everything he saw, and nights spent in his Lord's embrace. If he could, Legolas would have chosen to stay; having first tasted of peace here in this place that was so blessedly free of the ghosts of the past. Yet leave they must, eventually.

~~~

It was still dark when Legolas woke. It was the night before they would take their leave, and for a moment, he wondered what had woken him. In dreams, too, he cleaved to his Lord's side, walking with him beneath the beeches of his father's forest that were still the home of his heart, or, more often, walking beneath strange stars through meadows of fragrant, jewel-bright flowers which must have been his Lord's own childhood memories. Now, though, he remembered not where reverie had led them, only feeling a strange sense of restlessness, and the need for reassurance.

His Lord was not beside him, and when Legolas stood, a cloud passed beyond the moon so that Ithil's light bathed his nude, passion-marked body with rays of gentle silver. A certitude grew in him then, and he quickly slipped on a simple robe. The ground felt cool beneath his bare feet when he stepped onto the dew-wet grass in front of their mallorn, and now, for the first time, he hesitated, thinking of Gîl. Reassurance brushed against him, a feeling of gentle, golden light and of his child asleep in his bed when he returned. He wavered, but then he thought he heard voices and curiously set out in search of them.

He walked for a while, away from the large mellyrn which held telain and pathways high above his head. Before him he saw the lush green of Galadriel's private garden appear as if from the mists of a dream, and he was not surprised to at last find his Lord standing with the Lady of Light before her Mirror.

What did surprise him was to find them at odds with one another.

"I told you, I see no use in it! What can it tell me that I cannot learn for myself?" Glorfindel's voice was unusually cold, so that Legolas' eyes widened and he grew uncertain. Nevertheless, he made himself step closer, taking his Lord's hand as he paused by his side.

Galadriel smiled at him, easing Legolas' uncertainty somewhat as he remembered with embarrassment how he had last parted from her in this glade.

"What can it tell you? What you are afraid to see perhaps," was her only reply. Glorfindel snorted and shook his head, causing Legolas to give him another uncertain look; he had never seen his Lord nervous before.

"Afraid to see?" Glorfindel's voice was just a shade too loud, and instinctively, Legolas moved closer against him, trying to offer support though he knew not what they were arguing about. Glorfindel then closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his anger seemed to have fallen away, and beneath it appeared a deep weariness.

"Why did you have to bring him into this?" Glorfindel asked, more softly now. "Is it not enough, the pain you caused him by what he saw? This is between you and I-"

"No," Galadriel interrupted, and her voice was stern despite her kindness. "No. If that is what you think, it is no wonder you are angered. I have no quarrel with you, Glorfindel. This is not about me. This is about you – only you. I can only offer the Mirror to you; it is your choice to look. Yet – is there not anger still within you?”

“What good does it do to see what might be?” Glorfindel challenged. “Do you think I do not know exactly what my actions wrought? I am not hiding from the truth! But with what right do you judge me? Have you not also shown the same arrogance for which you would rebuke me? And did the Mirror help you?”

“This is not about me,” Galadriel repeated. “And I have never denied the utter arrogance of my ambition when I left my home behind in search of a kingdom to rule. We were all little more than children then, filled with arrogance and dreams. I dreamed of ruling lands of my own, but never did I think that the lands we journeyed to did not belong to us; nor did I think of how its people might not desire my rulership. And yet, I learned. It was not my own ambition which made me accept my lord's hand in marriage. It was love. And I love my people, and this forest. I have now spent more time among the Silvan elves than I spent in the Aman of my childhood. Were I allowed to return, those who knew me then would not recognize me."

Glorfindel shook his head, unrelenting. "You are hardly a Silvan, Galadriel. You still shine with power and ambition, though I will admit that life has softened the hard edges. Yet all of you who live within want the same thing; to preserve the glory of this forest against the growing darkness."

"Yes," Galadriel admitted. "And that is burden enough in this Age. But what will you, Glorfindel? Glory? Power?"

"Glory -- is it glorious to bring death?" Glorfindel laughed, though there was little pleasure in it. "I do what must be done. There is pleasure in the thought of thwarting the Dark Lord's plans, though the possibility seems to grow ever more dim as the Age advances. No. There is no pleasure in bringing death, for me. Do I desire power? I am content to serve Elrond, for now. I do not desire to rule a realm of my own, though I do demand respect. Pleasure, love, a family... I take great enjoyment in these, as you well know. I am content."

"Ah." Galadriel smiled. "If such were true, you would not have heeded my call. Why are you here, Glorfindel? Why this barely veiled anger, when you are content?"

Glorfindel's hand clenched around Legolas'. "Cease your games, Galadriel. You know very well that I regret what I did to him!”

Legolas was pale as he looked from one to the other. Seeing these powerful people argue made him feel helpless, much like a child who had no business observing adults quarrel. He was vaguely ashamed of feeling as he did. He was of no assistance to Glorfindel at all, and as always, hearing them talk about how he had been treated made him wish he could simply vanish, or wake up in their bed and pretend it had all been just a dream.

“If I feel anger, then it is because you have seen fit to meddle in what is between him and me. Why would I apologize to you when I have wronged him? It is his forgiveness that matters, not yours, though such a thing can never be forgiven. And before you ask – yes, I have begged his forgiveness, and I would grovel on my knees before him each and every day if that was what he wanted. But I will not apologize to you!”

“I have not asked you to,” Galadriel replied calmly. “But see, there it is. The anger, the pride. You attack when you think yourself attacked. This show of wounded pride is brought about by one reason only – that deep inside you know that you no longer deserve the respect you so cherish. Where is your honor now, Glorfindel the beloved?”

“Stop!” Legolas cried in despair, hating this situation, hating what had happened, hating that they could just talk about what had passed as if he were not even here while it felt like his heart would tear itself apart with shame and hurt and grief. “You have no right to condemn him for what you do not even truly know!”

“I do not condemn him,” Galadriel said gently and reached out to touch Legolas' cheek. “And I would not cause you unnecessary pain, Prince. Like so many, you have known too much of that already. But he carries great guilt. While you hide yours deep within your heart, his can barely be contained, turning to anger as it seethes beneath the surface. He cannot deny it. Oh, he would not hurt you, I do believe that, but all the same, denying his own guilt and shame does him no good. I cannot absolve him of his guilt; no-one can. And I cannot heal your pain, as much I might want to.”

“But you think you can offer me the service of your Mirror?” Glorfindel observed bitterly. “What can it show me that I do not already know? What will it change? Have you so soon forgotten the pain and false assumptions it woke in Legolas?

“But let us end it here,” he added and raised a hand as if to ward off more of Galadriel's words. “As you said, there is no salvation to be found here, not for me, not for him. But I will see what your Mirror reveals.”

He made as if to extricate himself from Legolas, who still held his hand, but Legolas would not let go and stepped forward to the Mirror with him, gazing down at the still waters from the safety of his Lord's arms.