Cuil Eden

Beta'd by Beruthiel's_Cats, thank you so much for investing so much time into this! *hugs*

This is it - the last chapter, at long last. It took me almost 7 years to complete this story - a year or two ago, I hoped that I'd be able to end it with chapter 70, but the story clearly had other ideas. This is almost 200 000 words now, and while I know that others manage to write that in a single year, I'm still amazed how long this got, considering that this started out as an insistent little plotbunny I wrote mostly for therapeutic reasons, to battle writer's block and self-censorship. As I said in a reply to Spiced_Wine yesterday, in the many many years I've worked on this story, I've had quite a few fandom friendships grow and die, but I still love this story like no other I've ever written, and I'll never allow anything to destroy this enjoyment. And never fear, I will start to work on the sequel as soon as I've finished my story for Slashy Valentine, and though I'm hoping that it won't take another seven years to finish the sequel, by now I have ideas enough to write Legolas' and Glorfindel's story until the end of my life. ;)

Thank you to all of you who've given me your support and stuck with this story for so long! Did you know that this is the 5th most read story of the entire lotrfanfiction.com archive? *boggles* I still have a hard time to wrap my mind around that, but I'm so glad that despite my initial misgivings back in 2003 when I came up with the premise, so many of you enjoy Legolas' and Glorfindel's story! :)


~~~
77

The gleaming water in the silver bowl reflected the night sky above them where stars were shining, bright as jewels. Glorfindel's arms came around Legolas and a ripple disturbed the constellations mirrored in the water, though no one had touched the bowl. When the water calmed again, Legolas saw a couple standing at a beach, staring into the distance while the water lapped at their bare feet. They were both tall and stern, though there was sadness on their faces, and the golden tresses of the woman mingled with the dark hair of the man as they silently stood and watched.

Then the scene changed, and instead of the jewel-strewn beach, Legolas beheld a meadow with summer flowers, red and yellow and blue blossoms thick among the tall grass like stitch-work on a tapestry. Two fair-haired men walked among the flowers and when they stopped to face each other, Legolas saw that one of them was his Lord, in a time when he was young and carefree, although already he shone with strength and beauty and the self-assurance that never failed to rouse admiration in Legolas' own heart. The scenes changed quickly then; to ice and snow and his Lord trudging through a never-ending night with despair on his face; his arrival at what must have been the coastline of Ennor with the sun rising at his back for the first time, bright and fierce like a pennant of hope while beneath his Lord's steps, the ice receded and flowers grew.

Glorfindel arrived in Middle-earth once more, stepping from a large, swan-shaped boat with a companion cloaked in gray, though both seemed to emanate a bright, beautiful light. Then a cloak of darkness spread across the scene and when it faded, his Lord was clad in silver and gold mail, sitting atop a white charger who pawed the ground; while across the battleground, a black presence drifted into view. Coldness gripped Legolas heart when Glorfindel's foe raised his sword, and he mouthed a word in soundless fear. Nazgûl. The darkness at the heart of their forest who brought death and corruption and could not be vanquished even by the bravest warrior.

Once more the scene changed, and Legolas was overcome by fear when he recognized himself. He was kneeling – kneeling in his father's throne-room. His heart contracted with a sudden, helpless terror as he saw his son running towards him, there before his father’s throne. Then, suddenly, the mountains of his father's strong-hold were beneath him, the river that led to Laketown, and at last, as he beheld the human settlement for the first time, he saw the mountain behind it glow red and yellow like the brightest gold as a dragon rose from its perch, coming towards the town with the promise of death in its maw.

Scenes of battles followed, changing so quickly that Legolas could not have said with certainty who was battling whom. Once, he thought he saw his Lord's men, then the men of his father's realm facing – were those dwarves? There was a black ship sailing down a river, a great city of Men preparing for war, and then his Lord, resplendent in anger, golden hair streaming behind him like a battle standard as he forced a silver charger forward. The powerful animal raced a set of heavy doors threatening to close before Glorfindel could break through. The stallion's hooves struck sparks from the stone as it thundered across a bridge and then they were inside, the doors falling closed behind them with resonating finality as Legolas became aware with sudden shock that this was the court to his father's Halls. The stallion snorted and shook his head, pawed at the ground while Glorfindel faced the warriors of the Greenwood which quickly surrounded him, staring down at rows of raised spears and bows with unrelenting arrogance.

“No!” Legolas cried. Before him, the stone of his father's halls disappeared until at last, the water in the bowl was dark and quiet like the night sky once more.

“No! Promise me you will never do that!”

Glorfindel pressed a kiss to his brow, arms tightening around him in voiceless reassurance.

“I could not bear it, my Lord! If anything were to happen to you – if anything were to happen to Gîl! My father will never change! Promise me that you will not ever go there!”

“Hush!” Glorfindel turned Legolas in his arms, cupped the beautiful, fearful face with both hands. “This means nothing. The future is not set in stone, Legolas. If this is indeed part of the song, then it will come to pass; but how or why, we cannot know. This may never happen, my dear – or it might happen, and a moment later, something else could occur. Your father has reason to desire my death now, but who can say if that will change? Thranduil is not wholly without reason.”

“But what reason can there be for what we saw?” Legolas leaned into Glorfindel's touch, feeling out of his depth once more. Why was it that whenever he felt as if he was slowly regaining control over his life, something happened to pull away the ground from beneath his feet?

“That is not the future I want,” he admitted softly, too shaken by what he had seen to care about how he sounded. “So much battle, Lord, so much danger... I am not made for such things. There are no great deeds in my future, you must know that! I will never effect anything of importance. All I want is to be by your side, and for Gîl to be happy. I am not made for glory, or fame, or matters of importance. I want a quiet life by your side, Lord. I will never desire to return to my father's Halls out of my own free will, nor would I ever willingly expose Gîl to the scorn he would find there.”

“My dear, you are no coward. You have a great sense of justice; you would never run from a fight if you saw someone who might be in need of your help. And sometimes, it is not about glory. Sometimes, it is simply doing what is right, because there is no alternative. I am sick of war, Legolas. I am sick of death. I am sick of myself, of what I have allowed myself to become. You cannot deal death and expect it not to change you. Therein, perhaps, lies my greatest failure.”

“You are a good man,” Legolas said, his voice tremulous as he looked up into Glorfindel's eyes, remembering what had been, yes, and yet, and yet...

Tears spilled over when he saw that Glorfindel, too, was crying, was kissing him, and then was holding him close, needing him too, needing him and loving him just as much as he needed and loved his Lord.

“I will try to be, from now on,” Glorfindel whispered into his hair and then just held him. Legolas could not have said how long they stood there, but at last, Glorfindel let go of him, giving him another smile; one that filled Legolas' heart with the warmth of sunshine.

"Those were not answers," he then said with a deep sigh. Galadriel smiled and fleetingly touched his face.

"Questions, then? Sometimes, it is not the answer which eludes us, but the right question."

Glorfindel shook his head. "I am sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" She was still smiling at him, patient and gentle, and yet he knew her strength equaled his own, if not surmounted it. Glorfindel felt weary. This was not the right time for a battle of wills. And in truth, he did not want to quarrel with Galadriel. He had little of his childhood left. Truly, there was only her now. His sword, his horses, his jewelry were but trinkets; Galadriel was the living and breathing remnant of another time, another Age. Inside her heart, she still carried their people's youth, and Glorfindel ached for the loss of their innocence. Galadriel had hardened too, as had he, and looking at her, tall and strong and beautiful as the stars, he wondered if he would ever see her brother again, walk hand in hand with him through the blossoming meadows of Aman.

"I have always known I would be needed. That there was a battle waiting to be fought on these mortal shores. See how much he took from us. From all those who crossed the ice with us, who is now left here but you and I? I knew I was needed. This is why I returned, though my father and my mother fear for me, though your brother is walking a shore far from here. I wanted to give what I had to this land: my strength, my sword, my loyalty, because I knew it would be needed. That is what I have seen. Battle after battle, it will come; it is waiting for all of us. "

"And will you fight this battle?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "Before, I was alone... But now, I cannot think only of myself. If this is a reminder of what is at stake, then I can only say that I am aware of it. Truly, no one could be more aware of it than I am. And yet, my loyalty is divided now. It must be. It belongs to my child, and to Legolas. I have sacrificed much to this fight, because I knew there was no other way. I still see no other way, but if ever the time should arrive when I realize I cannot give any more... I will never sacrifice Legolas or Gîl, even if Manwë himself asked it of me.”

“No one questions the service you have done,” Galadriel said, stern and beautiful still, and Glorfindel felt regret when he thought of the daughter she had lost. And yet... They called him noble, yet he was not so noble that he would willingly accept the death of his son. Much he would sacrifice, but not this, even if a day came when they would call him a coward. If ever it went so far in this darkening Age that all seemed lost, when the enemy was marching on Imladris and there was no hope left... This time, he could no longer choose a hero's death.

“I swear to you,” he murmured, thrusting his hands into Legolas' wheaten locks, “I will never lead you into inescapable danger. Rather than risk losing you and Gîl, I will take you to the Havens if danger comes, and sail to where there is peace and rest still for us, though these shores be ravaged by the Dark One's hate and rage.”

“Is this what you are afraid of? That the future will demand a choice?”

Glorfindel frowned at Galadriel's question. “No,” he said at last. “No. I have made my decision and truly, I would not be the man I am if it were any different. Certainly you must see that for me, there cannot be another choice. And I do not say that I will flee from any and all danger. But if ever there should come a day upon me like that morn of Tarnin Austa, then know that what I was lauded for then shall not again come to pass. I am no longer free to choose an honorable death, for death it will be, and now I must live for them.”

“You think me afraid,” he then continued. “Perhaps you are right. I have done a great wrong, one that cannot be undone, no matter how much I might wish it. I see the extent of my arrogance now. Is it not ironic that in recognition of my exemplary life, I quickly left Mandos' domain and returned to these shores, only to then prove that the Valar's judgment of my fëa's worthiness had been entirely wrong?”

“So... it is judgment you fear?”

“Yes. Not here, for most of those who would dare judge me have no right to do so. Yet who knows what the future might bring? The way west is not barred for me. This much I know. But if I do indeed return one day to the land of my childhood..." Glorfindel sighed. "I do not fear judgment. I know I deserve it. And I would never deny my guilt in this. Arrogant, they call me, but I tell you this: if we ever sail, I shall scale the heights of the Pelóri, climb Taniquetil itself and fall to my knees before Manwë to grovel for his mercy, pride be damned. I love my family more than my pride."

"No! You will do no such thing!"

Legolas’ soft voice interrupted their discussion, so that both turned to look at him in surprise. It was easy sometimes to forget Legolas was there even, as had happened now, if they were talking about him. Too often Legolas was too fearful of ridicule to offer his own opinion, and Galadriel, though she felt a keen empathy and a deeper, niggling awareness that the lovely youth was more important than he believed himself to be, was almost embarrassed to find that she, too, had fallen into that trap of disregarding him for his silence.

"Why would you kneel before Manwë? You have no right do to that! You have not wronged him. You have wronged m-me!” Legolas' voice shook. “He cannot absolve you of what happened. This is.... This is between us!"

Glorfindel sobered, finding Legolas so shaken. "Forgive me," he said, drawing Legolas close so he could bury his face in his silken hair, feel the fast tattoo of the youth's heartbeat against his chest. "Forgive me, I did not think. You are right, of course. I was thinking only of myself, of what I feel, though I should be thinking of what you feel. Once more I am trying to make this about me, when it is about you. Ah, will I ever learn?”

There was true despondency in his voice, and Legolas could not help but reach out for him then, cup his face, kiss him. “All I want is to be allowed to be with you. If you are not allowed to return, my Lord, I will not care. I will be just as happy to live by your side in Imladris, in some forgotten Nandorin forest far in the east, or in the icy dales of Forochel.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “I have seen enough of ice and snow to suffice for another two or three ages. But I would rather go and live as a common soldier under your father's rule than risk your life. Rest assured, I will allow no one to come between us. Not Elrond, not your father, not even Manwë himself.”

~~~

Legolas had not been able to believe it when he had first heard he would be allowed to join his Lord on the journey to the Golden Wood - and how strange it felt now to think back to that day. Such a short time ago it had been, and yet how much had changed! He remembered well how he felt then, little more than a child by Glorfindel's side who had no choice but to do as he was told. Yet now, while he knew that he would never equal Glorfindel in accomplishment and renown, he was no longer the cringing child of the past. A part of him would always seek to obey Glorfindel's wishes, because there was nothing more rewarding than Glorfindel's approval of him and yet, there was another part of him now; a part that saw a path before him that would lead to better things, and which he strove to follow under Glorfindel's guidance.

No. Young and inexperienced he might still be, but he was no longer a child; nor did Glorfindel treat him so. Glorfindel regarded him as his equal, save for the games they both enjoyed and already, when Legolas thought back to what life had been like before he left Imladris, it seemed a strange dream, like a completely different life. He was no warrior, but with Glorfindel by his side, he could believe that there was strength hidden within him, too. Legolas patted Lainiell's neck absently, pleased to note how the warmth of the Golden Wood had hastened the shedding of her winter coat. No longer would Haldir be able to smirk at his shaggy pony; though smaller than his Lord's powerful charger, her coat shone like silk in the light of the morning sun.

Legolas raised his hand with a smile when he discovered Haldir with his brothers. Haldir, as wicked as always, took his hand and raised it to his lips for a kiss, eyes gleaming at him in provocation so that Legolas groaned and laughed at the same time. "Haldir!" he chided, though he did not know what else to say, for after all a traitorous part of him did enjoy Haldir’s attention, irritating though it might be.

"We both know you are going to miss me, Prince." Haldir smirked, and for a moment, Legolas wished that he were daring enough to lean forward and kiss Haldir to wipe that smirk from his face. His Lord would not even mind he thought, but would be amused - but he was not quite so daring yet.

"You could come visit us," he instead said softly, "see for yourself if I am making progress with your beautiful gift." He ran an admiring finger down the smooth, golden mallorn wood of the bow strung on his back. When he had visited the market with Haldir, he’d had eyes only for the swords, but this too was a weapon, and carrying it filled him with pride and exhilaration. "Maybe then, my Lord would let you have the kiss you so crave..."

He laughed at Haldir's expression, wondering a little at himself. To think that he would indeed feel enough at ease with Haldir to tease him... There was no one at Imladris whom he trusted as much as trusted Haldir now, and for a moment Legolas wondered if there ever would be. But then he remembered his Lord's men and brightened. He had their friendship too, and he felt more than at ease with Fairion and Laindir. No, this strange new feeling of being someone who was worthy of attention, of friendship, was not something limited to Lothlórien, peaceful though the forest was. He would know it too in Imladris. Fairion would not cease to be kind to him just because Erestor sneered at him. He would have friendship in Imladris as well, even if nothing had changed in their absence, and he knew that it had not. The greatest part of the valley's inhabitants would still loathe him for who his father was. And yet, he now wore Glorfindel's ring on his finger and carried the warmth of his oath in his heart.

He made his goodbyes then, not only to Haldir and his brothers, finding that the saddler and his wife had also come to see them off. That, too, they did not have in Imladris, or so he thought; realizing all of a sudden that he had not truly experienced life in the valley, apart from his Lord's suite of rooms. Maybe that would change, too. Maybe one day, he would be able to walk as freely, as fearlessly through Elrond's home as he had walked among the mellyrn of the Golden Wood.

When it was time to take their leave from Celeborn and Galadriel, both of them kissed his brow in blessing and his hand rose to touch the yellow jewel that hung over his heart. He tried to thank them, humbled by all they had done for him – his father loathed the both of them for their ambition, and yet they had shown nothing but kindness to him, giving him such gifts... Maybe, he thought, his father had been as wrong about the Lord and Lady of Lórien, as they were wrong about his own people in Imladris. Glorfindel had once told him that many of the hurtful words he’d said had been lies, used to hurt and humiliate him. So much that was said seemed to be designed for a similar aim. Did Erestor truly believe Legolas’ folk were of lesser worth, just because they accorded the life in their forest higher worth than the Noldorin accomplishments in the forges? Did his father truly believe Galadriel and Celeborn were ruled by greed and desired to annex his kingdom, or did he say it because he disliked them, or as part of a political game Legolas was too naïve to understand?

Legolas chided himself for wasting the last minutes of their stay in this fabled realm with such thoughts, yet these things worried him. Sometimes it seemed as if everything people said carried a hidden meaning which he was perpetually at a loss to decipher.

He took a deep breath, forcing those thoughts away for now. Lainiell gave an impatient snort, well aware that all the chaos surrounding her meant that they were about to start on a journey. Legolas allowed her to make her way to Asfaloth’s side, who snuffled at her mane until she nipped at him in reprimand.

Gîl, too was wide-eyed and excited, sitting before Glorfindel on the stallion’s broad back. Legolas could not help a smile at the picture they made. Glorfindel shone, resplendent in all his finery as if a tapestry depicting the heroes of old had suddenly come to life - and of course, his Lord was indeed such a hero of another age given life once more. The morning sun gleamed on his curls of gold that framed the strong, flawless face, and though he was the very image of potent virility, there was a smile on his lips and the warmth of love in his eyes, his arm tenderly curved around Gîl’s small body while he listened to the child’s excited words.

This was what made it worth it, Legolas thought. All of it, all that had happened, even the most terrible experiences he’d suffered. For this, it had been worth it, no matter what they might say about him at home. He had done the right thing.

Glorfindel smiled at him too, so that Legolas heart constricted with helpless love and need. Glorfindel was iron dominance softened by golden tenderness, and Legolas could not think of anything better suited to his own needs and desires than this noble alloy. Glorfindel took his hand then, raised it to his lips with a smile, and Legolas laughed, flushed at the publicity of his Lord’s display, and yet so very pleased by it too. Then there was a sudden commotion and when Legolas turned towards it in curiosity, the smile died on his lips.

His brother. Had he truly thought he would be able to escape Galuron’s censure? Legolas had hoped, but as always, Galuron cared naught about his hopes or dreams. How the news of their betrothal must have angered him...

Asfaloth snorted and pawed the ground, shaking his head in anger at the sudden change of his master’s mood. Glorfindel cursed softly and relaxed the reins he had tightened instinctively, patting the stallion’s neck in apology. Still angered, tail and spotless coat twitching with annoyance, but held in check as much by Glorfindel’s will as by the reins, Asfaloth pranced towards where Galuron stood with two of his friends.

“Have you come to congratulate your brother on his betrothal?” There was menace in Glorfindel's voice and Legolas was all too aware that whatever reason made Galuron decide to come, this wasn't it.

“Do you think you deserve congratulations for this, Legolas?”

Legolas flinched despite himself when Galuron addressed him. He felt alternately hot and cold, sick with shame because he knew what would come now. This was what always happened. He would be humiliated and insulted; would find no words to defend himself. What else was there now for him but to try and bear it with as much honor as he could and trust in Glorfindel's strength?

“You know yourself that you deserve none of that,” Galuron answered his own question. “Do not fret; I have little desire to spend time in your company. I have come here for one reason only...as a warning. You might enjoy how he forces people to scrape and bow to you, and everyone can see that your service in the bedchamber is well rewarded with trinkets and silk. He can make people call you prince here, and put braids into your hair which you know are a crime for you to wear. He plays a game, and you are but a pawn. You will never be a prince of the Woodland Realm, do you hear me? Come anywhere near the Greenwood and we will cut off your impostor's braids. And even if all of our family were wiped out, your bastard will never sit the throne of the Greenwood! Do you hear me, Legolas? Your bastard is no prince of the forest, no matter what you claim. Take one step across our border and all of you will die for the shame you have brought on yourself.”

“Shame?” Legolas replied softly. “That I have a son, whom I love more than you can imagine? I will never be ashamed of that. Nor am I ashamed that I love Glorfindel. Eru himself has recognized our love. Neither you, nor indeed death itself shall take me from my Lord's side now.”

He sighed. “I love the Greenwood. I truly do, more than you can know. But there is nothing special about me, Galuron. Nothing princely. I have always known this. I shall never be a leader of men. I shall never do great deeds. My name will never be sung. I know all of that, and I have no pretensions to greatness. Rest assured, I will never try and gain any sort of influence in my father's realm. And I would rather lock my son into his rooms than allow him to ever set foot into a realm where he would encounter people like you.”

Asfaloth snorted and shook his head, eyes rolling so that Galuron visibly paled, though he refused to step aside. “I have warned you,” Glorfindel then said, so formidable in his anger that even Legolas shivered. “I have warned you repeatedly. Have you forgotten who I am? Run home to your father, tell him your lies, but know this: I am not someone you want to anger, boy. Where are the great deeds you have accomplished? Have you faced a dragon? Or one of the Dark Lord's demons, spewed forth right from the maws of Angband? Who are you to talk of shame? Legolas has shown greater honor and courage than you ever will. And one more thing I will tell you, another piece of intelligence to send your father if you will. The gift of foresight was given to me, and I tell you this: You will not sit the throne of Mirkwood, nor will your brother. But the day shall come when all the folk of the wood will sing the name of Legolas in praise, and Mirkwood shall not be restored to its former glory until this has come to pass.”

Glorfindel's words resonated among the golden mellyrn, and all talk fell silent. There was a power to them which touched even the hearts of those too far away to hear his pronouncement, and Legolas shivered, seeing for a moment as if through a golden haze a cavalcade of wood-elves, setting out from his father's forest with himself in the lead.