Legolas learns that despite the events told in "Anestel", life continues. (58 000 words)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Glorfindel/Legolas
Warnings: mpreg, d/s

Author: Esteliel

51

Slowly, Glorfindel pulled out the flogger, being careful not to hurt Legolas although the youth was so relaxed and exhausted now that he only moaned tiredly at the sensation. He was beautiful still although the pleasure was gone - or maybe even more so now, resting trustingly on the bed, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat, his surrender still so complete that it made Glorfindel's heart ache.

Awed, Glorfindel shook his head. He had never experienced anything like this. Seeing the youth so defenseless, he wanted to ravish him as if he were a wild animal, forcing him roughly into submission and taking him hard until Legolas cried, and yet at the same time he wanted to hold him close and shelter him with the tender care he would show a wounded bird.

"My Legolas... How you have bewitched me," he whispered, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. "I think of you whenever I am apart from you... I think of you lying in my bed, like this, so vulnerable, so beautiful, and I yearn to return to your side so I can embrace you and hold you close."

"My Lord..." Legolas sighed, his head turning towards Glorfindel, smiling when fingers touched his cheek.

"I am yours – I am all yours, to do with whatever you please," he sighed, sleepily moving against Glorfindel in invitation.

"Mmh... do you want this then?" Glorfindel asked in a purr, groaning against Legolas' neck as he let him feel how hard he was. "Do you want this inside you? Do you think you can please me that way?"

"Oh, yes! Please, my Lord!" Legolas moaned, feeling languid with release but still not satisfied – it was not lust now, not desire, but something deeper, something that could only be satisfied by the feel of his Lord finding his pleasure inside him.

He was still wearing the blindfold, and even though his Lord no longer required him to lie motionless, being unable to see added a new level of intensity to every word and touch. Even more so than earlier he wanted to please Glorfindel now, and when finally his Lord slid inside him, he moaned softly, the ache of being invaded satisfying the all-encompassing need to surrender himself completely.

And there could be nothing more complete than this, moving with Glorfindel's thrusts, feeling his breath against his nape, listening to the sounds of his pleasure. Glorfindel possessed him body and soul, and he cherished this proof of it with all his heart.

When his Lord finally found release, Legolas moaned as well, moved by a powerful feeling that was not unlike climax yet at the same time totally different. They did not move for a while afterwards, silently resting together, still joined, and Legolas sighed in tired appreciation of how his Lord still felt so huge inside him, even though he was softening.

“Thank you,” he said softly, arching against his Lord’s body in tired satisfaction. He felt exhausted and sweaty and so very, very good – he had truly been well-used, and he reveled in the feeling.

Glorfindel murmured something against his skin in answer, and Legolas laughed softly.

“Have I exhausted you, my Lord?” he asked, smiling when Glorfindel snorted. Then his Lord’s hands reached up into his hair and gently pulled the blindfold off, and Legolas sighed again when he was rewarded with a kiss to his temple.

“I really hope you enjoyed this as much as I did, because I have never seen you look so beautiful as when you surrendered yourself to me so completely,” Glorfindel breathed into his ear.

Legolas closed his eyes and smiled. “How can you doubt it? You saw how I enjoyed it.”

Glorfindel’s arms came around him, his Lord’s hair tickling him where it spilled onto his shoulder and chest, and he took a deep breath, resolving to be truthful with his Lord, and to not let fear make him fall silent. Only a few hours ago he had thought that he would die, that he would never see his Lord again, and remembering what he had felt when he saw the blade moving towards him, he forced himself to speak.

“I feel tired and used and sore, my Lord, and I love it. I love how you feel inside me, I love how you force me to experience things I am too afraid to ask for.” His heart was beating faster in his chest, and he did not dare to turn his head to meet his Lord’s eyes, even though he trusted him – did he not? He knew that Glorfindel would never take his words and use them to hurt him, but he remembered others who had, one of them a horse guard whom he had once thought of as a friend, and he swallowed.

Glorfindel was not like that. He had trusted Glorfindel with his body, with his life, with his child – why was it so hard then to trust him with the secrets of his heart?

“I loved it when you tied my hands!” he recklessly continued, “and I loved it to kneel and plead! And I am grateful, my Lord, so very grateful, for all that you give me!”

“Grateful, hmm?” Glorfindel asked against his shoulder, but his Lord’s arms embraced him more tightly, and it was obvious that he was teasing when he continued.

“I had hoped for more than gratitude, roch neth… I would hate hearing that you surrender to me because you are grateful.”

“It is not like that, my Lord, truly!” Legolas exclaimed and now finally turned around. The motion caused Glorfindel’s softened length to slip out of him so that he sighed in regret, but Glorfindel’s warm smile made up for the loss.

“No? What is it like then?”

Legolas sighed again at his Lord’s playful tone, raising a hand to reverently run it through his golden locks.

"I am yours, my Lord... Not because I am afraid, not because you force me, but because that is exactly what I want to be. I want to be yours! I have never known such happiness before. I love you, my Lord, more than I ever thought was possible."

"My Legolas..." Glorfindel whispered, moved by an emotion so strong and deep that he began to trail his fingers over Legolas' cheeks and lips, as if to assure himself that he was truly there.

Be mine forever, he found himself wanting to say, and only at that moment did he realize what it meant so that he fell silent instead, gazing at the beautiful youth in his arms with a new awareness.

He did mean it. He wanted it, more than he had ever wanted anything... He simply could not imagine anymore what it would be like to live without Legolas by his side and in his bed.

Could it be done, though? Was it possible with matters as they now stood? And yet, with what had happened, with what he had done, how could he even contemplate not honoring the boy the way he should have right from the beginning?

The thought was overwhelming, yet not because it scared him. It was an enormous thought, a thought that could change his life for centuries, millennia, until Arda was unmade – yet when he thought about walking with Legolas along the shore of Valinor, as he had already sworn he would, he found that he was filled with a deep, quiet joy.

He wanted it. He wanted Legolas to be his, for all eternity. Every sigh of pleasure, every uncertain touch, he wanted to hear them, feel them, be the cause for all of them.

"Yours," Legolas vowed quietly, and Glorfindel moved to kiss him, keeping the words to himself until a better time to speak them. There would be recognition and honor for all that Legolas had given him – he would make certain of that.

As for how it could be done... Glorfindel resolved to have a talk with Celeborn. He knew that there was nothing the Lord could say that would change his mind, for this was not a new idea that had suddenly sprung up but a deeper truth of which Glorfindel had been aware of for a long time now if he was honest with himself. Yet Celeborn’s view might still be helpful, especially as he desired that it be something that would bring nothing but joy to Legolas.

There had been so much pain in the youth's life, much of it caused by himself in thoughtless cruelty, and Glorfindel felt humbled by the wave of tenderness that now swept through him when he looked at Legolas.

"You are so finely made," he whispered, reverently following the lines of Legolas' cheekbones with a fingertip. "As if the Valar poured all the beauty there is in Arda into your creation, paying attention to every little detail... I could look at you for hours and still find something that will make me burn for you as if I saw you for the first time."

Legolas blushed at his words, still – after all this time with him – so unused to compliments that a part of him was uncertain whether it was only a jest, and Glorfindel resolved that this as well was a habit that he would find great delight in overcoming.

"Burn for me?" Legolas asked softly, a corner of his mouth twitching slightly in amusement at the wording. "Do you, then?"

"Do you doubt it?" Glorfindel asked in return, raising a brow and allowing himself to give the youth a hungry look. Even though he was exhausted, the truth was that a few more moments of contemplating his prince's amenities and he would indeed be burning for his embrace once more.

"It is as if you were made solely for me to find pleasure in," he exclaimed in wonder. "I wager that I could spend a week pursuing orcs without a single hour of sleep, and still rouse to your touch as eager as a young stag.”

Legolas smiled then, a slow, secretive smile. "And that is something I love, too," he breathed, half-closing his eyes in languid desire as he took his Lord's hand and moved it down between their bodies, proving that indeed he was hard and aching for his Lord's touch once more now.


52

When Glorfindel entered the room, Celeborn rose to greet him. He clasped his shoulder as he lead him up another winding stair to a small talan nestled at the very top of the large mallorn that housed the Lady and Lord of the Galadhrim. Branches and leaves hid the talan from sight, yet whoever chose to recline on one of the comfortable chairs and settees lined with plump velvet cushions had an unsurpassed view of a sea of gold. The royal talan was nestled among the boughs of the largest and oldest mallorn tree that stood at the center of Caras Galadhon, and thus those selected few who were invited to enjoy the view from this topmost, private flat saw a sea of golden leaves spreading out below them into all directions as far as they could see. Golden waves rippled and rustled on the surface of the forest as gusts of wind played among the trees, and Glorfindel stood silently for a while, remembering the ocean he had crossed such a long time ago – remembering the sound of the waves lapping at the shore of Eldamar. Such bittersweet memories, to think of the beauty he had left behind in exchange for the toils and troubles of this mortal shore…

Yet there was beauty to be found in this strange land that had become home to him, such beauty and treasure he might never have known in Aman’s tranquillity.

“Would that Legolas could see this,” he said softly, his eyes shining as he remembered shores far away. “He glories in the beauty of your forest. This is a sight that would touch the coldest heart, and to him – he would keep the memory with him always and cherish it as a treasure.”

Celeborn smiled indulgently. “Where is he then? I thought you would bring him and young Gîlríon. It is obvious to all of us that you cannot bear to part from them for more than a moment, besotted as you are like newly-weds.”

“Besotted…” Glorfindel said slowly, as if tasting the word on his tongue, then gave Celeborn a look that was almost embarrassed. “As always, mellon, you see straight to the heart of the matter. Wedded… how I wish we were…” He sighed, watching the golden leaves swaying in the wind while Celeborn looked at him in astonishment.

“Never would I have thought to hear such a sentiment coming from your lips!” he exclaimed. “Infamous Glorfindel – has your heart truly been tamed at last?”

Glorfindel smiled in embarrassment but did not deny his friend’s words. “Is that so surprising?” he asked softly. “Think of what he has given me – a child, Celeborn! A son! For that alone, it was inevitable that what I see in him would change. If I love the child, can I teach him to hate the one who brought him into this world? Did I truly think to have my child grow up with the knowledge that the one who gave life to him is nothing but a slave to me, a whore – someone despised and hated for the very act which gave him life? How could I have been so blind, Celeborn?”

Glorfindel shook his head, his hands clenched into fists in desperation as he remembered all he had done. “I brought Legolas such immeasurable pain and shame – how will I ever be able to make up for even a small part of it? For I love him, Celeborn, I love him! So deeply, so desperately as I have never loved before. Whenever I look at him it is as if there are barbed hooks deep in my heart, pulling and hurting at the awareness that I need him to be mine until the very end of this world. Do I have the right to even ask this of him, after what I did? Should I not give him his freedom, give him a choice at least to make up for what I took from him without his consent? Yet the truth is that I am not as good, as noble as that. I cannot do that – I cannot! He must be mine, for otherwise…”

Glorfindel fell silent, running one hand through his hair in agitation. “To wake in the morning without his smile to greet me – ai, it is a greater horror than facing another Balrog would be!”

“Besotted in truth, then,” Celeborn said and smiled, moving to pour them some wine. “Never fear that I would counsel you to send him away, pretending it is for his own good when we both know that it would be the last in a very long line of rejections that would break his spirit once and for all. What good he has known in his life comes from you, mellon. I will not pretend either that everything that happened was for his own good in the end – we both know that it would have been for the best had you wooed and loved him when you first met. Yet we cannot change what has happened, and if you truly want to make amends for what hurt you have caused him, I can only counsel you to stay with him, to let year after year of patient, faithful loving wash away his memories of pain and rejection.”

Glorfindel took a deep breath. “You agree then?” he asked, for once so uncharacteristically shy that Celeborn looked at him in amusement. “You think it can be done? It must be nothing but joy and pleasure for him, for I could not bear to cause him more hurt. And as my humiliations of him were so cruelly public, this will have to be done publicly as well, so that everyone will see how I love and respect him. Yet if I follow this plan, his father will come to know of it, and I do not think that this is something he will ever forgive him. If Legolas wears my ring, he will have irrevocably allied himself with the old Noldorin houses.”

Celeborn shook his head. “It is much too late to be concerned about that. He has borne you an heir, and you know very well that his father will never forgive him for that. It is Legolas’ decision to make, mellon, give him that much at least. And I do not think it would be a hard decision for him, to choose between the one who has given him love, acceptance and a child, and the one from whom he has always only ever known rejection and denial.”

Glorfindel nodded slowly. “I wish I could give him his father’s love,” he sighed. “To see Legolas with Gîl... Although he is so very young himself, although the pregnancy brought him so much pain and despair, he never shows anything but the utmost patience with Gîl, such gentleness and affection and unceasing love…”

“You give him something better than a father’s love,” Celeborn said earnestly. “It is only right that you should feel remorse, as we all should, but do not forget that you have given him good things as well. Whether it is enough to make up for what happened, who can say – but it is enough to make him love you, and that is what counts.”

“But what if…” Glorfindel swallowed, then looked down, unable to meet Celeborn’s eyes. “He did not have a choice, not truly… He could either die from grief, or convince himself to love me.”

“It is a difficult situation, that is true,” Celeborn said gently. “There are no easy answers, nor do I think there ever will be for you – yet when I look into his eyes, I see naught but his love for you. Whether you marry him or no, there is already a bond wrought between your fëar, there for everyone to see who cares to look for it.”

Glorfindel sighed but smiled wistfully, taking a sip from his wine in relief at his friend’s encouragement. “In truth, a ring will be no more but a public affirmation of an oath I have already sworn him – I swore by the grace of the Valar that one day when we have left these wearisome shores behind, I shall walk the shores of Aman with him and show him and our children all the wonders of the Undying Lands.”

“Children?” Celeborn raised a brow. “He is not–“

“Ai, no!” Glorfindel interrupted. “No – although I hope that the Valar will gift us with another child in time. Yet for now, I will be content with our Gîl – he gives us nothing but joy, and truly, Legolas deserves the chance to experience more of life than what he has known so far.”

“Wed him then, by all means!” Celeborn said and laughed. “Wed him, and do it sooner rather than later, for you shine with love when you think of him. Such love that will endure the ages comes only rarely, as you well know.”

“Indeed, for I have waited for three ages to find such love,” Glorfindel sighed. “Yet he is all I could ask for, and more… I look forward to seeing him grow over the years, to watch him gain experience and self-assurance. It does not matter whether in the end he chooses to be a warrior or a poet, or decide to breed horses – I want him to be happy. I want him to be able to make a choice… a choice that is free from worries about what others will think of him for it.”

“And yet you will still desire him to submit to you?”

“Of course. That is too deeply a part of both of us. Even should he become a renowned warrior, masterful in battle, he will still desire me to dominate him in such a way, and you know that very well.”

Celeborn nodded. “As he must be the only person not only willing to put up with your arrogance and vanity, but ready to love you for it as well, I would say you are well suited.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “He knows my faults and loves me not despite them, but for them – as I love him for what others would call his faults. I know him like he has never allowed another to know him, and where his own brother mocks him for his weakness, I love him for the way he insists on seeing the best in people even though he has never been given that chance himself. Others might call him a coward, yet I admire how he always clung to hope, even when it would have been so much easier to succumb to grief.”

“I am glad – for both of you,” Celeborn said and smiled. “Will you have need of the goldsmith then, or shall you wait until your return to Imladris?”

“He shall return to Imladris as my betrothed, with silver rings on our fingers – mine, for everyone to see,” Glorfindel said and smiled as he imagined it. “He shall return respected and surrounded by friends. Already my warriors have come to love him, and your granddaughter shall befriend him as well. I sent Legolas to join her, for she offered to look after Gîl for a while, and I know that she will welcome him as a friend, for my sake as well as for his own qualities. Arwen has a gift that will make even someone as shy as Legolas feel at ease – she is nothing but kindness and gentleness, and I know that Legolas will come to love her as we all do.”

“She will be good for him,” Celeborn agreed. “She would never willingly cause someone pain, least of all someone you love – your plan should work well. She will fall in love with your son as does everyone else, and who would dare question to whom the Lady of Imladris gives her affection?”

“Still... the situation will not change over night, not with so many who still despise him as Thranduil’s son, but it will change. I will make certain of that,” Glorfindel said calmly. “And if there is no change… I swore no oath to Elrond, nor to anyone else when I returned. Yet I swore an oath to Legolas…”

“You contemplate sailing?” Celeborn asked in surprise. “Surely you do not truly mean that?”

“I do not know… If there is no other way…” Glorfindel sighed and shook his head, then gave Celeborn a beseeching look, willing his friend to understand. “A child, mellon! A child the Valar gave me, to protect and to love… I shall not raise him where he is called a bastard, and the one who gave life to him a whore. I know well that it is my own fault things got that far, yet if I cannot change this situation – what would you have me do? I came to serve the House of Eärendil, as I had done in my former life, yet then I had no child, no beloved to protect. I might well have a task left to fulfill on these shores, and I shall not run from the threat the Dark Lord poses – yet my life is no longer my own, and my protection must be for Legolas and Gîl as well as for Imladris.”

Celeborn looked distinctly unsettled at this revelation, but he seemed to realize that nothing he could say would change Glorfindel’s mind.

“You have only ever given of yourself, and I can understand how you must feel about your family, yet I hope this situation will never escalate so far. You would be dearly missed, my friend,” he said with a frown, putting his half-full goblet down.

“I hope that I will never be forced to make that decision,” Glorfindel said and put down his goblet as well. “It seems that I have brought you unhappiness now, and I am sorry for it – truly, it was not something I had planned to do. Shall I leave you now with my apologies for the news that I have brought you?”

“The news was mostly good and very welcome,” Celeborn said with a weak smile. “Forgive me, mellon, I am but a little shocked – it is just that I had not expected to hear anything like that. If you leave to join Arwen and Legolas, I shall accompany you, for as you have just pointed out, I have very good reasons to show my approval and delight of your recent acquisition of a family.”

Glorfindel nodded, yet he felt that Celeborn was not the only one unsettled by the direction their conversation had taken. Still, it was time he faced the truth – he had made Legolas his, and it was more than time he made good on his promise to protect him. His life had changed, just as he had changed Legolas’ life, and Celeborn and Elrond would have to accept it, for Glorfindel could not bring himself to regret it.


53

Glorfindel smiled, his heart full of affection and also a little relief at the scene he found when he reached the garden Arwen and her friends had chosen for their afternoon retreat. On the way to the glade, Celeborn had been called away, yet he had left with a promise to come and see both Glorfindel and Legolas in the evening.

As Glorfindel had hoped would happen, the Lady of Imladris and his young prince were sitting next to each other, heads bent close as they talked in low voices while watching Gîlríon play with the Lórien maids. Indeed Arwen was all kind attention and smiles as he had foreseen, and Legolas was relaxed and at ease around her as Glorfindel had only rarely seen him when in the company of others. It heartened Glorfindel to see Legolas so easily accepted, and even though he knew his Lord’s kind-hearted daughter did not hold to prejudices and had indeed often spoken out against the violence and hatred springing up after the attack on her mother, it still raised his hopes to one day see Legolas sitting so accepted at Elrond’s table.

When they came close enough for Legolas to realize that his Lord had joined them, Glorfindel once again felt a surge of warmth in his heart at the way the youth's face brightened. And when Legolas, without his otherwise characteristic reticence, reached to take Glorfindel's hand to draw him down next to him, Glorfindel in turn could not resist and wrapped an arm around Legolas' waist, pressing a kiss to his brow at the same time.

Arwen smiled warmly at the open display of affection and Glorfindel chuckled, knowing that he indeed acted as besotted as Celeborn claimed he did. Still, he was happy, happier than he had ever been, and Arwen was aware of that – and glad for him, too.

“Have you been having a good time?” he asked Legolas, then laughed when Gîlríon launched himself at him for an embrace and a kiss before he let himself be sent back to return to his play.

“Oh yes,” Legolas said with a teasing smile. “In fact, the Lady Arwen was just telling me how it is that you came to bear the title of Seneschal. All this time I had thought it had to hold a different meaning in Imladris, and yet here I am told that indeed you should oversee the feasting of your Lord’s guests as well as the distribution of new linen and the stocking of the larder…”

Glorfindel laughed out loud and shook his head in mock exasperation. “Ah, fair Lady, I leave my beloved in your company for a mere hour, only to find both of you laughing at me when I return!”

“Ah, Seneschal,” Arwen said, her eyes twinkling with mirth, “it is hardly my fault if you courted the prince under false pretences – and you must admit that it is a well-loved and often retold tale, especially among your own warriors. Who else can claim to be led into battle by their Lord’s majordomo? Or even better, which court can boast of a chamberlain who once slew a Balrog?”

“How did you come to bear that title, then?” Legolas asked curiously. “How is it that Lord Elrond would give one of the most famous warriors of our people the position of Seneschal on his return to these shores? Did he doubt the truth of your claim and seek to test you?”

“From the stories I was told, no one would have doubted him – his fëa shone so brightly with the light of Aman that all those who beheld him were awed,” Arwen said, and Glorfindel smiled ruefully.

“The full story then, roch neth? Ai, I had hoped to escape this for a few more months at least, but I guess that this is still better than having it be told by my warriors around the fire – they love nothing better than to see me embarrassed by it.”

Glorfindel paused to steal a sip from the goblet in Legolas’ hands as if to steel himself for what was to come, then made a grimace at the taste of sweet apple cider, light and fit only for children.

“Oh, but certainly I deserve more than that, if you are to torture me with the telling of this particular story?” he exclaimed, so that the youth laughed and quickly emptied the goblet of what remained of the cider.

“I hope that this will be more to your liking, my Lord,” Legolas said as he filled the goblet with a dark, red wine from a so far unopened wineskin instead, holding it with both hands as he presented it to Glorfindel again.

His Lord’s hands rose and came to cover his, holding them in place as he bent his head to drink.

“Oh, much better.” Glorfindel’s voice was soft and almost husky as he looked at Legolas over the rim of the goblet, their hands still touching. Legolas swallowed, staring in fascination at his Lord’s full, wine-stained lips, and then, as if pulled towards Glorfindel by an invisible force, he leaned forward to touch his lips to Glorfindel’s in a short, sweet kiss.

Once again, Glorfindel felt warmth flood his heart at the freely offered affection. He smiled as he held Legolas' eyes, pleased to note that although the youth had blushed at the public nature of the kiss, he had neither lowered his eyes nor tried to move back.

“Your story then, Legolas nín,” Glorfindel said and gently put the goblet down, taking Legolas’ hand into his to entwine their fingers together. He could feel Arwen’s approval and hear soft laughter and whispers from the maidens still playing with Gîl, all of them of an age to play the game of courting as well.

“It is a quickly told tale, I fear, for when I first came to Imladris to help Elrond secure and defend the vale, there was already a Captain of the Guard. Elrond of course could not simply demote him, nor would I have wanted him to, yet after several weeks his household grew so fractious at the continued confusion regarding how to seat me, what deference to pay me, how to house, clothe, feed and address me, that Elrond had no choice but to give me a designated position and responsibilities. His Seneschal had only shortly before decided to sail and there had not yet been the time to name a successor, so it was decreed that at least for the time being, that was the title I would hold.”

“Yet you are Captain of the Guard now, are you not?” Legolas asked. “I have heard your warriors call you their Captain – but still you are referred to as Imladris’ Seneschal.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Many years have passed since then, and in the beginning, I was glad that Elrond already had a trustworthy Captain who knew his men well. For you see, it had been a long time since I had fought with a sword in my hand, and my ways were considered ancient – in many ways I had just as much to learn as a green recruit. So I was glad to hold a different position, for it gave me the opportunity to learn my way in this new court by listening carefully when Elrond convened with his councillors, and paying attention to land and people alike when I rode out with his guards. And after several months, a routine had developed which we were all satisfied with. I would take part in Elrond’s council and go over reports, working out strategies and ways to improve our defences, while the Captain of the Guard oversaw the warriors’ training and worked out patrol routes and schedules. It truly was a good solution, making the best of our abilities, and so it was decided that I would keep title and position of Seneschal while sharing all military responsibilities with the then-Captain. Although, in retrospect…”

Glorfindel frowned, then laughed a little and lowered his voice for the following sentences. “The only one who did not seem happy with the arrangement was Erestor. He seemed to dislike me right from the beginning, and now that I think about it, certainly it was but jealousy – he must have coveted the position of Seneschal himself!”

“And now, centuries later, you are Captain of the Guard, yet still hold the title of Seneschal as well. It is no surprise he dislikes you so!” Legolas said with a laugh.

“He was just a junior councillor then, and a recently made one at that, with many domestic responsibilities if I remember right… It has truly been a long time, and I did not pay him much attention then. He was just a quiet young scribe with rather too much of a hunger for advancement – well, and as you know, he has not changed much to his advantage since then,” Glorfindel said and grinned at Legolas’ grimace.

“Certainly you are right in some points, yet there is no need to be unkind,” Arwen interjected in her calm, clear voice. “I know that there is no love lost between the two of you, yet he was a good and patient tutor to me and my brothers. I think there is more to that story, for even though I had not yet been born at that time, I have heard tales according you a part of the blame for the coldness of relations between you.”

“Do you mean the tale where I seduced a lover away from him?” Glorfindel shook his head with a laugh born from true amusement. “Ah, fair Lady, you might well hold your old tutor in affection, yet even so you will have to agree that it is a highly unlikely one. The truth is that Erestor never had a beloved, not now and not then. It is certainly possible that he secretly loved someone, yet he never acted on it. I can assure you, Lady, that I never seduced someone away from him, and if he truly was in love with one who preferred my company, then it was neither my fault nor the fault of he whose affections I enjoyed, for neither of us was aware of it. How could we be, when Erestor never spoke of it to anyone? No, if that tale is true, then Erestor only has himself to blame for never acting on his feelings.”

Glorfindel gently tightened his hold on Legolas’ fingers, then raised Legolas' hand to his mouth to press a kiss to it, seeking to reassure the youth at this mention of past lovers. It truly was time, he thought, to give Legolas proof that his affection was deep and true, and once again he felt his heart swell with tender love when Legolas smiled at him, shy and beautiful and worshipping him for loving him.

“So, there you have your story, Legolas nín. And I think that now I am owed a story in return,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, for he could feel that Arwen was still not happy to have the enmity between Erestor and him unresolved.

“A story, my Lord?” Legolas asked, looking alarmed by the prospect. “I do not have any interesting stories to tell…”

“Interesting stories from our favorite prince’s past? I think I have arrived just at the right time!” an all too well known voice drawled behind them, and when Legolas turned around in shock, already feeling his cheeks heat, there stood Haldir, watching him with a raised brow.

“Haldir,” Legolas said weakly and swallowed, remembering only too clearly all that had transpired in the morning.

“Indeed,” the guard agreed, lazily sauntering towards them. “I came to claim the moment you promised me, Lord Glorfindel,” Haldir said and bowed, ”yet this sounds promising… I shall stay and listen to what tale you have to tell, Highness.”

Haldir’s eyes twinkled with amusement and as always, his use of title seemed to indicate a lack of respect for the position thus signified;, yet although Haldir’s arrogant insouciance still made Legolas feel nervous, somehow he was aware that this time, there was no true malice behind his words.

“Then sit for a moment.” With an impatient gesture, Glorfindel invited Haldir to share their blanket, refusing to pay him any attention beyond that. “Indeed, beloved,” he continued instead, pressing another kiss to Legolas’ hand simply for the pleasure of seeing the wonder in the youth’s eyes, “you owe me a tale now, and it is I who will choose the subject.” He was silent for a moment, making a show out of trying to think up some outrageous question, but at last he laughed and took pity on Legolas. “Your horse.”

Legolas stared at him. “Lainiell?”

“Yes,” Glorfindel said, chuckling at the relief on Legolas’ face. “You told me that she comes from your realm’s most coveted bloodlines – that her sire was indeed your father’s most prized stud. So how did you get her? I do not think your father gave her to you as a present?”

“A daughter of Amlug, pure-bred grandson of famed Alagos himself? My father would rather have cut off his own hand!” Legolas laughed.

“That shaggy pony?” Haldir’s voice dripped disbelief, but for once, Legolas refused to be intimidated.

“Oh, in terms of showiness she is no equal to the sleek palfreys you seem to be so fond of here in Lórien, but in Mirkwood, we breed our horses for strong muscles, and even stronger hearts. She is inbred on both sides to Alagos himself, and it shows!” he enthused. “Compact and flexible, with a broad chest and powerful hindquarters – she might not be equal to my Lord’s Asfaloth when racing on an even track, but she is bred to a dense forest filled with dangers, and there, she is truly without equal!

"But to answer your question, my Lord, one year my brother promised me the choice of one of his young horses for my begetting day. It was to be one of the untrained ones, a two- or three-year-old I could start to work with, but a few weeks before my begetting day, his most prized broodmare foaled – twins.”

Legolas swallowed and shook his head. “I had seen it happen before, twice. One time the mare just barely survived, and the other mare died together with the foals. This time, both foals were still alive, although they were tiny and weak. We tried our best, but one foal died after a few hours.

"The other one – my Lainiell – was very weak, and her hind legs were deformed so that for several days, she needed help to get up. My brother had given up on her, but I just could not… She was from the best of our bloodlines, and despite her weakness, you could see the defiance in her, the will to live! I told him that I wanted her for my begetting day present, and although he thought that it was wasted on a foal that would not live more than a week or two, he accepted.

"It was hard work, for I had to help her up every few hours to drink. I slept next to their stable for a week, but as you can see, it was worth it. She quickly grew stronger, and once she could move on her own, her legs righted themselves. Thus I now own a mare that can claim Alagos as great-grandsire on both sides, and I have often been envied for it.”

Glorfindel smiled with open affection, loving this side of Legolas which was so rarely seen – a Legolas who was animated and happy, passionate about a subject and proud of his knowledge. Glorfindel swore to himself that he would make certain to see it more often.

“I am sorry you cannot breed her. Mayhap one day we will be able to procure one of your realm’s stallions…”

Legolas smiled. “They would never let one of the better bloodlines leave the forest. Yet mayhap one day there will be an opportunity… Lainiell is still young, after all.”

“Celeirdúr still holds you in great affection, I am certain of it,” Glorfindel said softly. “Maybe he could send a young, unproven stallion with the messengers – they need not know if we let him have a few hours with Lainiell in a meadow somewhere.”

Legolas nodded, although he did not answer, and Glorfindel knew that it was something he did not want to allow himself to believe in.

“Still, now that you have given me your story, it is your turn to demand one from one of us,” he continued, hoping that it would distract Legolas from his memories. “Since I have already told you my story, maybe you should demand one from Arwen or Haldir?”

Legolas frowned and gave the guard a measuring look. Haldir had teased him mercilessly, and this was a golden opportunity to repay him in kind. For a moment, Legolas toyed with the idea of asking him just how he was as knowledgeable as its owner about the Master Saddler’s shop… Certainly that would pay Haldir back for all the games he had played on him. But then, he remembered how Haldir had saved him, and how, despite all his obnoxiousness, for the first time there had been true kindness shining through. No – he would not needlessly embarrass the guard in front of Arwen.

Still, there was a question he could ask, one that might perhaps make for an interesting tale. He swallowed and looked around, making certain that the Lórien maids were out of earshot – Arwen, he wagered, would certainly have heard all of the sordid details of his life from her brothers already, even if she had been kind enough to blithely pretend that he was just a dear friend’s beloved.

“Actually,” he said slowly, “there is something that I would like to ask you, Haldir. How did you know who I was? When you came to Imladris and told my Lord that I was Legolas…”

"Oh, that was not the first time I saw you,” Haldir said and smirked at the shocked look this got him. “I had seen you before – in Mirkwood. I have to admit that I was not spying on you particularly; in fact, when I saw you I thought you were just an especially unassuming little horse guard. But then, later on, I heard one of the others refer to you as Prince Legolas… That got my attention. Be glad that I had to leave the forest that very day to meet one of Lord Elrond’s agents, or who knows what might have happened…”

Legolas paled, no doubt remembering what had happened when later on, another came upon him in the forest, and Glorfindel wrapped one arm around the youth's waist to hold him close.

“Haldir spent some years in Imladris,” he explained softly. “He only returned to Lórien to take on the position of Marchwarden a few years ago. As I think you have realized, he is not very fond of your father, and thus, for a while he found it more fulfilling to work for Lord Elrond instead of guarding Lórien’s borders.”

“You were a spy?” Legolas asked with such patent disbelief that Haldir gifted him with another smirk.

“A good one, too – after all, in the end I proved to be the only one able to recognize Thranduil’s youngest. Be glad, Highness, for now you are wearing silks and velvets instead of being put to work currying your Lord’s horses!”

Legolas huffed but refused to dignify that with a reply while Glorfindel shook his head at Haldir.

“Do you truly intend to make your situation even worse, guard?” he asked pointedly while Arwen frowned at them all.

“I think we have heard enough tales for today,” she said firmly, and Legolas nodded.

“Indeed – I thank you for your kind company, my Lady, but I think that now I should go and join Gîl for a while.” He picked up the small ball made from soft cloth that had rolled to his feet and laughed when Gîlríon came running towards them, grabbing his hand and begging his ada to come play with him.

Haldir watched Legolas go join the game, smirking to himself at the sweetness of the scene when Legolas picked up the exuberant child for a quick kiss. “You can say what you want about the little prince, but he does make lovely children,” he sighed, snickering at the look this got him from both Glorfindel and Arwen. “Get him with child again, and do it quickly… It suits him!” he suggested, then raised his hands at the expression of cold disapproval on Glorfindel’s face. “Do not worry, I have apologized for my treatment of him, and he knows that it will not happen again. Now if I could have those minutes you promised me, Lord Glorfindel? I apologize for depriving you of his company, my Lady Arwen, but it will not take long.”

Glorfindel was still frowning, but with one last look at Legolas and Gîlríon he reluctantly got up, hoping that for once, Haldir would be satisfied to not cause them further problems.

54

“Now what is so important that it cannot even wait until tomorrow?“ Glorfindel demanded ungraciously of Haldir, once they had walked far enough away to be out of earshot.

“Oh, I had quite an enlightening conversation with your little prince today…”

“If you think that your little jibes are amusing,” Glorfindel said, his face darkening with anger, “I suggest that you stop now, for they are not.”

Haldir shrugged insolently. “They make him blush – a sight that I think you appreciate, no? I have to admit that he is quite a sweet little thing, if you like the bashful, dependent, domestic sort. I had not thought you did, Lord, but I am certain that there is a charm to his vulnerability.”

Glorfindel stopped, his expression dangerous. “Have you truly come here only to insult my beloved?” he asked incredulously. “I know you pride yourself on your obnoxiousness, but when Legolas told me that you apologized, and moreso that you even defended him, I truly was glad to hear it! It does not please me to see you demoted, but believe me, if you hurt or insult my beloved in any way, I shall go to your Lord with my grievances.”

Haldir laughed and raised his hands. “Peace, Lord – you are right, I did not come to insult him. I was just curious… Certainly you will admit that relations between the two of you have much changed since I last saw you. You must forgive me; I just wanted to hear for myself what position he holds in your life. A year ago, you would not have named him beloved – a year ago, you would have laughed at my jibes and watched with pleasure how every word made him tremble with miserable shame. Can you truly fault me for my treatment of him? I had not known how things had changed between you in the meantime. He used to be nothing more than a symbol of how our enemy had fallen, and it is only now that I have come to know him for more than Thranduil’s son. I made a mistake, and I freely admit it, for it is his brother who deserves my scorn, not your prince.”

“And you have come to tell me that?” Glorfindel asked, still not quite appeased.

“Ah, had I known that the story of the beautiful, lonely prince would touch your heart so, I would have taken him with me then and brought him to you as a present!” Haldir snickered at Glorfindel’s expression. “Of course, I might have been tempted to sample that sweetness for myself, and who knows where that might have led? It is obvious to everyone that you cherish the fact that he has never known another’s touch.”

Glorfindel shrugged. “I am vain,” he said simply. “And Legolas knows my faults well.”

“He does?” Haldir’s lips twitched as if he were trying to suppress his laughter. “Then he is not afraid of the consequences if you found out that he kissed me?”

Glorfindel smiled slowly when Haldir finally came to what had to be the heart of the matter, his eyes cold as he studied the former Marchwarden. “Is that what this is all about? Well, at least that explains his bashfulness when faced with you. I do not know what it is you expect from me. Do you think that I will punish him for something which we both know is solely your fault? Until this morning, Legolas dreaded your very presence – you have humiliated him like no other, save for myself. I wager that he pushed you away as soon as he realized what you were doing; and the Valar help you if you caused him yet more anguish! For my Legolas does not love you, nor will he ever. He does not lust for you either.”

“So calm a reaction; I had not anticipated that!”

Haldir was smiling again, and Glorfindel felt his ire rising at the sight. Did Haldir think that he could play with him?

“To speak the truth – and to reassure you, Lord – I was but teasing him. I was well aware of what his reaction would be like. And he did not disappoint; he truly loves you. No, love is the wrong word… He adores you, he worships you, as if you were one of the Valar themselves and not a mere edhel.”

“Then for what reason do you try to sow disaccord between us?” Glorfindel demanded, bewildered by the direction the conversation had taken.

“I was curious about what he is to you, since I know now what you are to him.” Haldir was unapologetic, although his voice had lost its characteristic drawl. “Do not misunderstand me. I am not trying to defend or protect him; I do not have the right for that, for I do not know him well enough, nor would he want me to. Yet I do know you, Lord. And I know for a fact that these last few weeks, a certain Master Smith of wide renown would not take any new orders, for he was busy with a twin set of blades for Lord Elrond’s sons – as well as another blade which he would not say whom it was commissioned by.”

Glorfindel sighed. “Ai, ‘'twas to be a surprise!” he said plaintively. “Please, tell me you did not spoil it for him – it is the first begetting day he will spend with someone who truly cares for him!”

“Such a romantic you are, my Lord!” Haldir grinned, then shook his head. “Fear not, I did not say a word. Yet, now that I have seen him – now that I have sparred with him! – there is indeed something I was wondering. It is why I asked for this conversation. Was it your idea to have him learn swordplay?”

Glorfindel looked confused. “My idea? You could say so, maybe, but if you think that I forced him into it, you are mistaken! He was jubilant at the chance! And if you refer to the way you beat him – why, Haldir, he has held a sword for less than a year, and then only wooden practice swords! It is hardly fair to judge him in a fight against you, and you well know it! Yet if it turns out that the way of the sword is not for him, I will not be disappointed either. It is not for everyone, and I shall love him just as much if he wants to learn the healing arts, breed horses, or spend his time transcribing Silvan lore.”

“So it is he who dreams of becoming a great swordsman, and you who are so besotted that you would grant him any wish?” Haldir snickered at Glorfindel’s expression. “Ai, I had not thought it of you, but it is true – sometimes we are too close to see what is obvious to everyone else. Do you truly not realize that his desire to wield a sword stems from nothing but the desire to please you? He idolizes you, just as he has idolized his father. Of course he wants to become a mighty warrior! It is what he thinks will please you, as he must have once thought of making his father proud. But the truth, as you should well know, is that he is not meant to wield a sword.”

Glorfindel’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “If that is meant to be another jibe about how he is meant for bedplay, and not swordplay…”

Haldir snorted. “Hardly, though you well know that once, that was exactly what you yourself thought. But no. It seems to have escaped you, even though you must have spent much time staring at his naked body, that your little prince is not built like a Noldorin warrior. He is such a slender little thing! All the easier to force into submission, I suppose, but because of it he will never become truly accomplished with a longsword. It is the small amount of Silvan blood which still flows in his line that shows in him. I have trained many like him, which you know well, Lord – and I must tell you that his strength is in his agility. A truly good warrior he shall only ever be with the bow, or the long knives. The longsword… The only thing you will accomplish there is to make him feel that he is failing you yet again.”

Haldir stopped there, and Glorfindel looked at him in amazement. “That was not quite what I was expecting... Why, Haldir, one could almost suspect that you had a heart, to care about him so!”

Now Glorfindel was the one who laughed at Haldir's disgusted expression, but soon he grew thoughtful again.

“He only ever spoke of a sword, and as that is what we mainly rely on in Imladris – and is also the weapon I excel at, as you pointed out – I never questioned that decision. After all, it is the same training all the other youths go through...”

“Yes, all the other Noldorin youths – who are of course built for the longsword. I myself prefer the sword to the knives that are more usual among the Silvan elves, as you know, because that is what comes natural to me. I have inherited the build of a Sindarin warrior of old from one of my father's ancestors. Yet this way is not for everyone, and if you want to spare your prince the anguish of failing yet again, you might want to look into the way our Silvan warriors fight.”

Glorfindel sighed at Haldir's words and shook his head. “Truly, I never even thought about it – have I been as blind as Thranduil, expecting him to be like myself, and failing to see that his differences simply mean that his strengths lie in different places?”

“His strengths...” There was a tone of disbelief in Haldir's voice. “I fail to see those, but if you say so...”

“Can you truly not see them, Haldir?” Glorfindel asked softly. “Can you see his fears and insecurities, and fail to realize that it was you and I, and countless others like us, who brought them into being? Can you see his kindness, his trust, loyalty and compassion, and fail to see them for what they are? They are not weaknesses, Haldir – love is always strength. Mayhap they are different to the strengths of a warrior, but are they not the very things we give our lives to protect?”

“Infatuated like a girl, that is what you are, Lord,” Haldir said with a smirk. “There might be truth in what you say, yet it will do you no good in the long run to fail to acknowledge his weaknesses. His utter dependence on you – how can that appeal? Are you truly so vain to find it flattering how one so emotionally damaged completely depends on what scraps of affection you accord him? I know it is not so, Lord! You desire submission in bed, yes; but in a companion, slavish adoration and utter dependence could not appeal to you, not for more than a few years. And then where will the little thing be, when you cast him away? The truth is that he has never learned to live – he cannot even order his own life. No, I spent a day with him, and I can tell you that in truth, you do not have one child... You have two children that are both dependent on you.”

Glorfindel sighed but gave Haldir a patient look. “And do you truly think that I do not know that? Look at him, Haldir – of course he is a child! He will see his 42nd begetting day in little more than a week; what do you expect of him? Can you not remember what you felt at such a tender age? The swirl of emotions when you beheld a beautiful maid or a strapping youth, the terrible insecurities when you first approached one who set your heart to fluttering, the doubts and questions as you thought about which path to follow in your future... It is a difficult age, and yet it was easier for us who had grown up loved, certain of ourselves, with friends to confide in. Legolas grew up certain of only one thing: that he did not mean anything to anyone, save perhaps for his brother who nevertheless could not spare him any time, due to his duties as crown prince. Nay, Haldir, do not belittle Legolas' strength. Could you have done what he did? I am not so certain that I could have done it myself...

“Raped when you were still an innocent who had never known another's touch before, pregnant even though that should have been impossible, reviled and exiled by your own father – would you have had the strength to go and live among your enemies who never let you forget that they despised you, to go to the bed of he who violated you, allowing him to humiliate and use you in ways you did not even know were possible... And all that just so that your child would live, and lead a better life than the one that had been given to you?”

Glorfindel closed his eyes, his expression pained, and his voice was soft and thoughtful as he continued. “When he first came to me... I do not think that he expected to live for much longer than the birth of the child. Who knows, maybe that even gave him the strength to do it, to know that no matter what torments I devised, he would not have to endure it for long...”

“Now you are feeling sorry for yourself, just as Legolas likes to do. Mayhap you are better suited to each other than I thought,” Haldir said dryly. “Still, this seems to mean that you are aware that he thinks himself a whore – not because you give him fine clothes of velvet and silk, but because he thinks that he has nothing but his body to give you in exchange for your love, your teaching and your encouragement of him.”

Glorfindel sighed sadly. “It will take a long time for him to believe in his own worth, I am aware of that. But I do love him, Haldir. I love him as he is now, and I love him for what I know he can become.” For a moment he hesitated, but then he took Haldir's shoulder in a firm grip, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. “Can you keep a secret? Just for a few days? A secret that concerns only Legolas and me?”

Haldir's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “If it does not concern or imperil the Golden Wood or its inhabitants, then yes – I will keep your secret.”

Glorfindel smiled slowly, his eyes growing soft, and he sighed again as he thought about what would soon come to pass.

“I will wed him,” he said simply, his heart filling with warmth at the words. “I will make him mine forever – and become his in return. He will return to Imladris as my betrothed, my beloved, riding at my side with a silver ring on his finger.”

Haldir's eyes widened. “You would bind your fëa to his? To be solely his until the end of this world? Glorfindel – 'tis folly!”

“Folly?” Glorfindel laughed at Haldir's reaction. “It is folly that I did not do it sooner! I desire him, and only him, and no thought gives me greater pleasure than to return to Aman with him and our children one day, to build ourselves a home there, and live a life of peace and joy.”

Haldir grimaced and shook his head. “Not for me, such things... but it truly appeals to you, does it not? A maiden's dream, it seems to me, but then, their company does seem to make you happy. Very well then – mayhap one day I shall leave these shores as well, although I cannot see it, and if I do, I shall come and visit your home, Lord. I will expect to find you surrounded by your brood then: an entire company of adorable, golden-locked children playing at Legolas' feet, and another infant in his arms, suckling his sweet milk.”

Haldir snickered to himself as he imagined it, and Glorfindel shook his head with a long-suffering sigh.

“It is sweet, you know,” he pointed out, “the sweetest thing I have ever tasted!”, and then it was he who laughed while Haldir grimaced in distaste.

“Very well, I shall say no more!” Haldir raised his hands in surrender, shaking his head. “Ai – could you not just have taken a maiden? The more you say, the more I think that there truly is no difference with him in your bed!”

Glorfindel sobered, and the look he now gave Haldir had lost most of its mirth. “From what I have heard, you stripped him to find out for yourself that there truly is no maiden hiding beneath his clothes.”

“True... but he is no longer suckling the child now, is he? A pity you weaned him, I wonder what he looked like when-”

“Enough!” Glorfindel exclaimed, his anger roused anew. “That is more than enough, Haldir! Do you not know when to stop? One could almost think that you want to stay a mere guard!”

Haldir shrugged, still unapologetic despite Glorfindel's darkened countenance. “You make it too easy. Although I guess that now you are to be wedded, I shall have to restrain myself. I still cannot see the appeal in it for myself, but since you truly seem to desire this family, I wish you everlasting joy – and a few more children for your prince to cuddle.”

“Thank you,” Glorfindel said earnestly. “I know we will be happy – if not here, then in Aman, although I do not desire to leave Middle-earth just yet. And if in time the Valar gift us with another child, none would be happier than I for such a blessing.” He turned away from Haldir to watch how in the distance, a laughing Gîlríon pursued Legolas who fled from him, only to let himself be caught after a moment, reversing their roles as it now was the child who tried to escape.

“I am happier than I have ever been, even when I served my King Turgon before the fall of Gondolin. This – it is all I have ever wanted.” He watched with quiet happiness how it was now one of the maidens' turn to pursue the others and how naturally, how joyfully Legolas was a part of this game. Then he turned back to Haldir, giving him a thoughtful look.

Once more, the Galadhel was smiling slightly – almost patronizingly, Glorfindel realized, and he shook his head at the guard's air of superiority. True, this life which he desired for himself – which he was certain Legolas desired as well – was not something that appealed to Haldir, and he could accept that, yet all the same, it was not simply a maiden's dream, as Haldir had called it. It was no romantic notion that made him dream of a tranquil life in Aman with his family, nor was it the wish of one too young to realize that simple happiness took as much effort to achieve and preserve as the more exciting duties of a warrior.

No, it was no bland, uneventful life that awaited him with Legolas by his side. They might not desire fame and glory as much as Haldir did, yet Glorfindel did not think that they would need great battles and events to save them from tedium. For beneath the steady warmth of their love for each other, there lay the bright, hot embers of deep, abiding passion. They would have both – they would always have both, love and lust at once; Glorfindel was certain of it. And if Haldir doubted it, well, there were ways to show him that it was a mistake to deride his infatuation as that of a maiden, for the passion hidden away beneath Legolas' insecurities never failed to rouse him once it had been coaxed to the surface.

“That was an interesting selection you picked for us,” he began, and now it was he who gave Haldir a look of cool superiority. “I think you should ask Legolas if he was satisfied with your choices. He will blush quite beautifully.” He only barely suppressed a grin when Haldir's eyebrows rose and he looked from him to Legolas.

“If you think that he is but a maiden, then you should see him as he has allowed me to see him. There is such strength in him!” Glorfindel continued, goading Haldir. “And as it looks like Gîl will have tired himself out, I shall make good use of your selection tonight.”

He smirked at Haldir whose eyes were dark now with unhidden curiosity, and a good part of it desire as well.

“I shall wed one who has given me the sweet, quiet joy of a family – and one who gives me such passion, such all-encompassing surrender that it leaves me humbled every time, and burning with desire for him night after night. I have known the surrender of many, Haldir, and yet all else pales when compared to what I find with him.”

Glorfindel gave Haldir another smile, and this time, there was compassion in it.

“I will know such joy, Haldir, and it will be all I have ever wanted. I will lose nothing, but what I will gain... Ah, what I will gain is a love so deep and warm, that the very light of Laurelin pales beside it.”

---------------------
edhel - elf
---------------------

55

57

With one hard thrust, Glorfindel sheathed himself inside the yielding body of the youth, groaning with lust even while Legolas cried out at being used so roughly. Tears ran down his face, and every move of Glorfindel inside him was accompanied by the tinkling of the bells – yet he was almost unbearably hard himself, and the pain of being put to such hard usage, the ache from his tortured nipples, only fanned his need to new heights, so that he spread his legs even further, offering himself up to his Lord's cruel lusts. He panted, crying out softly every time one of Glorfindel's thrusts hit the small spot inside him that made him press back against his Lord in a breathless demand for more – yet his Lord's movements were not designed to give him pleasure this time. The thrusts were angled in such a way that each hot burst of ecstasy was mere accident, and the knowledge that his body was used to give pleasure to his Lord alone excited him, so that he moaned at each hard thrust, loving the burning friction of the huge shaft moving inside him.

"Yes, take it," Glorfindel groaned. "It is what you begged for... My cock is all you will get today. Be grateful for it..."

"I am!" Legolas moaned, only wanting more of it, more of the ache, more of his Lord's terrible, exciting words. The bells swung on their chains beneath his chest, jingling merrily so that the pain of the tight clamps was ever-present, and he whimpered, squirming a little even though Glorfindel's strong body held him tightly pinned to the desk. He had held himself up by his elbows, so that his tortured nipples would not be pressed against the desk, but now he arched up as much as was possible, reaching blindly back to tug on his Lord's hands.

"Please..." he breathed, "oh please, touch me..."

He pulled them to his chest, whimpering in fearful expectation of the pain that he knew would come but still pressed himself demandingly forward, so that his Lord's fingers brushed against his aching nipples. As anticipated, there was pain that made him cry out, yet it was exactly what he had needed, and he sobbed gratefully when Glorfindel gave him another hard thrust while simultaneously rubbing over his nipples with no regard for the pain he was causing.

"Please..." Legolas whimpered again, not quite certain what it was he wanted, and Glorfindel chuckled to hear him so needy.

"Oh, I know what you need, roch neth," he threatened, and then his fingers tightened the clamps even more so that Legolas moaned with excited pain, new tears running down his cheeks at the exquisite ache, knowing all of his body fully owned by his Lord.

Glorfindel once again fisted a handful of his hair and used it to ruthlessly press him down onto the desk, chuckling with dark amusement when Legolas sobbed at the way his aching, squeezed nipples scraped across the hard surface.

"Stop whimpering and take what I have to give you," he growled. "It is what you wanted!" He slapped Legolas' thigh once, with enough force to leave behind a red imprint, and the youth moaned breathlessly and indeed stopped moving, resting his head on the desk in humiliation as his Lord continued to use and abuse his yielding body in whichever way he desired.

Glorfindel used him just as roughly as before, if not even more so, so that Legolas softly sobbed at each hard thrust that filled him to bursting. Yet his tears only served to provide his Lord amusement, and every now and then, his efforts got him another slap that made him moan and instinctively tighten around the hard shaft deep inside him.

Finally Glorfindel groaned and bent low over Legolas, muffling his shout of release in his hair while his fingers gripped the youth's hips so tightly that Legolas gasped in pain.

"Mmh... good, roch neth," Glorfindel sighed at last, ungently rubbing the reddened thighs that were trembling now with the youth's frustrated need. "You always feel so good!"

He moaned again as he withdrew, groaning with lust when he watched the small muscle stretching so tightly around him, providing almost unbearable friction. "Ahh, Haldir is right, I truly am a vain man, but I love this sight!"

Legolas had whimpered softly at feeling his Lord withdraw, but he was too far gone with need to even think of protesting. "You have every right to be vain..." he breathed, his voice hoarse from crying and frustrated desire. "I told Haldir so, too..."

Glorfindel chuckled at that and patted his bottom. "I see you have at last learned to flatter me," he said with a smirk. "It is to no avail, though... I will make you suffer some more for me tonight.” He once again grabbed a handful of hair and pulled the youth over to the settee by it, laughing a little at his despair. “Poor Legolas... You want to come, do you not? But before I let you, I will take off one of the clamps...”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Legolas breathed in relief, giving Glorfindel a look of worship despite the rough way he was being handled. Glorfindel smirked again at the way the youth clung to him when he pulled him onto his lap – just as he liked him best, sweet and yielding and needy, despite the pain and the unfulfilled desire.

“Ah, roch neth, I think I forgot to tell you that taking them off is going to hurt much more than putting them on,” he whispered into Legolas' ear, pressing the pad of his thumb against the sensitive tip of a nipple so that Legolas whimpered once more but helplessly leaned into the touch, ready to take anything his Lord gave him, whether it was pleasure or pain.

Then, finally, Glorfindel loosened the clamp and took it off, his other arm firmly wrapped about the youth's waist to hold him close, and as soon as the blood was finally allowed to return to the abused flesh, Legolas cried out once more, his fingers clenching around Glorfindel's arms.

“Yes... cry for me!” Glorfindel said hungrily and feasted on the youth's mouth, bruising his lips with the force of his kiss while his fingers tugged and rolled the small, abused nub of sensitive flesh without mercy, swallowing the youth's sobs with cruel delight. And when he finally broke the kiss, it was only to ruthlessly push Legolas down onto his back, closing his lips around the nipple to suck and tug on it while he wrapped his fingers around the prince's desperately hard length, demandingly milking his orgasm from him while he listened to his broken sobs.

“Well? Did you like that?” he asked at the end, when he finally released the swollen nub. Legolas' sobs had quieted to little whimpers and his shaft was soft and sensitive, although Glorfindel was still stroking him slowly, enjoying how the youth quivered and gasped at the overstimulation. “I did... You look so lovely like this!” He moaned in appreciation as he looked down at the youth spread out before him like a feast, disheveled, hair mussed, and glistening with sweat. “You look truly well used now, roch neth... You feel well used, too!”

He groaned with sudden lust as he effortlessly penetrated the youth with two fingers, the trembling body relaxed now and slick inside with his own seed, so that he added a third finger and groaned again when he watched the small muscle stretch around him.

“Valar!” he breathed, his blood rushing through his veins with sudden excitement. “If I used my whole hand, you would just take it, would you not?”

Legolas made a soft sound, shuddering around him, and gave him a look of such submissive devotion that Glorfindel swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as he imagined taking possession of the youth's body in such a way. How Legolas would react to him, the sheer depth of surrender he could demand which the youth would as always trustingly yield to him...

“One day I will do it,” he said, the words promise and threat at the same time, his fingers still moving inside the heat of the youth's body solely for the pleasure of hearing his breathless little gasps. “One day soon, when we will not have to worry about Gîl... I will demand that surrender of you, and you will give it to me, unquestioningly, unhesitatingly, even though you are afraid. Image it, roch neth... At that moment, you will truly know that you belong to me completely."

They both moaned, and Glorfindel knew at once that if he asked it of him now, Legolas would let him do it, would surrender and trust himself to his Lord, as he always did...

"But not today," he said more gently. "There is Gîl, and while he is not yet big enough to reach up to the door handle on his own, I still think that kind of game had best be reserved for an evening we have all to ourselves. Also, you have been through enough for today. You will be quite sore tomorrow as it is... You had my cock two times today, and the flogger as well, you insatiable little thing! You are going to wear me out very soon, and I shall return to Imladris exhausted and weary, but a shadow of my former self!"

Spent, sated and still in pain from the remaining clamp, Legolas nevertheless giggled softly at the teasing words, then sighed in regret when his Lord's fingers finally slipped out of him.

With half-lidded eyes, he watched as Glorfindel wiped his fingers onto his belly, feeling strangely aroused by the sight and sensation of his skin smeared with glistening streaks of their mingled seed. He groaned and stretched a little, his chest pressed forward like an offer so that Glorfindel chuckled and playfully tugged on the remaining bell. The tinkling was accompanied by one of Legolas' whimpers, and when Glorfindel let go of the chain to instead encircle the ripe, red nipple with a fingertip, the youth shuddered and gasped.

"Do you want me to take off the clamp?" Glorfindel asked wickedly. "Beg me for it, and I will do it."

Legolas moaned and gave him a pleading look, shivering under Glorfindel's hands as he thought about how it would hurt.

"Please," he whispered, "please take it off, my Lord."

He trembled, his eyes following Glorfindel's fingers as they settled on the gleaming metal that so cruelly encased the aching little nub, yet even so he arched towards his Lord's hand, wanting to please far more than he feared the pain.

"So eager, roch neth?" Glorfindel murmured and smiled at the way his voice made the youth tremble once more. "One last time I will make you shed those pretty tears for me... But I promise I will kiss it better again."

Legolas moaned a little at what they both knew to be a threat, yet when Glorfindel's fingers finally began to open the clamp, he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, surrendering himself to whatever his Lord desired to do to him.

It was just one short moment of reprieve, and then, quick as a flash of lightning in the sky, pain hit and made him gasp once more, tears spilling down his face as hot blood rushed back into the tormented flesh. He whimpered, pressing his chest helplessly against his Lord's fingers, and when finally lips closed around the abused nub once more he groaned in terrible relief at the hard, demanding suction.

He did not know how long his Lord's mouth tortured him in such a way – all sense of time had gone as he writhed and whimpered beneath Glorfindel, knowing nothing but pain and need, and a strange, looming breathlessness almost like fainting.

He had not truly lost consciousness, but it was much like regaining his senses when the strange feeling finally left him. He found himself resting in his Lord's arms, soothed by strong, warm hands that ran possessively over his body.

He sighed deeply and turned his head to rest his cheek against Glorfindel's chest, listening to his Lord's heartbeat. There were no words adequate to express what he was feeling, yet words were not needed between them now, for Glorfindel's eyes shone with an amused tenderness and Legolas knew himself safe, and loved.

"Shall I have to carry you back to bed now, sweet one?" Glorfindel murmured, and Legolas sighed languidly, moving an arm around his Lord's neck to be able to snuggle closer against him.

Glorfindel laughed softly. "Exhausted at last, hmm? And a good thing it is too... I am too tired to entertain you again this night."

"You did not let me taste you," Legolas sighed in complaint, his eyes still hazy with the remnants of the strange tranquility he had found.

"And you so wanted to, roch neth," Glorfindel teased, making Legolas sigh again with languorous longing.

"I did... I do," he moaned and closed his eyes, deeply breathing his Lord's scent of sweat and their drying seed – finding lust and love and safety in those arms all at once, as always.

"Then I am certain you will get a chance to do so tomorrow," Glorfindel said tenderly, cradling the youth's body in his arms as he stood. "But for now our bed, I think... and maybe a washcloth before, lest we be stuck to each other when we wake."

Legolas murmured a sleepy assent, contentedly burying his head in the crook of Glorfindel's neck as he was carried over to their bed. Once Glorfindel had wiped them both down, Legolas came readily into his Lord's arms.

"You have to do that again," he mumbled, his eyes growing unfocused as reverie crept up on him. "I like it when you pretend to be so evil and rough with me..."

Glorfindel laughed at that, although the look he gave Legolas was one of love and tenderness, and when he saw that the youth had already fallen into a deep sleep, he kissed his brow, sighing himself as he thought about what joy he would know, always, from now until the end of all things.

58

Legolas woke when the door that connected their bedchamber to Gîl's small room was pushed open. He sighed softly and tried to sit up, but Glorfindel – possessive even in reverie – tightened his arm around him with a growl. Legolas smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to his brow, then gently extricated himself of his Lord's arms which as always were reluctant to let go of him.

"Ada! It is my begetting day!" Gîl said excitedly, even though it was still so dark outside that Legolas could just barely see his outline next to their bed.

"It is still night, Gîl," Legolas explained gently. "It will only be your begetting day once Anor is up in the sky."

Gîlríon's face fell in disappointment.

"Come here, my heart," Legolas murmured and pulled him up onto the bed. "Sleep only a little while longer, and it will be your begetting day when you wake up."

Gîlríon sighed, still visibly disappointed, but when Legolas pushed the covers back and lifted Gîl to lie between them, the child cuddled readily against his chest, quickly becoming sleepy in the warmth trapped between their naked bodies. Legolas curled around him, his cheek resting against the riot of golden curls, and Glorfindel wrapped a protective arm around them both with a sleepy sound of approval.

The small body in his arms was warm, Gîl's linen shift damp against his skin, and Legolas breathed in deeply, consciously enjoying the hard-won feeling of safety, trust and love that enveloped him before he slipped into reverie once more.

When he woke again some time later, he found himself all alone in their bed, although by the sounds from the sitting room, Glorfindel and Gîl could not have been awake for long either. There was the sound of tea being poured and plates rattling, and Legolas heard the voice of one of the Lórien elves that usually brought them breakfast, wishing Gîl a joyful begetting day.

Legolas got up quickly, loath to miss even a moment of this first celebration of their son's conception, but as soon as he had put on a simple robe, Gîl came racing into their bedroom. "Wake up, ada!" he shouted happily, then stopped when he found Legolas already risen. "Ada, it is my begetting day!"

Legolas laughed and picked Gîl up to kiss him. "Indeed it is, my heart... And see how brightly Anor shines today!"

"Come, ada! There is breakfast! And atto says I will get presents when you have eaten!"

Gîlríon squirmed so that Legolas had to put him down again. He followed the exuberant child into the sitting room where indeed Glorfindel was already waiting for him. There were cups of steaming mint tea as well as slices of fragrant, freshly baked bread, butter and smoked meats and fish, and for Gîl, as always, a bowl of oatmeal. The Elf who had brought their breakfast had already left, and so Legolas greeted his Lord with a kiss before he sat down and breathed in the hot steam of his tea with a happy sigh. Gîl insisted on sitting on his atto's lap and there proceeded to spoon the oatmeal into his mouth with far more speed than usual.

"Are you excited, Gîl?" Glorfindel teased, chuckling when the child nodded vigorously, some of the oatmeal dropping from his spoon onto the table.

"It is my begetting day, atto! You said I will get a present!"

"And so you will, as soon as we are finished with breakfast," Glorfindel said and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, steadying the dripping spoon with a hand. "I promise that it is going to be a wonderful day, Gîl. Later on, luncheon will be waiting for us outside, and Arwen, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn will be there, as well as Fairion and Laindir and the other guards we came with. Then you can spend the entire day playing with your presents. How does that sound?"

Legolas smiled at Gîlríon's delight, noting how most of another spoonful of oatmeal ended up smeared across cheek and shift, instead of in the child's mouth.

"Shall I go and help him clean up?" he offered once the bowl was finally mostly empty, but Glorfindel shook his head.

"No, I will do it, you can get his presents in the meantime. Come on, Gîl, let us get you clean again!"

"I am clean," Gîl mumbled, staring longingly after his ada when he left the room, but when Legolas finally returned after several moments with most of what they had gotten for their child gathered in his arms, Gîl sat on Glorfindel's lap once more, dressed in clean tunic and leggings.

"A horse, ada?" Gîlríon exclaimed in delight, immediately spying the most important present right on top of the heap of gifts in Legolas' arms.

"A brown one... It can play with your Asfaloth," Legolas said, and quickly Gîl slipped from Glorfindel's lap to run to his own room, excitedly waving the white toy horse as he returned.

"Look, that is Lainiell," he explained gravely and held the horse up so that it could look at the toy in Legolas' hands.

Legolas laughed and leaned down to press a kiss to Gîl's cheek, then put the new toy into his hands and embraced him tightly. "I love you, Gîl! Happy begetting day!"

How strange that he had once wondered whether he would be able to love Gîl the way a child should be loved, for once he had held him in his arms, loving him and expressing it came as naturally as breathing to him – indeed it would have been much harder to try and suppress his emotions!

"I love you too, ada!" Gîl said happily, then ran back to Glorfindel to show him his new toy as well.

"There is more, Gîl," Legolas said, laughing when immediately Gîlríon slipped from Glorfindel's lap to come racing back towards him. He pulled him up to sit on his lap, kissing him once more, and then showed their son the wooden warriors with their horses which he had arrayed on the table.

Gîl's eyes widened with delight, and Legolas smiled at Glorfindel when Gîl's small fist closed unerringly around the golden-haired captain. "Look! That is atto!" he exclaimed, half-climbing onto the table in his exuberance.

His joy was so infectious that Glorfindel and Legolas soon found themselves sitting on the floor, spending most of the morning playing with Gîlríon and his new toys. It was the grumbling of their stomachs that finally reminded them that it was time for the midday meal and thus, high time for them to join their guests in the clearing that had been prepared for their celebration.

Legolas had to pack Gîl's wooden soldiers into a box so they could take them along, while the child proudly carried his two horses, loath to part with his new toys even for the duration of the celebration. They had all donned fine clothes, yet instead of the more formal robes, they wore leggings and tunics of embroidered silks due to the nature of the gathering, while Gîlríon wore a fine linen ensemble he could play in without doing too much damage.

"Will Rúmil be there as well?" Legolas asked when they had almost reached their destination, a light frown on his face as he considered meeting Haldir's brother once more. Glorfindel had not told him much about the meeting he had had with Celeborn, only that the Lord had calmed his guards and reassured them that no harm was done to the prince. Yet still, the situation continued to be terribly embarrassing to Legolas. While he could live with Celeborn's intimate knowledge and teasing, it was quite a different thing to have strangers be aware of such private matters.

"I... should not have said those things, not to Rúmil; he truly did not deserve to be blamed for the actions of his brother. He was the only one to help me, and yet I told him those terrible things..."

He looked to the ground, ashamed at what he had revealed to Rúmil during their conversation only few days ago. And what if the guard had told his brother? It was bad enough to have to meet Rúmil again after what had happened, but even though Haldir had more or less stopped tormenting him at every opportunity, imagining the Marchwarden in possession of such intimate knowledge about his life made him flush with shame and dread.

"He most probably will be," Glorfindel said softly and wrapped an arm around Legolas in reassurance. "Do not think about it too much – I doubt that he will hold it against you. He is an honorable man who would never use his knowledge to hurt you, and I think that he is well aware of the emotions that pushed you to such a confession."

"I know that he meant well, and I am grateful for that, too... But if I were to lose you and Gîl..."

Legolas fell silent, unable to utter such a sentiment on Gîl's begetting day, but Glorfindel understood nevertheless, as always.

"You will not, not ever. I promise," he said gently, tightening his fingers around Legolas' hand, then raised it to his mouth for another kiss that made Legolas smile despite his worries and earned them a smile from Galadriel as just in that moment, they stepped out from among the trees into the glade.

"Are you hungry, little star?" Glorfindel asked and swung him up into his arms, so the child could see the large blanket laden with all sorts of different food. "Let us greet our guests, and then afterwards, we will eat."

Together they approached Celeborn and Galadriel, and Gîlríon bowed as he had been taught, even though immediately afterwards he showed them his two toy horses, demanding due praise for them.

The rulers of Lothlórien readily indulged him and then produced a gift as well – a festive robe made of a velvet dyed the blue of the evening sky, and a fine silk brocade that had been embroidered with thousands of tiny gems and pearls. The garment gleamed like the night firmament, covered by a multitude of stars, and Legolas stared at it in awe.

Glorfindel had given them fine clothes, and they had come to Lórien dressed like nobility, but this – this was different. This was a garment fit for a king, a royal robe showing all the splendor a realm's coffers had to offer, donned only for the most important ceremonies.

Gîlríon thanked them politely, but it was only too obvious that in his eyes this was a gift that was far beneath his toy horse, and when he took the robe from Celeborn, Legolas rushed forward to save it from his careless fingers.

"Thank you," Legolas breathed, looking in awe at the splendor in his hands.

"Yes, thank you for this gift." Glorfindel's voice was thoughtful and earnest, as if moved by profound sentiment, and when he turned to Legolas, the youth thought that he understood.

"Lord Celeborn is revered as a giver of gifts beyond the power of kings," Glorfindel explained softly. "Maybe he foresees an occasion for our little star to wear such a glorious garment in the future?"

Celeborn smiled at them, but did not say anything to dispel the mystery. Still, Legolas was certain that he knew of his reasons – there was only one occasion where he could imagine Gîlríon wearing such splendor, and that would certainly never come to pass. To return to his father's court in all honor, to be acknowledged his father's son, a prince of the realm once more...

It hurt to think that Glorfindel might imagine such an event possible in the near future, for Legolas knew that only failure and disappointment awaited him in such an endeavor, but he forced himself to smile and show nothing of his fears.

"Truly, I have never seen anything so glorious!"

Celeborn smiled at his astonished awe and then produced another gift – a circlet of gold, small enough to fit onto Gîl's head, and once again Legolas was overwhelmed by emotion when he held it in his hands and saw that it was decorated with small flowers of gold as well as tiny leaves cut from emeralds.

Legolas could not think of what to say, his fingers trembling as he reverently held the circlet. To see himself and his own ancestry acknowledged so, proclaimed as equal to Glorfindel's lineage to the eyes of everyone present... It was a miracle, and not something he had ever hoped to see.

He was grateful that this time, Glorfindel took it onto himself to thank the Lord and Lady for their beautiful gift, for he truly did not think that he was capable of speech at that moment.

Arwen was the next to greet them, and once she had sufficiently praised Gîl's new toys, she had a gift for him as well – a cloak of a dark blue velvet, woven of such fine threads that it gleamed like silver in the light. The trim had been embroidered with thousands of tiny gems by the Lady and her maidens, and Legolas felt humbled when he realized how many hours this must have taken.

"How fine he will look in all his new garments!" Arwen said in delight. "We all hope that there will soon be an appropriate occasion for him to wear them."

Once again Legolas felt confusion rise up in him, and the sad certainty that it must indeed be their plan to reinstate him as prince. It would not happen – he knew his father too well for that, and in truth, even if they could find a way to make the King consider it, it was not an honor he wanted. He had finally found happiness away from his family, and he would not exchange that happiness for anything, least of all for his father's doubtful acknowledgments.

"Highness," a familiar voice drawled, and Legolas had to suppress the urge to take a step back when Haldir bowed to him.

"We have a gift as well for Gîlríon, although to truly appreciate it, I think he will need your help," Rúmil said, giving Legolas a hesitant look as if he feared what his reception would be.

"Rúmil was the scribe, and I illustrated it, but it was Haldir who told us the tales again – as he is the eldest, that used to be his duty when we were young. My name is Orophin, Highness, and I am the brother of Haldir and Rúmil." The elf standing next to the two brothers bowed and then handed Legolas a leather-bound tome.

"Well met, Orophin," Legolas said, feeling rather overwhelmed by the brothers and their gift, even though he was relieved to notice that Orophin showed none of Haldir's overwhelming arrogance. "Oh!" he exclaimed in genuine surprise when he opened the book and saw the name of the first tale. "The Hare and the Hedgehog! And the tale of Melian and the Butterfly!"

Orophin laughed. "It seems that Haldir still remembers the right tales, then! We wagered that even in Thranduil's forest, they would still tell the old Silvan tales, like that of the Hare and the Hedgehog. And as our father's mother was half Sindarin herself, we hoped that there would be at least a few tales in here that you would remember from your own childhood."

"I do! This is a wonderful gift!" Legolas exclaimed, all earlier shyness forgotten as he gave them a bright smile. "I am certain Gîl will love it! Thank you so much!"

"It is truly a very thoughtful gift," Glorfindel said warmly, looking at Haldir as if it was something he had not expected of him. "Thank you, all of you!"

There were yet more gifts for Gîl, and once they had admired them and thanked the other guests, they sat down on the blanket the Lord and Lady shared with them and Arwen. There was food enough for a company of twice their size – fragrant bread made from rye and wheat, pike, catfish and trout caught in the Celebrant just that morning, potatoes baked in the embers of a fire, slabs of cheese, and an assortment of venison and duck pastries. For Gîl, there was a light pear cider and clear, cool spring water, and pitchers of a strong, red Lórien vintage for his guests.

After their meal, Gîl grew drowsy so they let him nap while first the Lady Arwen and then her maidens entertained them with gentle songs accompanied by the harp, and when the child woke again, Orophin played them a lively tune on the flute.

They whiled away the afternoon with games, and with Glorfindel's loving attention and Gîlríon's joyful laughter, Legolas was certain that he had never been so happy before. He half feared that his brother would use the occasion for an untimely interruption, but this time, no one disturbed them – and there was not even a single mocking whisper when Glorfindel would press kisses to his fingers or his hair every now and then.

Glorfindel was indeed nothing but kindness and loving attention that afternoon, until Legolas began to fear that with all that tenderness focused on him, he would truly start to look like the swooning maiden he had been called so often. But then, in the midst of an exuberant game of tag, Glorfindel grabbed him and pushed him almost violently against the back of a tree. Nothing but a small shrub hid them from the eyes of the party, yet Legolas forgot all about them when his Lord's tongue ruthlessly invaded his mouth so that he moaned in abject surrender, arching up against Glorfindel's body even though his Lord's strong hand kept his wrists tightly pinned against the tree above his head.

It was only one moment, though, then Glorfindel released him, and for a few heartbeats, they stood there together. They were both breathing fast, and Legolas was flushed from pleasure as well as shock, well aware that if Glorfindel had kept on, it would have been hard not to embarrass himself.

After a moment, Glorfindel sighed and pressed a gentle kiss to the youth's brow. “Ah, Legolas,” he said softly, his eyes alight with the tenderest of feelings, “every day you teach me a new way in which to cherish you!”

Legolas felt himself flush with pleasure and leaned forward to kiss Glorfindel again, unable to express his love and adoration in another way, until someone came running towards the tree they had been hiding behind, with the company close behind in laughing pursuit. They left their hiding place at last to join the game once more, and their fingers stayed entwined even while they tried to evade capture for as long as possible.


59

Legolas moaned softly when Glorfindel at last slipped out of him. His Lord had taken him slowly yet insistently this morning – had indeed taken him while he was still lost in reverie, so that it was the initial pain of penetration that had woken him – but any tears had been long since forgotten, for Glorfindel knew how to play his body and had made use of him so thoroughly that at last, he had not even had any breath left to plead for mercy with.

He stretched languidly, his eyes closing as he cherished the possessive hand that was still clenched around his wrists, the ache of invasion that would stay with him for most of the morning.

"I take it you are awake now?" Glorfindel breathed against his neck, then chuckled softly when Legolas shivered at the stimulation. "Does that mean that you are up for more then, roch neth? Did I not satisfy you?"

"You always satisfy me, my Lord!" Legolas denied and turned around at last to wrap his arms around Glorfindel's neck, stretching with a sigh of tired fulfillment. "Mmh... You always make me feel so good, no matter what you do to me. I love it when you take control of me so completely!"

Legolas blushed at the intimate confession and Glorfindel chuckled softly, then gripped the youth's chin with one hand to hold him in position for another slow, languid kiss, taking control of the prince's mouth as completely as he had earlier taken control of his body.

"I could keep you here in my bed all day," Glorfindel threatened playfully. "I could indeed make such good use of you that by the time night arrived, you would barely be conscious anymore..."

Legolas moaned, aroused by the picture his Lord's words painted despite the exhaustion left by their vigorous love-making. "No..." he protested weakly. "Please, my Lord... Gîl will want our attention any moment now."

"Very well... I will show mercy. For now," Glorfindel added and laughed again at the way the youth sighed with only barely veiled desire.

"What are your plans for today then, if you are going to so generously refrain from tormenting me?"

Glorfindel chuckled. "Oh, believe me... I will have you thank me for my generosity later today. You can show me just how grateful you truly are then! But for now, I fear that I must leave you the burden of entertaining Gîl for the morning. I shall have to meet with a few of the Golden Wood's councilors to discuss matters of interest to Elrond, but I will be back with you in time for the noon-time meal."

"I could take Gîl to see the horses then," Legolas mused. "That always makes him happy, and I think that both Lainiell and Asfaloth will be glad to leave the stables for a while."

"That will indeed suffice to keep him happy all morning!" Glorfindel laughed. "I shall come to meet you at the stables then, once the councilors let me go. Come, let us wash now while we can still do so in peace."

Legolas sighed but nodded obediently. Gîl would indeed wake soon, and he much desired to wash away all traces of just how thoroughly he had been ravished from his body before then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Only a short while later, they left the talan together, although their ways soon parted when Glorfindel had to climb a winding, wooden stairway that led to another of the large mellyrn trees that stood at the heart of Caras Galadhon. Meanwhile, Legolas and Gîlríon descended onto the ground to follow a path towards that part of the forest close to the city's wall where barracks and stables had been built.

"I want to ride on my own, ada!" Gîlríon argued, and Legolas bit back a sigh. "I am big enough now! It was my begetting day yesterday!"

"It was only your first begetting day, Gîl. You are still too young," Legolas patiently explained, yet as always, that answer failed to satisfy the child.

"I am not!" Gîl denied. "I am much older now!"

Legolas sighed and stopped, kneeling so that he could look at Gîl. "Your atto and I love you very much, Gîl. We just do not want you to get hurt."

"I will not! I am big enough!" Gîl insisted.

"Do you remember what happened to Fairion when his horse got startled by something and tripped over a branch?" Legolas calmly asked, and Gîlríon nodded sagely.

"He fell down and had a bump on his head, and it was this big!" Gîlríon's hands showed the size of a pumpkin. "He let me look!" he added proudly, and Legolas had to bite back his laughter.

"Indeed he did, my heart. And if that were to happen to you, your atto and I would be really, really sad. You do not want to have a bump like Fairion, do you?"

Gîl sighed. "No," he said reluctantly. "But you promised I will get a pony for my next begetting day! I will be really big then!"

"Yes, you will," Legolas said, and Gîlríon beamed at him, so that Legolas wisely refrained from telling him that they would certainly not let him ride his pony without someone leading it by the bridle.

Legolas stood and took Gîl's hand again, and just a short time later they finally reached the large stables, three low, sprawling buildings that had been built to the side of the glade that also housed training grounds and barracks. They had been to the stables before several times to visit the horses, yet never as early as today.

Where they had so far known the Lórien stables only as a quiet place where dust danced in rays of sunshine while the horses munched quietly on some straw, today it was filled with a group of stable boys who seemed in the middle of feeding, cleaning and grooming the horses all at once. There was no place that was not touched by the hectic rush of the morning's work, and Legolas quickly discarded his plan to check on Lainiell first, as they would have had to squeeze past what seemed to be at least five stable boys and a dozen horses first. Instead, he and Gîl turned to walk down the small corridor that lead to the box Asfaloth was stabled in, which was both spacier and sturdier than most of the other boxes.

"There he is... do you want to give him the apple?" Legolas asked Gîl, and at the child's eager nod gave him the wizened apple he had taken from a basket earlier, together with a second one for his mare. Yet when they stepped closer to the box, Legolas saw that it stood open, and that there was a stable lad inside who managed to jump back just in time before the stallion's teeth snapped close at the place where just a moment ago, his outstretched hand had been.

"That bastard!" the boy breathed in awe, and there was laughter from further down the corridor.

"Did you try it again?" someone called. "He will bite your head off someday soon, and that will be less painful than what you will get once Lord Glorfindel finds out!"

"It is not fair," the boy in front of them complained, who still had not noticed that he was no longer alone with the stallion. "Just one quick ride – no one would find out."

Legolas laughed at Asfaloth's threatening snort that made the boy flinch back, then stepped forward, Gîl still holding his hand. He paid no attention to the boy's astonished gasp as he patted the heavily muscled neck, watching instead Gîl's delight as the large head leaned down towards him and Asfaloth gently nipped at the giggling child's hair.

"Are you insane?" the boy said in horror. "Take the child away, quick! He will get hurt!"

"I will not!" Gîlríon said indignantly, then giggled again when Asfaloth carefully took the offered apple from his small hand, crunching it between his large teeth so that Gîl's tunic got spattered all over with juice and little bits of pulp. "Yuck!" he said happily while Legolas bit back his laughter.

"He truly will not get hurt," Legolas said and picked up the child to sit him down on the crib for a moment. Then he grabbed a handful of mane and lightly vaulted onto the stallion's back. Gîl eagerly held out his arms and Legolas picked him up again to put him down in front of him, one arm wrapped protectively around his small waist to hold him in place.

He gave the speechless stable boy a timid smile. "I am sorry he threatened you so... I fear that Asfaloth is just as proud and vain as his Lord, if not even more so. I will only take him out for a very short walk."

He nudged Asfaloth's side with a knee, and the stallion obediently stepped out of his box, proudly arching his powerfully muscled neck as he passed the surprised boy in a triumphant half-pass with his knees raised high.

"Asfaloth would never hurt his Lord's heir... Indeed, I wager that he would protect him with his own life even from a pack of wargs," Legolas said in apology.

"Just as he obviously would protect his Lord's beloved prince," a dry voice added, and Legolas once again felt himself flush at Haldir's scrutiny.

"You found us!" he said weakly. "I am sorry we did not wait for you, but we woke early this morning and Gîl was so impatient..."

"Yes, your Lord told me. Although I do wonder at how I am supposed to protect you if you leave without telling me."

"My Lord agreed that no harm could befall us on the way to the stables..."

"Yes, well... Your brother's guards have been confined to their telain and the immediate area surrounding it, so you should be safe from them for now. Still, my Lord Celeborn had me assigned as your personal guard, and whatever you think of me, I do not take my duty lightly."

"Truly, I am very sorry, Haldir," Legolas said. "I did not think of that. I promise I will not forget it again."

Haldir smirked. "See that you do not. For if I have to rescue you again..."

Legolas nodded meekly. "May we ride now, guard, or are there any other dangers you need to protect us from?"

Haldir's eyes narrowed. "Off with you, before I become someone you need protection from."

"I am sorry we startled you!" Legolas called out to the stable boy. "I promise, I am not going to tell anyone!"

"I might tell my Lord though, if I ever find anyone attempting something so foolish again!" Haldir said darkly, and the last thing Legolas saw before they left the stable was the stable lad trying to escape in vain the infamous Marchwarden's tirade.

"Gallop, ada!" Gîl demanded excitedly once they were outside. Legolas led Asfaloth to a small square of grass, and there, the lightest change in his seat was enough to have the powerful destrier break into a slow canter as smooth and regular as a rocking horse.

After several rounds, Legolas let Asfaloth slow and then allowed the stallion to walk around the stables and the near-by training ground for a while so they could watch the milling horses out for pasture and the small contingent of Lórien guards that were engaged in a training fight.

"Shall we take Lainiell out now?" Legolas asked at last and at Gîlríon's vigorous nod, led the stallion back towards the stables.

It was calmer when they entered the airy building again. There were no horses out to be groomed, and most of the stable lads had vanished as well. Haldir had waited for them near the stable's entrance where he could keep watch over them and now joined them inside once more, smugly watching how the youth they had surprised earlier was now scrubbing the floor with a scowl on his face.

Legolas jumped from Asfaloth's back with Gîl in his arms, then patted the stallion's neck in thanks. Neck and tail arched high, the stallion slowly walked back to his box and began to snuffle through his crib for a few last grains when Legolas closed and secured his door.

"He seems to listen rather well to you," Haldir said. "I am impressed..."

"Are you?" Legolas laughed. "All it takes is to show him proper respect. He is quite aware that he is a Lord of Horses. No, if you want to be impressed, you should see my Lainiell. If you ever feel like challenging me to another duel, I will insist on it being on horseback. No one in Lórien or Imladris could beat Lainiell and me among the trees!"

Haldir smirked. "That shaggy pony of yours? She does not look particularly fast to me, or particularly war-minded. Horse-breeding in Mirkwood must have changed much indeed during the centuries, for my father told me much of the powerful destriers Oropher and his son rode into battle – 'black like the night and ill-tempered as wargs', were his words."

"Oh, my father breeds them still... But there really is not much they are good for apart from battle on plains. He has to keep them close to the caves, for they could not survive out in the forest, not like our shaggy ponies."

Legolas opened the box and rubbed Lainiell's head in greeting. "That thick underwool has saved many a horse from spider bites," he explained. "And of course Mirkwood's winters are cold, for there is no sorcery to protect us from nature's worst. Next to your meek palfreys my Lainiell might not look particularly noble, but if spiders or a pack of wargs were to attack, you would be surprised just how well suited she is to a fight beneath trees. Shall I show you?"

Haldir raised a brow at the smiling youth before him. "So confident?" he drawled. "Why, I am surprised... Who knew you had it in you?"

Legolas froze, his smile faltering, then lowered his eyes to hide the expression of hurt that Haldir's words had caused.

Haldir sighed, his smirk gentling into a smile. "Come, prince, show me your horse's merits... It will not do to have Glorfindel wroth with me yet again, and to tell the truth, I actually do like to see you smile."

Legolas swallowed and then tried to force a more cheerful expression onto his face, although his eyes were still a little wary. "Do you, truly? I thought you liked me best--" He blushed and then stopped when his gaze fell onto Gîl.

Haldir chuckled and stepped closer. "Oh, I do!" he breathed. "As I am certain does your Lord. Still... You are quite sweet when you are happy. I think I am finally starting to understand why your Lord is acting the besotted protector of late."

Legolas' blush deepened, yet the smile had returned to his face, and when Haldir stepped back, he turned to open Lainiell's box wide.

"Come, Gîl, let us show him that Mirkwood's horses are born fighters!"

The mare was still crunching the apple Gîl had given her between her powerful jaws, and when Legolas led her outside, she kept nosing at him in search of more. Yet once Legolas leapt onto her back, a change came over her, and although she did indeed look scruffy from the beginning loss of her winter coat, and though she stood a hand smaller than the sleek Lórien mounts, she was now a picture of collected power and concentration.

Legolas looked around in search, then his eyes lit up when his gaze fell onto a fence in the middle of construction. Wooden poles had been driven into the ground, but no planks had been nailed to them yet.

"If you will watch Gîl for a moment, I shall show you just where the merits of Mirkwood's breed lies," Legolas said confidently. "I wager that there is no horse in Lórien on which you could do this faster than Lainiell and I."

Haldir smiled lazily, openly appraising the youth. "Oh, very well... If you lose, then I get a kiss as forfeit."

Legolas flushed but shook his head in resignation. "Will you not first see what my horse can do? You might decide not to take me up on that wager after all."

"Why, you truly are confident!" Haldir feigned surprise. "Go on then... I am curious now!"

"There is a game in Mirkwood called pâd e-gelaidh, the Way of Trees – I do not supppose it is played in Lórien as well?"

Haldir shook his head. "Nay... Although I have heard of it. It is some sort of competition?"

Legolas nodded. "On Midsummer morning every year, everyone gathers to take part in competitions, warriors and youths alike. Pâd e-gelaidh is the task set before those who would show how accomplished they are in fighting from horse-back among the trees. A short track is prepared, and everyone who dares enter his name into the competition will have to race his horse around the trees and back, using bow and knives to hit targets hidden in the trees and branches. Of course I do not propose to beat you in that – after all you know very well that I am not skilled yet with a blade."

Haldir smirked but otherwise stayed silent while Legolas flushed, yet determinedly continued.

"Children play at pâd e-gelaidh as well, and though you will undoubtedly laugh at me for indulging in children's games yet again, that is what I shall show you. You may laugh at me, but I wager you will not laugh at my horse's skill – or if you do, I will have you try to repeat it on a horse of your choosing."

Legolas gave Haldir a confident smile, still flushed for having spoken of the humiliating defeat he had known at Haldir's hands, yet nevertheless secure in himself and his own skills.

"Go on then, show me, so I will see whether I can demand my forfeit of you any time soon," Haldir drawled, but there was none of the usual arrogant dismissal in his expression – indeed Legolas might almost have called it amused encouragement, had he been asked to define the guard's mien.

"'Tis not truly pâd e-gelaidh, not even as children play it, but I fear it is the best I can come up with here," Legolas said in apology, then made Lainiell return to the stable's entrance to pick up four more of the wizened apples stored as treats in a large bag there.

"Do you see those posts?" he asked when he returned, pointing towards the unfinished fence to their left. "I will take them as substitutes for a proper track winding through the forest."

Lainiell turned to face the posts at his words, her ears pointing forward, the smallest change in Legolas' seat sign enough for her to understand what was expected of her. Her neck curved and her head lowered, her eyes fixed on the posts as her body seemed to shift and become more compact, the powerful haunches now carrying most of her weight and that of her rider.

There was no signal, no spoken word, but Legolas shifted forward ever so slightly and his thighs tightened, and then the mare exploded forward, the muscles of her hindlegs propelling her forward like an arrow shot from the bow. Three jumps in full gallop and they had reached the first pole, passing it while Legolas, riding without saddle or bridle, reached out and placed an apple on top of the pole – and then the horse threw herself to the left, another jump and they had reached the second pole. Again Legolas placed an apple onto it as easily as if his mount were standing or walking while in truth, the powerful body contracted and twisted beneath him when the horse threw herself to the right in midstride in order to pass between the second and third pole. Likewise, Legolas placed a third and fourth apple on poles, and then they had reached the fifth – and last – pole.

Haldir's eyes widened when instead of riding a small circle like he had expected, the mare threw herself around the pole impossibly close, somehow managing a turn so close that Legolas could have kept his hand on the pole all the time should he have desired so.

Again the mare wound her body around the poles in full gallop, changing direction in mid-stride with the quickness and agility of a cat while Legolas effortlessly picked up the apples from where he had placed them only moments earlier. And when at last they came to a spectacular halt in front of Haldir and Gîlríon – a stop from full gallop with the mare's haunches sliding through the sandy soil – Legolas leaned forward and embraced her neck, laughing with breathless joy while the apples fell from his hands to the ground, so that the horse snorted in satisfaction and took them as her due reward.

-------------
pâd e-gelaidh - way of trees
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60

"Ada, ada, ada!" Gîl was fairly bouncing, only held back by Haldir's relentless grip on his hand. "Let me, too! I want to do it, too!"

Legolas laughed again and slid from Lainiell's back, gratefully hugging the mare once more before he turned towards his son.

"When you are bigger, Gîl; I promise I will teach you then."

"When I get my pony I will do that, too!" Gîlríon declared, and Haldir laughed, though for once, there was kindness in it and none of the usual derision.

"I am certain you will – for after all, what better teacher than the fastest rider of pâd e-gelaidh in all of Mirkwood?"

Legolas smiled, flushed with delight and pleasure and some embarrassment at such praise.

"Ai, I am far from that, and you know it!" he demurred. "There is more to pâd e-gelaidh than just a fast horse – but I will gladly take your praise for Lainiell, for she was indeed the fastest horse of Greenwood, and would have made a champion had she but a rider more accomplished at weaponry."

Haldir shrugged. "It might yet come to pass... You are not a warrior yet, we all know the truth of that, but with a teacher like Glorfindel, you have a good chance. And indeed you have just proven your merit on horse-back. It seems that I have lost the wager..."

"I may demand a forfeit then?" Legolas asked, his eyes gleaming as he pondered possibilities – not that he would ever dare demand something outrageous from the former Marchwarden, yet for a moment he could nonetheless enjoy the thought of doing just that.

"Why, I think that is obvious. Had you lost, I would have gotten a kiss from you. Now that I have lost, you will get a kiss from me." Haldir smirked at the expression of horrified disbelief this got him.

"Are you jesting?"

Legolas turned at the familiar voice, then smiled in relief when he found that Fairion and Laindir had come up behind him, with half a dozen Imladrian guards waiting a short distance away.

"Aye, he has to be," Fairion replied to his lover's exclamation. "The Valar know that such a thing would be fit reward for no one."

Haldir smirked. "Would you care to find out?"

"Would you care to find out how sharp my blade cuts?" Fairion retorted.

"We saw you ride, Legolas!" Laindir cut in. "I did not know you could do that; I have never seen such a thing before!"

Legolas' blush deepened, for he was still so unused to praise of any sort that he could not help but be embarrassed by the attention.

"It was a truly amazing feat," Fairion agreed. "Your horse has already proven her merit on the slippery and treachery paths through the mountains, but that turn you did – ai, so fast I was certain you would both slip and fall! Mayhap you should become riding instructor for our troops, instead of sharing Thalaron's lessons?"

Haldir grimaced. "Ai, you would rob him of exactly those lessons he needs most? Do not coddle him just because you covet his Lord's sympathy."

Fairion snorted and rested a hand on Legolas' shoulder in support. "He needs no coddling, and in any case, he knows that my words were half spoken in jest. Still, he might benefit more from a single tutor in the art of weaponry, instead of taking part in the youths' lessons. Despite your dishonorable behavior, he showed a lot of promise in that so-called duel."

"Aye, a tutor in archery... Target practice would be a good idea." Laindir's grim look showed that he knew exactly who would make a good target for at least a dozen arrows.

Haldir's eyes narrowed, but before things could escalate, Legolas stepped between them.

"Please... I know that Haldir is right, I still need a lot of training with a blade, and I certainly will not stop taking lessons."

"Come to the barracks again tomorrow, then, if you like – if your Lord can spare you," Laindir added. "If you want, I will train with you. Indeed, I think all of us would be happy to help. We have heard of your potential, and there is not a single one of us who does not look forward to the day when you shall have this guard kneeling before you with your blade at his throat."

Haldir sniggered. "By all means, train him – it is something I truly approve of. Though we shall see about the kneeling part of it..."

Fairion snorted, and Laindir rolled his eyes. "In any case, that so-called guardian of yours is not why we came over. We just finished sparring and want to head over to the baths. Do you want to join us? Gîl looks like he could do with a little cleaning up – we will take one of the pools that are not quite so hot, so that it will not be too much for him."

"Yes! I want to go bathing with them, ada!" Gîl exclaimed, and Legolas hid a smile at how quickly his desire to ride on Lainiell was forgotten. But then, the child liked Fairion and Laindir, who had proven amenable to no matter what outrageous games he demanded – and Legolas felt at ease in their company as well.

And yet, to bathe with them, with almost half the company of Noldorin guards... There was an excuse already on Legolas' tongue, but he bit it back, determined not to appear a coward in front of the guards, and especially not in front of Haldir.

Experience had taught him that to make himself vulnerable in such a way would unfailingly result in being hurt. To accept an invitation such as this had too often meant ridicule and humiliation; to appear naked among them might bring him even more hurt, as it had when he had been nothing but Glorfindel's plaything. His Lord was not around to protect him...

And yet he knew that these were Glorfindel's men, people his Lord trusted to protect him – people he had even come to like on their journey. Why was it still so hard then to join them for something as simple and innocent as a bath?

Legolas straightened. He would not let his fear keep him from what he had always wanted – the life that everyone else led, with friends, with acquaintances, a life where to spend an afternoon enjoying himself with people he knew and liked was not a rare treasure but something completely normal.

He was not a victim anymore, and he would not behave like one, especially not in front of Haldir!

"Of course," he said and smiled at Laindir. "Although my Lord wanted to come and meet us here at the stables. Will he know where we are?"

"Gúrloss has to bring a missive to the city anyway," Fairion interjected. "I will have him tell the Captain where to find us; mayhap he will want to join us as well. They might not have hot springs here in the woods, but those heated pools they have come up with are just as comfortable as the baths at home, especially after a long sparring session." He winced and rubbed his shoulders as if in proof.

"I will come with you as well, of course," Haldir said with another of those smirks that made Legolas want to hide and groan in annoyance both at once. "It is my duty as his guard to keep him from being accosted."

"Really?" Fairion said slowly, his eyes darkening in anger. "From what I have heard-"

"Please," Legolas interrupted again. "If he wants, he can come along; I do not mind."

Of course, he did mind – to undress with Haldir's hungry, mocking eyes on him was an experience he could very well do without, and yet admitting to this fear seemed even more terrible to him.

"Very well then, you may come," Fairion said ungraciously. "After all, what better place to think of a forfeit for you? I am certain we will all come up with a lot of suggestions for the Prince."

Legolas bit back a smile at Haldir's glower and entrusted Gîlríon to the keeping of the two guards while he returned Lainiell to her box, feeling guilty that he had only taken her out for such a short time. In the hope that his Lord would find some time on the following day, he promised her a long ride through the Golden Wood then, and gave her another apple in apology.

Haldir kept mercifully silent on the way to the baths, although Legolas was certain that he could feel his ever-present smirk bore into his back. Yet Gîlríon had wheedled his way into being carried on Fairion's shoulders and now pretended that the soldier was a horse. Laindir cried tears of laughter at his lover's whinnying, and even Legolas laughed out loud at the sound.

The other guards were waiting for them at the building that housed the baths, one of them with a parchment in hand that Fairion quickly signed. "Tell the Captain that the Prince and little Gîl are here with us – he can join us if he wants. And do not forget about that cask of ale..."

"As if I would!" The soldier grinned and then left, and Legolas found himself surrounded by the group of Noldor – all of them smiling and greeting him and Gîl, and teasing Fairion about the promotion to mount he seemed to have been given. Gîlríon giggled, obviously well at ease at being the center of attention, and while Legolas was overwhelmed at being surrounded by so many, it also made a warm happiness spread through him at being welcome in their midst. A part of him still could not help but wonder if they had invited him out of pity, because it was obvious to everyone that he had no one apart from his Lord and Gîl, but he rigorously suppressed that thought. This was Gîl's rightful place, and Legolas would not take it away from him for anything, even though he still could not help but fear being shown that he did not belong.

When they went inside at last, the air was warm and damp, and smelling faintly of the minty rub used for sore muscles. Legolas refused to look at Haldir when they undressed, even though he could hear him exchange snide remarks with Laindir, and instead concentrated on helping Gîl, who was too excited to hold still and so made it difficult to free him from tunic and leggings. Legolas smiled when the child raced away to bother Fairion once more as soon as he was freed of his clothes, and then proceeded to undress himself, unhappy with the feeling of self-consciousness he just could not shake. At last, when most of the others had already gone on to wash themselves, he put away their clothing onto a shelf and began to open his braids. He tried not to think of how so far, only Glorfindel had ever seen him this way, for he knew that this was truly not at all alike to undressing for his Lord's eyes, and it made him feel vaguely ashamed to even have these misgivings at all about an occasion so mundane.

"Need help with that?" Haldir asked with a slow smile, taking his time to look Legolas up and down so that the youth had to fight the instinct to cover himself with his hands. Yet he was no maiden to feel embarrassed by such insolent scrutiny – if he truly dreamed of becoming a warrior one day, this should be as normal to him as sparring with others, Legolas knew only too well. He did not want to be embarrassed – he did not want to stay a victim to Haldir's ribald teasing!

Gathering his courage, Legolas looked up to meet Haldir's eyes – then lowered his gaze to study the guard's body in turn, fighting the urge to run away and hide as he forced himself to look at Haldir's member... to truly look, to take in the wiry curls of silver, the shaft that was paler than his Lord's, but – Valar, even soft it was huge! Maybe even thicker than his Lord, though Haldir did not have quite his length, Legolas noted, his mouth dry. Ai, even the smooth sack holding his testes was huge, no comparison to himself at all, as he had feared – but then, that was not what this was about, was it?

"No, thank you", said Legolas, turning away dismissively. "I can do it on my own." He took a step towards the door, then stopped when he saw Laindir returning for them, and glanced back at Haldir. "In any case, I am used to better."

He lifted his chin, and copied the guard's arrogant smile. Haldir scowled. Yet Laindir's presence rescued him from any further quips, so that Legolas gave him a grateful smile that he hoped was not too obviously relieved. "I will undo your braids if you help me with mine," the Noldo offered and tugged at a tangled, still somewhat soapy braid with a grin. "It is always the same when we spar – Fairion has given up on them by now. Last time he threatened to just cut them off."

Legolas winced in sympathy. "How cruel! I can try, at least... Gîl's hair tangles easily as well, and I am glad it is not that long yet. I fear he inherited that from his atar."

"Yours is always so smooth! I truly envy you," Laindir sighed, wrapping an arm around Legolas' shoulders as he led him through the door into a large room filled with small pools. Some of the Imladrian guards had already immersed themselves in the water, while Fairion and two others were playfully chasing a nude and giggling Gîlríon. They paid no further attention to Haldir who nevertheless followed them, and Legolas did not even have to turn around to know that he was scowling at their backs yet again.

They watched how Fairion at last caught Gîlríon and scooped him up, then carried him towards them to hand him over to Legolas.

"Come, we can wash over there! Sparring was terrible today, I ache all over – I want nothing more now than to lean back in the hot water," Fairion sighed and led them over to the side where stood a row of buckets filled with water, and a shelf stocked with soaps. They quickly washed themselves, Gîl still giggling and trying to escape, and Legolas was glad for the excuse to ignore Haldir, whose eyes he could still feel unashamedly staring at his naked body. Legolas was grateful that by now, all traces of his Lord's punishments had vanished – no welts or bruises marred his back, and even though thinking of being marked in such a way made him quiver inside with a terrible, helpless excitement, now he was relieved that he would at least be spared Haldir's comments on that.

At last, they sank into the hot water, Fairion groaning in bliss when his sore muscles finally relaxed, and Legolas could not even bring himself to resent Haldir who had somehow managed to slide in next to him. "This is wonderful," Legolas sighed, then helped Gîl into the water and pulled him onto his lap. "It is not too hot, is it?"

Gîl shook his head and hit the water with his hand so that it splashed onto Haldir.

Legolas grinned. "If you feel too warm, you will tell me, promise?"

"I promise, ada!" Gîl said impatiently, already reaching out his hands to something Fairion pushed towards them – a small wooden boat, Legolas noticed, carved to look like one of the swan boats they had seen on the Celebrant.

"I made it for my little cousin, but he can have it... I still have enough time to carve a whole fleet if I want."

"Le hannon," Gîl said obediently when Legolas nudged him, then happily produced waves for the little boat to crest.

Haldir was mercifully silent, and Legolas refused to look at him and so acknowledge whatever way he was currently being stared at. The conversation went from boats to the sea when one Noldo described the huge ship he had seen on a visit to the Grey Havens, and from there to Glorfindel, who had returned from Aman on a ship more than four millennia ago.

"Can we go on a ship too, ada?" Gîlríon asked wide-eyed, and Legolas smiled indulgently.

"Not yet, my heart... but your atto has promised that one day, we will sail to Valinor together on just such a ship." He tightened his grip on his son for a moment, his heart so full of love for his child and his Lord who had given him such joy, that it was almost an ache. He pressed a kiss to Gîl's damp, golden locks, not caring if Haldir thought him a maiden for it, and allowed himself to dream for a moment of the life they would lead in Aman, safe from all those who would bring them strife.

"Come, turn around and I will take care of your braids," Fairion then said, and Legolas obediently turned, fighting the heat in his cheeks when he found himself the recipient of Haldir's gaze yet again.

The water went up to his shoulders, and he had Gîl on his lap and was thus covered, yet still he could not help but feel unsettled by being so close to Haldir.

"I like you better with your hair undone," the guard said huskily, and now Legolas felt himself flushing after all.

"And I like you better without your pretty red cloak," Fairion retorted unkindly. "Keep it up, and the Captain will make certain that it stays that way."

Haldir's eyes narrowed, but before he could reply, Legolas all but thrust Gîlríon into his hands.

"Here... take care of him for a moment, while I untangle Fairion's braids. I have decided what forfeit to demand. Orophin said that you were the one who dictated to them the tales for the book you gave Gîl for his begetting day – tell Gîl such a tale now, while I am busy."

Haldir stared at the child on his lap, who stared back completely unintimidated. "The story with the butterfly!" Gîlríon demanded in the tone of one who was used to getting what he wanted, and Legolas turned towards Fairion to hide a snicker. It was not an outrageous demand, nor something as ribald as the Galadhel would have demanded had he won, yet the mirth on the faces of the soldiers told him that maybe, this was even worse – that to become known as an expert on fairytales was even less desirable to the infamous Marchwarden.

-----------------------
atto - affectionate form of "father" [Quenya]
ada - affectionate form of "father" [Sindarin]
pâd e-gelaidh - way of trees
le hannon – thank you (formal) [Yes, I know that Salo used 'hannon le' in the movies, but in the attested uses of 'le' Tolkien always had it preceeding the verb, and that is how I've kept it as well.]
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61

Fairion's braids were indeed not easy to unravel, yet Legolas once again found that the skills garnered during his time with the horses came to his advantage here. He had spent countless hours braiding and unbraiding manes and tails, and had also during the last two years fought almost daily with the unruly locks of his Lord. Fairion's warrior braids took some patience, yet despite the few knots he encountered, he soon had them undone.

In the meantime, Haldir had finished his story and seemed more than happy to return Gîlríon to Legolas – and though no one had outright laughed at him, there were expressions of smug amusement on the faces of the Noldorin soldiers. Legolas envied Haldir's calm while facing such resentment. He knew how he had behaved in similar situations, and how his inability to hide his helplessness and hurt at being treated in such a way had always only made matters worse for him. Yet Haldir seemed completely at ease, as if he did not care what others thought – as if he were not even aware of having ever committed any fault.

Legolas wondered at Haldir's decision to join them, for Fairion and Laindir had made it more than obvious what kind of reception awaited him. And yet Haldir had come, had voluntarily joined this group of people who all resented him – was it truly his sense of duty that made him unwilling to shirk this obligation, even though Legolas was more than protected in the midst of his Lord's own soldiers?

Or was it that maybe, fulfilling his duty even in circumstances that left him open to ridicule was Haldir's way of showing that he rued what he had done?

When Legolas dared a careful look at the guard, he found him completely relaxed, stretched out in the water with his head resting on the edge of the pool – a small, smug smile playing on his lips as if he had known that Legolas would be unable to resist looking at him for long.

Maybe Haldir would simply always stay an enigma to him, Legolas decided with a silent sigh.

Gîlríon was once more playing with his little boat, and Laindir began to tell of what he and Fairion had observed earlier, the amazing agility of the Mirkwood-bred mare, and Legolas' astonishing ride.

Legolas was glad that most of them were flushed due to the water's heat, for he felt embarrassed by all this praise, although Laindir seemed truly impressed by his horsemanship. It almost felt like rescue to him when his Lord showed up at last, striding through the door gloriously nude and completely unabashed by all the eyes that rested on him.

Glorfindel smiled at him, then proceeded to quickly wash himself, not even bothering to undo his braids himself before he came to join them in the water. Haldir scooted reluctantly aside after Glorfindel gave him a pointed look, and Legolas smiled, meeting the guard's eyes in the smug awareness that it had been impossible for Haldir to not see that Glorfindel was indeed his better in that most intimate regard.

Gîlríon immediately climbed onto his atto's lap once Glorfindel was immersed in the water, and showed off his new boat. When Glorfindel had sufficiently praised it, he wrapped one arm around Legolas' shoulders to pull him close and pressed a tender kiss to his brow.

"You should have told us, Captain! We would have demanded a demonstration before, had we know what the Prince and his horse can do!"

"Aye, and begged him to train us, too!"

Glorfindel was startled by the chorus of voices, but then gave his men a broad smile. "You should have believed me when I told you that he raced me and won!"

Legolas looked at him in surprise. Had his Lord bragged about him? Bragged, not about his sweet mouth or pliant body, as had been his wont only a year ago, but about his abilities on horseback?

"Only on short distances," he said, feeling a little shaken by the thought of his Lord lauding him so in front of others. "On longer distances, Asfaloth is faster."

"I would not care about long distances if I could do the kind of turns you can," Laindir said with a envious sigh. "No more loitering next to your Lord on the way back – I shall steal you from his side and have you teach me!"

"If Gîl and my Lord can spare me, certainly I will." Legolas smiled at Laindir, remembering his offer to spar with him as well, and wondered if his Lord would agree. Laindir was kind... Sparring with him would certainly not be as nerve-wracking as having lessons with the other youths.

"If you behave during our stay here, I might let Legolas show you." Glorfindel grinned at Laindir's sigh, then turned a little when Legolas took hold of his braids. Braiding or unbraiding his Lord's golden tresses truly came naturally to him now – Legolas could have done it blindfolded, and so it was the work of seconds to unravel the braids. He combed through the heavy mane with his fingers, sighing softly to himself at the gloriousness of it.

Glorfindel turned back then and caught his chin in his hand, taking a kiss from him. It was short and chaste, due to their company, and yet there was such gentle love in the gesture that once again Legolas felt overwhelmed by the thought that this great Lord had chosen him to love.

They continued to play with Gîl and his boat while the conversation around them went on, and even though there were topics Legolas did not feel confident enough to join in, he never felt excluded, for there were many other things he found he could talk about.

Glorfindel's arm around his shoulders felt comforting, making him feel safe, and loved, and when the warmth of the water finally made conversation come to a drowsy lull, Glorfindel moved to press a kiss to his cheek again, smiling at the open adoration in the youth's eyes.

"Now that we have all survived Gîl's begetting day, it is time to prepare for the next celebration, is it not, pen vell?" he murmured. "You are all invited, of course," he added for his men.

Legolas looked at him with what seemed almost fearful disbelief, and it made Glorfindel's heart ache to think that the youth must have long since trained himself to no longer even hope for such acknowledgments.

"The 42nd day of your begetting – I am very sorry that I never even thought to ask last year, pen villen. But this year, you shall have a feast as is proper. The Lord and Lady plan a banquet for you, and so that it will not be too boring with only their wise advisors in attendance, all of you will have to come as well."

Legolas had flushed at his words, and even though he did not dare to smile, indeed was still afraid that it would turn out to be a jest, his eyes were wide with shocked pleasure, so that Glorfindel tightened his arm around him in loving reassurance.

"Ada's begetting day? Will he get toys like mine?" Gîl asked innocently while around him, the guards bit back laughter. Although Legolas' blush deepened at the question, he did not lower his eyes in humiliation as he once would have done – the laughter of the guards was good-natured, not hateful, and even he himself could not hide his smile at the double entendre of the so innocently asked question.

"Not quite like yours, I wager," he said daringly, rewarded by Glorfindel's low chuckle.

"I would hope not... I can think of gifts far more fitting." Legolas wanted to groan when the amused voice made him remember Haldir's presence. "I will have to think of a present myself then", Haldir continued, "but as we went to the market together, I am certain that I know your... tastes now."

"And we all know your tastes, Haldir, so leave him alone," one of the guards retorted. Legolas could not help but smile at this new, warm experience of knowing himself supported, yet now he almost began to feel sorry for Haldir, as he knew his situation only too well.

"I am certain that the Lord and Lady will have gifts for you as well – after all, you are kin to Lord Celeborn himself," Glorfindel pointed out.

"Ai, so distantly that it hardly counts!" Legolas demurred, and Glorfindel laughed.

"Like your grandfather, Celeborn was a kinsman of Thingol in Doriath; and if that is good enough for him, it should be good enough for you. You will not hear the Lady of Light call me cousin, yet we are kin as well, and she would honor me so were I not already accorded all honor as Captain of Imladris' forces and representative of Elrond."

"You are kin to the Lady Galadriel?"

Glorfindel laughed again at the surprise on Legolas' face.

"Ah, pen vell, you did not know? There are little with Vanyarin blood now on these shores; indeed, we might be the only ones. My grandmother was the youngest sister of Indis of the Vanyar, she who married Finwë after Miriel's death and bore him Finarfin, the Lady's father. Indeed, we crossed the Helcaraxë together..." He fell silent for a spell, but then visibly shook off the gloom that had come over him. "In any case, be not so quick to deny claims of kinship; Celeborn is indeed your cousin, though a distant one, and has come to bear you much affection."

"And if he wants to give a banquet in your honor, we will be glad to come!" Fairion said, another adding to much laughter, "We are always glad to be of help when it comes to celebrations!"

Legolas was flushed with pleasure, so pleased at what Glorfindel had planned for him that even Haldir's presence could no longer rile him. He did not truly listen anymore to the conversations that were going on around him, too overcome by happiness to pay attention, and when it was finally time to leave the water, he did so still smiling, helping Gîl out of the water first before he made to follow him.

The child had grown drowsy in the water's heat, and Legolas had been certain that he would fall asleep within minutes and force them to carry him back home, yet as soon as he had left the water, Gîl grabbed his little toy boat and began to run, holding the boat up in the air as if it were flying.

"Look, ada, atto! Like the story you told me, about the adar of Lord Elrond! The boat sails in the sky!"

"Gîl! Do not run, you will slip!" With a sigh, Legolas got out of the water to follow him, certain now that Gîl must have indeed inherited his atar's stamina.

Gîl giggled, running faster so that his adar would not catch him, but after a few steps Legolas finally caught up with him and pulled him up into his arms. Gîl laughed as if they had been playing tag, so that Legolas had to force himself to give him a stern look, chiding him for his carelessness and disobedience, and took his boat from him until he showed better behavior.

His chase had brought him to the far end of the large room where a little earlier, a group of Galadhrim had claimed a large pool; now from the corner of his eyes he saw a whispered exchange take place, and one of them made to leave the water.

Legolas quickly turned around and hurried back to his Lord, pretending that he had not seen him even though he felt hot with miserable shame at what he knew to be his own cowardice. Glorfindel came towards him, his eyes suspiciously narrowed, and Legolas moved past him back to where the guards were leaving their pool, glad to be able to hide behind his Lord even though it filled him with shame to have everyone witness his cowardice. And yet he was so sick of confrontations – no matter what this was about, he just could not bear any more allusions to how he was a victim of his Lord rather than his beloved, for in truth this hurt far worse than hearing himself called a whore, as he had so often been before.

He risked a shy look back, finding his Lord still rigid with displeasure even though his conversation with the Galadhel seemed polite, and when the other turned to look at him, Legolas almost flinched, quickly turning away again to face Laindir.

"What is it? Is he trying to give you trouble?" the guard asked, and Legolas shook his head.

"I do not know, but... I can guess what this is about."

Miserably, Legolas thought back to the news that Rúmil had brought them, and how Glorfindel had later gone to talk to Lord Celeborn who had been confronted by his guards about the signs of abuse Legolas sported. Glorfindel had not said much about it when he returned, and Legolas knew that was probably because his Lord was aware that he wanted to neither think nor talk about that matter. And in truth, from what he had said, there had not been much to tell. Lord Celeborn was of course aware of the nature of their relationship and knew that – at least by now – Legolas surrendered himself to his Lord willingly, and that what marks Glorfindel left on his skin, he bore proudly.

Lord Celeborn had informed his guards that it was a private matter between them, and that he could vouch that there was neither force nor threat involved in their relationship – yet still Legolas could not help but feel shame at the way everyone was aware of the most intimate details of his life.

And now, everyone was aware that he was a coward as well, that he could not even face one of the Galadhrim who had sought to protect him, however misguided.

Legolas swallowed, knowing that he had flushed a bright red, and felt shame for that as well. His Lord already knew him a coward, and now his Lord's guards whom he had come to look up to would know it as well, and Gîl...

He looked at his son, still wet and looking downtrodden after his toy had been taken from him, and tried to think of him grown, his own age. Was there any way he could not feel shame for who and what his father was, or had been?

Yet to have his own son look at him with disgust for his weakness...

"Can you take him for a moment?" At Laindir's nod, he handed Gîlríon over to him. "Do not let him run away again. I will be back in a moment."

He took a deep breath and turned to walk towards where Glorfindel still faced the Galadhel, his heart beating fast in his chest at the thought of how humiliating it would be to be called his Lord's victim again in front of his Lord's own men – men he had secretly hoped might become something like friends to him one day.

He stopped next to Glorfindel, shy and too insecure to say something, yet when his Lord's arm came around his waist in an open display of possession, the touch gave him strength as well.

"Your Highness," the Galadhel said and bowed, obviously uncomfortable with the situation, and Legolas found some of his own embarrassment vanish at the sight.

"Forgive me for disturbing you here; I have come only to apologize. It was never our intention to cause you embarrassment, and we are very sorry to have hurt you by our actions. I hope that you will forgive us; it was truly only our intention to help."

Legolas swallowed, still ill at ease even though he was glad that there were no accusations against his Lord; certainly the guards' own Lord had taken care of that.

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice faltering – what else could he say to the Galadhel? He could not, he would not talk about his Lord or what was between them!

"Yes, we thank you for the apology," Glorfindel came to his rescue then. "And please, if in the future you feel the need for clarification, come to see me, or Legolas. I would not keep him from you; and indeed, though he is young still, he is not a child, and you would do well not to treat him as one."

Legolas smiled at his Lord's defense of him, and the Galadhel bowed again before he returned to the pool where his friends were waiting.

"It was good of him to apologize," Glorfindel said, brushing Legolas' cheek with his lips. "Still, they should have come to talk to you before going to Celeborn; they indeed treated you like a child, and that will not do. You are a Prince, and kin to their Lord, and I will see you honored as such. Now come, you are still wet, and too beautiful to stand around unclad in a room with the likes of Haldir."

Legolas laughed at that and let his Lord lead him back to where Laindir had already wrapped a large towel around Gîlríon to dry him. Glorfindel took a towel from a stash as well and pulled Legolas a little to the side under the pretense of drying him.

"Mmh... I remember how you felt this morning," Glorfindel murmured thoughtfully, his breath hot against Legolas' ear so that the youth shivered with helpless delight, forgetting all about his earlier embarrassment. "So sweet and tight... So good. Always so good with you." He pressed a tender kiss to Legolas' nape, his arms coming around his towel-clad prince to hold him close for a moment.

"Will you ravish me right here and show those Galadhrim just how willing I truly am?" Legolas whispered teasingly, laughing softly when Glorfindel growled at his words.

"Careful, roch neth - do not tempt me!"

Legolas smiled and turned in his Lord's arms, forgetting all about their audience as he allowed himself to fully enjoy the hard, strong body he found himself pressed against. "This evening, when Gîl is asleep... You could chastise me for teasing you, my Lord," he said, his eyes lowered coyly. "Certainly such behavior is inappropriate for a Prince?"

Glorfindel's eyes were dark with arousal, and there was such promise in them that Legolas felt breathless – had his Lord commanded him to turn around and lean against the wall in offering, he knew that he would have done it.

"I think it is obvious to all present just how willing you indeed are," Glorfindel said and chuckled darkly. "Take care, princeling, you truly are in need of disciplining!" He took Legolas' mouth in a bruising kiss then, only to at last push him away almost violently.

"Dry yourself," he said, his voice unsteady, "otherwise I will truly end up giving an entertainment I did not intend to all those watching."

Legolas swallowed, a hot blush returning to his cheeks as he became aware of their audience once again, and yet he could not keep a smile from his lips as he watched his Lord walk away, once more overwhelmed and awed by how it was he who had the power to affect this great Lord so.

------------------
atto – affectionate form of "father" [Quenya]
ada – affectionate form of "father" [Sindarin]
atar – father [Quenya]
adar – father [Sindarin]
pen villen - beloved one
pen vell – dear one
roch neth – colt
------------------

62

Legolas paused and wiped the sweat from his brow. This was his third training session with Fairion, and the guard was a kind, but demanding taskmaster. Still, even though sparring with the guard was hard work, Legolas could not help smiling, for Fairion did not lose his humor even as a teacher.

And what was more important was that they were alone. Fairion had chosen a secluded place behind the barracks for their sparring, and even though every now and then one of the other guards wandered by, they never stayed for long, and Legolas never heard anything but encouragement from them. It was quite unlike his daily training sessions with the other youths at Imladris where he perpetually feared that he would give the others cause to laugh at him, and where he had always only been an outsider.

This was only their third such meeting in Lórien, yet already a trust had been built between him and Fairion which was quite unlike the respectful obedience that Thalaron's position demanded. Legolas would not dare to call the guard a friend yet – he had had little of those, and in the few cases where he thought there was friendship, it had later been proven to him that he was the only one who thought it friendship, when in truth his so-called friends had looked down at him.

Legolas did not think that he even knew how to build a friendship anymore, yet Fairion was so kind, so patient and encouraging, treating him not as a whore or a child as most others had in Imladris, but someone whose opinions and ideas he was genuinely interested in. Legolas worshipped him for it, idolizing him as he had once idolized his brother, and then later Glorfindel. If only he could become like the guard, a well-liked, accomplished member of their community who had certainly never spent days on end doubting himself or worrying about the most inconsequential things as Legolas was wont to...

No, Fairion was the embodiment of all that he had ever aspired to be, and Legolas was resolved to show that even though he was far from gaining mastery with a weapon, he was still a diligent and attentive pupil.

"You do very well with your sword, Legolas," Fairion said after another bout. "I did not witness your duel with Haldir, but I was told that he gave you a heavy weapon to further his own advantage. You should not see your build as something negative to be overcome, but instead as giving you the advantage of quickness. Once you have gained the sword skills of someone like Haldir, it will always be to your advantage – there will be more force in his thrusts, but yours will be faster."

"If I ever do reach that skill... Truly, I will be glad if I gain sufficient skill not to embarrass my Lord."

Fairion shrugged and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. "I do not have the experience of Thalaron who has taught our youth for many decades now, but you are as alert and hard-working a pupil as one can ask for. You might be behind in skills compared to the others, but you make good progress; if we keep up our sparring, I am certain that Thalaron will have quite a surprise if you decide to rejoin his sword lessons.

"Still, I have been thinking... We get along well, do we not? I might not have Thalaron's expertise, but I do enjoy our sparring. We could continue even when we return home. I might not find the time every day, but Laindir and the others would be just as glad to help, and if we are away on patrol, you could still join the other youths. How would you like that? I shall ask the Captain myself, if you agree..."

Legolas' eyes widened in surprise – never so far had any of the Imladrian Noldor offered to spend time with him, and he flushed a little with both pleasure and a slight embarrassment at his obvious happiness. "I would like that very much!" he exclaimed, wondering whether his Lord might agree to such a thing. "It seems much easier to understand when you explain things. In Thalaron's lessons I am always the last to master a skill, as the others already know so much more than I do. I do not feel quite so lacking in talent when you teach me, and you do not make me feel awkward or laugh at me ... "

"I wager that most of them are jealous of you. The Captain is much admired and coveted, and certainly most of them begrudge you his love for you."

Legolas frowned, for he had never seen it in such a way. He was an outsider in the lessons, as he had always been, yet he had not given it much thought. Thalaron was strict in his own way and had made certain that there was no further bullying of him, and for that he was glad. He knew that he was neither liked nor accepted by the others, yet unlike during lessons in Mirkwood when his status as pariah had left him with helpless despair at every new day, here in Imladris he needed no friendship with those his own age to fill his days. His time – and his heart – was well taken up with his Lord and little Gîl.

"I am certain he will agree," Fairion continued. "It is not so unusual in any case. Glorfindel himself was the twins' tutor with the sword, and they would join regular training only every now and then, when Glorfindel wanted them to spar with someone at their own level of training."

Fairion slung a companionable arm around Legolas' shoulders as they slowly walked back to the barracks to avail themselves of the pump there, washing the sweat from their faces with water that was shockingly cold on their heated skin.

"There is something else that I have wanted to say for some time..." Fairion sighed deeply and gave Legolas a searching look. "You must think us Noldor all monsters, but I am very sorry for how you have been treated in Imladris. We mostly live at the barracks, at least those of us without families of our own, and do not take our meals in the great hall, but I know that most there have not been kind to you. That is inexcusable, truly, and in the future, those of us who encounter someone who refuses you the respect you deserve will make certain that they learn that we do not agree with such behavior. We have known your Lord for a long time, and love him well; you have made a dream come true which he has held since before leaving Aman, yet which he thought was out of his reach for all eternity. And yet we have not come to support you only because you gave him the heir he has longed for for so many Ages...

"You are kind and compassionate, and you have come to love him as we who have know him for so long do. And we see him so unabashedly, proudly in love with you and Gîl, giving you all his heart when before, he would share only pleasure with lovers, but never more. It pleases us to see that he has finally found the happiness he has always wanted, for there is no one who deserves it more than he. I know that he wronged you greatly, but what has grown between you is stronger and truer than any bond he has ever shared with a lover before, and I am certain that he would now give his own life to protect you and Gîl from any harm."

Legolas blushed, not quite certain what to say. To know himself supported in such a way filled his heart with warmth, for the days in Lórien were the best he had ever known, and Fairion's promise made him yearn to continue to have such after their return to Imladris. He did not know what the likes of Erestor would say if their treatment of him was ever opposed by Glorfindel's men, yet if his Lord agreed to Fairion's suggestion, he would spend an hour or two every day in the company of people he had come to like and admire, and who in turn seemed to enjoy his company as well. But would leaving the lessons with the other youths behind be running away again? He did not know, yet he was an outsider in their company just as he had been in Mirkwood, and nothing he could do or say would ever change their opinion of him. No, even if others thought him a coward for shunning the company of the Imladrian youths, certainly it would be better to spend his time with those who made him feel courageous and secure in himself and his abilities. If what Fairion had predicted indeed came true one day, then certainly he would be much better equipped to win the respect of the others if he was skilled with the sword and no longer afraid of being ridiculed.

"Thank you. I am glad to have your support," he said softly. "He swore a sacred oath to protect Gîl and me. He cannot change the past, but now... No, I do not fear him. If I bring him happiness, as you believe, then I can ask for nothing more."

"Ai, he is proud as only a new father can be, and completely besotted with you – and we are all glad to see it." Fairion clasped Legolas' shoulder and grinned, trying to dispel the youth's pensive mood. "And it is your begetting day tomorrow, too. Are you afraid yet? I am certain that your Lord will have planned something completely outrageous to surprise you. At least we know that it has to be small enough to carry it with us through the mountain pass."

"Ai – you make it sound as if he will give me a young oliphaunt!" Legolas looked truly worried for a moment as he remembered the illustrations in a precious tome out of far Harad which had been bound in the thick, grey hide of that very creature.

"Oh, I doubt that; we would not get it over the mountains," Fairion said, laughing at the thought. "But just imagine their faces if we arrived home like that, with an oliphaunt trailing after our horses! Still, I am certain that he will make it an unforgettable day for you – he is good with celebrations, as are we!" He grinned. "Truly, we are beholden to you; after the morning drills, we have naught else planned tomorrow until the evening feast, and the day after that he has declared a holiday for us."

"Certainly he knows that will be needful," Legolas said teasingly, and Fairion grinned but did not protest.

"Ah, but that is why we are invited, I thought. There will be enough stuffy advisors and diplomats to make up for our overindulgence. How about that stiff-mannered brother of yours? Will he be there as well? I heard the last time he was present for a dinner, he showed that he knows neither tact nor manners..." Fairion's eyes darkened to a stormy grey as he pondered the incident that Legolas remembered only too well.

"No, Eru be praised," Legolas said fervently. "My Lord wanted him there just as little as you or I, but he said it would be impolitic to flatly refuse to invite him. Lord Celeborn had a missive sent which was worded in such a way that my brother is only obliged to send one of this companions to keep up appearances. My Lord says that the one who will come is much more diplomatic than my brother, so he will not bother us or try to sow discord."

"Ah, good news indeed!" There was a satisfied look on Fairion's face. "Now will you wait for your Lord here, or will that arrogant bastard of a former Marchwarden be available to do his duties for once?" Legolas' eyes swept across the wide, plain space between the barracks, lighting up in pleasure when there indeed was his Lord coming forward to meet them, holding Gîl in his arms who excitedly called for his ada.

Legolas took his son into his arms and kissed his cheek, setting him down with a small laugh when Gîl began to squirm. He tilted his head up to kiss his Lord in welcome then, only to bite back a soft moan when Glorfindel noticeably stiffened and pulled him roughly against his body. "I want to strip you, lick the sweat from your chest," Glorfindel breathed, his voice deep and dark with sudden hunger so that Legolas melted into his embrace for a moment, a similar hunger curling in his belly and groin when strong, possessive hands grasped his hips to pull him even tighter against Glorfindel's body.

"Yes, just ignore me," Fairion said with a long-suffering sigh. "I wonder why Laindir never greets me in such a way – might that be because our Captain would have us flogged for such a display? Come, Gîl, let us look for the cat with the striped kittens; I saw her near the mess this morning."

Glorfindel grinned when the guard led Gîl away, leaving them alone so that at last, he could kiss Legolas the way he had wanted to since first seeing him still flushed from exercise. "Spar with me," he said hoarsely when their lips parted at last, "Strip to the waist, let me appreciate your beauty while we fight."

Legolas' fingers flew to the hem of his tunic in unthinking obedience, pulling it over his head, but then he swallowed and gave Glorfindel an uncertain look. "Here, Lord?"

"No – let us return to where Fairion took you. I will not share what is mine and mine alone with the eyes of others..." He trailed a hand down the youth's chest, the silken skin hot and damp with perspiration, then shrugged off his own tunic. They left the garments and their sword-belts in the grass next to the pump before they returned to the space which Fairion had chosen mostly for its solitude – which was exactly what Glorfindel wanted at that moment.

They were both flushed and a little breathless, and Legolas felt no apprehension at all at being tested against Glorfindel's mettle – his Lord's eyes showed his emotions all too clearly, and there was an excited hunger in them. He would not perform for the detached and critical eyes of a teacher, but instead be expected to show off his body for the admiring eyes of a lover.

When his Lord attacked, the way the sun glistened on Glorfindel's muscled chest stole his breath, his mouth dry with a sudden surge of desire. He remembered then Glorfindel's words how his beauty could come to his advantage in a fight, if his opponent could be roused by the beauty of a male body, and knew them to be true, for instead of thinking about how to best block and parry his Lord's slow attacks, his arousal grew at the paragon of virile beauty flaunted before him, strong muscles flexing beneath smooth, golden skin. Already he ached for his touch, wishing nothing more than that his Lord would make use of his unrivaled skill to disarm and subdue him, using him for the pleasure they both wanted.

"Very good – I see that you progress well under Fairion's tutelage," Glorfindel said at last, distracted by the sheen of sweat that gleamed in the hollow of Legolas' throat.

"He wants to suggest to you that I should keep sparring with him even when we return," Legolas volunteered shyly, his chest heaving from the exertion. "He thinks that I will profit more from single lessons than from sharing those of the others..."

"You certainly seem to get along well, and I can see the improvement in your technique even after so short a time... Very well, I will talk to him about it."

Again Glorfindel attacked, smiling to see Legolas sigh and then laugh at his own clumsiness, glad to see the youth for once not despair at lacking a skill it was impossible for him to have. Once more he attacked, his movement much faster now, swiping aside the sword that had come up in a helpless parry and driving it from Legolas' hands so that it fell to the ground. His hand opened and his own fine, Valinor-forged blade joined it in such open neglect that Legolas' eyes widened and even when his Lord's body bore him to the ground, he exclaimed, "Ai, Elbereth! Thalaron would have us stay for an hour of additional work for such a thing!"

"Oh, I will give you additional exercise," Glorfindel groaned and grabbed Legolas' hands to pull them up, forcefully pressing them into the grass above his head with one hand while he frantically scrambled at the ties of his leggings with the other. Impatiently, he freed the youth's quickly hardening length from its confines, then yanked open the ties holding his own breeches closed. He lowered his head, groaning again as he tasted the youth's skin, the clean, salty sweat, the uniqueness that was Legolas even more pronounced than usually now.

"How I want you!" he breathed, holding himself motionless and balanced on his elbows above the youth as he took in the flushed, aroused body beneath him. "You drive me mad as no one else has ever done! So beautiful, so innocent still, yet so wanton, as though Eru himself created you solely for this most flattering responsiveness to my every touch, the way you make me feel as if there is no one else in this world as important as I am to you..."

He took the youth's lips with enough force to bruise, both frantically trying to get rid of their remaining clothes, and when that was achieved, he could not even bring himself to stop for long enough to see if the youth was prepared for him. He had smugly watched when his Prince had dutifully applied some oil in the morning, but that had been long before he had left to spar with Fairion... Yet even if Glorfindel had thought to bring oil or salve, he doubted that he would have been able to wait long enough to use it, for the need for his Prince grew to almost madness in him. He took him roughly, the residue of oil easing his way at least somewhat, yet both of them cried out, tears running down Legolas' face from the sudden shock and the stretching that as always seemed painful beyond bearing.

"Please, please..." Legolas gasped, his slender thighs sliding up over Glorfindel's hips, clenching around his waist almost painfully, and Glorfindel growled when he realized that the youth was not resisting the rough treatment, pleading for mercy from his Lord, but instead was begging for more, needing to feel him deeper, harder inside him.

He slammed into him, hearing the youth cry out for him again and again, so sweet and tight around him, so yielding, surrendering himself without holding back anything...

"I want to fill you with my seed until you are with child again," Glorfindel groaned, hungrily staring down at the way Legolas writhed beneath him. "I want to see you heavy with my child once more..."

Legolas whimpered and arched against him. "I want it too, Lord," he moaned breathlessly, closing his eyes to give himself over to his Lord's complete domination of him, utterly overpowered by the strong body that held him pressed down to the ground, that cleaved him to the core of his being with every powerful thrust. And when Glorfindel came inside him at last he cried out weakly, trembling beneath him as he found release as well, knowing himself a possession in truth, a willing slave, owned, desired, loved.

63

Darkness surrounded them. The sun had set long ago, Gîl was peacefully asleep, and his Lord had slaked his lusts on his willing body, as was his wont at the end of nearly every day. With a smile on his lips, Legolas stretched, deliciously aware of how relaxed and sated his body felt, parts of him aching pleasurably. His Lord was a reassuring presence next to him, solid and warm, breathing so slowly that he seemed to have slipped into reverie already.

This, Legolas thought drowsily, was what happiness was like. He could almost feel the love surrounding him like a cocoon of warmth, and his heart ached with the surge of tenderness he felt towards the Lord whom he loved and worshiped above all other.

Glorfindel's hand rested on the bed between them, and Legolas covered it with his own, still feeling almost surprised at his own daring, and at the indescribable knowledge that he could touch his Lord so, when he had never touched another in such a way and had almost given up hope that he ever would.

Legolas stroked the hand that he knew so well, the strong fingers that were calloused by sword and reins, and smiled a little wonderingly to himself. Such intimacy conveyed by such a small touch – it was such a little thing to almost everyone else, and yet to him it meant so much. To know that he had a right to touch another so, to know with absolute certainty that he would not be rejected – his fingers curled around his Lord's, and his heart was filled with a voiceless prayer of gratitude.

Then Glorfindel's hand gently tightened around his own, so that Legolas knew that his Lord was still awake.

“What I said earlier,” Glorfindel began with unwonted hesitation. “You know that whatever I might say... 'tis not in my power to decide, Legolas. After so many years, I cannot stop wishing for more children," he admitted painfully, so that Legolas turned and wrapped his arm around his waist, pressing himself close as if to instinctively assuage this deep hurt. "It is not in my power to decide, but even if it were, I would wait until you are at least of age. I almost lost you the last time - I cannot..."

"I know!" Legolas whispered, trembling as he remembered what it had been like, the pain, the fear, the strangeness when his body did things, became things that it had never been meant to. There had been so much despair, and no hope, no hope for him at all...

But there was hope now, and Glorfindel's love, and Gîl whom he loved more than anything. "It would be different now, Lord," he admitted softly in the darkness. "I would not despair now... I am frightened, yes, but I know what will happen. I have your strength and your love, and I know that any child that the Valar give to us will be cherished as it should be."

"You are very brave, Legolas, braver than many I know. You do not believe me, but it is the truth. Not many could have lived through what you did and still retained their hope, their compassion."

Glorfindel pressed a kiss to Legolas' brow, then sought his mouth for a long, tender kiss that made Legolas sigh and relax against him, the youth's happiness a palpable thing for him to thrill at.

"Whatever happens, whether there will be another child or not, know that you will always have my love," Glorfindel promised, one of his hands cupping Legolas' cheek. The youth trustingly leaned further into his touch, and Glorfindel had to bite back another promise, an oath that he would love him until the world's end, until Arda was unmade and beyond.

But this oath was not for the secrecy of the night, when there was only Legolas to hear. He had been a coward for too long, had made too many mistakes - this one thing he would do right. It could never make up for all that he had done, but to have this declaration made publicly, to show the youth the respect and the love he deserved for all to see, it was the least thing he could do.

"Have you never..." Legolas began, then hesitated, only daring to go on after Glorfindel had reassured him.

"To live so long," Legolas said wonderingly. "My mind cannot yet encompass such a thing, to imagine you walking in the light of the Trees, to know that you were a part of all the tales I have read in the books of lore... To live so long, and to always want a thing you cannot have, I thought, I wondered..." He stumbled over his words and bit his lip, glad now for the darkness that hid his blush. "Was there never... Would it not have been easier to wed a maiden who could give you children?"

Glorfindel chuckled softly. "Indeed, and I have been asked that often. What it comes down to, roch neth, is the question of whether I desire children more than I desire love. I am many things - cruel, they say, arrogant, vain, I willfully disregard many of the rules others think necessary. Yet I am also very old, Legolas, and old-fashioned in many ways, you might say. I always knew that I would never wed, save for love. And you know me, you know what I am like - there can be no love without passion for me. A maiden's body has never roused me. Oh, I might have made myself lie with one, but only to beget a child - there would have been no true love. The love of friendship, yes, but not the love that binds fëar and hröar before Eru himself, so that even when Arda is unmade, the bond will remain...

"I would not play with such a thing. I would not do that to a maiden or to myself, nor especially to a child. In the end, I knew it was easier to grieve for the children I never had than to grieve an eternity for the love I never found."

He could feel Legolas smile against his chest, and wished once more that he could reassure him, for at last it seemed that he had found everything he had ever wanted, even though he had not recognized it at first.

"But, if you have never desired a maiden," Legolas began, only to fall silent once more in embarrassment. "I... when I was with child, and afterwards, when I suckled Gîl, I... I must have looked very strange to you," he whispered. "I looked like a maiden, did I not?"

Glorfindel smiled and tightened his hold on him in reassurance. "No, you did not look strange to me, you looked wondrous," he said softly. "Do you not remember what you did to me? Do not tell me that you have forgotten how very much it aroused me to see you so changed! You were no maiden - there was all the beauty of the male youth in you, and yet you were different. It was my child that changed you so, cradled within your womb, and you know very well just how much that thought pleased me. It made me feel very... virile, very powerful to see you so. It was my seed that was growing inside you, my seed that changed you so – it was as if your body belonged more to me than it did to you. No, it did not make you seem strange, or a maiden, it made you precious to me; it made you mine."

Legolas laughed softly, and Glorfindel smiled, aware and happy that Legolas knew him well enough at last to understand that dominant, possessive streak of his. Indeed, there was love and pride in calling him a possession, for it was a thought that thrilled him, and both of them knew the love that was at the heart of everything that passed between them now. Calling him his possession meant but that Legolas had his love, and there was no longer the shadow of the slave between them who had been hurt and humiliated until he had lost all hope.

~~~

Glorfindel woke at dawn. He took care not to rouse Legolas as he stood up and slowly dressed, then made his way into the sitting room of their talan where a luxurious breakfast had been left, just as he had arranged. There was a bottle of sparkling pear cider, slices of smoked duck, half a smoked eel, boiled eggs, a jar of honey, the almond cakes Legolas loved as well as dark rye bread and a lighter loaf of wheat, preserved fruits, pickled vegetables, pale sheep cheese and a pot of steaming mint tea. There was enough food so that they could have kept in their talan all day if they desired, but of course there was a feast waiting for them later that day as well in the royal talan.

Glorfindel filled a large plate with samples of the food, then took the bottle and two goblets with him when he returned to their bedroom. The sun had finally risen fully over the horizon and now filled the room with bright rays of sunshine while Legolas was still deeply lost in reverie. With a somewhat wicked smile Glorfindel pulled at the thin sheet so that it slid from the youth's body, leaving him gloriously nude, fully exposed to the caressing rays of golden light as well as Glorfindel's appreciative gaze.

Legolas made a soft sound then, turning a little to escape the glare of the sun that was shining directly into his face. Glorfindel bit back a pleased sound when that motion exposed his relaxed genitals to his eyes, beautifully formed and alluring as they rested against his left thigh. He thought of kissing him, tasting the soft skin, tantalizing with gentle touches until the limp organ, the soft pouch would stir under his touch and grow taut with need for him. Legolas would look beautiful then, as he did now, would still look innocent even when fully aroused, and even the thought of it woke a ravenous hunger within Glorfindel.

Yet there was a tender beauty in observing him so innocently asleep, a vision of tantalizing eroticism even though his mind wandered in reverie and his body was limp with sleep. It was his vulnerability that beguiled him so, Glorfindel decided, for he was completely unguarded and unaware of how exposed he was, his relaxed genitals on show for Glorfindel's appreciative gaze, unconsciously inviting his touch.

Glorfindel looked towards the large wooden box that held Legolas' begetting day gifts. He had thought to wake him, to break their fast together in bed and surprise him with the presents before Gîl woke, so that they would have this time to themselves. He had wanted to begin the day that so far had never truly been acknowledged the way it should have been in a gentle and loving way, to surprise Legolas, and to please him.

Only now when he looked upon the youth's body, saw him so vulnerably exposed, his heart began to beat faster with desire, and he found he could not help himself. He needed to put his mark on him, to touch that lovely body - how could he not want to take advantage of what was so innocently put on show for him here?

He still wanted to do what he had prepared, to make this morning joyous for the one who held his heart, and yet now he also found that he wanted to keep Legolas like this, wanted to keep him exposed and vulnerable for his own pleasure during the hour or two they had left before Gîl would wake.

Glorfindel went to the parcel which Legolas had so often eyed with dread and excitement both - the parcel with the toys Haldir had chosen to embarrass him. There had been an item in there which he was certain would please both Legolas and himself, and yes - of course embarrass the youth somewhat. Glorfindel smiled to himself when he imagined how Legolas would blush, and still never dare to disobey his Lord in this. And after all, it was but a little thing, embarrassing mayhap but meant for pleasure alone, unlike the clamps which he had put to such good use as well...

Glorfindel took a small item of leather and metal from the box, pleased when Legolas did not wake even when he sat down on the bed and gently stroked a slender thigh. The youth sighed once but remained lost in reverie, even when Glorfindel began to carefully handle the relaxed genitals. The metal ring he fit over the slender shaft, pulling it down to the root, then closed a connected strap of leather behind shaft and scrotum both. Legolas sighed again at these intimate touches, closer to waking now, yet even wandering in reverie he did not try to move away from his Lord's hands but kept himself willingly exposed, so that Glorfindel could not bite back a small sound of lust at this sign of his complete mastery.

There was one more small strap which he pulled up and connected it to the metal ring. It pushed the youth's pouch up and forward and divided the glands inside, the skin taut across the firm balls that looked exposed and vulnerable now, on show for his pleasure. Legolas mumbled something that might have been his name, the unusual stimulation finally breaking through his dreams, and Glorfindel gazed on his handiwork with a satisfied smile. The black leather was a most pleasing contrast with his prince's fine, pale skin, and he resolved to not allow him any clothes apart from the decoration he now wore while they took their breakfast together and later looked through the presents he had gotten him.

Glorfindel ran one finger along the still limp organ, then could not resist and bent down to press a kiss to the soft skin. Legolas was rousing a little now, blood starting to flow so that the smooth length twitched, slowly hardening. Glorfindel smoothed the foreskin back, breathing hotly on the sensitive, exposed glans so that Legolas shuddered beneath him, almost awake now, and then he closed his mouth around the tip of the cock, gently sucking so that Legolas came awake at last, gasping his name.

"Good morning, roch neth," Glorfindel breathed, amused at the small sound of dismay the youth made when the glans slipped wetly from his lips. "Awake at last?" He leaned forward to kiss him, pleased when Legolas moaned in sleepy pleasure, then drew back and chuckled at his confused expression when Legolas finally realized the strange, constricting presence around his genitals.

Glorfindel did not explain and did not move back to let the youth see what it was he had done to him - half draped across the slender body as he was, it was impossible for Legolas to see what it was that began to grip his hardening length so tightly.

Instead, Glorfindel reached for the goblets he had placed on a nightstand next to Legolas' head, giving one to the youth while keeping the other. "The Valar's blessings on your begetting day, pen villen," he said gently, smiling at the surprised pleasure that shone from Legolas' face. They both drank before Glorfindel stole another kiss, the youth's mouth now tasting tartly of pears with a hint of the cider's effervescence.

Glorfindel grinned then and suddenly moved back, taking another mouthful from the goblet before he dove down and took Legolas' shaft into his mouth, amused at the way the youth only barely bit back a cry. The hot length twitched and grew to aching hardness within his mouth, teased by Glorfindel's tongue as well as the sparkling pearls of gas from the cider, and Glorfindel teased the confined, divided pouch with his fingers until he could feel the globes straining ripe and taut against the thin skin and the dark leather that parted them, prominently on display for eyes and fingers alike beneath the erect length.

"So beautifully male!" he breathed when he finally drew back. "How can you think I would not appreciate this?"

He pressed a kiss to a vulnerable globe, sucked gently on it while Legolas whimpered and grabbed the sheets. His legs parted further instinctively, as if to tempt Glorfindel with the small entrance now revealed, rosy and tight when he remembered all too well how red and swollen the small muscle had looked the night before, glistening with white specks of his release.

"So very tempting," he murmured and blew once more against the glistening red glans just to hear Legolas gasp. "But I will not take you now, no matter how much you beg. It is early yet, but who knows when Gîl will wake, and I have looked forward to giving you my presents too much."

"Presents, Lord?" Legolas asked and swallowed when Glorfindel slithered up his body again to rest next to him.

"Yes, presents," Glorfindel said in amusement at the surprised and eager gleam in Legolas' eyes, glad now that he had taken every care possible to make this a day the youth would remember for a long time. "But first, let us break our fast, roch neth; your taste has made me hungry!"

He silenced Legolas' sigh of disappointment with another quick kiss, then turned to take the plate he had prepared. When he placed it on the bed next to them, he found Legolas staring wide-eyed at his bound, straining genitals, red and glistening wetly and looking just as obscenely inviting against the paleness of the youth's skin as he had hoped for.

"Do not dare to touch what is mine!" Glorfindel threatened darkly, and Legolas flinched, guiltily pulling the hand away that had curiously slid down his belly.

"Good," Glorfindel praised then. "Make certain you behave, roch neth - it is your begetting day, and I do not want to have to discipline you. But if you are good, maybe I will do something about that later on."

He nodded in amusement towards the achingly hard shaft while Legolas sighed in obedient resignation. Then Glorfindel poured them more of the cider and put a piece of the sheep cheese against Legolas' lips, tempting the youth with morsels of his favorite food until it seemed that he had completely forgotten about the prince's predicament.

Yet of course Glorfindel had not - how could he with such temptingly exhibited beauty? Legolas' shaft still stood hard as steel against his belly, a vivid red from all the blood that had rushed into it and was now kept from leaving by the leather contraption Glorfindel had put on him. Below the shaft, his balls were on display, round and taut as ripe plums from the leather strap that divided them and forced them apart.

Glorfindel touched him then, cupping the hot genitals in his strong hand while he kept feeding Legolas with the other, so demonstratively possessive that Legolas trembled and then relaxed against him, legs falling further apart in surrender while Glorfindel palmed his aching testes.

“Not complaining even once... That is very good!” Glorfindel murmured once the plate was emptied, pressing another kiss against Legolas' neck. “Time for your reward then...”

Instinctively, Legolas looked down to where his aching shaft was still expertly squeezed in Glorfindel's fist.

Glorfindel chuckled. “Not that – not yet, roch neth. Your presents first, and then mayhap your pleasure, if Gîl is still asleep...”

“Oh blessed Elbereth, please keep him asleep for another hour!” Legolas exclaimed so plaintively that Glorfindel laughed and then regretfully let go of the youth.

He left the bed and took the large wooden box from where he had hidden it in the closet, secured with a lock to keep his Prince from accidentally spoiling his surprise. Now, though, Glorfindel placed it on the bed in front of Legolas and unlocked it, nodding at the quietly excited youth to open it, while he bent once more and took another long, silk-wrapped parcel from where he had hidden it beneath the bed yesterday. This, he thought, would please his Prince like nothing else, and despite Haldir's admonition that this was a weapon Legolas might never completely master, it would give Legolas great pleasure and confidence – and that was all that Glorfindel truly wanted.


-----------
fëar - souls
hröar - bodies
roch neth - colt
pen villen - beloved
-----------

64

Legolas' eyes were alight with pleasure when he opened the box, and Glorfindel smiled, touched by the genuine awe in the youth's face, for he knew it was not caused so much by the nature of the gifts he had chosen, but by the simple fact that he had been thoughtful enough to do such a thing for Legolas. He did not think anyone had ever done something solely to make the youth happy, and it saddened him, for it took nothing more than this little gesture to make the usually so reticent youth open to him like a flower towards the sun.

How was it possible that no one had seen the beauty of his Prince's compassionate heart? They had taunted him for the gentleness of his soul and called it weakness, and Legolas had believed it, yet Glorfindel could see to the depth of his heart, and loved him the more for what he found there. Legolas had known pain, and because of this, he would not willingly cause another the same. It was a gentler nobility than that of many others Glorfindel had known and loved in his long life – save maybe for one, who still was first and foremost in his mind even now when he thought of what ennobled a man.

Yes, such gentleness was not weakness, Glorfindel thought, and in a prince who had been raised with love, a prince who did not continually doubt himself, it would have been a much praised trait.

“Do you like it?” he asked when he saw how Legolas reverently stroked the leather-bound spine of the book that had been placed on top. “No children's tales this time...”

“Lays instead – I love it, my Lord! Thank you!” Legolas gifted him with a smile of overwhelmed happiness, so that Glorfindel laughed and pressed a kiss to his brow.

“Continue then, there is more to come!”

Next, Legolas uncovered a belt of linked discs of gold, inlaid with mother of pearl. “That is beautiful!” he exclaimed, marveling at the way the light was reflected by the polished surface, gleaming in all the colors of the rainbow when he tilted it.

“There is more that belongs with it... I hope you will like it,” Glorfindel said in unwonted insecurity. “'Tis in the style of the Teleri, and mayhap you will think it but ancient affectation, as indeed an age has passed since last I saw it worn, yet I think it will look beautiful on you. And as it has greater similarity than our Noldorin robes to the styles the Sindar favor, and as this day is to honor you, I thought that you might prefer a more familiar garb, ancient though the style may be...”

“How fine this is!” Legolas said in wonder and lifted a shirt of white cambric from the box, which had been embroidered all over with silver thread, showing flowers and leaves and the beech trees of his native forest. Beneath it rested a tunic, and when he lifted that out of the box as well, he made a soft sound of surprise at the weight. Although it was made from silver silk, it had been likewise heavily embroidered, and not with thread or gems but with a multitude of small pearls, which gleamed in the light almost like small drops of fresh water. The tunic itself, he now saw, was indeed cut in an ancient style, more similar to the garb worn at his father's court, though longer. The belt would be needed for such a garment, he thought, imagining how this would look on him – certainly the tunic would reach past his knees, yet it was slitted at the sides to allow for comfort of movement. To complete the outfit, there were breeches of white doeskin embroidered with more silver thread and pearls which showed pictures of a hunt beneath beech leaves.

“I... My Lord!” Legolas whispered, overwhelmed. “I have never seen anything so fine!”

“You would do me great honor if you wore it today,” Glorfindel said softly, so that Legolas laughed in purest joy and threw his arms around his Lord's neck, pressing himself close in helpless gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly, then moaned almost as if in surprise when his still-hard length rubbed against the hard planes of Glorfindel's stomach.

“Ah, not yet, beloved.” Glorfindel laughed at Legolas' sigh and pushed him gently back. “In any case, there is more yet – we are not finished with the presents, even though I fear there are no more pearls to come. If Celeborn seems wroth with me today, 'tis because I spirited away all the pearl and nacre the coffers of his private tailors had to offer, and forced them to sew your garments instead of seeing to their lord's fitting. And yet, when he sees you in this, even Celeborn will have to agree that it was worth whatever inconvenience I caused him...”

Legolas reverently stroked the pale silk again, marveling at the slightly rough texture that was so in contrast to the way it gleamed in the sun, changing from steel-blue to icy white to the silver sheen of Ithil. It was the garb of a prince, nay, more than that, this was far finer than anything he had ever seen his brothers wear. And it came from Glorfindel, who had chosen it to please him, who had put so much thought into this, solely to see him happy...

"My Lord, I will be honored to accompany you in this," he said and took Glorfindel's hand, kissing it reverently. His shaft still ached with need, swollen and dark with the blood that could not escape, and though even now a part of him wished that his Lord would just push the clothes out of the way and take him right then and there, another part of him indeed found enjoyment in the thought of forcing his body to obey his Lord's wishes.

Glorfindel kissed him then, tenderly, lovingly, the kind of kiss that made Legolas' heart ache from the strength of emotion that flooded it, and then afterwards, there was more for him to lift from the box, smaller things, trinkets and tools – small pieces of jewelery, inconsequential things which Legolas had never truly realized he had missed. This pleased him almost more than the rich garments he had been given, for only now did he see what he had missed, and his eyes filled with helpless love at what his Lord was doing. He had had no need of such things when he had been little more than a possession, when he had owned nothing and the clothes he wore, even the food he had eaten were not his own but simply an indulgence of a Lord who could take all away at a whim if he so pleased.

Legolas touched a small beech leaf cut from a semi-precious stone, on its back a needle to hold a cloak closed, beautiful to look at but not too precious to be worn whenever he pleased. The small, simple tools of everyday life, things that were his own and which he could use or discard as he saw fit... This too showed his Lord's thoughtfulness and the truth of his love, and Legolas closed his fingers around the leaf, smiling as he tried to find words for how much this meant to him.

“One last thing, Legolas nín,” Glorfindel said softly and now took up the silk-wrapped parcel he had so far kept on the bed next to him. Legolas' eyes widened as he accepted it, and he exhaled in shock when the silk slipped away and revealed the last – and grandest – gift to his eyes.

A sword.

A sword, and even to his own inexperienced eyes it was at once apparent that this was a weapon forged by a true master. The steel gleamed blue in the light when he reverently drew the blade from its sheath, and when he turned it, he saw that there were words etched into the steel.

“Thárist I am; I cut through my foes like grass,” Legolas read, awed, then turned the blade again to speechlessly study the intricate design of leaves interwoven with small flowers - celandine, Legolas realized, and felt his cheeks flush with pleasure. The guard was embellished with more beech leaves, and the pommel crowned with another stylized golden celandine, the insignia of his Lord's noble house; yet apart from that, the sword was plain, the blade slim and much lighter than Glorfindel's own, Valinor-forged blade. Indeed the weight was much similar to the old sword he had been given ere they left for Lórien, and Legolas smiled when he realized that despite the obvious costliness of material and embellishment, this blade was meant to be borne into battle and not to dinners of state. It was too plain to be a mere symbol; no, this was a sword that had been forged with only the thought of defending its bearer's life in mind, and the tasteful decoration did not distract from that task. There were no gleaming jewels that would give away its owner's position in the dark, and Legolas was glad for it, for this was the weapon of a warrior, not a courtier - this was the weapon of the person Legolas wanted to become.

"Forged by a true master, one of the few yet remaining on these shores - I pray that in times of need, it will prove a true friend and servant to you. No greater joy could I imagine than if this gift were to spare you the loss of even a single drop of blood to our enemies,” Glorfindel said softly and covered Legolas' hands with his own.

"I have no words with which to thank you, Lord," Legolas breathed, and Glorfindel gently shook his head.

"None are needed. Truly, nothing would give me greater joy than if this weapon were to protect you from harm. 'Tis the only thing I wish for."

"Then I will learn how to protect myself, and learn it well, Lord... Well enough to not bring you shame."

"You could never bring me shame," Glorfindel said, gentleness in his voice. "I do not expect you to try to become myself. Learn how to wield this blade - learn how to wield knife and bow as well – and I shall be well pleased. Further than that, you will discover for yourself what suits and what pleases you, and in time you will find the path you shall walk in life. I will be there to provide guidance and support, that I swear to you, but I shall never force you to do something that does not please you, nor will I dissuade you from the path you will eventually find, whatever it may be."

"My Lord, I know not what to say, for I cannot yet see such a path before me, but with your guidance, I swear I will do the best that is possible for me," Legolas whispered, looking down at where their intertwined hands rested on the gleaming blade.

"You shall have that guidance, for as long as it pleases you - for you know that it pleases me well to guide and protect," Glorfindel murmured, his voice growing throaty as his mood changed back to playfulness. He took the sword from Legolas' grip and put it carefully down where it would do no harm, then pulled the unresisting youth into his arms so that Legolas' naked back rested against his chest.

"One last present then, I think? Before Gîl wakes?"

"Oh yes, please, my Lord!" Legolas sighed with such yearning that Glorfindel laughed.

"You do need it now, do you not? Very well then..." With a tender kiss to the flushed tip of Legolas' ear, he ran his fingers down the thighs that eagerly spread for him, laughing in true amusement at the youth's willingness.

“I have not made you wait too long, have I? I did promise not to tease you on this day... But you will see that it is much sweeter for having waited a while,” he murmured, lightly gripping the straining shaft, his other hand curving around the youth's bound testes while Legolas' moaned and tried to move into his touch.

"Hush... No more teasing," Glorfindel said in reassurance and at last loosened the leather straps that had so tightly confined the youth's genitals. "Is this better then?" he asked and chuckled against Legolas' ear at the moan that was his sole answer, then wrapped his hands around the straining erection, stroking him slowly and watching himself doing so over the youth's shoulder.

"Open your eyes, Legolas," he then commanded. "Watch... just keep watching. That is all I want you to do. And you may come whenever you want..."

Legolas moaned again, trembling lightly when he obeyed and watched his Lord give him pleasure. His hands rested on the strong thighs that were splayed alongside his own, and though there was nothing that held him but his Lord's order to watch, he felt bound by it more tightly than by rope or chain. As always, his Lord's touch, his Lord's embrace rendered him completely helpless, and so he watched how the skilled, strong fingers expertly stroked him to climax, feeling secure in his Lord's arms, feeling himself completely owned.

Even at the end he kept watching, though his eyes were half-closed and his head rested against his Lord's shoulder, obedient to the last; and to see his own seed spatter all over his belly, dripping over Glorfindel's fingers, heightened his arousal to such a height that he gasped his Lord's name almost in fear – dreading, hoping that it would never end.

Yet end it did, and when Legolas had calmed at last, he became aware of his Lord's own arousal, hard and hot against his back. He sighed in languid pleasure then, reaching for the hand that was covered in his own essence and slowly proceeded to lap up the salty fluid, well aware of what an effect that had on his Lord.

“Oh, Valar... there is little time left, roch neth, Gîl might wake any moment,” Glorfindel groaned, and Legolas smiled, turning in his arms.

“Then my mouth would please you mayhap?” he breathed into Glorfindel's ear, answered by a helpless sound of desire when he freed the large erection and lowered his head, almost smug at the knowledge that he could please his Lord just as well as his Lord could please him.

------------------------
Legolas nín – my Legolas
roch neth - colt
Thárist – Grass-cleaver [ thâr – grass, rist – cleaver (as in the swords Orcrist and Angrist)]
------------------------

65

Glorfindel smiled as he watched Legolas fasten the belt around his waist, leaning against the door to enjoy the view in open admiration. As he had thought, the style of the Teleri suited Legolas well, and the long, heavily embroidered garments gave him a formal air despite his youth.

Legolas turned at last to face him, a light flush coloring his cheeks when he found himself so observed. "What do you think of your gifts now, my Lord?" he asked, his mouth curving into a smile so sweet that Glorfindel had to keep himself from drawing him close and kissing him breathless.

"You look so very, very fine. Fit only for kings and princes," he said, his voice a little husky from the desire he could not quite hide.

Legolas smiled, all trust and gentleness when he stepped closer and took his Lord's hand. "No, my Lord. Fit only for you," he said softly, reverently raising the hand to his lips to kiss it in both supplication and love.

"Sweet Legolas..." Glorfindel found himself speechless for once, overcome by emotion when he thought of knowing the beautiful youth's heart bound to his and his alone until the end of all things. "I shall cherish you always," he whispered, then quickly turned away, taking up a sheaf of flowers he had earlier gathered with Gîl, lest in his maudlin mood he gave away the day's greatest secret.

"Let me weave these flowers into your hair, then we will be done, and you will outshine even the radiance of Undómiel this eve." Legolas eagerly acquiesced to him, relaxing in obvious enjoyment of the affection and attention bestowed onto him when Glorfindel wove the fragile blossoms into the pale silk of his hair. Elanor Glorfindel and Gîl had gathered in abundance, elanor with its flowers of silver and gold growing from the same stem, and he wove both into his prince's hair, marveling at what a difference the rich clothes made. It gave Legolas a touch of graveness, set off by the sweet eagerness to please, and added a layer of unwonted confidence which Glorfindel found surprisingly pleasing to behold in his prince.

“You have never looked more beautiful. A prince of your people in truth,” Glorfindel said quietly, moved by emotion when he thought of just how much Legolas had lost by his father's neglect. Gently, he touched one of the royal braids which framed the beloved face, noting the slight hint of insecurity in Legolas' eyes, although there was no protest at these signs of rank and lineage Glorfindel had asked him to wear.

“I know these do not please you, and I am sorry that I must ask it of you on this of all days. I would not have your joy diminished in any way, yet for now, at least, these are needed...”

“For political reasons.” Legolas nodded in quiet understanding. “I will wear them gladly, because it is you who asks me to, my Lord. I need no other reason.”

Glorfindel kept quiet then, even though he realized that the thought that had once stood behind it, the plotting he had indulged in with Elrond that would see his son in line for the throne of Greenwood to spite Thranduil, had long since lost all importance for him. His heart had changed and with it the reason to have Legolas wear the Sindarin braids of royalty, so that now he desired little but joy and safety for his family. It was not that he was hesitant to bind himself to an outcast without name, but more that – now that he was beginning to see the inherent nobility of the youth that had been buried beneath his fears and doubts for so long – he could not help but desire for him to be given the recognition he deserved. There was much in Legolas which Thranduil and the Greenwood would one day rue to have lost, he thought, no matter if it took a hundred years or a thousand. He would not let Legolas give up the inheritance that was rightfully his, even though for now there was little chance that Thranduil would accept him back.

“I have something for you as well, my Lord.” Legolas turned and took up a wreath of golden celandine which had been hidden beneath a silken scarf, then placed it tenderly on Glorfindel's gleaming hair.

“I gathered them while you were out with Gîl,” he admitted, reverentially smoothing back a wayward curl that had escaped the elaborate braids of the ancient style of Glorfindel's house. “Does this please you, my Lord? I still do not know how the Noldor view such things...”

“The Noldor like such things just fine,” Glorfindel said gently and took hold of Legolas' hand to press a kiss to his fingers. "Thank you. This is very thoughtful."

Legolas looked up at his Lord who was so much more than he had ever hoped for, whose eyes still shone with the light of Aman, whose form was tall and strong and whose sword arm had never known defeat...

He was truly a hero of a long-gone age, and it still seemed impossible to Legolas that such a hero could love him, could want him – not just in his bed but also by his side at a banquet. He thought of the oath he had sworn, to know no Lord but Glorfindel for all of his life, and he wanted to fall to his knees again to prove his devotion, to swear himself his Lord's once more, for he could think of no other way to express his love and adoration.

He sank to his knees in truth then, clutching his Lord's hand, pressing a kiss to it in fervent supplication. "My Lord," he breathed, cheeks flushing with color when a thought came to him all of a sudden, a memory that made the blood rush through his veins with sudden, surprising desire. "This morning you told me that if there was aught else I desired of you as a gift, I should ask and you would consider it. There is indeed a boon I would ask of you... I want to wear your knots again, my Lord.”

Legolas heard his Lord take a sudden, deep breath, as if he were as surprised as Legolas about this request – and although but a few months ago Legolas would have sworn that he would never beg for that particular humiliation, as his Lord had once promised he would, he now knew that Glorfindel had been right. He was frightened by his own boldness, afraid what his Lord's reaction might be – and yet, even if he were commanded to wear Glorfindel's knots to his begetting day feast, he knew that he would do it, if only to please his Lord.

“You told me that one day, I would beg you for that honor, and I am begging you for it now. To wear them tonight, to know myself fully yours, it would be a great honor indeed. I am sorry I did not understand then--"

"No," Glorfindel said quickly and rested a finger against Legolas' lips. "No, not that, never be sorry for that. I lied to you then; 'twas no honor but a thing I did to shame you. Never feel regret – I am the one who regrets! When I wove my knots into a lover's hair, it was always a sign of honor, but in what I did to you I turned it into a mark of shame.

“Tonight,” Glorfindel promised then, his voice darkening as he twined a lock of pale gold around his finger. “Tonight – or mayhap tomorrow, if we are too tired. But yes – my knots in my bed, the royal braids during the day. I would like that very much, roch neth... Oh, that is exactly how it should be for you. It will remind you of how you owe me your service, your obedience...”

“I owe you everything, my Lord!” Legolas breathed. “Whatever you think to demand, I will always obey!”

“Sweet Legolas... Ah, the things you make me want to do to you...”

“Anything!” Legolas swore again, pressing another yearning kiss to his Lord's hand.

“Lovely!” Glorfindel murmured throatily, taking Legolas' chin into his hand to tilt the youth's head up, looking down into the gentle eyes that were now dark and soft with longing, as if there were truly no thought left in Legolas but the desire to please.

“Just as it should be,” he repeated darkly, a faint threat in his voice that made Legolas tremble slightly from fear and excitement both. “You will have a chance to prove the truth of your words to me before we leave, roch neth. I will want all of you, all you have to give; unquestioning obedience, surrender to the bottom of your soul...”

Legolas closed his eyes with a soft, helpless moan and Glorfindel laughed at his reaction. “As sweetly as you beg for it, you would tempt even one of the Valar. Up with you, roch neth. Tempting you may be, but I have no time for this now. And you do not want to incur my wrath by ruining your fine clothes...”

“I am sorry, my Lord!” Legolas breathed, mortified to discover that he was indeed so hard that he felt he would come at a single touch – and yet he found that a part of him could not help but relish the thought of how attuned his body was to his Lord's presence.

“Lovely,” Glorfindel murmured again and drew him up and against him, delighting in the way Legolas eagerly surrendered to his kiss. It took all of his control not to give in to his desire right then and there, to use Legolas the way he so obviously needed to be used – but there would be time for that later, more than enough time. Ages of passion and love and that sweet, intoxicating surrender, if Legolas would agree. And why should he not? Already he had sworn himself to him as a warrior would to his liege lord; no, the youth could have no reason to shy away from taking it one step further... And yet, for the first time in many, many years, Glorfindel felt strangely unsettled. Legolas had no reason to reject his suit. Legolas had already given him a child; had given him his love as well... And yet the simple possibility of being denied this one thing that he had thought to never find made him more afraid than he had ever been even on the eve of great battles.

At last, when the time had arrived to leave for the royal talan, Legolas gave him a searching look, unsettled by his Lord's strange mood, yet Glorfindel did not share his thoughts with him. He kissed Legolas before they entered the large flet, feeling the youth calm at his touch, as he always did, and when they went inside he held Legolas' hand in his in a blatant show of both possession and affection.

The talan was well-filled with people already when they entered, and brightly lit so that the festive garments of the attendants glittered and gleamed like a hoard of gems. Glorfindel's guards wore their dress uniforms, and even Haldir - though still without his red cloak – wore fine gray velvet instead of wool.

Legolas flushed a little to find himself the center of attention of so many, but the heavy, costly garments he wore worked now almost like a shield. For once, he did not feel out of place, not when he was wearing his Lord's thoughtful gift. The garments were beautiful beyond belief, and he thought that he had never seen one of his brothers wear something so fine - certainly, today no one could look at him and find him lacking. And he had Glorfindel by his side, who wore his best clothes as well and looked stunning in a robe of dark green velvet embroidered with golden flowers, the insignia of his House, his noble head crowned with the celandine Legolas himself had gathered and bound.

Today, at least, no one could look at him and feel pity or derision, Legolas felt certain of that, and he enjoyed the feeling of security that gave him. Today, he would make his Lord proud and prove him right in bringing him here. He still felt shame when he remembered the immaturity he had shown when last Glorfindel had taken him to a feast in Imladris - but that seemed almost a lifetime ago now, and Legolas swore to himself that he would embarrass neither himself nor his Lord so ever again.

Arwen was the first who met them, Gîlríon by her site, for she had taken care of him for a while so that Glorfindel and Legolas could prepare for the banquet in peace. Now Legolas swung Gîl up into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek that already seemed to be smeared with the traces of some confection, a rush of pride filling his heart at the thought that still seemed so strange after all this time – that this was his child, his son, so bright, so confident and ever-curious.

“Have you been good, Gîl? You have not caused the Lady Arwen too much work, have you?” he asked, and Gîl quickly shook his head.

“We played with my horses!” he declared, and Legolas laughed.

“Of course you did,” he said in amusement and then surrendered Gil to Glorfindel's arms.

“He is a delight,” Arwen said warmly. “I will gladly watch over him for you whenever you decide you need a respite. But come now, my grandparents are waiting, and it will not do to antagonize my grandsire further, not when it is already the talk of the city how you stole the services of his personal seamstresses away from him – to very good effect though, as we can all now see.”

“Indeed.” Legolas turned around quickly at Celeborn's warm, amused voice. “But I am much more inclined to forgive your Lord now that I can see for which reason he did this. Ahh, a true scion of the Teleri indeed... You look as if freshly sprung from a historical tapestry, and I find I cannot bear your Lord any ill will – you look much finer in this than I would have. Indeed, cousin, you would have been the envy of the court in Doriath during the time your grandsire and I dwelt there. Come now, there is food and drink, and you must allow us to present our gifts to you.”

Legolas followed obediently, Glorfindel's arm curving around his shoulders, reassuring and warm. He was pleased and embarrassed by all the attention bestowed on him – after all, no one had ever done something like this for him before, and it still seemed strange that so many people had come to acknowledge the day of his begetting. It felt somewhat treacherous to enjoy the gifts Glorfindel had given him so much, for while it was true that he had never seen his brothers or even his father wear anything so fine, how could he admit such a thing, when he knew that it would be taken as but an admission of his father's lack of sophistication?

But for now, many of those who had been invited came to offer their well-wishes and to present him with gifts, so that he felt grateful for the continuing presence of his Lord by his side, lending him the strength to bear all of the attention as he clasped hands and thanked people he did not even know for the gifts they had brought.

It felt strangely official, as if he did indeed have another function besides being Glorfindel's bed toy, which he knew was how most had regarded him in Imladris when Glorfindel had brought him to meals or the Hall of Fire. Yet there seemed to be no one here who bore him ill-will, and after a while he calmed and to his surprise, found that this was even a pleasurable experience, for it made him feel competent, and in truth it was much like the way he had dreamed he would one day be treated as a Prince of Greenwood.

The sheer amount of gifts he was being given surprised him, for even those advisors and nobles of Lórien whom he did not know had brought bottles of wine or cordials, jewelry or leather-bound tomes of lore or poetry, so that soon the small table next to him was piled with presents.

Glorfindel's guards were the next to approach, clad in their dark blue dress uniforms embroidered with Elrond's insignia, the silver star of Eärendil, and their faces alight with pleasure when they crowded around Legolas, clasping his hands and shoulders in true pleasure.

“We did not know what to get you; everything we could think of we were certain Glorfindel would have already presented you with,” Fairion explained. “But we hope that this will prove useful, and that the captain has not yet promised you one himself.”

Laindir gave Legolas a finely turned belt of dark leather, adorned by an etched scrollwork of small leaves. More importantly, there was a short, similarly adorned sheath that held a small dagger, and when Legolas carefully pulled it free, he saw that it was almost as masterfully made as the sword Glorfindel had given him, lacking any ostentatious embellishments as it was a tool to be used and no mere decoration.

“Oh, thank you!” he said breathlessly, his eyes alight with such joy that a few of the guards laughed in pleasure and Laindir clasped Legolas' shoulder with a grin. Another group of advisors arrived then, Ellonúr among then so that Legolas sobered, remembering all too well what his Lord's former companion thought of him and his position. Yet today, at least, there were no insults. Ellonúr was almost painfully formal as he offered his well-wishes, yet when his gaze fell onto Glorfindel who still carried Gîlríon in his arms, his mask seemed to slip for a moment, and his face became grave and still.

“I am glad you found the time to come,” Glorfindel offered and Ellonúr nodded, still gazing at the child in his arms with a strange expression before he finally turned and made way for others.

With a pang of apprehension, Legolas realized that it was Haldir who approached him now. He was flanked by his brothers, holding something wrapped in cloth, and for a moment Legolas worried that Haldir might have decided to pay him back for humiliating him in front of his friends in the saddler's workshop. What would he do if Haldir chose to present him with a whip or crop in front of everyone?

He swallowed and looked at Rúmil's kind face, Orophin's pleased smile. No, his brothers would never allow such a thing, he was certain of that. They shared neither their brother's humor nor his inclinations, and Rúmil had made himself more than clear on what he thought of Haldir's treatment of him.

With a deep breath for courage, he accepted gift and congratulations gracefully, holding his breath when he slowly drew the cloth back to reveal the brothers' gift. His eyes widened when he saw that it was neither whip nor flogger, no implement of pain or pleasure – instead, the brothers had gifted him a bow, and while this was improbably more welcome than a whip, it was still so surprising that he gave Haldir a questioning look, wondering if there was something else behind it.

“Do not look as if you are afraid to believe your good fortune,” Haldir chided smugly, as if he were pleased with Legolas' reaction. “I must admit that it was not my first idea, but my brothers found this more suitable, and I have to concur. A sword makes a mighty weapon, yet I think you will soon realize the advantages of bow and arrow, especially among the trees of a forest. Is it not so for your father's men as well?”

“The bows of the Galadhrim are rightly renowned,” Glorfindel said. “This one will be the envy of many at home. See how skillfully it is wrought, even though it is intended for one just beginning to learn the art of bow and arrow... It shall prove a faithful companion for many years, indeed you might use this bow even if you were to join a patrol under me, and I would commend you on the quality of your weapon. That does mean, of course, that I will have to find a tutor for you quicker than I had thought, once we are back home.”

“Thank you,” Legolas whispered, overwhelmed when he accepted arrows and quiver from Orophin and Rúmil's hands. “Truly, thank you so much... I am sure I am not good at all with a bow yet, but I will care well for your gift, and try to become better.”

“And hopefully, enjoy it,” Rúmil added with a smile. “I am not much good with it either, unlike Haldir who has unfairly been blessed with mastery of both sword and bow, yet even though I will never win a contest, I still enjoy using the bow. Every now and then, I even manage to bring down a hart, which I have to admit is far more pleasing to my stomach than a tournament victory would be.”

“I have sometimes managed to shoot a rabbit,” Legolas offered quietly, giving Haldir a cautious look to see if that would earn him his derision. “Although we more usually used slings – it was always a welcome addition to the rations we were provided with.”

“I am certain you will do well,” Celeborn said warmly, returning to their side now with Galadriel and Arwen next to him. Galadriel stepped closer to Legolas, gently taking his head into her hands as she kissed his brow.

“The Valar's blessings,” she said, her eyes filled with a radiance that made him think of golden light on verdant shoots, of starlight shimmering on the waves of the sea, awed and comforted at once by the light that seemed to envelop him.

“One day soon, you shall be in need of this,” she then said, her voice grave even though her eyes were warm, smiling in reassurance at his confusion. “Fairest of the princes of these hither shores... You have returned estel to Glorfindel the beloved.”

Legolas felt Glorfindel stiffen at her words, a shiver running through his body as he wondered whether she was speaking in foresight, and what it might mean. How could he have returned estel to Glorfindel? Certainly such a hero, beloved by his people, granted rebirth and a return by the Valar, would never lose estel?

Then he saw what she held in her arms and reached out to take it, his eyes widening at the weight. Some of the cloth slipped from his grasp and now he gasped at the splendor unfolding before his eyes – it was no tapestry as he might have thought from the weight, it was a cloak; a cloak of such indescribable beauty that it seemed to him far too fine to be touched even by princes or kings. Certainly such a garment could be worn by a Vala alone?

It was cloth-of-gold as bright as his Lord's golden hair, so thick and heavy he could barely hold it with both hands. And yet it had been embroidered so luxuriously that almost none of the gold was visible, as the entire cloak was covered with thousands of small leafs cut from emeralds that glistened and gleamed in the light.

“Like sunlight falling through a cover of leaves,” he whispered in awe, his fingers trembling as he stroked this priceless treasure, unable to believe what he saw.

Was it truly their plan to reinstate him as a Prince of Greenwood? This would be too much even if they were to crown him King... For he wanted no title, no crown, all he wanted was to be with Glorfindel, to be his and his alone, and he would gladly declare himself his slave once more if that meant that he would never have to see his father again.


-----------
roch neth - colt
talan - flet
estel - hope
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Author's Notes
===========

The estel Galadriel mentions refers of course not to Aragorn, but rather to the two-fold concept of hope of the elves, which is explained by Tolkien in Athrabeth Finrod Ah Andreth:

'Have ye then no hope?' said Finrod.
'What is hope?' she said. 'An expectation of good, which though uncertain has some foundation in what is known? Then we have none.'
'That is one thing that Men call "hope",' said Finrod. 'Amdir we call it, "looking up". But there is another which is founded deeper. Estel we call it, that is "trust". It is not defeated by the ways of the world, for it does not come from experience, but from our nature and first being. If we are indeed the Eruhin, the Children of the One, then He will not suffer Himself to be deprived of His own, not by any Enemy, not even by ourselves. This is the last foundation of Estel, which we keep even when we contemplate the End: of all His designs the issue must be for His Children's joy. Amdir you have not, you say. Does no Estel at all abide?' (MR 320)

Before someone points out that the making and/or wearing of wreaths of flowers is a 'girly' thing to do for Legolas, I would like to point out that it is Thranduil who wears “a crown of leaves upon his golden hair” (Hobbit 144). And how do the Noldor view such things? Who knows... Galadriel at least seems to like it enough to wear “a circlet of golden flowers [...] in her hair” when she bids the Fellowship farewell (Fellowship 489).

A description of what elanor looks like can be found in Tolkien's letter 312:
“Lit by that light, niphredil would be simply a delicate kin of a snowdrop; and elanor a pimpernel (perhaps a little enlarged) growing sun-golden flowers and star-silver ones on the same plant, and sometimes the two combined. “(Letters 402)

Carpenter, Humphrey. The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. London: HarperCollins, 2006.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit. London: HarperCollins, 1999.
---. Morgoth's Ring. Ed. Christopher Tolkien. London: HarperCollins, 1994.
---. The Fellowship of the Ring. London: HarperCollins, 1999.

66

Speechless and completely overwhelmed, Legolas looked at the rulers of Lothlórien, and the Lady Arwen standing with them. He felt so inadequate, so far beneath this kingly gift that he had been given, and he knew not how he could possibly thank them for something that he was not even worthy of touching, much less wearing!

“Thank you!” he said, searching for words until at last he shook his head in confusion. “I know not what to say, this is... This is far too grand for me!”

“No, 'tis of equal beauty,” Glorfindel gently corrected, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him close. “Yet it is indeed of amazing loveliness. I would take you to Tirion, present you to my parents wrapped in this cloak, and watch them marvel at this exotic prince of a far-away country who has followed me over the sea to the place of my birth...”

“I would follow you anywhere, Lord!” Legolas quickly swore, eyes wide at this improbable declaration. To be taken to see his Lord's parents... The thought was frightening, and yet, that his Lord would even contemplate such a thing, even though it might never come true, it made his heart beat hard and fast in his chest.

“I know you would. I would not have it any other way,” Glorfindel said and pressed another loving kiss to his brow. Celeborn took the cloak from Legolas' hands then and placed it onto the large table that already seemed to be overflowing with gifts. Awed whispers arose from the guests crowding around them once more, and Legolas knew that his own face was still hot and flushed from surprise and embarrassed, disbelieving joy. He could imagine neither how he deserved such a gift, nor what it might be for – yet he had sworn himself to his Lord, he reminded himself, and it was no longer his task to worry about such things. He would do whatever Glorfindel asked of him, no matter what, and if it meant returning to his father's halls one day, then he would obey and entrust himself to his Lord in that as well.

Arwen came then to clasp his hands and kiss his cheeks, alight with pleasure at his reaction to their gift, and Legolas felt humbled once more when he realized that they must have worked through the nights in order to present him with so glorious a garment – him, who had not even been worthy of a simple embrace by his father on his last begetting day at home!

Legolas smiled shyly at Arwen, overwhelmed by gratitude – not just for the gift but more so for her kindness. It was no simple pity he felt from her; instead, she made him feel as if she truly enjoyed his company, and that was wondrous enough. Legolas could not help but think of her brothers then; he knew all too well what their reaction would have been had Glorfindel invited them to celebrate the day of his begetting, and Legolas prayed to Elbereth that on their return to Imladris, Arwen would not be swayed by Elladan's low opinion of him.

It was overwhelming, and one of the happiest moments in his life, to simply stand here and know that he was surrounded by people who bore him no ill will – more than that, many of whom seemed to genuinely like him! For once the constant, secret fear that he might do or say something wrong was gone and he felt safe and at ease among these people, able to relax and allow himself to believe that he could be truly liked and accepted simply for who he was, instead of facing laughter and derision for who he was not.

There was one last test of his new-found confidence when belatedly, one of his brother's companions entered and curtly wished him a happy begetting day, a wish whose insincerity Legolas was well aware of. He could not remember his name, though he thought he recognized him from the group of young nobles his brother had always surrounded himself with at home. The advisor had brought no gift, yet that came as no surprise to Legolas, who would have been astonished had Galuron truly seen fit to spend even a small amount of his father's coffers on him. Even so, he was embarrassed by the attention bestowed upon him by someone who he knew disliked, if not outright loathed him.

No, there was only one reason why the advisor had come, and that too was politics, Legolas thought, like the braids that Glorfindel made him wear. It seemed that even for his brother, curiosity outweighed his loathing of Legolas; the advisor was here only to be able to tell Galuron – and Thranduil, mayhap – about what happened here, and not for any sort of support of Legolas.

And yet, what did it matter when for the first time in his life, he had the support of so many? Certainly not everyone in this room was a friend, yet there was Glorfindel, the Lady and Lord of the Golden Wood and Arwen, and of course Glorfindel's men. It had become difficult for him to believe that someone could truly show him kindness, and yet he knew that the friendship offered by them was genuine.

No, let his brother bear back tales to his father of how his treachery was rewarded with gold, fine clothes and jewelry; he did not care what they thought of him, not anymore. It had been almost two years since his father had exiled him, and there was no use in fearing what tales they told about him at home. That was the past; all that could matter to him now was the present, and the future.

And what did he care about the lies they spread in the Greenwood when at last he had found happiness at Glorfindel's side? It had been hard-won, and he still felt that his Lord's love was more than he deserved, but all the same he knew that without it he would surely perish. He took his Lord's hand then, and when Glorfindel turned to look at him, he gave him a smile. “This is wonderful,” he said softly. “I could not have imagined such a thing – thank you!”

“Just wait until the food is served – and I think there will be dancing afterward,” Glorfindel said, his eyes warm with love. “Reserve your judgment until I have made a fool of myself in the Silvan dances they favor here.”

When they at last went to take their seats, Glorfindel could see the emotions running across Legolas' face - thrill, surprise and embarrassment – when he found that he was given the place of honor at the head of the table. Yet Legolas bore himself well, and Glorfindel could not take his eyes off him, for here at last was the promise of all that was to come, plain for everyone to see – great kindness and empathy married to a compassionate heart, innocence of the soul combined with that heartbreaking lissome beauty of the wood-elves, and with it not the striving for power, but the earnest desire to please, to do good, and bring harm to none. Legolas, Glorfindel thought, might never be a leader of men, for the easy authority that came to Glorfindel was as strange to him as the broadsword, and yet he was blessed with a wealth of talents that would only have needed the love of family and friends to flower.

Now, at last, with the rich dress, and the confidence instilled by being surrounded by people he had come to know and like, the true nobility of his heart was revealed – at least to Glorfindel's partial gaze. Proud and possessive, he rested one hand on Legolas' arm and was immediately rewarded with an upturned face bearing a warm smile that made him want to kiss those soft lips until they were red and swollen from his ardor. He returned the smile and raised Legolas' hand for a more courtly kiss suitable to the High Table, unable to take his eyes from the youth's resplendent beauty, although a small part of his mind was wondering how Galuron's ambassador would take this display of gallant affection.

As treachery, without a doubt; but further proof of Galuron's claim that Legolas had turned his back on father and people alike to seek out the protection and wealth of a Noldorin Lord for his own gain.

Nothing could be further from the truth, and yet what was about to transpire would only give further credence to that rumor. This, Glorfindel could not change, as much as he wished otherwise. Winning the respect of Legolas' father was a battle that must wait for another day, if indeed it could ever be won. For now, all that mattered was giving Legolas the joy he so sorely deserved, no matter how it would be taken by those who hated him.

The feast began with a short speech, if speech it could even be called, and Glorfindel saw frowns among the gathered when Celeborn simply thanked them for coming and announced the first course served to them. With a certainty, they had expected the long-winded, oft-pompous speeches Noldorin banquets were infamous for – yet the true reason for the gathering would be obvious soon enough, Glorfindel thought to himself with a smile.

The food prepared was sumptuous, lavishly decorated and catered to a multitude of palates, from at first glance simple Silvan dishes that made masterful use of the herbs of the forest, to the more ostentatious creations of Noldorin origin which were the favorite of the Lady of Wood. To these, Glorfindel himself was partial, for while over the Ages the favorite dishes of his childhood had evolved into dishes no Noldorin lord from Tirion would recognize, especially as on these hither shores many vegetables and herbs could not be found, to Glorfindel they still brought the memory of a happy childhood, and of places and people sorely missed these long Ages.

In such a way, course followed course. There was a plethora of game yielded by the forest and prepared by the Lady's cooks, and dish after dish was served of of coney, doe, grouse and pheasant; another course of fishes caught only this morning in the Celebrant, and the first tender lambs the spring had yielded. And from course to course, Glorfindel could feel the confusion and baffled excitement of the crowd rising, waiting for the speeches or announcements to be expected at a banquet – and which Glorfindel had refused to give so far.

Yet the announcement would happen soon enough, though for once, Glorfindel would let his actions speak for him. There was only dessert waiting for them now, honeyed cakes of nuts and dried fruits as well as concoctions of cream and liquors, which Legolas as well had developed a liking for, Noldorin though such extravaganza might be deemed.

Before dessert though, a new wine was served, sweet and heady to go with the honeyed confections, and Glorfindel smiled when he saw Legolas marvel at the heavy goblet of cut crystal that was placed before them. He gave Glorfindel a questioning look, who nodded with a smile towards a small bottle that stood next to the goblet, and with an expression of perfect, still somewhat disbelieving happiness, Legolas poured for them.

Immediately a scent of honey filled the air, and with it the perfume of roses in full flower, so that Legolas smiled in delight at the liquid of pale rose that sparkled in the crystal goblet.

Carefully, he lifted the cup with both hands to present it to his Lord, and with a happiness so keen he felt it as a pain that threatened to rend his heart apart, Glorfindel covered Legolas' hands with his own, drinking from the rose-colored mead when they had lifted the cup to his lips. Legolas looked at him with breathless joy, his eyes full of love, and Glorfindel realized with satisfaction how the entire room had fallen silent. Yet still he could not tear his eyes from Legolas to observe the effects of his action, for what he saw on Legolas' face was far lovelier. He drank in the love, the happiness, the joyful trust when Legolas sipped from the crystal cup as well, noticing the tender shadow of the long lashes on pale skin, the fine, honey-colored hair with its own, unique tempting fragrance brushing against the inside of his wrist, and he knew then that what he did was right, that this obsession would never end, for Legolas' innocence was an innocence of the soul, not the body, and he would never fail to delight in feasting on it.

“Do you like it?” he asked tenderly, cupping that lovely face in one hand when Legolas nodded.

“It is white mead brewed with the petals of roses, gathered by the Lady and her maidens during the last full moon of summer. It is a special cordial, which they say is tasted only once during a lifetime.”

Legolas had eyes only for him, and Glorfindel knew that he had never even realized that the entire room had fallen silent and was now staring at the High Table in breathless anticipation or, in one case, disgusted outrage.

“'Tis a drink served at a betrothal feast,” he said intimately. “The to-be-wedded pair drinks from the same cup, and thus seals their promises to one another.” The smile he gave Legolas was very, very tender, and he did not wait for doubt or fear to replace the puzzlement on Legolas' face. Instead, he slid to the floor, kneeling humbly on the ground before the youth.

“My beautiful, beloved Legolas. I have seen many Ages of this world. Twice have I crossed the ocean: once on the ice, once on a ship of the Teleri. I have beheld many wonders. I have seen the Two Trees in all their splendor, the light of the Silmarilli, the first rising of the Sun and the Moon. I have danced at the court of Finwë in fair Tirion upon Túna; I have braved the heights of the Pelóri and looked down on Aman spread beneath me like the jewels of a king's hoard, and flowers sprang beneath my feet when first I stepped onto the soil of Mithrim under Fingolfin's banners of blue and silver. I have fought dragon and demon of fire; I have died and been reborn. Yet in all these Ages, not once has someone touched my heart as you do. No one has ever come close to your beauty, your nobility of spirit, your courage, your capacity to love, and to be loved in return. Every day that I have looked upon you, this knowledge has grown. I am yours, Legolas... I am yours, and I want to always be yours. I want to swear myself to you with a vow I shall never break, with the holiest vow there is, the vow that I feared I would never swear.

“I want to be yours, Legolas... Wedded to you before Eru himself, one until the end of Arda.” He hesitated, looking up into shocked, blue eyes, then asked the question – a simple thing in the end, and the only thing that truly mattered anymore: “Will you have me?”

67

Later, Legolas would be unable to recount the full details of the events of that evening; it had all swirled together in his mind, blending into a kaleidoscope of jewel-bright colors of joy, laughter, Glorfindel's smiling eyes, and the overwhelming love that filled his heart until he thought it would burst. He could not remember the full details of his answer, only knew that it had been yes, a thousand times yes breathed into Glorfindel's hair, against his skin, against his lips when he slipped from his own chair to throw himself into Glorfindel's waiting arms, his eyes bright with tears. He could not remember why he had wept either, only that the kisses had been salty from his tears, and that there had been nothing but Glorfindel at that moment, for all else had ceased to be of importance. Only later, when there was a throng of people surrounding them with congratulations and smiles, did he slowly realize what the proposal meant, and was speechless from the awareness.

Glorfindel had slid a slender ring of silver onto his finger while they were still half hidden by the banquet table, and Legolas marveled at the sight. It still seemed like a dream to him, for while he had guiltily fantasized of being acknowledged in such a way, to have it actually happen seemed stranger still than anything else that had happened thus far in his life. Then Glorfindel dropped another silver ring into his palm, and with trembling fingers Legolas moved it into place. He looked at their hands for a moment, wide-eyed with wonder to see themselves so connected, Glorfindel's intention to wed him plain for everyone to see.

“I will never bring dishonor to you, Lord!” he swore breathlessly, then buried his face against Glorfindel's neck when his Lord wrapped his arms around him once more.

Glorfindel stayed by his side the entire evening, and Legolas knew that he had never been happier. There were more congratulations, this time for the both of them, and Legolas flushed with helpless pleasure when he realized that he was standing by Glorfindel's side like an equal, clasping the hands of all those who came to wish him joy. This was what Glorfindel's proposal meant; his Lord proclaimed him to be his equal in all things – save for the bedroom, Legolas thought, and blushed when he realized that he did not want things to change there.

The evening was as perfect as anything Legolas could have imagined. He did not even feel uncomfortable any longer at being the center of attention, for with Glorfindel's declaration, his Lord had taken that burden from him. It was the Elda now about whom the diplomats and advisors thronged, vying to clasp his hand and deliver well-wishes, and though Legolas stood next to his Lord, and indeed was the recipient of the same congratulations, he felt secure in the knowledge that nothing was expected of him but simple words of thanks, and that his Lord would deal with anything else.

There was only one moment that had the potential to break through the nearly-tangible happiness that surrounded Legolas. When Arwen came to envelop Glorfindel in her arms and press a kiss to his cheeks, she brought Gîlríon with her, who had sat with her during the meal – so that his Lord could propose to him in peace, Legolas realized and flushed once more with overwhelmed joy. 

Gîl wrapped his arms around Glorfindel's neck when his atto lifted him, beaming with exuberant happiness even though Legolas was certain that he could not yet understand what had happened. “What are you doing, atto? Why are all the people standing here?”

Glorfindel smiled and pressed a kiss to his head. “They are offering their congratulations, because your ada and I will be wed soon.”

“Wed?” Gîl frowned, and Legolas bit his lip in worry, wondering whether Gîl already had any conception of what a wedding meant, and how strange a position Legolas had held so far. He had always lived with the fear that one day, Gîlríon would be told just how he had been conceived, and just how far his adar had allowed himself to be humiliated and degraded. As much as Legolas feared that day, he knew that it would come – but certainly not yet? Certainly Gîl was still far too young to truly understand what had taken place here, and what it meant?

“Like the Lord and Lady are? But... you are not?”

“No, we are not, not yet,” Glorfindel said calmly, and though Legolas could not bear to look at any of the gathered advisors for the shame of having this humiliating topic talked about openly, he still could not help but feel deep gratitude and love for his Lord, who took this difficult task on himself without a second's doubt.

“At a wedding, both families should be there – but your ada's family does not like me. So I have not wed your ada yet, because I hoped I could make them like me after all. Yet you have met your uncle, and I do not think his opinion of me will change. We shall not wait for them anymore, and instead, we will have a wonderful feast without them next year.” 

Glorfindel smiled at Legolas, who waited with bated breath for someone to make a disparaging comment – but none came, and Legolas allowed himself to relax a little, grateful that his brother's ambassador did not seem to be nearby at this moment. After all, what Glorfindel had told Gîl was not exactly the truth. It might not be an outright lie, but there were so many omissions in this explanation that Legolas did not want to know what Galuron's reaction would be.

Gîl, on the other hand, seemed to be content with the explanation, and Legolas was grateful that he had been given more time until that day he so dreaded would come. And perhaps it would not be as terrible as he feared, to have his son know of his shame... If he dared to believe his Lord – and how could he not? – they would be wedded by then, and his Lord had sworn that no one would be allowed to humiliate him any more. All he had to do was to trust in Glorfindel to keep his promises, and that seemed to become easier every day.

There was dancing later, as Glorfindel had promised, after Arwen and her maidens had taken Gîlríon off with them once more. The music started when Legolas stood well-ensconced among Glorfindel's men, grimacing in disgust at his first taste of the ale the guards shared. They laughed at his expression, though it was good-natured laughter, and Laindir slung an arm around his shoulder and assured him that it was no surprise at all that this was not to his liking, not after the sweet mead Glorfindel had plied him with.

The music broke up their little group, and Fairion took Legolas' hands to pull him towards the space in front of the musicians that was now slowly filling. "They like their Silvan dances here... None of that stuffy, courtly dancing. Do you know this one?"

Legolas smiled in relief when he saw the people gathering into a large circle and nodded. There had been dancing lessons in his childhood as well, and though those did indeed encompass the slower and more courtly dances Fairion was obviously not very fond of, they had also spent time on the faster Silvan dances. Legolas remembered the lessons well - they had not been so bad, indeed he had enjoyed them, for that had been before he had lost the friendship of the one person who had seemed to like him.

He took a deep breath, resolved not to think about the past now, not when his Lord had taken such care to give him a future he still would not dare to believe in – if it were not for the very tangible proof on his finger. "Do you know your Silvan dances then?" he asked and laughed at Fairion's smug expression.

"I have had very good teachers - do you want to find out?"

Legolas made a sound of surprise when arms wrapped around his waist all of a sudden from behind. "Has no one ever told you that it is very bad manners to steal the betrothed of your captain away, guard?"

When Legolas turned in Glorfindel's arms, he was rewarded with a brilliant smile and a chaste kiss to his brow. "Would you like to dance? I have heard you tell him that you know these dances, but I will have to warn you that my expertise lies with the stuffy, courtly dances the younger members of my guard so revile.“

"But these are not difficult, my Lord! I am certain that you are much better at it than you claim."

"Let us find out then." With a firm grip around Legolas' waist, as if he were afraid that the youth might balk after all, Glorfindel pulled him right into the throng where they were immediately awarded a place in the circle. Fairion and Laindir joined them there as well, as well as a few others of Glorfindel's men, who soon had their arms wrapped around the waist of a maiden, or a few of the equally willing Silvan guards. The music was loud and lively, the tune – just as the dance – a well-loved favorite, and soon he found himself turning and twirling and jumping at Glorfindel's side, breathless with joy. They switched partners many times in the course of the song, dancing a few steps with whomever they found themselves stopping in front of, until at last Legolas found himself in Glorfindel's arms once more when the circle had finished turning. He laughed in delight, certain that he had never enjoyed himself as much as he had this evening, and then quickly took a step to the side, neatly eluding Haldir who now found himself standing in front of Fairion, with Laindir glowering at him.

"If you want a dance with me, you could just ask, Haldir!" Legolas pointed out, but happily leaned back into Glorfindel's arms, breathless and glad for a moment's rest.

"Do you want something to drink? More of the mead?" Glorfindel asked, and Legolas nodded eagerly.

“Yes, please, my Lord.”

He watched Glorfindel walk towards a table with refreshments, wanting to sigh at the splendor of him, aglow with pride that this noble lord was to be his – and then once more arms wrapped around him from behind.

“Truly, Haldir, you could just ask for a dance – I would say yes, you know.” Legolas shook his head with a sigh, though he was still smiling. For once, he did not mind dealing with Haldir, although he suspected that most of his courage came from the warm glow of the mead in his belly. Still, today he felt as if he could indeed stand up to Haldir, and whether that had its foundation in the liquour, or in the knowledge that Haldir could do nothing to him on this of all days, did not matter to him.

“Mmh... who says I want a dance?”

Legolas suppressed a shiver at the intimate sensation of Haldir's breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of his throat.

“You would be more foolish than even I would think, to want more from Lord Glorfindel's betrothed at his own betrothal feast...” 

Haldir laughed softly. “Maybe I just want to offer more personal congratulations – I am your personal guard, after all.”

“I think you only want to see if you can make me uncomfortable. But you will not succeed.”

“No?” There was a teasing light in Haldir's eyes when let go of Legolas, only to force him to turn around. “Not even if I want to offer my congratulations with a kiss?” He leaned closer, and Legolas turned his head just in time so that Haldir's lips brushed his cheek instead of his mouth.

“Truly, Haldir, do you want to annoy my Lord?”

Haldir shrugged. “Not particularly, but you really are too sweet to resist sometimes. He should understand – we value the same characteristics in a lover, after all.”

“And that should be reason enough to forgive you bullying him, at his betrothal feast of all places?” Glorfindel's voice was calm, yet there was a coldness to it that made Legolas tremble, and feel grateful that it was not directed at him.

“Are you not glad that I am finally seeing what attracts you to him?”

“He was not bullying me, truly,” Legolas interjected, resolved to not allow anyone to disturb this day. “I think he simply did not dare to ask me for a dance – but there is no need for you to be afraid, Haldir. I will gladly dance with you, but first I need a moment of rest.”

Glorfindel wrapped his arm around Legolas and pulled him close, not even trying to hide his possessiveness of the youth. “Come, let us go outside for a moment – it has grown hot in here, and a moment without being importuned will do us both good. And then, Haldir may have a dance – if he asks politely.”

Haldir bowed, amused rather than cowed, and then wandered off, while Legolas gratefully followed his Lord outside. The cool, fresh air almost came like a shock, for while the large talan was airy and seemed to consist more of windows than walls, Legolas still felt hot and breathless from the lively dances. 

Glorfindel led him into a dark corner, and there they found a small, winding stair which led to a tiny platform – a small pavilion, Legolas realized when he brushed against what he thought was a wall, and found that it was a curtain when it moved beneath his touch. Inside, they found a settee with plump cushions, and when Glorfindel drew open one of the curtains, they could sit quietly together, Glorfindel still cradling the goblet of mead he had fetched, and before them, above them, spread the stars as multitudinous, as bright as they must have seemed to those who first awoke beneath their light.

Everything was quiet around them. As if from very far away, they could hear the music to which they had danced only a moment ago, and yet, here in this secluded little bower, it seemed as if they were all alone in the forest.

Legolas leaned his head against Glorfindel's shoulder, content to look at the stars while safe and warm in his Lord's embrace. This was more than he had ever dreamed of, this intimacy – sharing this quiet moment, knowing that right now, they were enough for each other, that neither of them could wish for more than this contentment found in simply being close, being with the other.

Silently, they emptied the goblet while the stars moved on their slow paths above them. They had no need for words, and when at last Glorfindel put the cup aside and rested his hand against Legolas' cheek, the youth moved into his touch with a sigh, soft lips parting when Glorfindel covered them with his own mouth.

Glorfindel smiled at him when at last they drew apart. He raised one hand and slowly drew his fingers down Legolas' cheek, over the full, rosy lips that now gleamed wetly in invitation, biting back a moan at the need that hit him all of a sudden with full force. 

“Eru be praised for creating something of such amazing loveliness... To think that I might have never known you! Ai, I cannot even bear to think about how empty my life would be.”

Again he moved forward to claim Legolas' mouth, though instead of the earlier gentleness, there was only ravenous hunger now, the need to taste the youth, to claim him to the deepest core of his soul, to feel him give all of himself without hesitation – and to give all of his heart in return.

Legolas whimpered when they broke the kiss, out of breath and just as overcome by need as Glorfindel.

“My Lord,” he breathed, “my Lord, oh please...”, and Glorfindel laughed, breathless, drunk on mead and the youth's beauty, and utterly in love.

“To hear you beg like that every day of my life – what greater prize could I possibly ask for?” His eyes had darkened with lust, and there was a threat in his voice that made Legolas tremble and look at him with sweet, helpless surrender.

“I want to be yours, only yours, always, to do with whatever you please,” Legolas whispered, and then moaned when Glorfindel raised his hand to press a kiss to the silver ring that now adorned one finger.

“Always,” Glorfindel answered, gazing at the youth with such dark desire that Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, too overcome by what Glorfindel made him feel.

“What do you want, Legolas?”

“You... Only you. I want to feel you, touch you... Oh, please, my Lord, let me!” Legolas breathed, biting back another moan when Glorfindel softly laughed at his pleading. Trembling with disbelief at his own audacity, he rested a hand on Glorfindel's thigh, swallowing when he felt the hard, powerful muscles – and then, before his courage left him, he moved his hand into Glorfindel's lap, moaning in unison with his Lord at the hardness he found there. First slowly, fingers shaking from insecurity, then faster with helpless need and impatience, he fumbled with his Lord's robes, parting the outer robe of heavy velvet, then beneath it an under robe of stiff, embroidered silk. He moaned in almost despair when his fingers encountered a long shirt of silk beneath, yet at last, when that was pushed out of the way as well with no thought to the garment's cost or the creases he might leave, his fingers encountered the breeches, ties stretching to contain his Lord's arousal.

Now it was Glorfindel who groaned when Legolas freed him at last and curled his fingers around him, looking at him with unveiled worship and hunger. His Lord's shaft was hot and hard in his hand, and the sheer size of him, the heat, the sensation of velvet-smooth skin over hard steel made him breathless with desire. His Lord was magnificent in all things, but in this, perhaps, most of all. Legolas knew he would never tire of looking at him. Touching him, pleasuring him in this way truly was a reward, and to feel him so heavy and hot in his hand aroused him more than being touched himself would have. 

Glorfindel had relaxed back into the plump cushions and was watching Legolas from heavy-lidded eyes, a small smile on his lips when the youth met his eyes only to flush with embarrassment. Legolas lowered his head, looking at his own pale fingers encircle the swollen, dark length. A bead of translucent liquid welled from the small slit at the top when he carefully smoothed the foreskin back, and he bit his lower lip, wanting to taste his Lord now, feel him fill his mouth...

“Oh no. Just your hands, roch neth. I want to watch you watching me.” 

Legolas swallowed at his Lord's command but obeyed despite his embarrassment, allowing his Lord to see his enjoyment, and what touching him like this did to him. He made a helpless sound of pleasure as he admired the heavy shaft in his hand, once more taking in his Lord's sheer size which even now made him feel disbelief at the thought of sheathing this inside. 

He felt breathless from his own daring and the overpowering need caused by feeling Glorfindel's desire for him. He felt his own submission to his Lord's will keenly, a thrill brought by nothing but knowing that he was serving him, would do whatever he asked, and that even though he had taken the initiative for once, in this too he was showing his surrender to his Lord's desire.

“I want you, my Lord!” Legolas almost sobbed when the large, hard shaft swelled even further when he began to stroke him, his own length pressing against his tightly laced breeches, the ache so maddening, so delicious that he felt lightheaded.

“Not here, roch neth... Someone might come any moment. Please me well now, and you will be rewarded later...”

Legolas moaned again at the promise in Glorfindel's voice which was hoarse with lust, imagining just what his Lord might do to him – imagining himself on his knees before him, servicing him with his mouth, his Lord's knot in his hair to mark him as his possession for everyone to see...

He squeezed Glorfindel harder, his hand moving faster, breathlessly taking in the picture of his Lord slumped back against the cushions, utterly abandoned to the pleasure Legolas brought him, and then swooped down to close his lips around the crown of Glorfindel's erection just in time to swallow down all of his Lord's salty release.

“Good... Very, very good, roch neth. Perfect...” Glorfindel rested a hand on Legolas' head, breathlessly petting to show his approval while Legolas cleaned him and then set to straightening his clothes once more. When he was finished at last, Glorfindel drew him into his arms and kissed him again, smiling when he rubbed the heel of his hand over the bulge in the youth's leggings, making him moan into the kiss.

“So sweet. My dear beloved. My betrothed...” Glorfindel took another hungry kiss, leaving Legolas panting with pleasure and need. Glorfindel slowly massaged him through his leggings, but just when Legolas ceased caring about his fine garb, he pulled back and shook his head. “Not yet, roch neth. After the feast, when we are alone. If I am not too tired then...” 

Glorfindel laughed softly when Legolas moaned with frustrated need, yet as always the youth yielded so very sweetly to his Lord's every demand, and Glorfindel endeavored to reward him for that delightful trust with the pleasure he had earned, once they were safely ensconced in their bedroom with Gîl asleep.

Yet for now...

“Mmh, so hard for me. I love how you can never hide what I make you feel – how much you need me. But you will just have to cope this evening, Legolas nín, as we will have to return now before they start looking for us.”

“And I have promised Haldir a dance...” Legolas groaned, ruing his earlier teasing now, for certainly Haldir would know what state he was in, and what had brought it about.

“He will behave – or face my wrath. Teasing you I will allow, but making you feel uncomfortable at your own betrothal feast is something I will not stand for.”

Legolas looked pointedly down, to where his swollen length was still pressing uncomfortably against the confines of his leggings. At least his Lord had chosen well for him in this garb, for the ancient cut of the tunic as well as the stiff, heavily embroidered fabric hid the tell-tale signs of his arousal – but it would not stop him from yearning for his Lord's touch all through the evening.

“Ah, but that kind of discomfort is bound up with pleasure, is it not?” There was laughter in Glorfindel's eyes, and no compassion at all for the state he was in. “You will just have to cope, roch neth. Still, bear yourself well for the remainder of the evening, and there will be a reward for you afterwards.”

Legolas swallowed and nodded. “I will, Lord,” he promised earnestly, and Glorfindel's mien lightened even more.

“I know you will,” he murmured and rewarded the youth with another loving kiss. “Now come, it seems they have already sent someone to fetch us.”

Legolas frowned at the faint set of voices that slowly came closer, then sighed when he realized just who had come after them.

“Ai, not Haldir again! How does he always manage to show up in moments like this? He is like a wolf scenting wounded prey.”

“You did promise him that dance, roch neth,” Glorfindel said and chuckled at Legolas' expression. “You handled him well earlier, but if he gets too obtrusive, I will be there. I truly will not allow anyone to disturb this day. You mean too much to me, Legolas nín.”

Legolas flushed with pleasure, but there was not even time for a quick kiss now, or they would risk Haldir coming upon them in their little bower. Instead they stepped outside to meet him, Legolas smoothing his tunic surreptitiously to make certain that there was indeed no hint of his unabated arousal, for he knew what Haldir would have to say to that.

Glorfindel loosely rested an arm around his shoulder, keeping him close as they stepped down the small stair, and just as they had expected, there Haldir stood waiting for them – only he was not alone.


------------------------
Legolas nín – my Legolas
roch neth - colt
------------------------

68

Legolas swallowed when he saw that Ellonúr had accompanied Haldir. He remembered only too well how Ellonúr had treated him in Imladris – and how badly he himself had dealt with the situation then. But it was so hard to look at him and know that at one time, Ellonúr had been his Lord's lover, had known that wondrous body just as well as he did, especially as Legolas could not help but feel that Ellonúr was his better in absolutely every regard.

And yet Glorfindel had chosen to wed him, not Ellonúr... That knowledge should help, and it did, and yet Legolas could not help but feel jealousy when he looked at the slim warrior who had once held that which was now the most important thing in the world to Legolas – his Lord's heart.

“Haldir, Ellonúr... Did Celeborn send you to retrieve us? I swear that we did not plan to abscond from our own bethrothal feast; we merely wished for a few moments of privacy.” Glorfindel smiled in welcome, though he kept his arm on Legolas' shoulder to hold him close. “Will you share a glass of wine with us when we return? I fear that we have finished the mead we brought.”

Legolas felt a smile tug at his lips at the barrage of words, realizing that his Lord was neither drunk, nor was he trying to divert their attention – Glorfindel was simply happy, in a way that Legolas had never experienced him before, and wanted to share his joy with his friends. Legolas pressed himself closer in wordless love and resolved to prove worthy of his Lord by overcoming this unbecoming jealousy of his Lord's erstwhile lover.

Being jealous of Ellonúr meant doubting his Lord – and how could he do that? So he forced himself to smile at them, which truly was not so hard on this joyous day, and silently begged the Valar to not let Ellonúr pick on him on this of all days.

“Some wine, and then my dance, I hope?” Haldir asked, looking at Legolas with a raised brow as if he doubted the youth's ability to make good on his promise after all the mead he had been plied with.

“Of course; I would not break a promise.”

“And I shall watch you closely, Haldir...” Glorfindel threatened so that Haldir laughed and raised his hands.

“Just a dance, I swear; I shall not ask for a lock of his fair hair, nor for a kiss.”

“I should hope not,” Ellonúr said dryly. “In any case, my congratulations on your betrothal, Glorfindel. I had not thought that I would ever see that day arrive... But I truly hope that you will find all you have ever hoped for.”

Legolas wondered at Ellonúr's tone. He seemed completely unaffected by his former lover's betrothal, and yet there was some emotion in his voice which Legolas could not place.

“Before we return and Haldir claims his dance, might I have a moment of your time? Alone,” Ellonúr added without looking at Legolas, who hoped that no one would see him pale at that ominous demand. There was truly only one reason why Ellonúr might want to talk to Glorfindel without his presence, and that would be to talk about him...

Glorfindel hesitated and turned to Legolas, who took his hand and gently pressed it, pretending to be braver than he actually was. “I shall go ahead with Haldir, if he will not mind,” Legolas reassured his Lord.

“Oh, I do not mind at all.” Haldir's self-satisfied smile seemed somewhat threatening to Legolas, but so far, Haldir had not been too terrible... “I shall behave; after all, I still want my dance.”

Glorfindel sighed at Haldir's promise, yet brushed Legolas' lips with a quick kiss before he and Ellonúr took a few steps up the winding stair until they were lost in the darkness beyond the beckoning torchlight.

“Could this not have waited until tomorrow?” Glorfindel asked softly once they had reached the abandoned pavilion he and Legolas had found earlier. “What is it that you want to tell me? We really cannot in good conscience stay away from a celebration in our honor for much longer – nor do I want to!”

Ellonúr was quiet for a moment. “We used to be very close, Glorfindel. Fear not, I want but a short moment of your time. Certainly this conversation will be just as inopportune to you tomorrow.”

“What is it then?” Glorfindel asked without ceremony. “I do not want to leave Legolas with Haldir for too long.”

“That is just it – can you truly not see it? You worry about leaving him alone even for a moment... Why are you so quick about binding your fate to his? He is still little more than a child, after all.”

“He is no child. He has little experience and has not known very much of life, but that has never been a prerequisite for marriage.”

Ellonúr scoffed. “He might be no child, yet he is no adult either.”

“And so? My parents were half his age when they became betrothed. What is it you are really after, Ellonúr? I will tell you this: if he was old enough to abuse, and old enough to bear me a child, then certainly he is also old enough to honor – old enough to love .”

"Love... what does he know of love?" Ellonúr shook his head and held up a hand in response to the flash of anger on Glorfindel's face. "Peace; I do not seek to insult him. But if it is true what you said, that it was abuse... Then how can there be love now? I do not doubt your feelings for him, even though I cannot understand them. Yet I do not see how you can believe that he feels the same for you, if you truly hurt him in such a grievous way. Some things can never be forgiven, my friend... Never. And if Legolas says that he has forgiven you, then I fear that what he feels cannot possibly be true. You know what captivity does to a soul...

"I was a captive too. Do not forget that. I am infinitely more experienced than he, in all aspects of life, of war - and yet even I..." Ellonúr fell silent and slowly shook his head, before continuing more softly. "Sometimes I would be taken from my cell to spend an hour or more in Thranduil's presence. He was very courteous, most of the time. He wanted information, of course, but he also offered me wine, treated me as an equal, would even converse with me on poetry, of all things. I knew what was happening to me, and how, but in the end I thought myself in love with him, and hated myself for it, for I knew that it could not possibly be true. Your little prince has no one in this world save for you now, and if he had not made himself love you, certainly he would have died long since. I am not saying that he is lying, or actively betraying you, but I do think that whatever you believe he feels for you is not something that has grown naturally, but something that has been forced on him by the situation he found himself in.

"I know you for an honorable man, and I know that in the end, you will know this for the truth. And what will happen then? If you have wedded him, recklessly bound your soul to his for all time, then how shall you feel when he realizes what has happened to him, and comes to despise you for it? Or even if he never does; you certainly shall, and it will sour every moment you spend in his company. You know that I speak the truth; you must be able to see this for yourself!"

"It was abuse, yes!" Glorfindel admitted, unable to contain his anger any longer. "For long, long months, it was abuse, and he had no choice but to give in and surrender himself to me in the hope that I would be less cruel with him. I do not deny the truth of your words! But you are wrong if you believe that he has forgiven me. As you so rightly said, such a crime can never be forgiven, nor can it be forgotten. Yet at the same time, what choice have we now but to learn to live with it somehow? Not once has he pretended that he can forgive what I have done, even though I knelt before him in remorse. And he is right - paltry words will never be able to make up for even a tiny amount of the pain I have caused him. No, there is no other way but to live with the memory of my crime, and the hope that centuries of patient loving will heal the wounds that I have recklessly caused, to at last live with the scars that they will certainly leave behind in the end. And do not even dare to suggest that I should send him away to give him the freedom to decide for himself, without my influence. There is no such thing as freedom for him anymore; I bound him to myself as surely as a man who takes a small young animal from the forest and hand-feeds it until it is grown. It will never be able to return to the forest; he will always be responsible for its care. Such it is with Legolas. He is mine, in the truest sense of the word, and it will be my responsibility to protect him for a very long time. Maybe forever - but I find that I do not mind that, not at all."

Ellonúr made a soft sound. "You want to wed him out of pity, that much is obvious to me. Of course what you did was a crime - a terrible one, if what you say is true - and yet... You cannot make up for it by wedding him! Pity cannot turn to love, unless it be self-delusion, and if you wed him now out of pity you will hate him ere the end."

"Are you not listening to me?" Glorfindel was quickly reaching the end of his patience. "I will not wed him out of pity! I will wed him for love! Can you truly not believe that?"

"It is hard to believe, if I look at him, and then remember those who graced your bed before him... He has very little to offer you, save for his youth, his inexperience, his utter dependence on you - all of which are fleeting. And I know you for a noble man, Glorfindel. It is indeed hard for me to believe that you would be drawn to him for such unbecoming reasons... It is beneath you, my friend." Ellonúr's voice had gotten softer and more intense at the end, and he had raised a hand to grasp Glorfindel's shoulder.

"I love him, Ellonúr, truly and deeply." Glorfindel gently took Ellonúr's hand in his and pressed it, then let it go. "You are right, of course; to my shame I must indeed admit that a part of me cannot help but appreciate his innocence, the way he has given himself over to me so completely - but quite apart from that, I love him for who he is. His good qualities are many, though you cannot see them. You do not know him at all, Ellonúr, but I do. I know him better than anyone else in his life, better even than his own father ever knew him. In fact..." Glorfindel hesitated, then a reluctant, soft smile smoothed the hard lines of anger on his face. "In fact, he reminds me of one who has always been an ideal I strove after, though I was always aware that I lacked his patience, his compassion, his wisdom. He reminds me of Felagund, whom I knew very well in my youth."

Ellonúr's eyes widened, and he seemed to waver between curiosity and resentment, for Glorfindel had never told him much of his youth, least of all done so much as hint at a past relationship with famed Finrod.

"Finrod the Wise?" he exclaimed at last, disbelief on his face. "I cannot see any similarity whatsoever, though of course you will have known him much better than I, to whom he is merely a name out of songs. Yet again, I fear that you set yourself up for a great disappointment if you judge the youth against such a lofty ideal..."

"I do not. Already Legolas has shown greater compassion than you or I ever will." Glorfindel smiled at Ellonúr to take the sting out of his words. "In any case, do not let us argue, not on this eve, when I finally dare to believe that I have found happiness at last. You seek a proof that my love for him is true, and not merely base lust or possessiveness, or worse, pity? Then look at me, my friend. Look into my eyes, look true, and tell me what you see."

Ellonúr made a scornful sound, yet he did as he was bid, and after a moment, he paled and took a step back. "Impossible!" he breathed. "Impossible! How can this be? How could I not see this? Ai, you fool, do you know what you have done?"

Glorfindel laughed. "I have done nothing. My soul knows his, Ellonúr... I am his, and he is mine. I could know no greater joy!"

"I see him in your eyes..."

"As I see myself in his. Already our fëar are as one, and the oaths we shall take will be but a public acknowledgment of that. Do you still doubt my love for him?"

Ellonúr shook his head, looking pale and discomfited at this sudden turn. "I think that I do not know you at all, Glorfindel," he said softly. "I never harbored any pretensions when it came to your heart; we were friends, and I was well content with that. Yet since I have returned... You have changed. You have changed a great deal, and I no longer know who you are. Are you even still my friend? I fear not. I do not know this person you have become, and I do not like what I see. 'Tis not jealousy that I speak from; as I said, I was content with your friendship. I did not need your love. Yet to see you obsess about that youth to such a point that you would forget about everything and everyone else... I was in need of you, and you did not help me. Never before have I known you to disappoint a friend in need."

Glorfindel's mouth tightened at the bitterness in Ellonúr's voice. "I have changed, yes. Yet that is not because I took Legolas to my bed, nor because I opened my heart to him at last. I am a father, Ellonúr," he said simply. "I have become a father since last you saw me; of course I have changed! Long have I desired children of my own, yet the reality of it is even more... overwhelming than I expected. I think of Gîl all the time. He is my greatest joy, his well-being my greatest duty - can you not see that it must be so, that he must be the most important thing in my life from now on? I have changed even as Elrond changed when the twins were born. I cannot be your friend the way I was before, because I have to think of Gîl now - but I would still wish to be your friend. And I would have liked to have helped you, but what you wanted of me was not mine to give anymore. My heart and my love belong to Legolas, and to Gîl..."

"I did not want your heart," Ellonúr interjected. "I wanted but your whip, for even now I think of accursed Thranduil. Legolas is welcome to your heart and he may keep it, if he so desires, but if you truly cherished my friendship, you would not have denied me, not when you knew I needed you!"

"I cannot!" Glorfindel said helplessly. "I do cherish you, I swear that is true, but this one thing I cannot give you anymore."

Ellonúr laughed bitterly. "It matters not. Haldir is more than willing, after all. And yet, it was you that I thought of in my cell when my traitorous heart began to yearn for Thranduil... Proud, noble Glorfindel who would never betray his people - so how could I? Only that, when I returned after my long imprisonment, there you stood before me with your pretty, new plaything and your son, too caught up in your own happiness to care about a former friend's pain."

"Forgive me," Glorfindel said and shook his head, feeling lost and helpless at this despair which he knew he could not heal.

“Some things can never be forgiven,” Ellonúr repeated tonelessly; then he turned and walked away while Glorfindel watched, feeling utterly defeated for the first time in a very long time.

69

Legolas turned to look at Haldir when Glorfindel and Ellonúr were swallowed by the darkness behind them, and the guard gave him a smile that might have been meant to be reassuring, but looked far more like a hungry leer. Or maybe that was only the mead...

Legolas bit his lip, wondering what he could possible talk about with Haldir which would not end up embarrassing or humiliating him, when the wind carried the sound of two voices to them. Glorfindel and Ellonúr... Should he pretend that he had not heard them, or ask Haldir to walk a few steps with him so that he would not listen to his Lord's conversation by accident?

Hesitantly, he looked at Haldir, his dilemma apparently all too plain on his face, for Haldir laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "If Glorfindel is fool enough not to care where his voice might carry, that is his problem."

The wind blew harder, playing with strands of their hair, and for a while all they could hear was the rustle of leaves, so that Legolas began to feel uncomfortable again at the silence between them.

"...not known very much of life, but that has never been a prerequisite for marriage,” they at last heard Glorfindel point out, and Legolas felt a wave of heat fill his belly at the emotion in his Lord's voice. Marriage... how strange it still felt to hear Glorfindel talk of it!

He looked at Haldir then, who smiled but cocked his head, apparently just as interested in the conversation as Legolas - and not just for salacious reasons, because Haldir wanted to learn more about the details of their relationship, but also because he would of course have reason to be curious about what Ellonúr would have to say. Legolas could not imagine them together, but then Haldir had never treated him the way he might treat a lover, so for all Legolas knew, Haldir might be an entirely different person when with Ellonúr.

"...Your little prince has no one in this world save for you now, and if he had not made himself love you, certainly he would have died long since...whatever you believe he feels for you is not something that has grown naturally."

Heat shot into Legolas' cheeks, yet it was the heat of shame this time. He lowered his eyes, afraid to let Haldir see his pain, or worse, see him cry - but then arms wrapped around him and pulled him close against a strong chest.

"On the other hand, there are some things no one should have to hear. Come, let us go." Haldir's voice was calm, and Legolas clung to his kindness as he allowed himself to be led up a looming set of stairs that led to another small pavilion hidden away in the night. Haldir released the curtain, and then they were truly alone, encased by darkness, and safe from the treacherous winds that might bring more unwanted secrets.

When Haldir drew him into his arms, Legolas allowed himself to weep at last, but only for a moment, then he drew back and angrily wiped at his tears. “I am sorry... I do not care what he says. I know that my Lord loves me!”

“Too much drink will do that,” Haldir said calmly and drew him down to sit on the settee. His arms were still wrapped around him, and though Legolas was certain that he should not do this, he relaxed into the guard's arms at last and rested his head on his shoulder while Haldir gently stroked his hair.

“Thank you,” Legolas said softly at last, and Haldir laughed.

“I am quite drunk myself, if you have not noticed,” he pointed out and bowed his own head against Legolas'.

“So over-indulgence makes you kind? I shall remember that.” There was a smile now in Legolas' voice, and Haldir chuckled.

"Do not think that you will get to take advantage of it again any time soon," he cautioned. "And if I hear any tales spreading about my mellow heart..."

"I would not dare!" Legolas reassured him, laughter banishing the earlier tears now.

Haldir moved his fingers through his hair with a sound of appreciation, then sighed. "Do not think that Ellonúr says those things out of cruelty, or dislike of you. He does not know you, but he does know Glorfindel - or used to, in any case. After what happened to him... Just like you, he needs reassurance. In fact, I dare say that he needs it in much the same way, though Glorfindel is probably more gentle with you than he ever was with him. Still, the truth is that Ellonúr has no claim to your Lord's heart. That was how it was between them before, and they both wanted it that way."

"I can understand that he misses my Lord," Legolas admitted softly. "I cannot imagine ever being without him..."

"And you need not imagine such a thing. I know your Lord; he will keep his promise and wed you, and you will not ever need to fear being rejected by him."

Legolas swallowed, lulled into greater security by the warmth of the mead spreading through his belly, as well as the way Haldir was still stroking his hair as if he were an upset child. "If he were to send me away... Without him, I would surely die," he admitted in a thin whisper. "Is that what makes Ellonúr think that he is wrong for me? I cannot help it; I am his, and I can imagine no other way of being anymore."

Haldir sighed. "What Ellonúr said - I think he felt that it needed to be said to your Lord by someone. Of course, what he did not know was that I have asked your Lord much the same questions, and I dare say that my Lord Celeborn did likewise. Not because we do not think you worthy of him," he hastened to add when the youth stiffened in his arms, "but because such a proposal should not be done thoughtlessly. And if your Lord had not known how to deal with those questions, then certainly he should not even think about marrying you."

"I do not like to see him questioned or accused because of me," Legolas said, and Haldir sighed.

“Leave it to Glorfindel to deal with that. I mean it, Legolas. If you truly want to be his, then do not fear what others might tell him; trust in what he has promised you."

"I do trust him!" Legolas insisted. "I trust him more than anyone else."

"Then do not let what others think of your relationship trouble you. This is something that is between you and Glorfindel, and ultimately, anyone who did not protest at how you were treated a year ago has no right to protest now, when he treats you the way he should have from the beginning on."

Legolas swallowed, remembering what it had been like. "You approved too, back then..."

"Indeed, and that probably makes me a hypocrite now. Fortunately, I have never cared what others think of me. And I could see from the start what drew him to you. Your Lord and I have similar tastes... It might have been wrong, but it is truly irresistible to see such innocence and not want to bend it to your will. I could see how easy it would be, the way you reacted to him, to me too, to anyone who held authority over you and was not afraid to use it. You were afraid, yes, but ahh... that sensuality of your response to his touch... It was obvious from the beginning that you needed his mastery over you. It was wrong how it was done, yes - and still, I cannot help but enjoy the way he made you his. "

Legolas blushed again at the intensity of Haldir's gaze that seemed to strip away all the layers of his self to see the truth at the core of him, that part of him that could not help but react to his Lord's dominance with breathless devotion and submission.

"I love him! And what Ellonúr fears will never come true; I will never hate my Lord! What he did, I..." He helplessly shook his head. "I cannot forgive, I cannot... I cannot bear to think of it, not yet; but despite all of that, I love him, I need him! He is everything!"

"Your Lord knows that," Haldir murmured. "I am more than certain of that. Your devotion pleases him greatly. That is what he needs. You are both what the other needs - Ellonúr cannot change any of that. He is deeply troubled himself and feels that his friend has betrayed him, but I do not think he hates you. Maybe it is jealousy, for you gave Glorfindel what he could not. Despite your youth and inexperience, you found a way to a part of your Lord's heart that was never Ellonúr's to know. Yet I think that in time, he will see that it is for the best. He and Glorfindel - if you had known them, you would never be jealous of him. What they had was friendship, and pleasure, also affection, yes - but none of the love that is between you."

Legolas smiled. "It is strange to hear you talk so about love..."

"Because I ridiculed you for it earlier? Mmh, I apologized for that, did I not? I meant little of what I said; I did not truly know you then, and I said what I knew would hurt you. I have... little liking for your father."

"Who is not my father anymore," Legolas interjected softly.

"Indeed, though I did not care at the time. Still, if you can believe it, it was rage and anger that spoke at the time - they blinded me. I have always respected Glorfindel, just as I have always respected his playthings." Haldir's lips quirked. "Unless he did not want me to respect them. Be that as it may, when I saw your brother's guards lift a knife against you..."

Haldir fell silent for a moment and Legolas shuddered, remembering his fear, and how it had felt to think that he would die, and never see his Lord and his child again.

"I thought they would kill you," Haldir said roughly. "That was what truly opened my eyes. I imagined myself carrying your lifeless body back to your Lord, and I saw the light in his eyes die. Your death would have been his death as well; I knew that then. They say that he has a fate still to fulfill on these shores, but there was a great certainty in me that were you to be killed, he would take your son and sail, and abandon us to our doom on these hither shores."

"But you saved me," Legolas said softly, and Haldir smiled.

"Who knows if they would have truly murdered you there, where everyone could see - but they were out to harm you, that much was obvious, and I doubt that they would have ceased after cutting your hair. There was a dark rage within them, which I fear I know only too well."

Both thought of the duel, and Legolas flushed with the remembered shame at being beaten so severely in front of so many.

"But you did save me, in the end," he insisted. "Just as Rúmil saved me, then."

"My brother never hated as I did. Ah, and will he not be pleased to know that your endearing innocence even managed to turn my blackened heart?"

Legolas laughed despite himself at Haldir's melodrama. "Your heart is not blackened," he scoffed. "Maybe a little sooty - all it needs is someone to polish it."

They both laughed. "I think that is taking the metaphors too far," Haldir said and gave him a somewhat wicked smile. "Though I suppose I can ask Ellonúr if he wants to polish my... heart."

"You are not going to hurt him, are you?" Legolas blurted out, then winced, realizing that it was probably not a good idea at all to question Haldir while under the influence of too much sweet mead. "I am sorry, I know that it should not be my concern."

"But I am going to hurt him," Haldir said suggestively. "Of course I am! That is what I do, after all, and you know that well, do you not? Just as your own Lord hurts you..."

Legolas blushed with mortification and found that he knew not what to say to that because it was, after all, the truth.

"Did you not thank me for the parcel I picked out for you? Much of the contents will indeed hurt, as you will have found out by now. And in Glorfindel's hands, I am sure that they will hurt in just the right way..."

Legolas took a deep breath when he remembered the clamps Glorfindel had put onto his body, pinching his nipples until the pain mingled with the pleasure of being used by his Lord so that he almost fainted from the ecstasy of being owned so completely.

"I see you know exactly what I mean," Haldir breathed into his ear. "Do you truly fear I would harm him?"

Legolas swallowed nervously. "No, not truly... But... Celeborn seemed worried for him..."

"Hah!" Haldir exclaimed. "He is my Lord whom I have sworn to serve, but he has no rights to rule over what goes on in my bedchamber. And it is not for him to judge what I do or not do with someone who comes to me freely. But let us not talk of what my Lord thinks... What do you think? You do, after all, crave much the same as Ellonúr does, and are thus in a much better position to judge me than my Lord, if I have to be judged at all."

Legolas swallowed nervously. He wanted to protest at being compared to Ellonúr - certainly they were not similar at all? He would never beg his Lord for a whipping! But he remembered how it felt to have his Lord's magnificent, strong body hold him down, how it felt to know that even if he wanted, he could not force his Lord to stop, that he was indeed completely owned...

Maybe he wanted that. Not to be whipped, but to be owned, to be held, to be secure... And if that meant punishment for misbehavior, then yes, he would take that too, for he wanted nothing more than to please Glorfindel, who was indeed Lord of his body and soul both.

"I do not think that I am like him, not quite, but... But I admit that there might be a few similarities," he said hesitantly. "I do not truly understand what Ellonúr wants, though I think that in the end, he might crave the same security as I do, the knowledge that someone cares for you, will look after you, will even..." He faltered, then forced himself to go on. "Will even discipline you to help you. My Lord makes me feel safe... I think Ellonúr wants someone to help him feel safe again as well."

Haldir gave him an intent look, all traces of humor gone from his face. "And do you think I can give him that? Or do you think, like your Lord and mine, that I shall let my own needs overrule my mind and use my power over him to break him, instead of healing him?"

"No," Legolas breathed, remembering how Haldir had come to his rescue, how he had held him in his arms afterward, how indeed he had stolen a kiss later on... Yes, there had been that - but no more than that. Despite all of his bluster, Haldir had proven to be a good protector, and if he liked to tease and torment, Legolas thought that Ellonúr might just enjoy that, just as he himself invariably wound up finding pleasure in his own Lord's games, after all.

"No," he said more firmly, meeting Haldir's eyes. "There is kindness in you, and... and honor. I have experienced it myself. I think Ellonúr can trust you. You have no reason to hate him, like you felt hate for me at first, and although I still think that you are somewhat frightening, Ellonúr is much older and more experienced than I. They say he is a great warrior, and Lord Elrond's advisor; he would not allow you to bully him. You might not love him, but I think you care for him enough to truly want to help him."

"Frightening, hm?" Haldir chuckled, then gave Legolas a look free from all artfulness. "There is truth in what you say. He is much older and more experienced than you indeed, yet I fear that even so, there can be wounds so deep that despite all experience, we crave that which is harmful to us. Ellonúr feels great pain and betrayal, he feels helpless, for he cannot change what was done to him. I will make him helpless and vulnerable too, but he will learn to trust in me, and find the security he needs, just as you find it in your Lord's arms. I do indeed care for him, and I shall not harm him."

Legolas sighed deeply and once again leaned into Haldir's embrace, trustingly curled against his side with his head on his shoulder, feeling drowsy from the mead. "I do believe you," he said, and there was no doubt in his voice anymore.

70

Glorfindel slowly walked down the steps that led to the somewhat broader wooden path which curled around the stately mallorn's branches. He passed another tiny, winding stair that led upwards into the thinner branches and would have passed it unthinkingly, had not soft laughter made him slow and stare curiously into the darkness above.

A moment later, Haldir and Legolas appeared, clutching at each other as they slowly traversed the small steps, the former with a put-upon expression on his face, the latter giggling.

Glorfindel raised a brow when they finally managed to climb down the stairs and stopped in front of him, still clutching at the other.

"Haldir slipped and fell!" Legolas imparted to him with greatest delight. "Almost fell, if I had not grabbed him! Can you imagine that?"

"I did no such thing!" Haldir protested, and Legolas giggled again.

"He is drunk," he told Glorfindel very gravely, as if he were imparting a great secret, and Haldir snorted but did not let go of Legolas, as Glorfindel noted.

"You are both inebriated," Glorfindel said and tried to glower at them, but Legolas mirth - influenced by liquor or not - and Haldir's long-suffering grumbling proved to be too much; he laughed softly and shook his head.

"You are both drunk, a little at least. Come here, Legolas, let go of Haldir - please tell me that he did not try anything inappropriate?"

Legolas giggled again and eagerly came to his side to wrap his arms around his neck with a sigh of contentment.

"He did not... Did not even ask for a kiss. He was nice, in fact! Haldir is so kind..." he sighed, and Glorfindel reacted with an involuntary guffaw, while Haldir tried to glower but did not quite succeed.

"Come here, nice, kind Haldir," he commanded and offered the warden his hand to help him down the last, steep stairs.

"I did not fall!" Glorfindel's mouth twitched at Haldir's sullen exclamation. "I never fall. I live here! I might have stumbled a little, but it is dark, and in any case I had to prop up your beloved who I have to tell you is quite a bit more drunk than I am," Haldir said primly. "And he still owes me a dance, just so that you do not forget!"

"I would never!" Legolas reassured him. "How could I? I will gladly dance with you, and tell anyone who asks about your kindness."

"That is the surest way to convince them that you are quite drunk," Haldir snorted, and then grinned despite himself.

"Anyway... what did you do with my beloved, Lord? He should be the one to help me back to the hall, and to make certain that I do not stumble and fall to my death from the mallorn." His sarcastic tone showed all too clearly what he thought of Legolas' accusation that he, a wood-elf and a Marchwarden to boot, should manage that which no other Galadhel ever had, save when wounded and pursued by orcs or wargs.

"I fear that I did not quite agree with what he had to tell me, so he already went back on his own," Glorfindel said breezily, and Haldir snorted inelegantly.

"Hah. Walked off in a huff, like a jealous youth, you want to say. Never fear, he will be much better behaved once he has spent a few hours gagged, with his arse striped from my cane. He is going to apologize to me when we catch up with him, if he knows what is good for him..."

Legolas giggled again, obviously trying to imagine the proud advisor bent over Haldir's knee in the same position he had so often found himself in, and Glorfindel raised a brow.

"Do I even want to know just what the two of you have been talking about?"

"No, you do not," Haldir informed him. "Now let us return, before they send out someone else to search for us. You do not want one of your men to come upon you like this, do you?"

"What, with both of you clinging to me because you cannot walk straight anymore?" Glorfindel could not resist to ask, and gave Haldir a doubtful look when the warden made an annoyed sound and let go of his arm.

"I told you, I am not drunk. See, I can stand all on my own." He stretched out his arms and twirled around once, and while he did indeed not stumble or sway, the action itself was so ludicrous that Glorfindel could only barely hold back a snort of laughter.

"Not drunk then, but very much inebriated. Come, Legolas, I will not let go of you, else I am going to find Haldir draped all over you again."

He held the youth tight, keeping an eye on Haldir too as they slowly walked back to the large talan that beckoned beneath them with brightly illuminated windows and snippets of song and laughter.

They did not meet Ellonúr again until they had almost reached the entrance, but when they had caught up with him, Haldir grabbed hold of his shoulder and pulled him back, forcing him into a small alcove formed by the wall and a large branch.

"Kneel," he said, all of his former intoxicated geniality forgotten, and Legolas instinctively moved closer against Glorfindel, feeling breathless at what he heard in his voice.

“What do you think you are-”

“Kneel!” Haldir repeated, his face thunderous, and Ellonúr swallowed and obeyed, though his eyes were flashing with rage.

“You have come to me, and I have accepted you; you will do as you are told, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Ellonúr said, though his voice was sullen, and Haldir snorted.

“I do not think you do, but you will. You have made it more than obvious what you need, and I will give you exactly what you deserve – tomorrow, when I am sober. I will not have you in my bed tonight; let us see if a night on the floor does not cool your mood. And then an hour or two – or more, if you need it – bound, and gagged, and blindfolded too, so that you can think undisturbed. Let us see if you then feel ready to talk to me.”

Legolas took a shaky breath, feeling strangely affected by Haldir's words. The scenario they painted was frightening, and yet... There was something in Haldir's voice that made him feel weak, his heart fluttering, and Glorfindel smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“We are going to play a different game tomorrow,” he murmured into Legolas' ear, “but I look very much forward to that.”

Legolas flushed, but found himself nodding – he did agree with his Lord after all, had himself asked for the honor of wearing his knots, and while what Haldir proposed to do to Ellonúr did indeed frighten him, he did not fear his Lord, no matter what he might ask of him.

He found himself turned around then, and thoroughly kissed, so that he forgot all about Ellonúr and Haldir until his Lord released him at last, looking just as aroused and out of breath as Legolas felt.

“Time for my dance,” Haldir said, eyes gleaming, and grabbed his hand to unceremoniously pull him inside. Legolas had no time to protest against this treatment, for the musicians had just started a new song, and soon he found all of his concentration needed for the wild whirling at Haldir's side.

Haldir was not a bad dancer, even while inebriated, and Legolas quickly found himself out of breath again. Celeborn saved him at last from Haldir's energetic leading, and returned with him to their table where his Lord was waiting with another glass of mead for him by Galadriel's side.

“It seems you have found a way into our warden's well-guarded heart after all?” Galadriel said with obvious pleasure and took his hands into hers. “Well done, Legolas... It gladdens me to see him shed his pain and rage.”

“He is much kinder than I initially thought.” Legolas smiled at her, still awed by the air of confident power that surrounded her. She was much like his Lord in that, but while his Lord seemed to exude raw sexuality and desires of a kind that had made him tremble before he had even spoken his first word to him, the Lady's power made him feel as if he were bathed by rays of sunlight, and while it might have the potential to sear and burn, he felt naught but caressing warmth and kindness.

His father's men had told many stories about her ruthless thirst for power, yet Legolas was not frightened by her at all – although he remembered his brother's chastised reaction when her gaze fell onto him, during the first meal they had shared at the high table.

“There is an old custom among my people, which my cousin may remember well,” she began and half turned to give Glorfindel that same affectionate smile, her hand rising to gently cover a small diamond that lay nestled in the hollow of her throat and glistened as if it were filled with the light of all the stars of the night-sky. “You might have no close kin here in my realm but for your brother, who does not think kindly of you. Yet my lord was a cousin of your grandfather, just as I am cousin to Glorfindel, the last of my brother Turgon's lords on these shores. I want to give this to you, Legolas, as a gift from Glorfindel's family, on the occasion of your upcoming wedding. It would fill me with great joy to see you wear it.”

A jewel of pale yellow, as large as a quail's egg, came to rest against Legolas' breast, and his breath caught when the Lady fastened the slim chain it hung from around his neck. He took the gem into his hand and looked at it in disbelief – it caught the light just like the diamond the Lady wore, yet where hers had the hue of the stars at night, the golden diamond on his palm held a gentler glow, and the warmth of the calm morning sun.

“My brother gave it to me,” she said softly, and her eyes seemed to cloud over with sudden melancholy. “He found it when he first followed a dream and came to the caverns of Narog where he would found Nargothrond. He cut it and set it himself. He would be glad to see it given on such a joyful occasion, to such a worthy bearer.” She kissed Legolas' brow, who was speechless at the revelation just where the jewel had come from, too speechless to even protest at being given a gift of such unmeasurable worth, as he otherwise would have done.

Galadriel turned and stepped up to Glorfindel, blessing him with a kiss as well. “My brother loved you,” she said and raised her hand to rest it above his heart. “He always knew that your heart was good and true. He would know such great joy to see you on this day.”

“This, I give to you in lieu of your betrothed's family,” Celeborn then said and gravely put a necklace on Glorfindel, who humbly bowed his head to receive it. “It was wrought in Doriath, by Thingol's finest goldsmith. See, it matches your beloved's eyes.”

A sapphire rested on a golden chain on Glorfindel's breast, next to his heart. It had been cut in the shape of a tear, and when Glorfindel curiously took it into his hand, he saw that it was clasped by filigreed silver leaves.

"It is beautiful," Glorfindel said with heartfelt emotion. "I thank you - both of you. It means very much, truly, especially as both of our families are unable to share in our joy."

"Thank you," Legolas repeated simply, still not quite able to grasp the enormity of the gift he had been given. A jewel which had belonged to famed Finrod, which he had given as a gift to his sister, the Lady of Light - and who in turn gave it to him, Legolas, who was certainly little more than a child still in her eyes and of no importance whatsoever in the grand scheme of things?

And yet she had said that her brother had loved his Lord well, and his Lord had been moved so much by her gift that Legolas once again felt like a child surrounded by the heroes of songs of lore, who had suddenly come to life around him. He felt like an intruder into their circle, undeserving of standing at their side... He had nothing to offer them in return, nothing to show himself worthy of being a part of their circle but for the fact that his Lord loved him.

Legolas clasped the gem once more in his hand and marveled at the light that seemed captured inside, but then, as if he were aware of his pensive mood, Celeborn grasped his hand and broke up the solemnity of the moment.

"Come, dance with me - and afterward, I think my Lady wants to claim your hand for another song." He laughed at Legolas' wide-eyed look, and the youth had no chance to resist when he was drawn into the throng of dancers once more.

He danced for what felt like hours - with Celeborn first, later with the Lady, and then his Lord tried to claim his hand once more, but was thwarted first by Arwen and then Glorfindel's own men. There was more mead, more wine, even more ale for those who preferred it, and Legolas was aglow with joy and disbelieving pride at being the center of attention of such an evening. Never would he have imagined that something like this was possible, that one day he would dance with the Lady of the Golden Wood herself and not stumble from self-consciousness, or trip over his words in embarrassment at her attention.

Instead, it felt natural to dance and converse with her, with Celeborn, even with the Lady Arwen without feeling out of place. He thought that much of his confidence was due to the mead, for he still felt lightheaded and giddy, yet not so much that he was unable to dance. Instead, the warm glow inside of him made him forget his doubts and the insidious fear that he would say or do something wrong, and in its absence he simply allowed himself to enjoy the feast, the dancing, and trusted that none of those who talked to him wished him harm.

At last, he found himself resting breathlessly against Glorfindel's side, exhausted and flushed from the exertion and the mead, and happy as never before.

"This was like a day out of a song for me, my Lord," he said softly, his eyes filled with love. "I did not believe that such a thing was possible, or that I would ever enjoy it so much. Thank you, my Lord!"

Glorfindel gently took hold of his hand and drew it up to his lips to press a kiss to the slender fingers, one of them now adorned with a silver ring.

"To see that you are truly mine... To know myself fully yours..." Glorfindel fell silent and looked at Legolas, his eyes full of emotion. "I have no words to express my joy, only that I love you."

He gently drew one hand through the pale locks crowned with the silvery and golden blossoms of elanor, and their scent wafted around them, made him think of the bright spring day when he had first seen the youth at the lake.

What a terrible thing he had done...

"I love you," he repeated as if to repel the memory, then leaned forward to gently touch his lips to Legolas'. His hand slid down from the youth's shoulder over the iridescent silk, and with a smile and a sigh he drew back at last when his fingers encountered the cool jewel now gleaming on Legolas' breast like a captured ray of sunlight.

"To see you wearing this gives me such joy. He would have loved you, Legolas - he would have seen the worth of your heart. He always saw much more than others gave him credit for. He was compassion mingled with a bright love of life, he was wisdom, gentleness, and adventure. He would have loved you, for you are so much like him, and although I know that all the qualities of your heart have been derided, I want you to know that I loved them in him. You remind me of him, so much..."

"Finrod, Lord?" Legolas breathed, his voice trembling at the emotion in his Lord's eyes.

"Finrod," Glorfindel said and smiled. "Finrod the Beloved... Finrod, fairest of the princes of the Noldor. In my youth, he gave me a mighty gift, and I wished he could have given the same to you. Yet perhaps, one day you shall meet..."

"A gift, my Lord?"

Glorfindel nodded at Legolas' curious question and drew him close. "He taught me that there is no shame in desiring what I desired. He taught me to feel no guilt at how it excited me to have him helpless beneath me, to use my power over him to bring pleasure to the both of us."

Legolas' eyes went wide with shocked disbelief, and Glorfindel laughed and raised a hand to tenderly cup his cheek. "He surrendered to me and felt no shame in his enjoyment of it. And if Finrod could submit to my will without being made less by it, then so can you, Legolas nín."


---------------
The Noldorin custom of giving a jewel to bride and groom is described in Laws and Customs of the Eldar, Morgoth's Ring:
Among the Noldor also it was a custom that the bride's mother should give to the bridegroom a jewel upon a chain or collar; and the bridegroom's father should give a like gift to the bride. These gifts were sometimes given before the feast. (Thus the gift of Galadriel to Aragorn, since she was in place of Arwen's mother, was in part a bridal gift and earnest of the wedding that was later accomplished.)

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.

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!”


---------------
Daerthón – great pine
---------------

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.


-------------
Eithellin – fountain gleam
roch neth - colt
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73

“Either you take him home with you now, or we will leave so that you are undisturbed,” Eithellin said, her voice warm with amusement.

Legolas heard her speak, but found that the words made no sense, for Glorfindel's breath was ghosting against his throat so that he closed his eyes and moaned, his breath catching when Glorfindel nipped at the tender skin.

“He is truly very beautiful, Glorfindel. Beautiful, and sweet in his submission; you are a man to be envied. But there is no need to show off your good luck any more than you must. Why do you not take him back to your bed?”

Daerthón came up towards them and rested a hand on Glorfindel's shoulder, shaking his head in gentle admonition though he winked at Legolas.

"Or if you want to stay here, we can make certain that you remain undisturbed...?"

Legolas forced himself to resist the temptation of simply surrendering to Glorfindel. He knew how little it would take to make his Lord accept the offer - another moan from him, a sigh, even a single look - but with what little of his reason was left to him under the onslaught of Glorfindel's sensual might, he realized how potentially embarrassing it might be to remain in this room with Glorfindel, while Eithellin and her husband knew exactly what they were doing.

When he was close to Glorfindel like this, so securely under his spell that he would truly do almost anything to have his Lord touch him, there was no more thought of embarrassment - yet a hint of Legolas' natural modesty still remained.

"Your bed, my Lord...?" he breathed, eyes dark and unfocused with desire, his lips swollen from Glorfindel's kisses, gleaming wetly in invitation.

Glorfindel hesitated for a moment, breathing heavily as if he had been running while he stared at the tempting vision of the youth before him.

"I do not know if I can make it to our bed," he admitted hoarsely. "Not when you keep looking at me like that."

Another kiss to bruise Legolas' lips and make him moan with yearning and surrender, and then Glorfindel stepped back, unsteady on his feet as if he had partaken of strong wine.

"The things you make me want to do to you..."

“Oh, do tell us more!”

The familiar drawl broke through the haze of desire so that Legolas' eyes widened and he half turned, wanting to groan in embarrassment and exasperation.

Haldir. Of course it was Haldir. Was it not always Haldir, who seemed to have an unfailing sense of when it would be most inopportune for him to appear...?

“Had I known I would meet you here, and in such a state – why, I would have made certain to come earlier. What a fascinating view this is! Are you going to give us a demonstration of your many talents, Lord?”

When Haldir completely entered the small room, Ellonúr followed behind him, dressed not unlike Legolas in a flimsy shirt and loose breeches. Legolas tried to not let his feelings show, though he feared that like so many other times, he was not very successful. Haldir was intimidating at the best of times – though there had been the last evening, and Legolas wanted to squirm at the memory of what he had called Haldir. Had he truly called him kind, and noble? And would Haldir use it to mock him now?

“To chance upon you here – well, I am not surprised. Did you come looking for inspiration, or have I already missed all the entertainment?”

“We did not come to entertain anyone, least of all you. Though in a way, you did miss the entertainment.” Glorfindel's eyes were heavy-lidded and aglow with equal parts satisfaction and unveiled lust. He slid an arm around Legolas' waist, possessive and openly gloating as he stood before Haldir and Ellonúr, too affected by the erotic tension their entry had disturbed to care about how Ellonúr might feel at this display.

And at the moment, it did not seem as if Ellonúr was in any situation to care about the one who had supplanted him in his former lover's regard...

Ellonúr's gaze had been turned downward as they entered the room, but when he looked up his eyes were just as dark, as lost in pleasure as Legolas had been.

Legolas bit back a gasp, flushing a little with embarrassment as he could not help but wonder just what Haldir had done to bring that expression to Ellonúr's face. His own nipples still ached, adding to the erotic tension of the situation, and he felt breathless and weak; utterly helpless to whatever Glorfindel planned to do with him.

“Did I?” Haldir murmured. “Well, well... He does look a little excited. Did you try out Daerthón's wares on his skin? That would be a pity to have missed.”

His eyes were dark and intense too, so that Legolas shivered when meeting his gaze, despite their easy camaraderie just a day past. Yet Haldir's smile was lazy, replete as a cat after the hunt, so that Legolas felt himself blushing and looked away again, uncertain and unsettled by the strange current in the air.

“If you truly desire to know...” Glorfindel laughed softly, so that Legolas shivered again when his Lord's breath gusted against his ear. “I must admit that I am eager to show off my handiwork. And who would not be, with something so beautiful to unveil?”

Legolas felt light-headed when Glorfindel's fingers undid the first button of his shirt. He knew what his Lord was doing, and the thought of being bared to Haldir like this... It frightened him. It excited him. He could barely think anymore, and Glorfindel undid more and more buttons, until he could part the shirt and let Haldir see for himself how he had marked Legolas.

There was silence for a moment, and Legolas, who did not dare to raise his face to see Haldir's reaction, had to bite back a moan when his Lord brushed against a hot, throbbing nipple as if by accident.

"My, my... Now that is a surprise. It seems that we did indeed miss something worth watching."

Legolas could not help it, he felt his face heat even more when he at last dared to meet Haldir's eyes again. "Would you have liked to watch?" he heard himself saying, then froze with embarrassment and surprise at his daring.

"How can you doubt it? I am certain it was an...inspiring sight. Did you cry out? Or did you just allow your Lord to do whatever he pleases to you, so sweetly obedient that from anyone else I would think it but an overdone act?"

"Jealous?" Glorfindel laughed, one of his fingers delicately circling a pierced nipple again so that Legolas' breath grew more labored. "He was indeed as obedient as I could ask for today. He earned himself a reward..."

Legolas moaned softly, almost out of his mind from the light touches Glorfindel kept teasing him with, though at his Lord's next words, he was quickly returned to soberness.

"What sort of reward would you choose for him, Haldir?"

Haldir smiled slowly and came closer, until Legolas pressed closer against his Lord, feeling small and crowded caught between these two men, each of whom embodied power and raw desire in his own unique way.

"An interesting question. What reward would I give him, if I were you? I can think of a few things... Maybe I would mark him as mine in yet another way, with whip or cane, giving him welts to match his beautiful jewelry. Or I would allow him to use that pretty, pretty mouth to please me - does he enjoy that? I think he does," Haldir mused while Legolas felt his cheeks heat to an even darker red, well aware that his reaction told Haldir all he needed to know.

"But as I do not share his predilections, let us ask someone who has a more innate understanding of what might please your little prince. What do you think, Ellonúr? What sort of reward would you choose if you were Legolas?"

Legolas forgot to breathe for a moment when he felt Ellonúr's gaze come to rest upon him. Ellonúr disliked him, he was well aware of that - and after yesterday, he knew exactly what his Lord's former beloved thought of him. A child who knows nothing of love, not worthy of someone like Glorfindel...

But for once, Ellonúr surprised him. There was no derision, or even any trace of dislike on his face when he looked at Legolas. Instead he looked... he looked like Legolas thought he himself must look. Eyes dark and unfocussed with pleasure, or lust, lips swollen and moist as if Haldir had kissed him before they entered...

Legolas swallowed when he realized that he had moistened his own lips, yearning for another kiss himself.

"You already gave me what I most desired, master," Ellonúr said, and there was a breathless timbre to his voice. "The marks of a whip, wielded by your hands. It is the reward I would ask for, though I do not know if it would please the prince as much as it pleased me." He closed his eyes and swallowed, shivering slightly when Haldir passed a hand along his back.

"Glorfindel is a master in that, as in so many other things," Haldir agreed, his smile widening in satisfaction at Ellonúr's reaction. "It would make a fine reward. Bearing your mark on his skin for the days to come. Or perhaps something more immediate - more personal, like your hand on his skin? But that does not leave welts as a whip does, and certainly your little prince would look very fine with red welts on that fair skin. Do you not think so, Ellonúr?”

Haldir did not allow Ellonúr time to answer, but followed Glorfindel's example in quickly stripping him of his shirt. Beneath, Ellonúr's skin was marked by angry red welts that covered his entire back, and Legolas gasped when Haldir took his own hand to place it on Ellonúr's skin.

The whip marks where hot beneath his touch, and Legolas trembled, feeling frightened not because of what Haldir had done to Ellonúr, but how it made him feel. Legolas had denied that he wanted pain; he had denied that he wanted to be punished. Yet at this moment, he felt faint and small and helpless, and he only knew that he wanted.

He wanted...

He wanted Glorfindel. He wanted to belong. He did not want to doubt, to fear, to be forced to battle himself all the time, and heat rose inside him with the impact of lightning. Hurt me, a part of him begged Glorfindel silently, while another part of him trembled with his hand still on Ellonúr's skin.

Haldir looked at him, yet he did not say a word. There was no need; Legolas saw the heat in his gaze and knew that he understood. He felt like a small animal cornered by wolves, helpless and shivering, and when Glorfindel's arms came around him, he almost cried out in shock at the sudden touch. He felt like a taut bowstring drawn until it would burst, and at last it seemed that Glorfindel felt pity for him.

"Enough," he murmured and drew Legolas tightly against him, one hand sliding down Legolas' chest to cover his rapidly beating heart. Glorfindel's voice was taut as well, and Legolas opened his mouth in a silent moan when he felt his Lord hard and ready against his buttocks. "Enough, Haldir. He is young still; I will not whip him here for your entertainment. Had you shown more compunction earlier, I might have invited you to visit us this eve, but now you will have to earn such a privilege. Another time..."

"But you will whip him?"

Legolas whimpered at Haldir's words, but not from fear but something more, something that made him feel lightheaded and reckless.

Glorfindel smiled against Legolas' neck. "He is young yet, and inexperienced," he repeated as if to tease Haldir. "Do you know that the worst I have done to him yet was to use my belt? I shall not whip him, not now, though the thought is tempting. But there are other ways to leave my mark on his skin. Mayhap I shall let you find out for yourself tomorrow... Or mayhap I won't let you satisfy your curiosity at all."

Haldir gave Legolas a slow, appreciative look, his gaze lingering on the newly-pierced nipples until Legolas wanted to squirm. "I showed you my own little pet - let Legolas touch him, even. Are you certain you do not want to return the favor?"

"I repeat, Haldir, stood you higher in my good graces..."

Glorfindel did not end the sentence, and Legolas thought of Haldir's hand tracing the welts on his skin which his Lord would be certain to leave. He felt unsettled, and not because he remembered the day when Haldir had first touched him in such a humiliating, intimate fashion. The thought of his Lord showing him off as Haldir was showing off his own handiwork on Ellonúr's skin was arousing him with such an intensity that he almost felt frightened of the desire that heated his skin and threatened to sweep away all inhibitions. Then Glorfindel touched him teasingly between his legs, and Legolas whimpered and closed his eyes. He, too, was erect, and he tried to press himself against his Lord's hand beseechingly, almost wild with need.

"Oh, he is lovely!" Haldir's voice was hoarse, and when Legolas opened his eyes with another hot blush, he found that Ellonúr had been allowed to turn around again and was gazing at him with heated intensity.

"Are you not sorry now for how badly you behaved yesterday?" Haldir's voice was silk, and then threat. "You have not yet apologized."

Ellonúr fell to his knees without a word of protest, and Legolas' eyes were wide with uncertainty and confusion to have his Lord's former lover kneeling before him.

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.”