Strange Bedfellows

by Wednesdayschild (sheraiah)

Summary:

A drunken one night stand turns Legolas' life upside down in the weeks leading up to the departure of the Fellowship from Rivendell. A what if inspired by a chance comment by Magic Rat on the Axe & Bow Yahoo Group.

Notes:

This story is years in the writing. I never expected it to grow into the monster that it has. I am trying to finish all my WIP in preparation for writing an original work.

Title: Strange Bedfellows
Author: Wednesdayschild
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to the Tolkien estate. The plot and original characters are the intellectual property of the author. The author is making no profit.
Characters: Legolas, Gimli
Warnings: m/m, interspecies slash, profanity
Summary: What if the relationship started MUCH earlier than Moria or Lothlorien? A drunken one-night stand has unexpected results. Legolas and Gimli run afoul of one of the dwarves’ longest running traditions, among other things. Plot bunny sicced on me by Magic Rat. This takes place around the Council of Elrond, and is AU. Let me say that again, it is AU, that’s Alternate Universe as in Not Canon. Flames will be laughed at, used to roast marshmallows, and ignored thereafter.

 

 

ooo

 

Gimli, son of Gloin, felt warmth on his face and cracked open one eye. He immediately closed it with a stifled groan. Lifting a hand to his forehead, he attempted to still the pounding of miniature hammers on miniature anvils in his skull. He had had more to drink than he had consumed last night, but not often. He began to suspect that elven-brewed ale just might be stronger than that brewed by men or even dwarves, not that he would ever admit it aloud.

 

Steeling himself against the dull pain of his hangover, he opened his eyes again and turned his head towards the window, intending to gauge the sun’s position in the sky. His gaze stopped short as he spied the back of a head resting on the pillow next to his. Gimli froze, cold realization beginning to seep into his drink-fogged brain. Oh, Mahal, what had he done? Slowly, so as not to wake his …guest…. he raised up on one elbow, his hangover momentarily forgotten.

 

The other being in his bed was no dwarf, that he could see immediately. Long golden hair lay tangled on the pillow, and a long, lean back faced him. The blankets were tangled around the sleeper’s middle, but had slipped low enough to expose the upper curves of a taut backside, with two enticing little dimples at the point where the back met the buttocks. Gimli had a sudden memory of licking those dimples and his member twitched in spite of him. Fiercely, he throttled down his arousal. An elf, he had slept with an elf.

 

Gloin would kill him.

 

Suddenly, beside him, the elf started and drew in a quick breath.

 

 

ooo

 

Legolas came back to himself with a start, inhaling sharply. His next action was to groan and draw his hand down his face. He had been warned about drinking dwarven brandy, but the twins had dared him and he had never backed down from a challenge issued by the sons of Elrond. Suddenly, he stilled as he realized that the scents reaching his nose were unfamiliar. Cautiously, he opened his eyes and glanced around the room. Definitely not the room he had been occupying since his arrival. Where was he? He stilled again as he felt the movement of another body in the bed. Experimentally, he moved his leg and winced at the twinge of soreness in his backside. ‘Well, that leaves little doubt as to what I did last night,’ he thought, dismayed. ‘The question is, with whom?’ Gathering his courage, he rolled over to face his …host.

 

“Oh, sweet Eru! My father will kill me.”

 

ooo

 

“I suppose saying ‘Good Morning’ wouldn’t be fitting,” the dwarf said, his expression both resigned and rueful.

 

“I do not know. I…” the elf’s voice trailed off and his expression grew even more troubled. “I have no words right now.” He appeared both confused and, Gimli was shocked to see, vulnerable. Unsure of what else to do, he stretched and sat up, groaning.

 

“Your head feel as bad as mine does?” The elf sat up with a similar groan. “I’ll take that for a yes. Stay put for a moment, I’ve got a cure for that.”

 

Another groan was his answer as he eased from the bed, grabbing his breeches and donning them before padding across the cold floor. He retrieved a small tin from his belongings and shook a bit of the powder it contained into two glasses of water.

 

“Here, drink this,” he said, sitting down on the side of the bed the elf rested on. “My mother makes it, and it’s gotten me through some vicious hangovers as well as some pretty nasty wounds.” The elf took the glass, sniffed it, and drank it down. He grimaced at the taste, but made no comment. After a couple of minutes, he glanced at Gimli.

 

“My headache is starting to subside. Thank you.” He cocked his head, studying Gimli for a space before speaking again. “Why are you being kind to me?”

“Considering what we did last night, I think I should,” Gimli said matter of factly, setting his glass on the nightstand. “Don’t you?”

 

“Yes, I suppose so,” the elf agreed, sighing. He brushed a loose strand of his hair out of his face, and Gimli had to force down a sudden desire to stroke the golden locks back away from the elf’s face. “I….my brother will be looking for me as soon as he discovers that I did not spend the night in my bed.”

 

“He know how drunk you were last night?”

 

“I very much doubt it, else I would be safely bundled in my own bed,” he said aloud before continuing under his breath, “and likely shackled to it.”

 

“So, then he has no idea that you weren’t up and out with the sun, does he?” Gimli watched with fascination the expressions that chased each other across the elf’s expressive face as he processed this thought.

 

“No,” the elf said slowly, obviously thinking hard. “And normally, I would be. He will think I have gone off to sing to the trees and will not deem it unusual, other than being annoyed with me for ‘shirking my duties’.” The sour expression he wore did not belong on so fair a face and Gimli found himself wanting to replace it with a smile.

 

“Well, you could truthfully say that you’ve been seeing to the needs of one of Lord Elrond’s guests,” he suggested, disappointed when the frown deepened.

 

“Except that I am a guest myself and there is no diplomatic reason I can think of to explain this.”

 

“I think I see the problem. You’re from Mirkwood, I take it.” Gimli sighed. It just figured that he’d the elf he’d spent the night bedding would hail from Mirkwood. Gloin really would have his hide.

 

“Yes, I……”

 

At that moment the door banged open.

 

“Gimli, my boy, time you were up!” Gloin stopped in his tracks, eyes widening incredulously before narrowing. Gimli could feel the skin of his face and neck flushing and a glance out of the corner of his eye revealed an elf who had gone suddenly very pale. He cleared his throat.

 

“I’ll join you in your rooms shortly, Da.” Gimli met his father’s eyes squarely. Gloin merely nodded and turned on his heel, closing the door behind him.

 

“I am sorry I have caused strife between you and your father,” the elf said softly. “If you will hand me my clothing, I will leave soonest.”

 

“It’s as much my fault as yours,” Gimli replied, passing the breeches and shirt to him, his innate sense of fairness compelling him to accept responsibility for his own actions. “Da will get over it. Eventually.”

 

“Even so, I wish it were otherwise.” He pulled his breeches up over his lean hips and struggled into his shirt. “Have you seen my tunic?” Gimli looked around the room.

 

“No sign of it. Nor your shoes, either.”

 

“Lovely. The day just gets brighter with every passing moment.” He looked around quickly, confirming Gimli’s words. He sighed and turned to look at Gimli, chewing on his lower lip nervously and wearing a very troubled look upon his face. “I …. I know not what to say to you. I…..Fare you well, Master Dwarf.” So saying he turned and fled before Gimli could speak a word.

 

ooo

 

Gimli stood outside the door to the rooms his father had been assigned for several minutes gathering his wits, and his courage, for his confrontation with Gloin. Mahal, this was going to be unpleasant. Taking a deep breath he turned the knob and entered closing the door behind him and crossing to sit opposite his father.

 

“Well, at least you’ve the guts and the stones not to try to deny it,” the older dwarf stated flatly.

 

“Not much point in that; what’s done is done,” Gimli agreed, looking down at his hands.

 

“What were you thinking taking an elf to your bed? And if it had to be an elf, why not one of the locals rather than the runt of the Elvenking’s litter?” Gimli looked up at him sharply. “Oh ho, so you didn’t know you were bedding a prince? Exactly how drunk were you?”

 

“Drunk enough for that, apparently,” Gimli said, shifting uncomfortably.

 

“You’re rather lucky that we have more pressing concerns than your poor choice of bed mates, Gimli,” Gloin stated, fixing his son with a stern look. “Master Elrond intends to call a council this afternoon and has asked that we tell of our current troubles to the assembly. The Mirkwood elves will no doubt be attending as well. Do you think you’ll be able to control your reaction to him?”

 

“You act as if we’re having an affair, Da. We were both drunk and we made a mistake. That’s the start and finish to it.”

 

“I hope so, because I’ve need of those sharp eyes and keen brain of yours this afternoon. What I walked in on this morning aside, I trust your judgment, when you’re thinking with your head instead of your prick.”

Gimli drew his hand down his face. It was going to be a very long day.

 

ooo

 

Legolas breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door of his rooms behind him. He had managed to navigate the corridors between the dwarf’s room and his unseen even by the workers of the household. He set the deep bathtub to filling from the already hot water in the bathing chamber’s boiler and selected appropriate clothing for the day. Once the tub was full, he stripped off his clothing, tossing it into a basket that had been placed in one corner of the bathing chamber for that purpose and sank gratefully into the hot water. He was sore in places he did not even wish to consider and he sincerely hoped that the bath would ease the soreness.

 

Almost in spite of himself, he found his thoughts wandering through his scattered memories of the night before: the pleasant bass rumble of a voice murmuring lewd encouragements in his ear, the tickle of a beard against his skin, the feel of lips and tongue over most of his body, including places that made him blush, and the feel of a thick shaft within him, filling him impossibly full and striking his pleasure spot with every thrust. Abruptly, he realized that he had gone fully erect and was stroking himself in response to his memories. Growling in frustration, for his erection would not respond to any of his usual tricks for calming it, he took himself in hand again and completed what his memories had begun.

 

He had finished washing his body and his hair and was simply soaking in a fresh tub of hot water when he heard the door to his chamber open and close. He sighed, steeling himself. There was only one elf currently in Imladris who would enter his rooms without knocking. A moment later, his eldest sibling barged into the chamber without so much as announcing himself.

 

“Where have you been? I am well aware that you did not sleep in these rooms last night, Legolas, so do not even try to be evasive.” Thoronion glared at him, arms crossed over his chest and almost as imposing as their sire, which unfortunately did not impress his youngest sibling.

 

“Good morning to you too, dearest brother. Did you sleep well?” Legolas could not help himself and sarcasm dripped from every word.

 

“Do not be impertinent. I am not Adar that you can charm your way out of trouble. Where were you?” His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a love bite on Legolas’ neck. “What is that?” He knelt down next to the tub and took Legolas’ chin in his hand none too gently. “Whose bed did you climb into?”

 

“None of your business, Thoronion,” he replied coldly. “I am past my majority and can bed whom I choose, so long as I am discreet.” A muscle twitched in Thoronion’s jaw.

 

“Please tell me it was not Elrond’s sons.” He had a pained look on his face and for a split second, Legolas considered using it to twist the knife before practicality and a sense of self-preservation stayed him.

 

“Of course not! For one thing there are two of them and for another, they are only interested in females.”

 

“Thank the Valar for small favors. Hurry up and finish. I wish to discuss what we will say at the council Master Elrond is calling this afternoon over lunch.” He stalked towards the door, pausing just before he passed through it to turn and level a quelling glare at his youngest brother. “And for Elbereth’s sake, wear something high-necked to cover that mark.”

 

ooo

 

Legolas picked at his luncheon, half-listening to his brother as he droned on about what Legolas was and was not to do at the council and trying not to squirm in his seat. He had learned long ago how to listen enough to be able to answer back if he was questioned on what had been said while pursuing his own thoughts. ‘If I am to sit the whole of the afternoon, I shall have to visit the healers discreetly for some salve. That dwarf was prodigiously well endowed.’ His member twitched again at the thought and he quelled it quickly by thinking of orcs. Unfortunately, that quelled what little appetite he had had as well and he pushed his plate aside with a grimace. Unfortunately, this did not escape his sibling’s notice for Thoronion frowned, taking a good look at him.

 

“Legolas, are you unwell?” There was genuine concern in his eyes, for although there was nearly three millennium’s difference in their ages, and in spite of Thoronion’s tendency to scold him as if he were still a child, his brother loved him as fiercely as he did the rest of their family. Legolas’ position as the, even he had to admit, spoiled baby of the family occasionally contributed to the level of tension between them but when it came right down to it Thoronion had always been firmly on his side against anything or anyone he had faced.

 

“Nay, I am fine. Please continue.” Legolas forced a smile.

 

“No, you are not.” Thoronion stood and cleared their plates from the small table they were seated at in Thoronion’s rooms and placed them on the sideboard. He pulled his chair over next to Legolas’ and sat down, wrapping an arm around his youngest brother. “Does this have to do with last night?” He put two fingers under Legolas’ chin, tipping his head up so that he could look him in the eye. “Legolas, you were correct when you said that you are an adult and who you choose to dally with is your business so long as you are discreet, and I regret what I said to you earlier. It was my concern for you speaking, but that is no excuse. I have never consciously tried to spy on you or to interfere, but I am well aware that you have never trysted before last night. If you need to talk, I am here.” Legolas looked away, biting his lower lip. “Legolas, we both know that mortals often do not know or understand our ways. Did something happen that you did not wish?”

 

“No!” Legolas gave his brother an appalled look. “No, Thoronion, nothing like that. It was…. I….” He swallowed hard, “I was drunk, and I do not remember everything but I was not forced.” He looked away. “It was stupid of me to drink so much.”

 

“Yes, it was, but most of us have done so at one time or another. Do not be so hard on yourself for it.” His mouth curved wryly. “I suppose it was not an elleth that you were with from the way you are sitting, yes?”

 

“Thoronion!” His brother chuckled, tweaking the tip of an ear. Legolas batted the offending hand away, red-faced and scowling.

 

“Little brother, I have known for some time that you favor males. What is more, Adar knows as well. That is why he will not allow Aunt Ithiliel to parade ellith past you like mares past a stallion as she did to the rest of us.” Legolas moaned in extreme embarrassment, covering his face with his hands and Thoronion laughed, pulling Legolas’ head onto his shoulder. “Relax, Legolas. I have no intention of either teasing you about this further or of mentioning it to Adar. If you wish him to know, you will tell him. I only wish to know if you need to see a healer, and if whoever you were with treated you well.”

 

“He did, but I think I might need some salve if I will be sitting all afternoon,” Legolas muttered, hiding his crimson face against Thoronion’s neck.

 

“Let us see the healer, then. I will go with you.” His tone brooked no argument and Legolas knew that he was better off giving in gracefully so he allowed Thoronion to pull him to his feet and guide him out into the hallway.

 

ooo

 

‘How humiliating!’ Legolas thought as he bent, bare-arsed, over the healer’s table allowing the healer to examine his sore opening under Thoronion’s supervision and by his insistence. ‘This is worse than waking up next to the dwarf in the first place. Just give me the bloody salve and let me bugger off back to my rooms to use it!’

 

“He is abraded, but not torn. It looks like his partner was just, well, very well endowed shall we say. From what I can tell, he did take the proper care with your brother so as not to cause him injury. I would recommend, however, that you refrain from indulging again for a day or two, Lord Legolas.” The healer said, his fingers probing rather uncomfortably and making Legolas hiss through his teeth and glare over his shoulder at both the healer and his irritating sibling. The healer, completely unperturbed by the glare, reached for a small pot and, scooping a generous amount of the light green salve onto his fingers applied it to Legolas’ entrance. The youngest prince sighed in relief and immediately forgot his annoyance. “That has taken care of it, my lords. You can cover yourself again, Lord Legolas.” He moved away, setting his examination area to rights and Legolas pulled up his breeches, tying them quickly.

 

“Here is a pot of the salve. Apply it at least twice today, more often if you have more than a moderate level of discomfort, and make certain to not only apply it to the outside but just inside as well.” The healer gave Legolas what the prince was certain he thought to be an encouraging smile.

 

“Thank you, master healer,” he replied, mustering a smile.

 

“Indeed, you have my thanks,” Thoronion said, inclining his head slightly to the healer. “I trust we can be assured of your discretion as well?”

 

“Of course, Lord Thoronion. You need have no worries on that score,” the elf replied smoothly.

 

 

ooo

 

“And here is our dear Prince Legolas! Mae Govannen, gwador. Have you recovered from your brandy consumption?” One twin, Elladan from the smirk on his face, dropped down to sit by Legolas’ left side while the other settled himself on the right.

 

“I am tempted to hurt the both of you. Do not push your luck,” he replied, scowling at them both.

 

“Oh, it appears that someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Brother,” Elrohir said, elbowing Legolas in the ribs lightly and earning another scowl in return.

 

“Or was it that he woke up in the wrong bed? Come one, princeling, you can tell us, did you have a better time than usual last night?” Elladan grinned slyly at him, his grin growing as Legolas flushed a bright crimson.

 

“Do you know, Brother, I believe he must have! Well done, princeling!” Elrohir crowed, wrapping an arm around Legolas’ shoulders. “Tell me, who was the lucky ellon?”

 

“None of your thrice damned business,” Legolas grumbled, shoving Elrohir’s arm off his shoulder and rising to stalk off. The twins shared a blank look before scrambling after him.

 

“Wait, Legolas!”

 

He stopped, closing his eyes in vexation. Could this day possibly get any worse?

 

“What do you want now, Elladan? You have had your fun, now leave me in peace!”

 

“Legolas, we are sorry if we offended you. We truly did not mean to. You know we love you as we do a brother, the same as we love Estel,” Elladan said earnestly, peering anxiously at Legolas’ face, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Another hand came to rest on his other shoulder and Legolas glanced over to see an identical anxious look on Elrohir’s face.

 

“What has happened, Legolas?”

 

“I do not wish to speak of it,” the prince grumbled, still scowling but not as tense as he had been.

 

“You may not wish to, but I think you need to,” Elrohir said softly, sliding his arm around Legolas’ waist.

 

“I agree with Brother. Come, we’ll have a small glass of wine in our rooms and you can tell us all about it. We have been keeping each other’s secrets for over 400 years now, we are not about to change that at this late date.” Together, they drew him along between them, and truthfully he did not protest in earnest.

 

ooo

 

“I bedded a dwarf.” Legolas muttered, head in his hands. There, he had said it.

 

“So? We bed Men all the time,” Elladan said, matter of factly. Legolas peeked through his fingers to see matter of fact expressions on both faces.

 

“Oh, aye, ladies, but Men all the same,” Elrohir concurred. “I fail to see the horror in this, unless of course you did not consent to it.” His expression changed to one of concern. “Did you not consent to it?”

“I was not forced or coerced, no,” Legolas said, hands raised. “Merely drunk, and truthfully so was he. He was also,” Legolas shifted uncomfortably, “rather substantial.”

 

“I had heard that what they lack in height they make up for in…ahem… girth,” Elladan said with a slight grin.

 

“It was true of this one,” Legolas replied, flopping back onto Elrohir’s bed. “And then I could not sit still at luncheon and Thoronion quickly deduced why and bundled me off to the healer, who insisted on examining me.” He turned his head to regard the twins who were heroically trying to stifle their laughter. “I may die of embarrassment before the day is out at this rate.”

 

“Does your brother know it was a dwarf?”

 

“Valar, no! And I certainly do not intend to tell him. His reaction up to now has been bad enough. I shudder to think of what he will do if he does find out a dwarf rogered his baby brother!”

 

“That was a mental image I could have done without,” Elladan said, conversationally. “But, you are correct. It would do more harm than good to tell him. We have enough troubles with Sauron, the Nine, and orcs without a diplomatic incident between elves and dwarves.” He smirked, gripping Legolas’ forearm to show that his next words were completely in jest. “You will simply have to count that one as taking it up the arse for the good of Arda.” Legolas rolled his eyes, but managed a weak chuckle.

 

“Now I truly want to hurt you.”

 

ooo

 

Gimli dug into his luncheon with considerable enthusiasm. Not one to be put off his feed as a rule anyway, he noted that his appetite was sharper than usual this day. ‘Wonder if bedding elves always increases the appetite,’ he mused, looking around the dining hall. ‘I’d say not, considering that elves are thin as rails and eat like birds.’ He observed the elf that had been introduced to their party as ‘Glorfindel’ loading a plate with what even a dwarf had to admit was a healthy amount of food before sitting down to eat with a group of his fellows. ‘He’s a warrior, could be a co-incidence.’ He noticed Gloin eying him curiously and looked askance at him.

 

“You’re eating especially well today, my lad. Worked up an appetite last night, did you?” Gloin asked sotto voice with a slight smirk. Gimli snorted, if his Da had unbent enough to rib him about things, the storm was fairly well past.

 

“You’d be surprised, but I wouldn’t think you’d want details on that, Da,” he answered with a wicked grin.

 

“Not with your mother all the way back at the Mountain, I don’t,” Gloin retorted, his grin every bit as wicked as Gimli’s. After both laughed for a bit, he sobered. “I want to talk to you a bit about a related subject back in my rooms before we have to go to the council. As soon as you fill that bottomless pit you’re calling a belly today,” he finished with a grin.

 

“Not too much longer on that, I think, Da. They’re cooking for hobbits as well, so the fare’s a bit heartier than the last time we visited here.”

 

“Nothing wrong with the food here at any time,” Gloin agreed, helping himself to another slice of meat and a hunk of bread. “Master Elrond’s folk always set a good table.”

 

“True,” Gimli said, sopping up the last of the meat juices with his last bite of bread and popping it into his mouth. “A bit of something sweet and I’ll be finished here.”

 

“Some of that stuff Bilbo calls ‘cobbler’ would sit right with me,” his father replied, making short work of the meat on his plate.

 

“That’s something I haven’t tried yet. I’ll get us each a dish of it.” Gimli rose, gathering up their emptied plates and carrying them to the bin set aside for that purpose before making his way to the table that held the ‘afters’ as the hobbits called them and secured two dishes of the sweet his father had requested. “Fresh from the kitchens and still warm, Da. Looks like blackberries in it,” he said, setting one dish in front of Gloin.

 

“That’ll do. I like blackberries well enough, although it’ll be tough to beat the apple cobbler Bilbo made last time your uncle Oin and I visited him at Bag End.” The conversation ended as they both tucked into their ‘afters’.

 

ooo

 

“Gimli, my boy, what was your impression of King Thranduil’s whelp? I don’t want the tavern-talk, mind. I want to know what your overall impression is.”

 

“Young, for one thing. I don’t think he’s been outside that forest of theirs much, if at all. He’s fairly polite-spoken, but you’d expect that of any elf, much less a prince. Blushes like a maid, but he’s got a fair amount of muscle on that skinny frame of his. Why?”

 

“Don’t know, lad. Just one of my hunches, I guess. I’ve got a feeling about him.” He sighed. “Don’t mind me. I’m likely jumping at shadows.”

 

“Not bloody likely, Da, but we’ll leave it for now. It’s about time to head over to where the council’s being held, anyway.”

 

ooo

 

 

 

 

 

 

Legolas sat cross-legged on the soft grass, gazing up at the stars. He had eschewed the Hall of Fire, needing after the tense and drawn out council to be on his own for a while. He could feel the tension of the day draining out of him as he sat listening to the night noises. He was still alarmed and unnerved by what he had heard and seen that afternoon. Never had he thought he would see the One Ring with his own eyes, especially after hearing his father’s account of the Last Alliance so many years ago once Thranduil had deemed him old enough to be told of it.

 

‘All these years it has been in the hands of hobbits’, he mused, ‘and they seem mostly unaffected by It’s evil. Adar always said that he noted a change in Isildur almost immediately. Little wonder Aragorn is so leery of the cursed thing, but hobbits must have some strength that not even the wise have guessed at.’ He stretched out to better see the stars. ‘I would not wish to touch the thing, myself. Just seeing it gave me the shivers.’

 

He came back to himself abruptly some while later, to the sound of footfalls coming down the path toward him. ‘Hmm, I had not realized I was so weary. Perhaps I should seek my bed.’ He cocked his head, considering the sound approaching him. ‘No elf, for certain, and not Aragorn either; one of the other Men or a dwarf then.’ He sat up; eyes finding the path easily even by the faint moonlight as the maker of the sound passed into the open. ‘Ah, and not just any dwarf but THE dwarf. Well, I suppose we should talk at least.’

 

“Master Elf, how fare you?” the dwarf asked, approaching him and sitting down next to him.

 

“Well enough, Master Dwarf. And you?”

 

“As well as any after that council,” he grunted, frowning. “Your brother didn’t seem out of sorts with you.”

 

“He is not, although he does know that I spent the night in a bed other than my own. Your father’s anger seemed to have cooled by the council as well, yes?” Legolas asked, surprised when he realized that he actually did care whether or not the dwarf’s father was angry with him.

 

“As I said, Da got over it. No need for concern. Does your brother know it was my bed you were in?”

 

“No, forgive me but I thought it best not to mention that. Relations between our peoples have not been cordial for millenia and I do not wish for there to be new trouble on my account.” He gave the dwarf a diffident look.

 

“You’re likely right,” the dwarf sighed. “How much do you remember about last night?”

 

“Most of it, I think,” Legolas replied, grateful that the moonlight hid the blush that rose at the mere thought of what they had done. “Do you?”

 

“Pretty much all of it. Enough to realize that you likely hadn’t done that before.” He gave Legolas a guarded look. The elf closed his eyes, biting his lip.

 

“No, I had not.” He started when the dwarf laid an unexpectedly gentle hand on his knee.

 

“I have to ask: are you well? Physically, I mean?” The dwarf was gazing at him with concern patent in his expression. Legolas stared at him for a moment. Perhaps dwarves were not as he had been told. He decided to answer honestly.

 

“I am a little sore, but I am well. You were gentle and you took care to make the proper preparations.” He gave the dwarf a slight smile, deciding to see if he had a sense of humor. “Of course, I am only sore because you have a branch that rivals that of a horse.” The dwarf stared at him for a split second before giving a great shout of laughter.

 

“Good one, lad. But you know, for all you’re as thin as a reed, you’ve got a good sized tool there yourself. Definitely much more than a mouthful, as I have good reason to know,” the dwarf retorted, grinning. Legolas was again grateful for the moonlight as he knew his face and ears were a deep crimson, and was doubly grateful that his shirt and tunic were knee length as his member had suddenly gone fully erect at the memory of how his companion’s mouth had felt on it. A quick look at the dwarf’s face ended any hopes Legolas had of concealing his arousal and he groaned, covering his face with one hand.

 

“Don’t worry about it, lad. It happens like that at first. Things will calm down with time.” Legolas peeked at him again, surprised to see that his expression was one of honest sympathy. He relaxed fractionally.

 

“I certainly hope so because this is beginning to annoy me,” he growled, flopping onto his back again. His companion knew full well that he was hard as mithril at the moment, and indeed had seen him in that state in a much more intimate setting so there was little need for modesty. To his surprise, the dwarf stretched out beside him.

 

“I don’t often get to do this,” he said. He glanced over at Legolas, evidently reading the confusion the elf knew showed on his face. “Looking at the stars, I mean. I only get to see them like this when I’m traveling.”

 

“Nor I, unless I am at home, which I seldom am. I think it makes us appreciate the sight all the more, do you not think so?”

 

“Aye.” A brief pause and then, “I don’t mean to be nosy, but why are you away from home so much?”

 

“I am usually out with my patrol. As the Shadow spreads, so do the evil creatures. I have been a warrior since I was old enough to do so,” Legolas replied. He supposed he should probably have been offended, but he was not. After all, his people were rather insular, and a dwarf would have no way of knowing what his lot in life was. “What of you? Are you warrior, craftsman, or both?”

 

“Both. I’m a weapons-smith primarily, but I also craft jewelry as Da does. And I, too, have been a warrior since I was old enough, though I don’t usually stand guard or patrol.” Another pause, “I don’t mean to offend, but I’m surprised that the Elvenking’s son goes out with patrols. To my experience, royal families only risk their heirs in times of war and then only if there’s no other choice.”

 

“Thoronion is Adar’s heir, not I. But, I think I understand what you are saying. My brothers and I have all spent time out with the patrols to varying degrees. So did my father during my grandfather’s reign. There is a very practical reason for it: if the king asks the people of the realm to risk their sons in patrols and battles, he must count himself among them and risk his own sons.” He sighed. “Besides, that is where my talents lie. I have little patience for politics. I would rather be loosing arrows into orcs and spiders than endlessly debating the tax on river travel.”

 

“Hmph, don’t blame you there. Makes for a hard life, though.”

 

“Yes, at times.” He shifted, trying to ease the pressure in his groin that would not abate. “But, I am protecting the people of my land and my family. I can think of no better thing to do, however difficult it may be.”

 

“Good point. Are you still..?”

 

“Yes, curse it.” He looked away; at this rate not only might he die of embarrassment, but also his face would be permanently red. He startled at the light touch of a finger on the tip of his ear, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as the finger traced along the edge of his ear and back, his breath catching in his throat. Warm lips replaced the finger and a soft moan escaped him. A broad hand came to rest on his chest, lightly tracing a nipple through the thin fabric of his shirt.

 

“I could take care of that for you, if you want,” his companion said, his voice gone husky and identical to the voice in his ear from the night before. Reason said to refuse the offer, but Legolas was too far gone for reason between his unruly arousal, that voice, and the tongue that was lazily swirling over his ear tip, and he grabbed a fistful of the dwarf’s beard, pulling his mouth onto his own. While they kissed, he could feel his breeches being untied by surprisingly deft fingers. Then the mouth left his and moved down his body to engulf his aching sex.

 

Legolas had to bite down on the heel of his hand to keep from keening his pleasure aloud. All remaining rational thought fled as his hips began to buck with the rhythm the dwarf set with his so talented mouth. It did not take long for him to climax.

 

He lay still, eyes closed, his chest heaving in the aftermath of his pleasure. Dimly, he felt his breeches being re-tied and his shirt being smoothed and was touched by the tenderness implied in the gesture. He felt lips, bordered by the surprisingly soft hair of the dwarf’s mustache and beard brush across his brow.

 

“Pleasant dreams to you, Prince of Mirkwood.”

 

 

ooo

 

Legolas wandered down the corridor to his rooms, half in a daze still from the intense orgasm he had had. So distracted was he that he did not note the door to his brother’s room opening just as he reached his own door. He had no more than crossed half the distance between the door to the corridor and the bathing chamber when Thoronion entered the room behind him. He turned startled eyes onto the older elf, expecting to be scolded but Thoronion’s expression was one of amusement.

 

“Well, I must say this eases my mind on one issue. You have grass in your hair, little brother,” Thranduil’s heir said, chuckling, “and you look as though you have been thoroughly kissed.” Thoronion gave him a light, playful shove towards the bathing chamber. “Go wash up. I will turn down your bed.”

 

‘Thoroughly kissed, my arse! I think I had the life sucked out of me,’ Legolas thought as he closed the door behind him and poured water from the pitcher into the washbowl. After splashing his face and combing the grass from his hair, he felt a little clearer and more than a little hungry. He doffed his shirt, it had grass stains on it from his passionate writhing, and grabbed a dressing robe that hung on a hook on the back of the door, drawing it on as he exited the bathing chamber. His brother was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him.

 

“Thank you, Thoronion, but I think I will visit the kitchens before I go to bed,” he said quickly to forestall anything his brother was planning to say. His brother blinked in surprise and then chuckled.

 

“You must have worked up an appetite,” he commented, grinning. “Very well, but do not stay out too late. We need to discuss our next course of action in the morning.”

 

ooo

 

 

Gimli walked back to his rooms, deep in thought. He had not planned on anything but talk when he had approached the elf. He had been a bit concerned, after he had had time to think on it a bit, about the elf’s reaction to their activities of the night before given that it seemed to him that the elf was lacking in experience, which in fact the elf had confirmed. His mind was easier after hearing the prince’s response, but he had found himself intrigued by the comely creature and their conversation, and looking for an opening to discuss the matter of dwarven tradition.

 

Then, he had found himself irresistibly attracted by the scent of arousal and the sight of the erection that strained the laces of the elf’s breeches. He truly had not intended to seduce the young elf into more love-play, but found himself unable to stop his finger from tracing the delicate ear, knowing from the elf’s reactions the night before that it was an erogenous zone. From there it had spiraled out of control and only the knowledge that he might cause injury so soon after their romp the previous evening stopped him from flipping the elf onto his stomach and taking him from behind as he had done then. He had mastered himself with great difficulty after the elf’s climax and set his companion’s clothing to rights before stumbling away and putting his hand to himself when he thought he was far enough away not to be heard.

 

‘Going soft over an elf,’ he thought, shaking his head.

 

He entered his room and started towards the bathing chamber when he noticed the smell of pipe weed in the air. He sighed and moved toward the balcony.

 

“Good evening, Da.”

 

“Good evening. ‘Start and finish to it’, eh Gimli? And before you ask, I can smell him on you.” Gimli closed his eyes briefly and swore under his breath. “Come sit and talk to me, lad. I’d like to understand what’s so fascinating about this princeling.”

 

“I wish I knew, Da. I’ve been trying to figure it out myself.”

 

“I’ve never interfered with your liaisons, Gimli, and I’m not about to start now, but I would like to understand.” Gloin drew on his pipe again, looking up at the stars rather than at Gimli, giving his son, the younger dwarf suspected, time to compose himself. “Get yourself a pipeful if you think it’ll settle you.”

 

“Aye, it might.” Gimli fetched his pipe from his bedside table, filled and lit it, taking a few puffs before answering Gloin.

 

“I don’t know really what started it, just that we ended up in my rooms and then in the bed. I didn’t even think too much on it beyond that until later when I really started remembering details.” He looked Gloin in the eye. “He was untouched before he ended up in my bed, Da.” Gloin’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded indicating that Gimli should continue. “After that, I knew I was responsible for making sure he was well physically and otherwise according to our customs, so I went looking for him to speak with him. I found him by sheer chance and we spoke for a while. I hadn’t intended for it to go any further than talk, but it did, although not to the point that we were at last night.”

 

“Well, elf or not, by our customs you’re responsible for his well-being for the next turn of the seasons. Explaining that to his sire is bound to be interesting.”

 

“Don’t remind me. Mahal, what a mess!” Gimli refrained from scowling at his father’s chuckle.

 

“Gimli, lad, I don’t envy you this next year. I’m off to the kitchens for a snack and then I’m for bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

ooo

 

It was traditional in Elrond’s house for food and drink to be made available to the elf lord’s guests at any time of the day or night. After the kitchen staff had retired for the night, bread, cheese, fruit, sweet pastries, and light wine and ale were left on platters covered by glass domes in the small dining room adjacent to the kitchens. Guests were encouraged to take as much as they wished, whether they ate in the dining room or took a plate to their bedchamber. Gloin had just seated himself at the long table with his plate when a slight noise alerted him to the presence of another in the room. Looking to the door he spied the elf prince standing on the threshold, lower lip caught between his teeth and cheeks a bright pink.

 

“So long as you aren’t made of cheese I’m not interested in biting you, Prince Legolas,” he said, humor evident in his tone. “Besides, you look like you could use a meal or two.” The elf did not move. “Don’t fret yourself. I’m not bothered about what you’ve been up to with my son. Now come in and get something to eat.”

 

The elf filled a plate, casting a wary glance at him every so often, which amused Gloin a good bit. When the plate was full, the dwarf spoke again.

 

“You’re welcome to join me.” He knew that he was putting the elf in an awkward position. He was certain that eating with him was not what the prince had intended to do however if the elf refused, Gloin had room to claim offense. He would not, but the elf did not know that. The prince inclined his head gracefully and took a seat opposite him.

 

He took the opportunity to study the prince. Having seen the Elvenking on more than one occasion, Gloin noted a strong resemblance between him and his youngest child. Legolas had his father’s coloring, straight nose, and high cheekbones. However, where the father had a hard edge to him, borne of many sorrows and hardships, there was a sense of mischief and humor about the son. His demeanor, what Gloin had seen of it, spoke of a sweet and sunny nature, for all that it was apparent that he was also a tad bit spoiled. He was uncommonly fair as well, even for an elf. He began to see what his son might see in this princeling.

 

“From what I hear, you’re quite good with a bow,” he said, choosing a fairly neutral subject to open the conversation.

 

“I am told so,” the elf replied, looking at him curiously.

 

“I won’t mince words, Prince Legolas. I wasn’t happy to see an elf in my son’s bed, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and try to get to know you.”

 

“Forgive me, but you are speaking as if your son and I plan to continue….seeing each other.”

 

“I’m aware that you have no such plans. However, there are customs of ours that you are not aware of.”

 

“Such as?” the elf’s tone was as wary as his gaze had been and Gloin sighed.

 

“What traditions do elves have regarding defloration?”

 

“What?!”

 

“Simmer down, youngster. I’m not asking to be crude.”

 

“Few, actually, beyond the fact that we choose who we lay with from majority onward and lay with none before that. There are no traditions save that the more experienced partner show due care.” The elf’s shocked expression had waned little.

 

“Dwarves have specific traditions regarding the care of virgins, namely that the one to have the privilege of defloration must see to the welfare of the one they deflower for a full turn of the seasons. In ancient times, the tradition was begun to keep unscrupulous individuals from despoiling young dwarves and leaving them to go on to the next one. The tradition is a good one, and many bondings have come about because of it. Gimli keeps few things from me, Prince, and he has told me that he bears this responsibility towards you.”

 

“Oh, Valar,” the elf breathed, dismay written plainly across his face. “Oh, Valar!”

 

“It does complicate your situation, I grant you.” Gloin rose and set his plate on the tray by the door. “You might wish to speak with your brother about it. In fact, it might be wise for us all to meet and discuss it tomorrow. Good night, Prince Legolas.”

 

ooo

 

The sun was well into its ascent above the horizon when Legolas knocked on his brother’s door. Upon being bidden to enter, he slipped into the room, closing the door behind him. Thoronion took one look at his sibling and crossed the room, guiding him to the edge of the bed and making him sit before sitting down next to him.

 

“Legolas? What is wrong, pen neth?” Legolas took a deep breath.

 

“I have to tell you something, Thoronion. You will not be pleased with me, but I have no choice now, I have to tell you. Better you hear it from me.” He took another deep breath, visibly gathering his courage. “The one I lay with night before last….Oh, Valar, you will be so angry with me! And Adar!” He stopped, biting his lip.

 

“Legolas, tell me what happened.”

 

“He is a dwarf.” The words were barely above a whisper. Thoronion’s eyes widened in shock and he simply stared at his brother, open-mouthed. Legolas seemed to shrink in on himself. Suddenly, Thoronion’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes narrowed. Legolas paled even further.

 

“Legolas, is this dwarf aware that you came to his bed a virgin?” Thoronion’s voice had taken on the same tone that their father’s did when Thranduil was at his angriest and Legolas could not help the shudder that ran through his body.

 

“Yes,” he whispered. He started violently when Thoronion abruptly rose and stalked to the other side of the room. Anything he might have planned to say was forestalled by a knock on the door. The elder elf shot his brother a quelling look and strode swiftly to the door, opening it only enough to meet the standard of courtesy.

 

“Your pardon, Prince Thoronion,” came the deep voice of Gloin. “But I think we need to speak.”

 

“We do indeed, Master Gloin. Come in.”

 

ooo

 

Gimli followed his father into the room, immediately seeing Legolas seated on the edge of the bed. The young elf looked as though he was expecting to be beaten and Gimli was shocked at the surge of protectiveness that rose within him. He silently moved to stand next to the elf as his father seated himself at the table he had been directed to by the dark haired elder prince.

 

“I see that your brother has informed you of the situation,” Gloin began, ignoring the indignation on Thoronion’s face.

 

“He has, and before you go any further, be aware that I know of your customs regarding this…matter.” His expression made it plain that he found the ‘matter’ to be distasteful. Gloin ignored it and forged on.

 

“I see. Well, then, we should talk about what’s to be done.”

 

“What is to be done is that my brother will be leaving for home this very day,” he stated flatly, not even sparing Legolas a glance.

 

“No!” Legolas cried, leaping to his feet. “Thoronion, we both gave our word to Lord Elrond that we would stay until he had decided who would be accompanying the hobbit. You may not have a care for my word of honor, but I do and I will not be foresworn!”

 

“You gave no care to your honor when you got drunk and spread your legs for a dwarf! You will leave for home today, under guard if necessary!” Thoronion advanced on the younger elf as he shouted until they were inches apart. Legolas did not back down.

 

“I will not, Thoronion. No matter what bile you spew at me, not even if you strike me.” The younger elf did not raise his voice, but Gimli had no doubt he meant every word he said. The older elf glared at the younger, trying to cow him into obedience, but Legolas mere shook his head, never breaking eye contact. “No,” he said.

 

Thoronion launched into a tirade, not in Sindarin, which both dwarves knew enough of to recognize, but another dialect that they knew not at all. Legolas paled under the onslaught, but continued to hold his ground. Finally, with one last volley, Thoronion turned on his heel and stalked out the door, slamming it behind him.

 

Once he was gone, Legolas’ legs gave out and he almost fell. Gimli caught him, guiding him to the bed and helping him sit.

 

“Easy, lad. I’ve got you.” He allowed the prince to wilt against him, wrapping a protective arm around his slender form. He looked at his father.

 

“He can’t stay here. We’ll take him to my rooms and sort it out from there.” Gloin rose and crossed to the shaken prince. “Can you walk, youngster?” Legolas nodded briefly. “All right then, up with you and let’s go.”

 

The two dwarves led the prince away. En route, Gloin stopped one of their kinsmen and quietly bade him tell the Master of Rivendell that he was urgently needed in Gloin’s rooms.

 

ooo

 

“Here, lad, this’ll help a bit,” Gimli held the small glass of strong brandy to the prince’s lips, relieved when the elf drank it without protest. A slight hint of color seeped back into the ashen face and Gimli could feel the tremors that had been coursing through the huddled form ease slightly. He pressed the elf back onto Gloin’s bed, tucking the covers around him and sitting down next to him. The elf almost immediately shifted to lay his head in Gimli’s lap. As strong as elven family bonds were rumored to be, Gimli was not surprised to see this young elf so bereft. Truthfully, he was astounded at the amount of gumption he had shown in defying his brother. One hand began to gently stroke the blond tresses and he felt the elf press closer to him.

 

“Da, what…?”

 

“Peace, my boy. I have things in hand. You just see to our lad.” Gimli arched a brow at his father’s apparent claiming of the elf as kin but made no comment.

 

Within a few moments, there was a knock at the door. Gloin answered it cautiously, opening the door when the callers proved to be Elrond and his daughter. Gloin and the Master of Rivendell went out onto the balcony to talk, while Arwen made her way over to Legolas and Gimli. She sat down gracefully on the side of the bed opposite Gimli and by the prince’s feet.

 

“Legolas, pen neth, I am here.” She said, lightly gripping his ankle through the bed covers. “Do you wish to speak of it?”

 

“No,” came the answer, muffled by the blanket and the elf’s arm.

 

“Would you like some tea?”

 

“No.” Gimli laid his hand on the elf’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

 

“Lady Arwen, whether he says he wants it or not, I think it’d do him some good to get something in his stomach besides brandy.” She graced him with a smile and stepped to the door to request the tea. While she was occupied, Gimli gave Legolas a little shake. “You’ve a right to be upset, laddie, but you’ve no call to be rude to a lady that’s only trying to be kind to you,” he said, sotto voice.

 

“Master Gimli, I take no offense,” Arwen said, returning to sit on the bed again. “I have known Legolas all his life, indeed I saw him born, and I love him as I would a younger brother. There is nothing he would ever do or say that could change that.” So saying, she reached over and stroked the tangled golden hair from the prince’s face. He looked up at her briefly, and sat up, still leaning a bit against Gimli’s side.

 

“Thank you, gwathel,” Legolas said softly, reaching his hand out to her.

 

“You are quite welcome, gwador.” She smiled at him again, taking his hand in both of hers. “For what it is worth, Thoronion is behaving like a horse’s hindquarters and I sincerely hope your father knocks him into the next yen for it. And before you ask, I was seeing to the hobbits a few doors down from his room when he started shouting at you. I doubt anyone else in the wing understands the Silvan dialect, so do not fret.”

 

“It is his fear for me speaking, not him. I know this,” Legolas said, sighing. “He fears loss and change. I understand it, even if he does not.”

 

“You have a kind heart, Legolas. Do not let sorrow harden it as it has your brother’s.” She rose, leaning in to kiss his brow before leaving to fetch the tea, and other items to tempt Legolas into eating something.

 

As the door closed behind her, Gloin and Master Elrond re-entered the room from the balcony. Both Legolas and Gimli looked up at them with varying degrees of apprehension. The elf lord crossed to the side of the bed and sat down in the place his daughter had occupied moments earlier.

 

“It seems that we have quite a dilemma here,” Elrond intoned, smiling reassuringly at both the elf and the dwarf. “First of all, let us deal with Thoronion’s intention to send you home, Legolas.” His expression sobered. “I have not made all my choices for the company to travel with Frodo, but some I have made. I choose Gimli for the dwarves, and Legolas for the elves. My decision for the two of you was made last night, and because both of you have expressed to me your willingness to accept the charge, there is little else to say about the matter. Therefore, while Thoronion is now released from his vow to stay, you are not. He may appeal to me and to your father if he so wishes. We will deal with that when and if it comes.

 

Our second issue is that of dwarven custom. As you will be traveling together, the custom can be satisfied as it stands. Do you both accept this?”

 

“Yes, Master Elrond.”

 

“Yes, Lord Elrond.”

 

“The third issue is Thoronion himself, and I believe my daughter intends to have a few choice words with him. I will intercede if needed, but I believe all of us would prefer for him to come to accept things on his own and we must give him time to do so.” He glanced between the three of them, and assured of their assent, he continued, “Legolas, I believe it would be best to move you to a different room for the time being. I have a suite of rooms in the family wing, usually used when my law-parents visit, that is empty right now. It consists of four bedchambers each with a bathing chamber that connect to one central sitting room and balcony. You would occupy one room, Master Gimli a second, and Master Gloin a third. He believes, and I agree, that you should not be alone right now, but the choice is yours. Is this what you wish as well?”

 

“You’re an adult, Prince, and I’ll not be treating you otherwise, but Gimli’s responsibility to you extends to his entire clan. We take care of our own, and now that includes you.” Gloin winked at him, grinning when Legolas gave him a small smile in return.

 

“If Gimli and I are to be traveling together anyway, it would make sense to get to know each other. I do not wish to be alone, and Master Gloin and Gimli have been very kind.”

 

“Very well, I shall have your belongings moved. Arwen will come show you to your new rooms when they are prepared. In the meantime, should you need aught, you have only to ask.” The elf lord rose, rested his hand briefly on Legolas’ head and departed. After the door had closed behind him, Gloin turned to Legolas.

 

“Now, the first thing we need to get straight between us is that you don’t need to be calling me ‘Master Gloin’. It’s Gloin, or you can call me ‘Da’ as Gimli does. You’re of my clan now at least for the next year. Or, we can find something else you can call me if you don’t want to use either of those names.” His tone was brisk, but his eyes were kind and Gimli felt a tremor go through the elf’s body. Looking at him, it was apparent, at least to Gimli, that although he was putting a brave face on it, he was not nearly as steady as he wished them to think. The elf took a shaky breath.

 

“If that is the case, then I am only ‘Legolas’ to you.” Gloin and Gimli both nodded and he favored them with another small smile. “I will call you whatever you wish to be called.”

 

“Well, what would you call me if I were an elf?”

 

“The closest comparison I can make would be if you were my law-father, and then it would be correct to call you ‘Adar’.” He looked uncomfortable with that.

 

“Perhaps, but that’s what you call your father, isn’t it?”

 

“Sometimes. In Court, I would call him ‘my Lord’, ‘my Lord king’, or ‘Sire’. Away from Court, if we were still being rather formal or if I was speaking of him to a family member or close friend, it would be ‘Adar’. But, if it was just family, then I would say, ‘Ada’.” He smiled a bit sheepishly. “I am the only one of us who still calls him thus. My brothers and sister all consider themselves too grown to do so any longer.”

 

“We’ll leave it for now. You can try different things and then we’ll pick what we like best. In the meantime, I think Lady Arwen should be here soon with some tea and something for you to eat. I’d like to see you at least try to eat something. Do you think you can do that?”

 

“I will try.”

 

“Good lad,” Gloin said, chucking him under the chin as he had done with Gimli when he was younger. He was rewarded with another small smile.

 

 

ooo

 

Arwen Undomiel, arguably the loveliest elf-maid in Arda, was supremely, lividly, angry. In her current state, even her irrepressible elder brothers tread lightly around her. However, outwardly, to those who did not know her well, she was the picture of calm and grace. After taking a tray of tea and food to Legolas, Arwen decided to supervise the packing and transporting of the prince’s belongings personally. So it was that she was folding the last of his clothing and sending that along with his quiver, bow, and knives to his new rooms when Thoronion appeared. Barely sparing him a glance as he took in what was happening, she sent the elleth helping her on ahead. Once the elf maid had passed the door she turned to the elder prince of Mirkwood.

 

“Is there aught you need, Prince Thoronion?” she asked, her tone coolly polite.

 

“Yes, Lady Arwen. I need to know where my brother’s belonging’s are being taken.” His tone matched hers, and her eyes narrowed.

 

“For that, you will need to speak to my father. For my part, I am appalled at your treatment of your brother and you may expect no assistance from me.”

 

“Legolas is my concern, Arwen, not yours or your father’s. He is not helping his cause by hiding behind your skirts.”

 

“I find it disturbing that Master Gloin and Master Gimli are showing more concern for him than the one who held his hands when he took his first steps,” she said, disdain coloring every word.

 

“Do not mention that dwarf’s name in my presence!” he hissed. “The sooner Legolas is back where he belongs, the better. He is to leave within the hour.”

 

“I am afraid you will need to speak to my father. I cannot help you.” She made to brush past him and he caught her arm, promptly releasing her when she leveled a pointed, and very cold, look at him.

 

“Within the hour, Arwen, and Eru help him if he is not at the stables by then!”

 

 

ooo

 

“He is behaving like the crown prince of horses’ backsides,” Arwen fumed, pacing the length of the storeroom she had stepped into to attempt to regain her poise. Aragorn and her brothers had found her there moments later. “I cannot believe he is being so cruel to his own brother!” Aragorn, being the intelligent man he was, remained silent and allowed her to vent.

 

“It seems Legolas was correct in his assessment of the reaction to his tryst,” Elladan said softly, his concern reflected in his expression and tone. Arwen stopped in her tracks, staring at her eldest brother.

 

“You knew?” Arwen asked, incredulously.

 

“Tryst? Legolas? What tryst?” Aragorn asked, frowning.

 

“You are not the only one he confides in, dearest sister,” Elrohir pointed out logically. “And he would hardly have told you of this in any case. You know how shy he is of such things where you are concerned.” He arched a brow at Aragorn. “Yes, Legolas.”

 

“But, I thought…never mind what I thought,’ Aragorn said, frowning again.

 

“You thought Legolas was nursing an unrequited crush on me all these years,” Arwen said bluntly. “I could have told you that was not the case.”

 

“No,” Aragorn said with a grin. “I thought he had a crush on Elladan.”

 

“That was three centuries ago. He outgrew it about the time he started leading his own patrol,” Elladan said dismissively.

 

“Who he had a crush on and when is beside the point,” Arwen said, frowning at all three of them. “What is the point is that two beings who are very nearly strangers to him are treating him with more consideration than his own brother is.”

 

“Adar will settle his account, never fear,” Elrohir said. “And we can always see to it that something appropriately horrid befalls the crown prince of horses’ backsides.”

 

“Ordinarily, I would not encourage you, Brothers-mine, but that stiff-necked, bigoted, stuffed shirt of an elf deserves it,” Arwen said, with a toss of her lovely hair.

 

 

ooo

 

Elrond sighed, frowning at the closed door in vexation. While Thoronion would not risk offending Elrond in his own home, he had made it plain that he was not willing to turn from the course he had chosen to take with his youngest sibling. Mindful of the Crown Prince’s pride, Elrond had tried to steer him tactfully in the correct direction, but he refused to be swayed. There was nothing left to do but write to Thranduil and inform him of the situation. He had hoped to be able to bring about reconciliation without dragging Thranduil into it for both princes’ sakes, but Thoronion had forced his hand and now he had no other choice.

 

Drafting his letter swiftly, he dispatched it by messenger bird. Thoronion’s message, sent by courier, would arrive far later. Elrond hated having to resort to subterfuge, but there was now no other way. Of the Elvenking’s reaction, Elrond had no doubt. His old friend did not carry most of the prejudices that his father had and he would see immediately what the result would be if Thoronion succeeded in his aim. His only worry was that Thranduil’s reaction would drive a bigger wedge between his sons. Thoronion, the only one of Thranduil’s children to have know their grandfather, had been Oropher’s favorite grandchild, favored even above Thranduil himself and thus had picked up some less than savory views from his grandfather in the process. Legolas, on the other hand, was the pet of the entire family. Thranduil doted on him and normally so did Thoronion, in his own way.

 

Legolas was, also, the only elf he could begin to consider sending with Frodo. As mighty a warrior as Glorfindel was, Elrond could not see him relating in any meaningful way with the younger hobbits. Erestor was a brilliant strategist and a formidable swordsman, but aloof and remotely cordial with those he did not know well. Elladan and Elrohir’s exploits with the Dunedain were too well known and they were too recognizable. Thoronion had too many prejudices where mortals were concerned. In Legolas, however, the Fellowship gained an elf who was not only a consummate warrior, but warm, approachable, and fiercely loyal as well. He was not only the best choice; he was the only one.

 

 

ooo

 

Legolas took a deep breath and knocked on Thoronion’s door. He knew that his brother had been looking for him the day before, having organized the escort to take him back home. Elrond had put a stop to that plan and Thoronion, although seething with anger, had known better than to antagonize the elf lord and had backed down. Legolas had not seen him since. Despite the terrible things his brother had said to him, Legolas wished to reconcile with him. Thoronion’s deep voice bade him enter and, taking another deep breath, he did. His brother’s pleasantly bland expression turned into a scowl as soon as he saw Legolas, but the younger elf gathered his courage and stepped all the way into the room.

 

“Thoronion, can we not at least talk?”

 

“Are you going to do as you were told?”

 

“I cannot return home yet, brother, and you know my reason why. I do not wish to be at odds with you, but I will not be foresworn. It would be a dishonor to the Realm, and to Adar.” Legolas said softly.

 

“You have already dishonored the Realm, Adar, and yourself,” Thoronion said coldly. “Unless you break with your lover and return home I have nothing to say to you.” With that he turned his back.

 

“Thoronion…”

 

“Leave.”

 

Biting his lip, Legolas left without another word.

 

 

ooo

 

 

Gimli found him later that evening, curled up on the chaise out on the suite’s balcony, deep in reverie, the marks of tears still on his face. Restraining the urge to go take his axe to the elf’s older brother, instead Gimli walked into his bedchamber, wet a washing cloth, and returned to the balcony, sitting down on the chaise next to the elf. Gently, he washed the elf’s face, removing the evidence of his bout of weeping. Legolas stirred, blinking up at him in confusion before he remembered where he was.

 

“I have rested longer than I intended to and missed tea. Forgive me,” he said, sitting up and stretching.

 

“Don’t fret about it. We’ll do it tomorrow.” He set the cloth aside. “What did your brother do this time?”

 

“Do not blame him for today. I sought him out.” The elf sighed. “I thought if I went and spoke with him that we could resolve this. He is unwilling to do so unless I do as he wishes.”

 

“He’s put you in an impossible position, lad. You don’t want to be at odds with him, but you also can’t go back on your word to Master Elrond. That’s his fault, not yours.”

 

“I have no choice, my oath to Lord Elrond comes before my brother’s prejudices.” He stared out over the gardens. “I cannot even be angry with him. It would be easier, I think, if I could.”

 

“You’re kinder to him than he deserves.”

 

“Gimli, he is the one who taught me to read, to use a bow. For him to say the things he did….” He stopped, an expression of deep sorrow and pain on his face. “He called me an abomination,” Legolas whispered, “among other things.”

 

“You and I both know that you’re no such thing. Not even close.” Gimli wrapped a supportive arm around him, much as he would have a fellow dwarf. “Don’t you even think that for a moment!” Legolas leaned against him and did not speak again for some time.

 

 

ooo

 

 

“Well, my lads, are you ready to head down for dinner?” Gloin asked, brushing a thread from his brown velvet tunic.

 

“Go ahead if you wish, Gloin. I am not hungry,” Legolas said, not moving from the chaise where he had spent the better part of the afternoon.

 

“Now, lad, you’ve not been eating enough to keep a bird alive lately. If you don’t want to eat downstairs, that’s fine, but you should try to eat something.”

 

“Actually, Da, if you don’t mind, I’m going to ask for a tray from the kitchens for Legolas and me both. You go on down if you want to. I know Borin and Nari would enjoy your company.” Gimli said, giving Gloin a look that said ‘we’ll talk later’.

 

“All right then, my lads. I’ll see you later.” He chucked Legolas under the chin, a gesture that usually made the elf smile no matter how sad he was. This time was no exception and Legolas gave him a wan smile. “Humor an old dwarf and try to eat, will you, Legolas?”

 

“I will try.”

 

“Good lad.”

 

 

ooo

 

True to his word, Legolas managed to consume a small dinner, Gimli having requested things he had discovered, by asking in the kitchens, that the elf liked to tempt him. Legolas was very quiet throughout the meal, speaking only when asked a question. Gimli let him be, for the most part.

 

After they finished eating, they both gathered up their dishes and Gimli set them on a table outside the door for the household worker that was assigned to look after their needs. They went back out onto the balcony to watch the stars appear, Gimli fidgeting for want of his pipe.

 

“I do not mind if you have a pipe, Gimli. Just please stay downwind of me,” Legolas said, curling up on the chaise again.

 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” the dwarf responded. “I can do without.”

 

“Nay, there is no need. Go ahead, you will not be able to sit still until you do,” the elf said with a slight smile. Gimli eyed him for a moment and then nodded, walking inside to fetch his pipe and pouch. He returned a few minutes later with them and a goblet of wine for Legolas.

 

“If I’m going to indulge in my vice, you can indulge in yours,’ he said, handing the goblet to the elf. Legolas chuckled, accepting it and they sat in companionable silence, the elf sipping his wine and the dwarf puffing on his pipe.

 

 

ooo

 

The reply from Thranduil came far sooner than Elrond had expected. In addition to the reply to him, Thranduil included a letter each for his sons detailing his instructions to them. Elrond summoned each to his study separately, first Thoronion with whom he had a very tense council, and then Legolas.

 

“Legolas, Thoronion’s actions this week forced me to write to your father and apprise him of the situation.” He saw the young elf tense and go pale and hastened to reassure him. “Your father is not angry with you, as I am certain he will tell you in the letter he sent for you. He is, however, furious with your brother and has ordered him to return to Mirkwood immediately. He will be leaving in the morning.” The prince’s expression was one of sorrow and Elrond knelt in front of his chair, lifting his chin with his hand so that their eyes met.

 

“It is difficult to let go of prejudices taught to us by those we love. Thoronion is struggling now, but he does love you. Remember that.” He rose and laid a comforting hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “You are welcome to remain here as long as you wish. No one will disturb you.” With that, the elf lord exited his study, leaving Legolas alone with his letter. Hands shaking, the prince broke the seal and began to read.

 

My dearest Legolas,

 

I have worried for you since you left home, and I worry more after reading Elrond’s letter. I know your heart, and I know that you will make the right decisions, regardless of what they are. All I ask that you do your best to return to us in the end.

 

Wherever your path leads you, know that you take our love with you every step of the way.

 

All my love,

Ada

 

Legolas buried his face in his hands and wept like a child.

 

 

ooo

 

 

Gimli surreptitiously watched the elf out of the corner of his eye. He knew, for Legolas had told him, that the Crown Prince was leaving in the morning. Legolas had returned from being summoned to Master Elrond’s study with a folded letter and suspiciously reddened eyes but had refused to speak of it beyond telling Gimli and Gloin of his father’s reaction and Thoronion’s impending departure. He was even more worried now. He knew the elf would not let his brother leave without making another attempt to reconcile with him. Gimli only hoped this one was successful, for Legolas’ sake.

 

Before the falling out with his brother, the two elven princes had been very affectionate with each other and with other elves. Now however, Legolas had withdrawn, allowing only the briefest of touches from any of them. It had gotten markedly worse since his last face off with his sibling and Gimli was becoming worried. He had begun making a point of putting a hand on Legolas’ knee or forearm when they talked, patting his shoulder when he walked past the elf, wrapping a companionable arm around him when they sat together on the balcony. He had also voiced his concerns to Gloin and noted his father making an effort to pat the elf’s hand, shoulder, or head frequently.

 

 

ooo

 

Thoronion tied the last pack down to the light saddle the elves of Mirkwood used when traveling long distances and looked around him. He expected Legolas to show up at some point, and was dreading seeing him. He had not changed his mind about the dwarf his youngest sibling was bedding. Lord Elrond had not minced words when he had placed his father’s missive in Thoronion’s hands, nor had Thranduil in his letter. He sighed. He did love his brother, and the thought of sweet-natured Legolas going to Mordor turned his insides to ice, but never could he accept his brother’s choice of a bedmate.

 

“Thoronion?”

 

“Yes, Legolas?”

 

“I just wanted to see you before you left,” the younger elf said, diffidence evident in both his tone and posture.

 

“Legolas, you will not change your course and I will not change mine. There is nothing for us to say to one another.” He made a show of checking the saddle again.

 

“There is every possibility that one or both of us will not survive what is to come. I do not wish for us to part this way.” Legolas faced him solemnly and under different circumstances Thoronion would have been proud of him.

 

“Then I suppose the stay in Mandos’ Hall will do whichever of us lands there some good,” Thoronion retorted, ignoring the shocked gasp his words elicited.

 

“I cannot believe that you mean that,” his younger brother said, his voice shaking with emotion.

 

“Believe it,” Thoronion said shortly, mounting his horse and riding through the doors into the courtyard without a backward glance. He knew his brother would not follow. Legolas had his pride, and he would not be seen to beg, not even for Thoronion. The dwarf had not managed to destroy that, at least. He joined his escort in the courtyard, bade formal farewell to Lord Elrond, and rode out of Imladris toward home.

 

ooo

 

 

 

 

Thunk!
Thunk!
Thunk!

 

Gimli watched, wide-eyed as Legolas loosed arrow after arrow into the target at the far end of the archery range. The elf's notch, draw, and release were almost faster than his eyes could follow. 'By fire, the lad's good,' he thought. Legolas showed no signs of stopping and rapidly emptied his quiver, whereupon he stalked to the target, removed the arrows, inspecting each as he did so and placing the undamaged ones back in his quiver. The damaged ones he gathered up and placed in a basket at the near end of the range that was there for that very purpose. He then began again, taking no notice of Gimli at all.

 

The dwarf was not certain whether Legolas was so agitated as to not note his presence, or whether he was ignoring him and decided to move to the bench next to the basket of damaged arrows to wait until Legolas was done exorcising the demons his conflict with his sibling had spawned. Evidently, it was the former, because Legolas looked genuinely startled when he looked up from the ground to place more damaged arrows in the basket.

 

"How long have you been here?" he asked softly.

 

"Long enough to see you shoot two quivers full without missing," Gimli replied, gazing solemnly back at the prince. "Unless I'm much mistaken, that makes you a rather phenomenal archer."

 

"When your life or the lives of your companions depend on it, you learn not to miss," Legolas said, shrugging. "Necessity is a hard master."

 

"True, lad, true. Have you eaten anything yet today?"

 

"Nay, Gimli, I have not. In truth, I have had no stomach for food." He looked down at the bow in his hands.

 

"Legolas, you tried. You've done all you're able to do."

 

"I know," the elf sighed, dropping down to sit cross-legged on the grass in front of the bench. "But that does not take away the hurt."

 

"No, only time can do that. Come on, you need to try to eat something. As skinny as you are, you're in danger of blowing away if the wind kicks up." Gimli rose, offering a hand to his companion. Legolas gave him a half-hearted smile and took his hand, but rose under his own power.

 

"Thank you, Gimli."

 

"Well, elf, someone has to look after you. Come on, you daft creature. Let's get you fed. If you eat more than enough to keep a bird alive, I'll get you drunk enough tonight that you'll forget your sorrows for awhile."

 

"I will hold you to that, my friend."

 

 

ooo

 

Gimli tucked the covers around the sleeping elf and brushed a few strands of golden hair out of the serene face. He had managed to avoid intimacy with him, firmly and deftly resisting Legolas' drunken request to bed him. ‘Not til the lad says he wishes it when he’s sober,’ the dwarf thought, settling down next to the elf. ‘I’ve done him enough damage without taking advantage of him. I don’t have the excuse of being drunk myself this time.’ Gimli had carefully avoided becoming drunk this time in order to better monitor Legolas' well-being. The elf rolled over and snuggled into his side, murmuring something unintelligible in his sleep.

 

A bit later, Gimli heard the suite’s outer door open and close. ‘Da’s back,’ he thought, extricating himself from the long limbs draped over him. He quickly made sure that the covers were tucked around the elf before exiting the room as quietly as possible. He found his father on the balcony, enjoying one last pipe before bed.

 

“From the look of things, the two of you had an enjoyable evening,” Gloin said, gesturing at the empty wine bottles on the low table. Gimli snorted.

 

“That was more Legolas than me, I assure you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “The lad tried to talk with his brother again before he left today.”

 

“And the Crown Prince is still behaving like, as the most charming Lady Arwen puts it, ‘The Crown Prince of Horses’ Backsides’,” Gloin stated, chewing on the stem of his pipe.

 

“In short, yes. I thought that it was better for the lad to get drunk with someone who’d look after him.” He glanced towards the door to the elf’s bedchamber. “He’s sleeping it off now, and I don’t doubt he’ll have a miserable head tomorrow.”

 

“Hmph, if he drank all that I don’t doubt it either.” Gloin shifted in his chair. “Gimli, my boy, we’re going to have to start working on our lad, undoing the damage that stoneheaded brother of his has done.”

 

“Aye, and the damage I’ve done him as well,” Gimli answered with a grimace. Gloin looked sharply at him.

 

“It’s true that you’ve done a bit of damage, but you’ve helped him now more than you’ve harmed him. Handle it properly, and you’ll do him a damn sight more good than harm, son.” Gimli gave him a quizzical look and Gloin elaborated. “Gimli, you’re more than half in love with him, don’t think I haven’t seen that. And he’s more than half gone on you, though he doesn’t realize it. He’s not the spoiled princeling that most of this lot," the elder dwarf said, waving his hand around at the night-shrouded valley, "and most of his family think he is. He has a stout, noble heart and he’s loyal unto death to those he loves, and to those he’s sworn to protect. In short, he’s one I certainly wouldn’t mind claiming as kin, even if he is a bit on the tall side.” He grinned. “The two of you together are going to be a formidable team, but he has to regain the confidence he’s lost these last few days. He needs you for that, my boy, and I know you’re up to the challenge.” He stood, crossing to the entry to the sitting room. “By the way, not sleeping with him tonight was a good decision, son. He needs to know that you value him for him, and not just for what he can do for you.” He nodded to Gimli and passed through the sitting room to his bedchamber.

 

Gimli returned to Legolas’ room and watched the elf sleep until late in the night.

 

ooo

 

Legolas' awareness returned to the sound of birdsong. LOUD birdsong. He grimaced, gripping his forehead and groaning aloud. The scent of pipeweed met his nostrils, but instead of making him queasy, he found it soothing. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he burrowed into the soft strands that smelled of the strange herb, and of rich earth and stone. Gimli. The warm surface under his aching head shook gently as the dwarf chuckled.

 

"Hung over, are you lad? I've a glass of Mam's potion waiting for you if you want it."

 

"Please."

 

"Here, then," Gimli replied with another chuckle. Legolas opened his eyes carefully, squinting against the brightness of the east-facing room. He took the glass and drank it down in two swallows, handing it back to his companion and laying his head down again on Gimli's chest, his fingers unconsciously twining into the dwarf's beard. Gimli held his peace, stroking the back of Legolas' head. After a few minutes, the elf lifted his head again.

 

"I am a proper git, am I not?"

 

"Not at all," Gimli chuckled again before sobering. "You're a young elf who's away from home for the first time, who's had a fight with his brother, and who is preparing to journey to the very place where his grandfather met his end. Not to mention having lost your virginity in a less than ideal manner within the same time frame. I think you're coping as well as you could be expected to. Better, in fact."

 

"I do not think it was less than ideal," Legolas said, blushing slightly. He met Gimli's rather startled gaze. "I had many offers at home, and several here, prior to sleeping with you. I wanted none of them. I still do not."

 

"What do you want?" the dwarf asked, his expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

 

"I....I do not know yet, Gimli, beyond that I wish not to be parted from you."

 

"I don't think that's going to be a problem, as we'll be traveling together for many weeks," the dwarf replied with a slight grin. "Legolas, whatever happens between us from here on out, I'm honored to have been your first lover."

 

"I am glad that it was you, regardless of what anyone else may think. If they do not like it, they can go bugger themselves!" Legolas' mouth twitched with amusement at Gimli's expression and his eyes were sparkling with mischief.

 

"You've been around me far too long, lad, if you've picked up that phrase," the dwarf said, grinning.

 

"Nay, it is my father's company that first corrupted my manners, according to my mother," the elf retorted, grinning back. "His favorite phrase when frustrated would peel paint from a wall."

 

"With a build up like that, I have to hear this one," Gimli said, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. Legolas grinned and stretched to whisper in his ear. Gimli's eyebrows raised even further and he let out a low whistle of appreciation. "I'm impressed," he said, his opinion of the Elvenking rising several notches. Any being who could swear that creatively deserved respect for the talent.

 

"Yes! Vile, is it not? And also anatomically impossible, even for an elf if I am not mistaken." Legolas grinned then frowned slightly as he stretched. "I suppose we should rise and greet the day."

 

"If you want to. I think Da had a tray sent up from the kitchens for us. We don't need to be in a hurry."

 

Legolas graced him with a sweet smile, gave him a saucy little peck of a kiss on the nose, and disappeared into the bathing chamber.

 

'So much for being hung over,' Gimli thought, grinning slightly. 'I have a feeling I'm going to have quite a time keeping up with him.' He stretched and plumped up the pillows behind him, settling comfortably to wait for Legolas to finish his morning ablutions.

 

After a few minutes, the bathing chamber door opened again and Gimli's breath caught in his throat at the sight. Legolas wore only the loose breeches that he slept in, and those rode low on his hips. He had brushed his hair, but had not braided it, and it shone like the finest silk in the morning sunlight. It was his expression, however, that had stilled Gimli's breath. He looked at Gimli as a dwarf would the finest of gems.

 

"Oh, Eru," Legolas whispered, catching his lower lip in his teeth. He hesitated a moment and then his jaw tightened and he crossed the room between them. Leaning over Gimli, he fused his mouth to the startled dwarf's.

 

Gimli moaned into Legolas' mouth, his hands coming up to twine in the elf's cornsilk hair as he enthusiastically responded to the kiss. Legolas shifted, never breaking the kiss, and straddled his hips. Through the thin fabric of Legolas' sleep clothing and his own breeches, Gimli could feel that the elf was fully aroused and he moaned again as Legolas slowly ground against him. The elf's lips moved from his mouth to press kisses on his cheeks, brow, and eyelids. Long, slender fingers brushed his hair away from one ear and the lips shifted to explore it. Gimli took a deep breath, trying to re-orient himself and then grasped Legolas' biceps, pushing gently.

 

"Lad, wait a moment."

 

The elf pulled back, looking uncertain and vulnerable. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

 

"No, lad, you didn't. Far from it, in fact." He cleared his throat. "I just wanted to know what brought this on." His heart clenched almost painfully as he saw Legolas catch his lip in his teeth again, recognizing it as a sign that the elf was very unsure of himself.

 

"I am sorry, Gimli, but I just... When I saw you there you were just so..." He chewed his lip for a moment. "I know you probably do not wish to be called beautiful, but truly you are and I just..." His expression tightened again. "I want you." He bit his lip again. "Do you...do you not want me?" Gimli fought not to chuckle.

 

"Legolas, you're asking me that and you're sitting on very hard evidence that I most certainly DO want you." A myriad of expressions crossed the elf's face, finally settling on amusement. Seeing that, Gimli gave up the fight to keep a straight face and he laughed, Legolas' laughter joining his. When they had calmed a bit, Gimli drew a finger down the elf's jaw, a thrill going through him as Legolas' eyelids fluttered closed at the gesture. "Although I do find it strange that a creature as exquisite as you would find a dwarf to be beautiful," he commented. Legolas' eyes flew open.

 

"But you ARE!" he protested. "Your hair is the color of autumn leaves and it is so thick and soft. Your eyes are such a dark brown, and they are always merry. Your face is strong and fine-featured, and you have this wonderful beard that is as thick and soft as the rest of your hair." He ran his hands down Gimli's arms. "Your body is all hard muscle, and very finely formed." He stilled and sat up a bit, regarding Gimli solemnly. "But most beautiful of all to me is the WHO of you even more so than the WHAT of you. The package that it comes in is very fine indeed, but the contents far outstrip the container." And then Legolas gave him a look of such frank appraisal that Gimli could not help but be convinced.

 

"You know, lad, the same is true for you." He let his eyes wander over the elf's torso, a smile pulling at his lips as Legolas flushed under his regard. "You're the fairest creature I've ever seen, but the outside isn't a patch on the inside." Legolas graced him with the sweetest of smiles and leaned down to kiss him again. Gimli responded without reservation and soon their hands were roaming over each other frantically.

 

Legolas' lips fastened on his ear again and Gimli chuckled breathlessly. The elf pulled back only far enough to look him in the eye.

 

"Am I tickling you?"

 

"No, lad, no," the dwarf laughed. "I just find it funny that you seem to be fascinated with my ear."

 

"I like your ears," he said promptly. "Besides, I thought you might like having yours licked as much as I enjoyed having mine licked."

 

"You certainly did enjoy it. I think I could make you come just by sucking on your eartips." Legolas' eyes darkened considerably at that and Gimli filed it away for future reference. "But, I think it doesn't have the same effect on me that it does on you. The sides of my neck are a different story, though."

 

"Really? Hmmm..." And with that the elf burrowed under his beard and Gimli gasped as he felt lips and a hint of teeth on his throat. He shuddered and thrust his hips up hard against Legolas, causing the elf to gasp in turn. He grinned ferally and slid his hand down Legolas' chest and belly to grasp him through his thin breeches. "Valar!" the elf cried, bucking into Gimli's hand. His other hand came down and untied the drawstring holding the thin fabric closed and the breeches slipped down, exposing the elf's arousal and most of his backside. Gimli shifted his grip and began to stroke the elf. Legolas threw back his head, surrendering completely to his touch. The dwarf's other hand slid around to cup one buttock briefly before his fingers quested lower. A single gasp marked their finding what they sought and turned into a throaty moan as they petted and stroked the elf's opening.

 

"What would you like, Legolas?" The elf's mouth opened and closed a couple of times and Gimli regretfully slowed his strokes. As much as he wanted to see Legolas come completely undone, the elf's desires were more important to him. Legolas took a couple of deep breaths and opened his eyes.

 

"Want you," he replied, grinding his hips against Gimli again. The dwarf gritted his teeth in an effort to maintain some control over himself.

 

"How do you want me?"

 

"In me, like before," he said, hands stroking up Gimli's arms.

 

"We need something to ease the way. I don't want to risk hurting you by using just spit again." The elf leaned across Gimli and over to fumble in the drawer of the table next to the bed. A moment later, a small tin dropped onto Gimli's chest and the elf rolled off him briefly to shed his breeches before settling onto him again. Long, deft fingers made short work of the ties to Gimli's breeches. Gimli picked up the tin and opened it, scooping a generous amount onto the tips of his fingers and working it until it began to melt. "Stay there. That way you're in control and I can watch your face." He stroked Legolas again urging him up on his knees. "I didn't get to see that last time."

 

Legolas gasped as Gimli slid one thickly coated finger into him. Gimli stilled, waiting until the elf relaxed before sliding a second finger in. The prince's face tensed slightly but other than that he made no sign that he was in any way uncomfortable. The dwarf gently stretched the tight opening, adding a third finger as soon as he thought he could without hurting the elf. Legolas made no sound, but his jaw was tight enough to tell Gimli that there was indeed some pain. Carefully, he crooked his fingers searching for the spot that in a fellow dwarf would bring a blinding jolt of pleasure. He was not disappointed as Legolas gasped, his eyes going wide. He stroked the spot again and Legolas moaned.

 

Gently, he withdrew his fingers replacing them with the tip of his arousal. Slowly and carefully, he drew Legolas down onto him, sheathing himself in velvet heat. Legolas tensed again briefly, his breath leaving him in gasps, until Gimli's flesh once again hit that spot and the gasps changed abruptly into pleasured cries.

 

"Set the pace, lad," Gimli grunted, holding onto his self-control by a mere thread of his will. Clumsily at first, but with growing confidence, the elf began to move. Soon, both elf and dwarf were moving together in the most primitive of dances, their passionate utterings becoming more and more unintelligible as they thrust their way towards completion.

 

Legolas peaked first, eyes going wide as his climax took him, his hands tightening on Gimli's shoulders. The spasms of his completion triggered Gimli's and he watched Legolas' face as his seed filled the elf's passage. Legolas swayed slightly, eyelids drooping, before wilting into his lover's body.

 

Gimli simply lay still, catching his breath for several minutes. Legolas lay limply atop him, the elf's slight weight bothering him not at all. As soon as he felt able to, he shifted the elf over to lay at his side, gently withdrawing from him at the same time. The elf's eyes were closed, a slight smile on his lips and Gimli breathed a sigh of relief to see it. Carefully, he eased from the bed and padded to the bathing chamber returning a few minutes later with a bowl of warm water and a wash rag. He cleaned Legolas' chest and abdomen as well as his own before gently raising the elf's leg to very gingerly clean his opening. No blood was visible and he heaved a relieved sigh. He retrieved the tin and applied a bit of the salve, to prevent additional soreness, before returning the rag and bowl to the bathing chamber and the tin to the drawer that Legolas had stored it in. That done, he climbed back into the bed and drew Legolas into a comfortable embrace. It was not long before the elf stirred and opened his eyes.

 

"Mmm, I did not intend to fall asleep. I am sorry."

 

"Don't fret, it happens. More of a compliment to me, truthfully." Gimli grinned, running his hand down the elf's back. Legolas propped himself up on an elbow to look Gimli in the face.

 

"What, that you loved me senseless?" he asked with an impish grin.

 

"Exactly," the dwarf replied, giving his lover's backside a playful, albeit careful, squeeze. "Though I'd probably phrase it differently."

 

"Hmm, I will remember that for next time." He leaned in and touched his lips to Gimli's but before either of them could deepen the caress, their stomachs growled simultaneously sending both into peals of laughter. "I suppose we should eat," Legolas said, still snickering.

 

"Wouldn't do not to be able to have a repeat performance because we didn't keep our strength up," Gimli quipped back sending Legolas into another fit of laughter. Abruptly, the elf sobered and Gimli grasped his arm, concerned. "What is it?" Legolas looked at him solemnly for a moment before replying.

 

"Thoronion. I simply wish he had taken the time to get to know you rather than allowing his prejudices to blind him. Nothing that is said of dwarves is true of any of you that are here and I would venture to guess that to be the case with most dwarves. I find that I pity my brother greatly. He has missed an opportunity that he may not have again. It saddens me."

 

"Well, I'll make you a promise, Legolas." Gimli met Legolas' eyes squarely. "If we all survive this, I'll go with you to your home and try to make friends with Thoronion." The elf's eyes widened with surprise.

 

"You would do that? I know full well that you think him a fool, Gimli, though you are kind and do not say so."

 

"Legolas, I think I am likely to do a great many things for your sake that I normally would not consider. I fear I will be rather foolish myself when it comes to you." The look Legolas gave him then removed any doubts he might have had, and the kiss that followed drove all other thought from his mind.

 

 

ooo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gimli felt his eyes roll back in his head as his body went limp in the wake of excruciating pleasure. 'I think I've been devoured,' he thought woozily, forcing his eyes open to look at the grinning elf who lay with his head resting on Gimli's thigh. Legolas licked his lips and nuzzled the heavy pouch beneath his spent arousal, drawing another moan from him. 'Mahal, but he learns fast!' He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly to steady himself before exhaling and opening his eyes to look at his lover.

 

Legolas lay quietly, head still resting on Gimli's thigh, a slightly smug smile gracing his lips. Well, he had earned the smugness, Gimli reflected. His hand drifted down to caress the elf's sunlight hair and Legolas' smile shifted from smug to sweet.

 

“Come here,” Gimli said. Legolas needed no further urging, he readily moved up the bed into Gimli's arms, laying his head on the dwarf's shoulder and twining his fingers absently into his beard.

 

“You enjoyed that, yes?” he asked, wrapping himself around Gimli.

 

“Very much,” the dwarf replied, twirling a strand of Legolas' silky hair around his finger. “I'd say you're a natural.” The elf chuckled.

 

“Good. I like giving you pleasure.”

 

Gimli lightly drew his knuckles down the smooth, high cheekbone, one of his favorite caresses to bestow on 'his' elf. Legolas' eyes fluttered shut, a sensual smile on his lips. 'Such a tactile creature', the dwarf thought, 'taking so much pleasure from even the smallest of touches.' He could feel the elf's erection against his knee, Legolas needed little time to recover and he had had more than enough of that despite the voracious oral pleasuring Gimli had given him prior to the elf's insisting on returning the favor. Though Legolas said nothing, nor would he knowing that Gimli did not recover as quickly as he did, the dwarf was not content to leave him as he was.

 

“Shift up a bit, lad,” he instructed. Legolas obeyed, even as he protested.

 

“Truly, Gimli, it is of no matter...ah!” His head dropped back onto the pillow as Gimli gripped him.

 

The dwarf had shifted up onto his left elbow, the better to watch his lover's face as he took him in hand. Legolas' fingers gripped his biceps, flexing with each stroke to his member. Gimli took a quick glance at the window, gauging the angle of the light coming in. It would not do to draw things out and be late, much as he might want to. He kept his strokes firm, dragging his thumb over the ultra-sensitive tip of the elf's arousal, and brought Legolas to his peak in a matter of moments. The elf's eyes fluttered open after a short while.

 

“Such talented hands,” he murmured, giving the dwarf a hazy smile.

 

“Well, it's said that a dwarf's talent lies in his hands,” Gimli quipped, grinning wickedly. “And an elf's in his tongue.” Legolas laughed merrily.

 

“Only with so talented a teacher as you, my dear dwarf!” The elf glanced at the window. “It is a pity that we cannot remain here for the rest of the day.”

 

“Oh, we'll have time for another romp after dinner, never fear,” Gimli said, pressing a quick kiss to Legolas' temple before rolling away from him to sit up. “Might as well indulge ourselves as much as possible while we're here since it'll be difficult to slip away for more than a quick grope once we're traveling.” He headed for the bathing chamber. “But, we dare not be late. Gandalf'll have our hides, not to mention Aragorn.” Legolas sighed.

 

“It will be difficult to be so near you and not be able to lie with you,” he said softly. “We will have to make it up to each other after our journey is done.” Gimli merely smiled at him again before passing through the bathing chamber door.

 

His ablutions done, Gimli turned the bathing chamber over to Legolas and began donning the clothing he had set out for the day. By unspoken agreement, Gimli had moved his belongings into Legolas' room after the first night they had been lovers since moving into the new rooms.

 

He had been pleased to discover that Legolas shared his penchant for neatness, which the elf explained away as a habit formed due to his extended times spent away from home. 'Who wants to come home to a mess after being on patrol for weeks at a time?' he had said. 'The only things I want to do are sleep, eat, sleep, and see my family. I do not want to clean, nor do I wish to inconvenience a member of the household by asking them to do what I should have before I left.'

 

Legolas exited the bathing chamber and dressed quickly before grabbing his comb and beginning to braid his hair. Gimli watched, fascinated. No matter how many times he had seen the elf forming his distinctive braids, he never got tired of watching the archer's long fingers moving through his sunlit tresses, and without benefit of a mirror. He glanced into the mirror to check the braids in his own hair, and his beard, nodding when he found them to be straight and tidy. He glanced back at the elf to see him fasten the end of the last of his braids.

 

“Ready to go, lad?”

 

“I suppose so,” Legolas replied, giving him a diffident look. Gimli resisted the urge to sigh, knowing that Legolas would take it as a sign of disapproval.

 

“What are you fretting about?” the dwarf asked, carefully keeping his tone neutral.

 

“What do we tell the others? Do we say anything at all?”

 

“About us, you mean?” Gimli asked. Legolas nodded. “Well, I hadn't planned on trying to keep it a secret. For one thing, I doubt we could and for another, why would we? It's not as if we're ashamed of it, after all. Besides, Aragorn already knows, I'd bet Gandalf knew before it even happened, and the hobbits won't so much as bat an eye, if they don't know already.”

 

“What of the Man of Gondor?”

 

“What of him? Let him find his own elf if he's jealous.” Gimli grinned when Legolas chuckled.

 

“Very well, I am being silly.”

 

“No, you're thinking like a prince. Nothing wrong with that,” Gimli said, opening the bedchamber door and motioning for Legolas to precede him through it. “But let's wait to see what his reaction is before we borrow trouble, hmm?”

 

ooo

 

 

Legolas heaved a purely mental sigh, making certain that his boredom did not show in his expression. He knew the extended speech Mithrandir was giving was mainly for the hobbits' benefit, and that he needed to listen so he would know where they would need assistance, but he was having difficulty keeping his mind focused on the wizard. Thankfully, he could not see Gimli from where he sat. Had he been able to see his lover, his distraction would not have escaped the wizard's sharp gaze.

 

Gimli had claimed one end of the stone bench, Frodo the middle, and Sam the other end. Legolas had dropped gracefully down to sit on the grass beside Gimli's feet. He would have preferred to be in the branches above, but thought perhaps that it might make the others uncomfortable to have him there. Mortals could be odd about that sort of thing. Besides, his positioning himself at a lower level than Frodo, Aragorn, and Mithrandir was deliberate. He wished to make it clear that he considered all three to be of greater importance than he was. 'I have no intention of bandying birth rank with any here', he thought. 'And it seems to me that there may be strife enough between Boromir and Aragorn based on that and Aragorn's lineage before the journey is out if I am any judge of body posture.' The Steward's son held himself rigidly upright, declining to sit. Aragorn, too, had elected to remain on his feet, a decision Legolas heartily approved of.

 

The younger two of the hobbits had mimicked Legolas, sitting in the grass in front of Sam and Frodo. Mithrandir stood as well, leaning on his staff as he spoke. Legolas was a bit surprised at the attentiveness of the younger hobbits, and further so when the elder of the two, Meriadoc or Merry as he had insisted the rest call him, began asking very pertinent and well thought out questions. Obviously the strategist of the group and no one's fool, he had plainly taken it upon himself to be as thorough as possible in his preparations for the journey. As the discussion wore on, Legolas found himself more and more impressed with the Shirefolk. None of them were at all foolish, even the youngest though he was prone to the naivety of youth to a degree in Legolas' opinion. They had at least a rough idea of how difficult the journey was likely to be and how dangerous. Legolas felt a bit heartened and bent his will toward paying attention to what was being said.

 

ooo

 

“We will set out at sunset as soon as the last of the patrols has returned. It would be best to conceal our movements from any who may be watching,” Aragorn said, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “As we leave, Gandalf and I will take point. Gimli, you will follow next with the hobbits. Boromir, you will have rear guard and Legolas, you will scout ahead and behind.” Legolas merely nodded, he had expected to be utilized in this fashion, and that Aragorn was entrusted the guarding of the hobbits to Gimli surprised him not at all. A quick glance at the dwarf told him that Gimli also knew what Aragorn was about. Gimli was nodding, his unlit pipe between his teeth.

 

“Strider,” Sam piped up, “Not that I don't trust you after all that's gone on, but would you mind explaining why want us grouped that way?” Aragorn smiled slightly, not at all discomfited.

 

“Of course, Sam. Gandalf and I will take the lead simply because we will both be searching for trouble ahead in different ways. We have traveled so before several times. Gimli will be with you and the other hobbits because he is very seasoned in battle and well used to protecting others who have little experience of their own. Boromir will have the rear because he also is well seasoned in battle and it will be very difficult for any to take him unawares.” He nodded briefly to the Steward's son and Boromir returned the nod, looking thoughtful. “Legolas will have scouting duties because his senses are the keenest of all of us and he can move unseen and unheard in almost any terrain. He also is the strongest and most resistant to fatigue and the elements among us.” He favored Legolas with a brief smile which Legolas returned. “And he has been fighting foul creatures and scouting for far longer than any of the rest of us have drawn breath, save Gandalf.” He met the hobbit's eyes, his mouth quirking up at one corner. “Does that answer you adequately, Master Gamgee?” The hobbit merely nodded, apparently satisfied.

 

“Aragorn, how many scouts are still out?” Legolas asked.

 

“Five patrols, including Elladan and Elrohir. I expect they will come in last, given where they were headed,” the Man replied. Legolas merely nodded, he had spent time with the twins the evening prior to their leaving and knew perfect well where they had been bound.

 

“Does that answer all questions for now?” Mithrandir asked, straightening his back and stretching. “If so, Master Elrond has had a private meal prepared for us.”

 

ooo

 

“He seems to be a dear lad,” Frodo commented to Gimli as they watched Legolas laughing at something Pippin had said.

 

“He is,” the dwarf replied. “And for all that I twit him about being addle-pated, he really does have a good head on his shoulders.” He gave the Ringbearer a measuring look. He knew Bilbo very well, and knew how sharp he was, but had only met the old burglar's nephew a scant handful of times prior to the Council. “For example, did you note the way he positioned himself at our little meeting?” Frodo nodded. “He did it deliberately. That elf would have much preferred to be up a tree for the whole of the meeting. Instead, he chose to make it clear who he acknowledges as the leaders of this party, and who he considers more important than himself.”

 

“Yes, I did notice that. I thought perhaps that was why he did it.”

 

“Aye, by sitting with his head lower than everyone else's except your cousins, and more importantly lower than yours, Gandalf's, or Aragorn's he was making a statement. Technically, he's the highest born of the lot of us, excepting Aragorn perhaps, and he's made it a point to let all of us know that it doesn't matter a bit to him who was born into what rank. Whatever he said when he accepted his place in the Fellowship, he'll go to the end of the journey. He's committed himself to it, whether he's admitted that to himself or not.” He smiled grimly at the hobbit. “As have I.” Frodo gave him a measuring look of his own.

 

“Because of him or for other reasons?”

 

“I'd have done so anyway, I expect. It's in my nature to be cursed stubborn. But the fact that he has too makes it a necessity rather than a virtue.” Gimli shrugged.

 

“Ah, I had wondered. You're a brave dwarf, Gimli son of Gloin, getting involved with the Elvenking's favorite child. According to Bilbo he's rather a fierce and formidable sort, and a doting father especially to the youngest of his sons.” Gimli shrugged again.

 

“The lad's worth the risk,” he replied, returning the hobbit's broad grin with a small one of his own. Legolas chose that moment to seek his eyes, as he was wont to do periodically and Gimli graced him with a fond look, which the elf returned before shifting his attention back to the youngest of the hobbits. “Although, I could cheerfully gut that brother of his,” the dwarf muttered, his grin shifting into a frown as soon as the elf looked away.

 

“I had heard that they quarreled,” Frodo said, quietly. “Over you, I'm guessing?” Gimli shrugged.

 

“He was behaving like a horse's hindquarters, and I hope for the lad's sake that he survives what is coming so he can make amends with Legolas. It's never wise to face battle with harsh words hanging between you and your kin. Legolas is the wiser of the two of them, he tried to mend things before his brother left.”

 

“Well, I count it a privilege to be traveling with both of you,” Frodo said, raising his mug to Gimli who returned the favor.

 

 

ooo

 

Legolas turned his attention back to Pippin as the hobbit concluded yet another improbable, yet remarkably funny, tale. He and the hobbit's older cousin, and the Man, Boromir, all dissolved into laughter, as Pippin had intended, Boromir even unbending enough to tousle Pippin's hair affectionately. The Man seemed fond of all of the hobbits, especially Merry and Pippin, which Legolas counted all to the good. He was not a bad sort, merely proud and too wrapped up in his own and his sire's importance for his own good. He did seem to be seeing Aragorn differently than he had at the Council, seeing him as he truly was rather than as a 'mere ranger of the North'.

 

As if Legolas' thinking of him had summoned him, Aragorn walked over to join them, dropping down to sit next to Legolas on a large pillow similar to the ones the elf and Boromir both graced.

 

“Telling tales, I assume?” he asked with a grin.

 

“Well, Pip has been,” Merry said, still chuckling. “Though, I've yet to hear one from Boromir or Legolas.”

 

“Aragorn is the most recently arrived,” Boromir said, lifting his mug to the ranger. “Perhaps he would honor us with the next tale.” Legolas could not see anything in the Man's expression save interest, and evidently neither did Aragorn. The ranger chewed his lip thoughtfully before taking a draught from his own mug. He was smiling slightly when he lowered the mug, and he shot a look at the elf.

 

“Do not you dare, Estel, if you value your own dignity,” the elf warned, fixing his friend with a glare.

 

“Oh, I was not not to tell that one, mellon nin,” he replied with a chuckle. “I was thinking of when we found it necessary to pay back Elladan and Elrohir for making off with our clothing while we were swimming.” Legolas grinned wickedly.

 

“That one you have my blessing to tell,” he said, his grin widening as he saw the expression on the hobbits' faces. Aragorn launched into a retelling of how he and Legolas had drugged the twins, stripped them down to their socks, and hung them by their ankles in the main courtyard in the wee hours of the morning on the day that Legolas was leaving for home on his previous visit to Rivendell. The twins had awakened just as the courtyard was filling with elves wishing to see the prince and his escort off.

 

“The look on your Adar's face was priceless when he saw them! You cannot tell me he did not know something was up,” Legolas said, snickering.

 

“I am certain he did know, but he also knew what they had done to merit such measures. He has always said that one reaps what one has sown,” Aragorn replied, grinning.

 

“I beg your pardon, but it was Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir who stole your clothing and who you drugged and strung up by their ankles?” Boromir asked, more amused than shocked.

 

“Believe me, that type of behavior is not unknown from them, particularly where Legolas or I are concerned. Granted, it has been awhile,” Aragorn said with a shrug. Legolas snorted.

 

“Speak for yourself! They have managed to pull several pranks on me since I arrived and I do not think I will have time to repay them in kind before we leave. I think they are sparing you to avoid angering their sister overmuch. She is worse than they are.”

 

“Lasses always are,” Pippin said sagely. He caught Boromir's questioning look and elaborated. “I have sisters.”

 

“So do I and he is absolutely right,” Legolas added. “I would not cross my sisters or my law sisters for anything.” He grinned at Pippin. “Of course, if you are the youngest, you can make that work in your favor against the older ones.”

 

“Don't I know it!” the hobbit chortled, giving the elf a conspiratorial smile. “Your turn, Legolas.”

 

“Very well,” the elf said, grinning at Gimli as the dwarf, Gandalf, and the remaining hobbits joined them. His gaze shifted to Aragorn and turned mischievous. “I think I will tell you of Estel and the berry tarts.” Aragorn groaned good-naturedly and lobbed a small pillow at the elf.

 

ooo

 

The moon was high in the sky when the Fellowship forsook each others' company to seek their beds. Gimli and Legolas strolled towards their rooms leisurely, accompanied by Boromir whose room lay in the same direction.

 

“You have known Aragorn long,' the Man commented to Legolas.

 

“Yes, since he was a small child,” the elf affirmed, glancing at Boromir.

 

“I can see why you value his friendship so,” the Man said softly. “He is an honorable man, and a courageous one.” He met Legolas' gaze briefly. “It is one thing to grow up hearing legends and quite another to come face to face with them. I expected to meet one legend when I journeyed here, not several.” He sighed, “Master Elrond is kindness itself, not at all what I was expecting given all he has done. I simply was not prepared to meet Isildur's heir.”

 

“Nor Glorfindel, I imagine. He alone would be enough to overwhelm anyone,” Legolas commented. “And you have never been on the receiving end of Lord Elrond's anger,” he continued with a scapegrace grin.

 

“Just so,” Boromir said, with a chuckle. “What I mean to say is that I regret my rash words, and I will tell Aragorn so when next I see him.”

 

“Then perhaps we will have to begin calling you 'Boromir the wise' rather than 'Boromir the fair',” Gimli commented with a grin. The Man gave a shout of laughter.

 

“Never that, my friends. My brother is the wise one, not I.” He bowed to both of them. “Pleasant dreams to you, friends.”

 

Legolas and Gimli continued to their room in companionable silence. The house had become quiet, even the most dedicated of merry-makers where seeking their beds. They could hear Gloin's snores as soon as they entered their suite and trod softly to avoid disturbing him.

 

“I think that went well,” Gimli said, closing the door behind him. Legolas nodded, removing his tunic and shirt and dropping them in the basket.

 

“Yes. I think it will be fine, for the most part. We are bound to annoy each other somewhat during the journey, that cannot be helped.” He sat cross legged on the bed and smiled at Gimli.

 

“And what is it that you want, elf?” Gimli asked, hiding an answering grin.

 

“You, buried so deeply in me that I feel it in my chest,” Legolas answered, his gaze steady despite the color that rose in his cheeks.

 

“Are you certain that's wise, lad?” the dwarf asked, fighting to keep a straight face. “Can't have you walking oddly tomorrow.” The elf huffed in exasperation.

 

“Bugger it all, Gimli! You refused to take me this morning because I would have to sit all afternoon today. We have nothing planned tomorrow, I am not planning to ride anything save yourself.” He lowered his eyes, looking through his eyelashes at his lover. “Please, Gimli? I need it. I need you.”

 

Gimli walked over to the side of the bed, reaching out to brush his fingertips along Legolas' face. The elf refused to be distracted, placing his hands on the dwarf's chest and running them up over his shoulders and down his arms.

 

“Please, Gimli?' He leaned close, licking at Gimli's lips, his teeth lightly grazing the dwarf's lower lip as he sucked it into his mouth. “It will be so good,” he whispered, releasing Gimli's lip in favor of burrowing under his beard and suckling on his neck. “You are already hard, I can feel you pushing against me.” His hand stole between them to caress Gimli through his breeches and the dwarf hissed through his teeth in pleasure. The deft fingers left him briefly and began working on divesting him of his clothing. “I could hardly sit still while Gandalf was talking for thinking of how it would feel when you drove into me, when you made me come so hard that I saw stars, when you filled me with your seed. Please, I nee........”

 

Legolas' voice cut off as Gimli grabbed him by the back of the head and fused their lips together so fiercely that he tasted blood. He hooked his arm behind Legolas' knees, sweeping the elf's legs out from under him and falling onto the bed on top of him. And then Gimli's hands were everywhere, stripping the elf out of his breeches, fondling his ears, his sack, his arousal, stroking whimpers of his native tongue from him when he was not kissing him so thoroughly that speech was impossible. One hand fumbled for the salve while the other flipped the elf onto his stomach and spread his thighs. Scooping a fingerful of the slick substance, and mindful of Legolas' comfort despite his haste and the elf's renewed pleas, he circled a finger around the tight opening, drawing a moan from the elf, before sliding a single digit inside.

 

By the time he had the elf stretched to his satisfaction, Legolas was panting and whimpering, “Oh please, oh now, please, I need it, oh now!” Gimli slipped the tip of his arousal just inside and paused, holding Legolas' hips firmly so he could not squirm further back. He eased forward only slightly and then pulled back until he was almost out. The elf's panting increased, as did his efforts to push back and impale himself.

 

“Behave yourself,” Gimli grunted, smacking the elf's buttock hard enough to leave a red mark. Legolas moaned and shuddered, but stilled himself. “Better. Now, elf, I am going to ride you senseless.” With that he began to thrust, harder and harder as he became certain Legolas could handle it. Indeed, Legolas was pushing back to meet each thrust and moaning almost constantly. Gimli slipped his hand under Legolas' hips to take him in hand. The elf's sex was rock hard and weeping copiously and one slide of his hand was enough to make Legolas stuff a fistful of the blanket in his mouth to stifle his cry as he spilled. Gimli followed a scant second later, collapsing onto Legolas' back as the last spurt of his seed left him.

 

He lay still, breathing hard for several minutes, too spent to so much as lift his head. Legolas lay beneath him, the elf's slow, deep breathing telling him that he had indeed ridden him senseless. As he began to get his wind back, he eased out of Legolas carefully and rolled off him. Slowly, he sat up, looking Legolas over. The elf lay on his belly with head turned away from Gimli, his hair obscuring the dwarf's view of his face, bonelessly relaxed. He carefully brushed the golden strands back to reveal the elf's face. Legolas wore the slight smile that was his typical expression after an intense orgasm and Gimli felt his shoulders relax. He had worried a little, they had never played that roughly before. Groaning a little he eased out of bed, unsurprised when his knees wobbled a bit, and padded to the bathing chamber. A bit later, after having cleaned himself, he brought a basin of water and a rag to clean the elf, relieved that there was no sign of inadvertent injury from his rough handling of his lover.

 

After returning the basin and rag to the bathing chamber, he pulled the soiled blanket off the bed, rolling the oblivious elf this way and that to get it out from under his body, and tossed it into the basket with their dirty clothing. He took a fresh blanket from the trunk at the end of the bed and spread it out over Legolas before climbing back in the bed and gathering the elf into his arms. Legolas sighed deeply, nestling into his beard without waking and Gimli let himself drift into a deep sleep.

 

ooo

 

Warmth on his face woke Legolas and he blinked, momentarily disoriented. He rolled onto his side, automatically reaching for Gimli only to have his hand find nothing more than rumpled bedclothes. He frowned, lifting his head and looking around. No sign of the dwarf, and he could not hear him in the bathing chamber either. He sighed and rolled onto his back again, wincing slightly when his backside protested the sudden change of position. He stretched, wincing again at the twinge in his bum. 'I will use some of the salve after I bathe. That should take care of the worst of it.' He smiled, stretching languidly albeit carefully. 'A sore rear is a small price to pay for such pleasure.' He relaxed back onto the pillow, closing his eyes and thinking of nothing in particular.

 

His eyes opened a few minutes later as his ears picked up the sound of movement in the suite's common room. The door opened and Gimli entered, bearing a tray laden with food and drink.

 

“Good morning, lad,” Gimli said, setting the tray on the table and crossing the room to Legolas' side. “I thought you might appreciate breakfast in bed this morning.”

 

“Mmm, yes. It smells wonderful and having you to myself is wonderful, too.” Gimli grinned at him and leaned down for a quick kiss.

 

“You were particularly bold last night,” Gimli commented, sitting down on the side of the bed. Legolas shrugged, grinning, his cheeks coloring slightly.

 

“I wanted you,” he replied. “And you did not seem to mind, as I recall.” Gimli laughed.

 

“Oh, aye, I minded so much that I well nigh ravished you!”

 

“I very much enjoyed being well nigh ravished.” Legolas wore a rather smug little grin. “I would not wish to be taken that way every time, but I think I would like it every once in a while.”

 

“I don't think I'd be capable of doing that every time,” Gimli commented. “As it is, I need several meals and another night's rest before I'd even consider it.” He stroked Legolas's cheek. “Besides, I'd imagine you're probably sore.”

 

“A little,” the elf admitted. “I will take a hot bath and use some of the salve and I will be fine.”

 

“You eat and I'll fix you a bath.”

 

 

ooo

 

 

Gimli and Gloin stood, forehead to forehead, hands on each other's shoulders saying their goodbyes. Gloin and the rest of the company from the Lonely Mountain were setting out to return home. In Gloin's pack were letters not only from Gimli to his mother and other kin but from Legolas to his parents and other family members. He also bore a letter in Legolas' hand, bearing the young elf's seal, that gave his party safe passage to the Elvenking's stronghold. Once there, Gloin's own efforts, along with Legolas' other letters, would ensure their passage the rest of the way to the Mountain.

 

Gimli and Gloin parted, the younger dwarf's expression tightly guarded and the elder's resigned. Gloin turned to Legolas and drew him head down into the same embrace he had given his son.

 

“Take care of each other. Watch each other's back and return to us in one piece,” Gloin said, ruffling the hair on the back of Legolas' head.

 

“You as well, Da,” Legolas replied, gripping the old dwarf's shoulders. Gloin huffed, surprised at the endearment, before patting the elf's shoulder as he stepped back.

 

“Come to the Mountain with Gimli when this is done and we'll feast and tell our stories.”

 

“I will, Da. Be well until I see you again.” Gloin nodded and grinned at him, clapped Gimli on the shoulder, and turned to his traveling companions.

 

“Well, lads, let's get moving. We're wasting daylight.”

 

 

ooo

 

 

“Gimli, are you well?” Legolas peered around the door frame from the main room to the balcony.

 

“Aye, just missing Da. I'll be all right, especially once we start out tomorrow night.” He gave Legolas a faint smile. “I'll be too busy to brood then.”

 

“We both will. Too busy for many things.” Legolas sat down on the settee beside him.

 

“Well, yes, but we knew that. We'll just have to content ourselves with quick gropes until we're done with this.”

 

“This will be our last night in a bed for a very long time.” Legolas' ears were red but he wore a slight smile. “We should probably make good use of our time.”

 

“Elf, if you're trying to distract me from my brooding, it's working.”

 

 

ooo

 

 

Legolas jogged down the steps, his quiver and knives on his back. Gimli had preceded him to the courtyard, pack on his back and axe in his hand. He turned, casting a last look at the balcony of the rooms he and Gimli had occupied. Drawing a deep breath, he resolutely turned his back and continued to the courtyard and an uncertain, perilous future. Regardless, he would have Gimli by his side. Cheered by that thought, he wore a slight smile on his face as he came into view.

 

Gimli stood next to Samwise, by the pony that would carry packs and their food and water. Aragorn and Boromir stood side by side, nearest the bridge. Of the wizard, there was no sign and Master Elrond too was not yet present. Frodo, Merry and Pippin were walling from the opposite side of the courtyard from Legolas towards Sam and the pony. Legolas made his way across swiftly to stand on Gimli's side opposite Sam. He traded a look with the dwarf. He and Gimli had spoken long into the night previously about their journey. There was no need for further discussion.

 

At that moment, Gandalf and Master Elrond arrived and the Master of Rivendell launched into a speech. Legolas listened with half his attention, having perfected the talent in endless court sessions in his father's realm. He let his gaze roam across those assembled to see the Fellowship off. Elladan and Elrohir wore identically impassive expressions, but the younger twin made a couple of gestures in scout's sign that came perilously close to making Legolas laugh. Arwen looked tense, in a manner oddly similar to Aragorn and Legolas wondered if they had quarreled. He hoped not.

 

Erestor caught his eye briefly and gave him a grave nod. The stoic elf had been kind to Legolas after his falling out with his brother, for which the archer was profoundly grateful. Glorfindel, standing beside Erestor gave Legolas a brief smile. He too, had been very kind to the young elf, providing him with a sparring partner on whom to work off his excess energy and work through his convoluted feelings.

 

His attention snapped back to Elrond as the peredhel lord concluded his speech. Bowing to Elrond and the assembled, Legolas glanced at Gimli. The dwarf hefted his axe and slapped Legolas on the back.

 

“Well, laddie, let's be off.” They grinned at each other and turned to follow the wizard and Frodo, who had been the first to step onto the bridge.

 

Once past the bridge, the Fellowship arranged themselves in the manner discussed during their meeting in the days before. As the hobbits dropped back to walk with Gimli, Legolas gave the dwarf's shoulder a squeeze before loping off to scout ahead.

 

The cool night air, milder within the valley than it would be outside it, stirred the ends of Legolas' hair as he moved swiftly and silently towards the hidden entrance to the valley. Drawing a deep breath, he headed into the wild.

 

 

 

 

Ooo

 

 

The End