This is for day 8 of Gigolas week, which is 'I was always supposed to go first'. I may go back and change the title later. Also, to the anon who left such a 'lovely' message on the story I posted yesterday: 1, if you don't want to read something about two males, don't click on a story specifically marked with a male/male pairing and 2, any guest reviews on stories have three days to be moderated before they're posted, which meant it was very easy to delete.
The meadow was a pleasant place, for most. During the day, it was a good place to have a picnic, lying in the grass and simply relaxing. The dwarf who approached the meadow now knew precisely how restful it could be, as he had visited very often with his husband. They would come to get away from their respective duties, lying side by side in the sun and just enjoying each other's company. And if sometimes, they indulged themselves…well, no one else ever visited when they did, and only the creatures in the forest surrounding the meadow were witness to it.
He walked out of the meadow, ignoring the path and instead walking east, his path meandering around tall trees and sturdy boulders. He knew where he was heading, even if there was no path, and he had no fear of getting lost. He stopped when he came to the edge of a rather steep cliff, looking down without a hint of fear, despite the height. A river flowed sluggishly at the bottom, and he could see faint traces of blood on the rocks on the small ledge midway down the cliff. At the top, beside his boots, were scuff marks in the dirt, as though someone had been running and hadn't stopped in time.
"I was always supposed to go first," Gimli murmured, raising his hands and looking at the accumulated wrinkles, stroking his now snowy beard. "I have always been prepared to go first, my life is far shorter than yours. That never bothered me. I lived my life well, and it was full. Of good and bad times, but I would like to think that the good times, the best memories, outnumber the bad ones. Even our quest, desperate and bleak as it was at times, still has things to commend it."
"I'll show you who is old, elf," Gimli growled, mock seriously, getting up from his spot on the ground and running after his elven lover, who laughed and darted into the forest. Now Gimli would never be the fastest, and he had slowed as he aged, but he knew that Legolas would never run far and the chase was often more enjoyable than winning. Legolas' bright laugh floated through the forest, and he could see the elf, looking back over his shoulder as he continued to run. Too late, Gimli saw the danger that Legolas didn't, as his love's keen eyes were looking back, teasing Gimli.
"Legolas, âzyungel!" Gimli shouted, but the elf had already reached the edge of the cliff, his feet skidding in the dirt as he finally turned the right way, realizing the present danger. For a moment, Gimli thought that Legolas would regain his balance, precariously balanced as he was. He had seen the elf perch on thin branches as lightly as falling snow, surely he could regain his balance now? But his momentum from running acted against him, and he had stopped a second too late. Legolas tumbled over the edge, and Gimli's last glance of his love was the shock and dawning horror as the elf disappeared from his sight.
"I would prefer if neither of us left," a soft voice said from behind him, and Gimli didn't need to turn to know who it was. "Preferably, we would both live forever or die together. I would not wish to live in a world without you, melleth nin, regardless of how accepting you are of such a fate." But then, it seemed easier for Gimli to contemplate his own death than to imagine Legolas'. "You need to stop coming here."
"And you need to stop leaving your bed in the infirmary," Gimli grunted, turning to look at his elf. There was a neat line of stitches over his brow, from the rock that he had hit his head on when he fell to the narrow ledge. His right arm was still strapped to his chest with bandages, sling helping to hold it in place. It had been a miracle that Legolas hit the ledge rather than falling straight down. A miracle that he had stayed on the ledge rather than falling further. And Gimli would be eternally grateful that Legolas was here, bruised and still healing but alive, rather than in Mandos' halls.
"You need to stop dwelling on what could have been," Legolas murmured, his uninjured hand resting firmly on Gimli's shoulder. "It was an accident, one that you could not have prevented, nor did you cause it." He could tell that Gimli would protest that, so he squeezed the dwarf's shoulder firmly. "You did not cause the accident, Gimli. I should have been more attentive to my surroundings, and we both should have recalled that the cliff lay in this direction, but it is not your fault that I was injured."
"I nearly lost you," Gimli murmured. "I am supposed to go first, Legolas. You are an elf, for Durin's sake!" Legolas dying had never crossed his mind, as very few things could harm an elf, and the incident at the cliff had stuck with him. He knew that Legolas was right, of course, but it didn't stop him from replaying the incident every time he closed his eyes. He had nearly lost Legolas. Any threats to their life had ended when their quest did, in his opinion. He had forgotten that battles weren't the only dangers they faced. Sometimes stupid accidents could accomplish what battles hadn't.
"But you did not lose me," Legolas said simply, drawing Gimli into the closest approximation of a hug that he could manage at present. "Focus on that, meleth e-guilen, rather than what could have happened. We are both here, alive and reasonably healthy, is that not enough?" Unlike Gimli, Legolas had needed to think about what would happen when Gimli was gone, and although he dreaded the possibility, he had begun to accept it. He wouldn't stop searching for ways to prevent it, of course, but he had also started to accept that it wasn't within his power.
Gimli sighed, but Legolas was right. "I do not want to lose you, Legolas," he murmured. "No matter which of us go first." He shook his head after a moment, looking up with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "And you need to get back to the infirmary before the healers strap you down to keep you in bed, or sedate you until they decide you are permitted to leave." They would need to talk through this more later, of course, and that day would be one of his worst memories, but he felt better now that they had at least addressed his concerns.
Legolas laughed and they started to head back, his hand entwined with Gimli's. "Do not think that you will win the next race so easily," he murmured, and Gimli laughed despite himself. Watching Legolas try to explain to the healers why he had left the infirmary despite their express orders was also amusing, and it was enough to chase the lingering gloom from Gimli's eyes. For that reason alone, Legolas didn't protest being forced back into bed, still holding onto his husband's hand as he accepted the tonics from the healers and relaxed back into the bed. Neither of them were going anywhere just yet.
I couldn't help it, I didn't want Legolas to really die.
Khuzdul word (according to the website I found):
âzyungel= love of all loves
Sindarin words (from the other website I found)
meleth nin- my love
meleth e-guilen- love of my life