Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate and New Line Cinema.
Author's Note: Fill for a prompt on the hobbit-kink meme.
Hands Off the Dwarf
Dawn had come, and with it came Gandalf, Eomer and his company. So the tide had turned, and the battle of Helm's Deep was won for the Rohirrim. The three hunters had been with Theoden when he welcomed and embraced his nephew. They had bowed and hailed the Third Marshal of the Riddermark warmly. When Eomer asked if any of them wished to accompany him to let the women and children out of the Glittering Caves, only Legolas volunteered.
After parting with the others, the two walked side by side in comfortable silence. It was not until sometime later, passing through a deserted and low-lighted hallway, that a small crease formed between Legolas' brows and he coughed.
"Lord Eomer," he spoke in a light, serene voice. "I wish to ask you to kindly stay away from Master Gimli."
"Stay away?" the man repeated quizzically, quirking one eyebrow.
"Aye." The elf's expression was the portrait of calmness, as though they were discussing the weather. "It would be for your own good," he explained. "And for my own peace of mind," Legolas added under his breath.
"Um, I'm sorry…? I am not sure I follow you," Eomer admitted with a shake of his head, looking somewhat bewildered.
The elf said patiently, "It is quite simple, really. You threatened Master Gimli, when we first met." An encounter Leoglas could recall all too clearly.
And, he thought, just now you had a strange look on your face when you patted his head and clasped his shoulder. Legolas had had to restrain himself from ripping away the marshal's hand and leaping in front of Gimli.
"I do not appreciate it when my friends are threatened. And if you touch the dwarf again," he continued, voice gentle, yet with an underlying dangerous edge, "well, then, I shall have to do this."
And he proceeded to deliver a strong slap across the man's face.
"Hey—!" Eomer stepped back, stunned. Rubbing his cheek he glared.
"And this."
The elf gave a loud slap to the other cheek.
Eomer stumbled against the wall. "Wait…what?!"
"Some of this…"
A lightning fast one-two punch to Eomer's midsection had the man doubling over, arms wrapping protectively around his stomach, groaning and gasping for air.
Legolas sing-songed merrily, "A little of this."
Swiftly he put his foot behind the marshal's legs and pulled, sending Eomer sprawling onto his back with a startled grunt.
"And of course this."
Attempting to jerk into an upright position, Eomer's scowl dropped when he opened his eyes and he stilled. Legolas' twin sharp knifes were pressed against his throat and nose, respectively. The elf gazed at him with that ever-present calm look, the corners of his mouth twitching. Yet his eyes were dark and fierce.
"This is what I shall have to do, and more, if you ever touch my dwarf again," Legolas spoke almost sadly. "Are we at an understanding, Lord Eomer?" he asked after a long pause in a near whisper.
"A perfect understanding," the man rasped, still regaining his breath.
"Excellent!" The smile the elf bestowed on the marshal was nearly boyish as he put away his weapons. He offered a helping hand which was regarded hesitantly before being accepted. "Now, let us make haste and tell your sister and the others of our victory!"
After that Eomer carefully kept a wide space between himself and Master Gimli (who could provide no account for his new-found jumpiness around him). And if he widened the distance whenever he was on the receiving end of the elf's disconcerting smile, well, that was no one's business but his.
THE END