(Me: My apologies, folks, for the reposting of this story. It was taken down when the site was revamped. I had left the first five chapters here for you fine readers at with a link guiding you to later chapters posted elsewhere, due to the adult content of them. Links fail, I get e-mails from people who are left hanging, and therefore I'm posting the story here in its entirety.

This is still not a story for younger readers, though I am posting it with an 'R' rating. The content is not graphic but quite intimate, and meant for those of you who have lived enough of life to appreciate that the sex can be meaningful, and should be.

As always, all credit for Middle-earth and its inhabitants goes to J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm merely entertaining myself by writing between his lines, and hopefully entertaining some of you as well along the way. Excerpts are taken from "The Two Towers" to lend my work some foundation.

Legolas and Gimli have been my heroes ever since I can remember; I had a fondness for them even as a child. I hope I do them justice. If you think so, let me know. If you don't think so, I'd like to know that too. Feedback is always very welcome.

Enjoy!

- Nimue)

Chapter 1: RETREAT

There came a blare of trumpets, then a crash and flash of flame and smoke. The waters of the Deeping-stream poured out hissing and foaming: they were choked no longer; a gaping hole was blasted in the wall. A host of dark shapes poured in.

"Devilry of Saruman!" cried Aragorn. "They have crept in the culvert again and have lit the fire of Orthanc beneath our feet. Elendil!" he shouted, as he leaped down into the breach; but even as he did so a hundred ladders were raised against the battlements. Over the wall and under the wall the last assault came sweeping like a dark wave upon a hill of sand. The defense was swept away. Some of the Riders were driven back, further and further into the Deep, falling and fighting as they gave way towards the caves. Others cut their way back towards the Citadel.

Gimli hewed a two-handed stroke and laid an Orc before his feet. He regarded the thing with grim satisfaction and blew out his breath, misting the chill air. "Twenty-one!" he shouted to Legolas, who was whetting his long blade upon the wall above him.

"Good!" cried the Elf. "But my count is now two dozen. It has been mostly knife-work up here."

The Dwarf approached him and stood leaning against the breastwork. "There are so many," sighed Legolas.

"Less there are now," said Gimli. He shook steaming black blood from his blade, spattering the ground.

"Our count is only a few leaves in a forest. It is disheartening," replied the Elf. "It will not be long ere we are awash once more in the tide of our foes. I would that there could be better light for shooting!" Legolas fingered the fletching of a long arrow and his eyes glittered in the darkness.

"Dawn shall be a long time coming, I think, and the night dark indeed," said Gimli. "But this is ground which I could defend and be content. There is good rock here," he said, "and this country has tough bones. I feel it beneath me. Give me a year and a hundred of my kin and I would make this a place that armies would break upon like water."

Legolas gave him a smile and stared out at the vast horde which clamored beyond the wall. "I do not doubt it, my friend, but I do not like it here. It is too confined and the greyness of it does little to lift my heart. Men build their fortresses and towers to last, but I do not see how they can find them habitable. This is a bleak place."

The Elf and Dwarf ceased to speak as the echo of Aragorn's voice sounded far along the battlements, signalling for them to flee. They heard the warriors take up his cry for retreat, their hoarse calls ringing out through the thick, smoke-filled air. All took to their heels, leaping from the heights to get to safe ground.

Those who stood with Legolas and Gimli were the last to withdraw; they kept their places as long as they could to buy safety for their comrades. The fighting was vicious and hot and the number of Orcs crawling and scrabbling over the stones multiplied.

When the trumpets sounded, they knew the game was up and it was time to give way and fight later. Théoden's men raced back, some battling their way for the Rock, some cutting their way to the caves, stumbling over shadowy shapes and dispatching enemies as they went.

Legolas remained at the wall, an arrow kept nocked to his bowstring, and he fired at the Orcs who would trip up the heels of the retreating Rohirrim. Gimli stood beside him, his axe held high; they watched as the black host advanced. Men darted past them, pausing momentarily to look at the two fighters who were oddly out of place amongst the horsemen of the Mark; but danger and death were nigh and there was no time for such wonderment.

Legolas shot one last arrow into the breach and caught an Orc through the throat. Two more leapt forth to take its place.

"Come!" Gimli bade him; he tugged at the Elf's sleeve and lowered himself down onto the parapet. "All who can have now got safe within. It is time for us to follow!"

Legolas fired another arrow, then nodded and slung his bow over his back. Even as he turned, there was a great shout from outside the walls and the evening sky lit up like a frozen sunrise. Sheets of harsh white light shot through the air, crushing rock and foundation where they struck, drawing screams from Orcs and men alike who hesitated and were lost.

"Gimli!" Legolas's voice rose with alarm. An Orc lying motionless among the slain had crept upon the Dwarf as he had gazed in horror at the forces of Orthanc tearing into the Helm's defenses. It now grappled savagely with him and Gimli twisted, trying to break its hold. The thing had grabbed him from behind and he was having a difficult time shaking it off. Gimli growling fiercely as the Orc snarled and snapped at his neck, seeking a firmer grip on him. Gimli wrenched his shoulders and spun the creature around.

With a fluid motion, Legolas unsheathed his knife and cast it, burying it deep within the Orc's back. Gimli heaved the body off in disgust and kicked it once in the face. He bent to retrieve the Elf's blade, tearing it from bone and flesh with a jerk of his wrist. The Dwarf lifted his head to shout up at his companion, to make light of the near call, but the chance never came.

A flickering shaft of light blew away a piece of the wall above Legolas with a plunging roar. The Elf jumped nimbly from under the crumbling stone, but even as he moved the white fire shattered and flared out from the wall's surface behind him, striking Legolas, flooding through him. He stiffened with a wordless cry. His body arched and he flung his arms wide. He was engulfed by the unwholesome light and he disappeared in its blinding flash.

"Legolas!" Gimli's voice boomed over the chaos and the screams. There was no answer from his companion, or it was drowned by the rushing noise of the sorcerous blasts and the sound of the hollow, distant horns. The Dwarf cursed and stumbled forward, kicking aside corpses and debris in an effort to reach the Elf.

The harsh white light gradually faded around him; Gimli blinked and squinted, trying to see past the afterimage of the flare that lingered before his eyes. The air was charged and he could feel it prickling his skin, raising the hairs upon his neck. He picked his way towards the place where he had seen Legolas go down, his axe in one fist and the Elf's white knife clenched in the other.