CHAPTER 6: SALVATION

Night tarried, unwilling to relinquish his reign to the intrusion of the dawn and the uncertainty of day. Rain pattered still upon the roof of the small shelter although the rumble of thunder was now faint and moving further away. The storm was passing.

Gimli sat with Legolas, lulling him with hushed words and caring strokes that did not betray the worry in his heart. Legolas lay quietly, his eyes open and distant, listening to the Dwarf's sonorous voice murmuring first in the common tongue, then in fragments of Dwarvish speech he could not understand. It was a language born of strong mountains and solid earth and mirrored pools hidden in the depths of the world; Legolas felt comforted by it and somehow safe, though he could not grasp its meaning.

Gimli sensed the emotions coursing through Legolas and strove to heighten them, striving to keep the unnatural chill from the Elf's flesh and distract him from the darkness that threatened to claim him. Gimli grew bolder at the feeling of the Elf's lithe body responding beneath his hands, but he moved slowly, gradually, ever careful, his concern for his companion prevailing over his own increasing desire. He enticed Legolas, hinting at greater pleasures to come to tempt the Elf back from the edge of unconsciousness, yet holding back so that Legolas could endure it.

He was amazed himself, if truth were told, at the patience that ruled his movements there in the dark. His kind were not known to be sensitive lovers, to say the least. But then, he mused, what Dwarf had ever felt such an attachment before to an Elf? It was unheard of. Indeed, he was having a difficult time accepting it even as he touched and tasted Legolas's smooth skin and rejoiced at the slight tensing and shifting of the Elf's muscles at his fingertips. Gimli wanted him, so much so that he was quite overcome by his desire and he ached exquisitely. He had loved and lusted before, but this was beyond anything he had ever known. It tore at his heart, built him up and lifted his soul.

"It seemed to me that my choice would remain secret and known only to myself..."

These were words he had spoken a lifetime ago, in a time and place that was only a dream now to Gimli, far removed from this grim and forsaken stronghold of the men of Rohan. The words came back to him now. Closing his eyes, he could still remember flashes of golden light amongst the trees. The Lady had looked deep within him at that first meeting and he had not trusted the Elf-woman. She violated his mind and penetrated his thoughts, and though he resisted, he could not deny her. She had tempted each of them. A test, Boromir had called it. Gimli was shown the Ring of Power upon his own hand, giving him the strength to return to Khazad-dûm and scourge the halls of Moria, returning them to their glory and claiming them for his own. The temptation was strong indeed, but a Dwarf is not so easily deceived. He saw the test for what it was and refused outright, proudly declaring once more his loyalty to the Fellowship and to Frodo.

But the Lady had no mercy. She delved deeper.

As she had bared his mind she also gave him a glimpse into her own, and Gimli saw the heart of an enemy only to find there love and understanding. Ages of distrust and unreasoning hatred with which he had been raised were stripped from him in a single rushing instant; he had looked upon her and believed. His walls fell.

She had promised him then that all would be well, that the hope he held would come to pass if he remained true. What that hope might be Gimli could not have guessed, but in those days in the Golden Wood and dark days after the veil was lifted little by little from his eyes. He saw that the gift the Lady had given him was far more valuable than the strand of hair he had requested. He became bound heart and soul, life to life, through sorrow and joy and beyond prejudice to the brave, infuriating and noble friend who walked by his side. Legolas. He could not imagine himself now without Legolas by his side. It was odd to find that someone could come to mean as much to him as that in so short a time; he was not certain he was happy for it, but the truth of it filled his heart. All that mattered most was here before him. Though Middle-earth should fail and darkness fall, he could not lose this.

Gimli ceased to touch, ceased to speak; he grew quiet with thought. Legolas made a slight sound and turned his head to capture the Dwarf with a questioning look. The Elf lifted a slow hand from his side and brought it to Gimli's face, hovering over the cloth stained red above his brow, running along the deep lines by the Dwarf's eyes, trailing his fingers towards the leathery skin of his cheek to the beard beneath his parted lips.

Gimli was suddenly uncomfortable, realizing how he must look, bruised and bloodied, and he was painfully aware of the contrast between his worn countenance and that of the ethereal creature so close to him. He hesitated, unable to believe that Legolas could want him as he wanted the Elf. Old, nagging doubts about their differences surfaced in his thoughts and gnawed at his certainty and control. He drew back a little from his companion's touch and flushed.

"You are beautiful."

The words came as little more than a whisper from Legolas, but they resonated in Gimli's ears as if they had been shouted. Legolas looked at him and laughed weakly at his expression. The shadow lifted for an instant and the Elf's eyes fairly danced. The sight was so familiar and so like his companion that Gimli chuckled in spite of himself. Truly, the two of them were filthy, covered in mud and grime, battle-weary and sorely used. Flattery was absurd. They traded taunting grins. The tension fled from Gimli and he lovingly brushed back the Elf's dark hair from his forehead. Legolas sensed the Dwarf's inhibitions ease, and with great effort he tipped his face forward, seeking the Dwarf's mouth. All misgivings fled from Gimli's mind and he met the challenge fully, accepting what would be, allowing his tongue to twine hungrily with the Elf's. Legolas didn't simply want him; he needed him.

They kissed long and deep, pulses racing. When their lips parted, it was to allow for the small, comforting words that passed between them. Gimli smiled and tarried, letting himself get lost within his lover's gaze, as green as brilliant emeralds, as rich as the leaves of the forest.

Legolas shifted again restlessly; Gimli slid alongside him, his strong hands running across the Elf's arms and along his slim waist until Legolas stirred against him, seeking more. Deftly Gimli played at the silken skin behind his knee, and then roamed up to a muscled leg, drawing a ragged gasp from the Elf. Gimli groaned himself when he felt Legolas respond to his touch and grow hard.

"Dearest heart..." The Dwarf's deep voice caught in his throat. Despite it all, he was somewhat apprehensive of going further. He delayed, kneading his lover's thigh as Legolas writhed and strove instinctively to maintain some measure of composure. Gimli looked at Legolas queryingly. With an imperceptible nod, Legolas closed his eyes and gave himself up. Gimli touched Legolas's lips once with his own, and then moved a careful hand down to grasp the Elf, bringing his stiffness to steel.

Legolas drew in a harsh breath at the anticipated contact and jerked his hips. He reached for Gimli's shoulder. The Dwarf flashed a triumphant smile at him, and then concentrated and began to slowly stroke him. Legolas's head fell back and he gave a faint moan. Gimli kept a steady, lazy rhythm as he took up Legolas's hand in his other. The Dwarf lifted the Elf's fingers to his mouth and placed a kiss upon Legolas's palm. He pressed his lips to the wrist, and then licked up to the fingertips, taking them one by one between his teeth and sucking upon them.

Wracked now with desire, his lover was shuddering uncontrollably, gasping Elvish words. Gimli ceased and took a moment to caress the tell-tale roughness of the archer's thumb and forefinger, and then he squeezed the hand tightly and settled it on the Elf's stomach. Very delicately, almost reverently, the Dwarf's touch wandered past Legolas's throat, over his breast and down his side to rest upon his leg. Gimli lowered his head and without warning, he took the Elf in his mouth.

"Uuuunnnnnhhhh!" Legolas cried out. His body surged, but the Dwarf held him firmly. "Gimli...ahhhhhhhh..." The Elf reached out and tangled his fingers in Gimli's dark hair. His breathing grew quick and shallow and he closed his eyes tightly. The warmth of the Dwarf and the coldness within him clashed, and he gritted his teeth.

Gimli could feel him shaking beneath him and he eased a little. He withdrew and touched the Elf's arm, afraid he had gone too far. "Am I hurting you?" he asked. "Have you the strength to do this? I did not mean to..."

"No... I am sorry... Gimli, no, please..." Legolas reached unsteadily to caress the Dwarf's face. "Slowly," he begged. "It is almost too much, dear one."

Gimli nodded. His soul soared with quiet pleasure upon hearing that first endearment whispered from the Elf's lips. With infinite tenderness, he took the tip of the Elf's shaft and suckled gently, paying close heed to Legolas's grasp on his forearm, using slightly more pressure and taking more of him in. He pausing now and again to catch his breath and to allow Legolas to catch his.

The Dwarf could feel his own lust welling up within him even as he brought Legolas nearer to his peak. He pushed his desire back. He focused upon Legolas and strove to give him pleasure, but the sight and sound of the Elf rising in the throes of ecstasy battered his self-control. With fumbling hands he freed himself at last, unable to bear it. He summoned all his will to keep from spending his passion there and then like a callow youth.

Legolas was moaning now, weakly murmuring his name, tightening as Gimli stroked him faster and harder. They pressed against one another, bodies straining. Gimli felt the Elf's lithe body tense. Legolas gasped for air, revelling in the hot pressure; he bit back tangled oaths as he neared his release. Gimli placed a warm hand at the small of his back to lift him a little. Legolas groped, touching Gimli's strong thigh, and then slid his hand down to clasp the Dwarf's own hard member. Gimli stiffened sharply but held back, so aroused that he had to struggle to keep from lifting his head and calling out, remembering where they were and that neither of them were exactly prepared just then should enemies be prowling nearby. Gimli gave a growl.

He was not about to let Legolas get the better of him in this contest, of all things.

Gimli withdrew abruptly. Legolas arched and his breath caught violently in his throat. He clutched at the folds of the Dwarf's shirt. "Gimli! Melethron-nin, I am close..."

Gimli ignored the Elf's cry and held back. Then he slid his arm around Legolas and swallowed the Elf as far as he could. He purposefully stroked his hand down the full, long length of his lover's back.

"Aaaaauuuhhhhhhnnnnn...!" This final touch tipped Legolas over the edge. He came hard. Gimli pressed him down, held him, his satisfaction tempered by his alarm at the intensity of the Elf's response and the full cry of his voice in the darkness. Legolas's essence spilled from him again and again and he clasped the Dwarf fiercely, choking to silence when the power of his release overwhelmed him.

Gimli drank him in as Legolas thrust beneath him. The Elf's last, wrenching sobs enflamed Gimli's straining body and he could withstand it no longer. He drew back his head, and with a low shout, he let go. "Legolas..." he moaned. He clenched his teeth; there was a moment of nothingness and then his hips jerked and he burst in his lover's hand. "Unnnnhhh...! Ai-Mahal..." Gimli shook with the sheer ferocity of those few seconds. He held Legolas tightly, and then he relaxed. He felt the traces of passion drain from him and his head reeled at the sensation.

It ended, and finally the two lay together, exhausted. The rain thrummed lightly at the small window above their heads and bided its time, waiting for the day to break.

Gimli was still for a long while, listening to his heart pounding, hoping their voices had not drawn danger. He felt his lover's breathing next to him, quick and laboured. Gimli swallowed, and then rose unsteadily upon one elbow to look anxiously at the Elf.

Legolas's eyes were shut and his chest was heaving. Gimli drew nearer to him cautiously and touched soft, black hair, tucking a strand behind a leaf-shaped ear.

Those fathomless eyes opened. Weariness was there, and wonder, and a certain peace. Tears shimmered behind the dark lashes. Gimli moved his hand to the Elf's face. Slowly, heavily, Legolas took the knotted fingers and brought them to smooth lips.

"Legolas?" whispered Gimli. "Ah, Legolas... what have I done..." He misunderstood the tears which now crept down the Elf's cheeks and rued his boldness now that their moment of groping passion had passed. He sighed. "May you forgive me for this."

Legolas did not answer. He was desperately tired and it was all he could do to remain awake. He lay for a long moment, taking in the heady scent of iron and leather and sweat upon his companion's skin. "Gimli," he said at last, "I understand... if you are regretful. There is nothing to forgive. War stirs the blood and coaxes lust. I could not hope that you found the comfort in me that I needed so much... so much from you. I thank you for making such a sacrifice. We will forget this if you wish. I will ask nothing more of you."

Gimli was dismayed to see his companion lower his face away in shame. The Dwarf pushed himself up and lifted Legolas into his arms. "Nay!" He gave a stern hiss. "Legolas, that is not what I meant. Listen to me! Of course it is not. My regret is revealing my desire for you in such a place when you trusted me. I fear that the light of day will banish any feelings you may have for me, or turn them to distaste. I should not have taken you like that."

"A plague... upon dwarves, I say again." A faint smile played upon Legolas's lips. "Are you quite certain that blow to your head was not more serious than you let on?"

"Nay, not certain at all," said Gimli glumly. "I believe I just offered my love to an Elf, if he would have it."

Legolas laughed. "He would, yes." He brought a hand to rest upon his companion's breast and brought his breathing to pace. "Gimli... I've never felt this deeply. Please, can you understand this? This will not change when the sun rises, or even as years pass... Do not doubt. I will be wherever you shall go." His fair voice faltered and he trembled. Sleep crept upon him but it was welcoming, comforting; it was not the chill and deadly darkness that threatened to claim him before. The pain was all but gone, leaving only the weariness, and he did not have the strength left to resist it. He felt Gimli ease him back and gather him near. He closed his eyes.

Gimli touched his companion's face and murmured, "Rest, Legolas. I will be here with you."


(Me: As to Legolas's hair colour, keep in mind that this story is based upon the books, and as charming as I find Orlando Bloom to be, I wrote this before the LOTR films were released and his interpretation of Legolas is only one of many. Tolkien does not tell us the colour of the Elf's hair, so we get to decide for ourselves what we'd like him to be. My personal favorite portrayal of the Elf and Dwarf is John Howe's painting of the two companions in their armor on the wall. That IS Gimli. Legolas, for me, is partly as he is portrayed in this same painting, partly Edelfeldt's, and partly as he's existed in my head all these years.)