CHAPTER 12: OF THIS MOMENT
His perception returned to him gradually; his eyes focused as he left behind the last vestiges of the dark sleep which had claimed him. He grew accustomed to the light of the warm little room and his sight wandered to the figure sitting with his back turned toward him, his head bowed low.
Suffering because of him.
He sat up, and then rose and softly padded over to the Dwarf's side. He circled ere kneeling before him. With a tentative hand he made to touch him, to draw Gimli to him, but he could not bring himself to do so. He crouched for a long while, sorrowing over the careworn face, the weary slope of the Dwarf's shoulders, the dusky shadows beneath his eyes. Gimli made no effort to acknowledge him and simply sat there in the unravelling silence. The Elf's heart quietly broke. Swallowing the cry of pain that was in him, Legolas pillowed his head in his arms and laid it upon the Dwarf's lap.
The Maker created the dwarves to be so strong that they might endure the evils of the world. Stone-hard and stubborn to a fault, staunch and unswerving in oath or deed, they were the hardiest of all races and full of pride at the fact. Glóin's son was a seasoned fighter, a grim warrior and steadfast Dwarf of the Kingdom under the Mountain. He was as proud a Dwarf as ever walked the halls of Erebor, yet he wept unashamedly when he felt Legolas kneel before him and lay down his head. Gimli lifted an uncertain hand to stroke the long hair that spilled over him in ebony waves; the silken softness of it slid between his coarse fingers. Gimli sighed and finally roused his tongue to speak. "You will be the life or the death of me, my dearest friend," he said brusquely and he smiled through his tears.
Legolas raised his head and looked at Gimli with a face that was pale and indefinable and filled with quiet intensity. But he was Legolas once more, untainted and familiar; the heaviness had been lifted from him. The Elf drew himself level with the Dwarf and gazed searchingly at him, then he placed a hand upon each side of Gimli's face and brought him forward to capture him with a deepest kiss. Gimli caught him into a rough embrace and his lips sought the Elf's until the lack of air made them weak and they broke from the caress, panting.
"For this brief moment, we are real," whispered Legolas. "We are here." He stood and drew Gimli up from his chair. "Be with me."
Gimli followed him away from the fire and from the room through a door into one of the smaller chambers that had once served as sleeping quarters. Gimli sat upon the simple, low bed and he watched the Elf light a candle in the sconce fastened against the stone wall.
Legolas turned to him. His elegant eyes were pools of beautiful depth and they sought Gimli's face anxiously. He needed reassurance that the Dwarf was still there with him. So much had happened in such a short of time that he did not quite yet trust his senses and he feared the unreal.
But Gimli was there to hold, to touch. His presence was solid and so strong. He was an unchanging constant to be depended upon should the mountains fall and the world be lost. The Elf marveled at the sheer brawn of him, his most implacable companion, and he ached for him. The warm power that lit Gimli's dark eyes outshone the flicker of candlelight. The Dwarf looked at him with such a desire as made Legolas's breath catch in his throat.
The Elf crept near him and slid nimble fingers down beneath the Dwarf's collar. He unfastened his shirt with slow haste, peeling back the layers of cloth until he was able to run his hands along his lover's side and up his broadly muscled back. Gimli held him and nuzzled at the Elf's soft neck, remembering with longing the swift caresses and heights of fumbling ecstasy nights ago. The Elf felt so alive now, so vibrant. Gimli thirsted for that bright essence, hungered for the light in his lover's visage. He would possess that immortality, if even only for a fraction of time. Eternity was here and now.
Legolas pulled himself from the Dwarf's arms and rose, never taking his eyes from Gimli's face. He straightened and smoothly shed his clothing until he stood bare in the dim light. The lithe curve of the Elf's body was perfection. Gimli shrugged off his shirt and motioned for Legolas to come near.
The Elf shook his head with a smile. "It is chill in here, my love, away from hearth and fire. I will return with something to warm us."
Gimli could have suggested a few things that would have staved off the cold, but the Elf glided from the room. He returned ere long with a snug grey blanket cast about his shoulders and a plundered bottle of wine from the store rooms.
"It seems our young hobbit companions did not altogether deplete the stock," said Legolas gleefully. He swept to the bed and leaped lightly upon it. He hurled the coverlet over the two of them and huddled close to Gimli's compact form. Legolas took a long draught from the bottle, and then held it out to the Dwarf. Gimli's fondness was for stronger drink, but his mind was quite reeling as it was from an intoxication that surpassed all; he swallowed a mouthful and let the sweet liquor flow down the back of his throat. Legolas kissed him and tasted the wine that lingered upon his tongue.
The Elf withdrew and lowered his head. "Gimli, you cannot begin to know... how much..."
Gimli growled impatiently, needing no words, wanting none. He pulled the Elf closer to him, pressing flesh against warm flesh. Legolas touched the wisps hair at the Dwarf's temple, then traced the dark, woven hair at the Dwarf's cheek, past his beard, and tangled his fingers in the thick thatch upon his chest.
"I had no need to go searching for a blanket," teased Legolas. Gimli nipped irritably at a tipped ear and Legolas twisted away, laughing merrily. The Elf drew himself up and pressed the Dwarf back to lie upon the bed. Kneeling beside him, Legolas traced light tickling patterns over his torso and tugged gently at the coarse curls upon his breast. He reached for the flask in Gimli's hand and took another sip of the wine, and then he brought the bottle low and slowly trickled a little upon the flat of the Dwarf's stomach, causing Gimli to start at the chill sensation. With a mischievous glint in his eye, the Elf bent and ran his tongue over Gimli's skin to catch the rich liquid.
Gimli shivered and groaned at the coolness of the wine mingled with the warmth of the Elf's breath. Pleased to no end by his reaction, Legolas tipped the bottle and let a few drops fall upon the Dwarf's forearm and then repeated the gesture, kissing and licking over Gimli's arm and shoulder, then back down along his broad chest to his midsection and inevitably back to his solid hips.
Gimli stopped him from going any further and he lifted himself up. The Dwarf reached out and forcefully snatched the wine from the Elf. He drank deeply, and then poured a small amount along Legolas's collarbone, letting it drip down the core of his body in a lingering, pinkish trail that Gimli followed with his lips.
The bottle was soon much lighter, and the two were sticky and glistening with wine and desire. Their touching became more urgent, their voices more passionate, more demanding. Gimli attempted to wrest control from the Elf with dwarvish obstinacy, but Legolas was having none of it. With easy strength, the Elf pushed Gimli back to the bed once more and he leaned above him. The Dwarf's arousal was evident by now and Legolas caught him up with a firm hand and brought him hard. He emptied the last of the wine over Gimli's thigh and stroked him. Gimli's hand roved up the Elf's back, feverishly kneading at his flesh.
Legolas tipped his head to look down at him with a tempting smile. "To feel... to live." His expression grew quite serious. He bent close and kissed Gimli chastely, then fixed his eyes upon him. "I am no Dwarf, son of Glóin, but I hope I will serve."
Legolas raised himself up and threw the blanket back over his shoulders, draping them both beneath the grey folds and hovering over the Dwarf like a beautiful bird of prey. The Elf straddled him lightly, then took a long, deep breath and sank back down with incredible slowness, guiding Gimli, claiming him.
Gimli moaned. He closed his eyes, resisting the urge to lunge upward. Legolas took him fully, completely without uttering a sound. The Elf carefully exhaled and allowed himself a few moments to become accustomed to his lover's girth.
Gimli revelled in the feeling of being within Legolas and he clenched his teeth in disbelief. It felt so good, but he feared to move. Gimli looked worriedly up at the Elf; there was no pain upon his fair face, merely a deep concentration. Legolas's eyes were still upon him, unwavering. Gimli stroked the Elf's slim flanks with a tender, wondering touch and then he gripped Legolas's waist with strong hands to support him.
Legolas swallowed and hesitated, then finally relaxed and drew the blanket down around them both. He smiled tremulously at Gimli. Then he stirred, drawing an intense groan from the Dwarf. They faltered at first, uncertain of themselves. But slowly they began to learn one other's rhythm and how to move as would give them both pleasure. Legolas gracefully controlled his rising and falling, never taking his eyes from Gimli's. They became acquainted with the pliancy of flesh, the strength of muscle, the nuances of their bodies that were so unlike and yet so similar.
Gimli marshalled his will, but in too short a time his breathing was harsh and his thrusts became deeper. Legolas restrained him and set the pace. He led him to the brink of raw ecstasy and brought him back from it again and again until Gimli could not even find his voice to plead with the Elf to grant him completion. Legolas had him; the Dwarf might have protested such a thing, but he was enjoying this far too much to allow pride to spoil it.
Legolas pressed the palms of his hands to the Dwarf's stomach and then slid them upward until he was gripping Gimli's shoulders. The verdant eyes which gazed directly into Gimli's were brimming over with desire and the Elf moved harder against him. Their emotions were running too high and their need for one another was much too great to make it last. Gimli felt the Elf's shaft between their bodies and he grasped for him, wanting to drive Legolas beyond control even as he lost his. Legolas's head snapped back at the touch of his hand; he gave a strangled cry and tightened.
Gimli could endure no more. With a low-throated moan, he thrust once... and again... and again, and pleasure rippled down his spine. Legolas felt his lover's steel expand, and then turn molten inside him. The Elf arched his back and cried out. He followed the Dwarf to spiralling heights and peaked and fell with Gimli's name upon his lips.
They slumped together beneath the blanket, limbs quaking and breath mingling as they whispered fervent, feverish vows. At last Legolas slid from Gimli to lie close by his side and he gave a blissful smile. Gimli threw a protective arm over the Elf and gently stroked his throat, feeling the cherished heartbeat begin to slow.
"Either by chance or design," observed Gimli after a long and sated silence, "our dalliances seem to take place in abandoned guard houses."
Legolas's low, sparkling laughter filled the room. "Guard houses are common. I should think it will not be so hard to accommodate us wherever we may go," he mused, "though I am afraid it could prove difficult to persuade the guards to leave us alone." The Elf touched the fingers that held his neck and he caressed them.
"Legolas?" said Gimli sleepily, "...don't ever do that again."
Legolas lifted his head and gazed at the Dwarf with a hurt expression.
Gimli gave him back a withering look. "Nay, you grand fool of an Elf," he said. "Not that. Do not let me lose you ever again. I could not bear it. What is the good of giving my heart to an Elf if he does not have the sense to behave as the rest of his annoying kindred and remain above the weaknesses and dangers us mere mortals face? Don't ever leave me like that again or I will not forgive you."
Legolas shook his head and clasped the Dwarf's hand firmly in his own. "Never will I."
(Me: If it helps those of you shyer readers, I was about 7 years old when I "met" Legolas and Gimli, and blush a bit as well looking through these keyholes. But Legolas and Gimli each have a towering sense of confidence and I don't think they really mind, honestly. Sex is just a part of life, and at its best, is an expression of love. This is love. Casual sex doesn't belong in Tolkien's world, where people truly do feel love strongly enough to die for it.)
