Dwarves and Elves
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When You Are With Me: 6. Salvation
the dawn and the uncertainty of day. Rain pattered still upon the roof of
the small shelter, though the rumble of thunder was now faint and moving
yet 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 and 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, trying to keep the unnatural chill from the elf's flesh, to distract
him from the darkness which threatened to claim him. Gimli grew bolder at
the feeling of the elf's lithe, youthful body beneath his hands, but moved
slowly, gradually, ever careful, his concern for his injured friend
prevailing over his own increasing desire. He enticed Legolas, hinting at
greater pleasures to come to tempt the elf back from the edge, yet holding
back until he deemed Legolas could endure it.
He was amazed himself, truth be told, at the patience that ruled his
movements there in the darkness. Most dwarves were not known to be
sensitive lovers, to say the least. But then, he thought, bemused, 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 flesh, rejoicing at the slight tensing
and shifting of the elf's muscles at his fingertips. He wanted him. So
much so that he was quite overcome by it, 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
The words were 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. 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 this elf female. She violated
his mind and penetrated his thoughts, and though he resisted, he could not
deny her. She had tempted them each. A test, Boromir had called it, and
to Gimli was shown the Ring of Power upon his own hand, giving him the
strength to return to Khazad-dum and scourge the halls of Moria, returning
them to their glory in order to claim 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.
And then the Lady had delved deeper.
As she had bared his mind she gave him a glimpse into her own, and Gimli
looked suddenly into the heart of an enemy only to see 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, and he
looked upon her and believed. His walls fell.
She had promised him then that all would be well, that the hope he had held
within would come to pass if he remained true. What that hope could be
Gimli would not have guessed, but in those days in the Golden Wood and
these dark days after, the veil was lifted little by little from his eyes,
and he saw that the gift the Lady had given him was far more valuable than
the lock of her hair. He became bound heart and soul, life to life,
through sorrow and joy and beyond prejudice to the brave, impossible,
exasperating and noble friend by his side.
And in that, he had found himself. Without Legolas, he could not be. All
that mattered most was here before him. Though Middle-earth should fail
and darkness fall, he would not lose this.
He lay for a long while with Legolas in his embrace. Then Legolas made a
slight sound, and turned his head slowly to capture the dwarf with a look
of longing and questioning desire. The elf lifted a graceful 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
towards the leathery skin of his cheek to touch the rough beard beneath his
Gimli was suddenly uncomfortable, realizing of how he must look, bruised
and bloodied from the battle, and painfully aware of the contrast between
his worn countenance and the ethereal creature so close to him. He
hesitated, unable to believe that it was he Legolas wanted, and old doubts
about their differences surfaced in his thoughts and gnawed at his control.
He drew back from the elf's knowing touch and flushed.
"You are... so beautiful." The words were little more than a breath from
Legolas, hardly to be heard, but they resonated in Gimli's ears and he
stared down in disbelief at the elf.
His expresson must have appeared comical because Legolas looked at him and
quietly laughed. The shadow lifted for an instant and the elf's eyes
fairly danced. The sight was so familiar and so like his friend that Gimli
chuckled in spite of himself. The tension fled from him 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 weakly tipped his fair
face forward, tentatively 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 so much.
They kissed long and deep, pulses racing. Gimli paused, letting himself be
lost within his lover's gaze, as green as brilliant emeralds, as rich as
the leaves of the forest. Then he shifted and slid along him, his strong
hands running across the elf's arms and along his slim waist until Legolas
stirred restlessly against him. Deftly he played at the silken skin behind
his knee, then roamed up to a muscled leg, drawing a ragged gasp from the
elf. Gimli groaned himself when he felt Legolas begin to swell a little
and grow hard.
"Dearest heart...." His voice was deep and filled with care, and he was
somewhat apprehensive of his next move. He delayed, teasingly kneading his
lover's hip, watching Legolas tense and try instinctively to maintain some
measure of composure. He looked at Legolas queryingly. With an
inperceptible nod, Legolas closed his eyes and gave himself to him. Gimli
met his lips once, gently, then caught up the elf's long, slender shaft,
bringing the stiffness of the elf's erection to steel. Legolas drew in a
harsh breath at the anticipated touch and convulsed, reaching out to clutch
Gimli's shoulder for support. The dwarf flashed a triumphant smile at the
elf, and then concentrated and began to slowly stroke him. He took
Legolas's hand in his free one, and lifted the fingers to his mouth,
keeping a steady rhythm with the other, and then he placed a kiss upon
Legolas's palm, pressing his lips to his wrist, then up to the fingertips,
taking one between his teeth and sucking upon it tantalizingly.
Wracked with desire, his lover was shuddering uncontrollably now, gasping
soft elvish words. Gimli ceased and took a moment to caress the tell-tale
roughness of the archer's thumb and forefinger, then he squeezed the hand
tightly and settled it on the elf's stomach. Very deliberately, almost
reverently, the dwarf's touch wandered past Legolas's throat, over his
carved chest, down his side to rest upon his thigh. Gimli lowered his head
without warning and took the elf in his mouth.
"Uuuunnnnnhhhh!" Legolas cried out in wonderment, and his body surged. The
dwarf held him gently but firmly onto the pallet.
"G..Gimli...ahhhhhhhh...." His fingers tangled in the dwarf's thick hair.
His breathing became quick and shallow and he closed his eyes tightly,
trying not to lose consciousness. Gimli felt him tremble beneath him and
he eased a little. He withdrew, keeping his hand upon Legolas's throbbing
member. He touched the elf's arm worriedly, afraid he had gone too far.
"Am I hurting you, Legolas?" he asked. "Have you the strength? I did not
"No... I am so sorry... Gimli... no.... ... I am all right. Please,
beloved....," he reached out an unsteady hand to caress the dwarf's face,
".. ...slowly. It is.. .... almost too much, dear one...."
Gimli nodded, feeling his soul burn with quiet pleasure at the novelty of
hearing endearments whispered from the elf's lips. With infinite
tenderness, took the tip of the elf's shaft, sucking gently, keeping a
close watch upon Legolas's grasp on his forearm, using slightly more
pressure and taking more of him in gradually, pausing now and then to catch
his breath and to let Legolas 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 as long as he could,
focusing upon Legolas and striving to giving him pleasure, but the sight
and sound of the elven prince rising in the throes of ecstasy battered down
his self-control. With fumbling hands he freed himself, rock-hard, and he
had to summon all his will to keep from coming right there and then like an
Legolas was moaning now, murmuring his name, moving with him as Gimli
stroked him faster and harder. They pressed against one another, bodies
sheened with sweat, Legolas gasping for air, revelling in the hot, searing
contact, biting back passionate oaths as he neared his release. The elf
threw his head back in abandon and groped blindly, touching Gimli's strong
thigh and then clasping the dwarf's own rigid member. Gimli stiffened
sharply but held back, so aroused he had to struggle to keep from calling
out, remembering where they were and that neither of them were exactly
prepared just then should enemies be prowling nearby. He stifled a groan
and growled deep within, gripping the elf tightly.
He was not about to let Legolas get the better of him in this contest, of
Gimli abruptly withdrew. The elf arched and his breath caught violently in
his throat. He clutched at Gimli's loose shirt. "PLEASE! Gimli,
melethron nin, please! I am so near...." Gimli ignored the elf's
pleading cry, holding back. Then he swallowed the elf as far as he could,
slid his arm around Legolas and purposefully stroked his hand down the
full, long length of his lover's back.
"Aaaaauuuhhhhhhnnnnn....!" His touch tipped Legolas over the edge. He
came, hard. Gimli pressed him down, holding him, alarmed at the intensity
of the elf's climax. Legolas's essence pulsed from him again and again,
and he clasped the dwarf fiercely, his cries choking off as the power of
his release overwhelmed him.
Gimli drank him in as the elf thrust beneath him. Legolas's last wrenching
sobs enflamed his body and his mind and he could withstand it no longer.
With a low shout, he let go. "Legolas..." he clenched his teeth, there was
a moment of nothingness, and then his hips jerked and he exploded in his
lover's hand. "Unnnnhhh...! Ai-Mahal...." Gimli shook with the sheer
ferocity of those few seconds, then he slumped forward, breathless and
disoriented. He felt the traces of passion drain from him as if his very
life were ebbing away, and he reeled at the sensation.
It ended, and finally the two descended and sank loosely back to the floor,
spent and exhausted. The rain thrummed lightly at the small window above
their heads and bided its time, waiting for the day to break.
Gimli lay still for a long while, listening to his heart pounding, feeling
his lover's breathing next to him, quick and laboured. He swallowed, then
rose shakily 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 the elf's 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 his smooth lips.
"Legolas? Ah, Legolas... what have I done...." the dwarf was apprehensive,
misinterpreting the tears upon his companion's face and chagrined at his
boldness now that the moment of passion had passed. He sighed gravely,
"May you forgive me."
Legolas was desperately tired and he could not answer right away. It was
all he could do to stay awake. He lay for a moment, breathing in the heady
scent of iron and leather and sweat upon his lover's skin.
"Gimli," he whispered, when at last he found the energy to speak, "I
understand... if you have regrets. I could not hope... that you should
find the comfort in me.. that I... needed so much... so much from you,
beloved." And to the dwarf's utter dismay, the elf lowered his head in
shame. "I needed you... and I thank you for sacrificing yourself. I can
ask nothing more."
With an anguished cry Gimli sat up, shaking away his lethargy. He lifted
Legolas in his arms, knowing that the elf was too weak and exhausted to
protest. "Legolas, no!" the dwarf gave a stern hiss. "No, that is not
what I meant. Of course it is not. What I regret is revealing my feelings
for you like this, of all times, and placing such a burden upon you when
you trusted me. I fear," he said grimly, "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. Or one in particular, anyway.
Are you quite certain that blow to your head was not more serious than you
let on?" A slight smile played upon Legolas's lips.
"Nay, not certain at all," Gimli said glumly. "I believe I just offered
my love to an elf, if he would have it."
"Fool of a dwarf," Legolas laughed. He brought a hand to rest upon his
companion's solid chest, matching his breathing with his. "Gimli... I've
never... never felt so deeply... .. . I do not know that I can ever be
without you. Do you understand this? That will not change as the sun
rises, or as years pass... ever. Do not... doubt that, beloved. I will
be... wherever you shall go."
His fair voice faltered and he trembled. Sleep crept upon him, but it was
a welcoming, comforting sleep, not the chill and deadly darkness he could
feel threatening to drag him under before. A faint blush coloured his
cheeks and he was breathing easier. The pain was all but gone, leaving
only the weariness, and he simply did not have the strength left to resist
it. He felt Gimli ease him back and gather him close, and the husky voice
at his ear whispered, "Rest, Legolas. I am here with you." The elf went
limp in his arms, his strange eyes fluttered and closed.
"I will go wherever you will go," the dwarf murmured.
(Me: LOL! I was distracted and hadn't had time to continue the story
until now, I wasn't teasing. This will be continued, when I am able, as I
myself am interested in seeing how the encounter at Orthanc might go, and
the meeting of Gimli and Saruman now. And yes, I tend to play around and
add things to my chapters, for those of you paying attention. As to the
few who have commented upon Legolas's hair colour, keep in mind that this
is a book-fic, and as charming and absolutely gorgeous as I find Orlando
Bloom to be, Orli's 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 pic of the elf
and dwarf is John Howe's, with 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.)
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