Legolas was not surprised when he heard the door open quietly. After today's catastrophe he fully expected Aragorn or Gandalf or both to come after him. Aragorn would offer comfort on one hand and a stern lecture on the other; Gandalf would just give the lecture. Even so, Legolas was disappointed when he saw it was Aragorn stepping into his chambers. He was certainly in no mood to be lectured to, but he was in even less of one to be comforted.
"Go away," he addressed Aragorn calmly from the bed, where he was curled up in misery.
Aragorn completely ignored him, going to the bedside table and pouring himself a drink, letting Legolas know the man intended to stay for a while. "This was a long time in the coming, my friend," he began matter-of-factly.
"Didn't you hear me?"
"And Gimli was more than provoked."
"I know."
"So you really should forgive him," Aragorn concluded.
Legolas looked at him with an expression of disbelief. "That's all you have to say?"
Aragorn studied the wine in his glass for a moment. "I could go into greater depth, but...yes, that about sums it up."
"Get out."
Aragorn raised his eyebrows at Legolas. "I'm just trying to help."
Since the man was refusing to excuse himself gracefully, Legolas got out of bed and prepared to march Aragorn to the door by force. "You have no idea what you're talking about. All you ever had to do was look at Arwen...not to mention your being several hundreds of years younger than I am!"
"I knew you were going to say that," Aragorn said with a sigh. "I told Gandalf he should have come. But he seemed to think only he could contend with Gimli's axe."
Anger flared up in Legolas. "Oh, so you're tag-teaming us? That's lovely, Aragorn, just lovely."
Aragorn realized he had erred and began to protest, "I didn't mean--"
But Legolas was having none of it. With one arm firmly on Aragorn's bicep he propelled the man towards the door. "You two are the two worst meddlers I have ever met in my life, and that is saying something. I don't know what you hoped to accomplish tonight except irritating me, but I recommend you go back to your wizard conspirator and relay my suggestion that you both keep your over-large noses out of it, will you?" Legolas pushed Aragorn through the door and retrieved the wineglass from his limp grasp. "Goodnight," he concluded angrily, and shut the door firmly.
Then he leaned against it and sighed deeply. Aragorn seemed to have decided further persuasion was useless, for he did not knock to be readmitted and after a while Legolas was sure he was gone. Listlessly he sat the wineglass down and wandered back to the bed, where he curled up on his side again.
If Aragorn was right about one thing, it was that the argument had indeed been a long time in the coming. So far the parties of both elves and dwarves who had come to Minas Tirith to celebrate Aragorn's coronation and marriage had managed to maintain a sense of strangled peace between them--due in no small part to the efforts Legolas and Gimli had made. Legolas had been horrified when, as representatives of Mirkwood, two of his older brothers had shown up. He had been positive nothing would entice any of his kin out of the great wood so soon after war had beset it; he had been certain he and Gimli would be safe for a while yet.
He had been dead wrong.
At first his brothers had shown no more than a perfunctory interest in the dwarf their younger sibling had befriended, treating him with the same vaguely scornful disdain their father would have. Legolas had given up very quickly on trying to interest them in any of the projects Gimli and his kin were developing for rebuilding Minas Tirith. He had realized sadly that getting them to admit anything dwarvish in origin was of value was time wasted. But the strain of hiding the relationship got to him more quickly than he would have thought possible; he missed having Gimli in his bed at night, missed greeting him with a kiss when they met during day. After only a few days he had sat down with his brothers and firmly explained to them that he and Gimli were in love.
The results had been explosive.
After the initial battle, which Legolas had carefully timed so only the three of them were present and Gimli himself was very far away, the brothers had settled into a brooding dislike of Gimli that expressed itself in pointed, vindictive comments whenever the conversation allowed for it: angry references to old conflicts, unflattering bits of Elvish lore about dwarf-kind brought forth loudly, implications about Gimli's family that Legolas never would have stood for but Gimli got through with gritted teeth and a bit of grumbling in Khuzdul.
Until today. Until this afternoon, when Legolas's eldest brother had been imprudent enough to touch down heavily on the still open wound of the orcish occupation of Moria and Gimli had exploded.
Everyone had been surprised by the violence of Gimli's outburst. He had cursed them for a solid ten minutes without once repeating himself, giving no heed to the fact that there were at least a dozen spectators around them. At first Legolas had been paralyzed with shock; then he had found himself growing angry. It was Gloin screaming at his brothers, not Gimli; so many of the old beliefs and accusations that Legolas had fully believed his lover had abandoned in Lorien now came spewing out of Gimli's mouth, and Legolas felt betrayed. He sat there rigid with shock and anger, listening to the fight escalate until Gandalf angrily sent the two parties away--just in time to prevent a physical altercation.
The second shouting match had been private but no less fierce, and it had been between Legolas and Gimli only. Legolas had remonstrated Gimli for attacking his kin, Gimli had declared he'd been pushed over the edge and to hell with his kin, whose side was Legolas on? Legolas had replied angrily that he, too, had been provoked by the dwarf kind who were unhappy with their relationship but so far he had managed to keep his head, Gimli had made some comment about elven superiority that stung far deeper than it would have before Legolas had come to love him and crave his goodwill. It had deteriorated rapidly and ended with Gimli stomping out of the small garden terrace attached to their quarters. Only when he was gone had the anger drained out of Legolas and been replaced by misery.
If Aragorn was right about one thing it was that the fight had been unavoidable; if he was right about a second thing it was that Gimli deserved to be forgiven. But somehow Legolas couldn't. He was too hurt. He hadn't realized before now how deeply Gimli had the power to wound him. And, if he were to be honest with himself, he was also terrified. What would this do to their relationship? He had been fully aware what the consequences would be when he went to Gimli and declared his love--fully aware that it would be years before either of the families accepted their love, if they ever did. So far he and Gimli had managed to postpone this reality, living in a sort of dream. A dream where they worked by day to rebuild their friend's kingdom and lay by each other's side at night.
Now the dream had been shattered, and they could not go back.
Legolas's pained ruminations were interrupted by the sound of the door opening yet again. He sat up, fully prepared to give Gandalf a piece of his mind, but the words died on his lips.
It wasn't Gandalf. It was Gimli.
Chapter Two
Legolas stared for a moment. He truly hadn't expected Gimli to come here tonight. After the first few nights of whose-room-are-we-going-to they had agreed that Gimli should move into Legolas', since Legolas couldn't cope well with the underground nature of Gimli's. But while they weren't hiding their relationship from their friends they weren't posting notices in all seven circles, either, and for the sake of appearances Gimli maintained his own rooms as well, though he rarely visited them. He had spent a few nights there when Legolas' kin had arrived, before Legolas had gotten up the nerve to inform them of the relationship. After the way Gimli had stormed out earlier, Legolas had assumed he would have the room to himself tonight.
Gimli stood in the doorway a moment, and Legolas couldn't read his expression. It was cold, impassive, betraying no emotion. Legolas felt cold again when he met it, and some small part of the anger he had felt earlier returned. If Gimli had come back just to argue more, then Legolas wanted no part in it. He lay back down on his side, with his back turned to Gimli--the effect of a closed door.
He could hear the door to his rooms close, and for a moment it was so quiet he didn't know if Gimli had come in or gone away again. He refused to look. Then he heard Gimli moving around, quietly taking off his boots and changing into his nightclothes. Anger, unaccountably, stirred in Legolas again. Like nothing has happened. What on earth was Gimli trying to accomplish by pretending things were all right? They weren't.
Legolas felt the bed shift as Gimli sat down next to him, and he could feel the dwarf's eyes on him, carefully studying him for reaction. Legolas did not move. He felt paralyzed, and he wanted nothing more than to pretend he was asleep, even though he and Gimli had stared at each other for a moment when he came in and it was obvious he was not.
He was startled to feel a hand hovering above his face--then ever so gently, Gimli brushed his hair back from his cheek. Legolas had to bite his lip against the tenderness of the touch, against the longing that swelled painfully within him. He longed for Gimli to touch him more, hold him and tell him everything would be allright. You're being a child, Legolas he told himself angrily. Things weren't going to be all right, it was no use pretending they would be.
Gimli continued to caress Legolas's hair, with the special gentle touch he reserved only for his elf--a touch far more delicate than Legolas had believed a dwarf capable of. He had been pleasantly surprised. Gimli's other hand came to rest softly on Legolas's hip.
Though it cost him, Legolas managed to make his lips move. "No," he whispered.
Gimli stilled; Legolas could feel the pain coursing through him as though it were his own. Then the dwarf gave a low, resigned sigh and removed his hand from Legolas's hair, though the one on his hip lingered, gently stroking as though Gimli couldn't bring himself to break this last viable, physical connection. Gimli leaned over Legolas and whispered in a voice hoarse with emotion. "Goodnight, Legolas. I love you."
He kissed Legolas's temple lightly, his beard rasping against the smooth skin of Legolas's cheek. Then the hand was finally withdrawn and Gimli lay down, leaving a courteous distance between them.
Legolas's heart was hammering. He realized suddenly that Gimli wasn't ignoring the horrible fight, that the gentle touches were his way of trying to make ammends: Gimli always had a hard time initiating any discussion about their feelings, it just wasn't dwarvish. Instead he was trying to show Legolas with actions that he still loved him, and the elf had whispered no to him.
Legolas half-raised himself and looked at Gimli; the dwarf was lying with his eyes closed, breathing deeply, an expression of pain etched on his face. Legolas was undone. With a suddenness and determination that must have shocked his partner he closed the space between them and pressed his face into the gap between Gimli's hair and beard, resting his neck on Gimli's shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around Gimli's waist. It only took a moment for Gimli to respond, roughly enfolding Legolas in his embrace, so tightly Legolas feared he would suffocate. They lay together silently, clinging so tightly to one another that their muscles trembled. Legolas realized he was weeping; after a moment Gimli felt the tears on his neck and stroked his elf's back, making soft soothing noises.
Legolas pressed a kiss into Gimli's neck. "I love you too," he whimpered quietly.
Gimli kissed the top of his head. "I know. I love you, Legolas. And I'm sorry."
Now that the words had been said Legolas realized how little he had needed to hear them. Still, "I'm sorry too," he whispered back, hoping Gimli would believe him. "I didn't stand up for you, I should have."
"I shouldn't have broken down like that."
"No," Legolas reassured him, cupping the dwarf's face in his hands and meeting his eyes for the first time. There was deep pain there. "No, you were in the right. It was horrible, what they said," he assured Gimli, his voice breaking a little as he recalled the callous indifference his kin had displayed to Gimli's feelings. "I don't blame you in the slightest."
"I overreacted," Gimli insisted.
Legolas had to admit this was true; Gimli's explosion had been truly spectacular. Legolas never wanted to be on the recieving end of that righteous wrath. "You," he said, punctuating his words with a kiss, "couldn't take it anymore. Neither could I. That's why I yelled at you later. But I was yelling at the wrong person."
Gimli smiled at him, and leaned in for a more passionate kiss. Legolas eagerly let Gimli's tongue invade his mouth, desperate for reassurance. He realized he was shaking, physically shaking, with relief. Gimli must have realized it too, because he pulled back and looked at his elf with concern. "Legolas. It's allright. It's allright now," he soothed, brushing a stray lock away from Legolas's forehead. "We've forgiven each other. It's allright."
"But it's going to happen again," Legolas whimpered. "And again, and again, and again. It was so wonderful, being sheltered here from everything and everyone but now--now we have to face what everyone will think of us. Now we have to face all those arguments and
betrayals."
"So we'll face them," Gimli said, solid and unperturbed. "Together," and he emphasized this with a kiss. "As long as we stand by each other, as long as we never forget why we're going through this--because we love each other." He caught and held Legolas's gaze, trying to pour the truth of his words into his beloved. "Then everything will be allright."
"Truly?" Legolas asked wistfully, like a child asking his parent if the sun really would rise the next day.
"Truly. How can I make you believe me?"
Legolas had no trouble coming up with an answer to that one. "Make love to me," he said instantly. "Please."
Gimli did not bother to reply with words; he just leaned in and kissed his lover deeply, while at the same time undoing the sash on his nightclothes. "Please," Legolas gasped again in the brief moment Gimli surrendered his mouth, just long enough to grab some air. He could not seem to stop; he kept saying it as Gimli quickly divested them both of their clothing, kissing him all the while. Legolas was of little help getting them undressed, he was too busy clutching at Gimli's shoulders, hair, anything he could reach. "Saes," Legolas whimpered as Gimli nipped at the joining of neck and shoulder, his hands kneading Legolas's hips. "Please!"
Gimli reluctantly removed his mouth from Legolas's neck long enough to speak. "Shh, Legolas," he said soothingly. Legolas's arms twined tightly around his neck, pulling him close, and Gimli tried to return the embrace with equally crushing force. "I have you."
Legolas stilled in Gimli's arms, loosing the frantic quality to his motions. He looked up at Gimli, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Gimli moved to kiss each of his eyelids, and as Legolas closed his eyes to accept this caress the tears spilled down his cheeks. Gimli kissed them away as well. "I love you," he told the elf tenderly, and then proceeded to prove it in the best way he knew how.
He reached for the oil they kept on the beside and coated his fingers with it--a little awkardly, since Legolas would not untwine his arms from around Gimli's shoulders. Gimli knew without asking that Legolas would want Gimli to take him tonight. His lover had told him once that he enjoyed the feeling of being possessed by Gimli, of belonging to him, and after today the elf would need that feeling. Gimli gently probed Legolas's entrance, all the while kissing him--he felt Legolas gasp into his mouth and eagerly spread his legs, which encouraged Gimli to slide a finger in. Legolas purred happily into the kiss, writhing in a manner that never failed to convince Gimli he was the luckiest person in Middle Earth.
Gimli tried to go slowly with his lover, but Legolas would have none of it. "More," he demanded in a surprisingly forceful tone, thrusting his hips downward. Gimli complied, and it was not long before he was ready to replace his fingers with his cock.
Legolas gasped when Gimli entered him, throwing his head back and clutching at the sheets. Concerned that he was hurting him, Gimli slowed himself considerably as he gently slid into his lover. Again Legolas foiled his intentions, this time by the simple act of reaching around to cup Gimli's cheeks and fiercely pulling his love into him, wrapping his legs around the dwarf's waist for extra measure. Gimli needed no further encouragement after that; he abandonned his attempts at gentleness and began riding Legolas with a fierce passion. The incoherent noises of pleasure spilling out of his elf's throat were enough to convince him this was how Legolas wanted it also. It wasn't long before Legolas lunged forward and bit down hard into Gimli's shoulder, muffling his cry of pleasure as he came. Only when his elf was lying sated in his arms did Gimli allow himself to spill over the edge as well.
When he could move again Gimli lifted himself off Legolas's chest and reached for a cloth they kept next to the oil. Legolas lay placidly smiling at his lover while Gimli cleaned the effects of their lovemaking from them, careful to use a gentle touch around Legolas's entrance. When he was done Legolas raised his torso off the bed and, smiling, guided Gimli into lying on his back. Legolas then settled down at his side, laying his head on Gimli's left breast so as to be able to listen to his lover's heartbeat slow.
For a long moment neither said anything; comforted by the closeness of the other, they allowed themselves time to recover from their exertions. Legolas played sleepily with Gimli's beard; Gimli smiled indulgently at him. After a while, Legolas raised his head slightly to look at his lover and said, "Gimli, promise me something."
"Anything," Gimli replied.
"Promise me next time something like this happens we'll remember what's important," Legolas said seriously, "and not get swept up in what other people are doing or saying. And promise me you'll never forget how much I love you."
Gimli kissed him gently. "If you promise the same."
Legolas nodded solemnly and accepted another soft kiss before returning to snuggling against Gimli's chest, revelling in the strength of his lover. After a moment he asked curiously, "Did Gandalf really come after you?" Gimli snorted. "Well?"
"Let's just say that beloved staff of his was quite nearly lost to a dwarf's axe. And Aragorn?"
"Came within an inch of wearing the wine he helped himself to." Chuckling, the pair drifted off to sleep.
