Title: Loving Legolas Pairing: Gimli/Legolas, Thranduil/Haldir Rating: R (for graphic lovemaking) Author: Dayast_joy (pen_bunny@hotmail.com) Summaries: The Perfect Spot: Elf and dwarf seek the perfect place for their first intimate encounter and encounter many difficulties Family Affairs: Amidst frolics in the baths, secrets are revealed, blood is shed and hottie Haldir dramatically guest stars! The Wedding: During preparations for the memorable occasion, the sexual habits of Gondor and Mirkwood are examined. Hottie Haldir briefly steals the show from the loving pair in a racy scene. Loving Legolas: The Perfect Spot Chapter 1.1 "You know, you could have picked a better spot," Legolas grumbled. "A better spot?" Gimli asked, amazed. The spot he had chosen for their very special meeting would have inspired many a brave dwarf warrior to orgasm with delight at the mere sight of it. Columns of white and saffron and dawn, fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms, sprang up from the many coloured floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof. The still lake mirrored them: a glimmering world looked up from the dark pools covered with seemingly clear glass. Gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glinted in the polished walls. When these reflected the fire of the two standing torches brought in by the dwarf lord – who would soon be Lord of the Glittering Caves -- it seemed that the stars themselves chased each other across the stone in delighted celebration of the romantic occasion. He could not think of a more fitting place to finally taste -- and savour -- the exquisite intimate plleasures of his most beloved elf. *I am not going to be tumbled in a hole in the ground, with nary a tree or glimpse of sky for relief from all that dreadful, suffocating stone. Ugh!* thought Legolas. Just then, however, Gimli kissed him as they lay side by side and face to face on some very plush furs, and bejewelled pillows. Legolas was so beautiful it took Gimli's breath away, and he was soon reaching to undo the buttons of Legolas's under-tunic. The soft, pale skin beneath was even softer and more inviting to caresses than the finely woven elven silk. "Oh, Gimli," sighed Legolas. "Yes! Legolas," Gimli growled, working open the last button and easing his lover out of his tunic. Legolas sat up and shrugged off the garment as Gimli enthusiastically shed his own sleeping tunic with commendable speed. They both then lay back down to resume kissing and caressing each other. "Oh, Gimli," Legolas said, running elegant, but strong, fingers across the thick hairs of the dwarf's chest. He made little swirls in the fire red hairs around the dwarf's sensitive nipples, and sighed. "Yes, Legolas? Does something trouble you?" Gimli asked, most tenderly, cupping the beautiful face with weather and weapon roughened but oh-so-gentle hands. "It is dark," complained Legolas. "Dark? But we have torches, and the elves have superior night vision, and I can see you well enough even with my dwarven eyes, my darling beauty," Gimli purred seductively. Legolas could not argue with that logic, so the kissing and play continued again. Presently, Legolas whined, "It is cold." "Cold? But I thought the elves were immune to the elements and comfortable in any environment. Surely you are not cold here when you did not even shiver on snow covered Caradhas? And I shall warm you presently," Gimli replied. Gimli proceeded to warm Legolas's peaked nipples with his tongue, and the elf gasped with pleasure as their groins met and their sexes strained for each other through their linen and leather leggings. He could not object in the face of such tenderness. "Oh, Gimli!" he cried, just then. "Yes! Legolas!" cried the dwarf. "Ow! I am injured!" howled the elf. "Oh my most divine, where?" Gimli asked, springing up into a sitting position in his concern. "My neck has been stabbed by a jewel. It hurts most torturously," Legolas moaned. "But you have withstood sword blows and enemy arrows and horse charges and cave trolls…are you now undone by a pillow?" Gimli asked, flabbergasted. "Not the pillow, the gem attached to it, it is sharp," Legolas said, blushing. "Then I shall kiss your hurts away," Gimli said heroically, and bent close to nuzzle and suckle Legolas's most perfect neck. "Oh, Gimli," Legolas said, seconds later, as Gimli's deft fingers set about undoing the laces at the top of his leggings. "Yes, yes, my Legolas," he grunted, distracted. "There are bats. I can hear them. I hate bats, they smell and poo on everything," Legolas protested. "I thought elves love all living things. And didn't you grow up in a cave, and befriend many bats?" Gimli asked, puzzled. Legolas pouted his pretty lips. Honestly, Gimli had a brilliant memory. He was a most attentive lover. Gimli now sat between the elf's long legs, and he reached eagerly for the top of Legolas's leggings again. Soon, he would mine the most prized and well-protected 'cave' on Middle Earth -- and surely the most desirable! He reached down… "Oh, Gim--," the elf squeaked, with great urgency and little lust. "What, my love?" Gimli asked, not able to hide a hint of impatience in his gruff voice. "Oh, Gimli, you scold me!" Legolas wailed. "And at such a moment when I am about to surrender all to you." "My behaviour is reprehensible. Forgive me, my heart, my angel, my most priceless jewel," Gimli soothed the pouting elf. "Legolas, you must forgive me, but you are acting most strange. Is something bothering you, my darling? You can trust me with all," Gimli said. "Gimli, I do not like caves. I cannot relax in one. I had a very stressful childhood growing up imprisoned in one, with nowhere to run from my strict father, no tree to climb, no river to bear me away. And tonight, my love, you will do yourself a damage trying to conquer my opening when it is clenched against you in distaste and protest at our surroundings," Legolas said, meekly. The dwarf looked visibly deflated at this revelation. "Maybe we should wait a little longer, Gimli. Will you be patient with me?" entreated Legolas, all doe eyes and fair skin and demure little lips. "Of course," sighed Gimli, sorely disappointed but chivalrous and protective to the last. Chapter 1.2 Legolas purred sexily as he tossed Gimli onto his back. The dwarf fell with a grunt into a nest of soft leaves and multi-coloured mosses. Legolas stood over him, shedding his weapons and clothes with all the quickness of an eager elf who had waited an entire quest to enjoy the sweet pleasure of union with his beloved. “Oh Gimli,” he moaned, kneeling over the prone dwarf and smothering him with kisses. Now, many of Gimli’s wet dreams had commenced in this very fashion, perhaps with some variation in position, but always, always they made love in a cave, with walls a- glitter with gemstones. “Oh, Legolas,” responded Gimli, trying his level best to get into the mood despite his fear of the old trees surrounding him. And they were out in the open! What would happen if they were beset by orcs? And here he was, under strict orders not to use his battle axe in the forest, and divested of his armour. He would soon be naked if Legolas had his wicked way, but the prospect seemed infinitely less than delicious in this forest of whispers and mystery. “Yes, Gimli,” Legolas said breathily, unfastening the strings at the top of Gimli’s leggings. “Oh! Legolas! Behind you! An eye! An eye!” bellowed Gimli. Legolas winced. With his elven senses he could hear the trees and ents shiver with dismay at this rude noisiness so late at night. “It is just a curious ent, Gimli, he will keep watch over us,” Legolas soothed. “If that is meant to reassure me, let me say I am most assuredly not reassured,” Gimli grumbled. Pervy tree! Legolas commenced kissing Gimli, and he soon worked his way down to the dwarf’s crotch. His lover was large and thick, that much he knew from their abortive efforts at sexual intimacy in the Glittering Caves. So it was with much excitement that he undid the lacings and drew out Gimli’s hard sex, thicker and hairier and somehow more masculine – and exquisitely exciting – than that of other elves he had known. “Oh, Gimli,” he whispered softly, before licking the swollen head. “Yes, Legolas,” responded Gimli. Legolas took the organ into his mouth, savouring the stronger, earthier taste, and measuring the length. As he drew his lover in to the back of his throat he immediately ceased worrying over whether Gimli would be long enough to reach his intimate pleasure spot, buried deep in his opening. His dwarf lover was quite a mouthful, a great thickness making up for the lack in length, which was not considerable. Legolas felt a tightening in his balls when he realised Gimli was not even fully erect yet. Goodness knows how dwarfs ran around with such a weapon between their legs. Legolas worked his lips and throat muscles along the powerful shaft, keeping the rhythm slow to begin with but gradually building it up. After a few moments of this, he realised that Gimli had two strong hands on his ears, and was thrusting enthusiastically into his throat. Dwarves were notoriously masterful lovers, and Legolas knew he was not going to be on top for long. He drew back and shot Gimli a look that he hoped communicated all his excitement at the thought of submitting. “Oh, Legolas, my beauty,” Gimli purred, running fingers greedily across the elf’s finely chiselled chin. A fine strand of rich seed wept from his engorged head. “Yes, Gimli?” Legolas replied, languorously. He rubbed Gimli’s shaft lovingly. “At this moment, I could just…Aaargh, Legolas, Nazgul!” Gimli yowled at that very tender moment. Legolas, still leaning over his prone lover, turned in shock to see a huge black owl flying past. He turned to reassure Gimli, and was blinded by a shot of seed right into his eye. “Ai! Ai! It burns!” Legolas leapt up and groped around for their water canteen. He was soon rinsing his face and swearing in elven. “Legolas, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t have squeezed me so when you turned around!” Gimli said, rushing to the elf’s side. “Oh, Gimli!” shouted Legolas in exasperation. “Yes, Legolas?” the dwarf asked meekly, offering him the clean edge of his outer tunic, discarded on the ground earlier that night, to dry his dainty face with. Legolas’s heart melted despite his smarting eyes, and he accepted the garment. “My darling one, I fear that I am too distracted in this wide open, dark forest to make love to you,” Gimli sighed. Legolas patted his face with the outer tunic and groaned inwardly. Their first time together had to be very special. Afterwards, any cave or room would do. But Legolas’s elvenness rebelled at returning to the Glittering Caves or going to a castle somewhere without the sky and wood and flowers. “Well, where are we to go?” Legolas asked plaintively. Chapter 1.3 “Would an elf love so enclosed a place, my dear?” Aragorn asked. The queen stepped into the odd structure. It was a large, free standing room, with a high ceiling and a square floor, built of solid stone. A quarter of the roof opened to the sky and there was a large window in the eastern wall, decorated with wooden arches. This began at waist level, for an elf, and ended two inches from the roof top. Inside, the high walls were embedded with raw and polished precious gemstones. But most amazingly, the ground was covered with grass, flowers and soft, multi-coloured mosses, while a graceful tree with gnarled roots and heavy branches grew almost through the opening in the ceiling. “Stone from the Glittering Caves delivered in carts drawn by noble horses – all from the King of Rohan. Polished gems for the walls from Gloin’s treasury. For the floor: Thranduil’s emerald grass that only grows indoors, along with hardy flowers from Lorien and some from the Shire, also moss from Treebeard’s trunk. Wood for the windows from Rivendell, and most magnificently a tree from the magic seeds of Lorien, passed to me by Samwise the brave,” Aragorn said with quiet pride at this unusual and amazing achievement. “And of course, it was designed and built by Gondor’s finest craftsmen,” he added with a sudden, warm, disarming smile. Looking at his beloved tenderly and happily, it did not seem possible that the king’s smiles had once been touched with so much sadness. “It is beautiful, Aragorn, any elf would love it, even if it is enclosed and protected. The window and the opening in the roof are a nice touch, it lets the air in. But to what purpose have you built it?” Arwen asked in wonder. Aragorn chuckled. Part 1.4 “It’s beautiful, Aragorn. Perfect!” Legolas said, voice low with awe. He could tolerate the stone enclosure, as long as he could see the sky and taste the fresh air. He longed to put bare toes on the rich grass and soft mosses. “Aye, it is,” echoed Gimli. He could live with a window and a hole in the roof, the rock was solid, and it glittered! And never mind the grass, he could just pretend it was a luxurious fur of some sort. “I’m glad,” Aragorn said, pleased with himself. “Before I leave though, I have something for you from Haldir.” Gimli made a rude noise. “Now, now Gimli, we all know how you feel about Haldir. But try to remember how you felt when we all thought he had died at Helm’s Deep,” Legolas said. “You should have buried him in that death pit!” Gimli exploded. Aragorn blanched. “I should have paid more attention to Elrond’s lessons in elven anatomy. It’s a good thing you stopped me and asked me to put him out on the grass in the sun for a few days, Legolas, before leaving him for dead. Elves are so strong and they mend so quickly from even the most grievous injuries.” “The blow must have been bad indeed to have knocked him unconscious, we are lucky no organs were pierced or he might have passed into the Halls of Mandos,” Legolas said. “He’s too stubborn and rude to die,” Gimli grumbled. “You checked on him every mealtime while he was mending in the sun, Gimli son of Gloin. I saw you! So your tough act will fool no one. Anyway, now that he is Father’s consort, I want you both to behave. If you can’t be fond of each other you can at least be civil,” Legolas scolded, but none too harshly. He was very sweet on Gimli. “Well said, Legolas,” Aragorn agreed. Legolas peeked into the package, and then immediately turned a sweet pink from cheekbones to ear tips. “Ah, I hear Arwen calling,” Aragorn said, making a hasty exit. “What’s that, my elf?” Gimli asked, trying hard and failing to peer into the box his lover was holding, being somewhat shorter. Legolas giggled. “Haldir suspects that I have a lover as I haven’t been home for so long. So he sent me these.” Legolas held out a pair of metal cuffs, lined with winter bear fur to soften the steel edges. They were connected with an elegant, but clearly sturdy, chain, which was decorated with gold leaf and tiny sapphires. Gimli chortled huskily and gave Legolas’s tight behind a fond and lingering squeeze. “I think I’m beginning to like Haldir better already,” said the dwarf. Chapter 1.5 “Oh, Gimli,” Legolas sighed, a shiver of delicious ecstasy coursing down his exquisite body. The elf was lying supine on the grassy floor, his arms thrown back over his head and secured by the chain encircling one side of the tree’s large base. He moaned and arched his back as Gimli, seated between his long legs which were spread wide in submission, licked him purposefully; marvelling at the feel of smooth, hairless, silky soft skin in the elf’s pretty pubic region. The dwarf kneaded Legolas’s balls with tender hands, knowing his lover’s strength but also knowing his appreciation of gentler caresses, especially on so supremely sensitive an area of his body. Legolas whimpered enticingly when Gimli finally stopped teasing him and took his throbbing head into his strong mouth. The elf’s pulsing penis was smooth and pink and elegantly long, lacking the raw thickness of dwarven kind’s sex, but Gimli found him all the sweeter for it, loving him as deeply as he did. Gimli built up a slow, but forceful rhythm with his mouth and throat, working the tight testicles beneath with knowing fingers. Legolas was writhing now, moaning wordlessly with the intense pleasure of it. With his free hand, the dwarf was already stroking his engorged, demanding organ with lubricating oil. Gimli withdrew, grinning wickedly at the mewl of dismay from Legolas. “There now, my elf. Are we happy?” Gimli asked fondly. “Delighted,” panted Legolas, grinning and wriggling upwards, seeking contact. Gimli pressed him back onto the grass with a powerful hand on the smooth planes of his belly. He pulled a long shapely leg over his shoulder, kneeling upright between the graceful, spread limbs, and angled his hips. Legolas gasped as he felt the oil slicked organ working its way inside him. His brow furrowed with discomfort and a little amazement – the dwarf was really rather thick. “Still happy?” grunted Gimli. Legolas wickedly arched his back and then thrust downwards. He howled with pleasure as Gimli hit his hidden sweet spot. His manacled arms strained on the chain. Gimli took that as a yes and started to thrust surely and forcefully between the elf lord’s lovely cheeks, spreading him wide with his powerful sex. He grabbed a well made thigh for balance, Legolas had him well trapped with one leg, the other was bent with slightly raised knee, foot resting on the ground, to give his greedy lover greatest access. “Oh, Gimli, this is ecstasy,” Legolas groaned heatedly. In his passion he did not realise he had just spoken in elven, but Gimli decided from the tone that his elf was very happy indeed. The dwarf lord grinned evilly to himself, his lover was far too coherent. He leaned forward ever so slightly, and gripping a tensed thigh hard enough to bruise, bore down hard on his prone and captive lover. “Ai!Ai! Ai!” screamed Legolas, writhing hard. With his free hand, Gimli pumped Legolas’s straining, weeping sex in time to his almost brutal thrusts. The dwarf felt the spasms encircling his pounding sex seconds before delicate threads of seed exploded from the excited elf lord’s organ. The clenching, tight, sweet opening that he was sheathed in was too much to bear. With a throaty roar, burying himself to the hilt with a fierce thrust, Gimli emptied his pleasure into Legolas. Minutes passed as they caught their breath. Legolas gave a very rare and uncharacteristic giggle after awhile. “Gimli, love, you look like you are set in stone, sitting there so solemnly,” he teased. “I could sit like this for a year, beholding your beauty. You should see yourself, Legolas, all nakedly pink and sated and covered in seed,” Gimli whispered tenderly. The pink elf in question was quickly turning red at such praise, and with the sudden acute realisation at the exposed position he was in. Gimli disengaged himself gingerly and Legolas stretched out his long, trembling limbs with a sigh. “That was incredibly intense,” the elf said, as his lover settled on his side beside him, leaning down to steal a kiss. Legolas nuzzled into the thick beard, feeling wonderfully content. Gimli played restlessly with a pink, peaked nipple. “Oh, Gimli?” Legolas asked, fidgeting. “Yes, Legolas?” Gimli asked dreamily. “Can you undo the chain? Then we can have a rest and a cuddle,” Legolas said. “Who’s resting?” the dwarf responded, a chortle welling up from his belly. Legolas started. “Now, now Legolas, dwarves are committed miners of all dark and mysterious places and I must do justice to my people, and to your most dark and mysterious opening,” he tapped the startled elf twice on his delicate nose. “Besides, you aren’t sweating profusely yet, and I’m no dwarf if I can’t get you more tired with my loving than when you’re fighting a band of Uruks…” Loving Legolas: Family Affairs Chapter 2.1 “Aragorn, my darling, are you quite alright?” Arwen asked. Aragorn was stealthily hiding behind a pillar. He looked worried. “Two weeks of entertaining Gloin and his kin along with Thranduil and his company in the same place, everyday, wondering when the two cheeky lovers will be discovered – it is terrible, my dear,” Aragorn groaned. “Everyone wants to celebrate your coronation, dear,” Arwen said, placing a soothing kiss on Aragorn’s brow. Aragorn put his arms around her and buried his face with a happy sigh in her dark, curling hair. “Well, at least we have the afternoon off. The elves have gone to bathe in the river, and the dwarves are having a tour of the battlements. They have no excuse to run into each other and start trading insults. And the lovers are in the baths,” the king said, grinning with relief. Arwen kissed him into distraction, and the couple went for a well deserved private pleasure taking – completely unaware of the disaster unfolding below them. Chapter 2.2 Legolas crept into the baths in the bowels of the castle, disrobing gracefully. Elendil had been a fan of Elrond’s architecture in Rivendell, and had many elves and some dwarves help him build the underground pipe network that channelled water into the room, which was then heated by roaring fires. It not been used in some years, and before then only occasionally for the entertainment of important guests. But Aragorn, who was very fond of Rivendell’s hot water baths, kept the room full of water and steam all year round. Legolas grinned to himself, glad to be benefiting from the king’s rare self-indulgence. With the elves at the river and the dwarves on the battlements, Gimli and he would have a delicious afternoon to themselves. Legolas dived into the steaming water and paddled around lazily. Gimli had had to accompany his parents for much of the morning as they explored the structures of interest at Minas Tirith, and was probably held up. Legolas hoped he would not have to wait too long. He squinted in the steam filled room. ‘Ai! I hope the dwarf can find me, even I can barely see in all this steam,’ he thought. He bobbed on the surface of the water. However, he soon heard little splashes coming in his direction and decided to play hide and seek. He dove under the water and swam to the far end of the pool. He resurfaced stealthily, careful to fling his hair in a comely fashion, and then stood stock still. The noises had disappeared! Where was Gimli? Squinting ineffectually into the thick steam, Legolas strained his ears. Suddenly, a blonde head popped up and kissed him full on the lips. Powerfully muscled arms wrapped around his waist and an eager sex was ground against his own. Legolas was too startled to respond, so it was a nerveless hand that his assailant grabbed and pressed up against the fullest, loveliest bottom imaginable. Legolas felt stirrings in his sex, and had started kneading the unbelievably plump but firm bottom, before another splash, made by familiar ungraceful limbs, brought him back to his senses. “Stop it!” he hissed. He heard a gasp of alarm from his assailant. “Haldir?” Legolas gaped. “Legolas?” Haldir’s eyes flew open. They crouched in the water as Gimli was heard muttering to himself as he slipped into the water. “Haldir, what are you doing?” Legolas asked urgently, in a voice too low for mortal ears. “Gim—uh, my lover is very jealous, he will kill you!” Haldir’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he was at the moment too panic-stricken to make a guess at Legolas’s lover’s identity. He must have misheard both the splashes and the elf’s slip of the tongue. Surely not a dwarf? How ghastly! “Legolas, I wasn’t being cheeky, I swear it. If Thranduil ever caught us like this I would be twice dead. He’d never hurt a hair on your head,” the other elf said. “I really thought you were him, damn all this steam.” Legolas felt a sudden disappointment and bit his lip. Haldir was so very beautiful, and that beauteous bottom! It was amazing how he could maintain such a full, firm figure being an elf. Thin, slim whipcord bodies were more the norm – but then again, Thranduil was well known for his impeccable taste when it came to rare and priceless jewels. Thranduil and Legolas were more alike than Elladan and Elrohir physically, except that Thranduil was always adorned lavishly in jewels and his fine features were often set in a fierce expression. He was opinionated, majestic, voluble and very feared, whereas his son was sweet tempered, soft spoken and thoughtful, although they shared the same brutal skill in battle. Legolas had spent much time patrolling Mirkwood, so he had little chance of meeting Haldir when Lorien’s best captain visited with his father with news or gifts from the Lord and Lady of Lorien. When they finally met in person during the Ring quest, Legolas had understood immediately the reason for his father’s passion. The king had remained unmarried after his wife died bringing Legolas into the world shortly after the great war, and his bed stayed cold for several centuries, until one day Haldir had rode into Mirkwood on an errand. Haldir was Legolas’s age, and very much in demand among both male and female suitors, but his passions were arms and the thrill of the hunt and travel to distant lands. So he had not said yes or no to the king by the time he met the son, and Legolas and Haldir had spent an unbelievable night together. But then, duty intervened and their paths had diverged. Legolas sighed, looking at Haldir, who was trying to gauge where Thranduil, who could be lethally silent, was located in the baths. What an inopportune time for the king to get randy and elude the elven party at the river! It was clear where Haldir’s heart really lay, Legolas forcibly reminded himself, and he had a very loving dwarf to call his own. There must be no regrets. Haldir signalled for quiet, smiled, and then stood to start wading soundlessly towards the centre of the baths, where he guessed Thranduil must be waiting. Legolas gaped and flushed with involuntary longing. What a body, what an elf! Gimli was blind in the steam. Finally, he caught a glimpse of beautiful elf, facing his back and sweet little bottom to him… Thranduil had heard voices after diving into the pool, and he wondered where Haldir was. He really adored his young new consort, and felt a jealous rage rise in the pit of his stomach to think that Haldir might be tarrying with someone else while he was waiting. He stood up and craned his neck. What damnable obscuring steam! Suddenly, Thranduil felt a hard whack on his bottom and someone pinched a small, tight, and now stinging, right cheek. He whirled around with an indignant snarl; that hand certainly did not belong to his lover! Gimli gaped. This orc-like elf looked exactly like his darling, but it certainly wasn’t Legolas. Gah! The horror of his error dawned on him…It could not be! It simply could not be! Gimli shrieked as Thranduil picked him up and shook him vigorously by the neck, robbing him of breath and sense while blurring his already steam-clouded vision. “My, my, what have we here? A cheeky, bold dwarf lord,” Thranduil hissed in a low, menacing voice. Gimli made some inarticulate noise, hoping to explain himself, then realised that the explanation might result in his and his beloved being killed by a furious elf king. A truly bloodcurdlingly wicked laugh came from the fierce elven face, famed for being able to intimidate even the most bellicose Uruk. Gimli was whirled around and – as if it wasn’t horror enough to be in the clutches of the infamous dwarf jailer – he felt his bottom patted in the most intimate way. Gimli bawled in dismay and his head swam. No wonder the brave Gloin never spoke about the details of his captivity, although he was most voluble about his dislike for the elven King of Mirkwood, now again Greenwood the Great. “What a nice full arse, you have, dwarf lord,” Thranduil whispered wickedly to the flailing dwarf – in fluent dwarven! This elf king was viciously strong, and poor, disoriented, captive Gimli could do nothing as a finger wriggled about his full, private cheeks, seeking a most rude entry. “Thranduil! Are you molesting that dwarf?” a shocked, cultured voice was heard. Gimli had never thought he would find the voice of Haldir of Lorien so sweet. “Ah, Haldir, darling, this cheeky dwarf came and assaulted my royal person, I was just teaching him a lesson,” Thranduil said, blushing. “Father! Let Gimli go!” Legolas appeared next to Haldir. “Baby-leaf! What on Middle Earth are you doing here?” Thranduil’s eyes narrowed. “Have you two been together all this time?” Hurt and jealousy were evident on the fierce face. He knew about that night in Lorien, although Haldir and his son had both assured him that it was well in the past. “No, I was waiting for Gimli,” Legolas said, mustering up his courage. It would never be a fortuitous time to let his father know where his heart lay. Now was as good a time as any. Haldir pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, unsure how his volatile spouse would respond. He could not afford to voice his own shock and disgust, not with his temperamental spouse present. The results might be catastrophic! “Waiting for the dwarf? Here?” Thranduil paled, if that was possible for one so fair. “Gimli’s my lover, father. I will choose…,” Legolas began, nervously but with a sure voice. Suddenly, there was a bellow, and two dwarves plunged into the baths brandishing weapons, “Unhand my son, you bane of Durin’s folk! You plunderer of innocent dwarves! I will be avenged!” Poor naked and unarmed Haldir was practically mowed down by the angry duo, but Thranduil had a bejewelled short blade strapped to his calf. With a deafening battle cry, he dumped Gimli into the water and charged almost gleefully forward in response to the challenge… Chapter 2.3 “He smote precious Haldir on the head with reckless brutality. He could have been killed, my poor fragile darling…” “Fragile? Surely he is on the fatter side of fragile, I have never seen such a well stuffed elf…,” “I’ll have you know, you ignoramus buried in the ground for too long, that I am not fat. The proper term, you deformed linguistic imbecile, is juicy or luscious…,” “How dare you insult my blameless, beautiful beloved, you brute, after your unprovoked assault on his priceless person?” “Unprovoked? Unprovoked?! Am I to stand by while you molest my son? It’s not my fault if your fatty-spouse is too slow to get out of the way…,” “Haldir of Lorien too slow? I could have crushed you with one blow, weapons or no, you thoughtless boor. I did not out of courtesy to the prince, something you would have no concept off, muddy, jewel grubbing dwarf!” “Discourteous and jewel grubbing? Me? You dare call me that, you fat elf? Know you not that Gloin is a great lord of his people? Look at the ever grasping, ever obnoxious Thranduil…,” “My Lords, quiet please!” Arwen interrupted loudly, the force behind her words reminding all that she was Elrond’s daughter and Aragorn’s queen. They turned to look at their hostess and fell quiet immediately, embarrassed. All three had wounds and small bandages about their bodies, and Haldir was pressing ice in an elegant linen cloth over the bump on his head. Arwen shuddered to think what might have happened if the guards at the baths complex had alerted her and Aragorn to the fighting only a moment later. The king looked up from where he had been conversing quietly with the still damp Gimli, Legolas and Gimli’s mother, Morianne. Mothers were more understanding when it came to matters of the heart, it was a pity that Legolas’s gentle mother was long gone, her place taken by the sarcastic and war-loving Haldir. “Father, if you cannot make peace with the dwarves, I will leave Greenwood the Great and our people forever, and live the life of an exile with Gimli here in Gondor, where Aragorn at least, loves me well enough to offer me shelter and support for my choice,” Legolas said. The words did not come without cost, his fine lower lip trembled as he spoke. Legolas knew, despite the strictness and harshness, the depth of his father’s love for him. “Aye. I will be with mine sweet Legolas, no matter what the price,” Gimli concurred, raising his chin in defiance to his father’s wrath. “Baby-leaf, we can talk about this,” Thranduil half-pleaded and half-commanded. “I’ll not change my mind, father. I wish you would understand,” Legolas said, agony in his eyes. His voice, though, remained flat, emotionless – and firm. “Gloin, Gimli has made his choice,” Morianne said, resigned. There was a tense silence. “He is a noble being, because I know my son could not choose otherwise,” the dwarf lady continued. “Noble? If he springs from the loins of this Thranduil…,” Gloin growled. His wife silenced him with a fierce glare. Tugging her own beard in frustration, she half intimidated and half beseeched her husband with her eyes to be quiet. “Haldir of Lorien, forgive us the blow to your head,” she said, extending her hand in friendship. “Knowing what we do now, we would never have struck it.” Haldir raised an eyebrow. It was well put, and she was a lady, even bearded and wielding a great battle axe. It pained him, but Haldir took her hand and bowed. He would have disgraced his well bred people if he had rejected this overture of peace. Thranduil and Gloin glowered at each other. Aragorn dared to draw an easy breath. Happily the situation was being well managed by the women folk. “Father will not exile you, Gimli, will you Gloin?” prompted the forceful Morianne. Gloin shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “Well, I will certainly not exile my son,” Thranduil said magnanimously. After all, the crafty old elf thought, Gimli would die someday and then he would be free to bring Baby- leaf home to Valinor and more suitable mates. “Neither will I,” Gloin sputtered. Then, not be outdone he said, “We shall have a wedding feast with red meat, and ale, and drums and dancing…” “If anyone will be holding a party it will be me…I mean us,” Haldir added hastily. “Snooty, tight arsed, stiff backed elves do not know how to throw parties!” bellowed Gloin. “And how would you know? Our civilisation made celebration an art form while dwarves were still grubs in the ground,” Thranduil barked back. “Gondor will host the party,” Arwen interjected, horrified at the thought that the combatants would start arguing again, especially as she heard dwarves descending noisily from the battlements and elven mounts arriving in the front courtyard. The last thing they needed was a war on their hands. The elves glared at the dwarves. The dwarves stared fiercely back. I’m not going to have the time to get laid until these two are safely married off, thought Aragorn with an inward groan. The work of the chosen was never done, it would seem. What a destiny! To be continued, hopefully. Please e-mail me :D Loving Legolas: The Wedding Chapter 3.1 "Long live the king!" exclaimed Haldir in horror. Thranduil looked up from the conference table top, where he was pulling Gloin's beard vigorously while the dwarf lord pulled on his left ear. Gloin's second in command stopped shaking his fist at one of Legolas's escort. Haldir, "fragile" as he was after his war injuries, had nonetheless managed to run across the room to reach Aragorn in time to catch the king as he fell unconscious. The Heir of Isildur had risen quickly to his feet from his chair at the head of the conference table - the only thing standing between the elves, the dwarves and another war - when the sight of Thranduil launching himself at Gloin in fury had caused him to clutch his chest and swoon. "Look what you've done with your thoughtless hostility!" hollered Gloin. "I have done nothing! It was you who insulted me first!" yelled Thranduil. Twin growls signalled the commencement of hair and ear pulling. Legolas jumped on to his father in an attempt to tear the combatants physically apart as Gimli restrained three dwarves eager to spill elven blood. The two betrothed were glad Aragorn had forbade weapons in his hall, and had threatened to impose a fine of fifty rubies and a coat of mithril on whoever threw the first punch - hence the ear and hair pulling. Having calmed his countrymen down, Gimli ran over to Aragorn and tore open his rich royal robes, and then proceeded to vigorously massage the kingly nipples using suggestive, circular motions. "What ARE you doing?" Haldir gasped in alarm. "Shut up you fat, haughty elf, can't you see I'm trying to revive the king?" Gimli retorted, doubling the intensity of his efforts. "Well, you're not going to do it like THAT, you ignorant dwarf," sniffed Haldir. "I'll have you know I learned this technique from Boromir when I stumbled upon him trying to awaken a prone Aragorn, in your very forest mind you. The technique worked wonders as Aragorn immediately sprang to his feet, good as new!" Gimli said. Haldir's eyes narrowed as he digested this suspicious tale. "Hah!" Gimli exclaimed in triumph as Aragorn groaned weakly. Haldir wondered if it was the potentially scandalous story or the rubbing dwarf hands that had done the trick. "Arwen," Aragorn moaned piteously. He was clearly a little insensible. "Alright, that's it; our friend is on his last legs. No more negotiations or arguments. Legolas and I will decide on the wedding programme once and for all!" Gimli declared. Chapter 3.2 "You look just adorable, Gimli," Legolas said, petting his lover coyly as he made tiny adjustments to Gimli's crown of flowers and fruit. The dwarf had small jewels woven into his beard and braided into his hair, but he wore nothing else with his crown. Gimli clasped the busy hand and pressed it to his lips. Legolas was stunningly beautiful, with his hair glittering with sapphires and diamonds, and roses and red berries about his brow. Who cared about the jewels and the flowers and the fruit really, when the exquisite elf prince was naked? "Ai, Gimli! We cannot exchange vows like that," Legolas giggled. Both lovers looked down upon Gimli's manhood, which had swelled enormously for the occasion. "Well, it can't be helped with all this ridiculous abstinence before the ceremony," grumbled the embarrassed dwarf. It was an old elven custom that the dwarf found especially difficult to observe, even if it was only for two days. Legolas grinned wickedly. Trotting quickly to the door, he peered out. A young guard started as Legolas tapped him on the shoulder. "I almost forgot. Could you please find my father, the king, urgently, and let him know that the Royal Consort was looking for him earlier - with pink ears," Legolas added the last with a modest blush. The young guard turned bright red, but nodded, bowed and scurried off. Legolas giggled to himself. Haldir would be furious! This wasn't true at all; the Royal Consort was running the ceremony with his usual military precision and stylish flair. The vow exchange ceremony would begin presently, no time for a cuddle with Gimli. Unless, of course, the wedding planner (more like wedding commander), was distracted in the interim. And the elf king was very, very fond of his young new consort, plump and yummy as he was. Legolas had learned a thing or two growing up with a scheming father! He watched the guard run off and then slammed the door shut and beamed at Gimli. "We have some time, father is very vigorous and demanding in bed," Legolas giggled. "Good! So am I!" growled Gimli. Chapter 3.3 Haldir smoothed his hands over his blue and green robes. His hair was woven very intricately with emeralds and a large sapphire hung between his arched brows (he had to be better adorned than Morianne, the wife of his spouse's jewel-rich rival). Haldir patted his cheeks. He was prone to paleness and occasional stiffness after his battle injuries, and he knew the scar along his well-formed back was hideous, but Thranduil appreciated such "marks of valour." The king cuddled up lovingly to that scar every night and didn't allow mirrors in the royal bedroom because, in a moment of acute weakness, Haldir had burst into tears at the sight of the blight to his perfection. He really was lucky to have Thranduil for a spouse. The elf king was fierce and hard, but he was fair, true and above all, he loved with all his soul. Haldir put some rouge on his lips and his cheeks, too subtle for human eyes, but the slight change in colour was pleasing to those with elven sight. The door burst open, and Haldir started violently. The warriors of Thranduil's nation were amazingly light of foot, and the king was no exception. "I got your message," Thranduil said, leering at Haldir. "What message?" Haldir asked, shocked. "Come here, my pink eared beauty," growled Thranduil. It was amazing that, with the same slight build of his son, and incredibly pretty features, Thranduil could look so frighteningly masculine and fiercely horny. "Ai! Ai!" yelled Haldir as he dodged his randy spouse's lightning attempts to catch him. "By the Valar, you are feeling frisky!" Thranduil crowed with delight, speeding up his efforts. "Thranduil, stop it! We have to go down for the ceremony now! In all my previous centuries as a March Warden, never have I begun an official event late, and I don't intend to start with the prince's wedding," Haldir vaulted over the bed, with Thranduil in hot pursuit. "We can be a little late, my naughty pet. Stay still!" Thranduil chortled, enjoying the chase. A second lightning jump over the bed was brought to a noisy halt as Haldir landed with a whump! on the plush cushions and sheets. His ankle was caught, and soon another roving hand was divesting him of his trousers. "Thranduil, don't rumple them!" whined Haldir kicking and squirming as best he could without upsetting his robes. He kept his head stock still so as not to upset his elaborate hair do and make up. "Ow!" His bottom had been pinched by sword and bow wielding fingers; it would smart throughout the night. He felt a soft cheek and a pointed ear against his flawless and very cute bottom, and then a royal nose nuzzled him - most intimately. "Thranduil! Do not mess your hair!" wailed Haldir in a last ditch attempt to deter his spouse. The sun was just perfect outside the window; the vow exchanging ceremony should begin now! "I don't intend to mess my hair," Thranduil said wickedly. Haldir felt steel for a moment on his soft, trembling cheeks, the king had not even removed his tiara. What a horny horror he was! A dainty little tongue, known the breadth and width of Middle Earth to be as sharp, sure and pain inflicting as the elf king's sword and bow (but always gentle with Haldir during tender embraces), was soon exploring the juicy consort's opening and his tightening testicles. Ooh, but Thranduil was utterly unbelievable in bed! Haldir was soon moaning helplessly, although he had periodic bursts of lucid thought when he hurled choice expletives at Thranduil for delaying the official event. In mid-moan, Haldir squealed in alarm when his robes were tossed over his head. His bottom was whacked soundly and pinched again, and this rude assault was made even ruder by the positively lewd chortle that followed. "Up, Haldir my pet, and invite me in," Thranduil said. "If I let you lie on your belly your robes will certainly be rumpled in the ensuing thrilling pleasure-taking." Haldir refused to respond to this outrageous remark, and rose to his knees, gathering his robes under him carefully to keep them smooth. The folds over his head he let stay, better his face be hidden than his shame at having such an unapologetically lusty spouse be revealed. Also, he knew his ears were now a deep pink colour, and the sight of them would probably drive Thranduil to greater excesses. And the wedding was already late to begin! The first thrust was always a shock, and Haldir braced himself with an arm, glad for his own strength for surely a lesser elf would be hurled right across the room with the vigour of Thranduil's affections. By the Valar, WHAT is he doing now? Thranduil was so swept away with delight that he had burst lustily into song, a terribly bawdy little number that he must have learned from the original pervert and insatiable lover of all male members of every race, Gil Galad. Haldir protested a couple of times, but that only served to make Thranduil sing louder to tease his darling, whose sense of propriety and manners he found adorable. Haldir pulled his robes up further and then risked reaching back with the arm he was using to brace himself to push his own throbbing sex down. He wanted to wear these robes and he wouldn't be able to if he came all over them! He took his weight on his shoulders, careful to position his still velvet and silk enshrouded head so as not to upset his hair and jewels. Haldir groaned his release a few moments later, congratulating himself that his seed landed in the heavy Gondorian sheets rather than on his very expensive outfit. However, Thranduil had ceased singing and was now grunting happily as their heated intercourse got even more urgent. As Haldir's opening clenched spasmodically around the elf king's pumping sex, signalling his release, Thranduil was pushed over the edge of his pleasure and he came with a mighty thrust of his hips. Thranduil was a ridiculously strong elf, his build notwithstanding, and it just so happened that the martial and usually faultlessly graceful Haldir had taken that very moment to adjust his clothes. Whether due to physics, fate or sheer bad luck, the poor Royal Consort was thrust right off the bed, legs flying over his braced shoulders and oddly angled head, (still hoping to keep his hairstyle intact) ending up with a half scream on the floor. Thranduil's seed exploded into the air the second Haldir tumbled off the bed. Destiny, which can be so cruel, decreed that it should fall upon the hem of golden thread and sapphire chips. "Haldir, love, are you alright?" Thranduil leapt from his kneeling position to his beloved's side in a graceful move. As he landed on the ground, he pulled shut his simple robes, drawn close with front clasps instead of being a single piece pulled over his head like Haldir's elaborate outfit. He had not a wrinkle in his clothes or a hair out of place. His delicate ears, flushed red from the sexual excitement, were quickly returning to their usual pale white colour. Haldir sprang into an upright position with a whimper, careful to hold his robes around his waist. His sapphire was crooked, a plait had come loose and his whole face was flushed, from ear tip to chin. He was much younger than Thranduil, and less able to control his body's external expression of internal emotion. Moreover, he had grown up in civilised society at Lothlorien, and the habits of Thranduil and his wild people often shocked him into blushing, even though he was considered by many to have had mastered his emotions supremely well to have achieved the coveted title of March Warden at so young an age. "You...you...you beastie!" thundered Haldir as he stomped to the bath tub in the adjoining room to wash, robes still gathered neatly about his waist. Thranduil eyed Haldir's bottom, fully red from caresses and love, clenched indignantly as it disappeared from view along with its huffy owner, and had to make a supreme effort to keep his ears white and his hands to himself. Chapter 3.4 Legolas cleaned himself in the tub tenderly; careful not to leave any red marks on his pale skinned, flawless body or wet his elaborately styled tresses. He was supremely glad that Gimli had indulged the traditionalist in him who had desired to get married in the nude. Clothes were so difficult to manage during a quickie. Legolas was doing some calming exercises and ignoring his dwarf lord so he could best get his ears to a normal white colour, when he heard visitors arriving. "Legolas, I'm so sorry for the delay," Haldir said, charging into the room. "You look a little pink, Haldir. Is it the heat?" Gimli asked, feigning wide-eyed innocence. Dwarf lords were covered with a lot of hair, so their lust was rarely evident. Haldir tried to hide his embarrassment with haughtiness, and just glared at the dwarf with raised eyebrows and nose. "And what is that?" Gimli couldn't resist asking gleefully. Haldir cringed inwardly. "It is just a water spot. No time to let it dry, we are already late!" Haldir said loftily, with just an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. He had scolded Thranduil loudly upstairs upon discovering the dollop of seed, which he tried to wash out without wetting the rest of his expensive and elaborate hemline. How he wished that the incriminating spot would dry. It looked, well, obscene! "Calm down, Haldir, we have lots of time," Legolas said, drying himself with a large fluffy Gondorian towel. He patted himself prettily, stifling his giggles. His little plan had got poor Haldir terribly flustered. Haldir turned away quickly. Goodness, Legolas was lovely! He could be his father's twin, but was so sweetly submissive that he fuelled Haldir's deepest, most secret desires to bed father and son at the same time, quenching both aspects of his sexual needs as a male elf. He looked guiltily at his beloved husband, and then frowned. His sharp former March Warden (now Royal Consort) eyes missed nothing. What WAS Thranduil doing leering at the dwarf? Honestly, was Legolas's outrageous fetish inherited? The thought was just too ghastly. Meanwhile, Aragorn was almost swooning again as he sat in King's Council, waiting for the wedding to begin. He was always feeling faint these days, as Arwen was too tense to make love, so the king was suffering from acute blue balls. He wondered at his own perversions: every time he was deprived of his sweet beloved's affections, his eyes tended to stray to the pert bottoms of his comrades-in-arms. The Steward Faramir was like a sweet fruit waiting to be plucked... "Your Majesty, is it hard?" Faramir queried in his cultured tones. "I beg your pardon?" Aragorn exclaimed in horror. Had he mumbled something without meaning to? "Is the matter a hard one to decide?" Faramir said, bewildered. Was Aragorn becoming weak with old age so soon? In all honesty, Aragorn had been thinking about Arwen's snowy, full, lovely breasts, which had transformed into Boromir's delectable bottom and then Faramir's in his mind's eye as the afternoon wore on and Faramir droned endlessly about someone's...cows was it? Thankfully, at that moment, a young elf lord came into the room to invite the king to generously officiate at the wedding of Prince Legolas and Lord Gimli. The gathered Lords of Gondor muttered to themselves. They loved their new king and queen, but honestly, they kept odd company! As Aragorn hurried out, Faramir strode after him, a questioning look in his eyes. "Ah, Faramir, could you have the chancery clerks record the petition in writing so that I may consider it? I'm much better with written matter, as you know..." he babbled, buying time. Faramir gazed at him with undisguised admiration and affection, "I keep forgetting that you are a man of towering intellect, raised among a learned race. And I admit the number of cows get confusing after awhile. Perhaps I wasn't very clear in presenting the herds dispute..." How sweet and fresh his face is... "No, no, Faramir, not at all. It is just that I am preoccupied with the wedding..." he gave his Steward a suitably manly chuck on the arm. "Your Majesty, are you quite alright?" Faramir asked. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out over Aragorn's brow. He drew closer to the king in his concern, and Aragorn had to bite back a groan. Faramir smelled so wonderfully of metal and leather and sweat! "I don't know!" whimpered poor Aragorn. This was a greater trial than the ring quest. Being king meant nothing was private anymore, so any trysts to relieve blue balls were out of the question. He wasn't sure if he could bear it! "Your Majesty, Aragorn, if I may be so bold, I cannot help but notice that the Queen has been feeling poorly of late, with all the hectic planning for the wedding, and a husband can get somewhat...lonely for company. I am a married man myself, so I understand a little of these matters," Faramir flicked his eyes down and then flicked them back up at Aragorn with a warm smile. Aragorn grunted. The effect of that tender gaze was enough to knock the wind of him in his delicate state. "If you would like to go for a hunt or a raid on orcs, please let me know. It is good for letting the fire out of the blood, and has long been a tradition in Gondor, among married men with busy wives," he laughed warmly and patted Aragorn's arm. Damn it, these Men of Gondor with their way with words. Had he been propositioned or was he just fevered with repressed desire? Perhaps all Faramir was doing was being a good Steward, keeping his king entertained with battles... The Steward accompanied the slightly dazed king out into the courtyard, gaily decked with flowers and ribbons and bunches of fruit, with the odd ceremonial battleaxe and string of jewels in between. It was the oddest wedding decorations anyone had ever seen but perhaps not so odd as the couple about to be married. He sighed to himself, he was sure Aragorn had missed his point, he dare not be more direct with his invitation, the king had been raised by elves and only the great ancestors knew what their sexual conduct and taboos were. But running around with blue balls was grossly unhealthy, especially as Aragorn was not even a father yet. Maybe the king didn't want him? Perhaps he should have hinted that another more handsome lord might also be predisposed to "come hunting a la Gondor " with the king, there was a young man who bore a striking resemblance to a youthful Boromir. (Faramir had heard a rumour that Boromir had rubbed Aragorn's nipples in Lothlorien from a young guard who spoke elven). Completely oblivious to Faramir's usual agony over his own self worth and the possibility of scandal, Aragorn tried to avoid walking funny up to the archway under which he would bind the couple. Suddenly, he stopped short and gaped as he saw an utterly naked (well, except for the fruit on his head and the small jewels in his beard) Gimli waiting for him! By the great Valar! If Legolas walked out naked there would be a riot! However, before the flustered king could say or do anything, Haldir signalled the elf choir to sing, and Legolas made his way towards the archway with his father at his side. Thranduil spoke urgently to Legolas as father and son walked towards Gimli, "How I wish you were binding yourself to...uhm...Lord Elrond? Why not him? You were always fond of him in your youth! He is very handsome, and his wife won't mind a second spouse in the marriage, as he's notoriously virile. Or even Galadriel, she always had a soft spot for you and she's been married to Celeborn so long now she must be looking for a new consort! She left him behind didn't she? Or even...uh...even Aragorn! He's human but at least he's rich, and you two have always been close. (And, he will die, and maybe you can convince Arwen to come with us to Valinor as your wife). He might need a male consort if this rumour about Boromir and his nipples in Lothlorien are to be believed..." "What about Aragorn's nipples and Boromir?" Legolas asked, startled. "Nobody told me anything." Of course, he had been more interested in Gimli's oh-so-hairy nipples of late to notice very much about anyone else. "By the Tower of Ecthelion, what wondrous beauty!" breathed the assembled lords and ladies. Immediately they all started planning "hunts" or "tea parties" a la Gondor sans spouses with this vision begging for sensual caresses and intimate embraces. But Legolas had arrived at the archway, and his face was transformed by an exquisite smile as he gazed lovingly at his betrothed. "My choice is made, father, and I will never be swayed in this world or the next." Arwen, standing to Aragorn's right beyond the archway, looked at her own grizzled, often pungent, greying choice of life partner, and wept tears of joy for Legolas, admiring his courage for choosing with his heart as she had. Legolas and Gimli faced each other under the archway, causing some rude comments about their height difference and the unique sexual opportunities that this created. The sharp-eared elf prince kneeled daintily and took Gimli's hands in his. "Legolas, my love, you are beautiful beyond jewels, strong as a well made battleaxe, as enduringly loyal as the greatest cave with walls of stone. I would stand with you in battle, lie with you in love and walk with you in life - - thank you for having me. I choose you and forsake all others," Gimli kissed Legolas's hands reverently, and the elf lord giggled with delight. Aragorn, towering over the couple in the archway, started at the unusual sound, and felt sentimental. How happy Legolas was! He glanced over at his beloved queen, then quickly turned back as he felt a swoon coming on. The assembled dwarves snuffled. "He has compared my son to a crude battleaxe and a dark, dead cave, Haldir! What an insult," Thranduil hissed. Just then, Arwen gave him the evil eye and so the elf king subsided. "Many summers, many miles, many battles, many songs have I known before finding the one place where I can place my heart -- in your strong and loving hands. You are my sun, Gimli, and I hope to be yours. Forever," Legolas smiled. Gimli beamed with joy, and said, "You are, Legolas, and so much more." "A bit of an old bird for our Gimli, but at least he isn't too ugly," Gloin said grudgingly. The happy couple ignored the remark and kissed briefly but tenderly. Then, Legolas rose and extended his hand to Aragorn as Gimli extended his shorter arm upward and forward, so both limbs, so different in appearance, but so similar in strength and nobility, met at their wrists. The king bound his two dear friends with a silk sash, decorated with the arms of both families, and then presented the couple to the assembled lord and ladies of all races. Morianne cried, Gloin looked both angry and moved, Thranduil ogled Gimli's sex (well if it had to be a dwarf, at least it was a most handsome and well-built dwarf!) and Haldir pinched the elf king jealously whenever he could without anyone seeing. The elf choir burst into melodious song and Arwen ordered the feast served. The king's advisors and lords, along with their wives or consorts (except the Lady Eowyn, who was spending time with King Eomer's household in Rohan), and of course the happy couple's family and respective entourages, retired to the Great Hall, accompanied by musicians. It was lucky that it was a short journey as some of the more "enthusiastic" lords were jostling for a place close to Legolas, so that they could steal a hug or a close ogle at the lovely naked elf prince. Meanwhile, the dwarf drummers were trying to drown out the elf choir with their music and vice versa. The queen's delicate smile wavered a little, and Aragorn, with alarm, noticed her jaw clenching the way Elrond's always did when someone roused his temper. The din was beginning to grate on human ears; the elves must be suffering indeed. "Stop that horrible drumming!" Haldir commanded, still very much in charge of the wedding. "You stop that awful wailing you call singing and we'll stop our drummers!" bellowed Gloin. "Don't you raise your voice at my consort, you beastly little oaf!" thundered Thranduil. "Ai! We are all kin now, any violence against each other would be very bad manners," Legolas waggled a finger to emphasise his point. "Humph! He's right!" grumbled Gloin. Thranduil rolled his eyes and Haldir grunted. "Let the musicians of Gondor relieve the elf and dwarf minstrels from their labours," said Arwen through gritted teeth. Immediately, the racket ended, and a merry dance number was played. Morianne, ever the peace maker, grabbed Haldir by the wrist (a dwarf custom, women were very rare in that society and had many social privileges, including the right to choose their dance partners.) The act was well intended, but she soon found herself face to face with Haldir's crotch. "I say, a dance is NOT going to work in getting everyone happy and at peace with each other," Aragorn muttered to his horrified queen. They didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the elf lord and dwarf lady's awkward situation. "Ai! Gimli and Legolas certainly can't lead the dance, they have no clothes," agreed Arwen. What a trying situation! Did her father, the veteran statesman, ever have to deal with such socially painful matters? Just then, a loud smack was heard and one of Aragorn's lustier, wilder lords hit the ground with a resounding clang of metal. The lords and ladies of Gondor gasped in shock. The king took a moment to be glad that the victim was still single and not accompanied by a local woman, their wrath could be terrifying to behold. The music stopped and all eyes turned to Legolas, who was blushing now. Gimli held the slender hand bound to his with both his own. Haldir and Morianne scurried back to their respective spouses, glad to be saved the embarrassment of walking on to and then leaving the dance floor in a hurry. There were unhappy growls from the friends of the fallen lord, and Aragorn had horrible visions of the wedding ending in a sea of blood. For a moment, time stood still. "Em...the next item on the agenda is games! Let the ladies sit and we can have some wrestling!" Gimli shouted in a jolly manner. A few people stared in disbelief at this interest in manly pursuits from the dwarf with berries and flowers in his hair. "Wrestling?" Haldir's eyebrows shot up into his high hairline at this barbaric suggestion. "Yes, let's have wrestling, and a shooting contest!" Thranduil said, suddenly excited. He had gone too long without killing any orcs. "An axe throwing contest!" Gloin volunteered. "Drinking games!" said the lusty lord, recovering consciousness and sitting up. Arwen watched in mute horror as her highborn male guests eagerly started to dump their cloaks and weapons with their squires, calling loudly for drink. The ladies of Gondor, ever eager to witness the masculine prowess of their men in and out of the bedroom, sat down at the well-set table and cheered noisily. Amazingly, the dwarves and the wild, less genteel elves of Mirkwood (now the Wood of Greenleaves) also cheered loudly at the prospect of drink and activities. "I say, I hope weapons and wrestling are not going to lead to a war between elves and dwarves, darling," Aragorn hissed urgently to Arwen. "Well, they are kin now through marriage. Anyone who disrespects that tie by visiting violence on a kinsman would not only be showing ill breeding, but also committing a crime, according to both cultures. I wish you would join the men of Gondor, though, Aragorn, and keep them in line. They are such a loud, emotional people," Arwen replied. Aragorn smiled to himself. At last, the problem of the animosity was solved. However, another smaller problem soon cropped up. Everybody wanted to wrestle with the lovely naked elf lord, so his worried royal friend got a squire to fetch some clothes for the happy couple. Haldir helped a stunned Arwen on to her throne at the head of the table. "Do not worry, my dear, this is harmless fun," he said comfortingly. This was such an alien experience for both well-bred elves. Marriages were often accompanied by solemn choirs, poetry recitals and highly stylised, closely choreographed dances based on great love legends or even battles where a lord won his lady's respect and love, but never anything so...common as wrestling and drinking games. Haldir was a fighting man, however, and understood the effects of the best peacemaking tool -- shared good alcohol. Later in the night, the party spilled out on to the castle grounds, not far from where the peasants and lesser lords enjoyed the king's largesse on mats outdoors in the warm night with their families. An uncharacteristically red faced Legolas, still clutching a mug of dwarf spirits in one hand, engaged in an axe throwing competition with his now father-in-law. They congratulated each other on their strength and accurate aim, when in fact they had cleared a small area with their hazardous throws, none of which had hit the wooden target, in the last hour. The elf turned to the small heap of axes that had been hurriedly assembled earlier that evening. "No more axhes...where have the axhes gone?" asked Legolas in elven. Gloin, who couldn't understand a word he was saying, plopped on to the ground and clapped him fondly on a slender calf, professing warm affection for his martial new son-in-law. Morianne cuddled up to her husband's lap, letting her own empty mug roll away. Thranduil, leaning on his usually lethal bow, plucked at the string, convinced that he was a minstrel. Gimli, lying among some unused arrows, sang an old hobbit love song, which he had only partially learnt from Merry and Pippin, lustily and grossly out of tune. Both had had too much of Gondor's finest wine. Aragorn was sitting on a small mound overlooking the dwarf and the elf king, on his left was a handsome stranger who looked very much like Boromir and on his right was Faramir. They were all propped up in such a fashion that if one were to move, the other two would sprawl on the ground, so they remained fairly still, except to pass the king's pipe around. There was something decidedly suspicious about the pipe weed Frodo had sent Aragorn as a wedding gift, copious amounts of it in typical hobbit fashion, and now all three men were strangely mellow and tender towards each other. It was a very lovely feeling, like being drunk without the belly sickness. One thing about hobbits, they knew how to appreciate life. Haldir, ever the proper soldier, kept Arwen entertained with witty banter and a couple of songs into the wee hours of morning, until most of the guests lay blissfully asleep under the starry skies. The queen went to collect her husband, dozing soundlessly between his two comrades, his face sweet as a happy slumbering hobbit's. She did not approve of his smoking, but suddenly she was overwhelmed by her desire to wake him up tenderly with lovemaking as she had so often done in Rivendell. It was a miracle that such happy days had returned. It had once seemed that the darkness would consume all. She plucked him easily from his comrades, observing with her acute senses that the two men left behind would be happy to wake in each other's company. Nonetheless, she spared a quick kiss for the forehead of Faramir, whom she knew loved Aragorn almost as well as she did. The queen was letting him know that she was glad, for if her dear husband had more people to love him, the less likely it would be that he would be taken from her early by mishap. Then, with her elven strength, she carried the king back to their bedroom as easily as a hero carries a maid. "Steady on there, my prince," Haldir said, catching a wobbly Legolas before he dumped Gimli unceremoniously into a pond. "Mush get him to bed. Horny," explained Legolas with an unusually broad grin on his usually solemn face. Haldir stepped back and winced at the blast of dwarf spirits tainted breath aimed in his direction. "I'll take the dwarf, you just try to keep up with me," Haldir said. The elegant elf lord tried not to swoon in the castle's enclosed corridors as bursts of noxious fumes exploded at short intervals from a belching Legolas. Each sonorous assault on the senses was attended by a small giggle of disbelief. Haldir hoped nobody would break wind; that would be simply TOO foul to endure. But one's standards must change according to circumstance, he supposed. If anyone had told him a year ago that he would today be carrying a drunken dwarf to bed, he would have beaten the person for the insult to his honour. "Get the door, Legolas," Haldir said, arriving at the marital chambers. "'Kay," Legolas said, blinking a few times. Haldir yelled with shock as Legolas crashed against the door gamely, swinging it right off its hinges. The elf prince, usually so self possessed, then romped on the bed, rolling over gracefully on to his back and cooing for Gimli drunkenly. Haldir, tiring of the weight and the silliness, dumped the dwarf on to his prone lover…no, now spouse. Legolas hugged Gimli to him as if he weighed no more than a treasured doll did to a young princess. Looking at them like that, the pairing did not seem so odd after all. It was almost, well, beautiful. Haldir wondered if he himself had had too much to drink. He made a hurried departure as Legolas started kissing the top of the unconscious dwarf's head lasciviously, no doubt meaning to get a lot more obscene presently. The former March Warden arranged the door as best he could on the way out, smiling slightly to himself despite his prejudices. The newly weds were so evidently happy and the wedding was a success, if a low brow one, and could be added to the string of happy events he had organised in his rich life. As he walked towards his own quarters, he was waylaid by a horny horror. "There you are, my frisky pet," Thranduil winked at him. Well, it seemed that a sex drive not in the least bit dampened by alcohol and drunkenness was hereditary. Ah, life could be SO good. *End