Title: No "Y" in Love Author: William (wlmelotte@email.com) Pairings: Gimli/Legolas Rating: NC-17 Summary: Gimli couldn't care less if he was ever loved by anyone. Most of all, an elven prince. Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to someone else and I make no claim to them. ~~~~~~~~~~~ NO "Y" IN LOVE The remnants of the day scattered blushes of red and orange across the trees of the forest where Legolas had gone. Gimli stood on watch just at the edge of the glen while the Company made camp for the night, his hawk-like eyes taking in the empty sky, the quiet plains, and the still wood into which the elf had disappeared. Fists toughened by hard work and hard battle, were curled into circles of iron around his ax, an always-ready weapon in case of need. Gimli stood alert, ever watchful; his attention only occasionally strayed to the unfathomable forest where Legolas now was. Sometimes, he really disliked trees and their secretiveness. Gimli watched the forest, as lightly and unconsciously he stroked the well-worn handle of his battleaxe. Slowly, up and down. Gimli refused to feel like an ugly brick when he stood next to the tall and fair elf. He was resolute in denying that he was any less important in aiding the Company in the undertaking of their mission simply because he was less to look upon than was the elf prince. Gimli had always trusted the strength of his short stature, the tenacity of his stocky legs, the courage in his soul, and he did not allow himself now to falter in that trust. He refused to pay tribute to the creeping agony of his shame, the pain of realizing that he was not beautiful, that he could never draw the eye of a king's son to look favorably upon him. Pride disavowed the tears that Gimli would not shed. He simply understood that for him love would not gladden Legolas' eye. The dwarf felt his heart break asunder into a thousand slivers and attributed it only to the weariness of travel. Legolas walked among the tall and silver trees, their sunset-dappled leaves brushing his face, stroking his hair. He had come here to rest in the manner of elves before he went on watch, easing the hard journey out of his bones and soul, replacing it with the calm and peace he found among the trees. He stopped at a running stream and bent over it to see what life he might find within. The stream sheltered only his own reflection. He wondered at the face that looked back at him from the water. Many had called him beautiful, many. But one did not. Nor would that one, given his general dislike of elves. An elf and a dwarf, theirs had been a contest of compromise to travel this far together but where once adversaries had stood at council, now a friendship had been forged, grown from admiration and respect. Legolas had begun to ask himself what more might there be to this hard-shelled dwarf, however, little more had been forthcoming. Mere beauty could not win this one's heart and Legolas was saddened and perplexed; he knew not what would win him. The stream didn't tell him and the uselessness of his face made the reflection of no comfort to the elf. He turned away to walk off his confusion. When Aragorn took over the watch, Boromir brought Gimli a bowl of hot broth and a chunk of camp bread for his dinner. They ate companionably together and spoke of battles, horses, and weapons until the evening had deepened into night. Gimli was loath to have Boromir bid him good dreams and leave for rest, for as usual the forest had kept the elf for itself all evening. Gimli was left alone to pay no mind to the deepening despair lying like a stone in his deep chest, blaming the pain on indigestion from the rough bread. He stepped away from the cheery fire where the Hobbits were talking softly and, unintentionally keeping its merry light from his hard features, moved off to make bed near the horses. He found some measure of comfort in their shaggy manes so like his own beard and their stamping hooves like his plodding feet. He settled back against the ground of his bed and for quite some time lay sleepless, breathing in aloneness and exhaling sadness, wondering how such a small cup of broth could keep him in so wakeful a state. As the night passed, Legolas felt the time was soon for him to take watch. He was best just before dawn, when his sharp eyes would pick out of the fading darkness any movement or shadow, and he alone remained fresh where the others were sleep-ridden and bleary. The elf moved out from among his beloved trees and gathered from the thickets tall grasses for the horses on his way back to camp. Much snoring and dream-ridden mutterings floated up from around the dying embers of the camps fire and Legolas was glad that all had passed peacefully for one more night. Near the horses, the elf stopped and caught his breath. Gimli lay there by Arod, the pony's head nuzzling a blade of grass not a foot from the sleeping dwarf. During the night, Gimli had moaned and tossed in the untruthful sleep which had finally overtaken his tired body, and he had cast aside the cloak he was using as a bedcover. The dwarf's jerkin had fallen open, revealing links of mail and glimpses of skin beneath. His sheltering helm had been set aside, allowing his strong facial features to relax into the softer, quieter touch of sleep. His hands, large and wide, lay aside him open-palmed and Legolas wondered how it would feel to have those impossibly large hands move down his body, their rough skin chaffing elven nipple, abdomen, thigh. He wondered how thick the hair was on Gimli's chest, for he knew there had to be a velvet carpet there. He wondered how well endowed the dwarf might be and how he might chose to please with it. These thoughts made the elf tremble and for a brief half- crazed second Legolas almost laid himself across the dwarf's body; to let him do what he would. But no sign had Gimli ever given him alas, the elf shook his befuddled head and turned aside from his fruitless musings to the needs of the horses instead. Gimli was so different, so unlike him, that the bridge could not be crossed. It would be an affront to the dwarf's raw masculinity to make love to an elf, in so many ways, in too many ways. Arod saw his beloved Legolas and nickered just loudly enough to awaken the dwarf. Gimli stood up with silent lightening speed and quickly assessed his surroundings for danger. But only the elf was there, moving toward the horses with an armload of field grass, waving an apologetic hand. As Legolas fed the animals Gimli rubbed his eyes, trying to break out of the haze his quick awakening had left on him, half in and half out of the mists of his nocturnal dreams, not sure if he really was awake. He fussed with his night-mussed clothing, missing the green leaf pin that had held his jerkin closed, and looked up in mystification as a long slender hand held out the pin in front of him. "Here, I found this," said Legolas, a statue of perfection towering over him. Gimli hesitated in his misty state and gruffly said, "oh, good." But caught on the boundaries of his dream or his nightmare, Gimli took not only the pin but the hand that held it and ran his wet hot tongue up its palm and left a kiss on the exquisite wrist. The beautiful statue before him could not keep balanced and Legolas, like a tall golden tree cut at the roots, lost his knees and dropped to the ground before the dwarf. In the fading night, Gimli jumped cold out the mists of his half sleep and realized what he had just done. He froze in agony, awaiting an elf's harsh retribution. His stillness confused Legolas and the elf despaired. Gimli found his hands being taken and clasped to the curves of the elf's body. He heard a gentle voice begging "please" in a pained whisper close to his ear. He felt his own body trembling and could muster no excuse for it. Gimli could not deny any longer the feelings he had tried to hide. The knowledge allowed the dwarf's muscles to unfreeze and he pulled a shaking and warm body to him. Gimli turned and laid Legolas softly on the grass as he had done time and again in deep dreams. His arms were so heavily muscled the elf weighed no more than sunlight but those same arms moved Legolas with gentleness. Legolas felt hands much different than his own roam across his body with the strength and might of stallions and the grace and surety of a stonemason and with those hands he now knew that Gimli did feel for him. That understanding made his heart pound, his breath coming harder and more ragged. Gimli slid a hand across the soft weave of the elven cloth covering the beautiful body right below him and felt Legolas arch his back and moan. With that moan, Gimli felt himself change from an ugly stone to one who was wanted and desired. From that moan he felt love making whole the thousand broken pieces of his aching heart. He bent his head to the hand he still held, fearfully reluctant to relinquish it, and took one of its long fingers into his mouth. The sliding wet heat made the elf frantic with desire and want and his free hand pulled at the mail Gimli wore across his chest. It took precious minutes for clothing to be removed and the night was perceptibly fading, but the two wanted nothing between them in their love- making. Gimli felt his devotion turn to an unbearable ache when he undid the last fabric barrier of the elf's clothing and beheld Legolas laid out nude in the grass, his long hair splayed around him and his perfect body waiting for love. More, Gimli felt shame no longer in the careful unwrapping of his own imperfections, for when Legolas ran long fingers through the soft twirling curls of Gimli's chest hair, he expressed his joy in soft moans and heaved his own smooth chest against the dwarf, working to slide his body under Gimli and pull him down. Gimli's love was straining to manifest itself and he guided one of the elf's hands down to hold his aching manhood; beyond that he knew not what to do. Legolas was astonished when his hand wrapped around the tremendously thick long shaft and as the knowledge crashed in on him that he would not be able to take Gimli within himself, the agony of that denial made him tearfully exhale with frustration and disappointment. Gimli felt the exhalation more than heard it for he was laying hard on the elf, his love throbbing and needing only guidance to find its haven. He began to retreat in confusion but Legolas quickly moved his mouth to Gimli's to forestall any doubt that might break this moment. As dawn began to spread her rose light across the face of the sky Legolas locked himself to Gimli by mouth and arms and legs and rolled his body over, taking the dwarf with him. The two completed a half circle and came to stillness with Legolas on top. In the fragile morning light, the elf questioned the dwarf with his quiet eyes and without words, the dwarf said yes. It was Gimli's turn to take a heated and rigid maleness in his hand and the holding of Legolas so intimately made him crazy with want. He opened his legs unabashedly and with simplicity and ungainliness, guided Legolas into himself. The elf was almost adrift in the power of his need but pulling his tumbled hair off his face, caught and held Gimli's eyes as he entered him gently and yet with a deep insistent desire that could not be stopped. Gimli felt the pain and welcomed it in the manner of his kind who could suffer gladly in silence, but Legolas moved deeper still and pleasure so suddenly caught Gimli that he took a surprised inward breath and tried to back his hips away from his happiness, dwarves not used to being given to in such abundance. Understanding, Legolas strove to comfort him, delivering the dwarf from his rush of confusion by kissing him as he moved in him and stroking with one hand the huge thick shaft caught in the rub between their bodies. Legolas' moans were so full of feeling that Gimli tumbled headlong into a raging storm of orgasm and he spent himself in waves against his lover's body with an intensity of pleasure that he had never dreamed existed. Legolas held his own release until Gimli's eyes refocused, then he too let go, his body exploding inside the quivering hard-muscled dwarf beneath him, and finally falling in spent sweet joy onto the soft carpet of brown twirling curls of hair. Dawn found the horses fed, the campfire embers rekindled into flames, and the meager breakfast laid out. Legolas, now on watch, scanned the empty sky and the quiet plains, his still-thrumming body filled with the same quiet blush and fullness as the new day. Gimli sat by the fire as the rest of the Company awoke, working to reaffix the pin that held his jerkin closed. He felt loved and in love and whatever this Company found at the end of their travels, he knew in his heart that he and Legolas would always be together. Drinking deeply from the cup of his secret happiness, he was even beginning to like trees.