Title: “The Challenge”
Author: Theresa Green (Tracey_J_Brazier@hotmail.com)
Pairing: Legolas and Gimli
Rating: R 
Summary: Gimli and Legolas get competitive in the bedroom.
Warning: Bondage.
Author’s Note: Whenever I read slash stories involving Legolas and Gimli 
– not that I spend a great deal of time reading such tales, you understand; I 
can’t have read more than thirty-five or forty at the very most – I am 
struck by the fact that Legolas always seems to be an extremely noisy 
lover. Despite the fact that Elves pride themselves on their stealth and 
subtlety, the Legolas I read about always seems determined to let everyone 
within a five mile radius know what a wonderful time he is having. It 
struck me that Gimli would also be amused by the coital caterwauling of 
his beautiful Elf and would wonder if it were possible for Legolas to 
restrain himself. The following story is the result of such musings.
Theresa Green, August 2003.
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*** THE CHALLENGE ***
The Challenge had been Gimli’s idea and, as Legolas opened the door of 
the bedroom he realised how much effort the dwarf was putting into it. 
There was a fire blazing in the hearth, the room was lit by dozens of 
candles and, yes, thought the Elf, there were rose petals strewn on the bed. 
And Gimli himself, standing by the fireplace, was resplendent in his finest 
clothes – beard braided, hair combed, face beaming with happiness and 
anticipation.
 
      “If I’d known that you were going to go to so much trouble,” said 
Legolas, “I’d have been sure to dress up for the occasion.” He glanced 
down at the simple shirt and leggings his was wearing.
       
      Gimli smiled and walked forward. “No point. You won’t be 
wearing anything for long.” He slipped his arms around Legolas’ waist 
and looked up at him with quiet amusement. “Are you ready to begin this 
Challenge?”
       
      “Yes. Tell me again what the rules are.”
       
      “The Challenge is that you have to let me make love to you 
without making a sound. Not a single word can cross your lips, not a 
groan, not a moan, not the smallest mewl or whimper.”
       
      “And you?”
       
      “I can make whatever noise I want, Legolas. I am not the one 
whose cries wake sleeping babies ten miles away.”
       
      “And the prize?”
       
      “Prize? There is no prize save the honour of winning, my dear Elf. 
Did we have a prize for our orc-slaying competition at Helm’s Deep? No 
we did not. There will be no prize here.”
       
      “And when does the challenge begin?”
       
      “When my lips touch yours, so if you want to get any moaning and 
whimpering out of your system before we start, now is the time to do it.”
       
      Legolas laughed and cuffed him gently on the side of the head. 
“Come here!” he said as he knelt down to bring their faces to the same 
height.
       
      “Ready?”
       
      The Elf nodded, a playful smile pulling at his mouth. 
       
      “Now, not a single solitary word or sound!” Gimli moved his lips 
to that wicked mouth, brushing with the lightest of touches. Then he 
pulled back to look at the Elf’s face. Legolas was struggling not to laugh. 
This challenge seemed to have amused him a great deal. Well, thought 
Gimli, let us see if you are still trying not to laugh in five minutes’ time. 
Gimli closed his eyes and resumed the kiss, pushing gently with his 
tongue until the Elf’s lips parted and their kiss deepened. Legolas’ hands 
came up to frame Gimli’s face, his long, long fingers softly caressing the 
dwarf’s cheeks and beard with infinite tenderness. Gimli moved his head 
to one side, catching one of Legolas’ fingers in his mouth and rubbing his 
tongue along it lasciviously and looking up at the Elf with an expression 
of wanton abandon. Legolas had to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from 
giggling. He had thought that if he lost the challenge, it would be through 
an inability to restrain a cry of desperate passion at the height of his 
pleasure, but it seemed that he was likely to lose in the first thirty seconds 
simply because he couldn’t stop laughing. 
       
      Gimli removed the Elf’s finger from his mouth and frowned. 
“What’s the matter with you?” Legolas shook his head, his shoulders 
shaking slightly. “You find my foreplay amusing do you?” Legolas 
covered his mouth with his hand and sank back on his heels trembling 
with silent mirth. 
       
      “Right then!” Gimli suddenly grabbed the Elf’s shoulders and 
pushed him sideways onto the floor. He swung one leg over until he was 
straddling the Elf and began pull at the buttons on Legolas’ shirt. “I had 
intended to be subtle,” he said, “but if you are going to laugh at my efforts, 
we will move on to a more direct approach. Oh, for Aulë’s sake, why do 
you have to have such bloody fiddly buttons, Elf?” 
       
      Legolas smiled up at the dwarf and pushed away his hands. With 
tantalisingly slow movements he unbuttoned the shirt and pulled it open a 
little. Gimli grabbed the cloth and shoved it back all the way. He 
descended upon Legolas with enthusiasm, sinking his teeth lovingly into 
the muscle of his shoulder and biting his way across to the Elf’s neck. 
Legolas arched his head back to expose more of his throat and Gimli 
obliged him with a series of bruising bites all the way up to the angle of 
his jaw. Gimli’s tongue found its way up to the Elf’s ear and then, oh so 
slowly, up to the delicately pointed tip. Gimli paused. This was one of 
Elf’s weak spots. He could hear a catch in Legolas’ breathing. Gently at 
first he began to suckle on the ear-tip. Was that a hint of a moan from the 
Elf? Perhaps not. Gimli lightly scraped his teeth along the edge of the ear 
and felt the Elf’s body tense. With a final lick Gimli drew his head back 
and took a look at the Legolas’ face. Legolas’ eyes were half-lidded, 
glittering with lust, his mouth open, breath coming quickly.
       
      “He, he, he! Not laughing now are we my pet!” Gimli said as he 
renewed his assault. He ran his hands possessively over the finely cut 
muscles of the Elf’s body. “Not laughing at all.” Legolas reached up to 
pull at Gimli’s tunic, but the dwarf batted his hands away. “All in good 
time, my dear Elf. All in good time.” Taking the slim wrists in his hands 
he raised the Elf’s arms over his head and pushed them hard onto the 
floor. “I’m in charge this evening, remember?” He pressed a quick kiss 
onto the Elf’s mouth before dropping his head to Legolas’ chest and 
dragging his tongue across a nipple. Legolas gasped loudly, his back 
arching a little under the dwarf’s weight. Gimli chuckled again. “Getting a 
bit more difficult, is it now Legolas? Getting a bit harder, hmmm?” He 
shot a glance further down the Elf’s body. “Yes, I would say definitely 
getting harder.”
       
      Legolas decided that the only way he was going to be able keep 
quiet was if he took control. With surprising strength he tipped the dwarf 
over and began tearing, hungrily at Gimli’s clothes, desperate to get to the 
hot skin beneath. 
       
      “Ah, ah!” Gimli growled. “No you don’t.” Effortlessly he rolled 
Legolas over, taking control once again. The Elf wriggled wildly but 
Gimli had him pinned down with his superior weight and strength. “If you 
don’t behave yourself, I’m going to have to tie you up.”
       
      The Elf stopped moving instantly. Gimli eased back a little to take 
a better look, thinking perhaps he had hurt him in the struggle. Slowly 
Legolas moved his hands off Gimli and held his arms in front of him, his 
hands crossed at the wrists. He looked up at the dwarf with a deliciously 
sluttish expression. 
       
      “Oh, I see. You like the idea of that do you?” Legolas nodded 
slowly never taking his eyes off the dwarf. Gimli chuckled quietly. He was 
always delighted to find new ways of pleasing his beloved Elf, and this 
latest peccadillo seemed to the dwarf to be full of potential. “Onto the bed 
then.” 
       
      Gimli quickly removed his belt and rooted through a drawer to find 
a second one. By the time he returned to Legolas, the Elf was lying on the 
bed, his shirt completely discarded and the lacings of his leggings partly 
undone. Gimli pulled off his own tunic. Legolas reached out, longing to 
feel the hard muscle of Gimli’s body against his own. Gimli threw the 
belts onto the bed and lowered himself into the Elf’s embrace. The feel of 
the Elf’s hands on his body was so good that Gimli almost abandoned his 
plan to restrain Legolas’ arms, but remembering the look on the Elf’s face 
when bondage was suggested, Gimli decided that the rewards of tying him 
up would outweigh the disadvantages of not being caressed. Picking up 
the first belt he took hold of the Elf’s wrist and pushed it back over his 
head. Slowly, loving the intense feeling of power that this gave him, Gimli 
secured the wrist to the bedpost. He pulled the belt tightly and could see 
the skin turning a little white under the pressure, but the Elf didn’t seem to 
mind. Certainly, Gimli noticed as he sat back to reach for the second belt, 
Legolas was panting, but the dwarf didn’t think it was out of pain. Or at 
least not out of unwelcome pain.
       
      Gimli decided he could have a little more fun before giving the Elf 
what he wanted. “You know, Legolas, I really don’t think I should do this. 
It’s all a bit…well, kinky, isn’t it. I’m sure you’re not really enjoying this, 
are you. You are probably going through with it just because you think it 
pleases me.” Legolas was shaking his head furiously. Gimli could see he 
was intensely frustrated at not being able to talk. “Perhaps I’d better undo 
your wrist.” Legolas’ expression was a desperate mixture of lust and 
hopelessness. He shook his head again, silently mouthing the word ‘No!’ 
“Well, if you are absolutely sure. Don’t blame me if your wrists are red 
raw by the end of the night.” Legolas shook his head in a firm denial that 
he would do anything of the sort. “Here we are then.” Gimli tried to make 
his voice sound unenthusiastic, as if the whole process of tying the Elf to 
the bed were a tiresome chore that he would rather do without. He tied the 
second wrist a little tighter than the first and sat back to assess the 
situation.
       
      Gimli always thought that his Elf was beautiful. Whether dressed 
in his finery as a Prince of Mirkwood or bespattered with black orc-blood 
on the battlefield, Legolas took his breath away, but now Gimli was 
prepared to swear he had never seen the Elf look so seductive. The strain 
in Legolas’ arms as they stretched back over his head brought out the line 
and curve of every slim muscle and forced his back into a slight arch. His 
hair was dishevelled and fell across his face so that his eyes were half-
concealed behind the silken strands. And the Elf was aroused. Oh, so 
obviously aroused.
       
      “Oh gods!” Gimli breathed, lowering his head to kiss Legolas’ 
stomach, tracing his lips over every dip and rise of the taut abdominal 
muscles. “Oh Legolas!” Gimli moved to kiss the hollow above the smooth 
hipbone. The Elf’s breath was coming very fast now. Gimli glanced up. 
Legolas was biting his lip. Sure he could get a moan or a whimper out of 
him now, Gimli mused. Lowering one hand, Gimli began to drag a long 
caress up the length of the Elf’s thigh, slowly, slowly, gradually moving 
the hand upwards and inwards until…
       
      Legolas gasped and panted desperately but made no other sound. 
Silently cursing the Elf’s fortitude, Gimli began to ease the leggings over 
the hips and down the long, lithely muscled legs. Discarding the leggings, 
Gimli picked up one of the Elf’s feet and kissed the instep. He began to 
move his mouth along to the anklebone, the calf muscle, the knee. He 
paused to take hungry little bites of the Elf’s thigh until, at last his mouth 
hovered – teasing, tantalising – a fraction of an inch above Legolas. If this 
doesn’t get a response, Gimli thought, then I’m a hobbit. He lowered his 
head.
       
      It took every ounce of willpower that Legolas possessed to keep 
from crying out. Never in his life had he been so deliciously tormented. 
Every movement Gimli made was exquisite torture. Every instinct was 
telling him to give voice to his pleasure, to moan, to whimper – anything! 
But Legolas was nothing if not determined, and he bit down on his lip 
once more.
       
      Gimli didn’t know whether to be impressed or frustrated by the 
Elf’s silence. Under normal circumstances Legolas would be howling by 
this stage. How could he possibly keep so quiet? He lifted his head briefly 
to look at the Elf’s face. There was a thin trickle of blood running down 
Legolas’ chin from his swollen lip. Ye gods! Gimli began to wonder if 
Legolas was taking all this far too seriously. Did it really matter who won 
the contest? Gimli’s attention was brought back to his work when a jolt 
from Legolas’ hips almost took his eye out. Yes of course it mattered who 
won! What was he thinking! Gimli was just about to resume his 
ministrations when a thought struck him. Perhaps he was going about this 
in the wrong way. Maybe Legolas was so determined to win, that any 
amount of effort on Gimli’s part could be resisted, even if it resulted in 
Legolas chewing his lip to a pulp. So perhaps, thought Gimli, I shouldn’t 
give him anything to resist at all.
       
      Gimli raised his head and moved away from the Elf, studying his 
face closely. Legolas’ eyes were wide open, gazing at him in disbelief as 
the dwarf sat back on his heels. Gimli almost laughed at the expression of 
mute supplication on the Elf’s face. Legolas’ obvious desperation 
confirmed in Gimli’s mind that his new idea was a sound one. He leant 
down a little until his face was hovering over the Elf’s. 
       
      “You’re very close, aren’t you?” he said quietly.
       
      Legolas nodded frantically.
       
      “Hmmm. Very close.” Gimli’s eyes wandered up to the Elf’s 
wrists. “And it’s not as if you can help yourself at this stage, is it?” 
Legolas had begun to understand what Gimli had in mind and was pulling 
hard at his restraints. “No, I don’t think you’ll find my knots will come 
undone, my dear, sweet Elf.” Gimli was smiling broadly now. He lowered 
his head even further so that he could feel the Elf’s panting breath on his 
face. “I’m not an unreasonable dwarf. I can see that you are in need. All 
you have to do, Legolas, is ask me.” Legolas shook his head. “Alright. 
Suit yourself.” 
       
      Gimli gently brushed a strand of hair away from the Elf’s mouth. 
The tip was stained with blood. “Tut, tut! Your competitiveness goes too 
far sometimes you know, Legolas.” Gimli was sure to keep his voice 
lightly seductive. “All you have to do is say ‘Please, Gimli’ and I will put 
you out of your misery.” Legolas’ teeth were clenched. Gimli could see 
the muscles of his jaw working under the smooth skin. “Two little words. 
That’s all.” With languid movements Gimli took his forefinger and slid it 
into his own mouth, his face alight with laughter as the Elf’s crazed eyes 
followed the movement with unashamed lust. Gimli removed the digit 
briefly. “And to think you found that movement funny a few short minutes 
ago!” He beamed at the Elf and ran his tongue slowly across the tip of his 
finger. He slid the finger into his mouth once more and gave a long, low 
groan.
       
      “GIMLI, PLEASE!”
       
      “Yes! Yes!” Gimli punched the air and leapt to his feet. He began 
bouncing round the bed, leaping over the trembling body of the Elf in 
unrestrained joy. “Yes! I win! I win!”
       
      “Yes, yes, you win, Gimli! You win! Please, please, please will 
you finish your victory dance quickly and then, for Elbereth’s sake, finish 
me!”
       
      Gimli, crouching down again by the Elf, took pity on Legolas’ 
need and as the Elf’s frantic screams echoed around the room, the dwarf 
thought to himself that victory might be sweet, but judging by the sounds 
the Elf was making, it can sometimes be absolutely wonderful to come 
second.
       
*** THE END ***
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