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Axe and Bow

A Legolas and Gimli fan archive

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Starlight in Fanghorn

by Ladyhawk and Saraid

Warnings: Graphic sex
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: First-time fic set after Gandalf's return.
A/N: We are not responsible for what you do with your powertools after reading this fic. :) There is already a sequel in the beginning processes, so any and all feedback will be appreciated.

The night was new, one of those new beginnings his kind treasured so. During the dawn, he realized something vital had been missing, from the world and from their quest. He concluded it was really several somethings, but one of them was bitterly more important than the others.

It was hard to admit that he was still learning to realize these things. As guilty as he felt, he also realized if he could admit to himself that Mithrandir's return was more important than the survival of two young Hobbits, then he was only being practical.

Sitting comfortably at the foot of an ancient tree, in this sentient forest, Legolas had to take a moment to ponder what else might be practical or not. Was it practical for him to deny the call of his heart, as inexplicable as it was?

Down by the stream, Gimli gathered wood for camp.

As he stamped around finding branches, he mused on the events of the day: Gandalf's return, the discovery of the Hobbits safety, the need to find more ways to fight Sauron.

Now we can get some hunting done, now that Gandalf's back! The Orcs will not dare to challenge us. Gandalf's return filled a space in Gimli's heart that he hadn't even realized was empty. The wizard had become the embodiment of hope to the dwarf, hope for the end of Sauron's darkness, hope that Gimli could find happiness.

Happiness. . .Until the Fellowship, happiness had meant a good meal, good work, and good dwarven company.

The events of the past months had changed all that however. Now Gimli's eyes were beginning to look up to find his happiness, into the bright blue eyes of an elf. He revelled in the elf's laughter, his determination, the hidden strengths. He felt drawn to the light-haired beauty of a warrior. This new tendency scared him.

"The elf has bewitched me, I swear it." Gimli grumbled as he climbed over a fallen tree. His mind whirled with reasons why even thinking about the elf was not a good idea. Even worse was this new game his mind played--thinking of the elf as a mate! The very idea was preposterous!

Why had his twisted dreams lead him down this path?

Rising, Legolas paced slowly, always within touching distance of the tree, branches brushing his face, leaves caressing him. His thoughts circled around his dwarf companion.

He did not know the ways of dwarves, did not know their habits, the proper mating rituals, if they swore to one or opened to many. He didn't even know if they accepted the love between males.

But he had seen the way Gimli looked at him, and that gave him hope. Gimli, the only dwarf he had ever looked upon as wondrous and seen his sight returned. He paused his pacing, surrounded by soft leaves that crackled in time with his breathing.

Surely Gimli would not look at him so if it were not allowed?

This was a new day, and the world had a new beginning in it. This was a perfect time to put aside these dawdling mental ruminations and act, as a warrior should. It was time to stop thinking and start doing, as Aragorn would say, with a Man's short attention span. Sometimes the humans got things right.

He felt a wicked grin cross his face.

Sometimes they got them better than right.

It had been years since he last touched the Ranger, but the memory stayed with him. He played with it now, enjoying the feeling of heat it brought to him. It was too bad Aragorn had grown up so quickly, grown up and found a mate and pledged himself to her alone.

Before this day, Legolas didn't think he'd ever seriously considered the concept. One mate? A single lover for the rest of his long existence?


Now he shook his head, still enjoying the memory of Aragorn's rough tenderness, his awkwardness. The pleasure between them. He missed it, in a faint, nostalgic way. His life was colored with nostalgia, even at such a young age.

That could change, rapidly, if he had his way. If he followed this path, he would have a lover that would stay beside him, until battle or age parted them.

One mate. He'd never understood it until this moment.

Were Dwarves made like Men and Elves? Did they enjoy the same things? He knew that his own tastes had changed from that of most elves. He'd never thought he would find such hair intriguing. Aragorn was hirsute by the standards of men, but Gimli - Gimli was a bear.

Would Gimli move from the taste of dwarves and enjoy the feel of smooth skin? Would Legolas' own lack of body hair perplex him?

He had *seen* Gimli watching him. He had seen it. It must mean something.

Even so, his intent to act was foundering under the weight of these new questions. He must shoulder them and carry the burden to the one he wanted, lay them at his feet. He must sit at his feet and ask for answers.

He must sit at his feet and press close to his body. He ached to feel that beard on his face, taste those thick, twisted lips. He wanted to hold onto that broad, sturdy body and find out what was beneath those layers of cloth and armor. . .

Leaning against a rock, Gimli filled his leather skin with water from the stream. His thoughts turned to the dreams he'd been having recently. Gimli didn't know if they should be damned to Mordor or held in the highest esteem with the jewels of Moria.

The dreams had started harmlessly enough.

After Rivendell, Gimli dreamt of watching the Fellowship in the sunlight. He was always in the background, guarding them. The elf shone the brightest in these dreams, with his golden locks gleaming, but he was always one of eight.

After the journey through Khazad-Dum, his dreams changed. They became focused. Gimli often found himself fighting by the elf's side, admiring his skill with a bow. Those dreams were easy to handle, even though his focus was on the elf.

The ones that he wanted to but could not bear to forget, were of Legolas in mourning. When they fell outside onto the rocks that morning, Gimli had suffered alone, as much as was possible in a group of eight.

But in his dreams, his mind played tricks on him. In his dreams, he found himself reaching for the elf, wanting to ease that look of suffering. In these dreams, he held Legolas in his arms, he buried his face in those silky locks. He even dared kiss those gentle lips. . .

"Enough!" Gimli couldn't let his thoughts travel any further. How could he think of such things while the evil of Sauron yet rose in Middle Earth?!

Dunking his face into the stream, the dwarf tried to regain his composure. It wouldn't work between them anyway. How could the tall cool elf possibly respond amorously to his short, furry body, so different than his own? How is it possible that his own loins clench at the sight of the blond, pointy-eared enchanter, when not so long ago he wanted nothing more than a dwarf maid?

Even if he did find something to love in him, how could Legolas possibly understand Gimli's need to be with one mate and one mate only? It would not be practical for an elf, Gimli was sure, to devote himself to only one if he lived thousands of years. Gimli knew he could never compromise once he found a mate. He could not share. It would not be-- dwarf-like! But there were so many undwarf-like things going through his mind right now, that he was sure that the ring of Mordor had somehow cursed him.

Shoulders slumping, the stout warrior made his way back to camp. Gimli hoped with time he could convince himself that he was not meant for an elf.

Shaking himself free of the tree -- which could never be confining, no matter how tightly the leaves clung to him, Legolas knew it was time to make the first move. The dwarf would not. It wasn't in his nature - Legolas smiled privately, to realize he knew such a thing.

He was perhaps the only elf in the world that knew it.

Making the first move was the easy part. Getting Gimli to take him seriously might be more challenging. He loved a challenge.

By the time he got back the small camp, Aragorn was asleep. The toll of the past few days was plain to see on his face. Legolas wished that he could offer comfort in a form his friend would accept, but the closer Aragorn got to the Throne Of Gondor, the further he was away from his life among the Elves.

However, there was a dwarf sitting stiffly beside the fire, with a pipe in his mouth and a frown on his face. Legolas had seen it often enough to know something troubled the dwarf he desired, and this night he would do something about it.

As Gimli sat upon a log, his legs slightly spread for balance, it was an easy thing for Legolas to go and sit between them, making space for himself with delicate strength before tipping his head back to look up at startled dark eyes.

Lost in his contemplations, Gimli was startled when two slim shoulders moved to obstruct his view of his feet. Legolas' weight felt warm against his knees.

Not wanting to face the sharp blue eyes of his intruder, Gimli faced the forward, staring intently at the crackling fire.

"What do you want, Master Elf?"

"You look lost, Sir Dwarf. I thought to ease your melancholy with a song." Legolas smiled his small smile, the only one he allowed himself. "If that does not serve, then perhaps something more."

He shifted and stretched his long legs, to be certain the bulge in his leggings was visible beneath his shirts and tunic. His hair drifted around his face, feeling as wild as he did.

He looked to where Aragorn lay. They might have an audience. He did not care, for this was his time. This close, the dwarf smelled of dirt and honest sweat. . . and something darker. Something that made Legolas tingle.

Looking down sightly, Gimli watched as the elf stretched his legs, then quickly looked up to the handsome face before he was caught staring. This was too open a place for the thoughts that were invading his mind. It was bad enough that the elf might see his reaction to the beauty in front of him. But Aragorn might see as well if he was not careful.

Gimli coughed and stood up. "Nay, this is not time for song. This is time for quiet and watchfulness, or rest. I will take first watch if you need to sleep."

Still smiling, Legolas hummed a little, as quietly as he could. His body sang with the rightness of what he was doing and he couldn't keep that all inside.

He slouched further down, so that his shoulders pressed more firmly against Gimli's legs. His arms stretched over his head languidly before they swung down and draped over the dwarf's hard boots, holding him there.

He tipped his head forward, chin on chest, and closed his eyes, still humming.

"I am not particularly tired, Master Dwarf, but I am quite comfortable, so perhaps I will simply rest here."

"What do you play at, Master Elf? We are not Hobbits, curling around each other for safety!" Gimli leaned back, startled by the elf's actions.

Turning his head, Legolas nuzzled into Gimli's thigh, breathing deeply of the heavy scent. His words were muffled by the position, but he was sure Gimli heard them.

"I am not playing, melethron. Curl with me and you will find no safety at all."

Not believing his eyes or his touch, Gimli tried to back away from the one thing he wanted so badly. But he leaned too far back, toppled over the log he was sitting on, and he ended on the other side of it. His temper flared. The elf must be playing with him!

"Go bother Aragorn, you foolish elf! I know you find him pleasing. He is certainly more pleasing to an elf than the hairy body of a dwarf!"

Adroitly avoiding the kicking feet as the dwarf sprawled over the log, Legolas wasn't even tempted to laugh. This was the perfect opportunity to give himself an advantage.

He flipped over, far faster than any other member of the party would have been able to, and crawled up the thick body as quickly as he could, swarming Gimli until he covered him from head to toe.

He grinned widely, baring his teeth, and lightly snarled his words. "*My* hairy Dwarf, I'd have you say. From this moment onwards Aragorn lacks the attributes I seek in a lover."

Grasping the heavy head between both hands and holding tightly, he lay upon him, full length, and buried his face in the tangled beard. The hair was a rug of scratchy warmth, steeped in the scent that made his heart race.

"Trust my body and my words, Gimli, son of Gloin. Legolas of Mirkwood does not lie with his heart."

Struggling against his arousal and the elf's weight, Gimli remembered the words taught to him by his father. "Never trust an elf! You would have me as one of your many conquests. I will not allow it!"

Sensing that Gimli was actually upset and was not playing, Legolas slipped off the side, but kept one hand on the barrel chest.

"You have trusted me at your back, and trusted me at your side, Gimli- nin. If I cannot have your hairy body this instant, then I ask for the chance to curl, as you said. I seek no conquest tonight. I need only your presence, willing, for as long as you wish it."

Gimli looked up into Legolas' eyes, searching for deception and finding none. "If you speak truth, then I would welcome a warm body as I sleep. But what of Aragorn? Would he not be jealous of you turning toward me? I would not have the wrath of a king upon my head."

"Aragorn is pledged to the Evenstar, as is should be. We shared a childhood affection that has passed into friendship, and that only." Legolas gathered himself up and stood, offering a hand to the dwarf.

"I seek more than your wonderfully warm body, Gimli. Let us seek shelter from eyes and ears in the forest, and I will show you what this Elf knows of love."

Gimli looked up at his companion wonderingly. "This seems just another dream to me. Show me this is real, as real as the horror we have faced together."

Holding his hand, Legolas looked down, his face serious. "Come with me, Gimli, and I will find a way to show you. Something you will understand and believe."

He didn't know much of dwarf culture, but he had read things. . . Elrond's library being what it was, how could not have? A proper gift for a dwarf was something made. Rock or jewels, metals worked...he would have to make do with his own fair skills.

He tugged on the dwarf's hand again. "Come, please."

Gimli grasped the hand that wrapped around his. "This better not involve a rotting Orc. Their stench has just now started to leave me." The dwarf smiled and let the elf lead him.

"As aphrodisiacs go, I do not believe Orc is the best I can do. Someday we will have a room in my father's home, and breathe such sweetness."

Gimli laughed at the words of the elf. "I would like to smell such a breath, even if it is much different than the warm smells of the mines."


Legolas led Gimli back to the tree he'd sat under earlier. On the way out he thought to grab his bedroll, hanging it over his shoulder. The ground was soft enough, but it never hurt to add a little padding. As they walked his eyes searched the ground for a suitable piece of wood. They were almost to the tree when he saw it. The piece was not large, but well-cured, thick, and not too hard.

He kept hold of Gimli's hand as he reached for it, pressing against the dwarf. He wonder if Gimli felt his hardness on his arm as Legolas moved, first against him and then away.

Legolas held his prize up solemnly, and took a seat between the roots of the tree again. He brought the thick hand to his face and nuzzled the knuckles before releasing it and drawing one of his knives.

Gimli watched him, puzzled. "What is this?"

Setting his feet wide, he bent over his work and applied the knife with quick movements. "A token, Master Dwarf. I have read these can be given among your race, for various reasons. Though I do not know any dwarven courting rituals, I hope to make my own."

As he rid the wood of bark and deformities, making it a smooth, malleable piece, he wondered what he should carve. A ring came to mind, but given the connotations they held in Elven and Human society, that would perhaps be presumptuous.

To another Elf he would have given a decoration.

But what was an appropriate gift for a dwarf? Gimli wore no jewelry that he had seen. Maybe he should carve something practical, that Gimli would touch and use frequently. No, this was not for daily use, this was a symbol, to show his feelings and desires. It must be something to show Gimli that Legolas did, indeed, think him attractive, want him.

What did he like about the broad, sturdy body he yearned to touch. . .? Ah, yes. That was it. He stared at Gimli for a long moment, a small smile on his lips, and then bent to his task, shielding his work with the fall of his hair.

Gimli leaned over the elf's shoulder, trying to get a better look. "Come now, what is it? You cannot carve a diamond out of a piece of wood."

"Is it diamonds you require, my Dwarf?" Legolas looked up, still hiding the carving. "I would mine them myself, had I the time." He turned his head so his face was close to Gimli's. "But that," he whispered, "would require waiting, and waiting is something I cannot do. I would love you tonight and every night after, Gimli. Please tell me that diamonds can wait."

"I would not have hair as bright as yours messed by the dirt of those mines." Gimli sat down next to the elf and fondled a lock of silky strands. The elf's words and intense look silenced his mind's struggle. The pointy-eared one may not be a good mate for a dwarf, but a bedfellow in this time of struggle would be welcome.

"To make you happy, Gimli..." Legolas let the words trail off. He leaned slightly toward the dwarf, to encourage the fondling. There were few things he liked more than having his hair played with. Being sung to was the only one, actually, but he suspected he was going to have to give up that pleasure in this new life he planned.

"I never thought an elf would be part of my happiness. But now that you are here, I wish you by my side while we journey, in battle, in sleep." Not knowing how to put the rest in words that an elf would find pleasing, Gimli settled for running his hand down Legolas' back.

The brief touch made Legolas shiver. He hoped his body's pleasure at Gimli's touch was obvious. He needed the dwarf to believe him. To be turned away would be agony. But, determined, he resolved if Gimli refused him, he would approach the dwarf again and again, wear him down like water on stone.

"I will be anywhere you want me to be," he said softly, shifting to press a thigh against Gimli's."You seem --" he paused and looked up from his carving, searching the dark for Gimli's eyes. "More willing to believe, now." He finished awkwardly.

Watching Legolas shifting on the ground, Gimli's eyes widened. Why, he is as nervous as I am. His last reservation slowly fell away, causing him to smile gently at the elf. "I will spread the bedroll, so you can finish your task. We must get some rest before the morrow's journey." With a last caress to the Legolas' scalp, Gimli retrieved the bedroll from the ground and spread it underneath a large tree, keeping one eye on the busy elf.

With another shiver, this one of anticipation, Legolas took a minute to refocus his concentration. Gimli's touch had shaken it badly. With that thought in mind, he slipped and nicked a thumb, something he'd never done before. A bead of blood welled up and he watched it soak into the wood.

All the better, to have blessed it this way. Holding it up toward the moonlight, still hiding it from Gimli with his other hand, he studied the work. It was one of the best he'd done, even though he hadn't used a knife thus in two centuries. Reaching down he sought a stone and found one that felt rough enough. With it, he smoothed the ragged edged, not wanting it to chafe. But Gimli was rough around the edges, so this gift could be as well.

Watching Legolas' raised arms, Gimli strained to see the object in the slim hands. When it was apparent that the sneaky elf would allow him no early glimpse, he turn to remove his helm and armor. "Are we to rise early for our journey, Legolas?" Gimli did not want to rush this night, but duty must come first.

"I did not speak to Mithrandir," Legolas looked over, holding the carving close to his heart. "I suspect the day will carry the same urgency as those before, yet not be so desperate as to leave at first light."

Gimli nodded as he sat on the bedroll and began to untangle his hair. "We must take what comfort we can, then, while there is time."

Rising and stepping lightly over the roots, Legolas settled behind the dwarf, not sitting too closely. Without a word he reached around and dropped the gift into Gimli's lap, then gently pushed the smaller hands out of the way and began working on the snarls with his own slender fingers.

Gimli examined the object carefully. It was a circle of wood with the architectural lines of Moria carved on it. The interlocking of circles and squares and triangles briefly made him long for home. "You are an observant soul, Master Elf. How could you have remembered this design while in battle?" Gimli put the circlet on his wrist, thinking it was a bracelet, but it was much too big.

Legolas reached around and slid it up to settle on his bicep, making sure it fit snugly. "Long have I watched you, Master Dwarf, and wondered at the strength in these arms." He wrapped both arms around the wide body and leaned into rest his chin on Gimli's shoulder. "My kind give gifts on any excuse, Gimli, so I do not know how this might further convince you of my sincerity. If it does not, though, then perhaps this will." He scooted forward until Gimli was securely between his thighs, legs gripping the dwarf tightly. Legolas' passion was plain to be felt. He only hoped Gimli was not turned away by it.

The passion between male dwarves was satisfied with as little beforehand as possible, and often without looking one's partner in the eyes. So Gimli was slightly disconcerted at at being able to look up and see Legolas' bright eyes. This is what I want, but how do I proceed? He settled for rubbing his rough beard again Legolas' smooth cheek, smiling at the shiver it produced. "That is a strong piece of wood you have."

"Surely not too strong for a mighty Dwarf," Legolas chuckled, turning his face into that beard to breathe deeply. What a strange, wonderful sensation it produced. "I suspect Dwarves grow mighty trees of their own, deep in their caves."

"We do like to bury our trees in caves, warm inviting caves. Do you know where I can find such a place?" Gimli asked as he reached back and ran his hands over the lean hips of his companion.

Pressing harder into Gimli and resisting the urge to move, Legolas grinned. He got hair in his mouth but it was okay. Different, the way Gimli was. "We Elves prefer warm pools and yielding earth for our trees. Much the way you taste in my mind."

"Or a strong branch to support your weight?" Gimli was chuckling heartily now.

After a good laugh of his own, Legolas got up on his knees and leaned over Gimli, his arms running down the heavy chest, seeking fastenings on clothing. The position allowed him full contact from the waist down. His breath caught and he couldn't find words to speak.

Gimli chuckled as he turned within the elf's arms and faced him. "Show me the elf way of branches and pools, my friend. Although I have done this before, I have never sought comfort from the arms that held me, or love from the mind in the body next to mine."

"Never, Gimli?" Legolas sat on his heels to bring their faces together. His hands rubbed the back of the thick neck, sneaking under the fall of hair to touch skin with shivery curiosity. "Do Dwarves not share love? Or is it only gropings in the dark, as Men do?"

"It is not our way to share love with other males. Our love is most often reserved for jewels and precious metals. But I find that I treasure those less today." Gimli wondered at the touching of lips that he saw elves, men, and even hobbits do in Rivendell. Maybe that was a good place to start. So he reached around Legolas's head and pressed their lips together slightly.

Legolas dug his fingers into Gimli's neck, marveling at the muscle there, and moved his lips gently. He did so slowly, the way he'd first kissed when he was young. Sweet and a faint hint of dark musk was the taste of his one mate.

Gimli followed the lead of the lips moving on his, groaning slightly at their honeyed taste. Why did dwarves not do this? What else had he missed? No matter, he would learn of this and other things from the elf, he was sure. As the kiss finally broke, Gimli reached for the laces of Legolas' tunic. "I would see more of you, my elf. Your form is both warrior and jewel to me." Gimli's thick fingers fumbled with the knot for a bit, trying to loosen it without success. Thwarted by a simple task, his frustration level began to rise. "Ach! I know not how to handle this and not look like a clumsy troll." He takes a deep breath, not wanting to ask for Legolas' guidance, but needing it nonetheless.

"They do not teach knot-making in your caves, Master Dwarf?" Legolas teased gently, wanting to spare embarrassment. "I have spent two hundred years learning only that. You are not clumsy, but only unfamiliar with Elven knots." He covered Gimli's hands with his own and plucked at the knot carefully. "Like this. Pull each lace in sequence and -" The tunic fell open suddenly and completely, exposing the smooth skin beneath. He put Gimli's hands there, on his skin, knowing his heart was racing and wanting the dwarf to feel it. He also yearned to feel those calloused, rough hands on him, more than he'd wanted anything in 2000 years. This was why Elves chose one mate, because it made them feel like this.

Gimli felt so out of his element, wanting to caress the lithe form in front of him, but not sure how to go about it. Groping with other male dwarves did not prepare him for this, and as he had not chosen a lifemate among the females, he had little to guide him other than Legolas' earlier actions. So, following his lead, Gimli buried his nose into the hollow of the elf's throat, revelling in the sweet woodsy scent. His arms reached around the other's waist, bringing their bodies together.

Holding tightly to the dwarf, Legolas was willing to let the moment stand. It was almost too much, to be this close. Things were moving rather faster than they usually did among Elves. This was exactly what he wanted, but the distance between the dawn and this dusk was as an Age. He ducked his head and nuzzled into Gimli's hair, tasting the strands. Coarser than his own, but not without softness. He suspected his dwarf kept all his softness inside, well-protected by the barrier of his will. His senses sought tangible proof of Gimli's interest, but he did now know how to tell with a dwarf. Were they quick to arouse, or would it be the slow fire he anticipated?

Legolas held the moment, to savor it.

Gimli sighed deeply, content for the moment. But as he let his hands slowly map the elf's back and hips, his body began to warm. He wanted more. He wanted to see his companion in all his stately splendor. From the fingers wandering above the edge of his breeches, the dwarf realized that Legolas wanted the same. So he took a deep breath to prepare himself to be judged in a way he had never been before.

Caressing the pale fingers, Gimli moved back slightly. Legolas felt Gimli stiffen and stopped what he was doing, concerned. He drew back just enough to study dark eyes beneath bushy brows. "I am too skinny," he said softly. "Too pale and too light and entirely too pretty for a dwarf such as you. But you will look past that, won't you, melethron?"

"If you will look past my rough hair, I can look past your beauty, jeweled one." Gimli then smiled as he unfastened his breeches. The dwarf watched the elf carefully as he bent down to unfasten his boots. He kicked them off with his pants and stood proudly naked.

"I see I am going to have some competition," Legolas said slowly, drinking in the sight. Beautiful to his eyes was the stout body and thick hair. "I half fear to bare myself, with the comparisons that will doubtless come!" He smiled a little, wanting to put Gimli at ease, and also to draw out the moment.

Sitting further back on his heels, he leaned back and balanced on one hand. The other ran down his chest slowly, from collarbone to navel, and lingered at the tie of his leggings. "What do you think, my furry mate?"

"I think those should come off now," Gimli watched his slow, graceful movements in growing frustration.

"Then off they come." Holding his body in the arched position with the powerful muscles of his abdomen, the Elf used both hands to untie his leggings and open the front. It wasn't necessary to take them off just yet -- he was enjoying himself, and the look in Gimli's eyes, the way his voice grew harsher. He pushed them down enough to spring free, the sudden shock of cool air making his shudder. Still arched, he leaned back on his hands again, bending himself, and shook his hair forward so it covered his shoulders and slid over his chest. The moonlight was bright enough that he knew, without pride, that he was shining. At this moment all of import was that Gimli saw it, and Gimli desired him.

Gimli saw the glowing elf in front of him and stifled a gasp. It wouldn't do to inflate Legolas' ego. So instead he replied "You'll do. But I hope I can keep warm on that hairless body of yours." His smile betrayed his harsh words, and he could see the replying sparkle in the blue eyes in front of him.

"I am cold, now that you mention it. Perhaps a certain hairy dwarf of my aquaintence would be so kind as to cover me? For I will never need a blanket when he is near." Lying flat on his thighs, Legolas opened his arms and beckoned with his fingers, hands open and welcoming.

Gimli stared in amazement at the flexible elf. But wanting to please Legolas, he covered the few paces to his mate and lay himself carefully on him. Naturally, his legs seemed to fall around the elf's narrow waist. In this position, his erection brushed agaist Legolas' hip. Then with a small shift, Gimli's member touched Legolas' for the first time. Gimli gasped in pleasure, but could not help looking for Legolas' eyes, to ensure that this was the right thing to do, this touching. He was disappointed, however, to find the elf's head tilted back, gazing at the treetop.

His body sang, and Legolas could only hold himself in the moment, feeling. Gimli's welcome weight and warmth, the brush of hair and the intimate touch threatened his control. He wanted this to be more than a grope and tickle in the woods. It was meant to be more. With his body taut, he tipped his head back to look at the sky, stars glittering through branches.

"Gimli. . ." he whispered, listening to the name float on night air.

At the sound of his name, some of Gimli's worries eased. Legolas' voice was husky, as if he lacked air. He took this as a good sign, and shifted again. This time his ears were greeted with two moans, both his and the elf's.

Wrapping his arms around the dwarf, Legolas tried to catch his breath. All was perfect, the night, the stars, the trees. . .the heat that covered him.

Gimli was heavy and solid. It was like lying beneath a slab of granite, only finely polished, alive and breathing.

He wondered, if Gimli felt the same attraction to him he felt to the dwarf. Yes, they were here, they touched intimately.

Gimli's organ felt amazingly hard and hot. . . and larger than he had imagined. His fantasy life had been extraordinarily active over the past few weeks, not unusual for an elf. His fantasies were vivid and enjoyable, but nothing to compare to this.

He needed to move. Acceptance was all well and good, but. . .

"Gimli," He moaned, and grabbed the thick round curves of the dwarf's buttocks, his fingers barely denting the hard muscle. "What do dwarves do?" he breathed, shifting his hips slowly from side to side.

"Do? In the dark, in the caves? Not this, only drilling. But I like this. Is there more?" Gimli moaned softly as he imitated Legolas' movements.

Legolas chuckled, low and soft. "'Drilling' - an apt term, I suspect." He lifted his head and arched his long neck, running a hand up the broad back to tunnel under the dense hair and grab the back of Gimli's neck. It was so wide, corded with tendons, his hand almost couldn't reach across it. "With women, Gimli, is there only this?" he spoke with their faces close together.

"I have never been with a woman. But I have heard about things women like. Do male elves like this too?" Gimli propped himself up on his elbows and began licking at Legolas' chest.

When he reached a nipple, the dwarf blew on it slightly, then licked the tip, slowly, in circles.

"Yes. . ." Legolas sighed and moved his hips again, setting a slow, gentle rhythm. Their members pressed tight, then loose, then tight again. "I would say *all* elves like that!"

Gimli smiled against Legolas' chest, then moved to the other nipple, which he bit carefully. The body underneath his bucked and squirmed. Do I drill him now? Gimli asked himself. He wanted relief, but this was too intense to end so soon.


Starlight and romance had their place, but Legolas was done with them for the moment. Tightening his arms around the dwarf, one hand still holding his neck, he pressed the furry face to his chest and pulled with sudden strength, flipping them both forward.

His hand kept Gimli's head from hitting anything painful. Quickly, he straddled a surprised-looking dwarf and smirked.

"There is much more to show you, my brave warrior." He settled his knees on either side of the wide chest and wriggled until his cock left a trail of slick drops, then began to calmly comb through Gimli's beard with both hands. "There is slow, and gentle and teasing. There is hard and hot and heavy."

"There may even be love," he said more softly. With both hands in the beard, he used it to pull Gimli's head up close.

The dwarf's mouth half-opened, as if expecting a kiss, but Legolas bit on his lower lip instead. He held it between his teeth with only a touch of pain, then sucked on it as the blood plumped it.

Gimli reached around Legolas' head and pulled slightly on the silken strands. Pulling Legolas's teeth from his lips, he whispered. "Is love different than the other ways? If you were another dwarf, I would have filled you here earlier." Gimli ran his hand down Legolas' back to the crease between his cheeks. "But, alas, we would have already parted ways by now."

Legolas scooted his ass down so the hand was hotter against his skin, drawing Gimli with him, using the beard as a tether. He kissed his craggy face, soft, close-mouthed kissed, then put his teeth to the cheekbone, where the beard began, arching his back to rub his organ on the firm, furry belly. Nosing through the forest of hair for a curled ear, he suckled it briefly before speaking. "Alas non, for we have many hours before dawn, and love likes time. Time and surprises, my hairy mate." He bit the ear suddenly and wondered if dwarves tasted each other, the way elves did. There was one way to find out.

He scooched back, pushing at Gimli's chest now, sliding a hand behind his neck to support it, and took himself in hand, unable to resist the urge to stroke once, twice.

"The taste of elves is like nectar at dawn, Gimli... would you like to judge for yourself?"

Admiring the elf's long, pale cock, pointy like his ears, Gimli watched as a drop of liquid fell from it to his chest. He reached down to his own stomach and retrieved the dewdrop, brought it to his lips as he watched the elf's stormy eyes. He sucked on his finger slowly, watching as his lover sucked in a breath. "Nectar indeed. I will have to seek more." The dwarf lifted his head, urged the elf forward, and wrapped his lips around the crown of the pulsing cock, slowly sucking.

Any lingering apprehension in the dwarf died as he heard the musical notes of the elf's yell. He couldn't understand the words but he figured it was good, as Legolas grabbed his head and pushed him further down.

"Tuilinn enni, nin garn, (Swallow me, my own)" Legolas panted. He held Gimli's head between his hands, taking some of the weight of it, and sat straighter, fighting the urge to thrust. If dwarves did not do this, his new lover wouldn't be ready to take all of him, as much as Legolas wanted him to.

He folded himself over Gimli's shaggy head and felt the bumpy nose touch the sensitive skin of his lower belly, where sensation shivered and skittered. He wanted to hold that head there and use the starkly hot mouth, with the wonderful hair touching and tickling and scratching everywhere. "Gimli. . ." he moaned, unsure what he wanted to say. His hands tightened.

Gimli opened his mouth as wide as he could, trying to take in as much of the hard, sweet rod as he could. He swallowed around it, wondering if tasting was enough. But then the elf's hips shifted away slightly, and almost thrust. Ah, so that's how it is, like drilling. He wrapped his callused hand around the base, trying not to injure the sensitive flesh.

His head bobbed slowly, taking a little in, then pulling away. His other hand, trying to find a place to rest, brushed against the elf's rocks. Hearing a keening whine at that point, Gimli repeated his swipe, then fondled them gently.

Curious as to the taste of the elf everywhere, the dwarf pulled his mouth away from the sweet cock and wrapped his lips around one of the rocks. Tasting salt, sweat, and musk, Gimli was in Moria, the Moria of old. Here, the elf tasted like home.

"Like that," Legolas moaned as he rode the pleasure. "You learn quickly, Master Dwarf!"

Smiling to himself, but not wanting to speak, Gimli rubbed Legolas' member gently.

"Norn, hard! I'm no little Hobbit, I will not break at your touch!" Legolas pushed against his hand, demanding. In response, Gimli pulled tightly on the staff, as he put his teeth to the rock.

Legolas muttered almost silently, a spike of heat traveling his body. Holding himself tense, he tried to fight the climax that gathered in his belly like a thunderstorm.

The dwarf swallowed around both of the elf's rocks as he pumped the hard cock like a bellows. He felt the elf tensing, so he pumped harder, and felt his own body tense in sync with the elf's. The roaring in his ears became louder as his heart sped up. I will make the elf sing for me.

And sing he did. Gimli felt Legolas arch toward the sky stiffly. Removing his face away slightly, Gimli looked up and watched as the flushed, sweaty elf opened his mouth on a cry.

The forest was almost silent around them.

As Gimli increased his ministrations, Legolas reached upward with one hand, reached for the sky. The joy he felt in this was practically immeasurable. . .he could not help but lend his voice to it.

The stars seemed to answer; his blood heated and the joy flowed in the heavy spurts he treasured. Elven stars, his seed, his life went from him to Gimli, his mate.

Gimli watched as the elf passed over the knife into oblivious pleasure. His awe shone in his eyes. "Ah, my elf. You are a treasure worthy of diamonds."

Gimli positioned his hand so the jeweled liquid from Legolas' cock spilled onto it. He raised the hand to his mouth as the elf watched with drowsy eyes. The taste of his mate's essence hardened the rod between his legs.

Gimli figured the time had come for what he knew best. He had given what Legolas needed, so now he could seek his own relief. "Was that what you wanted, my elf?" He slid his hand down and grabbed the elf's waist with both, lifting him effortlessly off and to the side. Rolling to his feet, de grabbed Legolas's hand, pulling him in the direction of the spread bedroll. "Come, I would have you more comfortable for what is next."

Letting himself be pulled along as the dwarf slipped out from under him and moved over the ground, Legolas smiled. When they reached the bedroll, so neatly organized, he suddenly dug his heels in and stopped, then switched directions abruptly, shoving forward, catching Gimli and bearing him down.

"And what do you think happens next, son of Gloin?" he panted, voice roughened. With his arms around the sturdy body he wrestled him down to his back and leaned over him. He knew his weight alone would not be enough to keep Gimli subdued, so he added the tease of his body, insinuating himself between thick thighs and pressing his hardness close.

Gimli was startled to find himself in this position, once again against the hard rod of the elf.

"Did I not do well enough, Legolas?"

Gimli tried to rise to a sitting position, but the elf would not let him move.

"You were splendid, Gimli. For someone who drills regularly, you are greatly skilled at polishing jewels!" Easing his grip, as it seemed Gimli was going to play along for the moment, the elf moved down the dwarf's body and lay down flat, resting his head on the dwarf's shoulder.

He felt like a leaf, floating on a great sea of fur. Wonderful, heated fur that roused his blood yet higher.

"There is much for you to learn about elves, Master Dwarf, and more for me to learn about dwarven-kin." he pressed his lips to Gimli's ear as he murmured. "In your rocky caves, in the dark of night, how is it decided who does the drilling and who becomes the mine?"

Gimli sighed as he stroked the elf's flank. "It is decided by one's rank in the mines. As you are older, and more experienced, I would be expected to be willing."

"Then you were trying to put one over on me!" Legolas crowed softly.

Gimli eyed the elf speculatively. "I do no such thing. This is all new to me. I learn at your talented hands tonight."

The speculation was pure dwarven irritation, but Legolas heard something sweeter in the words. A taunt came to his tongue, but he swallowed it back and returned in kind.

"This is new to Middle-Earth, Gimli-nin. We are new and all is new to us. Let me teach you this as an elf would."

Gimli looked up at Legolas with a small smile. "I would want no other teacher."

Gently the elf kissed Gimli's neck, tasting him, and mourned the passage of time that brought dawn ever closer.

"You will be my rock so far from the sea." He licked at the sweat gathered there, and it tasted like stardust, mined and ground and sprinkled here. "I will teach you everything I know."

Gimli squirmed under the elf's touch, already overheated from their earlier play. "I need some relief. My lust already bores into me too far. I fear it will shatter me." He pulled the elf tight against him and growled in his pointed ear. "Either drill me now or I will have to test your strength."

Legolas silently agreed that the time for such fluff was past. Thinking ahead, the elf realized they had nothing to ease the way, no scented oil or fancied salve. Perhaps he could have brought the mineral spirits Aragorn used on his blade -- but no. There was another way.

With a sensuous wriggle, he moved off the dwarf and turned him on his stomach. Languidly, he lay on the dwarf so his hair tickled Gimli's nose. He pressed his drill into the deep crevice he wished to mine, and used his knees to push his thick legs wider, then pushed hard for a moment.

Gimli pushed up onto his elbows, trying to get Legolas to press even deeper into him. "Do it! Drill me already!"

"I have another tool in mind," Legolas scolded, then bit the dwarf's shoulder. He bit his way down the spine, a smooth crease between the heavy mounds of muscle and the hard curve of ribs.

At the top of the ass, he bit hard and then sucked gently, before running his tongue over the sensitized spot.

"Do dwarves taste like mountains, Gimli?" He purred darkly. "Or do you taste of ash and fire?" Before Gimli had a chance to answer he ran his tongue down the deep separation, lingering slightly over the entrance he sought.

Gimli was startled to feel Legolas' tongue reaching toward that dark place, and instinctively wanted to move away. But he held his place as his mind became overwhelmed by fire.

"I do not know how I taste, but I feel aflame." He wanted to grab the elf's pointed ears and pull him even deeper. But since he could not, he simply shifted up, trying to get that feeling deeper within.

Legolas chuckled, loving the way his dwarf responded to him.

He made him wait another moment, then began licking deeper in, long swipes through the short hair that covered this space.

He breathed deeply, inhaling the base essence of his lover.

When Aragorn was young they had spoken often of this; mating and love. Legolas knew well this was considered an unclean practice among the Men, and apparently dwarves knew not of it at all.

Unclean was a concept Legolas had trouble understanding. At a certain level, yes, of course it was. But many pleasureable things could be considered unclean if you thought about them too hard, and most everything could be washed.

This was his mate, his one mate for all time. Everything about him was to be sacred, treasured and precious to Legolas.

He nuzzled deeper, filling his lungs with Gimli's scent. It was darkest here, filled with musk and raw mortality. With his tongue he probed the small entrace he sought, at first gently and then with more need.

Gimli felt the first touch of the tongue at his entrance and gasped. It was like a lightning bolt, like a touch of ice to heated skin, this feeling. He had known nothing before this, nothing. This was mating, real mating, not fumbling in the dark. There was gentleness in Legolas' probing tongue, but also strength. Gimli let that strength hold him now, as he collapsed within sensation.

The sudden looseness in Gimli's body didn't escape Legolas' notice. He grinned against the hairy skin and wondered briefly at his own pleasure in this. Yes, he had been attracted to Gimli's personality first; his courage and determination, and then later his sense of humor and ability to laugh at himself -- but the physical had come later.

Recently, really.

Earlier, he had wondered what the mass of hair would feel like, what it would be like to hold onto someone so short and thick and hard. . .now he couldn't remember having ever wanted different.

The hair that rubbed his face now was short and stiff, almost like the bristles of a brush, but softer. He rubbed his cheeks on Gimli's and circled his tongue just inside the heavy body. Was Gimli's passage the same as an elf's? Was it short and wide, like the dwarf himself, or would it be as tight as one of Legolas' kin? He could find out now, learn more of his lover.

With a shift of his shoulders he pressed closer, breathing only the air on Gimli's skin, and went deeper, as far as he could go.

Giving in to pure instinct, Gimli rocked his body, pushing Legolas' tongue into him. He groaned at the sensation, felt his body tighten for the final release.

I would be happy to never see another mine if he would continue doing this, he thought.

Though he had never touched his dwarf before, Legolas knew, almost

instinctively, that he was too close. He pulled away reluctantly. Another night he would continue this to the conclusion, if Gimli desired it.

With a grin he leaned to wipe his face on Gimli's back.

"A handy towel you can be, master dwarf," he teased. "My tool is ready if your mine is."

"If you do not move soon, you will find my axe cutting those pretty locks of yours, and maybe more. I ache, curse you!"

"You ache for me?" Legolas crooned as he lifted Gimli by the shoulders, deftly arranging him more comfortably, with his hips over a bump of root beneath the bedroll. "Your body longs for mine?"

"How could it not? I have not felt this way, ever. Sauron's Ring could not give me this much pleasure, even in its deception." He breathed raggedly as he felt Legolas position himself behind him.

"Ah, Gimli. . ." moved by the words, Legolas wished he could kiss his lover, but the position wouldn't allow it. There would be time for that later. His own arousal, so renewed, was pushing him hard. The dwarf obligingly spread his legs when Legolas wanted them wider. His breath came hard, his chest working like a pump. Fascinated by it, Legolas lay his face there as he reached down and sought the hole with a finger wetted in his own mouth.

"Be still a moment. . .I will be with you soon." He sank the finger in, glad that Gimli accepted it so easily. A fragment of an earlier exchange came to him. . .

If dwarves decided place by rank, then Gimli, being the equivalent of a prince -- ranking close to Legolas, actually -- probably had never...he felt a painful lurch in his heart.

That Gimli did this, and said nothing was astonishing. Among elves it would be an occasion for celebration. A thousand years ago, after Legolas was done with loving she-elves, Haldir of the Golden Wood had taught him the ways of males.

He vowed to be as careful with Gimli as the Guardian had been with him.

"Why do you wait? Is it that different with elves?" Gimli looked behind him, trying to decipher Legolas' face. The elf seemed to be in awe of something. He didn't think he was that awe inspiring, but who knew with an elf?

Leaning as far as he could, Legolas brushed his lips over the bearded face.

"It is different with elves, Gimli. Especially when we love." He used one hand to hold Gimli further open and worked another finger in. It was tight, but not so much as he'd expected. Apparently Gimli was thick and wide everywhere. . .His drill certainly was. Legolas was already looking forward to taking it.

The third finger went in as well, though it was a very tight fit now, and felt quite dry. He hoped there wouldn't be any pain following.

"Be still, Gimli, and tell me if it hurts," he warned, moving closer and seeking the entrance with his tool.

"You couldn't hurt me, a mere elf." But Gimli froze as Legolas' member probed his entrance. The slow, careful movements pushed a moan out his lips. This was better than he ever expected.

Pushing back, trying to get more, Gimli was startled when he found himself filled to capacity without the elf flush against him.

He looked behind him. "Something is wrong."

Legolas wasn't completely surprised to find he could only sink about two-thirds of himself into his mate.

"Nothing is wrong. We are merely different," he said, sighing. The tightness was wonderful, the closeness more so. He leaned down, on his arms, and pressed his chest to Gimli's back, to better feel the hammer of his heart.

His head was even with Gimli's, so he could nose his face into the dense hair and breathe of it. He had to be careful not to pull out all the way. . .if this went quickly he didn't want to have to stop to find his place again. And he would have to be just as careful to not drill too deeply. Such injuries were uncommon but not unknown and he would not have Gimli suffer one.

The first strokes were awkward, short and jerky. But his body learned the limits quickly and Legolas gave himself over to it, hips thrusting fast and hard, always stopping at just the right second. He knew right away that dwarves had the same star inside them as elves, the one that made them scream.

"Oh, so that's what I've been missing!" The dwarf grunted as Legolas hit the sensitive spot inside.

On his knees and leaning, Legolas reached to grab Gimli's shoulders and held them hard as he arched into each thrust. He knew he should touch Gimli, reach for his drill, but he was too involved in this mating and could not be distracted. It was more powerful than he'd thought it would be. This was something new for him, and more proof this was his mate.

"Gimli - are you - near?" he managed to pant. The dirt beneath the bedroll was giving way as he dug himself in. He rolled his head back, eyes closed, to better absorb this marvelous feeling.

"More than near." Gimli choked out as his body tensed. Within seconds, his tool expelled its load and he roared.

Caught in the moment, Legolas moaned a snatch of song, holding to Gimli as the dwarf shook.

" Im dartha an i giliath, a im dartha an i aear, maethor-nin, deri ah enni. . .(I wait for the stars, and i wait for the sea, my warrior, waiting with me)"

The completion of the moment was too much for him; he jerked helplessly as he sent his seed deep into Gimli's mine, the sudden lubrication making him slip out as he shuddered.

Panting, he lay atop the dwarf and slid down his solid sea of muscle to kiss the back of his neck, blowing hair out of his face and chuckling a little. His hands clenched and rubbed the heavy round balls of Gimli's shoulders.

Gimli turned slightly underneath the elf. "You are extraordinary, Master Elf. We should repeat this soon, I think."

"As often as opportunity presents, master Dwarf," Legolas rose enough to let Gimli turn over, then slid down to rest his head on the barrel chest. He suspected that Gimli did not yet understand the nature of Legolas' commitment. Explaining it might frighten the dwarf off, so he kept the strongest of his feelings to himself.

He put an arm and a leg over Gimli and cuddled down. Did dwarves cuddle? He doubted it. There would always be more for Gimli to learn.

Gimli yawned. "Do we sleep here for the night, like this? Aragorn will come looking for us." But already the dwarf's eyes were closing as the heat from Legolas' body seeped into him.

"No matter, Master Dwarf. . ." Legolas felt himself drifting and welcomed it. There were hard days ahead and behind.

Gimli glanced at the starlit elf before his eyes closed altogether. Maybe he wouldn't mind Aragorn knowing. It was, after all, a new day.


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