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by Oakenshield
Category:
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
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.
Feedback: Please.
Summary: Sometimes one must sacrifice their own life for the love of
another
A/N: *hands out kleenex* This is a weepy.
Black, blue, red, white, gold. Jewels. Hundreds of them. Some set
smoothly within the stone, some sharp enough to slice flesh. Some
large, some small. Some bright, some pale. More pale. Perhaps it was
just his eyes but no jewels looked as bright as they once had.
Except one. The most precious treasure in the world. The one whose
light had never seemed to dim, even in the darkest of places. The one
whose flawless surface shimmered in starlight, glowed in the golden
rays of the morn, shone in the sinking shadows of dusk. He was but a
small candle beside this glowing form, but a tiny flame whose light
was waning.
The Elf, to whom time had no regard, looked every bit as lovely as
when he had first cast his eyes upon him over a century ago. If
anything, time had carved his loveliness even deeper, lighting his
beauty with a dim flame of sadness that seemed to grow evermore. But
where he had once stood tall and proud, he now knelt on the stone
floor with his shoulders stooped in grief, as if his spine had been
broken.
"Aragorn is dead."
The three soft words echoed around the cave as if the walls protested
the declaration.
Gimli nodded. "We expected it," he moved to Legolas's side to lay a
hand on his shoulder as he heard the shuddering exhalation of a sob.
He had known the man for only a short while compared to Legolas and
he knew his death would wound the Elf deeply.
"Everyone I love is leaving me, Gimli," Legolas leaned his cheek into
the hand. "What am I to do?"
Gimli reached to catch a tear, but he was not fast enough to stop it
trickling into the corner of the Elf's mouth. A small gasp rang out
as loud as bells and Legolas raised a finger to his lips, touching
the teardrop, holding it on his fingertip as if it were nectar from
the Gods.
Salt water upon his lips. And the cry of gulls could be heard
outside. They had flown far inland, not heeding the distant. Perhaps
they had come for him? Come to take him away at last. Gimli swallowed
the lump knotting in his throat and ran his fingers through the soft
length of flaxen hair, reaching around to cup the fine jaw as tears
rained onto his hand.
"You long for the Sea, my dear Elf," he stated plainly. "Why do you
linger?"
"For my loved ones," the musical voice was merely a flat whisper.
"And now they are all gone." He pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
"Not all of them are," he replied, "not yet."
Legolas turned his head to face him and the sight of him nearly broke
Gimli's heart. Though they shone with unshed tears, his eyes had all
but lost their light. He was dying inside. The grief had begun to
twist within his heart. Gimli reached out to embrace him, but stopped
himself. He was being selfish.
"Damn those birds!" Legolas jumped to his feet and pressed his hands
over his ears in at attempt to block out the squawking. "Can they not
give me peace?!"
"They *offer* you peace, my love, and well you know it," Gimli took
Legolas's hand and stroked it gently. He had long decided what he was
going to do, rehearsed what he was going to say, but now it came to
doing it, his resolve was weakening. It hurt, it hurt so much, but he
could see no other choice. He would not see his love suffer to his
death to appease himself. "I am old, Legolas. Look at me; my beard is
white, my mind will soon be fading, not even my body is capable of
giving you the pleasures it once could. I will not have you wait to
watch me cripple and wilt."
"Gimli, no…" Legolas sunk back down, crouching at the same height as
the Dwarf.
Gimli put a finger against the soft lips. "Shh. Say no more. You want
to go; I see it in your eyes, I feel it in your heart." He reached
beneath the silken fabric of the Elf's tunic and pressed his palm
against the slow heartbeat. Ever beating.
"While there is life in your body I go nowhere!" Legolas cried
defiantly.
Gimli looked away so Legolas wouldn't see the tears that coursed his
cheeks. "Then…" he took a breath, "then you leave me with no choice
but to release you." The words stuck in his throat and he wondered if
they had even come out loud enough for Legolas to hear. He did not
want to have to repeat them.
"Gimli!" Legolas grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to face
him. "You cannot release me. I am forever bound to you by our blood!"
He took the Dwarf's hand and traced with his finger the small scar on
his palm, where Gimli had cut the flesh and mingled their blood the
night they had confessed their love. "We promised! *Forever*!"
Gimli turned the Elf's hand over. The cut he had made there had left
no scar upon the perfect skin. "You can see forever. I cannot." He
pulled away and turned his back on the pleading eyes, unable to look
into their depths for a second longer lest he be weakened. "Go
Legolas," he whispered, trying to find it in himself to walk
away. "You must leave now. And so must I – the Halls of my Fathers
await me."
"Oh! Let me cry again: a plague on dwarves and their stiff necks!"
Gimli felt strong hands grip his shoulders but made no attempt to
remove himself from the familiar grasp. Just a moment. Just a moment
longer in that embrace. A moment. A year. A lifetime…
"Hold on, Gimli. For me? Please?"
"I cannot hold on. I want to sleep. I get no younger, Legolas, and no
stronger. You will be left here loving an old fool. You cannot want
that."
"You are a fool indeed if you believe that."
Lips brushed his cheek in a tender kiss and Gimli knew Legolas had
again tasted the salt in his tears. "I will not see you hurt."
"But you *are* hurting me! I want to be with you for as long as I
can, even if it is not for much longer. You cannot deny me that."
Legolas tried to turn Gimli around, but he stood rooted. "Look at me!
Please look at me, Gimli!"
He had known the Elf was going to be difficult and he had decided if
Legolas would not leave, then he would have to. He could do it. He
could walk away now, and not look back at him. He could do it. He
*had* to do it... Maybe one last night together wouldn't hurt? And
then he would leave. No. He would never be able to if he did.
"*Please*!" Legolas cried, clinging to him as hard as he could. "Do
not leave me!"
Gimli swallowed acrid tears. He had thought that nothing could hurt
more than leaving Legolas, but staying seemed to pain him a hundred
times more.
"I stay here as long as you do." Legolas tugged his arm and Gimli
turned to face him at last. "Do you hear me, Gimli?" As shaky as his
voice was, his tone was firm. "You don't get rid of me so easily."
"Now let us cry: a plague on the stiff necks of Elves," Gimli
muttered, with no humour in his tone.
"We are as bad as each other." Legolas pulled the Dwarf into his arms.
Gimli embraced him, pressing his face into the warm neck, unable to
look into those dying eyes as guilt clutched at his heart. He could
not argue with Legolas once his mind was made up. And whatever
Legolas desired, he would never deny. "But when I die, you must
promise me you will follow your heart and sail from this place. And
there you will heal. And you will love again."
Legolas crushed Gimli to himself, sinking his fingers into his thick
white hair. "Nay, Gimli, I will not take another lover. When I
said `forever' I meant it. Though your body be cold beneath the
earth, your soul will still reign in my heart. Oh, why must I lose
you after so short a time? Though the time is not short to you – it
is nearly half your life – to me it is but a blink of the eye."
"Half my life is not anywhere near long enough." Gimli turned his
head to capture the Elf's mouth in a kiss, pouring all his pain and
hunger into that gesture, tasting the bitter sweetness of their
mingled tears, and they lay down together in silence. Gimli prayed
that time could be slowed, so the moments they spent in each other's
arms could be an eternity. But it was not meant to be for him.
Eternity overlooked the hearts of Dwarves, and the hearts of men; it
only looked to the hearts of the immortal ones, not looking as deeply
enough to see the pain it caused.
A murmur in his ear: "Come with me."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Come with me," he repeated.
"If only I could, my love." A laugh stuck in Gimli's throat, choking
him as he realised the absurd words were spoken with heartfelt
truth. "It will not be allowed!"
He felt a slight shrug against him. "It may. You have Galadriel's
favour. And Gandalf's. Perhaps they would allow it."
Would he want to live forever? With Legolas, he would. But as he was
now? He had heard in the Undying Lands wounds were healed and youth
was restored. But would they allow a Dwarf to step upon their fair
shores. To be so close, to be turned away. He would not be able to
bear it. "And if they do not allow me? What then?"
Legolas looked him in the eyes. Perhaps there was a bit of light left
there. If he looked deep enough.
"Then we will return," the Elf pledged solemnly. "And I will follow
you."
~END~
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Issue No.: 2.6
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