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81 - Just What the Truth Is
“Care for another session in the weight room, Gimli?” Legolas asked as he hung up his suitcoat in the hallway closet of their hotel suite.
“Rich food, aye,” Gimli muttered, patting his stomach. “I could use a workout and I wouldn’t want ye ta gain an ounce either.”
A wry smile curved elven lips.
“It will pass the time,” Legolas replied patiently. “Unless you’d rather a walk about the town this evening?”
“That I’d like a great deal,” Gimli said. “After a change of clothes, I think.”
Legolas followed Gimli to the bedroom and watched as he hurried out of his formal clothing. The elf’s back was against the door frame, his hip cocked wantonly.
“I could do with a short nap,” Legolas said softly, covering a faux yawn and sauntering languidly toward the bed.
Gimli looked over at his companion and the elf was seated, fingering one of the decorative knots of the candlewicking on the spread. Suddenly Gimli sensed a flaring heat in his groin rising straight to his hardening nipples. Legolas tilted his head upward and cast a smoldering glance that ignited the dwarf’s tinder. Already half unclad, Gimli leaped at his friend and bore him backward on the bed.
Gucci shoes, Versache tie, a creamy silk shirt, belt, trousers fell to the floor as dwarf ravished a willing elf. All the while, Legolas fanned the Naugrim flames with sighs and teasing whimpers.
Then the elf lowered his voice and whispered, “Lock the door.”
Sliding off his lover, Gimli went to the outer door and clicked the deadbolt into place. Then he returned and stood a moment in the bedroom doorway. He looked at the wanton feast of treasure spread on the sheets. Smooth ivory limbs outstretched, a wealth of golden hair fanned across the pillow. A smooth cheek of rose marble, glittering sapphire eyes above wet coral lips. Graze sweeping hungrily lower, Gimli beheld between his lover’s long legs, a spire of amethyst jutting upward.
Never in his life had Gimli wanted Legolas more. Passion, like keen appetite, made his mouth water. Wanting brought his heart near bursting. Possessiveness, like a fever, rose in his blood, pounding at his temples, burning in his chest.
Legolas blinked and his brow furrowed. “Gimli?” he asked.
The sound of the elf’s voice was far away as if the room had suddenly become as wide as field. Gimli laid his thick hand over his heart. The burning in his chest had grown immensely. Dimly, he heard himself cry out as his palm touched glowing metal.
“Break the chain, Gimli!” Legolas was shouting from far off, as if he stood on the other side of an alpine valley. Gimli jerked at the mithril chain. He heard the heavy ring hit the floor. It sounded like a hammer on an anvil. He closed his eyes. He was falling from a precipice.
When he opened this eyes again, the pain in his chest and the blood fever were gone. They were resting together on the bed. He lay in Legolas’ arms, savoring the long fingers sweeping back russet curls. The ring was on the floor in a circle of charred carpet.
“We’ll need to pay for damages,” Gimli grumbled.
“I’m pleased for what was saved,” Legolas whispered into his ear. “Are you quite well?”
“Oh, aye,” Gimli replied. “And still hungry for ye.”
“I am yours, Friend,” Legolas said, tilting back his head and offering his mouth and throat for the dwarf’s banquet.
Tenderly, Gimli savored the wine colored lips, the delicious, marble skin that was fresh scented and moist. All the while, long white fingers smoothed back the russet braids of beard and hair, teasing and fondling well-known places.
82 - What the Truth Is Part 2
Kisses, soft as falling apple blossom petals, woke him. Gimli took a long deep breath and snuggled closer to his companion. Twining elven arms and legs, like ivy on an old stone wall, encircled him, hugging warmly, protectively.
"Hum…" Gimli said into the soft curve of pale neck.
Lips and teeth chewed delicately on a thick earlobe.
Legolas whispered, "I’m relieved you’re unharmed."
“The ring's jealous of you," Gimli whispered back. "It tried to separate us."
Blinking, Legolas asked, "What?"
"It made it seem as if you were far away."
Legolas chewed his lower lip, a frown marring his features. "Will you chance taking it up again?"
"If not me, who then will bear it?"
"I don’t know, but I am loathe to risk your life."
Just then, there was a sharp knock on the outer door. Legolas gave his companion a strong squeeze, disengaged himself, sat up and swung his legs off the bed.
"Coming," he called pulling on a silk robe.
Barefoot, he padded to the door and peeped through the little eyepiece. A familiar dark eye peered back.
"Come in, Father," Legolas said sweeping open the door. "How may your son be of service?"
"By not lying abed all afternoon. We have been invited to view the royal grounds and the car awaits."
"A moment only, my lord," Legolas said smiling brightly. "Please, be seated in the parlor. It will take but a moment for us to dress."
Thranduil sniffed. He brushed back his long, dark hair and with a piercing glare added, "Since we will be confined within a coach, do others the courtesy of showering first."
"Yes, my lord," Legolas called back over his shoulder with a long peal of bright laughter.
He strode into the bedroom and his partner a firm slap on the ample haunch. Then, he clapped a steel grip on the dwarf’s thick wrist, yanking him from the covers.
With a crow of levity, Legolas announced, "Come, Gimli. We’ve been summoned."
"By whom and for what?" the dwarf grumbled as he was pulled into the lavish bathroom, pushed under the warm spray and soaped down.
"By King Anarion and my father," Legolas said.
The next moment, Legolas was spouting out a mouthful of water, blinking his long, dripping lashes and lathering himself efficiently as the dwarf soaked and sulked like a wet cat.
"Ye have no idea how warm I grow just lookin’ at ye gleamin' wet," Gimli muttered. "No idea at all."
"Rinse," Legolas ordered as he turned around in the spray, soap streaming off of his smooth skin.
Gimli stood in the stream of hot water for a few minutes, taking great pains to get all the soap out of his hair and beard. At the same time, Legolas stood outside the tub awaiting him with a huge, warm and fluffy towel, the trademark of the hotel. Gimli stepped onto the bath mat.
"I’ll towel you down," Legolas offered invitingly.
"Pass me the electric dryer," Gimli said raising his arms, accepting the appliance and allowing his companion to kneel before him. Then the elf embraced him with thick, dry terrycloth.
"I’d rather go back to bed," Gimli whispered into the nearby elvish ear.
The smooth features of the elven face twitched in mirth but Legolas kept to his work, raising one wide foot and then the other, careful of ticklish toes. The hair dryer clicked on and more endearments were lost in the loud buzzing.
When they emerged from the bathroom, they stopped and were rooted in the doorway by what they saw. Thranduil himself stood in the middle of their bedroom, his eyebrow raised. Clothing had been selected and laid out on the rumpled bed. Shoes waited side by side. Clothes, that had been cluttering the floor, had vanished. So had the ring.
83 - Carry the Weight
In the time it had taken them to shower, Thranduil, Elven King of Mirkwood had entered their bedroom and straightened it, tossing soiled clothing into the hamper and laying out fresh attire. Now, the room’s original inhabitants were blinking like owls in torchlight.“My.. my lord,” Legolas stammered, clutching Gimli’s shoulder tightly. “Really, there was no need…”
Gimli stood, mouth agape, turned to stone by the Elf King’s glare. Kindly, Thranduil softened his gaze and gestured toward the clothing. Gimli breathed again.
“When you were younger, Legolas, I used to tidy your rooms whenever there was need, allowing no other. Your mother was gone, and I believed it was a father’s duty.”
Gimli nodded his head. So, he concluded, Thranduil must have moved the ring. Just then Gimli’s attention was drawn to the changing face of his lover. Pale shock turned to rosy blush. The bow shaped lips trembled, a leaf in a soft, summer zephyr. The fingers digging into the dwarf’s shoulder tightened and then eased. A deep breath was drawn in and slowly whistled through fine nostrils.
“Father,” Legolas said shaking his head, approaching slowly, slim and frail in his nakedness, as if new-made.
Gimli could only watch and brush away a tear as the two embraced. Gently Thranduil kissed his son’s wide forehead and eased him down on the bed. Then with a far firmer glance, the King of Mirkwood handed his dearest subject his clean linen. Legolas bent and began to dress.
At that point, Gimli blushed too, as brightly as the dawn. He himself was without a stitch. Wide hands flew to cover his genitals. He took a few steps toward his own neat stack of fresh clothing but a glare from Thranduil froze him once again. Then, the Elf King’s gaze turned warm as springtime and melted winter’s ice.
“Come, Master Dwarf, Gimli Elf-Friend,” Thranduil said. “Get dressed. Then I have a gift for you.”
Gimli hastened to obey and then he wondered if Thranduil would think he only wanted his present. He slowed and took care in lacing his shoes. He scanned what Legolas wore. His father had chosen a comfortable shirt and trousers, sneakers and white cotton socks. The Elf King wore a similar costume. No doubt it was appropriate attire for royal visitors about to survey the wide gardens of the King of Gondor.
The afternoon sun streamed brightly into the room. Something occurred to the dwarf. Quickly, Gimli located his sunglasses and the pair that Legolas favored. Then the dwarf offered a spare pair of glasses to King Thranduil who graciously accepted them.
“For a dwarf, you are amazingly generous, Gimli son of Gloin,” Thranduil murmured with a wry smile.
“Thank ye, sir” Gimli responded giving Legolas a little pinch on his firm posterior instead of rising to the bait.
Legolas responded by fondling a sensitive earlobe half hidden by the massive dwarven mane. The Elf King raised his eyes and sighed. Then he took out a small packet wrapped in paper.
“I believe it’s time to unveil my gift,” Thranduil said.
“You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, Father,” Legolas quipped, covertly scanning dresser tops for the illusive ring.
The Elf King approached the dwarf, tearing open the paper envelope and offering a glittering disk to Gimli.
“When I knew what bane your carried,” Thranduil said to Gimli, “I sent a request to your people and secured a measure of purest mithril. Heated and molded, my smiths crafted this locket. A safe place to keep a precious thing.”
On a mithril chain, the locket was a little thicker than the ring itself. Thranduil’s long fingers unfastened the hidden clasp. Inside on black satin rested the Ring of Power.
“My gift to the Ringbearer of the Fifth Age,” Thranduil said. “To keep you and my son safe.”
84 - Carry the Weight Part 2
While Gimli explained the construction of one of the many stone fountains in the gardens, the Elf King and his son walked together, secluded behind a wall of sweet scented jasmine. Legolas met his father’s cool gaze.
"The silver locket, Father," Legolas said softly, "was not the only gift you gave Gimli. My heart is soothed by your concern for him, and for me."
"Legolas," Thranduil said, slipping his arm around his child’s narrow waist. "Please understand that I have carefully maintained a coldness toward you in public. If others knew my heart, they would have harmed you."
"My heart told me this," Legolas replied, his eyes bright. "But my head was stubborn and my neck stiff."
Thranduil smiled at his son. He whispered, "Happily, I spend these days with you. When sundered by the sea, we will be lost to one another. Only memory will remain and some few moments must be pleasant ones."
"I never knew you straightened my rooms."
"There were only trifles to replace," Thranduil said with a sigh. "You were a neat and quiet youngster."
"I used to watch you as you sat on the throne in our fortress."
"Oh?" Thranduil said, eyebrows raised.
"I remember how you glared at a troop of captured dwarves," Legolas said, eyes gazing far off. "I did not get on well with Gimli when we first met. We argued constantly and I belittled him."
"I’m sure it grated," Thranduil quipped, "since he is short of stature."
Legolas laughted softly. Then he said, "On his account, Father, I was led blindfolded through the Golden Wood. Only later did I see the marvelous mallorn trees. We were saddened by the fall of Gandalf and stunned by the power of the Lady of the Wood. Only with time and clearer vision, did I see Gimli as my friend."
"So Lady Galadriel informed me."
At that moment, one of the Elf King’s attendants approached, eyes downcast and reverent in the presence of royalty.
"My lord," the elf said. "King Anarion requests that you walk with him. He has much to reveal."
"It seems we’ve been summoned," Thranduil said, his hand on Legolas’ shoulder giving a firm squeeze.
"Yes, Father," Legolas said, nodding his golden head.
The royal pair followed the retainer into the company of the King of Gondor. Gimli was kneeling in the grass pulling away the sod from the base of a statue.
"I know it’s here," he muttered. He looked up at the crowd. "See? My memory yet serves."
Dwarf runes marked the statue’s base. Gimli translated them. "On this spot, Legolas presented Lady Arwen to King Aragorn."
Not far away the white tree's leaves fluttered in the breeze. They’d come full circle around the gardens and into the great courtyard again. The white tower of Ecthelion shone in the setting sun as parts of the city below blossomed into torch light.
"For our visitors," King Anarion said, "I have ordered my subjects to refrain from modern lighting for an hour or so. In your honor, they light fires as of old."
"Memories flood my mind’s eye," Legolas gasped as he looked down upon the city.
"Aye," Gimli said, brushing soil from his hands. "Happy memories of the day of victory."
"May we have a day of victory once more," King Anarion said.
"Our alliance has never failed," Thranduil said. "Elves, Dwarves and Men, all with a united purpose."
"An open accord, without secrecy," Anarion added.
Thranduil smiled slowly and looked deeply into the eyes of the Heir of Isildur.
"Then we must seek out the Hall of Records, Majesty. Bring forth your Loremaster."
The two kings walked arm in arm into the tower attended by all save two. Gimli and Legolas slipped back into the gardens unobserved. Amid the deepening shadows they trod paths of memory. Then, they made their escape by secret ways they remembered. They passed the tree they’d planted during the rebuilding of the City. Legolas spoke to the little birds there. They learned that dark, cold shapes moved about the city. It was likely that Whitethorn himself was seeking his Ring.
85 - Horse with No Name
Once outside the citadel, Legolas led unerringly back to their hotel. They packed their necessities into two rucksacks and left everything else in the care of the remaining Mirkwood elves. They collected their weapons from the hotel safe and checked out at midnight.
"Are you sure, gentlemen, that you wish to depart at this late hour?" the clerk said. "Have you perhaps a complaint about our services?"
"My compliments on everything, sir," Legolas said, signing his name in flowing script. "As for the late hour, the starry night is a joyful time for my people. I have persuaded my companion to go camping in the open air."
There was a sharp cough from the dwarf and the low rumbling grumbling of rocks tumbling down a mountainside. A silken hand caressed braided beard from ear to chin and thumb pressed lips. As in the past, sturdy dwarf followed slender elf out of the splendid hotel lit for the evening like the rest of the city by torches and banks of candles. On the street outside, they breathed the smoke perfumed air and looked up at the brilliant stars.
"A swan flies south, Gimli," Legolas said pointing upward at a group of stars. "She points our way."
"Are we to run then to Dol Amroth?" Gimli asked shouldering his pack and stamping his feet.
"Ride," Legolas said, eyes sparkling and grin wide. "A few miles we’ll run on our two legs. Then we race on four."
The torches had nearly all burned out by the time they reached the outskirts of Minas Tirith. They climbed a stone wall and crossed through an orchard. Fruit hung heavily on the branches and the travelers helped themselves to a few choice apples, pears and plums.
"I’d leave them some money if I thought they’d find it," Legolas said tossing aside an apple core before polishing a fragrant pear.
"We are doing the world a great service," Gimli replied, patting his stomach and then stuffing two apples into his pack. "I’m sure the balance sheet remains in our flavor."
"Do you remember, Friend," Legolas asked wistfully, "the morning we woke and talked about going back to living in the forest?"
"It seems an age ago, but I do recall it," Gimli said his back against a tree trunk.
Legolas bit into the pear, chewed slowly and then swallowed.
He sighed and asked, "Do you miss our home?"
"Aye," Gimli said. "The great bath and your little potted trees."
"I wonder how Eorand is doing," Legolas said.
"I’m sure Samantha Gamgee has the apartment neat as a pin, and a full larder for the boy," Gimli said around a mouthful of apple.
"Many watch over him," Legolas said rising finally. "Now we must move on again. The farm is over yon hill."
At first light they approached the yard of a tidy horse ranch as chore boys stretched and yawned, splashed water into the trough for five horses in a small corral. Other horses inside the small stable whinnied. A mare and her foal waited patiently for a treat in another small enclosure. Smells mingled, bacon cooking in the house, fresh hay in the loft and the pungent odor of the stalls.
"See the fine, big grey, Gimli?" Legolas said.
He was pointing at a spirited creature in the corral, a horse that was proudly tossing his head, a dark mane flowing. The horse laid back his ears and lunged at its companions who flew in all directions. Then the horse caught sight of the strangers and observed them with curiosity, big ears pricked forward.
The dwarf stroked his beard and gasped, "Tis Arod come to life again."
"I found him on the Internet," Legolas said. "His price is low because he’s not yet found a master."
"And I suppose I’m expected to climb right on?"
"Of course," Legolas said with a grin.
Packs on their backs, dust on their clothing, the pair looked like vagabonds as they hiked around the stableyard. The boys eyed them like the horses, with curiosity and awe. Finally one of the boys walked up. He was a tall youngster, clearly a Rohirrim.
"Good morning," Legolas said. "Is the master here?"
"I’ll go get him for you, sir," a straw-blond said and ran off toward the house.
Within a few minutes a thickly built older man appeared in riding breeches and tee shirt. His tall black boots were well-worn. He cocked his head at the sight of the strangers and rubbed his chin.
"Out of legends are ya?" he asked, frowning into the glare of the early morning sun. "I didn’t know a Gondorfest was goin’ on."
"Some would say we are legendary," Legolas replied laughing. "Our cash is modern enough. I’d like the grey, please."
"Can’t be rode," the man said. "Won’t take a bit as yet. Doesn’t like a saddle neither. Three months to train him, I think. Or maybe never."
"We need neither bridle nor saddle. A cloth only."
"Elvish folk," one of the boys whispered.
The trainer scratched his head. Legolas waited patiently. The boys nudged one another and snickered.
Legolas asked again, "Sir, may I try him?"
"Well, I suppose. It’s your funeral. We call him Old Hob, a nickname for the devil around here."
"Legolas, are you sure?" Gimli whispered.
"I would be more suspect, Master Dwarf, of a horse called Rosebud," the elf replied lightly. "Come. I need only to touch him and tell him who I am."
"So, one of them danged whisperers then," the trainer sneered, a fist on his hip.
Legolas brushed back his long hair, the tips of his ears clearly visible now.
"My race has spoken with all good beasts for ages. Those among men with the talent learned it from us."
86 - Horse with No Name Part 2
The horse in the small corral was curious and his eye followed the movements of the elf. Legolas tapped Gimli’s arm and then held out his hand, all the while not taking his eye off the approaching horse.
“Gimli,” Legolas whispered. “One of your apples, please.”
“I reasoned that I would need a bribe,” Gimli said, “But, you?”
“A gift is important at the first meeting. One must make friends.”
Gimli rummaged in his pack and located one of the juicy apples. Legolas took it. By applying pressure with his thumbs, he split the fruit in half.
“Here, Gimli,” he said, handing back half of the apple. “You give him a piece too. He must learn your scent.”
The stable boys watched in awe as the elf lightly leaped over the corral fence and walked amid the horses. The big grey laid back his ears at the other horses. Then, with ears pricked forward and a questing lip, he approached the elf.
Legolas took a bite of the apple and chewed loudly. The horse was very interested. The spectators heard soft murmuring in elvish. The horse came closer and Legolas gave him a morsel of the apple. Big wide lips took the offering from the elf’s palm. The horse looked for more. Legolas moved around the animal, touching him lightly.
More words, friendly firm slaps and the rest of the apple. Amazingly, the horse stood quietly. Then, Legolas placed his hands upon the creature’s wide back and vaulted aboard. More soft words and gentle patting along the crested neck. The other horses milled around the corral, but Old Hob stood still until he felt a squeeze of elven legs.
The words were in elvish, the song’s melody high and sweet. Old Hob picked up a trot and pranced with knees and hocks high, tail in a dark flag and neck arched. The young men gasped. And Gimli nodded knowingly.
The horse picked up a canter and the other lesser beasts scurried out of his way. Legolas guided him with his weight and touches of his hand on his thick neck. A tug on his flowing mane, a single word and the horse stopped. Then the beast looked back at his rider, lip quivering, searching out his reward.
“Give him some apple, Gimli,” Legolas said. “Then give me your hand.”
The dwarf offered the half of apple and Old Hob lipped it up. Then, Gimli grasped his friend’s wrist and with a jerk, elf hoisted dwarf up behind him.
“Go slowly at first, if ye please, Horsemaster,” Gimli implored. “I am long out of practice.”
“Hob is much like our Arod. He won’t let you fall,” Legolas said.
In minutes, Old Hob passed the test and the business of purchasing was concluded. A bill of sale and a health certificate were neatly folded together and slipped into the elf’s pack. Gimli loaded some measures of feed into his pack, enough to get them to the next town. The farm boys leaning on pitchforks watched them ride away. The horse master waved one final time as they turned and bid farewell before descending over the crest of the ridge.
*******
That same morning at the hotel, Thranduil sipped his tea and stared at a silver laptop brought to the breakfast table for him. His face like flint, the Elf King ate a piece of buttered toast and a small saucer of blueberries. Then he pushed the dishes away.
“Lindoriel,” he said, addressing a young member of his household. “Please open this device and show me its operation.”
“Yes, my lord,” the young elf said, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. “Here is the clasp.”
The device sprung open. Thranduil stared at a black screen and then he looked down at a keyboard marked by tiny elven script.
“Press this button to activate it, my lord,” Lindoriel said. “Now, please wait a moment for the screen to come up.”
The screen saver was a photo of Legolas and Gimli in front of the statue of Gandalf that stood at the base of the Tower of Ecthelion. Lindoriel quickly located a file of other photos left by Legolas for the Elf King. In the same file was a letter.
“Double click here, my lord,” Lindoriel said softly.
Thranduil looked up from his seat into the eyes of the young elf. He gave the youngster a fleetingly ghost of a smile. Then he nodded and bid the servant return to his duties.
87 - Country Roads
The letter opened. The screen was parchment and the writing was in gold script. At first Thranduil’s eyes could not focus on the words. He brushed away tears. He licked his lips and took a deep breath before the plunge.
"Farewell, my father," Legolas wrote. "Once I bid you farewell in Rivendell, in Imladris the House of Elrond. Now my journey leads me back to Elrond’s dwelling. I will greet your friends for you. Ever will I await your journey home.
Legolas
Thranduil closed the letter and spent an hour viewing the photos that his son had left for him. Then he closed the laptop and put it into its case. He stood on the balcony as the sun set that evening. He looked to the south and the winding silver ribbon that was Anduin flowing to the sea.
*******
The horse was content to eat grass after finishing a measure of grain poured onto the edge of Gimli’s cloak. They’d found a defensible campsite on a wide ledge about a dozen feet above the river. Southward, a little way down the trail was a green meadow and Hob had permission to graze during the night.
In a twinkling, Gimli had a small fire going in a deep hollow in the sandy soil. Little light escaped. He thought of the hobbits, Sam in particular as he cooked their supper. In typical fashion, Legolas scouted the perimeter and spoke with an owl.
"Just like old times, eh?" Gimli said dishing up his cuisine after Legolas sat down next to him.
"Ah yes," Legolas said sniffing warily the stew on his plate and then expectantly awaiting the dwarf’s reaction.
"Ye ferget, ye foxy elf, that yer sittin’ with the Ringbearer," Gimli growled. "Must I command you to eat?"
The elf’s expression went cold and dark. "Speak not of it, Gimli, lest some creature hear."
"Aye, tis wise," Gimli said, his mouth full. "Ner’ the less, eat up. Yer food grows cold."
Legolas spooned up the stew and chewed it slowly. Gimli watched him out of the corner of his eye as he wolfed down his own helping. Legolas sopped up the savory gravy with a bit of bread. He licked his lips and then his slender fingertips.
"This is good," Legolas said, smiling wistfully at his friend.
"There’s more," Gimli answered, stirring the cooking pot.
"No more for me, thanks. Finish it up and then I’ll wash the dishes."
"I’ll spread our cloaks then," Gimli said.
Legolas nodded and smiled. It was like old times, the peaceful days when they traveled together between Ithilien and Aglarond along these same paths. As in those former days, Legolas, as he promised, rubbed the plates clean with sand and rinsed them in river water. The good-natured owl landed on a tree limb and reported that the woods appeared empty of intruders. It was safe for elf and elf-friend to sleep. The owl planned to do some hunting.
Groaning from the long ride, Gimli stretched himself out on the soft sandy ground and made himself comfortable at last. Graceful as a snowflake’s fall, Legolas recline beside his friend, the dwarf’s shoulder as his pillow.
"Ah, this is comfortable, Gimli," Legolas sighed. "So much better than sleeping next to you when you wore your armor."
"And you, Elf, make a far better comforter when you are not getting up every few moments to have a look about. I never got used to a blanket that flew off me a dozen times during the night."
"Pillow and blanket," Legolas said laughing. "So, that’s what we’ve been to one another all this time!"
The "pillow" growled again and the "blanket" responded with laughter.
"You comfort me, Gimli," Legolas said squeezing the dwarf tightly. "I am happiest when you are nigh."
"Like I’ve said so many times before," the dwarf rumbled. "Elves are strange folk, yet I’ll not leave ye, my daft elf. No matter where our paths lead."
88 - Smoke on the Water
"Do you remember this pool, Gimli," Legolas said.
"Humm?" Gimli replied, rousing himself. "Aye, it does seem familiar."
Gimli had been napping, his cheek resting against the elf’s back. They’d come deep into the elven sanctuary of Old Ithilien which stretched along the eastern shore of the Anduin. Carefully, Hob had picked his way up a rocky path along a wooded slope.
Wildwoods were unusual in the modern world. Old Forest, Greenwood the Great and Fangorn and Ithilien remained. Here in Old Ithilien, on both sides of the river the region had been spared development in the Fourth Age. Several places remained reserves for silvan elves and other areas were forest preserves for wild animal habitat and the recreational use of city dwellers intent upon viewing Old Middle Earth.
"I read once that my kin," Legolas said as they rode along, "developed a thriving enterprise renting elven boats to people who wanted to see the lower reaches of the Anduin."
"One of my construction crew told me," Gimli answered, "that he played the part of Boromir in last year’s reenactment of the Fellowship’s Journey from Rivendell to Rauros."
"Gimli," Legolas breathed, pulling the horse to a halt. "Do you see that flash of silver up there amid the hawthorne trees?"
"Tis a high falls."
"Not just any cascade, Gimli," Legolas said. "But the Window on the West. We’ll spend the night there."
"Ye can’t mean it," Gimli crowed happily. "We’re to spend a night in a cave?"
"You’ve been indulgent with me, Friend, bedding amid the trees. I knew it would please you to rest underground for once. Moreover, Gimli, we must face the truth that we shall never pass this way again. So, I for one, would look once more upon the sunset from Faramir’s Window."
"There are so many places of beauty on this earth," Gimli said with a sigh. "Would we had time to see Lonely Mountain once more, and the Mines of Moria, deep and wondrous Khazadum."
"Secret places, Gimli," Legolas whispered. "We must go quietly, and in haste, stopping only a few times more."
"Oh aye," Gimli said with a sigh. "I know."
The dwarf pulled himself closer to his companion. The uphill ride often jostled him from his perch and he felt his short legs slip ever toward the wide haunches of the big gray. A slim hand pulled him up tight. The elf leaned back and made a low purring sound deep in his throat.
"I like you snug up against me, Gimli," Legolas said.
Gimli leaned into the supple back of the elf as the horse climbed ever higher. The scent of sweet flowers overwhelmed his senses. The bushes were indeed in blossom around them, wild rose and honey suckle. Then Gimli inhaled deeply the sweetness of his companion’s scent. He wished heartily that his own odor was less like the sweating animal they rode.
At last they reached the entrance to the storerooms of Faramir's old hideout, and the snug stable where Hob would rest the night with a generous bag of feed. There was water in the cistern and Gimli was about to take a bucket outside for a quick wash.
"Wait til after we’ve seen the sunset," Legolas said.
"I’m afraid I’m unfit for polite company," Gimli countered. "Especially elven company, what with their keen sense of smell."
Legolas laughed. He shook his head and tugged on Gimli’s shirt. He led him up the narrow passage to the cave above. They’d arrived just in time. Colored beams of light were swirling into the cave as the setting sun’s rays splintered inside the water curtain that hid the Window on the West. Legolas took Gimli’s hand into his own. He leaned against the solid dwarf. Then he slowly leaned down to Gimli’s ear.
Legolas said, "Sharing this with you, Gimli, sharing my life with you, I have no regrets."
Unable to speak, the dwarf coughed a little, choking back much of the emotion that threatened to spill from his eyes. He bit his lip and gave Legolas a strong embrace. A long while they stood, as they had through life, side by side as the lights swirled. Finally, when the sun was nearly gone, Gimli cleared his throat and muttered, "I don’t know how ye can embrace me. I smell as bad as yer friend Hob."
Gimli heard more silver laughter. He looked up into his companion’s face. He saw eyes bright with tears, yet the elf was smiling and looking down at him.
"Gimli," Legolas said. "You smell like home to me. Our quarters in Eyrn Lasgalen are underground. You smell of rock and rich soil, the earth which is our shelter. You, Gimli, more than anyone or anything, have rooted me here in this Middle Earth. How could I not find your scent sweetly seductive?"
"Well, if ye put it that way," Gimli muttered, blushing behind his thick glossy beard.
"I know how you enjoy a good wash before bed," Legolas said. "So do I. Let’s go down to the pool then."
"Can ye be sure no one will spy us?"
"Before we left home, I made some travel arrangements with my former subjects here in Ithilien. We have the whole place to ourselves."
"What are we waitin’ for then?"
89 - Smoke on the Water Part 2
On their way down to the pool, the two friends checked on Hob. He was quietly munching his oats. Legolas left the stable door a jar in case the horse wanted to graze outside later. Then they took the path that led down to the water’s edge. They also located the narrow path that led directly under the falls. Then the elf disappeared into the foliage.
Gimli sat down on a stone and began unlacing his boots while Legolas climbed to the ledge above. The silken cloak he’d been wearing slipped from his shoulders. Gimli swallowed hard. The elf’s smooth pale skin at twilight was like moonlight on water, too beautiful for words. Then the elf unbound his hair. The fall of silvered tresses cascaded down his back as he raised his arms. Legolas sprang upward. Gimli’s eyes widened. In mid air, the elf arched in a graceful swan dive before plummeting into the glassy pool.
One boot still on his foot, Gimli hobbled to the brink. Under the water, like an agile koi, Legolas swam. Then his head broke the surface. He blinked, his eyes shining in the faint starlight. He smiled and reached out his long slim arms.
“Come, Gimli,” Legolas said, his voice pitched low, coaxing enticing the dwarf closer.
All at once the elf’s slim cupped hand moved rapidly over the surface of the water and sent an arc of spray toward the dwarf. Gimli growled and leaped back sputtering and muttering about wet clothing. Laughter, sweet and silvery, echoed in the grotto.
Legolas dove beneath the surface again. He resurfaced and eyed the dwarf who’d gone back to his boot laces. Legolas swam to the pool’s edge and rested his elbows on one of the flat rocks. He said, “Please, Gimli. Come swim with me. I promise I won’t splash you again.”
The dwarf snorted and said, “Patience. I’ve a knot here and my fingers are not like yours in the dark.”
“Allow me, Friend,” Legolas said, his hands pushing on the rocky ledge, lifting and climbing effortlessly out of the pool.
As soon as Legolas was bending over the stubborn boot laces, Gimli grabbed his friend’s forearm and gave him a sudden push. A short leg locked behind a long slim limb and Legolas found him helpless in Gimli’s grasp.
“Now, I have my slippery fish,” Gimli growled, boot kicked free of his foot.
Legolas squirmed but the dwarf’s grip was like iron bands. Instinctively, the elf dipped his head quickly. His only free hand pushed up the dwarf’s long thick beard. Legolas fastened his mouth to Gimli’s throat, nipping the sensitive skin, tickling the spot with his tongue, grasping his lover tighter rather than struggling to be free.
The trick always worked. Gimli’s plan to capture him failed. Instead, the dwarf roared in debilitating laughter and sank to the ground. Legolas stopped his torture. They rolled apart into the leaf litter at the edge of the pool. When their gazes met, they seemed like rare wild creatures, twigs and dry leaves in their hair. Legolas seemed like a fey spirit, white and ethereal, eyes like burning stars. Gimli took on the guise of a great badger, an earth-dweller and strong fighter, eyes red in the darkness.
They breathed a moment and slowly returned to themselves, laughing at their fierceness. They kissed. Legolas spoke first after they’d held each other a while. His breath was warm on Gimli’s neck.
“Let’s wash,” the elf said simply. “Time for bed then.”
“Aye,” Gimli said nodding. “But ye must know that it will take more than the water of this pool to put out my fire. Are ye prepared for a rematch? An’ no elf tricks this time.”
“I am yours, Gimli,” Legolas breathed as he eased the dwarf into the cool water.
Above them in the trees as they washed a young owl gazed downward. He flew off a few moments later attracted by a soft sound approaching along the trail. Bigger than a mouse, smaller than a horse, what could it be?
“Who whoo?” said the owl.
90 - Paint It Black
Legolas spread out his cloak on the cave floor in a nook near the waterfall. Then he reclined, holding out his slender arms to his companion. Moonlight through the sparkling cascade silvered the elf’s body, giving him the appearance of fine marble. Yet no craftsman, elf or dwarf, could sculpt such utter perfection. Sucking in a great breath, Gimli joined his lover on the floor and pulled his cloak over them both.
"Ah, the years fall away," Gimli said. "I feel young again."
Legolas hummed a soothing tune. He smiled and trilled the elvish words which sounded like birdsong in the morning. The rushing falls added liquid accompaniment, lulling Gimli’s mind into restful repose while heightening his body’s awareness. The falling water echoed the rush of his blood.
Then the elf sucked in a thick earlobe and gave it a playful nip. Gimli felt himself warming, melting under the bright elvish sun. Suddenly, Legolas burrowed his head under Gimli’s nodding chin. There was that little ticklish spot to explore. The humming seemed like friendly bees against the sensitive skin of his throat.
The dwarf sat up with a roar. Gimli turned and dug his short strong fingers into the elf’s shoulders. Applying both weight and strength, Gimli pinned Legolas to the earth and stared down into bright, merry eyes. Legolas was laughing, completely unaware of the dangerous beast he’d roused from its den beneath the earth.
"Ho!" shouted Gimli. "I’ve landed my slippery fish. Now for a sweet bite of yer tender flesh."
"I am yours, Gimli," Legolas said sighing, baring his long pale throat. "I won’t slip away."
The dwarf fell upon his prey. Legolas shuddered as the rough beard tickled his skin and strong jaws chewed at his throat. The elf groaned and wrapped his lover in sleek, twining limbs. A long time they wrestled. Finally, they were sated and Gimli got up. He fetched a cloth and dampened it at the falls. With slow strokes he cleaned his companion.
Legolas lay as if exhausted, or worse, slain upon a battlefield. Gimli reached down, brushing aside the long pale hair. He traced a white mark, a tiny scar, a battle wound. Gimli remembered the fight at the park. The gunshot and the lifeflight helicopter."Ye promised not to slip away. Then ye nearly did," Gimli whispered. "How I grieved over ye, abed in the hospital, a thick tube down yer throat."
"I woke and you were there," Legolas said, eyes fluttering open, smiling at the dwarf. "So it shall always be."
Without another word, Gimli kissed his lover. They pressed their mouths tightly, hands grasping, bodies seeking familiar touch as they sank into their rest. Outside an owl hooted. Hob in his stable woke with a start and stamped his great hooves.
Next: The Conclusion!
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