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Title: Small Hairy Women
Author: heartofslash
Fandom/Pairing: LOTR Legolas/Gimli
Rating: R
Warning:Schmoop and body hair.
Disclaimer: Not what happened in the movie. Not even the same words. I got the quote wrong, and half-way through writing I realised Gimli actually said “little” hairy women. But by then, I was so enamoured of the shape of Legolas’ mouth as he repeats the phrase "small hairy women" over and over (in my head)... sigh. I decided I liked “small” better. Characters are merely borrowed, with no harm done.
Note: I still think my other Drinking Game was better.
But since PJ went ahead and released the version that’s on the ROTK EE, (Honestly, Legolas would never say “Game over”!) I have to work with what I’m given…
Small, Hairy Women
“You did not really mean that, did you?”
“What?”
“What you said about the small, hairy women…”
Gimli’s mouth fell open. What had he said about small hairy women? He couldn’t remember.
“And wanting to go ‘swimming’…” Legolas continued.
Gimli made a “harrumphing” sound. Obviously, he’d had a tad too much to drink the night before if he’d quoted that old saying. “Of course not, lad. I was trying to keep up appearances.”
“By claiming you wish to ‘swim’ with small, hairy women?” Legolas had that wonderful, confused, bemused, innocent look on his face.
(How someone that old managed to look so boyish and ingenuous was beyond the dwarf’s ken, but Legolas was doing it and it made Gimli think of all the ways he could make those wide eyes close.)
“Oh, you know, Legolas - the strong, virile warrior Dwarf image. Must look masculine and all that. It wouldn’t do for people to think I…”
“Sleep with a male?” Legolas finished for him, with eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest.
“I hardly think the Rohirrim make a practice of sleeping with each other.”
“I am much older than you, Gimli, and I can tell you from experience; it does not matter how masculine or warlike the men; when war approaches, they sleep with each other.”
“Yes, I suppose, in the heat of battle, and all that. But that’s not what this is. We’re not just looking for comfort. It’s more than that. And I wouldn’t want anyone to know…”
Legolas’s eyes turned cold for an instant. “You do not want anyone to know you sleep with an Elf.”
“No… I mean… well… you were the one who wanted to keep things quiet!”
Legolas nodded. “I did. But I do not lie and pretend to desire things I do not desire.”
“I don’t lie!”
“Then you admit that you desire the small, hairy women.”
“No!”
“So, you admit you lied.”
“Never! I was merely projecting an image.”
“By lying.”
Gimli should have known not to attempt to argue with an Elf. “It’s not a lie – it’s what male Dwarves like. I was playing a part.”
“If it is what all male Dwarves like, then you must like it as well, since you are a Dwarf. And you are definitely male.”
“No. Yes. I mean, if I were to want a woman, she would be small and hairy. But I don’t. I want you.”
“But I am not small and hairy.”
“No, you’re not. You’re quite tall and decidedly unhairy. In fact, those are some of the things I like most about you. Your limbs are long and lean, graceful and lithe.” Gimli moved closer, until he was caressing said long, lean limbs through snug leggings. “Your skin is a smooth as polished stone, your face is lovely, as if it were carved from the finest marble by the most talented craftsman, and your lips…”
Legolas pushed Gimli away. “You will not distract me with wily words,” he huffed.
Gimli sidled back next to him, leaned down and nuzzled the faint bulge under Legolas’s tunic, at the apex of those long, lean thighs. “Ah, I should have known words alone would not be enough to assuage your qualms. Perhaps you will be reassured if I use my tongue in a different manner…”
Legolas let his eyes close, his head tip back, his hair flow down over his shoulders, down his back. He spread his legs as much as the leggings would allow and ran his fingers through thick, wavy hair.
There was not much time. The Rohirrim would ride in less than an hour. He and Gimli would join Aragorn and ride to their doom. But for a moment, for this blissful moment in this dark corner of the stable, it would do no harm to forget war and battle, to ignore the threat of Sauron and the evil growing in the East, if only for this moment.
The Dwarf’s mouth engulfed him and he had to grab the wall to keep from toppling. Hot, wet lips and an agile tongue, softly scraping beard and strong, knowing hands.
Legolas sighed and sagged against the wall as he spent in Gimli’s eager mouth. Nothing, nothing in his long life, had prepared him for the voracious appetite of an amorous Dwarf. Gimli never tired of pleasing him, never tired of the taste of Legolas on his tongue, never tired of proving the extent of his devotion.
Why then, why did Legolas have these moments of doubt, when he worried he was not enough for Gimli, and feared he would be left behind when the war was over? Were Gimli’s actions not proof enough?
“That is much better than any woman, small and hairy or not. And much more pleasing than the taste of that pisswater the Rohirrim try to pass off as ale…” Gimli muttered as he nuzzled Legolas’s belly.
He licked at the smooth, hairless skin above sated genitals. He had never been much interested in this sort of oral activity until the first time he beheld Legolas naked and splendid, bathing in the cold waters of a stream in Lothlorien. Every day since then he’d craved more, the spicy taste, the silken feel on his tongue, the fresh smell, the discreet sighs.
He suspected that if they were to ever be truly alone, to have real privacy, he might be pushed to the edge by sounds alone. He paid close attention to the nearest beings every time he and Legolas were together, to see how Legolas would respond. When Elves were close, Legolas was absolutely silent. When Elves were further away, there were quiet sighs. When men were close, the sighs had a breathy rumble, but as the men got further away, the sounds rose to little mewls. What he wouldn’t give to hear a full-fledged moan!
They had vowed to visit the Glittering Caves and the eaves of Fangorn together after the war. He hoped, for that reason alone, the war would go swiftly. And that the caves would be deserted. And that Legolas would not consider Ents be too much of an audience.
Legolas moved away reluctantly. He tugged his leggings back up and smoothed his tunic down across his thighs. “My dear, you are insatiable.”
“It is only because you are so delicious,” Gimli replied, adjusting his trousers beneath the heavy skirt of his armour. There was no time to take care of his needs, but that wasn’t a problem. Dwarves have a slow fuse, and he could quench the fire until they had another opportunity.
And he knew there would be another opportunity. Nothing, not Orcs nor Sauron nor the fires of Mount Doom itself, could keep him away from Legolas. The only thing that would part them would be the sea, and even that, he was sure, he would find a way around.
He looked up into the clear blue eyes, staring down at him, unblinking, quizzical, slightly bashful, all at the same time. So delightful.
“Are you sure?”
“That you are delicious? I’m positive. Every single time.”
“I mean about me.”
“Never been surer of anything in my life.”
“But the small, hairy women…”
Oh, no. Not that again. Still.
“If they are anything like you,” Legolas said slowly, “then I should think even I would be tempted by them.”
Gimli grinned. “Well, then, I shall have to keep you far away from Erebor, so I will have you all to myself.”
A moot point. Legolas would not have known what to do with a female, small and hairy or not, if his life depended on it.
Gimli had figured that out a long time ago.
End.
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