Gimli, son of Glóin had come to a decision. Dwarves were not meant to ride, else the horse would be lower to the ground, and the rump softer to the rider. Now that was a problem indeed. A shift from one abused side to the other offered no relief, leaving him only to grab handfuls of saddle or elf to retain his precarious balance. Truthfully, he grabbed for elf more often than saddle.
Let Men and Elves have such mounts if they like. Gimli was satisfied with walking. It was more laborious perhaps, but much less perilous to future generations. He was firm in that belief, and swore to keep his feet on the ground, when at all possible.
So, naturally, he found himself, again astride an uncomfortable beast, gripping the slim hips of his fellow rider. A rider who, irregardless of his passenger, urged his horse into a run at nearly every opportunity. Riding ahead to scout, riding back with the safest route. To the rear to talk with other riders, back again to the front. The horse almost as incapable of keeping still as the elf.
Indeed Legolas seemed to be watching every direction at once, head swiveling around like a hawk, alert, looking for danger. Tensed, like a cat ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.
Gimli gritted his teeth against the jarring, glaring at the river of blonde hair, inches from his face. A river that had been flowing into his mouth, strand by strand, since their journey had begun. He pulled a few errant hairs away from his face, giving them a swift yank as he did so. Trust an elf to be too vain to bind his hair back. Let that mane get twisted in his knives, or fletching once during battle. There was some practicality of dwarves yet to be learned by his elven lover.
"Do not ride so fast. There is only grass and rock ahead." He turned slightly, careful of his balance. "And riders a fair way behind."
Legolas tugged the reigns, slowing his mount marginally.
"There may be danger. I-"
"Would have already sensed it, if there were any."
Though he couldn't see it, Gimli knew his friend well enough to sense the slight frown on that fair face. A frown born of the weariness and stress of being ever watchful. Ears tuned, so the slightest whisper amongst the grass sounded like a battle cry. The horse slowed to a walk under his riders hand.
"Men are blind compared to my people. They would not see an attack until it was at their heels."
"Have some faith Master Elf. Their eyes may not be as keen, but they are far from stumbling in the dark."
Legolas said nothing, and for awhile the two rode in companionable silence. The blonde rider still scanned the horizon with both eyes and ears, but slowly Gimli felt him relax. No longer tensed as if expecting an army of orcs to spring up from underneath each pebble they passed.
A memory eased itself into Gimli's mind, as memories often had the want to do. The last days of the fellowship, before the fall of Gandalf, the fall of Boromir. Now, as he looked back, The mines of Moria, for all their menace, seemed warm and inviting .
It had been a small step really, there were several in the mines. For the Dwarves who lived there it was second nature to be wary of such small things. And for Gimli himself, it was an unconscious action. His feet and mind instantly recognizing the treachery of dwarvish floors.
Alas, it seemed Elves were not so adept. Elves who had never before seen a mine, who were made uneasy by three days with no stars or trees to sing to, were especially acceptable.
Legolas was scouting ahead, finding a safe route for the less acrobatic of the number to take, when his elvish feet found the step. Even then, he would have found his balance safely, had not the rock he chose to grab crumbled under his fingers. For a moment the elf could only blink, sitting on the duty stone floor. The others too, momentarily stopped in their tracks, by such a site.
The dwarf still remembered the look of shock fondly. and often thought of it when the elf was particularly light footed.
Even now, it brought a smile to his face, making the ache of riding that much more bearable. A chuckle escaped his lips, sounding like the rumble of rocks some thought him carved from.
Legolas turned his head ever so slightly at the sound, and to Gimli it seemed as if those pointed ears twitched, like a bat seeking out a sound.
"What amuses you so? Surely it's not this grass and rock."
Curious creatures elves were, though it rarely served them well.
"Nothing of importance. Just a memory."
Ahh, there. A deffiantate twitch. The elf's interest was piqued. If allowed he would worry at it like a beast with a bone for hours.
Many tedious days had been spent teasing Legolas with a tale stopped midway through, or a song left half unsung. The prince would stoop to bribery to find his answers, and some of the most un-tedious nights had resulted.
"It must be a fond memory to make you laugh now"
"a very fine memory, Master Elf. From our days in Moria."
The elf seemed to straighten in his saddle, though it was hardly possible, for Gimli, in his short time of knowing elves, had never seen one slouch so much as a hairs breadth.
"It seems unfair to me." the dwarf ,seeing no reply forthcoming from Legolas, continued. "that one who can not manage to keep their footing in a mine, should judge other's eyesight, in the open field, as poor."
And still the elf made no reply, though Gimli fancied he could hear the grinding of those elvish teeth. Elf-baiting, the halfling, Pippin, had called it. A just name, and a worthy sport. Though he would admit, Legolas' fancy tongue won him more victories in the game.
"Aye, friend dwarf" Gimli could hear the honey dripping from those words. A poisoned honey, of that there was no doubt. He was quick, but not nearly as quick at the elf, and he soon found his hands imprisoned between hip and arms. Legolas held him captive while still holding the reins of his mount.
"But, it seems unfair to me," the blonde was clearly enjoying his passengers discomfort. "That one who can not manage to stay astride his horse, should anger someone who controls the beast."
A few seconds of silence slipped by the pair, as Gimli tried to free himself without loosing his stability.
"Tell me, Gimli, have you ever charged, full gallop, on such a magnificent animal?"
Once. And once was far more than enough for the son of Glóin. The dwarf scowled at the mischievousness in his lover's voice, knowing full well the elf would follow through on his threat. Cowardly, to use your enemies weaknesses in such a manner. An elf's logic.
Legolas shifted, releasing the dwarvish hands, leaning forward as if to urge the horse to fly.
"Stop! Stop you foolish elf!" he would rather give in, than be left sprawled in the dust. And, with Legolas, defeat often had rewards. The prince leaned back, smirking. Gimli knew he was smirking, could feel it in his very bones. The elf made a habit of such arrogant displays as often as the situation allowed.
A few minutes passed and , for this Gimli was thankful, their mount kept it's steady pace.
"That makes two I've won." another few seconds passed, the dwarf intent on ignoring the elf.
"This week"
Gimli's mouth twitched. The elf had learned something of baiting then. But the dwarf was master of this game still.
He counted the rocks they passed, comparing them to the cold dark stone of his birthplace.
1
2
3
4
For nearly five minutes he counted rocks, and Legolas was content to remain quiet. The muffled thud of hoof beets sounded in cadence.
20
21
22
23
24
Gimli's mouth twitched, eyeing the golden strands, fluttering around his mouth like a silent war banner.
25
26
"You did not win! An elf, hope to best a dwarf in war?" Gimli scoffed. Aye, he might be swift with an arrow, but to outnumber a dwarf when axes were involved? Unheard of. "I killed 62 of those foul beasts. 30 with my side axe alone."
There was a silent sort of laughter in the elf's voice.
"Then we were closely matched, at last count my score was 60."
"60? The great archer of Mirkwood managed only to fell 60. Now, if you would train with an axe-"
"I lost count after 60" The admission was slightly defensive, though still laced with mirth.
"Lost count?" an explosive laugh startled the horse, though he was quickly put at ease by his elven rider.
"And what, dear elf, would have made you forget your numbers? Surely, even to the smallest dwarf child, it is an easy thing to count."
Legolas tugged at the hands resting warily on his hips, until they met, circling the flat stomach. The gentle touch belied the devilry in his voice.
"I believe it was the shock of seeing a dwarf, flying, like a vengeful eagle, into the heart of the enemy's army. Such a heroic site moved me so, I forgot all reason of numbers." The gentle mocking was offset by the long fingers, tracing the calluses of the hands around his waist.
Gimli seethed. "Aragon told you did he? He'll-"
"Aragorn told me nothing. Never the doubt the eyes of an elf, my dear dwarf."
Gimli settled himself more comfortably behind Legolas, keeping his hands where they were placed. The ride was hours still, plenty of time to form a plan of just retribution.
Minutes passed to the soft plodding steps of the horse before either spoke again.
"That makes three I've won".
A soft dwarvish growl was met only by elvish laughter.
FINIS
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Elf-baiting by Qualli
Story notes: Saw TTT on the 31st, wrote this on the 31st , submitted it on the 31st ...wait should this go in the warning section? Oh yeah and it's only established L/G, the romance angle's not a big point in the story.
