By the time the stars came out, clear and sparkling in the sky, the warmth of Legolas' arms and the rocking gait of the horse had lulled Gimli, and he was near sleep. Branches swayed overhead, sighing in the breeze, echoing the soft whisper of song-- Legolas was singing, so quietly Gimli could barely hear him, the words beautiful though he did not know their meanings.
Legolas halted them in a dell next to a murmuring stream; willows arched over the grass, grey in the moonlight. Legolas dismounted, and held out his hand to Gimli, who took it and dismounted awkwardly, for the horse was very tall. Legolas moved to unfasten his saddlebags as Gimli stiffly strode toward the quietly rippling water; he was not used to horses.
And he was not used to his companion, either, after so many years. He had given up hope so long ago that now its kindling inside him was almost a dreadful thing--he could not help but fear what was to come nearly as much as he desired it. Legolas, he knew, was beautiful, and knew much of the flesh. He had lived long, and he had fathered a son, but Gimli had none, and had never ventured to touch another for pleasure. And though Gimli knew he was reckoned comely among his own people, and had never doubted his worth, the elves had a different sort of beauty. Thinking of himself set next to Legolas, he was uncertain that he would be found worthy-- as he had not found rubies or sapphires, though they were beautiful and precious stones in their own right, fit to be included in the gold and crystal case which framed the gift of the Lady of Lorien.
He turned his head and watched Legolas set their baggage on the green; Gimli had little enough, for he had come away in haste, and the elf traveled lightly, but he had brought blankets, and now he spread them beneath the arch of the willows so that they made a bed large enough for two. Then he wove the branches together so that they drooped to shelter the little bower, trailing lightly on the green.
For his part, Gimli ignored the pounding of his heart, and he gathered wood and kindled a fire; his companion was handy with his bow and they soon had meat to spit over the flames. Gimli found that he was hungry; it had been long since he tasted simple camp fare: rabbit roasted over flame with naught but a pinch of salt to season it.
As he ate, Legolas slipped around the fire and sat behind him; Gimli trembled to feel the elf's fingers touch the clasp of his grey cloak, then move to his helm and lift it away, but he did not gainsay Legolas, and soon he felt the elf's slender fingers unbraiding his hair and spreading it over his shoulders. His eyes closed and he forgot the meat as Legolas leaned in and scented him, long low breaths that rippled back out like the stream that flowed at their backs. Legolas made quick work of the crossed belts that held his axe and weapons at his waist, and then of his finely worked leather jerkin, which soon lay beside them.
Next came the jointed plate, a partial covering that protected Gimli's shoulders and biceps, its fastenings a more difficult task for the elf's fingers, but Gimli sat still and let him work, curious in spite of himself to see whether Legolas, who wore only cloth and leather himself even in the thick of battle, knew enough of armor to remove it. He proved equal to the task, though it took time, and at last the jointed plate lay on Gimli's leather jerkin.
Legolas's fingers touched his hauberk next, and Gimli sighed. He had rarely been without armor throughout the many years he had lived, and never in company, but for Legolas, he would be bared. The chain mail was heavy, for it covered Gimli from wrist to calf, and yet Legolas was stronger than he looked. He lifted the heavy mail carefully and Gimli moved to let him, raising his arms. He wore another layer of sturdy leather beneath, and Legolas laughed softly. "Did you think that you would find foes waiting at your gate?"
"I've waited a long time to be peeled, elf." Gimli grumbled. "Will you grudge me the chance to enjoy it?"
"I had no idea dwarves had so many layers." Legolas touched the buckles that held the last of the armor secure on Gimli's body. "And yet, long have I known that they often do not show their truest selves on the surface."
Gimli sought Legolas' expression, unsure whether he was being mocked, and found that the moonlight reflected softly in the elf's eyes, and he was smiling, but the smile was fond. Of a sudden, humor no longer mattered to Gimli. He reached up and his fist closed gently in Legolas's long golden hair, and he tugged him down.
Legolas came to him with a will, and his mouth opened sweetly on Gimli's for a time, then he drew away.
"Have you at last decided that you can trust an elf?" There was a shadow of old hurt beneath his words.
"Do not mock me with words spoken in foolish youth." Gimli was regretful. "I have long wished that I had never uttered them."
"Then they are forgotten." Legolas slid his fingers under the leather, and Gimli sighed.
The night air was cool on his bare flesh, and he felt exposed and vulnerable. Though there had been no orcs to fear for many long years, he understood he would never be at ease as Legolas was, wearing only a bit of cloth and leather between himself and the chance of foes.
Even so, Gimli felt proud of his body now, as Legolas touched him where no other had. His armor was the proof of his smithcraft, and he had never been wounded through it. Nor had he let himself sit idle as King. He had worked long hours at the forge and at works of masonry alongside his kin; he bore hard muscle on his bones.
"You are unscarred..." Legolas whispered, his palm open wide on Gimli's chest, and Gimli's heart warmed to his friend's understanding.
"A dwarf with a whole hide is one with a skilled hand at the forge, and one who has a strong and steady hand with his axe," Gimli answered him gruffly but with pride. He stood and went for wood to throw on the fire; when he had fed the blaze he turned to look at Legolas, and his breath left him.
The elf dropped his tunics on the green next to Gimli's armor, and his pale chest was beautiful-- slender but strong, he was plainly a warrior in his own right, and he was near as pale as Gimli himself.
Gimli came to him and reached to touch skin as luminous as pearl with fingers callused like horn. "You shine in the firelight like pearl and opal," he said. "And you are as finely carved as any delicate shell of stone in my lands wrought by a thousand years of flowing water, for there is nothing that can compare to you among the craft of my people."
"And you are as strong and as fair and as wise as the oldest tree in my lands, born of the earth and rooted fast in it, true through the very heart of you, stubborn and defiant against the storm. And again you have a gift for words that humbles my own." Legolas smiled. "But if you will, I would let my hands speak the words of my heart." So saying, he reached out to Gimli, and Gimli went into his arms.
Legolas' hands spoke then, and later, they sang.
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Chapter notes: Summary: Legolas and Gimli come together after long years apart.
