The darkness of Fangorn surrounds me, its breeze cool. A fire, small and made of the scattered deadwood, will be welcome.
We will stay here several days. I agreed to his request without hesitation, wanting to delay our departure.
I look forward to seeing my kin again, to sleep in my own room and bed, to know the comfort of routine. But... when we leave this forest, then the time of separation will have come. For the first time in many months, he will not be at my side. His voice and form will exist simply in memories and they are poor substitutes.
When would I see him again, if ever?
My hand falters a moment in its placing of the wood. A moment of unfamiliar panic passes through me and I swiftly banish it. He is not gone, not yet. Soon he'll return, face flushed from excitement, this place affecting him as little else does.
I strike the flame.
What are the number of days I have known Legolas? I do not know. Days into weeks, weeks into months, it has been. Months into years? For that I could wish, though likely it is something only I harbour.
"I see you have finished preparations for the night." His arrival, sudden and quiet, causes me to jump in startlement, nothing new.
His tone is slightly disapproving as he looks round. "I told you I would return to help you."
"It is of no importance. There was little else to do in any case." I keep my eyes on the fire.
He sits down on his blankets. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him pull at a thread. When finally he speaks, it seems unusually loud and abrupt. "I am sorry you do not enjoy the forest. I am sorry --"
"Did I say I did not enjoy it?"
"No, but I can well imagine it being true."
Placing more wood on the fire, I turn to face him. "I am glad to be here, Legolas," I say firmly. The rest of the sentence remains unspoken:
"Because you are with me."
His blue eyes study me. "Truly, Gimli?"
"Have I ever lied to you?" I glare at him and it's a rare occasion that I can stare the Elf down, but down the eyes go and the long pale fingers still on their tugging of the thread.
"No." He sighs. "No, you never have." He settles against the tree trunk, wrapping his arms around himself.
I move to sit on my pile of blankets across from him. I remove my armour, the release of restrictions making me feel as light as... as light as Legolas running over the snow. I smile to myself as I carefully put the layers aside, but it fades when I see him.
He has lain down, burying his face in his arms. He appears not to notice me at all. This silence is unusual between us.
"You do not sing tonight?" I ask.
"I do not feel like singing." His voice is muffled.
I hesitate, but have to know. "It is not... the sea-longing?"
"No. Not now."
"What then?"
He turns his face to me. For a moment, it seems he would speak, but he only shakes his head.
I find myself hurrying to fill the quiet void. "I will admit I would have thought here of all places you would sing. You have done so in far less pleasant surroundings."
He curls himself up more comfortably on his side, but says nothing, just gazes at me.
"Glad am I to be rid of this armour awhile, though, mind you, I'll admit that to no other." I run a hand across my chest, smoothing against the soft fabric. "I am used to its weight, but sometimes..." I stop when he lifts a hand up.
"Rest, Gimli," he half-whispers. His hand pats my blanket-top and I lie down. He watches me, and I watch him.
A long time, we lay thus, the crackling fire the only thing stirring. And I know that this is the moment. That I must speak my thoughts.
I take his hand slowly in mine. He does not pull away.
"Legolas... there is something I must tell you, which you will not like perhaps, but which I will say before we part."
He waits and does not resist as I draw his hand near, hold it firmly against my heart.
"You are dear to me, my friend, and I love you."
His bright eyes seem to grow brighter, catching the sparkles of the fire.
"...love me?"
"Nay, more, Legolas... I desire you."
There, I have said it. If he were a Dwarf, he would comprehend completely. That I wish him as my mate, that I have become vulnerable to him, for I will never repeat those words to another, that if he were to deny me, I would remain alone.
His expression changes and he pulls us both to our knees. "Desire me? How do you love me, Gimli? Do you wish merely a joining of bodies, a brief --?
"No!" The suggestion is appalling; surely he could not imagine me as base as that. "No, Legolas." I sigh. "If I could, I would take you as my mate." His eyes burn like ice-fire as he stares in disbelief. My turn to look away. I feel a wave of emptiness go through me. The words are gone, and soon he will be.
But then he laughs softly, with a touch of sadness. "Ah, Gimli, Glóin's son, you mark me as foolish with your words. For I fear I have offended you, and I would not wish to lose you."
"Legolas?"
His small smile is rueful. "I had thought only myself affected by this emotion. I did not think you could want me in such a way; I am not one of your race."
"I care not for that. You are Legolas, who is strong and dangerous in battle, whose value is beyond that of greatest treasures, who fills my heart with contentment."
At his beautiful smile, I lean forward and kiss him. It is gentle and sweet and beyond all my imaginings.
I move back to see him. His pale face is flushed, his eyes dreamy. He raises my hands to kiss them.
"Long has it been a grief to me that I had no companion. Few Elves remain alone as I have, but now I see that my wait had purpose." He throws his arms around me, bringing me close. "I love you, Gimli, and desire no other."
We kiss again, caressing and exploring each other. Gradually, we ease down to lie together.
The warmth of him against me is more welcome than any fire.
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Story notes: Azkaban's Lair: http://azkabanslair.slashcity.org/AzkabanLair.htm
