Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Short and Sweet	By : pip Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2996 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor any of Middle Earth or its characters. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Author's Note: Next chapter. Warning for orc gore and violence. Also, some dwarf worship.

Chapter Three

As was usual, they awakened early and crept from their hiding place before first light. Orcs didn't travel during the day. Instead they crept into dark crevices to hide from the sun like woodlice, so he and Gimli had grown used to beginning their hunt before sunrise. It was much more sporting that way.

Sure enough, they soon came upon a small group of them preparing to take cover, the remnants of a small fire still burning some kind of sickly meat while the air turned dark grey with the approaching dawn. There weren't many. Since Sauron's fall they had scattered, and without a master to order and direct them, larger groups had no hope of keeping discipline. There were eight, or maybe nine, and he and Gimli dismounted a short distance away, unseen, Legolas whispering to their horse to trot away until the danger had passed.

They made certain of the count together first so that they could not be surprised later. Nine there were. Silently, Legolas notched an arrow to his bow while Gimli readied his axe. He would have one free arrow before the orcs knew they were under attack. He could take one of them down with his first shot, which would leave four each and himself still ahead. He breathed in deep, took aim, and when he let the arrow fly, he had another one already notched and ready before the orc he had killed topped slowly to the floor.

Events transpired much faster after that. Legolas was only aware of dealing out death with his arrows, and the count, of course. He was on seventy-two when he became aware of Gimli cutting one of them down with his battle axe a short distance away.

“Seventy-two!” he claimed, and Legolas looked around, distracted, trying to see how many bodies there were.

“Hey!” he said, realising something, and not for the first time. “You're chea–”

That was as far as he got before he was knocked to the ground, the momentary disruption enough to give the last of the enemy a chance with him. Flat on his back with the creature on top of him, Legolas cried out in surprise. Then, swearing an oath he'd picked up from Gimli, Legolas reached behind his shoulders with both hands to free his knives and end the creature before it had chance to harm him.

He never got to unsheathe them. Gimli roared in fury from somewhere he couldn't see, and then he saw the axe. Legolas instinctively cringed as it swung towards him, but Gimli's aim was terrifyingly accurate, as always. The next moment, the orc on top of him was suddenly headless, blood pouring out of its severed neck in a rhythmic torrent that fell on Legolas' face and hair, wet and hot, foul beyond belief.

Before he could move, the corpse was shoved roughly from him. Legolas had closed his eyes against the creature's loathsome blood, and now he lay stunned, not even breathing, which was probably just as well given that around a hundred and fifty pounds of frantic dwarf suddenly landed on him. If he had been breathing, he would have been completely winded.

“Legolas!” Gimli cried out, alarmed, roughened hands touching him everywhere all at once, searching for injuries he didn't have.

“Come on, laddie...” Gimli said, slapping lightly at his face as if to rouse him. “Don't you dare do this to me,” he warned.

The slaps stopped, and Legolas felt lips on his forehead, pressed fervently against his temples, his cheeks, his lips. “Not now,” Gimli pleaded. “Not after everything.”

The shudder of revulsion started in his very bones, Legolas was sure, surfacing in him like a tsunami as the hot blood of the orc cooled on his face.

“Eurrghh!” Legolas managed as he blinked his eyes open, having to make several attempts since the black gooey stuff was sticking to his eyelashes. He looked into Gimli's eyes, so close to him. There was the strangest look on his face. In fact, Legolas thought, Gimli looked like he felt. Revolted.

Turning quickly away to the side, Gimli spat at the ground violently near Legolas' ear.

“Urgh!” Legolas said again, not sure he could cope with the dwarf being vile and disgusting as well. “Gimli! What did you do that that for?”

“Oh!” said Gimli, trying to smile while he wiped his lips with the back of one hand. “Well, I thought you were dead.”

For a moment, his statement didn't make sense, then Legolas realised he was referring to the kissing. “Not that,” he said, “I mean the spitting.” He turned his head slightly and groaned in dismay. “In my hair!”

“You tasted like orc blood,” Gimli said in explanation as he got up. Legolas made it to his feet, and wondered if he would actually vomit. He'd never vomited in his life. But then he'd never felt so dirty in all of his long life.

“Well, whose fault is that?” he snapped. “I was quite all right.”

At least they were all dead, Legolas thought, his first instinct to check the body count once he was stood up straight. He eyed the headless body and shook his head.

“Still,” said Gimli cheerily, “that one counts as mine.” He nodded. “Seventy-two.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes, remembering what had distracted him, and Gimli took a little bit of a step back. Cheat! Legolas was still shaking slightly as the orc's stinking blood dripped coolly from his hair. The sunrise was in front of him. From the corner of his eye, his hair looked black in the new light, and he didn't dare to touch his face. He could feel it setting there like some kind of gruesome jelly. Gimli looked kind of horrified.

“You've got a little bit of, erm... orc on you,” he said apologetically, raising a hand to his own face to indicate vaguely where it was. Legolas glared. Gimli raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion and pursed his lips in a grimace as he turned away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Legolas glared. On the other side of the desk, Elrond tried to muffle his quiet laughter with the back of his hand.

“Sorry,” Elrond said, calming a little bit. Privately, he made a resolution not to drink any more miruvor tonight, no matter what Legolas disclosed. “Go on.”

When there was silence again, Legolas drew in a breath. “Well, I had to get clean of course...”

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“Hush, Arod,” Legolas soothed as the horse came cantering back at his softly uttered call. It didn't seem to want to get too close to him. But at least he was able to lay his hands on their waterskins, and he took the top off the first one in relief before pouring it over himself, tilting his face upwards to meet the flow of water, letting it cascade over him and cleanse the worst of the blood from his face and hair.

When it was empty, he continued with the second, enjoying the shower of cold water as the summer sun rose and shone its first rays on him. He opened his mouth to catch some of it to rinse out his mouth and to drink. But it wasn't enough. Once every drop of clean water was gone, he still felt soiled and dirty. It was all finished, so he mounted Arod then looked around for Gimli.

“Come. I need to bathe. We head for the river,” he said, knowing the Onodló was only a half hour or so to the east of them.

Gimli didn't move. He stood like a statue in the golden sunlight, his mouth hanging open as if he was still watching the display. Legolas smirked. “The Entwash, Gimli,” he urged, feeling more than a little wicked. “Get behind me.”

When he had finally managed to convince Gimli to join him on the horse, Legolas wondered if this little bit of revenge was actually what he wanted, because all the way to the river, he felt Gimli's hot, hard arousal. He was huge and Legolas had to concentrate to control the horse. While it might be embarrassing for the dwarf, what Gimli couldn't know is that Legolas' own body seemed to answer it. So as it turned out it was an uncomfortable journey for them both.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they got to the riverbank, Legolas could barely wait to get off the horse and undress. He cared for nothing but wading into the river to get clean, not modesty, not Gimli, not revealing his arousal. The sun had risen, and was warm on his skin. The water was what he wanted now.

He peeled off his blood soaked clothes, promising himself he would clean them later, and rushed into the Onodló with a sigh of contentment, diving under the water happily before coming up and looking back at Gimli, stood uncomfortably on the bank.

“Come on in, Gimli! It is wondrous!” he called out, laughing and spreading out his limbs to the river as if he would embrace it.

He quietened, letting the river hold his weight as he rubbed the last of the blood from his hair, watching with interest and curiosity as Gimli began to remove his armour piece by piece. It was clear he was self-consicous. He could not know how he looked, decided Legolas. By elven standards, he wasn't beautiful at all, and yet he had something that caught Legolas' interest.

As he bared his skin, it was darker than Legolas' own, all over, as if it had been tempered by the sun. Gimli was decorated with strange black tattoos that wound around his arms, covering his shoulders. Tiny mithril rings adorned his nipples, something Legolas had never seen before, and he wondered if it hurt.

The scars must have hurt. Legolas gasped at them, moving forward until he could feel the riverbed beneath his feet again. He wished he was close enough to examine them in detail. They were crisscrossed in patterns over Gimli's pectoral muscles that matched the design of the tattoos, cutting through the dark red hair on his chest.

His muscles were compact but enormous, almost as if his smaller body couldn't contain them. Legolas had muscular shoulders, after all he was an archer, but even there he couldn't compete to the dwarf. Everything about Gimli screamed power and strength. Though he was not graceful, he was elemental. He was like war, lust, brutality and endurance made into a living thing, and Legolas was in awe of him. Suddenly, he thought he understood why the race of Dwarves were miners. Even Arda itself could not stand against them.

As Gimli walked towards the river, Legolas let his gaze drift further down, and then suddenly dipped his head under the water to hide the blush that rose to his face, though Gimli was not even looking at him. When he came back up, Gimli was already waist deep, and as Legolas watched he ducked his head under the water too.

For a moment a breathless silence fell over the river, and then Gimli resurfaced, breaking the flow of the river like solid rock as he shook the water from the braids in his hair and from his beard, showering droplets everywhere so that Legolas laughed and blinked, shaking away the splashes that landed on him.

Playful, he moved his arm forward to get Gimli back, and when the splash hit him, Gimli suddenly looked at Legolas.

Gimli laughed heartily and dove forward, catching hold of Legolas beneath the water and ducking him under it. Struggling and giggling, Legolas broke free of the dwarf's grip and surfaced, passing his hands over his face to smooth his hair back. They looked at each other then, no longer laughing.

“You know, I don't taste of orc blood any more,” Legolas observed, as casually as he could. Gimli only stared at him, unsmiling and intense.

“Is that what we're doing now?” he asked, and his question made Legolas drop the act immediately, as if he'd been chastised.

“I think so,” Legolas said, being honest. Neither of them were innocent. “Don't you?”

Beneath the water, Gimli's hands closed on his waist and pulled him close as they both tread water lightly, putting them on the same level, face to face. Legolas gasped. “Don't you be playing with me, Legolas,” he warned.

“Gimli,” Legolas said, smiling, “that's all we ever do with each other.” He couldn't seem to look away from the dwarf's lips. “Besides,” he pointed out, “you can't kiss me and then tell me not to play with you.”

Gimli growled, his fingers tightening. “I haven't kissed you yet. Not properly.” Legolas felt an intense rush of anticipation at those words.

“Yes, you have,” he said. “If you're going to do it, I think you had better do it while we're both still alive,” he teased. “It's much more fun that way.”

Legolas thought Gimli might have smiled then, because his facial hair twitched. But then Gimli was drawing him closer, and Legolas slid his arms over those powerful shoulders, closing his eyes.

He'd expected to feel Gimli's touch on his lips, so when he felt the dwarf's beard against his collarbone, he opened his eyes in surprise. But then it wasn't a kiss, it was a bite, right at the base of his neck, and Legolas moaned as Gimli marked him.

“Does that mean I'm yours or something?” Legolas asked, curious, a little bit miffed because if it did he certainly hadn't given any kind of permission. He looked down, and the mark was red and angry on his skin.

“Something,” Gimli agreed mysteriously. “We need to go somewhere private,” he said, almost growling, his fingers curling around Legolas' ribs, strangely possessive.

Legolas frowned and touched the mark, wondering about it. “Well, there's the forest,” he suggested. It wasn't far from here, another half hour's riding at the most. They'd been making their way towards it, even though they had been planning to cross the river there and skirt Fangorn. No one would disturb them in there. Admittedly, they might not come back out... Legolas wondered.

“Fine,” Gimli said eventually, though he was clearly still afraid of it.

Then Gimli kissed him, and it was different to any other kiss Legolas had known. He wondered if Gimli's tongue was made out of the same compact strength as the rest of him, because it was so dominant. At first he tried to play, until it became clear Gimli expected him to surrender. And so he did. He let Gimli control it all while he felt the dwarf's facial hair rubbing against his chin. It was rougher than he expected, but not quite uncomfortable.

When it was over, he sighed, but Gimli did nothing else.

“Get dressed,” he said, and Legolas pulled a face as the dwarf swam back to the bank, remembering how dirty his clothes really were. Resolute, he rinsed them in the river while Gimli complained at him from the back of Arod, threatening to take him there naked if necessary. That made his hands falter, but eventually he finished and managed to get them back on, damp though they were.

At least it was summer, and the sun was higher in the sky now, quite hot. In no time at all, Legolas felt more like his normal self, except for the mark Gimli had made that he kept touching, wondering what the something was.

To be continued...

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter, Legolas and Gimli play an interesting game of insults. Please leave a comment to say what you thought. I will reply to you here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/55964-pippychicks-lotr-fiction-review-responses/
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Short and Sweet