****
Gimli went down the dimly lit hall. Even this late at night, it wasn't completely dark. Mirkwood, like other elven woods, was never really dark. He liked the dark, though. Living in underground mine cities all his life had gotten him used to the absence of light.
He found the door he sought. He stepped into the quiet bedchamber. And gasped. Never in all his years had he seen more beauty than he saw right now. Prince Legolas was lying asleep on his bed. He was naked, lying on his back with one hand on his chest, the other hanging off the bed. His silver blond hair hung down the side of the bed. His eyes were open, but unseeing in sleep. His naked body was elven perfection. He was slender and pale, almost hairless, so unlike Gimli and the Mortal Men. His chest and arms were hard and strong, despite the slenderness. His legs were long, a runner's legs. Gimli let himself look at the elf's belly, then lower. His penis lay against his leg in a nest of golden hair, the only hair on the elf's body.
Gimli just stood and stared at his best friend. He had come to care deeply for the elf. They had come to a truce a long time ago, when they were members of the Fellowship. In the hard years that followed, they learned to be friends. They had traveled Middle Earth together and had come to Mirkwood to see the home Legolas longed for. Gimli had come to tell his friend goodbye. He was going back to his home, to be among the dwarves again after such a long time. He needed to see mines, smell forges, and speak the language of his people. But now, everything had changed. He moved closer to the bed, being careful not to make a sound. He could hear Legolas breathing; see his chest rise and fall. Hot tears stung his eyes as he stood there, wishing he had beauty himself, wishing he was beautiful enough to have this glorious creature love him.
He found himself standing right by the bed. It looked like an altar with Legolas as both god and sacrifice. Gimli felt himself kneel down beside the bed, leaning on the bed with his hands clasped like a supplicant at prayer. He could smell the scent of the forest, woods, earth, trees. This was the scent of Legolas. He had come to love it. His own was much harsher, the smell of fires and forges, metals and meats.
Almost without thinking, he put a hand out and touched his friend's flat belly. Legolas didn't move. His skin was warm and smooth to Gimli's rough miner's hand. He could barely remember when he had hated elves. This one had been a part of his life for so long, indeed had been one of the major parts of his life, that he felt like they had always been friends.
But now, tonight, he wanted more. He wanted to hear the soft grunts and sighs he'd heard in the dark of night, when Legolas thought no one was listening. He wanted to please Legolas. His hand slid slowly down the elf's belly, touching golden hair, finally touching the elf's penis. It was silky and smooth, like the rest of him, even more so perhaps. He moved his hand slowly and was amazed at how swiftly Legolas hardened.
Gimli didn't make a sound as his hand moved, stroking with a gentle pressure. Legolas made a small sound in his throat. His hips thrust up into Gimli's strokes. The elf's hands moved to grip the coverlet as he moved under Gimli's loving ministrations. Gimli watched as pleasure took him, smiled at the soft grunts and little moans as semen coated his hand, running down to pool in the golden nest around its source.
Gimli reached his other hand into his pocket and brought out a soft cloth with which he cleaned Legolas, lovingly wiping the stickiness from his own hand and the elf's body. He stood and looked down at Legolas. Perhaps he would just go and not wake him. Legolas would understand.
He turned and moved toward the door.
"Gimli? You can't leave me. Stay, and soon we'll go to your home. You can show me the beauty of your world, as I have shown you mine."
****
Gimli never left Legolas. It is even said he ventured with him beyond the sea when the time came to leave Middle Earth.
~End~
