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Horses always made Gimli wary. The creatures were taller than ponies and all the more fickle. Aside from that was the fact that he couldn’t actually reach the stirrups and instead acted more as a glorified knapsack, clinging to someone else’s back for dear life. It was all the worse when that someone was Legolas. At first Gimli had disliked riding with the Elf on principle. Now matters were a tad more complicated.
They trotted behind Aragorn on his brown and black speckled mare and King Theoden on his gray stallion. Gandalf was at the helm of their little group, leading them through the hazy forest to Isengard. To Saruman.
Legolas was warm against his chest, his hair grazing Gimli’s cheek with each step their horse took. Not too long ago, Gimli would have brushed it away in irritation. Now his hands didn’t move from their place. The Elf was distracting in more ways than one, humming softly under his breath as his strong waist shifted ever-so-slightly under Gimli’s palms.
Ever since Gimli had internally acknowledged his feelings for the Elf it had become harder and harder to look away from Legolas. He wasn’t sure how he’d never noticed the way the other seemed to glow and dazzle compared the world around him. Why, the Elf was so good he was inspiring thoughts of genuine hope in Gimli, even in these darkening times. When he worried about the fate of his friends or the proceedings of Sauron, all it took was a word or a glance from his Elf to be strengthened once more. It was a dizzying, stomach churning feeling that he was starting to crave.
The trees became sparser as they neared their destination and two voices broke into laughter far ahead out of sight. Gimli felt Legolas tense for a brief moment before straightening up and craning his head from side to side like a scenting hound. Gimli leaned his head over to the Elf’s ear.
“What is it lad?”
Legolas, oddly enough, jolted as if startled. Before the Elf could respond, they stumbled upon two intoxicated Hobbits. They laughed in delight at spotting the approaching party. Pippin raised a mug to them and Merry stood and waved them over.
“Welcome! My lords, to Isengard!”
Gimli gaped at the sight of the two high and drunk Hobbits, grinning and unharmed from their place atop a stone wall.
“You—you young rascals! A merry hunt you’ve led us on and now we find you feasting.. and smoking!?” Gimli spluttered, leaning around a laughing Legolas to get a better look at the two.
The Hobbit’s cheerfully informed them of their spoils and the state of Isengard. They told them about help they received from the Ents and pointed out their allies to the party on horseback. They detailed the destruction of Saruman’s stronghold with grand and sweeping gestures, smiles wide and cheeks flush with exertion and ale.
Eventually, with the coaxing of the party, the Hobbits leapt down from the wall and joined them to go and speak to the Ents. The horses splashed through the flooded grounds and made their way towards the towering beings made of bark and leaf. Discussion was made mostly by Aragorn, Theoden, and Gandalf, with a few comments chimed in from Merry and Pippin. He and Legolas stayed off to the side, observing their friends and new allies.
Gimli felt tension leak from his body as he watched the groups interact and saw with his own two eyes that the Hobbits were safe. That Saruman was defeated.
“Good to see them in one piece,” he murmured quietly, knowing that Legolas would hear.
The Elf nodded in agreement. “And in such high spirits too,” he returned over his shoulder with a warm mirth in his eyes.
Gimli felt that warmth settle high in his chest. “Ay.”
The journey to Edoras felt faster than their departure, not that Gimli was complaining, it was relieving to return to the place of their recent victory. They toasted to those who had sacrificed their lives, wished them a peaceful return to whatever end awaited them. Quickly after that the festivities picked up, the mead and ale Helm’s Deep could produce were not of the same flavors of the liquors of Erebor but they were certainly strong.
Gimli, feeling more courageous in the safety of the humid warmth of celebration, boldly challenged his Elven friend to a drinking competition. He taunted Legolas light-heartedly and was delighted to see a spark of curiosity and competitiveness in response.
“So,” Legolas trailed off uncharacteristically, mug held delicately flat in an odd grip. Gimli could see Eomer trying not to smile in the corner of his vision.
“We just drink?”
Gimli nodded and reached over to clank his mug against the Elf’s, almost sending it flying if not for Legolas’s ridiculous reflexes. Gimli almost rolled his eyes.
“Till one of us drops!” He said cheerfully, mug halfway to his mouth.
As he drank deeply, Gimli glanced at the Elf and felt a spark of fondness at the considering sniff Legolas took of the ale and the subtle scrunch of his nose at the strong smell.
Gimli finished his first drink with an exaggerated, hah! And faced the other fully.
“What’s wrong, your highness? Edoran ale not suited to your royal palate?” Gimli teased through laughter.
Legolas leveled him an exasperated look that slowly morphed into a smirk. He raised the mug to his lips but kept his eyes on Gimli’s as he drank. The eyes contact did strange things to the Dwarf’s head and Gimli began to feel a twinge of worry at his own tolerance. He brushed the worry away instead and reached for a new mug of ale.
His head was cloudy, stuffed with feathers and wool. The room spun a little, the laughter he could hear nearby sounded like a twittering bird. And still he drank, disregarding his increasing feelings for his competitor in favor of focusing on consuming as much alcohol as he possibly could to win this damn competition.
Legolas hadn’t said a word throughout the ordeal, even when Gimli had taunted or teased the Elf. So it was a bit of a shock when he heard the Elf make a noise of surprise beside him.
Legolas was staring at his hand, long and elegant, just like the rest of him, with something akin to surprise.
“My hand,” he said hushed, head tilted in a way that Gimli would drunkenly admit was adorable, like a curious pup.
“It’s tingling. I do believe this ale is affecting me.” It was hard to tell what exactly his friend was feeling in that moment through the haze of intoxication and admiration. Even still, Gimli crowed and cheered.
“Ha! I knew he couldn’t hold his alcohol!” This was directed at Eomer. Or it would have been, if the moment he had tried to turn his head to the Man the action hadn’t sent a dizziness so strong through him that his vision went black all at once.
When Gimli regained consciousness, he felt a strange mix of heavy and comfortable. He was laid on a bed, he realized. For a few moments he forgot where he was and he startled roughly when a hand abruptly took hold of his ankle. He lurched up to sit and almost blacked out again. When his vision finally cleared he spotted Legolas, staring wide-eyed up at him, one hand on his ankle and the other in the process of tugging off his boot.
“My apologies Master Dwarf, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, with a small, private smile.
“Are you untying my shoes?” Gimli said dumbly, tongue feeling a bit clumsy in his mouth.
Legolas’s eyes sparkled in humor at his words and went back to pulling at Gimli’s boots.
“That was the plan. It’s rather uncomfortable to sleep in your shoes, as we both know. And considering your… current state, I figured I’d save you any pain,” he said this with a humorous tone but Gimli could tell, even in his intoxicated state, that the Elf was being nothing but genuine.
There was a candle on the table near the bed Gimli lay on, its sole glow illuminated the golden strands of Legolas’s hair as he tugged off Gimli’s second boot. It was all so simple a gesture, so sweet a notion that Gimli couldn’t help but watch in a slight daze. Legolas moved a bit closer to set the boots down near the bed stand.
Gimli was moving before he could think of the consequences, he reached out and grazed the Elf’s cheek with his fingers. Legolas froze under his touch before leaning slightly closer.
“Gimli?” His skin was so soft under the callouses on Gimli’s hands.
“Legolas,” he whispered in a way that he knew was too awe filled, too sweet and aching for what he and Legolas were to each other. But in that moment of boldness he couldn’t find it in him to care.
“I imagine they’d sing stories of a beauty like you.” Legolas’s eyes widened at his words and his lips parted, like petals shifting for the sun. His cheeks gained a darker hue, only just visible in the faint candle light. Gimli continued on, unbothered by the shocked and flustered Elf that still leaned into his touch.
“The power of you, my dear Elf, your aim of both bow and brightness never fails to make one’s breath catch and heart hammer around in their minds like an echoing thought.”
Legolas leaned closer, there was a sudden, wild look in his eyes Gimli had never seen. Perhaps it was the ale that slicked Legolas’s tongue when he spoke next, impulsive and demanding.
“And you Master Dwarf?” He questioned urgently, hand coming to rest on Gimli’s bicep and squeezing the muscle lightly.
Gimli gave him a puzzled look and almost laughed at the visible frustration it earned on the other’s face.
“What of me laddie?”
“Do I make your breath stutter? Do I make your heart beat like a symphony?” Holding the other and being held by him, Gimli could firmly say he was rather faint of breath.
“You do,” he breathed, rubbing a thumb over the sharp bone of Legolas’s cheek.
The Elf’s eyes fluttered shut and he exhaled deeply. Gimli frowned and shifted closer.
“Legolas?”
Slowly, so slowly that Gimli even in his drunken state could have tracked his motions, Legolas leaned close and pressed his lips to Gimli’s cheek. The kiss lingered for a few, wonderful seconds before Legolas pulled away, a small smile on his face.
It sobered Gimli in the sweetest way and brought a dopey grin to his face.
“I would like to kiss you much more than that Master Dwarf, but you are quite intoxica—” Legolas interrupted himself with a hiccup.
They stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.
“I think you too are a bit drunk as well Master Elf.”
Legolas shook his head with a rueful smile. “I fear you may be right.”
Gimli chuckled and patted his cheek clumsily, ignoring the giggle it received.
“Ay my dear, we shall speak more tomorrow when our heads are clearer.”
Legolas’s hand trailed down to his hand and squeezed. “And.. then?”
Gimli flushed and spluttered at the look in the other’s eyes.
“Ohh, off with you, you flirt!”
Legolas grinned and pulled away. Despite his own state, the Elf moved as gracefully as ever, practically gliding over the stone floor. He put the candle flame out as he passed, dousing the room in darkness and leaving only light of the moon to see him by. Gimli long ago would have been jealous of the almost ethereal way he moved, but now he was enthralled to simply watch him. The heavy door creaked under Legolas’s hand as he pushed it open. The Elf glanced over his shoulder, the light from the hall outlining his silhouette.
“Goodnight Gimli,” his voice was soft.
Gimli swallowed back a surge of longing, swallowed back the words on the tip of his tongue, the ones that wished to ask the Elf to join him like he would when they were traveling. He wanted Legolas to lay down next to him, to curl around his back or tuck himself under the Dwarf’s chin.
But that would have to wait for a little bit. Or at least until morning, when he could look at the room and it wouldn’t be spinning slightly.
“Goodnight Legolas.”
Gimli couldn’t see his face, but he was willing to bet the Elf was smiling. Legolas slipped out the door and shut it quietly. Gimli’s eyes began to slip shut almost immediately when he left and the Dwarf fell asleep with a smile on his face.
When Gimli awoke in the morning it was to a mild headache and the soothing humming of an Elf on the ground at the foot of his bed. He shifted a bit beneath the covers he had squirreled under mid-sleep.
“Legolas?”
The humming stopped but the Elf didn’t turn to face him. Gimli frowned at the back of his blond head. The details of the night before were mostly sharp in his mind and the longer he sat there awake, the clearer they became. Despite that, he couldn’t help but feel he was missing something.
“Legolas,” he said again, sitting up with a grunt.
The Elf in question glanced over his shoulder at the Dwarf, an unusually closed-off expression on his face.
“Come here.” Gimli’s voice was a little scratchy but his tone was gentle when he spoke. He patted the covers next to him.
Legolas got up slowly from his place on the floor, his silvery robes from the night before were gone and in their place were leggings and a simple dark blue shift that looked rather drafty. Though he knew only extreme temperatures truly bothered Elves, it made Gimli feel cold just looking at it. The Elf inhabiting the clothes looked oddly meek as he carefully lowered himself onto the very edge of Gimli’s bed. Gimli huffed at the distance and scooted closer to the Elf until they were bumping shoulders. Legolas looked at him with a startled expression and Gimli suddenly couldn’t take it anymore.
“What's going on lad?” He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice and instead approach the other with genuine curiosity. Tried to mimic Legolas’s wondering tone and open face when met with something he didn’t know.
The smile he got said that the attempt didn’t go unnoticed. The smile quickly faded into a remorseful look.
“Gimli, I am sorry.”
Gimli blinked, definitely feeling lost.
“For what, Legolas?”
The Elf looked away from him and laced his fingers together, shame pouring from every inch of his body. Gimli ached to release him from the weight.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you, not when you were so drunk I had to carry you up the stairs, and not when you were so drunk that you couldn’t even remember it—”
Gimli quickly cut him off. “Legolas, I remember the kiss. The kiss that was on my cheek.”
He saw those strong fingers tighten their hold and placed his own over them. Legolas turned to him with a frown marring his smooth face.
Gimli smiled at him in reassurance. The other’s face didn’t budge but he felt the hands under his loosen a bit.
“Legolas, I kiss my family on the cheek to greet them. And though I hope your kiss had less platonic intentions, I was more than comfortable with it.”
The explanation seemed to relax the Elf slightly.
“I still should have waited,” he murmured, finally leaning his weight into Gimli.
The Dwarf hummed in response and leaned back.
“Perhaps. Though I find myself glad you didn’t.”
The comment earned him a small smile and a fuller release of tension from Legolas’s body. One of the hands under Gimli’s turned to thread their fingers together and squeeze.
“I take it that touches like that aren’t so common with Elves?”
Legolas shook his head, and in the brightness of the day, the Dwarf could properly see the faint blush that saturated his cheeks. Gimli, feeling bolder now that his Elf had relaxed, craned his head up slightly and pressed a gentle, and a bit bristly, kiss to Legolas’s cheek.
“1-1,” he murmured with a wide grin.
The Elf moved faster than Gimli had anticipated, knocking him onto his back and startling a laugh out of him.
“Gimli!” Legolas said, tone offended but an overjoyed look on his face.
The Dwarf chuckled and cupped a smooth cheek, watching raptly as dark eyelashes fluttered.
“What was it you said last night? And.. then?”
Legolas groaned and dropped his full weight onto Gimli, knocking an exhale of laughter out of the Dwarf. Legolas’s breaths tickled Gimli’s neck and his hand laid warm over his heart. Gimli had never felt so content.
He threaded a hand through the Elf’s hair and combed lightly through it. Legolas tilted his head up to him and Gimli tilted his down. When their lips met it felt like the most natural thing in the world. It felt like a hello, like a good morning, I’m so happy to see you, distantly Gimli thought about waking up next to Legolas in the future and sharing more morning kisses like this. He felt Legolas trace the lines of his arms, up and down, felt the warmth of the wonderful being beside him. Gimli closed his eyes and felt, with beautiful clarity, Yes, I could get used to this.