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Description
Hearth and Home
by Magic Rat

Slash (two males in love), PG-13 rated. Legolas/Gimli. Book-verse. This story picks up where Tolkien's masterpiece ended.

Lord of the Rings and all its characters are owned by Tolkien's estate. The story itself is owned by the author. No copyright infringement intended.
“Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over Sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf.”
Year 1541, Fourth Age of Middle Earth, by Shire reckoning.
* * * * *

For many days they sailed, Legolas deftly handling the small craft, while Gimli oft sat near the stern, ill at ease and grumbling. Legolas meanwhile was frequently near the helm, the ocean breeze blowing his golden hair. At times he would climb the mast of their silver boat to search for land, and it was at these times Gimli was most concerned.

“Come down from there! You’ll tip us over, and while it may be that Elves can walk on water, I’m certain I cannot!”

Legolas laughed. “Then hold your breath and march across the bottom! ‘T is but a few leagues more to land.”

“Then you won’t mind if I cut that mast from beneath you.”

The elf laughed again. At last he climbed down from his lofty perch, and smiled at his companion. “’T is but a few leagues more,” he gently assured him.

“To the Havens?”

“Nay, I am not yet ready for that, indeed if I ever shall be, and I doubt you would find dwelling in a tree to your liking. To another place. It calls to me in my dreams, promising peace to weary hearts. It is there we shall dwell.”

“Then the time of wandering for us is past.”

“Would you otherwise?”

Gimli furrowed his brow in thought, then shook his head. “Perhaps one day we shall take to the road again, but now I feel the need for a hearth to call my own. Where shall we live, Master Elf? Up a tree for a fortnight, then in a hole for another? ‘T would be a most inconvenient arrangement.”

“That it would, but we shall see when we reach land. Mayhap an ancient and forgotten race of tree-dwelling Dwarfs hath proceeded our coming, and solved the problem for us.”

“Or maybe cave-lurking Elves.”

Legolas tossed his fair hair and glared down at Gimli with feigned hurt. “Now you are mocking me.”

And so it was that after sixty days at sea, Legolas and Gimli found themselves upon the shore of a fair island, with a wide beach of grey sand. Great trees of all manner grew in the soft, rich earth that the sandy shore guarded, and behind the trees Gimli marveled to see a cliff wall of smooth dark stone. A light rain was falling, and the stone gleamed in its wetness, and the leaves of the trees sparkled as if with jewels.

“At last,” said the Dwarf quietly, “we are home.”

They securely anchored their boat, then brought their few belongings onto the island. They left them beneath the shelter of the trees whilst they explored their new home. Gimli went first to the cliff, and was delighted to find an opening in it, leading into a cave. The floors and walls were rough, and the cave was not large, but the black stone glittered with a thousand gems of a like which he had never seen. The stone itself was strange, but it pleased him.

“A bit of cutting to remove the rough edges, a bit of polishing, cut a place for a hearth, and this would be a home worthy of any Dwarf! Now to see how Master Elf is faring.”

A shower of water as he stepped out of his cave told him exactly where the young Elf was. As he raised his eyes, he saw his slender form far up one of the silver trees. He shook the rain out of his hair and beard.

“I suppose you think you’re very clever.”

“Yes, actually. But look at these trees! Have you ever seen fairer? Like they are to the golden Mallorn of Lothlórien, yet not so lofty.”

“So you will not have so far to fall when I hew it from beneath your mischievous self. Then you are pleased?”

“Oh very! And you?”

The Dwarf smiled and nodded his contentment. “Very.”

Their first night they spent beneath the trees, near the mouth of the little cave. Strange birds sang quietly in the dark, and at times little bats flitted overhead, chasing fireflies and other insects. They slept well, and with the dawn they rose and began to plan their home.

They agreed it would be in two parts, each suited to one of the two who would dwell there. Gimli would broaden the cave into a chamber with a hearth, so they might have a dry place to spend the winters. Legolas set to work constructing an elevated floor amidst the trees before the cave, and preparing light screens to keep out the summer winds and rains. Their frames he made into the likeness of young trees, and Gimli used the gems he took from the cave to set into their leaves, so they looked to be sparkling with dew.

Despite their skill with wood and stone, they had no means to make cloth. Legolas took some of the remaining gems and sailed to a not-too-distant island that had a town, and there he traded them for such items as they may need. For seven days he was gone, and in this time Gimli brought forth a few precious bits of Mithril he had stowed all the way from the Mines of Moria. These he melted, and used some of the metal to create the likeness of bark on the screen-trees. The rest he used to create delicate friezes of woodland deer on silver goblets. It was only later that he realized he had used all of the precious metal taken from his cousin’s ruined home to create gifts for Legolas, but he did not begrudge his choice. The Elf was more dear to him than all the gems and treasures of the earth.

Legolas returned with cloth and bedding, and all manner of goods required to set up house. The fine white cloth was hung inside the screens, so that it might serve as curtains for when evening came. More was used to form silken drapes around Legolas’ great four-poster bed. Gimli’s bed was a simple wooden affair, and had no need for such adornment. He was however glad to accept the blankets Legolas had brought, and the cask of beer. Gimli then brought forth the Mithril goblets.

“Our home is done,” he said. “Let us eat and drink in celebration.”

Legolas filled one of the cups with beer and passed it to Gimli, then took another for himself. “To hearth and home,” he said.

“To hearth and home,” agreed the Dwarf, and drained his cup.

They ate and drank together. Then afterwards, Gimli went to stand on the shore, smoking his pipe as he thought upon his former home under the Mountain, near Lake-Town. He would not see it again, he knew, yet the thought did not fill him with grief. He chuckled to think of his kin wondering what devil had caused him to leave his lands, and with an Elf no less. He was uncertain himself what had made him leave; he only knew Legolas was his friend, and he would not be parted from him. His fate, he deemed, was not that of others of his kind.

He turned and walked towards the house. It sparkled and glowed within the grove of trees; and he could hear Legolas singing within. He returned his cold pipe to his belt pouch and walked to his home.
* * *

He entered, then paused at the sight that greeted him. Legolas was sitting on his bed, singing. He was clad in a light robe of thin fabric, shining white and trimmed with silver. His hair was loose about his shoulders, and as he saw Gimli he smiled.

“Your jaw is wagging, Master Dwarf.”

Gimli snapped him mouth shut, then stammered an apology. “I am sorry, I… was startled by your beauty just now.”

“My beauty?” laughed the Elf. “Oh surely not! I’ve no great beard, no round and hairy belly. Surely you must think me quite hideous.”

“Yet I do not. Thou art more fair than all the treasures of leaf and sky, stone and earth.”

“You honour me with kind words, my lord, yet as always stand away. Doth my slender form offend thee so?”

“Nay. But I deem an Elven Prince would suit thy pretty bones better.”

“What need have I of an Elven Prince, when a Dwarf-Lord holds my heart? Thou know how I feel towards thee, though we speak of it not.”

“Aye, and I towards thee,” said Gimli. “But I am a carver of stone, and heavy handed. And my form, I fear, is not one that needs the light of candle and star, but rather the dark of a mine.”

“Speak not thusly, it grieves my heart. And say not thy hands are heavy, but rather firm, molding stone to thy will, and delving through other things, finding gold to please thee.”

“It would please me much to delve into untouched gold, yet I fear disrupting it with a clumsily-wielded pick.”

“Thou art too caring a craftsman to permit such a thing.”

Gimli removed his heavy boots and climbed onto the large bed. He sat beside Legolas, and looked into his clear, deep eyes. He reached up one broad, calloused hand to gently touch the Elf’s fair skin.
“Thou would give Mithril to a blacksmith.”

“It is mine to give, but I know not if it will be accepted.”

Gimli trailed his thick, heavy fingers over Legolas’ fine jaw, his slender neck, finally reaching the delicate silk robe. He parted it, letting it fall from the white shoulders. Legolas was slender, true, but like others of his kind he was not soft. His velvet skin covered taut muscle and sinew, fine bones that were light but not fragile, and the beating heart of a warrior. The beautiful forest-child before him had fought hand to hand with Orcs and wargs, he recalled. To deem him too fragile for the hands of a Dwarf was a disservice.

“I accept this gift,” said Gimli quietly, “though I am unsure if I am worthy.”

Legolas moved closer, kissing his brow, his slender white hands coming to rest on Gimli’s full Dwarven belly. “Why? Because thou art so different? ‘Tis only the rough bark that covers the rosewood, and even the bark I find pleasing.”

His fingers pulled open the belted tunic Gimli wore, and the garment fell away. He leaned forward and softly kissed his brow, then he rested his head upon his friend’s shoulder. “Lie beside me this night, and for all the nights after.”

Gimli touched the soft golden hair, then bent to kiss the warm lips. “This I vow to do, for the rest of my life.” Then he drew the tall Elf down to the soft bed, stripping away their garments both fine and rough. Legolas kissed him again, then laughed.

“At last the Dwarf-Lord sets about the task of mining! Long have I awaited this. Have thee thy pick?”

“Nay. I brought a good diamond-tipped drill!”

Legolas cried out once, then laughed. For much of the night they embraced, then finally as the moon fell away, they lay beside one another, spent. Legolas rested his head upon Gimli’s broad hairy chest, his arm around his full middle.

“My heart is glad here with you,” he said softly.

“As is mine,” said Gimli as he stroked his lover’s fine gold hair. “As is mine.”

* * * * *
The End of Pt I.

Hearth and Home Pt. II - Keeping House.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Dwarf/Elf Luvvin’
Summary: How will King Thranduil react on meeting his "son in law" ...?

(The Magic Rat would like to blame this tale on Mauburz the Straggler and two bottles of Mikhail’s cold-brewed Vanilla Mead. She would like to, but alas, ‘twas neither Mauburz nor the mead that wrote it.)

Legolas and Gimli surveyed the chaos that was the front yard of their little house. Flowers, herbs, grasses, and assorted weeds grew together in a green thorny tangle, erupting from what had once been a reasonable attempt at a garden.

“Well what do we do now?” asked Gimli.

“You are asking me? I am a prince, I’ve not gardened before.”

“And I suppose you think my having lived underground qualifies me for such a task? You’re an Elf, talk to it or something.”

“Weed thyself,” said Legolas. The garden rudely failed to comply.

“I suggest we buy a goat,” said Gimli.

“Excellent suggestion. Tomorrow. Now let us take three bottles of port and go make love on the beach.”

“Only three?”

Legolas pulled the wine from the rack in the small and over-grown storage shed. He kicked the door shut and smiled. “Catch me,” he said, and was gone.

Gimli rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. Then, grumbling loudly, lumbered as quickly after the Elf as he was able. He finally caught up with him on the beach, only to find his clothes in a pile and Legolas in the surf. Continuing to grumble, the Dwarf dropped his own clothes and waded in after him.

“Can we never do this indoors, in the dark, like civilized folk?”

Legolas spat a thin stream of seawater at him, then sank beneath the waves. A moment later he emerged before the Dwarf. He slid his arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him. “This is more fun.”

Gimli would have disagreed, but he somehow always found it hard to argue with the slender Elf so close. He kissed him back, falling into the ocean waves. Perhaps he was right, maybe this was more fun.

They surfaced, holding one another, kissing. Then Legolas released him, dipping back down into the water with an impish smile. Gimli briefly wondered how long Elves could hold their breath. Legolas it seemed was determined to show him.

Gimli was dutifully attending to the demonstration, when it occurred to him there was something large on the horizon. At first he could not tell what it was – too much of his concentration was taken up observing Legolas. Then his eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped as it suddenly occurred to him exactly what that large thing on the horizon was.

“It’s your father’s ship!” he yelled.

Legolas surfaced abruptly. “My father? You are jesting.” He turned to look in the direction Gimli was pointing. “You are not jesting! I have to dress.”

“You dress, I shall drown myself.”

“And leave me alone? Thou shall not!”

Legolas grasped a handful of Gimli’s long hair and pulled him onto the shore. Releasing him, Legolas struggled to pull his clothes over his wet frame. Gimli likewise was attempting to yank on garments as the graceful silver ship dropped anchor and began lowering a small boat to row to shore.

Gimli had managed to pull on his breeches, and was attempting to yank his tunic over his head when Legolas ran into the surf and leapt on the tall Elf wading towards him.

“Father I have missed thee so!”

“And I thee, my child. Let me look at thee. Thou art but bones!”

“I am well.”

Thranduil did not look convinced at his son’s words. He took his arm and led him towards shore. “I have searched for since Gandalf brought word to the Havens thou had set sail alone, so certain was I thou had come to harm. Now I find you here, shipwrecked with… this… Dwarf.”

Gimli at last managed to get the tunic on. He bowed low, wet hair and beard dripping. “King Thranduil, your presence graces our home.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and looked at Legolas. “’Home’?”

“I was not ship wrecked, Ada, I live here.”

Thranduil’s eyes grew stern. “Thou art but two days from the Havens, and rather than come to set my mind at ease, you leave me to grieve and worry?”

“Two days?” said Legolas. “Is that all?”

“Thou didst not know?”

“I am no navigator, Ada.” Legolas stepped over to the damp Dwarf. “Ada, this is my companion, Gimli.”

Thranduil looked as though he would still very much like to continue the discussion, but instead turned to look at Gimli. “Your pardon, Gimli. I was but distracted by my impertinent son.”

“It is granted, your majesty, though I admit we were guided to this island by some other sense than direction.”

Thranduil seemed to ponder upon Gimli’s words, then turned to Legolas. Speaking in Elvish, he said; “Thou left Middle Earth with this wart? Thou didst not find it here?”

“Ada!”

“May it please his Majesty to know,” said Gimli in perfect Elvish, “I do indeed speak the language.”

“I taught the tongue to Gimli,” said Legolas. “He speaks it very well, though I admit I am not faring so well with Dwarfish.”

“And pray,” said Thranduil, his tone cool, “what other crafts is Gimli teaching thee, my child?”

“Spitting for distance,” said Legolas, his tone equally cool. “And belching.”

Thranduil gave his son a look that would have had his royal guards skulking out of his sight like beaten dogs. As it was, they were going about their duties very quietly.

“Indeed,” he said at last, his tone icy. “No doubt such talents shall stand thee in good stead at any royal house.”

“Ada please, let us take thee to our home. Perhaps after some wine and a meal, you will be in a better humor.”

Thranduil permitted his son to begin leading him through the trail. “There is nothing wrong with my humor! Nothing other than finding out my son is a mere two days away and would rather have a spitting contest with a Dwarf than come see me!”

“I would have come seen thee had I known. Better, I would have invited thee to the contest.”

“Oh! How grand!”

“Thou doth not actually think Gimli is teaching me to spit.”

“At this point I do not know!”

Legolas glanced over his shoulder at his lover pleadingly. Gimli smiled.

“I shall be here, helping to set up camp.”

Legolas glared at him, and said in Dwarfish; “I shall get thee for that.”

“No doubt,” said Gimli, “but not now.” He then turned and began walking towards the Elves, who were unloading boats.

Thranduil and Legolas walked arm in arm down the quiet path, saying nothing for a time. At last the older Elf sighed, then smiled.

“It is good to see thee again, my child.”

“I am glad to see thee as well father. Truly, had I known we were so close…”

“I know, thou wouldst have come. And truly, this island has great beauty. I can see how thou wouldst be happy here. But, are you not lonely for thy own kind?”

“There are times I would give much to see another Elvish face, and to hear an Elven voice other than my own. But now I know I am so close to you, father, Gimli and I shall come so often you shall bemoan our presence.”

“You plan to bring the wart?”

“He is not a wart, father. He is my friend and companion. If thou wouldst have the truth, he is my lover.”

Thranduil stopped dead and looked at his son. “Thou art joking!”

“Indeed I am not.”

“Thou hast lain with him?”

“And plan to do so again.”

“But a Dwarf! Child! What possesses thee? What of the Elven youth of my Court? If thou wouldst have a youth rather than a maid, why not one of them?”

“Gimli and I have traveled far, and fought together. Were the youths of thy Court at Helm’s Deep, or Moria, or at the dread gates of Mordor beside Lord Aragorn? Was it they who made me smile, when it seemed all the world was drowning in grief? Would they have shown me there is as much beauty in stone as in tree and leaf? We Elves are called the wisest of all folk, and you as King should be wiser still. Yet I show someone to you whom I love so much, and to me hath so much beauty, and you call him ‘wart.’” Legolas stared deep into his father’s eyes. “It would seem to me perhaps we are not as wise as some would believe.”

Thranduil lowered his head, and at last nodded. When again he spoke, his voice was soft. “I see he has taught thee much child, and perhaps could teach me as well.” He raised his head and smiled at his son, touching his face. “But not, I fear, the belching.”

“Then I shall ask he leave that out of his lessons.” Legolas smiled, then hugged his father. “Come see the house we built.”

“I shall.” Thranduil linked his arm once more through Legolas’, and they continued along the path. As they reached the yard, he paused once more. “I can but hope you and he are better at keeping house than gardening.”

Legolas smiled. “Indeed we are father. If one but looks past the outer clutter.”

Description
Hearth and Home
by Magic Rat

Slash (two males in love), PG-13 rated. Legolas/Gimli. Book-verse. This story picks up where Tolkien's masterpiece ended.

Lord of the Rings and all its characters are owned by Tolkien's estate. The story itself is owned by the author. No copyright infringement intended.
“Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over Sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf.”
Year 1541, Fourth Age of Middle Earth, by Shire reckoning.
* * * * *

For many days they sailed, Legolas deftly handling the small craft, while Gimli oft sat near the stern, ill at ease and grumbling. Legolas meanwhile was frequently near the helm, the ocean breeze blowing his golden hair. At times he would climb the mast of their silver boat to search for land, and it was at these times Gimli was most concerned.

“Come down from there! You’ll tip us over, and while it may be that Elves can walk on water, I’m certain I cannot!”

Legolas laughed. “Then hold your breath and march across the bottom! ‘T is but a few leagues more to land.”

“Then you won’t mind if I cut that mast from beneath you.”

The elf laughed again. At last he climbed down from his lofty perch, and smiled at his companion. “’T is but a few leagues more,” he gently assured him.

“To the Havens?”

“Nay, I am not yet ready for that, indeed if I ever shall be, and I doubt you would find dwelling in a tree to your liking. To another place. It calls to me in my dreams, promising peace to weary hearts. It is there we shall dwell.”

“Then the time of wandering for us is past.”

“Would you otherwise?”

Gimli furrowed his brow in thought, then shook his head. “Perhaps one day we shall take to the road again, but now I feel the need for a hearth to call my own. Where shall we live, Master Elf? Up a tree for a fortnight, then in a hole for another? ‘T would be a most inconvenient arrangement.”

“That it would, but we shall see when we reach land. Mayhap an ancient and forgotten race of tree-dwelling Dwarfs hath proceeded our coming, and solved the problem for us.”

“Or maybe cave-lurking Elves.”

Legolas tossed his fair hair and glared down at Gimli with feigned hurt. “Now you are mocking me.”

And so it was that after sixty days at sea, Legolas and Gimli found themselves upon the shore of a fair island, with a wide beach of grey sand. Great trees of all manner grew in the soft, rich earth that the sandy shore guarded, and behind the trees Gimli marveled to see a cliff wall of smooth dark stone. A light rain was falling, and the stone gleamed in its wetness, and the leaves of the trees sparkled as if with jewels.

“At last,” said the Dwarf quietly, “we are home.”

They securely anchored their boat, then brought their few belongings onto the island. They left them beneath the shelter of the trees whilst they explored their new home. Gimli went first to the cliff, and was delighted to find an opening in it, leading into a cave. The floors and walls were rough, and the cave was not large, but the black stone glittered with a thousand gems of a like which he had never seen. The stone itself was strange, but it pleased him.

“A bit of cutting to remove the rough edges, a bit of polishing, cut a place for a hearth, and this would be a home worthy of any Dwarf! Now to see how Master Elf is faring.”

A shower of water as he stepped out of his cave told him exactly where the young Elf was. As he raised his eyes, he saw his slender form far up one of the silver trees. He shook the rain out of his hair and beard.

“I suppose you think you’re very clever.”

“Yes, actually. But look at these trees! Have you ever seen fairer? Like they are to the golden Mallorn of Lothlórien, yet not so lofty.”

“So you will not have so far to fall when I hew it from beneath your mischievous self. Then you are pleased?”

“Oh very! And you?”

The Dwarf smiled and nodded his contentment. “Very.”

Their first night they spent beneath the trees, near the mouth of the little cave. Strange birds sang quietly in the dark, and at times little bats flitted overhead, chasing fireflies and other insects. They slept well, and with the dawn they rose and began to plan their home.

They agreed it would be in two parts, each suited to one of the two who would dwell there. Gimli would broaden the cave into a chamber with a hearth, so they might have a dry place to spend the winters. Legolas set to work constructing an elevated floor amidst the trees before the cave, and preparing light screens to keep out the summer winds and rains. Their frames he made into the likeness of young trees, and Gimli used the gems he took from the cave to set into their leaves, so they looked to be sparkling with dew.

Despite their skill with wood and stone, they had no means to make cloth. Legolas took some of the remaining gems and sailed to a not-too-distant island that had a town, and there he traded them for such items as they may need. For seven days he was gone, and in this time Gimli brought forth a few precious bits of Mithril he had stowed all the way from the Mines of Moria. These he melted, and used some of the metal to create the likeness of bark on the screen-trees. The rest he used to create delicate friezes of woodland deer on silver goblets. It was only later that he realized he had used all of the precious metal taken from his cousin’s ruined home to create gifts for Legolas, but he did not begrudge his choice. The Elf was more dear to him than all the gems and treasures of the earth.

Legolas returned with cloth and bedding, and all manner of goods required to set up house. The fine white cloth was hung inside the screens, so that it might serve as curtains for when evening came. More was used to form silken drapes around Legolas’ great four-poster bed. Gimli’s bed was a simple wooden affair, and had no need for such adornment. He was however glad to accept the blankets Legolas had brought, and the cask of beer. Gimli then brought forth the Mithril goblets.

“Our home is done,” he said. “Let us eat and drink in celebration.”

Legolas filled one of the cups with beer and passed it to Gimli, then took another for himself. “To hearth and home,” he said.

“To hearth and home,” agreed the Dwarf, and drained his cup.

They ate and drank together. Then afterwards, Gimli went to stand on the shore, smoking his pipe as he thought upon his former home under the Mountain, near Lake-Town. He would not see it again, he knew, yet the thought did not fill him with grief. He chuckled to think of his kin wondering what devil had caused him to leave his lands, and with an Elf no less. He was uncertain himself what had made him leave; he only knew Legolas was his friend, and he would not be parted from him. His fate, he deemed, was not that of others of his kind.

He turned and walked towards the house. It sparkled and glowed within the grove of trees; and he could hear Legolas singing within. He returned his cold pipe to his belt pouch and walked to his home.
* * *

He entered, then paused at the sight that greeted him. Legolas was sitting on his bed, singing. He was clad in a light robe of thin fabric, shining white and trimmed with silver. His hair was loose about his shoulders, and as he saw Gimli he smiled.

“Your jaw is wagging, Master Dwarf.”

Gimli snapped him mouth shut, then stammered an apology. “I am sorry, I… was startled by your beauty just now.”

“My beauty?” laughed the Elf. “Oh surely not! I’ve no great beard, no round and hairy belly. Surely you must think me quite hideous.”

“Yet I do not. Thou art more fair than all the treasures of leaf and sky, stone and earth.”

“You honour me with kind words, my lord, yet as always stand away. Doth my slender form offend thee so?”

“Nay. But I deem an Elven Prince would suit thy pretty bones better.”

“What need have I of an Elven Prince, when a Dwarf-Lord holds my heart? Thou know how I feel towards thee, though we speak of it not.”

“Aye, and I towards thee,” said Gimli. “But I am a carver of stone, and heavy handed. And my form, I fear, is not one that needs the light of candle and star, but rather the dark of a mine.”

“Speak not thusly, it grieves my heart. And say not thy hands are heavy, but rather firm, molding stone to thy will, and delving through other things, finding gold to please thee.”

“It would please me much to delve into untouched gold, yet I fear disrupting it with a clumsily-wielded pick.”

“Thou art too caring a craftsman to permit such a thing.”

Gimli removed his heavy boots and climbed onto the large bed. He sat beside Legolas, and looked into his clear, deep eyes. He reached up one broad, calloused hand to gently touch the Elf’s fair skin.
“Thou would give Mithril to a blacksmith.”

“It is mine to give, but I know not if it will be accepted.”

Gimli trailed his thick, heavy fingers over Legolas’ fine jaw, his slender neck, finally reaching the delicate silk robe. He parted it, letting it fall from the white shoulders. Legolas was slender, true, but like others of his kind he was not soft. His velvet skin covered taut muscle and sinew, fine bones that were light but not fragile, and the beating heart of a warrior. The beautiful forest-child before him had fought hand to hand with Orcs and wargs, he recalled. To deem him too fragile for the hands of a Dwarf was a disservice.

“I accept this gift,” said Gimli quietly, “though I am unsure if I am worthy.”

Legolas moved closer, kissing his brow, his slender white hands coming to rest on Gimli’s full Dwarven belly. “Why? Because thou art so different? ‘Tis only the rough bark that covers the rosewood, and even the bark I find pleasing.”

His fingers pulled open the belted tunic Gimli wore, and the garment fell away. He leaned forward and softly kissed his brow, then he rested his head upon his friend’s shoulder. “Lie beside me this night, and for all the nights after.”

Gimli touched the soft golden hair, then bent to kiss the warm lips. “This I vow to do, for the rest of my life.” Then he drew the tall Elf down to the soft bed, stripping away their garments both fine and rough. Legolas kissed him again, then laughed.

“At last the Dwarf-Lord sets about the task of mining! Long have I awaited this. Have thee thy pick?”

“Nay. I brought a good diamond-tipped drill!”

Legolas cried out once, then laughed. For much of the night they embraced, then finally as the moon fell away, they lay beside one another, spent. Legolas rested his head upon Gimli’s broad hairy chest, his arm around his full middle.

“My heart is glad here with you,” he said softly.

“As is mine,” said Gimli as he stroked his lover’s fine gold hair. “As is mine.”

* * * * *
The End of Pt I.

Hearth and Home Pt. II - Keeping House.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Dwarf/Elf Luvvin’
Summary: How will King Thranduil react on meeting his "son in law" ...?

(The Magic Rat would like to blame this tale on Mauburz the Straggler and two bottles of Mikhail’s cold-brewed Vanilla Mead. She would like to, but alas, ‘twas neither Mauburz nor the mead that wrote it.)

Legolas and Gimli surveyed the chaos that was the front yard of their little house. Flowers, herbs, grasses, and assorted weeds grew together in a green thorny tangle, erupting from what had once been a reasonable attempt at a garden.

“Well what do we do now?” asked Gimli.

“You are asking me? I am a prince, I’ve not gardened before.”

“And I suppose you think my having lived underground qualifies me for such a task? You’re an Elf, talk to it or something.”

“Weed thyself,” said Legolas. The garden rudely failed to comply.

“I suggest we buy a goat,” said Gimli.

“Excellent suggestion. Tomorrow. Now let us take three bottles of port and go make love on the beach.”

“Only three?”

Legolas pulled the wine from the rack in the small and over-grown storage shed. He kicked the door shut and smiled. “Catch me,” he said, and was gone.

Gimli rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. Then, grumbling loudly, lumbered as quickly after the Elf as he was able. He finally caught up with him on the beach, only to find his clothes in a pile and Legolas in the surf. Continuing to grumble, the Dwarf dropped his own clothes and waded in after him.

“Can we never do this indoors, in the dark, like civilized folk?”

Legolas spat a thin stream of seawater at him, then sank beneath the waves. A moment later he emerged before the Dwarf. He slid his arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him. “This is more fun.”

Gimli would have disagreed, but he somehow always found it hard to argue with the slender Elf so close. He kissed him back, falling into the ocean waves. Perhaps he was right, maybe this was more fun.

They surfaced, holding one another, kissing. Then Legolas released him, dipping back down into the water with an impish smile. Gimli briefly wondered how long Elves could hold their breath. Legolas it seemed was determined to show him.

Gimli was dutifully attending to the demonstration, when it occurred to him there was something large on the horizon. At first he could not tell what it was – too much of his concentration was taken up observing Legolas. Then his eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped as it suddenly occurred to him exactly what that large thing on the horizon was.

“It’s your father’s ship!” he yelled.

Legolas surfaced abruptly. “My father? You are jesting.” He turned to look in the direction Gimli was pointing. “You are not jesting! I have to dress.”

“You dress, I shall drown myself.”

“And leave me alone? Thou shall not!”

Legolas grasped a handful of Gimli’s long hair and pulled him onto the shore. Releasing him, Legolas struggled to pull his clothes over his wet frame. Gimli likewise was attempting to yank on garments as the graceful silver ship dropped anchor and began lowering a small boat to row to shore.

Gimli had managed to pull on his breeches, and was attempting to yank his tunic over his head when Legolas ran into the surf and leapt on the tall Elf wading towards him.

“Father I have missed thee so!”

“And I thee, my child. Let me look at thee. Thou art but bones!”

“I am well.”

Thranduil did not look convinced at his son’s words. He took his arm and led him towards shore. “I have searched for since Gandalf brought word to the Havens thou had set sail alone, so certain was I thou had come to harm. Now I find you here, shipwrecked with… this… Dwarf.”

Gimli at last managed to get the tunic on. He bowed low, wet hair and beard dripping. “King Thranduil, your presence graces our home.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and looked at Legolas. “’Home’?”

“I was not ship wrecked, Ada, I live here.”

Thranduil’s eyes grew stern. “Thou art but two days from the Havens, and rather than come to set my mind at ease, you leave me to grieve and worry?”

“Two days?” said Legolas. “Is that all?”

“Thou didst not know?”

“I am no navigator, Ada.” Legolas stepped over to the damp Dwarf. “Ada, this is my companion, Gimli.”

Thranduil looked as though he would still very much like to continue the discussion, but instead turned to look at Gimli. “Your pardon, Gimli. I was but distracted by my impertinent son.”

“It is granted, your majesty, though I admit we were guided to this island by some other sense than direction.”

Thranduil seemed to ponder upon Gimli’s words, then turned to Legolas. Speaking in Elvish, he said; “Thou left Middle Earth with this wart? Thou didst not find it here?”

“Ada!”

“May it please his Majesty to know,” said Gimli in perfect Elvish, “I do indeed speak the language.”

“I taught the tongue to Gimli,” said Legolas. “He speaks it very well, though I admit I am not faring so well with Dwarfish.”

“And pray,” said Thranduil, his tone cool, “what other crafts is Gimli teaching thee, my child?”

“Spitting for distance,” said Legolas, his tone equally cool. “And belching.”

Thranduil gave his son a look that would have had his royal guards skulking out of his sight like beaten dogs. As it was, they were going about their duties very quietly.

“Indeed,” he said at last, his tone icy. “No doubt such talents shall stand thee in good stead at any royal house.”

“Ada please, let us take thee to our home. Perhaps after some wine and a meal, you will be in a better humor.”

Thranduil permitted his son to begin leading him through the trail. “There is nothing wrong with my humor! Nothing other than finding out my son is a mere two days away and would rather have a spitting contest with a Dwarf than come see me!”

“I would have come seen thee had I known. Better, I would have invited thee to the contest.”

“Oh! How grand!”

“Thou doth not actually think Gimli is teaching me to spit.”

“At this point I do not know!”

Legolas glanced over his shoulder at his lover pleadingly. Gimli smiled.

“I shall be here, helping to set up camp.”

Legolas glared at him, and said in Dwarfish; “I shall get thee for that.”

“No doubt,” said Gimli, “but not now.” He then turned and began walking towards the Elves, who were unloading boats.

Thranduil and Legolas walked arm in arm down the quiet path, saying nothing for a time. At last the older Elf sighed, then smiled.

“It is good to see thee again, my child.”

“I am glad to see thee as well father. Truly, had I known we were so close…”

“I know, thou wouldst have come. And truly, this island has great beauty. I can see how thou wouldst be happy here. But, are you not lonely for thy own kind?”

“There are times I would give much to see another Elvish face, and to hear an Elven voice other than my own. But now I know I am so close to you, father, Gimli and I shall come so often you shall bemoan our presence.”

“You plan to bring the wart?”

“He is not a wart, father. He is my friend and companion. If thou wouldst have the truth, he is my lover.”

Thranduil stopped dead and looked at his son. “Thou art joking!”

“Indeed I am not.”

“Thou hast lain with him?”

“And plan to do so again.”

“But a Dwarf! Child! What possesses thee? What of the Elven youth of my Court? If thou wouldst have a youth rather than a maid, why not one of them?”

“Gimli and I have traveled far, and fought together. Were the youths of thy Court at Helm’s Deep, or Moria, or at the dread gates of Mordor beside Lord Aragorn? Was it they who made me smile, when it seemed all the world was drowning in grief? Would they have shown me there is as much beauty in stone as in tree and leaf? We Elves are called the wisest of all folk, and you as King should be wiser still. Yet I show someone to you whom I love so much, and to me hath so much beauty, and you call him ‘wart.’” Legolas stared deep into his father’s eyes. “It would seem to me perhaps we are not as wise as some would believe.”

Thranduil lowered his head, and at last nodded. When again he spoke, his voice was soft. “I see he has taught thee much child, and perhaps could teach me as well.” He raised his head and smiled at his son, touching his face. “But not, I fear, the belching.”

“Then I shall ask he leave that out of his lessons.” Legolas smiled, then hugged his father. “Come see the house we built.”

“I shall.” Thranduil linked his arm once more through Legolas’, and they continued along the path. As they reached the yard, he paused once more. “I can but hope you and he are better at keeping house than gardening.”

Legolas smiled. “Indeed we are father. If one but looks past the outer clutter.”