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Title: An Awfully Big Adventure
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Rating: G
Genre: Romance, angst
Pairing: Legolas/Gimli
Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Legolas is curled by his side, and they are repeating old arguments to each other in the dark.
AN: I'm procrastinating from writing by...writing? Okay. This was written for this prompt.
“I am mortal,” he says, pointing out the obvious as strong, delicate fingers stroke through his beard. “You are not. You can leave – it is best you do before I grow too old. I will not have you see me infirm or weak.”
“I’ve seen you both already,” Legolas reminds him. “It was I who tended you through your last illness, or had you forgotten?” He tugs a little in false reprimand, and the corner of his mouth twists up into a smile that falls far short of his eyes. “And the one before that, and the one before that…”
“I had not,” Gimli says truthfully.
Legolas is curled by his side, and they are repeating old arguments to each other in the dark. He can see Legolas clearly, lit as he is by an inner glow that does nothing to hide the fact that he hasn’t changed at all in the sixty years Gimli has known him. His hair is still golden; his skin pale and smooth and perfect. Only his eyes have changed – darkening over the years from loss and sea-longing that he’s long put off in favour of staying with the remnants of the Fellowship; with Gimli.
Gimli is getting old and the red of his beard has faded into steely grey, but he still has his wits. He has his hearing as well; for all that his people (and Legolas’ and even Aragorn’s) seem to think that he can’t hear the whispers of old songs and stories that tell him that Legolas will die if he stays. He is torn between pushing his lover away and trying to save him, and clinging desperately – selfishly – to his love because he can’t bear to say goodbye any more than he can to see the sadness in Legolas’ eyes.
Legolas kisses him softly. “My choice has been made,” he says. “To die will be an awfully big adventure.”
Gimli huffs at that. All these years and he’s still convinced that his elf is half mad, and it is statements like that that make it hard to change his mind. Legolas laughs softly into his beard for a moment. It sounds almost like he’s crying and Gimli tightens his hold reflexively, rubbing Legolas’ shoulders with calloused hands.
The argument is an old one and a tired one, and as Gimli is old and tired himself, he lets it go. “A plague on the stubborn necks of the elves,” he says.
“To say nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves,” Legolas mutters, just loud enough for him to hear, and tugs at his beard again. “My choice is made,” he repeats, and he shifts in Gimli’s hold so that he can look down upon him before pressing a kiss to his brow. “There was no other choice but you.”
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Rating: G
Genre: Romance, angst
Pairing: Legolas/Gimli
Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Legolas is curled by his side, and they are repeating old arguments to each other in the dark.
AN: I'm procrastinating from writing by...writing? Okay. This was written for this prompt.
“I am mortal,” he says, pointing out the obvious as strong, delicate fingers stroke through his beard. “You are not. You can leave – it is best you do before I grow too old. I will not have you see me infirm or weak.”
“I’ve seen you both already,” Legolas reminds him. “It was I who tended you through your last illness, or had you forgotten?” He tugs a little in false reprimand, and the corner of his mouth twists up into a smile that falls far short of his eyes. “And the one before that, and the one before that…”
“I had not,” Gimli says truthfully.
Legolas is curled by his side, and they are repeating old arguments to each other in the dark. He can see Legolas clearly, lit as he is by an inner glow that does nothing to hide the fact that he hasn’t changed at all in the sixty years Gimli has known him. His hair is still golden; his skin pale and smooth and perfect. Only his eyes have changed – darkening over the years from loss and sea-longing that he’s long put off in favour of staying with the remnants of the Fellowship; with Gimli.
Gimli is getting old and the red of his beard has faded into steely grey, but he still has his wits. He has his hearing as well; for all that his people (and Legolas’ and even Aragorn’s) seem to think that he can’t hear the whispers of old songs and stories that tell him that Legolas will die if he stays. He is torn between pushing his lover away and trying to save him, and clinging desperately – selfishly – to his love because he can’t bear to say goodbye any more than he can to see the sadness in Legolas’ eyes.
Legolas kisses him softly. “My choice has been made,” he says. “To die will be an awfully big adventure.”
Gimli huffs at that. All these years and he’s still convinced that his elf is half mad, and it is statements like that that make it hard to change his mind. Legolas laughs softly into his beard for a moment. It sounds almost like he’s crying and Gimli tightens his hold reflexively, rubbing Legolas’ shoulders with calloused hands.
The argument is an old one and a tired one, and as Gimli is old and tired himself, he lets it go. “A plague on the stubborn necks of the elves,” he says.
“To say nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves,” Legolas mutters, just loud enough for him to hear, and tugs at his beard again. “My choice is made,” he repeats, and he shifts in Gimli’s hold so that he can look down upon him before pressing a kiss to his brow. “There was no other choice but you.”
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Date: 2013-09-20 07:33 pm (UTC)From:no subject
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