Y is for Yearning
Apr. 29th, 2006 03:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tarotgalAll right... This isn't exactly what Lady K wanted when she proposed L/G and Yearning for the letter Y. But I hope she doesn't mind what I did here with it. I've had this bunny running around in my head for at least a year now- possibly two- and it just fit the word too well not to take the opportunity to write this. And hopefully the fact that this is unedited isn't too painfully obvious ;-)
Title: Y is for Yearning
Fandom: Lord of the Rings, post-ROTK
Pairing: Legolas/Gimli
Rating: PG
One discussion. One short and unemotional discussion was all they had had on the subject, and that had taken place several moons ago. During the discussion, Legolas had fervently assured Gimli that this was where he most wanted to be. They had traveled the length and breadth of Middle Earth to find a spot that suited them both. They had built their house there and had made it a home. And they had spent their years loving each other and honoring their similarities and differences.
Lately, however, there was one difference that left an unsettling feeling within Gimli. It had come upon the elf so gradually he hadn’t noticed it. In truth, it had probably been part of the elf ever since that day when Legolas had first glimpsed the sea and first heard the seagulls cry out to him. But only recently had it begun frequently interfering with Legolas.
It was a yearning. One Gimli could not understand, and one Gimli did not favor. It drew his elf away from him in mind and spirit. So even when the elf was lying beside him, Legolas was still not completely with him. Legolas went through his day as usual, waking with the dawn, eating his meals, and sleeping at night. But he spent more and more time out on the porch, sitting on the stairs and staring off towards the west. He knew what lay in that direction, many leagues beyond their woods, and he could feel himself reaching out to it. But he acted as though nothing at all had changed for him, and would not entertain another discussion on the subject.
As Legolas grew distant, Gimli grew pained and conflicted. While he wanted Legolas to stay with him in Middle Earth, the elf he saw before him was no longer fully the Legolas he had come to know and love. Legolas felt the sea-longing more strongly than anything else, it seemed. And Gimli felt guilty for his desire to keep the elf here, though he would not confess them to Legolas— another reason they had not revisited the discussion.
Naturally, Gimli became detached as well. He secretly hoped things might change for the better. But as the seasons changed, his hopes were becoming as sparse as the leaves on the trees. He likewise went through the motions of the day, not giving Legolas any reason to suspect something was bothering him, and not giving Legolas any reason to be displeased with him and want to leave.
So when Gimli caught his first cold of the season, he did his best to keep it under wraps. The last thing Legolas wanted, Gimli was sure, was a reminder of the sort of mortality that surrounded him here. Luckily, he did not have to work too hard to hide his ailment. He spent most of his time down in his workshop, and Legolas spent most of the day on the porch. During meals, Gimli ducked into the kitchen when he needed to sneeze or to cough. He muffled the sounds into his sleeve in the evenings and into his pillow at night.
On the third day of his head cold, he felt too tired to venture down into his chilly workshop. Instead, he dragged a pillow and several blankets from the bedroom to the sitting room. After starting a roaring fire in the hearth, he curled up on the floor on his makeshift bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but imagine Legolas might discover him and lie down beside him. He remembered past colds when Legolas would hold him and keep him warm, when Legolas would ease his discomfort with kisses, and when Legolas would not stray from his side for more than a minute. But Legolas did not come to him. Gimli gave up hope and fell asleep.
Gimli woke to a dry throat and pressure which made his nose throb. He barely sat up before sneezes struck, which he quickly directed into the crook of his arm. When the small fit passed, he decided to stay awake and he wondered how long he’d been asleep. Shades were drawn over the windows, but it did not look as though it were bright and sunny out. And if Legolas was making dinner Gimli’s nose was far past the point of being able to smell anything.
Wrapping one of the blankets around his shoulders to guard against the potentially cool evening air, Gimli headed to the door. He was not surprised to find that Legolas was there, sitting on the stairs. He was surprised, however, by how very cold it was outside. He knew it did not bother the elf, but it did bother him, even with the blanket. He shivered and his nose began to ran and tickle. Before he could stop it, he sneezed suddenly, loudly, freely. And though he covered his nose a second later, the damage had been done.
“Galu,” came the instinctive reply. Then, as though the sneeze or the reply or both had snapped him out of a daze, Legolas suddenly straightened up. He turned, looking over his shoulder at the dwarf. Recognition flickered in his eyes as he studied Gimli. “How long?” he asked.
“A few days only,” Gimli replied simply, slightly startled to see Legolas getting up and moving towards him all of a sudden.
Legolas pressed a hand against Gimli’s forehead to gauge fever while his other arm wrapped around Gimli and pulled him close. Taller but not wider, Legolas nonetheless tried to use his body to protect Gimli from the cold evening air. “It is far warmer inside. I will make you some tea and honey and then we can curl up in bed under the blankets together. Would you like that?”
Gimli pulled back, looked up at Legolas incredulously. “Would *you* like that?”
Legolas, showing a refreshing sort of tenderness, melted further at the words. “Oh, Gimli.” With two fingers against Gimli’s chin, he lifted the dwarf’s head upwards and placed a kiss on his lips. The kiss was deep and passionate in a way Gimli had not been kissed in ages. There was a flicker of the old Legolas back in the kiss, and Gimli’s hope to have that Legolas again was renewed in full. “Of course I would be with you, well or unwell. You are my heart, Gimli.” He looked down at the dwarf, cocking his head to the side as he studied Gimli’s expression further. “Perhaps I do not tell you that often enough?”
Gimli fell into Legolas’ chest, seeking not only the elf’s warmth but the steady heartbeat and the familiar touch. Both of Legolas’ arms wrapped around him now in a tight, reassuring hug. “You are telling me now,” Gimli answered, his words muffled in Legolas’ chest.
Legolas stroked Gimli’s head several times, his fingers petting the brown hair with its streaks of gray. Then he guided Gimli inside, closing the door behind him without so much as a glance back.
Title: Y is for Yearning
Fandom: Lord of the Rings, post-ROTK
Pairing: Legolas/Gimli
Rating: PG
One discussion. One short and unemotional discussion was all they had had on the subject, and that had taken place several moons ago. During the discussion, Legolas had fervently assured Gimli that this was where he most wanted to be. They had traveled the length and breadth of Middle Earth to find a spot that suited them both. They had built their house there and had made it a home. And they had spent their years loving each other and honoring their similarities and differences.
Lately, however, there was one difference that left an unsettling feeling within Gimli. It had come upon the elf so gradually he hadn’t noticed it. In truth, it had probably been part of the elf ever since that day when Legolas had first glimpsed the sea and first heard the seagulls cry out to him. But only recently had it begun frequently interfering with Legolas.
It was a yearning. One Gimli could not understand, and one Gimli did not favor. It drew his elf away from him in mind and spirit. So even when the elf was lying beside him, Legolas was still not completely with him. Legolas went through his day as usual, waking with the dawn, eating his meals, and sleeping at night. But he spent more and more time out on the porch, sitting on the stairs and staring off towards the west. He knew what lay in that direction, many leagues beyond their woods, and he could feel himself reaching out to it. But he acted as though nothing at all had changed for him, and would not entertain another discussion on the subject.
As Legolas grew distant, Gimli grew pained and conflicted. While he wanted Legolas to stay with him in Middle Earth, the elf he saw before him was no longer fully the Legolas he had come to know and love. Legolas felt the sea-longing more strongly than anything else, it seemed. And Gimli felt guilty for his desire to keep the elf here, though he would not confess them to Legolas— another reason they had not revisited the discussion.
Naturally, Gimli became detached as well. He secretly hoped things might change for the better. But as the seasons changed, his hopes were becoming as sparse as the leaves on the trees. He likewise went through the motions of the day, not giving Legolas any reason to suspect something was bothering him, and not giving Legolas any reason to be displeased with him and want to leave.
So when Gimli caught his first cold of the season, he did his best to keep it under wraps. The last thing Legolas wanted, Gimli was sure, was a reminder of the sort of mortality that surrounded him here. Luckily, he did not have to work too hard to hide his ailment. He spent most of his time down in his workshop, and Legolas spent most of the day on the porch. During meals, Gimli ducked into the kitchen when he needed to sneeze or to cough. He muffled the sounds into his sleeve in the evenings and into his pillow at night.
On the third day of his head cold, he felt too tired to venture down into his chilly workshop. Instead, he dragged a pillow and several blankets from the bedroom to the sitting room. After starting a roaring fire in the hearth, he curled up on the floor on his makeshift bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but imagine Legolas might discover him and lie down beside him. He remembered past colds when Legolas would hold him and keep him warm, when Legolas would ease his discomfort with kisses, and when Legolas would not stray from his side for more than a minute. But Legolas did not come to him. Gimli gave up hope and fell asleep.
Gimli woke to a dry throat and pressure which made his nose throb. He barely sat up before sneezes struck, which he quickly directed into the crook of his arm. When the small fit passed, he decided to stay awake and he wondered how long he’d been asleep. Shades were drawn over the windows, but it did not look as though it were bright and sunny out. And if Legolas was making dinner Gimli’s nose was far past the point of being able to smell anything.
Wrapping one of the blankets around his shoulders to guard against the potentially cool evening air, Gimli headed to the door. He was not surprised to find that Legolas was there, sitting on the stairs. He was surprised, however, by how very cold it was outside. He knew it did not bother the elf, but it did bother him, even with the blanket. He shivered and his nose began to ran and tickle. Before he could stop it, he sneezed suddenly, loudly, freely. And though he covered his nose a second later, the damage had been done.
“Galu,” came the instinctive reply. Then, as though the sneeze or the reply or both had snapped him out of a daze, Legolas suddenly straightened up. He turned, looking over his shoulder at the dwarf. Recognition flickered in his eyes as he studied Gimli. “How long?” he asked.
“A few days only,” Gimli replied simply, slightly startled to see Legolas getting up and moving towards him all of a sudden.
Legolas pressed a hand against Gimli’s forehead to gauge fever while his other arm wrapped around Gimli and pulled him close. Taller but not wider, Legolas nonetheless tried to use his body to protect Gimli from the cold evening air. “It is far warmer inside. I will make you some tea and honey and then we can curl up in bed under the blankets together. Would you like that?”
Gimli pulled back, looked up at Legolas incredulously. “Would *you* like that?”
Legolas, showing a refreshing sort of tenderness, melted further at the words. “Oh, Gimli.” With two fingers against Gimli’s chin, he lifted the dwarf’s head upwards and placed a kiss on his lips. The kiss was deep and passionate in a way Gimli had not been kissed in ages. There was a flicker of the old Legolas back in the kiss, and Gimli’s hope to have that Legolas again was renewed in full. “Of course I would be with you, well or unwell. You are my heart, Gimli.” He looked down at the dwarf, cocking his head to the side as he studied Gimli’s expression further. “Perhaps I do not tell you that often enough?”
Gimli fell into Legolas’ chest, seeking not only the elf’s warmth but the steady heartbeat and the familiar touch. Both of Legolas’ arms wrapped around him now in a tight, reassuring hug. “You are telling me now,” Gimli answered, his words muffled in Legolas’ chest.
Legolas stroked Gimli’s head several times, his fingers petting the brown hair with its streaks of gray. Then he guided Gimli inside, closing the door behind him without so much as a glance back.
