Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story "Bound", which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.
Betareader: Many thanks to Surreysmum, who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: Mild BDSM.
Please heed the warnings!
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:
// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********; "speech"; 'thoughts'
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.
-- Part V: The Ring Goes South --
Legolas ran nimbly back the path he had scouted out the last couple of hours. It was a easy one. Had he been alone in the wilds with Aragorn, he would not have paid much attention to obstacles easily climbed or taken, like steep hills, small boulders or thick, thorny undergrowth. These things were nothing to an Woodelf used to the dangers of Mirkwood's dark and heavy foliage, nor to an experienced Ranger weathered by many years of living in the wilds. But he could not ignore them now; he had the Halflings to consider. The four smaller members of the Fellowship would be hard taxed by climbs he and Aragorn would shrug off as easy, or undergrowth the taller members of the Fellowship could easily see above and navigate, while they with their bare feet would be caught and hindered by thorns and nettles with each step. And he could not lead them through fast running rivers or steep gaps and dangerous climbs. So he had gone ahead to scout a path manageable for them, since the few seemingly clear paths in this part of the country all too often lead to sheer falls or ended in treacherous swamps.
Of course, finding a clear path for the Hobbits meant it would also be an easy walk for the Dwarf, but that small nuisance could hardly be helped.
No matter. He ran, enjoying the exercise of his finally pain free limbs, and the ease with which he jumped over boulders or bushes as well as the sureness with which his feet touched the ground. At last, his body was whole again. Life was good!
He also looked forward to the faces of the Hobbits when he would treat them with the edible, sweet berries he had found today, and the large stock of mushrooms he carried in his pouch. He had learned early after his recovery how much the Halflings liked mushrooms for dinner.
Shortly after the second night of their journey, he had developed a friendly, easy-going relationship with the four Hobbits, especially Sam and Frodo. Samwise with his fondness of growing things and his curiosity for all Elvish things, warmed his heart. The Perian had pestered him for songs and stories, as well as for words in Sindarin or even just the Elvish names for plants, until Legolas jokingly complained he was no gardener; but in truth he shared the love of the Hobbit for living things and was heartened by Sam's good care of the pony. The Hobbit had not only a real talent for cooking, he also has a natural affection for animals and plants that reminded Legolas of his own people. And Frodo with his quiet but observant manner and his warm and sympathetic heart had gained Legolas' respect and friendship, too. He was less close with Merry and Pippin; the two seemed more interested in learning weapon skills from Boromir and less fascinated with the Elf of the Fellowship, and they kept close company with the Gondorian. But he was friendly with them, too, and liked their cheering company.
Yes, the Hobbits would be pleased with the addition he brought for dinner. His master and Boromir would probably be more delighted about the brace of geese he had managed to shoot. They would be a welcome diversion from the dried meat and roasted sausages. Boromir had disclosed his longing for well roasted goose just the other day.
Legolas could not say he had grown really close with the Gondorian. After their conversation a few days ago they had not exchanged many more words, since soon afterwards Legolas had taken up his chores as member of the Fellowship with a vengeance and made up for the first three days with long scouting missions to find the best path. Or he would take over the first or second watch during the night and then just keep it until he woke the others in the morning. It had earned him Boromir's respect, but not his friendship. But they were on much friendlier terms than directly after their confrontation in the Council. Legolas suspected that he was just too closely associated with Aragorn to become friends with the man of Gondor. Boromir and Aragorn had developed a truce of sorts between them, and even some mutual respect after their first sparring match a few days ago; and since that match, the Gondorian was even civil with his Would-Be-King. But he clearly still did not like him and was far from accepting Aragorn's claim as Isildur's heir to the throne of Gondor. And Legolas knew Aragorn's feelings for Denethor's son were not too friendly, either.
But at least they respected each other.
That was more than one could say of Legolas and the Nogoth. Even now, after Legolas was doing his share of duties to the Fellowship, the Dwarf had not ceased his mutterings about weak Elven princelings too pampered to be of use on such a Quest. Of course the Nogoth could not know how very far he was off the mark, and how painful and ignorant his jeerings truly were, but they still stung.
But since Legolas could hardly explain the truth to him, and did not find much opportunity to retaliate except with the occasional jibe, he simply tried his best to ignore him.
Legolas easily jumped over a small boulder and enjoyed the airborne moment. His thoughts turned to his master. He was glad they were away from Rivendell and Estel seemed to be himself again.
Since the start of their journey, Estel had shown him nothing but concern and tenderness. And he had kept his word. He had not taken Legolas again, but allowed him to heal. Legolas knew Aragorn had denied himself to do that; he had seen the longing in his master's eyes, the dark desire... harshly held in check by Aragorn's determination to give his slave the chance to recover. Placing Legolas' needs before his own.
It warmed Legolas heart. Dear Estel! Legolas found it easier now to stay in the present or to dwell on the good memories they shared, using them to counterbalance or block out the bad ones.
He also knew it could not last.
Legolas could feel it in his soul, in his whole body. The longing to feel Estel's touch, to please him, to be taken by his master was growing ever stronger. It took effort already to stay a pace or two apart when they walked near each other, and he was eager for every look, every single word, every simple touch, however brief.
And he knew Aragorn felt it too, although for him it would translate merely as desire.
It wasn't strong yet. They were a week away from Rivendell, and it had been just a week since he had last been taken. By now, he felt only the first faint tendrils of the curse, and not the burning desire and ever increasing need that would grow relentlessly if it wasn't satisfied, until it nearly robbed him of his mind. Until all his being concentrated upon just one aim: being taken by the one who owned him. And he was still far away from true withdrawal, when his own body would become his enemy and poison him, eventually kill him, if his master did not stop the process first.
But he knew that it was time. The spell demanded to be fed again.
And to give him what he needed, Aragorn would have to cause him suffering again.
Biting his lips and trying very hard not to think about the coming night, Legolas ran on.
There was no point in wishing things were different. He knew his master had no choice, as little as he had himself. And besides, if he was lucky, Aragorn would not even have to do a lot to get ready for him. The memories of that fateful night in Rivendell were still very fresh; they should be enough to bring Aragorn to hardness simply by reminiscence. Maybe they would prove to be enough.
Legolas sighed. They were in the presence of the One Ring.
He did not dare to trust their luck anymore.
__________________ o _______________
It was a merry evening meal. Although the two geese were not much to feed nine hungry mouths, they proved a welcome addition to the usual fare of the Fellowship, and the berries and mushrooms added nicely to the dinner. Even more, Aragorn managed to find some spicy herbs and onions to give more flavour to their meal, much to Sam's delight. All in all, the company ate better than they had in days.
Afterwards, the Hobbits exchanged stories of the Shire and nonsense songs, and Aragorn let himself be goaded into telling a hilariously scary story of the Rangers. Then Boromir boasted a bit about his home in Gondor, and was soon pestered by Merry and Pippin to tell them more.
Legolas dared to settle comfortably close to Aragorn and was content as he felt his master's hand settling on his back, petting him absentmindedly. Sam shared another funny song of the Shire, Boromir told more funny tales from Gondor, and until the watches were divided the company shared much merriment.
After the dividing of the watches – Merry took the first, Legolas the second and Boromir the third – the Fellowship settled in for the night. It was then that Aragorn stood and laid a hand on the shoulder of his slave.
"Come with me, Legolas," he said, "let's have another look around to make sure this place is safe."
Legolas looked up to him. He saw the desire in his master's eyes. Without another word, he nodded and got up to follow Aragorn into the surrounding bushes. While he walked, he shrugged back into his harness, fastening the straps of his quiver around his chest again. He noticed that Aragorn had kept his weapons, too.
They did not go far; just a few minutes away from the camp until they were sure they were out of sight and well out of earshot. Then Aragorn turned to his slave, grabbed him and drew him close.
Legolas was surprised and pleased at his master's passion. He obediently opened up under Aragorn's kiss, then moaned as Aragorn bit his lips, then plundered his mouth thoroughly. He gasped as his master buried his hands in his hair and grasped it just a bit too tightly, and he gasped again when Aragorn's mouth left his own and wandered to his neck, then to his ear. Aragorn licked over the sensitive lobe, let his tongue caress and swirl around the tip, then he bit down, hard. Legolas jerked and shivered. Aragorn's hands left his hair and clutched his back. They squeezed his body hard enough to leave bruises. Legolas could feel the bulge between his master's legs, answered by the growing hardness between his own. Aragorn ground their groins together. He pressed Legolas against himself nearly hard enough to crush him. Legolas could hear his harsh breathing, answered by his own.
Finally, Aragorn let go of his slave's ear and drew back a little. Gasping, he said: "It's been too long, Little Leaf! I thought I would go mad if I had to look at you one more hour without tasting you!"
Legolas closed his eyes and let himself be swept away by his own need and by his master's passion. Nearly inaudibly, since he was not sure if he was allowed to speak right now, he whispered: "Estel!" He swallowed. "Take me, Estel!"
It was hardly more than a movement of lips, but Aragorn heard him. His arousal surged and he gasped again. "Come!" he said, sitting down on a boulder and drawing Legolas down on his lap with him. "I want to feel you!"
Obediently, the Elf got down on his master's knees and straddled him. Aragorn buried his face in Legolas' neck again, nibbling along his jaw. His hands roamed over his slave's back, yet soon he found his exploration hampered by the quiver. Impatiently, he drew back and tugged at the straps of Legolas' harness.
"Get out of that, Little Leaf!" he commanded, "and take down your leggings, too! Let me see you!" Hoarsely he added: "I need you, Little Leaf, I need you!"
Legolas shivered. Wordlessly, he got up and freed himself of his harness and his weapons, then he took off his belt with the pouch and hunting knife and got out of his leggings. With bared thighs and groin he knelt in the grass again, legs parted to let his master see him. He kept his head demurely bowed, yet he could sense his master's desire and felt his gaze like searing heat on his skin, even without seeing his face. He felt his own answering apprehension and excitement, mounting and ever rising, and shivered.
Aragorn looked at him, hunger in his eyes. He reached out his hand. "Give me your belt, Little Leaf!" he commanded.
Legolas looked up, eyes wide with fear. Aragorn was breathing hard, and his eyes were dark with desire. Swallowing hard and trembling, the slave followed the command, freeing his belt from pouch and hunting knife and handing it to his master.
Aragorn took it. He took both ends into his right hand, running the smooth but strong leather experimentally though the other hand. Then he slapped the leather lightly to the side of the boulder and patted his knee with his free hand.
"Get down here, Little Leaf. On your stomach!" he commanded harshly.
Legolas bit his lips. He tried to control his breathing, yet it came much too fast and betrayed his fear. Shivering, he obeyed and laid himself over his master's knee, his semi-erect member pressing hard against the Adan's raw leggings, his bare buttocks vulnerable to the whipping he was sure to come. He could feel Aragorn's hand trail teasingly over his yet unmarred flesh. Tensing up, he waited for the lash to fall.
Yet to his surprise, Aragorn instead bowed a little down and caught his hand, yanking it up on his slave's back; then he grabbed Legolas' other arm. Realizing what his master wanted, the slave obediently let him put his wrists together, and Aragorn bound both hands tightly with the Elf's own belt.
Completely helpless, but relieved that he would not be whipped with the belt after all, Legolas waited for his master's decision how to hurt him.
Aragorn took his time. He knew he could not draw this out too long, for they could not risk being missed by the others, but he could not help enjoying his slave's shivering, and he savoured the Elf's tense anticipation of the coming pain and Legolas' helpless acceptance of whatever he was about to do to him. For a few moments, he was content to stroke and pet the round, pale buttocks reverently and feel Legolas barely suppressed trembling. Then he raised his hand and let the first blow fall.
Legolas gave a little yelp, then he bit his lips and remained silent, save a few more gasps and whimpers. He could not suppress the occasional sob, although the spanking was far less brutal and painful than what he was used to from other occasions. Still, it hurt and stung, and when Aragorn finally stopped and stroked over his reddened cheeks again, his rear and thighs burnt and hurt with every touch. Under his stomach, he could feel the bulge in Aragorn's leggings, hard and needy. Then Aragorn's fingers breached him, teasing his entrance and pushing in, gently but firmly stretching his passage. He sighed in relief since he could feel his master had coated his fingers with oil and did not plan to take him unprepared. Aragorn's fingers stretched him, took him, owned him; then they found his sweet spot and he gasped at the sudden pleasure, mingling with the pain. His rear lurched up, and his master pressed down on him, stilling his movement again, then taking a moment to massage him inside and kindling his desire to burning heights.
Raspingly, Aragorn whispered: "You are beautiful like this, Little Leaf! You don't know what you do to me, how much I desire you..."
The fingers left Legolas' passage. Harshly, Aragorn yanked his slave up and forced him to straddle him again, knowing well that it would hurt immensely to put weight on the freshly aggravated buttocks. Legolas obeyed, grimacing at the pain. Aragorn kissed him again, tasting him thoroughly and pressing him close. With his other hand, Aragorn freed his own straining erection from the confining cloth and leather. Then he let go of his slave's mouth and commanded: "Get down on it, Little Leaf! Ride me!"
Legolas swallowed. He rose up a bit, bringing his rear to the head of his master's straining member. Since he was bound he could do nothing more, but Aragorn came to his aid. With his left hand steadying his slave, Aragorn guided his erection into the entrance of the Elf with his right. Then he grabbed Legolas' arms with both hands and forced his slave down on himself in one harsh move.
Legolas gasped at the sudden pain as he was impaled by his master's hardness in one powerful thrust. Then he gave another sharp and surprised hiss, this time in pleasure, as Aragorn's member hit his prostate. He was echoed by Aragorn's own gasp. His master just held him immobile for a few moments, giving him time to adjust, and Legolas felt his passage relax around the intruding flesh, pleasure mingling with the pain and overriding it for a moment. Then Aragorn's hands on his arms tightened again and his master let him sink backwards. With his bound hands, Legolas had no leverage and was kept from falling merely by Aragorn's grip. Aragorn held him fast, leaning back a little until they found a precarious balance and his member inside the Elf grazed directly over his slave's prostate. Legolas gasped again. All his weight now rested on his hurting rear and his equally sore thighs, which pressed hard against his master's legs and pelvis. He trembled under the strain of the awkward position, and breathing hard he waited for his master's next command.
Aragorn groaned as his member was tightly enclosed by the warm flesh of his elf. It was pure bliss, and the shivering apprehension of his slave just added to the pleasure. He waited a few moments, until the tight passage enclosing him relaxed a bit. Then, adjusting his own angle so he would hit the sweet spot of his slave with every new thrust, Aragorn hoarsely replied his command again. "Now! Ride me!"
Gasping at his harsh tone, Legolas obeyed. Slowly, then ever faster, he began to move, sobbing slightly as his hurting thighs and rear slapped against his master's legs and pelvis with every down thrust and his thighs were aggravated by the pressure he needed to put on them to move upwards again. At the same time, his sweet spot was hit again and again, and pleasure exploded in his head, mingling with the pain. He breathed hard and deeply, riding the pain, and felt his pleasure building, amplifying that of his master. His Elfhood, having waned a bit under the first painful thrusts, was fully erect again and grazed against his master's stomach with every downward thrust, and soon he felt himself coming close to his peak. He bit his lips, remembering to keep quiet, and could see Aragorn fighting to remain silent too. Then Aragorn gave a harsh hiss and thrust upwards against him, and he could feel hot fluid filling him and giving him relief. Swallowing a shout, he spilled himself, gasping his master's name: "Estel!..."
He heard Aragorn's answering whisper: "Legolas! Oh my Little Leaf!..." -- then his master drew him upwards again and enclosed him in his arms, pressing him against his chest and burying his face in his neck, still joined.
Aragorn whispered a slow, sweet thread of endearments into his ear. "You are beautiful, melethron, I need you, you are so wonderful to have, a marvel, I am glad to have you..."
Legolas let himself be held, warmed by the afterglow, and savored the tenderness and the closeness of his master. 'Oh, Estel!' -- he thought, deeply content in this precious stolen moment between them. He had not truly known how much he had missed this. He was grateful and delighted that Estel had kept his word, that he had been gentle and had not played any harsher games. And Estel had been considerate of his slave's pleasure. Glad to be safely in his master's arms, Legolas let himself drift in the reassuring feeling. Finally, Estel reached out and gently pried the knot of the belt apart, freeing his lover's wrists, and Legolas hands came up around his neck and settled on his shoulders.
Aragorn reached up and caressed his slave's face. "Better?" he asked.
Legolas looked a moment back at him, then understanding dawned. He nodded. "Much! Though it wasn't bad yet."
Aragorn kissed him on the cheek. "And we do not want it to get bad again. I'm glad." He kissed him deeply. "You were wonderful, Little Leaf. I was growing desperate to have you again."
Legolas didn't reply for a moment. Then, very deliberately, he took his master's face into both hands and kissed him. "Thank you, Estel," he said. "Thank you for waiting."
Aragorn just continued to pet him.
"We need to go back," he said after a moment. "The others will start to miss us soon."
Legolas made to get up, but Aragorn stayed him. "Wait a moment, Little Leaf. There is one more thing..."
He fished with his hand in his pouch for a moment, then he brought the small taer cant(1) out. "I need you to wear this," he said simply.
Legolas stared at the thing, wide eyed and dismayed. Their coupling had been so wonderful, in spite of his hurting thighs and rear, and he had hoped... but obviously he had hoped too much. Desperately, he dared to say: "But--"
Aragorn looked at him, then he shook his head, exasperated. "You do not need to wear it for long," he said. "You can get it out again in half an hour, maybe even before we are back in the camp. But I cannot stay within you as long as I normally would, and so we need to make up for that. Now, will you get up and just obey?"
Shivering, harshly yanked out of his warm afterglow, Legolas obeyed. He rose up from his master's lap, separating their bodies, and stood while his master slipped the hard, unyielding taer cant into him.
It did not hurt; his passage was widened and relaxed enough from their recent lovemaking, and the pleasure staff was rather small and of lesser size than Aragorn's erect member. But it was much more uncomfortable than the hot column of flesh that had just filled him. And the thing was cold, though surprisingly enough not as cold as Legolas had feared.
"Estel! It is... it isn't--" he stammered in surprise.
Aragorn smiled up at him.
"--Not cold?" he retorted. "Well, it shouldn't be. I wore it right under my tunic and close to my body half the day to warm it up."
Legolas bowed his head and stood obediently still while Aragorn fastened the taer cant's straps around him. He told himself he should be grateful. His master had been thoughtful, after all. He had been gentle, and tender. Still...
Aragorn was done with the straps and guided him a step back with a gentle hand on his stomach. He got up and kissed him again. "Do not fret," he said. "You can take it out again soon. But you need to wear it at least half an hour, so we can make sure that my essence in your body can take hold. You may take it out as soon as is convenient after that."
His tone held a certain current of irritation, and Legolas knew he could not risk protesting further. After all, Aragorn could make him wear the thing the whole night, or even during the day's walk, if he was in the mood. Obediently, he bowed his head. "As you wish, master," he replied. "May I... may I dress myself again?"
Aragorn nodded, while he covered himself again. "Yes, do so, Little Leaf," he said. "We have to go back."
Legolas did as he was commanded. It felt awkward to fasten his leggings over the end of the pleasure staff, and he knew it would hamper him in his walking, since his body tried to expel it. Unfortunately, it was an all too well known sensation. In bleak resignation he donned his belt and gear, then his quiver. Then he turned back to his master,who signaled him to start walking. They didn't exchange any further words. Mutely, mood dampened again, Legolas followed his master back to the camp.
_____________ o ____________
Most of the Fellowship had already settled in to sleep when they came back. Just Boromir and Merry, who had the first watch, were still up. Boromir sat near the fire, whetting his sword. He looked up as the Ranger and the Elf entered the camp from their so-called 'scouting mission'.
Merry sat a little to the side of the camp and smoked a pipe. He looked up in alarm when the Ranger and the Elf emerged suddenly and noiselessly out of the bushes, and Aragorn laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Quietly, but anxiously, Merry asked if all was well and if they had found any traces of the enemy; Aragorn gave him a little smile and told him the camp was safe. They exchanged a few more, quiet words before Aragorn walked over to his bedroll. Legolas had gone ahead. Gingerly, the Elf knelt down beside his bedroll and fidgeted with the blanket. He seemed reluctant to shrug out of his quiver. Aragorn squatted down beside him. He exchanged a few quiet words with his companion in that strange, but melodic tongue of theirs, then the Ranger unfastened his belt and placed it - and with it his sword -in easy reach. Afterwards he discarded his own quiver and his other weapons and settled into his bedding.
Legolas knelt beside him for a moment, then he said something inaudible, and after a nod of the Ranger he got up again. He walked back to the edge of the camp and disappeared in the foliage.
Boromir frowned. He could well imagine what the 'scouting mission' of these two had truly been about. But if Legolas and his Ranger had just stolen a moment of privacy to make love, why then was the Elf's demeanor so subdued? And why was he walking so stiffly, as if he were injured again? And what was that Ranger doing simply settling in for sleep when his Elf was clearly uneasy and not well? For days, that so-called heir of Isildur had done everything in his power to fuss over the Elf, and now he simply ignored that the Elf seemed in pain? Had the two of them quarreled out there?
Boromir drew his brows down. Something seemed not right here. He resolved to stay awake until Legolas came back; and in fact it took only about half an hour until the Elf finally reappeared. Now he was walking more easily, but he still didn't settled into his bedroll near his Ranger; instead he walked over to the Hobbit and exchanged a few words, and Merry smiled and got up, apparently relieved from his watch. Legolas did not settle down in the place the Hobbit just had vacated, but stood like a young sapling under the cloudy sky, staring out into the night.
Boromir got up and strolled over to the Elf. "Legolas," he greeted quietly, and the Elf nodded. "Are you well?"
The Elf looked at him, obviously astonished. "Yes I am, Master Boromir, thank you," he said. "I merely need to think." He seemed a bit startled at Boromir's concern.
Boromir sighed. "It is a quiet night," he began.
Legolas gave him a indecipherable look. He did not seem to like the prospect of a conversation. "So it is," he finally said. "So far we have been lucky. But we don't know how long or even if our luck will hold. You should sleep, Boromir of Gondor. We might need your strength very soon."
Boromir made a face at the rebuke.
"Very well, Master Elf," he said a bit coldly. "But do not forget again to wake me for my turn as you did last night! You need some sleep, too, you know!"
The Elf graced him with a smile, though it seemed subdued. "Much less than you humans," the Elf offered. "But I will do so, if you wish."
Boromir raised a brow at him, then he resigned himself to the dismissal and went back to his bedroll.
Who was he to pry any answers from an Elf who was just too arrogant to speak to him?
A bit grumpy, he settled down to sleep.
Still, he could not shake the irritating feeling that something was not right. Legolas had been all right when he followed Aragorn out of the camp this evening. When he came back, he was walking stiffly and gingerly, as he had those first few days of the Quest. And his mood had been subdued, not the easy, joyful one he had shown when they made camp.
Silently, Boromir resolved, when the Elf and the Ranger next left the camp together, to follow them.
_____________ 0 ______________
Unbeknownst to them, they had another watcher.
Gimli, son of Gloin had observed the changed demeanor of the Elf as well, and he had seen the possessive behavior of the Ranger when he told the Elf to follow him. Gimli had made it his task to watch the Elf very closely, to see if he could find another weakness he could use against the flimsy creature. He had not found a lot that he could use, yet he had observed some things that, to his mind, just did not add up.
The arrogant Elf was supposed to be a princeling, yet he was haughty only when he spoke to Gimli. To others, his demeanor always seemed wary, somewhat hesitant, with the possible exception of the Hobbits. And he showed a strange deference to the Ranger. While the black haired human seemed far too concerned with the Elf's health, he also showed a strange air of dominance toward the Elf. And Gimli had not missed the subdued and fearful way the Elf had acted the first few days around that human, and the wary way he still deferred to him most of the time.
And yet the Elf had defended that very human in Elrond's council, and woke nearly every morning when it had not been his turn to take a watch cradled in the Ranger's arms.
It was possible that the Elf was somehow bound to follow the Ranger's commands, but how and why that should be so, Gimli could not guess. And while he was certainly no expert concerning Elves, he did not have the impression that the Elf was acting as untroubled around the human with whom he obviously shared his bedding, as he acted, say, around the Hobbits.
And still, it was quite obvious that the two were lovers.
Was the human the husband of the Elf? Gimli knew some Dwarves in other colonies than Erebor treated their partners nearly as possessions and would not allow them to even speak to others, although surely no stout Dwarven woman would suffer such treatment for long without fighting back(2). He did not know the customs of humans in this, and much less he did know the customs of Elves; nor did he want to. Maybe that Elf was just too frail to hold his own. Yet had that Hobbit friend of his father Gloin, Bilbo, not said that the Ranger was betrothed to some Elven Lady?
Gimli had no idea how to solve this puzzle, but he was certainly determined to solve it. After all, it might hold the key to getting his revenge upon the Elf. He did not know a lot about Elves. Yet since he had to suffer the company of this one, and since he still had a slight to avenge, he was determined to learn about him what he could.
He would continue to watch the Elf and his interaction with the Ranger very closely, indeed.
_____________________ 0 _______________
-- TBC --
(1) taer cant -- Sindarin: 'straight shape'-- short for 'taer cant aniron', straight shape of desire. A pleasure staff or dildo.
(2) This has been completely made up by me. yet it is based on the sentence about Dwarf women in the Appendix A of LOTR: „For Dwarves take only one wife or husband each in their lives and are jealous, as in all matters of their rights." (J.R.R. Tolkien, LOTR, 1955, Harper Collins Paperback Edition 1995, Page 1053. I think, the mentioned jealousy might just lead to some overzealous possessiveness in some Dwarves sometimes, as it does in humans. But I also think Gimli still does not know a lot about humans, at this point.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.