Lost
by Wednesdayschild

Gimli had seen Legolas in just about every state of being possible. He had seen the elf angry, Legolas was breath-taking when he was angry; he had seen Legolas sorrowing, equally breath-taking; he had seen the elf completely wanton and undone, his personal favorite; but never had he seen the elf...lost. That was the best description Gimli could come up with for Legolas' present state: lost.

Gimli did not like it. Legolas should not be lost. He should not be sitting utterly still and staring off into the west. Toward the sea, Gimli knew. He had tried to speak to the elf but had gotten no response. None. Legolas had not even seemed to hear him.

That had frightened him to the point of seeking Gandalf's help. The wizard had turned out to be no help at all, stating that the Sea Longing would haunt Legolas until he sailed and that there was nothing to do but wait until Legolas managed to wrestle it into the back of his mind again. Gimli found that to be a wholly inadequate response. He was as patient as the next dwarf, but he was not willing to watch his lover, and dearest friend, suffer so without at least trying to help him. But, what to do?

Perhaps, he thought, just perhaps, giving Legolas something physical to distract him would anchor him and help him fight. He walked over to the bench Legolas was occupying, studying the elf intently. Legolas weighed far less than a Man of similar height, not that there were many of those besides Aragorn and Eomer, and Gimli felt certain that he could carry him if he had to. The problem would be making sure not to knock any portion of the elf's anatomy into the floor or walls. He was too tall for Gimli to sling him over his shoulder as he would have another dwarf, perhaps if he cradled him like a child? Or, perhaps he should see if he could urge the elf to walk first?

"Come, Legolas, let's go back to our room." He took the elf by the arms and urged him to stand, surprised that Legolas complied. Carefully, he guided his lover down the hall from the small sitting room's window thankful that they were already on the upper level of the house and that getting Legolas up the stairs wouldn't be an issue. The elf's expression never wavered from the blank look he had worn for the past several hours, so frighteningly different from the expression he wore while in reverie.

Once in the room, Gimli guided the elf onto the bed.

"Sit down here, lad, and let's get you more comfortable." He knelt and removed the light shoes the elf wore, and then stood again and removed the shirt Legolas wore. The archer resisted not at all. Sighing, Gimli manoevered his lover into what looked to him like a comfortable sitting position on the bed they shared. "I'll be right back, Legolas. I just want to get some food in case you're hungry later."

He locked the door behind him, no sense in taking needless chances that the elf would wander off although he knew a locked door would never stop Legolas if he was truly determined to leave. Moving quickly, he descended to the ground level and made his way into the kitchen. As he entered, Sam looked up with a smile.

"Is he any better?"

"Nay, there's no change. I'm going to stay with him until he snaps out of it, but I thought it might be a good idea to have something for him to eat later, if he wants to." Gimli shrugged, trying not to sound as concerned as he really was. No sense in alarming Sam, who had enough to deal with worrying over Frodo.

"That's a good idea," the hobbit replied, wiping the flour off his hands and reaching for a tray. "I thought it might be nice for him to have some of his favorites when he's feeling better, so I made some of that spiced dough he likes, and also some stewed apples. There's some bacon left, and some pickles, and I just took a loaf of bread out of the oven a while ago, so it should be cool enough to slice. And I made some more of that honeybutter that he's so fond of." Sam laid the items he had named out on the tray as he spoke, shooting a pointed glance at Gimli. Should have known he wouldn't fool Samwise for a second.

"Thanks, Sam. I know Legolas'll appreciate it." Gimli took the tray from him.

"You take good care of our elf, Gimli, and have the sense to send for Strider if he doesn't get better shortly. I know Gandalf thinks there's nothing to be done but wait, but I'll bet Strider won't agree." Sam turned back to his dough, but the set of his shoulders told Gimli that he had better be reporting an improvement in Legolas' condition soon or the diminutive gardener would be off to the Citadel to fetch the king, regardless of what the wizard might say.

"I will," he promised, meeting Sam's gaze evenly. The gardener nodded in understanding and Gimli headed back to his lover.

Gimli set the tray on the small table by the window in their room and locked the door. He could smell the bread, and hoped that that would add another stimulus to pull the elf back from wherever he had wandered to. Stripping down to his breeches, he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself behind Legolas, so that the elf rested with his back against Gimli's wide chest. Legolas' head rested against his shoulder, his right eartip tantalizingly close to the dwarf's mouth.

"Legolas, listen to me. I'm going to try to pull you out of this the only way I can figure. I don't want to do anything you don't wish, so if you tell me to stop, I will." He waited a moment to see if the elf would respond. He did not. Sighing, he took the eartip into his mouth, sucking on it gently as his hands roamed over the elf's smooth chest.

He nibbled, licked, and sucked both the ear and the side of Legolas' neck, checking frequently for a reaction. The elf's expression did not change, but his body responded readily. Gimli slid a hand down the satiny skin of his lover's belly and ran his fingers lightly over the ridge that had appeared beneath the laces of the elf's breeches. A faint moan came from deep in the elf's throat and his hips shifted upwards, seeking more contact. Deftly, he untied the laces, grinning a bit at the sigh that escaped Legolas as he was freed from the tight garment. He peeled the breeches aside, pausing a moment out of habit to admire the view, and raised his hand to his mouth, licking it to lubricate it before reaching down to grasp the elf's erect member. He did not wish to hurt the elf, after all.

A strangled gasp, and Legolas thrust up into his fist eagerly. Gimli set a pace much more brisk than he would if Legolas were aware and participating. No teasing, just pleasure to draw his elf back to him, remind him of what he was missing, as it were. Legolas shifted restlessly, turning his face into Gimli's neck, his panted breaths stirring the hair of Gimli's beard and the strands that had escaped his everyday braid. Strong hands suddenly gripped Gimli's thighs, not painfully but enough to anchor the elf and give him purchase to thrust harder.

Needy whimpers and frantic thrusting signaled the elf's impending orgasm. Gimli reached down with his other hand and cupped the elf's sack while swirling his thumb over the head of Legolas' arousal at the top of his stroke. Legolas thrust upward hard, his back arching and a single word in Sindarin issued forth from his lips in a cry. Wet warmth flowed over Gimli hand, spurting nearly up to Legolas' chin. He collapsed breathlessly against Gimli, and the dwarf shifted his dry hand up, supporting Legolas' weight effortlessly.

The elf lay still, his chest heaving, for a long moment before half-turning in Gimli's embrace to twine a hand into the dwarf's thick beard. Gimli held him without comment until the elf's spent seed began to cool.

"Here, lad, let me get something to clean us both off." Gimli shifted Legolas onto the pillows, careful to fluff them underneath him. The long fingers slowly released their hold on his beard and he glanced down into gray eyes that were drooping with satiated weariness, but mercifully aware. Legolas glanced down and back up quickly.

"You are still...."

"Don't mind me, lad. We've time enough to see to me later. I want to get you cleaned up and fed first." Legolas nodded in acquiesence and settled back onto the pillows, confirming Gimli's suspicion that he was not quite himself yet.

Wetting a soft cloth in the wash basin, he crossed back over to Legolas and cleaned him, tucking the blanket up over his chest afterwards. He knew Legolas was not bothered by cool air in his normal state, but he was not so certain if that were true of his current state. Besides which, he had learned over the course of his relationship with the elf that Legolas liked curling up under a blanket. After finishing his own ablutions and tossing the rag into a basket, he picked up the table, tray and all and carried it to the bedside. He crawled into the bed next to Legolas and pulled the table close enough for him to reach without leaning. As soon as he was settled, Legolas curled around him and he grinned in relief. That was more like his elf!

"Sam made stewed apples and spiced dough for you," Gimli told him, one hand rubbing Legolas' bare arm.

"Mmmmm, do I smell bacon as well?"

"Yes, and there's cheese, bread, honeybutter, pickles, and I think some of that ale that we found the other day that you liked." Gimli replied with a chuckle. He had been told that elves lived on air, but Legolas certainly did not, especially when it came to his favorite foods. Combine food and sex, and the elf was over the moon. "Sit up a bit and let me feed you." Legolas darted a startled look at him before smiling sweetly and complying.

"So long as you remember to feed yourself as well, meleth. There seems to be enough there to share."

"Of course," Gimli said, holding a piece of bacon to the elf's lips. Legolas accepted it, licking the dwarf's fingers in the process. Gimli grinned at him and offered a piece of sharp cheese next. He managed to get a good amount of food into the elf, and enough into himself to forestall any protests by Legolas. The elf behaved fairly well, confining his teasing to licking Gimli's fingers and snuggling close in between bites. In truth, the dwarf would have been surprised if his lover had been up to anything more than that. He seemed drained, more tired than Gimli had seen him since the aftermath of the Battle of the Black Gate. He supposed in a sense Legolas had been battling, and he frowned at the thought.

"Gimli?" Legolas was looking at him with concern. He sighed.

"I won't make light of it, lad. You scared the shite out of me earlier," he said bluntly. Legolas winced.

"I am sorry, I did not wish to."

"I know that, it's not your fault. At least now I know how to pull you back."

"You certainly do," the elf agreed, blushing slightly. He shook his head as Gimli offered him the last piece of bacon and Gimli popped it into his own mouth. As he chewed, he watched a huge yawn overtake the elf.

"Why don't you rest for awhile," he suggested, kissing the elf's smooth brow.

"Very well," Legolas agreed, eyes already glazing a bit. "Will you stay at least until I am in reverie?"

"Of course," Gimli replied, wrapping his other arm securely around the elf's torso. Legolas smiled, burying his face into Gimli's neck with a sigh. His breathing slowed almost immediately and the dwarf was certain he was in the state that was the elven version of sleep. He continued to hold him until Legolas rolled over in his sleep and curled up. Gimli slipped out of bed and tucked the blanket securely around his lover before dressing. He picked up the tray and headed down to return it to the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, he was surprised to see Aragorn sitting in the chair Gandalf usually occupied by the hearth, talking quietly with Sam as the hobbit stirred the large pot that hung over the fire. Both looked up as he entered and he saw Sam survey the tray with satisfaction.

"He's better then?" the hobbit asked, smiling with relief.

"Aye, but he's worn out. Aragorn, I'd feel better about it if you had a look at him."

"I knew something was wrong when I saw him yesterday," the king of Gondor said around the stem of his pipe, "but he insisted that he was fine."

"He wasn't," Gimli said succinctly, putting the dirty dishes into the basin and placing the tray back into its place on the shelf. "I think he thought he could fight it off like he usually does, but it was just too much for him to fight on his own this time." He met Aragorn's eyes squarely. "I think he shouldn't be alone again." Aragorn winced, but nodded.

"I think you are right, however difficult it will be to convince him of that fact."

"Oh, it might not be as much of a fight as you might think, Strider." Sam grinned slightly. "So long as you leave the telling of him to Gimli." Aragorn arched a brow in a manner uncannily like Master Elrond and Gimli could feel his face reddening. The king grinned.

"Finally!" He looked at Sam. "Who won the bet?" Sam's grin widened.

"Merry."

"Rascals, both of them," Gimli growled, but he could not help grinning as he did.

"Indeed, and we would have them no other way," Aragorn agreed, emptying his pipe into the hearth. "Shall we go up, or do you need a moment to put Legolas to rights?" Gimli felt himself flush again, much to his chagrin and Aragorn's amusement.

"He's decent," Gimli said, shrugging. "And you know he hasn't a modest bone in his body even if he weren't." He grinned. "Besides, it's not as if he'd turn your head, anyway, since we all know you favor them dark haired and female." It was Aragorn's turn to color, but he laughed as well, acknowledging the truth of Gimli's statement.

"Lead the way, Master Dwarf."

"He looks tired, but his breathing is normal and his heartbeat is strong," Aragorn said, sotto voice. "I will want to look in on him again in the morning, if I can slip away long enough."

"Are you statisfied now, Naneth?" Legolas asked, giving Gimli a mischievous, one-eyed glance from his place, burrowed into the soft pillow. "If so, I would like to return to my rest." Aragorn chuckled.

"I daresay there's not much wrong with him now, Gimli, that rest will not cure."

"Aye, go back to sleep. I'll be up later with another tray." Aragorn passed through the door ahead of him and Gimli paused in the doorway, turning back to the elf. "Wanker." Legolas snickered and threw a pillow at the grinning dwarf as he ducked out and closed the door. Aragorn met him at the foot of the stairs.

"Wanker?"

"Inside joke, Aragorn. It means..."

"I am aware of its meaning, Gimli," the king replied, grinning. "I have simply never heard it used as a term of endearment before."

"Well, now you have," the dwarf stated. "And since we're talking about words, perhaps you can satisfy my curiosity about an elven term I've heard recently." He repeated the word that Legolas had cried out earlier, not a bit surprised to see Aragorn's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. The king looked amused.

"It is a strong obscenity. The word in the Common Tongue that would be the closest translation is 'fuck'." He looked to Gimli as if he was struggling not to laugh.

Gimli grinned and patted his friend on the arm paternally as he stepped around him, making his way into the kitchen again. He had a tray to prepare, and he wanted to make sure that it held foods that would build Legolas' stamina up again. After all, he would hate to turn down a request of that nature from his elf.

The End (for now)