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When he first awoke, he could not quite recall where he was. The ceiling above him was not familiar; nor was the bed he was laying on. The room was too dark to be his own, the bed too short, the scent too unlike the sweet forest breezes of his woodland home.
Legolas frowned, sitting up without his customary elven grace, as all the hurts of his body sought to make themselves known simultaneously. He loosed a soundless gasp, fingers fluttering to trace his tightly bound ribs - bandages?
What- Oh. Ai Elbereth! He remembered - he remembered all! He had made it - he was in Erebor, then.
Legolas took a deep, shuddering breath, burying his face in his hands, fingers twining to grip the roots of his hair and tug sharply.
The physical pain from his scalp did nothing to dim the aching chasm of agony within his heart.
How could his father do this? His own father, by Valar! The father he had tried so hard to please for the long years of his life. As a son, as warrior, as prince, as heir.
Legolas' lips twisted bitterly. Well, it seemed as though he had failed in all. What use was he, then! A failed elf, a creature to be pitied, too unworthy to grovel on his knees before the Eldar.
His fingers found the harsh brand cruelly burned on his cheek. It, too, had been carefully bandaged. Legolas trailed his hands over the area, pressing slightly and hissing in pain at the sharp flare of pain.
Warm, calloused hands covered his trembling ones, gently guiding them away from his marred face, down to rest harmlessly upon the bed.
Legolas stiffened, gazing straight forward. He could feel the hot flush work its way up to his cheeks, to the tips of his ears. Eyes gleaming too brightly, he stubbornly struggled to maintain his facade of calm.
But he could not. Gimli was here, his dwarf. The beloved scent surrounded him, even as a strong, muscled torso pressed reassuringly against his ramrod-straight back. An arm surrounded him, a soft beard brushed his shoulder and back. Gentle fingers trailed through his hair, delicately combing, untangling, and it was this silent declaration of love that made him break at last.
"How can you stand to touch me?" Legolas whispered, harsh voice escaping numb lips. He fisted his hands into the sheets, squeezing, till his knuckles whitened. It helped little to take away the pain. "How can you stand to be near me? Marred, branded that I am. An outcast to all realms, unwanted by my own Ada."
If his voice shook and broke on the last word, Gimli said nothing. In fact, there was silence in the room after the elf's outburst, no sound except for the soft sound of breathing.
The silence dragged, and Legolas began to despair. Were all his fears, his nightmares true? Did his one love not want him anymore? Had he finally seen the failure that he was?
Even as his face silently crumpled in defeat, he pulled away from the warm arms. Did Gimli pity him now? Was this a last kindness before he was to be turned away, to wander the wilds before he faded from heartbreak and grief?
Then, the arms tightened about him like steel bands, crushing him to the figure behind. Legolas gasped out a breathless cry of relief, before he was turned and hugged within an inch of his life.
Crying out softly, the elf rested his head on his dwarf's shoulder, tears trickling noiselessly down his face. All the world was awash in a haze of noise, and it took awhile before Legolas could hear his own rambling words.
"Oh Gimli, Gimli, meleth-nin, I had thought myself forsaken by all! He-I- He refused me!" And here, Legolas looked up, eyes wide and confused like a little elfling's, tears glistening upon his fair cheek. "He did not even hear me- I had not even said anything and he was prepared- He had prepared this even before I had told him, Gimli! Why? Was I such a disappointment to him? I had always only strived to be a faithful son."
Legolas shuddered hard,tears rushing anew. "A faithful son, a loyal warrior. I asked nothing but a little of his love, and even that was too much! Gimli-nin, my Gimli, why was it so? Am I so unlovable? That even my father would cast me out in shame? Perhaps it is true..." he mused, despair leaking into his words. "Perhaps I corrupt everything I touch. N-"
"NO, Legolas!" Gimli interrupted, stopping the wretched, tormented flow of words from the grieved elf. "No. It is not your fault. If anything-it was mine. I had not thought to ask about your father, about how he would react to your return home, when I knew you had not parted on good terms! Mahal, Legolas, I would have traded every forsaken piece of stone under this mountain to have spared you that."
His voice had softened, so much that Legolas was hard-pressed not to weep from the sheer amount of tenderness on his voice. Gimli had returned to stroking one sure hand from the top of his head to his waist.
Held as securely, as lovingly as an elfling, Legolas' great, tearing sobs had quietened, leaving him feeling empty once more.
"It was not you, my One, my Jewel of Jewels. Forgive me, but Thranduil.... your father... he is worse than an orc! By Aule, I would have smote him down with my axes, were I there with you! And when you collapsed in my arms in the throne room... I thought I had lost you," Gimli murmured, voice pained beyond measure.
"Ahh, my Heart. Would that I were able to spare you this pain."
Legolas smiled a trifle tearfully, having regained much of his usual composure, it would seem. However, to Gimli's love-struck eyes, the pain still lingered all too clearly upon that ethereal elven face.
"How your words warm my heart, meleth-nin," Legolas sighed, eyes closing, before they shot open in horror.
"Ai, Gimli! Ada- adar-" Legolas stuttered, bowing his head at the pain that the word had dealt him. "M-my father... he told me that all the kingdoms of import would be informed of this! Was Erebor not? Is that why I have not yet been cast out?"
Even as he spoke, Legolas watched his dwarf's face darken. He instantly regretted the words, wishing to erase the crease in his beloved's brow.
"Nay!" Gimli finally responded. "Heralds did come. There was a council held by the King and his advisors. I... reminded them of our places as two of the Nine Walkers."
In other words, he had not-so-subtly reminded them of their current status as a hero, and how much they were owed.
"Meleth-nin, you should not have!" Legolas cried, looking distressed. "Ai, I would not have you hunted from your home as well, for defending a banished elf!"
"And a daft one, too!" Gimli was quick to retort, ignoring Legolas' half outraged, half amused look. "After all the wars we've fought, facing down Sauron's army at the Black Gates themselves, you think I'd abandon you over a little thing like banishment?"
Legolas' stunned look melted into a sweet smile, as he curled closer to Gimli, much like an oversized cat. He sighed, joyously soaking in the comforting motions as Gimli resumed his petting.
"What have I done to deserve you, Gimli-nin," Legolas breathed, full heart nearly overflowing. The dratted dwarf seemed to refuse to listen to all his arguments - not that Legolas wanted Gimli to leave... but was it not right that the dwarf be warned about him before he decided to stay, to pledge his life, his fate to him?
Legolas could not understand. Twice he had tried to warn Gimli, yet each time, the dwarf had refused to reason. His dulled, paine eyes searched Gimli's, seeing nothing but resolution and pain and oh... love.
"Daft elf," Gimli returned, holding him tightly, as though afraid he would disappear. Legolas returned the hug, craving the loving contact, terrified that this was all a dream. "Told you too much singing would addle your brain! You're stuck with me, lad," Gimli added, giving Legolas a stern glance when it seemed as though the exiled prince would argue. "Nothing to do but accept it."
Legolas breathed a shaky laugh, before gently untangling himself. "What do we do now, meleth-nin? I-I would not cause trouble for you."
Gimli snorted, rolling his eyes. "Trouble? Oh, laddie, I've had nothing but trouble since I met you! Orcs and battles and incessant singing-"
"Those were no fault of mine!" Legolas protested, amused and side-tracked. "And I do not sing incessantly. See, I am not singing now!"
"Aye," Gimli grumbled. "Thank Aule for that!"
"Gimli!" Legolas cried, swiftly turning and pouncing on the dwarf, playfully wrestling on the bed. His clear, fluid laughter rang through the room, even as Gimli gently pushed him onto his back, excruciatingly careful of his ribs.
Legolas gazed up at the dwarf who was straddling him, elven eyes shining with adoration. Gimli's face softened, before he lowered his head, gently brushing their lips together in a tender kiss.
Legolas gasped, wrapping his arms around the solid figure of his dwarf, arching upwards into the kiss as his blood heated.
"Meleth-nin!" Legolas gasped, trying to urge him closer. He pouted in frustration as Gimli refused to be budged, before widening his eyes pleadingly in a manner he knew that Gimli could never resist.
But resist, Gimli did. He groaned in utter frustration, before rearing away and sprawling next to Legolas, reaching up to cover those big, pleading eyes.
"Mahal, stop it you dratted creature!"
Legolas chuckled, silver laughter spilling out, before his joyful expression once more creased into one of utter melancholy, with nothing else, now, to command his attention.
Banished... Unwanted... Cast out... He was a wood elf without his woods, an elf without a home. Where, now, would he go? Who would accept an exile?
He would never travel to Gondor, for fear of making the situation harder for Estel.... and also in fear that Estel would comply with his... his father's demands.
Outcast. Never belonging again.
A warm hand cupped his cheeks, driving away his worries and insecurities for a moment. He turned his head, golden hair spilling across the sheets, as he gazed at Gimli,despair tinging his fair features. He wanted to speak, to explain, to ask for guidance, comfort.... But when he opened his mouth, no words emerged.
Gimli's eyes glistened with warmth - Ai, such warmth, so that Legolas felt as if the dwarf held the very sun within his eyes. For a creature of stone, Gimli was remarkably alive. As alive as the trees in his hom- in Greenwood, who he had talked to, played with, for most of his youth.
And then, he was banished, and only Gimli was left.
“My Jewel,” Gimli’s low voice rumbled through the quiet room. “Fret not. The King has given us leave to remain in Erebor indefinitely. We’ll stay until you’re well,” he added, sensing Legolas’ hesitance to impose. “And, well, after that, we’ll see. A new day, eh? We’ll take it a day at a time.”
Legolas smiled - it contained none of its usual easy brilliance. A trifle tremulous, a little sad, and more than a little in love. But he burrowed his head against Gimli’s broad shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing the morose thoughts away.
For now, he had Gimli.
And he was content.