Work Text:
The night embraced Legolas lovingly, its warmth seeped into his bones and cured the sickness of home that he felt in his heart for the briefest of moments.
Legolas felt the urge to turn back to the palace behind him, to return to the festivities and his friends who by now must have noticed his absence and were searching for him- and no doubt Gimli would have been wanting a rematch on their drinking game. The memory caused a strange warmth to unfurl in his chest that he fervently tried to ignore in favour of venturing further, his need to revel and reassure himself in the lack of darkness that had plagued them for months became his sole focus. He walked with no destination through the trees with soft footfalls and jumped between the branches soundlessly as the wind passed through the leaves. Legolas sang back to their calls as his hands rested reverently on rough bark when he flitted by. He was a flicker of light amongst the shadows that cloaked him fondly, creating safe pathways for him to follow and explore all that it covered. The expanse of roots beneath the Earth that grew far into the ground echoed out a warning to Legolas when he paused to take a breath of the night air, to bask in the nature that filled his sense and reminded him of home.
His ears pricked at the oncoming sounds of Men.
Despite the warning that was whispered to him on the breeze, Legolas approached the group to find Men who were weary from battle camped on the treeline for the evening. The light of the stars grew harsh when Legolas stepped out from the shadows which curled protectively around his shoulders, as if they wanted to pull him back into its depths before eventually falling away.
-
Silence reigned in the forest. As if it was holding its breath.
Legolas’ feet were heavier on the earth than they had been once he left the Men and their camp. The light from their crude campfire was snuffed out almost instantly, dousing the area in black.
Dirt and leaves clung to Legolas’ figure as he travelled back the way he had come, though his hands now rested on the trees around him for strength and a different comfort than what he had originally sought. He didn’t leap between the branches, but instead followed the clear path splayed before him; the branches had turned gnarled and sharp around him as if to ward off others. Legolas was once again reminded of his home where the trees had always had the uncanny ability of protecting himself and his kin. There was a thrum of anger from the ground that reverberated through Legolas’ every step on his behalf as he was led to a small riverbed. He collapsed at the side of it gratefully, uncaring of the mud that would cake his knees before he plunged his hands into the icy water, washing away the blood.
Stars reemerged from behind the clouds and lit the clearing in a white light while Legolas stared down at his rippling reflection. A ragged wound ran the length of his face. It had only just missed his eye, saving his sight by sheer luck. His fingers ghosted over the wound, and he winced when one got too close before pulling back. He ripped a strip of cloth from his tunic and dunked it in the water, rinsing it slightly before he began to clear away the smears of blood from his face and thought almost dazedly about what he was to do next.
The forest grew thick and impenetrable to offer the elf privacy, and the shadows that had once held him close now cloaked him completely in darkness, hiding him from prying eyes.
-
The light from the stars guided Legolas back to the heart of Minas Tirith, though he now avoided their shafts of light and walked amongst the shadows.
The hood of his cloak blended him even further into the night until he was indistinguishable from the trees themselves. Once he reached the building, he moved silently through the corridors, careful to avoid the crowds that he should have been partaking in, celebrating the war being won and the recent coronation, instead of being scarred by a blade. With no detection, Legolas eventually happened upon the room he had been searching for. The royal chambers.
He drew the hood of his cloak further over his face, hiding half his features in darkness when he knocked thrice upon the door. It opened to reveal Lady Arwen.
“I thought you would be celebrating with the others, Legolas. Please, come in.”
The room was decorated with flickering candles and a warm hearth had been lit that doused the room in a yellow hue. Arwen followed Legolas, closing the door firmly behind them both when she noticed that Legolas had drifted to the open window- he had yet to withdraw the hood of his cloak, but she remained silent about the odd action for the moment. The view of the moon was breathtaking as Legolas approached, but he found he could not admire its beauty in such a painful moment even when it shone down on him, attempting to illuminate his face despite his valiant effort to hide away from its light. Arwen allowed him a moment to himself as she gathered the book she had been reading and marked its page.
Eventually, she turned to him. “What do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
Legolas drew in a breath. “I am taking my leave.”
Arwen’s eyes bored into the back of the cloaked man in confusion as she frowned at his words. “So suddenly?” Legolas finally tore his gaze from the window.
The truth teetered on his lips; he bit it back. His injury twinged in pain as the reminder of the events he had lived through not long ago. Legolas knew he would find no more comfort or safety within the walls of Minas Tirith. He wished to be home in the Woodland Realm and amongst his own kin who would never raise a harmful hand against him. Though his heart ached at the idea of leaving behind the fellowship, of leaving the hobbits whose company he had grown fond of without a proper goodbye, and of leaving Aragorn so soon after his coronation with the war still fresh on everyone’s minds and with new responsibilities- and of leaving Gimli. The mere thought made his throat close and any words useless. He didn’t want to ruin his love’s celebration with foolish emotions. Instead, he steeled himself and tried to ignore the already blossoming and familiar longing in his chest- it was time Legolas grew used to them being parted. He had already resigned himself to living without his unrequited love.
“The time has come.” He stated with a heavy sigh that betrayed his turbulent emotions. “I have overstayed my welcome.”
Arwen smoothed down her dress, mind whirling with information. “Where will you go?”
“My father’s realm. It is high time I returned.” He stated simply, providing no room for persuasion. Arwen couldn’t bring forth a response that would change his mind. “I came to ask a favour of you, my Lady. I would ask of you to inform Gimli and Aragorn of my departure in the morning. Let them have their celebration tonight free of any troubles.” the words felt heavy in the air between them.
“You hope it will dissuade any attempts to follow you.”
Legolas nodded at Arwen’s words. She could feel that something was wrong but could not pinpoint the problem despite her efforts. “Why are you leaving us so without warning?”
A beat of silence passed before Legolas stepped towards Arwen.
His hand rose to the hood that had obscured his features from her eyes their entire meeting and finally pushed it away. He didn’t know why he was willing to bear her eyes on him, but it felt just for what he was asking of Arwen to at least provide her with some kind of reason for his request. It revealed a wound that ran across one side of his face, it travelled through an eyebrow and under his eye to mid-cheek. Arwen’s lips parted in surprise at the sight of it, knowing it had not been there mere hours ago when he had left to go for a walk within the woods. Legolas stared resolutely past her head at the orange flames of a candle that was almost burnt out.
The injury had already begun to heal itself, but it remained red and painful if provoked.
“Oh, Legolas...” Her voice was hardly above a whisper, but Legolas flinched back as if Arwen had struck him across the face. He did not want her pity. “Stay. Please.” Her face was earnest when Legolas’ eyes focussed on her. “Speak with Aragorn and Gimli yourself. They will listen to what has happened. Together you can-” Legolas was not swayed by her words and a haunted, distant look began to form in his eyes as the recent memories pushed themselves forwards. Arwen’s heart burned with anger at the idea of someone attacking her own kin. A friend. “- or speak with my father. Lord Elrond will not stand for what has been done to you.”
He shook his head, eyes downcast. “It is done.”
His voice was hollow as his mind drifted to the bodies that he had left breathing and alive, but significantly beaten for their defilement. He feared what they would have done to him had he not fought back. “The scar will remain, as will the memory.”
He paused to lift his hood once again. Arwen stood helplessly and watched him.
“Legolas. Reconsider.” She pled one final time.
“Men, even in the time of celebration and peace, cannot put aside their petty prejudices.” He spoke lowly, voice tinged by hurt and pain. He turned his head slightly to address Arwen who listened raptly to his words. “They targeted me not for my elven nature, but for the one who commands my heart. I will not stay and put them in harm’s way. I will not have what was done to me be done to them. I will bear my decision and take my leave.”
He straightened and bowed his head. “It has been a pleasure, my Lady.”
Arwen said nothing as he left, the door closing with finality after him.
-
Morning approached fast and Arwen slept very little the rest of the night.
She resorted to wandering Minas Tirith, thinking back over Legolas’ departure through her mind before it was time for breakfast. Both Gimli and Aragorn were already seated when Arwen joined them. Their eyes had been drawn to the final chair that remained void of the person who usually resided in it. Arwen watched as Gimli’s face fell into puzzlement and Aragorn rose to greet her, though worry lingered in his eyes for his missing friend, the paranoia of war still clinging to him. Before they could speak, Arwen did.
“Legolas left Minas Tirith and Gondor last evening, to return to the Woodland Realm.”
The announcement stunned the table into silence. The knife that Gimli had been using to butter a piece of bread was dropped unceremoniously onto the plate with a clatter. “He has left!? Without a goodbye?” He squawked in outrage before muttering to himself furiously as his cheeks turned a bright red in anger beneath his beard. Aragorn frowned deeply in his seat.
“What prompted him to do so? He made no mention of leaving so soon.”
Arwen’s eyes remained fixed on Gimli who continued to stare at the empty chair as if he was trying to will Legolas into existence. He sputtered out half words and sentences, unable to order his thoughts and emotions enough to communicate them. Aragorn turned to Arwen.
“I will not disclose the information Legolas entrusted me with.” She said simply, turning to the food laid before her with no appetite. “But he left with good intentions.”
Gimli finally stopped glowering at the piece of furniture across from him and cleared his throat, pushing his seat back. “Well then! He will simply have to explain it to me himself then, won’t he? Ha!” He rose to his feet and turned to both Aragorn and Arwen to bid them farewell before he disappeared into the rest of the castle, cursing about stupid elves under his breath as he went to pack his few belongings and begin his journey. He refused to let the elf slip away so easily after everything they had been through together- Gimli thought he at least deserved a face-to-face farewell. The cheek! He would give that elf a piece of his mind once he found him.
Arwen took Aragorn’s hand in her own and smiled reassuringly. “All will be well.”
-
Gimli was laden with provisions when he set off from Minas Tirith and towards the Woodland Realm on a strong pony. It wasn’t as swift as when he rode with Legolas, but it would do.
The journey was one he did not think that he would make alone since he and Legolas had often spoke about the beauty that was the Woodland Realm and had made plans to take the journey together once everything had calmed. It pained him to know that Legolas had potentially ridden the same path alone for whatever reason, and now he was having to take it alone too. Already he felt himself missing the dratted elf and he was left with ample time to think of nothing but the elf and ponder the endless reasonings of why Legolas could have left so abruptly-
Did he finally realise the affections Gimli held for him? And fled? The thought made dread flare in Gimli’s stomach and made his decision to chase the elf waver.
Still, he pressed on. Travelling as far and fast as he could until the journey was interrupted.
A group of elves appeared from the treeline armed with weapons. Their expressions were hostile and less than welcoming as usual. Gimli had to forcefully swallow back his ire at being delayed. Despite his many protests, they insisted on escorting Gimli the rest of the short distance to their Realm which also meant King Thranduil’s throne room.
-
Thranduil was sat on his throne when Gimli entered. He wore a stormy expression, and he stared off to the side, a sign of an occupied mind. When he faced Gimli, he forced his features into a mask of indifference but worry still lingered behind despite the attempt.
He was stiffly polite when he addressed Gimli, and the odd interaction was enough to make Gimli thoroughly confused and unsettled- he was happy to be quickly released and sent off towards the royal gardens without so much as an explanation. Thranduil had been tempted to send the dwarf back out of his realm, especially now when his son had returned almost gravelly injured. But he had resisted, and instead recounted the stories Legolas had regaled him with when he arrived of a certain redheaded dwarf and the perilous journey of the fellowship. The dwarf, strangely, had value to Legolas and Thranduil was willing to do just about anything to lift his son’s spirit- even if it meant entertaining a dwarf of all things.
Though he did give the dwarf a simple, threatening warning before his departure.
“If any more harm befalls my son, I will kill you where you stand, regardless of if it is little from the ground.” Gimli hardly cared for the insult but did not give it much protest when his brain latched onto the implication that Legolas had an injury that he was unaware of.
-
A familiar voice drifted on the wind to meet Gimli’s ears. The cadence and gentle song soothed him greatly and he called out to it unbidden, “Legolas?”
He hurried around a tree, the adrenaline that had spurred him on his journey finally subsiding when he saw the elf stood in the centre of a clearing on a well-worn path that was decorated with plants and flowers of various names that were unknown to the dwarf. Legolas did not turn around to greet him. Instead, his shoulders had hunched themselves together at the call of his name that had broken through the sounds of the garden, leaving only his back visible to the searching eyes of the dwarf. “Gimli.” He whispered; despite his confusion the word was infused with a barely concealed yearning. He gazed out at the trees and shook his head, “You should not have come.” The urge to turn was almost all-consuming. Legolas wanted nothing more than to see Gimli again even after so little time apart, to reach out and feel the closeness that they had shared on their journey across Middle Earth one more time.
Gimli huffed and dropped his pack to the ground, careful to avoid crushing any plant life.
“Is that how you elves greet guests? And I thought orcs were ill-mannered.” He sniffed.
The teasing lilt and familiar gruff voice chipped as Legolas’ already shaky resolve. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from facing his friend. He didn't want to frighten the dwarf or give him cause to look upon him with disgust nor pity. Legolas didn’t think his heart could take such a reaction. His eyes burned as he blinked back a round of unbidden tears.
“It is not safe for a dwarf to be in elven company.”
Gimli grew irritated and impatient that Legolas had yet to show his face. It made worry gnaw away at his insides even more intently. He scoffed. “Don’t be daft, elf. I once thought you intelligent. Now, face me if we are to have a conversation as friends and equals. I will not converse with the back of your head a moment longer!” He scowled.
Legolas could not deny Gimli anything he requested. Especially when he desired the same. His resolve crumbled to dust. “My dear friend.” He breathed. “You may not like what you see.”
The odd statement confused Gimli until he caught sight of the clear scar on Legolas’ pale cheek as he turned around, his feet silent on the path. Legolas refused to meet his gaze in fear of seeing the pity that he had glimpsed from Arwen when she had first looked upon him the night that he left. “That injury.” Gimli said lowly as he trudged forwards. “Did not come from the final battle.” His eyes blazed and Legolas’ own eyes locked onto them unwillingly, any breath leaving him at the sight of the raging anger Gimli wore openly.
“Who laid hands on you, amrâlimê?”
Legolas dropped to one knee as if he had been holding the weight of the world on his shoulders and had finally given in- Gimli noted that even his exhaustion was elegant. Relief flowed through Legolas when Gimli did not push him away but came closer until they were almost chest to chest, and he felt foolish and guilty for thinking his dwarf would have had any other reaction. He dropped his head to his chest, closing his eyes for a moment as a breeze passed through the garden like it was releasing a long-held breath. “It was the hands of Men.” Legolas confessed. “They attacked when I was walking with the trees, admiring the stars and missing home.” Gimli’s fists clenched around air as he itched to grab his axe and land many a blow before he forced himself to relax. He instead reached out calloused fingers across the deep gash that marred his love’s face before he realised what he was doing. An apology rushed to pass his lips for the inappropriate action when Legolas leaned into the contact, sighing with something close to contentment. Gimli placed his hand more solidly against the cool skin.
“I will hunt them down for daring to lay a hand on you.” The vow soothed Legolas.
“I defended myself, left some nasty injuries of my own but they lived. My father has already sent out a scout of elves and the Men will soon receive punishment. My father will not be as gentle as I was.” He spoke lowly, eyes distant for a moment before he came back to himself and looked up at Gimli, “But I appreciate your defence of me, meleth nîn.”
“Is this why you left me?” Gimli asked. Not them, nor the fellowship or Aragorn. But himself.
Legolas’ cheeks burned with shame. “I was not fair to you. I thought your reaction would be one of pity or disgust but that was not the case. I am sorry for doubting you.” He pulled back from Gimli, feeling as if he did not deserve the comforts of his dwarf. He sat fully on the ground, hands dropping to the grass beneath him so that his fingers waded through its blades in a repeated, calming motion. “And I did not want to put you in danger by remaining.”
Gimli frowned. “Why would I be in danger?”
No words passed Legolas as he internally cursed himself for the slip of his tongue.
“Aye. Were you attacked because of me?” Gimli demanded an answer as guilt carved away at his heart at the mere idea of endangering his One.
“No, Gimli.” Legolas closed his eyes and looked pained for a moment. He didn’t want to confess his feelings so out in the open, didn’t want to bombard Gimli with feelings he did not reciprocate but he owed an explanation. And Legolas would not lie. Not to Gimli. Not after everything they had been through with one another- he deserved honesty from him at all times where it could be spared. “It is because of the feelings I harbour for you.” The words felt like a weight had been lifted from Legolas and he breathed easily for the first time in months even as silence settled around him. Nothing but the rustling of the trees could be heard and for once Legolas did not feel comforted by the sound.
Gimli swallowed thickly. “You left... because you-”
“Love you.” It was whispered as if it was a shameful secret.
Gimli’s heart soared at the admission, and he felt like beaming down at the elf who refused to meet his eyes. “An elf loves once. And I knew the first moment we fought beside one another that my heart was fated to be intertwined with yours till the day I passed into the Undying Lands and beyond them.” Legolas gathered his courage and faced Gimli head on. “I do not know how the Men realised my true desire, but they did. And I refused to let you pay the price for my unrequited feelings-”
“Unrequited?!” Gimli spluttered.
Legolas was surprised by the reaction and any more words stuck in his throat as Gimli cut him off with a grin, “You are a daft one. Do you think I would have followed any old elf around even after the battle was over? Seek his company? Nay.” He huffed, shaking his head in amusement as he dropped down beside the elf. “My love for you has only grown stronger over time.” Genuine shock flitted across Legolas’ features.
He reached up to touch the newly healed scar in confusion. “Dwarves are in love with beautiful things. How can you love me when I look like this? A grotesque scar marring my face.” Gimli smiled sadly at his elf, taking the hand into his own and squeezing softly.
“You are still as beautiful as the day I met you.” He swore, calloused hands swiping over Legolas’ knuckles unconsciously. “And I will spend the rest of my days reminding you.”
“I missed you dearly.” Legolas admitted, eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry I left.”
Gimli tutted at him playfully, his own heart clenching at the reminder of their days apart. “I’m simply sorry we wasted so much time convinced our feelings were unwanted.” Legolas eased into the familiarity that was Gimli when he pressed a kiss to the dwarf’s hand and then to his lips. It was slow and soft; both savoured the moment when Gimli kissed him back just as intently. Legolas felt breathless when he pulled back. For the first time, he forgot about the scar on his face because Gimli held both his cheeks with equal reverence and kissed him again. The shadows that had lingered within Legolas faded.