Well, this is fun...
Jan. 11th, 2004 07:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misscamThree out of four in my family are sick, and I am one of them. Wheee. Only not.
*acks at pile of backlogged mail*
Yeah, I will probably be a bit slow with replies through this week - not that I am miss speedy in the first place. Oh well. As we say in Norway, 'those who finish late, finish well.' (You can tell my country is not among the speediest, eh?)
Due to me being sick chapter one of Nocturne and the next OFUM chapter has also been kinda slow, although the Nocturne chapter is actually finished, it just needs a beta touch.
Chapter One
Starlight and moonlight the clouds hid from view, shrouding Middle-earth in darkness and in rain. It was a dark night, but darkness held no power anymore, for it did not live. Sauron had fallen and darkness would forever fall before the onslaught of morning.
But this night, Legolas did not wish for morning. He did not wish for the dawn or the first pale lining of grey on the horizon. If morning would come, this moment would end and all the consequences of his choice would be laid bare before him.
He had sought a mortal’s embrace.
“Your skin burns under my touch,” the Dwarf whispered in awe, stroking a finger along Legolas’s jaw.
“Your touch,” Legolas muttered, closing his eyes. The Dwarf continued the slow caress of a finger across naked skin, drifting down the neck, up the chin and along the lips, over the closed eyelids and the nose, across the cheek again and along the tips of the ear.
“No Dwarf could ever chisel something this beautiful from any gem,” Gimli said earnestly, his voice rumbling like a distant falling of stones. Or perhaps it was more like a distant lightning bolt in the sky, beautiful and dangerous and light in the dark.
“Most Dwarves would look upon the Elves and see no beauty,” Legolas replied quietly. “Is that not so?”
“Merely because many of my kin have forgotten to see beyond the ill will that lingers between our two kindreds,” Gimli said, letting his finger come to rest on Elven lips. “Ever have we been different, and mist has come between your kin and mine. The mist has cleared. I see now...”
“I see,” Legolas echoed, and opened his eyes. Rain fell at him, but it did not matter. A hand was still clasped with Gimli’s, but the Elf lifted the other to gently rest against the Dwarf’s chest. Heartbeats echoed against his palm, sounding almost as fast and furious as his own. “I feel.”
“I feel,” Gimli repeated, lifting his hand from lips to tangle his hand in Legolas’s hair and slowly lean in. As if to reply, the clouds broke silently apart above and for a moment moonlight fell like rain on their faces. And it seemed like Gimli son of Glóin gleamed like white fire in the dark night and Legolas wondered if the touch would not burn him to a crisp.
“I touch,” the Dwarf said haltingly, pausing on the verge of a kiss. “Legolas…”
“I touch,” Legolas whispered back, his whisper no more than a breath against Gimli’s lips before fire descended upon him once more.
It was almost like being kissed by a flame; for it was a pleasure so hot it was almost pain. Unbearable it was, yet not enough. He could taste the rain on Gimli’s lips mingled with a slight taste of earth and something entirely unknown.
Gimli. Clear and distinct and fresh it felt, almost like the first wind of spring, promising that the trees would soon bloom again. A promise. Always a promise.
As they broke apart, Legolas drew a ragged breath. His head seemed to pound in sync with his heartbeats, and his skin tingled faintly. His knees were protesting fiercely against his continued kneeling, but he did not care.
Gimli leaned his forehead against Legolas’s, looking slightly lost for breath as well.
“You are living light,” the Dwarf said with awe at last, tracing a finger along the Elf’s lips. “Had my kindred known of this pleasure from an Elf’s kiss, they would surely be travelling to Mirkwood in droves.”
Legolas could not help it, he laughed softly. “And had my kindred known of the beauty of the Dwarves, they would surely be building great caves in the hopes of luring Dwarves down from the mountains.”
Gimli frowned and his eyes seemed to dim. “Do not mock me, Legolas. I know well I hold no beauty to you, but our friendship compels you to…”
“No,” Legolas interrupted. “You will not argue with me on this. You are beautiful, for you are like the mountain raging against the sky, weathered by every pass of season, but never faltering. Your courage is in your face, your warmth is in your eyes, your passion is on your lips. How could I not look upon you and find you beautiful?”
He lifted a hand to tilt Gimli’s face upwards, weaving his fingers into the beard. “Elves choose only once, and we do not choose lightly. Do not doubt me.”
“I am not used to wooing Elves,” the Dwarf grumbled, but he did not look unsatisfied
“And I suppose you think me all-knowing about the art of Dwarf seduction?” Legolas replied, trying to remain as serious as he could.
Gimli gave him a hard look. “Clearly not, as you have yet to actually… Hmpf!”
Enough talking, Legolas decided, and silenced Gimli with a crushing kiss that sent the Dwarf tumbling backwards. Legolas fell with him, unwilling to break the kiss or let go of his slow exploration of the beard.
A hard rock and wet ground greeted them, although the rain had stopped. The clouds seemed to have passed on, and the wind was but a quiet groan. The trees were only dark shapes and shadows in the pale moonlight, but Legolas could hear their leaves slowly caressing the air as the wind passed through.
The trees themselves were silent, perhaps sleeping through and weathering the storm. Or perhaps they were listening to distant memories, lost in what had been when the world was greater.
Even the forests would fade.
“What is it?” Gimli asked in a low voice, as if he had sensed Legolas’s sudden hesitation.
“If you take me into your embrace, I will have no other. For an Elf, this would be for all time.”
“Good. Then I would not have to kill any rival,” Gimli replied, sounding satisfied, continuing to press light kisses against Legolas’s neck.
He did not understand, Legolas thought dimly and closed his eyes. But how could a Dwarf understand what time passing truly meant?
Hot kisses against his eyelids seemed to haze his dark thoughts, and Legolas found it hard to think about anything at all. Gimli had managed to move on top and had straddled him, effectively rendering him rather helpless to any assault. Hands seemed to have found their way beneath his tunic and were making delicious circles on his chest.
“It appears you are at my mercy, Master Elf,” Gimli whispered, his very voice a caress.
Legolas was vaguely aware of clothes being shed, his bow being carelessly discarded on top of a pair of axes and wet moss and rocks against naked skin. It did not matter. All that matter was this warmth, growing ever with every touch, every kiss. It was as if a liquid flame was within him, white and bright and almost unbearable in it pleasure.
The sky had turned a dark blue now, Legolas noted distantly.
Morning would come.
It was actually rather windy and stormy while I wrote it, which seemed fitting. And I was slightly feverish. Hmm, might be able to tell that...
In the latest news, American aviation authority has apparently 'recommended' that people onboard planes to the US not be allowed to line to use the toilet. It's apparently a security risk. I guess we'll start drawing numbers to use the toilet. 'Now number 24 - number 24 to the toilet, please.' Or maybe they'll have flashing number signs in bright green.
I shall look forward to see how the airlines intend to keep people from lining to use the toilet very much. (For now the suggestion was apparently giving passangers pamphlets about it. Okay...)
*acks at pile of backlogged mail*
Yeah, I will probably be a bit slow with replies through this week - not that I am miss speedy in the first place. Oh well. As we say in Norway, 'those who finish late, finish well.' (You can tell my country is not among the speediest, eh?)
Due to me being sick chapter one of Nocturne and the next OFUM chapter has also been kinda slow, although the Nocturne chapter is actually finished, it just needs a beta touch.
Chapter One
Starlight and moonlight the clouds hid from view, shrouding Middle-earth in darkness and in rain. It was a dark night, but darkness held no power anymore, for it did not live. Sauron had fallen and darkness would forever fall before the onslaught of morning.
But this night, Legolas did not wish for morning. He did not wish for the dawn or the first pale lining of grey on the horizon. If morning would come, this moment would end and all the consequences of his choice would be laid bare before him.
He had sought a mortal’s embrace.
“Your skin burns under my touch,” the Dwarf whispered in awe, stroking a finger along Legolas’s jaw.
“Your touch,” Legolas muttered, closing his eyes. The Dwarf continued the slow caress of a finger across naked skin, drifting down the neck, up the chin and along the lips, over the closed eyelids and the nose, across the cheek again and along the tips of the ear.
“No Dwarf could ever chisel something this beautiful from any gem,” Gimli said earnestly, his voice rumbling like a distant falling of stones. Or perhaps it was more like a distant lightning bolt in the sky, beautiful and dangerous and light in the dark.
“Most Dwarves would look upon the Elves and see no beauty,” Legolas replied quietly. “Is that not so?”
“Merely because many of my kin have forgotten to see beyond the ill will that lingers between our two kindreds,” Gimli said, letting his finger come to rest on Elven lips. “Ever have we been different, and mist has come between your kin and mine. The mist has cleared. I see now...”
“I see,” Legolas echoed, and opened his eyes. Rain fell at him, but it did not matter. A hand was still clasped with Gimli’s, but the Elf lifted the other to gently rest against the Dwarf’s chest. Heartbeats echoed against his palm, sounding almost as fast and furious as his own. “I feel.”
“I feel,” Gimli repeated, lifting his hand from lips to tangle his hand in Legolas’s hair and slowly lean in. As if to reply, the clouds broke silently apart above and for a moment moonlight fell like rain on their faces. And it seemed like Gimli son of Glóin gleamed like white fire in the dark night and Legolas wondered if the touch would not burn him to a crisp.
“I touch,” the Dwarf said haltingly, pausing on the verge of a kiss. “Legolas…”
“I touch,” Legolas whispered back, his whisper no more than a breath against Gimli’s lips before fire descended upon him once more.
It was almost like being kissed by a flame; for it was a pleasure so hot it was almost pain. Unbearable it was, yet not enough. He could taste the rain on Gimli’s lips mingled with a slight taste of earth and something entirely unknown.
Gimli. Clear and distinct and fresh it felt, almost like the first wind of spring, promising that the trees would soon bloom again. A promise. Always a promise.
As they broke apart, Legolas drew a ragged breath. His head seemed to pound in sync with his heartbeats, and his skin tingled faintly. His knees were protesting fiercely against his continued kneeling, but he did not care.
Gimli leaned his forehead against Legolas’s, looking slightly lost for breath as well.
“You are living light,” the Dwarf said with awe at last, tracing a finger along the Elf’s lips. “Had my kindred known of this pleasure from an Elf’s kiss, they would surely be travelling to Mirkwood in droves.”
Legolas could not help it, he laughed softly. “And had my kindred known of the beauty of the Dwarves, they would surely be building great caves in the hopes of luring Dwarves down from the mountains.”
Gimli frowned and his eyes seemed to dim. “Do not mock me, Legolas. I know well I hold no beauty to you, but our friendship compels you to…”
“No,” Legolas interrupted. “You will not argue with me on this. You are beautiful, for you are like the mountain raging against the sky, weathered by every pass of season, but never faltering. Your courage is in your face, your warmth is in your eyes, your passion is on your lips. How could I not look upon you and find you beautiful?”
He lifted a hand to tilt Gimli’s face upwards, weaving his fingers into the beard. “Elves choose only once, and we do not choose lightly. Do not doubt me.”
“I am not used to wooing Elves,” the Dwarf grumbled, but he did not look unsatisfied
“And I suppose you think me all-knowing about the art of Dwarf seduction?” Legolas replied, trying to remain as serious as he could.
Gimli gave him a hard look. “Clearly not, as you have yet to actually… Hmpf!”
Enough talking, Legolas decided, and silenced Gimli with a crushing kiss that sent the Dwarf tumbling backwards. Legolas fell with him, unwilling to break the kiss or let go of his slow exploration of the beard.
A hard rock and wet ground greeted them, although the rain had stopped. The clouds seemed to have passed on, and the wind was but a quiet groan. The trees were only dark shapes and shadows in the pale moonlight, but Legolas could hear their leaves slowly caressing the air as the wind passed through.
The trees themselves were silent, perhaps sleeping through and weathering the storm. Or perhaps they were listening to distant memories, lost in what had been when the world was greater.
Even the forests would fade.
“What is it?” Gimli asked in a low voice, as if he had sensed Legolas’s sudden hesitation.
“If you take me into your embrace, I will have no other. For an Elf, this would be for all time.”
“Good. Then I would not have to kill any rival,” Gimli replied, sounding satisfied, continuing to press light kisses against Legolas’s neck.
He did not understand, Legolas thought dimly and closed his eyes. But how could a Dwarf understand what time passing truly meant?
Hot kisses against his eyelids seemed to haze his dark thoughts, and Legolas found it hard to think about anything at all. Gimli had managed to move on top and had straddled him, effectively rendering him rather helpless to any assault. Hands seemed to have found their way beneath his tunic and were making delicious circles on his chest.
“It appears you are at my mercy, Master Elf,” Gimli whispered, his very voice a caress.
Legolas was vaguely aware of clothes being shed, his bow being carelessly discarded on top of a pair of axes and wet moss and rocks against naked skin. It did not matter. All that matter was this warmth, growing ever with every touch, every kiss. It was as if a liquid flame was within him, white and bright and almost unbearable in it pleasure.
The sky had turned a dark blue now, Legolas noted distantly.
Morning would come.
It was actually rather windy and stormy while I wrote it, which seemed fitting. And I was slightly feverish. Hmm, might be able to tell that...
In the latest news, American aviation authority has apparently 'recommended' that people onboard planes to the US not be allowed to line to use the toilet. It's apparently a security risk. I guess we'll start drawing numbers to use the toilet. 'Now number 24 - number 24 to the toilet, please.' Or maybe they'll have flashing number signs in bright green.
I shall look forward to see how the airlines intend to keep people from lining to use the toilet very much. (For now the suggestion was apparently giving passangers pamphlets about it. Okay...)
