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Even in the midst of battle there was lull. Surrounded by the sounds of war and flying shrapnel, Legolas found himself in one such brief pocket of peace, gasping to get his breath back as he sunk down, back against a small cairn of stones that had been thrown together in this desolate wasteland by some power of the land long ago.
He was bloodied and torn and all his arrows long spent, leaving him only with his long dagger, a weapon woefully inadequate against the heavy armor of Sauron's forces. The Black Gates towered in front of them, blocking out the sun and only letting through endless malice and just as endless reinforcements of their enemies.
He was not one for despair, but he knew they would all die here today. If their sacrifice would be sufficient was something they would likely never know.
Around him, a hundred meters or so away, was the line of battle. Men and orcs howling and killing and it might as well have been in a fairy tale from long ago. Right here, right now, there was calm. He closed his eyes, just for a few heartbeats.
He never saw the black arrow coming unerringly for him and it was doubtful he would have found the strength to move even if he did.
Instead, a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him back, into the safety of the cairn.
Legolas snarled and twisted, instinctively, tearing free from the grip and slamming the assailant into the dirt floor, his razor- sharp dagger about to slit his throat. Soft eyes stared up at him, just as tired and close to despairing as his own. The body underneath his just as torn and bloodied and tired, not resisting his attack. Red beard tickled his face and Gimli reached up a hand to caress down his cheek. Desperation faded from his eyes, replaced by something softer, warmer but no less desperate. The very thing that had been growing between them for their long, adventurous journey and Legolas felt a rush of heat go through him, something that burned his own tiredness and darkness away.
He knew his eyes asked a question because he had told Gimli what such a thing would mean for him, for any elf, and he saw the answer, yes yes a thousand times yes reflected back and the next thing he knew they were kissing, hard, desperate, passionate and he flung the dagger away before he accidently did something incredibly ironic and stupid. They tore at already torn clothes, held already bruised flesh tenderly and did not break the kiss at any time.
It was short, it was harsh and it was wonderful.
When they lay panting after, having barely moved from the cramped spot they had started in, Gimli asked, his voice ragged with war cries:
"Pippin?"
"I lost him." Legolas' pawing hand found his dagger and sheathed it. The other hand did not let go of Gimli's.
A deep pained sound came from the dwarf and Legolas could just nod.
"I lost sight of them all. Pippin, Elladan and Elrohir, Eomer....." Legolas took a shaky breath and Gimli squeezed his hand.
"Aragorn and Gandalf are still out there. And so should we. Together."
"Yes. I don't want to loose you again."
They both nodded and pulled back their clothes as best as they could, preparing to go back out in the battle raging around them. But something had lifted and their spirits did not feel as heavy as before.
"If such a thing as this could happen, perhaps there is more. Perhaps the eagles will come, like in my father's stories." Gimli crawled out of the cairn and reached back to help Legolas, who laughed softly.
"Ah meleth-nin. I think one miracle is all we could hope for."
"Perhaps." Gimli kissed him. "But I will still keep hope."
"Me as well." Legolas smiled. "Side by side, then?"
Gimli nodded.
"Side by side."