(the worlds of Tolkien) Stories: Body Heat

Disclaimer: LotR is a trademark of JRR Tolkien and his surviving children. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership to these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story... and most likely not a story Tolkien would have written, had he had the time or no. I am making no money from this, and it is just for my entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a select group of friends. Thank You.

Notes: I wrote this after seeing there were no Sam/Legolas slash on the sites I'd gone to. It's based on a dream I had, actually.

Caradhras was cold. A biting wind crept around them, piercing their clothing and slipping into collars... cuffs... any opening it could find. It was wet. It was icy. And it was cold.

The Fellowship had climbed high into the mountain pass, intent on finding a way past the growing threat of Mordor and Isengard. They were slowed by the worsening snow and ice, and would soon be required to stop for the night to rest. Warmth was near impossible to come by, and the drifts were deep enough in places to cause the Men to carry two Hobbits apiece. It was not an easy trek.

Then, they were stopped by fell winds and avalanches. None could continue, save their fleet footed Elf, Legolas. He had traveled back the way they'd come, then returned with report of the hazard that lay behind. Without choice, if they wanted to survive the journey, the group turned and waded back, breaking through the quickly packing, shoulder deep snow. The trip back seemed harder than the one going forth.

It was now coming onto night, and the small band had nearly made it to the bottom of the mountain, by the same trail they'd climbed before. It was disheartening, and the dejected air about camp promoted little voice and much industry. The Hobbits were gathering firewood, while the Men worked with their Dwarven companion, Gimli, to set up shelters and ration food. Gandalf was attempting to build a fire, using wet tinder and magic. Legolas stood guard, bow at the ready.

As he walked, dragging tired cold feet, Sam searched the icy, rock-strewn ground for any sign of twig or branch. There was little vegetation in the area, and that made his job all the more difficult. The layer of snow coating everything merely hid what wood supply they might use. Thus, Sam had taken to dragging his feet, using his aching toes to uncover what he would.

The Hobbit had a small armload of tinder and was heading further from the camp, when suddenly a sound, as if an explosion of sorts rang out. The ground shifted beneath his feet, ice slowly cracking into an ever-widening crevice. Sam looked down in confusion and horror as the ground split away beneath him.

Too late, as he fell below the ice and into the freezing depths below, did he realize what the snow had buried: a frozen, stagnant pond. The rocky formations had really been the tops of waterlogged boulders stretching their noses into the air. Sam panicked and sank fast, dragged down by his double-pack and the wood he still clutched.

The cracking sound shot through everyone's nerves, and, as one, they whirled around to face this new, unknown danger. It took Aragorn but a moment to register that Legolas was skidding across the icy field on his belly, aimed at a widening fault in the ground. It was Frodo who first realized Samwise Gamgee was missing.

"Sam? Where's Sam?" No answer came to him. Indeed, no answer was needed. The group was running and skidding towards the crack in the frozen ground.

Legolas had been facing Sam's direction when the Hobbit's weight broke through the ice. He had seen Sam fall into the widening maw. Without thinking, he tossed away bow, slid out of quiver leathers, and tossed himself at the last place he'd seen the horrified Hobbit. The Elf skidded across ice, his shirt sliding up and causing scratches across his fine, pale skin.

Then, Legolas was at the opening and had to brace himself against the boulder tops to stop his forward momentum. Plunging arms, and even head, into the icy water, he grasped blindly for Sam's frozen fingers... his still hand. Legolas risked the ice opening further and swallowing him, as well, but it was a risk he was willing to make for their stouthearted companion.

Aragorn and Boromir saw Legolas' peril simultaneously, and both Men ran forward to aid the slender being. Aragorn threw himself to the ground, praying it would be solid, not the treacherous ice. He was fortunate, as Sam had fallen near the edge of the hidden waters. Boromir threw himself on top of Aragorn, holding onto the other Man's legs, forming an anchor that might be the only thing between three of the Fellowship and death.

Grabbing quickly, Aragorn managed to barely grasp one of Legolas' slender, booted ankles. He held tightly, balancing himself with the aid of Boromir behind him. Then, as he became sure of himself, he started to tug on Legolas' ankle. The Elf had been half immersed in the freezing water for too many long seconds as it was. They could not risk losing both Sam and Legolas; Aragorn determined that it would only be Sam this day, knowing the Hobbit couldn't swim, and giving him up for lost.

With a kick that nearly bloodied Aragorn's nose, but drew him back from his unhappy conclusion, Legolas managed to get his other foot on the ground. Aragorn gripped it tightly, pulling both feet now. The Elf seemed unbearably heavy for one of a race of notoriously light beings. Then, he saw why.

Legolas was clutching Sam to him, arms wrapped tightly about the Hobbit, under his arms. The Elf had his face buried in Sam's frozen hair, and was coughing up ice water, but he held onto the Hobbit with all his hidden strength.

The Hobbits and Gimli, the Dwarf, had stopped working and stood watching with horror. Frodo had even started towards the spot, but stopped, realizing that no one knew just where the pond ended and where it began. Any step could plunge one of them into an icy death. Instead, he had to content himself with watching from afar, heart in his throat at the thought of losing his beloved friend, Sam.

Gandalf had not joined the rescue attempts. He, instead, spent the time stacking blankets and stoking the fire to a nice, toasty roar. Ah, what a little magic could do for one. He walked closer, handing two blankets to each Hobbit, and one to Gimli. They would be required to wrap the rescuers and rescued once the ordeal was through. Aragorn looked up briefly, noting that Sam was in Legolas' arms. The Hobbit wasn't already frozen to death... was he? But, no... he moved.

And so he did. Sam had given all up for lost as the water had closed over his curly head. He had thrown his arms up in a futile gesture, grasping at nothing, but somehow praying he'd be saved anyway. It had worked. There, in the frozen darkness, Sam had felt the touch of something quickly chilling... a hand.

Quickly grasping the appendage, he felt himself tugged upwards. Instinctively, Sam gave a mighty kick, unaware that he was more responsible for saving his own life than the owner of the strong hand. Then, the Hobbit felt a second hand; this one was on his arm and tugging insistently.

Sam gripped back, grabbing his savior's arms and kicking again. He started to slip, and slid his arms up around Legolas' neck, instinctively trying to save himself, yet dragging his rescuer down further with his weight. Legolas answered by wrapping his arms around Sam, below his arms and burying his face in his hair. Sam buried his face in Legolas' neck, looking for any warmth he could find.

Aragorn now had the Elf by his knees and was slowly dragging him backwards, over the ice encrusted ground. A slick trail, faint but there none-the-less, of Elvish blood could be seen on the wet, white-brown surface of the ground. Legolas seemed unaware of the injury.

Moving slowly, since both had their heads above water, and he didn't want to startle them into losing hold of each other, Aragorn pulled Legolas back again, his hands clasping around strong, muscular thighs. They were the thighs of a runner, and Aragorn blinked in surprise, though he well knew the strengths of his comrades by now. Still, Legolas' leathers had always hid those strengths from the eye.

Boromir continued laying on Aragorn's back and legs. He wanted to yell at the man to rush, couldn't he see the two were near frozen to death with cold? But, the son of the Steward of Gondor well knew that rushing now might prove their downfall. The ice might crack further or the Hobbit might become frightened and lose his grip or Legolas might be pulled against a rock and jostled harder than even the intrepid Elf could take.

Merry clutch Pip in fear and worry, unaware of Gimli beside them. Gimli, for his part, was trying his best to speak soothing, reassuring words to the two Hobbits. He sensed that he was failing to bolster their confidence, though. Frodo merely stood frozen and watched the maddeningly slow rescue attempt.

By then, Aragorn had pulled Legolas' hips into his large, calloused hands. They were slender, yet firm and as muscular as the rest of him. Aragorn had to shake his head to dispel the thoughts running through his head so unexpectedly. He pulled Legolas again, getting to the Elf's waist.

Then, reaching past Aragorn with a strong arm, Boromir clasped Sam's hand in his own large one. He held on, not pulling, but easing some of the burden off of Legolas' neck. They heard a whimper, but from which male it was uncertain.

Sam lifted his head from Legolas' neck at the feel of the warm hand on his arm. He started shivering then, teeth chattering uncontrollably. That decided it. The pair had been in that frozen water far too long as it was. With a mighty heave, Aragorn tugged both Elf and Hobbit from the sucking water, and felt a twinge as he nearly threw Boromir off in his efforts. There was the pain of a pulled muscle, but with all safe, Aragorn barely felt it. Instead, he rolled onto his back and smiled, just a bit, in triumph.

There was a cheer from the gathered spectators, and Frodo started hurrying forward, when suddenly Legolas sat up with a cough. His long golden hair was frozen through and clung to his body like an odd ice sculpture. He leathers were drenched and frosted with white, risking becoming brittle and useless if not tended immediately. His lips were blue-tinged and he shivered as much as Sam did.

"Quick..." Legolas was barely audible, "Strip Sam. Get him into a dry blanket." The Elf sat up, trying to control his own shivering enough to undo his clammy clothes. Aragorn knelt down and started to assist him. Boromir helped by holding Sam in a sitting position as Frodo's nimble fingers quickly made light work of undressing the shaking Hobbit. Merry and Pippin came forward with blankets to wrap around their two companions.

Once undressed, however, the Elf did not relax. Instead, he slid to Sam's side, and pulled the nude Hobbit into his own blanket, wrapping both around them. Frodo opened his mouth in shocked protest, but Aragorn hushed him. "Sharing body heat's the surest way to get them warm quickly. It may be the difference between a prideful death or a humble life. I'd choose life."

Sam opened his green-gray eyes, looking up into serene brown ones. He was shivering still, but the slight warmth radiating from the body next to him drew him inexorably closer. He couldn't resist burrowing into Legolas' chest. The Elf made an undistinguishable sound and wrapped his arms more firmly about the Hobbit.

Gandalf nodded and gestured for the Men to bring the victims to the fireside. He then served everyone hot soup he'd made from what little they had. This was hand fed to Legolas and Sam by a grim Aragorn and a grateful Frodo. Merry, Pip, and Gimli took turns finishing with setting up camp, while Boromir took over the watch for Legolas. He returned with Legolas' bow before the end of his shift. The Fellowship curled up for sleep as Gimli replaced Boromir, to be replaced by Aragorn later in the night.

The shivering slowly subsided, as both Sam and Legolas were warmed from the inside by Gandalf's soup and from the outside by each other's body heat. Fear gave way to exhaustion, and Sam found himself having trouble staying awake. He lay his head on Legolas' shoulder, and drifted off, unconsciously placing his hand on Legolas' chest. Legolas looked down at the tired Hobbit. He studied the sandy curls, round face, and pointed ears. Raising one hand, Legolas slowly, gently traced the shape of Sam's cheek and jaw-line, then the shell of his ear. Sam stirred but did not awaken, and Legolas smiled briefly. He then curled around the younger Hobbit and let himself drift into a dreamless sleep.

He felt warm and comfortable curled up against the Elf next to him. Perhaps, under normal circumstances, he might have been embarrassed or troubled. But not now; not like this.

Sam had always been fascinated with Elves, had always been drawn to them. He didn't think his friends knew just how deep that fascination ran. It went beyond normal curiosity, or even hero worship. No, Sam's longing for Elves ran far deeper; it ran into deep desire.

He didn't know why. He didn't question himself often. But something about an Elf had always tugged at his heart and his loins. The gentle features, the delicate beauty, the powerful grace and strength, all added up into one tempting package, and Samwise Gamgee had proven all too susceptible to the lure of such a package. Almost unconsciously, he kissed the Elf's chest.

Suddenly, he was blushing. Who was he to be taking such liberties with anyone, let alone an Elf? Legolas was beautiful and kind, knowledgeable and sure, and oh so desirable. But, there was no indication that he was available for a relationship... especially with a Hobbit... a male Hobbit. Thus, Sam was surprised by the response he got.

Legolas reached down and gently lifted Sam's face from his chest. Soft blue-brown eyes studied soulful green-gray ones. Then, slowly, as slow as Sam had been, Legolas bent and placed his mouth over Sam's. The kiss started gentle, sweet, but it quickly spiraled out of control. Heat suffused Sam, and he felt an answering response surge through Legolas' groin... or his name wasn't Sam.

Blinking, Sam looked down at the Elf's obvious desire, flushing slightly as his own cock responded by stiffening and enlarging. He looked back up into Legolas' face, and sucked in a breath at the blatant desire in the Elf's dark eyes. Legolas kissed him again.

Sam responded to that need with a kiss, an answering need welling up, even more pressing than the desire for an Elf. He wanted this Elf... right here, right now. Elbereth love him, he didn't care if the entire Fellowship sat up and placed bets, either. Sam slid his tongue along the seam of Legolas' lips, finding easy entry into his hot, wet mouth.

Tongues meshed and swirled around each other in an erotic promise of what was to come. Sam groaned into Legolas' mouth as he brought his hands up to stroke the hairless chest. The Hobbit ran his fingernails lightly down the Elf's body, then back up, centering on the hardening nubs. Legolas transferred his own mouth to Sam's ear, tracing with his teeth and tongue where his finger had roamed mere hours before. The sensation sent a shudder through Sam, and Legolas permitted himself another smile. With kisses, caresses, and the occasional murmured endearment, both men rode to their fulfillment, ending in an explosion and whispered exclamations of love. Sam collapsed in Legolas' warm arms, a sheen of sweat causing his hair to cling and body to glisten, rather than the frozen pond water of earlier. Legolas smiled, and kissed his sleepy eyelids softly. "Rest well, Sam... I will be watching over you."

And Sam now knew that to be true... in more ways than one. He snuggled closer to his savior and lover, content with the world and thankful for a hidden bit of thin ice. If it hadn't been for that fall, he'd never discovered that being with an Elf was every bit as wonderful as he'd imagined, and he would never have discovered that sharing body heat could be so rewarding.

FIN

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