Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Lord of the Glittering Harem (#350)
Author: Viv
Chapters: 1

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Alternate Universe (AU)
Description: Ever wonder whether dwarf girls have beards? Neither has Legolas, and he isn't itching to find out, either.
Published: 15 Oct 2003
Updated: 15 Oct 2003
Warnings: facial hair
Type: Humour
Characters: Legolas; Gimli


Chapter 1 - Gimli's Little Secret

Challenge: Use the following sentences in a fic 500 words or less: "And you suspect what? Bigfoot?" and "You can't get married, you're running a harem." Well, then.


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Legolas tried to keep his teeth from chattering. Very undignified for an elf to be seen with chattering teeth. But dang, it was cold down here in Gimli’s newly renovated secret underground rec room. Sure the velvet-covered walls were posh, but there was no ventilation, which meant no fire. No fire meant it was colder than a witch’s…

Gimli was saying something. Had been saying something for a while. Legolas refocused.

“…just wait until you see her face. I think she may be The One.” Gimli was sitting back in an overstuffed, round red chair, his short legs crossed at the ankles. He was sipping a brew that looked and smelled like cleaning fluid.

And he was blushing. Wait. Blushing?

“Gimli… what did you just say?”

“Marriage, my friend. Seriously contemplating marriage.” Yes, Gimli was definitely blushing. And swilling that booze like a hobbit on weed.

Legolas let his gaze drift, settling on the veil-draped female shuffling out of the room. Some random serving wench, delivering more vile liquor. She’d kept the veil on, for which Legolas was profoundly grateful: he had no desire to find out for sure whether dwarf females had beards. Made his porcelain skin crawl just thinking of it.

“Marriage? You can’t get married. You’re running a harem!" Legolas gestured at the mirrored ceiling and shag carpet. "Even dwarven females cannot be fond of such competition."

“This is no harem, elf. This is my home,” Gimli said darkly.

Mildly surprised, Legolas raised an eyebrow. Really? Gimli’s decorating taste was really this bad? It certainly looked like a harem. He'd heard stories of harems in Far Harad, and by all accounts, this was one. Taking a mental inventory of the decor, Legolas filed eschewing velvet walls and red furniture under things-I-must-teach-Gimli-before-I-sail-west.

Gimli frowned and reached for his axe hilt beside the chair. They were friends, yes, but Legolas sensed that this was a particularly sensitive topic for the dwarf. He decided to tread carefully.

“No, no, my mistake," he retreated. "Lovely home, of course. But still: marriage? Who is the lucky, um dwarf-ess?” Legolas shifted in his own short overstuffed chair, trying to arrange his long legs more comfortably.

“You just met her: Fiona. She is a fine cook. Knows a thing or two about ore, too. And her facial hair, it… what?”

Leoglas figured his face must have betrayed him. But facial hair. On a female. Eew.

Gimli frowned again.

“Fiona!” he called.

The veiled, stubby little creature waddled back into the room, pausing before her lord's chair. Gimli looked up at her with an expression of such complete adoration that Legolas stopped breathing for a bit. Well, this must be it then, the big “L.” It looked ... odd on a dwarf.

“Fiona, my sweet, would you remove your veil? This is my friend, and I want to introduce you.” Gimli’s voice was positively sugary. Who’d’ve thunk it.

Lowering her heavily lashed eyelids and giggling a little, the squat female reached up, unfastened the jewelled clasp by her ear, and let the filmy fabric drop.

Legolas's jaw also dropped. Fiona, for all her squat roundness, had the most shockingly lovely face he’d ever seen. Right up there with the Undomiel herself. Way too many eyelashes, perfectly arched eyebrows… Wait. Was that what Gimli was talking about when he mentioned facial hair?

“You suspected what… bigfoot?” Gimli asked, chuckling.

Fiona blushed and batted those gorgeous lashes.

Legolas felt, for the first time in his life, a bit embarrassed.

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