âIâd like to rest now that youâre found. Iâm still wasted on cross country.â
WHAT: Legolas thinks he's being crafty. He really, really isn't. Or: a dwarf and an elf walk into a bar. WHERE: Near the Crossed Quills. WHEN: Monday, August 10. WARNINGS: None as of yet! STATUS:Complete!
"We'll have plenty come autumn."
"They are still few in number. I worry what that might mean for your villages."
"Begging your pardon, m'lord," the farmer answered, glancing up from the report. "But we've made due on less."
"As have I. That doesn't mean there is no cause for concern." For a moment, the two stood looking at each other: Legolas in his thin leather armor, sweat still clinging to his brow and a little blood smeared across his cheek; and the farmer, apron wrinkled but clean, dark hair tied back into a loose braid and eyebrow raised.
"I think," they said carefully, rolling up the parchment, "You should stick to hunting, and I'll stick to the crop. How's that sound, Legs?"
Legolas handed over his kill and watched his employer depart, a small frown pinching his brow. He was learning, slowly, not to interfere in the affairs of others, and more than that, not to deliver his opinion at every opportunity. It was a difficult lesson, one he frequently failed at. But there was more at stake here than simple civility; Legolas was one of the few elves in a world he didn't recognize, a world where humans far outnumbered anyone else. It was strange to think about.
The age of Men indeed, he thought, turning back to the elk waiting for him at the mouth of the forest. "Agorel vae," Legolas said, reaching out to gently pet the beast's great head. "Na lĂť e-govaned vĂŽn." It huffed, and pushed into his palm once, before turning to disappear back into the wood. In that moment, the elf felt a powerful yearning for home, one he hadn't seen in many long months. But it was an ache that vanished when he sensed something else, a shift in the airâsomething powerful, something that had tethered him ever since the Company left Rivendell. "Gimli," Legolas breathed, already sprinting down the road and back toward the Crossed Quills. It was some miles away, but for him, the journey was quick and exhilarating, his feet easily darting around carts and horses and people.
It wasn't until he spotted Gimli inside the tavern that Legolas paused at the threshold, heart beating wildly in his chest. He glanced down at himself and suddenly felt quite inadequate; he'd been hunting all morning, and it certainly looked as though he had. But that was good, wasn't it? Gimli liked that. (Okay, so maybe he took a second to fix his hair and freshen up. Sue him.)
Feeling more confident, but no less nervous, Legolas crossed what little distance stood between them and dropped a handful of coins on the bar in front of Gimli. "I'll have what he has," the elf said easily, glancing at the dwarf with a smirk. "And perhaps he will regale me with tales of where he has been all this time, for all dwarves are said to be 'natural sprinters.' You are very late, meleth nĂn. I would grieve if my heart did not sing. How are you?"
Falling heavily into a study wooden chair, Gimli roughly adjusted the ceremonial armor around his neck. Above all, dwarves always favoured practicality even in ceremony, ever prepared for battle, and the coronation of his dear friend Aragorn had been no different. Gimli had not missed the sidelong glances as if the race of Men had expected trouble. Truthfully, the trouble had not come until well after the crowning.
No, the only thing that had been plaguing the dwarfâs heart then was his own anxiety over his fumbling tongue.
âWhat might I get you, ser?â
Startled, a bark of laughter escaped Gimli as he turned to look at the harried young woman who he had seen scurrying this way and that when he had walked in. âA pint of ale if you have it, lass. And another to keep it company.â Loosening his armor at the throat, sighed softly in relief. âA bit of bread and a turkey leg, if I may.â Despite his confusion and the events thus far of this day, Gimli would not be one to forget his manners and he offered the girl a smile before she turned away.
With yet another sigh, Gimli leaned down to his bag where he produced a map and set about laying it over the worn tabletop, pinned by a fork here and an empty glass there. Littered across it were bold Xs, hamlets and towns Gimli had marked in his search.
How many days had he been here?
The dwarf was uncertain. Time passed strangely for him since he had arrived and his mind had been consumed with a singular desire. So much so that now, it seemed, he was beginning to hear things. Or he would have believed that if the very subject of all his thoughts didnât appear before him as well.
Warmed through by the smirk on Legolasâs face, Gimli felt as if a weight had just fallen right off his shoulders and he smiled softly. Surely he was melting under the light of the elf before him but he cleared his throat to keep himself from being carried away in thought. And yet, he nearly was.
Meleth nĂn.
What Legolas simply could not have known was how Gimli had heard those words uttered by the fair Lady Arwen and the dwarf, humbled by the kindness in her tone, had asked her their meaning. His heart ached now and it would not ease.
âIt has barely been moments, madtubirzul,â he volleyed back. âI had followed you as you walked or I thought I had. Granted, my sense of direction is poor outside of the Stone but I couldnât have gotten lost in those halls.â The dwarf grumbled but it did nothing to truly dampen the smile brightening his features. âI still have a great many questions, but seeing you here and well, I have fewer.â
"Those halls were stone," Legolas volleyed back, his smirk growing until it was a broad grin. "Is Minas Tirith not built into the face of a mountain?" He was, of course, just teasing. There were specifics about dwarven abilities he would never understand, just as there were elven gifts he knew Gimli likely had no knowledge of. And he wouldn't dare ask, either. Dwarves held their secrets so close to their chests, and Legolas hardly wished to take those from his dearest friend, for all he was deeply curious. He wanted to know what that word meant, too. madtubirzul. It sounded lovely when shaped by Gimli's tonge. Was it lovelier still when the meaning was plain?
Legolas was suddenly, acutely glad the tavern was so poorly lit, because his blush would be obvious otherwise. Still, there were more important things to focus on than his own intense feelings. He reached across the table to grasp Gimli's hand with both of his own, squeezing gently. "I am here. I've been thus for a little whileâonce several months hence, and again now. I do not know how, but time passes strangely here. It was as if I never left the first time." Or the second, apparently, if Gimli hadn't noticed his departure. Legolas tried not to think too hard on it. His talents had never been in scholarly speculation. Those were the pursuits of his kin under Lord Elrond's rule.
The pinch to his brow eased again, though, when the elf focused his attention on the map that lay underneath their joined hands. He shifted so that he tucked his legs under himself on the chair and tilted his head to study it, a growing sense of surprise and pleasure running through him at the sight. "You were looking for me," he said, then glanced up again with bright eyes. "Gerich veleth nĂn. You're not allowed to leave now. I forbid it." Legolas knew full well this wasn't a command Gimli could ever actually agree to even if he wanted, but the sentiment was the same. As were the words he spoke in Sindarin, which he assumed his friend wouldn't understand. (Thanks a lot, Arwen.)
âAye, but itâs not part of the mountain,â the dwarf returned, only slightly flustered. That was, in part, because of the implication that his stone sense was poor but underneath that, it was the expression settling across Legolasâs face. Gimli felt an all too familiar weakness in his knees and was only thankful that he was already sitting. âNo dwarf laid that stone.â Gimliâs voice deepened as he grumbled, his chest puffing up with pride. âDwarven walls donât crumble, even when faced with a dragon.â Growing up hearing tales of Smaug from his father instilled a great amount of reverence for his ancestors and their craft. Gimli hoped one day to even match a percentage of their talent and he worked very hard to prove his worth.
A soft pink bloomed in Gimliâs cheeks, an answer to the color brightening Legolasâs face. In his chest, the dwarfâs heart fluttered and flipped, far too acrobatic for his liking but an increasingly common sensation. For not a single second did Gimli anticipate attending that summons to Rivendell would lead him here, flustered in the presence of the elf in front of him yet here he was.
Turning his hands in Legolasâs to squeeze them back, Gimli offered a smile that couldnât be hidden, even by the fullness of his beard. âIâd not noticed that you had departed for this place, and I am certain that I would not have been ignorant of your disappearance.â Grumbling again, Gimliâs features twisted in thought. No dark magic had clouded his head, no corruption altered his memories, that the dwarf knew beyond a doubt. âSave me from this magic. I thought we were done with it in Mordor.â
Gimli sputtered, wordlessly confirming to the elf that he had, indeed, spent his time here searching for him. âOf course,â the dwarf replied at length after clearing his throat. Shifting a little in his seat, Gimli leaned just a hair closer to the elf as the flush on his face deepened at being so completely known. Despite not knowing the meaning of that declaration, Gimli could feel it in his soul, warming him like a honeyed mead. âWhere do you expect me to be going? Iâve only just gotten here,â Gimli teased, his voice booming with mirth. âIâd like to rest now that youâre found. Iâm still wasted on cross country.â
"I believe you," Legolas said, and he meant it, though his amusement held firm. Gimli was far too endearing when he puffed up with indignation, and the elf was much too teasing for his own good. It was frequently a dangerous combination. "Though I will not share your critique with our friend and king. Not until he's settled, anyway." The glint in his eyes was telling. Legolas would always be more than happy to lovingly roast Aragorn at every opportunity. The fact that he wasn't here with them now felt very strange, and for a moment, Legolas frowned, concerned for their friend who was so very far away now. Surely he would be alright without them for a little while. Right?
He continued to frown when Gimli expressed displeasure at their arrival. "Take heed, my dearest friend," Legolas said, voice warm. "I would sense if this magic were like that which we have faced before. It does not sing in the same way. It is ... other, but not unkind." He hoped that sounded reassuring. His bedside manner could still use a lot of work, something that internally made Legolas cringe a little.
The elf was smiling again, though, when his friend sputtered. "I expect you to ready yourself. There is much for you to see hereâso many feats of ingenuity!" Not that he could tell which buildings were well-crafted and which weren't, but he was looking forward to Gimli gushing about it when he took him to Vallo city. That and a shopping trip. "Perhaps after you've eaten, though," Legolas added, his smirk softening again. "And no cross-country," the elf added in a mock serious tone.
âDo you?â Gimli laughed, a hearty sound though he still felt that rumbling disgruntlement in his chest enough to make it rattle. The mirth in the elfâs voice softened the dwarf and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. âYou need not. I already have!â Again, Gimli was a riot of laughter. âIâve made him an offer to rebuild it. No friend of mine will rule from a collapsed tower.â Over the course of their journeys, Gimli had grown increasingly fond of Aragorn, admiring his strength and his wisdom, both enough to rival the elves.
Seeing the concern darkening Legolasâs features, Gimli sobered and again reached for his hand. He had no talent like the Lady of the Wood but he ventured he knew enough of his dear companion to believe he understood. Upon his arrival, Gimli had set his intention to find Legolas and then with luck, the rest of their friends. It felt strange, indeed, to have felt to be alone, though it was eclipsed by a worry for those left in Middle Earth. Surely, though, Aragorn would do well even if he must do so without them for a time.
Gimli settled back into his chair. âI will take your word.â He trusted Legolas, knowing in his heart he might have sensed an evil if it existed and believing that the elfâs sense was more acute than his own. âIf it sings at all, it is out of tune.â Perhaps a bit petty of a comment, but Gimli was not above expressing his displeasure at this turn of events.
Even as he brightened as Legolas smiled at him, his doubts all but forgotten in an instant. âIâm of a mind to believe I am being mocked,â was his response, attempting to collect himself. âIngenuity! Hah! I shall believe it when I can put my eye on it.â For all his blustering, Gimliâs curiosity was piqued and that much was evident on his face. âHave you eaten?â In his mind, Gimli knew that the elves required less but he still fussed, unable to help himself. âNo cross country,â he echoed with a soft laugh, just as the young woman set a plate before him and two sturdy mugs. âCome,â and Gimli pushed one of the mugs towards the elf. âYou wonât let a friend drink alone, will you?â
Legolas threw his head back and laughed so hard there were tears in his eyes. Poor Aragorn. He was a dear friend to them, but they were often very vocal about their opinions of the King's choices, and his new place of residence was apparently one of them. "I hope he takes you up on your offer," the elf replied once he was a little more composed, a few stray giggles still escaping. "It would be foolish of him not to. You are an expert in all matters of architecture. That, and I hardly think his rule would be too well-received if it began with, as you say, âa collapsed tower.â" The way Gimli's smile brightened made Legolas' stomach swoop. I must tell him, he thought, but quickly pushed the thought aside when their conversation turned serious. There would be time enough for that later.
It helped to hear Gimli trusted him, though he knew it to be true in his heart already. He had every confidence that they would be able to make the best of this situation here if they remained together. Where else could he possibly be but beside the dwarf who held his heart in his skilled, gentle hands?
He laughed again, softer this time, when Gimli returned his teasing. Oh, his heart felt light. "I wouldn't dare mock you, Master Dwarf," Legolas returned, releasing his friend's hand only when their food arrived. "And I wouldn't dare refuse an offered meal. I know you are particular about that." There was that teasing again, but definitely kindly meant. So he settled in to eat as instructed, amused and excited about the future. Hopefully, Aragorn would join them soon, and they could have a proper adventure again, one that didn't involve cursed rings and the like.