Disclaimer: It isn’t stealing, it’s borrowing without permission.

Title: Glimpses

Rating: a cautious R

Spoilers: my stories and FOTR

Beta: none, but I’m taking applications. I do have a beta for one of my stories, but don’t want to overwork her, wonderful soul that she is.

Dedication: My movie buddy and co-worker Marianne. Are we up for our 3^rd and 4^th viewing of Pirates this weekend?

Warnings: Just Legolas and Aragorn ripping on each other and some abuse of food products

*********************************************************************************************

“Pippin, drop that bread! You know we have to wait for Legolas.” Frodo fixed his young cousin with a stern look. Pippin scowled and placed the bread back in the bowl.

“ But Frodo, he is late already and it is way past supper time. How much longer do we have to wait?” Pippin’s ill-humor increased as his hunger did. Merry pulled Pippin back from the food to sit next to him, slipping a pilfered bit of fruit to the younger hobbit, unseen by Frodo but not by Aragorn who smiled and held his peace. The stay in Lorien had served to restore their strength and their souls, at least in part. A moment later, Aragorn spoke up.

“ Your torment is over, Pippin, the late one has arrived.” He grinned at the elf who merely cocked an eyebrow at him in response. Aragorn’s grin turned mischievous. “ Legolas, you really should time your trysts better. Pippin nearly perished from hunger.” As much as Aragorn’s comment shocked the rest of the Fellowship, the flush that suffused Legolas’ face and ears at said comment came as more of a surprise. The elf’s eyes narrowed and he uttered a quick retort in Sindarin. Frodo’s mouth fell open in shock, but Aragorn’s grin only widened.

“ Legolas, I am surprised at you! Do you kiss the ladies with that mouth?” If anything the elf’s blush deepened, and Aragorn could not resist needling him further. “ Who was it this time?” Legolas pulled his dignity around him and lifted his chin to glare down his nose at the human.

“ Unlike Elladan and Elrohir, I do not discuss certain aspects of my life; which is why I get far more repeat invitations than they do. Ladies do not appreciate being discussed like archery targets.” A sudden thought crossed his mind at that and he cocked his head inquisitively at Frodo. “ Is it the same with Hobbit maidens, Frodo?” The hobbit flushed a bit but answered.

“ Yes, actually it is. I would imagine it to be the same for ladies of any race.” He studiously avoided eye contact with Pippin. Legolas nodded and seated himself picking up a piece of meat pastry and nibbling on it thoughtfully. Pippin needed no other encouragement and proceeded to feed himself. The other members of the Fellowship followed suit. Silence reigned for several minutes, then Boromir spoke up.

“ Legolas, forgive me if I am prying, but I am curious. Is this the normal custom for elves? I was under the impression that such activity was reserved for one’s bonded partner.” Boromir’s gaze was serious, if curious and although he flushed a bit at the question, Legolas took it as it was meant and answered honestly.

“ It is not uncommon for unbonded elves to seek pleasure with other unbonded elves. Is it not so among humans?”

“ It is almost expected for men, but frowned upon for ladies.” Boromir’s answer clearly confused the elf and the man of Gondor attempted to explain, “ There are certain women that exist for that purpose among humans, but they are not considered ladies.”

“ Well, I grant you that most parents among my kind frown on their children pursuing such activities, but rarely is it considered dishonorable. Mostly it is attributed to high spirits.”

“ Or youth,” Aragorn threw in, grinning wickedly at the elf. Legolas threw a bit of bread at him.

“ So say you from the great height of eighty years. You are but a babe next to me and do not forget it, Estel!” Legolas punctuated his retort by throwing yet another piece of bread which Aragorn ducked.

“ Be that as it may, tithen ernil [ princeling ], you are still the youngest elf I have ever met.” Aragorn lobbed a bit of bread back at Legolas, hitting him in the chest. Legolas rolled his eyes dramatically.

“ Aragorn, your jealousy is showing! It is not my fault that your lady is far from here and you must suffer without her.” Legolas grinned, perceiving that his barb had hit its mark by the faint flush on Aragorn’s face. Aragorn lobbed yet another hunk of bread in Legolas’ direction, missing him by a wide margin. Legolas shook his head sadly. “ It is even beginning to affect your aim.” That prompted Aragorn to lob a rather soft piece of fruit at the elf. This one did not miss its target, impacting squarely between the prince’s eyes.

“You were saying, Desk Boy?” Aragorn’s grin was decidedly evil. Legolas scraped the fruit off his face, the look in his eyes boding ill for Aragorn, who immediately leapt up and headed for the trees at a full run. The elf was after him a heartbeat later and the two disappeared from sight. Samwise heaved a longsuffering sigh.

“ I supposed we will have to go cut Strider down from another tree.” The hobbit returned calmly to his meal.

Disclaimer: It’s not stealing, it’s borrowing without permission! No infringement intended, no money being made, this is just for fun.

*********************************************************************************************

Frodo had decided that Rivendell was the most beautiful place in Middle Earth. The sense of peace that permeated every corner of the valley was a balm to his burdened soul. He walked the winding paths with no purpose or destination, Sam by his side and Merry and Pippin arguing good-naturedly behind them.

They rounded a bend and the narrow path widened out ahead into a pleasant, sunny, grassy area ringed by flowers. At the far end, on an ornately wrought bench sat Bilbo, his book open in his lap. Seated cross-legged on the ground at the elderly hobbit’s side was the golden-haired elf dressed in a simple tunic and leggings of brown and green that had been at the council. The elf was looking intently at the book on Bilbo’s lap, obviously engrossed in whatever tale the hobbit was relating. As the four younger hobbits neared, Bilbo wrapped up his story with a flourish and the elf turned an amused grin up at him.

“I thank you for telling me the tale, Master Baggins. I have always wondered how it happened,” the elf said, laughing softly. He turned his attention to the newcomers and rose gracefully. Bowing slightly at the waist, he placed his hand over his heart and swept it outward. “Mae Govannen.” He straightened and they could not help but respond to the smile he gave them. Bilbo looked up at his younger relatives and smiled as well.

“Ah, my lads, here you are! Legolas, these are the young ones I was telling you of. Frodo Baggins, Peregrine Took, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Samwise Gamgee,” Bilbo indicated each hobbit as he named them. “Lads, this is Legolas of Mirkwood.” The hobbits all greeted the elf politely.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. Master Baggins has been very gracious in telling me the tale of his travels in my home.” Legolas’ cheery disposition was infectious and the four younger hobbits soon found themselves at ease with him in a way that they had not been with any of the other elves they had encountered since their arrival.

As the conversation continued, Frodo took the opportunity to study the elf. He was very different from the other elves Frodo had met up to this point. The hobbit was fascinated by how expressive this elf’s face was. He was quick to smile and laugh. All the elves he had met previously let very little of what they thought or felt show. They wore their dignity like cloaks, holding themselves always apart. Even Lord Elrond, who had been very kind to all of them, tended toward being dignified and regal. The elf noted Frodo’s scrutiny and favored him with a slightly wider grin that shifted into a chuckle at Frodo’s blush at being caught staring. He seemed to consider the embarrassed hobbit for a moment before addressing him.

“Am I so strange to you, Frodo Baggins?” he asked, a ghost of a smile lingering on his fair face. Frodo blushed harder, but replied honestly.

“No, not strange, just very different to what I have become accustomed to seeing from elves.” He was afraid that Legolas might take offense at that but the elf merely smiled and indicated that Frodo should continue. “I mean no offense, but you seem much more cheerful than any other elf I have yet seen.”

“I think I understand what you mean. Most of my people that you have met are very grave, correct?” At Frodo’s nod of confirmation he continued, “That comes with great age and the witnessing of much sadness, I fear. I have not the ages they have seen weighing down my spirit, and I have many friends who see to it that I never become too solemn.” That last was directed at two dark haired elves just entering the grassy area. One of the newcomers snorted.

“Be careful with this one, hobbits. He is a menace.” Legolas promptly stuck his tongue out at the other elf, eliciting a giggle from Pippin.

“At least I have sense enough to leave off playing pranks when there are guests in my home, Elrohir Elrondion, and that is better than can be said of you. Your sister is furious about the water and flour you doused her with. Which reminds me, you could at least have come up with your own idea rather than steal one of Estel’s and mine.” Legolas’ grin was positively wicked, his eyes sparkling with devilish amusement. He laughed outright a moment later as he caught the expression on Frodo’s face. Bilbo, exercising the privilege of speaking one’s mind that comes with age, voiced thoughts similar to the ones running through Frodo’s head.

“Bless my buttons; do you drive your father to distraction as Pippin does his?” Legolas colored a bit, but answered honestly.

“I am sorry to say that it is likely that I do, but at least there is only one of me.” He cast a sly glance at the twins. They immediately caught his meaning and the look in their eyes did not bode well for the wood elf. Legolas was up and off like an arrow, the twins a beat behind him. He vaulted into a large oak tree, scaling it like a squirrel. The twins tried to follow, but were unable to catch a branch to pull themselves up. It looked as if the tree were conspiring with Legolas to keep the twins on the ground. The wood elf, for his part, was tossing rude comments at the twins from his perch high in the tree. A hearty laugh from behind them caused all to turn.

“Will the three of you never grow up?” Aragorn’s face bore a wide grin and his eyes crinkled with humor, an expression the hobbits had never seen him wear.

“Likely on a hot midwinter, Estel,” Legolas called from the treetop. The hobbits caught the nickname and turned to stare at Aragorn. The human rolled his eyes.

“What have you been telling them?” He sighed,” Honestly, I finally get someone to see me as the adult I have been for many years and the three of you have to start telling tales of my misspent youth.” Elladan and Elrohir left off trying to reach Legolas and walked to Aragorn’s side.

“Of course. How could we do less? After all, Estel, you will ever be our little brother no matter how old and dignified you might become. And yon elfling,” Elladan indicated Legolas, who was cautiously descending from the tree, “is merely glad that there is someone present who is younger than he is.” Legolas merely gave him a sour look and embraced Aragorn.

“It is good to see you again, Aragorn. I am sorry that I did not get to greet you sooner, but I arrived just in time to make myself presentable for the council.” Legolas gripped the ranger’s shoulders for a moment before stepping back.

“Aye and we all know how you are about being presentable.” Aragorn gave him a mischievous grin. Legolas gave him an affectionate shove.

“Pity that I have never managed to influence you in that area,” Legolas returned in kind eliciting sniggers from the twins. “I must go. My reputation as an archer is on the line.” Aragorn’s eyes widened.

“Who was fool enough to challenge you?” His voice was heavily laden with amused disbelief. Legolas laughed.

“One of the guardsmen from Gondor and a couple of elves who defeated Elladan and Elrohir recently. It should be interesting.” Legolas’ tone was not boastful. He was amazingly humble about his skill with a bow, but he did enjoy getting a dig in at the twins whenever possible.

“Interesting indeed. I believe I have to see this.” Aragorn fell into step beside the fair elf. Elladan and Elrohir were a mere step behind.

“Yes, it will be very satisfying to see Thorondur and Edheldur get trounced.” Elladan’s face bore a rather nasty grin. The younger hobbits exchanged looks and scrambled after the elves and man. Bilbo chuckled to himself and gathered up his book and coat for the trek back to his room.

Disclaimer: It’s not stealing, it’s borrowing without permission! No profit is being made and no infringement intended.

A/N: This takes place during ‘The Hobbit’ after the Battle of Five armies.

*********************************************************************************************

Gandalf sat in the large tent occupied by the king of Mirkwood, his expression grim. Victory was theirs, but at considerable cost. Gandalf had taken a wound to his arm. Thorin lay mortally wounded. Fili and Kili and more men and elves than the wizard wished to count lay dead. Bilbo Baggins was still unaccounted for and might well be among the dead. Still, his sorrows paled in comparison to those of the elven king, who paced the tent from end to end in a most un-elven manner. Not only had he lost warriors that he could ill afford to lose, but his only child was among the missing.

Outside the borders of his realm, Thranduil was reputed to be cold, intractable, and possessed of a quick temper; perilous to cross even by accident, and distant even to his own people. Stubborn to a fault, he was, but to any who knew him the rest of what was said of him was sheer drivel. Thranduil was a good king who sacrificed much for his realm and the elves who dwelt there. He had kept the encroaching Shadow at bay by his sheer determination and skill and the skills of his warriors. Beyond that, however, he was the father of a much beloved son. Gandalf feared for his long time friend should his son be counted among the dead.

A shout from outside the tent caused both the king and the wizard to rush outside. A knot of elven warriors was hurrying toward the king’s tent carrying something in their midst. The most senior warrior caught sight of Thranduil and called out to him.

“My Lord, we have found him! He breathes still, but he is gravely wounded.” Thranduil quickly stepped aside to allow the warriors to carry the prince into the tent and shouted for a healer. Thranduil shot Gandalf a swift look and the Istari nodded in confirmation. The wizard would render whatever aid he could. The king motioned for Gandalf to precede him into the tent. Once inside, Thranduil went directly to his son’s side, careful to keep out of the way of the wizard and the newly arrived healers.

The prince was not a pleasant sight. He was covered in dirt and blood, both his own and that of the orcs he had slain. One side of his face was blackened with bruises and his eyes were swollen shut. He bore a deep slash across his ribcage from an orc’s spear. The broken shaft of an arrow protruded from his shoulder and his arm lay at an unnatural angle. His breathing was shallow and labored.

“Elbereth! What happened to him?” Thranduil exclaimed softly, his hand smoothing Legolas’ filthy hair back from his face.

“We are not exactly certain, My Lord. It was sheer luck that we even found him. He was buried beneath several orc corpses. Had Thorondur not seen his foot sticking out from under one of the orcs, we might not have found him for another couple of days,” the most senior of the warriors answered as he lent an experienced hand to the healers. One of the healers spoke up then.

“My Lord, the wound across his ribs is the worst of it. The shoulder wound is a flesh wound only, and will heal in a few days. Other than that, his shoulder is dislocated, which will be relatively simple to remedy. The blow to his head was not serious enough to cause any lasting harm and the effects of being crushed under the orcs’ weight fades even now. He is strong; he should recover.” Thranduil closed his eyes in intense relief and continued to stroke his son’s hair.

Two hours later, Legolas’ wounds were dressed and he had been cleansed of the gore that had covered him and contaminated his wounds. He had been dressed in clean night clothing and settled on a pallet in his father’s tent. Gandalf had taken his leave as soon as he was certain that neither Thranduil nor Legolas would have further need of him that day. Thranduil sat by his son’s side, his hand resting lightly on his son’s uninjured shoulder.

*********************************************************************************************

Gandalf had returned to Thorin’s bedside. The dwarf had passed shortly thereafter, but that sadness was tempered by the fact that Bilbo lived and was in relatively good condition, physically. The wizard had become quite fond of the hobbit through the course of their travels and it would have weighed heavily on him had Bilbo not survived the battle.

Thorin would be laid to rest the next afternoon. For the moment, there was nothing that Gandalf could do for the dwarves that Dain was not already seeing to. Dain would make a fine king. He was, however, still concerned about Legolas and resolved to go to the elven king’s tent to check on the prince.

As he walked toward his intended destination, his path crossed Bilbo’s. The hobbit’s face bore signs of his grief and Gandalf sighed, thinking that Bilbo would return to his beloved Shire a vastly different hobbit than he had been at the beginning of his journey. Whether this was for good or ill, he knew not.

“Well met, Baggins. A sad day this is, even with the defeat of the orcs.” He smiled sadly down at the hobbit.

“Sad indeed, and more so for some than others. We, at least, are mending and will return to our homes.” Bilbo returned the smile in kind, his words reminding the wizard how much worse thing could have been.

“True, my friend, true. I am going to King Thranduil’s tent. His son was injured in the battle and I wish to see how he fares. Would you care to accompany me?” Gandalf was not certain what made him request the hobbit’s company. Perhaps it was that Thranduil had seemed to be kindly disposed toward the hobbit.

“The prince was injured? How badly?” Bilbo’s small face reflected concern.

“Badly enough. The healers say that he will recover, but I wish to offer whatever aid I can, even if it is only to reassure Thranduil. Legolas is his only child. Thranduil is strong, even for an elf, but he is also the father of a warrior who has been injured.” Gandalf leaned on his staff as he spoke. Istari and immortal, though he was, he certainly was not immune to fatigue or sorrow and he had had plenty of both in the last few days. Bilbo cocked his head and considered for a moment.

“If you do not think that I will be intruding, I will go with you. I should like to see the king again and do wish to inquire about his son’s health.” The wizard continued on his path and the hobbit fell into step with him. They went unchallenged by the sentries posted around the elven camp, as Gandalf was an old and trusted friend. Bilbo could not help but be warmed by the smiles the sentries gave him. It seemed that Thranduil was not the only elf to hold Bilbo in kind regard. They neared the king’s tent a few moments later. Gandalf spoke quietly with the elf guarding the entrance. The sentry stepped inside, returning a bit later with an elf Bilbo recognized from his stay in the elven king’s stronghold. The elf smiled broadly at the wizard.

“Mithrandir, it is good to see you!” The elf clasped Gandalf’s good arm in a friendly manner. He spoke in Westron out of courtesy to Bilbo, to whom he bowed politely.

“And you as well, Luinloth!” Gandalf replied, clasping the elf’s arm in return. “How fares the young one?” Luinloth rolled his eyes dramatically.

“I do not know who is the more stubborn, the father or the son! Legolas insists that he is well enough to get out of bed, and my Lord refuses to take any rest until he is certain that Legolas is completely out of danger. Perhaps you can do something with them, because I cannot.” The elf’s expression spoke of his long experience in dealing with the obstinate natures of both his king and prince. Gandalf chuckled, not a bit shocked at Luinloth’s candor.

“They are not likely to heed my words any more than yours, my friend, but I shall make the attempt. If you do not think that we will be intruding, that is.” Gandalf was reassured at the laugh that bubbled forth from Luinloth.

“Well, you are a welcome sight to me, at least and I dare say that my Lord will be glad to see you. Especially if it helps convince Legolas to stay in his bed a bit longer. Come in, friends!” Luinloth held back the tent flap to allow them to enter.

The interior of the tent was far more spartan than Bilbo would have thought after seeing Rivendell and Thranduil’s stronghold in Mirkwood. It held only a small brazier for heating medicines and such, a pallet for the king to rest on, the pallet the prince was occupying, a table that held maps and battle plans, and a basin that held water to wash in. The king’s weapons and such armor as he wore were stacked neatly on the far side of the tent. Next to that sat three travel packs that likely held clothing.

Thranduil was seated on the ground next to his son’s pallet. He was dressed in a similar fashion to his warriors in a simple white tunic and breeches. His feet were bare and his hair loose and unadorned by circlet or ornament of any kind. At the moment of their entrance into the tent, he was scowling at his son. He looked up as they entered and smiled warmly at them. Bilbo could see the weariness in the king’s face and it shocked him to see that in an elf.

“Mithrandir, Master Baggins, it is good to see you again.” Thranduil did not rise, but inclined his head. “Mithrandir, old friend, perhaps you can convince this demon child that it is in his best interests to stay in his bed a bit longer.” He scowled at the younger elf, but Bilbo could see the affection and worry that the scowl could not quite hide. The prince grimaced as much as he could with his swollen and bruised face.

“Ada, my injuries look far worse than they are. I am mending well and am tired of lying in this bed where I cannot see the sky. I only wish to sit outside for a little while.” Legolas turned, wincing as he moved, to look at the wizard and the hobbit. “Mae Govannen, Mithrandir. Mae Govannen, Master Baggins; I have heard much about you.” He smiled as much as his injuries would allow at the slightly flustered hobbit. “Mithrandir, I would be much in your debt if you would attempt to convince my Adar that he needs to rest now.” Thranduil scowled at him again and Legolas turned an identical scowl on his father. Bilbo’s attempt at stifling his chuckles failed as Gandalf made no effort to stifle his.

“The two of you are just far too much alike and I know better than to argue with either of you unless absolutely necessary! As it happens, you both have a point. Thranduil, you do need to rest and what harm can it do if he is carried outside for a little while if it quiets him down enough to rest a bit more himself?” The Istari then turned his gaze to the prince,” Legolas, please note that I said ‘carried’ and not ‘walked on his own.’ You are not strong enough for that yet. And only for a few minutes, mind you, and then you must rest again.”

“Oh, very well then. I suppose you will continue giving me grief until I allow it, and at least this way you will rest again after.” Thranduil fixed a rueful gaze on his errant offspring. “I, however, must go meet with Dain and Bard. There are still some issues that must be decided.” He turned to address his assistant, “Luinloth, please stay with Legolas.” Luinloth opened his mouth to protest, and then snapped it shut and bowed.

“Ada, you will need Luinloth with you.” Legolas sighed and a resigned expression settled over his bruised face. “I give you my oath that I will allow myself to be carried outside, do nothing but sit while I am outside, and allow myself to be carried back. Once back inside, I give you my oath that I will rest. Now, will you please take him with you and stop worrying so over me?”

“That will never happen, ion-nin. Legolas, I trust you to do as you have promised, but I still want someone with you in case you need the healers again.” Thranduil brushed his son’s hair back from his face, his hand lingering a moment on the tousled locks. Bilbo cleared his throat, gaining the attention of all in the tent.

“I am not needed at any councils, nor do I have any other pressing matters until Thorin is laid to rest. Perhaps the prince and I can keep each other company.” Bilbo offered a diffident smile to the king and prince. Thranduil studied his son, gauging his reaction.

“Yes, I would like that. I have never before met one of your folk and I would like to talk with you.” Legolas returned Bilbo’s smile, easing the hobbit’s awkwardness at being the center of attention. To the surprise of the hobbit and the prince, Thranduil gave a nod of satisfaction.

“Thank you, Master Baggins. By far the worst part of recovering from injury is the boredom. Luinloth, I believe you should offer him your gratitude for your reprieve.” His mouth quirked and Luinloth favored him with an arch look.

“Oh, aye, that I do. The only one who is more trying as a patient than your son is you, my Lord.” He seemed impervious to the glare Thranduil shot him. Legolas snickered, quickly schooling his face to a blank expression when his father glanced back at him. Unexpectedly, Thranduil began to chuckle.

“ I do not doubt it. One must maintain one’s reputation,” he commented drolly. “Luinloth, if we are to be on time for this we must make haste.” He rose gracefully from his place by Legolas and moved to where his boots sat by the travel packs. After putting them on with a grimace, (‘Ada hates shoes as much as I do,’ Legolas whispered in an aside to Bilbo.) he sat on the camp stool by the table and allowed Luinloth to braid his hair. His robes were next, completing his transformation from warrior to king. He returned to Legolas’ side briefly to kiss his forehead and then he, Luinloth, and Gandalf left to meet with Dain and Bard.

Several elves entered the tent and moved both Legolas and his pallet outside. As soon as he was settled in the late afternoon sun, Legolas sighed contentedly. He turned his head to regard his small companion.

“This is much better! I hate being unable to see the sky.” The elf grinned at the hobbit. Bilbo could not help but smile in return. “Master Baggins, will you tell me of your people and your home?” The prince wore an expression similar to one Bilbo had often seen on hobbit lads begging for stories and he could not help chuckling. The prince did not take offense. He merely widened his eyes a bit more, exaggerating the expression. Bilbo laughed outright as the elf had intended.

“Very well, I shall start with telling you of the Shire………….

*********************************************************************************************

Night had fallen long before the king returned to his tent. Bilbo and Legolas, for he had insisted that the hobbit call him that instead of by his title, had swapped stories until Legolas had drifted into reverie. Bilbo sat by the prince’s side, his mind going over the tales Legolas had told him in exchange for tales of hobbits and the Shire. He knew far more now than any other hobbit ever had about elves and still he was certain that there was far more that he still did not know.

He had enjoyed the prince’s company immensely. Legolas was very different than the elves he had met in Rivendell and different even than the elves he had observed in Mirkwood. He had a sunny personality, a quick wit, and wicked sense of humor. He was good at riddles, as well, once he had gotten a feel for them.

Bilbo was tired, but in much better spirits than he had been. He bade king Thranduil good night, insisting that the king’s thanks were unnecessary and sought his own pallet. His dreams were pleasant.

Title: Forging Friendships

Rating: PG

Beta:

Warnings: elven humor, hobbit humor

Spoilers: FOTR, some of my stories perhaps

Disclaimer: It’s not stealing, it’s borrowing without permission! No profit is being made, this is just for fun.

Dedication: for my daughter, Tori

*********************************************************************************************

At Aragorn and Elrond’s insistence, the Fellowship spent as much time as possible together, getting to know one another and building trust. The hobbits were always present as were Boromir and Gimli. Aragorn and Legolas were present as often as possible. Both were participating in scouting missions and border patrols that took them away at times. Legolas also had made a short trip back to Mirkwood. Gandalf appeared when it suited him, since most of the Fellowship already knew and trusted him. The sons of Elrond also took to keeping company with the Fellowship as well, because they had discovered that a good time was almost always to be had in the presence of hobbits.

The primary, and most serious, area of friction within the group was predictably between the elf and the dwarf. Given that the normal sentiment in Mirkwood was not favorable toward dwarves, Legolas’ attitude toward Gimli was not surprising. He largely ignored the dwarf, but was quick to respond with a cutting retort to any comment the dwarf directed at him that was less than civil. Unfortunately, few of the comments Gimli directed at the elf could even remotely be considered civil, the dwarf‘s attitude toward Legolas mirroring the elf‘s toward Gimli. Aragorn had taken the position of keeper of the peace and stepped in when the exchanges became heated, sending both parties in separate directions to cool their tempers.

This particular day, the group had taken their noon meal by one of the scenic pools in the valley. Gandalf and Gimli were in an animated discussion of the Battle of Five Armies. The rest of the group was quiet, following the discussion with interest. Even Legolas, who was teaching Pippin to make arrows, listened intently.

“Father told me that the eagles turned the tide. Had they not come, none would have lived to tell the tale.” Gimli puffed on his pipe thoughtfully. Gandalf nodded in agreement.

“Aye, fortunate indeed were we that Gwaihir and his folk were keeping their eyes on the orcs. Still, there were far too many losses in that battle, and many injuries,” he declared, his eyes resting on Legolas. Legolas smiled at him as he added his own comment.

“Aye, but wounds heal and those who survive tell the tale to those who come after.” He grinned down at the hobbit at his side.

“Were you there, too, Legolas?” Pippin’s bright eyes searched his companion’s face.

“Yes, I was.” Legolas’ reply was brief, but his tone was amiable.

“Did you see the eagles, too?”

“No, I am afraid that I missed that part of the battle. The hill I was on was overrun by warg riders before the eagles arrived.” Legolas’ expression was serene, his voice even. Aragorn moved to the elf’s side, his curiosity piqued.

“You have never told me this tale, mellon-nin. Were you badly injured?” The human clasped Legolas’ shoulder. Legolas grinned at him.

“Oh, it looked a great deal worse than it actually was. It was just an arrow to the shoulder, a sword slash across my side, and a rather nasty set of bruises to the side of my head. I would have fared better had I not spent several hours buried under a heap of orc corpses.” He shrugged, a bit uncomfortable at being the center of attention. “I recovered quickly, once I was found.”

“But, you were only found because one of the elves searching for you saw your foot sticking out from under that pile of orcs. And as I recall, they very nearly had to tie you down to keep you in your bed.” Gandalf’s voice was heavily laced with amusement. Legolas had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Oh, not you too! Ada is bad enough. He still dredges it up when he is displeased with me.”

“Which is quite often knowing you, pen neth.” Gandalf chuckled at the elf’s slightly pink cheeks and ears. “In all seriousness, Legolas, you scared the liver out of your father with that one, so I do not doubt that he still dwells on it. I was there when they carried you in, and I can assure you that you looked more dead than alive at that point.”

“Still, I did survive. A great many did not, elves, dwarves, and men. Their sacrifice was far greater, and rightfully should be spoken of more than my experiences.” Legolas met the Istari’s eyes steadily. Gandalf smiled warmly at him.

“Well spoken, pen neth. You are correct.” The wizard puffed on his pipe, the expression in his eyes one of sorrow for departed friends. Gimli snorted.

“Well and good to say that, but tell it to that damned king of yours.” The dwarf’s bearded chin was thrust out in a challenging manner. Legolas’ fair face flushed with fury and he spat out a long string of Sindarin before rising and stalking off. Merry leaned over to Frodo.

“What did he say?” Frodo shook his head emphatically.

“What little I understood, I will not repeat.”

Aragorn growled in annoyance and rounded on the dwarf. “That was uncalled for, Gimli! He had said or done nothing to you.” Gimli scowled, but remained silent.

“Indeed, it was a pleasant gathering until just now. Aragorn is correct, Gimli. Legolas did not deserve that. I agree that he is as likely to be at fault in your verbal battles as you are usually, but this day he had done nothing to provoke you.”

“Bah! I spoke the truth and you know it! It is the elf’s own fault if he cannot bear to hear it.” Gimli scowled fiercely, unwilling to admit to fault.

“Nay, not truth but your father’s bitterness over his stay in Thranduil’s caverns. May I remind you that none of them were mistreated in any way, and had Thorin but answered Thranduil’s questions he likely would have released the lot of them? It was their own folly and stubbornness that got them into that particular pickle to begin with and do not pretend otherwise. I warned them to stay on the trail and they heeded me not. I do not pretend that Thranduil is without his own faults, nor does he for that matter. And you will not torment Legolas for something that he was not even present to witness and had no hand in.” Gandalf scowled back at Gimli twice as fiercely. Gimli growled in annoyance and stomped off in the direction opposite the one Legolas had taken. Gandalf sighed and shook his head.

“Let them both cool off a bit. I will talk to Legolas. It would be best I think, if you spoke with Gimli.” Aragorn lit his own pipe and puffed on it thoughtfully. “Regardless of what Legolas might think of Gimli, he is a very disciplined warrior and he will not let his personal feelings get in the way of his duty.”

“Nor will Gimli. I had hoped that they might find common ground, but I suppose that the best we can hope for is a cessation of hostilities.” Gandalf blew a series of smoke rings. “I do wish that Gimli had chosen a different insult.” Aragorn merely nodded, leaving the hobbits to stew in their curiosity. Pippin waited until he was certain that the ranger and the Istari would say nothing more of interest, and then he slipped off to search for the elf.

He found Legolas strictly by chance. The hobbit tripped over a root of the tree Legolas happened to be brooding in and fell sprawling onto the path. The elf jumped down to land lightly by Pippin’s side.

“Pippin, are you hurt?” Legolas helped him sit up.

“Just my pride, I think. Some bloody good tracker I turned out to be.” Pippin chuckled at himself, and then cast a concerned look at the elf. “Are you all right?” Legolas avoided eye contact as he helped the hobbit to his feet.

“I am well. I am more concerned with you at the moment. Can you walk without limping?” Pippin grinned cheekily up at him.

“Oh, not to worry! We hobbits are a lot tougher than we look.” His expression turned serious again. “Legolas are you really all right or are you just pretending to be?” Legolas sighed, realizing that Pippin was not going to be deterred. He stood and motioned the hobbit to precede him to a grassy area off the path. They sat and for a few minutes the elf was silent.

“Pippin, does your family know where you are?” The hobbit looked shocked, but answered readily.

“Well, yes, but they don’t know where I will be. I mean, they know I’m here in Rivendell with Merry and Frodo, but not about the quest. I didn’t want to worry them. Why do you ask?” Pippin studied his companion closely. Legolas appeared to be thinking very hard.

“When I was away the last time, I went to see my father to tell him about the quest.” Legolas stared out across the garden they sat next to. “I had to tell him the truth because it might have been the last time that I will ever see him. He was not happy, but he understood why I have to do this.” The elf sighed heavily, his fingers moving lightly across the grass by his knee. “I have been thinking too much about that, and then I allowed Gimli’s thoughtless words to anger me more than they should have.” Pippin frowned a bit.

“Well, he did insult your king. I think you’ve a right to be upset about that.” Legolas laughed humorlessly.

“Not just my king, Pippin. He insulted my father.” Pippin stared.

“The king is your father?” Legolas nodded, drew his knees up to his chest and laid his head on them, his hair obscuring his face. Pippin stood and moved closer to the elf, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I wanted you to judge me on my own merit and not as Thranduil’s son.” He raised his head and looked the hobbit in the eye steadily. “Pippin, I respect my father more than any other elf, and I love him very much. He is a good king and a good father, regardless of what is said of him by those who do not know him. He raised me never to trade on my rank, or to take it for granted.” Legolas smiled a bit sadly. “As restless as I get when I am home, I do miss him when I am away.”

“I understand. I miss my mum and da, but I have to do this. I can’t let Frodo do this without his family.” Legolas nodded and they fell silent. Pippin sat back down and leaned his back against Legolas’ side. Legolas gave him an amused look, but made no comment. A bit later, Aragorn approached and Pippin excused himself citing the need for food. Aragorn sat down by the elf and regarded him for a moment. Legolas sighed.

“I am fine, Estel, and I apologize for allowing my temper to get the better of me.” He favored the ranger with a sour look. “I know you and Mithrandir were hoping that Gimli and I could let the past stay in the past but we are sons of our fathers and perhaps the best we can do is tolerate each other’s presence.”

“I will not deny that that is what we hoped, but tolerance is better than nothing.” Aragorn clasped his friend’s shoulder. “Right now I am more concerned about why you got so upset. Did you and your Adar argue?” Legolas shook his head.

“No, we parted on good terms. He is not happy about this, but he does understand. He fears for me, and rightly so.” Legolas met Aragorn’s eyes. “As I fear for him in the days to come. Estel, we both know that once Sauron makes his move, he is as likely to move from Dol Goldur as he is from Mordor. My father will be in the thick of any battle that takes place. He lost his father in the last war against Sauron. I do not wish to lose mine in this one and he does not wish to lose me. Either and both are likely.” He impatiently shoved a stray lock of his hair out of his face. “I am not fit company today. I should have stayed away.”

“Legolas, will you stop? I thought you were doing quite well with Pippin. That one could do with some guidance.” Legolas’ chuckle made Aragorn grin.

“Oh, he is just young. You do know that he has not even reached his majority yet, do you not?” Legolas looked amused at Aragorn’s shock. “He has a good heart under all that mischief and he is very loyal to his friends. He came looking for me because he was concerned about me. I just hope that he does not decide that Gimli is in need of any of his mischief because of this. One of us should talk to him. Or perhaps Frodo should. He seems to heed his cousin’s words over anyone else’s.”

“I will speak to Frodo. In the meantime, why do you not seek more pleasant company than mine? That always does put you in a better frame of mind.” He grinned slyly at the elf. Legolas gave him a half hearted shove, pleasantly reminded of their younger days. Aragorn laughed and squeezed his shoulder affectionately before rising and heading back towards the House.

Legolas sighed. In his present mood, he was no fit company for a lady either. He contemplated returning to the treetops for several moments until a slight noise from behind him alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone.

“Is our fair prince of Mirkwood brooding again, brother? That simply will not do.” Elladan dropped gracefully into a sitting position on Legolas’ left side as Elrohir dropped down on his right.

“No indeed, brother. It will not do at all. What do you suggest?” Elrohir’s eyes gleamed with mischief and Legolas chuckled in spite of himself.

“He laughs! That is encouraging. The situation is not as dire as we feared.” Elladan seemed to look through Legolas for a bit. “I recommend a bit of intense physical activity. Come on, mellon-nin; let us go practice our skills with our blades.” He stood and held one hand out to Legolas and one to his twin. They clasped his hands and he pulled them both to their feet. Each twin draped an arm across Legolas’ shoulders as they steered him toward the practice yard. Legolas was surprised to find that he was grinning.

After the hobbits had eaten again, they accompanied Boromir to the practice yard for instruction in the use of the short swords they had been given. As they entered the yard, however, it became evident that it was currently in use.

Legolas and Elrohir circled each other, oblivious to their new audience. Both elves had stripped to the waist. Legolas was armed with his twin knives, Elrohir with a sword. As if by unspoken signal, they lunged. Weapons met and deflected each other. The combatants spun away and then re-engaged, blades flashing and moving almost too quickly to be seen. Elrohir swung at Legolas, who leapt into the air, allowing his opponent’s blade to pass beneath his feet. As soon as Legolas’ feet touched the ground, he dropped to kneel in the dust and brought his blade up under Elrohir’s guard. The son of Elrond parried the blow with some effort. Stepping back, he slashed to Legolas’ midsection. The prince dove under his blade and rolled back up to his feet behind Elrohir. Grinning, he tapped the dark haired elf on the shoulder with the flat of one of his blades. From his vantage point across the yard, Elladan chortled.

“He has you there, brother! Nicely done, tithen ernil!” Elladan was grinning almost as widely as Legolas. The elves sheathed their weapons and gathered up their gear. Elladan nodded politely to Boromir and winked at the hobbits as he and Elrohir exited the yard on their way to their rooms. Elrohir merely grinned at all of them in passing. Legolas lingered long enough to exchange pleasantries before heading toward his own rooms.

Legolas contemplated requesting dinner in his rooms, discarded the idea quickly. He would have dinner in the hall with everyone else and attend the festivities in the Hall of Fire afterwards. Besides his desire not to allow the dwarf to believe he had won, there would certainly be quite a few lovely ladies about.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be and no profit is being made.

A/N: Another damn plot bunny. You will note in this that my take on Legolas is that he's rather young for an elf. Tolkien never gave an age for him, and many have expressed theories at length as to what his age might be but in the end we are all free to speculate and write what we will.

Despite the peaceful surroundings and the Lady’s welcome, Gimli could not relax and he was not alone. The remaining members of the Fellowship were all bone weary and grieving, but none of them were quite ready to rest. Legolas and Aragorn, being the ones most fluent in Elvish, had busied themselves translating for their companions and seeing that all their needs were met.

They had all taken advantage of the springs and had washed the grime of their travels and Moria from their bodies and clothing. The hobbits had been fairly easy to clothe, being small, and Aragorn was close enough to the size of some of the brawnier wardens to fit, albeit snugly, into a borrowed tunic. Boromir had a spare set of clothing of his own, as did Gimli, and Legolas merely disappeared for awhile, returning with damp hair and wearing clean clothing.

The elf had been very quiet since Gandalf’s fall. Gimli noted, with no small amount of surprise, that he missed the soothing sound of the elf’s voice singing softly to raise his fellow’s spirits as they slept. Legolas had not sung a single note since they had lost the wizard.

The elf was currently seeing that the hobbits all had sufficient food and drink, and admonishing Aragorn to rest. He kept clear of Boromir, noting as Gimli had, that the man wished to be left alone. The dwarf, he was still wary of even though neither of them had uttered a single insult to each other since they had left Balin’s tomb. It seemed to Gimli that Legolas was as reluctant to continue their feud as he was. The elf moved away from the hobbits finally, having been assured that they had all they needed. He glanced at Gimli before approaching him, pitcher in hand.

“Gimli, do you wish to have something to eat and drink? I noticed that you have not yet done so,” the elf spoke softly, his tone that of concern.

“Nay, I think I’m too tired to eat right now,” Gimli replied with a grimace. Legolas merely nodded, and began to turn away. “Legolas,” the dwarf called in a quiet voice, causing the elf to turn back, “do you never relax? You are at least as weary as the rest of us, perhaps more since you took most of the watches. You should rest, too.” It was the first time since they had left Rivendell that Gimli had expressed any concern for Legolas at all, and the elf gave him a puzzled look, opening his mouth to reply. Some sound that Gimli was unable to hear caught his attention then, however, and whatever it was that he had been about to say was forgotten at the approach of a pair of elves.

The lady was tall and as fair as Legolas, her eyes troubled and restlessly searching the archer for signs of injury as she approached him. The male was dark haired and a half a head taller than the lady and he looked Legolas over as carefully as the lady did. As soon as she got with arm’s reach of the Mirkwood elf, she pulled him into a fierce embrace. The male wrapped his arms around both of them, one hand wrapping around the lady’s shoulder, the other lightly smoothing Legolas’ hair.

Legolas, to Gimli’s surprise, not only allowed himself to be drawn into the embrace but seemed to welcome it and rested his forehead on the lady’s shoulder. Her hand rubbed gently across his back in soothing circles. After a moment, he raised his head and kissed her cheek. She smoothed his hair back and laid her hand along his cheek, speaking urgently to him. Legolas shook his head and replied softly. The lady appeared to relax a bit then, and Legolas turned to the male elf, giving him a brief smile. The stranger smiled back and pulled Legolas close in a quick hug, which Legolas returned.

The lady spoke again; her tone one of command this time and Gimli could see Legolas tense even from where he sat. The prince shook his head, and said something in reply in a firm tone that left Gimli with no doubt that he had refused some type of order from the lady. The dwarf turned his face forward again, not wishing to be caught watching a dispute, but continued to observe out of the corner of his eye.

The lady’s mouth firmed into a determined line and she spoke again, clearly demanding that her wishes be obeyed. Legolas shook his head again, stepping back a pace and repeating the same words he had said the moment before. The lady moved to speak again, and Gimli could tell that Legolas was scowling, even though he could not see the archer’s face. The dark male intervened then, placing a hand on a shoulder of each of the antagonists and spoke in a soothing tone. Legolas nodded, looking away from the female and clearly still distressed. The lady scowled at her companion and spoke angrily to him for a moment. He replied in the same soft and reasonable tone and she threw her hands into the air and stalked off without a second look. The dark male stayed for a moment, speaking to Legolas and clearly trying to soothe him before following his volatile companion in the direction from which they had arrived.

Legolas looked in Gimli’s direction then and the dwarf was glad that he had had the presence of mind to make his observation less blatant. The elf sighed and walked back over, sitting down next to the surprised dwarf. Aragorn wandered over then, a slight smile on his face.

“She never changes, does she?” he asked the elf. Legolas sighed again.

“No, she does not and between her and my Adar, I know not who is the worse worrier,” the elf replied in an aggrieved tone. “They both still think that I am in swaddling clothes. It is very tiresome.”

“Your father most certainly does not think that you are still an infant,” Aragorn disagreed with a grin. “Or he would not have sent you to patrol the Southern edges of his kingdom, nor would he have sent you to the Council. Nimendis, on the other hand, does still see you as a mere babe in arms.” Legolas snorted and muttered something in his own tongue that made Aragorn’s eyebrow shoot up into his hairline.

“She is insisting that I come immediately to her talan and remain there until the fighting is done,” Legolas said with a scowl.

“She loves you and she fears that she will lose you as she did her sister,” Aragorn said, dropping down to sit in front of Legolas.

“Estel, you know as well as I do that if we fail even this sanctuary will no longer be safe. I cannot afford to humor her,” the prince stated firmly, his eyes troubled. “I wish it were not so, for her sake, for I love her as much as she loves me.” He met Aragorn’s eyes with an ironic expression, “And if you recall, my father can be every bit as much a mother bird as my mother’s sister can. Remember what he was like at Greenglade Keep?”

“I do indeed,” the ranger replied with a tired chuckle. He looked at Gimli, who had been following the exchange with interest. “Legolas took two poisoned arrows during an orc attack the last time he and his father visited Rivendell. They had to take refuge at Greenglade Keep while Legolas healed.”

“Ah, and your father insisted that you follow the healer’s instruction to the letter, did he?” the dwarf asked with a grin, for he had already discovered that the elf was a difficult patient.

“Oh yes, until he was injured and then the tables turned quite effectively,” the elf replied with a grin. “Someone was trying to eliminate either him or me or both of us,” Legolas stated, answering the unasked question. “We have never found out who, but they were well connected enough to send an Ulaire after us.”

“A Nazgul,” Aragorn supplied, correctly reading Gimli’s puzzled look. The dwarf’s eyebrows rose at that and he gave a low whistle.

“I’d say they wanted you gone pretty badly,” he commented. “Of course, if Mirkwood fell to the Shadow and the Misty Mountains overrun by orcs, it would be an effective way to isolate Rivendell from Lothlórien, don’t you think?”

“Exactly,” Legolas replied his respect for Gimli clearly rising several notches. He seemed to see the dwarf in a whole new light at that moment and Gimli winked at him.

“Just because we live in the bowels of the mountain doesn’t mean that we don’t keep up with the doings of our neighbors,” he commented wryly.

“No, I would guess not,” Legolas agreed, a faint smile beginning to play about his lips. Gimli cleared his throat.

“To get back to our original subject of discussion, Legolas,” Gimli intoned, fixing the elf with a piercing look. “You are paler than I have ever seen you, and you have lost at least as much weight as the rest of us on this journey. Do you intend to eat something and rest now? The hobbits are filled to the eyes with food and drink and are laying down to rest even as we speak; Aragorn and I have food and drink and will rest as soon as we consume them.” He fixed Aragorn with a look identical to the one he had given Legolas and the ranger chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. “Boromir I leave to you, Aragorn and I wish you luck. You’ll need it. “The dwarf and the ranger exchanged a grimace, which the elf shared. “So I ask you again, Legolas, will you rest?”

“Aye, Gimli, I will,” the elf replied, no hint of sarcasm or enmity in his tone or expression. “Would you mind keeping me company while I eat? I think I would like to hear about Erebor from one who lives there.”

“Aye, I’d be glad to,” the dwarf replied. “Providing that you tell me some tales of Mirkwood.”

Aragorn drifted over to speak with Boromir, and the elf and the dwarf began swapping tales as they both ate. Soon, they spread Gimli’s bedroll out and sat upon it, still conversing amiably.

Gimli concluded a humorous tale about one of his cousins and was surprised not to hear the elf’s merry laughter. He looked over at Legolas and began to grin. The elf had drifted into his dreams sitting propped up against the mallorn tree that they had spread Gimli’s bedroll under. His eyes were almost closed, which Gimli had discovered from observation meant that the elf was truly exhausted. Chuckling under his breath, the dwarf eased the elf down until he lay comfortably on the bedroll. He then went and grabbed a couple of spare blankets from a pile near the hobbits’ sleeping place and spread one out next to the sleeping archer.

As her settled down for his own rest, Gimli looked over at Legolas again. The elf had turned on his side and curled up, resting his cheek in his hand and looking for all of Arda like a sleeping child. ‘Really,’ Gimli thought as he drifted off to sleep, ‘for all that he’s about the fiercest fighter I’ve ever seen, he‘s hopeless when it comes to his own welfare. His aunt’s not too far off the mark; that lad needs a keeper.‘

                                                              ~

Legolas blinked and stirred, his eyes refocusing slowly. Next to him, he could hear Gimli snoring and to his left, one of the hobbits shifted and muttered in his sleep. To the right, a couple of horse lengths beyond Gimli, Boromir’s soft snores sounded. Sitting up, his eyes cast about landing finally upon Aragorn who rested in his bedroll next to the hobbits’ sleeping place. Everyone accounted for and safe, the elf lay back down gazing up through a break in the tree tops at the stars. He could tell from the stars’ position that he had dreamed for several hours. The sky would soon lighten with the first hint of dawn. Chewing his lip thoughtfully, he glanced back over at the dwarf.

He had obviously misjudged Gimli. No hidebound, narrow-minded, insular being would have grasped quickly the importance of the elves’ continued fight against the Shadow in Mirkwood. The dwarf was very stubborn, but he certainly was not ignorant. He was also, evidently, quite observant as well. Suddenly, Legolas was very intrigued by his bearded companion. Rolling onto his side, he propped himself up on one elbow and studied the dwarf.

Gimli lay on his back, hands clasped across his chest. His face was relaxed, and he looked far younger than he actually was without the crinkled brow wrought by worries and cares that normally topped the dark eyes brimming with intelligence and twinkling with humor. Idly, Legolas wondered how elves and men could consider dwarves to be ill-favored in their looks. Appearances were of far less importance to an elf than intelligence and courage, but Legolas was not blind and to his eyes, Gimli had a very pleasant face to look at. So did the other dwarves that had come to the Council, if the truth be told.

Gimli had also been very kind to the hobbits during their journey, answering Pippin’s endless questions with a patience that no elf would have ascribed to a dwarf. He told humorous stories to lighten Frodo’s mood and helped Sam with foraging for food and cooking. He joked with Boromir and offered his stalwart support to Aragorn and Mithrandir, who he had clearly respected a great deal. If Legolas were to be completely honest with himself, none of the things he had been told of dwarves seemed to ring true in Gimli.

Mithrandir…   Legolas’ thoughts moved back to the wizard and he rolled onto his belly, burying his face in his arms. For as long as the elf could remember, Mithrandir had passed through his father’s realm on his journeys across Arda. He was always welcomed with open arms, even though Legolas knew that his father did not always agree with the Istari. Legolas himself had always looked forward to Mithrandir’s visits. When he was an elfling, a visit from Mithrandir had meant fireworks and presents. As he grew older, the visits became windows to a world beyond the forests, beyond the elven realms. The wizard always had time to sit and talk with Legolas, regardless of the urgency of his mission and Legolas had never forgotten that.

Suddenly, the memory of the wizard’s passing threatened to overwhelm the young elf and he scrambled to his feet, preparing to leap into the trees and flee to a place where he would not disturb his companions with his grief. Gimli snorted and woke, eyes immediately focusing on the stricken elf.

“Legolas? What is it, lad?” the dwarf asked softly, concern written clearly on his face. Legolas flushed, looking away quickly.

“Nothing, Gimli. Return to your rest. I merely rested too long,” the elf replied, not once meeting the dwarf’s eyes.

“Orc dung. Legolas, you’re likely the worst liar I’ve ever met. Come on, let’s go down to the spring and get a drink.” He rose stiffly and rolled his shoulders to loosen the muscles before taking hold of Legolas’ arm and drawing him away from the rest of the Fellowship. “Maybe then you’ll feel more like talking.”

                                                             ~

The two managed not to wake any of the others as they left on the path towards the spring. After they had both taken a long drink of the pure, cool water, Gimli sat back against a tree and regarded his tall companion closely. Legolas fidgeted a bit, but did not meet his gaze.

“Would you mind satisfying my curiosity about something, Legolas?” he asked after a few moments. The elf glanced at him apprehensively, but gave a slight nod. “How old are you?” The archer gave him a startled look; it was not the question he had evidently expected.

“A bit over five hundred years,” he replied, a puzzled look on his fair face. The dwarf nodded, frowning speculatively.

“That’s fairly young for an elf, am I right?” Gimli gazed expectantly at him. In truth, he was a bit shocked that Legolas was far younger than he had speculated, but he hid his shock carefully, mindful of the elf’s pride.

“Yes, it is. We reach our majority at fifty, but anything under a couple of thousand years is considered quite young. It is a matter of perspective, I suppose,” he said, shrugging in typical elaborate elven fashion. “Why did you want to know?”

“Just curious, but it explains a lot,” the dwarf replied, holding a hand up quickly to forestall an angry rebuttal. “No, I don’t mean it like that, lad. Don’t ruffle your feathers at me.” He gave Legolas such an impish look that the elf laughed his offense at Gimli’s words forgotten. “No, I meant, that’s why you’re so open to new things and places. You’re not weary of the world yet, like a lot of your folk are.”

“True,’ the elf admitted, nodding. “I have seen no small number of my people leave because they could no longer bear to stay. There is much I wish to do and see still, however, and besides, I doubt that my father will leave and I would not leave him all alone. And I would not leave Estel in any case,“ he said firmly.

“No, I can see that. You’ve known him a long time then?” Gimli queried, figuring that if he could get Legolas comfortable talking to him about other things that the elf might eventually unburden himself.

“Since he was a child. He was all of perhaps six or seven.” Legolas wore a reminiscent grin.

“I’ll bet he was a real rounder,’ Gimli commented, grinning.

“With Elladan and Elrohir around, how could he not be? They did, however, forget one small detail,” the elf said with a devilish grin. “They taught me all their tricks when I was a child and so I thought it only right to pass the knowledge on to Estel.” Gimli gave a great belly laugh at that and Legolas joined him, laughing his musical laugh. “And I shall pass it on again to Estel’s children, Iluvatar willing.”

“Well, then I’ll look forward to watching and being amused by the whole thing,” Gimli chuckled. “What about Bilbo? Did you meet him before the Council?”

“I met him right after the Battle of Five Armies. He was kind enough to keep me company for a time while I was recovering enough to travel home. He is a very good storyteller, do you not think so?” Legolas shifted, leaning back and casting his eyes toward the fading stars.

“Indeed he is. My father always spoke of him with great affection. I’m glad that I got to meet him.” Gimli studied the elf surreptitiously; he seemed to be relaxing a bit.

“Gimli, may I ask a question now?”

“Of course, lad. Fair’s fair, after all,” the dwarf replied, settling back against a tree. He wished he could smoke his pipe, but was afraid that it might offend the elf and he did not want to risk that when Legolas was finally relaxing enough to open up a bit.

“What is your father like?” He looked out of the corner of his eye at the dwarf. It was so childlike an action that Gimli nearly laughed.

“Well now, that’s a tough question to answer. Da’s the best weapons-maker I know, and I learned what I know at his knee. He also makes fine jewelry. Mam’s a gem cutter, so they work well together. He never put up with any guff from me, that’s for sure, but I never went without anything if he could help it, even if that meant he went without himself. He’s a shrewd trader, too. He’s well respected in the mountain, and is often asked for his advice, even by the king.” Gimli shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

“What about your mother? What is she like?” Legolas leaned forward, his interest plain.

“Mam’s a gem cutter, like I said. She’s not so serious a sort as Da is. She likes to laugh. She’s not one to suffer a fool, though, and I never got away with anything more with her than I did with Da. She’s got some healing skills, too and she helps the healers a lot. Knows her herbs and medicines well, she does. Neither Da nor I have had so much as a sniffle in years because of Mam’s teas.” Gimli shifted into a more comfortable position against the tree and shot Legolas a grin. “Your turn, Master Elf. What is your father like?”

“I can tell you what he is not. He is not a tyrant, nor is he a hoarder of treasure. He is a good and just king who is much beloved by the elves of his realm. Ada is not perfect by any means, he has his faults. He is stubborn, and he does have a temper, but he does not allow that to rule his actions. He learned that lesson well at Dagorlad when his father and his brother died as a result of my grandfather’s pride and temper. He has told me of it many times, so that I might not make the same mistake.” Legolas’ face bore a look of fierce pride.

“He raised me alone; my mother was killed by orcs before my third Begetting Day. I had nursemaids, but it was always Ada who put me to bed at night and greeted me in the morning when I woke. He always made time at least for that, and whenever else he could. He made my first bow and arrows with his own hands and was the first to guide me in using them.” He looked over at Gimli again with a slight smile. “You see why I will not suffer ill talk of him?”

“Aye, lad, I do. You will not hear any more from me, you have my word on it.” Gimli met the elf’s eyes solemnly.

“Thank you,” Legolas said simply and with that the hostility that had existed between them vanished completely as if it had never been. Gimli decided that perhaps the time had come for him to broach the subject he had been waiting for Legolas to speak about.

“What was troubling you earlier?” He watched the elf carefully for signs that he was closing up again, but saw none. Legolas chewed his lip for a moment, and then spoke.

“I was thinking of Mithrandir,” he said in a soft voice.

“Ah,” was all Gimli said. He reached out and laid a hand on the elf’s forearm, squeezing slightly. Legolas laid his hand over Gimli’s and they sat there in silence until the sun peeked over the horizon.

Title: Morning in Lothlórien

Author: sheraiah

Disclaimer: Not mine and never will be. No profit is being made.

Rating: PG

Warnings: none

Spoilers: LOTR, my stories

Cast: The Fellowship

The Fellowship broke their fast with a meal large enough to satisfy even the hobbits, but their mood was still somber. Even Legolas’ unfailing cheer was absent. He had been unusually quiet since Gandalf’s fall, although he seemed to Aragorn to be more at ease this morning than he had been the night before. The ranger was also mildly shocked to see him in Gimli’s company. All well and good if they had managed to settle their differences, he thought as he filled his pipe. They still had so far to go, and without the wizard it was going to arduous enough even if they did not have to worry about disagreements between the elf and the dwarf.

As he took the first few puffs on what Legolas sarcastically referred to as his ‘malodorous addiction’, he heard the elf politely excuse himself from the rest of their companions. Glancing up, he saw the prince approaching him and took time to really look at the elf.

Legolas definitely looked better than he had, more relaxed. Some of that was likely due to the fact that he had slept, as they all had, but it also looked to Aragorn that the burden of his grief was somewhat lessened. He sincerely hoped that was the case. Grief could be very dangerous for an elf, and beyond his heartfelt concern for his long time friend, they sorely needed the elf’s skills on the journey ahead of them.

“Off to spend time with your aunt?” Aragorn asked, giving the elf a slight smile.

“Aye, if I do not Adar will never hear the end of it,” Legolas replied with a grimace. “And therefore, neither will I.” The ranger chuckled.

“She loves you dearly, mellon-nin.”

“I know. I will be on my best behavior. I will not, however, forsake the Fellowship as she wishes me to do.” Legolas’ jaw tightened, the hard look in his eyes reminding Aragorn sharply of the elf’s formidable sire.

“Well, do not forget to spend some time with Haldir and his brothers. They usually provide an antidote to Nimendis, do they not?” He arched an eyebrow at his friend, unconsciously imitating his foster-father. Legolas chuckled briefly, as he had intended.

“True. I will return for the evening meal, or before that should you need me for any reason.”

“No, Legolas. Take what time you need and do not worry about the rest of us. We will be fine.” Aragorn smiled reassuringly at the elf, who nodded and took his leave. He smoked in peace for a moment before he heard the clink of Gimli’s chain mail as the dwarf approached him.

The dwarf sat down beside him, leaning his back against the tree that Aragorn was using as a backrest and stretching his legs out in front of him. He frowned briefly at Aragorn’s pipe, having lost his own in Moria and evidently missing it. The ranger wordlessly handed the half-full pipe to the dwarf who started in surprise before accepting it with a nod of thanks. After a couple of puffs and a contented sigh, Gimli handed it back.

“You could have warned me, you know,” he said, gazing at the trees in front of them.

“About what, the fact that it is impossible not to like him?” Aragorn asked with a wry twist to his mouth. Gimli snorted.

“That too. No, about his age, or lack of it.” Dark eyes brimming with keen intelligence met the ranger’s.

“It never occurred to me, to be truthful. Age is not something I think of in relation to Legolas. It just has never seemed to matter,’ Aragorn took a last puff on the pipe before emptying it. He offered both the pipe and his pouch of Old Toby to the dwarf who waved them away. “Actually, I have no idea what his age is, beyond knowing that he is a bit younger than Arwen. We have never discussed it.”

“More than ‘a bit’, I’d say. He told me he’s around 500. Unless I’m way off the mark, that’s VERY young for an elf.” There was something a bit smug about the set of Gimli’s mouth, as if he was pleased with himself for being told something that the ranger did not know.

“No, that is an accurate assumption.” Aragorn’s eyebrows were in his hairline. “Elladan and Elrohir always tease him about it, but I had no idea he was that young.” He shook his head, a wry smile appearing on his lips. “He said the same thing about Pippin, you know, before we left Rivendell.” Gimli chuckled.

“To be fair, it’s not the same thing. Legolas at least is past his majority, Pippin isn’t.”

“True,” Aragorn agreed. He tucked his pipe and pouch back into his pack before relaxing against the tree again. “May I assume that the two of you have settled your differences?”

“I think so,” Gimli said, running his thumb along the edge of his smallest axe. He nodded in satisfaction when a thin line of blood appeared on his skin, before turning serious eyes back on Aragorn. “He’s one of the fiercest warriors I’ve ever seen, for which I’m mightily glad, but when it comes to taking care of himself he’s a lost cause. That lad needs a keeper, more so than even Pippin I’d say. He’s too tenderhearted by half, and he doesn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.” He paused to fix a stern look on the ranger. “You’re going to have to have a word with him on that, Aragorn. He regularly slips part of his meals to Pippin. It’s kind of him, to be sure, but he needs it as much as Pippin does.”

“That sneaky little….,” Aragorn sputtered, shocked. “I never saw him do that. Rest assured, Gimli, I will have a word with both Legolas and Pippin about it. And with Frodo as well, to make certain that the point is driven home with Pippin.” The ranger struggled not to smile at Gimli’s assessment of the elf. Legolas was perfectly capable of fending for himself and it was highly amusing to hear Gimli’s rationalization of his budding friendship with the prince. Still, he was correct about the need to put a stop to Legolas’ supplementation of the youngest hobbit’s meals.

The dwarf looked satisfied, and he shifted into a more comfortable position against the tree. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, listening to Boromir give Merry and Pippin a lesson in swordplay. Soon, the dwarf began to snore drawing a chuckle from the ranger before he moved to a quieter part of the glade to have a nap of his own.

As he settled, he chuckled again at the odd friendship that seemed to be forming between Legolas and Gimli. If he knew his elven friend, there would be a rationalization similar to Gimli’s from him as well. Aragorn could hardly wait to hear it.

Title: Of Pipes and Elves

Rating: G

Author: sheraiah

Disclaimer: Not mine and no profit is being made.

Warnings: none

Spoilers: LOTR, and my stories

Summary: Legolas makes peace with his aunt and a gift for Gimli.

A/N: This is for all the Nimendis fans. She seems to have become the most popular female OC that I have. Oh, and Mary, Gimli DOES receive his gift.

Legolas sat at the edge of the talan, one leg dangling over, the other bent with the foot tucked behind the knee of the first. He glanced up, judging the angle of the sun before returning his attention to the object in his hand. He held it up turning it to examine it from all sides. It was not a bad effort, for all that he had never attempted to carve something like this before. He still had to smooth it with a rough stone and treat it so that it could withstand the heat it would be exposed to but all in all it was rather nice if he did say so himself. He had decided to paint designs on it, identical to the ones Gimli bore on his helm, but that would have to wait until the wood was smoothed.

The bowl was more curved than the clay pipes the hobbits had, and the stem was slightly wider and flatter, but it should serve the purpose it was intended for. Legolas had been careful when choosing the wood so that there would be no bitterness seeping into the pipeweed. He picked up the rough stone and began to rub the burrs out of the pipe, singing softly as he did. A slight rustle of fabric behind him alerted him to his aunt’s presence.

“What are you making, dear?” Nimendis’ tone was light, calm. Legolas nearly sighed with relief, realizing that she had no intention of continuing their argument.

“A pipe, for Gimli. He lost the one he had in Moria,” the prince replied, holding it up so that she could see it.

“You are making a pipe for the dwarf? It is finely done, to be sure, but I do not understand why you are doing it.” His aunt sniffed, wrinkling her delicate nose. “The fumes from the pipes of the periannath and the ranger are foul enough without adding another to the mix.” Legolas resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Smoking gives them comfort, Aunt. They are far from their family and friends and all of them are mourning Mithrandir. They need what small comforts they can find.” He gave the pipe a final rub with the stone before switching to a coarse bit of cloth. “As for Gimli, he has been kind to me these last few days and I wish to repay his kindness.” Legolas glanced up to meet Nimendis’ eyes. “He is not what I was told a dwarf would be like. Nothing that I have been told of dwarves, save for their prowess in battle, is true of Gimli.”

“I have never met a dwarf before, so I cannot say differently,” Nimendis replied, seating herself gracefully by her nephew’s side. “There is certainly nothing wrong in wishing to repay a kindness, and you have ever been thoughtful. It is well that you choose to gift him something that he will enjoy.”

“I could think of nothing else to give him, to be honest. He does not seem to want for much,” the prince admitted with a slight smile. Silence fell then as he continued to smooth the wood in his hands. Beside him he could sense his aunt working herself up to speak again, but he was content to let her choose her pace.

“Legolas, I do not understand why it was you that were chosen for this, especially when you are still so very young, but I do understand that you believe that you must see it through. I am terrified for you, but I will not interfere further.” She reached out a hand to stroke the wheat-pale fall of his hair. “All I ask is that you take as much care as you can and that you come back to us safe and whole. Please, pen neth, please be careful. I could not bear to lose you too.” He voice wavered on the last and he set aside his work to embrace her tightly.

“If I do not do this, if we do not succeed, you will not be safe. That is why I must do this. Mordor’s spawn have already stolen my Naneth from me, I will not sit idly by and allow them to steal anyone else that I love,” he said fiercely, feeling her arms tighten around him. “Aunt, I am a warrior. I have been a warrior most of my life. I am in the company of warriors. We protect each other even as we protect Frodo. I will be as safe there as anywhere.” He pulled back, noting with a bit of surprise that there were tears in her eyes. “Even if I do not survive, this still must be done. It is far more important than I am. Besides, we would not be parted forever. We would see each other again in time.” He smiled at her meeting her gaze steadily. “I will do what I can to stay alive, dearest aunt. That I promise you. At the very least, I hope to make you proud of me.”

“You already have, Legolas. I could not be any prouder of you than I am,” Nimendis said hugging him fiercely once more before releasing him with a sigh. “When did you grow up so much?” she asked with a watery chuckle. “It seems that I only just turned my back and suddenly there is a wise adult elf before me.” He grinned at her, his eyes not entirely dry either.

“Ada said the same thing the last time I saw him.” They smiled at each other for a moment before Legolas returned his attention to the pipe. He ran his fingers over it feeling for burrs and flaws. Encountering none, he set the cloth aside.

“I have some berry stain that would be nice for decorating the pipe, if you wish to use it,” Nimendis offered.

“I would like that. Thank you, Aunt,’ he favored her with a diffident smile, not entirely certain how to react to this new version of the aunt that he loved dearly but who he had been at odds with most of his life.

“Come inside, then and I will fetch it for you. I also have some honey cakes, if you are hungry,” she said, rising to her feet.

“Even if I were not I would never refuse honey cakes, as you know well,’ he replied with a laugh, following her into her talan.

Gimli rested beside the spring listening to the water as it cascaded over the rock ledge at the opposite end of the pool and down into the larger pool below. He could understand now why elves were so enamored of trees and sun and sky. Now that he had seen with his own eyes the realm of Lothlorien, he could definitely understand, and though his spirit still longed for earth and stone he could find enough peace here to relax. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something move and he turned, controlling his surprise at the sight of Legolas’ aunt approaching him. He hastily got to his feet and bowed politely.

“Mae Govannen, Master Gimli. Am I disturbing your rest?” She asked, tilting her head in a manner identical to her nephew.

“Not at all, Lady Nimendis,” he replied, his innate courtesy towards females and his curiosity winning out over any desire for a nap. “Please, join me.”

“I have never met a dwarf before, so please forgive me if I say or do anything that offends you. My folk have not had contact with dwarves since long before I was born and what little we have been told is evidently inaccurate at best,” she said as she settled next to him, arranging her dress carefully around her as she spoke.

“Well, I’ve had reason to find out that a lot of what I’ve heard about elves isn’t true either, so if you’ll forgive me, I’ll forgive you,” he responded with a smile.

“Agreed.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Legolas tells me that you have been very kind to him. I wanted to thank you for that. He carries himself so well that sometimes it is easy to forget that he is still quite young.”

“Aye, it is, and you’re welcome.” He could think of no other response, and so he waited, guessing that she had more to say.

“Master Gimli, I know elves and dwarves have not been allies for long centuries, but I wished to ask something of you. I thought perhaps since you are already fond of Legolas that you would not mind.” She drew a breath, meeting his eyes steadily. “I know that Legolas has been a warrior for over four centuries, and I am told by Thranduil and by Haldir that he is a very good warrior. I would simply feel better if I knew that someone was watching out for him, as brother-warriors do. I know that Estel does this, but Estel has other responsibilities now. I would ask this of you, if you are willing. It is a custom of ours, when a young warrior is sent into danger that an older warrior is charged with caring for the younger one, and providing guidance if it is needed. I know that Legolas is long past the age where this would normally be done, but it would comfort me. It is traditionally another elf that fulfills this role, but there are no other elves in your group and he does respect you already. Would you do this, Master Gimli?”

“Well, I’ll tell you, my lady,” Gimli said, stroking his beard thoughtfully, “you really didn’t need to ask. Even when Legolas and I were still at odds with each other, we watched each other’s back in battle.” He gave her a mischievous grin. “Besides, it isn’t on the battlefield that he needs watching, it’s off it. He’s about the fiercest fighter I’ve seen in all my days, and believe me that’s saying quite a bit.” Her eyebrows rose significantly at that and his smile turned more reassuring. “Rest easy, my lady. I’ll look after him like I would a young warrior of my own folk.” His eyes twinkled with mischief again. “But if you don’t mind, I don’t think we should be telling him that we had this talk. It’ll only make him angry.” Nimendis laughed aloud, pleasantly surprised at his humor.

“Indeed it would, and he is difficult to manage when he is angry,” she replied, mischief dancing in her own eyes. “You were not what I expected, Master Gimli. I can see why Legolas thinks well of you.” She rose gracefully to her feet. “Be you safe as well, son of Gloin. I would have you return to your family hale and whole.” With that she bade him farewell and left him to his thoughts.

He was not alone for long, however, when Legolas dropped down from the tree to sit next to him. Gimli had gotten so accustomed to this little idiosyncrasy of Legolas’ that he did not react beyond a raised eyebrow.

“Just who have you been tormenting this afternoon, princeling? You look entirely too pleased with yourself,” he commented with a grin.

“Gimli, do not project your habits onto me,” Legolas retorted, his grin matching Gimli’s. The dwarf snorted and gave the elf a friendly shove.

“Gangly-legged git, you’re going to give someone heart failure one day, see if you don’t. It’s just a good thing that we dwarves have very strong constitutions, and that I know you too well now for your trick to work on me anymore.” Gimli reached for his pipe, grimacing when he remembered that he no longer had it. Legolas’ grin widened and he handed the dwarf an object wrapped in a piece of soft deer-hide. Gimli took it with a frown, which transformed into an expression of shock and delight as he beheld a beautifully painted wooden pipe.

“Lad, “ he breathed, turning the lovely thing over in his hands and examining it in wonder, “where did you find this? It’s the nicest pipe I think I’ve ever seen.”

“I did not find it, friend Gimli. I made it.” Legolas returned the look of surprise that Gimli gave him with a gentle smile. “I have seen how much you miss the one you lost.”

“Aye, that I do, but I thought you hated the smell.”

“I do, but you and the other addicts always try to stay down wind of me when you indulge so I thought it would bring no harm.” The elf smiled again, turning and leaning his back against the tree. “I am pleased that you like it.”

“Like it is putting it mildly. It’s almost too nice to use. Almost,” he said, the mischief returning to his expression. “Thank you.“

“You are most welcome,“ Legolas said with a laugh and they fell into companionable silence, listening to the water until it came time to join the rest of the Fellowship for the evening meal.