Thank you so much Ruiniel for beta-reading!

When Gimli and Legolas visit Fangorn, after the War of the Ring is over.

Making Fire

Sticks and twigs cracked loudly as they broke, before Gimli flung them onto the pile before him. He tried hard to make as much of a noise as possible since he could not bear the silence that seemed to linger all around him.

The elf was out of sight and earshot, somewhere high amidst the trees, leaping lightly between branches. "I will be back soon, my friend, my heart just yearns for a glimpse of starlight," he had called back excitedly, his eyes gleaming, as he scrambled up a close-by trunk with the smoothness of a cat before disappearing with a soft rustling between the leaves.

The air carried this musky scent of moist wood and soil. Wisps of fog hung between the giant trees, letting the close surroundings appear mutely muffled. Gimli shuddered.

It was late summer and thunderstorms often overwhelmed the evenings. They left the air damp and cold, that the night's chill seemed to crawl into the very bones if one's clothes were dripping wet like Gimli's happened to be.

The dwarf looked around for larger firewood to place over his pile. A sudden commotion in the foliage above and a soft thump right behind him made the dwarf whirl around.

"It is me!" The elf announced amusedly, a wide grin brightening his soft features.

"Curse you... reckless princeling!" the dwarf grumbled, annoyed with himself that he still started at the elf's sudden, flighty motions. He subsequently ignored him and turned back to his own business with his pile of dead wood.

Legolas huddled himself comfortably into the embrace of the roots of the large tree beside them, watching the smaller being expectantly.

Gimli demonstratively paid him no mind. The elf had dragged him into this cursed forest. It was somehow... ominous, threatening. Those trees...

'They are only plants'... the dwarf told himself repeatedly in his mind. But he could not repel the feeling that they watched him warily. And they were so many, all around him, as far as the eye could see - which admittedly was not very far this night. But the evidence that they were in the midst of this strange, old forest could not be denied.

He kept himself busy, letting the sparks spring between the twigs until they caught, and then he coddled the small flames.

A deep creaking disrupted the damp silence around them, followed by strange, hoarse murmurs and more creaks reaching from all directions.

Gimli halted abruptly in his motions. "What is this!" he exclaimed choked, eyes wide darting about from trunk to trunk, wandering upwards, scanning the vast, green canopy.

"It is obvious; the trees are complaining," Legolas answered unabashedly.

"Complaining 'bout what?" Gimli wondered, his voice catching hoarsely in his throat.

"They trust not your intentions. You are setting fire to a wood who has been injured and burnt through Saruman's betrayal."

"The trees trust me not...hmmpf," Gimli grumbled and made a face. He tried to hide the shudder that shook him. Tried to sound vexed, instead of frightened. He was indeed surrounded by a whole lot of these mistrusting, creaking and eerily whispering fellows.

He gave up coddling the small flames, which without his support, in the moistness all around them, died out within moments. He huffed and frowned.

"Mistrusting trees...bah...has anyone ever heard such a thing before?" he growled. "And what, pray tell, does it take them to trust me? If I have to jump from branch to branch like a squirrel, to get those gnarled fellows' trust, I fear that was it," he grunted.

"You do not need to, Gimli," Legolas answered seriously, "Give them time to feel you, have patience and listen to the forest's song; they will learn to trust you. – And... above all; do not set fire!"

"I was not setting fire!" Gimli protested vehemently, "I was gently kindling a fire, that is a difference! The chill bites through these damp clothes. I am no flittery elven sprite who possesses not the sense of cold."

"I am sorry Gimli, I know that you are a fragile mortal. But I'm afraid that this night you will have to renounce to the fire, if you want to build a friendship with the trees," Legolas replied with a sympathetic smile.

"A dwarf making friends with leaves and wood... you're speaking a strange tongue, elf. But what options remain, surrounded by those creaking and rustling fellows, and a woodland-sprite," Gimli groaned, looking around him dramatically and frowning deeply.

"Not that I care to make friends with... plants?" Gimli sighed. "But then again, I've already made friends with an elf..."

He laughed out loud to cover his insecurity, but Legolas merely lifted both eyebrows in question, and Gimli quietened.

"Come Gimli, it is time to get some rest," Legolas tried to soothe him.

Gimli knew the elf was tempted to spend the night high above, embraced by green leaves, preferably stretched precariously across a slight branch. He caught him secretly eyeing upwards.

Looking back at the dwarf, and then glancing several times between a lower branch and said dwarf, he narrowed his eyes and probably considered something Gimli cut off abruptly.

"Dare not even try to think what I believe you to be thinking, blasted elf! – With all the good will; nobody with sense could imagine dragging a dwarf even an inch above the ground!" he snapped.

The sheepish grin on Legolas' face confirmed that Gimli had guessed exactly what the elf was scheming. He could not believe this freaky creature could make up such absurdities in this fair mind of his.

"Peace, Gimli, worry not, I would never try such a thing against your will. I wish you to become comfortable in this wood."

"Bah... comfortable is something else..." the dwarf mumbled.

Legolas sighed and settled himself snugly between the high roots of the tree. Gimli was secretly grateful that the elf renounced his favourite sleeping place to stay by his side that night. He was touched because he knew how much the elf longed for the trees and how long he had joyfully anticipated this journey. But he covered his emotion emitting a restrained grunt.

"If you do not mind the closeness of an elf you are free to join me, Gimli. Closeness supplies warmth, even animals do that. It is natural," Legolas offered genuinely.

Gimli looked at the tree behind him, where the elf had settled comfortably between its high roots. It was tall, its trunk broad and the rough bark engraved by age.

The wind was chilly in the night and he was not allowed to make a fire. He rubbed his hands and looked up grumpily into the greenery.

"If they do not trust me I will not trust them either. It is reciprocal," Gimli uttered in blunt offence.

Legolas sighed. "Peace Gimli. Do as you wish." Legolas let the dwarf be.

It seemed more difficult than he had hoped, to bring the stubborn, short being to trust anything he knew not.

But he decided to be patient. The elf leaned contently against the trunk Gimli had just mustered suspiciously. Legolas softly hummed a song and relaxed completely.

Gimli would not have admitted it, but the soft melody hummed by the elf was reassuring and familiar, and in the midst of this strange forest it offered him comfort.

The melody softened until it silenced and as Gimli looked back at his friend, he saw that the elf's eyes had glazed over in elven sleep.

Still, Gimli dared not close an eye. In the strange silence, he felt alone with the giants of the forest again. Gimli inched back on his bottom towards his sleeping friend and continued mustering the trees warily. He dared not breathe. Only when he felt Legolas' body warmth close to him he released his breath and realized how long he had held it, as he found himself panting for air. Eyes wide open in alertness he scanned the bark of the giant behind and above him from their corners.

'Bah... They are just trees,' he told himself. – Old trees, gnarled trees... trees who had swallowed orcs! – he shivered!

Who was making him do this? He looked at the peacefully sleeping elf beside him. Lying securely in the embrace of the mighty tree's roots, the prince of the great Greenwood looked so strangely young to him tonight.

As annoying as this flighty creature could be... He studied the pale even features now completely relaxed in elven sleep and sighed deeply... Who would have guessed, that he would become so fond of this elf.

If the trees loved this elfling as much as he did, maybe they would accept him in their midst...only maybe... he mused.

But soon he shook his head at the absurdity he was contemplating.

He was becoming mad like the elf. And it was all the elf's fault... Who would not go insane with a flittery woodland sprite dancing relentlessly before their very eyes, jumping like a squirrel from branch to branch and singing like a bird in spring.

Yet his heart warmed at the relief he felt. That was exactly the way he wished to see him.

He had been worried as his elf had become more and more distant, as his lithe frame had become quiet, almost heavy, as he had seen a strange, deep sadness in the grey-blue eyes he could not comprehend.

What would he do to bring the sparkling back to those eyes, the smiles and the smirks back to his beautiful face. That was why he was in that place that night. And he found himself being thankful to the trees.

'How could a dwarf say his thanks to trees?' he mused, grumbling at his unfamiliar thoughts.

That was the price to be elvellon. - Insane like an elf! - He shook his head at himself. And sighed again. But now a smile shone on his beardy face.

His eyelids grew heavy, and as much as he trusted not his surroundings, listening to the deep even breathing of his sleeping elf lulled him into the world of dreams.