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I
When asked, Aragon would say that he first knew about Legolas and Gimli in Lothlórien.
They had all been weary, their travels long and their hearts weighed down with grief from the passing of Gandalf
the Grey. Though the Galadriel's presence was disconcerting for them all, she did offer safety for the night. The
Fellowship found a nice corner in the forest so that they were all close by. Just as the night was starting to pull
at the Ranger's eyes, he decided he would check up on Legolas and Gimli. He could use an uplift in spirits, and
whenever those two were together they provided great comedy. But that night was different.
Aragon followed the ethereal lights to where the elf and dwarf had set up camp. His steps were silenced by the
soft, cool grass as his shadow danced through the forest. He stopped, however, when he heard an airy chuckle.
"Gimli, you did not tell me that you knew how to braid."
"Ha! I have not told you many things, elf."
The Ranger peered past a tree to see the elf leaning back against Gimli's chest, both of them in a deep state of
relaxation. The dwarf, whose large calloused hands were meant for mining, was now weaving Legolas's silvery-blonde
hair together intricately. His dark eyes were focused intensely like an artist's passion for his craft.
"You're very good." As Aragon relaxed and slowly understood that he would not be interrupting them
tonight, he noticed that Gimli's heard was braided. The fantastic elegance would only have been created by an elf's
hand. "Why do you not braid your hair like you braid mine?"
Gimli's hands stopped mid-braid.
"I do not have hair like yours, Legolas."
He finished the braids, but Legolas didn't move from between his comrade's legs. He just closed his eyes, relaxing
against the dwarf's strong chest.
"Trivial, Gimli. That's trivial."
Just by the look on Gimli's face, Aragon would tell that his heat had fluttered in his chest. His eyes were wide
with a fine mixture of confusion and warmth. His shoulders were stiff for a few uncertain moments, his hands
sweating as they gripped the grass.
"You... have my gratitude."
Gimli, who had faced battles and death, was more frightened than he had ever been in his entire life. He had been
raised to hate elves. He had been taught that their beauty had spoiled their souls, turning them into arrogant and
heartless fools. But as he had come to spend time with the elvish Prince... he had been proven wrong. Legolas was
proud and had every right to be confident in his ability. Their beauty was unspoiled, not unlike finely polished
jewels.
"Gratitude is not needed when one speaks the truth."
The two beings fell silent, and as time passed and Aragon waited, they fell asleep in a loose armed embrace.
II
The four hobbits, Frodo, Samwise, Merry, and Pippin, found out a few hours before Aragon and Arwen's wedding.
They were all cheery, excitedly chirping about the oncoming marriage. Merry and Pippin were even more ecstatic about the promise of the celebration afterwards, no doubt full of ale. The four hobbits walked just outside the walls of Minas Tirith, their hearts afire with joy and love.
That was when they heard a snort of graceless laughter.
"What's so funny, elf?"
"Nothing, Gimli. Merely the image of you in formal attire."
The dwarf let out a roar, causing the small hobbits to freeze in their steps. Sam touched Frodo's shoulder.
"Frodo, maybe we should go back."
Legolas let out an elfin war-cry, sending chills tumbling down their spines. Merry and Pippin grinned, linking arms with Sam and Frodo.
"Come on, when was the last time you saw an elf and dwarf Prince exchange blows?"
That was all it took to make the four half-lings drop to the ground, crawling forward.
Their eyes widened as the sight before them came into focus. Legolas and Gimli were in a small creek, stuck in a deadman's stance. Both were pushing against the other, not moving an inch. Gimli growled, his chest rumbling when Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, flashed him a smile.
"If you are too tired, my dear friend, then perhaps we should quit so we do not strain your muscles."
"You wish, elf." The shine of his grin shone from under his beard. "It is you who's beginning to sweat."
The two battling warriors shifted a bit, turning slightly. The hobbits held their breath, waiting for the last sword to fall. Gimli let out a soft grunt, and that was all it took to send Legolas into the water. The hobbits all snickered at the elf's flabbergasted expression, his blonde hair sticking to is face. He was soaked to the bone.
"Ha! That's what you get, Legolas! To think that you could withstand a dwarf's stre--ah!"
Using Gimli's pride against him, the Prince of Mirkwood wrapped his hands around the dwarf's leather boot, tugging his own feet out from under him. Gimli handed hard, the water cascading up, then raining down on them both.
Gimli blinked, his mind trying to catch up and explain why there were water droplets in his beard and why his clothes were soaked. The answer was right in front of him in the form of a smug elf. Legolas, who was equally soggy, began to laugh.
"It seems that my kind were wrong about dwarves. They are quite easy to dislodge from the earth!"
"You wily elf! I'll teach you to speak such words to this dwarf!"
As Sam and Frodo bit the tips of their fingernails with worry for Legolas, Merry and Pipping were swapping bets on just what was about to transpire.
"Pip, five ales says that Legolas wins, forcing Gimli to surrender."
"You're daft, Merry! Gimli will show the elf just who's tougher!"
Sam turned.
"Sh! You'll expose us all!"
Though under normal circumstances, Samwise would have been correct, but the dwarf and elf Princes were too engaged in each other to notice. Gimli pounced, and Legolas was ready. They rolled in the stream, their boots squishing as they became increasingly rambunctious. It was all in good fun, their pushes and shoves merely playful banter. Just as Gimli grabbed a fistful of those silken blonde locks, the elf's eyes turned cold, his hands grabbing at his bow.
"Don't move."
Gimli obeyed, and with a sharp whisp, the arrow shot froward, whispering past Gimli's shoulder. The dwarf's dark eyes shifted to the side to see a snake that was still twitching on the ground. His heart was still hammering, but not because of the withering creature in the creek, no.
It was Legolas's eyes. A flash of that icy fighter instinct had just shown itself once more, the composure that he only used in battle. The Prince of Mirkwood put down his bow, as if chilled by the thought of using it. He too felt that wave, that rush of adrenalin saved for killing. But it was wrong now. There was no one let to fight. Middle Earth had found peace thanks to two brave hobbits.
"I-I..." The gift of an eloquent tongue failed Legolas, his mouth too dry and awkward for him to speak coherently. "I-I had to... because it was..."
"I understand., elf." The sight of the inarticulate Prince made Gimli uneasy. His rough hand touched Legolas's cheek, leaning in so that their foreheads touched. "There is nothing to fret over, Legolas."
They remained still for several long moments, their breathing adjusting to match each other's pace. The hobbits stopped fidgeting, a tightening in their chests telling them that they were not supposed to be intruding on this scene. They held their breath as Legolas pulled away, his posture that of a tired warrior.
"Thank you, my dear Gimli."
The elf smiled, and without warning, leaned in and kissed the dwarf chastely.
Merry and Pippin's faces fell, their eyebrows lost in their blonde bangs.
"Oh my."
It was short, but long enough to make Gimli freeze. His hands were tangled in the elf's hair, his eyes trained on those blue and silver pools. Maybe it was meant to be just a friendly kiss. Perhaps a way of expressing their devotion and loyalty. But when Gimli leaned forward, it turned into something more.
Frodo jumped back, the first to break away from the spell.
"Come on. We should leave."
Sam was glad to oblige his close friend, while Pippin and Merry kept turning back, their mouths open in disbelief, red with scandal. The two wily half-lings knew that this kiss was probably the first of many. It was not that hard to tell.
Gimli's cheeks burned bright, his movements unsure and at the same time, overjoyed. As he returned the kiss, he became more and more confident that it was not a mere dream.
Then there was the elf Prince, whom the hobbits knew as brave and sure, was vulnerable after his daring move. Those blue eyes were uncertain, one might even say terrified. He was in agony during those short moments of hesitation. But when Gimli took his lips, Legolas seemed to dissolve with relief and happiness.
"Come on, Pippin!"
Merry yanked his companion back, causing both of them to trip. Sam and Frodo looked on in horror as the dwarf and elf stopped, their lips still touching as their expressions darkened. The four hobbits ran up the white stone streets of Minas Tirith, an angry dwarf and chuckling elf on their heels.
"Gimli, we didn't mean any harm--"
"We didn't think that you and Legolas would be necking--whoa!"
Merry shrieked as an arrow whizzed past his head, a warning form the Prince of Mirkwood. Pippin giggled madly.
"Now we know not to disturb you in your private quarters."
The four hobbits found themselves under playful fire of Legolas's bow. They escaped, pink in the face and out of breath with a few tears in their clothing. The elf and dwarf walked in after they had gone, laughing quietly to themselves.
"Those hobbits are nothin' but trouble..."
Gimli grumbled, making a grin break out on Legolas's face.
"They are fine young men, Master Gimli. I'm sure they will be respectful."
The dwarf rolled his eyes, nodding. Legolas bent down and kissed him lightly on the cheek. When his lips brushed against Gimli's face, a snicker was heard.
"Quiet, Pip!"
Ah, the chase resumed once more.
III
If one were to inquire to Gandalf... he would tilt his head back and laugh, for he knew before Legolas and Gimli did.
When the Fellowship was formed, it was very impromptu. The dwarf and elf, who had been at each other's throats moments before, now stood side by side. Though they agreed to quest together, it was made very apparent that they were not going to like it.
"Unbelievable... me working next to an elf."
Aragon rolled his eyes, Boromir sighing with quickly vanishing patience. They had been having these short spurts since they left Rivendell.
"Believe me, dwarf, the feeling is mutual."
"I doubt your father felt much grief when he imprisoned mine!"
"Maybe if you father didn't fall to greed--"
"Greed? It is your face that is spoiled by greed--"
It continued for at least twenty minutes, each being getting more and more red in the face. Boromir broke, turning swiftly.
"Silence! Both of you!" The Fellowship stopped, all staring at the man, elf, and dwarf. "You'll drive me mad before this quest ends..." The group let out silent breaths of relief when he turned around, leaving Legolas and Gimli to glare at each other with still angry and blaming eyes. "I swear, you two are worse than a pair of lovers."
Frodo choked on the water he had been drinking. Sam smirked while Merry and Pippin giggled mischievously. Gandalf and Aragon shared amused glances as the elf and dwarf Princes sputtered.
That was when Gandalf thought that it was possible if not more amusing.
But in Moria, during the ambush when the first wave of orcs came, he witnessed the event that would have his thoughts firmly set on the love of the elf and dwarf.
The monsters were pouring in, and chaos was imminent. The only plans that anyone had was to stay alive and protect Frodo. Legolas and Gimli were fighting their own fights. Or so it seemed.
The Prince of Mirkwood was killing orcs left and right, his technique that of mastered grace. The creatures soon saw that the elf was one of the most dangerous members of the Fellowship, and surrounded him.
His face did not betray him, the fear silently beating along with his heart. They were too close for Legolas to use his bow, so he pulled out his sword. At first, it appeared that the elf was going to be okay.
The orcs, however, had another idea. They swarmed him, and Gandalf saw his frenzied moves lacking the confidence and grace that they once held. He thrust his sword into the chests of many, his hair whipping around his head. He turned, and his sword caught on one of the orc's ribs.
Legolas was exposed, and the monsters were ready to pounce.
As one raised its axe, its eyes went wide. Its mouth fell open, its body beginning to twitch. The orc fell, and Legolas expected to see Aragon, Gandalf, or even one of the little hobbits smiling back at him.
Instead, he got a bloody Gimli, his chest heaving in pants as he swung his axe at the surrounding orcs. The rest of the fight, Legolas never left Gimli's side, saving his skin on more than one occasion.
They didn't have time to talk, running to find an exit was deemed more important than explanations. When Gandalf returned as the White Wizard, Aragon pulled him aside, a playful grin on his face.
"In your absence, Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli have--"
"I know, Aragon. I know."
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