Chapter Text
War often leaves little joy in its wake and the resulting grief exists far beyond when the last body falls, but in that moment- when the free people of Middle Earth came together to witness a crown placed atop King Elessar's head and later a Queen by his side, there was undeniable serenity in the heart of Gondor. There had been a time for tireless sprinting. There had been a time for short and cautious rest. This, however, was a time for enjoyment- a luxury that the masses took quite seriously during their celebration of their new found peace.
And days were slower during peace, something Legolas found himself grateful for time and time again during his stay in Minas Tirith. How could he not, for the prince was able to spend months by the side of his betrothed without threats of disapproving confrontation. He had almost forgotten about the trials they were to face outside of the city’s shining stone walls. Almost.
It was a lazy morning during mid summer that was so rudely interrupted by two letters, one for each of the couple. Both were brought to the chambers of Gimli, son of Glóin, under the assumption that the missing elf could be found there when absent from his own room. Gimli thanked the young man who handed off the note, slipping him a coin for the delivery as Legolas laid unbothered in the dwarf’s sheets with a book in hand. His reading was interrupted when his betrothed shifted onto the bed and waved the letter in his face.
“I believe this is for you, elf.” Gimli shoved the letter into Legolas’s book and began to open his own. The prince grimaced at the note, displeased with the idea of being called to do anything other than lay here and enjoy another slow day with his dwarf. After much reluctance, Legolas finally opened his own letter. Before the elf was able to read it, he heard a small gasp coming from Gimli. “I have obtained approval from King Thorin III to bring you as my guest back to Erebor,” the dwarf quickly said before skimming the long paragraphs in silence once more.
Legolas did not respond to Gimli’s glee, instead turned swiftly to his own letter-
“Legolas, Son of Thranduil, Prince of Greenwood,
Réd, im am happui na hear peth o cin. Cin lothron tul- cín mellon na mín dór. Lothron cin lend safelui bar na nin after cín gwest.
(Son, I am happy to hear word from you. You may bring your friend to our land. May you journey safely home to me after your oath.)
Thranduil, Son of Oropher, King of Greenwood.
.
.
.
Im iest cin hi, nin emel tur- gar- baw sídh. (I wish you here, my heart can have no peace.)”
Legolas’s eyes traveled over the short note many times before he turned back to Gimli. The dwarf’s smile grew wider with every sentence he studied as the elf attempted to swallow the tightness in his throat. It had been weeks since the prince dwelled on the uncomfortable anxiety that was the second courting step, for he was distracted by sweet bliss of new, uninterrupted love. Reality was setting in faster than he wanted to accept it.
“What does yours say, amrâlimê?” Gimli asked with excitement still lingering from his King’s acceptance.
“Ah, I too have obtained approval to bring you to my father’s hall.” Legolas’s voice lacked the cheer of his love’s. The dwarf turned to him with concern and scooted closer, laying a hand on the prince’s thigh.
“There is something ailing you, tell it to me so I may dismiss it from your heart.” Gimli grew accustomed to diminishing the elf’s anxieties whenever need be over the time they spent together, his quick wit and logic did wonders against Legolas’s nerves.
The prince had not noticed truly how often he would second-guess himself or hide behind his hard façade until Gimli challenged every fear within the elf. In the absence of judgment from his kin and the safety of acceptance from his friends, Legolas began to grow into the carefree boy he once was when in the presence of his fellowship.
“I would have us stay here for all our days, if I could,” the prince whispered as Gimli's brows furrowed with confusion, “I do not wish to think of facing those who would tear us apart just yet.”
Gimli’s gaze softened. “Oh, ghivashel,” the dwarf’s voice was smooth and low, “you know we can not stay. There are those who have been awaiting our return for so long, and I would not hide such love away from my kind because of a few rude stares. Fear not, my elf, they may try all they like but no one would tear us apart.” Gimli grabbed the prince's shoulders and urged his body into the dwarf’s embrace. Legolas leaned into his chest and closed his eyes, feeling ease wash over him as broad hands stroked his hair.
“I would never hide you, nin tinu, but I would protect you from those who would look down on us.” The elf let out a heavy sigh against Gimli and brought one hand up to play with the strings hanging from the dwarf’s shirt, “There is a heavy sense weighing over me- one that tells me we will not be as well received as we were here.”
“That may be,” the dwarf pursed his lips thinking of that unfortunate truth, “but we have conquered much more in this life than ugly glares and snide words. Besides,” Gimli looked down at the elf laying in his arms and waited until Legolas met his gaze to continue, “I’ve gotten pretty used to those of your height looking down on me.”
The elf couldn’t hold in his snort as Gimli stared down on him with a grin full of pride for his joke. A small ‘ack’ could be heard as the dwarf hit the bed. Tackled by the elf and now pinned, Gimli admitted defeat when the prince leaned down to place brush his lips with a gentle kiss. Legolas kept their distance small and offered a content smile to the dwarf underneath him.
“I fear I may never win an argument against you again, galad -o sab-.” The prince’s dreamy gaze was interrupted by a stray leg flipping the pair, and found himself now trapped under the dwarf.
Gimli leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Why would you ever want to?” Just as he was about to lean in and claim his prize, a knock on the door interrupted the dwarf’s movement. Legolas stifled a laugh as Gimli groaned. “Do you think if we stay quiet, they will leave?” the dwarf asked in a hushed tone.
“Gimli, I know you’re in there.” The voice of Aragorn could be heard on the other side of the door. The dwarf let out another heavy groan, causing Legolas to once again laugh. “I’ll give you about 30 seconds to finish up with your elf before I open this door.” Aragorn’s threat seized the elf’s laughter immediately.
“Alright, alright, just-” Gimli struggled to untangle their limbs as he answered the voice, “just hold on.” The dwarf finally managed to free himself and climbed off the bed, but not before brushing a chaste kiss against Legolas’s lips. Gimli swung open the door with an annoyed look and greeted the man. “What may I assist you with, King Elessar?” the dwarf grunted.
“First, actually showing up for our meetings would be a great kindness,” the man smirked down at Gimli, who merely grumbled in response. “Second,” Aragorn leaned in past the threshold and met eyes with a sheepish prince, who attempted to hide from the king behind his book, “I require both your assistance near the entrance of the lower wall. If you two are not still occupied, I would ask you to meet me there at once.” With that, Aragorn left the pair to get ready for their daily tasks.
“You see, besotted elf, our bliss may not last forever.” Gimli teased as he shuffled into his boots.
“All the reason to cherish the moments, love-sick dwarf.” Legolas stole a final kiss as he glided out the door, barely slipping out of Gimli’s grasp when attempting to grab the prince's wrist. The dwarf shook his head and followed his light-footed creature down the long corridors to their less desirable destination.
-
Another few months had passed by the time the couple had one final break from their fellowship. Late summer skies saw their friends off in different directions once goodbyes were said at their stop in Isengard. This of course was not the end of their lasting bonds, but it would be the last time those of the walkers surviving the journey would all meet together. Heart felt farewells, gratuitous blessings, and promises of visits for upcoming celebrations were made before the warm breeze carried away their companions. A bittersweet memory no one would soon forget.
Sadness of partings were soon tossed aside during the pair's travels, though. For the next many weeks, they lead each other on their own quest across great lands and into incredible experiences. If Legolas had thought their time together in Minas Tirith was bliss, their private travels were positively euphoric. Had he been anything other than an elf, his cheeks would’ve surely grown tired of joyous smiles early into their trip. Every moment spent together was beauty, was laughter, was love.
Alas, all things must end eventually. Once their oaths to each other were fulfilled, it was time to head back home and face the next part of courting. Though Gimli kindly offered Legolas a chance to meet his father first before arriving in Erebor, they agreed it would make the most sense to see Gimli’s kin first. The prince did not mention his active procrastination of facing his king had also influenced the decision. There were some worries even the dwarf could not alleviate.
Much time had passed since Gimli had seen his family, this had been the longest he was away from home and his eagerness to return was apparent as they made way for the mountain. This energetic and impatient side of the dwarf was quite humorous to Legolas, Gimli becoming somewhat of a whiny babe as his restlessness grew for his birthplace. The prince spared no teasing now that it was the ax wielder pouting when Legolas insisted he take time to rest along their path, as his kin would find no joy if he were to perish due to lack of sleep or food before he could make it to them.
The elf couldn't help but giggle as he watched his betrothed quicken his pace up the road leading to the great gates of Erebor. They had left Arod down in Dale, paying a kind farmer to keep an eye on their beast as he traveled freely between his open field and the plains. Legolas knew the horse would not wander off far but the dwarf insisted that someone kept close to the creature that he certainly did not care for, just in case danger came his way. Finally they reached the impressively tall metal doors and two figures appeared at a ledge carved into the frame.
“State your business!” A voice echoed down the pair, and Legolas focused on the dwarf addressing them. A fellow similar looking in age to Gimli (as far as the elf could tell) clad in armor was squinting in an attempt to get a better view of the wanders. The other dwarrow stood on the farther side from them, trying to hide his weapon as he had a bow drawn on the two. A precaution Legolas understood, and decided not to take offense to. Gimli smiled at the elf before turning his attention back to the guard.
Leaning back and cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound, the dwarf began to yell his response, “Who's asking?” Legolas watched the two dwarves eye each other in confusion.
“The guards of Erebor’s gates. That’s who!” The one with bow still taught yelled back with slight annoyance in his voice.
Gimli laughed and started shouting again, “Well you can tell the guards to shove it up their-”
“Gimli!” the dwarf howled in excitement, interrupting Gimli’s crude insult. With weapons lowered the two began to scramble and bark orders that, despite the distance, Legolas’s ears could pick up. “Open the gates! Inform the king! Don’t forget Glóin and Aznili! They’ll have our heads if we don’t!”
The doors slowly opened. The grandness of their weight audible as loud, scraping resistance grated against the elf’s eardrum. Even so, the prince refused to wince, and stiffened into his properly straight face before following Gimli through the entrance of the mountain. More guards appeared behind the doors and began to swarm and welcome the dwarf home. Legolas kept a comfortable distance from the crowd, allowing his betrothed’s kin to focus their attention on their returned hero and ignore himself. Only a few dwarrows bothered to look at the prince, but the commotion stole their attention away quick enough.
The plan to stay back and avoid the gaze of the public eye had been successful thus far as the small group led Gimli down the vast stone halls towards the throne room. That was, until his dwarf noticed how far he had fallen behind and called the prince to be by his side. Legolas should have known better than to expect his love to allow him to hide. Gimli grabbed his wrist and pulled the prince directly beside him, earning the elf some glares from the dwarf’s kin who were bombarding the warrior with questions of his great quest. The loud party arrived at a set of embellished iron doors and one of the guards stepped out from the circle ready to guide them in.
“Wait,” the guard stopped the two from stepping forwards and pointed to Legolas, “I need your name, elf, if I am to announce you.” The dwarf seemed less than pleased at the idea, but managed to keep a neutral face in the presence of his kin’s guest. Legolas hesitates, wondering if somehow possible to remain anonymous.
“Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Greenwood, One of the Nine Walkers; would do just fine, thank you.” Gimli answered for the silent elf, pride heavy in his voice when describing his betrothed. The tips of Legolas’s ears turned red as he watched the dwarven guards’ eyes widen and slowly step back from the elf, then offering shallow bows to the prince and making excuses to be elsewhere. This was the acknowledgment of his status he was hoping to avoid. It was bad enough being an elf in their home, but his namesake would not earn him many friends here.
The dwarrow leading them in also saw fit to change his loathful demeanor, straightening himself and nodded toward Legolas as he finally opened the door. The throne room itself was dim, with many candles lighting the walls to create a warm glow that reflected off the faces of occupants waiting inside. Legolas’s eyes led him straight to the throne, where a king much younger than he should’ve been sat and wore a tired smile to greet Gimli. Off to the side stood a dwarrowdam adorned in silver jewels and a deep blue gown with intricate embroidery, as well as a familiar face of a dwarrow Legolas wasn’t exactly thrilled to see. With the nature of his gaze when it fell on the elf, this particular dwarf shared the sentiment.
As the guard began his announcements, the king raised his hand and halted the introductions, “There is no need for that good sir, we know who stands before us. You make take your leave,” the dwarf atop the throne politely dismissed the guard and waited until the doors were fully closed to rise from his seat. The three dwarves made way for Gimli, taking turns welcoming him home. “It is good to have you back, mighty hero,” the king whispered as he pulled the dwarf into a hug.
“It is good to be back, my King,” Gimli whispered back, pulling away and offering the king an empathetic smile, “though I would not have met you like this for a while to come, I am sorry to hear about your father.”
King Thorin III clasped the dwarf on the shoulder and shook his head, “Do not feel sorrow, he died defending all he loved and took a glorious exit, all that any noble dwarrow could ask for.” The king’s smile grew but Legolas could still see the great sadness that remained behind his eyes. The dwarrowdam next to them placed a gentle hand on Gimli’s other shoulder.
“Aunt Dis.” Gimli’s voice took a soft but cheerful tone when he met her eyes, and then took her hand and pressed the knuckles to his lips.
“I am happy to see you home, nephew, to see you safe.” There was an emphasis on the last word she spoke that stuck with Legolas, though he could not find the meaning of why.
“Aye, we’ve heard bits and pieces of your perilous adventure. No thanks to your scarce letters.” The elder dwarf grumbled, stepping closer for his turn to greet Gimli.
Gimli laughed at the scowling dwarrow, “But how often is there time to write on the battlefield?” He pulled the gruff dwarf into a tight hug, who soon enough returned the strong embrace. “It’s nice to see you too, Master Dwalin.” Dwalin’s face softened when holding the dwarf, a look Legolas had never seen in their brief interaction. This peaceful demeanor quickly vanished when Dwalin’s gaze met the prince’s, and the dwarf sank back into a cold glare. The king’s eyes followed Dwalin’s scowl and met with Legolas.
“Please forgive me Prince Legolas, it was very rude not to address you before this reunion.” Thorin III bowed his head with his apology.
Legolas bowed deeply in return, “There is no offense to be taken. I believe in times like these, a joyous welcome home should overrule all else.” The prince lightened his stoic face to give the dwarf a polite smile, “Thank you for allowing me into your halls, King Thorin.”
“Of course, Prince, it is always a pleasure to-” The formalities were interrupted by a distant yelling echoing down the halls surrounding the throne room. Gimli winced at the familiar, obnoxious shouting that grew closer. The voice and its owner arrived in rather brassy fashion as Gimli’s father burst through the door with loud demands to see his boy.
“Apologies, my King.” An exasperated dwarrowdam followed Glóin in, curtsying toward Thorin before rushing over to meet her husband and son. The king simply chuckled at the display as the two dwarves fretted over their recently returned son. After some coddling and cooing over her child, the dwarrowdam’s face quickly turned sour towards both dwarrows.
“When I agreed to let you accompany your father to Rivendell, I did not expect you to run off head first into danger!” she yelled. Glóin rubbed the back of his head and shot her an innocent grin.
“Amad.” Gimli quietly whined with embarrassment, eyes darting to Legolas as the elf bit back his smile. “Might I remind you of my age, technically you did not allow me to do anything. I made my choice, and I do not regret it.” As his mother raised a single brow at him, Gimli began to rethink his words.
Glóin took the opportunity of tense silence to change the tone, “There is no harm, my love. He is finally home,” Gimli’s father threw an arm over his boy and pinched his cheek, “my little lad is where he belongs.” Glóin laughed as his son tried to wrestle out of his grip, but his fun was cut short when he noticed Legolas. The prince’s face fell along with the dwarf’s. “You really did bring the elf.” Glóin grunted, still holding Gimli in a headlock.
“Oh, stop that,” the dwarrowdam shushed her husband and moved towards Legolas, who resisted the urge to shrink away from her, “any friend of Gimli’s is a gift to meet. Lady Aznili, wife of Glóin, Mother of Gimli, a pleasure.” Aznili gave the elf a graceful curtsy and held out her hand.
After a split second of hesitation, Legolas took it gently and pressed a polite kiss upon it. Still bent forward, met her gaze. He studied her face, the similarities and differences from the portrait he remembered from so long ago. Without bitter hate, the elf was able to appreciate her beauty. While Gimli may have gotten his hair from his father, his mother was to thank for those eyes he loved and the smile he cherished. The comparison calmed his nerves, and the prince beamed softly towards his unknowing future mother-in-law.
“The pleasure is mine, Legolas Thranduilion, at your service.” The two eldest dwarrows in the room scoffed at the elf’s greeting. Legolas ignored them and began to rise. His attempt was thwarted, however, as Aznili grabbed both his wrists and began twisting him around. In his confusion, the elf could hear Gimli snickering.
“Now let me get a good look at you, laddie.” The dwarrowdam ignored the concern on Legolas’s face as he was yanked about, unsure whether or not to pull back from her. “So skinny, we’ll fix that soon enough. As well as your clothes. Much too thin for the mountains, you’ll catch your death wearing this.”
Gimli broke free of his father’s grasp and gently rested a hand on Aznili, “Elves do not feel cold, amad, but they will feel when you break their arms with all that tugging.” His mother rolled her eyes at Gimli, but released the elf. Rubbing his assailed limbs, she apologized for the intrusion. Legolas offered a polite smile despite his fear of her apparent strength and quietly retreated a comfortable distance from the pair. Gimli’s wide grin faltered as he once again turned to his father, “Adad, I’m- irak’adad (uncle),” tears threatened to fall and his voice began to break. Glóin pulled him into another hug and shushed Gimli’s words.
“I know, I know.” With his father comforting him and his mother laying a hand on his back, Gimli fought back the urge to cry as he remembered Moria. Legolas felt helpless, only able to watch as his love suffered through the harsh acknowledgement of their lost kin.
“If I had more time, perhaps I could’ve-” the cracks in Gimli’s voice were painful to the elf’s ears, “we still could. There is time now.” The dwarf turned to the king, desperation heavy on his face, “We could retrieve them, I know what is there, I could lead a company to bring them home.”
“No!” Everyone, including Legolas himself, looked shocked at the elf’s abruptness.
“No?” Dwalin’s voice was dangerously low. Thorin held out a hand as the elder stepped forward.
Legolas turned to the king, “You cannot not let your people go, there is no hope for recovery.”
“We have to try! They need to be put to rest!” The elf winced at the rising frustration and hurt in Gimli’s voice, but kept his attention to the king.
“Please, believe me, it is not possible. We barely escaped, we had lost- or thought lost- one. Mithrandir’s sacrifice took care of the Balrog, but the mines are still filled with orcs. Any company to set foot in there would not return whole.” Legolas tried to steady himself as he pleaded with the king to understand, but even through his cool demeanor, the distress was obvious.
King Thorin was somber as he took in the elf’s words, and with a heavy sigh, began to speak, “I thank you for your advice.” He turned to Gimli, “You are still grieving, and it is clouding your judgment. I am sorry, but we cannot send more to die to retrieve those who have fallen.” Guilt filled the prince as he watched his betrothed ball his fists and bow before his king.
“As you wish, my King.” The dwarf spoke with contempt.
“It’s alright, lad. They wouldn’t want it anyhow, not with the potential of meeting you again too soon.” Glóin’s soft words seemed to reach his son as Gimli relaxed his shoulders and slowly nodded. “Come, let’s get you settled in.” He pulled his son off after bidding farewell to the king and Dis, Dwalin accompanying them out the door. The elf stood alone, embarrassed from his outburst and hurt from the distress he caused Gimli. They were here together as a strong united front fighting for their love, but the prince couldn’t help but feel deserted and small. Legolas was shook from his overgrowing shame when he felt a hand grab his forearm.
“He’ll see you mean well in time. He’s just like his father, you just have to let them have their sulk.” Aznili winked up at the elf and interlocked her arm with his as best she could considering the height difference. The pair also said their goodbyes and followed the trio down the halls towards their family apartments.
-
The group walked slowly, Dwalin and Gloin chatting up a newly revived Gimli as Legolas and Aznili stayed a bit behind. Turning into a tucked away wing, Legolas could see the leaders of their party begin to stop. Gimli’s mother let go of the elf’s arm and moved to the first door of the hall.
“Just come in through here, I’ll have to find your key.” She said to her son as Gloin held the door open for them.
Legolas ducked in through the threshold and was relieved to see the apartment’s ceilings high enough for him to stand comfortably. The whole home was in fact, very spacious. Starting with a sitting area with long couches, the room then split off into two other doorways. One seemed to lead down a hall into what the elf assumed were bedrooms, and the one led into a decently sized dining room with a kitchen tucked away behind a half wall. Gentle tones of browns and reds decorated the home, bringing warmth to the space.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour, go wash up. You both smell awful.” Aznili shooed the couple towards a door hidden away to the left of the apartment.
Behind it was another entrance at the end of a short hallway, both in length and in height. Legolas was careful not to hit his head on the frame as he awkwardly thanked Gimli for holding the door. This apartment was similar to the other, though smaller and musty from the lack of use. The silence was tense as both set down their packs and stared at each other. Together, they began to speak;
“I am sorry-”
“I did not mean to-”
Silence once again filled the room as each waited for the other to continue. It was Gimli who broke it with a heavy sigh, and closed the distance between the two. He took both Legolas’s hands and stared down, rubbing small circles into the soft skin with his thumbs. A quiet minute passed before the dwarf looked up at the elf.
“I am sorry for my anger, and for leaving you behind in my bitter state. I promised to be by your side and I’m proving ownership of poor qualities in a husband by abandoning you in the throne room.” The remorse in Gimli’s eyes pained Legolas, for this was meant to be a happy homecoming and difficulty had already found them.
The elf flipped Gimli’s grasp, now holding the dwarf’s callous hands in his. Kneeling down, Legolas pulled the pair of hands to his chest, “You should be warned, do not speak ill of my betrothed.” The prince leaned in with a smirk and touched their foreheads together, “Else I shall be forced to defend his honor by any means necessary.”
Gimli softly chucked as a grin crept onto his face, “Apologies, my Prince, I was unaware that such a formidable opponent protecting this dwarf’s integrity. You will not find me trampling upon it again.”
Satisfied with the improvement of his love’s mood, Legolas leaned back and perched himself on his heels. The dwarf pulled his hands away slowly and turned to examine his forgotten apartment. Picking up the two packs, Gimli threw them onto a couch placed near the cold fireplace. Dust from the impact created small clouds around the luggage as the dwarf started to light candles and brush away cobwebs.
“This is your home?” the elf asked curiously, wandering around the sitting room and peaking through wooden thresholds to familiarize himself with the area.
“Aye, this wing holds my family’s apartments. My parent’s and mine are connected by that door. Wouldn’t have been my choice when it was built for me, but you have witnessed how… doting they are.” Legolas held in a giggle as Gimli’s ear displayed the slightest tint of red.
“Are there only two? A small wing.” Legolas wondered out loud, distracted from the dwarf’s light embarrassment by small metal art adoring the wall.
“We are a small family, the wing would grow with the generations. Though I do not believe we will contribute to that sort of thing.” Gimli laughed. The elf rolled his eyes and continued to inspect the treasure scattered around the dwarf’s home. His attention was brought back to Gimli as the dwarf spoke again, in a quieter and more sad tone, “There are three apartments on this wing.” Legolas carefully eyed Gimli, waiting for him to finish. “The other belongs to my uncle.”
Tightness overtook the prince’s chest once he realized what was being said. Gimli had spoken about the loss of his kin previously, in Lothlórien when they had shared in their grief. Legolas knew that Óin had been lost in Moria, leaving behind his brother and his nephew on this earthly plane. Even after all this time around mortal beings, the elf was still unsure how to cease this kind of pain no matter how much he wished to rid Gimli of it. He had not much experience in the dealings of death and loss, and could barely help himself when facing such a thing back then.
“Gimli,” the prince’s hush voice was smooth as he lightly stepped towards the heavy hearted dwarf, “meleth, what may I do to alleviate this ache of yours?”
The dwarf shook himself from his depressive state and turned to Legolas with a forced smile, “Let us not dwell on the past. We are here, we are alive, and we are in love. My people seem to be aware of the first two, let's instead focus our energy on informing them of the third.” Interrupting the prince’s second attempt to pry into his sadness, Gimli made way for the washroom. “My mother is right, anyone sitting near us would be put off their meal. Being a generous dwarrow, I will allow you the first bath.” Attempts to fight the obvious change in subject were torn from Legolas at the idea of being clean.
Grabbing a fresh roll of clothes from his pack, the elf followed Gimli through the bathroom into a separate shower area and patiently watched the dwarf prepare the tub for him. The room was smaller than expected, the walkway only big enough for the door to swing open and nearly graze the lip of the tub. Truly, it was less of a tub and more of a pool, with a small raised rectangle step surrounding the dark stone tiled bath that sunk into the floor. Matching tiles covered the walls and ceiling save for two dark wooden cabinets facing opposite the door. In the middle of the ceiling was a brass spout pointing downward with two knobs on each side.
Legolas leaned against the cool tiles as he watched Gimli riffle through the cabinets, pulling out different sized and shaped bottles while mumbling about his mother moving his things. Setting aside a variety of potions on the lip of the tub, Gimli moved to adjust the faucet. It hung down enough for the dwarf to reach it with ease, and for the elf to easily hit his head on if he wasn’t paying attention. With a short turn of the lever, water began sputtering out and splashing against the bottom of the tub with a red tint.
“Ah, sorry, hasn’t been used in a while. We should let the pipes wash out.” Gimli explained, still fiddling with the knobs to find a good temperature. Once the water ran clear, the dwarf handed Legolas a small plug, “Here, put this over the drain. Green bottle is soap, pink and red are shampoo and oils. Right handles hot, left is cold. Just make sure the tub doesn’t overflow.”
The elf made room for Gimli to shuffle around the side as he peeled off his layers. Abandoning the pile of clothes, Legolas stepped into the pool and relaxed against the stone. He allowed the water to run over him for a moment before plugging the tub and wading in the rising water. The elf could feel eyes on him as he stretched out his limbs as best he could. With his body mostly sprawled out, Legolas tipped his head back against and over the edge of the tub and stared back at Gimli, both of their cheeks flushed as the dwarf’s eyes ran up and down his body.
“I’ll just,” the dwarf coughed, averting his gaze and grabbing at Legolas’s pile of clothes, “I’ll just take these for you, there is a towel in the cabinet.”
“Gimli, wait.” The elf sat up and spun around as Gimli reached for the door. “Perhaps it would be faster…” the rising pitch in Legolas’s voice had partnered with the blush quickly growing across his face and down his neck to create ultimate betrayal. Feeling himself losing his courage, the elf made a valiant attempt to push through his embarrassment, “Perhaps it would be faster if you joined me.”
Gimli’s eyes widened and darted between the elf and the door as he weighed the options. Eventually, the dwarf’s face settled into a pained smile that Legolas recognized as rejection. The prince slumped against the side of the tub with disappointment.
Kneeling beside where his head laid on the stone step, Gimli pushed back Legolas’s wet hair, “I am sorry, lansel, but it would be rather hard to explain such a situation if we were caught. Just wait a little longer, and when all is revealed, I promise I will give you everything you desire.”
The elf rested his cheek against the dwarf’s hand and sighed. He knew Gimli was right, that this would be a terrible way to announce their courting. Legolas had grown spoiled with the dwarf’s care during their travels these last few months. With little to witness the couple, they had gotten quite familiar with each other. Legolas had remained unmarried, but the dwarf was kind enough to introduce concepts that fell just short of elvish vows. The prince was still shy when it came to asking for such attention, but in times of deprival, he found boldness previously undiscovered within himself.
“The thought of it makes all my anxieties bearable, mon lovelui norn.” Legolas whispered.
Gimli leaned in for a kiss and brushed his hand over the elf’s wet, silky hair one last time before rising, “Enjoy your peace, I will call on you when it is my turn.” Legolas had forgotten about the water almost entirely, only realizing how full he allowed the tub to become when Gimli leaned over and turned off the faucet. The prince offered both an apology and thanks in the way of a sheepish grin as he sank back into the bathwater. With a sarcastic scoff and a shake of his head, the dwarf left Legolas to soak.