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“Mister Gimli?”
Gimli grunted as he was ripped from a daydream that he was not even fully aware of being enveloped in. He looked towards the source of the sound and his face softened when he saw one of the Halflings standing sheepishly over him. Pippin, if he recalled correctly, although he could never fully tell him apart from his cousin.
“Do you need something, Master Hobbit?”
Pippin just laughed. “Strider said that it was time to pack up camp and move on.”
“Ah. Thank you, then.” Gimli rose to his feet and dusted himself off, expecting the Halfling to trot off to tell the others. Instead, he remained standing there.
“Mister Gimli? When you kissed Mister Legolas, did he bend down, or did you stand on a chair?”
“Pippin!” Frodo's voice cried from behind a large rock, horrified. Well, at least now Gimli knew for certain that he was correct in his identification. Crimson bloomed across his cheeks and he stared down at Pippin for a moment.
“I... I beg your pardon?”
“Frodo said that he heard Mister Legolas calling you his 'beloved' in Elvish. So Merry and I made a bet. Merry thinks that Mister Legolas would bend down to kiss you, but I think that he's like to get a sore back doing that too often, so it makes more sense if you have a chair or a box to stand on!”
“Pippin, do not make me a part of this!” Frodo's voice was even more horrified than before and Gimli could all but hear the blush likely on the Halfling's face. “Mister Gimli, I am so sorry, I should have kept it to myself...”
Gimli laughed in spite of his embarrassment. “I did not know that you spoke Elvish, Master Baggins.”
“Only a little. Uncle Bilbo tried to teach me, but it is hard to learn a language from someone who barely speaks it himself,” Frodo said sheepishly, poking his curly head out from behind the rock.
“Well, you speak more than I. I did not know what the Elf was saying in his own tongue.” Gimli coughed in an attempt to preserve at least some of his dignity. “I shall... speak to him about it, then. Thank you for informing me.”
Gimli cleared his throat turned away from the now-bickering Hobbits, walking towards the tree that Legolas had been sleeping in. He could never understand how the Elf was so comfortable just sleeping on a branch, but then, that was an Elf for you. They never made any sense, least of all to a Dwarf.
“Master Dwarf.”
Gimli nearly fell backwards when Legolas's face was suddenly inches away from his own, and upside down, no less. It took Gimli a moment to realize that Legolas was hanging upside down from the branch he had been sleeping in.
“Confounded Elf...” Gimli grumbled, “You take too much pleasure in this.”
“Maybe so!” Legolas agreed merrily, his laugh piercing through the forest air like a bird's call, “But we cannot change our natures. You know this as well as I do, Master Dwarf.”
“Apparently not, based on what I heard the Ringbearer has been saying to the other Halflings.”
This piqued the Elf's interest immediately, always being one for some good gossip, and he leapt gracefully to the ground. “Oh? And what is that?”
“Did you know that he speaks Elvish?” Gimli slid around answering right away, wishing to see if Legolas would realize the answer before Gimli was forced to say it himself.
“Oh, really?” Legolas's eyes were panicked for a fraction of a second and his cheeks turned pink, but he quickly regained his composure. “How intriguing. I never knew that they taught Elvish in the Shire.”
“Nor did I. But I heard that he... ah... heard you say some things to me that were of interest.” Gimli avoided eye contact with his companion, but he see out of the corner of his eye that Legolas's face was rapidly turning red.
“And... did he mention what those things were?”
Gimli opened his mouth to answer, but the words were choked by his own embarrassment. Instead, all he could manage was a weak: “Aye.”
That was all Legolas needed to know. His eyes began to flicker wildly, trying desperately to come up with some excuse, some reason he would say such things, but to no avail. Instead, he just sighed. “What say you, then?”
Gimli started at the question. That was the last thing he had expected his friend to say. “What say I?” he repeated, “What say I? What can I say? What is there to be said?”
Legolas winced at that response and bit his lip, his teeth gleaming almost unnaturally white in the sunlight. “Naught, I suppose. Forgive me, mellon-nín. I did not intent to offend you.”
“Offend me?!” Gimli frowned at Legolas's obvious pain, feeling an urge to attempt to repair the damage that had been done. “Nay, I am far from offended. It... it is flattering to be called such things by so fair a being.”
Now Legolas blushed for an entirely different reason. “I... fair? Gimli, it was but minutes ago that you called me a 'confounded Elf'.” He attempted to laugh, but it sounded weak and almost timid.
The use of Gimli's real name did not go unnoticed, and the Dwarf smiled despite himself. “Do not make me regret making such a comment. A Dwarf is nothing if not genuine, even if to a fault.”
“Then we have met very different Dwarves!” Legolas laughed more openly this time, Gimli's reaction making him feel more at ease.
“Mind your words! You have met my father, remember,” Gimli teased.
“That I have. And I must confess, he is neither as handsome nor as charming as his son.”
“Charming! That is a new one.” Gimli shook his head, his face near shining by now. “Oh, do be quiet, Elf.”
“And if I refuse?” Legolas's eyes flashed in challenge, only for his laugh to be cut short by Gimli tugging him down by a braided tress and pressing their lips together.
The kiss only lasted for a moment, though, before being interrupted by a loud cheer.
“I told you, Pippin! Now you owe me!”