Chapter Text
The embers of the fire were slowly starting to fade, glowing as red as the hair of the one who was watching them. It had been a grueling day for all of them, but Gimli in particular had struggled, as his legs were not made for this endless running. His companions were busy with their night-time tasks, Aragorn still listening to the earth in an attempt to locate the two hobbits, with Legolas up in the trees keeping watch for any potential danger lurking in the woods. A fire was made earlier in a small clearing, surrounded by looming trees and darkness. To Gimli’s dismay, that was where their camp had been placed for the night.
“’M never get used to being surrounded by such many trees” The dwarf grumbles “I would greatly prefer a stony cavern.”
“I do not trust the rock that your people reside in, for in such darkness goblins lurk” A whoosh of gold and green leaps from a nearly branch and lands on the ground besides Gimli, “and it is damp.”
Gimli scoffs, “As if this wet soil’s any better! ‘Least in the mountains the fires warm the room rather than the heat being lost to the air.” He shivers slightly.
“I’m afraid that is simply a dwarven issue, as us elves have no such mortal inconveniences!” Legolas retorts, proudly straightening his back as he stares into the embers. “I feel perfectly warm and content.”
They both fall into silence as Gimli doesn’t have the energy to send back a witty remark as he usually would. He simply grimaces and continues to observe the way the red glow shines and swirls on the pieces of wood, casting looming shadows across the clearing. Eventually Aragorn joins them, looking exhausted.
“The orc battalion seems to have stopped for the night, although it would be wise to take advantage and keep running, none of us have the strength I’m afraid.” He states as he sinks onto the log next to Gimli.
Usually the dwarf would have protested, exclaimed that he was still strong and energized enough to keep going forever! But this time he stays quiet, almost too tired to blink, let alone speak. Aragorn pays this no mind, as he too understands the feeling. Legolas, however, looks concerned.
“Gimli, are you feeling quite alright?” The elf shifts on his feet so that he’s now facing the dwarf, genuine worry in his voice, “your mind seems to have forgotten how to speak.”
Aragorn looks up at Legolas, the ghost of a smile flitting across his features, “It is natural Mellon nín, that once a mortal’s exhaustion reaches a certain height a person can do nothing more but rest. Give him the night’s sleep and he will be his usual ever-speaking self again.”
As if on cue, Gimli slumps sideways and slides off of the log onto the cold forest floor, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Legolas rushes forward, worry written all over his face. He places a cool palm on Gimli’s forehead, then his cheek, before slowly maneuvering him into a sort-of comfortable sleeping position, not like the dwarf would particularly care in that moment. Aragorn takes a brief look at the situation and decides it is time for him too to sleep; Legolas will take care of it. While hearing the rustling of his other companion laying down to rest, the elf gingerly lays a blanket over the top of the dwarf, making sure not one inch is exposed to the cold night’s air.
Legolas sits for a while; legs crossed next to Gimli’s head and looks. Looks at the way the dwarf’s hair flows and curls into all kinds of marvellous patterns, spread like a crown of fire upon the contrasting forest floor. Looks at the intricate braids tied with gold bands that decorate his chin. Looks at the warm features of Gimli’s face, highlighted in red by the dying fire, at the creases of worry carving into his brow, at the curves next to his eyes that would always deepen whenever the dwarf made one of his quick-witted jokes. The more Legolas looked the more he found, and the more his brows raised in wonder.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, gazing upon his traveling companion, but the light of the embers had faded, and the moon was high in the night sky. Eventually Legolas realized something, the dwarf before him was shaking ever so slightly. He panicked immediately, jumping up on his feet and rushing to wake Aragorn. Halfway to his friend’s bedroll a memory was rustled. On the slopes of Chadaras he remembered the Hobbits were shivering in a similar manner, which Gandalf said was due to the cold. He stopped dead in his tracks; it made perfect sense even with his extremely limited knowledge on dwarven biology. But what to do now? He could re-start the fire, but that would alert any foes to their exact location. Maybe a spare blanket? As far as the elf knew they didn’t carry any.
For several moments Legolas simply stands there, until he came upon the only idea that made any sense to his tired brain- body heat. Although he naturally ran cold, as all elves tend to do, he still retained and exuded some warmth. The idea solidifies in his mind, and he strides back over to the sleeping form he knows is Gimli.
Then he freezes, suddenly becoming very aware of the cultural ravine of traditions, expectations, and boundaries separating the two of them. He knew that for elves something such as his plan would never be appropriate, and he would likely be ignored by that person for at least 20 years would he ever initiate physical contact to this extent. However, he wasn’t sure how it is like for dwarves, he and Gimli had only been getting along decently for a short amount of time and hadn’t spoken in depth about their cultures yet. He was abruptly snapped out of his thought by fast clacking noises coming from the figure at his feet. It was clear by his clattering teeth that Gimli was only getting colder by the minute, and he had to act fast.
Legolas makes up his mind and deftly sits down, wondering how to go about this. Elves weren’t cuddlers you see, and he probably hadn’t had a hug in several centuries, discounting the few times he saw Aragorn, so he was dreadfully out of practice. The elf awkwardly moves to lean on his arm, elbow digging into the moist soil below, and tries to wrap his other arm around the shivering dwarf in front of him. He fails, only reaching about halfway around Gimli’s stout frame. Repositioning himself, Legolas carefully shifts closer so that his chest lies just barely apart from the dwarf’s back, and attempts his arm again, this time succeeding in wrapping around the whole of Gimli’s body. Happy with his success, he rests his propped-up arm and lies down in the dirt, keeping a sharp ear in order to catch any potential straggling orcs or wayward trolls looking for an easy meal. Legolas sighs deeply, a small smile crossing his features, this was probably the most comfortable he had felt in several weeks. Slowly Gimli stops shivering, and a peaceful calm envelops the two of them. If one walked past and saw them lying there together, one would almost forget how unusual it was for a dwarf and an elf to be in such close proximity, that is how natural it looked, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Hours passed and the dawn was starting to break, birds singing their morning melodies, the night sky fading into wonderful gradients of yellows and oranges, along with the soft snoring of the sleeping figures on the ground. Legolas of course was still awake, not wanting to risk the threat of no one standing watch during the night, but was severely hesitant to actually get up. It was so warm, so comfortable and felt so right, lying there next to Gimli. But allas, it would not do to be found so close to his traveling companion, no matter how much he wanted to lie there for the rest of his eternal life. So, the elf has to gather all his will power and carefully moves his arm away from the still-sleeping figure, rolling onto his back and finally standing up.
Legolas stretches leisurely, arms and back bending to reach to the emerging sun. With renewed energy he strolls over to the supply packs they carry and starts to prepare breakfast. Slowly Aragorn awakens, groaning and grumbling something about bones and muscles while groggily rubbing his eyes. He eventually moves his gaze to where Legolas is crouched over a pot, stirring what he presumes are some oats,
“How are you feeling Legolas? You seem…well rested.” Aragorn’s voice comes out raspy from overexertion.
“I am quite well, I do believe the night’s rest has done me some benefit.” Legolas replies, “But do not fret, I remained vigilant and no harm befell any of us or any of our supplies.”
He gets a tired grumble in return. It doesn’t take too long before the shortest of the group rises too. With several popping joints and groaned Khuzdul curses Gimli sits up straight, looking around with a very confused expression.
“What time is it lads? I cannae remember anything from last night.”
Legolas replies swiftly, “Only just dawn Mellon, you seemed to have fallen asleep due to exhaustion. You were cold too, shivering all over. I gave you a blanket.” He pointed at the fabric covering Gimli, not knowing if he should tell the dwarf about his warming attempts or not. He opted for not.
Gimli simply huffs in return; his pride clearly hurt by his body’s inability to stay awake for 4 days on end. Either way he is grateful for the warmth he had been granted.
After a quick meal the three of them pack up their stuff and continue on their trek to find the two Hobbits, leaving behind nothing but ashes and imprints on the grass.