Elves were rumored in fable and legend to
be creatures of fanatical cleanliness, whether it be in a jest or
woven into the lyrical words of a love ballad, it was, to say the
least, made note of.
Even so, both Boromir and Gimli had reacted with disbelief at
learning the bathing habits of the Elves, though in deference to
their hosts, both had made an effort to wash daily, despite both
their grumblings that such matters would sicken them with plague and
that they hadn't an Elf's fortune of avoiding illness.
It was after one of these daily bathes that Legolas found Gimli in
one of the many dressing rooms off from the private bathhouse the
Company had been provided with. Already dressed, although to the
keen eyes of an Elf it was obvious that he hadn't dried himself
perhaps as well as he could have, as his tunic was clinging slightly
to still damp skin.
Gimli was raking a comb through his hair, binding the tangles and
knots ever tighter into the heavy length and swearing most
creatively as he went. Leaning against the doorframe, Legolas
watched him silently, stifling his amusement and he would have sworn
by light and leaf that those curses alone could have felled a
full-grown Orc in the midst of battle.
"If you are trying to knot your hair into a mass of tangles,"
Legolas said finally, "then you are doing it nicely. If that is how
you always comb your hair then I should think it would be nothing
but a mass of knots and snarls, a soft nest just waiting to make a
home for a rat."
Gimli stiffened visibly as he whirled to see his unexpected visitor.
"Just because Dwarves don't see the need to bathe every time we wipe
our arse doesn't meant that..." he began, but a soft laugh from
Legolas halted his angry flow of words.
"Must you take insult to any words that pass my lips?" Legolas
teased softly. He sighed as the frown remained stubbornly on Gimli's
lips. "My pardon, then. I meant no insult."
He waited, patience that came with centuries of living holding him
easily, and finally a rueful smile came to Gimli's lips. "And my
pardon as well, if I seem too quickly to take offense."
Legolas grinned cheerily. "Here, then, if friends we are made once
again, then let me help." He squeezed into the small space between
Gimli and the wall, nearly sitting on the small ledge as he bracing
himself with a foot against wall.
He felt the dwarf stiffen, and Gimli began to turn towards him,
certainly to send a frown his way and so Legolas instead plucked the
comb neatly from Gimli's fingers and set to work on the task in
front of him. Gimli seemed uncomfortable and tense, and Legolas
wondered if he wouldn't push away, blustering and angrier than
before, but after a moment he seemed to relax and accept the gentle
touch of a comb held by an Elf's hand in his hair.
And such hair it seemed to Legolas! Not so fine as his own, but
neither was it as coarse as some would believe, heavy and thick,
like the winter coat worn by a bear, perhaps, and Legolas smiled to
himself at his fanciful thoughts. Like a bear was Gimli, yes, burly
and strong, his clumsy appearance belied by the truth in the grace
Legolas had seen in him, time and again, with his own eyes.
His own people would scoff at the very idea of finding anything like
grace within a dwarf, and his amusement dimmed, his thoughts turning
inward until Gimli shifted restlessly against him and woke him from
his reverie.
Murmuring an apology, Legolas deftly coaxed the tangles from Gimli's
unruly locks until his hair hung smooth, still slightly damp against
Legolas' fingertips and he hesitated a moment, then quickly twisted
a braid into the hair just over Gimli's ear, small and neat, though
not as elaborate as his own.
"There! I dare say that you are the prettiest dwarf ever to walk the
paths of Lothlórien," he said lightly, and Gimli snorted, walking
over to his satchel to fetch a small, polished mirror. He studied
his reflection critically before nodding slowly.
"Aye, and the only one as well," Gimli replied finally with a snort.
"Ah, but what is this?" He fingered the braid, peering at it warily
before he at last let it drop with a shrug. "More elfish charms, I'm
sure..." he said gruffly. "Much more time in this fair company and I
should be dancing naked beneath the moon ere we depart. Elves seem
to be able to charm others into many interesting things."
The Elf only smiled innocently, flicking the small braid with a
fingertip and Gimli snorted again, going to seek his breakfast out
before it came time for lunch. Legolas watched him go, and sadness
touched his smile.
"Ah, but if Elves have such charms," he murmured, "Then tell me how
I am to charm you into believing an Elf could love a Dwarf, though
the Dwarf be smitten with another."
He wondered what the other elves would make of a love knot tied into
the hair of a dwarf, and he shook the thought away, knowing that
they would say nothing to Gimli. At least he would be able to look
at it, for a short time, and pretend it was worn proudly, and when
Gimli looked at him again, Legolas could pretend, just briefly,
within the walls of Lothlórien, that it was with love.
-finis--
*See the picture that inspired this story here
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