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Nothing Gold Can Stay	By : TAFKAB Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 5309 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, The Silmarillion, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Though he accompanied Legolas to the Hall, Gimli said little, sitting to one side drinking wine and listening to the songs. If he tried, could still feel the fine velvet of Legolas's ear against his fingertips and the elf's glorious golden hair gathered like combed silk in his hand. His eyes flashed with pride and he preened whenever someone looked on his work, which happened often. More than a few curious eyes sought him, as well, and turned away when he returned the gaze.

Aragorn joined him after a time, watching Legolas walk the lady Arwen through a stately pavane.

“Which is more fair, the prince of Mirkwood or the jewels that adorn him?” Aragorn murmured to Gimli. “If I had not seen with my own eyes how much you admire the lady Galadriel, I might wonder at the pair of you, much as these others do.”

“Let them talk,” Gimli growled. “I care not.”

“Do not be dismayed. None who have seen you with the lady could fail to know where your heart lies!” Aragorn attempted to reassure him.

Gimli shifted, uncomfortable, and stared into his wine. He would say nothing to Aragorn of who might stir his heart, but he could not let the man think wrongly of his intentions toward Galadriel. “She is not one I would dare aspire to court. Besides, she is wed.” He dragged his wet thumb about the rim of the goblet, making a hollow, clear note rise into the air. In truth, he felt no desire for Galadriel; rather, she made him feel deep respect, awe, and admiration-- perhaps more than friendship, but not so base or deep a thing as lust.

“It is obvious you are lovesick. Who could it be for but the lady of Lórien?” Aragorn teased, then gentled his tone. “And in truth I understand, for Arwen is Galadriel’s granddaughter, and has inherited her beauty. How could anyone look at such a queen and fail to worship her?”

“I know not.” That was truth, at least-- he adored the queen of Lothlórien, but from a distance, as though she were a star. She was more beautiful than any queen he had ever beheld.

“Arvegil does not know of your regard for the lady, I fear. He has not been silent on the matter of Legolas’s new jewel.”

“It is an ear-cuff, no more.” Gimli scowled. “A trinket and a novelty. When we return, these things will have sprouted like lichen on half the elves of Rivendell.”

“That I do not doubt.” Aragorn laughed softly. “But it means more to Legolas than that, I think.”

“He told me his thoughts.” Gimli said, sobering. “He spoke of how he had judged me a beast for my differences, and how he once thought of killing dwarves for pleasure. He gave me to know the ornament marks his penitence.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “I long for my pipe, and if I had my way I would go, but for him I will stay, and rejoice that he is happy with the change.”

“It seems to me you too have learned?” Aragorn phrased it carefully, a delicate question.

“Aye. Less gracefully than he.” He remembered his own shame at the speculations in Dale, and his fear of the wraith’s vision. It had not left him unmarked. “But then, my folk were not so kind as these.”

“He is not their close kin. He would encounter more difficulty in his father’s halls, I think.”

Gimli nodded, his eyes hooded. “And I would fear for my life there, if Thranduil thought as Arvegil. Legolas brought me away from his father’s realm in part because Thranduil desired my death. He is honorable; that was done before we ever felt friendship for one another.” He glared at Aragorn. “But I am not allowed to make any such covenant. Do not tell the elf!”

Aragorn spread his hands in hasty surrender. “Not a word.”

Gimli gave him a final warning look then turned his attention to the dance, which had changed, growing swift and light. Legolas darted through it like a silver fish in a swift and rushing stream. It seemed to Gimli the Prince of the Greenwood was more lively and graceful than all the others of his kin, and that a light shone through him, born of joy.

*****

They made ready to ride for the Shire, renewing their provisions and repairing or replacing their gear. The day soon came when they were ready, and they brought their horses to the edge of the city, where they found Gandalf, Galadriel, and Elrond waiting.

“Now you set forth on the first great test of your birthright,” Elrond addressed Aragorn in solemn tones. Gimli’s eyes went to Arwen, who stood nearby, her eyes fixed on the young ranger. He cleared his throat, longing to be on the road, and adjusted the new throwing axes hanging from his belt. He was grateful to Arvegil for his courtesy and generosity, but he wished the tongues of elves less ponderous, that they might be well away before nightfall.

The lady stood by, waiting for her turn, and when Elrond was satisfied he had heaped enough warnings and instructions upon Aragorn’s shoulders, she stood forth to take her leave of them.

“Though I am not in my own homeland, I would not have you depart empty-handed.” She smiled on the three. “To you, Aragorn, I would give this.” She offered him a pouch. “Here are such medicines and physics as I might prepare for your journey through the darkness that lies ahead of us all. Use them well, and do not let your hopes fade.” She passed on to Legolas next. “And for you, Prince of the Greenwood, a bow of the Galadhrim, the very one I carried with me for defense as I left our land. It is made for shooting far and true, and will serve you well when you are far from the woods of your home.”

She stepped before Gimli last, and her smile was so bright it dazzled him. “What would a dwarf ask of the elves?” She murmured. “Name your desire, son of Durin.”

Gimli flushed at her words. “Truly, I can ask you for nothing, for my cup is full. It has been enough to see the lady of Lórien and to journey with her, and to labor for her convenience and defense. That is an honor no dwarf deserves.” He bowed low. “I would trade my time at your side for nothing, my lady-- not for all the riches of the Dwarrowdelf would I trade it.”

Galadriel reached out her slender hand and touched his cheek.

“Never let it be said dwarves are greedy and grasping,” she murmured. “Nor cowardly and mean, for you have a pure, valiant heart, elvellon. I have not forgotten how you shielded me in the High Pass.” Gimli blushed, ducking his head. “Name your wish,” she commanded, her touch gentle as mist upon the petals of a rose.

“I do not dare-- yet if I must, I would name a single strand of your hair,” Gimli breathed against his will. “If it were given, I would make it an heirloom of my house and set it in imperishable crystal, so that sun and star might shine always in the heart of the mountain, and my own heart need never be darkened by fading of memory.”

The assembled elves gasped, murmuring startlement and outrage. Gimli flushed deep crimson, ashamed, but the lady held up her hand to quell them.

“How could I refuse such a gallant request, when I myself commanded him to speak?” She took a dagger from Elrond’s hand and separated out the long fine strands of her shining hair, severing three from near her temple. A whisper arose and hushed again while she braided them loosely together with her own hands, making a long shining filament that she coiled and placed into Gimli’s palm.

“Lockbearer, wherever thou goest, my heart goes with thee,” she bent forward and set a kiss upon his brow, then whispered low by his ear, so low none other might hear. “But have a care to lay thine axe to the right tree!” She withdrew, her eyes shining with mischief, tilting her head ever so slightly toward the side where Legolas stood, absorbed in admiring his new bow.

Gimli reddened even more, if it were possible, so much he felt his cheeks might burst into flame. He bowed before her a last time, so low his beard brushed the ground.

Grooms led their horses forth, and Aragorn mounted. Legolas helped Gimli up, then settled before him. His hair was braided snugly in the riding style he had adopted on Gimli’s behalf, and his jeweled ear cuff gleamed in the morning sunlight.

“I will travel to Orthanc to see if we can take the measure of Saruman,” Gandalf said. “Elrond will look for you to return by early summer. If you have not arrived by the time I return here, I will set forth to find you myself.”

“We will return, and we will bring the halfling.” Aragorn bowed his head and turned away.

Legolas clucked to his horse, and they set forth on the western road. “Now I have taken my worst wound at this parting,” Gimli murmured. “For I have looked my last on that which is fairest.”

“Do not grieve, Gimli,” Legolas told him, kind. “The lady honors you more than you may know.”

NOTES

Elvellon: Elf friend

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Nothing Gold Can Stay