A Legolas and Gimli companionship double drabble.

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Miss

“Legolas?” Gimli slowly approached the elf, looking back and forth between his friend, and a gold-feathered arrow lodged in the tree in front of him.

Gimli wiped an oiled cloth over his axe and stared up at the troubled elf. “It matters not, my friend.”

Hesitantly, Legolas reached out, running his fingers over the arrow’s feathers before pulling it from the tree. “Nay, Master Dwarf, it matters greatly.”

Gimli rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You missed one shot, Legolas! Your next arrow found its mark. Nothing ill came of it!”

Anger replaced bewilderment as Legolas looked down at his friend. “If the next one had missed too, you’d be dead, elvellon.”

“Bah!” A mischievous glint appeared in the dwarf’s eyes. “No dwarf is ever blindsided by an orc!”

Anger dissolving, Legolas mouth curled slightly in amusement. “Your ego is formidable, Gimli.”

The dwarf’s grunt was non-committal. “So is your bow.”

Legolas lifted the arrow, staring at its head. “I’ve not missed since I was a novice.”

Gimli nodded and turned away. Stepping over the body of a slain orc, he paused, looking back at his friend. “No one is perfect, Legolas.”

Smiling, Legolas returned the arrow to his quiver.