Elves are strange folk, Gimli thought, and this one's like a dandelion in a dragon's den. Narrowing his eyes underneath his bushy brows, he watched the Elf surreptitiously, waiting for a repeat of the strange gesture.

All too soon, as the Elf crossed the Dwarf's path yet again, Legolas drew a vigorous X across his chest with one elegant hand, and tugged on his chin, smooth as a baby's behind, with the other.

By Durin's axe, he's mad. Gimli caught Gandalf's glance. A mischievous twinkle lit up the wizard's eye.

"Pay no mind, my good Dwarf," Gandalf said in a low voice. "It's the thirteenth day of the month, and Thranduil's folk believe it brings them good luck on this day to cross a Dwarf's path and themselves at the same time. The chin cupping is to honor your kind."

Snorting, Gimli stroked his luxuriant whiskers. Beard envy—of course.