Title: Morning in Lothlórien

Author: sheraiah

Disclaimer: Not mine and never will be. No profit is being made.

Rating: PG

Warnings: none

Spoilers: LOTR, my stories

Cast: The Fellowship

The Fellowship broke their fast with a meal large enough to satisfy even the hobbits, but their mood was still somber. Even Legolas’ unfailing cheer was absent. He had been unusually quiet since Gandalf’s fall, although he seemed to Aragorn to be more at ease this morning than he had been the night before. The ranger was also mildly shocked to see him in Gimli’s company. All well and good if they had managed to settle their differences, he thought as he filled his pipe. They still had so far to go, and without the wizard it was going to arduous enough even if they did not have to worry about disagreements between the elf and the dwarf.

As he took the first few puffs on what Legolas sarcastically referred to as his ‘malodorous addiction’, he heard the elf politely excuse himself from the rest of their companions. Glancing up, he saw the prince approaching him and took time to really look at the elf.

Legolas definitely looked better than he had, more relaxed. Some of that was likely due to the fact that he had slept, as they all had, but it also looked to Aragorn that the burden of his grief was somewhat lessened. He sincerely hoped that was the case. Grief could be very dangerous for an elf, and beyond his heartfelt concern for his long time friend, they sorely needed the elf’s skills on the journey ahead of them.

“Off to spend time with your aunt?” Aragorn asked, giving the elf a slight smile.

“Aye, if I do not Adar will never hear the end of it,” Legolas replied with a grimace. “And therefore, neither will I.” The ranger chuckled.

“She loves you dearly, mellon-nin.”

“I know. I will be on my best behavior. I will not, however, forsake the Fellowship as she wishes me to do.” Legolas’ jaw tightened, the hard look in his eyes reminding Aragorn sharply of the elf’s formidable sire.

“Well, do not forget to spend some time with Haldir and his brothers. They usually provide an antidote to Nimendis, do they not?” He arched an eyebrow at his friend, unconsciously imitating his foster-father. Legolas chuckled briefly, as he had intended.

“True. I will return for the evening meal, or before that should you need me for any reason.”

“No, Legolas. Take what time you need and do not worry about the rest of us. We will be fine.” Aragorn smiled reassuringly at the elf, who nodded and took his leave. He smoked in peace for a moment before he heard the clink of Gimli’s chain mail as the dwarf approached him.

The dwarf sat down beside him, leaning his back against the tree that Aragorn was using as a backrest and stretching his legs out in front of him. He frowned briefly at Aragorn’s pipe, having lost his own in Moria and evidently missing it. The ranger wordlessly handed the half-full pipe to the dwarf who started in surprise before accepting it with a nod of thanks. After a couple of puffs and a contented sigh, Gimli handed it back.

“You could have warned me, you know,” he said, gazing at the trees in front of them.

“About what, the fact that it is impossible not to like him?” Aragorn asked with a wry twist to his mouth. Gimli snorted.

“That too. No, about his age, or lack of it.” Dark eyes brimming with keen intelligence met the ranger’s.

“It never occurred to me, to be truthful. Age is not something I think of in relation to Legolas. It just has never seemed to matter,’ Aragorn took a last puff on the pipe before emptying it. He offered both the pipe and his pouch of Old Toby to the dwarf who waved them away. “Actually, I have no idea what his age is, beyond knowing that he is a bit younger than Arwen. We have never discussed it.”

“More than ‘a bit’, I’d say. He told me he’s around 500. Unless I’m way off the mark, that’s VERY young for an elf.” There was something a bit smug about the set of Gimli’s mouth, as if he was pleased with himself for being told something that the ranger did not know.

“No, that is an accurate assumption.” Aragorn’s eyebrows were in his hairline. “Elladan and Elrohir always tease him about it, but I had no idea he was that young.” He shook his head, a wry smile appearing on his lips. “He said the same thing about Pippin, you know, before we left Rivendell.” Gimli chuckled.

“To be fair, it’s not the same thing. Legolas at least is past his majority, Pippin isn’t.”

“True,” Aragorn agreed. He tucked his pipe and pouch back into his pack before relaxing against the tree again. “May I assume that the two of you have settled your differences?”

“I think so,” Gimli said, running his thumb along the edge of his smallest axe. He nodded in satisfaction when a thin line of blood appeared on his skin, before turning serious eyes back on Aragorn. “He’s one of the fiercest warriors I’ve ever seen, for which I’m mightily glad, but when it comes to taking care of himself he’s a lost cause. That lad needs a keeper, more so than even Pippin I’d say. He’s too tenderhearted by half, and he doesn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.” He paused to fix a stern look on the ranger. “You’re going to have to have a word with him on that, Aragorn. He regularly slips part of his meals to Pippin. It’s kind of him, to be sure, but he needs it as much as Pippin does.”

“That sneaky little….,” Aragorn sputtered, shocked. “I never saw him do that. Rest assured, Gimli, I will have a word with both Legolas and Pippin about it. And with Frodo as well, to make certain that the point is driven home with Pippin.” The ranger struggled not to smile at Gimli’s assessment of the elf. Legolas was perfectly capable of fending for himself and it was highly amusing to hear Gimli’s rationalization of his budding friendship with the prince. Still, he was correct about the need to put a stop to Legolas’ supplementation of the youngest hobbit’s meals.

The dwarf looked satisfied, and he shifted into a more comfortable position against the tree. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, listening to Boromir give Merry and Pippin a lesson in swordplay. Soon, the dwarf began to snore drawing a chuckle from the ranger before he moved to a quieter part of the glade to have a nap of his own.

As he settled, he chuckled again at the odd friendship that seemed to be forming between Legolas and Gimli. If he knew his elven friend, there would be a rationalization similar to Gimli’s from him as well. Aragorn could hardly wait to hear it.