Title: Of Pipes and Elves

Rating: G

Author: sheraiah

Disclaimer: Not mine and no profit is being made.

Warnings: none

Spoilers: LOTR, and my stories

Summary: Legolas makes peace with his aunt and a gift for Gimli.

A/N: This is for all the Nimendis fans. She seems to have become the most popular female OC that I have. Oh, and Mary, Gimli DOES receive his gift.

Legolas sat at the edge of the talan, one leg dangling over, the other bent with the foot tucked behind the knee of the first. He glanced up, judging the angle of the sun before returning his attention to the object in his hand. He held it up turning it to examine it from all sides. It was not a bad effort, for all that he had never attempted to carve something like this before. He still had to smooth it with a rough stone and treat it so that it could withstand the heat it would be exposed to but all in all it was rather nice if he did say so himself. He had decided to paint designs on it, identical to the ones Gimli bore on his helm, but that would have to wait until the wood was smoothed.

The bowl was more curved than the clay pipes the hobbits had, and the stem was slightly wider and flatter, but it should serve the purpose it was intended for. Legolas had been careful when choosing the wood so that there would be no bitterness seeping into the pipeweed. He picked up the rough stone and began to rub the burrs out of the pipe, singing softly as he did. A slight rustle of fabric behind him alerted him to his aunt’s presence.

“What are you making, dear?” Nimendis’ tone was light, calm. Legolas nearly sighed with relief, realizing that she had no intention of continuing their argument.

“A pipe, for Gimli. He lost the one he had in Moria,” the prince replied, holding it up so that she could see it.

“You are making a pipe for the dwarf? It is finely done, to be sure, but I do not understand why you are doing it.” His aunt sniffed, wrinkling her delicate nose. “The fumes from the pipes of the periannath and the ranger are foul enough without adding another to the mix.” Legolas resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Smoking gives them comfort, Aunt. They are far from their family and friends and all of them are mourning Mithrandir. They need what small comforts they can find.” He gave the pipe a final rub with the stone before switching to a coarse bit of cloth. “As for Gimli, he has been kind to me these last few days and I wish to repay his kindness.” Legolas glanced up to meet Nimendis’ eyes. “He is not what I was told a dwarf would be like. Nothing that I have been told of dwarves, save for their prowess in battle, is true of Gimli.”

“I have never met a dwarf before, so I cannot say differently,” Nimendis replied, seating herself gracefully by her nephew’s side. “There is certainly nothing wrong in wishing to repay a kindness, and you have ever been thoughtful. It is well that you choose to gift him something that he will enjoy.”

“I could think of nothing else to give him, to be honest. He does not seem to want for much,” the prince admitted with a slight smile. Silence fell then as he continued to smooth the wood in his hands. Beside him he could sense his aunt working herself up to speak again, but he was content to let her choose her pace.

“Legolas, I do not understand why it was you that were chosen for this, especially when you are still so very young, but I do understand that you believe that you must see it through. I am terrified for you, but I will not interfere further.” She reached out a hand to stroke the wheat-pale fall of his hair. “All I ask is that you take as much care as you can and that you come back to us safe and whole. Please, pen neth, please be careful. I could not bear to lose you too.” He voice wavered on the last and he set aside his work to embrace her tightly.

“If I do not do this, if we do not succeed, you will not be safe. That is why I must do this. Mordor’s spawn have already stolen my Naneth from me, I will not sit idly by and allow them to steal anyone else that I love,” he said fiercely, feeling her arms tighten around him. “Aunt, I am a warrior. I have been a warrior most of my life. I am in the company of warriors. We protect each other even as we protect Frodo. I will be as safe there as anywhere.” He pulled back, noting with a bit of surprise that there were tears in her eyes. “Even if I do not survive, this still must be done. It is far more important than I am. Besides, we would not be parted forever. We would see each other again in time.” He smiled at her meeting her gaze steadily. “I will do what I can to stay alive, dearest aunt. That I promise you. At the very least, I hope to make you proud of me.”

“You already have, Legolas. I could not be any prouder of you than I am,” Nimendis said hugging him fiercely once more before releasing him with a sigh. “When did you grow up so much?” she asked with a watery chuckle. “It seems that I only just turned my back and suddenly there is a wise adult elf before me.” He grinned at her, his eyes not entirely dry either.

“Ada said the same thing the last time I saw him.” They smiled at each other for a moment before Legolas returned his attention to the pipe. He ran his fingers over it feeling for burrs and flaws. Encountering none, he set the cloth aside.

“I have some berry stain that would be nice for decorating the pipe, if you wish to use it,” Nimendis offered.

“I would like that. Thank you, Aunt,’ he favored her with a diffident smile, not entirely certain how to react to this new version of the aunt that he loved dearly but who he had been at odds with most of his life.

“Come inside, then and I will fetch it for you. I also have some honey cakes, if you are hungry,” she said, rising to her feet.

“Even if I were not I would never refuse honey cakes, as you know well,’ he replied with a laugh, following her into her talan.

Gimli rested beside the spring listening to the water as it cascaded over the rock ledge at the opposite end of the pool and down into the larger pool below. He could understand now why elves were so enamored of trees and sun and sky. Now that he had seen with his own eyes the realm of Lothlorien, he could definitely understand, and though his spirit still longed for earth and stone he could find enough peace here to relax. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something move and he turned, controlling his surprise at the sight of Legolas’ aunt approaching him. He hastily got to his feet and bowed politely.

“Mae Govannen, Master Gimli. Am I disturbing your rest?” She asked, tilting her head in a manner identical to her nephew.

“Not at all, Lady Nimendis,” he replied, his innate courtesy towards females and his curiosity winning out over any desire for a nap. “Please, join me.”

“I have never met a dwarf before, so please forgive me if I say or do anything that offends you. My folk have not had contact with dwarves since long before I was born and what little we have been told is evidently inaccurate at best,” she said as she settled next to him, arranging her dress carefully around her as she spoke.

“Well, I’ve had reason to find out that a lot of what I’ve heard about elves isn’t true either, so if you’ll forgive me, I’ll forgive you,” he responded with a smile.

“Agreed.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Legolas tells me that you have been very kind to him. I wanted to thank you for that. He carries himself so well that sometimes it is easy to forget that he is still quite young.”

“Aye, it is, and you’re welcome.” He could think of no other response, and so he waited, guessing that she had more to say.

“Master Gimli, I know elves and dwarves have not been allies for long centuries, but I wished to ask something of you. I thought perhaps since you are already fond of Legolas that you would not mind.” She drew a breath, meeting his eyes steadily. “I know that Legolas has been a warrior for over four centuries, and I am told by Thranduil and by Haldir that he is a very good warrior. I would simply feel better if I knew that someone was watching out for him, as brother-warriors do. I know that Estel does this, but Estel has other responsibilities now. I would ask this of you, if you are willing. It is a custom of ours, when a young warrior is sent into danger that an older warrior is charged with caring for the younger one, and providing guidance if it is needed. I know that Legolas is long past the age where this would normally be done, but it would comfort me. It is traditionally another elf that fulfills this role, but there are no other elves in your group and he does respect you already. Would you do this, Master Gimli?”

“Well, I’ll tell you, my lady,” Gimli said, stroking his beard thoughtfully, “you really didn’t need to ask. Even when Legolas and I were still at odds with each other, we watched each other’s back in battle.” He gave her a mischievous grin. “Besides, it isn’t on the battlefield that he needs watching, it’s off it. He’s about the fiercest fighter I’ve seen in all my days, and believe me that’s saying quite a bit.” Her eyebrows rose significantly at that and his smile turned more reassuring. “Rest easy, my lady. I’ll look after him like I would a young warrior of my own folk.” His eyes twinkled with mischief again. “But if you don’t mind, I don’t think we should be telling him that we had this talk. It’ll only make him angry.” Nimendis laughed aloud, pleasantly surprised at his humor.

“Indeed it would, and he is difficult to manage when he is angry,” she replied, mischief dancing in her own eyes. “You were not what I expected, Master Gimli. I can see why Legolas thinks well of you.” She rose gracefully to her feet. “Be you safe as well, son of Gloin. I would have you return to your family hale and whole.” With that she bade him farewell and left him to his thoughts.

He was not alone for long, however, when Legolas dropped down from the tree to sit next to him. Gimli had gotten so accustomed to this little idiosyncrasy of Legolas’ that he did not react beyond a raised eyebrow.

“Just who have you been tormenting this afternoon, princeling? You look entirely too pleased with yourself,” he commented with a grin.

“Gimli, do not project your habits onto me,” Legolas retorted, his grin matching Gimli’s. The dwarf snorted and gave the elf a friendly shove.

“Gangly-legged git, you’re going to give someone heart failure one day, see if you don’t. It’s just a good thing that we dwarves have very strong constitutions, and that I know you too well now for your trick to work on me anymore.” Gimli reached for his pipe, grimacing when he remembered that he no longer had it. Legolas’ grin widened and he handed the dwarf an object wrapped in a piece of soft deer-hide. Gimli took it with a frown, which transformed into an expression of shock and delight as he beheld a beautifully painted wooden pipe.

“Lad, “ he breathed, turning the lovely thing over in his hands and examining it in wonder, “where did you find this? It’s the nicest pipe I think I’ve ever seen.”

“I did not find it, friend Gimli. I made it.” Legolas returned the look of surprise that Gimli gave him with a gentle smile. “I have seen how much you miss the one you lost.”

“Aye, that I do, but I thought you hated the smell.”

“I do, but you and the other addicts always try to stay down wind of me when you indulge so I thought it would bring no harm.” The elf smiled again, turning and leaning his back against the tree. “I am pleased that you like it.”

“Like it is putting it mildly. It’s almost too nice to use. Almost,” he said, the mischief returning to his expression. “Thank you.“

“You are most welcome,“ Legolas said with a laugh and they fell into companionable silence, listening to the water until it came time to join the rest of the Fellowship for the evening meal.