Chapter Text
The dwarf didn’t trust him, Legolas knew it. And he was fine with it, he really was. The mistrust between their races had endured over several generations (well, in the case of the dwarves at least; in the case of the elves not so many). There was no reason why they should lay off the prejudices of hundreds of years.
But even though he tried to deny it, Legolas did feel a little hurt whenever Gimli threw him a suspicious glance, whenever he refused his help with a grim shake of his shaggy head.
Gimli didn’t sleep during Legolas’ watches, not really. Of course, Legolas didn’t sleep with Gimli watching over him either, but that was besides the point. Fact was that whenever something happened, a spooked animal running past, a twig cracking somewhere, any suspicious noise the dwarf’s miserable hearing could pick up, Gimli would be on his feet wielding his axe almost before Legolas had notched an arrow. It was like a dagger in his heart, how the dwarf obviously doubted Legolas’ abilities to keep the Fellowship safe. Yes, the Fellowship, that was it. It wasn’t at all like Legolas wanted Gimli to feel safe under his watch.
After the Caradhras and the mines, the suspicious glances grew fewer and fewer, as Legolas noted with a certain pride and, to tell the truth, no small amount of joy. Gimli would even talk to him in the evenings as they sat by the fire together, eating dinner (Yes, Legolas may have blushed furiously upon discovering that Gimli was in fact the ‘goblin mutant’ he had commented upon so many years ago, and Gimli may have asked him what was wrong with such a sweetly concerned look that Legolas had difficulty swallowing his food, but that was truly irrelevant). But during the nights, Gimli would still sleep lightly, not trusting the elf to keep watch. Legolas knew that he wasn’t usually such a light sleeper; he had been watching him sleep sometimes during Gandalf’s watch, or Aragorn’s, though he would never admit it.
Then came Boromir’s death, and the hunt to free Merry and Pippin from the clutches of the orcs. They slept as little as possible, Legolas keeping watch while dwarf and human slept. Elves didn’t need sleep, it was a luxury they took advantage of when they could afford it (or wanted to; Legolas had quite often kept celebrating with his friends instead of sleeping as his father had asked him to). Gimli and Aragorn, however, Legolas noticed with concern, did need their sleep. He was astounded by the speed with which Gimli fell asleep, dreaming almost before his head hit the ground.
It actually took a small while and a howl from a distant wolf (or warg?) for Legolas to notice it; Gimli still hadn’t awoken. The dwarf was sleeping soundly, face smushed into his helmet uncomfortably. And if Legolas pushed aside a few strands of wiry hair as he took off the poor dwarf’s helmet, that wasn’t of anybody’s concern except his own.