Work Text:
Gimli's hands were trembling as he drew the comb through Legolas's hair.
He paused for a moment, trying to will them to stop. There was no reason for such a show of weakness, after all, not even though there were only two of them. However, for all his efforts, the tremor persisted.
"Beloved?" Legolas's voice was soft in the relative silence of the room they shared. Thankfully, Aragorn had not asked too many questions when they had asked for one. "Is something the matter?"
"Oh, nothing." He separated a section of the golden hair, frowning as he tried to work out a tangle. "How do you manage to get knots in hair this fine, anyway?"
"It is the wind; not even elven hair can stay neat when tossed around all the time. And do not for a moment believe that I will accept that answer."
"Of course not. You're stubborn like that." He continued running the comb through the locks even after they had been cleared, glad for the excuse to enjoy their feel in his hands.
"Indeed I am." Legolas turned his head, just the slightest bit. "So, answer me."
"Why would you think anything is wrong?" It was a miracle elves managed to keep any braids in their hair, fine and slippery as it was, quite different from coarse dwarven hair that required oils and fine care to become somewhat manageable.
"Your hands are not as steady as usual. Clearly something is vexing you."
"Right." He sighed, running his fingers through Legolas's hair in an indulgent gesture. "I s'ppose I'm just nervous, that's all." Because if there was any creature he could admit such things to, it was Legolas.
"Nervous? Whatever for?" Legolas turned around where he was seated on the floor, leaning his arms on Gimli's knees. He was even more beautiful than usual in his silver robe, his arms slim like young branches against the deep blue of Gimli's velvet surcoat, the delicate appearance hiding his true strength.
"Well, I could well do something altogether silly," Gimli huffed. "Like drop the crown down the stairs or something."
Legolas laughed, but not maliciously. "Oh, beloved, all you need to do is give him the crown and then walk after him. And I don't believe a dwarf could ever do anything that might harm something so fine and precious."
"Doesn't make me fret any less." He drew his fingertips along the side of Legolas's face. "I've never been to a coronation before, you know, of any kind. Dáin took the throne before I ever saw Erebor."
"You are of royal blood, though. Surely you have stood through stuffy ceremonies before."
"Aye, but I've never had much of a role. Standing still and looking proud, that I can do."
"Oh, I know you can. I bet you look magnificent in all your noble dwarven splendor."
Gimli chuckled. Of course Legolas could get him to find some amusement even in his nervousness. "Not much more splendor than you see here, I'm afraid. I might have even finer beads if the opportunity allowed, but Durin's blue and the proper braids are pretty much all that's expected of someone of my status."
"Indeed. These aren't quite the simple plaits of our travels." Legolas brushed his fingertips against one of the braids in Gimli's beard, and he could barely suppress a shiver. The touch was so gentle, almost reverent, in a way he never would have imagined an elf could touch a dwarf's beard.
"Of course not. Travel braids are for practicality; these have some meaning." It still wasn't quite the fullest formal display he might have held, but he had taken the finest beads he could get his hands on in this place, seeking to make himself presentable at least. The most important, the braid of Durin's line, was almost hidden from view at the back of his head. None of those present could read it anyway, save perhaps Gandalf, but it was important enough to have there, anyway.
"And what meaning would a dwarf find there?"
"The important ones. That I am of Durin's folk and Durin's line, and third in line to the throne of Erebor, though my hope is that never comes to pass." He closed his hand over Legolas's, not halting, just covering with his own. "That my heart is no more free for the taking."
"I'm glad to hear that." Legolas gave him a smile that was faint at first, but then turned almost mischievous. "And is there any braid you could put in my hair?"
Gimli lifted his eyebrows. "You would want one? I know your father will not come forth from Mirkwood, but there will be other elves in attendance."
"Would that matter?"
"To me? Never." He brought Legolas's hand higher, pressing kisses along his fingertips. "However, I was under the impression that you wanted to inform your father before he heard from elsewhere. Having you seen in dwarven braids would certainly raise questions."
"Surely there is something you can do to make it look more elven."
"Aye, I suppose so. But I still would ask if you are certain." He gave Legolas a serious gaze, more serious than he had in a long time. "I could give you courtship braids, that a dwarf puts in the hair of their beloved. However, for my people, that is a serious matter. If I do that, we're as good as betrothed."
"Oh, Gimli, beloved." Legolas's lips quirked just the smallest bit. "You have shared my bed. In the eyes of my people, we are already wed."
Gimli managed a smile in return. "Fair enough. Though I warn you, my people will require a ceremony if we are to be considered married."
Legolas chuckled. "Elves prefer a proper ceremony as well. But even then, we are already bound. If you would put your mark on me, I would be delighted."
Gimli nodded slowly. "Turn around again, then."
The request was far from impossible, of course. It helped that the texture was so different; he wasn't sure he could have properly recreated a dwarven braid if he had tried. Nevertheless, he strove to do something similar to Legolas's usual style, yet capturing the essence of the courtship design.
Gimli combed Legolas's hair back, as though to tie it there, but only fastened it with the fine silver circlet Legolas gave him, drawing some of the strands at the back over it so the metal, however finely worked, would not distract from the important part. He then took four locks of hair, two over each ear, and wove them together with deft fingers. Two sides, each in halves without their counterpart, were mended together into one unity, until at the end one could not tell which strand was from where. The position made it similar enough to Legolas's simpler plait that none should question it, but he was certain any dwarf would still have recognized it for what it was.
Well, more like any dwarf would have wondered why an elf would have by coincidence made something so similar to dwarven symbols, as surely no respectable dwarf would have given him such, but that was neither here nor there.
It was a fine thing as he finished, deceptively simple for all the weight it carried, and seeing it in Legolas's hair made him almost choke with sudden emotion. He had done that. For all that his love for the elf had been a matter of truth for a while now, this somehow made it all the more concrete. Here was his love, his devotion, for all the world to see if they but knew where to look. His love, his heart, his elf.
"Is it done?" Legolas asked, and Gimli hummed his approving response. Legolas got up, then, all fluid motion and grace, and reached out a hand to him. "Come, then," he said as Gimli grasped his hand. "We are both ready, and the time draws near. It would not do for us to be late."
"Aye, you are right," Gimli said, getting up as well. "We must represent our peoples well, after all."
"Indeed." Legolas's smile was like the sun. "That, and we couldn't very well let our friend start this new adventure all on his own, now could we?"
"Certainly not." Gimli chuckled. "Let us go, then, and see the lad become a man at last."
His hands, he noted, were not shaking anymore.
It might have had to do with Legolas still holding tight onto one of them.