Chapter Text
All in all, Legolas decided, this was a very unfortunate time for him to start feeling ill.
Not that he didn't enjoy the peace and quiet of Rivendell, it was certainly a welcome respite from the ever creeping shadows of his home forest. However, as it was so very different, he soon found himself growing restless during his visit, itching for something to do besides wandering in the gardens and playing at the archery range. And now, when finally there was something happening, he was left behind due to feeling poorly.
He might have tried to insist that he should be allowed to come along nevertheless, but he knew better than to take such risks. Not only would it have been hazardous for him, if his state suddenly worsened in a dangerous situation, but he would have put others at risk as well if they had to cover for him. Therefore he stayed behind as Lord Elrond rode out with his warriors to investigate sightings of orcs worryingly close to the valley, trying to wave away the concerned healers who remained nearby. It wasn't like he was bedridden or anything, just feeling a little under the weather.
His sickness, if such it was, had started a couple of days earlier, and had only grown stronger since. At first it had been a simple sense of tiredness, then developed into a vague ache within his chest. Of course this had worried his hosts as soon as he had thought to mention it, but neither Elrond nor any of his healers had found anything actually wrong with him. The best they had offered as a solution had been a suggestion of more rest, which was how Legolas had ended up staying behind while a band of soldiers rode out into the plains to deal with orcs and wargs close enough that he might almost hear their cries if he strained his ears.
At this point, he wasn't entirely sure some of his ill feeling wasn't due to his frustration at being left behind so.
It wouldn't have done to leave a royal guest who might have been ill alone, of course, and as he refused to have healers worrying about him at all times he was left keeping company for Lindir. Which wasn't all that different, of course, there was no way someone so close to Lord Elrond wouldn't have had at least some knowledge in healing arts, but at least Lindir knew better than to ask Legolas how he was feeling every few moments. Instead, he was perusing some papers, leaving Legolas sitting at a window sill and gazing out into the quiet valley.
At least it was quiet until someone burst into the room.
"Master Lindir!" The elf who had arrived seemed shaken, as far as elves ever showed such feelings outside the most dire of circumstances. The tension was clear in his voice, in the way his hands were gripped tightly together as he stood perfectly straight after coming to a halt. "Master Lindir, we have visitors!"
"Visitors?" Lindir frowned, glancing at Legolas. He shook his head, as surprised as Lindir was. "What do you mean? More arrivals from the Greenwood, perhaps?" It wasn't an entirely unthinkable idea. Legolas had not told his father when he would be returning, nor had Thranduil made any demands as to a date, but Legolas wouldn't have put it past him to simply send over some of the Greenwood guard to bring him home with them.
Not that Lord Elrond would allow him on the road while he was still feeling ill, of course. He supposed there was some good to this sickness after all. Not that he didn't love his forest, but the shadow that had spread over it was making him grim and gloomy as well, enough so that even he could tell he wasn't quite himself.
"Nothing like that." The messenger shook his head. "It is — it is dwarves, Master Lindir!"
Now, Lindir stood up from his seat, looking puzzled. "Dwarves? Are you quite sure?"
"I hardly would mistake them for something else." Well, that was a fair point. "There are a fair few of them, a dozen at least. I thought I would rather let you know as soon as possible than stay to get a more accurate count."
"What of their appearance?" Legolas slid off the windowsill, straightening himself. This was clearly too interesting for him to let it pass by, whatever the intent of these surprise visitors. "Do they seem hostile?"
"I really could not tell, Your Highness." The messenger shook his head. "They are armed, but not in the manner of those marching for battle. If I had to say, they are prepared for the road rather than war, but I am not an expert in these matters."
"Thank you." Lindir glanced at Legolas. "You do not have to come," he said in a tone that rather clearly suggested he should not. "You need your rest, still, your Highness."
"I will hardly get any rest if I spend my time wondering about these mysterious dwarves." Legolas stepped forward, intent on following Lindir. "Do not worry, I promise to stay out of reach of their axes." It wasn't like the dwarves were likely to carry bows and other such things, after all.
Lindir seemed to consider this for a moment before sighing. "Try not to get killed, please," he said. "I would rather not explain to Lord Elrond just how I allowed you to meet your end at the hands of a band of dwarven invaders. Especially when I am not sure you have recovered from your predicament, yet."
"You mean, you do not even know what my so-called predicament is, if there is one." Right now the ache in his chest seemed to be growing even sharper and more concentrated, focusing on a small spot right over his heart, but he wasn't about to mention that. Lindir would have just worried needlessly, as usual.
"At least allow me to speak with them first?" And that was all the sign he needed that Lindir wasn't going to argue with him on this point. "If they are indeed hostile, I would rather not reveal to them that you are here just yet."
"I will stay back until I am needed." Not that he expected any dwarf would have reason to seek him out, but he might need to step forward if things got out of hand. Dwarves were quite unpredictable, after all.
"Thank you." With this, Lindir seemed to compose himself, sweeping out of the building.
The dwarves were quite easy to find. Not that there were many areas a sudden visitor might have approached through, but even without any directions Legolas was quite sure he could have tracked them down by sound alone. Lindir seemed to be of a similar mind, walking ahead of him in brisk, purposeful steps. He was not about to allow any sort of unnecessary ruckus while Lord Elrond was away, it seemed. Legolas followed him, staying far enough behind him not to draw too much attention.
Well. He did follow Lindir almost until they had come up to the dwarves. Just as the noisy, filthy group came in sight, though, the ache in his chest flared up in a bright new flame, enveloping all of him for a moment. Thankfully Lindir's attention seemed to be more on the dwarves right now, and Legolas managed not to draw notice as he lingered behind, leaning against a pillar and trying not to be too obvious about it.
Thankfully the dwarves and Lindir — and someone else, who was that tall person among the dwarves? — seemed to be occupying each other for a moment. And then Lord Elrond came riding in with his soldiers, circling the dwarves, who immediately formed a protective ring around their smallest members. Legolas just barely caught sight of one of them, a dwarf with deep red hair and beard who seemed somewhat slighter in build than his companions, before he was pushed behind the backs of his larger companions. And the elven soldiers, they were all mounted and armed and surrounding the dwarves, and now the tall man was speaking but Legolas couldn't hear and —
Legolas couldn't let this happen. He wasn't even sure why, but seeing this made him ache in an entirely different way, it made him feel sick to his stomach. This shouldn't have been happening, not with these dwarves, not at this time. He wasn't even sure why he felt this way, why the thought of elven warriors surrounding the ragtag bunch of dwarves was so distasteful to him, but he could not allow this to go on.
"Wait!" He was startled by the weak, ragged voice only to realise it was his own. However weak it seemed in his ears, though, it seemed to have caught the others' attention. All eyes seemed to turn on him as he stumbled forward, elven and dwarven alike.
"Legolas," Lord Elrond said, his eyes widening a fraction as he gazed intently at Legolas. "You — you are glowing."
For a moment Legolas was confused as to what this could mean — was he giving off some kind of a sickly glow, perhaps? — but then his gaze fell on the hand he had unthinkingly reached forward as though hoping to halt the threat of a battle with his will alone. Beneath the pale skin of his hand and fingers was indeed a glow, a soft, golden light that seemed to be growing stronger by the moment. Shocked, he paused and glanced down, finding his other hand glowing as well.
This couldn't be true, couldn't be happening. He knew this without a doubt. He had already seen all the warriors when Lord Elrond rode out with them, had probably seen all elves in Rivendell earlier during his visit, at one point or another. This couldn't be —
There was light coming from the middle of the circle of dwarves.
Legolas hardly dared even breathe, stumbling forward on legs that felt terribly weak all of a sudden. As he approached the sturdy wall of dwarves seemed unbreakable for a moment, then started to part, just a little. After a moment someone stepped forward, and Legolas found his gaze locked on the smaller dwarf from earlier, intense eyes seeking his own from beneath furrowed brows.
The face of this dwarf, the only part of him that was visible beyond his clothes, was giving off a faint glow in response to Legolas' own light.
Legolas gave a laugh, or it might have been a sob. He wasn't entirely sure what he had tried for, really, not now, not in this. This didn't make sense, none of this made sense, yet here he was, shining with the light of his heart and seeing a dwarf shine in response. His legs gave out as the ache made way for dizziness, and he barely managed to catch himself on a nearby railing before he collapsed entirely. There was noise, now, shouts and yells and Lindir's voice from somewhere nearby, but all Legolas could comprehend right now was the dwarf's face, confused and concerned at once as he kept holding Legolas' gaze.
The dwarf's face, which was glowing.
That image was still fixed before his eyes as everything went dark.
*
If someone didn't explain what was going on very soon, Gimli was going to start chopping heads.
All right, so perhaps he wouldn't do anything quite that drastic, because it would hardly have helped anything, but he was certainly about to start yelling right about now if he didn't get answers. So far everyone seemed to be ignoring him, yelling at each other over him and around him, except every time he made to leave the group someone pulled him back.
Well, he wasn't going to stand for this nonsense any longer. He needed to get away from the others, needed to find whoever that young elf was and figure out what in the blazes was going on. He should have been exhausted after all their running, yet he was feeling restless more than anything, a low thrum vibrating through his bones as he felt unaccountably warm.
Oh, and there was the glowing, too. If someone could have told him just why he seemed to have turned into a damned firefly, he would have rather appreciated it, but instead everyone seemed quite invested in keeping him out of the conversation entirely. At the moment Kíli was the one holding onto him, though at least he didn't seem to be quite as determined to hold him back as, say, Dwalin had been.
The so-called conversation between Thorin, his father, and the elf lord seemed to have come to a halt for a moment, which most likely just meant they were all gathering their energy for another bout of yelling and arguing. This was, Gimli decided, the best time to step forward and get some answers. He tugged himself free of Kíli's grip, ignoring the prince's attempts at grasping him again. Stomping forward, he glared at each of the older ones in turn. If they were going to be rude to him, he saw no reason to stick to utmost politeness either.
"So." Gimli crossed his arms over his chest, putting on his most steadfast expression. "Anyone feel like telling me what's going on?"
"Go back, Gimli," his father said, almost biting the words out. "This doesn't concern you."
"Funny, because I think it absolutely concerns me, I just can't be too sure of what exactly it is that everyone is discussing." Gimli shook his head. "But even imagining that it's nothing to do with me and you were all repeating my name just for amusement's sake, I'd rather like an explanation as to what exactly is going on." He waved his glowing hand to better make his point.
His father seemed about to protest again, but Thorin stopped him, lifting a hand to silence Glóin. That somewhat surprised Gimli. Thorin had seemed almost as fierce as his father just moments ago, for all that he'd only caught some short snippets from where he'd been held back by the rest of the Company, only hearing proper words when the voices rose even higher in volume. "The lad is right, Glóin. He has a right to at least know what the elves are saying, whether or not we believe it."
"But it's just preposterous!" Glóin bristled. "I will not believe any such nonsense about my little lad!"
"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but these things aren't actually dependent on what is or isn't believable." Thorin turned his head, his gaze seeking out the rest of the Company for a moment. "Let him be the judge of what he does or does not believe. He's the one who would be affected, anyway."
"Well?" Gimli was growing impatient again. "Why exactly have I turned into a lantern all of a sudden?"
The elf lord turned to look at him now, his expression serious. "This is a phenomenon usually limited to elves, though this is certainly not the first time it has been observed in a member of another race." He stalled, then, because apparently elves had all the time in the world, before adding, "This is how elves recognise their other soul."
Gimli frowned. "You mean, their One?" His father flinched, and that was as good a confirmation as he was going to get. "But… I'm pretty clearly not an elf."
"You are not, no." Thorin sounded tired. "However, it appears your One just might be."
Gimli opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut again. He'd only seen the young elf briefly before he had collapsed and been subsequently rushed away, had seen the pale glow that had seemed to shine out of every part of the elf. Their eyes had met, however briefly, and in that span of time he had felt a pull unlike any other, as though someone had been pushing him forward with unshakable force. Even now he felt restless, felt the urge to be somewhere else, seeking out something he did not truly know.
"It can't be, though!" And of course his father would be the one to speak up. "That's just preposterous! Whoever has ever heard of a dwarf's One being an elf?"
"And who has heard of a dwarf's One being a hobbit?" Thorin shook his head. "I do not know whether it is true or not, but I cannot deny it out of hand."
"Well, I can and I will!" Glóin stepped closer to Gimli now, bristling with righteous anger. "There's no way in all the blazes that I'll let some elven sprite try to deceive my little lad!"
Gimli should have been angry, too, should have denied any such suggestion. However, he was the one who was glowing, here, and he hadn't heard a better explanation for that yet. Then there was the feeling of needing something that wasn't there, of missing something important, and before he could think too closely on it he heard his own voice speaking. "Surely I should at least make certain?"
"And how would that happen?" Glóin frowned. "You can't trust what the elves say! They could tell you any strange tale and expect you to believe it!"
"They're not the only ones who can figure these things out." After all, it had cleared things up for Thorin, hadn't it? More so than the flowers in his beard. "We'll see if he can turn my stone or not."
"And if he uses some elf magic to do so? I will not allow it!" Glóin turned to Thorin. "Thorin! Say that you won't stand for this nonsense!"
"He has come sixty." Thorin was speaking slowly, as though not certain he wished to say such things, but speak he did. "In many other aspects he's not fully grown yet, but in this, you have no right to deny him. Whether to seek his mate, and what to do if he indeed finds them, are his decisions to make, not anyone else's. That is not something you can forbid, not anymore."
"He's my son!"
"Aye, but he's his own dwarf." Thorin turned to the elf lord, nodding at him slowly. "If one of your people could show Gimli to the elf, we would be grateful." He didn't sound particularly grateful, but at least he wasn't being rude.
"I will take him myself. I need to see to the young one in any case." The lord nodded. "In the meantime, Lindir will show you rooms for your stay and arrange for a meal. I will bring young Master Gimli to you as soon as everything's been settled."
His father seemed about to surge forward, but Dwalin stepped in at Thorin's gesture, halting him. Gimli decided not to push his luck and hurried away, following the elf lord.
"Ah. I don't think I caught your name." Hadn't exactly had the chance to ask for it.
"I am Lord Elrond, the master of this place." The elf's expression was inscrutable. "Young Legolas is not one of my people, as it happens; he is visiting us from the Greenwood."
Woodland elves. Oh, his father would like that even less. "And, ah." Gimli licked his lips, which felt dry all of a sudden. "Is he all right? Legolas, I mean. He didn't look so good."
"He will be." Elrond's expression turned slightly less grim for a moment. "For some elves, finding our match can be a rather taxing experience. He has been feeling ill for a few days now, but I expect his state to improve soon."
"Because of me, you mean." Gimli paused. "It — it could be something else. If he is my One, that is."
"Oh?" The elf betrayed no reaction, glancing at him briefly. "And what would that be?"
"His gem." Gimli drew a deep breath. It didn't feel right, speaking of such things, but then the situation was hardly ordinary. "It's — we dwarves are each born with a stone in our chest, which will turn into a gemstone when touched by our One."
"I see." Elrond nodded. "We do not have any such thing."
"Nor do hobbits." Gimli looked down at his glowing hands. "Bilbo — he's Thorin's One, they just met on this journey — well, he didn't have a stone, hobbits find their Ones in a different way." As was clear from the flowers that still remained in Thorin's beard. It had been quite the shock when those started to grow, even more so when Bilbo explained it all. "Soon after they met, though, he started feeling ill and feverish, and his chest ached. A few days later, a stone emerged from under his skin, looking just like that of any dwarf."
"Interesting." Elrond nodded again, slower this time. "I cannot say yet if that is the case here, but it could explain his reaction. As I said, some of our number react worse to the connection than others, and that might combine with the phenomenon of the stone."
"You believe me, then?" That was strange. He had half expected to be dismissed out of hand as a liar of some sort.
"Should I not? Knowing dwarven ways, I doubt you would be sharing any aspect of your culture on a lark, and I highly doubt you would make up such things just for your own amusement." A ghost of a smile rose to Elrond's face, though Gimli might have just imagined it. "Ah, about the glow. It should fade soon once you have made contact with him, as the purpose has been fulfilled. However, many elves glow to some extent any time they are touching their mate, or even when they are just close enough to each other, so you may want to be prepared for that."
Gimli considered this for a moment. "Eh, still not as bad as growing flowers in my beard."
"A practical approach, I am sure." Elrond paused at a door. "I believe we are there."
"Right." Gimli drew a deep breath, then, as Elrond seemed to be waiting for him to do so, pushed the door open.
It was a bedroom of sorts, though a very large and ornate one. There was a spacious bed in the middle, with a couple of elves hovering about it. The elf he had seen earlier — Legolas? — was lying on the bed, apparently unconscious. He was still glowing, and that made him seem even more like some strange sprite, otherworldly and ethereal.
It took Gimli a moment to remember to breathe again.
"Lord Elrond!" One of the elves around the bed turned to them, looking somewhat relieved, as far as elves ever betrayed any expression at all. "He hasn't woken yet, and his fever is climbing. What are we to do?"
"I hope he will find relief soon." Elrond made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Leave us."
The elves all left the room without protest, though some of them did give Gimli wondering glances. Gimli followed Elrond to the side of the bed. Legolas looked terribly pale under his glow, almost fragile, and Gimli was hesitant to get too close.
"Please." Elrond gestured toward the bed. "If indeed his ill state is due to his finding you, then your touch should bring him relief from it."
It still seemed like a bad idea, touching this shining creature who was in obvious pain, but Gimli did want to bring the elf some relief if he could. Even if he still couldn't quite believe that they would be matched, he wasn't quite suspicious enough of elven trickery to let someone more or less innocent suffer on his account. Therefore, after drawing a deep breath to steady himself, he reached out to touch Legolas, covering one of the elf's slender hands with his own broader one.
Gimli felt warm. At first he thought it was just the elf's fever reflecting onto his own skin, but then the warmth rushed through him like a big wave crashing against him, swallowing him up from head to toe. Startled, he drew his hand back, and the warmth faded away, taking the glow under his skin away with it. The light within Legolas died as well, though he still looked pale and frail.
"Well." Elrond did not seem to react at all, looking at them both with the same inscrutable expression as before. "I am certainly convinced, though I am not sure if the same will suffice for your family."
"Ah. I — I have a way of making sure." His fingers were not shaking as he fumbled with the clasps of his travelling coat. He'd been curious and restless before, but now he was almost desperate all of a sudden, eager for answers, for confirmation.
He was so focused on figuring out which layers he needed to shed to reveal his chest, until finally deciding to get rid of all his tunics, that he didn't even realise Elrond wasn't the only one watching him with unreadable elven eyes. As he finally wrestled his way out of the last tunic, leaving himself entirely bare from the waist up, he glanced over to the bed only to find Legolas watching him.
"Um." Gimli was quite sure his face was probably as red as his beard right now. He couldn't even imagine what this looked like, him stripping himself half naked next to the elf's bed. Even with Elrond standing there it had to look suspicious at best. "I — I'm Gimli. Gimli, son of Glóin."
"You're the one I saw earlier." Legolas' voice was hesitant, almost a question, and Gimli couldn't have that, couldn't bear to hear that from his One.
"Aye, I am." Gimli stepped forward, grasping the elf's hand again and watching with fascination as the glow spread up along his arm until it enveloped them both. "They tell me this means you are my match."
"It — it seems to, yes." Legolas frowned a little. He still looked tired, but at least his expression wasn't pained right now. "You're not certain?"
"It's not how we dwarves find our Ones." Gimli shook his head. "For me to be convinced, you'd have to turn my stone."
Legolas' frown deepened. "What do you mean?"
"This." He tapped at the stone in his chest with his free hand. It sat where it had been as long as he could remember, right in the middle of his chest at the height of his heart, a part of his body rather than some intrusion like the axe in Bifur's forehead. "You — you should touch it. If that makes it change, then you are my One for sure."
Legolas still looked puzzled, but he took his hand from Gimli's, reaching it higher instead. Gimli almost missed the glow for a moment before focusing his attention on Legolas instead.
Last he'd given his stone a good look, when they'd actually found the time and opportunity to wash off some of the dust of the road, it had been as grey and dull in tone as the stone of the mountains. Now it was still without colour, yet he could almost imagine there was a strange sheen to it, as though someone had coated the smooth surface with a glazing. He watched, almost hypnotised, as Legolas reached out toward him, until his fingertips only barely brushed against the surface of the stone.
Gimli wasn't sure what he had expected — a jolt of some kind, perhaps, or warmth, or just anything to mark such a momentous occasion. There was no sensation, though, nothing that could have betrayed the change, except the colour and shine swirling out from the spot Legolas touched. It reached its tendrils across the surface of the stone, the plain, dull smoothness fracturing out into countless sharp facets that captured the light.
Legolas let his hand fall, but the deed had been done already. There was an emerald embedded in the middle of Gimli's chest, now, vibrant green and gleaming against his skin.
An emerald, and a finely faceted one at that. Not even his father could argue with that. All the stones were equally important, of course, but the more precious ones were often considered to be signs of good luck, or even special approval from Mahal. If Thorin could use his sapphire as proof that he was indeed intended for a hobbit, surely this was just as strong a piece of evidence.
"It's beautiful," Legolas whispered, his voice tired and quiet and the most enchanting thing Gimli had heard in his life.
"Aye," Gimli said, swallowing as he let his eyes drink in all the details of the face of this creature he'd apparently been tied to for all of his days. "It's very beautiful."
He wasn't at all convinced that he was speaking about the stone.
*
To say that dinner was a strained affair would have been putting it lightly.
The elves had been nothing but perfectly polite after the elf lord walked off with Gimli, showing them a place to leave their things and leading them to a large hall with food. It wasn't the best food Kíli had eaten, with far too many greens for his taste and little of anything he would have called proper sustenance, but it was fresh instead of road rations and that alone made him devour almost everything on his plate. He heard others complaining, caught Ori's pitiful wishes for some chips and grumpy demands for meat, but at this point, he was just glad to be seated and eating something instead of having become dinner for wargs.
Of course, that didn't mean he could ignore the tension. Fíli had ended up sitting near Thorin, which meant Kíli was there too, and the way their uncle was even more stiff and mistrusting than they would have expected for their elven company was far too obvious. Gandalf had disappeared somewhere, and while Bilbo was clearly trying to get Thorin to stop scowling quite so much in the moments between happily emptying plate after plate of elven offerings, there was only so much he could do for the king's mood.
And then there was Glóin, who was glaring at Thorin of all people and muttering very unflattering things, and Gimli who had still not returned.
"What do you think that was all about?" He asked Fíli once they had both eaten enough to take at least a bit of a break. "The glow and the yelling and everything."
"I'm not sure, but I don't think I like it much." Fíli shook his head. "First it was uncle and Glóin against the elf, and then something happened with Gimli and now Glóin acts like Thorin has betrayed him. Except I'd expect Glóin to yell about whatever it is that he's displeased with, and instead he sits there gloomy and quiet and won't look at anyone."
"Yeah, that is strange. It's not like Glóin's ever been quiet about his displeasure. Especially not where Gimli's concerned." Kíli frowned, glancing toward their fiery cousin. "And speaking of Gimli, he hasn't returned yet. I thought uncle said he'd only be a little while?"
"Aye, and that's not all of it. The elves are acting all strange, too." Fíli shook his head. "No doubt they think they're being subtle, but there's a lot of them just sitting around and watching us. I'd think they're just being wary of us, but I know that kind of watching, and this isn't it."
Kíli nodded, not questioning his brother's evaluation of the situation. Fíli had more experience than him about these things, having sometimes gone on the road with Thorin to work among men. He'd obviously know what it was like to be watched for the wrong reasons, among people who thought they were all untrustworthy simply for being dwarves. Kíli wasn't as familiar with it, and rather preferred it that way.
The more time passed, the higher the tension grew in both the Company and the elves surrounding them. Kíli was expecting it all to snap any moment just as Gimli walked in. He wasn't glowing anymore, which he supposed was a good thing, though there was a strange look on his face. The elves around them all started murmuring to each other, and really, what was that all about?
"See?" Glóin sounded rather triumphant for some reason. "Everything's back to normal now, isn't it?"
Gimli walked up to where Glóin had reserved a seat for him, not saying anything. An elf immediately came up with a plate for him, giving him a strange look that Kíli couldn't help but notice. Whatever was up with that glow earlier, the elves all seemed to know more than they did.
"Well?" Glóin threw an almost challenging look at Thorin, and wow, even for Glóin that was rather forward. He did have a temper all right, but even he didn't openly question Thorin like that, not unless something serious was happening. "You got everything cleared up, didn't you?"
"Emerald." Gimli was staring at his food, though less with the suspicious eyes most of the Company had given theirs and more like his thoughts were just far away somewhere.
"What?" Glóin frowned, leaning closer as though he were the one with poor ears and not his brother. "What did you say?"
"It's an emerald." Now, Gimli turned to look at his father, and oh, Kíli knew that spark of defiance all too well. "The elf turned my stone, and it's an emerald, and not even you can try to deny that."
Kíli might have expected an explosion, knowing Glóin and his temper, but what they got instead was absolute silence. Everyone was staring at Gimli, who looked at his father for another moment before turning back to poke at his food. Kíli himself felt a kind of hysterical giggle trying to bubble up to the surface, one he could only barely hold back.
An elf. Wee Gimli had found his One, not even in his full years yet, and that One was an elf.
"You are certain?" Thorin actually had the gall to ask that, giving Gimli a serious gaze. Did he think Gimli would be mistaken, or even lie? Kíli wasn't sure it was possible to lie about things like finding your One.
"I am." Gimli nodded. "The glow faded after I took his hand, like the elves told me it would, and his touch turned my stone." He still sounded strangely distant, as though he was lost deep in thought. "It's an emerald."
"Aye, you mentioned." Thorin sighed, and he was still scowling, though whether it was at the food or the subject, Kíli couldn't tell. "This… complicates matters."
"It could be good, though," Fíli dared to say. "I mean, if Gimli's One is an elf, he can definitely get the elves to show us a good passage over the mountains, right?"
"You are assuming the elf will be coming with us." Thorin did not sound like he considered this much of a possibility.
"Well, of course he will! He's Gimli's One, I doubt either of them will be separated from the other so soon after finding each other. And what's the alternative, leaving Gimli here in the middle of elves?" As though Thorin would ever allow that, or Glóin for that matter. "So really, we've no choice. If you tried to say no the elf would probably just trail after him like people in all those stories."
"Doubt that," Dwalin grunted. "He didn't seem very hardy at all, couldn't even walk around without collapsing."
"It could be the stone coming out, if he really is Gimli's One." Bilbo touched his chest, where the gem was hiding under his clothes. "Goodness knows I wasn't in the best shape when that happened. I wouldn't imagine an elf would be any better, being even more different from a dwarf than a hobbit is."
Gimli nodded slowly. "Lord Elrond said some elves react strongly to finding their One, besides. He can't be a weakling; the callouses on his hand were similar to Kíli's, so he must be an archer, and I know damn well bows require strength."
"Aw, Gimli, you'll make me blush." Kíli grinned, with no intention of blushing. "Especially since that sounds like you make a habit of holding my hand, to know the callouses so well."
"I've dragged you around often enough." And what was this? Clearly Kíli was the one dragging around his younger cousin, everyone knew that. "Besides, I'm hoping to be a goldsmith. Wouldn't make a very good one if I couldn't pay attention to detail."
"That's a fair point." Fíli nodded. "So, this archer of yours have a name? Or did you miss that in all the excitement?"
"Well, he was rather too tired for much chatter, but Lord Elrond introduced him." Gimli had turned back to his food now, apparently ignoring his seething father. Good on him, Kíli decided. It wasn't like he could change his One, so to complain about it would do no good anyway. "Apparently he's from the Greenwood, by the name of Legolas."
Why this was so terribly shocking, Kíli had no idea, but it did cause Thorin to practically inhale the wine he was sipping at and Balin to almost fall backwards in his seat. Dwalin, on the other hand, broke into loud guffaws, enthusiastic enough that Kíli rather feared he might pass out if he didn't actually inhale soon.
Glóin's howl of outrage had no particularly understandable words, so Kíli was forced to turn to his brother. Fíli had at least sometimes paid attention during their lessons, after all. Not that Kíli was entirely uneducated, for all that he would never be a scribe knowing all the old tales, but clearly he was missing something here. "You have any idea what's going on?"
Fíli looked torn between laughing like Dwalin and just planting his face onto his plate. "Let's just say," he said in very careful, measured tones, "that Gimli apparently picked a very, ah, fine elf to bind himself to."
Which was not helpful at all, really, but Kíli suspected either Thorin or Glóin would actually find some words very soon.