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Legolas had been immensely flattered to be asked to visit his friend’s home at Erebor. Really, he had missed Gimli’s company since they had parted after seeing Fangorn and the caves. Although Greenwood was his home, and it had been nice to spend time among his own people again – people he understood readily, and who knew the experience of living so long – he had missed the pleasant puzzle Gimli had presented.
Of course, if he was going to be honest with himself, he missed more than the camaraderie and enigma. He also missed Gimli’s large, strong hands on his hips, his body pressed up against Legolas’s back as they rode along. He missed watching Gimli sleep at night, he missed the close moments of silence they had together.
In short, Legolas had a crush and had fallen in love like he was only a few centuries old. But, since the object of his affections certainly didn’t return his feelings, Legolas was content with friendship. And visiting the low, brightly lit, and intricately-decorated tunnels of Erebor was a wonderful connection.
Legolas had expected prejudice, especially from Gimli’s father – after all, his own father had imprisoned Glóin without good reason, and he expected there would still be resentment there. To his surprise, however, he was received warmly and welcomed into the mountain – apparently Gimli’s good word was very powerful among dwarves.
Not to say that there wasn’t some prejudice, but all in all, Legolas enjoyed his time in the Lonely Mountain.
When Glóin drew Legolas aside one night to speak alone with him, Legolas was slightly confused. He had assumed that Glóin wished to speak about his son, but while he was right, he didn’t actually understand what they were talking about.
“Have you seen Gimli’s beard?” said Glóin.
“Yes?” said Legolas, “It would be rather hard to miss, as it’s extremely large.”
Glóin waved a hand impatiently. “No, I mean, have you seen the way it’s styled?”
“Yes?” Legolas was confused.
“It’s changed,” said Glóin, almost conspiratorially.
Legolas thought back through his friend’s appearance in all the time he’d known him. Glóin was right; Gimli’s beard had been braided differently when Legolas had first met the dwarf. He couldn’t remember for certain, but he thought it had changed after Helm’s Deep. At the time, so much had been going on he hadn’t thought much about it. Now, though, it seemed that it was special somehow.
“Is there something significant in a dwarf changing the way he braids his beard?” asked Legolas.
“Oh, that’s right, you wouldn’t know,” Glóin muttered under his breath, “Yes, yes there is. A dwarf always styles his beard the same way. He only changes it when he has found his life’s devotion – a wife, sometimes, or a work of art he wishes to finish, or a pledge made to complete some quest. It’s a very solemn moment, and Gimli has left his for late. He hasn’t spoken about it since he has returned home, and I was wondering if you knew what might have happened.”
Legolas suddenly understood. “Ah, yes, I think I know what your son has found to capture his devotion,” he said, “There are beautiful caverns in the holds of Rohan at Helm’s Deep. He seems to have fallen in love with them. I think he means to return to them sometime, and perhaps start a colony there. I do not have the words to describe them, but Gimli knows them very well.”
Glóin’s eyes lit up. “I see. That’s very good. I was beginning to worry he had met some daughter of Man who had taken his fancy, which would not have been good, either for him or the woman.”
Legolas laughed. “No, I think I can say with certainty Gimli has no interest in a woman. The closest he came was his honor for Lady Galadriel, but that was not the time he changed his beard, so I do not think he is infatuated with her.”
Glóin laughed as well. “Thank you, Legolas, for relieving my fears. Beautiful caverns, you say? Well, my son has always known beauty.”
Legolas nodded. “Indeed, he has. I do not think there are many dwarves who would appreciate Galadriel’s beauty, or enjoy the woods of Lothlorien and Fangorn as he has come to.”
“Aye, he was always a little strange,” said Glóin.
Later that night Legolas had time to be alone with Gimli in the living room of his home. They talked for hours about many things. It was as they spoke about their trip together after the war that Legolas chose to bring up what he had learned from Glóin.
“Your father told me about the significance of changing your beard,” Legolas said.
Gimli seemed to freeze. Legolas couldn’t imagine why he would suddenly look so frightened. “Aye?” he said, “What did he say it meant?”
“That you have found your life’s devotion,” Legolas answered, “I assume it is the Glittering Caves of Helm’s Deep which have caught your love. I’m sure you’ll wish to return soon, and often.”
Gimli stood quietly, not looking at Legolas, staring into the little fire near the hearth instead. Legolas suddenly felt very awkward and out of place.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “Did I offend you? I didn’t mean to, I don’t know much about dwarf customs, but your father brought it up…”
Gimli raised a hand and Legolas became silent. “You did not offend me,” Gimli said, “It is natural to ask when a dwarf has changed his beard. But this is unusually personal to me. Sometimes a dwarf finds devotion in something that he can never attain. This is the case with me, and because of this I have been very quiet about it.”
“Not attain?” said Legolas, “I don’t understand. I’m sure if you asked King Éomer, he would invite you –“
“It is not the caverns, beautiful though they are,” said Gimli.
Legolas fell silent. He didn’t understand, but he wasn’t going to put his foot in his mouth again trying to figure out what was going on. Instead he waited patiently for Gimli to explain.
For several long minutes, Gimli seemed to struggle with his answer, before speaking in a halting voice with many long pauses. “In the caves, with beauty all around me,” he said, “I had… the opportunity to consider those things which… I might lose, were I to die. And I discovered I knew one whom I loved with my whole being, the person who I would most regret losing if I died. And that person – I can never have that person. I changed my beard to show that I had found my love, but… I do not think we will ever be together.”
“Is it the Lady Galadriel?” Legolas said quietly. He felt a deep and sudden kinship for Gimli then. For didn’t he, too know what it was to love someone he could never have, from whom he would always be parted? Gimli had pledged love to another, even if that other were unattainable, and Legolas would never try to sway him away from her, and so would never have Gimli’s love. A sudden surge of jealousy swelled within him, but he didn’t let it continue.
“No,” said Gimli, “He is not the Lady Galadriel.”
Legolas’s mind jumped suddenly then to Aragorn, and he wondered. For everyone who knew King Elessar loved him; perhaps Gimli loved him with a different sort of love. But Aragorn was already married to Arwen. Ah, how Legolas now understood, to love one who already loved another!
“Who, then?” Legolas asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.
Gimli looked down at his feet for a long, silent moment. Then he said. “I did not wish to ruin our friendship. I did not want to throw away what I had for what I could not have. But I find I can no longer stay silent. It is you; I love you. And I hope you will not turn away from me, for my devotion.”
There was a shocked moment.
Then Legolas bounded over to Gimli and kissed him hard on the lips. “You stupid, stupid dwarf!” he cried, “You have not told me because you wished not to drive me away? I have been waiting to hear those words, hoping, praying to hear them!”
Gimli seemed astonished when he looked into Legolas’s eyes. “Then, you love me, too?”
“Yes,” Legolas said, unable to decide whether to laugh or cry, “Gimli you marvelous fool, we could have spared ourselves long torment.”
Gimli leaned up then and they kissed long and low. “I love you,” muttered Gimli, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.” It became a mantra, a chant, letting out the emotion that was overwhelming them both.
Legolas contented himself with kissing Gimli’s lips and eyes and cheeks and ears and nose, one for every time he had thought to kiss him, but had not had the courage.