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Gimli, son of Glóin, led his comrade and husband into the Glittering Caves. It was a quest not many made, though dwarves had all been taught the legends as small children. Perhaps the undertaking was too great, or perhaps too many other things had become more important. For some, their new homes had demanded enough of them that there was no time.
All that mattered was that they were here now, hand in hand. Gimli could only look up in awe at the beauty of the caves and his husband alike. They had made it here, and there were bats and birds and butterflies flying overhead. One of the birds, a starling, flew low, and Gimli watched, gobsmacked, as it landed on his husband’s outstretched hand.
Legolas eyed it with fond regard. Gimli relaxed his hold on his husband’s other hand, but Legolas held it steadily. “No,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t disturb this.”
Gimli nodded, braids swinging as he did. “No, I suppose not. Beautiful creature.”
“Beautiful cave.”
“Beautiful love.”
“Indeed,” Legolas whispered. “You are, husband.”
Gimli watched the bird where it still rested. He would not have attracted such a creature, but nonetheless he would enjoy all this magic.