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Gimli was freezing, but was trying not to show it. The elf of course looked completely unaffected by the cold night temperature, standing there, still as a tree, looking at the horizon! And Gimli wasn’t surely going to admit weakness in front of him! As the only Dwarf representative of what was left of the Company, he must keep high the honour of his people!
While he hoped that Aragorn would be back soon, so that they could move and warm themselves, a shiver escaped him.
Legolas turned and blatantly shivered too: “I’m feeling very cold,” he said: “How about you?”
“ME?!?” Gimli was outraged: “Of course not! Dwarves are used to much difficult environments, we-” but he had to stop before his voice could betray how strongly he was trembling.
“Do you mind if we sit close, to share body warmth?” the elf asked, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Gimli glared at him sideways: he wasn’t fooling anyone, he wasn’t cold at all, that damn elf! Gimli had seen him walking lightheartedly through the snow – no, actually, over the snow, the bastard was light as a feather, he didn’t even sink!
But he was offering Gimli a way to stop being so miserably cold without losing his face, and he could appreciate that. It wasn’t so bad that elf, after all.
He graciously consented, and in a heartbeat Legolas was sitting at his side, very very close, and he put and arm on Gimli’s back.
Suddenly, he didn’t feel cold anymore. Not at all.