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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
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949
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1/1
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17
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1,115

Galu

Summary:

Legolas is ill and Gimli makes a suggestion.

Work Text:

Gimli paced back and forth, up and down the hallway. Mirkwood walkways felt narrow to him, and whenever another elf wanted to pass, Gimli had to flatten himself against one side or another and exhale all breath to make his chest smaller. His pacing was slow as he kept casting glances back at the door to Legolas’ chambers. This, Gimli reasoned to himself, was how it felt to be a father when one’s wife was delivering a baby. Except there was no happy delivery to come of this; Legolas was ill once again and it seemed there was nothing Gimli could do to make him feel better.

Gimli had summoned a healer, as he had done each time before, and the healer insisted upon seeing Legolas in private. Gimli had tried pressing an ear to the door to try to catch a word or two, but the elves had crafted their homes far too well for a thin wood or crack beneath the door to allow sound to penetrate. It was a comfort when Legolas and Gimli chose to lie with each other, or when Legolas had a particularly strong bout of sneezes. But it was a frustration when a concerned Gimli was sent out to wait. And so he paced. Up and down the narrow corridors. Looking back at the door, hoping it would open.

Finally, the door he had been watching did indeed open, and an elf healer appeared there. Gimli rushed over. “How is he?”

The elf shook his head with a frustrated sigh, but showed no other emotions outwardly. “It is another head cold.”

“I knew that much,” Gimli said, teeth clenched, showing every emotion in the book. “But can I go back in?”

“Of course you may.” Gimli hastened toward the door, almost missing but not caring about the elf calling after him, “But you had best not tire him out unnecessarily. He needs his rest!”

Gimli closed the door behind him and practically ran to the bed. He slipped under the covers and snuggled up against Legolas without waiting for or needing any invitation. Legolas shivered as the blankets were lifted and the dwarf burrowed beneath. But within seconds, he warmed back up again. He put an arm around Gimli, holding him close, and resting his cheek on the top of Gimli’s head. It wasn’t much of a surprise when Gimli felt the elf tense up and jerk forward. “Ehtch! Ihtchh!”

“Galu,” said Gimli, the elvish word for ‘blessing’ coming to his tongue as easily as the elf helped himself to the handkerchief in his dwarf’s front pocket. “So what did the healer say this time? Is it another complication of your sea-longing?”

Legolas would not lie to him, Gimli knew. So when Legolas did not respond, he had his answer. He pulled back, studying the elf’s beautiful eyes. Sometimes they seemed to be the brown of the woods, but more often lately they were blue like the ocean. And while Legolas rarely laughed, whenever he was amused, that could be seen in his eyes. Now, the eyes were evasive. And they closed quickly as another sneeze came at him. “ihtchhh!”

“Can I get something for you? Herbs? Tea? Another blanket? Soup?”

“There is nothing you can give me, apart from you.” He reached out, wanting to hug Gimli close again for warmth and comfort.

But Gimli shook his head. “I had some time to think while I was outside pacing—”

“Pacing? Gimli…”

But Gimli would not be quieted. “And I believe I have thought of a solution. I want you to come live with me in the caves.”

This was clearly not what Legolas had been expecting to hear. “But how shall that heh-help? Ihh…” He lifted the handkerchief to his face again. “ihTishh!”

Gimli reached up, brushing the soft blond hair out of the elf’s face. He fingered one of the tight braids. “The air in some of the deep caves comes from the earth. It’s fresh and clean and excellent for the health. The chances of you catching another cold while living there is minimal.” Worried about his elf’s reaction, Gimli looked up and saw that laughter in the elf’s eyes, as well as a twitch of a smile on his face. “Does that mean you do not entirely hate the idea?”

“An elf living underground with mortal dwarves to stay healthy? That is unusual arrangement.”

A grin broke upon Gimli’s face. “Well, we are an unusual pair.”

“That we are.” Legolas lowered his head slightly and kissed him.

The tenderness and warmth of the kiss made Gimli relax and close his eyes. He knew he was in for a rough night of tending to the elf through the coughs and sneezes of a cold. But just now, he wanted nothing but to freeze this moment forever, to enjoy the touch and the closeness and the reassurance that they would figure this out if they fought it together.

Eventually, however, Legolas was forced to pull back, bury his nose in the handkerchief, and give another soft, wet sneeze. “ihtch!”

“Does that mean you will try living in the caves?”

“It means it is worth a try.” He kissed the top of Gimli’s head and murmured into the dark hair, “Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar.”

Gimli had heard the words before, and he knew he had asked for a translation more than once. He could pick out certain words he recognized like ‘follow’ and ‘death,’ but before he could work out what it meant, he found himself pulled close by a slightly-shivering elf. And all he forgot entirely about translations and words and the like as he was hugged close.

“I feel better already,” the elf whispered.