Post by Admin on Jan 3, 2021 21:58:32 GMT
Author: Alinah
Ranking: 1st place
Summary: The war is over and things are peaceful again in Middle Earth. However, a single rock threatens both Legolas´ and Gimli´s lives and it is a piece of dwarven clothing that must save them both.
Genre: Hurt/comfort, friendship, humor
“Stupid elves“, Gimli grumbled to himself as he warmed a kettle over the fire. “Hear better than a fox, call trees brothers and still fail to avoid a single rock falling down a ravine.“
He threw up his hands, nearly upsetting the kettle. Arod snorted worriedly. “Ah, yes, you!“ He glared at the horse which stood nearby. “Are you not supposed to be an especially smart beast, trained by the Rohirrim themselves to look after your master? I shall seek retribution from King Eomer. Maybe we can trade you for a better, more useful beast of burden.“ He filled the hot water into a pot containing bloody rags. “Like a donkey. A donkey would do just fine and I would not have to take such high falls.“
Arod shook his head and continued grazing. The dwarf sighed deeply. Raving was not as gratifying if there was no-one reacting to your words. He began stirring the rags in the hot water and watched as they slowly released swirls of blood, turning and turning like a red whirlstorm.
“A SINGLE rock!“ He could not get past the fact. Accusingly, he glared at Legolas but the sight of his unconscious friend sent such a jolt of fear through him that it almost impaired his speech. He coughed, then continued valiantly. “Tell me, elf, why you have walked away from bloody battles with not even a scratch to boast and now you succumb to a single rock?“ He shook his head and wondered how many times he had asked this question since the accident had occured several hours ago.
Several hours, and all he heard from his friend was the occasional groan of pain. At least he had managed to stop the bleeding, which had been difficult enough. Elves always looked too pale for his taste but Legolas was white as a sheet now, his pallor making the bloodstains that still marred the left side of his face stand out even more vividly.
With a deep sigh, Gimli glanced up at the sky. It was midday, the accident having occured shortly after they had resumed their journey in the morning. He wondered where he could turn for help. Back to his kin in Moria would be the fastest route, but he sincerely doubted that this would be a wise move.
Head injuries were not something that dwarves were prone to suffer from, at least not for long. Either their helmet prevented the brunt of the injury or the dwarves died almost instantly. No, turning back there would simply put them into the middle of much fussing and prodding and even more noise, none of which sounded like a good remedy for Legolas´ ailment.
Rivendell then. Even though Lord Elrond had sadly left this realm, his sons maintained the Last Homely House and still provided help and protection to all who sought it.
“And quite a welcome we would get“, Gimli huffed. He felt better when he heard his own voice. “I do not know how many stories I have heard of you or Aragorn or the both of you dragging yourselves or each other across that threshold more dead than alive. And now the silly dwarf continues the tradition. Ai, they will make songs about me!“ And not the most flattering ones, he was sure.
He knew that the journey to Rivendell would certainly be worse than their welcome. He would need to somehow wrestle Legolas onto their horse without aggravating his injuries. He would have to keep the blasted elf, lanky legs and all, atop the beast and, worst of all, he would have to steer it. He threw Arod a hostile look, but then his gaze softened when he imagined this same situation without the possible help of a horse.
“Well, at least you keep me from having to carry that pointy-eared, misery-bringing accident on two legs“, he grumbled. “I assume that means you deserve a little more than grass to gather your strength.“
The stallion´s ears pricked forward when Gimli scrambled to his feet and walked the short distance to their pack of supplies, which he had flung to the ground quite carelessly in the haste that had followed his friend´s accident.
He rummaged through the bag, digging past packages of that accursed lembas bread Legolas was so fond of, piling several delicious slices of dried meat on the ground, until he finally found the carrots.
He swung aroung, dangling the orange prize from his left hand, but the shout of victory froze on his lips.
Legolas was standing next to Arod – or to be more accurate, he was leaning on the horse at such an impossible angle that Gimli had no idea how he had even gotten that far. He must have pulled himself up against the horse, the dwarf mused, who in turn must have walked towards him to even allow such a foolish act.
He dropped the carrots with an angry snarl and strode towards the pair, fully intend on putting that silly elf onto his back again, where he certainly belonged. Then he would have a long talk with their horse about endangering his master in such a fashion.
His advance was stopped short, however. His angry actions had brought a change to Legolas´ posture so quickly that he could not fully comprehend what had happened. What he did know without a question was that he was staring down an arrow that was pointed directly at his chest. The elf stood on his own now, his archer´s posture as perfect as ever, if slighly less stable.
“Get back, nauco //short one//, or you will never have the chance to attack an elf again!“ Legolas´ light eyes were unfocussed but clearly filled with anger - and fear. Gimli had seen this expression seldom enough to freeze in his tracks. The use of the swearword directed against his race stung, but his worry easily outweighted any anger.
“Now, that hit on the head must have damaged your good manners, my friend“, he said carefully. “In all the years I have known you there has never been one occasion that forced you to use such foul language against me.“ It was true. While the two of them regularly bantered and jested with each other, even to the point that might seem a dangerous argument to others, neither had ever used the degrading words his language offered against the other´s race.
“I am fairly certain I have never offended you“, Legolas said coldly, “for I do not know you.“ He straightened a little more. “Now move back, or stop moving forever.“
With a sudden jolt of true fear Gimli realized that his friend meant every single word. The dwarf knew that Legolas was not given to needless violence, but he could be ruthless when forced to either protect himself or his friends. Gimli had always considered this a benefit, but then again he had never expected to find himself on the receiving end of the elf´s anger.
Holding up his hands in a gesture of peace he slowly walked backwards, never taking his eyes of Legolas. He knew where the aggressiveness was coming from. His friend was putting up a brave front, but by now he was able to read the other´s body language well enough. There was a slight tremor running through the lithe frame and the elf needed to adjust his feet every few moments to keep standing straight. He was running on willpower alone and would soon collapse.
“Listen to me, I am your friend.“ Gimli tried to soften his voice, but it was not easy. If only he could, he would like to shake some sense into that silly immortal before his own stubbornness killed him.
“You had an accident. A stone injured you and it seems the impact took some of your memories away...“ He trailed off, unsure whether Legolas was even listening. He had moved behind Arod and adjusted his bow on his back, finally sure that the dwarf was too far away to surprise him with an attack. He then eyed the animal doubtfully, obviously aware that his usual jump onto its back would likely render him unconscious.
On a sudden impulse – and against a voice in his head that screamed at such foolishness – Gimli called out: “Arod, nu!“ //Arod, down!// It was a risky endeavour, he knew, because the stubborn beast usually decided to ignore his commands, but today the stallion seemed to sense that just this once, the dwarf was the one to trust.
Obediently, the horse knelt.
Legolas´ hand grabbed the hilt of one of his knives, his expression wary. “Where have you learnt the Elven tongue, dwarf?“ Before Gimli had the chance to answer, he slid onto the horse´s back in a less than graceful fashion. It was little more than a slightly controlled fall.
Gimli winced inwardly but tried to keep his voice even. “You taught me, and the Valar are my witness, it is proof of my deep appreciation for you that I force my tongue to twist into such unnatural sounds.“
Arod rose gingerly and Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, clearly nauseated by the movement. For just a heartbeat Gimli contemplated rushing at the two and simply tearing the elf to the ground where he would clearly fare better than atop of a horse. He was rather certain that he would succeed – but what would happen then?
Elves looked fragile enough, but the dwarf knew better than to underestimate their strength. If Legolas truly considered him an enemy, he would find himself in mortal danger unless he managed to knock his friend senseless first. Neither option appealed to him, so he clenched his fists and watched.
Legolas had regained part of his composure and finally had the strength to reply. “More likely, you watched and listened before you attacked me.“ He urged the stallion into a swift walk. With an annoyed grunt, Gimli began to jog along, but wisely kept his distance.
“Is that truly what you believe? Then tell me, elf, why would you make your horse kneel if you were completely healthy before I injured you? And pray tell, how could a lone clumsy dwarf have brought you down?“
“That is a riddle that I intend to solve later.“
“You will not solve it, because it never happened!“
Legolas flinched slightly at the yell but did not reply. Gimli´s mind was racing. How could he convince the elf that he was not an enemy? How could he bring back the memories he so obviously had lost?
“We have mutal friends, you and I“, he tried. “And believe me, if they could see you now they would scold you for your foolish stubborness. Take Aragorn, for example...“
An arrow embedded itself a mere handsbredth from his feet, causing him to jump backwards with a little jelp.
Legolas had dropped the bow after the shot, clearly in order to hold on because now both of his hands were fisted into Arod´s mane, but he still pressed to horse forward to advance threateningly. “How do you even know that name? It refers to a secret few know and none should voice, especially not one of your race. I have sworn to protect it. If you want to live, explain yourself, Anfang!“ //Longbeard//
For a moment, Gimli was frozen to the spot. He was rather certain that the arrow would at least have nicked him had he not jumped back in time, and even though he still knew that his friend was not himself, afflicted by a strange side effect of his injury, he could no longer control his anger.
Instead of backing away from Arod, he strode towards the stallion until he stood directly in front of the elf. “I know that name because he is my friend as well as yours. I know that name because everybody knows the king of Gondor, though he calls himself Elessar now. And you should shake that blasted head of yours and remember the past sixty-or-so years before you hurt yourself even worse. I am your friend! Do you not know my face, you silly, half-witted immortal bane of my existence?“
To his surprise, Legolas did not seem alarmed by his outburst. Rather, he looked bemused. “No“, he replied and had Arod walk again, “I do not know your face, blurred as it is. But your tone of voice does seem familiar.“
Gimli was forced to run alongside the stallion once more. “If I had known that insulting you would bring you to your senses, I would have done so from the start. Please, stop that horse before you fall down.“
“I will not“, the elf replied. “I intend to ride to Imladris. If you are indeed correct Lord Elrond may be able to bring back my memories. He will know if anything happened to Estel. You may come along, if you keep your distance.“
Gimli snorted through his nose, not gracing this clearly insane remark with an answer. He had no doubt that it was more likely for him to reach Rivendell at a run than it was for Legolas to stay upright for even another ten minutes.
“If Lord Elrond was still in this realm, which he is not, he would tell you to get down from that horse and stop making your injury worse!“ As he had expected, this time Legolas chose to hold back a reply, though the cause seemed to be his failing health rather than derision. A shiver ran through the elf that was so strong it almost unseated him.
Gimli had to fight back the urge to merely grab his friend, fearing that such an action would destroy the fragile trust the elf seemed to place in him.
“See? You are way to ill to ride a horse!“
“I am not“, the elf replied shakily. “It is merely a bit cold.“
“Cold? Cold does not even bother you! I have seen you stroll through a blizzard as if it was nothing but a breeze. In addition, wearing aunty Gorab´s underwear should keep you more than warm.“
The elf threw him a suspicious glace. “Underwear? What do you know of my underwear?“
The dwarf could not help but laugh at his friend´s reaction. “I know that what you wear now has not been made by elves. Can you not tell? I thought your senses were so superior to mine.“
Legolas looked flustered, but Gimli knew by the way his glance turned inward that he was trying to disprove what the dwarf had said. He failed. A puzzled expression began to spread across his pale features.
“See?“ Gimli called triumphantly. “No silk, none of that soft nonsense you pointy-ears are so fond of. Good, honest goat´s wool is what you feel. A bit scratchy but guaranteed to keep your insides cozy.“
“Who put that on me?“ the elf asked incredulously.
Gimil stopped running, both because he was out of breath and because he could not help laughing aloud. He did not even recall when their grave predicament had turned so amusing, but he could just not stop himself.
“You did, of course! Believe me, it is not in my habit to help you dress. My aunt thought you too frail to brave the mountains´ whether in those thin clothes of yours, and you were too polite to turn down her present.“
Legolas had stopped Arod. He was swaying now, clearly about to fall, and when Gimli stepped forward to put a steadying hand on his leg he did not flinch.
“Dwarven underwear?“ he asked with a dazed expression. “As a present?“
Gimli did not let go of his friend now that he had a hold of him, and their horse seemed to understand the implications and carefully knelt.
“Dwaven underwear indeed“, he confirmed, pulling the now unresisting elf off Arod and carefully laying him on the ground. He would have to run back and get their supplies, then start a fresh fire, but he had no intention of moving his friend again this day. “Though I must say, a helmet might have been a much more suitable gift.“
“They give me headaches“, Legolas whispered. He had closed his eyes. “I prefer the underwear.“
Gimli sat back on his heels, shaking his head. He decided to wait a while before he went back for their supplies, for his legs were suddenly too weak to walk on. “But it might have spared you from this blasted injury“, he replied softly. “And I certainly could have done without you trying to kill me.“
“Did not. Missed on purpose.“ Legolas was clearly approaching sleep now and the dwarf decided to let him be, at least for a while. He sat quietly, listening as his friend's breaths evened out and peace surrounded him once more. He was relieved to see that in sleep, the elf´s eyes had opened again, giving him hope that his friend was mending despite of his ordeal.
“Who would have thought“, he said quitely, “that one day a prince of elves would be brought down by a single rock only to be saved by dwarven underwear.“
The end
Ranking: 1st place
Summary: The war is over and things are peaceful again in Middle Earth. However, a single rock threatens both Legolas´ and Gimli´s lives and it is a piece of dwarven clothing that must save them both.
Genre: Hurt/comfort, friendship, humor
“Stupid elves“, Gimli grumbled to himself as he warmed a kettle over the fire. “Hear better than a fox, call trees brothers and still fail to avoid a single rock falling down a ravine.“
He threw up his hands, nearly upsetting the kettle. Arod snorted worriedly. “Ah, yes, you!“ He glared at the horse which stood nearby. “Are you not supposed to be an especially smart beast, trained by the Rohirrim themselves to look after your master? I shall seek retribution from King Eomer. Maybe we can trade you for a better, more useful beast of burden.“ He filled the hot water into a pot containing bloody rags. “Like a donkey. A donkey would do just fine and I would not have to take such high falls.“
Arod shook his head and continued grazing. The dwarf sighed deeply. Raving was not as gratifying if there was no-one reacting to your words. He began stirring the rags in the hot water and watched as they slowly released swirls of blood, turning and turning like a red whirlstorm.
“A SINGLE rock!“ He could not get past the fact. Accusingly, he glared at Legolas but the sight of his unconscious friend sent such a jolt of fear through him that it almost impaired his speech. He coughed, then continued valiantly. “Tell me, elf, why you have walked away from bloody battles with not even a scratch to boast and now you succumb to a single rock?“ He shook his head and wondered how many times he had asked this question since the accident had occured several hours ago.
Several hours, and all he heard from his friend was the occasional groan of pain. At least he had managed to stop the bleeding, which had been difficult enough. Elves always looked too pale for his taste but Legolas was white as a sheet now, his pallor making the bloodstains that still marred the left side of his face stand out even more vividly.
With a deep sigh, Gimli glanced up at the sky. It was midday, the accident having occured shortly after they had resumed their journey in the morning. He wondered where he could turn for help. Back to his kin in Moria would be the fastest route, but he sincerely doubted that this would be a wise move.
Head injuries were not something that dwarves were prone to suffer from, at least not for long. Either their helmet prevented the brunt of the injury or the dwarves died almost instantly. No, turning back there would simply put them into the middle of much fussing and prodding and even more noise, none of which sounded like a good remedy for Legolas´ ailment.
Rivendell then. Even though Lord Elrond had sadly left this realm, his sons maintained the Last Homely House and still provided help and protection to all who sought it.
“And quite a welcome we would get“, Gimli huffed. He felt better when he heard his own voice. “I do not know how many stories I have heard of you or Aragorn or the both of you dragging yourselves or each other across that threshold more dead than alive. And now the silly dwarf continues the tradition. Ai, they will make songs about me!“ And not the most flattering ones, he was sure.
He knew that the journey to Rivendell would certainly be worse than their welcome. He would need to somehow wrestle Legolas onto their horse without aggravating his injuries. He would have to keep the blasted elf, lanky legs and all, atop the beast and, worst of all, he would have to steer it. He threw Arod a hostile look, but then his gaze softened when he imagined this same situation without the possible help of a horse.
“Well, at least you keep me from having to carry that pointy-eared, misery-bringing accident on two legs“, he grumbled. “I assume that means you deserve a little more than grass to gather your strength.“
The stallion´s ears pricked forward when Gimli scrambled to his feet and walked the short distance to their pack of supplies, which he had flung to the ground quite carelessly in the haste that had followed his friend´s accident.
He rummaged through the bag, digging past packages of that accursed lembas bread Legolas was so fond of, piling several delicious slices of dried meat on the ground, until he finally found the carrots.
He swung aroung, dangling the orange prize from his left hand, but the shout of victory froze on his lips.
Legolas was standing next to Arod – or to be more accurate, he was leaning on the horse at such an impossible angle that Gimli had no idea how he had even gotten that far. He must have pulled himself up against the horse, the dwarf mused, who in turn must have walked towards him to even allow such a foolish act.
He dropped the carrots with an angry snarl and strode towards the pair, fully intend on putting that silly elf onto his back again, where he certainly belonged. Then he would have a long talk with their horse about endangering his master in such a fashion.
His advance was stopped short, however. His angry actions had brought a change to Legolas´ posture so quickly that he could not fully comprehend what had happened. What he did know without a question was that he was staring down an arrow that was pointed directly at his chest. The elf stood on his own now, his archer´s posture as perfect as ever, if slighly less stable.
“Get back, nauco //short one//, or you will never have the chance to attack an elf again!“ Legolas´ light eyes were unfocussed but clearly filled with anger - and fear. Gimli had seen this expression seldom enough to freeze in his tracks. The use of the swearword directed against his race stung, but his worry easily outweighted any anger.
“Now, that hit on the head must have damaged your good manners, my friend“, he said carefully. “In all the years I have known you there has never been one occasion that forced you to use such foul language against me.“ It was true. While the two of them regularly bantered and jested with each other, even to the point that might seem a dangerous argument to others, neither had ever used the degrading words his language offered against the other´s race.
“I am fairly certain I have never offended you“, Legolas said coldly, “for I do not know you.“ He straightened a little more. “Now move back, or stop moving forever.“
With a sudden jolt of true fear Gimli realized that his friend meant every single word. The dwarf knew that Legolas was not given to needless violence, but he could be ruthless when forced to either protect himself or his friends. Gimli had always considered this a benefit, but then again he had never expected to find himself on the receiving end of the elf´s anger.
Holding up his hands in a gesture of peace he slowly walked backwards, never taking his eyes of Legolas. He knew where the aggressiveness was coming from. His friend was putting up a brave front, but by now he was able to read the other´s body language well enough. There was a slight tremor running through the lithe frame and the elf needed to adjust his feet every few moments to keep standing straight. He was running on willpower alone and would soon collapse.
“Listen to me, I am your friend.“ Gimli tried to soften his voice, but it was not easy. If only he could, he would like to shake some sense into that silly immortal before his own stubbornness killed him.
“You had an accident. A stone injured you and it seems the impact took some of your memories away...“ He trailed off, unsure whether Legolas was even listening. He had moved behind Arod and adjusted his bow on his back, finally sure that the dwarf was too far away to surprise him with an attack. He then eyed the animal doubtfully, obviously aware that his usual jump onto its back would likely render him unconscious.
On a sudden impulse – and against a voice in his head that screamed at such foolishness – Gimli called out: “Arod, nu!“ //Arod, down!// It was a risky endeavour, he knew, because the stubborn beast usually decided to ignore his commands, but today the stallion seemed to sense that just this once, the dwarf was the one to trust.
Obediently, the horse knelt.
Legolas´ hand grabbed the hilt of one of his knives, his expression wary. “Where have you learnt the Elven tongue, dwarf?“ Before Gimli had the chance to answer, he slid onto the horse´s back in a less than graceful fashion. It was little more than a slightly controlled fall.
Gimli winced inwardly but tried to keep his voice even. “You taught me, and the Valar are my witness, it is proof of my deep appreciation for you that I force my tongue to twist into such unnatural sounds.“
Arod rose gingerly and Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, clearly nauseated by the movement. For just a heartbeat Gimli contemplated rushing at the two and simply tearing the elf to the ground where he would clearly fare better than atop of a horse. He was rather certain that he would succeed – but what would happen then?
Elves looked fragile enough, but the dwarf knew better than to underestimate their strength. If Legolas truly considered him an enemy, he would find himself in mortal danger unless he managed to knock his friend senseless first. Neither option appealed to him, so he clenched his fists and watched.
Legolas had regained part of his composure and finally had the strength to reply. “More likely, you watched and listened before you attacked me.“ He urged the stallion into a swift walk. With an annoyed grunt, Gimli began to jog along, but wisely kept his distance.
“Is that truly what you believe? Then tell me, elf, why would you make your horse kneel if you were completely healthy before I injured you? And pray tell, how could a lone clumsy dwarf have brought you down?“
“That is a riddle that I intend to solve later.“
“You will not solve it, because it never happened!“
Legolas flinched slightly at the yell but did not reply. Gimli´s mind was racing. How could he convince the elf that he was not an enemy? How could he bring back the memories he so obviously had lost?
“We have mutal friends, you and I“, he tried. “And believe me, if they could see you now they would scold you for your foolish stubborness. Take Aragorn, for example...“
An arrow embedded itself a mere handsbredth from his feet, causing him to jump backwards with a little jelp.
Legolas had dropped the bow after the shot, clearly in order to hold on because now both of his hands were fisted into Arod´s mane, but he still pressed to horse forward to advance threateningly. “How do you even know that name? It refers to a secret few know and none should voice, especially not one of your race. I have sworn to protect it. If you want to live, explain yourself, Anfang!“ //Longbeard//
For a moment, Gimli was frozen to the spot. He was rather certain that the arrow would at least have nicked him had he not jumped back in time, and even though he still knew that his friend was not himself, afflicted by a strange side effect of his injury, he could no longer control his anger.
Instead of backing away from Arod, he strode towards the stallion until he stood directly in front of the elf. “I know that name because he is my friend as well as yours. I know that name because everybody knows the king of Gondor, though he calls himself Elessar now. And you should shake that blasted head of yours and remember the past sixty-or-so years before you hurt yourself even worse. I am your friend! Do you not know my face, you silly, half-witted immortal bane of my existence?“
To his surprise, Legolas did not seem alarmed by his outburst. Rather, he looked bemused. “No“, he replied and had Arod walk again, “I do not know your face, blurred as it is. But your tone of voice does seem familiar.“
Gimli was forced to run alongside the stallion once more. “If I had known that insulting you would bring you to your senses, I would have done so from the start. Please, stop that horse before you fall down.“
“I will not“, the elf replied. “I intend to ride to Imladris. If you are indeed correct Lord Elrond may be able to bring back my memories. He will know if anything happened to Estel. You may come along, if you keep your distance.“
Gimli snorted through his nose, not gracing this clearly insane remark with an answer. He had no doubt that it was more likely for him to reach Rivendell at a run than it was for Legolas to stay upright for even another ten minutes.
“If Lord Elrond was still in this realm, which he is not, he would tell you to get down from that horse and stop making your injury worse!“ As he had expected, this time Legolas chose to hold back a reply, though the cause seemed to be his failing health rather than derision. A shiver ran through the elf that was so strong it almost unseated him.
Gimli had to fight back the urge to merely grab his friend, fearing that such an action would destroy the fragile trust the elf seemed to place in him.
“See? You are way to ill to ride a horse!“
“I am not“, the elf replied shakily. “It is merely a bit cold.“
“Cold? Cold does not even bother you! I have seen you stroll through a blizzard as if it was nothing but a breeze. In addition, wearing aunty Gorab´s underwear should keep you more than warm.“
The elf threw him a suspicious glace. “Underwear? What do you know of my underwear?“
The dwarf could not help but laugh at his friend´s reaction. “I know that what you wear now has not been made by elves. Can you not tell? I thought your senses were so superior to mine.“
Legolas looked flustered, but Gimli knew by the way his glance turned inward that he was trying to disprove what the dwarf had said. He failed. A puzzled expression began to spread across his pale features.
“See?“ Gimli called triumphantly. “No silk, none of that soft nonsense you pointy-ears are so fond of. Good, honest goat´s wool is what you feel. A bit scratchy but guaranteed to keep your insides cozy.“
“Who put that on me?“ the elf asked incredulously.
Gimil stopped running, both because he was out of breath and because he could not help laughing aloud. He did not even recall when their grave predicament had turned so amusing, but he could just not stop himself.
“You did, of course! Believe me, it is not in my habit to help you dress. My aunt thought you too frail to brave the mountains´ whether in those thin clothes of yours, and you were too polite to turn down her present.“
Legolas had stopped Arod. He was swaying now, clearly about to fall, and when Gimli stepped forward to put a steadying hand on his leg he did not flinch.
“Dwarven underwear?“ he asked with a dazed expression. “As a present?“
Gimli did not let go of his friend now that he had a hold of him, and their horse seemed to understand the implications and carefully knelt.
“Dwaven underwear indeed“, he confirmed, pulling the now unresisting elf off Arod and carefully laying him on the ground. He would have to run back and get their supplies, then start a fresh fire, but he had no intention of moving his friend again this day. “Though I must say, a helmet might have been a much more suitable gift.“
“They give me headaches“, Legolas whispered. He had closed his eyes. “I prefer the underwear.“
Gimli sat back on his heels, shaking his head. He decided to wait a while before he went back for their supplies, for his legs were suddenly too weak to walk on. “But it might have spared you from this blasted injury“, he replied softly. “And I certainly could have done without you trying to kill me.“
“Did not. Missed on purpose.“ Legolas was clearly approaching sleep now and the dwarf decided to let him be, at least for a while. He sat quietly, listening as his friend's breaths evened out and peace surrounded him once more. He was relieved to see that in sleep, the elf´s eyes had opened again, giving him hope that his friend was mending despite of his ordeal.
“Who would have thought“, he said quitely, “that one day a prince of elves would be brought down by a single rock only to be saved by dwarven underwear.“
The end