A/N: I feel like there should be many reservations regarding this, but I shall just say I hope you enjoy it
Beta'ed by Amlia B.
An odd tale of an odd pair
By NaTak
Chapter 1: Bright meetings
It is a sunny day in Minas Tirith. The city glows, as if it knew a new and brighter age is soon to come.
Mistiel cares little for good omens, though, for she has places to go on that morning.
Despite being small for her age, she is six summers already, and skips through streets and passages with the ability and experience of someone who had spent their whole life walking the same paths.
Her auburn, bushy hair bounces on her back as she runs, and – although dark thoughts still loom over her – she still manages to laugh, happy.
She does not know much about matters such as warfare, and battle, and royalty, yet she knows enough to understand her people has just won one of the most important wars of all times.
Mistiel sees that in the eyes of her family and friends and neighbors. In the way their smiles are unguarded, and their laughter relieved. In the way her mother hugs her before she goes to bed– not the vicious, protective grip she used to pull, but an embrace full of love and hope. In the way the tradespeople on the market actually take the time to negotiate and bargain the prices of their merchandize. In the way the soldiers – though weary and hurt – grin, proud and cheerful, as they pass by on their daily rounds in the lower town.
And as if celebrating a great military victory was not enough, the city would soon stage a great wedding as well.
Mistiel grins widely as the thought crosses her mind. Their long lost king – a man said to be wise, and powerful, and kind – is to marry none other than an elf. An actual, living, breathing elf! The young girl could barely contain her excitement at the possibility of seeing a being that, until then, has only figured in tales and old stories.
As she takes a short cut to avoid the crowd in the main street, Mistiel daydreams about what an elf actually looked like. Possibly, that explains why the normally quick girl is too late to stop from colliding with a big, hairy, bulky form.
"Careful there, lassie," says a grave voice.
When Mistiel looks up, she finds herself face to face with an unusually short, sturdy man. Both his voluminous auburn hair–a tone lighter than Mistiel's – and beard are braided. The girl has to contain the impulse to reach out and touch the bright and colorful stones that adorn his locks.
Clear and resonant laugher startles Mistiel from her reverie.
"Worry not, little lady," the second voice says. "Master Dwarf here is at fault, for as he admires stone and brick he wanders around without a care for where he goes."
Both gingers turn to look at the man that approaches unhurriedly – one with an expression of fond annoyance and the other with pure wonder.
"You are not a man, you are an elf!" Mistiel blurts unthinking, pointing.
The shorter man – no, the dwarf – chuckles at that, while the elf suddenly stops smiling and frowns, bewildered.
"I am," he says, but sounds somewhat uncertain.
Still chuckling softly, the dwarf adds, "and I am a dwarf." He inclines his head.
Mistiel smiles. "Oh, I knew that!" She says assertively. The girl pauses for a moment, considering. "I am a human," she declares.
"Just as I had suspected," the dwarf says, nodding sagely.
Mistiel nods back, however her attention is already drawn back to the elf. He is so pretty! Prettier than she thought elves would be. He has incredibly pointy ears. His hair is long, and straight, and smooth… She notices he wears it braided too, and wonders if the she-elf who is to marry the king will wear beautiful braids such as those in the wedding.
"Do elven princesses like braids too?" Mistiel asks, looking up at the elf.
"Excuse me?" He sputters. He seems confused, and the girl speculates why would that be.
The dwarf just laughs at the elf. The elf glares back. They seem to communicate something with their eyes, and Mistiel concludes theirs is an odd friendship indeed.
"I just thought," Mistiel proceeds, seeing as no response is forthcoming, "that braided hair would match a wedding gown fairly well."
The elf continues looking perplexed, but a look of understanding downs on the dwarf's face.
"I think you are quite right," he says, drawing her attention. "We will suggest it to lady Arwen, if the opportunity presents itself."
Mistiel's eyes widen. "You know the elf princess?" She asks in fascination.
The dwarf chuckles, and says "aye, we do." Then he cocks his head towards he silent elf. "Master Elf here is a princeling himself," he reveals.
The girl's eyes widen even more and she is struck speechless for one second. "Are you a prince too?" She asks the dwarf.
"Me? No, no," he replies, shaking his head. "I'm a warrior and a crafter, but no prince."
"I understand," Mistiel says smiling softly. "I'm not a princess either." Then, as if finally remembering herself, she curtsies sloppily.
"I'm so sorry!" She says, embarrassed. "I forgot. My mother always says–Well, anyway." She smiles. "I'm Mistiel, daughter of Miluinis."
The dwarf laughs openly, and the elf smiles, as if amused. The girl just grins back, relived she has not offended her interlocutors.
"Well met, Mistiel, daughter of Miluinis," he says, bowing. "I'm Gimli, son of Glóin. At your service."
The elf bows as well. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mistiel. I'm Legolas of the Greenwood."
The girl smiles openly at them both. "I'm pleased to meet you too," she replies. "And I'm sorry for bumping into you earlier, Master Gimli." Embarrassment colors her cheeks and her tone. "This passage is rarely used, so I hardly ever meet anyone else when I take this way."
"It's no problem, lassie," he reassures easily. "We dwarves are strong and resilient, no harm was done."
"Strong and resilient dwarves may be," Legolas cuts in. "But lost they become when thrown inside the great cities of men," he says provocatively.
Gimli turns to the elf fully. "These passages are like maze! No markings to indicate the way out." He mutters of the insolence of elves and inaptitude of men. Then he snorts. "Show us the right path then, oh all-knowing elfling," he taunts, glaring.
Legolas hesitates, and Gimli smirks victoriously.
Mistiel giggles.
"You two are funny," she states matter-of-factly.
The elf inclines his head to her, conceding the point with a smile. "And lost," he adds somewhat ruefully. "Would you happen to know how to reach the market, Mistiel?" He asks, looking down at her.
The girl's eyes light up at the prospect of helping her new acquaintances.
"Of course," she replies. "I'm going there myself. You can accompany me."
She guides them through streets and alcoves, and soon enough they arrive at the principal market of the city. Mistiel chatters amicably, pointing out things she thinks interesting, presenting the most well known stalls, commenting which tradesperson is kinder, which is funnier, which is grumpier…
If their strange trio receives incredulous looks as they walk by, the young girl is none the wiser.
"Oh, I must stop here," Mistiel suddenly interrupts her chatter as they stand in front of a stall full of plants and herbs.
A wrinkled old woman greets them.
"Hello there, Mistiel" she says. And it is a testament to her poor eyesight that she notices not how unusual are the two figures who hover behind the girl. "Your mother's regular order?" She asks the girl.
"Yes, please, ma'am," Mistiel replies, handing over a few coins, retrieving a small bundle from wrinkly hands and guarding it safely in a pocket in her skirts.
"And what can I do for the two… gentlemen?" The woman inquires, leaning forwards, apparently realizing there is something odd about them.
Elf and dwarf exchange an amused glance, and the taller takes a scrap of paper from his pocket.
"We are in need of aloe vera and horsetail, if you would have it" he says.
The woman nods somberly. "Yes, most of the warriors are in need of those. As it is, we are facing a shortage of such plants, but I think I do have some horsetail left… Here it is."
She extracts a strange looking, green plant from a hidden pouch and extends it over the stall, placing it on Legolas' hand.
As their hands brush, the woman frowns. "You have not the hands of a warrior, but the ones of a noble maiden!" She exclaims, surprised.
Gimli laughs unabashedly at that, throwing his head back. Mistiel giggles as well, hiding her mouth behind her hands.
The tips of Legolas' pointy ears become pink, but he says nothing, simply delicately pushing some coins into the old lady's hand.
Between giggles, the young girl explains. "He is not a maiden. He's an elf!"
The woman looks even more taken back by that.
"Forgive me for my foolishness, my lord," she says, bowing, a hint of fear in her voice.
"There is nothing to forgive, my lady," Legolas replies gracefully, ears still a bit pink.
As they part ways, Gimli relentlessly teases Legolas, who just mutters snappy retorts under his breath, too lowly for Mistiel to catch.
They have walked through most of the market when the girl turns to the still bickering friends.
"Have you fought on the battle?" She blurts, somewhat uncertain, interrupting them.
Elf and dwarf become grave at that. They nod.
"Aye," Gimli adds, "on this and many others."
Mistiel continues walking, but her steps are cheerless and her shoulders are hunched.
"Are you hurt? Is that the reason you need healing plants?" She asks at last, fearful, without looking back.
"Not at all," the elf assures her, then hesitates. "The herb is for a friend who is badly wounded, but is likely to recover."
Mistiel says nothing for a moment, then turns and smiles weakly before continuing moving. "I hope the herbs help your friend."
"So do I," Legolas whispers.
But still the girl does not recover her spirit, for dark thoughts threaten to overwhelm her.
Mistiel only notices she has stopped, when long, pale fingers bring her chin up. Kind, deep, blue eyes meet her grey ones.
"Who are the herbs you bought for?" Legolas asks, gently, kneeing down. He takes her hands into his slim and smooth ones.
The girl looks away; unshed tears burning her eyes.
"My brother," she mumbles so, so lowly she fears she would not be understood. "He fought on the battle too."
But the elf nods understandingly. "Your brother must be very brave," he comments appreciatively.
Mistiel shakes her head viciously, tears flying. "He is incredibly foolish." She holds back a sob. "He is too small to fight. Only three years my elder," she explains. "Slingshots do nothing to harm orcs!" Anger and frustration make her voice waver.
Through blurred eyes she sees Gimli leaning down towards her.
"I find that," he begins, voice soft, but charged with emotion, "when the safety of one we care about is at risk, we do everything we can – and even try to do what we cannot – to protect them. It may be foolish," he concedes, "but I like to think it's also terribly brave. Do not judge your brother so harshly."
Legolas nods in agreement, and Gimli rests one hand on his friend's shoulder, clutching at it. They turn to each other and their eyes speak of trust and friendship, and Mistiel knows not all what they share, but understands enough.
When they finally return their gaze to her, they find her staring wonderingly at them. Eyes still wet, but a tender smile brightening up her face.
"I think," she says, "I'd like to think it brave as well."
Then she laughs. All traces of sadness relenting.
"Mithion will not believe it when I tell him I've met an elf and a dwarf!" Mistiel exclaims, jumping up. "He will be so jealous," she giggles.
Legolas and Gimli smile at her. The elf rises from his crouched position, and looks up at the sky.
"I believe we grow late, Master Dwarf," he points out.
"I believe that, unfortunately, you are correct, Master Elf," the other agrees. Then he turns to Mistiel.
"It was a pleasure, little miss," Gimli says, inclining his head. "But now we must go. Our friends await us."
"Thank you for being our guide," Legolas adds.
Mistiel curtsies. "And I thank you for your courage and readiness in protecting my home," she says formally, a grave look on her face. It rapidly melts away. "I hope to see you again someday!"
She sprints away, waving her hand.
That is the first time Mistiel meets Gimli and Legolas. But not the last.