Gimli was making a whistle and humming to himself. He smiled and stood up at her approach.

'Lady.' He bowed with the gravity of the old.

'Lord.' She curtsied with the sprightliness of the young.

'Ach, I am no lord, your highness,' said he, cheeks twitching.

'You are fortunate.' She sighed and sat down beside him in the shadow of an apple tree. 'May I ask for whom is this wooden wonder?'

'Wonder?' He looked surprised. 'For the granddaughter of the fairest being in the world.'

'I thought horses don't have any use for them.'

Arwen liked her favourite Dwarf a lot. He never seemed to mind that she was a queen, and he made such funny faces when she out-teased him. It was the beard, probably.

'But they do,' her favourite Dwarf said earnestly. 'Although it is their ears and not their mouths that must needs are employed in actual work.'

...and Legolas simply had to spoil him.

Gimli looked at her with interest. 'Aragorn is right,' he decided. 'This colour suits you.'

She held out a hand, not gracing that with an answer, and he gave her the toy.

'Can I blow it without summoning some unbeatable power demanding horrible sacrifices and reciting unpaid debts?' she asked, just to be on the safe side.

'I don't know...' Gimli gave the matter due consideration. 'Is Eldarion in the palace?'

'No,' she said sweetly. 'He's down on the fields, showing off his riding skills.'

'What! Haven't you taught him that boasting is very bad manners?'

'Alas, he replies that Master Gimli doesn't think it bad manners to let others judge for themselves.'

'Ha!' said Master Gimli. 'Clever lad. You should heed his words. Blow!'

The sound was fresh, solid and lively; the call of a wild goose. A gift a bit clumsy, a bit wise – a lot like the Dwarf himself.

'Thank you,' she said, deeply moved. 'I am sorry to have mentioned a grown-up thing.'

'It was an insult indeed,' he sniffed. 'You don't believe that we always have to resolve to magic to make the best toys ever, do you?'

'Says who?'

'Everybody.'

'I am ignorant when it comes to Dwarvish spells and charms,' she parried. 'How can I know if you have, or if you haven't?'

'Too true, too true,' he agreed solemnly. 'I shall tell you something, then, if you promise?..'

'Not a living soul,' she swore. 'Or otherwise.'

'The majority of our magic is letting things be the way they want it.'

'How... lewd.'

He pursed his lips.

'Sorry.' For calling off so early.

'Of course, elves cannot grasp it without a demonstration of epic proportions. For example, a certain prince who's walked – er, flitted – over hill and dale for centuries before I, a mere Dwarf, was born, only understood my meaning when he saw the Caves of Aglarond.'

It wasn't fair, she'd not been to the Caves yet. She'd have to find some time, perhaps not that year, and elope with Estel – Eldarion had already been treated to a visit.

Gimli threw her a shrewd look.

'The secret ingredient, therefore, is truth, my lady.'

'Beautiful,' she murmured.

'...but magic sells better.'

'I knew there had to be a moral lesson!'

'Arwen! Gimli! Are you coming to dinner, or are you not?'

'It is not my fault we are late,' grunted Gimli, while she sprang up and flew to Estel, and he whirled her around, laughing. 'This little wife of yours clear forgot to invite me!'

'Must be your wit.'

'No, his beard,' said Arwen Evenstar, winking. 'It's the secret ingredient of a Dwarf.'