I was re-reading The Lord of the Rings and when they were in Moria, Gimli recognized Ori's handwriting. I was inundated with all of the feelings and then, suddenly, I was shipping Gimli/Ori. I'm not sorry.
Gimli watched as the ink seemed to spill from the quill onto the parchment, the careful loops and swirls of Ori's handwriting gleaming wetly in the candlelight. The other dwarf wrote quickly, almost carelessly, yet the resulting script was flawless. Large and bold, the Elvish letters were almost beautiful when rendered by the scribe. Gimli's eyes lingered on Ori's fingers for a moment longer before he moved his gaze to his face. The other dwarf kept his own vision on the words blooming in front of him, focused to the exclusion of everything else. Gimli smiled as he made himself more comfortable. Later, he would take Ori for a meal at the tavern. For now, though, he was happy to watch the scribe work.
I feel like I should mention that I wrote this while listening to Gregorian chanting. It was very calming.