A/N: Part of the "Discovery" challenge by Allison Diamond. Intended to be funny, but probably as bad as the poem inside it. Well, enjoy.
And to the darkness he fell
As he went through the…
Legolas frowned. What word could he write in there? As he went through the…
The Prince of Mirkwood had always been a poor poet – not by lack of trying, however. He wrote as much as he could, as often as he could. He had not had the chance to exercise his – limited – talent during the quest to destroy the Ring, of course, although he had done his best to express himself as lyrically as possible. That had brought him some annoyed looks from his companions, who had no idea of what he meant to say, but he desperately wanted to get better.
The Mirkwood elves were not as sophisticated as the Rivendell folk, that was a well-known fact. Of course, when he had come here for the first time, he had thought that it was a poor stereotype. One week of Arwen singing later, he had to accept the obvious. He was a poor poet, and as such, he could not be a good reference point for the Rivendell elves. But he now also knew that the best Mirkwood wordsmiths – he felt like "wordsmiths" was a good word and used it as often as he could, meaning that people generally ended up walking away with a confused look on their face after talking to him – would never be able to compete with the artists from Rivendell. Of course, maybe it was just the fact that Arwen was so beautiful that everybody stopped listening to what she was saying and focused on how she was saying it instead.
As he went through the…
Steps made him raise his head, only to end up face-to-face with Gimli the Dwarf. (Yes, Legolas was sitting on a very low bench.) When the dwarf asked him what he was doing, Legolas stammered, "Well, my Dwarf friend, looking at the beauty of the, uh, fountain. Will you come and join me for a walk?"
Gimli had vowed never to walk again after the months of strolling around the continent, but the offer didn't suffice to drive him away.
-Weren't you writing?
-So what? snapped the Elf.
He was now really uneasy. If the Dwarf discovered his attempt at a poem, he'd ask him to read it. Realizing that Legolas was unable to find a single rhyme for his verse, he'd laugh. The Dwarf and the Elf had gotten close during the Quest, but not close enough that the Mirkwood heir would ever
-Well, unless you were writing about the beauty of the fountain, which would be kind of sad, I think you were lying to me. And that makes me want to know what you were actually doing. Sorry, Gimli added unapologetically.
Legolas grunted. Not very Elvish and elegant of him, he thought immediately, blaming the company of a Dwarf and way too many men for way too long. Gimli had risen an eyebrow, apparently thinking the same thing.
-So, show me what you've got here.
-Fine, Legolas conceded. But don't tell the other elves.
Gimli snorted. That was pretty Dwarf-like.
And minutes later, they were both wondering.
-Veil?
-Fall through the veil? That doesn't mean anything.
-Hell?
-What is hell?
-No idea. Male?
-I'm not writing anything about anyone going through a male, Gimli.