"I know you don't like me much." Haldir sits down next to him. "And I completely understand. If I were you I probably wouldn't like me either."
Gimli looks up at the elf. He doesn't speak. He doesn't need to.
"But you're interested in Legolas," Haldir continues, "and so, as their friend and quasi-brother it is my duty to inform you that if you hurt them, I will eviscerate you and then hang you by your own intestines."
What?
"Now, that probably didn't do much to endear me to you, but it needed to be said. Good day."
And Haldir stands, and he leaves.
Gimli is left sitting there, waiting for Legolas to return from his explorations of the forest.
/
Legolas returns twenty minutes later, and now that his interest has been pointed out, Gimli is more aware than ever of just how beautiful the elf is. (He was aware of that before, of course. Dwarves always see beauty. It's just that now he's aware of being aware of it, and of all the implications that carries.) His — their — hair is honey blond compared to his own, but flaming red next to Orophin, and their smile is possibly the brightest thing Gimli's ever seen.
Sweet bloody Mahal. Haldir was right. Well, mostly.
He's not just interested in Legolas.
He he thinks he might love them.
