When Gimli opens his eyes the next morning, Legolas is already awake.
"Good morning," he says, a little stiffly, and the elf turns away from the window to face him.
"Good morn," they agree, voice soft like they don't want to intrude. Gimli sits down on the windowsill next to Legolas, and the sit in silence for around five minutes before Legolas speaks again.
"I can't do this."
Gimli looks up, startled by the shattered silence. "Can't do what?"
"This," and there's an intensity to Legolas's tone that Gimli hasn't heard there before. "This thing we're doing, where we don't speak to each other and both of us is hurting but neither of us will just talk about it. I'm sorry, I can't do it."
They take a deep breath, and it looks for a moment like the two of them are about to fall back into silence.
"I don't know what Haldir said to you in Lothlórien," Legolas tells him, calm again, and meets his eyes. "But — could we be friends again, at least?"
Their eyes are wide, and the hurt on their features is so clear that Gimli couldn't say no if he wanted to. Not that he does, of course.
"Of course," he says, "but I thought you didn't want to be?"
Legolas shakes their head. "You started avoiding me," they say. "I didn't know why."
Gimli reaches for their hand, and they sit together by the window for another hour.
He might not have a chance with love, but friendship at least is within Gimli's grasp.