A/N: Ok, a lot of people have been asking the same questions, so I'm just going to answer them all here: no, this will not be slash. The Noldor elf was no one important, just a jerk. The dwarf coming down the hall was not important - just a cook bringing a meal for Legolas.

If you've got any other questions, they might be answered in the replies to reviews. If not, ask away! And any suggestions/opinions/criticisms are welcome - I love them all.

Thank you very much to Kukabura for the chapter title!

* * * * * Gimli's POV * * * * *

Pride hummed through me as I examined my creation.

It was a small box, about 6" by 3". It consisted of a small copper box, around which twisted gold and silver strands, almost concealing the box from view. Noldor pearls were dotted here and there in a seemingly random pattern, peeking out from in between strands of metal. It had a hinged lid, and as soon as possible I would have the inner box lined with velvet, for no other fabric would be rich enough. For the first time in a long while, I felt truly happy with something I had made. Weapons, when mass-produced, were never works of art.

I barely waited for the metal to cool and harden before I whisked it off to the fabric's room. There, the finishing touches would be made. However, I had barely left the forges before I heard a voice calling my name.

"Gimli! Master Gimli! Wait!" Turning, I identified the caller as Norin. What did he want?

I waited with ill-disguised impatience while he puffed and panted. What could be so important? He opened his mouth to speak. "Master Gimli, have you forgotten what day it is?" What was happening today? What had I forgotten? My mind reeled as I frantically tried to remember what was happening today.

"The Elves are leaving, Master Gimli. You must be there to see them off. Your father commands it." Those dratted Elves! What about my box? Tomorrow was rest-day, Sunday, and I wouldn't get the fabrics done then. Sunday was traditionally used for the repairing of tools for the coming week.

"Master Gimli, you must hurry! And you can't go dressed like that!" He paused, thoroughly in his element. Norin thrived on diplomatic situations going wrong. "Quick, to your chambers. And then you must come straight to the main entrance hall. You will be late, and I will have to make excuses, but that cannot be helped." He looked at me not moving. "Go, now!"

I went.

* * * * *

The Elf was waiting when I arrived back in my chamber. His eyes fell to the box in my hand.

"Did you make that?" he asked, as I struggled out of my work clothes. "It is very beautiful."

"You obviously know fine craftsmanship when you see it," as pride swelled in me once again. Obviously, an Elf's praise wouldn't mean as much as a fellow dwarfs, but Legolas was better than most Elves. None of this passing out I had witnessed from other Elf slaves. What was wrong with them all, I couldn't imagine.

These thoughts about how Legolas really was quite a dwarvish Elf gave me an idea. I could give my box to him to take to the fabric's room. He wouldn't let harm come to it, he did admire it.

In the back of my mind a little voice piped up, telling me not to trust the Elf. However, it did sound quite like my father, and it was because of him I was in the situation. Pulling on my best mail I turned to the Elf.

"Elf. Legolas. I want you to take the box to the fabric's room. Tell them to line it with velvet, and tell them it's for me. Take care of it, you understand." A nod from the elf.

"Where is the fabric's room?"

"Remember the novices workroom? It's on the same corridor, but the third door along."

I looked at the Elf. He had a strange look on his face, as if he was being pulled apart by some internal conflict. What on earth was the matter with him now?

"Elf?"

He pushed himself up off the floor. "I will go."

I gave him the box after only a moment's hesitation. Maybe I was being foolish, but a part of me liked him, and that part was growing by the day.

* * * * *

When I returned, I only needed one look at the Elf to know something had happened. Instead of sitting curled in his usual spot, beside the dark wood cabinet, he was standing in the corner, tall and thin. I didn't know how I knew, I just did: something was wrong.

"What's happened?"

The Elf shifted slightly. Something about him was different - he no longer seemed a child, a rebellious victim. His posture screamed of wariness and suspicion, and the tiniest hint of fear.

"Nothing's happened." His words and tone were innocent, but his beautiful blue eyes challenged me. They dared me to do something, anything, in the face of his defiance.

But what could he have done? Confined to this room, not knowing his way around, everything valuable locked away, what could he possibly.

The answer hit me like a ton of bricks. My box. My beautiful box, that I had worked so hard on, that was more a work of art than anything else.I had trusted him with it, and he had done something.

"Where's my box?" The words came out as a growl. Hot red anger clenched my muscles. Rage clouded my vision.

He didn't answer me, but he didn't need to; the answer didn't matter. I already knew what matter - he had destroyed, or purposely lost, my box. All that effort, wasted. I felt torn between tears of frustration and anger. Losing my axe from its sheath, I lunged at the Elf.

"You little." I didn't finish, couldn't think of an insult terrible enough, but hit him with the flat of my axe sending him to the floor. Red clouded my vision - I no longer saw Legolas, just an Elf, a thrice-cursed filthy Elf, that had betrayed me. I sent my axe crashing down again, and this time the flat hit his ribs. My mind didn't register the cry of pain that floated to my ears.

I raised my axe a third time, this time raising it up over his head. I pulled back, ready to strike the killing blow, wanting to commit all my strength to the destruction of the hated creature that lay before me.

The cold water hit hard into the side of my head, stinging and freezing my skin. I let my axe slip to the floor in shock, before whirling to confront this new attacker.

* * * * *

Replies to reviews. (BTW, I'm sooo sorry I didn't do these last chapter, but if I had you would've had to wait an extra day, possibly two. The last week or so has been incredibly busy.)

Lady Thwen - Are Elrohir and Elladan going to be involved? They won't have big parts, but cameo appearances, maybe yes. My fic is on your favourites list? I feel so honoured!

acadian angel - Legolas will be kept on his toes a while longer, but not too much longer. And I do agree with you about Legolas being too proud for self-pity, but yes, he is only about 15-16 in this. Also, if you've ever been homesick, you'll know how completely awful it makes you feel. And he thinks he's going to spend the rest of his life as a slave, so he's not happy. Or that's my reasoning. It could just be that I love Legolas-angst! I think Legolas will know that a dwarf killed his mother, but I don't think he'll blame Gimli for it. And he was too little to remember his mother much. And your opinions are wonderful - please keep them coming!

Lady V - dead exhausted and in pain? Poor you! What have you been doing? Tell me to mind my own business if you want, I'm very nosy. And yes, I'm also glad I have the plot planned out.

EMQU - You're obviously a lot braver than me. If I can possibly avoid pain, I do! It's very bad of me, pinning what I think onto Legolas, but he has pushed aside his fear and rebelled. Go him!

And thank you so much to WeasleyTwinsLover1112, Nina, Dis, Andmetwen, MoroTheWolfGod, Pilot3001, Arifel, brazos, Lamoo, Supergurl15, MoonFire, Kit Cloudkicker and everyone who reviewed chapter four! I would list you all but it's nearing two in the morning and I have to be up quite early tomorrow!