Tolk equals god. Me equals not Tolk.
Strange Gesture
The serving girl leaned over a bit too far as she filled his wine glass. She winked flirtatiously and stroked his ear as she strut back to the kitchens. The nearly-crowned new king did not notice, but Gimli was surprised to see the Elf's cheeks color. But the frown on his face and the way he roughly brushed the ear with his sleeve seemed to contradict the possibility of Legolas blushing.
Gimli grumbled something about saucy kitchen help. His voice rang with joviality, though strained, perhaps with drink, but his expression was lost beneath his thick beard. Aragorn made a quick quip about Elves inspiring such attention.
The meal was winding down. The trio came to the pleasant realization that, no longer rushing from campfire to battle to campfire, they would not be sleeping in the rain, but in soft beds with blankets and bolsters. Aragorn, with a smile, bid his companions goodnight.
Gimli and Legolas fell into step with each other, one lengthening his stride while the other shortened his. Of habit they walked beside each other to the same room, and reached for the handle at the same time. They seemed then to realize that they need not room together. Gimli firmly ignored this realization and, opening the door, beckoned Legolas inside.
The room was a bit chill, the hearth having only a small fire, so Gimli stoked it and added some wood. "I did not think you one to blush over a maid," Gimli said heartily.
"I am unaccustomed to such...familiar gestures," Legolas replied carefully.
"I touch you all the time," Gimli answered easily, sitting on the foot of the bed. He motioned for Legolas to sit in front of him.
"Yes, but that girl has not fought beside me and earned my respect and friendship," he responded lightly, sitting with his back to Gimli and facing the fire. Gimli's hands automatically started unplaiting the long hair before him. "Nor do you stroke my ears," he added very quietly.
"If you trying to challenge my curiosity," Gimli grinned, "I must admit, I'm quite tempted."
Legolas turned to face him, eyes slightly wider than usual. Gimli looked into those eyes for some sign of permission. He found there hesitation, but not outright denial. So he reached out and lightly traced one pointed ear.
Legolas drew in a sharp breath, his face starting a slow burn. Gimli retraced the very tip, listening to the hitched breath in fascination. He raised his other hand to stroke the other ear. This seemed to bring Legolas to himself, and he pulled away embarrassed.
"My apologies, friend-" Gimli started, but was quickly cut off.
"No, I-" Legolas did not seem to know how to finish, and, perhaps more flustered by this, stood quickly, facing away. "I bid you goodnight, friend Gimli," he said, his voice full of chagrin.
He slipped quietly out of the room as Gimli followed with his eyes. It had not occurred to the Dwarf that Legolas would actually choose to sleep in the room assigned him. For the long journey from the golden wood, seldom had he slept more than a few feet from his Elven friend.
He didn't understand the reaction, but understood less his own fascination. But they would discuss it in the morning. Surely, the only damage this strange gesture had caused would be a restless, lonesome night.