As the Leaves of Lorien Fall, Chapter 6

Rating: Pg

Pairings: Legolas/Gimli, Celebrimbor/Narvi

Warning: This Fic contains Slash Pairings – but if you've read this far you already know that!

Disclaimer: All the characters and settings within this fic belong to Tolkien, I'm just playing with them for no profit; no infringement intended.

A/N: Sorry I have taken so long to update – I had two essays and a midterm in the last couple weeks, so I had to focus on those. Ugh. Plus I had writer's block for this story. Thank you Hokori No Ai and Tsuchi who gave me suggestions on how to proceed! They really made this chapter possible – I was really stuck!

Gimli shifted through the next few pages of the text, marveling at how fast Narvi had come to trust Celebrimbor, usually it took dwarves a long time to trust those of others races – it had taken his father months, and having been rescued from several jams, to consider Bilbo a friend, and here was Narvi confiding in Celebrimbor from almost their first meeting. It was strange, too, how often his thoughts seemed to dwell on the elf; he would turn from interesting descriptions of Khazad-dum to describe the first time he had taken Celebrimbor there, or from the most technical description of the work on the great gate to tell of something Celebrimbor had said or done as they were made. They truly were happier days, as Gandalf had said, when there could be close friendship between a dwarf and an elf!

Of course, whispered another part of his mind, you were quick enough to trust Galadriel, and you have always held a high opinion of Elrond. If your father had not been imprisoned in the Elven-king's halls, you would likely have trusted Legolas too, and considered him a friend, as you do the other members of the fellowship. Are you that different from Narvi?

Gimli studiously ignored the little voice- he was quite different from Narvi, he hadn't told Galadriel and Elrond the secret ways of the dwarves, and anyway, they were dwarf-friends, it was alright to trust them! Still, it was remarkable at how quickly and well made the gate was progressing through the union of these two craftsmen. It was nearly finished; in fact, they were going to Hollin to prepare the ithildin for the door...

Narvi emerged from the nearly complete West gate, blinking in the bright sunlight. He saw that Celebrimbor and the elvish delegation were waiting nearby – on horses. His grin, which had emerged in a broad beam at the sight of his handsome friend, disappeared quickly with the sight of the horses. He didn't mind ponies, had ridden several ponies in his lifetime, but horses were another matter. Something that tall – his legs couldn't reach the stirrups! Celebrimbor had approached him, his face crinkling with laughter at the sight of calm Narvi's reaction to horses, and jumping off his horse with an enviable grace, whispered in Narvi's ear, "I thought to bring a pony for you, but I found that we have none in our stables. So I am afraid you will have to share with me. Don't worry, I will not let you fall..." He felt a strange tingle as the Elf-lord clasped his hand...what was it about elves anyway?

Gimli snorted. The thought of a dwarf riding on the same horse as an elf ...the thought of a dwarf riding a horse at all! Really! The entire idea was ridiculous. Narvi was truly doing this, what no dwarf had ever done before, or since. And no dwarf ever would, he thought to himself, riding a horse, really...

Gimli skipped ahead through the next few pages, as Narvi was shown the wonders of the kingdom of Eregion. Perhaps, he thought to himself, he should show Legolas this part of the book; the elf seemed to have some knowledge of the ancient kingdom of Hollin. Still, it wasn't until they reached the city of Ost-in-Edhil, the primary city of Eregion, and the chief jewel in the crown of Celebrimbor's realm...

Narvi felt dazzled by the gleaming light of the city. Ost-in-Edhil represented a high point in Elven Architecture. Narvi wasn't an expert on Elven buildings...this was the first Elven city he'd ever seen, but he knew good stonework when he saw it. The elven city was breathtaking in the glow of the setting sun. The red light reflected the shining white stone, bathing the lands all around it with a warm red light.

Ahead of him, he could hear Celebrimbor's voice calling out, to all of the delegation, " Let us take the main road through the city, we must show our guest famed Elven hospitality." Then, in a voice meant for Narvi alone, the elf-lord whispered "Do not worry, the stables are at the gate – we shall be walking." Narvi said nothing, but gripped his arms more tightly around Celebrimbor's chest. The sooner he got off this demon creature the better....

As they walked through the beautifully carved stonework of the Elven capitol, Narvi and Celebrimbor at the head of the delegation, Narvi noticed that Celebrimbor seemed to be a part of his city – like the buildings, he seemed to have a breathtakingly natural symmetry about him, he couldn't have been born, but grew up out of the earth of Hollin, as natural and as beautiful as the countless holly trees that grew throughout the city...

He shook his head. Where did that thought come from? Beautiful as a holly tree – really he must be spending too much time with Elves.

The feast that evening was splendid. Narvi thought it ranked among one of the nicest he had ever been to, and he had attended some of the best that King Durin had ever thrown. The music seemed to be part of the room, and Narvi, though well acquainted with the sweeping melodies and powerful tunes of Dwarven music, felt that this music seemed to come alive in his veins. While the Dwarven tunes inspired his heart, made him want to get up and travel, to make beautiful things; this music seemed to grow up out of the earth, the haunting melodies twining around the very walls of the hall, curling like ivy up a old oak – what was with him today? Using two nature images within the space of only a few hours?

On the other side of Celebrimbor, Narvi noticed two beautiful Elven women – one with hair like living gold, and eyes like sapphires gleaming in a mine (now there was a proper metaphor), the other so much like her that he was sure she must be her daughter. Celebrimbor had leaned over to the elder of the two, and asked her, in a quiet voice, though not so quietly as to be inaudible to Narvi, where her husband was, and why he had not come to the feast. He was certain that she had glanced over at him, Narvi the dwarf, before politely replying that her lord did not feel up to attending a feast that evening, and was having supper in their rooms.

Narvi could see that this reply did not please Celebrimbor, though there was nothing on the Elf-lord's face that should give him that conclusion. He simply knew Celebrimbor was unhappy at the elven lady's husband's non-attendence of the feast. He did not want to know how he knew this. He returned to his meal, leaving Celebrimbor to converse with the lady and her daughter.

He was disturbed a few moments later, when Celebrimbor placed his flawless hand on Narvi's shoulder. His elf was saying politely, "Narvi, may I introduce my guests, Lady Galadriel and her daughter Celebrian."

So that's who these women were. The younger looked decidedly uncomfortable at this introduction, but the older of the two, the lady Galadriel, he reminded himself, smiled at him. He rose quickly, and, regretting that he had left his hood behind in his rooms, for the bow was so much more impressive with the hood, gave the deep bow of his people, and said, in his most politest tones – he would show that young elf that dwarves were just as worthy to be guests of the elves –

"Narvi, son of Narin at your service". He could see the younger girl had laughter tugging at the corners of her mouth, but her eyes were less cold. The Lady Galadriel, though, giving a smile that could rival any jewel any dwarf had ever mined, bowed in turn, with a silvery "Galadriel of Lindon at yours and your family's."

Taking a cue from her mother, the girl gave a polite little courtesy, and said politely, "Celebrian, daughter of Galadriel, at your service" – which was the wrong reply; still, it was nice that she had made the effort.

After dinner, Celebrian begged their leave to go and sing with some of the younger elves that were settling down in various corners, instruments out and voices at the ready. Narvi found himself wishing he had brought his harp with him on this visit – what would elves think of Dwarvish music? Then Celebrimbor, with one arm held out for Galadriel, led them out of the hall, and into the garden.

It was a beautiful evening, the stars were gleaming, and the clear moon bathed everything in a pale glow. The gardens, nestled as they were among the trees, carried some divine scent. Narvi could almost feel it, he felt awash in pleasures he had never known – Elven stars and Elven flowers, Elven food and Elven music, with Elves at his side.

Soon, they were sitting quietly on a bench, among the roses. Galadriel was telling them a delightful story about life in Lindon – apparently Celebrian, for a prank, decided to steal Gil-Galad's crown, and then had forgotten where she had hid it.

Narvi found himself laughing uproariously at this story – it was wonderful to think of the proud princess he had met doing something so child-like, so spontaneous – something that a dwarf child would do. He loved the way Celebrimbor's laugh mingled with his – and Galadriel's of course – treble bells mingling with a bass – clear notes rising up to the diamond-studded sky.

"You would tell our private moments to a Naugrim, my wife?" A voice cut across their laughter, a steel knife through bread. It was a calm, collected tenor, yet Narvi could sense in it the anger and the threat of an avalanche in the mountains.

"Yes, Husband," was Galadriel's calm reply; as calm as her husband's voice, but laced with a quiet reproach rather than anger. "Narvi is a guest and a friend to one of my oldest friends, and, in the brief time I have known him, I have found him to be worthy of my friendship as well."

Narvi turned now, and saw Galadriel's husband. A tall, handsome elf, with silver hair and eyes, but the eyes were cold, and the voice angry when he looked at Narvi. His eyes narrowed.

"The grandson of Fëanor may befriend a Naugrim, but a princess of Doriath would do well to remember loyalty to her kin"

Doriath! There was the connection! So that was why Galadriel had glanced at him before replying to Celebrimbor's question, that was why Celebrian was uncomfortable in his presence, and why Galadriel's husband detested him so – they were elves of Doriath – the elven city destroyed by the dwarves of Nogrod. But that was eight hundred years earlier – and an entirely different city of dwarves. They had all perished in the elves retaliatory attack, and the city had sunk into the sea, with the rest of Beleriand. Surely this elf wouldn't go so far as to blame him for what other dwarves, long dead had done?

Gimli felt a flash of guilt, echoed back to him in Narvi's words from a previous age. King Thranduil, Legolas' father, had imprisoned Gimli's own father, and his companions, because of the memory of Doriath, distrustful of dwarves in his kingdom. And Thorin, he knew, had refused to tell Thranduil why they were in Mirkwood because of Doriath – he had judged Thranduil because of Thingol's greed.

He himself had condemned Legolas because of his father's actions. Legolas had done nothing to him, other than being a bit superior; had been a true companion. Perhaps, here among the trees of Lothlorien, he would become a friend.

After all, Doriath and Nogrod had fallen into the sea long ago.

While Narvi had been thinking all this, Celebrimbor had risen from the bench, and was now facing off with his guest.

"Lord Celeborn," his elf was saying politely, "I would ask that you treat my guest with the respect due to an emissary of Khazad-dum and to my friend. Neither Narvi nor any of his people played a part in the destruction of your home. The destruction of Doriath, grievous as it was, is hardly the fault of all dwarves."

"I shall never forget the destruction that the greed of the dwarves has stirred. And you too, Celebrimbor, son of Curufin, should remember that – dealings with dwarves bring only loss and despair."

With that warning, Celeborn swept away from the gardens. Silence reigned for a moment in the garden – even the crickets had ceased their orchestration. Then, in one graceful movement, Galadriel rose, and said gently,

"With your pardon, my friends, I shall return to my rooms for this evening. I trust that I shall see you both in the morning." With that she was gone, a gleam of moonlight moving out of the garden.

The moment was completely still; it was almost as if the participants were paintings on the wall, or sculpted from stone. Narvi was still sitting on the bench – unsure what to say in response to Celeborn's words. Celebrimbor was standing not far away, his back to Narvi, his shoulders tense.

Narvi found that concern for his elf was overpowering his anger at Celeborn's words. His elf had been hurt by the words – what did it matter what they said about him? He rose, crossed over to Celebrimbor, and, laying his hand on the elf's arm, said kindly,

"Pay him no mind, my friend, his words were spoken in grief only." Again, there was a strange thrill as his hand touched the elf; what could it mean?

Celebrimbor turned around, and kneeling so that he was face to face with Narvi, held Narvi's hands in his own. The elf's grey eyes gazed searchingly into Narvi's brown ones, not saying anything.

Narvi felt his heart rate increasing under the elf's searching gaze. His mouth was suddenly dry, he wished his friend would say something, anything – he could not ever recall being as aware of someone, as aware of everything around him. Why didn't the elf speak?

Finally, Celebrimbor spoke. "I hope, my friend, that you were not offended by his words. I marvel that you are so understanding. It is grievous that the destruction of Doriath must govern all relations between our peoples."

Almost before he realized what he was doing, Narvi had leaned over and kissed the elf's forehead. He had meant it to be a comforting gesture, but his lips felt on fire. He withdrew quickly.

"Not all relations, my friend." He could hardly bear to look Celebrimbor in the eyes. "I shall turn in now," he finished. "I will see you in the morning – we still have a gate to finish." And turning quickly, he walked back towards the hall.