After a lovely four-day stay in Minas Tirith, Gimli and Malenfín were off again. They had a long journey to the realm of Thranduil before them, and had mixed reactions about the destination; Malenfín, of course, being excited beyond measure, and Gimli, of course, being anxious and just generally scuffing his feet trying to avoid it.

Eighteen days of hard riding ensued, after which Arod damn near collapsed at the border of Eryn Lasgalen. Malenfín was in a great hurry to see his grandfather, but Gimli gently suggested that he wait until the Dwarf and the Elven-King had at least attempted to make peace. If they went to the King together, Gimli declared with all conviction, he would be in the worst mood possible and would likely toss them both out without even hearing what Malenfín was dying to tell him.

Malenfín regretfully and reluctantly agreed. He knew Gimli had a point, so he chose to plop himself down beneath a tree and just wait, rather than dealing with the Elves that were surely just waiting for him to try to get too near the King's domain.

The Dwarf was just as regretful and reluctant as he approached the line of trees that led into the heart of the woods Thranduil reigned over.

Gimli hated these forests. The shadows of the towering trees were oppressive, although he had to admit they were less eerie now that they were at least no longer cast by the evil that once lurked here. It still gave him the chills, however, because he could almost already feel the hatred he was bound to encounter. It was as if the forest itself despised him and demanded that he turn back.

Then the real demand came. There was barely a rustle of leaves as Elves dropped expertly from the trees they had taken post in; indeed, he might not even have noticed their presence but for the shout one of them emitted. "HALT, Dwarf!"

Gimli whirled about, only to find himself at the business end of about fifty white-feathered arrows. He was a little exasperated, but not a bit surprised. Still, knowing full well that he was not only out-numbered, but dead on the spot if he made a move toward his throwing axe nestled in his belt, he froze, lifting both hands in a gesture of neutrality.

The Elven border sentinels that held the intimidating weapons all looked as if they had much they would like to say, and all of it spiteful, but the first to speak was standing almost directly behind him; so close, in fact, the breath expelled rustled the thick red hair lying against Gimli neck.

"You are not welcome here, son of Gloin."

Without even turning, Gimli knew exactly who had uttered the declaration of dismissal. He drew in a deep breath, knowing that arguing would do him no good; if there was even the slightest hint of disrespect in his tone, the Dwarf would be riddled with arrows. There were many ways he had decided would be heroic to die, but becoming an Elven pincushion was not one of them.

The silence that fell between the two was pregnant with shared annoyance.

"He would have welcomed me here, father of Legolas," Gimli replied testily, finally breaking the lull and turning to face the Elven-King.

Thranduil had not changed...just as nothing had changed between them.

He had the same long, golden hair that his son had come to be renowned for. And the similarities abruptly stopped there.

Legolas had always looked, and acted, youthful and carefree, but Thranduil appeared old and wise beyond his years. Gimli couldn't help but wonder if losing his only child had served to age the king further.

While Legolas had been deceptively waif-like, his father's build was powerful, conveying every ounce of his strength in every inch of his body.

The hue of his eyes, unlike the brilliant azure Legolas had possessed, rivaled the green of the deepest emeralds, and if not for the frosty glare Gimli had come to expect, they would have been absolutely staggering to behold.

Thranduil's stare had never failed to unnerve him. It cut through his enemies like the sterling blade of a knife.

"I came to see Legolas," Gimli said firmly, his gaze level and stern, when the silence that had fallen over them threatened to stretch uncomfortably long.

"Do not make me repeat myself, stunted one." The king's voice was glacial. "My patrol warned me of your approach, and I came to see to it personally that you are forcibly escorted from my land. You have no right to be here, and I want you to leave of your own accord before I either have you bodily dragged away or do something drastic that my son would never have approved of."

"You never allowed me the chance to tell my best friend goodbye," Gimli practically growled. "After everything Legolas and I went through together, I could not bid him farewell and pay my last respects to the one who had come to mean so much to me. I was refused invitation to the burial ceremony, and I have not once been able to visit his final resting place. Do you dare think that is forgivable? Yet here I am, pleading with all due deference, wanting to show Legolas that I still care about him and mourn his passing. And you deny me."

Thranduil's expression did not change; the steadiness of his stare did not falter.

"Your son would be ashamed."

The emerald eyes narrowed warningly.

Gimli sighed, trying a different approach. He knew how Legolas would disapprove of the two of them flinging insults back and forth. "This is not about you, or me, or our age-long grudge we hold against each other, my lord. This is about Legolas, and whether or not you accept me as Elf-friend, he did. He would be angered beyond reason if you forced me to turn back without fulfilling my harmless wish, and you know this as well as I.

"It was Legolas's dying wish that we reconcile, my lord. I would prefer to negotiate a truce in the absence of your well-armed border patrol."

"I will not do it for you, Master Dwarf."

"Then do it for him."

Thranduil gave a heavy sigh. After a moment, he looked to his guards, making a lowering gesture with one hand as he nodded. They reluctantly unstrung their bows and vanished back into the darkness.

There was a tense lull as neither Elf nor Dwarf knew how to begin. Finally, the King spoke. "I do not approve of your former friendship with my son. Had I known about it before Legolas passed, I would have warned him against it. Dwarves are nothing but trouble, and I thought I had warned him against your stubborn kind enough, but apparently not. Legolas never did know how to carefully guard his trust or listen to his instincts. He might have chosen his so-called 'friends' with more discretion and never wound up joining that ridiculous Fellowship. I wanted my son to leave others to do what needed to be done, and stay in his forest where he could safely guard his people rather than trying to save the greedy men and mulish Dwarves who had no respect for him or his kind anyway. His place was here in Eryn Lasgalen, with his people, not off parading to his death alongside races inferior to his."

Gimli bristled, choosing with much reluctant to ignore that. "Were it up to me, I would be perfectly content to let our grudge continue, as knowing that you hate me does not keep me awake at night, but for the sake of Legolas, I insist that we at least reach a truce, my lord. I know you loved your son, and I loved him too. Why can that not be enough for us to let this hatred die? We need to honor his wishes, and he wanted this more than anything. I can absolutely assure you of that. He wanted the father and friend he held dearest to him to be civil. I don't think it is too much to ask, especially after all that he did for us. I am certain he was a wonderful, obedient, loving son to you for millennia, and though I enjoyed his friendship for less than half a year, it was the best I have known in all my life. Is that not reason enough to do what he would wish for so fervently?"

Thranduil tried to appear nonchalant as he smoothed the length of golden hair lying against his back in a rather un-kingly gesture. Gimli realized almost instantaneously that he had seen Legolas exhibit this same annoyed mannerism on the rare occasion that he was unable to easily find a suitable retort to something snide the Dwarf tossed at him.

Gimli knew that he had to take advantage of the King's inability to find a hole in his logic. So he pressed on determinedly.

"I despised your son at first. He struck me as pompous and stupid, and I was incredibly misguided in thinking these things, but those were my first impressions and I readily admit that."

My father had led me to believe that all Elves were faint-of-heart pacifists whose superiority complexes led them to care nothing for the other races of this world. He declared that Elves in general, and you in particular, had a propensity for stubbornness and an inconceivable lack of common sense. Not to offend you, King Thranduil, but he described you as having the mental capacity of a garden-variety turnip."

"I tried very hard to apply these characteristics to your son, but they would not stick. Perhaps, granted, it was entirely due to the lack of incapacitation my father suffered at your hands, but I found that it was impossible to see Legolas in the same light that my father Gloin saw you so long ago. He did not fit the Elven mold that had been offered to me.

"Therefore, try as I might --and believe me, I tried impossibly hard-- I could not bring myself to keep hating Legolas. He was too admirable, damn him, and much as I wanted to be stubborn and nurse forever my negative feelings toward him, I was helpless to resist his amazing spirit. He got under my skin, even though I fought harder than I ever did as a warrior to keep that from happening. There was a time that I probably wished him dead, and I am more ashamed to admit that than you could ever imagine, King Thranduil, but now that he is gone, I miss him every day. I would have died in his place, had I been given the chance, and you can wager your crown on it. I loved him dearly, and I know you did as well. I acknowledge that you were his beloved father, and that you were a good father to him. Why can you not acknowledge that I was his beloved friend, and that I was a good friend to him?"

"Your father was nothing but a nuisance," the King mumbled, unwilling to admit that the Dwarf had a very good point…well, several good points. "Nothing but a thick-headed Dwarven nuisance."

"He still is," Gimli said, barely able to hide an ironic smile when Thranduil rolled his eyes. "However, I am not my father. I am the best friend of your late child. Why can you not see the difference?"

"There is no difference. A Dwarf is a Dwarf."

"And an Elf is an Elf, by your logic, and I thought much of Legolas the Elf-Prince, so why should I think less of you, Thranduil the Elf-King?" Gimli riposted, and he could have sworn he saw a muscle in the squared jaw jump ever so slightly, but it was enough to speak volumes.

It was completely obvious by this point that the regal Elf could think of no rebuttals. Relieved, Gimli delivered his last appeal to Thranduil's reason. "What good could possibly come of the two of us maintaining our hatred? It will only fester and deepen; it will not bring back your son or my friend. We should unite, and help each other. We both lost a loved one, Thranduil. We both did, and whether we are Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit, Man, or Istar, we grieve the same way. It's time to release our grudge. For Legolas."

Thranduil looked at the short creature, who stared up at him imploringly. His green eyes bore through Gimli for a long, uncomfortable moment; then the hard glint faded from them. His voice was softer as he said, "Aragorn came to me last summer and told me that you tried to save him. I have to thank you, Gimli, for trying."

"I failed," the Dwarf admitted miserably, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You offered him solace in his last moments. He was not alone. He had..." Thranduil paused, and then his face lit with a brilliant smile that almost caused Gimli to fall over backward in shock. "He had his best friend with him."

Gimli was beside himself for a moment, gaping at the Elven-King, who looked amused. He knew how much the Dwarf had never expected him to direct a smile his way. But he couldn't help it; Legolas had had good reason to care as much as he obviously had for Gimli. This stunted creature had a good heart under all that...well, "fur" was the word that came to mind.

"Go to him," Thranduil said, clasping Gimli's shoulder in a bewildering gesture of comfort. Apparently, Gimli decided, he was trying to see how much unexpected benevolence it would take to kill the Dwarf. "I know he misses you."

Gimli swallowed hard. "I doubt half as much as I miss him."

They knew that their shared loved for Legolas had played a significant part in easing their stubbornness. Perhaps their hatred could be blamed at least partly on a lack of common ground; but their adoration for the Elf they both still grieved for united them.

Legolas's death had not been in vain after all. It had brought together the two most dear to him. It was finally as he had wanted it, and it greatly relieved his father and friend to know that nothing in the world would have made him happier.

"Come with me," Thranduil bade, and Gimli followed as the Elf swept off through the dense shadows of the lush foliage in the direction of his son's final resting place.

It was deep in the forest; likely placed far from the border in case of attack by the few remaining Orcs who still insisted on trying to vex the Elves of the Greenwood, as those foul creatures would surely desecrate the memorial.

The Elven-King stopped after a long while, making a forward gesture with one graceful hand. "It is just beyond that line of trees, in the center of the clearing. Take your time, Master Dwarf."

"Thank you, my lord. I cannot wait to tell him all that has transpired in these two long years. He will love to hear all that we have accomplished in his memory after the War of the Ring. I appreciate you allowing me this moment with him."

Thranduil stared ahead, but his smile was clearly meant for Gimli. "I am sorry that it has been so long since you could see him. I see now why my son spoke so highly of his friend."

"It is forgiven, King Thranduil. I see now why my friend spoke so highly of his father."

The royal Elf's smile widened. "I will leave you and my son alone. I hope your moment with him makes up for lost time."

Gimli replied, dipping his chin slightly in respect, "It will, my lord. Thank you again. I am eternally grateful."

The golden Elf returned the gesture, then turned and began to walk away, but just as Gimli was about to do the same, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "Always know that from this day hence, Elvellon, you are welcome in the Greenwood, by order of the king."

The Dwarf laughed, not missing the naming of him as Elf-friend. "Legolas would be so pleased."

Thranduil nodded, then turned back and disappeared into the shadows.

Gimli took a deep breath, then set off in the direction that had been instructed. When he made his way past the mentioned line of trees, and his eyes fell upon the small tribute erected in the middle of the clearing, his throat constricted even as his soul filled with delight.

The mallorn tree, a tiny sapling when Gimli had last set eyes upon it as it was being gently uprooted and carefully carried out of Lothlórien, was now nearly thrice his size. The great branches dipped slightly downward, as if the tree itself bowed in reverence to the memorial beneath it.

To Gimli's amazement, as he stood there staring at the burial site, a ray of sunlight penetrated the heavy cover of leaves, drenching the final resting place of his dear friend with liquid gold. His heart warmed, and he laughed out loud. I know, Legolas, you foolish Elf. You just have to show off.

The relief of just being here, at long last, washed over him. Tears sprang to his eyes. He could feel Legolas here. It was a soothing balm to his aching soul.

The marker was simple, bearing only the Elf-Prince's name nestled inside the large, carved outline of a leaf and a couple of lines of Elvish runes, which Gimli surmised were meant to be private from those who were not of the Elves, but he took no offense.

He placed his palm gently on the cold stone slab. "Ah, old friend, it has been too long. I am sorry for that. It was not for lack of effort on my part, I assure you. Until this very day, your father braced his feet and held his grudge, and adamantly refused to grant me permission into his kingdom.

"You should be relieved to learn that we had a very long conversation, and have at last reached some semblance of a truce. You told me you loved us both, and wanted us to know why, but the truth is that it doesn't matter why. We are united in our gratitude for your love. You accepted us as equals, and that now is enough for us."

Fighting back an onslaught of tears, he took a break, allowing himself a moment to compose himself before he continued. He just reveled in being so near his friend for awhile. It was so comforting.

Finally, he was strong enough to go on. "I was rather surprised, and I think that goes without saying, when your son popped into my life less than a fortnight ago." He chuckled. "Only a creature as cryptic as an Elf could harbor such a secret."

Gimli's tone changed from playful to sober as he continued, "He's wonderful, Legolas. You deserve praise for fathering a spirit so incredible." He paused, then added, "And a good hard thump on the head by the butt of my axe for not telling me about him in the first place." He harrumphed. "Some friend."

For a moment, he was solemn and silent, his fingers were rewriting the name engraved into the stone, but suddenly he let out another laugh.

"I swear by my beard that I can hear you now, Legolas, reminding me that Arwen raised him, and that Elrond and Aragorn had a hand in it, so they should be the ones congratulated for how fine Malenfín turned out to be, but he is you. I insist that it is your spirit that shines brightest in him.

"I think about you all the time, Legolas, and miss you more than you'd believe I could. It's been over two years, and I still find myself expecting to have you bursting into my study and regaling me with tales of birds and trees and other such nonsense."

His fingers traced the leaf as he sighed shakily, and his rough voice cracked as he admitted, "I always wish you would. Someday, I intend to reunite with you. For now, you deserve your peace, Legolas and I hope that Valinor is everything you claimed it would be. I miss you, but I am glad to have known you for the time that I did; however short it may have been, it was worth every moment. It was worth the pain of losing you."

Taking a breath as deep as the pain in his soul, he smiled down at the marker. "It fills a void to be here, Legolas, and know you are listening. I am glad your father brought you here, to your home. I know it is what you would have wished; I was just hurt that I could not see you for so long. But I am here now, and I will return often. You have my word. By now, you should know the value of my word, Legolas. I have never broken a promise to you, and I certainly do not intend to begin doing so now. Farewell for now. Take care, my dear Elf."

With great effort, he rose to his feet and exited the clearing, knowing now that he had done what he had wanted. It gave him such peace; he wanted to laugh for the relief of it.