Lgolas' pov

I say farewell to Greirr at the end of the hallway. We have had a pleasant enough evening, and I am contented enough but I am increasingly aware that our old relationship has been damaged by what happened down on the canal and in its aftermath.

Greirr has unfortunately been made aware of the fact that I am less mature than he is and although he is trying not to treat me differently it is inevitable that he has begun to do so, just as Estel did all those years ago. Greirr has become more wary and less inclined to indulge in what Gimli would no doubt call 'mischief'. It is disheartening, but only to be expected I suppose. Tonight he thought it unwise for me to have a third tankard of ale, and my protests that elves have a very high tolerance to alcohol went unheeded, so I am on my way back to Gimli's quarters earlier than expected.

As I pass through the door I see that Gimli's leather tabard is hanging on its customary hook. I am surprised to see it there, for over the last few nights he has been out until quite late. It is quite strange really, for normally Gimli is the most gregarious of characters but he has become almost secretive, unwilling to share with me what he is doing or where he goes. What surprises me is that no one else seems to be curious over his absences and I am beginning to suspect that everyone other than me knows where he goes and why.

It is very frustrating, and I am wondering why I am being kept in ignorance. I hope that it does not indicate a loss of trust between my dwarven family and myself. Of course it should not come as a surprise if it is, given the debacle of the broken rafts but I thought I had been forgiven for that. Perhaps I am forgiven but it is not forgotten and I will have to work at regaining trust.

I spent several days helping to rebuild the rafts although I was only allowed to do light work since Gimli and Mam were worried about my health at least that is what I was told at the time. Thinking about it now mayhap it was the first indication that I am no longer considered responsible enough to be given work that is important. Perhaps it is time to ask a question or two of my guardian.

Intent on doing that I enter the main room only to find that the only one present is Mam who is working on a piece of sewing. She looks up and smiles as I enter. Anxious as I am to speak to Gimli I wish her a good evening but move towards Gimli's bed chamber ignoring Mam's call to wait.

I push open the door surprising Gimli who snaps, "Mahal, lad, ye make all the noise of a herd of snails when ye come in. I am considering putting a bell around your neck!"

"I am sorry, Gimli. I should have knocked…" I begin shocked by my welcome.

"Nay lamb, there is no reason to be sorry. Ye just startled me is all," my dwarf says, but while I would like to believe him I have my doubts for Gimli looks quite put out, as if I am intruding. I hurry forward seeking reassurance but to my dismay he brushes my attempt at an embrace aside although he pats my cheek and suggests we go see what Mam is up to.

"All right then," I say allowing him to lead me out of his chamber, and back into the main room, but while I follow him meekly enough my heart is sinking for it is plain that something is very wrong between us. But when I ask what it is he says not a thing is amiss and that everything is just fine, though clearly it is not it is not even close to being fine.

Yet, when we sit down to eat the dinner Mam has prepared there is no hint of what it is that has caused the breach between us. I can only think that it is to do with what happened with the rafts. What else is there?

Whatever it is Gimli seems determined not to give any indication. He smiles and laughs, draws Mam into our conversation and gives me no clue as to what I have done to forfeit his regard. He is trying to hide his true feelings I am certain, but how am I to find out the truth?

Instead, Gimli pretends that all is well. He teases and jokes with me and I, desperate to please, do my best to respond. When he suggests I join him to check on the locks tomorrow I immediately say that I am happy to do so, and when he warns that I am not to do anything 'daft' while we are together, I promise I will do nothing that will cause him any unease.

Mam apparently feeling the tension between us does her best to ease the situation and even jokes that I am not to try diving off the top lock into the ones below.

It is a feat that I might well have wished to try out but one look at Gimli's expression tells me that it would be unwise to say so. I do however risk a grin and Gimli growls at me not to try anything of the sort.

It is so comforting to hear his old scolding tone that I actually laugh and promise not to do anything foolish.

"Hmm, that will be a first!" my dwarf grumbles but I do not care for it is so good to see him smile at me.

"Promise me that ye will not even think about it," he demands, "Mam should not have even thought of putting such thoughts into that flighty head of yours."

He looks at his mother who merely chuckles in response.

Things suddenly seem to be back to normal and I risk teasing in return by batting my eye lashes at him and promising not to try it … then add sotto voice,

"At least not while you are watching."

Gimli growls and flicks my ear with his finger and we all laugh. But then my eye is caught by a growing haze of red on Gimli's shirt.

Blood!

"Gimli you are bleeding!"

I leap up intending to go to his side but he puts out a hand to prevent me touching him, "Tis nothing Lamb" he tells me,

"But I can see the blood," I cry, "Let me at least look at your wounds."

"There is no need. It is nothing more than a graze,"

Gimli seems intent on dismissing my concerns but I am having nothing to do with it. I begin to rise, intent on going with him to deal with whatever wounds he has sustained but he waves a hand at me.

Still I object, "But Gimli …"

My dwarf looks down at the spreading stain on his shirt front and can no longer deny the injury, but he still refuses my aid by saying "If there is anything that does need to be done Mam will see to it."

That simple statement is all that I need to hear to tell me that something is very much amiss between Gimli and me for we have ever cared for each other's wounds. I watch helplessly as he stands and moves off into his chamber. Mam seems to sense my distress for she pats my shoulder as she follows her son whispering that all will be well and I should not worry but what else can I do?

I stare down at my dinner plate and push it to one side. I hear the murmur of soft voices drifting out of Gimli's rooms. Good manners decree I should not attempt to listen but I cannot help myself but even listening intently I only catch part of the conversation. Mam seems to be arguing that Gimli should tell me what is happening for I hear her say,

"the lad is worried. Ye should speak with him"

Gimli appears not to agree, although he does add that I will know all soon enough. Now I am even more worried and confused. What will I know and why is it being kept a secret from me? Is Gimli unwell? Certainly the bleeding on his chest would seem to show this, although I have to admit to myself that the amount of blood did not indicate a large wound and Gimli was not wearing bandages when I saw him earlier. But severe injuries do not always come from wounds. I have seen small cuts turn poisonous; Orc blades often contain such things.

Now I almost laugh, for where will Gimli have come across an Orc blade in the last few weeks? He has been here working on the lock and canal system. I am becoming far too fanciful for my own good. The door opens and I scuttle back to the table as Mam enters.

"Do not look so worried child," she chides, "Gimli is well; he will be out in a moment after he has changed his shirt. Come help me clear these dishes."

I do as I am bid, stacking plates and then pumping water so that she can begin washing the pots but I cannot resist asking as I do so for an explanation as to what is wrong.

Vonild turns to me patting my cheek. "Do not fret so lambkin. It was just a graze nothing serious."

"You are certain?"

"I would not tell you so otherwise."

I am relieved about that but my other concerns remain and as Mam looks at me closely she obviously sees further questions and concerns in my face. Sighing she takes the cloth from my hands and bids me come and sit beside her by the hearth. I settle on a stool by her side and she takes both of my hands in hers.

"Now you listen to me lambkin. There is naught amiss with Gimli, nor- for I can see in your eyes ye think it- is there anything for you to concern yourself with over your relationship with my son."

"But …"

"Hush child. Gimli loves ye as his own. His absences these last nights are nothing to do with ye, or maybe everything to do with ye," she changes her mind but smiles at me in such a manner that my heart is eased a little more, even though I still do not understand what is going on.

"He is not still angry with me over the locks?"

"Nay, ye and Greirr paid the price for your naughtiness and we do not hold grudges in this family."

I hesitate and then decide this is my best opportunity to ask the questions that have been plaguing me for some time.

"Perhaps he is tired of having me here underfoot."

Mam laughs, "That he will never be. I reckon if he could have ye by his side all the time, that would suit my Gimli best of all. He likes to have ye where he can see ye and watch over ye as he should."

"Mayhap it is that he is tired of me altogether."

"Why ever would ye think such a thing?" Mam is clearly shocked.

I shrug, but she is having none of that. Mam places a finger under my chin and raises my head, "Come now tell me. What is that is really worrying ye Lambkin? And do not try and prevaricate for ye know ye canna do it, youngling."

Youngling that word again! That is really at the heart of my misgivings over my relationship with my guardian: my eternal youth. And this latest business with Greirr has highlighted it once again. Dorbryn's son will soon become a respected adult. I will still be a child. How long will Gimli be prepared to go on rescuing me from my youthful follies?

I struggle to put my scattered fears into words, but finally manage it only for Mam to smile and take my hand again.

"Ye can no more help your heritage than I can deny mine lad, and Gimli would not wish ye to. He sees ye as the son of his heart, perhaps more than even ye know." Mam replies, her eyes softening, "Aye and perhaps it is time he proved it to ye."

I swing round to see Gimli standing in the doorway. He has clearly been there for some time listening to our conversation. I flush and drop my gaze too embarrassed to see what reaction my words might engender.

"Eh, Lamb, how could ye even begin to think I was tiring of ye?"

"I have caused you so much trouble, my sea longing, the debacle of the rafts, and then you were away so much I … I am sorry."

Gimli opens his arms and I go to him, careful not to put any pressure on his chest where the blood appeared earlier.

"Sorry? Ye foolish elfling you. It is as Mam says. Ye are the son of my heart and there is nothing and no one who can change that. Now, I can see that I have been at fault in keeping ye in the dark over where I have been going and ye have let it play on your mind and let doubt seep in again. I was going to wait a while longer. I wished to do this properly with all the family about us, but your wellbeing comes first, so sit ye down and listen."

Mam draws me back down onto the stool and takes my hand in hers squeezing it softly in reassurance.

Gimli takes up his place beside the fire and looking directly into my face.

"Ye know the tradition of tattooing in dwarven families."

I nod, for I have been privileged to see and have described to me the significance of each of the wondrous designs inked into Gimli's skin. He has even explained to me how each of the marks are made and how long it takes. The procedure is lengthy. Only so much of a design can be done at one sitting as the process can be uncomfortable and there is a need to guard against infection. Such markings are unknown in elven society but I know they are of great importance to my dwarven guardian.

"Aye, well it is our custom when a child is born, for the father to mark his skin with a special design to honor his newborn. It is usually done on the left side of the chest just over the heart."

My eyes go to Gimli's chest, the blood I saw earlier was on the left and above his heart but I cannot understand why that should be.

"Sometimes of course it is not possible to begin this process just after the birth, and it is not unknown for the tattoo to be added later in life. Thorûr, for instance, had a design done to acknowledge Greirr. It is a symbol if ye like that shows to the dwarven world that a surrogate father has made a lifelong commitment to his adopted child."

My eyes widen as the implication behind Gimli's words begins to sink in. I look up at him in wonderment.

"You?"

"I had hoped to wait until the design was completed and healed before I revealed it to ye, but perhaps it is better to do it now."

Gimli opens his shirt and I stare at the tattoo that is inked there but it is nothing like I expected for what I see emblazoned just above his heart, is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It is a unique fusion of dwarven and elven elements. The hilt of the dagger is in the shape of a leaf but its blade then goes down to the axe head, which is marked in runes and dwarfish motifs. Intertwined vines further join the two. My hand goes out to touch it but Mam tugs me back warning me that it can still be spoiled until the last of the inks dries and the scabs fall away.

"Gimli," I breathe, unable to say much more than, "it is beautiful but why?"

"Why?" My dwarf shakes his head at me. "Ye daft elf, are ye not the son of my heart? Have ye not been adopted by my kin? This inking just reaffirms all that, aye and more. This is as clear a signal I can give that you are my beloved child."

Tears leap to my eyes and I have to work very hard not to spring into Gimli's arms but of course I must not. But he seems to know how I am feeling for he smiles at me and then shakes his head as tears pour down my face mingling with my own smile.