Gimli the Dwarf was a colourful character, as Maude discovered one morning on a pleasant stroll around Rivendell. She had encountered him by a fountain, thickly bearded and heavily clad in layers she thought to be impractical, as though he expected to be fighting a war in the House of Elrond; which may not have been too great a stretch of the imagination, given the hostility between his kin and the visiting Elves of Mirkwood. Irrespective of that animosity, he greeted her warmly when she approached, and introduced himself with a low bow from the waist.
With Gandalf only a short way away, he was able to regale her with tales and Dwarven culture whilst holding her undivided attention. He told her of his home, the Lonely Mountain, which had been razed by a dragon some decades ago, and how his father had been member to the party that had reclaimed it—alongside Bilbo Baggins, no less; then of how this had impacted his decision to aid the Fellowship on their forthcoming quest, as well as a few disdainful mutterings of Wood-Elves (which Maude believed to have been a subtle jibe at Legolas). In spite of this, he spoke proudly of Lord Elrond and what a munificent host he had been, followed by another small jibe at the Wood-Elves about honour.
Maude was quite nearly baffled by the caprice of his feelings, yet amused all the same, and found herself developing a certain fondness for Dwarves as the conversation drew on. She became enamoured by the thought of Erebor as he described it, and spent a great deal of time admiring the fine Dwarven craftsmanship that his axe displayed.
Her genuine interest in his weaponry attracted the attention of the other guests from the Lonely Mountain, who further began explaining and demonstrating the craft, as well as the Dwarven penchant for precious stones and metals.
This exhibition may have continued for much longer had her company not been called away on a matter of business, and she found herself alone by the fountain, listening to the placid sounds of water rushing against water. Sighing, she traced her finger across the warm surface, and watched the ripples flow in labyrinthine patterns around the marble pool.
"Are you well, Lady Maude?"
The stealth of Glorfindel's appearance startled Maude out of her action, so that her hand snatched back at a pace which sprayed her face with droplets from the fountain. She closed her eyes, partly to avoid the discomfort of unsought water in her cornea and partly out of sheer embarrassment, and allowed her hands to fall down to her lap in defeat. When she did open them again, Glorfindel was barely smiling yet visibly amused, and she gave a small nod to answer his question.
"Your shoulder?"
She nodded again, then gave it a pat for good measure. Though her arm was still not quite as mobile as she would have liked, the healer's treatment had worked wonders, and she had been assured that a full recovery in the next couple of days was indubitable.
"I am gladdened to see you in good health," he said kindly. "I have not had the chance to speak with you since the unfortunate incident at the Ford. Although, I was rather hoping that you would be able to speak with me, also."
"Amin … quen," she replied, but the words sounded ridiculous falling from her own mouth. Here I am, slaughtering this poor elf's mother tongue, she thought, beginning to fidget.
Glorfindel merely continued to watch her, the humour still alight in his eyes, then after a brief silence he said, "We are all intrigued to know more of this world from which you departed;" he extended a hand toward her, and helped her to her feet when she took it; "and when you have lived for as long as I, Lady Maude, that intrigue becomes a significant priority. I have seen many things, yet not once have I happened upon another world, nor any sign of one."
Maude glanced at his youthful face and began to walk alongside him. It was known to her, by that point, that Elves lived for a very long time, though precisely how long she could not fathom. They all seemed to carry the wisdom of an age—or several—with their bearings, but she had to admit that Glorfindel's presence surpassed many. His physicality was compelling, and one evening she had heard Frodo tell Sam of how he had frightened the Black Riders, how he had shone like terrifying beacon of white light as a flood swept them downstream; and so she was disappointed that she had been unable to match his pace during the pursuit of the Ringwraiths.
"Is it true that you are a dancer?" he asked suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts.
Despite that she would have liked to tell him otherwise, she felt obligated to reply truthfully, and gave a nod so slight and hasty that if it were not for his Elven perception he might not have noticed.
"Have I embarrassed you, my lady?" He cast his eyes in her direction, and held his hands behind his back. "There is no shame in it. Adept as we are at war, we much prefer the leisures of peace. There are few who would respect you more for it than we here in Imladris."
Maude absently wondered what an elf would imagine the dancing of her world to be like. Mechanical, or boorish? A series of messy, indistinct movements forced from an uncoordinated body, propelling themselves around a space in the crude manner of an addled drunk? Ballet was no such thing, but she had seen his kind in all of their grace and beauty, and had to question how it would compare. If an elf were to replicate the choreography of mortal men, its creators would appear nothing short of maladroit by relation; and to have one of their greatest accomplishments overshadowed by imitation was a notion devastating to Maude.
"You seem troubled," said Glorfindel, gleaning her diverted attention for a second time. "It is a dangerous thing, to remain silent when one's thoughts grow dark and doleful. To allow that darkness to fester within is to allow it to consume you entirely, and there have been many great children of Men to fall by virtue of it."
Let's not get carried away now, Aesop, said a pointed voice in her mind, even if similar philosophies did exist within the parameters of her own world. It was what counsellors and therapists enjoyed discussing, the blackening of the mortal mind through suppression of their feelings. Although, Maude couldn't see how this applied to her, as in spite of those things which worried her, they were hardly all-consuming. She was not fraught with anxiety or sadness, undeterred by the horrors that Middle-earth surely had in store, and every niggling thought which crept into her mind ebbed away from it in a matter of seconds. Perhaps it were no more than the elf at her side and his emanant aura of calm—he had interrupted her intrinsic distress three times in the last few minutes alone, after all.
"Tell me of your homeland," he prompted, coaxing the number to four.
"Rangwa?" came her reply, shadowed by a frown of confusion.
"No," he told her, shaking his head. "But why must a lack of understanding mean that I should not hear it?"
And so Maude did tell him.
It was not until the one-sided conversation had ended and she had returned to her room that she realised how right Glorfindel had been. Simply relaying the information she hadn't had the opportunity to speak of since arriving in Middle-earth had relieved an enormous burden; each sentence was another stone from her shoulders, until there was naught but abundant elation left.
Those shoulders no longer inhibited her dance.
She danced throughout the entire afternoon, eventually joined by the hobbits, who taught her the dances of the Shire-folk, all spinning and footwork. They invited her out to the gardens as dusk began to fall, where they danced some more and caught the interest of passers-by; and soon they found themselves coalescing with a group of Gondorians who had been enjoying the Elven wine, as well as a few familiars, such as Ingiel and the red-headed elf who had argued with the dwarf at breakfast the day before.
It was that evening when Maude also decided to commission the help of Ingiel to create a pair of pointe shoes, believing that there would be none better than an elf to do so. Ingiel could not fully comprehend the request, but under Maude's careful instruction collected the materials and aided the composition of the shoes. The end result was a pair so carefully and beautifully crafted that Maude was incapable of doing anything other than gape at them, whilst the bemused Ingiel wondered why on earth a dancer would be required to wear such a queer manner of shoe.
The fabric of the shoe was neither satin nor silk, yet more magnificent than either could ever hope to be. In the moonlight that shone through the window, it almost seemed glimmer like a rose candle flame. Beneath it was a box formed by a strange substance that Maude had not seen before, sturdy but not uncomfortable. The same could be said of the shank, which left her with a feeling of optimism that the shoes could endure both a soft and onerous style of dance. Ingiel had lastly secured the ribbons, again under Maude's direction of where the appropriate place to attach them would be in context of her own feet.
When Ingiel had left her alone that night, Maude danced as though the world was ending; and in a way, it was, for she would soon be travelling across this perilous realm without the land or time for practice. Out on the balcony, in the hold of the breeze, her pirouettes and grand allegros were as clean as they had ever been. Rivendell nurtured her talent, and she could feel the pleasant pressure of the place building within her, collapsing the intangible barrier between Middle-earth and planet Earth, and for a moment there was only one world—a world which she was proud and positively jubilant to be a part of.
This beatific energy carried her to a sweet sleep at the zenith of night, in which she dreamt of swans on a lake, singing as she danced her boat across the water.
Amin ... quen - I ... speak
Rangwa? - Understand?
A/N: I'm beginning to get frustrated with my capitalisation of Elves/Dwarves/Hobbits/Men. It seems grammatically correct to only capitalise when you're discussing the race as a whole, but I'm easily thrown off and the more I re-read what I've written, the more my mind becomes likened to an internal key smash.
One thing I'd like to say about Gimli is that I want him to have a fair amount of book!verse and film!verse in his character, because he was terribly entertaining in the films but there didn't seem to be enough emphasis on how noble and great a fighter that he was. I don't want him to be reduced to the comic relief of this story, as he's so much more than that.
WriteWithFeeling: Thank you so much for your review! I'm happy that you like Maude, because I'm enjoying writing her character! Hopefully, there'll be much more character development both before and after she leaves Rivendell.
Fan Fictional Authoress: You have no idea how grateful I am that you've reminded me about the Elvish translations—there was something bothering me for the longest time and I couldn't put my finger on what, but it was that! Each chapter now has its translations at the bottom. I'm also quite glad that Glorfindel is proving to be a somewhat popular choice, because I think I've subconsciously been gearing towards him; I thought it was very odd that I took the time to describe him and the effect that his presence had on Maude, but didn't with the other characters. Thank you again for your review!