Thank you to my reviewer! It's nice to know that at least one person is enjoying this. I hope I don't disappoint.
There were times when Gimli thought upon the topic of women. Gimli was no longer the young Dwarf he had once been, but was for all intents and purposes still well within the prime of his life. He supposed when times had been more peaceful, it had never crossed his fancy to take a wife. There was never a pressing urge, despite the scarcity of women in his race, to attach himself thus; he was a Dwarf with lofty standards and an especially stubborn nature, and refused to even consider the notion when an exemplary female had yet to show herself.
Yet not beyond his notice when the Lady Éowyn, graceful and proud, looked at Aragorn with shining eyes. Nor when the pink-cheeked maids dropped their milk pails, their hands suddenly clumsy when the Elf passed them with a courteous nod on his turns about the village. Gimli simply kept his observations to himself, reflecting quietly on the romantic business of mortal women. It was the poor, rough maidens in their homespun frocks that captured him the most. He could pick them out more easily now than he perhaps could have in another time; he could sift through the lusty, the curious, and the awe-struck to find those with something else in their eyes.
If they had only asked, he would have been able to offer his comfort by telling them of the virtue of idolization, the honor in devotion, and strength in reverence. With his hand over his heart he wished them peace, cradling the coiled strands that had given him his.