Gimli's guffaw reverberated throughout the inn, drifted out the window on a breeze, and pulled Legolas away from his perch on a stack of dry hay bales. All too interested in joining the merrymaking, he refrained from using the door, instead slipping in through one wide, glassless window. As he got closer, he could hear Merry and Pippin excitedly adding on to one another's sentences, spurring Gimli and the other two hobbits on to laugh louder. Soon, the dining area came into view.
All at once everything went out in a hush, as a man stood abruptly from his table across the room and removed his cloak. He said over the dying laughter, "You would not find the heart to laugh if your home was sullied by disrespectful dreck such as yourselves."
"Dreck?" Pippin questioned the air. Merry grabbed his hand and pulled him closer over the bench.
"What's that you say?" Gimli grunted, setting down his drink. "I'm quite certain this is an inn; one open to all travelers."
The man prowled closer, clenching his leather-clad fists. "It is, but such bans don't exist where there is no prudent need for them. If I had my way, this inn would be for the race of Men only."
Gimli hurried to his feet, raising his fists to the man. "Think you're better than the rest of us, do you? How about we go a round and see who comes out on top!"
The man subtly reached behind his back, slipping something from his waistband. Legolas sprang into action, darting across the room.
Just as the man's arm went to swing, it was halted in mid-air by Legolas' deceptively strong hand. The elf's grip was enough to cut off circulation, had the man not been wearing gauntlets.
With Legolas holding up the fight, everyone could see the dagger in the man's hand.
"It would serve you well not to lay a hand on that which is not yours," Legolas warned coolly, and peeled the dagger from the man's fist. He made sure to pocket it on himself, lest Gimli borrow it for foolish use in the heat of the moment.
"He is yours then, elf?" The man's lip curled in disgust.
"He is my mate. I do not recommend harming an elf's mate. It will bring nothing but regret." He glanced at Gimli, seeing the shock on his face. "And quite a lot of pain," he added.
The man snarled, raising his other hand to strike Legolas, but a tall woman in black clothes stomped into the room. "You," she said, pointing at the man. "Menace. I told you not to haunt my inn." She strode to grab his cloak, then tugged him away from Legolas, and shoved him out the door.
A minute later, she stomped back in to apologize for the "inconvenience". Legolas thought he would prefer an arrest over an apology, but he was consoled by the knowledge that they would be off by the following morning, leaving the sleepy village behind.
After she left to go be stressed and stompy elsewhere, the group broke up into their usual pairings. Pippin and Merry went off in search of Aragorn, while Sam and Frodo headed for the nearby stream. Gimli went back to his shared cabin with Legolas, the elf trailing behind him. He knew the dwarf had something to say.
Their cabin was a large cube carved of light gray stone. Ivy dressed the outside, spilling over the windows to act as lace curtains. There were two beds, a pair of desks and drawers, and a fire place. It was one of the better inns they had found.
Legolas followed Gimli into the room, saying "I can hear my father turning in his grave," trying to break the tension.
Gimli looked at him oddly, baffled. "Your father's still alive!"
Legolas replied with a straight face, "He'll wish otherwise when he hears of this."
"I'll say. My father has a particular distaste for the elves. He'll not take this well." Gimli leaned against the wall. "What must be done to seal our partnership?"
"You are mine then?" Legolas asked in his velvet voice.
"Not if you deflect my question. And it is you who would be mine," he growled.
Legolas grinned, delighted that Gimli had not refused him. He answered, "There is no ceremony that must take place, though there are choices that exist. Elves prefer to pledge themselves to their beloved publicly, to stake their clam and ward off the interests of others."
Gimli hummed. "We dwarves have marriages, but we consider true bonding to be of the heart, and the body."
"Not that I am opposed to this," Legolas said. "But I am no dwarf."
"Clearly not." Gimli harrumphed. "Though a variation in species has not stopped dwarves from bonding before. My uncle Bofur bonded to a hobbit, of all creatures, and he is the happiest dwarf I've ever laid eyes on."
"So it is not a ritual," Legolas commented.
"No, but pledging yourself fully to another, in body and soul, is deeply valued..." he trailed off. "And most dwarves only bond once. It is a careful choice."
Legolas watched Gimli's face as he parsed out what the dwarf was implying. Once he realized, he stood before the other. Gently, he brushed away a stray strand of hair on Gimli's forehead, and knelt down. Not one to shy away, Gimli held his gaze—something they each were quite skilled at, (to the point that Aragorn would snort at their conspicuousness, and the hobbits would snicker and lean together to gossip.)
Legolas carefully took Gimli's thick neck in his hands, leaned forward, and pressed a lingering kiss to the dwarf's forehead. "In all my years, I have never loved another as I have loved you, Gimli, son of Gloin."
Eye-contact absent, Gimli rumbled an obvious noise of embarrassment and surprise. "Lousy elves," he grumbled. Then he said seriously, "But I am a dwarf."
Legolas' lips quirked up in a smile. "As if you would ever allow me to forget."
Gimli huffed.
"But our differences have not hardened my heart in some time," Legolas said. "I would like to pledge myself to you."
Gimli pursed his lips, then nodded once, decisively. He pressed forward, taking Legolas' jaw in his hands and laying a kiss upon his lips.
Long into the late afternoon, they were not seen by the rest of the Fellowship. But they were not bitter toward Legolas and Gimli. In fact, they were relieved.
It was about damn time.