Chapter Text
"Gimli," Legolas whispered, smiling up at his dwarf for the first time, gasping in wonder at what he saw.
Red in his hair, his eyes wide in alarm, Gimli stood strong as Legolas had first known him--hale, hearty, a dwarf in his prime.
He was beautiful, and Legolas could not keep the tears back any longer.
"You daft elf. Was the company of your own kin truly so uninteresting that you sought me out in Mahal's own halls? How many worlds did you have to cross to come here?" Gimli said softly.
Legolas laughed for the first time since the funeral, tossing his golden head back and letting the tears fall from his cheeks.
"Just a mountain," said Legolas. "It was not much of a journey, in truth, but it felt so much longer without you at my back or at my side."
Gimli looked down sorrowfully. " I asked you to live," he said.
"Without the life of me, I cannot," said Legolas, "for he has passed somewhere I cannot follow."
"I... you are truly a stubborn elf," Gimli grumbled. "And a dramatic one at that. For what is your life but your own? Was it not your elvish soul that yearned for this place?"
"Aye, Valinor has soothed me in ways that Endor would have not. But still, my heart calls for the one I cannot live without, and so I came to speak to him of what my heart says, for I know that even in all our years together he still does not understand much of what I say."
"That is because you speak too much, and your words are too flowery. Speak plainly to me," said Gimli, his voice quavering.
Legolas knelt, so that his eyes were at level with Gimli's, and through tears and a great smile, he said, "I love you, Gimli son of Gloin, as the moon loves the sun. I love you with all of myself, as I will never love another. And so afeared was I that it would sunder us, I did not speak of my love until death itself brought to me that I was a fool to wait for forever. You bade me live, and live I do, if only to stay here by your side forever."
Gimli was silent, standing there with his hands folded before him, a low rumble of thought coming from beneath his beard.
"You called me by name, and I answered."
"I spoke to your father--the father of all your kin--and he granted me the greatest of kindnesses. And I remembered the name you spoke to me on my deathbed, and thank all the Valar that you came," said Legolas, rife with uncertainty. "And if... if you wish me to leave... I shall not linger. You deserve peace. Even if it means I must leave you be, I will do everything in my power to--"
"You are a fool!" Gimli said, his voice like thunder in the dark. "An utter fool! To give your heart to me? Me? And yet, we are both fools in that regard."
"What?"
"My true name is known to no one," said Gimli quietly. "Not even my own father. Mahal whispered it to my mother when she first slept with me at her teat, and she whispered it to me and I have never forgotten it, though by now even she has already. You, with your clear elven memory, I knew you would keep it with you forever. I knew that. And I thought it would be a fine consolation for my heart, which I thought I could not ask you to keep. Ai, Legolas, how wrong I was!"
Gimli reached out then, and Legolas feared that what had happened to him would happen to his dwarf.
It did not.
But in the darkness outside the gate, Gimli's outstretched arms seemed less, somehow, like wisps forming the idea of a dwarf, but not the form, and when Gimli's hands meant to touch Legolas' face, Legolas felt nothing.
"So then," Gimli said lowly, his voice shaking with despair. "Finally, after so many years, I find strength in my hands once more, and yet by some great cruelty, I cannot touch you with them any longer."
Legolas shook his head, looking down at the insubstantial hand and leaning toward it, as if it were truly there to touch, and Gimli gestured in a chill caress that was like an ill wind against Legolas' cheek. Still, though all he could feel was the cold of death, his heart warmed more than it had in years.
For here was Gimli! Here was his beloved, and here he was, beloved also to the dwarf, and here they stood together and apart. This, Legolas could endure. In this, he felt hope.
"Come," said Legolas. "Come with me."
"I cannot. I cannot leave these halls. I cannot leave the mansions of Aulë, lest my spirit be unmade," said Gimli.
"I do not mean to leave this place without you," said Legolas softly. "So I shall not."
"Don't..."
"Never shall I be parted from you again. Guren min gaim lín, meleth e-guilen. If I must spend all my days here, I would rather spend them by your side, in the dark, than in the light alone."
"Then you are a greater fool than I had ever imagined. That I should come to love such an elf! Ah, Mahal laughs."
"I think he would," Legolas laughed in turn, and deeply he sighed. He knew he should be saddened, for though he stood by his love, he could not touch him, and might never do so again. And yet here they laughed, and here they stood together, and Gimli's words and voice, strong as a striking hammer, were as present as his touch was not. Ah, but Legolas was too happy to be sad.
"Come then," said Gimli, as he crossed the gate into the darkness to stand beside Legolas without the division.
"What do you--"
"Do Mahal's halls not encompass this place? Does he not reside in not one room alone, but in many? If we are to be together, surely you would not languish in the dark forever."
"I--"
"Aye, you indeed. Come on," said Gimli with exasperated fondness, and he reached out for Legolas' hand before hesitating, realizing that he could not touch him anyway. It was so strange that that was their new truth, and Legolas leaned over to Gimli to ghost a kiss against the insubstantial lips. The cold, he found, was better than nothing, for he knew in his heart that though they did not touch as they once did, Gimli felt the fire in his chest as he did, all the same, at the gesture.
They strode out from whence Legolas came, and on they walked, Gimli marveling at the mansions he had never seen before now, until they found the front steps.
"It is beautiful," he said, looking out at the wood.
"More so now with you at my side."
"We will live like this, until the end of time. Until the last battle. We will live as wraiths to each other, nothing more than a fraction of ourselves."
"Still," said Legolas warmly. "I would rather have your cold embrace, than the cold memory of your passing. I would rather have you here with me, than far away, where I cannot follow. For in all this, we love one another, and that is a balm to whatever little pains we must endure to be together."
Gimli smiled, and held Legolas' hand, as best he could.
And they stood there, for a very long time, reflecting the figures of the Valar who stood at the bronze doors of their home, silently jubilant at the love that would come to grow before them.
There were tales, then, long thereafter, of Legolas, now of Valmar, steward of Yavanna, who lived in the halls of Aulë himself.
There were tales of Gimli, son of Gloin, hero of Endor, leaving the halls of his kin to tend to Yavanna's crop in ways no other dwarf had ever done in life or death.
There were tales of elf and dwarf, who loved as few other have loved in their lifetime--long after the dwarf's lifetime had ended.
There were tales of two figures at the foot of the steps, of two lying in the grass among Yavanna's trees, of feasting with visitors in the mansions, of telling tales of great ages in Arda and of the War of the Ring, and of a count of orcs and a contest amidst laughter, of tending to Yavanna's gardens, of standing together in the silence of love that speaks great volumes, of laboring over Aulë's forges over the long waiting seasons.
And soon, or much, much, later, there will be tales of the world being made anew, and of elf and dwarf reunited once more in their first true embrace in long millennia.
One day.