Gigolas (Legolas/Gimli) One Shots Book

Braids

Author: CaptainLeBubbles
Summary: Different cultures place value on different things. Legolas learns what braiding means to Dwarves.

1.
It happened first after they left Lorien. Gimli approached Legolas with a thick wooden comb in hand and a faint pink tinge to his cheeks and said, "Ah, Legolas? If you could help me a bit..." Then he'd coughed once, slightly embarrassed, and muttered something about not being able to see the back of his own head and needing help redoing the braid his hair was set in. The tips of Legolas's ears had colored a bit at that, but he'd nodded, and Gimli had taken a seat between his knees, his head tilted forward while Legolas combed out the tangles that had accumulated since they left Rivendell, re-plaiting the hair into a single long, neat braid that fell down his back. When it was done, he'd taken the comb and muttered a thanks before stalking off to... actually, Legolas wasn't sure where he'd gone, because he'd felt the sudden need to be elsewhere himself. It had taken all of his self-control to focus on simply combing and braiding Gimli's hair, and not to run his fingers through it the way he wanted to. Gimli's hair was soft, woolly and slightly coarse to touch; it was nothing like the fine silk of Elven hair and he found he wanted to touch it a lot more.

2.
The second time it happened was after Helm's Deep. Gimli's hair had become matted with blood, both from his own head wound and the blood of his enemies, and he'd had to pull out all of his braids to wash it. Legolas had sat watching him for several minutes while he tried to wet the whole of it in the basin he'd been given, but the angle was awkward, and he was trying to avoid his injury. Seeing an excuse, Legolas had come over and batted his hands away.

"Let me help," he said. For a second, Gimli had flushed a bit, but then he nodded once. Legolas sat straddled on the bench, his knees on either side of the basin, and bid Gimli to lean back so Legolas could get at all of his hair. He had taken his time, then, working through Gimli's hair bit by bit, ensuring that none of the matted blood remained. Once it was clean, or as clean as it could get with their limited supply of water, he'd indulged himself, playing with Gimli's hair a bit while he wrung out as much of the water as he could. Eventually, though, Gimli had passed him the many rings and ties that held his hair in place and quietly asked Legolas to restore his habitual braid.

3.
The third time was back at Hornburg, while they stopped to rest before marching on. Gimli had approached him wordlessly, the wooden comb in hand, and Legolas had taken it just as silently. He made quick work of the braid; there was little time, but it gave him a few minutes pleasure to take Gimli's hair in his hands again, and it eased some of the tension he'd felt for the past few days.

Once, he looked up and saw the sons of Elrond watching him very curiously, but they said nothing and so he offered no explanation.

4.
The fourth, fifth, and sixth times happened over the course of the next few days, while they passed through the Paths of the Dead and then down the river to Minas Tirith to join the battle. Each time held the same rushed feeling, as they had no time, but each time he also came away feeling a brief loss of tension and anxiety. He wondered if Gimli knew just how Elves felt about grooming and hair, but he doubted it; Gimli would have never asked what he had of Galadriel if he knew exactly what it was he'd asked. No, he probably just saw it as a quicker, more convenient way to have his hair braided than attempting it himself, and Legolas was in no hurry to correct that assumption if it meant he could continue to feel those soft strands between his fingers.

5.
With Minas Tirith and preparing for the march to the Black Gates came a chance for a proper wash in a proper tub. Legolas unwound the plaits from his own hair and let it drift in the water for a while before washing it; it was glorious, to feel so clean again. While he lathered the soap into his hair, he wondered idly what it would feel like to have Gimli's fingers in his hair for a change. Gimli's fingers were shorter than his, rougher, calloused from years working in mines and at forges, but he knew they must be capable of fine precision, if his axes were any indication (made by himself, he'd said, when Legolas had admired them back in Lothlorien), and exceedingly gentle when necessary.