Lithil's Lullaby: Between Battles and Dreams | Legolas Fanfic

26 - Galadriel und Celeborn

Legolas' point of view:

»Don't be so uptight,« came the grating voice from beside me, forcing my gaze sharply toward Gimli.
»Don't be so uptight?!« My voice rang out, unrestrained, louder than I intended.
Gimli flinched slightly, as did the Hobbits and the two Men, though none dared intervene. Their silence hung in the air, leaving the tension to simmer between us.
Inside, I was ablaze, a rare occurrence. Apologies to the others would likely follow in the coming days - regret would creep in later - but not now. No, not yet. I was not done.
»It's your blasted Dwarvish stubbornness that landed us in this mess!« My words lashed out, and everything about Gimli grated on me at that moment. Every coarse hair on his stout body, every breath, every word.

Everything.

»A stubbornness that was justified,« he shot back, voice thick with self-satisfaction, the kind that slithered beneath the skin like a trail of slime. He was basking in the fact we were now allowed to proceed without blindfolds, as though he had won some great victory.
It made me want to tear his head off. Slowly. Painfully. A process to be savoured over days.
It was because of Gimli's obstinance that I had sent Lithil ahead to Lórien with Haldir's brother. The dwarf's childish refusal to be blindfolded had forced my hand, and the image of Lithil, now out of sight, gnawed at me.
»And you're proud of that?« My voice was cold, my eyes fixed on him like daggers. If looks could kill, he would have been long dead.
»Yes, proud that the pointy-eared ones were wrong.« Gimlis lips twitched beneath that tangled beard. »But really, don't be so uptight. Lithil is probably already with a healer, lying comfortably in some bed.«
»And you think that comforts me when I can't see it with my own eyes?!« My voice sharpened. Leaving anyone behind was agony, but Lithil? That pain was unbearable.
Our bond, forged over centuries, had tethered us in ways others could never understand.

Lithil holds my heart, my soul. She knows every shadowed corner of my being - every triumph, every failing, even the insignificant thoughts I barely acknowledge myself...
No one else would ever come close. She was the best part of me, yet my greatest weakness.
The thought of her hurt, of her somewhere beyond my reach, kindled a fury in me that erased all other concerns. Far from my homeland, where propriety bound me, I had free rein to be disrespectful torwards Gimli. And that I would.

But Gimli, in his dwarvish density, did not stop. He pressed on. »Well, your eyes haven't seen her dead body, so she lives. Your worry is unnecessary.«
»Now you've crossed a line, Dwarf!« I growled, stepping toward him. The twilight settled around us, framing the tense moment.
Gimli met my glare, unfazed, and smirked. »Which line? One your precious Elves drew long ago, or one of your own?«
»Keep talking, and you'll lose your head,« I snapped, the threat rolling off my tongue. It was rare that someone could provoke me like this - Lithil was usually the only one who could push me this far - but here stood Gimli, doing an almost masterful job of it.
He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest. »I'd like to see that!«
»Oh, you will,« I snarled, but before I could close the distance, Aragorn stepped between us. His hand pressed firmly against my chest, the other resting on Gimli's shoulder. His eyes, bright and sharp, flicked between us with authority.
»Enough,« he commanded, his voice calm yet firm. »We are companions. We do not turn on each other, and we do not provoke one another.« His gaze lingered on me before shifting to Gimli. »We are all concerned for Lithil, especially Legolas. Their friendship has endured centuries, something difficult for others to fathom. Gimli, choose your words with care. And Legolas, with all your worries, you should know better than to let yourself be provoked.«
A heavy silence followed. The air between Gimli and I thickened, both of us reluctant to back down. Aragorn's words hung between us like a sword. But Lithil would not want me to lose control over something so trivial.
Reluctantly, the dwarf snorted, and I clenched my jaw, forcing the fury to dissipate. Our eyes met, a grudging nod passing between us. Aragorn, satisfied, stepped back.
Though sulking, we resumed our march, the unspoken truce fragile but holding for now.