Chapter 1: First Term

This close to the start of first term there was no chance of snagging an empty compartment on the university train, but Legolas did manage to get a window seat. The rest of the compartment's occupants seemed to know each other and paid him little attention.

The train set off with a sharp blow of its whistle, settling into a rhythmic clatter as it picked up speed. The other students continued their conversation without pause.

Legolas checked his schedule twice, then a third time. The student next to him had brought a newspaper, and surrendered it gladly when requested. It was a local paper and the headlines were small in scope, being largely concerned with the goings on of the county. Legolas found he cared little for the politics of the world of Men, and even less for crime and society.

He closed the paper again and stared out the window. Trees and river gave way to villages of varying size and shape, until at last the train pulled into the bustling station that marked the end of the line.

There was a collection of porters waiting to take his trunk, and a new motorcar to transport Legolas and two others from the platform to their college. The two already knew each other, for they greeted each other in tones of great excitement and immediately began sharing the adventures of their summer. Legolas took the seat in the front of the vehicle and left them to their conversation.

The campus was as Legolas remembered it from enrolment some months before, full of green space dotted with copses of trees here and there, and paths lined with hedges and flower beds. It was not quite the pure fusion between nature and civilisation that the Elves would have constructed, had they taken the lead, but it was near enough to put him at ease.

The residence building was old by the standards of Men, but young by those of the Elves. Over the main gates the college motto was inscribed – Handë ar Cálë. He wasn't certain if 'knowledge and light' was intended to convey what the college provided or what its students should strive for.

His room was located at the fourth staircase, on the first floor. The bannister was carved underneath with twirling vines and ivy leaves, and it warmed him inside to feel them beneath his fingertips as he mounted the stair.

Owing to rapid expansion of the college in recent years, first years were expected to share their chambers. Accordingly, the sitting room was outfitted with two desks and two bookshelves. The bedroom was not too large, but could be divided by curtains on either side of the door if he or his roommate wished.

The second bed in the room was small, perhaps two-thirds the usual length. Legolas furrowed his brow. Of course, the campus was not just Elves and Men, but surely…!

He walked back into the sitting room. There was a welcome package on the left desk with his name printed in careful letters.

Reassured, he unpacked his bag and stowed everything carefully in the wardrobe at the end of the bed. He added some slim poetry volumes and a dictionary to the required texts that were already on his bookcase.

His suspicions about his roommate were realised when the door opened and a Dwarf strode in. They stared at each other in silence for several moments.

"Well," said the Dwarf, at length. "This is not what I expected."

Uncertain if he was being insulted, Legolas held his tongue.

The Dwarf stomped over to the desk and picked up the welcome package on it. "But I see there is no mistake. Unless perhaps yours is…?"

Legolas checked a second time. "No, mine is correct."

The Dwarf's shoulders slumped. "A fine joke this is, assigning a Dwarf to share with an Elf."

Now Legolas was starting to feel offended. "If it is a joke, I do not see the humour in it."

The Dwarf began unpacking. "I am Gimli, son of Glóin," he threw over his shoulder. "I come from Erebor, the city in the Lonely Mountain."

Legolas decided not to point out that he knew perfectly well where Erebor was. "Legolas," he said instead. "I come from Greenwood. My father is Thranduil, who rules there."

Gimli snorted. "Greenwood? Then your father has unpleasant history with mine." And he turned around and would speak no more.

Legolas rose. Perhaps he would fare better in conversation with the rest of the occupants of his staircase.

He could hear a commotion from upstairs and climbed the staircase curiously. The two doors on both sides of the landing were open, and the occupants were yelling to each other as they unpacked. Their voices were high, and their stature small – smaller than Dwarves, if they were not in fact shorter.

"I found your toothbrush, Merry!" cried one.

"Sam, I think this must be your boot. It doesn't fit me at all, and it's all covered in dirt."

The occupants noticed Legolas as one.

"Look, Frodo," said one, in what would probably be a quiet voice to all listeners but an Elf. "It's an Elf."

"Why don't you introduce yourself, Sam?" asked another, sounding amused.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo, I couldn't—"

"My room is downstairs. I am called Legolas." A memory stirred, a conversation he had overheard somewhere. He groped for the word in Westron. "You are… Halflings, are you not?"

"We are Hobbits from the Shire," said the amused one in the first room. "I am Frodo Baggins, this is Samwise Gamgee."

"And I'm Pippin," said one from the second room. "Peregrine, if you're feeling formal. And this is Meriadoc, called Merry."

"I am very pleased to meet you all," said Legolas.

"And I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. My room is on the ground floor," said a new arrival, pacing into the hall from the staircase.

"Strider!" said the Hobbits. "I didn't expect you here."

"No? Then you have not as much faith in Gandalf as you should, for it is undoubtedly at his request that I am on your staircase. I have already made the acquaintance of your other downstairs neighbour."

Gimli emerged from the staircase behind him, and the introductions were made again.

"Baggins?" said Gimli. "Why, you must be related to my father's friend, Bilbo."

"My uncle," said Frodo. "Then your father is the Glóin my uncle travelled with? What a surprise to meet you here!"

The two embraced as old friends.

"How is your uncle? I have met him but twice, once when I was but a wee lad, and the last perhaps a decade ago."

A shadow passed over Frodo's face. "He is old now, for a Hobbit. He retired to Rivendell last summer. I spent a fortnight with him there, before we came to the university."

Gimli frowned. "Rivendell! When he would have been welcome in the Lonely Mountain as long as he wanted."

Frodo smiled. "Well, you'd have to ask him why. He never explained his reasons to me."

"There is one more on our staircase, but he hasn't arrived yet," said Aragorn. "I expect we'll see him at dinner."

Aragorn was the only student among them who was not in his first year, and took it upon himself to give them an insider's view of the college.

He explained that during the first week, students were assigned to sit with those on their staircase for dinner. For the rest of the year, they would be allowed to choose their seating. Full academic dress was expected for meals and lectures throughout the year.

"If you're interested in joining the inter-college sports tournament, the signup sheets are in the J.C.R.," said Aragorn, as he led them to the dining hall. "There are team and individual sports, and a large varsity tournament in the spring."

Their final companion turned out to be a tall Man with a serious demeanour. He sat across from Aragorn and glanced up and down the table. "I am Boromir, of Gondor."

Aragorn looked at him with interest. "Boromir, son of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor?"

Boromir's expression darkened. "That is correct."

"I had wondered if you were that Boromir. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn." He paused as if he would say more.

The Hobbits tumbled into their own introductions – addressing Boromir as if they had known him for years – followed by Legolas and Gimli. Aragorn sat back in his seat and the moment passed.

--

For dessert, Legolas followed the stream of students to the Junior Common Room. In contrast to the dining hall, the J.C.R. was divided mostly into single-race groups. After some consideration, Legolas seated himself with a group of Elves who revealed themselves, by their accents, to be from Rivendell.

They greeted him in Sindarin, and Legolas was relieved to hear his own language after several days with only Westron around him.

They were fascinated to meet an Elf from Greenwood, and though their tone was of curiosity, not mocking, Legolas found himself discomfited by their interest.

"We haven't had many Elves from Greenwood come here," said one of them. "Most of us are from Rivendell." As someone cleared their throat in protest, he continued, "Although there are some from Lothlórien, of course. But you Wood Elves are insular. No offence."

"What made you decide to come here?" asked another.

Legolas didn't really want to get into his relationship with his father and his home forest with a lot of strangers, even if they were Elves. "I heard Mithrandir was teaching here, and I wished to study under him."

There was a chorus of nods along the table. "Oh, now that is understandable," said one. "He is a great teacher."

"Is it true that the Elves of Greenwood live underground?" asked one of the Lothlórien Elves.

"It is true, although I feel underground does not do justice to the halls of the city. It was built in the old style after Menegroth, and much attention was paid to the stonework. I find the city as beautiful in its way as any."

"He's right," said an Elf at the end of the table. "I've been there, many years ago."

"I don't think I should like to live so far from the wind and sky," said another.

"Then let me reassure you, we honour the light and stars in any way we can. There are many exits from the city and places to watch the night sky from above the tree canopy."

"Your accent is delightful," said one, hiding a smile behind his hand. "Say something for me." The request was followed by a chorus of repetitions.

"What would you have me say?" he asked, which seemed to be enough for them.

"Do you speak the Silvan language as well?" asked one of the others. "I've always wanted to learn."

"A little," said Legolas. Tauriel had taught him some of her parents' tongue, when they were younger. "It's not very common, even in Greenwood."

"That's disappointing. I would not like the language to completely disappear."

"There are efforts to reclaim it," Legolas pointed out. "But there are few who speak it as a birth tongue in this time."

The conversation turned to the various other Elvish languages and their fates. "For all we think ourselves eternal, we are not immune from change," proclaimed one Elf.

This statement was met with varying levels of agreement. Legolas found himself with very little to add to the conversation, not being used to the depth of philosophical discussion these students had developed.

As the night wore on, he resolved to find another group the next evening.

--

The final bell for the evening rang at ten o'clock, intended to remind distracted students of the late night curfew on campus grounds.

For races that slept long hours every night, it also served as a reminder of the importance of that act.

Dwarves, Legolas discovered, did not sleep well in the presence of light – not even dim light behind a closed curtain.

"Blasted Elves," Gimli grumbled. "Why can't you just sleep like normal people?"

Rest Legolas had, for several hours. But he was not made for lying on his bed, listening to his roommate snore and the soft sounds of night in the distance.

He rose and carefully opened the door, not even making a sound to his own ears.

He lit the lamp in their sitting room, hoping that the light under the door wouldn't be enough to keep Gimli awake. The campus handbook consisted mostly of legal language describing the responsibilities of the college, the names of the faculty and staff, and the various policies and procedures guiding student behaviour.

There was an inside slip in the back page, with less general information.

It is suggested that Elf students seeking entertainment during the wee hours of the night may wish to check the common room on the third floor of the east wing.

Legolas thought back to his experiences with the earlier meal. Perhaps he would delay that until his presence was less of a novelty at the college.

The booklet also mentioned that the library was open all night, albeit unattended by any librarians. He decided that would be better a option for this night.

As he reached the bottom of the staircase, he saw light seeping under the bottom of Aragorn's door. After a moment's thought, he knocked softly.

Aragorn opened the door momentarily. "Oh, it's you, Legolas," he said. "I thought perhaps it was one of the Hobbits. I fear they are likely to get homesick."

"My roommate objects to my having the lamp on while he attempts to sleep," Legolas explained.

"Ah," said Aragorn. He invited Legolas inside. His chambers sported a separated dining room and study, and the closed door on the far wall surely concealed a good-sized bedroom.

"I know it's forbidden to leave the college after eleven o'clock," began Legolas, "but is there a somewhat private place to go from where I can see the stars?"

Aragorn thought for a moment. "There is a balcony off the fourth floor stairwell in the library. If I want a quiet moment at night, that's where I go."

Legolas wondered if Aragorn would follow him, but the Man remained in his room. Legolas stepped out into the quadrangle, breathing the night air deeply. He circumnavigated the quad quickly, finding the door to the library unlocked as promised.

He didn't encounter any other beings as he made his way up the stairs to the balcony Aragorn mentioned. The balcony was unadorned, save a cold stone bench surrounding the three walls. He curled up against the far wall and turned his gaze to the sky.

It was a clear night – rare now in October, and to become rarer still as the year wore on – and he could see the stars flickering above, scarcely different from the way they looked above Greenwood's canopy.

This late at night, he couldn't even make out the now-ubiquitous roar of motor vehicles. The night was never silent to Elven hearing, but that lack made it seem quieter to his ears.

It was not the place of the Elves to despair of progress, though they withdrew themselves from the everyday lives of Men. Motor vehicles and locomotives were not going away, nor were telephones and gramophones or any of the other noise-making devices of the age of electricity.

He had yet to see any of them in the Elvenking's Halls, however.

--

Before making his way to Gandalf's chambers for his initiation interview, Legolas found his way to the J.C.R and contemplated the sporting signup sheet for some time. He had no idea how his archery skills would hold up to other Elves – or even talented Men, as it seemed archery contests worked on a handicap basis here. But it could not hurt to try out, so he wrote his name up carefully.

There were some Dwarf names in the archery signup, along with Men and Elves. He saw Gimli's name written in the sheet for axe-throwing, a sport that appeared to be entirely limited to Dwarves.

Frodo was leaving Gandalf's office as Legolas arrived. He seemed pleased.

Legolas had met Gandalf before, of course, but only in brief moments when the wizard took it upon himself to visit the lord of Greenwood. As the centuries moulded society and the old borders shifted and changed, those times had become few and far between. He estimated it had been at least six decades since he'd last seen Gandalf.

He knocked, and received a short 'come in' in reply.

Gandalf looked at him as Legolas arranged himself on the chair opposite Gandalf's imposing dark wood desk.

"The woodland realm is not known for its interest in academia," said Gandalf, at last. "What brings you here, Legolas, son of Thranduil?"

"I know," said Legolas. "But we cannot remain locked away in the past, even in Greenwood. The world is changing all around us. Am I not welcome here, Mithrandir?"

Gandalf sat back and let out a steady stream of smoke from his pipe. "You are welcome here, although I do not think you appreciate just how the university experience will change you."

Legolas considered this statement for a moment.

"Have you given any thought to what you wish to read? You'll be in my general studies course, naturally." All first year students took Gandalf's course for the first year. It was the primary reason Legolas had enrolled in this college. "In second term, you will be asked to specialise in one or more topics from the first term course. So you do not need to decide between history and politics right now."

"I had thought to read natural sciences," Legolas admitted. "If that is at all possible."

Gandalf's browse rose. "An interesting choice." He ran his finger down a long list on his desk. "I can tutor you for that, but you will attend lectures at Fornost Hall with Master Bregor."

They exchanged names and schedule information, and Gandalf promised to send a scout with the official course information once he had it.

Gandalf also outlined the college's various rules and regulations, most of which Legolas had already learned from Aragorn the previous night.

"About my roommate," Legolas began.

Gandalf looked at him for a long moment, then leant back again and puffed three circles into the air. "The room assignments are random," he said at last. "You can request a change, but they do require a good reason for it."

"Then how is it that the Hobbits are all together?" asked Legolas.

"They were given special dispensation to room in pairs together, since they are the only members of their kind at the university."

Legolas considered this. "That is fair," he decided. "Still, it seems an unfortunate choice."

Gandalf leaned forward again. "Come now, Legolas, surely the harsh feelings between Elves and Dwarves is far in the past."

So Gandalf had known who Legolas was rooming with.

Legolas laughed. "I would that it were so, but in this case there are more recent hurts to be concerned about."

Gandalf smiled. "I am sure Master Gimli will see fit to let it go, in time, assuming he doesn't find your own behaviour offensive in some fashion. Please send in the next person when you leave."

Legolas was uncertain about this response, since in his thus-far limited experience Dwarves seemed easy to offend, but Gandalf did not seem inclined to discuss the matter further.

He sent Pippin in as he departed.

--

The first archery practices were scheduled for the first Saturday of term.

Legolas was thankful he had brought his bow – he had considered leaving it behind, uncertain if he wanted to use it at university. But as he strung it now, feeling the weight of it in his hand and tensing the string, he had no cause to regret his decision.

"We'll have all the new students try a few different targets so we can assess your skill level," said the instructor, directing them to the far end of the practice field. She was a tall female of the race of Men, and dared them to make an issue of it with a look.

Legolas joined a group of Men, Elves and a Dwarf. It shouldn't have surprised him, and yet somehow he was unsettled to find a Dwarven archer shooting at his side.

"I won't insult your skills by having you shoot the first targets," the instructor told the Elves, grinning. She led them to the third target, which was still a trivial distance away for Legolas. "You get three shots at each target, don't go to collect your arrows until the whistle blows, you have to be within the yellow ring to proceed to the next target."

Legolas hoped he would not be too out of practice. He proceeded through the first three targets with ease, along with his two companions.

It was strange to be shooting at a motionless target again, so long after he had first learned to handle his bow. On the next target, his first shot made the yellow ring, but only just. He took a moment to relax, feeling the wind teasing at his braids and gauging its strength.

His next shot hit dead centre.

By the time he reached the end of the range, he was alone amongst the recruits, and the instructor was looking a little embarrassed. "It's not that we don't want you on the team," she explained, "but won't your skills be wasted here? You could shoot professionally, if you wanted."

Legolas tried to imaging his father's reaction if he announced an intention to become a professional archer. He shook his head. "I've never shot competitively before."

The instructor looked at him doubtfully. "Well, this is the best place to learn. I can't imagine you'll find it much of a challenge, though."

"My shooting was not perfect," he protested. "I outpaced the other new recruits, but that is all."

She looked at him for a moment, then stuck out her hand. "Then welcome to the team."

--

It seemed that Gimli liked to study with the wireless radio on. It was set to a volume that Gimli probably considered low, but was perfectly audible to Elven ears. The crackle of static set Legolas's teeth on edge but he felt compelled to try and listen through it to make out whatever was being discussed on air.

The wireless was currently babbling a review of some new moving picture, which had so many layers of lack of interest to Legolas it defied counting, and yet he found himself unable to stop listening.

After the second time he carefully wrote the title of the film into his draft instead of the subject of the essay, he decided he had had enough. He dug his fingernails into his palm and said, as politely as he could manage, "Could you please turn that off?"

Legolas had to repeat himself twice before Gimli looked up from his writing. "What?"

"The wireless. Could you turn it off? Please," he added belatedly. Even Dwarves could respond well to politeness.

"I like having it on," protested Gimli. "You can barely hear it."

"No, you can barely hear it," he snapped. "If Dwarves were not so impaired in their hearing—"

Gimli snorted. "If Elvish hearing were not unnatural—"

"Unnatural! It is Dwarves that are unnatural—"

"That is not the story the Dwarves tell," Gimli interrupted forcefully. "It does not surprise me the Elves are biased in these things."

"We are not—" Legolas shook his head. "This is a ridiculous argument. Just turn off the wireless, please."

"You started it," muttered Gimli, but it sounded like he meant it as a joke. Perhaps. "It's too quiet if I turn off the wireless. I find it difficult to concentrate. I can turn it down more, if that pleases you."

'Too quiet' was rarely an issue for an Elf. There was always noise to be found somewhere, if you listened enough. "Do not bother yourself. I will go to the library," he declared, hoping he didn't sound as petulant as he suspected.

It was not as if the Dwarf would even miss his presence.

--

Saturday mornings were dedicated to athletic practices, but the long hours following were free for all students. Legolas divided his time between the library, walking the various trails around campus and along the river, and joining the rest of the undergraduate body in the Junior Common Room.

One such Saturday, as Legolas sat with Sam and Frodo at their usual table in the common room, Merry and Pippin burst in, visibly excited and as smug as any feline.

"We've just been down in the village," started Pippin.

"There's a place there that sells tea and coffee," added Merry quickly.

"Well, I don't know about buying tea when we've perfectly good kettle and teapot here," said Sam.

"Ah, but that's not the best thing. They will make you bacon and eggs whenever you want."

"And cakes, too," said Merry. "And fried potatoes."

"Potatoes and gravy!" adde Pippin.

"Whenever you want?" repeated Sam, his eyes widening.

"And," said Merry, "there's a pub that serves beer in pints."

"Their potatoes are not as good as the coffee shop's, though," Pippin proclaimed.

"It's only three, and you've already been to a coffee shop and the pub?" asked Frodo, laughing.

"You should come with us next week," said Merry. "You too, Legolas."

The invitation was repeated to Gimli that evening at dinner, then to the rest of their dining companions.

Gimli seemed dubious, shooting a glance at Legolas like he expected the invitation to be retracted. "Will the Elf be coming?" he asked.

Pippin looked disappointed. "Don't you two like each other?"

Gimli looked faintly embarrassed. "No, it's just… we have history. My father and his party were arrested for trespassing when they passed through Greenwood. They might still be locked up if it weren't for Frodo's uncle Bilbo."

Frodo grinned. "I remember this story. It seems funnier when Bilbo tells it."

"There is no love lost between my father and the Dwarves of Erebor," admitted Legolas. "But things between the two nations are civil now."

"The nations, perhaps," muttered Gimli. "The individuals, that will take some work."

At this, the Hobbits looked so upset that Gimli agreed to join them the next week despite his misgivings.

--

As with all students, Legolas had a scheduled weekly meeting with his tutor. Gandalf had very little patience for the bureaucracy of university teaching, and made it very clear that this time would be productive for them both or it would not happen.

"You are happy with your studies?" Gandalf prompted, at the end of the fourth week of term. Legolas reassured him that he was. "Any issues with the other students?"

"They are very young," said Legolas, after a moment. "Even the Elves have barely come of age." As one of the youngest in Greenwood, he wasn't used to feeling like he should be the voice of experience. "The Hobbits are… unique."

"Hobbits could make any of us feel old. Even their elders quarrel like children." Gandalf let out a long stream of smoke from his pipe. "Still, they are a resilient folk and I am very fond of them."

"They are quite remarkable. It is a relief for me to be around such merriment." There had been little enough of that around Thranduil's house, of late.

Gandalf regarded him thoughtfully. "Try to keep the peace with your roommate, wherever possible," he added. "It is long past time for some feuds to end."

Legolas pondered that proposition. He had been limiting his interaction with Gimli as much as possible, both because of his own wrong-footedness with the Dwarf and that he thought it would make Gimli more comfortable.

"I can try," he said, although his heart was heavy with doubt.

"Sometimes peace begins with the smallest of steps," said Gandalf. He settled back into his chair and closed his eyes.

Taking this as a dismissal, Legolas left.

--

After some discussion back and forth, Thranduil had agreed to have Greenwood joined to the central postal service, so several days a week mail was delivered to the Halls of the Elvenking.

Once they reached the midpoint of term, Legolas realised he hadn't written since week two and it was probably time to send a letter back.

He set his pen to paper, then paused. Safe topics for discussion with his father included archery and most of what Gandalf was covering in his lectures. It did not include Dwarves, and it seemed disloyal to talk about his friends in anything other than general terms.

He doodled on his blotter while he thought. A tree took form beneath his pen, tall and knotted like his favourite haunt in Greenwood.

Perhaps he would write to Tauriel instead. He had an address for her, although it was merely a request to forward it through a post office.

Gimli growled at him from his own desk. "You're singing again."

Legolas paused. "Am I?" When he stopped and thought about it, he supposed he had been singing – some tune that had been popular in Greenwood last season he'd been reminded of earlier. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologise, just stop doing it!"

"But if I'm not aware I'm doing it, it's difficult to stop," he protested.

He had the impression that Gimli was counting to ten before responding, and wondered if Gandalf had had similar words to say to him during his latest interview.

"You are always singing," said Gimli.

"But why do you not? Do Dwarves not have songs?" asked Legolas.

"None that we care to share with outsiders," he replied. "And if we did, we would certainly not hum them constantly. Sound travels in the Mountain."

"It sounds like a sad place, your Mountain," said Legolas without thinking.

"And your Forest sounds like a cacophonous mess," said Gimli. "But if I can avoid the need to wear earplugs here, I would appreciate it."

Legolas sighed. "I will try."

--

Sunday afternoons at the coffee shop became a weekly standing event, and before long it was not uncommon for groups of ten or more to gather over breakfast foods obediently served out of their proper hours. They argued about politics, literature and whatever else happened to cross the table.

Before the university, Legolas had not had any particular interest in the vagaries of mortal politics. They changed with alarming frequency, and there was so much variation from country to country that it seemed an impossible task to keep up with.

Being around so many mortals now, he found himself unwittingly drawn into debates – or his ignorance being used as a vehicle to explain why a particular system was superior to another, and vice versa.

He didn't particularly mind.

"You're still in a monarchy in Greenwood, no?" prompted one debater, a friend of Boromir's from another college.

"It's a little more complex than that," said Legolas. "Trying to apply mortal political systems to Elves is complicated." There was no expectation of change in Greenwood. Disagreements and dissatisfaction with his father's rule had to be addressed when they came up, whilst mortals may be tempted to just wait for the death of the ruler.

"So you don't consider yourself a prince?" prompted one of the Men, one of Merry's classmates whose name Legolas had failed to catch.

"Not the way Men do," said Legolas. "Although it is true that I've been afforded certain privileges in life thanks to my father's status." This statement launched another fierce debate about class and wealth.

The group quickly learned that if they wished to keep conversation civil, they should avoid the issue of Elves and Dwarves and the tension between the two races.

"It's a bit old-fashioned, don't you think? It's time to eradicate the old prejudices and move to an age of equality."

"Elves have long memories," Legolas pointed out. "We cannot forget the past the way mortals do."

"Aye, and don't you think the Dwarves forget old slights either," said Gimli. He narrowed his eyes at Legolas.

"But it wasn't always that way," Sam pointed out. Uncomfortable with suddenly being the centre of attention, he turned bright red. "I just meant, Elves and Dwarves used to work together to build things, didn't they?"

"Well, you can't blame the Dwarves for ending the friendship," muttered Gimli.

"And yet I do not think it was the Elves," said Legolas thoughtfully.

"Somehow I don't think arguing about whose fault it is will get us anywhere," Frodo pointed out, smiling. He steered the conversation around to the latest sporting news, and the topic was dropped.

--

Autumn turned to winter, and before long it was the end of term and the college was packing to return to their families for the winter solstice and turning of the year, by the calendar of Men.

Their rooms were to be locked over the vacation, so he packed only the minimum for a short stay for the train journey home.

It was only surprising in that it had not occurred to Legolas to think of it, that Gimli and Legolas were on the same train home. Erebor was not so far from Greenwood, and the train that passed through Lake-town stopped at Erebor soon after.

The Hobbits were chattering excitedly about their Yule plans and the presents they'd bought in town to bring back to their friends and family. It seemed like the midwinter festival was a big event in the Shire.

Legolas and Gimli parted ways with the Hobbits at the Bree interchange and found themselves sitting opposite each other in a mostly empty carriage.

Legolas focused his attention on the landscape slipping by at ever increasing speed. It had only been three months, but already it seemed new. Here a row of trees had been cleared, there a new house was going up.

Gimli made an attempt to read the paper, but Legolas kept catching him glancing at Legolas over the top of it.

"Do Dwarves celebrate midwinter?" asked Legolas.

Gimli seemed to mull this statement over, examining it for any potential insult. "Just because Dwarves live underground it doesn't mean we pay no attention to the seasons," he said, his brows lowered in suspicion. "We still eat and drink as much as any mortal race, and all that depends on the cycle of the natural world."

"I apologise. It was not my intention to cause offence. For Elves we know it as the longest night of the year," he said, sensing perhaps it would be more polite to offer something of his own culture before demanding information on someone else's. "In Greenwood we mark it with wine and staying up to greet the dawn, but it is not a specific festival." The wine part, at least, could apply to any of Greenwood's celebrations. Thranduil was very fond of wine.

Gimli shook his head. "In Erebor we celebrate new year on the last new moon of autumn, and Durin's Day, should the moon be visible with the sun on that day. We don't mark the solstice."

Legolas nodded, and settled back into his own seat. "It seems to be an important celebration for both Men and Hobbits."

"It would not surprise me to find out that Hobbits have a feast occasion for every moon," said Gimli.

Legolas laughed. "It would not me either, although I suppose we would have been invited to join such a celebration by now." There had certainly been enough other celebrations to keep their staircase occupied.

Gimli snorted in agreement, and picked up his newspaper again. He opened it to a random page, and this time Legolas let him read.

--

Thranduil welcomed Legolas back with a feast in his honour, much to Legolas's discomfort, and then proceeded to avoid the topic of the university altogether for the rest of the evening.

Some of his younger acquaintances wanted to know more about Men and Dwarves, although the latter topic was always brought up furtively. That he was sharing his living chambers with a Dwarf Legolas elected not to share, even then.

Greenwood did not seem to have changed in his absence, so he wondered why he felt so out of place in it now. At every meal, he found himself turning to absent friends to share some tidbit of information or ask a question.

Gandalf had told him the university experience would change him. He had thought that Gandalf referred only to what such prolonged absence from his people might do to him, but now he wondered if it was something more subtle he had in mind.

He wrote to Tauriel of his thoughts, although he had little hope of receiving a reply until he returned to university. He reminded her of his college address and departure date accordingly.

Legolas resolved to spend as much time as possible doing the things that were not possible at the university, and thus spent long hours wandering the forest, humming to himself as he re-examined it in the new light of his studies.

"It is not my right to restrict your movements," his father said, over one of their private dinners. "But I must ask if you are sure on this direction. You seem ill at ease."

"I am certain," he said, surprised at the rightness of the words once they were out there. "It is not my way to retreat because of a little discomfort."

"I distrust the ways of Men," said Thranduil. "They have no foresight."

"But we are a part of the same world and their actions affect us all the same," Legolas pointed out. "We gain nothing and lose much by withdrawing from their affairs."

Thranduil looked at him long and hard. "Just do not forget that we were here when these cities were built, and we will still be here when they fall to the ground."

"I am not so old as that yet," Legolas pointed out. "Even the university was established before my birth. But your point is taken."

Chapter 2: Second Term

Legolas returned to campus a day earlier than his roommate, and he was surprised to find himself missing Gimli's soft snoring as he lay in his bed through the early morning hours.

The first week back was given over to revision of the last term's studies and the accompanying exams, and it was with some surprise that Legolas realised his roommate had been back a full five days and they had yet to exchange anything more than polite greetings.

Legolas returned from the campus bookstore, a large botanical text tucked under his arm, to find Gimli had clearly recently made the same journey.

"Why would a Dwarf need to study geology?" asked Legolas, reading the titles of Gimli's books curiously. Gimli also appeared to have purchased a new gramophone, which he was in the process of setting up.

"Why would an Elf need to study botany?" Gimli retorted. "Living in the mines doesn't help you understand it." He peered closely at a diagram in the gramophone's printed manual and muttered something under his breath.

"I would think the Dwarves have more knowledge of minerals than a university run by Men," said Legolas.

"You may be right, lad," said Gimli. "But their way of looking at things is about why things are, whilst we are a practical folk who focus on how things are."

Legolas laughed. "So you have come to university to learn how not to be practical?"

Gimli glowered at him. "There is no need to laugh."

"I apologise," said Legolas. "It is seldom that Elves take things seriously."

"I do not understand why you are here at all," said Gimli. "Are not the Elves wiser than all mortals? There should be nothing here for you to learn."

"I am not the only Elf here," Legolas pointed out.

"I've noticed," said Gimli grimly. "But you are the only one who bothers himself with asking me nosey questions."

"I am here because I wish to learn, like any other student. I don't see why I should restrict my learning to only my teachers."

Gimli frowned. "You ask questions because you're curious?"

"I haven't spent a lot of time around mortals," said Legolas. "I'm sorry if my curiosity bothers you."

"I thought perhaps you were mocking me," said Gimli.

Legolas found he could not in good conscience deny it. "I have no intention to offend you," Legolas offered. "It is common for Elves to tease each other."

"Is that so?" Gimli huffed into his beard. "Then I accept your apology."

--

January was punctuated by the arrival of a sudden snowstorm. The first day of it was exciting for the college. After the morning's classes, it seemed the entire student body emptied out of the college to the nearest park to play with the snow.

The park was soon filled with an army of snow Hobbits and Men, courtesy of Merry and Pippin. The Hobbits weren't tall enough to complete the Men on their own, and a laughing Boromir was happy to help them place the heads in their rightful place.

Legolas watched in fascination as their feet sank into the snow, their passage displayed for the world to see.

Gimli snorted. "And why do I not see any Dwarves amongst these, lads?" he asked in mock outrage.

"I do not see any Elves either," Legolas pointed out.

Gimli looked him up and down thoughtfully. "I can't say I think a Snow Elf would work. The proportions are all wrong. Too tall and thin. It would topple over immediately."

"And yet Elves are as at home in the snow as they are on grass," said Legolas lightly.

Gimli glanced down at Legolas's feet and scowled.

Across the way, the Hobbits had tired of sculpting and began assaulting each other with balled up snow.

Legolas took a snowball to the head, only to find that his own accuracy of shot soon brought accusations of unfair advantage from his opponents. He offered himself to assist in the creation of a defensive fort instead.

"Another benefit of compact height," said Gimli smugly, once the fort's wall was tall enough to shield him entirely.

"Ah, but I do not need to stand on tip-toes to see the enemy's position," Legolas pointed out.

Gimli snorted.

The cries on the other side of the wall grew in volume as Boromir joined the younger Hobbits in wrestling for control of the snow fort. Legolas was tempted to concede defeat and retreat to the safety of the college, but Gimli would have none of it.

When at last the battle was over, both sides covered in white and the fort nothing more than a mound of trampled snow, they declared a tentative truce and went inside to wash up.

"You should brush off as much as possible. As soon as you step inside all this will turn straight to water," Boromir told the Hobbits.

Boromir's prediction came true, and they spent the rest of the evening huddled in front of the fire in the J.C.R., waiting for cloaks and hair to dry off.

--

The snow did not let up the next day, nor the day after. Soon it became impossible for any save Elves to leave the College. As quickly as the walkways were cleared, they were covered again.
Even if one did manage to make it off the university grounds, most of the stores in the village were closed.

Classes were not cancelled, to the relief of all but the least studious, as without the vast majority of outdoor activities the college was starting to feel the frustration of forced companionship. Tempers frayed. Even the perpetually cheerful Hobbits' dispositions were starting to show signs of wear.

"I do not understand why you folk don't live in mountains like we Dwarves," said Gimli. "There are no snowstorms underground."

The eight of them had gathered around the fireplace in Aragorn's ample living space. Their own rooms were heated, but as the cold persisted it seeped into the very stone of the building, and all the mortal races were feeling it acutely.

"You can't grow things underground," said Sam. "Not green things, at any rate."

"We Hobbits need sunshine, or we get sick and pale," said Pippin.

"The same is true of Men," murmured Aragorn.

How fragile mortal things were, thought Legolas – but he could see Gimli glowering at him, daring him to speak, and held his tongue.

"Minas Tirith is built into the side of a mountain," said Boromir suddenly. "It is the most beautiful city in the world. Have any of you ever seen it?"

The question was phrased as if it addressed all of them, but it seemed most directed at Aragorn.

"I've been there," said Aragorn quietly. "A long time ago."

"Hobbits don't travel," said Pippin. "No respectable Hobbit would ever be seen more than a day's journey from his home."

"Then am I to conclude that none of you are respectable?" asked Legolas.

"We Bagginses were very respectable until Gandalf introduced my Uncle Bilbo to Thorin Oakenshield," said Frodo.

Gimli bristled. "Are you saying Dwarves are not respectable?"

Frodo laughed. "To the Hobbits of the Shire, far from it! But that is no bad thing, and I know my uncle had no regrets for it."

"Then I forgive the insult," said Gimli, settling down again.

"I am the first of my family to venture beyond Greenwood's borders in a long time," offered Legolas. "My father distrusts the mortal races and cares not to spend time among them. But I am glad to have come here."

The others murmured their agreement.

--

The snow disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived, although it was still some time before the last of it melted and disappeared from the shadowed parts of campus.

Soon the papers were buzzing with the news that the Dwarven city of Moria had been evacuated. Nobody was directly stating the reason, but Legolas and every Elf in the land knew what had been hiding in the depths of Moria. The thought made a shiver run down his spine.

The Men of the university talked about the evacuation with distant concern, as they might a tragedy in a faraway land. They expounded academic theories for the cause and discussed who would or should be paying for housing all the evacuated citizens.

In contrast, Gimli bought as many papers as he could find and spread them out over his desk, combing them for any new information he could get. With permission, he started to pile them up on Legolas's desk as well.

"I have family in Moria," he explained, although Legolas had already deduced that much. "I've sent a telegram home to Erebor but they don't have any information either."

Legolas picked up one of the papers and fingered it thoughtfully. "Why are your papers written in Westron?"

"We don't share our language with outsiders," said Gimli, taking the paper back. "These are all in order, please don't touch them."

Legolas withdrew his hand. "It was the Balrog, wasn't it."

"I don't know," Gimli replied. He frowned at the papers in front of him and fell forward onto his elbows. "Why aren't the papers reporting on what's actually happening?"

"Even the Elves are terrified of the Balrog," Legolas murmured. "It would cause mass panic if it were to come out. The Dwarves should never have returned there."

"I am less concerned with what should have happened than what is happening now," Gimli responded angrily. "My family– my friends–"

Legolas was stricken. "I am sorry, I did not mean–"

"You did, but it's no more than I expect from an Elf," said Gimli, recovering his aplomb. "Please leave me be for a while." He stumped over to the gramophone and put a record on to play, as loud as the college allowed.

Legolas stared at the back of Gimli's head for a moment, listening to the needle scratch on the disc. "I'm going to the library," he said. "I hope you get news soon."

--

Gandalf's Monday lecture was given with a worried air, and then the next day class was cancelled. The only explanation was a note on the door saying a substitute teacher would take the class for the rest of the week.

"Have you heard anything, Aragorn?" Legolas asked, for it had seemed to him that Aragorn and Gandalf had a particular understanding.

"I have not," said Aragorn.

"Nor I," said Frodo, when similarly pressed. His normally sunny expression was shadowed with worry.

"I talked to the Senior Tutor earlier," said Boromir. "He refused to commit to an answer, but I could tell he had not been forewarned."

"Has this ever happened before?" asked Pippin hopefully.

"Not since I've been a student here," Aragorn replied. "He travels in the vacations, and he will occasionally miss a lecture if something more important comes up, but I've never known him to just disappear."

The substitute was one of Gandalf's doctorate students, clearly unused to leading a lecture and just as worried as any of the others about Gandalf's whereabouts.

Legolas' worry did not lessen as the week wore on. "I can't stop worrying about what has befallen Gandalf," he said into their darkened bedroom one night.

There was silence from the other bed, although Legolas knew from the pattern of Gimli's breathing that he was still awake.

As Legolas was about to conclude he was being ignored – or that his words had again been construed as some convoluted insult – Gimli let out a gusty sigh. "I'm worried too, lad. It seems like a minor thing, on top of everything else, but it weighs on my mind."

"Mithrandir is known for his travels," said Legolas. "And I know it was quite a shock when he declared his intention to teach here. But I do not think it in his nature to leave without explanation."

"He's a wizard. Who can predict the ways of wizards?"

"If he has fallen…," Legolas started. He fell silent, lost for words. "I have not the words for my grief if he were lost."

"Do not mourn somebody who is not yet dead," Gimli scolded. "You Elves. Mortals do not just fall over at the drop of a hat."

"You may as well, from our perspective. But Gandalf is not precisely mortal."

"All the more reason not to mourn him," said Gimli. "He's a wizard. Wherever he is, I'm sure he'll have a good explanation."

"I will take comfort in your words, although I know not what kind of explanation he could offer," said Legolas.

"Go to sleep, lad," said Gimli, not without sympathy.

--

Confusion and worry left a dampening on the spirits of the college. The dining hall, usually so bright with high-spirited discussion, became subdued, and emptied soon after the food was served.

Even the Hobbits' appetites seemed reduced. The only good news was that Gimli received a telegram from Erebor saying that his family were all in good health, and had sought refuge in Erebor until their home was safe.

In February, rumours began to spread among the undergraduates about who Gandalf's replacement would be. Some said Elrond of Rivendell, some said one of the other wizards, but the most persistent was the Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien.

"I have never met the Lady Galadriel," said Aragorn. "But my– a friend lived with her in Lothlórien. She is very old and sees much beyond what mortal eyes can perceive."

Boromir looked sceptical. "In Gondor we have heard of the Lady Galadriel, although our words are not so pleasant. They say none who meet her escape unscathed."

Legolas laughed. "The Lady of the Golden Wood is no wizard, but her power is no less great. All those I know who have met her can sing nothing but her praise, for she is both beautiful and wise. I long to someday to visit her home, the forest of Lórien."

Gimli snorted. "No Elf-Witch will ensnare this Dwarf, either with pretty words or magic."

"I would like to meet her," said Sam wistfully. "No Elf Lady could be of ill will, I am certain of it."

Frodo laughed. "Haven't you had enough of Elves yet, Sam?"

"Not all Elves are the same," Aragorn pointed out. "I cannot fault Sam for wanting to make a full collection of them."

"All Elves are the same when it comes to Dwarves," muttered Gimli, and would say no more on the subject.

--

The Lady Galadriel was late to her first lecture.

In fairness to her, Legolas thought it likely to be deliberate.

The students were all seated and murmuring anxiously when she swept into the room. She did not look at the students until she took her place in front of the blackboard, and then she seemed to look deep into the soul of every student, one by one.

Legolas felt her gaze alight on him and straightened his back without consciously thinking about it. Be at ease, she told him silently. Your choices are your own, and it is not my place to find fault with them. Change will come to this world, and we are none of us able to prevent it. The words held little comfort, but he found them somehow reassuring.

She passed on to the rest of the class, and by the end of it none seemed unaffected.

"Welcome," she said, and her voice was deep and sonorous. She commanded attention without raising the volume. "I am Galadriel of Lothlórien." Her gaze swept across the room again. "I know what Gandalf the Grey has been teaching you. However, I choose to cover a different subject today. When he returns, Gandalf will resume his syllabus."

The room erupted in whispers. "Do you know where Gandalf is, then?" called Frodo, seemingly unable to help himself.

She smiled. "I have seen where he passes, although I could not put a name to the place. Fear not, young master Baggins, as he yet lives."

The room seemed to breathe easier at that pronouncement.

"My lecture today is on the nature of power." She drew the word on the board in careful strokes. "There are many Powers in this world, and not all of them can be classified as good or evil. Magic, like any ability, can be used for good or ill." She looked around the room, brows raised high.

"Take the Balrog that lingers in Khazad-dûm, which is much on my mind at this time," she said. "That is the place the Elves now call Moria, and the Men have many names for."

Gimli stiffened at the mention of his people's ancient city. Legolas wondered himself at her choice to use the Dwarven name for the place.

"Born of darkness and fire, many would ascribe it the nature of evil, although it has no purpose or intent of its own. It is a being of pure anger. Power, with no rational thought, either to temper or give it strength."

She looked around the room. "There are some who would still blame the Dwarves for its awakening, although there is no need to ascribe blame to an action that could not be anticipated. The ways of power are not so simple to predict, save in hindsight.

"Greed may attract a dragon… or it may build a kingdom that lasts centuries. We despair of our losses and laud our victories, but we must learn from both."

"You are saying that Moria should never have been re-opened?" asked Legolas.

She shook her head, and smiled at Gimli. "Who can blame the Dwarves for wanting to reclaim their ancient home? I could not bear to be separated from my own for so long. No. We cannot live in fear of what happened in antiquity. We live in a world with many powers we cannot control. But we must live with that risk, not run from it."

The Lady turned her attention to the rest of the room. "The snow storm you experienced some weeks ago was another Power, although one less immediately terrifying. There are other Powers that linger on this earth. Giants and revenants are not fully defeated, no matter their scarcity. I would not recommend any of you to venture into the Dead Marshes, even today.

"But that is all raw power, uncontrolled by any forethought. Power that is constrained by rational thought can be more terrifying, in the wrong hands." She met Boromir's gaze suddenly. "I would not wish for more power than I have. I know my own self, and I would find the temptation to use it too great. I would use it for good things, of course. At first.

"I wish you to think on this, all of you."

The students began to file out of the room, although no few of them stayed behind to talk to the Lady individually.

Legolas lingered by the door outside the lecture hall, waiting for the others to leave. He could hear snatches of their conversations with the Lady as he waited.

"The Steward of Gondor does not wish to give up his position of power," she told Boromir. "But you know there is change on the horizon, Boromir. You feel it. Your brother told you what he saw."

"I do not wish to challenge my father," said Boromir.

"There are many necessary things we do not wish to do," agreed Galadriel.

When his turn came, Gimli managed to stammer out a greeting and thanks for her words.

"Master Dwarf," she said, smiling down at him. "I commend your spirit. You have travelled a long road to get this far, and your journey is not done yet."

Gimli flushed. "My journey has been infinitely brightened by your journey, my lady," he said. "If it were to end here I could not be happier."

She smiled, and her smile was no less impish than any other Elf lady. "I am pleased by your words, and yet I hope that your journey continues for many years yet, my noble Dwarf."

When he exited the lecture room, Gimli was blushing.

--

All who had been in the lecture seemed distracted over dinner, lost in their own thoughts and private worries, and most retired early to their rooms.

Legolas elected to forego the library that evening in favour of hiding behind the curtain that marked his section of their room. He had enough to think about without the assistance of books that night.

From the occasional huffs of breath and restless turning over, he could tell Gimli was finding it difficult to sleep. He wondered what was keeping the Dwarf's mind occupied. Surely it could not be so rare for an Elf to show sympathy to a Dwarf.

Gimli cleared his throat. "I did not know Elf women were so," he said into the darkness. "You should have warned me."

"What was there to warn for?" asked Legolas, a little offended. "There are Elf women at this university – you have met them before."

"None such as her," said Gimli. His tone was awash with wonder.

Legolas crossed his arm across his eyes. "That much is true. It is ironic to my mind for the Lady Galadriel to talk on the subject of Power, as she is in possession of some of the strongest of it known to us."

"Then, you think she enchants those she speaks to?" said Gimli hopefully.

Legolas laughed. "No, no, nothing of the sort. Just that she commands attention."

Gimli sighed heavily. "Then I must admit that I have fallen under her spell, whether she meant it or not."

"I do not think there were any in our class who did not," said Legolas, thinking to the way she had studied them all in turn. "Save Boromir – and I do not think her words fell upon deaf ears."

"You do not seem overly affected," grumbled Gimli.

"No?" he asked lightly. "Then I assure you, I was very much taken with her. I look forward to her next lecture."

"I do not think I can take another such lecture," Gimli murmured. His breathing began to settle into the soft pattern of sleep.

Legolas's own thoughts proved a little more difficult to calm, and it was many hours before he felt rested that night.

--

The Saturday after Galadriel's arrival, on an impulse that Legolas didn't even recognise until he was speaking, Legolas invited Gimli to accompany him to the village.

He thought they were both surprised when Gimli said yes.

"I knew I would not remain unchanged, if I left Erebor," Gimli said, as they walked. "The world of Men is swift and furious, and does not leave any unscathed. I did not expect any risk from this quarter, and thus I did not guard myself."

"You are talking about the Lady Galadriel?"

Gimli sighed heavily. "And yet I cannot wish I had never met her! I only wish that I could hold her in my heart forever. She has ruined all that is fair for me, and all else must pale in her shadow."

It took a moment for the feeling to identify itself as jealousy. But what reason would Legolas have to be jealous, save that it was not the Lady Galadriel who ate at Gimli's side for most meals, who studied by his side and laughed at him and argued over trifles?

"The Lady Galadriel is fair indeed," said Legolas, sensing some response was required.

"I have never wished I were any race other than Dwarf, and yet if I were so unaffected as you, perhaps it would not be so bad to be an Elf," said Gimli.

Legolas laughed. "I do believe you praise me, although faintly. I found the Lady to be as she was always described in the songs we share in Greenwood, and I am not unaltered by the experience."

"Now I understand Boromir's warnings, but too late!"

"But you must not let yourself fall into despair," Legolas urged. "It is not her intention, for one. If I were to see the forest of Lorien in spring, as I have always longed, I know I should never find another forest as beautiful, but I would still find joy in the forests of other lands."

"I do not understand your metaphor, but I take your meaning," said Gimli after a moment. "Still, I mourn for the innocence of my old self."

"No, friend, let there be no mourning," said Legolas. "You have a new memory to treasure for the rest of your days."

"Dwarves do not experience memory in the same way Elves do. For us, memory fades and disappears with age. I've often wondered if that's not why Elves are so strange, if your memories do not fade and you must relive all your joys and sorrows every day as if they were new."

"For me, I would never wish to have my memories fade – they are a part of me, and to live century to century, every day losing some part of myself…" Legolas shuddered. "No, I could not wish it."

"Then, on this we must disagree," said Gimli. "But I hold no displeasure over it," he clarified.

"Nor I," said Legolas.

They walked in silence for some moments.

"I must apologise," said Legolas. "I fear for many months I did not treat you with the respect you deserve. Lady Galadriel is a nobler being than I, to see past centuries of prejudice and greet you in your own tongue."

Gimli's eyes shone. "Aye, and I owe you the same apology. When it came to it, it was no great burden to accept the good will of an Elf."

"I cannot promise not to find your ways strange," Legolas admitted. "But I can promise to no longer regard them with mockery."

"Do not make promises you cannot keep, for is it not true that Wood Elves take very little seriously?" said Gimli. "But I will trust you will not laugh with intent to shame, and offer you the same promise."

Gimli offered Legolas his hand and they shook, in the way of Men.

--

Galadriel departed in mid-February, and was replaced by a rotating series of guest lecturers of varying degree of competence. By the time the year edged its way into March, spring still a distant hope on the horizon, Legolas was growing weary of the experience.

At first, Legolas thought their latest substitute was another of the Wizards. Saruman, perhaps? His robes were white.

It was not until the stooped figure at the front of the room straightened and pulled back his hood that he realised the man's true identity.

The classroom burst into a cacophony of excitement, students abandoning their places to envelop Gandalf in hugs.

"I apologise for my absence. I was called away unexpectedly on a matter of some urgency, and it took longer to complete than I expected." There was a lightness in Gandalf that had not been there before – but also an accompanying darkness.

"Was it dangerous, what you were doing?" asked Pippin.

"Oh, yes, extremely," said Gandalf. "But it is not the time to talk of such things. I left you readings before I left – I suppose it is too much to hope that you completed them."

Gandalf's return brought with it the first inklings of spring at the University. Bulbs began shooting hopeful green spears through the soft earth, birds began chirping in the still-bare trees, and the weather turned wild and unpredictable.

It also heralded the first of a month-long run of varsity matches. Practices began again in earnest, and the weekly coffee shop meetups were increasingly sparsely attended.

With most of the students involved in some kind of sport, and every event tripling the number of practices, keeping up with the readings and essays becomes a fool's hope, and the tutors as a whole gave it up for a lost cause.

Before the competition came a seemingly endless run of qualification tryouts, and each college turned out in droves to support their own.

Legolas's staircase were all attempting to qualify in their respective events.

There was a close call in the rowing qualification finals when Merry and Pippin's team almost overturned.

"I've never trusted boats," Sam moaned. "I can't watch. Tell me if they win, Mr Frodo."

Frodo laughed. "It's all right, Sam. The other competitors won't let them drown."

"Nor will those of us on the banks," Legolas reassured him. "I am a decent swimmer, and there are lifeguards watching for accidents."

His own qualification tournament was the next day. The archery competition was judged on a handicap basis, with Elves given the most difficult targets to account for their superior strength and eyesight.

The crowds of students watching were not so great as they were for other sports in the competition, but they were enough to put Legolas off his stride. Even as they fell silent as the archers took their places, he could hear every whisper, every cough, every snide comment or nervous heartbeat.

He saw now why several of his fellow Elf competitors bore ear plugs.

He breathed deeply. The feel of the bow in his hand, the sun on his back, the wind in his hair. Those were all that mattered.

Legolas qualified for the archery tournament easily, to nobody's surprise save his own.

"I couldn't see through the backs of all these tall folk," Gimli told him later. "But good job."

Legolas hadn't realised Gimli was there – not surprising, if he'd been hidden behind the other students. "Thank you," he said. He paused. "Perhaps we can find you a box for next time?"

Gimli growled at him, and Legolas laughed and skipped out of the way of a threatening gesture.

"Your trial is tomorrow?" said Legolas. "I'll be there."

--

All the Hobbits, Boromir and Aragorn turned out to watch Gimli's qualification trial, although they were some of the few non-Dwarves in the audience.

"Why do you think that is?" asked Pippin. Being slightly smaller than the rest of the crowd, they'd managed to secure seats at the front. Legolas sat on the far end, feeling conspicuous in his height – Gimli had taken one look at Legolas before they left and suggested he don a boater for the day. Boromir and Aragorn sat behind him.

"Few but a Dwarf have the strength to heft a competition-weight axe and throw it with accuracy," explained Boromir. "I myself tried several times, in my youth, but to no avail."

Elves were strong, but Legolas felt to mention that would only raise uncomfortable questions about why Elves did not choose to participate in a Dwarf sport.

"I wonder what sports Hobbits could create," said Sam. "The Big Folk's sports are all well and good, but I think we should have something of our own."

"Beer-drinking," said Pippin positively.

Merry hit him lightly on the back of the head. "I don't see how we can make that a sport, Pip."

"If you want to see a beer-drinking competition, you should wait until after the varsity match," said one of the Dwarves seated behind them. "The finest ale in the country will be spilled for the victors!"

"And the losers, too," said another. "To console them, you see."

"I like this plan," said Pippin. "Merry, we have to go to the axe-throwing match."

"We'll all go," said Legolas.

"Hush, the trial is beginning," hissed one of the Dwarves next to the Hobbits, tugging her beard anxiously.

The Hobbits fell silent.

This was the first time Legolas had watched the sport, and he wasn't sure what to expect. The sport was judged on both accuracy of the throw – there were four vertical lines dividing the run into five sections – and distance. Ten axes were thrown by each competitor.

Gimli was the clear leader in distance, though his accuracy wavered. The weighting of distance in the scoring increased towards the latter half of the throws, and it was with this advantage he scraped into the top ten and thus made the varsity team.

Legolas' ears rang with cheers from his companions as the results were announced, his own voice lost in the furor.

Gimli was as proud of himself as Legolas had ever seen him. He pointed a chicken drumstick at Legolas over dinner. "If I place higher than you in the varsity competition, you will owe me a drink."

Legolas laughed. "Is that so? I think I am already ahead, as I placed higher than you in my own qualification."

Gimli scowled. "Then I will have to beat you by much in the varsity competition. But do not think I am not up to it, Elf."

"I would not dream of it," said Legolas. "In fact, I look forward to it."

His own inexperience in competition would be his disadvantage, he knew. But friend or not, he could not let himself be bested by a Dwarf!

--

The celebration after the varsity teams returned ran deep into the night. Legolas spent the early portion of the evening with the archery team, then excused himself to seek out Gimli and the rest of his staircase, if he could find them.

He wandered between groups of increasingly tipsy students, exchanging congratulations and gestures of victory with anyone he knew (and several he suspected he didn't). His glass was refilled with at least two different types of ale.

Just as he was fearing Gimli had gone elsewhere for his celebrations, or perhaps that Legolas had already missed him, Gimli lurched into Legolas' presence and held aloft a full tankard. "Twenty three points!"

Legolas raised his own glass to tap it against Gimli's. "Then you can claim victory, my friend, and I owe you a drink."

Gimli laughed with delight. He dragged Legolas to one of the long tables and they settled amongst the various other celebrating students.

"I bet I can hold my liquor better than you, too," Gimli declared.

"Now that I doubt," said Legolas. He had centuries more experience with drinking than Gimli, after all.

Proving this took some time, and he had to admit the Dwarf had an impressive ability to put back ale.

The competition lasted through a series of speeches, and for the most part improved them significantly.

They staggered back to the college together, Legolas providing support for the Dwarf's wobbly legs where necessary.

"You're a tree," Gimli muttered to himself. "Like an Elf. A tree. Elves love trees."

"And you are heavy like a rock," said Legolas. "Come now, we're almost to our staircase."

He poured Gimli into bed, then tottered over to his own. He wasn't used to feeling the effects of alcohol quite this much.

Gimli was snoring again. Legolas smiled and leant back against the wall. His thoughts were slipping in and out of reach, wild ideas presenting themselves and refusing to let Legolas catch them and examine them closely.

For a moment he wished for the oblivion of sleep, such as the mortal races experienced it.

He grabbed for his curtain and drew it closed.

--

After the excitement of the varsity tournament was over, the weekly coffee shop meetings gained some new attendees.

One of Boromir's classmates from another college joined them, a Man from Rohan by the name of Éomer. Éomer brought with him his sister, Éowyn, and thus introduced one of very few women into their group. Éowyn was a student at Lady Andreth College.

"Éomer and Éowyn… then your uncle is Théoden, King of Rohan," said Aragorn.

"It's largely a ceremonial role now," Éowyn explained. "Since we ratified the Treaty of Dunharrow to install an elected parliament five years ago."

"I remember," said Aragorn. "Would you care to talk about it? I have some interest in the topic. It would be interesting to hear about the process from one who was there."

Boromir stirred, looking between them uneasily.

Éowyn turned faintly pink. "I was but a child at the time, but I have studied it in depth since. My uncle was not always keen to indulge my curiosity."

"You are a better politician than our uncle gives you credit for," said Éomer. "I would have you as Prime Minister, if it were possible."

"The treaty forbids installing one of the royal family as Prime Minister," Éowyn explained.

"Do you think the elected parliament is being successful in representing the view of the people?" asked Aragorn.

"It's new yet," said Éowyn. "There's still a lot of work to do, both with the parliament and in educating the populace to what the changes mean for them."

Éomer pulled their attention away from the discussion and addressed Legolas and Gimli. "So you are both in Gandalf's class? How do you find it?"

"It is better now that he has returned," said Legolas.

"Then it is true that he disappeared for a month with no warning?"

"It is true," said Legolas. "He was replaced for a time by Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien."

Éomer shook his head. "I am glad to have not been in that class," he said. "I have enough to worry about without an Elf-Witch practising thought-reading on me."

Gimli spoke up, his tone tight with anger. "Then you would be rejecting one of the finest teachers I have ever experienced, and the most beautiful lady in all the world."

Éomer snorted. "I had not thought to hear such words from a Dwarf."

Gimli bristled. "Do you have some objection to Dwarves, Master Éomer?"

"I have no need to object to Dwarves, since they so rarely enter my field of view," Éomer said easily, with a gesture to indicate he was referring to Gimli's stature.

Legolas glared at Éomer. "Gimli is my friend," he said firmly. "I will not stand for him to be insulted."

Éomer looked between them in surprise. "I am not the one who–"

Aragorn broke his conversation with Éowyn to intercede in what may have been the end of Éomer's time with their group. "Come, peace, it is not the time for fighting. It is Sunday and the weather is fair."

Gimli muttered something that sounded like a request that Éomer leave and go explore that fair weather far away from him, but he settled back into his seat and reached for his drink. "One day you will meet the fair lady yourself and you will eat your words," he informed Éomer.

"And on that day I will be glad to admit my error, should it be the case," said Éomer, and that was the last of the topic for that day.

--

In taking botany, Legolas had been eager to learn the proper names of the new plants and trees he had seen since leaving his home. He was quickly finding out that the discipline was far more detailed and complex than that.

Some of the other Elves complained that delving into the depths of knowledge ruined the aesthetics of the plants, but Legolas found it deeply fascinating. There was a kind of poetry in the scientific names, the way plants fit into a neat tree of similar characteristics and ancestors.

In March he spent five days with his botany class on an excursion to study the trees of Fangorn forest on the borders of Rohan.

The forest was so ancient and alien it seemed to belie modern scientific classification. Magic had long been a presence in the forest, and the Ents had wrought many changes on the trees in the centuries of their shepherding.

The forest's namesake himself was happy to help them in their classification. The Ents had names for everything – the only challenge was getting them to divulge the information within the bounds of a mortal life span.

Legolas returned to the college mid-week, only to find Gimli in the midst of packing. The geology class had their own excursion to Rohan for the rest of the week.

He had been expecting to find the week without his roommate restful, but instead he found himself wandering the halls at a loss for the most of it. Their room was too quiet without the scraping of the gramophone player or rustling of pages as Gimli studied. He sought out the library and the J.C.R. far more frequently for companionship.

Aragorn was watching him with eyes that knew too much, so he avoided his presence. The Hobbits were happy to welcome him into their little circle. They were, at present, arguing about who made the best scones in the Shire.

"Say what you will about the scones, but you cannot deny the best cream comes from Roigo's."

"Nor the best jam. Everyone knows it's from Exard's in Bree."

This might have started another argument, were it not for Frodo's loud exclamation of frustration. "I don't see why it matters, it's not like we're going to get to try any of it until vacation."

The others fell silent. "I could ask my old Gaffer to send some on," offered Sam, at last.

Frodo got to his feet. "Never mind, Sam. I'm going to do some revision."

After a moment, Sam got up to follow him.

--

Gimli returned on Saturday afternoon practically buzzing with excitement over his experiences.

"I have never seen anything like it," he said. "The Glittering Caves, they call them, and they are filled with wonder."

"I do not doubt your words, although I have little interest in caves myself. My own excursion was similarly breath-taking."

"The forest?" asked Gimli. "I heard it was a cursed place. Éomer said his people rarely go near it." Éomer and Gimli had repaired their relationship from its fragile beginnings to one of respectful civility.

"Fangorn forest," said Legolas. He groped for words. "It is old, even for an Elf. The trees are wise and slow. It is not peaceful, so much as… eternal. You feel that your steps are as insignificant as the passing of a fly, and that when you are gone the forest will persist, without ever acknowledging your passage."

Gimli snorted. "And you say you have no interest in caves. Stalactites and stalagmites take centuries to grow. The crystals, ah! They are more ancient than any of us know."

"I thought that the slightest touch could prevent the growth of a stalagmites," said Legolas. "Trees are less fragile. It is easy for a being to feel significant. To make him feel like he is merely a second in the passing of endless years is rare."

"It is true that rock is more fragile than you would think to see it. But oh, such beauty, Legolas! Crystals and gemstones, ancient and too lovely to describe with mere words. Fragile things are more beautiful than the implacable."

"More beautiful than the Lady Galadriel?"

Gimli gave him a look that told him he knew perfectly well he was being teased. "No woman can compare to the Lady Galadriel in beauty nor grace. The Glittering Caves are not a living being – their beauty is beyond such things."

"I would visit the caves, if you were there as my guide," said Legolas impulsively.

Gimli started. "And I would return the favour, if you were willing."

I would take you to every forest in Arda, if you wished, Legolas thought. But, recognising the danger of voicing that thought, he said, "It would be my pleasure."

"Then we are agreed. In the summer, perhaps, before the next academic year?"

Legolas had not thought of putting a date on his offer, and the indication that this spur-of-the-moment decision may become a reality made him buzz with anticipation. "That would be agreeable."

--

The mail was delivered at around seven o'clock most mornings, so it was not uncommon for recent letters to be the subject of conversation at the breakfast table, along with whatever news the morning papers brought.

Tauriel's latest letter was, as usual, heavy on the discussion and light on the details on what exactly she was doing with herself. Legolas set it aside to deal with later and set his attention to breakfast.

Éomer sat down at the table soon after, fingering an unopened letter with a furrowed brow.

Aragorn leant forward. "You seem troubled."

"It's from my uncle," Éomer explained. "He has been… unwell, of late. I don't know why he would be writing to me, save that it cannot be good news." Visibly steeling himself, he opened the letter with an unused butter knife.

Éomer read the letter quickly, his expression turning blacker and blacker with outrage as he read. He looked up at their curious gazes as he finished.

"My uncle says, in handwriting that is most certainly not his own, that I am to seek alternative accommodation for the spring vacation." He rolled his eyes. "He does, however, note that this suggestion does not apply to my sister. And this is the best part, it's signed King Théoden of Rohan, by the hand of Gríma, son of Gálmód." He threw the letter aside with an expression of disgust.

"What are you going to do?" asked Aragorn. "I have heard nothing good of this Gríma. They say he curries favour with the king so that it will gain him political power."

"He's angling for Prime Minister, when the current term runs out," said Éomer. "There are those who still believe it's the king's right to choose. We call him Wormtongue, when he is out of hearing."

"Will you go to Edoras?" asked Merry. "Éowyn invited me to stay with you in the second week of vacation."

"I think not," said Éomer, after a moment. "I have friends with political connections in Aldburg. Between us we should be able to come up with something to do about Wormtongue. This has gone too far. He has turned my uncle against too many friends, I will not let him do the same to me. Merry, you have to keep an eye on Éowyn. Don't let her spend a moment alone with that slimy toad."

"Éowyn can look after herself," said Merry, but Éomer wasn't listening.

Éomer got to his feet. "I have to talk to her." He left his plate of breakfast on the table behind him, barely touched. Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw Gandalf rise from the dons' table and pull Éomer aside before he left the hall.

Pippin helped himself to the rest of Éomer's breakfast.

--

The end of term came upon him all of a sudden, after the excitement of the varsity matches and Fangorn Forest. Classes began to reach the conclusion of their syllabus, and their little group started to share their plans for the break.

Sam and Frodo made plans to hike some remote wilderness, and Merry and Pippin were distressed to realise their own obligations would ensure they didn't see each other until next term. Boromir was to go back to Gondor with Pippin, and Merry was still to visit Rohan at Éowyn's behest.

Legolas had not given his own vacation any thought. His father expected he would be returning to Greenwood as he had over winter, but Legolas found himself shying away from the idea.

The Hobbits hosted the eight of them for an end of term dinner, which turned out to involve three full courses and dessert, as well as copious amounts of fine wine and beer. Afterwards Aragorn followed Legolas and Gimli back to their room.

"I have a proposition for you two, if you care to hear it," said Aragorn, leaning in the doorway. "I detected that neither of you have any particular plans for vacation." He held up his hand. "I am not criticising. I have long wanted to take the pass through the mountains to the ocean, and I fear if I do not do it this spring, I will not have the opportunity. I thought the three of us could go together."

The ocean! Far away it still seemed to him, although it was now a mere train journey away, scarcely further than it would take him to reach Greenwood. "I've never seen the sea," he said out loud.

"Nor I," said Gimli. "But we Dwarves do not hold it in the same regard as you surface-dwellers."

"You do not have to accept," said Aragorn calmly. "But if you could let me know by the end of the week, I can arrange tickets and lodgings." He yawned and straightened himself up again. "Sleep well. I don't imagine I'll see you at breakfast."

"I don't think I'll need to eat for a week," moaned Gimli.

Legolas shook his head. "You need more practice with feasting, both of you."

"I have heard the Elvenking is known for his grand feasts," laughed Aragorn. "Perhaps you should introduce him to the Hobbits. They would have a lot in common."

Insular though he was, Legolas thought the Hobbits might even be able to win over Thranduil, given enough time. "I do not believe that circumstance ever likely to occur, but I think you may be right."

"The Elvenking was not known for his hospitality to other races in my father's day," said Gimli, stiffly. Legolas fell silent and glanced at Gimli nervously. Gimli sighed loudly. "But I will allow that even Elves can change."

Aragorn shook his head and let himself out of their room, hiding another yawn behind his hand as he went.

--

Aragorn reminded them of his offer two nights later, over dinner. They promised he would have an answer by the end of the week.

"Do you think you'll go?" asked Gimli suddenly, breaking the silence of their study hour.

His feelings on the matter were so complex it took him several long moments to put into words. "All Elves long to see the ocean by the end of their days. I would not have thought I am so old as to feel that desire, and yet now that the opportunity presents itself…"

"Was that a yes? Just give a straight answer, Elf."

Legolas laughed. "That is a maybe, leaning towards yes."

Gimli snorted. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Elves do not like to make decisions rashly. It is no bad thing to deliberate a thing before making a decision. But how of you, Master Dwarf?"

"There is no place an Elf would go that a Dwarf would be afraid to follow," Gimli said, affronted.

"I do not fear the sea," Legolas protested. "Or… no, I do not fear it, but I suspect it will change me."

"What is the ocean, but a large pond? There is nothing to change a person in that."

"I would as soon call a chasm just a hole in the ground," said Legolas, "but I sense that you are teasing me. If you have no objections, why do you hesitate in your answer?"

Gimli drew in a long breath. "What business is it of yours? I will accept, and you are welcome to come or not. It's up to you." And he got to his feet and stomped into the bedroom.

Legolas wondered what he had said to cause offence this time. The longer their acquaintance grew, the fewer these incidents became – but their impact grew exponentially each time.

To apologise without understanding the fault seemed disingenuous, yet try as he might, he could not seem to untangle his error.

With a sigh of his own, he left their room for the safety of the unquestioning stars.

--

The trip was arranged to leave five days after the end of term, but the college wanted them out the same as everyone else so they secured an invite to spend the time with Éowyn in Rohan.

Éowyn was delighted at the opportunity to introduce her visitors to her home city. She was making her own way back from university, but promised to send a motor car to pick them up from the train station.

The three of them managed to secure a private cabin on the train to Rohan, only to be interrupted at the last moment by one final traveller.

"Gandalf!" they exclaimed as one, once the traveller pulled back his hood.

"Yes, yes, it is I," said Gandalf. "You needn't look so surprised. We can't spend all our time at the university, and even dons can take trains."

"You are going to Rohan?" asked Gimli.

"Why?" added Aragorn, his eyes narrowed slightly.

Gandalf gave him a long, thoughtful look. "The king of Rohan is not yet without influence, and when the very powerful start behaving strangely I grow suspicious. I plan to make myself known to King Théoden again."

"You think there's more going on than just one man grabbing for political power?" asked Aragorn, with interest.

"Isn't that enough? I didn't get a reputation for sticking my nose into everyone's private business for nothing."

"There are some who seem to think you bring trouble with you."

Gandalf drew himself up with dignity. "That is only because people are unable to tell the difference between the cause of trouble and the cure."

As promised, they were met at the station in Edoras by a motor car, complete with driver. Gimli immediately struck up a conversation with him, throwing out words like "horsepower" and "spark gap" and "crank handle" that seemed to mean entirely different things to them.

As the conversation showed no signs of stopping, they elected to give Gimli the front passenger seat and squeezed the rest of them into the back.

Éowyn welcomed them into at the Golden Hall. She looked surprised to see Gandalf, although she was quick to explain that he was also an honoured guest in Edoras.

"I would see your uncle," Gandalf told her, in a tone that did not invite argument.

--

What exactly passed between Gandalf and King Théoden, Legolas was not sure, but by the end of it Gandalf had sent Wormtongue out of the city and requested a number of specific medical treatments from the city hospitals.

After a single dose of the medicine, the King began to regain some colour. Within a few hours, he was growing cheerful again and sent for his niece and nephew with apparent delight. Éomer sent a telegram back saying he would be in Edoras by the next train.

Their hosts' preoccupation with the King left them with little to do until Éowyn took it upon herself to introduce them to their family stables.

"All the royal families of Rohan have kept horses," she explained, somewhat unnecessarily. "The motorcar is going to make them redundant, poor things, but I don't think Rohan will ever stop breeding them."

"They're beautiful," said Aragorn. "Rohan breeds good stock."

"Would you like to ride?" she asked eagerly. Her eyes were only for Aragorn, but she belatedly repeated the offer for Legolas and Gimli.

"If it would not draw you too far from your family," said Aragorn.

"Uncle says I am young, and cannot spend all my time by his side. I protested, of course, but it is such a nice day out, I am not displeased at the notion of spending some time out in it."

Legolas had never ridden before, but he found the offered beast responded happily to his introduction and Legolas was able to mount easily. He requested they remove the saddle and rein, as he had no need for it and he sensed the beast would be happier without it.

Upon being introduced to a pony, Gimli planted both feet on the ground and declared that he would not be riding anywhere, and he would see them that evening at dinner.

"Oh, come, you seemed to like the idea at breakfast," Legolas protested.

"That was before I had the chance to meet one up close and personal. No offence," he told the pony hurriedly.

"There's really nothing to be afraid of," said Éowyn. "No horse of Rohan would throw a rider without provocation."

"Ah," said Gimli triumphantly, "but how am I to know what will and will not provoke a horse?"

"You can ride behind me, if Arod will have you." He whispered to the horse in Sindarin for a moment. "There. You won't be in any danger."

This proposition seemed to confound Gimli on another level entirely. Confronted with Aragorn, Éowyn and Legolas all watching him, waiting for an answer, he huffed loudly in annoyance. "Fine, fine, I will come."

Éowyn had a lunch of sandwiches, ginger beer, cold meats and cheese brought to them, and they were soon on their way.

The horses were calm and stately, almost subdued, as they wound their way through the fortified streets of the city, but as the houses gave way to farmland they began to quicken their step, eager for the freedom of the green fields and dirt roads.

Gimli stirred uneasily as the ride became more bumpy. "I can't say as I understand why Men do this for fun. It's a most uncomfortable way to travel."

Éowyn and Aragorn pulled ahead of them, Éowyn's hair loose and flying behind her in the wind. For Gimli's sake, Legolas asked Arod to keep to a slower pace. It was easy to track their route on the ground, even as far behind as they were.

"Have faith, I'm sure there will be no horses at the seaside," said Legolas, attempting to be reassuring.

"That is no comfort when there are horses around me now," Gimli muttered in reply.

They caught up with the others about twenty minutes later, and ate their picnic on the edge of a hillside, watching the clouds roll over the horizon. Legolas tried in vain to tease the knots out of his hair with his fingers, but gave it up for a lost cause when the wind continually undid his work. He would have to comb and rebraid it when he returned.

Try as they might, they were not able to induce Gimli to mount Arod alone. Éowyn was in happier spirits now, with her uncle's health improving and no stress of university on her shoulders. Aragorn had a faint look of worry in his regard for her, and Legolas began to suspect him glad that their stay was only to be a few days.

They had all been provided separate rooms in the royal residence, and Legolas found himself surprised to be missing his roommate's presence in the dark of night.

The night watchmen became quite familiar with him over the three nights of their stay, curious to have an Elf at their disposal and peppering him with questions about his race and customs. Legolas became more and more convinced that isolation was not the solution, if only to save his fellows from similar questioning.

Elves and other races were so commonplace at the university that there was seldom any comment about it, but here in the world of Men, the presence of an Elf or Dwarf was uncommon enough to warrant comment, and so little known to prompt an interrogation. Legolas began to grow in sympathy for Gimli's complaints at the start of their relationship.

He overheard Gimli explaining, in amused tones, that yes, there was such a thing as Dwarf women, and yes, they had beards. No, he said, it was not strange at all, and the fairest ladies of his acquaintance had long, lush beards.

The thought made Legolas uncomfortable for no reason he could discern.

"Do you have a lady Dwarf back home then, Gimli?" asked Éowyn, her eyes bright.

Gimli sighed heavily. "I do not. Nor do I have a lady I wish were my own. I am as you see, a single Dwarf."

"And how about you, Aragorn?"

Aragorn took a long drink, then sat staring into it for a long moment before replying. "There is a lady," he said. "I do not know where her heart lies, and I do not know if I should risk my own, but… yes, there is a lady."

And that was all he would say on the subject.

--

At last, they were loading their suitcases onto the train and setting off for the distant ocean.

The train passed from Rohan into Gondor through a long, dark tunnel. The lamps inside the train flickered as the train rattled on, and Gimli became unnerved.

"I thought tunnels were the realm of Dwarves," said Legolas. "Why do you seem ill at ease?"

"Tunnels, yes, but not those such as this! The tunnels of Dwarves are full of rich carvings and warm light, and seldom gloomy. This tunnel – I do not like it at all. This mountain resents us, and it wishes us gone."

"It will be over soon," said Aragorn. He was leaning up against the window, staring deep into the eyes of his own reflection. "Whatever waits in this mountain, it is not Dwarves that it resents."

The train burst out into bright sunlight again, and Gimli relaxed. "I would never have thought it, a Dwarf fearing the underground when an Elf greets it with only smiles."

"Perhaps it is just that I lack your experience," Legolas suggested. "But it is over now."

The countryside here was rocky and barren, quite different from the green lands of Rohan. Suddenly, Aragorn straightened and pointed out the window. "Look quickly, on the horizon."

At first, it looked like only the twinkle of electric lights, and then the train reached a crest and it was spread out before them, blue and green and rippling. It was the sea, sparkling in the sunlight.

It was the most beautiful thing Legolas had ever seen. He knew abruptly how Gimli had felt meeting the Lady Galadriel, and was struck with immediate sympathy for his friend.

"I would write a thousand poems for you, if I had but the words," he murmured to the window, only realising he had spoken out loud when Aragorn chuckled in response.

"I had forgotten how beautiful it is," Aragorn responded. "I came this way long ago, when I visited Gondor for the first time."

"It would be polite to speak a language we all understand," Gimli interrupted, in acid tones.

"I apologise, my friend," said Legolas, switching back to Westron. "I was overcome and slipped into the language of my home."

"The ocean means something different to Elves," Aragorn explained gently.

"And would the Elf care to explain what that meaning is?" asked Gimli.

Legolas spoke without turning away from the window. "Back when the world was smaller, crossing the sea meant leaving this world for the next. We would travel across the sea to a distant land, and fade from this world. It hasn't been the custom for millennia, but the sea is still special to us."

Gimli was silent for some time. "There is no risk of it taking you now?"

Legolas turned in surprise. "I am young yet. For an Elf," he qualified, off Gimli's look. "Even if it were still our way, I think I would be safe for some time yet."

"Ah, the confidence of youth," Aragorn murmured.

--

On their first day at the sea, it rained. The locals tutted and said, "Well, that's spring for you, it'll be sunny and hot tomorrow, you just wait."

Legolas curled up in the window seat at the side of the common room and watched the raindrops slide down the window, the grey ocean swirling beyond it.

It was a good, healthy rain. Fat drops quivered with potential on the glass before they gathered companions and streamed down in long stripes.

"I'm not disappointed," he said, when Gimli made as if to repeat some of the locals' commiserations. "The ocean is beautiful like this."

"Aye? I don't see you running out in this to see it closer."

"I am content to admire it at a distance. But a little rain does not diminish it, it only shows a different face."

Gimli muttered something that might be an oath against Elves in his own language. "I find little beauty in grey skies."

Aragorn arrived with mugs of ale, some fresh bread and cheese. He looked like he didn't know whether to be concerned or amused. "You bicker like a married couple," he said, at last. At their twin dumbfounded expressions, he added, "I just mean that there's affection in your quarrelling."

That was accurate enough. He couldn't have put an exact date to it, but distaste had turned to annoyance, had turned to exasperation, had turned to affection.

"I would not repeat that thought among any of my kin," muttered Gimli. But his cheeks were faintly pink.

The next day, as predicted, was sunny and warm, only a few little white clouds and puddles on the ground left to tell the tale of the day before. By the afternoon, the sand on the beach was dry and they spent the day in the water and out, bathing mostly in the shallows as Gimli had never learned to swim.

As the day grew long and began to cool, they walked the little shops along the jetty in town. The dock was the launching point for ships of many sizes, from private yachts to the large passenger ferries. They ate ice creams and peered with curiosity at the trinkets and souvenirs that filled the shops.

They watched the sun set over the ocean without speaking, the gulls filling the air with their strange, mournful songs.

--

The ferries departed from the dock several times a day, heading to places both near and far. When they were inside, Legolas liked to sit by the window and watch them. He wondered what it would be like to take one, to cross the distance without being able to watch the land pass by and wake up in a new land.

Would it be so different to this one? He had seen photographs, but it was so hard to tell the truth from such fuzzy, colourless renditions of life. He was hoped that even for the race of Men, photographs were not an accurate depiction of their vision. The alternative was concerning.

If the plants were different, surely the earth would smell different. It would be strange and terrifying to be so out of touch with his own experience.

Or perhaps it would be exciting, like that first sight of the ocean rising over the horizon?

"You seem conflicted," said Aragorn, coming to stand at his side.

"I was thinking I might like to travel someday. Beyond these shores, I mean, not on a train journey."

Aragorn seemed surprised. "That was not what I expected to be on your mind."

"Perhaps Tauriel was right that leaving my father's domain would change me," Legolas mused, then Aragorn's words filtered through. "What were you expecting me to say?"

Aragorn looked uncomfortable now. "Many things. Your friendship with Gimli, perhaps."

"But that is nothing to worry over. Even Sam tells me the relations between Elves and Dwarves were not always so hostile. Gandalf told me he thinks it is time for some rifts must be healed."

"That is something that may seem easy here, where we are little known and a curiosity. You may feel differently once you are back among your own people."

That was truth enough. The locals here were all Men, and showed little interest in the three of them as anything other than an exotic and unusual occurrence.

"You may find leaping to Gimli's defence garners more reaction amongst the Elves than amongst Men."

"I did not think it was the purpose of a holiday to instil worries in people. I will cross that bridge when I come to it."

Aragorn smiled. "That is not my intent. But you are right, we are on holiday and we should take advantage of it."

Then Gimli found them and insisted they follow him to some interesting location he'd found in a tourist brochure, and the conversation passed away.

Chapter 3: Third Term

Legolas settled into third term comfortably. The zeroth week exams came and went, and then they were launched into the final stretch of academia for the year.

Over the break, it seemed Boromir had gained a younger, smaller version of himself, whom he introduced over dinner on the first night as his brother Faramir.

"He's staying with me for the term," said Boromir. "I've made it all right with the Warden."

Pippin was delighted – he and Faramir had apparently become great friends during his stay in Gondor. He immediately declared his intention to be Faramir's guide to life at the university.

"You're not studying here?" asked Aragorn curiously.

Boromir winced, and Faramir turned his gaze to his food. "Father didn't want both of us to go to university," he said, at last.

"And your father doesn't mind you staying here with Boromir?"

"I doubt Father has even noticed my absence," said Faramir.

Boromir huffed with the frustration of an old argument. "Father loves you," he insisted. "He just doesn't understand you."

"He wishes I were more like you," said Faramir, smiling wryly. "It's all right. I came to terms with that a long time ago."

"Well," said Pippin, in tones of great authority, "if you're not studying you have a great opportunity to experience everything the university has to offer, with no exams."

"I would like to see the university library," said Faramir dreamily. "And it's been many years since I've had the chance to talk to Gandalf."

Pippin sighed in disappointment. "Well, you have to come to the coffee shop meetings at least."

Boromir was not even a regular attendee, but Pippin looked so firm that he agreed they would both attend the next one.

--

The coffee shop had a bell at the front door, and whenever it rang it was usual for at least half the group to look over and see who was joining them. This might be intimidating for those who were not members of the group, but as long as they kept paying their way with food and drink orders – which was not likely to change as long as the Hobbits were leading it – the proprietors didn't seem to mind.

During their first meeting of the year, the bell rang and an Elf lady walked in. She evaluated the group impassively, eyes lighting on each of them in term before settling on Aragorn. Legolas had the privilege of seeing Aragorn's eyes widen. He half got to his feet before realising he was hemmed in by his companions.

Everyone struggled to let him out with some sense of dignity. The lady smiled as she watched, a mere quirk of the lips and crinkling of the eyes to show her amusement.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, speaking Sindarin in a low voice.

"I sent word that I was coming through my father," she said, "but you were out of contact during the break. And then I thought if I sent word to the university you would run away, so I decided to surprise you."

"Arwen–"

So, this was Arwen, daughter of Elrond.

"I am teaching at Lady Andreth College this term," she said. "There was an unexpected vacancy and the Dean invited me to step in at short notice."

"Congratulations," Aragorn murmured. He still seemed dumbfounded.

"My father advised me not to take it," she continued blithely. "But he was unable to justify himself to my satisfaction."

Gimli nudged Legolas in the side. "Are you eavesdropping on our friends?"

"I hardly think it's eavesdropping when they're standing right there. Both of them know the hearing range of Elves."

Arwen glanced at them and smiled at Aragorn. "Are you going to introduce me to your friends?" she asked, turning towards them.

Introductions were swiftly made, and room was found on one of the tall wingback chairs that was usually surrendered to Éowyn, when she attended.

Arwen proved herself to be soft-spoken and thoughtful. She was to lecture on philosophy and literature, and it came out that she and Aragorn had known each other since his childhood.

Éomer was as entranced by Arwen as any of the mortals in the group, but he kept shooting Aragorn disgruntled looks through the rest of the meeting.

Frodo was distracted, jumpy whenever a stray elbow or foot touched him and inclined to draw in on himself defensively when asked his opinion on the topic of the day.

For his part, Aragorn seemed immune to anything that wasn't the lady sitting next to him.

--

Aragorn found Legolas in the library one night, long after all the mortal members of the college had gone to bed.

"You're up late," prompted Legolas.

Aragorn leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes briefly. "I wanted to ask your advice."

"You are welcome to ask, but I do not know how much use I can be. Elves are not ones to make fast decisions as mortals are."

Aragorn smiled. "I apologise, I forgot that Elves do not like to give advice."

"And I more so than most. Living among mortals these last two terms has taught me only how vastly different our experiences are. I do not think there is any advice I could give you that would help."

"Then let me ask you a matter of opinion. Do you think an Elf can love a mortal? Can a mortal make an Elf happy, in that relationship?"

His first instinct was to shy away from the question, which he knew would not bear close examination without leading him down paths he had no desire to travel. "I have never been in a relationship," he began cautiously.

"I thought as much. Elven relationships do not end as easily as those of Men do, and I have never heard you mention a wife."

Legolas nodded. "In addition, I have never personally known an Elf in a relationship with a mortal."

"There are few who have. I ask only in theory."

Sensing that he wasn't going to get out of the conversation, Legolas cocked his head. "I assume you know the material facts of the matter." Elves were immortal, but they could choose to end their own lives. To lose a lover was one of the few circumstances that could prompt an Elf to make that choice.

Aragorn nodded.

"Then, I would say… it is not your decision to make. That is, it is not the decision of the mortal partner to make. Let the Elf partner make his or her own decision. For my own part, if the one I loved were to refuse to be with me in order to prevent me from my own will, that would be a great pain indeed."

"Greater than the pain of losing them, when they come to the end of their days?"

"When mortal lovers die at the end of a long and happy life, they die together. That is no tragedy to the minds of Men. Indeed, your poetry celebrates it."

"Ah, but for a Man to to choose his own death is the greatest tragedy imaginable."

Legolas inclined his head. "That is fair. However, your own situation is a little different, I believe. The children of Elrond are given the same choice as he."

"And he would not have his daughter make the same choice as his brother. He would not have her wither and die."

"We cannot live only by the wills of our fathers," said Legolas. "Let her make her choice."

"Her father would also not have her pledge herself to a Man who has been nothing but a wanderer his life, beholden to no place or way of living."

"That, at least, you can act upon. That is why you are here, no?"

Aragorn looked at his hands, clasped on the table in front of him. "I have one more decision in front of me before that can come to pass. Destiny seems such an antiquated concept, and yet it follows at my heels doggedly. Monarchies are being dismantled every day. There is no purpose in my pursuing it, and yet."

"Now that is a question that is beyond my abilities," laughed Legolas.

"But you are a prince, are you not?"

"My father is the king, but that does not make me a prince in the way of mortals. You should be having this conversation with Boromir – or Faramir, perhaps."

Aragorn shook his head. "I suppose if I complained that I asked an Elf for advice and they told me I should talk to someone else instead, I would be told I had it coming."

"It is not my place to give advice on situations of which I have no understanding," Legolas agreed.

Aragorn smiled. "I have some advice for you, though, on a situation I do understand. Telling yourself your feelings are not real, suppressing them for being inappropriate, will only lead to greater misery in the end. Be honest with yourself from the beginning."

Legolas did not respond at first, mulling the words over, looking at them from every angle to make certain he was understanding correctly.

At last, Aragorn yawned and murmured that he was going to find his bed.

"It is not his mortality that makes me hesitate," said Legolas. The words hung in the air, immutable now they were spoken.

"I know," said Aragorn. He squeezed Legolas's shoulder briefly. "I'll see you in the morning."

--

With the weather fair and no other appointments to attend to, it seemed logical to take his studies out to the oval, where he could sit on the man-made mounds that surrounded the north side and watch the football game below.

He recognised a few of his friends in the crowd below. Legolas could easily hear their conversation from his position.

Faramir claimed to have little interest in sports, but he attended all his brother's games, cheering him on with unfeigned enthusiasm. "I won't let my father draw a wedge between us," he said, when questioned on this by his companions. "I love my brother."

"What do you and your father argue about?" asked Aragorn.

Faramir looked at him sidelong. "I have always been more academically oriented than my brother. Father thinks I should spend less time in books and more outside."

"I have heard that the power of the Stewardship grows weaker in Gondor. The people look at Rohan and wonder if it is not time for Gondor to have a leader chosen by the people."

"My father disagrees with my interest in alternative government, even academic," said Faramir. "But I am surprised to hear this observation from you. I know who you are."

Aragorn shrugged. "I knew your father when he was a young man. He never liked me, although I was a great friend of his father's. I have not visited Minas Tirith since."

Faramir thought that over a moment. "And what do you plan, should you enter Gondor again?"

"The next time I enter Minas Tirith, I will be sure of myself. I can make no more promises than that."

Legolas suspected he was not the only one overhearing this conversation. On the other side of the field he saw Arwen curled up under a tree with a book lying open on her lap, expression thoughtful.

As he watched, Éowyn approached. They exchanged the polite greetings of acquaintances, then Arwen set her book aside and invited Éowyn to sit beside her.

From their conversation, Legolas gathered that Arwen was lecturing Éowyn for at least one subject. They talked of Arwen's most recent lecture, Éowyn asking for clarification on a point and Arwen elaborating as requested.

"You knew Aragorn as a child?" asked Éowyn, at last. "You must be a lot older than him."

"I did, yes," she replied. "It has been a long time since I considered him anything less than my equal, though."

"I see," said Éowyn. She hesitated a moment, then turned the conversation back to her studies. "Did you read the article by Sándir in the most recent Annúminas Journal of Philosophy? I would be interested in your opinion on it."

A loud outburst of cheering from the crowd drew Legolas's attention back to the game, along with the realisation that he'd just missed seeing the winning goal. He got to his feet and ran lightly down the hill to join Faramir's group in the crowd.

--

Legolas had not seen a lot of Gimli this term, save when they happened to both be studying in their room. He began to suspect Gimli was avoiding him, although it was difficult to be sure when he himself was choosing places with less chance of encountering curious Dwarves.

On this night, he'd chosen to spend the early hours on his favourite star-watching balcony. Not long after the clock in town chimed one o'clock, he heard footsteps approaching, heavier than Aragorn's and slower than was his way. They paused for a long moment before he heard the door open.

"Aragorn said I would probably find you here," said Gimli.

"It's a clear night with no moon," agreed Legolas. "You can see the stars very well from here."

Gimli stepped forward and turned his head to the night sky. "Do the stars have names?"

"I don't know their names in Westron," said Legolas. "In Sindarin, they have many. Look, that bright one above the tower, its name is Helluin."

Gimli said a word that Legolas was not able to interpret. "That is its name in Khuzdul," said Gimli. "I know that one. It is the brightest in the sky."

"That it is," said Legolas. He pointed at the sky without rising from his bench. "The red star over there, above the tree, that's Borgil."

Gimli stood at his shoulder to get a better angle on his direction. Legolas could feel his breath stirring the hair at the back of his neck.

They fell silent. The stars flickered above, and the night was only disturbed by the occasional hoot of an owl, hunting quietly in the silvery light of the stars.

"I couldn't sleep," said Gimli, at last.

Since Gimli usually slept as solidly as a rock, Legolas was surprised.

"I was waiting for you to come in," Gimli continued. "But you didn't."

"I apologise," said Legolas. "If I had known you were waiting up for me, I would have told you."

"Have I done something to offend you? You have been scarce since the start of term."

"No!" Legolas said, a little abrupter than he had intended. "No, I've just had a lot on my mind of late."

Gimli rumbled in the beginnings of offence. "You needn't pretend that Elves are always calm and aloof for my sake."

"But if the Dwarves were to know that we are capable of uncomfortable or unpleasant feelings it would be an unmitigated disaster," Legolas said earnestly. "No, truly, Gimli, you needn't concern yourself with me."

"We are friends, or so I thought."

How to explain, when that was the heart of the problem. If only he could be satisfied with friendship! "Yes. I swear to you, I do consider you a friend."

"You don't have to tell me what's keeping you so quiet," said Gimli, a little sulky, "but if we are friends you should stop avoiding me."

"You are right, of course. I will try to be more sociable."

"Then I expect to see you at the coffee shop on Sunday," said Gimli.

"Oh, did Pippin send you here? I see how it really is."

Gimli snorted. "No, he did not, but if you are absent I will be certain to send him."

"I have been duly threatened," said Legolas gravely. "You should sleep."

Gimli turned back to the sky. "I think I will stay here a while longer, if it does not bother you."

"It is no bother," Legolas replied.

--

Despite the best efforts of Pippin and Merry, in the end it was a small group that gathered the next Sunday. There was still enough food on the table to feed a small army, but it disappeared at a far slower rate than usual.

Faramir had elected to attend the coffee shop meet without his brother, Aragorn had excused himself at Arwen's request, and Éomer had been called to an emergency meeting of the polo club. Frodo and Sam were absent.

"I'm worried about Frodo," said Merry. "I don't think the time off got him over his gloom at all, really."

"He told me he'd be coming today," said Pippin. "But Sam caught me this morning and said he wasn't feeling well."

"Good old Sam," said Merry absently.

Éowyn arrived late, mouth curled downwards in a dismay. She met their greetings with a look of defiance, then paused when she came to Faramir.

He got to his feet. "I don't believe we've met, my lady. I am Faramir, of Gondor."

"Éowyn of Rohan," she said.

Faramir's eyes widened. "I have heard your name before."

"And I yours," she replied. She refused his offer of the tall chair and perched next to him on the padded wooden sofa that ran along the back wall.

Pippin opened his mouth to say something, but Merry nudged him into silence.

"You're a student here?" At her nod, he asked, "What are you reading?"

"Politics," she said. She met his look of surprise with a firm gaze. "It is my intention to shape the future of Rohan, in whatever form that fate allows me."

"I would like to do the same for my country," said Faramir wistfully. "But you were upset about something when you came in. Can I assist in any way?"

She laughed uncomfortably. "It is nothing of consequence."

"Then, at least let me distract you from your heavy thoughts."

At her agreement, Faramir launched into a tale of his time in the army, from which he was on leave for the year.

When the story concluded, Éowyn laughed with genuine mirth. "There was a time I dreamed I could cut off my hair and sneak into the army," she confessed. "I thought I could slay a great beast of Mordor and return home a hero."

"I have been to Mordor, and there is little there now save barren earth," said Faramir. "I was also dismayed by the lack of great beasts."

Éowyn smiled in rueful acknowledgement of his words. "The age of heroes is long over. I thought if I wished to be worthy of the honour of my birth, I should go into politics."

"I believe you would be worthy no matter what your future, my lady," said Faramir, and Éowyn blushed.

--

Telegrams were an infrequent, and therefore notable, occurrence at the college. So when a messenger interrupted dinner, it naturally gained the attention of everybody in the dining hall.

The messenger spoke to one of the students near the entrance, then another, at last making his way to the table Legolas occupied with the rest of his friends.

"Boromir or Faramir of Gondor?" asked the messenger, starting to look a little desperate.

Boromir raised his hand, and the messenger's shoulders slumped in relief. "Telegram for you." Boromir handed the boy a coin and took the slip of paper. The boy left at a quick pace.

The noise of dining room chatter began to swell once again, although not quite the same volume as it had been before the interruption. There were still plenty of glances sent Boromir's way.

Boromir read the telegram, then put his hands over his eyes and handed it to his brother. "It's about Father."

Faramir turned white as he read it. "I had no idea… Boromir, I swear it, there was no indicator."

"I know. Faramir, I know, I was there too."

"I have to go back," he said.

"I'll come with you. You can't face this alone–"

"You have exams, brother. I'll be fine. This is my fault, for not telling him." Faramir made as if to get up from the table right then and there, and Boromir put a heavy arm over his shoulders.

"Finish dinner, at least. You can take the earliest train tomorrow." He looked up to meet the startled gazes of the rest of the table. "It's from Gondor. Our father has apparently become convinced both of us are dead and is preparing to make the announcement to the country. Beregond is convincing him to postpone it until later in the week, but the sooner one of us gets back… It really would be better if both of us returned, brother."

"I can't let you do that. Your education is important, and the university won't let you defer your exams for something like this. I'll get him to telephone you, that should convince him of your continued existence."

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Pippin, biting his lip. "When I met your father he was… kind to me." He hesitated again, as if he had more to say, but he held his tongue.

"My father is the master of the backhanded compliment," said Faramir wryly. "Thank you for your offer, Pippin, but you also have exams." He pushed his plate away. "No, brother, I cannot finish my meal. My insides have turned to stone. I will return to your room begin to pack my suitcase."

Boromir followed him without further protest.

--

The end of regular classes and the start of the study period before examinations descended on the campus and settled like a heavy weight upon the student body. The library filled up with preoccupied undergraduates, desperately finishing essays and starting long-neglected revision on content from the beginning of the year.

Legolas found himself banished to the library or the college's private study rooms every time he objected to the gramophone. After a few days of this he gave up studying in their room entirely.

Three days of only seeing each other at morning and evening meals later, Gimli cleared his throat and apologised. "Perhaps we can come to some kind of compromise," he suggested. "Some quiet hours every evening." He looked hesitant and a bit defensive, like he thought Legolas would laugh at him.

Legolas concluded that Gimli had missed his company, and felt himself broke into a bright smile. "I would like that."

Gimli blushed. "Are you coming to the coffee shop now or not?"

The proposal to end the coffee shop meetings for the rest of term was met with almost unanimous disapproval, and Sunday afternoon was thus declared Study Free Time. The entire group was in attendance, spilling out of their usual corner and onto a number of surrounding tables.

Even Boromir was present. He sat next to Éowyn and dug around in his pocket for a moment. "I have a message for you from my brother."

She seemed surprised. "Your brother… Faramir?"

Boromir nodded. "He apologises that he had to leave so suddenly," he said. "And he hopes that the two of you may be able to continue your discussion at some time in the future."

Éowyn took the note, hiding her reaction by turning her head. "I will write to him," she said. "Thank you."

"How is Faramir?" asked Pippin.

"He was quite vague in his letter," said Boromir. "I think things with Father are difficult right now." He drummed his fingers on the table.

Frodo twitched at the noise. He had been silent for most of the meeting, sitting pale and withdrawn in the corner of the sofa. Now he rose. "I need to study. Do you want me to fail? Why are you all so casual about this?" he demanded, then ran for the door.

Sam followed Frodo out of the shop, but Frodo's "Go away, Sam," was perfectly audible to Elven ears. Sam hesitated a moment outside the door, then came back inside.

"Don't worry, Sam," said Aragorn. "It wouldn't be an exam period without somebody having an attack of nerves. He'll come around."

"We never should have left the Shire," Sam muttered. "Universities and travel are all very well for the Big Folk, but we Hobbits aren't made for this."

"Don't say that, Sam," said Pippin. "We've come too far to give up now."

"Frodo will be all right," added Merry. "Just give him some time."

--

The second-to-last day of exams brought with it the news, in all of the papers and hushed conversation at the breakfast table, that the Steward of Gondor had suffered a heart attack and been hospitalised.

Boromir was absent from any of the meals that day, although he hadn't yet left the university. When Legolas entered his room to offer his condolences, Boromir had been in the midst of packing.

He was trying to study for his final exam the next day, but the steady stream of well-wishers coming by Boromir's room kept stealing his attention. He wondered at Boromir finding the time to pack anything.

A familiar voice made him pause. "I'm sorry to hear about your father," said Aragorn. "May I come in?"

Legolas heard the door close.

"I take it you're going back to Minas Tirith," Aragorn continued.

"I obtained special dispensation to defer my last exam," said Boromir. "I should have done it earlier. Faramir shouldn't have had to bear it alone."

There was silence for a moment.

"Faramir says he thinks the council will declare the Steward unfit to rule soon," said Boromir. "Nobody is sure what that means for Gondor."

"Do you still believe that Gondor needs no king?" asked Aragorn, his voice utterly neutral.

"If you came to Gondor…" Boromir began, then he fell silent for a moment. "If you came to Gondor, if you pressed your claim to the throne of Gondor, whatever that is worth now, I would support you."

"I would not do it without your support," Aragorn promised. "You know your people. I have only been among them as a stranger, and that many decades ago."

"Too long has Gondor been waiting," said Boromir. "I think you will give her the chance to move on."

At Legolas's side, Gimli cleared his throat. "Are you eavesdropping again?"

Legolas had almost forgotten he wasn't alone in the room. "I think Aragorn is making a decision," he said.

"When they told me that Elves were nosey busybodies I didn't realise how literal it would be," Gimli muttered in amusement. "Let him tell us in his own time."

"I can't help overhearing," Legolas protested. "These doors are not thick enough to block sound."

He managed to pull his attention back to studying for about half an hour before it drifted again.

A little muffled by the stone between their floors, he heard Frodo saying in a small voice, "I'm glad you're here, Sam."

"I think Sam and Frodo made up," Legolas told Gimli, who groaned. "And I am going to the library now, so you will be safe from further observations."

--

The end of exams came with a party put on by the college, complete with fireworks provided by Gandalf. The quadrangle was filled with tents serving wine (which Legolas graded as adequate) and canapes of a decidedly experimental nature.

Frodo was looking more cheerful, although his eyes were still rimmed with dark shadows. He had his arm linked with Sam's, and was insisting he try every dish that came by them.

"I don't really hold with this foreign food," said Sam, eyeing Frodo's latest offering with suspicion.

"It's delicious," Frodo assured him. From his face when he finally tried it, Sam didn't agree, but Frodo just laughed and pulled him over to the next table.

Aragorn spent the night with Arwen at his side, and it seemed that his conversation with Boromir had not been the only decision he'd made in the last few days, for each bore a silver ring. Legolas passed on his congratulations to them both, and ignored the pointed look Aragorn sent him in response.

Lady Galadriel made an appearance, and instantly Gimli had eyes for nobody else. It took him some time before he did anything other than shoot awed glances across the court at her as she greeted the dons and some of the braver students.

When Galadriel passed by, Arwen approached her with elegant steps, Aragorn trailing slightly behind her as if not quite sure of his welcome.

She smiled to see them both, brushing Aragorn's stilted words aside. "You will be very happy," Galadriel told them, eyes twinkling. She drew Arwen close to her and they exchanged quiet words in Sindarin.

At last Gimli managed to pull together the courage to reacquaint himself with the Lady.

Legolas turned away and made his way to the wine tent again. He found Merry and Pippin by the food tent, discussing in hushed tones whether or not Gandalf would be likely to make good on his previous threats if they got into his fireworks stash again.

Legolas decided he was not going to ask about the previous occasion, but he did take it upon himself to distract them with questions about their summer plans.

Once the sun slipped below the horizon, they all filed to the river to watch Gandalf's fireworks, the deft combination of pyrotechnics and magic filling the sky with bright colours and shapes both abstract and shockingly realistic. The scent of smoke filled the air.

After the last of the fireworks faded, with ears still ringing, Legolas decided he had had enough of the party. Regardless, it was still a good while before he managed to extricate himself from the crowds, every group he passed pulling him into a round of enthusiastic farewells. He promised to write when prompted, wished them luck in their summer plans, and finally managed to get to his staircase.

He could still hear the party from their room, albeit slightly muffled. He found himself contemplating trying to figure out Gimli's gramophone to distract himself from the noise.

Legolas pulled the top item from his poor, neglected pile of recreational reading and opened it without looking. His thoughts kept straying to the image of Gimli, blushing at Lady Galadriel as she smiled at him.

He let the book fall to his lap and pressed his palms to his eyelids. He started mentally reciting verb conjugations in Quenya, the old lessons coming easily to the forefront of his memory.

He detected Gimli coming up the stairs with enough warning to re-open the book and pull his thoughts into some semblance of order.

"Did you and Éomer settle your bet?" he asked, as Gimli entered the room. He'd seen Gimli and Éomer exchanging heated words at least once during the night.

Gimli snorted. "He insists that he finds the lady Arwen more beautiful than the lady Galadriel. But I agreed to let it pass, under the circumstances."

Jealousy teased at the edge of that statement, coloured with an edge of wistfulness. Out loud, he said, "That is a relief. I would not wish to see you duel Éomer."

"He says that Aragorn is a fool for waiting so long to accept her hand."

"Do you not agree?" asked Legolas.

"We Dwarves may not be as long-lived as you Elves, but we know the value of being sure of yourself before you set upon a path, particularly romance. If you don't check every rock for cracks before you begin, your tunnel may collapse."

Legolas smiled. "It may surprise you to learn, then, that Elves are wont to fall in love quickly, and marry young."

"Aye? And what is quick to an Elf?"

"Anything from months to years," he admitted, laughing.

"Then you are not so different from Dwarves," conceded Gimli.

"I suppose we can't be."

They stared at each other for a moment. With no prompting, Gimli's cheeks reddened and he looked away.

Legolas took a deep breath before continuing. "When it comes to falling in love, it depends on the amount of contact you have with that person. Naturally the process is faster with one you see every day."

Gimli nodded in agreement. "Even if the person is one you argue with constantly, a deeper feeling may develop over time. It is not as if we fall in love at first sight."

"Then that is another thing that is the same," said Legolas.

They stared at each other for some time. Now that it was acknowledged, it seemed neither of them knew how to proceed.

"I suppose Dwarf courtship is quite formal?"

"Formal enough," he admitted. "Most of it centres around getting to this point."

"It is at this point that my intended and I would introduce our families to each other and announce our one year betrothal before the wedding."

"A whole year!" Gimli exclaimed in horror. "Are Elves so fickle, that you may change your mind about something so important? Once the proposal is made, Dwarves are completely committed."

"It would be rare indeed for a betrothal to fail," Legolas explained quickly. "We are exceptionally good judges of character. No, the time is to ensure that your parents have time to meet, that you have time to plan the wedding and arrange a place to live. A year is not long at all, for an Elf."

Gimli settled back down, sighing with evident relief. He stared at his hands for a moment. "Were you serious about coming to the Glittering Caves with me?"

That promise felt long ago now, suppression and indecision drawing the months out interminably, although the emotions that had prompted it had scarcely changed at all. "Of course!"

"Then it is settled. You will come with me to the Glittering Caves, and I will go with you to Fangorn Forest, and we will see what comes of it. There are three more years of university ahead of us before we need worry about anything more."

Legolas nodded in agreement. Introducing their parents to each other was definitely something that would have to wait. For as long as possible.

If it happened at all.

--

The two days following their conversation were lost to an endless stream of packing and farewells. Legolas was uncertain how it was that his clothes and belongings had expanded such that they overflowed his trunk completely. He at last admitted defeat, and made arrangements to have the remaining two boxes of his belongings sent on after his departure. The harried expression of the clerk indicated that Legolas was not the only student with such last-minute requests.

At last, Legolas and his one, deceptively heavy trunk were loaded onto the train. Legolas, Gimli and the Hobbits were once again to share a compartment. The Hobbits were excited to be going home and spent most of the journey bickering about what they were most looking forward to on their return.

"I'm looking forward to drinking ale at the Green Dragon again," said Sam.

Frodo laughed and nudged him in the side. "You mean, you're looking forward to seeing Rosie Cotton again!"

Sam turned bright red. "No! I just like-- oh, stop laughing, the lot of you."

They said farewell to the Hobbits at Bree, with much hugging and promises to write and send photos of their journey, then boarded the train to Erebor.

Legolas and Gimli were forced to share a compartment until the last stop before Lake-town, when the bored businessman who had spent the entire journey reading a newspaper departed.

"I shall make all the arrangements and write to you," said Gimli suddenly. "I know you don't have telephones or anything in Greenwood."

"That would make sense," said Legolas slowly. "Thank you."

"My cousin has an inn not far from Rohan," said Gimli. "We can stay there, if you won't object." He outlined a few other options for the trip, and Legolas offered his own suggestions wherever Gimli seemed in need of help.

When the train started to slow in preparation for the stop at Lake-town, Gimli suddenly got to his feet and yanked the blinds down on their compartment window.

The door was already closed, but he pulled the blind down on that too.

"I know you don't want anybody to know yet," said Gimli. "I'm not eager myself, and for the same reasons. But I'm not letting you go home without a reminder."

Before Legolas could even try and parse this statement, Gimli knelt on the seat and leant over to kiss him. Just a light touching of the lips at first – a request for permission, Gimli's beard tickling at his chin.

The moment stretched. They moved to deepen the kiss together, Gimli's breathing growing harsher as Legolas pulled him into his lap.

The train whistled shrilly and they broke apart, startled. Distracted, he could hear the conductors start to take their places. "I will see you in a month," Legolas promised, diving in for another kiss.

"Aye," said Gimli. His fingers tangled in Legolas's hair and pulled, just a little.

"Don't pull the braids out," Legolas teased gently. "I don't have time to redo them, and think of what people will say if I exit the carriage with my hair in disarray."

"I never thought I would be loathe to leave the company of an Elf," muttered Gimli, his eyes bright. He moved back onto the seat, rearranging his clothing carefully.

"How about the company of a friend," he offered.

"More than a friend, I hope," said Gimli. "Go, go, before they close the doors."

They had already unloaded Legolas's trunk, and the porters appeared irritated at the lateness of his arrival.

There was a horse and cart waiting to take him to the ferry, which would take him to the dock below his father's kingdom.

Most people in Lake-town knew him now by appearance, if not by name, and greeted him cheerfully. There were few who gave him more than a passing glance. He wondered if it had always been this way here, but he had never known to appreciate it before.

His father greeted him with open arms and a feast.

It felt strange now, to be in a group that only contained his own people and to converse in only his own language. When they asked him to share stories of his time at university, he found himself telling them of the Hobbits, and wondered at his own cowardice.

"But did you not miss being amongst civilised folk?" asked one particularly obnoxious Elf.

Thinking of Galadriel, he told them that the fairest tongue amongst his classmates belonged to a Dwarf. The shocked silence that greeted this statement made him hasten to add, "And there were Rivendell Elves a-plenty there."

"They're a strange folk," said another. "They've gone quite cosmopolitan, haven't they?"

"They appeared to consider us quite backwards," Legolas pointed out cheerfully. "But please, tell me what happened here in my absence."

It was less than half a year, barely any time at all, but it felt like an age to him. His kin shared new songs and poems, idle gossip about two impending weddings, and news of the trees and beasts that made their home close to the Halls of the Elvenking.

At last, the feast was over, and he followed his father into his private chambers.

Thranduil held him at arm's length. "You've changed," he said, at last.

Legolas met his father's gaze evenly. "For the better, I believe," he agreed.

"You should write more, next year."

"Perhaps you should install a telephone line," Legolas suggested.

"Do not push me," Thranduil muttered. "I will not tear up my forest for a human fad that may be over in the blink of an eye."

"I do not think electricity is a passing fancy of Men," said Legolas. "And telephony even less so. But I have not your experience, of course."

Thranduil hummed thoughtfully, and dismissed the topic. "Will you be staying here all summer?"

"No, I… A friend and I plan to spend a month in Rohan."

"In Rohan! The Kingdom of Men?"

"In Fangorn Forest. Perhaps you know it. The trees are very old, there is–"

"I have heard the name."

"And then we go to the Glittering Caves beneath Helm's Deep."

"To caves," repeated Thranduil. "Please, go on, I am sure the explanation is fascinating."

"My friend is a Dwarf, you see. It was an agreement we made – to show each other the greatest wonders of our experience."

His father looked pained. "I begin to see why your letters were so infrequent." He paced the room for a moment. "I have never liked Dwarves. They have too often let their greed blind them to the welfare of even their own people."

Legolas held his tongue. He knew his father's monologues well.

"But your judgement, I trust. If you know this Dwarf well enough to call him friend – and he knows you well enough to be convinced to visit a forest that would hold no love for cave dwellers and ironsmiths – then I will reserve my judgement until such time as we may meet."

It was not exactly a blessing. But it was not condemnation, and there was hope of conciliation at the end of it.

Chapter 4: Summer

Gimli had written to ask Legolas to meet him at the train station in Lake-town at eleven o'clock. He packed lightly, knowing they were likely to be carrying their bags for long periods while they hiked the forest.

There were two trains a day from Lake-town, one at nine and one at twelve, and when Gimli still had not arrived by eleven-thirty Legolas began to grow concerned.

The town was busier in the middle of summer, tourists swarming to the lake for fishing and other water sports. Legolas was not the only Elf about, and should Gimli ever arrive, he would not be the only Dwarf.

As the train pulled in, he could hear several sets of children excitedly chatting about their plans for their holiday, and weary parents telling them to sit down until the train stopped, please.

"I thought I asked you to wait outside the train station," came an irritated voice from behind Legolas.

He frowned. "Did you?" He hadn't noticed any mention of that in the letter.

"Well, that was my intention." Gimli had his hair pulled back in a collection of severe braids, and a set of driving goggles perched on his head. "I drove."

Legolas blinked slowly, then laughed and brought a slip of paper out of his pocket. "I bought a train ticket. I didn't know you could drive."

"I expect you never asked," said Gimli irritably. "Let's see if you can get a refund on your ticket, shall we?"

The train conductor was happy to refund the ticket, once she recognised Legolas. "Have a nice trip, boys," she said, waving them off.

Gimli's car was open-top and gleaming with glossy black paint, sunlight glinting off the chrome of the headlines and wheels.

"This one is new. It's the latest model." He rattled off a model and some specifications that went completely over Legolas' head. "You don't know much about cars, do you?"

"Not a thing," said Legolas. He smiled. "I've only been in one once or twice, so you'll have to be patient with me. Are we taking it all the way to Rohan?"

"I should hope so! It should be a reliable beast. It's not like a horse, you know."

Legolas laughed. "I see, so you are hoping to turn the tables on me. Well, lead on."

His bags found their home in the back of the car, and he stepped nimbly into the passenger seat as directed. The seat was positioned quite far forward, but fortunately the foot hollow was deep enough that he could fit his legs in without his knees quite reaching his ears. There was an adjustable footrest for beings of smaller sizes.

The car started with a harsh stutter, then a rumbling purr. Motor vehicles were always noisier than he remembered.

Gimli drove sedately through the town, pausing for children and pedestrians with obvious impatience. Teenagers with an interest in motor vehicles flocked to it, calling out questions and demanding to know if Gimli would be staying in town.

"I told you it was new," he muttered, as Legolas laughed out loud after they broke away from still another group.

At last, they were out of the town centre and heading for the open road.

It quickly became apparent that, even at the low speed Gimli was maintaining in town, Legolas' hair was not prepared for the assault of the wind on it. Gimli pulled over just outside town for Legolas to take care of it.

Gimli watched him in barely-concealed amusement as Legolas tried to finger-comb it into some semblance of order so he could redo the braiding.

"I think ladies traditionally use scarves," Gimli offered.

"Even if I were so inclined, I don't have one," Legolas retorted. He cursed as his fingers caught in another knot.

"Your language is too pretty for proper cursing," Gimli told him. "Let me try."

Legolas was half-expecting him to break into a string of curses in Khuzdul, but instead he demanded Legolas find him a comb.

In surprisingly short order, all the front parts of his hair were braided to the back, with the remainder caught in a ponytail tied with a strip of rough leather. The process was too quick and efficient to be relaxing, but he thought he might get Gimli to do his hair the next day too, slower perhaps.

"I have goggles for you too," said Gimli, reaching for his own.

"I don't like the sound of this," he replied. "Please remember that neither of our races is truly immortal."

"I've never had a wreck yet, Elf." He started the car again and pulled back into the road.

The car purred into motion and gained speed, gradually at first, then faster and faster until they were travelling at a great pace indeed. Speed that seemed normal in a train felt far more intense and immediate with the wind whipping at your hair.

Watching the countryside flying by was starting to make him dizzy, so he turned to watch his companion instead. Gimli was fully focused on his driving, but his mouth was arced in a wide grin.

--

"I see a sign up ahead," said Legolas, shading his eyes against the sun. "If we turn right here, it is a mere one hundred miles to Lothlórien."

Gimli didn't seem to give the news any notice, so he raised his voice so that it might be heard over the engine and repeated it.

"We could visit. I've always longed to see the forest of Lórien, and it is summer now," continued Legolas dreamily. "The trees would be in full leaf, and–"

The car jerked as Gimli misplaced his foot, then rolled to a stop at the side of the road.

"I couldn't possibly presume…!" Gimli stuttered.

"You don't wish to see the Lady Galadriel's home?" Legolas said, surprised.

Gimli turned bright red. "I have no love of forests, as you well know, Elf."

"I was hoping by the end of this journey you may be a little less negative on the subject," Legolas pointed out.

"And I cannot see that a Dwarf would be welcome in Lothlórien, no matter the Lady Galadriel's words to me."

"The Lady Galadriel seems to me to be a willful sort. I am certain she would not allow her kin to refuse you."

"And I have already arranged lodgings at an inn for tonight," he continued stubbornly. "To travel a hundred miles would take us hours out of our way."

Legolas sighed. "Perhaps another time?" he suggested hopefully.

Gimli muttered something in his own tongue, and started the car again. "I wish you would not tease me about her," he said, over the roar of the engine.

"I was not teasing," Legolas protested. "I truly do want to visit the forest. I thought the Lady Galadriel would make the prospect a little more attractive to you."

"One forest per holiday is quite enough for me," said Gimli. "And it would be rude to impose ourselves on the Lady of the Golden Wood with no notice."

"I do not think she would object, but I accept your decision."

They drove without speaking for several minutes.

"Do I take it this means you're no longer jealous of her?" asked Gimli.

Legolas felt his cheeks heat up. "The Lady Galadriel? I wasn't jealous."

Gimli snorted. "I was watching you at the party, you know."

Legolas sighed. "I will forever be jealous that she stole your heart first," he said at last. He turned to smile at Gimli. "But you have pledged yourself to me, and I am content with that."

"Good," said Gimli. "You have nothing to be jealous of."

--

Gimli's cousin was out when they arrived at the inn he ran, but the manager - a cheerful Dwarf lady with an intricately braided beard - was happy to set them up in their rooms in his stead. The inn catered to folk of all sizes, although most of its guests were of the Dwarven persuasion. Still, their request of adjoining rooms was fulfilled with only a little surprise.

Legolas was surprised to find after all the driving he was ravenous, and they ate a hearty meal together in the tap-room.

"So, what do you think of driving?" Gimli prompted, halfway through his second ale.

"I am in no hurry to learn it myself," he replied. The thought of controlling a giant metal box hurtling at speed made him ill at ease.

Gimli looked a little disappointed.

"But the experience was enjoyable enough," Legolas reassured him quickly. "I only wish I'd been more prepared for the journey."

"If you'd been paying attention when we were planning–"

"I didn't know driving was even an option!"

Before it started to get heated, a startled female voice interrupted the conversation. "Legolas?"

Legolas looked up in surprise. Of course, he could never forget a face, but it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to what he was seeing. "Tauriel?"

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

That was a very complicated question that Legolas was completely unprepared to answer.

"My companion and I are driving to Rohan," said Gimli. "And it's polite to speak a language we all understand."

So Gimli did understand Sindarin, at least a little.

"You'll forgive my surprise, Master Dwarf," said Tauriel in Westron, smiling at him. "Legolas and I are old friends and I wasn't expecting to see him here."

"Gimli, this is Tauriel," said Legolas.

"And I am Gimli, son of Glóin." Gimli fixed her with a challenging look.

"No!" she said, laughing. "Not Kíli's little cousin Gimli?"

All the challenge seemed to drain out of Gimli in a rush. "How do you know my cousin?"

She raised an elegant brow, still amused. "Kíli and I are great friends. He is out at the moment, but I know he's expecting you."

Tauriel invited them to the back room once they were done with their meals, and Gimli was duly met with an enthusiastic Dwarf greeting once they made their way there.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you," said Kíli. "You have to show me the car. I can't believe you've upgraded already!"

"The previous one was already three years old," Gimli protested, as Kíli took him by the arm and dragged him out of the room.

Instead of following, Tauriel presented Legolas with a cup of Elvish tea and bid him to sit next to her. "I take it you are well? I've enjoyed your letters, when I received them. You never mentioned anything of this, though," she added. "I'm sure I would have remembered you taking a road trip with a Dwarf!"

"We were roommates at the university," Legolas said, hoping he didn't sound defensive. "We became friends, eventually."

"And so you thought you would go to Rohan together in the summer."

"It was an agreement we made." He explained the nature of the exchange in as loose terms as possible.

She threaded her hands together under her chin and hummed thoughtfully. "You never asked me why I left."

Legolas put his cup down. "It didn't seem polite."

"I met someone," she said. "And I realised my destiny didn't lie in Greenwood after all." Her gaze drifted in the direction of the door through which Gimli and Kíli had exited earlier.

He managed to catch himself before reacting with shock, which would have been the ultimate hypocrisy. "I had no idea. About the first part, at least."

"I told nobody," she said. "It seemed wisest." She looked at him over the rim of her teacup. "What did your father have to say when you told him about this?"

"Many things," said Legolas. "Not all of them complimentary. I told him only of the journey."

She smiled. "I do not fault you in that."

"But I think…" He paused to gather his thoughts. "Change will come to Greenwood. The developments in the world of Men are too great to ignore, and he knows that."

She nodded in understanding.

They finished the pot of tea, filling the time with talk of Legolas's studies and whatever gossip he'd managed to pick up about the people Tauriel knew from Greenwood. She was very interested in the news of Aragorn and Arwen's engagement and what it implied for both Gondor and Rivendell.

Gimli and Kíli reappeared at last, chattering quickly in a strong Dwarven dialect that Legolas found largely incomprehensible. He had not had much opportunity to observe Gimli with other Dwarves, and found it intriguing.

Tauriel watched Gimli and Kíli for a moment. "It's funny," she said in Sindarin. "Kíli talks of his cousin as if he were a little boy. I suppose it has been some decades since they saw each other. Not since shortly after I left Greenwood, I suspect."

"Sixty years is a long time, for mortals," said Legolas.

She gave him a wry smile. "I have had plenty of opportunity to observe that. I am surprised that you have."

"I have spent almost my entire waking hours this past nine months amongst mortals," said Legolas. "It has taught me much of the way they think."

She smiled. "I will give you this advice about Dwarves – they love to argue. Never think that it means their feelings for you are diminished by a passionate disagreement. They are likely to be increased by it."

"That explains much of the last six months," said Legolas thoughtfully.

Tauriel laughed. "If you were roommates, I can see it happening all too well. They are also disinclined to back down from a challenge, which I am sure you have also observed."

"As I am in possession of that fault myself, it would be hypocritical of me not to recognise it in others."

"Are you talking about me?" asked Kíli, walking over to them and placing a possessive hand on Tauriel's shoulder. His look dared Legolas to make something of it.

Tauriel switched back to Westron with a smile. "Now, why would you think that?"

"I almost forgot," said Gimli suddenly. "I have something for you from your mother." He got up and dug around in his coat pockets until he found a small packet.

With the apparently-universal expression of guilt at a missive from a parent you do not write to often enough, Kíli opened the packet and withdrew a letter and a small stack of photographs.

The rest of the evening was lost to going through the photographs of Kíli's various nephews and nieces. Gimli chimed in with stories of antics and their respectives personalities.

"We're leaving the motorcar with Kíli," explained Gimli, as they headed back to their room. "He promises he will take good care of it, and though I don't trust him not to test her limits, I do trust him to make certain any damage is repaired before we return."

"That is a good plan," said Legolas. "I confess I was wondering what we were to do with a motorcar in the forest."

"He'll drive us to the train station tomorrow," said Gimli. "We can pick up the car again after the Caves."

--

It took the better part of the day to hike from the nearest town to the outskirts of the forest. Legolas suspected Gimli of not being used to the long day of walking, but he made no complaints.

They spent the first night in Fangorn under the stars, their bedrolls open to the night sky. Gimli professed no great experience with camping, but had so far been quick to pick up the relevant skills, when instructed. Legolas was hesitant to risk a fire on their first day of contact with the forest, and he was careful to explain and request permission whenever he disturbed the roots of the trees.

They were safer here than in any other forest of his knowing, for Fangorn Forest was unsettling to strangers and no beasts or men chose to spend time in the forest willingly.

"You promise that the trees intend me no harm," Gimli muttered, rolling over to face Legolas.

"They intend no harm to any who intend them no harm," he promised. "Do not look at the trees. The stars are above you, and on a clear night such as this even the trees of Fangorn cannot compare."

"You cannot even see the trees," Gimli pointed out. "It is too dark for Elvish eyes. But me, I see the trees clearly."

"Look at the stars instead," Legolas repeated, wriggling closer until Gimli's head was right at his shoulder.

"Stars are not any more comforting," said Gimli, but he seemed to relax a little.

Legolas lay there until he felt Gimli fall into deeper sleep. Content, he let his own mind drift off, following the directions and paths of its own will.

The morning light came early, as was its wont in summer. Legolas disentangled himself from his bedroll carefully and rose to greet the forest.

By the time he returned, Gimli was awake. He had rolled up both their sets of bedding, and fetched two wrapped parcels of waybread for breakfast.

"I apologise," said Legolas. "I hope you were not concerned at my absence."

"I knew you hadn't gone far. I could hear you singing."

He laughed. "I will not apologise for that any longer. It is something you will have to grow accustomed to."

"I don't mind it so much, now," Gimli mumbled. "You have a pleasant voice, though of course it is too high to be considered attractive in Dwarvish terms."

"I should be offended, but it is a beautiful morning and I wish to start our travels on a pleasant note, so I will let it pass," Legolas declared. He took the offered piece of bread and chewed it thoughtfully.

There was much to show Gimli, even this short distance into the forest. The trees were not so old as he knew they were deeper, but there was plenty to talk about in the undergrowth, in the way the trees fought amongst themselves for light and water.

"It seems to me that trees are far more violent than rocks," said Gimli. "In the dark places of the earth, it is also water that shapes it, but it takes place over many centuries."

"The unliving earth is not without violence, though," said Legolas. In case Gimli thought he was referring to the Balrog again, he clarified. "Think of volcanoes, landslides and sinkholes."

Gimli nodded in agreement. "Pressure builds up, barriers grow thin, and the potential energy is released. But there is none of this constant struggle for dominance."

"Those who think plants are boring have never spent a lot of time watching them," agreed Legolas.

"When one is immortal, one may have the time to watch plants," said Gimli. "Faster-changing than rocks is not much of a recommendation."

"Many mortals make study of plants," Legolas replied lightly. "Look, I see a clearing there. We should break for lunch."

By the end of the day, Gimli was at least feigning interest, asking questions where relevant and demonstrating some new understanding of the living world around him.

They bathed in a cold stream, which was a greater inconvenience to Dwarf than Elf, much to Gimli's disgust. Legolas kept his eyes averted as they dressed. "If you are cold, I would be happy to keep you warm," he offered, feeling greatly daring.

"I do not need any assistance from Elves," Gimli returned, but he submitted to Legolas's embrace from behind readily enough. His beard was still damp from the stream and Legolas combed it with his fingers gently, marvelling at its softness despite the wiriness of its curls.

Once all the knots were freed and Gimli's beard as dry as finger-combing alone could make it, he let his hands drop to Gimli's waist and buried his face in the hair at Gimli's neck. He breathed deeply, feeling Gimli's own chest rise and fall against his. "Are you warm now?" he murmured into Gimli's ear.

"Not so warm that I wish you to move," Gimli responded, and indeed it was many long moments before they drew apart to sleep.

--

As they ventured deeper into the forest, the trees grew older and larger, their branches strong and thick with leaves. "You are now in the presence of life older than I," Legolas told Gimli. "If that makes you feel any better."

Gimli spread his arms to take the measure of the tree, and shook his head ruefully. "I take comfort in the fact that your great age has not given you any great wisdom."

"My age is not so great, for an Elf," said Legolas. "So you will not offend me there."

"Then I shall have to try harder. You are not so tall as this tree, at least, so that is something."

Somewhere in the forest, Legolas knew, Fangorn himself wandered, tending his charges in weary innocence of the changing world around him. He hoped they would not encounter him for Gimli's sake, although a part of him thrilled at the thought of talking again with one so ancient.

All told, they spent five days in the forest. When at last they emerged on the other side of the forest and made their way to the inn they knew would be in the village nearby, Legolas could not truthfully say he was happy to be out, although he could admit it would be nice to have a warm bath and a hot meal.

Gimli made no such pretence of regret.

This close to Fangorn, Legolas supposed the innkeeper must see plenty of unusual travellers, as she barely blinked when they asked for lodging. She put them in a single room with two beds, both sized for Men but comfortable enough otherwise.

"Will we be camping in the caves?" asked Legolas curiously. "I don't think you mentioned."

"It's a national park," said Gimli. "Only the first portion is open the public, but I've obtained a pass to travel deeper. I have a map of the protected parts."

"I see," said Legolas. "I didn't realise it was so difficult to visit."

"I might, perhaps, have made a significant donation to the Preservation Trust to get the pass," said Gimli. "We don't have permission to camp, though, so we'll be staying in Helm's Deep and exploring a different part each day."

Legolas was a little relieved to realise he wouldn't be sleeping deep underground, but given Gimli had been submitting himself to lying under the open sky for days without complaint, felt it prudent not to voice the thought.

Gimli shifted in bed and rolled over. "This bed is more comfortable than tree roots, but only barely," he complained.

"If you thought Fangorn uncomfortable, you have never been to Greenwood," said Legolas. "Even in these times of peace, the deeper parts of the forest are wild and unpredictable. Fangorn, at least, can be reasoned with. Greenwood and its beasts cannot."

"This bed definitely cannot be reasoned with," said Gimli. "You should take it, if yours is any better. You don't need to sleep."

Legolas rose and went to sit on the room's single dressing chair. "You are welcome to try mine."

Gimli gave him an odd look, but settled into the bed, declaring it "marginally better". He wriggled into the spot where Legolas had lay and sighed contentedly. "Good night," he murmured into the pillow.

Legolas bid him to sleep well, and turned his own thoughts inward.

--

The Glittering Caves were not misnamed. The cave system open to the public had as its centrepiece a vast underground lake, fed by several streams trickling in from deeper parts of the earth. It glimmered in the light, the streams making the light constantly shift and draw attention to new seams of bright metal or translucent crystal.

"This is only the beginning," said Gimli. "It grows more beautiful the deeper you go."

Legolas had rented a protective helmet, as required by the Preservation Trust as a condition for their entry. It sat uncomfortably on his head, distracting him from the purpose of their visit.

He had not been surprised to see the Trust staff were primarily Dwarves. The staff were, however, surprised to meet Legolas.

"Can't say we've ever had an Elf through the Caves before," said the Dwarf who fitted him with his helmet.

"My friend insisted it was the most beautiful place in the world," said Legolas. "Since I believed him, I felt compelled to visit it myself."

"Aye, well, he's not wrong," said the Dwarf. He tightened the strap under the helmet. "There you go, lad. It buckles like that, and it should be about this tight to be safe."

The informational plaques scattered around the area said that in older times, the caves had been used as a refuge by the Rohirrim, and that it was originally developed as a fortress by the Númenóreans.

"And they would have just left it alone, if it hadn't been for the Trust," said Gimli. "Men have no appreciation for caves."

Legolas stood at the edge of the water and stared into the caves, as far as the light reached. He craned his neck back to gaze at the roof, the intricately curled features of the rock casting strange shadows and seams of ore glittering in the light.

Gimli tugged on his arm to get his attention. "There's more to see yet, I assure you."

"How am I to gain a proper appreciation for them if you will not give me the chance to look?" Legolas complained.

"We Dwarves like to look at things up close," said Gimli. "The finest wonder of this cave is over here." He led Legolas over, fingers placed conservatively at Legolas' wrist.

Even in the artificial light of Gimli's electric torch, the crystals in the grotto sparkled like precious gems. Gimli was chattering about the geological composition of it, and Legolas let the words wash over him without expending the energy required to understand.

"It's beautiful," he said, when Gimli fell silent.

"And they said Elves were eloquent," Gimli snorted.

"Perhaps I am limited by this language," said Legolas cheerfully. "You would object if I were to speak my own."

Gimli shot him a sidelong look. "I would not, if you were to provide a translation."

Legolas laughed, and obediently provided metaphor after metaphor in Sindarin until Gimli made him stop.

--

Their room in the inn at Helms Deep had one large and one small bed, clearly originally intended for a couple with a child, and there was no dressing chair. Gimli climbed into the larger bed and pulled the sheets to his neck, settling back into the pillows.

Legolas frowned at the smaller bed. "Would you mind if I…?"

Gimli sat up again, sheets pooling at his waist, and gave him a disbelieving look. "You have accepted my proposal?"

"Yes, but–"

"From what they say of Elves, I hadn't expected you to be so shy," said Gimli.

"I am not shy," said Legolas, cheeks flaming. "It is only that it is unusual for an Elf couple to share a bed until after their wedding."

"Elves are a strange folk indeed," said Gimli. "But I would be pleased if you were to indulge me in sharing the bed, at least."

"Nothing could please me more," he confessed. "It is not lack of desire that causes me to hesitate."

Gimli looked at him from under lowered brows. "Then, what?"

"Only that… Oh, you will laugh if I tell you."

"I apologise, I cannot promise not to laugh. But you have to tell me now, I am curious."

"Save me from curious Dwarves! It is only that I do not wish to cause you any dishonour."

Then Gimli did laugh, as promised. "There is no dishonour in this for a Dwarf," he said. "There is only honour in love. Even if love is not returned, there is no dishonour in choosing to spend your life alone."

"Do not fear that your love is not returned!" Legolas said fiercely.

"It was an example, no more," said Gimli, but he looked pleased.

Suddenly self-conscious, Legolas slipped into bed next to him. Somehow the intimacy of shared bedclothes seemed far greater than sleeping side by side in the forest.

Gimli rearranged them so that his head was cradled on Legolas's shoulder. He could feel the warmth of Gimli's body against his own, his breath tickling the loose hair at the nape of Legolas's neck.

It was more difficult than usual to direct his thoughts into restful paths that night, but he was loath to untangle himself from Gimli and passed the night at his side.

--

They were not the only ones exploring the protected parts of the Caves, but the deeper they ventured the fewer others they encountered. He learned quickly into the journey that Gimli was apt to take offence if Legolas questioned his ability to navigate the twisting passages.

It was strange to be so far underground that the usual sounds of the world faded away. Their footsteps and the odd buzzing of the electric lamps seemed even louder in the quiet. If he concentrated he could make out the distant dripping of water, but even that was alien in this space.

Outside the public parts of the cave, the way grew more difficult. Here and there ropes had been laid to ease their passage up a steep incline, but there were several areas where they could only travel on hands and knees. Legolas became resigned to returning to Helm's Deep covered in mud and rock dust.

The sound of the water grew louder as they journeyed deeper. At last they emerged into a cavern framed with hanging veils of rock, at once majestic and infinitely fragile. Every so often a single drop of water fell from a stalactite, sending ripples outwards across a glassy lake.

There was not enough space in the cavern for Legolas to stand, so he settled himself against the wall, his legs stretched out as far as they would go.

"The water is only a foot deep here," said Gimli quietly. "But don't worry about getting your pretty feet wet, we don't have to wade through it."

"I didn't know you thought my feet pretty," said Legolas.

"All of you is pretty," said Gimli. He coughed. "It's around midday now. We should eat our lunch before we attempt the next section." He lit an electric lantern and placed it carefully on the floor, filling the cavern with an eerie glow. Legolas switched off his headlamp and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the reduced light.

Gimli sat beside him as they ate, his shoulder pressed against Legolas's upper arm. Every so often he stopped to explain the origin of some rock formation, pointing with his headlamp to make certain Legolas knew which formation he was referring to.

How incredible it was to think that tiny layers of dust could build up over millennia into something so beautiful. And here was Gimli, a mortal, talking of it as if it were no more a wonder than the rising of the sun every day.

He realised Gimli had been silent for some time, and glanced over to find Gimli looking at him.

"You have mud on your cheek," said Gimli. "And your hair is a mess." He seemed fascinated.

Legolas frowned and rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. "Even Elves cannot crawl through mud without picking up some dirt," he protested.

"Let me," said Gimli, but instead he leaned over and kissed him.

Compared to their earlier kisses this was a raging river, where previously there had only been babbling brooks. He had never doubted that Dwarves had passion, not with Gimli's capacity for sustained anger, but this would have ended any doubt there had been.

His awareness of the world shrunk until it was only the press of lips and tongue against his own, soft and wet and astounding in its simplicity. This was no battle for domination, no contest, just the sharing of breath and desire to be closer.

It was a long time before they broke apart, their breathing coming loud and fast in the quiet cavern.

Gimli made a small, disappointed noise. "We need to move on if we're to return to Helm's Deep by nightfall." Yet he made no attempt to move away, resting his head on Legolas's shoulder and sighing deeply.

Legolas tangled their fingers together and leaned back against the cavern wall. "Perhaps a moment longer."

--

They spent another three days in the Caves before Gimli was satisfied that Legolas had seen enough. They had made no plans for the rest of the summer, but Legolas found himself unwilling to enter a discussion that may result in their parting, however temporary.

"Well? What have you to say of the Glittering Caves?" asked Gimli, as they settled into bed that night.

"Come now, did I demand an answer of you about Fangorn Forest?"

"That is your oversight, not mine. I would have an answer from you!"

"Much like your wager with Eomer, I cannot say that it is more beautiful than Fangorn, only that it is a different kind of beauty entirely."

Gimli snorted. "Elves. Always wiggling out of giving a person a straight answer."

"But we are not indecisive," Legolas corrected. "We do not see the need to give a definite answer when our feeling are not inclined to either way. I am looking forward to seeing the deeper parts of the caves, though."

Gimli settled back down, satisfied.

They lay there in silence for some time.

"Where should we go next?" asked Gimli, his voice barely a whisper in the still of the night. "After we pick up my car, of course."

"I think we should visit our friends in Edoras, for they would be disappointed to find we had travelled so close and missed them. And then I think we should drive to Gondor. I suspect Aragorn will be pleased for some friendly ears, with all he has to face in Minas Tirith."

Gimli snuggled closer. "Aye," he murmured. "I like the sound of that."

"Do you think if we visited Rivendell, Frodo's uncle Bilbo would also call you Kíli's little cousin Gimli?" Legolas wondered out loud.

Gimli poked him in the side. "I don't want to go to Rivendell. Just because I like you doesn't mean I want to be friend to all Elves."

"You'd be more likely to get a friendly reception in Rivendell than Greenwood," said Legolas. "But I take your point."

"You wouldn't be any more welcome in Erebor, believe me," Gimli muttered.

Legolas thought for a moment. "I have heard that the best beer in the land is to be found in the Shire. Perhaps we could go there after Gondor."

Gimli snorted with laughter. "Aye. I've heard that too." He continued to chuckle, shaking his head.

Legolas frowned. "Why do you laugh? What were your thoughts?"

"The same," said Gimli. "That is why it is funny."

Legolas returned his laughter. "I am pleased we are of the same will, then."

They had the summer to fill, then there would be another year of university. Perhaps in third year they would find a house in the town. And after graduation, they would find something to keep them together. There was time enough for those decisions to come later.

Gimli slept, and Legolas walked in dreams.