Notes: Er, another random idea? By the way, any one see the movie? Gandalf has the funniest expression when everyone stands up to argue in the council of Rivendell. And I just love the way Aragorn beheads the orc (is it an orc or an Uruk Hai or whatever they're called- I really need to read the books again, this time carefully) well, anyway, the one that was shooting arrows into Boromir. I mean, come on, he already was going to die from that first shot most likely, no need to go on torturing him. Ha, his head goes flying- serves him right. Okay, I'm not hyper. Well, maybe I am, but that's only 'cause my internet connection's not working. But the movie was really good.

        "Gimli son of Gloin." Gimli turned sharply toward the direction of the voice, hand dropping down to rest on his axe hilt. After seeing who it was, he turned back to the window, relaxing somewhat.
        "Go bother someone else, elf," he said harshly. After awhile, he looked from the window, and saw Legolas was still there, sitting: knees brought up to his chest, his head resting lightly upon them. With annoyance he noted the elf's green eyes were fixed unblinkingly on him, wearing a strange expression, almost as if he were lost, longing, but something else also.
        After a moment of staring, Gimli crossed his arms over his chest. "Why do you stare at me?"
        Legolas brought his head up, fingering his braid before replying. "Why must you hate me so?" he asked softly, quietly standing up.
        The answer was not the one Gimli expected. The question made him angry for some inexplicable reason. "It is your kin that ridicule the dwarves, deem them untrustworthy," he said heatedly.
        "I deny it not," said Legolas, fair face clouding with regret, green eyes darkening. "Yet I wish it were not so."
        "What do you mean?" Anger surged through Gimli, anger that he could not understand. It was simply just there. "You would have cheerfully fought to the death with me a few weeks ago."
        "Aye, I would have." The elf's face wore a rueful expression. "I apoligise for any words you might deem insulting, Gimli."
        Gimli scanned Legolas' face for any hint of teasing, and although he found none, he still was skeptical. An elf apoligising to a dwarf? He recalled his father's words: Be wary of the elf, they are a deceiving people. "You mock me with your words."
        "No, but you scorn me with yours," Legolas finally said. There was no trace of anger, as Gimli would have expected, only regret and sorrow. Gimli would have strode away then, but the expression on Legolas' face rooted him in place.
        "What are you getting at?" Some of the anger had dissapated, replaced by curiosity.
        "Dislike me if you must," said Legolas, bowing his head slightly, as if suffering a defeat, "Dislike me if you must, but hate me not."
        Gimli's heart softened slightly at the words. "As hard as I try," he said, feeling Galadriel's knowing gaze piercing into his soul once again, "I find I can not truly hate. you."
        Legolas looked up again, eyes filled with hope- shining starlight. It was that look that made Gimli forget all his father's warnings, all of his advice. "Dwarves and elves have been enemies for years. Our kin may never reunite, but I ask you this: Will you be my friend? There is a greater enemy than Sauron- hatred and misunderstanding."
        If it were any other elf, Gimli would have mocked him. But it was true, Legolas' words reached his very soul. And this was the elf he had traveled with from Rivendell to Lothlorien. And would be traveling much further with. "You speak true, Legolas Greenleaf," he said gruffly. "And are different than any elf I have ever met before." He moved closer to grasp Legolas' hand in his own. "Friends," he whispered. "For I think we shall have much use of friendship in the days to come."
        At that moment, it felt as if a dark shadow had lifted, one neither knew was there. And it seemed that all troubles had vanished, and a new joy rose up. For each now had a friend: trustworthy, dependable, caring. For even though Gimli would not admit, he would not have seen any of the fellowship die. Not even the elf.