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The lithe, blond elf trekked ahead in light leather boots and a forest-green tunic. He skipped over rocks and moss, rivulets and rivers, laughter playing around his lips. Hair braided delicately on either side of his head, Legolas was the perfect picture of an elf prince. Stopping at the crest of a hill, his eyes flicked back to see that his companion was not so close as he had thought. In fact, he wasn't even on the path.
'Gimli?'
There was no response.
Cautiously, Legolas tip-toed down the hill, careful on the slick wet grass. 'Gimli? Gimli!'
If the whispering servants of the Elvenking had not been roused before, they would surely be with all this shouting.
'GIMLI!'
A rustling, and a brown-and-red mass emerged from a clump of bushes.
'What are you yell-? AAARGH!'
In the blink of an eye, Legolas had whipped an arm behind his back and notched an arrow in Gimli's startled, ruddy face. The dwarf blinked, taking a step back.
'What do you think you're doing? What in the blast is that for, eh?'
A wry smile reached the elf's lips. 'I thought you a spider, Gimli, or a troll...'
Gimli huffed, pushing his way past Legolas and struggling up the hill. 'Ohhhh, I wish you'd stop with all your talk! All these creepy-crawly pests! This dark formidable forest!'
Legolas sighed, skipping up next to his companion. 'Well, it is getting better you know. Look around you dwarf.'
Gimli mumbled, striding as he brushed the cobwebs and leaves from his braided beard. When they passed down into the valley, he stood still so suddenly he almost tripped upon his own feet. Rippling, twisting and curling outward were fresh green vines, grasses and trees. It was like watching a maiden drop paint onto blank stone. Colour and life spread from this centre point, momentarily distracting Gimli from his omnipresent fear since Legolas had decided to take him into the Elvenking's realm. And the singing. Such a beautiful voice Gimli had never heard. He adjusted his brown tunic, nervous to espy his first elven maiden.
However, his fear returned full force when they approached and saw who was at the centre of this bloom.
Vines twisting up around his feet as he paced around the forest floor, green and floral bursts on the buds around him, and a smirk playing around his mouth as he sang. The Elvenking Thranduil stopped and spoke while they were still many feet away, his voice carrying to the top of the path where Legolas lounged and where Gimli stood rooted to the spot, stuck with fearful indignation.
'A dwarf, Legolas? Hmmm. And here I believed my captain of the guard to be ill suited.'
Gimli reddened at the implication, while Legolas smiled to greet his father, bowing slightly. 'Father. The forest is alive again!'
Thranduil turned slowly. He cocked his head to the side slightly when his eyes fell upon Gimli.
'Iston i nîf gîn, dwarf. You share a likeness with another I have known.' His mouth twitched. 'And not because you all look the same.'
Gimli's fists balled in indignation (and fear - although a seasoned warrior such as he would never admit it), but Legolas placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder/
'Father, come now. Let us show our honoured guest the beauty of my name sake. I have fought alongside this dwarf, shared and lost, defeated evil. If not for him, I would not stand before you.'
Thranduil's twisting vines slowed, and he tilted his head back, regarding Gimli seriously for a moment. Then a smile broke his visage in a sharp contrast similar to the dead wood and forest coming to life underneath, taking root.
'Come, son of Gloin, friend of my only son. Tonight we shall feast.'
There was a crackle as Thranduil flexed his fingers, and a root shot up from the ground, pushing Gimli forward like an arrow. He stumbled down the hill to where the King stood, and Legolas joined them. Nervous and full of wonder, Gimli led them into the trees, toward the great halls of the elves.
Legolas quirked an eyebrow at his father, whispering. 'Thank you, Father. Though... you neglected to mention that we eat no meat.'
Thranduil smiled.