Carving Cranes

This story jumps ahead in time and takes place on Tol Eressea three weeks after Gimli and Legolas arrive. At this time they would have been friends for nearly 130 years. Legolas would have been dealling with Sea Longing for most of that time and in this universe it was quite crippling in the last few years before they sailed. That will all be explained later in the story called "A Step Into the Unknown", which will be posted in time.
This story has a/u elements. Please read the explanation in the introduction for the series Legendary Friendship.
There are still many joint stories that go in this series that have yet to be posted. Most of them have been written with my co writer Minniemoggie, but a few like this one have been written by one or the other of us.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Gimli stepped into the guest chambers of the New Homely House, thinking not for the first time of how relieved and pleased he was to be here. Even after three weeks of being on Tol Eressëa, he still took pleasure in the feel of solid ground beneath his feet, the sight of beautiful colors of the gardens and forests, the taste of the vast variety of food and drink available. It was a welcome change after the months of being at sea where the only thing to see was the inside of their small ship and the endless ocean waves, the only food available things that could be kept without spoiling such as dried meats and fruits and the only drink stale tepid water that had begun to taste like the barrel toward the end of the journey.

Here they had been warmly welcomed and offered luxurious housing while they waited to begin working on a home of their own. Lord Elrond and his household had seen to every need and offered every possible comfort.

But most of all Gimli was pleased with the strides toward a true recovery that his elfling had made in such a short time. The lad was still far from well, for a person could not recover from a condition that had been plaguing him for over one hundred years and had been quite crippling for four or more in only a few weeks. It would take some time-several seasons Lord Elrond had said-but still there were already signs of improvement. Already Legolas had lost the haunted look in his eyes and his face was no longer so gaunt and pale. Where sleeping had been a struggle back in Middle Earth, he was able to do so peacefully now and for long hours. Before sailing Gimli had had to insist on him lying down at night and sometimes in the afternoons just to prevent him collapsing from exhaustion, but actual sleep had been a rare and precious thing. Now the dwarf insisted on keeping that same strict schedule for Lord Elrond had said it was necessary for recovery. Healing, just like growing, took place mainly during periods of sleep, he had explained, and like a small elfling, Legolas would require a great deal of it.

Not surprisingly that had been a small source of contention between them, for patience was not Legolas’ greatest virtue. He was thoroughly dismayed that it was taking so long for him to return to perfect health and did not like being reminded of it by what he felt was far too much fuss. It seemed his objection to such treatment increased in direct proportion to how much his health had improved. It made sense, Gimli thought. Anyone who had experienced a serious illness knew that it was after the crisis had passed and the patient was on the mend that they began to feel anxious to get back to their regular routine and cranky when it didn’t happen fast enough. Even in his own life he had experienced that and it would likely be much worse in his elf’s case. Any mortal illnesses he had experience only ever lasted a week or two. He couldn’t imagine how irritating it would be to have endured such an extended illness and to still have to deal with a long recovery.

So it was not that Gimli was not understanding or sympathetic to the situation. He never much cared to be fussed over himself, so he tried to give the lad space to choose what he would do with his time within reasonable limits. But Gimli knew very well that the elfling still became tired easily and the dwarf was not willing to allow his lad to go backward in his recovery. They had worked too hard and come too far to take risks with his health now, and as Legolas’ acting parent, it was Gimli’s responsibility to make sure he did everything he could to regain his health as quickly as possible. To Legolas’ consternation that included continuing to stick to a strict regimen of eating properly and resting often and following Lord Elrond’s instructions to the letter.

This was what had brought the dwarf to their shared chambers in the middle of the afternoon to begin with. He had gone on a search for his charge in order to cajole him into napping before the evening meal. Of course he could make it an order, or simply bodily haul the boy to his bed, but he found it was easier for Legolas to obey such an instruction if Gimli phrased it as a suggestion and gave him the opportunity to let it seem like his own idea rather than his guardian’s. It was a kindness akin to adding a spoonful of honey to a bitter medicine that had to be endured. The medicine still has to be swallowed, but the honey makes it more palatable.

He had looked first for his elf in the places he was accustomed to finding him: in the stables with Lord Elrond’s horses, walking or working in the gardens, or even climbing the elms in the edge of the woods or communing with them or whatever it was that elves did with trees. After that Gimli tried less likely places: the vast library with its endless volumes, the kitchens, where something was almost always available for sampling, the wine cellars with its endless supply of masterfully brewed ales and delectable wines. When he still couldn’t be found, Gimli began to wonder if the lad had actually returned to his chambers on his own without the dwarf having to hunt him down to ‘suggest’ it. It seemed a long shot, but still, he had to be somewhere.

He knocked once on the bedchamber door and opened it when there was no answer, only to be disappointed. But before he had the opportunity to become too concerned, he began to hear a soft muttering coming from the balcony. He arrived to stand in the balcony doorway just in time to hear a stream of particularly unsavory swear words and to see a partially carved block of wood ricocheting off the balustrade where it splintered into several pieces. The dwarf raised an eyebrow in surprise, but said nothing as he watched his clearly aggravated charge choose another tiny block of wood and begin using a very small knife to shave off the edges.

The block quickly took shape into what looked like a miniature seabird of some sort-a crane or pelican perhaps-that would end up being intricately and delicately detailed. Gimli smiled to see this, for it had been quite some time since Legolas had been able to do this sort of work for in recent years his hands hadn’t been steady enough and he hadn’t had the concentration or even the desire for such things. But it had been something he had very much enjoyed in earlier years. Gimli still used the beautifully carved pipe that the lad had made for him one Yule many years ago. It was good to see him taking an interest in such things again, though he didn’t really seem to be enjoying it much if a person were to judge by the deepening scowl on his face.

Gimli was about to ask what was amiss when he noticed a discarded pile of wooden seabirds all in different stages of completion-evidently earlier efforts that had been rejected for one reason or another. Suddenly Gimli understood. Legolas had always been quite a perfectionist and he must have been getting frustrated from so many ‘failed’ attempts, and of course the frustration lead to more mistakes being made. He knew he was right when Legolas’ knife slipped and he spat out another string of swear words, this time in Khuzdul. Gimli cringed. Why was it that the only dwarvish words the elf recalled perfectly were the vulgar ones?

“It looks like we might need some soap to clean up the language out here,” Gimli teased.

Legolas evidently was not in the mood for jesting, for his only response was to give his guardian the hairy eyeball and then toss the incomplete carving over the railing into the shrubbery below. He picked up yet another block of wood and raised his carving knife in a way that made Gimli place a hand on his arm.

“I think it’s time to put it away for now, Lad,” he said. “Ye can try again later on when ye are fresh.”

“I am perfectly ‘fresh’ as it is, thank you very much,” Legolas replied through clenched teeth, “And I do not want to try again later. I want to try it now!”

“I know ye do, Lamb,” Gimli said patiently, “But there is no point in it if ye aren’t enjoying it anymore, and it is quite clear that ye are not. Besides it is mid afternoon already.”

Legolas’ eyes narrowed dangerously, as if he were daring his guardian to suggest what he knew he was about to suggest.

“What does the time have to do with it, dwarf?”

Unfortunately for the elf, his guardian was not intimidated in the least by this warning tone and just boldly said what was on his mind.

“Ye know what the time has to do with it, laddie,” he answered mildly. “Ye’d do well to rest a bit before the evening meal and then go back to your carving afterwards. And clean up the mess ye are making in the shrubbery.” Gimli added as an afterthought.

The soothing tone did not have the hoped for result, for instead of meekly accepting the dwarf’s words, Legolas bristled.

“YOU would do well to leave me alone to spend the afternoon as I please!” he said, taking a vicious stab at the bit of wood in his hand. Gimli raised his eyebrows at both the tone and the unsafe action.

“Ye have been spending the afternoon as ye please,” Gimli pointed out, “and ye may do so again later AFTER ye have rested. Though thinking on it further, perhaps it had best be something that does not involve using a knife. Ye’re going to lose a finger if ye keep on like that.”

“Damn it dwarf, I KNOW how to use a bloody knife!” Legolas growled taking another wild stab at the wood. “I am not a brainless child you know!”

Gimli took a deep breath and swallowed the irritation he was beginning to feel at his elf’s rapidly declining mood. He recognized it for what it was, but that did not mean he intended to let things spiral completely out of hand.

“I never said ye were, though presently it is hard to tell,” he began with a mildly rebuking tone that became more compassionate, “I know ye are frustrated and tired, but ye need to adjust your attitude and quickly before ye end up causing yourself grief.”

“The only thing I am TIRED of is being continually nagged and ordered about,” Legolas snapped.

This time it was Gimli who narrowed his eyes, a sign that the elf should have recalled meant that his guardian was coming to the end of his considerable patience. Unfortunately it had been some time since he had seen this expression so he only raised his voice and continued his tirade.

“If I am frustrated, it is because no one, especially YOU, will leave me ALONE!”

“I am sorry ye feel that way, laddie,” Gimli’s voice was deceptively calm. “but it does not change the fact that ye need to do as I say and put the carving tools away. Ye are meant to rest in the afternoon. It is for your own benefit and will not change simply because ye are in a bad humor. No amount of swearing or shouting will make me change my mind, so ye may as well make up your mind to it. Come Lamb. ”

Gimli held out a hand to his charge in a peace offering that meant all would be forgiven if he would only give in now and do as he was bid. A long rest would likely put the elf in a better frame of mind and all would be forgotten afterwards and his little breech in manners would not be mentioned again. It was a generous offer on the dwarf’s part, but Legolas did not seem at all interested in calling a truce.

“Are you going to make every decision for me from now on and order every moment of my time?” Legolas asked sarcastically, “Am I to have no say at all in even when and if I sleep or not?”

“Not much,” Gimli replied evenly, “at least not yet. Ye do however get to decide if ye go to lie down straight away, or if ye spend some time over my knee first. I’m beginning to think it has been far too long if we judge by that smart mouth of yours, but I’ll leave it up to you.”

This warning should have been setting off alarm bells for the elf, and under normal circumstances he would have realized it was a good time to retreat. But it had been too long since Gimli had carried out such a threat, as Legolas fragile health had been too much of a concern in recent years, so his usual self-preservation senses did not seem to be functioning correctly. He only glared at his dwarf for a long moment and then leapt to his feet. He quickly gathered the carving tools and the blank pieces of wood and started to stalk off.

“Where exactly do ye think ye are going, elfling? Gimli demanded.

“Somewhere quiet to work, where I won’t be interrupted by nagging, demanding dwarves,” he replied hotly. “I would tell you where, but I do not wish to be followed.”

Gimli only growled deep in his throat and grabbed a fistful of the back of the elf’s tunic, preventing him from moving forward.

“I see ye have made your choice,” he stated coolly, “I thought ye would have chosen differently, but as I said it is up to you. If ye’d rather have a good spanking to go with your nap then it’s no skin off my nose. I’m happy to oblige ye.”

The elf’s demands to be released only worked to make Gimli let go of his tunic and firmly grasp his wrist instead. Using his other hand he confiscated the knife with surprising ease and placed it in its sheath and then in his own breast pocket. The wood pieces were dumped unceremoniously onto the balcony floor.

It was at this late time that Legolas realized he had made a fatal error in judgment and finally understood that Gimli meant to carry out his threats. He made one halfhearted attempt to free himself before deciding to change tactics.

“Wait, Gimli please! This is not necessary,” he implored his friend trying to twist free of Gimli’s grip. It was to no avail. Gimli only swatted him toward the door with his free hand and then pulled a sturdy wooden chair out from the table without letting go of the grip he had on Legolas’ wrist.

“Not only is it necessary, Laddie, but it is long overdue, it seems to me!”

With a firm tug he flipped the lithe figure over his hard thighs and then held him firmly by the waist, giving him a few moments to adjust to being upside down. Legolas used this brief reprieve to attempt to talk his way out of his predicament.

“You were right Elvellon. I shouldn’t have argued with you! I am more than happy to do as you have suggested!”

“Ah that is good to know, Lamb, since ye most assuredly will be doing so as soon as we are finished here. Though I believe now ye realize it was not a suggestion!”

Legolas let out an undignified squeak as Gimli lifted one knee and lowered the other, causing the elf’s hair to pool on the ground and his bottom to be raised in a most mortifying manner. He squeaked again and squirmed in protest as his tunic was flipped over his back and his leggings were peeled down to mid thigh. This did not deter the dwarf, who just tightened his grip and brought his right hand down in a sharp slap to one pale cheek and then applied a matching one to the other.

It was not the most painful punishment the elf had ever endured at his guardian’s hand. In fact Gimli was using about half the force he would normally use in deference to the fact that the lad was still recovering his health. No matter how deserving he was, Gimli would not risk causing real damage to his lad. Still it was loud and shocking and terribly humiliating to have been brought to such a predicament after such a long time, and the day had already been long and frustrating, so it did not take long for tears to fall in earnest.

Gimli hardened his heart at the sound of soft weeping and continued to apply mild but persistently regular smacks to the elf’s perfectly presented backside. It would not do to be too lenient and leave the lad feeling guilty or with the impression that he could continue to behave in an unacceptable manner. It wasn’t until the squirming changed to wild writhing and the weeping turned to deep sobs interspersed with promises for improved behavior that Gimli stopped and rested his hand on the heated flesh.

“The rules that we have regarding your care are in place for your benefit, to make sure that ye heal as quickly and smoothly as possible,” Gimli stated. “No amount of complaining or tantrum throwing will remove them. If ye wish to discuss them or if ye have something else to say to me, ye may do so at any time, but a forked tongue and poor manners are not now and never will be acceptable as long as ye are in my care. Is that plain?”

“Yes Gimli. I am s…sorry.”

“I know ye are lamb. Here let’s get you more comfortable.”

He carefully reordered Legolas’ clothing doing his best not to cause further discomfort, then lifted one foot and then the other to remove the elf’s boots. He helped the lad to his feet and steadied him, before leading him to the overstuffed chair in front of the fire and pulling him down to sit in his lap. Legolas buried his face in the dwarf’s neck, continuing to weep as his dwarf stroked his back and loosened his braids so that his hair fell around his shoulders. Gimli whispered soft comforting words, but it did not seem to staunch the flow of tears so that the dwarf became increasingly concerned.

“Come now lamb, it is all over now. Ye mustn’t take on so,” Gimli begged, causing the elf to cry even harder. “what is on your mind, Child? Ye know ye can tell me anything do ye not?”

“Oh Gimli…” Legolas choked out between sobs. “I am just so…so…tired!”

“So ye’ve said. Tired of being told what to do. That won’t last forever you know…”

“It’s not that, Elvellon,” the elf interrupted. “I’m just tired of not being able to do things right, tired of feeling ill half the time and mostly just tired of being….tired…. I guess. I just want to feel normal again and it gets so frustrating when I don’t’ seem to be improving.”

“Ah I see what ye mean and I can see how that must be difficult.” Gimli said sympathetically, “but the truth is ye have improved a great deal. I know it may not seem so at times, but already ye have put on weight and lost the dark hollows under your eyes. Ye are able to enjoy food without feeling nauseated and sleep peacefully rather than tossing and turning all night as before. It may not be as quickly as ye would prefer, but ye must be patient for ye canna rush nature and it takes time to heal. Still ye are looking better and healthier every day. That’s an undeniable fact.”

“Do you really think so Gimli?”

“Of course I think so, ye daft elf. Do ye truly think I would have risked discussing your manners in such a way as we just did if I thought it wouldn’t be safe to do so? Why do ye think I haven’t done so in so long? Ye surely do not think it was because your behavior had improved that much did ye? Ye were just too damn skinny to swat before now.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Legolas chuckled, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“Of course it is true Laddie. I said so did I not? Come let us move to your bedchamber where ye can lie down for a bit. Things will seem brighter after ye’ve rested, and dinna roll your eyes at me young elf! It is plain as pikestaff that ye are exhausted.”

It was a matter of minutes before Gimli had his now cooperative charge tucked under the covers and a moment after that before Legolas was sleeping soundly, no doubt even more worn out than usual after his trying day. The dwarf kissed him on the temple and then slipped quietly out of the room leaving the door open.

Opening the balcony door, he saw the shattered bits of wood and the piles of unfinished carvings littering the floor. He had originally intended on waiting for Legolas to wake up and then sending him out to clean up the mess, but on second thought he decided the elf had had a difficult enough day without such a reminder of what had gone on before. He decided instead to clean it up himself.

He briskly picked up the splintered wood pieces, placing them in a basket for later disposal along with the pile of wood shavings that decorated the floor as well. He was just adding the discarded carvings when he stopped long enough to take a closer look at them. All were in different stages of development, but one seemed to be nearly complete. He held it up to the light to examine it.

It was carved from a bit of white pine that had been exquisitely fashioned into the shape of a very small crane. The graceful neck and long pointed beak were daintily and perfectly crafted. The details were flawless down to the tiny feathers that covered the bird’s body. The only fault Gimli could find was that one of the slender legs that were no bigger than a blade of grass was broken at the joint.

He turned the miniscule work of art in his hand, admiring it from all sides. There was no way he could throw such a thing away. It may not be perfect, but it was beautiful just the same and a dot of glue and a bit of care would have looking just as it should. He carefully wrapped it in parchment for safekeeping.