Chapter Text
Legolas had been in Gimli’s classes since kindergarten.
Gimli first noticed the other boy’s hair, already long and a paler blond than even cousin Fili. It looked smooth and soft and the light shined off of it and Gimli wanted to touch it to see if some of the shine would come away on his fingertips.
Then, of course, Legolas laughed when Eomer made fun of Gimli’s curls, and it became clear to Gimli that they were mortal enemies.
And they fought.
And fought.
And fought.
They fought over toys and each other’s answers and who got to sit where and who got the bigger snack. Their teacher solved the problem by sitting them on opposite sides of the room. It didn’t stop them, but it hindered them enough that classes could continue.
So they continued though the grades, and neither of them noticed when their arguments slowly slid into heated bickering, or that they would each turn to the other first as others would their best friends.
It all came to a head in fourth grade, when Legolas tried to grab the special mechanical pencil that Gimli’s father had given him, demanding that Gimli let him see. Gimli had done his best to keep the pencil out of Legolas’s hands, but Legolas’s arms were much longer and then ended up tussling across the floor. Mrs Galadriel sat them next to each other with the firm instructions that they would learn to sort out their differences or else. They both bowed their heads, “Yes ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” and kept the fighting to the playground.
Then Legolas went missing for a week. Gimli huffed through the first day, saying class had never been better. He huffed the second day, too, but his eyes were worried. By the third day, Gimli asked the teacher, if Legolas was okay. With a soft expression, Mrs. Galadriel told Gimli that Legolas was missing because his mother had passed away, and did Gimli know what that meant?
Gimli knew what that meant. His own little family was still alive, but his Uncle Kriln, Fili and Kili’s father, had passed, and Gimli could see the sadness still on Aunt Dis’s face.
“Is he coming back?” Gimli asked then, voice small. He couldn’t think about loosing his own mother, but he could see Aunt Dis’s sadness on his father’s face, and that was horrible enough. To think about Legolas…
Mrs. Galadriel nodded. “He should be back on Monday. And I want you to be careful, okay?”
Gimli frowned up at her. Of course he would be careful. Legolas was a stupid-head and a ninny, but family was different. “I will,” was all he said, though, because you don’t say things like that to Mrs. Galadriel.
Sure enough, Legolas was back on Monday, looking pale and red-eyed. He wouldn’t raise his hand to answer questions. He just barely picked up his pencil to write his answers down.
In the middle of math, Legolas must have pressed too hard because his pencil point snapped, and he jumped, staring at the point as if he didn’t know what happened. Without a word, Gimli handed over his mechanical pencil, and took Legolas’s to the sharpener by the door. When he sat back down, Legolas was staring at the pencil in his hand, looking more aware than he had all day.
“Well?” Gimli whispered. “Don’t just stare at it!”
Legolas looked at Gimli then, and Gimli had to fidget, shifting in his seat. He’d never seen that look on Legolas’s face before, like he was looking at Gimli and liked what he saw. Like Gimli had years ago when he saw Legolas’s hair.
“I bet I can finish more problems than you,” Gimli challenged.
Legolas grinned. “You’re on!” It was the first thing he said all day, and Gimli was so proud of himself for that, he didn’t even care that Legolas beat him by one.