Narin lay on the stiff bed, her compact Dwarven body modestly covered, and awaited her husband of a few hours. Her heart had chosen him when she was but a child and he performed a kindness toward her family, just before he and his father departed for Rivendell years ago.
She knew she was not the choice of his heart, but Narin felt lucky to be wed to him. The alternative was a lifetime of solitude, the fate expected by any Dwarf whose love went unrequited. Gimli would be a considerate and hardworking mate, and she would find fulfillment in her affection for him and in the family they would create together.
She let her thoughts drift, remembering his homecoming from the Great Quest, in the company of the great horse…
***---***
Some in Erebor shunned the returning warrior, thinking the war had made him fey - what Dwarf would keep such a beast? Most folk, however, welcomed him home, though surprised at his uncharacteristic reclusiveness; and if they wished to hear of his adventures they were disappointed.
Over the years Narin reached out to him and they forged a friendship, sharing what leisure time was afforded them. Occasionally Gimli traveled alone to the White City of Men, and she dreaded these journeys, for they seemed to bring him pain her devotion could not ease. One day she could bear it no longer and ventured to learn his secret.
"Gimli, you harbor a great grief. Will you not speak of it to me and thus find some comfort?"
"I thank you, my friend, but there is nothing to tell that will bring me peace," Gimli replied, fingering a strange, knotted object on a chain around his neck. Narin let it lie, but Gimli looked pensive. Some weeks later he broached the matter.
"I do not wish to trouble you, Narin, but I would speak of my sorrow after all," he said. She nodded, too surprised to answer.
"We Dwarves often say we are made to carry great burdens, and one burden most of us expect is the denial of our heart's choice." He cleared his throat. "I suppose I must consider myself fortunate; I have not been denied my heart's choice, but I have lost him, and ever does that burden test my Dwarven strength. He was Legolas the Elf of the Nine Walkers. He was killed in the War."
Stunned, Narin could find no adequate words. Comprehension engulfed her. Gimli and the Elf had shared the Quest's every horror and every triumph; Gimli had grown to love the Elf despite the inevitable hostility he would endure from his kin; the Elf had returned Gimli's love despite the certainty of long centuries of bereavement; they had come together in happiness; the immortal Elf had been struck down. "I am sorry, Gimli," she said finally.
Gimli shook his head. "I am no Elf and so grief will not claim my life, however I might wish it. Too long have I indulged this. I cannot live like this year upon year. I must find a way to leave it behind and move on."
Narin perceived what comfort she might finally offer her beloved and she did not hesitate. "You are my heart's choice, Gimli. If you would have me, I will be your wife and give you children. Our family will give us the purpose and joy we both lack. I would be honored to share my life with you."
Gimli's eyes widened; he took both her hands and gazed intently at her for what seemed an eternity before responding, "It is I who would be honored."
***---***
The sound of the door jolted Narin from her reverie as the bridegroom entered the room. He sat on the bed and ran his thumb along her wrist, and they spoke softly first of the day's events, then of the days to come. Suddenly, as if he had reached a decision, he stood, disrobed, and slipped between the sheets. He took her in his arms, and she was content to imagine love in his gentle caresses.
Not until her need was satisfied did Gimli take his own release with a silent shudder. Then his body relaxed against hers, and she savored the few moments until he carefully withdrew from within her.
Narin smiled wistfully as his deep brown eyes probed hers, searching in vain. Her eyes closed as his lips skimmed her mouth, her cheek, her forehead. Stroking her hair, he said simply, "Sleep well, my wife."
She leaned over and extinguished the bedside candle. Gimli turned away, and though he made no sound, she knew he wept. |
