Title: FOR CONTINUING STRANGE (30) 
Author: Annie Harris 
Email: annie_mouse2001@yahoo.co.uk 
Pairing: Legolas/Gimli 
Rating: R. 
Summary: Gimli explains the ‘beards’ of Dwarf women, and tells 
Legolas about the death of his fiancée. 
Disclaimer: The usual: No claims, no pack drill - and of course no 
profit. Just living in the gaps and round the edges. 
Warning: None. 
Archive: Library of Moria; Axe & Bow. 
Note: I really don’t care for the ‘bearded women’ bit, even if it is 
genuine, so here’s an alternative version! 
 
30
 
On the next day, the new life of the kingdom began in earnest. 
Faramir as Steward escorted the King and Queen on the first of a 
series of royal progresses which would take place each morning until 
the pair had seen and been seen by all the people of the city. Later 
would come journeys further afield, but firstly all those who lived 
in or were visiting the city would learn to know their new rulers, 
and travellers from the further regions would return to their own 
homes with news. 

After the progress, the rest of the day might be given over to 
meeting envoys from other regions and peoples, or leaders of the 
Guilds and so forth within the city; and the evenings were for 
dinners and feasts with music and dancing. 

Gimli for the time being spent more time on music than on masonry, 
and was often in the musicians’hall with the court ensemble, 
preparing for the entertainments. Faramir was full of joy at the 
revival of the arts his mother had loved, and came as often as he 
could, to sit quietly in the gallery of the panelled hall and lose 
himself in listening. Legolas also was a frequent visitor, usually 
bringing some one or other of the elves from Imladris or Lórien with 
him, so that when on occasions Gimli joined the court musicians they 
were already accustomed to the odd sight of a Dwarf with an archlute 
longer than his own height, and knew how well he could play it. 

Gimli kept half an eye on Legolas’scheme to educate his kinsmen, 
amused yet gratified to see how neatly he carried it off, so that 
they all thought they were making their own discoveries by chance. 
Haldir, having heard by now the full story of the pursuit across 
Rohan, of the Hornburg, the Paths of the Dead and all that had 
followed, had drastically revised his ideas, if not of Dwarves in 
general, then of this Dwarf in particular, and had apologised 
sincerely for the blindfolding episode and become a regular listener 
in the gallery. Indeed, Gimli soon discovered that Haldir was no mean 
musician himself, and could wield the bow of a tenor viol as well as 
the bow with which he had defended the Golden Wood. After this, Gimli 
had forgotten the touch of resentment he had felt at being 'shown 
off’to the Elves. Legolas had worked it so well that they did not see 
things in that light, and so he had decided that he would not. 

One night, when they had returned from the noise, crowds and bustle 
of the day to their quiet house, and were preparing for bed, feeling 
a little too well-fed after the latest feast, Gimli said: 

‘You're a very clever, cunning Elf, and I'm not sure I know what I've 
let myself in for with you! 

Legolas drew his shirt off over his head slowly, and emerged from the 
folds of fine white stuff with a toss of his long golden mane. 

‘And what do you mean by that?’ 

Eyes, mouth and voice all smiled. 

‘I mean that in a few days you have taught a whole tribe of Elves to 
do something I think your people have not done for many long years: 
see a Dwarf as just another living being, not as an outsider at best, 
or more likely a possible enemy.’ 

‘I didn't try to teach them anything, but I did want them to see you 
- see YOU and not whatever it was they thought a Dwarf might be. I 
never tried to tell anyone anything, unless they asked what happened 
on the Quest, or our part in the war. I wanted to surprise them into 
seeing, as you surprised me.’ 

‘As I said, clever and cunning Elf! At first I thought you were just 
showing off your discovery, but you are too clever for that - and too 
kind;’ he added, as he saw Legolas’face change; - ‘You'd never do 
that to me.’ 

‘I knew I would be risking that;’ the Elf admitted; - ‘And I felt 
uneasy at times, but they know of Galadriel's regard for you, and 
that is a great help.’ 

Gimli put the last of his things tidy and sat down on the edge of the 
bed. 

‘Ah! Galadriel! I believe she would come and work in stone with me to 
further her understanding. Understanding! That's what it is, her 
great strength. Will your other Elves match her, and her lord, in 
that, I wonder, when it dawns on them that you and I will always be 
together? Will they stop seeing what they have learned or remembered, 
and look at what is before them now?’ 

‘There is none in Middle-earth to match her, save perhaps Elrond and 
Gandalf, so, as for that, the answer must be No; yet some I think 
will come near, and we must be content with that.’ 

‘I will be content if they do not try to persuade you out of our 
bond.’ 

‘They will soon learn better than to try - though we must expect that 
some will. I shall not be persuaded.’ 

Gimli heard a steely note in the sweet voice, and uttered a little 
blowing sigh of satisfaction as he slid into bed. He sat up leaning 
on his pillows, enjoying the last glow of summer evening light beyond 
the window. Legolas reached over and began to undo the cords of silk 
and gold that secured the braids of his beard. Gimli took each cord 
as it was removed and laid it neatly on the small chest by the bed. 

‘May I try some different braids tomorrow? asked the Elf. 

‘Hmm. I don't know that my beard is ready for elvish knitting!’ 

Legolas’eyes sparkled with mischief. 

‘Ach! I think I may live to be sorry I said that!’ 

‘Your beard is safe with me!’ 

Gimli knew he had no reason to doubt it, and kept still until all the 
fine decorative braids were undone. Once Legolas had spread the beard 
out to his satisfaction, he buried his face in the thick soft hair 
and asked, his voice rather muffled: 

‘Is it true that Dwarf women also have beards?’ 

There was a moment's silence and then Gimli burst into a roar of 
laughter that shook the Elf and made his skin tingle as if he had 
been flung into a hot mineral spring. His ears rang for a second or 
two, and then he could hear Gimli saying, between splutters of mirth: 

‘Do your people still believe that old chestnut? It has served us 
better than any would have thought. So you've never seen a Dwarf 
woman?’ 

‘No, never;’ said Legolas, pulling himself up onto his own pillows, 
the better to watch Gimli's face. 

‘And yet I think it possible that you have, once or twice. Our women 
do not often make long journeys with the trading parties, but shorter 
ones, such as Erebor to Mirkwood, or Dale and Esgaroth, they do take 
at times. Perhaps you have seen on occasions youths with short 
beards, voices not yet broken?’ 

‘Hmm. Maybe.’ 

‘Then you still might have seen a Dwarf woman without knowing.’ 

‘And how might that be?’ the Elf asked obligingly, sensing a good 
story to come. 

‘As to WHY our womenfolk disguise themselves so, you may not find it 
hard to understand that it is to escape the notice of Men; for when 
Men heard tell of the skill, the strength, and above all the 
faithfulness of Dwarf women, some of them wished for Dwarf brides, 
and would take them - or try to - by force since they could not be 
had any other way. All this was long ago, when our peoples first met, 
and it was not the Men of the West who did such things. No such 
things happen now; we go our separate ways, and Men who now live know 
nothing of it, though we have not forgotten; but our women have not 
lost their mistrust, and are very wary. 

‘But to come to the HOW: no doubt a child invented it in play, just 
as our stories tell. Now, the hair of our women is even longer and 
more abundant than that of our men. A Dwarf maiden of marriageable 
age is accounted most beautiful if her unbound hair can clothe her 
like a robe, perhaps even to her knees. My Zâr (he spoke her name 
without hesitation, as if Legolas knew it already) had hair like 
that, and I beheld her in her beauty, robed in black like the night.’ 

‘She must have been fair indeed;’ said Legolas, recalling how 
Lúthien, fairest of all the Elves, had possessed a fabled mantle of 
black hair. 

Thinking back on this moment afterwards, he understood how often 
Gimli must have thought of telling him about her, even to the point 
of feeling that he had already done so. 

‘But imagine if you will;’ Gimli went on, still smiling; - ‘A little 
Dwarf maid with long hair, drawing the ends across her face in 
imitation of her father's moustache and beard ... ‘ 

‘Oh!’ Legolas laughed aloud then. The picture sprang up clear in his 
mind. 

‘And then perhaps someone saw this childish game, and saw that with a 
little skill and a hood drawn close, a Dwarf woman might be made to 
resemble a Dwarf man! Well enough, at least, to be sure that those 
who expect a beard, see a beard!’ 

Legolas laughed again, and drew strands of his own hair across his 
chin. This sent Gimli off into further peals of rich dwarvish 
laughter. No Elf could ever make a sound like that, and Legolas found 
it utterly thrilling in its strangeness. Elves have the most 
beautiful and varied voices of all speaking peoples, yet Gimli had 
the most compelling, changeable voice of any individual, of any 
kindred, that Legolas had heard in all his life. 

The harsh battle cry, the bellow of anger, the velvet tone of 
tenderness in speech or song, the strident sonority of tavern music, 
the rolling declamation of Durin's Song, the rumbling chuckle, and 
now this gale of mirth: he would gladly play the bearded Elf to hear 
the sound again, and already Gimli was moving and reaching up to try 
the effect. But he shook his head and leaned back, grinning. 

‘A golden beard might suit you well enough, dear friend, a short, 
trimmed one, such as the men of Gondor wear; but the trick with 
braids will not work with your fine elvish silk. It needs a mass of 
thick hair such as only our Dwarf maidens have.’ 

His smile faded and his eyes seemed fixed on memory rather than on 
the Elf fbefore him. 

‘Yes, she was beautiful, skilfull too, a craftmaster.’ 

His dark gaze turned to Legolas again: 

‘And if you should come and be received at Erebor, as I trust you 
will, you may see her likeness and judge for yourself, for one of her 
brothers has a young daughter who is so like my Zâr, my heart still 
turns over when I see her, and I think it always will, even now I 
have you.’ 

‘I hope so;’ said Legolas, and laid one hand on Gimli's chest; - ‘It 
is a great heart, and one love will not drive out the other.’ 

Gimli covered the Elf's hand with his own. 

‘My noble Legolas! I said I would tell you about her, one day - well, 
it is night, but I will tell you.’ 

‘Yes;’ said Legolas; - ‘Tell me all you wish.’ 

Gimli drew a deep breath, and sighed. He was as sure as he could be 
that no Dwarf had ever told such a tale to one not of his kindred: he 
himself had never said much about it to any but his father. He wanted 
Legolas to know, and the Elf had told him things that no other 
knew... 

‘I noticed her first at the Spring Feast, in the year after the fall 
of Smaug. Her Apprentice Band, as we call it, was nine years behind 
mine, and as it happened I had no kinsmen among them, so they were 
not a group I knew well. But one day, there she was, at the feast, in 
her holiday skirt and petticoats, and her hair braided with gold and 
ribbons - more ribbons than gold, I'll tell you about that. 

‘You'll have realised that our womenfolk dress much like men for 
everyday wear, and they cover their hair with hoods outdors or 
scarves at home, so they look quite different on feast days. Some 
people have been known to walk past their own sister!’ 

Legolas smiled, trying to imagine the transformation. 

‘We never decided who saw the other first: we looked, and by the end 
of the feast, we knew. Then we thought about it, and met, and spoke, 
and in two days we were sure, and it was time to tell our families.’ 

Something in the tone of voice added “and then the trouble started”. 

‘I knew very little of her family - but everyone else seemed to know 
too much, and none of it good, they said. For her folk were poor - 
not that any of us are rich, even now, as Dwarves once counted riches 
- but her folk were poor, poor and unlucky. Everything they touched 
seemed to go awry, if only by a little. 

They had not been very long in Ered Luin. They came from the Iron 
Hills, and I gathered that the worst of their misfortunes seemed to 
date from the time her grandfather was killed in a tunnel collapse, 
though some said it went back further than that; and her father too 
died young, again as the result of some accident - there were all 
sorts of vague hints about blame - and the whole family seemed to 
struggle. Zâr was the most gifted of them all. 

So the upshot of that was, my father's family didn't want anything to 
do with them: her family (or some of them) called her a fortune 
hunter, since my father had just come back with his share of Samug's 
hoard, and that made us both angry, for neither of us had the least 
idea who the other was when we first saw the spark.’ 

He paused and sighed again. 

‘And your father?’ said Legolas; - ‘What did he say?’ 

‘Ah! He did what he often does - he surprised me. He said “Don't 
listen to those old moaners. Take her away from that ill-fated crew, 
she's the only one with real talent and a strong spirit. She's a good 
choice.” So it was decided, and we were about to set the day for the 
wedding, when their fortunes seemed to change. A message came from 
the Iron Hills, saying that the last member of the family there had 
died - a cousin of the grandfather - and had left his fortune to 
Zâr's mother and the children, his only relations. And it seemed to 
be a tidy sum. But the terms of the will were rather odd. The whole 
family had to go to the Iron Hills together, before they would be 
able to inherit, even her brothers’children - the youngest was only a 
babe in arms. 

‘They were all for setting off right away: Zâr herself was as bad as 
any. She wanted to bring a decent dowry - as any Dwarf maid should - 
though she knew I'd take her with none. 

‘And my father - he did it again - surprised me. He said we should 
marry first, so that I should go with them. He even mentioned going 
himself. I think now he must have sensed something ... But Zâr 
wouldn't have it: she wanted to bring a dowry she could be proud of, 
put a stop to the gossips - and I let her persuade me. 

‘So they set off, with other travellers going that way. A long 
journey, as you know, but not one to fear, since Smaug was gone, and 
the Battle of the Five Armies had put an end to most of the Orcs and 
Goblins for a while, and the Eagles guarded the High North. They 
reached Erebor, and went on to the Iron Mountains - not without some 
little accidents on the way, always to Zâr's family, or somehow due 
to them, so it seemed - but they got there, and their claim was 
approved by the Elders, and the inheritance paid over. And then, then 
they had to come back ... ‘ 

Another sigh. 

‘By this time it was almost winter. They got as far as Erebor without 
much trouble, and they should have stayed there till spring - Dain 
himself said they could stay, invited them to stay, but no, they must 
press on! Over the High Pass in winter! Of course, there are always 
some travellers who have to make the journey, but with women and 
children, when there was no need ... even though most of the Orcs 
were gone, it was still folly. There were others in the party, a few 
traders, messengers to Ered Luin from the King Under the Mountain, 
but still ... 

‘They passed beyond Mirkwood, they crossed the Pass, and somewhere on 
the descent to the Road wolves fell on them out of the cold north, 
scattered their ponies in the night, and then slew half the party. 
And of her family all that returned were her mother, one brother 
(father of the maid I told you of) and the young son of the eldest 
brother. Two of the merchants died, and one Messenger, saving the 
baby. Those who lived raised a cairn of the mountain rocks, as is our 
way in such cases, and so my Zâr lies with the others under uncarved 
stone, somewhere in the Hithaeglir, I know not exactly where. And it 
is always in my mind that I must find that place before I die, and 
make a memorial, or carry home the bones to Ered Luin, to the Deep 
Hall.’ 

Legolas held him close, and pondered a while in silence. 

‘Then we shall seek, and we shall find. We must begin our duty to the 
King, but he will not grudge us leave once the work is set in hand. 
We shall use well the years that lie before us: for the Kingdom, and 
for your lost one.’ 

Gimli hugged him in return. 

‘Thank you, my Legolas. I will need your help, I know. And I think 
you must be wondering how it is that in those first years after the 
fall of Smaug, when the mountains were safer than they had been for a 
long time, no one went out to find the cairn.’ 

Legolas shook his head gently. No such thought had yet entered his 
mind. 

‘It will take a little more explaining of our ways to make it clear. 
I said that when the family left for the Iron Hills, we had not set 
the date of the wedding. What that means is that Zâr and I had only 
reached the First Betrothal - from which either party may withdraw 
without penalty or shame. It means that the pair believe they are 
suited and the families have agreed to parley. Then comes the Binding 
Betrothal, when the date of the wedding is decided, the dowry and 
gifts settled, and all the other matters, such as where they shall 
live and work, and so on. If we had passed that stage, I would have 
had the right to search for her, but because we had not, it was the 
duty of her younger brother - who would in any case have been 
responsible for finding the elder brother and his wife and the other 
two sons. 

‘At first I wanted to go, but that would have been wrong, a slight on 
the surviving brother and the mother, and my father restrained me. 
But the brother was broken by it all, and it was years before his 
spirit revived. I shut it away, and bound myself to my work. My 
father said he had long suspected that some special fate awaited me, 
but I took no comfort from that then. Only now do I know that he was 
right. Only now can I speak to you of these things as I have done to 
no other - and, Legolas, suddenly I think he will know that you are 
that fate, and welcome you! Well, we shall see! 

‘But I have not finished my story. Zâr's mother brought up the child 
who survived, the third son of the elder brother, and it began to 
seem that their misfortunes were ended at last, for he has done well 
and prospered, though they lost some of their treasure in the 
mountains. My father once said that there must have been something in 
it that was better lost, and he may have been right, for the younger 
brother did recover somewhat after a time, and married, and had first 
a son and then the daughter I told you of; but he died young, and his 
widow removed from Ered Luin and came with her children to Erebor, 
and I hope live there now, for the envoys could report no ill that 
had befallen them in the siege.’ 

‘I hope they are well;’ said Legolas earnestly, suddenly eager to 
meet these Dwarves whose lives had been so twined with Gimli's; - ‘I 
should like to see them.’ 

‘If I have my way, you shall;’ said Gimli, taking hold of the Elf's 
hands. – ‘And tomorrow, let us avoid the state occasions, if we can, 
so that I may have time to finish the rings before we have to leave 
the city. Ach! I have tired myself with talking, but I feel as if I 
have cast off a heavy weight.’ 

‘A heavy weight indeed;’ said Legolas; - ‘I am glad you have let me 
share it.’ 

He settled close to Gimli, resting his head on the unbraided beard 
spread over the Dwarf's chest. Gimli's arm tightened round him, and 
Legolas knew how much the burden was lightened when he heard a sleepy 
muttering: 

‘Do Dwarf women have beards? Only where women are supposed to have 
beards! Elves!’