Lothlorien in the fall. It was beautiful, even in the waning of the year. The leaves of the
great mallorn trees were burnished gold upon the trees, some already fallen to the mossy ground.
The silver bark of the trees glowed dimly be it in sun or in moonlight. In the Elven forest
kingdom of Lothlorien, silvery elven laughter and haunting Elven songs permeated air which seemed
almost to shimmer in its magical timelessness.

All around them, it called to their weary hearts and spirits, giving them peace that was more
than physical, more than spiritual, more than anything most of them had ever experienced.
Legolas breathed it in gladly, feeling it as a stronger echo of the same force at work in his own
home of Mirkwood, once called Greenwood. It was the same force that was at work in every haven
of the Elves; a force both tangible and intangible, felt and not-felt, something unmeasurable and
magical and distinctly Elven in nature.

Haldir led them to the island capital, then to meet for the first time with the Lady Galadriel
and her husband, the Lord Celeborn. Once the initial meeting was over, he led them to the
pavilion set up for them, then returned to join his brothers once more in the guarding of the
borders.
 
 

"What do you think she meant when she said into my mind that for as long as we remained here in
Lothlorien I would look upon the world with Elven eyes?" Gimli asked Aragorn that night as the
Fellowship of the Ring settled in to sleep on their couches in the pavilion that they had been
granted for the duration of their stay.

Aragorn shrugged. "Perhaps she meant only that you would see how the Elves live. Perhaps she
meant for you to open your heart to the beauty of the Elven wood. Perhaps she meant something
else entirely. The secret counsels of the Lady Galadriel are sometimes simple, sometimes
many-sided."

"In other words, I shall have to wait and see what time will bring," Gimli said.

Aragorn nodded. "It is often thus with the counsel of Elves."
 
 

"Eeeeyeagh!" Gimli shrieked the next morning upon awakening in the pale gray false-dawn.

The rest of the Fellowship bolted awake at the cry, jumped up, weapons at the ready, facing the
source of the disturbance.

Arms holding weapons went limp even as seven jaws dropped in disbelief.

"Gimli?" asked Merry, staring. "Is that you?"

"Yes... no... yes..." Gimli said in confusion and anger that was quickly fading into disbelieving
fear. "No... I'm in here, but... I do not know."

Gimli sat upright on his couch, blankets tangled tightly around his legs. The nightshirt he had
worn to sleep in that night, once reaching to his knees, was now continually slipping down off
one shoulder and was barely long enough for even the faintest illusion of modesty. The once
broad-shouldered, short, stocky dwarven frame was now lithe and slender, with long arms and legs,
and perhaps a little more than half as broad as he had been. His beard was gone and his reddish
hair now flowed in a shining, straight curtain down past his shoulders. His pale skin seemed to
glow from the inside with health.

So *that* was the not-quite-so-hidden meaning of Galadriel's secret words.

Gimli, son of Gloin of the Misty Mountains, the sole dwarven member of the Fellowship, was a
dwarf no longer.

He was an Elf.

Part 2

"Where is that Elf?" Gimli grumbled.

He sat on his couch in the early morning, blankets modestly covering his lower half as he waited
for Legolas to return from his self-imposed errand. He could not help but watch with a certain
morbid fascination the slim hands that knotted in his blankets; hands that were attached to long,
pale arms. Hands and arms that *he* controlled, yet still the limbs of a stranger. His and
not-his all at the same time.

He lifted a smooth hand to his face, brushing back strands of the shining curtain his hair had
become, cursing in annoyed pain as his fingers caught yet again on the sensitive ear-point.

"Where is that Elf?" he asked again.

Even distracted as he was, he had seen the Sun rise in Lothlorien. The sheer beauty of it had
struck something newly awakened deep inside of him more than any other sunrise he had ever seen.

First, there was the paling darkness as the dim gray light of the false-dawn grew, ever so slowly
gaining first the warm golden tones, the faint hints of reds and firey oranges as the Sun
prepared to rise. Then, at last, the Sun cast her firey eyes over the horizon, sending her first
rays over the land to dance on dewy grass, silvery mallorn trunks and making gilded leaves shine
and sparkle in her light.

"I am here," said Legolas simply as he returned to the pavilion, arms laden with bundles of cloth.
He set the lot down beside the former dwarf. "New clothing for your stay in Lothlorien," he said.

Gimli sifted through the soft Elven-clothes, saw them all in the shades of gray or green-gray
that the Galadhrim wore. "Hmph," he said disparagingly. But still, he took up some of the
clothes and quickly dressed, feeling shaken once again by the sight of the too-long limbs that
were now his. The Elf-woven cloth felt good against skin more sensitive to such things than
before.

"Are the clothes to your liking?" Legolas asked as Gimli, dressed, pulled on light Elven shoes.

Gimli looked up, hair once more falling into his face as he did. "Yes," he said shortly.
"Though I dislike the whole situation." He brushed back his hair with a swift, annoyed gesture,
once again accidentally catching on his pointed ear. Dwarven curses fell bountifully from smooth
Elven lips to fill the air of the pavillion.

Legolas said nothing, merely waited for the storm to pass.

At last, the curses trailed off. Gimli looked to the Mirkwood Elf. He frowned. Then he looked
to the Elves of Lorien visible from where he now stood. He looked back to Legolas. "Both you
and they wear the hair back from the face and braided. Is this why?" he asked gruffly.

"Partly," came the calm reply. "Mostly it is simply to keep it out of the face." He looked to
the former dwarf. Hesitantly, unsure of how it would be recieved, he offered, "I could fix your
hair for you if you wish."

"The day Gimli son of Gloin needs help with his hair from an Elf will be a dark one indeed!" came
the indignant reply. He grabbed up a hairbrush that lay nearby, started pulling it roughly
through his hair. One stroke. "Ow!" Another. "Ouch!" Stroke. "Durin's blood!" Stroke.
"Argh!"

At last, seven strokes later and hair in even worse shape than before, Gimli looked up at
Legolas, who still stood there nearby. He looked quickly around the pavilion for witnesses, saw
it empty of all persons save for the two of them. Reluctantly, he held out the brush to the
other Elf.

"Legolas," he said gruffly, hesitant and embarrassed at having to even *think* of asking. "Could
you...? Help me?"

Legolas smiled softly, taking the offered brush. "Of course," he said, then began to carefully
brush and braid the other's hair.

Despite the once-dwarf's words, the day was beginning to show promise of being an unseasonably
fine one.

Part 3

"Done," Legolas said simply as he tied off the end of the last of the braids.

Gimli grunted in acknowledgement, still embarrassed at having needed the help at all. The mere
thought of needing the aid of an Elf for *anything* did not sit well with his dwarven pride.

Legolas seemed to hear the former dwarf's unspoken thoughts, as he said no more on the matter.
Instead, he put down the brush and moved to stand by the entrance of the pavilion. He looked to
his red-haired companion. "The others are at breakfast," he said at last. "Shall we join them?"

"Aye," came the gruff reply.

Gimli walked to Legolas and together they left the shelter.

The changed dwarf looked around with his new eyes, was astonished. He had never known that a
bunch of trees could possibly have so much in them to catch the eyes. He could see so much, it
was nearly overwhelming. He saw horizons through the miles of trees, further away than ever he
would have believed, saw everything in more detail than he ever would have thought possible, saw
colors he never before knew existed! And beauty everywhere, in everything, shining through from
even the plainest, most humble of things.

Unprepared for such a dramatic change to his visual perception, not to mention the new sounds
bombarding him through his new, acute hearing, he clutched convulsively at Legolas, near-reeling
with the sensory overload.

"Gimli?" he heard the Elf query. "Are you well?"

Tones upon tones in the Elf's voice, like an echo of song and light and tales told, untold and
yet to come.

"There's so much..." came the hushed reply. Strange to hear some of the same tones in his own
voice. He looked to the other, squinched his eyes shut, looked again, near-overwhelmed by myriad
small details. "I see... I hear...."

"Ah," Legolas said in sudden understanding. He had known, of course, that other beings' senses
were not as acute as those of Elves, but given the reaction... perhaps there was even more of a
gap between them than ever he had thought? Curious, he asked, "is there truly so much difference?
Surely you exaggerate somewhat due to the shock of waking up as other than you were."

Gimli shook his head in negation. "No," he said. "So much more. Like seeing in daylight for
the first time after living all your life inside an empty, lightless box." His eyes darted here
and there, trying to take everything in.

Then he made the mistake of looking down.

He yelped in alarm, face going bloodlessly pale in the split second before he threw himself flat
on the grassy ground and hung on tightly, as if the very earth beneath him would throw him off if
he didn't. His eyes were squinched tightly shut.

The blond Mirkwood Elf stared down at his prone companion in concern, saw sudden sweat sheening
the pale face. "Gimli?" he asked as he crouched down beside the other. "Gimli, what is wrong?
What ails you?"

Gimli cracked an eye open, stared up at Legolas. He licked pale lips. "I looked down," he
replied weakly.

The blond's smooth brow furrowed as he frowned. "Down? At the grass? What does that have to do
with this? I do not understand."

"It was not the grass," Gimli corrected. A faint blush colored the pale cheeks pink. "Even as a
dwarf, I had this... thing... about heights. And when I looked down...."

"Vertigo," Legolas said in realization. He looked in astonishment to the former dwarf. "But...
you did not show this before, on the ledges of Caradhras, nor on the narrow bridges over the dark
chasms in Moria."

"Maybe you never saw it, but that does not mean it did not happen," Gimli admitted. "I do have
my pride, after all. Even so, I left a great many lunches behind."

Legolas smiled faintly, offered one slender hand to the other. "Up," he asid. "Let us go find a
healer, then, with herbs to calm your stomach. The others can wait a while longer."

Hesitantly, Gimli released the grass, clasped the proffered hand, let Legolas pull him to his
feet. "Let us away to the healer," he said. He frowned. "Legolas, you must promise not to tell
the others of my vertigo."

Mirkwood's prince nodded in agreement. "I will not tell them," he promised.

Together, they walked out into Lothlorien's capital on their way to find a healer for Gimli.

Part 4

"Legolas! Gimli!" Aragorn greeted as the two joined their companions for breakfast. "We were
beginning to wonder if you would be joining us at all. What kept you?"

Legolas shrugged slightly. "'Twas nothing much, Aragorn. Friend Gimli merely needed the minutes
to... adjust to Elven perceptions."

"Ah?" Aragorn said curiously.

Gimli frowned slightly. "Aye," he said at last. He turned a brief grin to the blond Elf beside
him. "Now I know why Elves are so flighty, so easily distracted. Their eyes can see so far and
in so much detail; it is very hard for them to focus on any one given thing. I, of course, being
such a practical dwarf, am not bothered by... such..." he trailed off, staring in mute wonder in
one direction, completely forgetting about the discussion he had been having.

The others in the Company snickered quietly upon seeing the self-claimed undistractable one so
focused on something they could not see.

Legolas turned, stared off in the direction that held Gimli's attention. A delighted smile
brightened his face.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked. "What is it?"

It was Gimli who answered vaguely. "It's so cute."

/'Cute'?/ Aragorn thought to himself, perplexed. /Gimli called something 'cute'?/

"Legolas?" he asked again.

"About twenty feet away there is a tree," Legolas answered, still staring. "On one of its leaves
is this caterpillar. It is green, with large shiny black eyes. Its body is all folded as if it
had been pressed, and there is a small tuft of hair on its head, standing straight up." He
looked to the Ranger, shrugged. "Like Gimli said, it is cute."

"A caterpillar," Aragorn repeated, smiling in amusement.

Legolas nodded. Then he turned back to Gimli. "Come, Gimli," he siad. "Let's to breakfast
before Merry and Pippin eat their way through our portions!"

Gimli reluctantly shook off the caterpillar-inspired daze, then nodded. He went and took a place
at the table with the others, filled a plate with the breakfast food there.

The mere sight and smell of the food was enough to send shivers of anticipation through him. His
other senses had been enhanced so much; surely his sense of taste would be likewise augmented.

Then he took his first bite of breakfast and was lost. All thoughts flew from his mind; his
entire being was focused on the experience of eating.

It was as if he'd never eaten before in his life, as if it were a completely new experience.
Never before had the tastes been so clear, so vibrant, so... delicious.

"Mmmm," Gimli moaned as he ate, an expression of pure bliss on his new Elven face. He took
another bite, was again overwhelmed.

The others smirked in amusement as Gimli moaned his appreciation throughout the duration of the
meal. They made no effort to engage him in conversation, instead letting him enjoy his breakfast
undisturbed.

TBC...