Rising to his feet and grabbing his axe from where he’d propped it against a tree, Gimli pushed his way through the men and hobbits lazily gathered in the path, enjoying a smoke and each other’s company.
“What’s the matter with him?” asked Pippin, thumbing in the direction of the disgruntled dwarf.
“Maybe he doesn’t like the singing, Pip,” reasoned Merry, watching the dwarf stalk off. “These elves have been lamenting for days, and though I’m content to listen, it might not be soothing to Gimli.”
“That could be. He did take to snoring through my own small ballad,” Sam remembered, still a bit hurt over the matter. Merry and Pippin both patted him on the back to cheer him up, and a mug of some brew was offered to him, which he gladly accepted.
Aragorn was propped against one of the sturdy poles that held up the pavilion. “We may have disrupted his slumber with our conversation.”
“Disturbed a dwarf’s rest? Ha! He’s been most difficult to awake in the mornings.” Boromir shook his head with the slightest bit of contempt as he continued to sharpen his blades.
“Perhaps he just feels out of sorts here. Legolas is off somewhere among his kin, you and Aragorn have each other for company, and we hobbits have stuck together since the beginning of this journey.” Frodo looked over his shoulder as the dwarf passed out of sight. “He may just feel...alone.”
The others reflected upon this before once again sharing their thoughts on recent events and the days they had spent under the mellyrn in Lothlorien.
Blue Ribbon by Zhie