[ Being such a distance away, it had taken Gimli longer to arrive than others. The dwarrow custom called for some celebration and feasting to honor the memory of the great man they had lost. The sorrow would come, aye, but slowly. It was meant to be that way. For every bit of sorrow, you were to drown it with the good. It helped you to remember your loved ones as they were.

Yet, Gimli could not bring himself to do more than small smiles and only when greeting others. They were soon to fade. Aragorn had been dear to him.

Gimli was an old dwarrow now. Hardly a bit of fiery hair left on his head. He could move about on his own, don't you worry. He was shorter of stature, believe it or not, and it took him longer to do things - and the list of things he could do were growing fewer and fewer.

He heard of where Legolas, his dearest friend, was. How he hadn't left his room for very long at all. Well, there was only one way to correct that wasn't it? He doesn't knock. It wouldn't be the first time he's seen the elf bare with their journeys together. ]

I heard you were being unsociable-- And you haven't even touched your dinner! Elf or no you can't live off air, lad.

[ There was perhaps too much energy in his words. A bit of forced manners that only those closest to him could ever know. ]