Brothers of the Smithy

He flirted with her even before he’d known about her purposeful omission of gender. Gimli thought back on it the day after their little ones—because Boromir and Gimli were often in charge of the Hobbits’ well-being—had stumbled across her bathing. Boromir had been so careful and sweet—and she realized now, no trace of relief had flooded his eyes. She was used to the race of Men and their fear of becoming intimate with a woman who wasn’t barefaced, and she was also used to the relief which would flood a man’s eyes when discovering that their Dwarf comrade was a woman. They were normal in their own eyes, their affections directed at a woman. 

They were not used to Erebor, where only one Dwarf in four was a woman—the men had to adapt or die alone. This wasn’t to say every Dwarf man craved the attentions of another man, but a certain understanding of intimacy developed where men curled up with their best friend. The word used in Erebor was usually translated as “brothers of the smithy,” as a way of indicating that the relationship was by no means one of the convenience of “brothers in arms.”

Sitting down for a small meal tonight, Gimli remembered the last few weeks and her interactions with the Man from Gondor. Boromir’s eyes would occasionally flick towards hers across the fire, and he would smile just a touch. Or when they spread out from the camp at the end of the day looking for firewood he would accidentally wander towards where she was and make the most awkward of small-talk while surreptitiously (or so he thought) taking the firewood from her arms. Once he had teased her, though she’d brushed it off. 

But now she didn’t brush it off, her cheeks blooming with so much heat that she marveled that no one noticed her red face. Boromir of Gondor had a crush on her! He had taken yesterday’s news in stride, as though he didn’t care a whit about what was under her armor and clothing. She decided that should the little ones ever decide to tell them of their relationship—because it was so painfully obvious to her as something far deeper than simply being brothers of the smithy—it should be Boromir who spoke first. He had wanted her when she was in his mind the male son of Gloin. His words would come far more gracefully than Gimli’s own on the matter.