Once the matter of Galadriel was settled between them, Eomer and Gimli relaxed into a jocular, bantering sort of friendship. With Gimli settling his people in the White Mountains, and Eomer ruling in Edoras, they were often in contact. Visits were a frequent occurrence – most often accompanied by truly staggering amounts of the fruity Rohirric beer. 

Eomer never forgot that Gimli had saved his life at Helm’s Deep. When his first child was born, he named the baby ‘Elfwine’ – which translates to ‘Elf-friend’. Gimli was in raptures, and hurried as fast as he could to Edoras to give his congratulations to the parents, and to meet his newest namesake. 

He managed to astonish the whole of the Golden Hall, and much of the city, by arriving upon a great shaggy goat. Its huge curling horns were tipped in steel, and it stepped sure-footed and swift upon the steep mountain path. 

Eomer was nonplussed. A Dwarf seated upon a goat, as easy and comfortable as any of his Eored in the saddle! “I thought you did not care for riding, Gimli?” 

“Don’t get precious. I said I preferred my feet to a horse, and that will remain true so long as Arod stays with Legolas in Ithilien,” said Gimli cheerfully.

He swung down from his goat and gave it a friendly pat on the back. It lipped at his shoulder, before nipping at the hard leather of his jerkin. “Stop that.

This here is Pepper, and he’s a war-ram. Thought he’d be less confronting than the pig.”

“You ride pigs too?”

“Aye, but I didn’t think it’d be fair to ride a battle-boar here.” Gimli grinned. “Wouldn’t do to show up riding somethin’ prettier than you, after all. So, where’s this little bairn with the excellent name?”