Gimli was not quite so enthusiastic about Rivendale. It was elf-country after all, and there was not a dwarf out there that Gimli knew of that would be enamored with elf-country if they could help it. If anything he was eager to leave, both for reasons of the Fellowship and for the simple fact of wanting to be out of here.And, if he was honest, his father's grumbling wasn't making it any easier for him to adjust to his strange surroundings -- there was no positive comment Gimli could make about the place that wouldn't have Gloin scowling and muttering under his breath about dirty elves and delicacies.
  It wasn't that Gimli didn't agree, for at this point he was no fan of elves, and that certainly had not been swayed by the exchange with Legolas and his companions, for there had been insults just as nasty from the elvish side of that argument as the dwarven, not to mention the additional insults of the present men. The only elf Gimli hadn't immediately found something to dislike in had been Elrond, and even he was vaguely irritating in a way that Gimli could not quite place. And Gimli had no love for Rivendale, either, though Gimli could at least see the beauty in the craftsmanship of it, and in the nature as well, even if it was not the kind of nature Gimli usually enjoyed -- he preferred his great mountaintops and gemstone filled caverns to trees and rivers, even if those trees and rivers were as stark and pure as any he had ever seen.Â
  But, as much as Gimli both at least partially agreed with and very much loved his father, Gimli had never been the type to enjoy such constant negativity, and it wasn't long before he slipped away from the other dwarves, eager to just take a walk and clear his mind, ignoring the looks the elves he passed gave him, ranging from bitter and pointed to simply curious. He really wasn't up for a chat, at the moment -- all he was really up for was getting lost in his own head.
   So lost was Gimli in said thoughts that he didn't notice the mound of supplies nor the hobbit underneath until they had nearly collided, and the dwarf jumped back when they brushed, startled. Recovering quickly and immediately becoming embarrassed, Gimli shook his head, raising his hands as if in surrender.
   "No harm done, lad -- I wasn't watching where I was going, either."
He paused, wracking his mind. He knew that this was one of the halflings that would be in the Fellowship alongside him, but for the life of him he could not remember which he was, except that he wasn't the Ringbearer. It was by no fault of Gimli's, really -- he hadn't seen any halfling up close before, so telling them apart would be a new experience for him, and, anyway, he had not actually spoken to any of the hobbits, so it was only fair that he would not remember who was who.
   Hoping Sam might respond in kind, Gimli bowed his head. "Gimli, son of Gloin, at your service. Do you want some help with all that?"