The voices of the elves hung in the air, although he did not understand what the words to their songs he could feel their grief for Gandalf. Each note seemed to stir a different sense of melancholy within him, exposing within him breadth of emotions he was not accustomed to feeling and would have preferred them remain undisturbed and buried.
The tree's around them seemed to be glowing, bathing everything I soft white lights. Above them, endless amounts of stars could be seen through the breaks in the tall treetops, the elves houses nested in perfectly with the sky. As if they themselves were supposed to be a part of it.
The hobbits laid in a small cluster near one another in a manner that reminded Gimli of a litter of pups. Their hosts had provided them soft feather beds with each one piled high with silken blankets. Glorious sheets had been draped around their small camp to give the resemblances of tents to give them some privacy. The fellowship had been offered rooms high above the ground in their house amongst the stars, but Gimli and Boromir had expressed a strong desire to keep both feet on the ground.
A fire had been built for them and plush cushions delivered for them to sit on, if they so desired. That is where Boronir and Gimli had been lounging when the captain had been lulled to sleep by the music, snoring softly to himself. Aragorn sat watch near the hobbits, smoking a pipe in sullen silence. As if his presences near them might bring them comfort and better sleep.
Gimli felt out of place here, not only because he was the only Dwarf in an endless supply of elves. Nor the fact that he was miles from home and not amongst those who he would truly called friends. It was because he seemed to feel only shallow grief compared with the others. While his father might have gone on a great quest with the wizard, after the Battle of the Five Armies Gimli could count on one hand the number of visits he had made to their home. He was a wanderer, and seemed far more comfortable in the company of the races he considered to be more fare than he and his kin. Gimli's comfort was that Boromir seemed to be in the same situation as him, feeling inadequate for not feeling more devastation at their loss, yet unable to feel more than they already did.
Legolas seemed most affected by the absence of Gandalf, Aragorn and he had spent much time talking amongst themselves in Elvish. Legolas' voice had seemed hoarse for an elf, and had broken off several times mid-sentence as if he was physically unable continue with words. At one point Aragorn had pulled the elf who appeared to have begun weeping into a tight embrace, Gimli had averted his eyes after that.
"Poor Legolas", Sam had breathed to the other hobbits clustered closely around him. "He was telling me a story once, a while, back about when he had first met Gandalf as a child. I had asked him how long ago that had been, he did not answer my question outright but told me that it was long before the seasons had time to weather the Misty Mountains"
Merry and Pippin both muttered their concerns for their new Elven friend, "I cannot imagine losing a friend known longer to me than any mortal could even count" Sam whispered, a loud shush from Frodo who pointed to his own ears and then nodded his head towards Legolas brought their conversation to a quick halt.
But that had been several hours earlier, after that Aragorn had left Legolas' side to guard the hobbits while the elf had gone wandering by himself. Gimli had watched him climbing swiftly up the countless stairs towards the stars, exchanging words with several others as he went. He had written the other off for the night, assumed the elf saw his chance of escaping their company for that of which he deemed better. Not that he would have done much different, had there been hundreds of Dwarfs around them.
Yet Legolas did not reach the stars. He stopped before then, breaking form the path of the stairs and running nimbly along a limb of one of the massive tree's. He had leapt between branches, swinging himself along without any fear of falling to his death. Finally the blonde creature nestled himself within a cluster of smaller branches. He sat by himself for some time, moving not even an inch. Then, he began to sing.
The moment he had opened his mouth, Gimli could have sworn he heard his voice clearer than the others. The notes were long and clear, wrapping around the other voices that hung in the air. Adding his sorrow for the loss of his friend with the others.
Aragorn had tipped his head upwards and closed his eyes for a while, soaking in the bright voice of his friend, and raised his pipe in the air like a toast.
After a while the elf returned. He spoke a several soft words with Aragorn, bringing him a cup of what Gimli suspected was wine before he made his way to the fire and settled himself down. Now, several minutes later, the elf had drawn into himself. His eyes closed and knee's drawn to his chest. Gimli might have thought him asleep for he was so still, except for that he had learned rather unpleasantly already on this trip that elves slept with their eyes open.
Later, Gimli would not be able to describe exactly what made him begin speaking. He had been appraising the elf, rolling examples that had been taught to him since he could remember for why he should dislike the elf before him. Any Elf before him for that matter.
And yet, he asked, "Why did you not helps us?"
Legolases eyes snapped open and locked on him from across the fire, Gimli found himself momentarily surprised that they did not shine in the light of the fire like a large cats might. The elf looked at him, and then into him, and then through, him before he replied.
"I think it best, Mastar Dwarf, that we all refrain from asking questions for which we have no intention of listening to the answers"
Legolas' eyes drifted closed once more, dismissing him out of hand. Yet Gimli was not done, he wanted to know. Truly know the answer from their point of view, for the first time he could ever remember. Growing up it had seemed so straight forward, they had needed help and the elves had watched his home burn. They were callous to their suffering, not caring as the dwarves lives were torn apart.
Then they had cruelly impassioned his father and the rest of Thorin's company in an attempt to keep them from reaching their home once more. Had it not been for Bilbo, they never would have reclaimed their lost home. Once Smaug had been driven from it, and their home reclaimed the elves drew siege on them. Claiming apart of the treasures within it theirs, attempting force the company into submission.
Yet now that he had watched them grieve. Tasted and felt their sorrow in the air as if it was a creature of it own. He had assumed that elves to be callous creatures, indifferent for any others but themselves. Unable or uncaring towards anything that was not theirs.
Yet here the Elves were, helping them. Not only Elrond and his people but no the Lady of the Woods and hers. Yet here Legolas' was, running farther and farther away from his home on a quest that would surely get him killed for his troubles. Yet here he was deeply mourning a loss of one that was not his own.
" I wish to know the answer"
Endless blue eyes sapped open once more to lock solidly onto Gimlis darker ones, reading into him if he was sincere with his statement. Gimli tried to keep his expression more open, perhaps the elf had sensed the change in him. Maybe he just wanted to talk. He would never know that either.
"We could not, we could not afford too. We know what it's like to be ignored when you need help. If we had been able to help and save your people, believe me that we would have."
Gimli could feel his iron temper rising quickly to the surface, "How can you tell me you could not help?" He cried in anger, wincing towards the hobbits to make sure they hadn't stirred before he continued in a harsh whisper, "Twice you and your father stood by when my people needed help. You were there, on that ridge, I know you were! I know you heard Thorin call for your aid! Yet you turned away, you didn't care for them!"
Gimli knew he should probably stop talking, but his temper always got the best of him, "And how dare you try to tell me you have ever been ignored when you needed help!"
"Enough!" Aragorn barked at them from across the camp, his eyes stinging them with his anger. Around him some of the hobbits stirred, Pippin raised his head for a few moments only to plop it back down with a loud snore.
Gimli shrugged and apology, to which the Ranger merely huffed testily at it before returning to his pipe.
Legolas cast his eyes around for a moment, at a lost for how the explain what he wanted to, "Your home was sick, as is mine."
Gimli bit his tongue, stubbornly keeping the less than pleasant comments that had immediately come to his mind, for once he wished the Elf to continue speaking.
"The sickness in yours was loud and ferocious. Coming in the form of a great creature, with breath that could burn cities, wings that could tears skies and claws that could cut the earth. He tainted your home, your sickness is like a great hawk against a mouse. Swift and fearless.
The Elf paused again, waiting for the Dwarf to interrupt him, when he did not he began to speak once more.
"The sickness in mine was much slower, much softer. It crept slowly into my home, like infection in a wound. Unnoticed at first, yet devastating once it takes roots. It came in the form of twisted creatures and tainted waters. Did your father ever speak of his travels through our realm?"
Gimli nodded, still not trusting himself or his temper if he were to try and talk. Instead he just nodded, he had heard stories indeed. He had heard about the great spiders that ran loose and of the waters that sent people into a deep sleep. They had told stories to their children of the unexplainable confusion that had swept over the company, worse than if they had consumed large cups of ail. The world had been heavy they said, as if the air itself was sinister and trying to smother them. What they described had not sounded pleasant.
Legolas looked around him with his eyes far away and a faint smile on his lips, "The woods were beautiful once, it is my belief that they were even more beautiful than even the great trees of which we sit beneath. Greendwood the Great, they had called us. One could have run for days beneath the tree's and see nothing but crystal water and green fields. You could begin a conversation in Spring and have it last until Summer, uninterrupted if you so choose. My people were happy, carefree. We danced under the stars and beneath the tree's."
His simile faded, his eyes hardening. Had Gimli not known that elves could not grow old he would have sworn on his life that he watched Legoals age before his eyes. His back had straightened against the tree in which he leaned, and his face set like stone as the years piled on him upon his shoulders. The dwarf had to admit, his curiosity I was piqued.
"Now, we are known as Mirkwood. My beloved trees are wilting and sad, the waters are poison and none except for warriors venture far from my father home. We are prisoners in our own land. I have not seen some of my dear friends for many seasons, and I have buried more of them under our trees and stars than I care to count nor recall."
The fire crackled and popped between them, the orange light dancing on Legolas' golden hair and casting cruel shadows on his face. The pair lapsed into silence. Legolas lost within himself for a moment, ad Gimli mulling over the information inside his head. He sensed that given time, Legolas would continue speaking once more.
He was correct.
"Sauron did not return to the world like this" Legoals gestured around himself at nothing in particular, but rather at their current situation in general. "He did not rise up from the ground already powerful, already with so many followers."
Blue eyes did not stray from the fire, preferring to reflect its light than meet the gaze of Gimli. His voice was soft and resigned, "He went by another name, the Necromancer, they called him. He took up residence in an old city, the city of my grandfather from ages gone past. It was on the edges of our forest."
"We did not know" He sighed, his eyes sliding shut for a moment. Fisting clenching at his sides in anger a moment later, and slamming onto the ground when as he barked, "We should have known!"
A beat passed between them before Legolas' shoulders slumped, and his hands went slack as he continued, "It was there that he grew stronger. It was there that he called his army. It was there that his malice and anger began to bleed back into the world, into my home!"
The elfs eyes grew more wild than Gimli had ever seen them, his voice losing more and more of his composure as he was leaned closer to the fire and to Gimli, " Did you not wonder from where the Orcs great army came from, that day of the battle? Did nobody think to wonder from where the spiders spread? Did nobody care to so much as ask why so many of my people were falling? Are we not of enough value for others even open there eyes to our plight?" Legolas' voice had raised as his words had become more heated, the words becoming so close together they were almost a blur. Elves could even be hysterical; Gimli was certain this was as close as one could get without being actually hysterical.
Legolas slammed himself back into the tree had had been leaning on earlier, and began taking a few deep breaths and closed his eyes which seemed to be calming him again. Gimli felt as though he had been slapped, if not by hands than by the pure emotion in the Princes' voice. Never had he see an elf so discomposed before.
"Mellon-Nin?" Aragorn called for his friend, half raising from his chair to prepare to come over.
Legolas waved a dismissive hand at him, "I am fine, Aragorn. Return to your seat"
The ranger followed orders, sinking slowly back onto his chair, eyes narrowed in concern and suspicion at his friend. When Legolas opened his eyes once more, he didn't appear to be lying. Gimli eyed his suspiciously, but no sign of the brewing hysteria he had glimpsed before.
"Saruon, the necromancer, remained in that city from a few hundred years before your kin traveled to my realm to a few days after the battle. He was relentless in his assault, sending spiders and wargs and leagues of his followers. No matter how many we cut down and how many of us fell, he sent more."
"You see Master Dwarf, the day the dragon came we had already been fighting our own sickness for many years. We could barely save ourselves, we could not afford to fight a dragon."
Until the day of his death, Gimli would consider Legolas' next words to be one of the most important ones of his life. Without them, he feared they never would have become friends. He feared he would have stayed within his senseless hate and lost out on the most important person from that day forward.
"This is not the first battle I have fought with Saroun. But mark my words Master Dwarf, for me or for him, it will be the last" His voice rang into the air as one does when they are absolutely certain of something.
For the last time, Gimli eyed him suspiciously, he saw no sign of wavering in his statement. The Elf spoke the truth, that one of them would not survive to the end of this war, and Gimli vowed to do everything in his power to make sure that it was the elf who finally won.
The sickness had been drained from his home, his people were safe and warm. Tt was about time that the same happened for Legolas. After all, who will help the hopeless if not ones who have regained theirs.
He did not voice his thoughts, and it would not be until many years after the war that Legolas would even find out he had had them at all. Instead, all Gimli did was softly grunt three words and offer Legolas a drink.
"Fair enough, Lad"