Inevitable

"An Elf stalking within the Glittering Caves! Such a statement no Dwarf dare believe. Aye, Legolas, you must prove my kin wrong else I owe them a sack of gold. Which I, might I add, am empty of!"

A melodious chuckle resounded from the Elf whose back was buried in Gimli's face. Arod, white hide shimmering in the sunlight, jostled the poor Dwarf senseless whilst Legolas remained firm and comfortable on the saddle. Gimli wondered if he should simply trot beside the blasted horse. Certainly the beast had been a great respite after days of running without end on their adventure. However, after many serene nights of rest in Gondor and a rather bruised rump, Gimli preferred to move his stiff legs and heal his aching backside. He disregarded the idea quickly, knowing well he'd slow Aragorn and Legolas down, who both were mounted onto their own brilliant steeds.

"And in return, young Gimli, you must accompany me to Fangorn Forest," came Legolas's reply, his voice as smooth as a stream. Gimli's lip twitched at the word 'young' the Elf had added upon his mighty name. "The trees are a sight to behold, much more than when Sauron's hand had drifted over the ancient woods."

"If you two could focus on the present," Aragorn hissed in aggravation, glaring at the two squished onto one horse, "perhaps we could finish our final hunt?"

"Certainly. My apologies, Estel," Legolas answered, no hint of regret in his voice.

Currently, Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn were on a leisure hunting trip after the final battle at Mordor. With Aragorn's crowning close at hand, the trio had one final journey together before Aragorn was renounced as the King of Gondor, after which he would have no time to spend his days with his friends. Already they had gained good game to prepare a small feast, now strapped onto their saddles.

Gimli stared at the sun which began to sink behind the hills of some named plain that the Dwarf hadn't bothered to know. Long shadows were casted along the trees, an orange tint touching the remaining rays of light. The Dwarf glanced at Aragorn, whose eyes darted to locations unknown to Gimli. He vainly attempted to stifle a yawn that had unexpectedly come to him.

Legolas's sharp ears caught the sound nevertheless and called to Aragorn. "Aragorn. Mayhap we set camp for the day? The sun is lowering itself down to sleep as we speak. Night will soon be upon us."

Aragorn's eyes flashed with anger for a moment, startling both Dwarf and Elf. "Nonsense," he growled. "Night has yet to rise. We ride until it fully comes." Not waiting for a reply, the Man urged his horse to quicken his pace, leaving dust in his wake.

They both halted for a moment, stunned. "What," Gimli finally demanded, confusion as well as anger building in his stomach, "is wrong with him! From noon he has acted as such, and dare I say my patience is running thin."

The elf simply stared, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. His heels tapped Ador's flank, beckoning him to a gallop in attempt to reach the soon-to-be King of Gondor. Once they reached the Man, Aragorn intentionally stared ahead, ignoring the Elf and Dwarf's glances. Gimli now noticed that his dark eyes were laced with worry and apprehension, constantly darting towards the shadows.

Legolas gave an exasperated sigh before guiding Arod directly in front of Aragorn, whose steed abruptly halted and neighed in protest. Aragorn opened his mouth, but was cut off by the blonde Elf.

"Enough of this, Aragorn. You have been on edge the moment the sun began to sink. Tell us, what ails you?"

Aragorn glared at Legolas with such fury Gimli had never seen on the Man's face and the dwarf shifted uncomfortably. Legolas, seemingly unaffected by Aragorn's anger, matched his gaze perfectly, with perhaps a little more defiance. Gimli was surprised Aragorn dared to act as such towards the Elf. If there was one thing he learned from traveling with his Elven companion, it was to never behold a glaring contest with anElf.

For what felt like hours, grey eyes met sharp blue ones, unblinking and challenging the other. At last, Aragorn was the one to break contact, turning his head sharply whilst a rabbit bounded out of a bundle bushes. His breathing was rapid and unsteady, and Aragorn's gloved hands tightened on the horse's reigns. Legolas frowned and cautiously placed a delicate hand on the Man's shoulder. Aragorn jolted at the contact, returning his attention towards the Elf. His eyes softened once he saw Gimli and Legolas's faces painted with concern.

He heaved a great sigh before whispering in a faint tone, "Something is amiss. As we ride further from Gondor, I sense something that shall soon come upon us. Something that is no ally to Light."

Gimli frowned at the thought of it. "You mean to say something is hunting us?" he asked suspiciously. With the fall of Sauron, it was expected for a small troop of his army to be wandering the plains, homeless and leaderless. However, the Dwarf doubted for any ally of Sauron to be so foolish as to attack the King of Gondor, a mighty Dwarven warrior, and an Elvish Prince who were very much armed and attentive.

Aragorn shook his head slightly and answered, "Not hunting, at least not yet. I doubt that they have discovered us yet. However, I feel that there is some remaining evil dwelling close by."

Legolas's voice cut in and Gimli saw him nod in the corner of his eye. "Your senses have never failed us, Estel, and I do not expect them to lead us astray now. Perhaps we should turn back and finish our hunting trip." Gimli scowled, not wishing to end their journey many days in advance. Of course, he trusted Aragorn and knew it was foolish to continue hunting in this area, but he wished to spend every last second with his human friend. No doubt when the arrival of Aragorn had reached Gondor, he would be whisked off in preparation for his crowning. "Or," Legolas added with a glance at the disapproving dwarf, "we could alter our course and hunt elsewhere."

Aragorn paused, deep in thought, with his head bowed and grey eyes staring off into the distance. Gimli watched with anxious dark eyes. Then, with an approving grunt, the Man answered, "Very well. We ride west, towards Gondor, where we shall continue our hunting. We will travel a league before setting up camp."

Gimli smiled in delight, casually stroking his beard. Below him, Arod, led by Legolas, adjusted his course and sped off, followed closely by Aragorn. The sun by then rested behind the mountains, its head barely peaking off the rocky edges. The Dwarf could not see three yards ahead of him, but he trusted his Elven guide and his eyes to not misguide them.

His smile widened at the thought of a Dwarf trusting an Elf. Never had it been heard of, in the centuries of the Dwarves and Elves loathing each other, finding either insufferable to stand near, let alone travel with. Yet hear sat Gimli, riding a horse along with an Elf whose blood flowed with royalty. Surely the two friends were a sight to behold.

The Dwarf suddenly felt Arod leap, raising his front hooves high in the air with a great whiney. In danger of falling off the horse, Gimli clung onto Legolas desperately. "Legolas!" the Dwarf shouted over the great cry of the horse. "Control your blasted horse or I'll—"

A thin black blur soared inches over his nose with a high whistle, causing his voice to catch in the Dwarf's throat. It landed into the soil with a muffled thunk meters from where the trio rode. Squinting his eyes in the darkness, Gimli managed to shape out an arrow with black fletchings. His stomach lurched.

"Yrch!" Legolas cried, snapping his head towards a nearby hill. Gimli followed his gaze and watched as seven orcs emerged from the hill, crude bows in their massive hands. Without pause, Legolas leapt off Arod and strung his own bow with immortal speed. Three orcs fell before the Dwarf could retrieve his axe. Competition boiled in the Dwarf's blood, as it had done in every battle the two friends had faced. With a roar, Gimli slid off the white horse and charge the remaining orcs, swinging his axe in a deadly arc. Two were sliced in half, whilst the remaining pair sped past him.

"Oh no you don't, you lofty cowards!" he cried, swinging his axe at their legs. They toppled like crippled trees, screeching in their black tongue. Swiftly, he decapitated them, black blood tainting the ground. He released a triumphant cry, content with the knowledge that the Elf had befallen three 'yrch' and Gimli four. He turned towards the Elf to gloat in his kill, only to find Legolas and Aragorn surrounded by a crowd of grey-skinned orcs who roared and spat, hungry for the taste of battle. So the orcs had reinforcements!

Gimli ran as swiftly as his stout legs were capable of, raising his axe in preparation for more bone-breaking and limb-hacking. He tore one beefy character's back, who howled in agony before death took him. Swinging his axe at another, the blade caught onto the arm of the orc, crippling it long enough for Gimli to crush its neck.

Ha ha! Six kills already! The Dwarf glanced at the Elf, suddenly disheartened once he noticed the bodies of ten at Legolas's feet. His Elvish swords were drawn, sprayed with the black blood of the retched orcs. Gimli watched in grudging awe at the Elf's swift, elegant, and equally deadly attacks, cutting down any orc that beheld the courage to face him.

Aragorn was faring well, skillfully swinging Anduril across the bulk of orcs, bringing fear to the orc opponents as their comrades died before them. Somehow the Dwarf's chest swelled with courage at the sight of him, and Gimli continued his massacre.

Seven, he counted as he dislodged his axe out of a grey chest. Eight, came the number in his head as he swung the head cleanly off an orc's shoulders. Nine, ten, eleven! The orc warriors were helpless at the hands of Gimli, his gloves stained with the blood of his enemy. As long as the trio remained alive, the Enemy would quake at the names of Man, Dwarf, and Elf. Gimli could not contain another roar of triumph as he swung his axe about him, slaying three more orcs simultaneously.

However, the Dwarf's victory was short-lived when he failed to calculate the length of his legs and the bulk of an orc, causing him to stumble over the body. He shouted in surprise and his beloved axe slipped out of his fingertips. He flinched as an orc charged over to him, sword raised, and waited for the inevitable.

The orc passed him without a single glance.

The Dwarf's jaw fell open as two more passed him without regard. Stunned, Gimli wondered if he was too short for the orcs to see. Nonsense it was, for at the battle at Helm's Deep, Gondor, and the Black Gate the orcs had always noticed him, yellow eyes flashing in fury and blood-thirst. He watched as a troupe of five pass him and this time Gimli watched them closely.

They did not rush towards Aragorn; in fact, none of the orcs regarded the soon-to-be King of Gondor as an opponent. Gimli's stomach gave another lurch when realization struck him. The orcs all focused their attacks onto the Elven Prince, who desperately held the group back.

The Dwarf's face grew crimson and his blood boiled in absolute fury. How dare they attack a friend of a Dwarf's! Fools they were to ignore a Dwarven warrior, and attack the Elf instead! Abruptly standing, recovering his axe and tightening his grip, the Dwarf charged into the fray, blocking their path towards Legolas and mercilessly hacking the mindless orcs.

He no longer counted how many he slaughtered; the only occupant in his mind was the determination to protect Legolas. At least fifty were upon them, and Gimli knew they would soon be overwhelmed. Their only chance was to flee. Hewing several more orcs, Gimli turned to Legolas to shout at him.

Brown eyes meet wide, pained blue. The Elf stared at Gimli with shock—

-an orchish blade prodding from his chest.