A/N: Beta'ed by Amlia B.
An odd tale of an odd pair
By NaTak
Chapter 2: Clouded purposes
It's cloudy; the second time Mistiel encounters the dwarf and the elf.
It has rained relentlessly during the night, which always frightens the girl a little, but the adults say it is a good thing, the rain, for it will help wash away the remains from the battle.
It is now past midday, and though the drizzle has stopped, the streets are still slippery; therefore the ginger cannot dash with her habitual enthusiasm.
Mistiel has been charged with an important task. Her mother's brother had forgotten his packed lunch when he left their home that morning, so the girl is to deliver it to him.
She is quite excited, for her uncle is a soldier and is currently in the training grounds with the rest of his company. Mistiel rarely is permitted to go there so she plans to relish such an opportunity.
The girl gets more than she'd bargained for. On the training grounds she happens upon not only the soldiers of the kingdom but also the two unique acquaintances she made the other day. Legolas and Gimli.
As the men rest, chat and eat, replenishing their strengths, dwarf and elf occupy one of the training pits, sparring.
Sitting on benches nearby, soldiers cheer them on, apparently impressed by the fight they witness.
Mistiel approaches, careful to stay concealed within the shadows of the alley between two battlements.
She likes watching men spar. The way their weapons clash against each other, the fierce and vicious look on the combatants' faces… It's exciting without being frightening.
Legolas and Gimli's fighting, though, it's something else.
The dwarf sways a big, heavy war hammer, strong and solid arms making it look almost easy. His movements are short and efficient. He does not move an inch more than he must to achieve his purpose. Each blow is delivered with the utmost tenacity.
As for the elf, he wields a long, white dagger that, in truth, would look frail, if it wasn't for the certainty with which it blocked time and time again the hammer's blows. The elf's movements are light, and fleeting; he seems to be dancing, rather than fighting. His limbs arc in graceful motions, avoiding deadly blows and delivering them with equal ability. He has no qualms with whirling around and leaping right and left.
Though their movements are ferocious, their eyes spark with delight and pleasure. They are enjoying themselves.
As the fight picks up, the men's clapping and whistling get louder and louder. Their experience seems to detect a winner will be proclaimed soon.
They are proved right when, after a few minutes, the dwarf manages to land a solid strike near the handle of the elf's knife, making he lose his grip on the weapon for no more than a second, but what is enough for the smaller one to press his advantage and win.
Gimli is received with cheering and impressed looks. It appeared he had not been expected to win.
As the soldiers prepare to continue with their practicing, the two friends sit on one of the unoccupied benches, heaving.
Mistiel is just close enough to make out their words.
"My congratulations, Master Dwarf," Legolas is saying with a tired smile. "It seems my dagger has been bested by your hammer."
Gimli snorts, as he gulps water down from a flagon.
"You deceive me not, ridiculous elf," the dwarf replies, frowning at him. "I know you have not been yourself for the past couple of days. Hadn't you been lost inside this crazy head of yours I wouldn't have managed to hit such a blow."
For a moment, Legolas looks shocked, before he masks his emotions. The elf turns his gaze away, towards the clouds.
"I'm not some inexperienced warrior to let my troubles conquer me during a fight," the elf finally says, sharply. "You won for your own merits, Gimli."
Legolas then let his features soften and his tone wane. "But you are not wrong, mellon nîn" he murmurs, looking down, "I've been rather…conflicted."
Mistiel wonders at that strange sounding word and tries to replicate it, but she probably butchers it.
"Is it that you miss your trees and your stars?" Gimli asks, placing a hand on the elf's knee comfortingly. "Is it that you miss your kin?"
Legolas shakes his head, but says nothing.
"Is it…" Gimli hesitates. "Is it the gulls that sing to you and call you away?" He finally asks, as if afraid of the answer.
Mistiel doesn't know what gulls are, but she suddenly despises them.
At that, the elf's face grows somber, but he doesn't have a chance to reply, for there is a man approaching them.
The still hidden girl frowns, she knows not who he is, but the soldier doesn't seem to mean well. He walks with his chin high and chest puffed, a smirk in his lips. He has a cocky air on him.
"Master Dwarf, Master Elf," he greets without bowing. "Congratulations on your match. This grounds have not seen such ability in a long, long time."
"Thank you, lad," Gimli responds amicably, while Legolas merely nods in acknowledgment.
"I was wondering, Master Dwarf," the man begins, "if you'd care to test your hammer against my sword."
Gimli promptly goes to his feet, but Legolas steps in before he can reply.
"As exciting as such a match might be," the elf says impassively, "I believe it's only fair to wait for Gimli to regain his breath. He has been exerting himself for hours, while you are clearly well-rested."
And it is truth, while the elf has quickly recovered from their sparing; the mortal has not such an advantage. Sweat drops wet his face and beard, while his breath is still noticeably laborious.
Mistiel suddenly realizes the man is trying to fight Gimli when the dwarf is at disadvantage, and is grateful for Legolas' interference.
"Or better yet," the elf continues, without waiting for a reply, "maybe you'd care to test your sword against my dagger. First to draw blood wins?" He challenges.
The man looks taken aback for a moment, before regaining his wits and smirking.
"I accept your terms," he replies confidently and leaves to go fetch his sword.
As Legolas prepares for battle, Gimli, irritated, turns to him.
"I do not need you to coddle me, impertinent elf!" He spats, annoyed. "I'm well capable of taking on some meek man myself."
"I'm well aware, my obstinate dwarf," his friend retorts. "But the man's intentions are fool and you, mellon nîn, are weary."
Gimli grumbles something in response, but Mistiel is to far away to catch it, she can only hear the soft laugh Legolas gives in response.
"Rest assure," he is saying, "I will."
Then the time for chatting is over and the match begins.
It's clear from the start that the elf has the upper hand. His blows are stronger and quicker; the man is no match for him. He does try though. He concentrates fully at the task at hand, and looks for any opportunity to land a solid blow. There are none. Soon the soldier is panting, and his movements become sloppier and sloppier. The man barely lasts ten minutes.
Legolas easily strikes the sword off his opponent's hand, making it fly out of his reach. Then, with precision, he makes a shallow but sure cut on the man's right cheek with the edge of his long knife.
"Well fought," the elf says, withdrawing his weapon, a smirk adorning his lips. Mistiel silently cheers him on, jumping excitedly.
As the elf turns his back to the man and begins strolling towards Gimli, Mistiel notices a sudden motion in the man's direction, something sharp glinting…
The girl runs forward, a warning shout ready on her lips…
Gimli is faster.
Quicker than lightening, he grabs one small knife from his undercoat and throws it, hitting with accuracy the hidden knife the defeated man had just tried to attack the elf with. With a clatter, both weapons fall to the floor, harmless.
The training ground is, for once, silent.
Legolas shoots the soldier with a disgusted look, as he bends down to pick his friend's knife.
"This is beneath a warrior of Gondor," the elf spats before walking away.
Those who have witnessed their companion disgraceful act begin to mutter between themselves, clearly angry and ashamed for such behavior.
Mistiel's heart is still pounding in her ears when Legolas passes Gimli his knife.
"I was prepared for that attack," the elf is saying, "there was no need–"
The dwarf interrupts him. "Aye," he says, "I'm well aware."
They stare at each other for a moment, before Legolas stern face dissolves into a grin. He inclines him head.
"I thank you, my friend," he says.
Gimli merely chuckles in response.
Then, as one, they turn towards Mistiel.
"It appears, Master Dwarf," Legolas begins, nearing the girl. "That we were being watched."
"Indeed, Master Elf," Gimli agrees. "What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?" He enquired, leaning down when he is in front of her.
Mistiel looks between their inquisitive eyes, embarrassed.
"I–" She is at a loss of words. "You two fight so well!" She finally exclaims, surprising them. They laugh.
"Why, thank you, lassie," Gimli says, smiling kindly.
Mistiel then remembers something. "Master Legolas," she asks, "what does 'melonim' mean?"
That startles a laugh out of the elf.
"It is pronounced 'mellon nîn'," he says clearly and slowly. "It is Sindarin for 'my friend'."
The young girl nods understandingly. "Mellon nîn." She tries quietly.
"Mê benthen, gwennig," Legolas responds with a small smile. At her inquiring face he explains. "It means 'well said, little lady'."
"Thank you!" She beams at him, then frowns. "How do I thank you in Sindarin?" The girl asks.
"You can say 'ci athe'," the elf replies.
Mistiel grins and experiments the foreign words. They taste weird on her tongue.
"Help me, Mahal," Gimli mutters. "Another one speaking in this elvish gibberish," he complains.
Legolas laughs freely. "N'uir thiad gîn 'ell," he says, eyeing Gimli with mirth in his face.
The dwarf huffs in exasperation.
Mistiel cocks her head, deep in thought.
"Elves speak Sindarin," she states. "What language do the dwarves speak? Or you speak the common tongue like me?" She enquires curiously.
Gimli nods sagely at her, stroking at his beard.
"An excellent question, lassie," he says approvingly. "When in the presence of outsides," the dwarf explains, "we speak only Weston, but when we are between kin, we speak the ancient and secret language Khuzdul, which was taught to us by Mahal, the Valar who crafted the dwarves."
Mistiel nods, marveling at him. The dwarf grins back, proud.
Legolas leans towards her – mischief in his eyes – and mutters in her ear – but loud enough of Gimli to hear. "Such a secretive folk, dwarves are! No wonder such bizarre tales spread about them. Have you heard the one which claims there are no dwarf ladies, and therefore dwarves' children are sculptured from stone itself?"
Gimli pushes the elf away. "Listen not, little lady!" He exclaims, glaring at the grinning Legolas. "This one only sputters nonsense."
Mistiel giggles at their antics. Odd friends indeed, she thinks to herself, observing as they bicker. Then she turns pensive.
"That doesn't make sense," she says, and as Gimli is mumbling "thank you. Look, elf, at least the girl–", Mistiel continues, "if there weren't dwarven ladies, dwarves wouldn't have anyone to marry," which silences the dwarf, who just shakes his head, as if drained.
"Indeed," Legolas concurs. "Or maybe…" He hesitates. "Maybe dwarves marry between themselves."
Mistiel considers that for a moment. "Maybe," she says, but does not look convinced.
The elf notices this. "Elves sometimes marry elves of the same gender," he offers.
The human looks startled at that, and Gimli is somewhat surprised as well.
"I did not know that," the dwarf comments nonchalantly.
"It's not a common practice," Legolas admits, "but it is known to happen."
"I see…" Mistiel mumbles, deep in thought. Then her eyes brighten up, as she remembers something. "Oh!" She exclaims. "It sometimes happens with men too," she says, then lowers her tone. "But I think I am not supposed to know about it."
The elf nods understandingly. "It happens among elves and men, it's only logical to happen among dwarves as well," he says casually, even as his eyes search for Gimli, who has turned a shade red.
"Well…" The dwarf begins, as two pair of curious eyes lock on him. "Yes," he finally admits, "it does happen. We have, in fact, considerably less females then other races," he confides, "so it is somewhat common for male dwarves to find comfort among themselves." Then he frowns. "But we are not made from mud!" He says categorically.
Mistiel giggles and Legolas snickers at that. And as elf and dwarf exchange a tender and speculative look, the girl suddenly has the thought that the whole conversation had just been an excuse for something else.
She is distracted from that idea as another issue surfaces on her puzzled mind.
"What about marriage between different races?" She wonders innocently out loud. "I mean… The king is a man, and he is marrying an elf." The girl looks at the two friends, who seem to be avoiding each other's gaze. "So an elf can marry a man. But can a man marry a dwarf? Can a dwarf marry an elf?" Mistiel asks.
Both Legolas and Gimli look stricken at that. They are saved from answering, though, for a blond, handsome man approaches.
"Uncle!" Mistiel exclaims, running happily to him. Then her face falls. "Uncle…" She murmurs. As they meet, she is quick to speak up. "I'm so sorry, uncle! I've brought you your lunch, but I got caught up watching Master Gimli and Master Legolas fight, and then there was the attack, and then I learned Sindarin, and then we talked about marriage…" The girl trails off. "I'm truly sorry."
Faeldor looks strict for a moment longer, before his face dissolves in one of amused resignation.
"It's alright," he says with a sign, "just be more attentive next time."
Mistiel nods enthusiastically, before turning around.
"Look uncle," she says, pointing. "Those are Master Gimli and Master Legolas, who I told you about. They are mellons nîns."
The girl completely ignores Faeldor's bewildered expression as she pulls him by the hand to introduce him to her friends.
o.O.o
A/N: I do not know Sindarin. All phrases taken from realelvish . net