Chapter 7:

Legolas had no idea how much time had passed until he heard steps outside again. It did not even matter, it could be hours or minutes for all that he cared. His mood had plummeted fast after being shut in and not improved at all since. At first he merely glared at the door like he had glared at the darkness around him, but when the keys were turned in the lock he stood - and instantly was blinded by the light that came in through the opening door. It took a while until his eyes had adjusted to it again, but the guards seemed to have brought a portion of patience, and waited until he seemed ready. "King Thranduil wishes to talk to you, Lord..." The last word swiftly lost power as he said it and his voice trailed away. Legolas had no trouble imagining why. At present he hardly looked lordly.

With two quick steps he left the cell, glad to be out of there, but then stopped, looking at the one right next to his. His mouth opened to speak the question that came to his mind, but then he remembered that he was still under the ban not to speak and so merely nodded to the guards to lead the way. Truly, he needed to talk to his father.

Once he had entered the small room, which looked like a side room for the guards, and as pleasant as any place could look down here, he waited until the door had safely closed behind him. Then, however, he felt no obligation to hold his silence any longer. "Would you mind explaining this to me?"

It pained Thranduil to see his son so unhappy and angry. He had come down here to do what he could to alleviate the distress he now clearly saw and heard, and to begin with, he poured Legolas a glass of wine and muttered, "You inherited too much temper from me. Luckily, you got some wisdom from your mother. You may speak freely now, by the way, at least in here." He indicated the chair opposite him--the third was not yet at tableside.

There was a moment of hesitation, which was designed to let Thranduil know how little his son approved of the situation, but then Legolas sat down in the offered chair, but did not reach for the wine yet. "Well then, I shall speak freely. I know of the severity of the situation. However, that only means that I should be out searching for what evidence could be found, not locked up down here like a traitor. Besides…" No, that would go too far. As much as he wished it, he knew that Gimli's release was all but impossible now. As much as he believed in his friend's innocence, he was still accused of murder and would be kept in custody until the matter was resolved. "Someone needs to do something about these dungeons."

"Yes, I agree, except when they hold Orcs, and then I do not agree. Dungeons are too good for Orcs. May I assume you and Gimli were put in the least cells? My apologies for not stipulating which ones." Not that he could have, considering that it was believed by his realm that an Elf had been murdered by a Dwarf who happened to be a friend of the King's own son, and he could not do anything to show favoritism, even if it meant Legolas and Gimli had had to spend some uncomfortable hours locked in the dark. He frowned down at his glass then, and held the silence for two minutes, during which his only movement was to shove over the bread and cheese platters. There was plenty.

He finally broke the silence after looking across the table at Legolas. His own face showed the seriousness of the situation, as well as the weight of it on his mind. "Listen, my son. Gimli will be brought in soon, so have no fear he will be left in there any longer than this can prevent. But we have a problem. Two, I suppose. Legolas," Thranduil said with his voice full of the sadness he did not let many see. "Why do you think I put you down here?"

"To keep me from interfering with the investigation?"

"You did not get as much wisdom from your mother as I thought," muttered Thranduil, letting his fingers make an unusual run through his hair—or begin to, until they met the complex braidwork he wore, which effectively meant he could not run his fingers through his hair. He cursed the office that meant he could not fidget the way he wished to and clasped his hands together on the tabletop. "No, that is not why. I thought you looked beyond the superficial." He sighed at length, and added, "But it has been a most trying day. Legolas, the majority of Elves will think what you just said, but I assumed…hoped…you would understand the real reason." He leaned over his hands on the table, and spoke quietly. "It is to keep our people from believing I favor you, and therefore Gimli, and questioning whatever verdict must be reached based on the evidence, not emotion."

Thranduil's fingers drummed once each on the tabletop before he stopped that and clasped his hands together again on the wood and sat back in his chair. "The evidence is not going to help us much, my Son. It could be interpreted either way. It rained, and more of the riverbank collapsed. However, I did find and recover the fish."

Legolas did not know whether he liked the answer. He did not spend much time thinking about it, and even if he had he would probably have come to the conclusion that there were less forceful ways of showing that he was not being favored. It did not matter now, for he fully concentrated on the matter of the difficulty with the evidence. "The fish show that he told the truth and was indeed there to fish," he said, allowing his hopes to raise a notch, but not too much. If evidence could be interpreted either way, he had a notion of which way it would go. It was so very frustrating. He had become a chess piece in a game of appearances, and could hardly act at all. "So I am here so it does not seem like you are drawing conclusions based on personal preferences, yours or mine. And honestly, after all that happened today, I am not sure what to expect. What do you believe?"

Thranduil actually sighed, with no attempt to hide it. "On the way back, I asked the guards what they thought of Gimli. They answered, as I would have but a few short hours ago, 'He's a Dwarf!' And it...irritated me. How did we get into this racial hatred? It is illogical to prolong it like this. I do remember how it all started, and it made sense enough then, but times do change. Now, having talked to Gimli, and seeing you with him, all those past events seem to fade, and it is getting harder to explain the old habits. And someone has to put a stop to them." He suddenly looked almost shy, which was a difficult emotion to pull off considering his age and that he had not felt shy in more millennia than he could remember. "I think you are that Elf, and I think...I hope Gimli is that dwarf. I have a plan."

"You surprise me." Legolas now took a larger swig from the wine. It comfortably warmed him from inside, and the motion gave him time to study his father. "My guess was that after the talk earlier you would shake off the effects and stick to your views with the usual stubbornness and pride." He did not give Thranduil time to protest, for even if he did, there could not be any honest objection if they both were honest. "Tell me of that plan."

Thranduil realized he could not really protest his son's judgment of him, for what he said would more often than not have been undeniably true. He whispered almost to himself, "I am too often as you say. But I am trying to learn from this." He glared halfheartedly at Legolas. "Yes, you did hear me admit I do need to learn still. I did not drug the wine." After a sigh had passed his lips, thin lines, angry with himself, he looked again at his son. "I need to know if you think Gimli can...or maybe will...I need you and Gimli to tell how you came to this friendship. I need you to explain it before our people. Hopefully some will listen. I did."

Legolas thought about this for a moment. Of course, there was no real difficulty in this, except perhaps feelings of personal pride. But one thing he knew for certain was that Gimli rarely felt shy, the presence of Galadriel being a big exception. "I can ask him," he said. He himself - he would be nervous, but it would not be any worse than facing his father had been, and he was used to being watched by their people. "Do I guess right that there will be little to no encouragement during that event from you, and that, on the contrary, there will be tough questions and hard counters to prove that you were not convinced by a weak heart and mind, and others can follow that reasoning?"

A silent minute passed, and then another, while Thranduil dealt with the knowledge that he really had given his son much too harsh an opinion of him—and yet he had in fact given Legolas cause to believe as he did. So Thranduil reached out and touched his son's hand, a very rare gesture. "No. This time I am a father, and I will support my son and his friend, for in my personal and royal judgment, Gimli is innocent. I will tell truly how I felt before, and how I changed. And then I hope you and Gimli and I will cook his fish, and have a nice dinner--and with the grace of the Valar, the people will slowly come around to a new way of thinking." He almost smiled, and felt shifted self-consciously in his chair. "I know it will not be that simple, but even a King can have hope. Or perhaps I did drug the wine." He handed the keys to Gimli's cell to his son. "Ask him to join us? It is not an order, but a humble request. If you comment on my infrequent humility, I will…have it coming."

Once again Legolas was surprised - mildly that Thranduil had actually taken the keys from the guards, but moreso to hear his father speak thus. 'Humble' was a word no one would have used in connection with him, and even less Thranduil himself would have said it. "It seems the times are truly changing."

He took the key and stood and for the first time during this conversation graced his father with a smile. "Then I shall deliver the request." But before he left, when almost at the door, he hesitated once more. "I hope we will be allowed to get dressed again first?"

Now Thranduil looked away and blushed. "Yes. I accept your friendship with Gimli, but I have no desire to see him in his under tunic." He sobered up and admitted, "I would say no, but I replaced the guards with my own, so this meeting would be secret. Yes, both of you, dress. I will wait here."

Without another word Legolas hurried back to the cells, and tried to ignore the guards' looks as much as the guards tried to avoid looking. But their prince in his under tunic down at the dungeons was an unusual sight to be sure, and the dim light even added to the effect. "Would you mind getting our clothes?" he said in that cheerful voice that he had always used far more often than seemed proper. But of course he had already learned to still put his authority in it, and so the order could easily be understood, despite the light phrasing and bare feet. "And hurry, my feet are getting cold."

Fortunately they took the hint, and Legolas waited until they both had disappeared before he threw open the door to the cell. "Great warrior of Thorin's halls, I hope you do not mind if I still fail to share your liking for deep dark places," he said, unable to keep the comment back, blinking in hopes of make his eye adjust to the dim light faster. "How are you doing?"

Gimli had heard his friend's voice from outside, and all but jumped up and down in hope. He wanted his clothes, and he wanted out of this cell. He had not, however, forgotten that he had not been allowed yet to speak. So he whispered, "I may speak? Because if I may, I would say you wimped out on me, laddie, for this cell is not so bad, except for the spiders and other bugs. You would make a deplorable Dwarf."

"That I take as a compliment." Legolas smiled. "And yes, we are quite allowed to talk, and more than allowed to. My father wishes to speak with you, and I daresay in this his thoughts might not be so bad."

At that moment the guards returned with their clothes, and seemingly even more at a loss as to where to look than before. Legolas eased their pain a little by quickly handing Gimli's things to his friend and afterwards grabbing his own. "And now I think you badly need to find a replacement for that almost burnt-out torch over there."

"Yes," mumbled a guard, and yet two in their haste knocked against each other to reach it first, for none of them liked this place, and the whole scene was uncomfortable, and they wanted light, and even more they wanted something to keep them busy. So they fetched three torches, fresh, and lit them and put them in holders, and tried to disown that they had shown lack of grace in colliding with each other. "Is that better, My Lord?" asked the only one who seemed brave enough to venture to speak.

Legolas had used the time of commotion to quickly get back into most of his clothes, even though he had not taken the time to really lace anything yet. Presently he was on the way into his first boot. "Yes, that is much better," he said, and not really meaning the light, even though it was.

Gimli, who had felt more uncomfortable at his lack of proper clothing than anything else except the locked door, had been quickly scrambling into his own clothes, and this was a noisy business, for there were many studs and buckles on his leathers. But finally he was clad sufficiently to feel like a...a disarmed Dwarf in an Elf dungeon. He would have felt his temper rise to the occasion except that he remembered why he was there, and reached up to help do the laces at the back of Legolas' over tunic. In a somewhat subdued voice--for a Dwarf, that is--he said, "Lead on to your father, then, laddie."

Legolas nodded. He was feeling much more comfortable now, the guards were more comfortable now, and Gimli apparently was also. But with the trivialities out of the way the main problem started bearing down with more weight again. Once they arrived at the small room Legolas knocked, and while they waited he quickly added. "Do not be nervous. Father is on our side now." Then he opened the door, but not fully, once Gimli started to talk.

"Do not be nervous?" spluttered Gimli, and wuffled and almost sounded angry, until Legolas' second sentence hit not just his ears, but his brain as well. "WHAT? You say your father is on our side? What pipeweed did you smoke when I was...locked up? Now I am profoundly nervous!" He showed it, too, for he hesitated greatly at the door, until finally Thranduil called from within. "Gimli, son of Gloin, I have four words for you. Bread. Wine. Cheese. ...and Please?"

Legolas was caught in the middle of drawing breath for a comment and an encouragement for his friend. The breath got stuck in his throat, and if he had been surprised earlier, he was even more so now. Yes, Thranduil was known to at times speak like this, times in which it became even clearer whose father he was – but it was so rare! The comment Legolas was about to make turned outwards into a burst of laughter, which Legolas managed to turn into a hearty cough before it could leave his throat.

Gimli's face had frozen on an inhale, which unlike the one Legolas was coughing out now, was silent. He held it for a bit, then he peered into the room, around Legolas, and his bright eyes studied the King of Mirkwood for a few moments until he was satisfied there was no obvious sign of insanity. He cleared his throat, began pounding Legolas on the back, and finally asked, "What kind of cheese?"

Thranduil was shocked, and then he pounded the table with his hand, once. "I see a bit of what my son does in you. Yes, Gimli, enter, and eat, and let us all talk. The cheese is a hearty one, which I actually chose because I thought you might prefer it. If I guessed wrongly, my sincere apologies. Now, help Legolas to his chair and take your own. We do not have all night." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, for he himself had placed the third chair at the table. One of them would have to sit closer to him than the other.

Gimli obeyed and hauled Legolas in and pushed him lightly into the chair next to Thranduil, and pounded a bit more on his back while his father poured him some more wine. When Legolas had taken a drink, he seemed like his breathing might learn to cooperate again, so Gimli took his place and bowed his thanks to the platter Thranduil handed him. He took a sip of the wine, smiled, and said, "I could teach you how to brew an ale if you ever wanted such," and sampled the cheese. "Good choice." However, that was as far as his mood carried him. He quieted down, and said, sincerely, "Thank you, King Thranduil. Now I am ready to learn why you have asked to speak to me. Whatever judgment you pronounce, I will not fight it."

Legolas, who had now recovered from the coughing fit, if not from Gimli's pounding on his back, and had regained some of his breath, shortly touched his friend's arm. Gimli seemed less nervous than he would have expected, but Legolas still knew that he could use some comfort. "It is not a judgment, Gimli. It is a suggestion."

Thranduil was again deploring his inability to fidget discreetly, which meant he had to forgo any show of nervous activity. "Yes. You see, Gimli, I went myself to see the place of the accident," and he gave the Dwarf a glance to show him that he had indeed called it an accident, not a murder. "All I found were the fish. The evidence to clear you easily was washed away by untimely rain, and so what was left will circumstantially either damn you or clear you--entirely depending upon the whim of whoever hears the evidence. In short, your freedom depends upon two things, and the first is the better one. You can either convince the Elves of Mirkwood that you are a good, er, Dwarf. Or I can give you freedom by pronouncement, even if I must go against the wishes of my people. I would rather they saw a new way of looking at Dwarves, and you are the one elected to make them do it. But, I give you my word before my son as witness, I will find you innocent of crime if the Elves prove too thick headed. Can you convince them?"

"We must," Legolas quickly said, not sure why he did, for to him the necessity was clear. "When I think about it, that was part of the reason why we came here. Except that I had hoped it would all go a little more...smoothly."

Gimli suppressed a whuffle, and chewed thoughtfully on his bread. As Elf bread went, it was fairly good, although it lacked a certain heartiness. But now was not the time to get into culinary differences. "Aye, the time here has not gone so smoothly, Legolas." The Dwarf very nearly used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth after taking a drink of the wine, stopping the motion to reach for the fine linen napkin provided. "If I can adapt my table manners, and still notch my belt on the same hole as before I came to this realm, it proves I can change. I will do my best, with the help of Legolas, to thin the skulls of any willing Elves. Er, that is, King, I will help as you ask." He cocked his eyes to one side, a little sadly, and yet with a warmth that was genuine. "You believe me? I admit, this startles me. Tell me, King: would you have believed me if you had not found the fish?"

Thranduil now let his thumbs play a game where they chased each other in circles as his hands were clasped together on the tabletop. "To be honest, I do not know. I like to think the answer is yes, but I am still a bit on the thick headed side, with plenty around to keep my opinion of Dwarves to be what I now consider foolishly outdated. So I think my answer is yes." He leaned forward suddenly, and gave Gimli a sparkling-eyed look few saw, for few knew the King had a passion for fishing. "Those were fine fish, too, and I would like to know how you caught them so quickly, for I know that river does not yield readily. I hope you can teach me how you did it." And then he blushed only slightly, for he had learned to keep much of a blush at bay if he felt it necessary. "What swayed me to believe you was your manner, and having spoken with you and Legolas earlier. I listened. It is my hope that our people will listen too. Some will not, but if enough do, I believe my verdict will not be the true victory when you next stand before the assemblage."

Legolas had been listening quietly, and he had thought much. Of course, the common thought was always that the important thing was to convince Thranduil. His will ruled in Mirkwood and had done so for millennia. But even a strong King could not go directly against the will of the people, especially not in a case like this. Too much emotion about the death of one of their kind was tied to it. "The verdict...if they are not swayed, then the verdict might cause unrest."

"I hope enough are swayed." Thranduil inhaled an enormous breath, and let it out rather suddenly in a kind of self-conscious laugh. "I cannot even believe I am here, having a conversation in my dungeon, with my son and his Dwarf friend!" He smiled sadly at Legolas, then at Gimli. "I treated you both so badly at first. I apologize." Then he smiled with a bit more mischief behind it, and hope. "If the stubborn King of Mirkwood can listen to a Dwarf, why not the people he rules? For now, is there anything you need? I must leave you down here until I call for you officially--although not in your cells. You may as well use this one, with the door open or closed, however you prefer, but not locked. I will see light is provided." Thranduil had stopped fidgeting. "I only hope the Elves do not demand some form of retribution, as is their right in even an accidental death."

"If they demand that, then I shall give it to them," Legolas said firmly. He was so focused on the necessity to get through the assembly, and the possible consequences that he hardly had time left to worry about having to stay down here much longer - one night at least, for the assembly took time to prepare, and even without the moon to mark the passage of time he knew the night was waning. "I can assume responsibility for what happened, as I am the one who invited Gimli here."

Thranduil almost corrected Legolas, only holding back at the last moment. It gave his son hope. But the people would not allow Legolas to take the responsibility for his guest—and not just because that guest was Dwarven. Even if enough were convinced, it was still possible that some kind of punishment would need to be doled out. Thranduil was worried.

He gained his feet, and pointed to the two cots against the wall. "Sleep a little. Morning is in a few hours, and the call for you will come as soon after that as I can arrange it, to give less time for tempers to become heated." He looked more worried then than he wished to, and murmured, "I know we will all do our best."

Legolas stood when Thranduil did, and now he nodded, and tried not to look nervous or uncomfortable. A few hours; that was a long time for being stuck in the dungeon with little but worries to think about. He doubted he would be able to sleep, but would try anyway, if only to humor Gimli. He bowed. "Good night, my father."

Thranduil patted Legolas on the arm, then impulsively pulled him into a father's embrace. "Good night, Son."

Gimli bowed deeply, and said in a small voice for a Dwarf, "Thank you, King. I am grateful you believe me, but even more glad to see how you and Legolas are getting along now. It warms my heart."

Thranduil nodded, and bowed to Gimli in return, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I never thought to hear these words pass my lips, but I am glad you came here, brave Gimli. I know it has been trial-some, but times do not change without trial." He signaled to a guard then, who came just barely into the room.

"Sire?"

"Give them what they ask for. Treat them well. Gimli is under my protection now; see no harm comes to him. Spread this command to the other guards as well." With that he left the guardroom and slowly climbed back up to his rooms, hoping that the morrow would see the beginnings of great changes among his people.

In the small guard's room Legolas remained standing where he was for a while, looking at the door and pondering whether he should close it for privacy or leave it open for…comfort. He decided to leave what decision to Gimli and not do anything about it. "I am sorry I got you into this," he said while sitting down at the table again and reaching for the wine. "If I had known the implications, I would have been more careful about how to do it. But whatever happens tomorrow, I will be there, and nothing will befall you that I will not take on myself as well."

"Laddie," said Gimli, as he took the steps to stand beside Legolas, and grasped his arm in the way of comrades. "If...if punishment is called for, and I could not blame anyone if it is, for an Elf lost his life needlessly, you may stand with me, but I will take whatever is called for on my own." He went to the door then, and pushed it all but a foot's width closed before returning to the table. After a moment, he chose Thranduil's vacated seat, for it faced the door, and he was not comfortable keeping it to his back. "Friend, you did not get me into anything," he finally continued. "I learned something. I keep trying to prove my superiority to ye, when in my heart I have known all along that it is equality I should be content with." He lowered his head and stared at the tabletop.

Somehow Gimli's words made Legolas smile. He had that talent, even though this time there was no jesting remark, no answer concerning differences in skills or manner, nothing of that kind. Just a smile. "We were playing games all along, behaving like children. But I shall not complain about that, for I enjoyed that as much as anything." It might have been that the gaze of elf and Dwarf met at the same spot on the table top, but they would never know that. "You should sleep, get some rest before tomorrow."

Gimli looked up, and a friendship glint was in his dark eyes. "I will if you will."

"I do not need to," Legolas said, but in the end they both lay down on the cots, and if sleep did not come, then they at least pretended.

tbc.