Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies – not mine, no money, just for fun. First LOTR fic and I'm far from an expert on the subject matter so please be kind.
Thanks to my wonderful (and hard working) beta Sarah – you're the greatest!
Chapter 9
Differences Between Them
Work was progressing nicely on the gardens, Legolas thought, as he surveyed the literal fruits of his labor. He wasn't surprised; almost three months of day and night effort was bound to show some success, but this far exceeded even his greatest hopes. He brushed his hands lightly against his tunic paying scant mind to how the dirt and leaves he had deposited there seemed to fall away, leaving him relatively unsoiled, as always. He still had much to do before he called it a night, much of which would be unnecessary if the humans helping him would just listen every once in awhile. He pushed his tired body away from the tree he had been leaning against, sighing as he started back toward where the workmen were putting away their tools, closing up for the night.
He doubted that these men would ever listen or that, with few exceptions, they would ever change their opinion of him and consider him anything more than someone they need obey only so far as it got them their pay. There were a few who made some attempts at helping. His eyes sought out Sael, the quiet and gentle giant of a man who easily did the work of all of the rest combined and was currently hard at work cleaning shovels and pickaxes before placing them neatly in one of the sheds.
The men finished up and headed off to their homes or to the tavern or wherever they passed their evenings. He wondered, as he watched them trudge off together, what they said about him in those places where there were no alien ears listening in on their conversations. But then again, maybe it was better that he didn't know. He heard what they said about him when they knew he could hear and it wasn't kind, in fact, it made his skin crawl. Listen to him? He was lucky that they did anything at all that he asked, considering that they thought him to be nothing more than an Orc with a pretty face. He could only hope that they didn't decide to turn their pick axes and shovels on him instead and bash him to pieces.
Things had only worsened since the events at Lossarnach. Before then, there had been many incidents; tools stolen, plants destroyed, messages written in blood on the door to his office or to the greenhouses. But lately events had taken a more serious turn. A few days before, a disemboweled rabbit had been staked in the center of his office, its innards used to spell out the words, GET OUT. And just this morning a steel warg trap had been set inside the entrance, buried in the dirt. Being already on his guard, there was little chance he would not have noticed it but as he shoved a thick plank into the center to release the mechanism and the wood had been shorn in half from the force of the metal jaws, his heart had still hammered in fear. For all these men had known, his leg would have been caught and crushed if not worse.
It was unnerving, but Legolas had so far maintained his silence. He instead carried on about his work, hoping that what they were doing here, the beauty that they were coaxing from the ground, would somehow calm the hatred that filled their hearts. He felt sympathy for them for he too had suffered the after effects of war and was in fact still suffering, would likely suffer forever from the wound he had received. Though his hands still functioned, his arms and legs were intact, though he did not shudder from loud sounds or drown his pain in drink, he was still lost in ways that were indescribable to these humans and that would eventually cause him either to fade away or to leave the place that he loved more than life itself.
He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of these dark thoughts. He had spent the last several weeks in fact fighting to keep the hopelessness that had wrapped itself around him, at bay. He was failing miserably. Each day he felt heavier, it was harder to lift his body from his bed, to raise his feet to walk, to hide all that he felt from those that he did not want to hurt. He would not be able to keep up this pretence much longer. He shook his head again, refusing to give into what ailed him. He had work to do. He had promised Aragorn. He would finish this job. He could handle these men. After all, if he could make a friend of a dwarf, he could make a friend of anyone…
As if thinking had conjured him, Gimli appeared at his side. Short and stout, as Legolas was currently calling him, knowing it would turn his friend's cheeks the same color as his flaming red beard, seemed to be always appearing when Legolas had a moment to himself, almost as if he were hovering somewhere, waiting. And of course he was; the silly dwarf actually thought he was observing while being unobserved. But Legolas knew he was there, watching from the shadows, waiting and worried. Gimli picked his way across loose gravel and boulders that were strewn around the work area finding a seat on one of the larger rocks.
"You aren't still working Elf," he grumped as he began to dig around in his pockets. Legolas feared what he searched for and sure enough, a pipe appeared in the dwarf's hand, followed at once by a small pouch, which he began to empty vigorously into the bowl of the pipe. "You need to sit with me here on this rock for a minute while we regain our strength for the trip back to the King's House. At which point we will partake of a delicious evening meal followed by a nice game, perhaps one involving money? Followed by an even nicer glass of ale and a good night's sleep." He had managed to light the nasty thing while chattering nonstop and with one puff had filled the clear air with a heavy head of smoke.
Legolas gave an exaggerated cough in response, to which Gimli only puffed harder. With a loud snort, he moved as far from the dwarf as he could get without being completely out of Gimli's earshot. "I believe you are actually supposed to breathe air dwarf," he sputtered. "I will not save you if you pass out from all of that, in fact, I will drag your unconscious body to the stream and throw you in." Gimli continued to send great clouds of smoke into the air so that only his eyes could be seen floating in a sea of gray.
"Lucky for me then you and your men move so slowly there isn't any water in it. You know, I could have finished this measly garden weeks ago. You waste much too much time on all of these green things," he stated as he pulled up a clump of freshly planted grass, sniffed it disdainfully and tossed it over his shoulder.
"Yes, it would be much better if everything were heartless dead rock," Legolas answered, holding himself still with great effort. "And dead is what you will be dear friend if you pull up any more of my grass." He shot Gimli a look that would have melted the dwarf's mail coat on his back if he'd worn it. Gimli matched the look and Legolas could tell that he was deciding what to do. It was with obvious effort that the dwarf restrained himself from grabbing another handful. He chose instead to draw in a huge chest full of smoke which he blew out in Legolas' direction, very slowly and carefully to ensure that at least some of it found its way to the Elf's delicate nostrils.
Legolas sneezed and Gimli, no doubt feeling triumphant, pulled his pipe from his mouth and said, waving the stem toward the palace, "We need to go for dinner, Elf, as much as I am enjoying this quality time together." All of a sudden he beamed a great smile followed by a rumbling chuckle and Legolas could no longer play at this game. He too smiled and then laughed while walking forward and extending a hand to help the dwarf to his feet.
"Very well, dinner it is, but then I'm coming back out here and you can challenge Aragon to play your games. I have work to do or I will never complete what I have planned for this garden and I need to finish."
"Oh? What, pray tell, is the hurry? Do you have some pressing engagement?" Gimli asked as he brushed the dirt from his backside before joining Legolas on the path to the King's House.
Legolas cringed at Gimli's questions. He had known the moment he spoke that Gimli would be full of them and he was certain he was not ready with answers, certainly not with answers that would satisfy his overly inquisitive friend. Legolas knew he needed to get away from this place, desperately needed to get away as soon as possible and Gimli was in no way ready to leave. He needed a story that would give him his own way out but would not require Gimli to feel pressured to join him. He considered his options as they walked, realizing that there was only one place that his friend would not feel any desire to return to and there would be no question that he would not be welcomed, as well. "I have a father," he answered, pleased that he had thought of this response. "I have a family and a kingdom of my own. I need to return there."
"Since when?" Gimli shot back. "I seem to recall the last time we were there you couldn't wait to leave, couldn't even wait until daylight, as I recall. Why all of a sudden this great need to return?"
Legolas bit back a retort; the incident Gimli referred to was one that Legolas would rather forget and did not appreciate being reminded of, but neither did he have a desire to peak Gimli's curiosity further. He managed to state calmly but firmly, "I have responsibilities there, dwarf. I am a prince you know."
"Oh?" the dwarf chortled, oblivious to Legolas' current state. "I hardly think your father is requiring your services as a jail warden again considering how well you have performed the task in the past. But then of course, Mirkwood Elves were never very good at keeping hold of their prisoners, or so my father has stated."
Legolas stopped dead in his tracks, fury shooting through every part of him like a flame devouring dry timber. Gimli must have sensed that he had made a mistake for, although he did not apologize, he too stopped, turned and beckoned to the Elf with a wave of his hand while immediately dropping the subject. "Come; hurry now Legolas, I am starving. What do you think we will eat tonight?"
Legolas struggled with his anger, knowing that Gimli had not meant to hurt him. They taunted each other always and it was a learning process, what was safe to jest about and what was not. Legolas for example, had learned long ago never to talk about Gimli's beard; it was a source of great pride to him, or to mention the dwarf's mother in anything other than reverent terms. He had learned these things through trial and error, the error sometimes requiring weeks of attempts at conciliation to repair the damage done and to bring the two friends back on friendly terms. Legolas had never brought up his own family in any great detail, other than telling Gimli their general makeup and the rudiments of what happened to cause him to want to flee his own home in the middle of the night the one and only time they had visited there together. And with the exception of an occasional reference to Legolas' father and their shared history, Gimli had not brought the subject up either. Thus, he never had the chance then to discover Legolas' feelings where his family was concerned, though Gimli must have perceived that this was a painful subject for his friend.
He certainly knew that Legolas had once had charge of the prisons and prisoners, had in fact been given the job shortly after Gimli's own father's rather embarrassing escape from the dungeons of Mirkwood, to ensure that such a thing did not happen again. He knew also that Gollum had escaped while under Legolas' care. But he might not know, in fact probably did not know that Elves had lost their lives during that escape. Gimli might say things on occasion that were crass and rude and even cold at times but he would never be so callous as to joke about such a thing. And as the subject had never arisen before between them, he could not know how tender and fresh a wound that sad affair still was for Legolas.
Legolas began to move forward again, thinking how to educate his friend to make certain that this subject joined the list of those that were never to be talked about, much less joked about, but was cut off as Gimli, not as senseless to his friend's feelings as he might sometimes seem, tried to change the subject entirely. Unfortunately, this new subject proved no less painful to Legolas. "No need for you to go running off to your father when Aragon needs your help right here," Gimli said, his voice softer than normal, almost soothing. "Why don't you try practicing those princely wiles of yours on him? Everyday he looks more exhausted and strained. I do not think things are going well for him."
Legolas answered sharply, thinking he would bring an end to this line of conversation as well, "Aragon neither wants nor needs my help. He has Faramir and I think that is enough." He immediately chastised himself for doing exactly what he had hoped not to do, giving Gimli a suspicion of what was really bothering him. But his friend seemed not to notice, instead admonishing him as if he were a small child in need of a fatherly chuck under the chin.
"Nonsense. He would welcome your advice always. How could you even think otherwise? Don't tell me you are jealous of Faramir?"
They had reached the steps to the King's House and had begun to climb. Legolas wanted this conversation to be at an end. "Gimli, please, I wish not to speak further of it."
"Speak further? We haven't spoken at all…"
"Then let us keep it that way." He exclaimed as he stepped away from the dwarf. "Go, eat, I'm not hungry. I think I shall take a walk instead." He turned abruptly, rounding the nearest corner of the building, putting himself out of sight before Gimli could even catch his breath to speak.
