It took Legolas a moment to force his raging mind into submission. Well, perhaps more than a moment. Like the draw of the One Ring not so very long ago, the sea's ever present calling pulsated through him with every thought sent in her direction. The effect left him void-like looking into a dark tunnel, searching for the speck of light at the end. He could feel the length of his body soaked and cold, sense the water stinging his nose and throat. Holding fiercely to his heart, it was all Legolas could do to fight the icy grip of longing and make his way back to the surface. The weakness, the sheer bondage to something he could not control, left him lost. Disgusted. Trapped. He had to return. Had to find his way. Back to the cave. Back to the cave…
Dark irises burst into focus. Blue orbs returned to life…leaving behind their emptiness for the time being-driving the darkness into the back of his mind. Air surged back into his lungs, leaving the Elf panting and gasping as the world reeled into his view once more. He was soaked head to toe, hair slaked about his neck and across the floor. His clothing stuck to his skin and water burned his lungs. After a long moment, he eased upright, taking in the scene around him...pulling the strands wrapped against his skin free. A gruff snort sounded, catching Legolas's somewhat distracted attention.
"Now that," Gimli teased-though equally soggy. "That is something. You, soaked from tip to top like a common sewer rat." He chuckled to himself, rising to his feet…a sizable amount of water pouring from his sleeves and trousers as he did so. "You're not drowned I hope."
"Not drowned," Legolas replied, the thickness of his voice betraying him. "But certainly choked." He let out a sort of half-cough and stood, streams rolling down his face, neck, and hands. The damage done to the inhabitants of Aglarond lay all about him. Dwarves were swimming or splashing this way and that. Several Goblin bodies lay still in the flood and any that had survived were quickly dealt with by angry Dwarven hands. To the Elf's dismay, foul Goblin corpses were not the only dead in the pool. Here and there a grief stricken Dwarf pulled his fallen brother, father, or friend from the drink. The only sound to be heard was the quiet sloshing of the water and the mourning moan of aching voices. Legolas turned his gaze back to his own Dwarven companion, his fair face set and grim.
Gimli watched the scene in silence, the unhappy rise and fall of the beard on his chest speaking for him. The hurt in the ruddy creature's wordless glance radiated from his short person, permeating deep within the Elf. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on his small friend's shoulder.
"Come," Legolas said simply.
He moved through the ankle-deep water towards a lone Dwarven body, the face hardly bearded. A single braid had just begun to form at the tip of his chin. It had surely been a source of pride to the youthful child of earth and stone. Saddened, Legolas took the poor lad beneath the arms and hauled him from the water that had taken him. The Elf lay the body in a dry corner, arranging it in a state of peaceful sleep before returning to the overflow. Gimli had joined several of his kin: consoling, commiserating, tending to the wounded and the dead. The son of Thranduil suddenly found himself in the position of an outsider looking in…observing something private. Something grave that was not his place to intrude upon. Respectfully, he continued his silent task-collecting corpses. The Dwarves had taken care of their own and only the Goblins remained. Legolas gathered and tossed the vile creatures into a pile to be burned. Their twisted faces and bowed arms and legs made them even more horrible to look at in death. The smell alone was enough to turn the stomach of the stoutest of folk. With fierce disdain, he dropped the last one onto the pyre-to-be and rinsed his hands of their black blood.
By this time, the masses in hiding opened their doors and tumbled out of nooks and crannies. They filled the passageway, their cries of pain and anger echoing off the carven stone. Some wept, some shouted, some kicked and splashed their remorse in the water. And the more they stewed and mourned and growled, the more their tears turned to grumbling. Dwarven voices called for answers. For justice. For revenge. They demanded a full explanation and called for action. Once more, the Halls of Aglarond heard a thousand of its people calling out in a thousand different ways. And once more, Gimli son of Gloin was the one responsible to placate the outraged throng.
"A LITTLE PEACE! PEACE, LADS!" he cried. Legolas watched his vertically challenged friend clamber atop a stone to get above the crowd. "QUIET DOWN, ALL OF YOU!" Gradually, the Dwarves were silenced…too stricken with grief to argue. Gimli sighed. "This came as a shock to all of us. I can't tell you what happened. I don't know what happened. But whatever the case, the grievous accident or heinous crime will come to light soon enough. Until then, let us put to rest our kinsmen…and see to it that what remains of the Goblin horde is burned and done away with."
A particularly stout Dwarf cried out-
"Heinous crime? Are you suggesting that one of our own had anything to do with this?"
Several accusatory voices added to the inquiry.
"I am not suggesting anything," Gimli replied curtly. "We don't yet know what caused the flood or why the Goblins saw fit to try their luck against us. The whole thing needs explaining and I won't make any decisions until I know what is what. For now," he cast a mournful gaze on the crowded hallway. "Tend to your dead. Clear the debris. I want a guard outside the breech. Masters Kori, Derin, Orni, and Bombel…I'd like a word with you."
The meeting adjourned, the people dispersed. Too overcome with loss to do little more than trudge to their respective duties, many did not acknowledge anything else but the path before them. But some spoke in whispers and others cast furtive, angry glances towards the only plausible explanation in their minds: the Elven stranger who had already caused such a stir and a wagging of tongues amongst the Dwarves of the Glittering Caves. As they passed, these made certain to lock a suspicious, warning eye on the golden-headed intruder.
Legolas, for his part, returned their scorn with a set, steady gaze. He had not invited Goblins into their home and had not intended to flood the whole of Aglarond. He had acted as he had been instructed by Master Kori…and should any harm have stemmed directly from the task he had taken on, he would do his utmost to heal the wounds he had caused. But to his knowledge, Legolas had only done what was required of him. And it was Kori who had assured him that the waters were but a small stream to be harnessed for drinking and steam-not a raging current fit to drown in. Over a thousand years of instinct arose in the Elf's mind and he sought out Kori. The black-headed Dwarf stood next to Gimli, no doubt receiving orders on how to proceed. His short arms hung clasped neatly behind his back. His shoulders were straight, alert. His entire demeanor spoke of one who had accomplished a goal…despite the frown on his face. Kori's 'grief' was nothing compared to the saddened, drooping, heaviness of his fellows around him.
He has done this, Legolas thought, piercing eyes narrowing as he watched the Dwarf leave with Gimli and his small company. To what end, I do not know. But it is certain he has no love for me. Thrice now, Master Kori has caused me grief and has colored me suspect before his own people. Once when I was led before all Aglarond and he meant to cast a dark light on my presence in the eyes of his kin. Again at the feast. His prank fell foul of its mark…and if I am not to be deceived, it was not done in ignorance. And again today…and a far graver thing he has laid against me. He masks his design in flattery and polite speech. Kori is just as sickly as he is sweet…and to smell both together is rot.
"Legolas!" Gimli called over his shoulder as he continued towards the sight of the breech.
The Elf put his thoughts aside, his suspicions still alert as he walked the distance between himself and the Dwarven inquiry. He fell in step beside his friend. Gimli marched forward with an air of purpose. As Lord of the Glittering Caves, his duty was to maintain order and safety…something many would begin to question he could do if such unfortunate happenstances continued. Legolas had come to realize very quickly just how mistrusting Dwarves could be towards those they deemed unfit or unwelcome.
"You were nearby when the Goblins attacked," Gimli put forth.
"I was in the passage," Legolas replied.
"Tell me everything," Gimli said. "What you heard, what you saw…anything. I want to know about the Goblins and how the flood fits into this mess."
Gimli, even in the direst of circumstances, could not be tense…not in the true sense of the word. Legolas had seen him face down certain death with a hearty laugh and a wicked smile. No, he was not anxious. But the pace of his step and the briskness of his speech painted the picture of a Dwarf not to be questioned or stopped. He had become a leader of quality and resolve in his time beneath the Earth, Legolas thought. And the thought pleased him.
Before he could answer, however, a sudden thump halted him and the bearded company. Legolas turned back to see Kori, slumped to his rump on the floor. A sort of dazed expression claimed his hairy face and he clutched his side. When his hand came away, crimson colored his stunted fingers.
"Blast it all," Gimli swore, coming to the aid of his second. "Why didn't you say anything? Kori is wounded. Get him up, get him up."
Orni, Bombel, and Derin instantly came forward, hauling the ailing Dwarf to his feet and escorting him away. As the four rounded the corner, Derin stopped and returned to Gimli, as it did not take three Dwarves to carry one injured one.
"Well, this has been a day of it," he said, crossing his arms on his chest with the air of one confounded. "Everyone's falling to pieces it seems." Legolas noted the sparse beard: a yellow line running from ear to ear, culminating in three small braids that would have dangled freely from his chin had they not been braided together themselves. Derin's chest was broad, but not barreled…his arms and legs short, but not bowed or stubbed. He must be very young, the Elf thought to himself.
"So it seems, Master Derin," Gimli grumbled. "Let us get on with it, before someone sets themselves on fire or sees fit to set loose a warg in the hall."
The trio made their slow way down into the passage, taking several torches in hand along the way. As they progressed, the water level climbed as well…reaching above an Elf's knees and just to a Dwarf's belt. But when they found themselves in the cave at the end, the water receded, flowing backwards into the tunnel from whence the Goblins had come. Legolas spotted the place he had been working at in the ceiling with ease, for where the small chiseled hole had been, a sizable cave in now gaped. A single, strong crack ran from the breech where the Goblins had entered to the source of the water…the large, broken hole above.
"Alright, Lad," Gimli said, fists on his hips as he turned to the Elf. "Tell us everything."
Legolas dipped his head, nodding.
"I had resolved not to be a burden during my stay beneath the mountain. I do not know what may be believed, but not all Elves are foreign to your way of living. After all, my own people dwell in caverns delved in stone, though I have not returned to that place for some time and we do not delve deep. I had thought that perhaps by busying my hands, I could be of some use. I was tasked with breaking through to the water above so that it may be used for drink and for work."
"Tasked with-" Gimli's fierce brows furrowed. "Who tasked you?"
"Master Kori," Legolas replied evenly.
Derin exchanged a confused glance with his frustrated Lord.
"Master Kori you say?" Derin asked, a brow raised in apparent question. "Why on earth would he do that?"
"Continue, Laddie," Gimli half-growled.
"After some time, a heat began growing in the cave…a heat rooted in this wall." Legolas turned his gaze towards the Goblin breech. "So hot was the stone that I could not touch it. Knowing something to be sorely amiss, I retreated into the passageway and had hardly turned my back when a tremendous explosion took my feet from me and I fell. The Goblins entered through the breech they had made…and the rest you know."
Legolas noted the puzzled expressions passing between the two Dwarves as they thought over the Elf's account.
"There are several points that I'm not sure I follow," Gimli announced finally. "First off, the Goblins in these mountains never come so close to the surface when winter arrives. They snag a wayward traveller in their tunnels or fish in the endless lakes and pools beneath us. The maggots are always hungry, but with so few of 'em left these days, their own lives are more important to them than a Dwarf on the dinner table. The kind of firepower they would need to break through to this side too…therein lies another line of inquiry. Second, that rock above us was meant to be braced a fortnight from now. The beams and rigs for the job are not even smelted. You're lucky you were interrupted, Lad, or the whole thing would have come down on your head." Legolas's dark brows lowered as he sorted out the meaning of Gimli's words. "And last-"
"What the devil was Kori thinking," Derin finished, his own irritation marked plainly on his youthful face.
The question hung in the air for a long moment. Legolas knew just what it was that Kori had meant to do, but there remained the problem…why? Was it simply his hatred towards the Eldar? Disgust and mistrust were one thing, but to kill over something as trifling as a prejudice? The Elf did not think so.
"Well, one thing's for certain," Gimli said, breaking the silence. "Kori had better hope he's not too hurt. Because when I am through with him, he'll wish for the brighter day when all he had to worry about was a prick in his side."
"We don't know anything yet," Derin reminded the fuming red-beard. "It was a grave error in judgement, to be sure. No doubt. It's a stretch to think there isn't something odd going on. But we shouldn't string him up before find out what's going on."
"Oh," Gimli growled. "I'll treat him justly enough, Master Derin. Until then, let's not speak of this matter aloud. One earful of news can set a thousand tongues wagging. I'd rather not let the whole bunch in on our suspicions until I've spoken to Kori."
Derin bowed his agreement. "Right," the yellow-headed Dwarf concurred. "I'm off to see about repairs until then. Master Gimli. Master Legolas." And with that, he turned and headed off down the passage.
"He's a good lad, Master Derin," Gimli explained when the young Dwarf had disappeared from view. "What he lacks in years he more than makes up for in tenacity. He oversees the furnaces, smithies, and metalwork of Aglarond. And very stout of heart."
Legolas nodded. "He speaks as one accustomed to leadership. Yet he lacks the arrogant, self-assured manner so often found in youth. You have chosen well."
The Elf watched his Dwarven companion nod somewhat absently, Gimli's mind obviously preoccupied with more pressing thoughts.
"Well, I suppose I'll see what's happened to Kori," Gimli said finally, starting back towards the passage. Legolas followed. Several Dwarves had already appeared at the mouth of the passage with all manner of tools to repair the damage.
"What would you have me do?" Legolas asked, falling in step beside Gimli. His companion thought for a moment.
"Whatever you find that suits you," Gimli replied. "I invited you as a guest and you are welcome in my home. Do as you please."
Accepting the Dwarf's words with slight smile, the Elf fell into silent thought. As the two parted at the passage entrance, he decided to do a bit of investigating of his own. Returning to his quarters, Legolas collected his bow, quiver, and knives…strapping them on with practiced ease…and descended once more into the passage. The Dwarves had already rigged a platform to work on the damage to the ceiling of the cave. One, a particularly salt and pepper haired fellow, seemed to be overseeing the project.
"How long until you seal the breech?" Legolas inquired. The old grump squinted over at the gaping whole in the cavern wall. He twisted his lips to the side of his face, calculating behind his eyes.
"You'll have time," he replied simply. Apparently, the fellow had guessed the Elf's purpose. Legolas took a freshly lit torch from the wall, clambered over the debris, and slipped into the belly of the mountain.