Gimli

I have recieved many letters over the years calling me to the elf's side because he has indulged in folly and is injured...troubled...in need of help. He is a magnet for chaos and the sea-longing does not help. How he ever survived before I met him, I do not know.

This latest letter, however, is different.

It is written by Arwen. My heart chills when I see her hand. Often it is Erynion who writes, or more recently, Maewen—Legolas' lady—if he struggles in Ithilien. But most frequently it is Aragorn. Arwen never writes. Why would she need to?

It does not take me long to discover why.

The pair of fools have been playing games with the afterlife. Legolas—after all the time I spent trying to keep the fragile creature safe—has managed to get himself trapped under a collapsing wall and Aragorn has gone traipsing in after him to who knows where to guide him back to us.

I almost cannot believe it as I read but Arwen would not lie. Of course I have to come to them.

It is a relief to see Aragorn, when I arrive, at least on his feet when he greets me although he is drawn and weary.

"Thank goodness you are here." He says tiredly, running a distracted hand through his hair. "Normally I would offer you food and rest after your journey, but there is no time, Gimli. We have lost Legolas."

"Lost him?" Alarm grips me, for Arwen told me they thought Legolas gone from us forever at one point. Surely he does not mean that? Have I been too slow in getting here?

"He is agitated and unhappy. He has run off and we have been searching all day but it is a big city." He drops his shoulders with a sigh, "He is not fit to be out there, Gimli."

Ah, so a missing Legolas is all he means, instantly I am at ease. I have dealt with this before and I wonder why he is so tense. Keeping track of Legolas has always been a difficult task.

"He will turn up eventually, Aragorn, you know that. He always does. Have you taken the advice you always give to me and looked in the high places?"

"You are misunderstanding me, Gimli." I realise, as I watch him, that he looks truly haggard himself and I am hit by a wave of concern.

"Are you well?" I ask him, peering at him closely, ignoring his statement. I would put money on the fact he is not.

"My health is not the concern here." He deflects me but he would not have succeeded had Erynion not have chosen that very moment to appear, breathless as he runs across the courtyard, and I am left speechless, for what on earth has happened to him? His face is a mess. He looks as if he has been brawling with orcs.

"Elessar!" He cries, "We have found him!"

And beside me Aragorn slumps in relief.

"He is in the gardens—" Erynion begins, and I look at Aragorn in surprise.

"You did not think to look there first?"

"I did, Gimli!" He snaps, "Do you take me for a complete fool?"

Oh he is in a bad mood today. I decide then I will just hold my tongue.

"He hides in the bushes," Erynion continues, "Maewen sensed him, although his song feels wrong." His face creases into a frown as he mentions that, as if it causes him pain to think on it. "I have been searching for you everywhere, Elessar. She may have even pried him out by now."

"I told you!" I say, forgetting my vow of seconds before to keep my mouth firmly shut, "Aragorn, why do you worry so? I told you he would show himself eventually." I am about to ask Erynion what on earth has happened to his face when he interrupts me.

"Gimli! Thank goodness you are here. I can think of nobody Legolas needs more," and he grabs my hand dragging me across the courtyard behind him, leaving me no time to question anything—and believe me, I have many questions—Aragorn following us with his long determined strides.

If the Aragorn I have found at the end of my journey is concerning—and he is—then the Legolas they produce for me in the gardens is not my friend at all. He emerges from the bushes as I call for him, dishevelled, wide-eyed, and agitated. There are twigs in his hair and dirt across his tunic but that is not unusual for my Legolas, no, it is the tears upon his cheeks and the child-like way he clings to me that alarm me.

"Gimli, I had not imagined you would come!" he exclaims and that is foolishness for why ever would I not come? He pats my face gently, softly, as if he has not seen me for years and I have a flash of memory. Legolas drugged accidently by Aragorn with some psychedelic herbs on our ride to Isengard, patting desperately at my face because he believed me to be on fire. He was so strange then, his thoughts open to all who would see them and he is so very like that now. Has Aragorn given him more of those herbs? Surely not.

"What are you doing, Lad, hiding here? You are worrying Aragorn half to death."

"Aragorn. . ." he repeats the name and his eyes flick towards where Aragorn stands grimly behind me. It is a look of nervousness, of apprehension and I wonder at it. What goes on here?

I think he is going to say something to Aragorn then but his wild eyes spot Erynion and instantly all is forgotten.

"Erynion..." He gasps it in horror. "I am sorry, I am so sorry." He hands flit towards Erynion's battered face where they hover as if he wishes to touch it but cannot quite bring himself to. "I did not mean this."

"Hush, you fool," Erynion clasps Legolas' flighty hands between his own steady ones, "It was an accident only. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I know you did not mean to hurt me."

They cannot mean Legolas is responsible for the mess of Erynion's face . . . Can they?

Then Maewen is there, her arms around Legolas, steadying him.

"I have told Legolas you already forgive him this." she says softly to Erynion. There is so much love enfolded in that voice, for Legolas and Erynion both, that I wonder briefly if I am missing something. I have often wondered that about the three of them. It is a strange intertwining they have, but then Silvan elves are strange and my mother always said I had a vivid imagination —for a dwarf.

Legolas stands, in the midst of a crowd of those who love him most, where he should feel his safest, but instead he seems bewildered, anxious, lost. It is too much for him. There are too many people here, too much tension swirling in the air. I do not understand what it is that is wrong with him but I recognise a suffering elf when I see one. He needs space and I will get him some.

"Come, Legolas," I take his hand and he clings to it like a limpet, as if I am a lifeline in the midst of a storm. "I have travelled long to see you and you have much to tell me. Let us go somewhere a dwarf and elf can get some peace." I turn to Aragorn. "Is my room ready?" I ask him and he nods in return.

"Of course," he replies, "it is always ready." But he does not smile as I would expect and I see once more the exhaustion behind his eyes. He worries me, but I can only deal with one problem at a time and the elf is the more urgent. So we retreat, Legolas and I. He follows me passively and even I—dwarf that I am—can sense his relief as we leave the others behind.

It is late when I finally make my way to Aragorn's study and I am weary. My time with Legolas has not been restful. He has told me, haltingly at first and then in a jumble of words, a story that makes no sense at all to me. Of meeting his brother who I know is dead, of fearing Aragorn lost when he is clearly here beside us, of a fight with Erynion he cannot understand himself, and of a battle with the sealonging that very nearly defeated him. I do not think he has told me it all and what he has told me is garbled and hard to follow. So I have deposited him with his silvan friends to watch over him as he sleeps and I go in search of Aragorn to fill the gaps in for me. We will start with what ails Legolas I think.

I do not expect to hear arguing and raised voices as I make my way down the corridor. It is Aragorn and his brothers and they are at each other's throats. It is Sindarin they speak and although I have learnt much of it from my time with Legolas they are too angry and speak it too rapidly for me to follow the words. The poor guards outside the door look absolutely terrified.

But I am not a dwarf to be put off by a mere argument between brothers no matter how angry it seems, and I stride on in. The three of them stop mid sentence to turn and stare at me as the door slams behind me. Ah, it is good to be able to quiet a room simply by entering it.

"Gimli, where is Legolas?"

It is Aragorn who asks it first and he is anxious. Perhaps he fears I have Legolas hidden outside in the corridor while the three of them argue, well they should have thought of that before!

"Safe with his silvan friends," I say as I help myself to a seat, "and now I am here to get some answers."

"Answers?" He plays dumb...as if he doesn't know exactly what answers I seek.

"What is wrong with him? A head injury recieved in the rock fall I presume? And what are you doing to fix him?"

"He had no head injury, Gimli." It is Elladan who answers me. "He suffocated under there. I am sure there may be some damage from the time he did not breathe but it is not that causing his problems. I wish it was...that I could heal."

"Well something is wrong with him!"

"Bringing him back to us has caused damage to his fea. Estel has meddled in things he did not understand and I cannot fix it!" The last is cutting and pointed and I do not think this is the first time he has hurled these accusations at Aragorn.

"Alright, Elladan!" Aragorn slams his hand down on the table and he makes me jump if no-one else. "I know. You have told me this often enough. I made the wrong choice and Legolas suffers for it, there is nothing I can do about it now." He looks wretched and I do not like the way this conversation is going.

"How do you know this?" I ask Elladan. "What proof do you have that his fea is damaged? Perhaps you are mistaken for I have never heard of such a thing."

"There is no doubtîng it." It is the silent, brooding, other Son of Elrond who speaks now from his seat in the corner and he takes me by surprise. "I can feel the damage myself, and so can the girl."

"Of course you can feel it, Elrohir." It is Aragorn's turn now to be cutting and sarcastic. "Do you really wish Gimli to know the wrongs you have done Legolas?"

I wonder what he means for I know full well how this Noldor elf has wronged my friend. Ever he has poured scorn upon him and sneered at him in his arrogance but that is hardly relevant to our present discussion.

"I have done him no wrong!" Elrohir is on his feet in an instant. "Will you not listen to me, Estel." This is quickly spiralling out of hand and they will not stop bickering, meanwhile my friend is languishing in a sad state. I could pull my beard out in frustration at them all but that will get me nowhere so instead I try once again to stop their quarrel.

"I hardly think your behaviour towards Legolas has ever been above criticism," I say pointedly giving Elrohir a glare, "At least not that I have ever seen. On the contrary it leaves much to be desired but the three of you shutting yourselves away in here arguing about old wrongs does not help him. I refuse to believe there is nothing can be done."

"I have looked at every appropriate book, Estel has here," Elladan says then somewhat sulkily. "There is nothing, Gimli. If I knew where to go from here I would be doing it. Valinor is his only hope for healing it seems."

"Valinor?" I am horrified. "No! He is not ready for that!"

"Is he not ready, or are you not ready?"

"He is not ready!" I am sure of it. As sure as I am of anything. As much of a mess as he is at the moment, Legolas is not ready to sail . . . And I am not ready to let him go, but it is not about that. It is not about that at all.

"If you will not even try then it is obviously up to me." I am indignant and I will not abandon my friend to this fate. Elves are all very well but they are all tangled up with their magic and their otherworldliness. They are not practical creatures at all. Not like us dwarves. "I will fix him. If it means I must start from the beginning and teach him as you teach a child then I will do it."

"It is not as easy as that, Gimli," Elladan protests, and his brother, from his seat in the darkest corner rises to his feet. "He has no control, he is a torrent of emotion and it overwhelms him," Elladan continues. "It is not something that can be fixed."

"Let him try, brother. It can do no harm." Elrohir places a calming hand upon Elladan's shoulder, and now he is out of the shadows and into the light I can see he too seems weary, as unlikely a description as that is for these never-tiring elves. He turns to leave but Aragorn will not let their disagreement go.

"Stay away from him!" He hisses. "Elbereth, Elrohir, if I hear you have been there—" But the Noldo does not wait to hear it. He cuts him off with the slamming of the door behind him leaving Aragorn cursing beneath his back.

"Why are you so against this, Estel?" Elladan sighs, "You are not even trying to understand and it is not like you." He darts a nervous glance towards me. They discuss something they do not wish me to know . . .and I am sure it is about Legolas. How dare they keep secrets from me.

"You did not see what I saw." Aragorn snaps in reply. "It was so inappropriate. I do not know what he was thinking, and we will not discuss it now!" And he too shoots a glance in my direction. I am not happy about being talked around and I am about to make that known when Elladan stands as well.

"Then there is nothing more to be said." His parting words are caustic and biting. "You do him a disservice, brother."

"And you, as usual, protect him when you should not!" Aragorn shouts after him, but he gets no response and in the end the two of us are left alone.

I want to know what goes on here. It is something to do with Elrohir and Legolas and yet Legolas has not so much as mentioned the Noldor beyond saying he helped him with his sea-longing and that did not surprise me. Elrohir has worked with Elladan before when he tried to ease the burden of the sea. But Aragorn, when I turn to look at him, has his head in his hands and it is obvious the time to press him for details is not now.

"So you see, Gimli," his voice is muffled by his arms as he speaks, "You see how much wrong I have done Legolas. Elladan is right. My actions were selfish and I should have left him there. As if he did not already suffer enough because of me."

"If you mean left him in the realm of the dead, with this brother of his he says he met then you are wrong, Aragorn, and if Elladan say it, he is wrong also. Legolas would not want that. As Arwen tells it, he asked you to return with him."

"He was not fit to make that decision, as he is not fit to make decisions now."

"And so you should make it for him? I think not, Aragorn." I will argue this with him until I am blue in the face, so sure of it am I. "You did the only thing you could."

He lifts his head then, and reaches out to pull a pile of paperwork towards him.

"Look at this," he groans, "It piles up upon me. I have been so distracted by Legolas I am drowning in work for the kingdom I have put aside." I cannot believe he intends to work on it now.

"Stop, Aragorn!" I reach over and snatch the quill from his hand before he has had time to write a word. "You are exhausted. You will get some sleep. This will all be here tomorrow. It will make no difference leaving it another day, you fool!"

"I can do nothing right, Gimli." he says forlornly and my heart breaks for him. "I cannot protect him, not even from my own brother. Everything I do, every choice I make causes Legolas pain."

"You have done the right thing in this." I lean over his desk and clasp his weary hands in mine for I must get him to hear me. "You have saved my friend and bought him back to me and I can never repay you. Now I will see to it I set him on his feet again for you."

And in that moment I am sure I can mend Legolas. By shear will and determination I will do it.

For Aragorn's sake I will see our friend well.