My narrative sometimes tracks Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.
I would like to thank the following reviewers of Chapter 51of Parallel Quest: Elfinabottle and CAH. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.
This chapter may incorporate incidents and/or quotations from the book and/or movie versions of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. The chapter may also draw upon posthumous publications edited by Christopher Tolkien, such as The Silmarillion.
Beta Reader: Usually Dragonfly. However, I have posted very little to this story over the last several months, so I have opted to skip the beta reading and go straight to uploading until I feel as if I have 'caught up'. If anyone catches any errors, please let me know.
Chapter 52: Visions of Things Unseen
Gimli waited patiently as Legolas stared into the distance. The Dwarf could no longer see Gandalf and the Hobbits, but he knew that the Elf could, and he understood that his friend was reluctant to turn away as long the other members of the Fellowship were still in sight. At last, however, Legolas sighed and looked down at the Dwarf. "They have passed beyond my vision," he said wistfully.
"You will see them again," Gimli reassured his friend.
"Yes," replied the Elf, his voice melancholy, "but in the case of at least one, it may be only to say goodbye again."
Gimli looked searchingly at his friend. "Legolas, they are not true, are they? The stories that I have heard, I mean?"
This speech brought a smile to the face of the Elf in spite of his melancholy. "I can hardly answer that question," he observed dryly, "without some notion of which are the tales that you speak of. For I am sure that you have heard many stories over the course of your life."
"The stories about, um, about—well, about Elves fading from grief!"
Gimli tugged at his beard as he gazed at Legolas anxiously. As a young Dwarf, he had found such stories amusing. "Huh!" he would scoff, "those pointy-ears are as delicate as snowdrops and as quick to fade. Not like Dwarves! We are as tough as the hide of an oliphaunt!" Now, as Gimli worriedly studied the face of his friend, he wished that every mocking word he had uttered could be transformed into an added year of life for Legolas.
What would 'fading' look like, the Nauga wondered. Would Legolas become more and more transparent, until he vanished altogether? Or would he diminish in size, shriveling bit by bit until, as insubstantial as an autumn leaf, he was wafted away by a breeze.
"I am not going to fade," Legolas said firmly, breaking into Gimli's fearful ruminations. "I know what you are thinking: that I will succumb to grief over the loss of Gandalf. I won't! I did not fade after he fell into the abyss of Khazad-dûm."
"It was a very near thing," Gimli reminded him. "Don't you remember how distraught you were after we thought Gandalf had perished?"
"Yes, but I had a very good friend to recall me to the world of the living—and I have him still! More than that: at least this time I shall know that Gandalf survives. He won't fall into an abyss; he will sail to Valinor."
"But he won't be with you."
"Months—even years—would go by when he wasn't with me, Gimli—except insofar as I knew that he and I shared Middle-earth. And even after he has departed this land, we will still share—something."
Gimli continued to look at Legolas doubtfully. Legolas laughed and held out his hand. "Here!" he said. Gimli proffered his own hand, and Legolas gripped it tightly. "Is this the grasp of someone who is fading?" he asked the Dwarf.
Legolas hand was warm and solid, and after a minute the Nauga smiled. "No," he said cheerfully. "I reckon it is not. Very well. I shall put the matter from my mind." Abruptly he changed tack. "Legolas, have I ever told you the story of the very strange cat that would wink in and out of sight?"
With Gimli by his side, Legolas led Arod to a stump so the Dwarf might mount.
"This cat," the Nauga explained as he clambered atop the horse, "would perch upon a branch, looking like an ordinary cat, until he would begin to fade from the tail onward. Soon all that would be left was his grin. Very odd it would be, to see a grin floating above a branch. Then the grin might vanish altogether. One would never know when the grin would reappear—or the rest of the body, for that matter!"
Legolas wondered at Gimli's choice of tale, and he suspected that the Dwarf, in spite of his assurances otherwise, still harbored fears that the Elf would 'wink out'. However, he thought it would be wise to wait for another time to refer to the matter again.
"That was a singular cat, Gimli. Did you see it with your own eyes?"
"Never did. I always arrived on the scene just after it vanished. Which of course proves just how invisible that cat could be!"
Legolas thought that there might be another explanation for the nonappearance of the cat, but he forbore uttering his suspicions out of respect for his friend's kindred.
"It is good," he said, "that as a general rule creatures remain visible. It would be awkward if our foes should simply materialize before us without warning."
Gimli snorted. "Awkward! Now, there is one of your elvish understatements! Although," the Dwarf added, "myself, I should like it if I could vanish from one spot and reappear at another. 'Twould save a world of trouble if we could travel in that fashion."
Legolas laughed merrily. "Such a mode of locomotion would be beyond the power of even the most powerful of wizards."
"Even Gandalf?"
"Even Gandalf."
"Are you sure you do not do Gandalf an injustice?" Gimli asked. "We don't know the half of his magic. I reckon if he put his mind to it he could pull it off. Indeed, I shouldn't wonder if he hasn't already done it. Wasn't he always showing up unlooked for? How did he manage that, I'd like to know—always showing up at just the right moment? I think he was apparating."
"That is not even a proper word," Legolas objected.
"Now I've said it, it is," Gimli said stubbornly. "Anyway, you're changing the subject. Prove that he didn't disapparate from one spot and apparate at another."
"Gimli, I cannot prove that Gandalf did not apparate—"
"Hah!" crowed Gimli.
"But I don't have to prove that he didn't apparate; you have to prove that he did."
"I don't see why. You are the one who claims that Gandalf didn't apparate."
"But you are the one who claims that he did. Gimli, it is sometimes true that a body can't prove a negative."
"So you concede," Gimli said triumphantly.
"No no no! The person who makes the claim must prove it."
"You made a claim, too," insisted Gimli. "You put a 'not' in your claim, but it's still a claim."
"But the 'not' makes it incapable of proof!"
"My point exactly," Gimli said triumphantly.
"Oh, very well," Legolas grumbled. "I cannot prove that Gandalf did not apparate. But you haven't proved your claim, neither."
"Hardly seems necessary," Gimli proclaimed loftily. "After all, you have admitted that you cannot refute my case."
"Gimli, you haven't presented a case! You have merely made a claim."
"Which you have failed to disprove."
Legolas huffed. "Fine! Gandalf may be able to apparate. But I shall not believe that he can until I see the evidence with my own eyes."
"No good, Legolas. After all, one may not see that cat I was talking about before—which is powerful evidence for the existence of cats what can make themselves invisible. A body what insisted on the evidence of his own eyes would have missed that fact entirely!"
Legolas felt that he had fallen into a rabbit hole that had opened into a very strange world indeed. Fortunately, at that moment Gimli became distracted and dropped the subject. "Look!" he cried, pointing to a shady patch. "Are those not most excellent mushrooms? Let us stop and gather some." Legolas eagerly agreed. The two dismounted and knelt on the ground to examine the toadstools. "These are hedgehog mushrooms," Legolas observed. "See how on the underside they have teeth-shaped structures rather than gill-shaped ones?"
Legolas went back to Arod and drew a cloth from one of the saddlebags. This they lay on the ground and began to cover with toadstools. They meant to eat a few right away and then dry some for later. "Not that one!" exclaimed Legolas suddenly. "That is no hedgehog! If you eat it, you will not die, but you will see strange sights. Elladan and Elrohir like to nibble upon its cap upon occasion, but I always found the results disconcerting. So I beg of you, Gimli, that you check the underside of each mushroom to make certain that it is indeed a hedgehog."
"I will," Gimli promised briskly, reaching for another toadstool. He gave it a cursory glance and tossed it onto the cloth. Suspiciously, Legolas picked it up and examined it. Relieved, he saw that it was indeed a hedgehog. After examining several of Gimli's toadstools in this fashion, Legolas was sufficiently reassured to return to gathering his own mushrooms.
Soon they had an ample supply of the fungus. "Let us cut some up and cook them in a stew," Gimli suggested. Legolas agreed and began to gather wood for a fire. Gimli, meanwhile, took their small cook pot down to a stream. He washed some of the mushrooms and then filled the kettle. Returning to their makeshift camp, he cut the mushrooms into pieces and tossed them into the pot. Legolas returned then and built up the fire as Gimli added herbs, roots, and several chunks of venison to the nascent stew. As Legolas went to move Arod to better pasture, Gimli placed the pot over the fire and stirred a bit of flour into the stew to thicken it.
When Legolas returned from seeing to their steed, he flung himself down upon a patch of moss and inhaled deeply. "It is already smells good, Gimli," the Elf said appreciatively. Gimli beamed and carefully added a pinch of salt to the stew. Then he plunked himself down on the moss beside Legolas, and the two rested in companionable silence as the stew simmered. From time to time Gimli would bestir himself to check on its progress, and at last he declared himself satisfied. From their saddlebags Legolas drew out two bowls, and Gimli ladled out a generous portion of stew into each.
For several minutes they ate steadily as they satisfied the pangs of hunger that they had felt whilst the stew had been simmering. After awhile, though, they spooned up the stew more slowly and began to talk idly.
"Rohan has much to recommend it," opined Gimli. "I did not notice that when first we entered this land."
"It was hard to notice when one could not see past the point of a spear," Legolas replied lightly.
"True! And we were in a veritable thicket of them!"
The two grinned at each other, remembering their reception at the hands of Éomer and his éorad of mounted warriors. Suddenly the grin vanished from Legolas's face, and he stared intently up into the tree that shaded them. Gimli looked up as well, wondering what his friend might have seen. "What is it, Legolas?" the Dwarf whispered.
"I don't know," the Elf answered softly. "I thought I saw something just now."
The Sinda stared fixedly into the tree for several minutes. Then he shrugged. "I must have caught the motion of a bird out of the corner of my eye," he said. He picked up his spoon and took another mouthful of stew. Then he threw his bowl and spoon aside and leaped to his feet. "There!" he shouted, pointing at a branch.
Gimli leaped to his feet as well and stared intently at the spot Legolas was pointing toward. "What is it, Legolas?" he cried, pulling his small throwing axe from his belt.
"A cat," declared the Elf. "Part of a cat, anyway. It has the most ferocious grin!"
Gimli thrust his axe back into his belt and scowled at his friend. "You mock me, Legolas," he said accusingly.
"I do not mock you," Legolas replied, bewildered. "Oh, look! Now the cat's entire head is visible. And its forepaws. I can see its forepaws!"
Gimli opened his mouth to upbraid the Elf, but a thought suddenly occurred to him. He went over to the cloth where the uncooked mushrooms lay drying and carefully turned over each one. Suddenly he groaned. "Oh, I am more of a fool than any Took was," he muttered. "I should have heeded Legolas more carefully." He picked out two mushrooms. These he carried to Legolas.
"I am sorry, my friend," the Dwarf said apologetically. "Here are two of the wrong sort of toadstool. I must have chopped up such a mushroom and thrown it into the stew, and you have had the bad luck to swallow a portion. Legolas, there is no cat in that tree."
Legolas stared at the mushrooms and then looked back at the tree.
"I can see that they are the wrong sort of mushroom," he said in a wondering voice, "but I can also see that there is a cat in that tree. Its rump and back paws are now visible. It wants nothing but a tail—oh, here comes the tail!"
"Yes, it will be a tale alright," sighed the Dwarf. He threw the two mushrooms into a bush and dumped the rest of the stew after them. Then he set about trying to convince Legolas to drink from the small vial of miruvor that they carried with them. Legolas, however, had become transfixed by the apparition of the cat.
"Legolas!" cried Gimli. "Legolas!"
The Dwarf tried snapping his fingers in front of the Elf's face, but the Sinda merely craned his neck to peer around the impediment. At last Gimli realized that he would have to wait for the effects of the mushroom to wear off. 'I shall simply watch him carefully to make certain that he does not get into any mischief', the Dwarf said to himself. Legolas was sitting cross-legged, staring up at the tree and heedless of the approach of dusk. Gimli draped a blanket over his friend to keep the dew from settling upon him. Then he replenished the fire and, wrapping himself in his own cloak, settled himself next to the Elf. There the Dwarf sat vigil, patiently listening as Legolas prattled on the subject of cats.
"The Cook kept a cat," he babbled. "Hundreds of them actually. Not at the same time, of course. But over the centuries. One at a time. Mousers they were. One in particular was very fierce. He chased elflings as well as mice!"
"Yes, yes," soothed Gimli. "Lembas bread?"
Legolas snatched the proffered biscuit and began to cram it into his mouth.
"Whoah!" exclaimed Gimli. "One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man!" He tried to grab hold of Legolas's wrist. Legolas fended him off. "Mine!" he cried. "My precious!"
Gimli groaned. 'I will surely be more careful about mushrooms in the future', he said to himself.
And so the night wore on, with Legolas babbling and Gimli hovering over him and herding him back toward their campfire whenever he leaped to his feet and made as if to wander off. At length, as the darkness in the eastern sky softened to a grey, Legolas calmed a little. He reclined upon his side, resting his head upon a palm and staring at the limb where, according to the Elf, the hallucinogenic cat had been perched all the night. "Oh, look!" he suddenly exclaimed. "The tip of the cat's tail has vanished."
Now the Sinda sat up and watched raptly as the cat slowly faded in a process opposite to the one by which it had appeared. Little by little he saw the entire tail disappear. Next the hindquarters vanished, and where they had sat leaves waved in the freshening morning breeze. Then the Elf saw the cat's abdomen and forequarters fade away bit by bit, leaving behind a head that seemed to float above the branch. Finally the head itself began to disappear, the pointed ears first and then the cat's luminescent eyes. Last of all, one ferocious fang at a time, the feline's grin faded.
Suddenly Legolas blinked and looked around. "Is it morning already?" he said, his voice and manner once again his own. "How swiftly the night has passed, Gimli! It seems to me that only a moment ago we were chatting over supper. By the by, Gimli, does any of that stew remain? I should like to break fast, and a bowl of it would be just the thing."
"No stew!" Gimli said hastily. "Why don't you have a bit of lembas bread?"
Legolas made a face. "I don't know why, Gimli, but I do not think I could eat lembas bread this morning."
"Right. No lembas bread."
Gimli went to their saddlebags and drew out a small pouch that contained raisins. Legolas ate a handful of these while Gimli took the kettle to the stream and scoured it. When he returned to their camp, he boiled some barley flavored with a few small strips of venison and a pinch of salt. Legolas said the pottage was delicious, and Gimli allowed himself to grin. He had felt dreadfully guilty about feeding Legolas the bad mushrooms and was mightily relieved to see that his friend appeared to have suffered no permanent harm.
It must be said that Gimli's spirits recovered apace. 'Should I tell Legolas what happened?' the Dwarf asked himself. No, he decided. The Elf likely wouldn't believe him. 'Moreover', the Nauga thought magnanimously, 'I have already discomfited him on the subject of apparating. I shouldn't want to make him feel foolish for claiming to see a cat that wasn't there'. Somehow Gimli contrived to overlook the fact that he himself would be subject to embarrassment if the story were to be told.
Breakfast over, Legolas and Gimli broke camp. The Dwarf insisted on being the one to pack up the remaining mushrooms. While Legolas's back was turned, the Nauga carefully checked the toadstools to make certain that there were no additional bad ones amongst them. He found none, so he congratulated himself upon the fact that, in the main, he had followed Legolas's counsel on the subject of mushrooms.
The morning was not too far advanced when, with Legolas alert and lively and the picked-over mushrooms stowed in a saddlebag, the two friends were able to resume their journey in the direction of Helm's Deep, where, Gimli again assured Legolas, a most marvelous sight awaited them in the caverns beneath the Hornburg. But as the two friends rode away from their campsite, behind them, unseen, padding on silent paws, followed a sharp-fanged creature that was no figment of a fungus-addled brain. It remained to be seen how far the Elf and the Dwarf would journey that day before, like Legolas's grinning cat, this creature would 'apparate'.
