My narrative sometimes tracks Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.
I would like to thank the following reviewers: punkballet, Melanda, 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 unless you have disabled the private messaging feature. (Please notice that the fanfiction site has changed its system so that responses to reviews go out via the private messaging feature. That is why the people who have disabled that feature have not heard back from me.)
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: Dragonfly. She is on vacation at the moment, however, so if anyone notes any errors, that is because I am working without a net.
Chapter 54: Noro Lim
Gimli nodded drowsily, but his grip was as strong as ever. With one arm he clutched Legolas; with the other he clung to the infant. When they departed the spot where the humans had been slain, it had been late afternoon. Now they rode under a setting moon, having stopped only once during all those hours. After battling his bladder for several hours, Gimli had at last been forced to admit that he needed to make water, and they had dismounted.
To Legolas's amusement, the Dwarf had pushed his way several hundred feet into the woods to tend to his body's needs. "You have never been shy," Legolas called after him. "Why are you going so far?"
"In case you haven't noticed," Gimli shouted back, "that baby is a female. I was brought up better than to relieve myself in front of a female!"
'Suddenly so fastidious!' Legolas laughed to himself, and when Gimli returned, the Elf scandalized the Dwarf by merely stepping behind the nearest tree. "Hey!" protested the Dwarf, clapping his battle-scarred paws over the baby's ears. "I thought you Elves were all ethereal and refined-like!"
"I do not think the baby will mind," said Legolas, reappearing from behind the tree.
"Well, I don't know about that," Gimli argued. "Mayhap from now on, whenever she meets an Elf, she'll think of torrents and floods."
"Or rivulets and spring rains," laughed Legolas.
"Did you wash your hands?" Gimli asked suspiciously.
"How could I? We have no more water."
"Hah!" crowed Gimli. "I washed my hands. If you go several hundred feet into the woods—as I did—you will find a rill."
Taking their water skins, Legolas followed in Gimli's footsteps until he came to the stream. After washing his hands, he filled the water skins and then returned to Gimli, who was crooning something that Legolas recognized as a lullaby even though the words were dwarvish. Moved at the warrior's gentleness, the Elf found it unexpectedly difficult to speak.
"As we have water," he said, his voice unsteady, "we should make some more broth."
Gimli looked anxiously at him. "You sound like a frog with a mosquito caught in its throat! Are you sure you are not still suffering the ill effects of those mushrooms?"
Legolas shook his head and tried to reassure the Dwarf with a weak smile. Then he set about building a fire to brew the broth. Gimli, meanwhile, made a nest of his cloak for the child, and after repeatedly adjuring Legolas to be careful of the infant, the Dwarf began to gather moss to line the baby's nappy. "Very absorbent, moss is," he explained to Legolas. The Elf was both surprised and amused that the Dwarf should know how to line a baby's nappy. Watching Gimli gathering the clumps of moss, the Sinda prince felt as if he had swallowed that mosquito, and his weak smile turned into a broad grin. 'Friend Gimli', Legolas thought to himself, 'I am glad I have made your acquaintance. Never was such fierceness and tenderness to be found together within one soul!'
Hours after this interlude, this fierce and tender but drowsy Dwarf was somehow managing to keep his seat whilst holding fast to the infant. Legolas reined up their horse. "I'm all right," protested the groggy Dwarf. "Pray do not stop on my account, for we must bring this babe safe to Helm's Deep!"
"I do not stop on your account, Gimli," Legolas reassured the Dwarf. "Although," he added, "I would not hesitate to do so, for I deem that the baby has gained enough strength from the broth so that her life is no longer in immediate peril. Ne'ertheless, it is on Arod's account that I stop. We have pushed him as far as is safe. It would be ill indeed if, in his weariness, he stumbled and you were to be thrown to the ground. You wouldn't want to land on top of the infant—as you once landed on top of me!"
Gimli had not forgotten how Legolas's ribs had been broken when the Elf had been caught between Gimli and a rocky outcropping on the Plains of Rohan. "Oh, no!" he said quickly. "I shouldn't want the horse to stumble. Quick! Take the babe!"
Legolas dismounted, and Gimli gingerly handed him the infant before dismounting himself. Then Legolas returned the baby to Gimli, and the Dwarf once more sat cross-legged upon the ground, the baby nested in his lap and contentedly sucking upon a cloth dipped in broth.
"How old do you suppose that baby is?" Legolas called over his shoulder as he gathered sticks.
"No more than six months," Gimli replied, "which is fortunate for us all."
"Why do you say so?"
"Very young infants are not afraid of strangers. Along about six months of age, all of a sudden like, they grow terrified of folks other than their own near kin. This baby would be inconsolable 'twere she only a little older."
Again Legolas was surprised at the Dwarf's knowledge. "Gimli," the Elf said as he knelt to kindle a fire, "you said yesterday that you knew nothing about nursing babies. Yet you knew to line her nappy with moss, and now you tell me that infants become afraid of strangers at a certain age. I think you know a great deal about nursing babies!"
The Dwarf looked embarrassed. "Nieces'n'nephews," he muttered. "Always pulling at my beard, they were, and scattering my tools about. Many were the days when I couldn't get any work done without first clearing the little beggars from my anvil. What with being surrounded by swarms of the creatures, I couldn't help but learn about the care and feeding of 'em! Do you need to be burped?"
This last was of course addressed not to Legolas but to the infant, who was screwing up her face and writhing her little body. Gimli draped her over his shoulder and gently massaged her back until she burped. "Now, then," he said, "I had best check her nappy."
"Does she feel wet?" Legolas asked.
"No, but as a general rule, it's liquid in, liquid out. No sooner do you feed 'em than you have to change 'em."
Gimli spread out his cloak and placed the infant upon it. Tenderly, he unswaddled the baby, removed her nappy, and took it aside to shake out the soiled moss. Then he gently rewrapped the infant in her swaddling clothes. As he hovered over her, she reached up a little fist and seized hold of his beard. Legolas grinned, remembering the time he had seized the Dwarf's beard. Only this time, Gimli did not bellow, "Not the beard!" Instead, he carefully freed his whiskers from the infant's tiny fingers. "Do you know, Legolas," he said when he was finished, "we can't keep referring to the little tyke as 'the baby'. We have got to name her."
Legolas cast about for names that would please the Dwarf. "We could name her 'mallen'," he suggested. "That means 'gold'. Or perhaps 'malthen', that is to say, 'golden'."
"Pretty names for a pretty babe," Gimli said approvingly. "But let us not be too hasty. Have you any others?"
"Both 'celebron' and 'celevon' signify 'silver'," Legolas continued. "And the word for jewel is 'mir', whilst 'míriel' means 'sparkling like a jewel'."
"That's the one," exclaimed Gimli. "Sparkling like a jewel—Míriel!"
He bent down over the child. "Míriel," he cooed. "Míriel. Ow! Your nuncle Gimli is going to be bare-faced if you don't leave off grabbing his beard. You must understand that it is a dreadful humiliation for a Dwarf to be bare-faced!"
Míriel chortled, which drew a chuckle from Gimli. "Well," he said indulgently, "it has been hot of late—perhaps it would be best if my beard were thinned out a little."
Legolas grinned and went to the saddlebag to fetch the kitten. The Elf was certain that the kitten looked at him reproachfully as he freed the creature from his canvas captivity, but he was equally sure that the little cat forgave him after he doled out water and a few morsels of meat. After lapping the water and nibbling on the meat, the tiny cat stalked back and forth in front of the fire a few times before curling up beside Míriel, who was now napping. Smiling upon the domestic scene, Gimli pulled out his pipe.
"You are not going to smoke so near to Míriel," protested Legolas. "You will fill her tiny lungs with noxious fumes! That cannot be good."
"We-ell, I suppose you are right," conceded Gimli. He looked back and forth between his pipe and the sleeping infant.
"Why don't you go a little apart?" suggested Legolas. "Far enough so that she does not inhale the smoke."
The Dwarf looked longingly at his pipe, but he looked equally longingly at Míriel. "No," he said suddenly, putting aside his pipe. "I reckon it won't do me any harm to leave off smoking for a few days."
Legolas felt as if he had another mosquito in his throat. He coughed, and Gimli seized upon that fact.
"Hmph!" exclaimed the Dwarf. "I am the smoker, and you are the one who can't breathe, seemingly. Are you all right?" he added in genuine concern as Legolas suddenly leaped to his feet.
"Yes," Legolas said hastily, "but I think we have tarried long enough."
The Elf scooped up the kitten and returned him to the saddlebag, strapping it closed against the little cat's mewls of protest. "Come, Gimli," he urged. "Let me help you onto Arod."
Grumbling , as always, at the indignity of being boosted onto the horse, the Dwarf nonetheless allowed Legolas to help him scramble atop the stallion. Once Gimli was settled, Legolas handed up the still-sleeping Míriel. Then the Elf vaulted onto the steed. Before he could urge Arod onward, however, Men swarmed from forest.
Men to the front of them, to the back of them, to the side of them—the travelers were surrounded on all side by ragtag humans armed with bows, swords, and cudgels. No warriors, these, but brigands. "We can take them," growled Gimli.
"Míriel," Legolas reminded the Dwarf softly. "We don't want a fight. We must try to talk our way out of a skirmish."
The Elf dismounted, leaving his bow with Gimli, and held out his hands palm upward to show that he was unarmed. The Men lowered their own bows. As soon as they did, Legolas shouted, "Noro lim!" Ride swiftly! Arod had not been raised in Rivendell, but Legolas had taught him several elvish commands, and now the stallion leaped forward, trampling down a robber who stood in his way, and dashing into the cover of the trees.
Gimli clutched the horse's mane with one hand and held fast to Míriel with the other. The child wailed in fright as Arod galloped through the forest, swerving to avoid obstacles. "Whoah!" shouted Gimli. "Stop! Hold! Freeze!"
Arod paid no attention to Gimli's cries, and the Dwarf frantically tried to remember the words that Legolas used to communicate with the horse. "Daro!" the Nauga suddenly cried. Stop!
At this elvish command, Arod pulled up. Míriel was still crying hysterically, and Gimli set about soothing her. He felt frantic himself, but he knew that he must not communicate his distress to the child. Gently he patted her back and crooned a lullaby into her ear. Soon her cries had diminished to hiccups, and Gimli was able to look about and take stock of their situation. He saw nothing but trees and heard nothing but birdsong. 'I reckon we have left those brigands far behind', he said to himself, 'but that means we've left Legolas far behind, too'. The Dwarf's eyes stung a little. 'Got dust in my eyes', he muttered as he rubbed at them. What was he to do? He wanted to go back and help Legolas, but he couldn't carry a baby into battle.
"Durned Elf!" he muttered aloud. "The lad doesn't even have his bow. Although," the Dwarf consoled himself, "he has got those two knives of his strapped upon his back."
Míriel gurgled. "That's right," Gimli said to her. "Legolas the Two-bladed is worth a dozen Men. Still, we must get help to him as fast as we may.
Gimli looked about, paying particular attention to the location of the sun. "It seems to me," he mused aloud, "that Arod has carried us back in the direction from which we came. So I reckon Edoras is now closer than Helm's Deep. Very well! We will return to Meduseld so that Éomer may send out a rescue party. Heh! Éomer is likely to lead that patrol himself. He would grudge any harm befalling Legolas, for he still has hopes of besting him at that drinking game of his!"
Míriel chortled. "For a baby," Gimli said, "you are very good company. Now, I am going to swaddle you tightly and get a good grip on you. We are going to gallop again, but I hope if I hold you fast you will be less frightened than formerly."
'I must tell Arod to swiftly bear us to Edoras', Gimli said to himself as he got a firm grip on Míriel. Carefully he pronounced these words: "Noro lim an Edoras." Ride swiftly to Edoras.
As soon as he had uttered this phrase, they were once again galloping through the woods. Gimli bent low, using his body to shield Míriel from the branches that whipped them as Arod dodged around the trunks of trees. As they rode, Gimli continually reminded himself of how skilled Legolas was with the twin blades gifted him by Elladan and Elrohir. 'Hold them off, Legolas', he said to himself. 'Hold them off, and we'll rescue you. But if we can't rescue you, lad', he added grimly, 'we'll avenge you'.
