Silent words, Comfort me

Author's note: This one's taken a little longer. Very sorry about that. I meant for it to be longer too…but the last part evolved into a chapter of its own, so I decided to end where I did.

I know it's a bit short, but I was writing a harry potter x'mas fic at the same time. (Just in case anyone's interested. :) ) I'll try and make up for it in the next chapter.

And thanks again to everyone who's reviewed, especially those who have been following the story. It really lifts my spirits to know people actually bother to read this.

Standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter 4

Gimli whistled appreciatively as Legolas led his steed forward.

"She's beautiful," he said, running experienced hands over its silky grey coat. The mare was sixteen hands tall, and she shone silver in the moonlight. The only thing that spoiled her perfect symmetry was a black fetlock on her right foreleg, and that merely served to highlight the beauty of the rest of her.

Despite standing amidst unfamiliar men and horses, the mare held her head high. Flaring her nostrils at the strange scents in the air, she nonetheless stood stock still, refusing to display even the slightest sign of doubt or fear.

Not unlike someone I know. Gimli thought wryly.

The elf in question smiled, and patted the mare's back tenderly, saying, "Rainchaser's of fine stock; of Brego's line. She was…a gift…from…" He faltered on the last words, and turned so his long hair fell forward, covering his face.

Frowning, Gimli looked worriedly at his friend. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked in a low whisper that would not carry to anyone else in the stable.

"No," Legolas said, his voice thick with controlled emotion, "I don't want to." His eyes shone with pain and hurt and a terrible resolve as he raised them to Gimli's, "I have to."

Legolas' hands had balled into fists so tight that his own nails had cut into the flesh of his palms, and blood ran down in tiny rivulets to spot the ground. The elf was a statue of determination - misplaced, in Gimli's opinion - and equally immovable.

Gimli sighed and gave up. He'd tried his best but if the elf insisted on shutting out his words, there was nothing he could do. Besides, as much as he wished his friend happiness, he had to admit that perhaps this really was the best solution for everyone.

But damn it all, his greatest friend was being torn apart inside and he wasn't about to let something as insignificant as a promise make him watch it happen.

While Legolas went in search of the rest of the mare's tack, Gimli moved casually to the front of the stable, handing a silver coin to the stable boy. Shielding the action with his body, he said, "I have a message I need delivered…" Gimli whispered careful instructions, then pushed the boy hurriedly out of the double doors.

"Please let him be in time," Gimli murmured as he watched the boy go, praying to whatever gods cared to listen in the star-filled night.

~

Aragorn had been just about ready to start tearing his hair out in frustration when the harried stable boy ran headfirst into him.

Legolas' room sat cold and empty at the end of the west wing, and by the time Aragorn had raced down to the stables, Rainchaser's stall was devoid of her presence, and anyone else's. Fuming at his own incapacity, he'd been making his way back to the castle to organise a search.

Steadying the boy by his shoulders, Aragorn waited until he was able to stand without assistance before turning to leave. A frantic hand grasped at his coat, holding him back.

"Highness…" the boy managed to get out between breathless pants, "…the Elf Prince and Dwarf Lord…south gate…he said to tell you…" Exhausted from a marathon around the castle in search of the elusive king-to-be, he slumped against the wall for support.

By that time, Aragorn had heard all he'd needed to hear, and had pulled away, practically flying in the direction of the stables. Throwing himself bareback onto Brego, he coaxed the horse into a gallop towards the direction of the city's southern gate. If they had been leaving at a walk, if they hadn't been gone for more than half a candlemark, if his heart did not simply explode from pounding so hard at the thought that he'd never see him again…then maybe, maybe…

So many ifs, but he had to hope; sometimes, hope was all there was to cling to.

~

In the grey light of predawn, the company headed slowly towards the south of the city, led by Laran, son of Lhoran.

Bringing up the rear, Gimli and Legolas rode in silence. The elf stared doggedly forward, clutching the reins of his horse so tightly that his knuckles were white from strain. Gimli on the otherhand, fidgeted irritably in the saddle and glanced frequently at his surroundings, straining for some sign of the telltale dust that rose from pursuing hooves.

So distracted were they both that when the horses finally halted at the gate, it took a full minute for them to realise that their way was barred.

"What's this now?" Gimli shouted ahead, pushing his way through to the sentry who stood in their path.

"To ensure the safety of all during the coronation of the King, the names and businesses of those who pass through the gates this day must be recorded," came the sentry's reply, his voice distorted by the helmet that covered his face.

"I am Laran, son of Lhoran, and my business is my own," Laran snapped heatedly in response. Murmured agreement rose from the dwarfs, and discontented whispers began to grow louder.

"Now, now," Gimli interrupted hurriedly, before tensions escalated to the point where a fight would erupt, "there's no need for all this." Turning to the sentry, he said, "I am Gimli, son of Gloin, one-time companion of Aragorn, heir to the throne of Isildur. My kin and I are journeying to the caverns of Helm's Deep."

The sentry nodded respectfully, and unlocked the smaller door cut into the huge wooden gates. "Of course my lords," he said, waving them through. With a satisfied grunt, Laran rode forward, the rest following soon after.

Second from the end of the line, just ahead of Legolas, Gimli spared a moment for one last hopeful look around him before heeling his horse towards the door. Some things just aren't meant to be. he thought sadly. As his horse stepped away from the city, Gimli turned his head back, and started in surprise when the 'sentry' caught his gaze, and winked.

What on earth… he wondered, then smiled as he recognised the royal carriage even a common soldier's uniform could not hide.

When the door slammed shut just behind him, he wasn't surprised at all.

"We'll leave without him," he told the confused group of dwarfs, not even bothering to try and hide the grin in his voice, "He can catch up with us later."

If he still wants to.

© ai 2002

Merry Christmas everybody!!