Disclaimer: all characters, settings, and elvish language are strictly from
the mind of J.R.R. Tolkien or inspired by him.
1 Chapter VI
Khazad-bizar
The sun was sinking into the west casting a red glow on the Emyn Arnen. The mountains were not nearly as high and majestic as the Misty Mountains in the west or the nearby White Mountains, but what they lacked in height the made up for in beauty. Emyn Arnen meant "Mountains of the Noble Valleys", and so they were. It was in one of these valleys that Edhil-e-londe lay, and the others were no less beautiful. They were filled with giant oak trees whose thick branches often spanned more than 50 spans from tip to tip. Further up the mountainside the trees changed to rowan and beech, and the uppermost reaches of the mountains were covered in thick groves of pine trees. Few rocky escarpments could be seen on the Emyn Arnen and snow rarely fell on them. In summer months the mountains were varying shades of green from valley to peak, but in the fall they positively blazed with every hue of red, orange, and yellow.
Boromir, son of Faramir and Eowyn, made his way through one of these valleys. The year was waning and few of the trees in the valley bore any leaves at all, except the evergreens in the heights. Still, the land was beautiful. The air was crisp and the earthy smell of rotting leaves hung thick in the air. A small brook ran through the valley, taking its time, wandering the many dells and vales before finding its way to the great River Anduin. The air was cool and refreshing and Boromir took a deep draught to fill his lungs and revive his weary body.
He had been sent by his father to the dwarven mines of Khazad-bizar. The dwarves had been hard at work excavating the rich ore from the roots of the mountains, and their smithies had been turning out fine weaponry. Boromir's visit was diplomatic in nature. Faramir believed in keeping abreast of all his communities not just the nearby Amon Galen, and since Boromir had grown into manhood he had placed upon him the responsibility of visiting the outlying settlements.
Boromir rather enjoyed this freedom. Though he loved his parents dearly they were ever watchful of him in Minas Mallen. Many times had Boromir heard tales of his uncle when he was Third Marshall of the Riddermark, and of his glories in battle. And also of his father's stand at Osgiliath holding the forces of Sauron at bay, and even of his mother's bravery when she slew the terrible king of the nazgul and nearly lost her life. Boromir was heir to a legacy of two great families, and every fiber of his being was longing to be tested in the throws of battle. It was not that he did not appreciate the peace, which had been dearly bought by so many even of his own kin, but the ease of his life did not sit well with him. He eagerly looked forward to each journey into the far reaches of Ithilien where he was free to lead his men and meet any challenges that might befall him.
The crown prince and his guard rounded a great shoulder of a nearby mountain and came within sight of the entrance to Khazad-bizar. The way in was neither grand nor ornate, merely a small archway into the side of the mountain. This was intentional, for in the event of an attack the opening could be easily defended.
As they drew near Boromir raised his hand in a silent command to halt. The twelve men of his personal guard reined in their horses and waited for the prince's orders. Both men of Gondor and men of Rohan had sworn allegiance to the heir of Ithilien. A strange company they may have looked to outsiders, but Boromir trusted each man with his life. The rangers from up north had trained them, and like those grim men they held a constant vigil for signs of danger.
Boromir saw no sign of dwarf or man at the entrance, but he knew there were guards within. "All hail the dwarves of Khazad-bizar!" he called in a loud voice, "All hail Gimli, son of Gloin, and ruler of Khazad-bizar! I, Boromir, son of Faramir, ask leave to enter for myself and my men!"
The prince's voice echoed among the mountains then faded away. After a few moments two dwarves appeared out of the entranceway and the first one called back, "All hail Boromir, son of Faramir! Welcome to Khazad-bizar! You have leave to enter."
With formalities now out of the way Boromir dismounted and came to greet the two dwarves. They were the brothers Mali and Gali and Boromir knew them well. "It is good to see you again my friends. How goes it with you?"
Both dwarves bowed low to the prince. "Greetings to you, sire. All is well within. The dwarves toil night and day, but such labor is close to our hearts and so it seems not so difficult to us," said Mali.
"Spoken like a true dwarf, Mali," laughed Boromir, "But even dwarves must rest from time-to-time. My father sends his greetings and also this gift." Boromir motioned to a large wagon at the rear of his contingent. "Inside you will find a great quantity of the pale ale brewed by the men of Amon Galen. Gimli was quite fond of it when last he was in my father's city." Both dwarfs' eyes lit up at the mention of the beer. It was hotly contested as to which the dwarves prized more: gold or a fine mug of ale. In any case Boromir was assured that the gift would be well received.
Gali strode forward, "Follow me, sirs, and I will bring you to the stable for your horses." Boromir and his men followed the dwarf into the heart of a deep cleft where two of the mountains came suddenly together. In the recess was a large stable. It had been constructed by the elves of Edhil-e- londe and so was not made of stone, but of sturdy oak. The rivulet from a ribbon-like waterfall flowed through the midst of the stable providing water for the animals. Inside Boromir spotted Gimli's pony. He was not alone. At least a dozen similar ponies were lazily chewing on hay beside him. Gimli was not the only dwarf to suffer the humiliation of learning to ride.
"Leave your beasts to me, sirs," said Gali. "I assure you they will be well cared for." Gali was the only dwarf that Boromir knew of who actually liked horses and ponies. He even had some skill in riding the animals. The dwarves of Khazad-bizar all thought Gali had lost all sense, but he paid little attention to them, and in fact had a small house next to the stable where he spent most of his time. Mali motioned for Boromir and his company to follow, "Come. I will bring you to see Gimli."
The way into the mine was a long tunnel which wound its way slowly downwards and into the heart of the mountain. It was lined with many torches that cast shadows everywhere. Though Boromir knew this to be the dwelling of a good and decent people the deep places of the earth had always held an air of unwholesomeness to him. He could feel the tension in his men as they descended into the city of the dwarves. The tunnel continued on for more than a league with no branches or side corridors until it ended finally at a great cavernous hall.
Though not nearly as large as the great hall in Moria it was still massive. Two great rows of fluted columns ran the length of the hall. Each column was a good 5 spans across and reached more than 50 spans to the ceiling above. The cavern had been painstakingly carved out, stone by stone. Gimli had brought over 500 dwarves to Ithilien, but in the eighteen years since the work was begun this hall had been completed only a year ago. So for now it was filled with tables and chairs so that the dwarves might use it as a meeting hall as well as a place to take meals together. Large braziers were lit throughout the chamber, but for light rather than heat. Boromir passed a hand over his brow. He had forgotten how stuffy and warm Khazad-bizar was.
Mali continued through the great hall and eventually through another door on the far side. This tunnel was wider than the one leading into the city and many others branched away from it. Mali led them through a maze of tunnels to a large room. Boromir recognized it as Gimli's greeting chamber, but although he had been here many times he was certain he would never be able to successfully navigate the tunnels they had taken to arrive here. The young prince had often thought that dwarves made the tunnels of their cities in a maze-like pattern so that any enemies who might breach the inner sanctum of the city would become confused and lost.
"Here is where I leave you, sirs," Mali bowed to Boromir's men and then to Boromir, "Sire." He quickly departed and as he left another dwarf entered the room from a side entrance,
"Greetings Prince Boromir. You and your men are most welcome in the halls of Khazad-bizar." The dwarf bowed low.
A mischievous look came across the prince's face, "We are most honored to be welcomed into Khazad-bizar, but as near as I can tell there is as yet only one hall. Have you excavated another, Nomi?"
The dwarf glared fiercely at Boromir, "There is entirely too much of your father in you. Your mother always speaks with a graceful and beautiful tongue, but you and your father speak insults with every other breath. The dwarves will not stand for further verbal abuse." The dwarf snorted with righteous indignation.
Boromir could not help the smile which spread across his face. "My good Nomi, you are as cheerful as ever, and I do believe your sense of humor is developing nicely."
Boromir's men turned suddenly at the sound of a door opening behind them. It was Gimli, and he strode into the room with all the bearing and countenance of royalty. When he reached Boromir and Nomi he took one appraising look at them and then laughed out loud, "So, Nomi, has our young prince here offended your delicate ears yet again. Pay no attention to him, he has learned all his manners and speech from Legolas. We must pity those who have been afforded such poor instruction."
Nomi sorted with irritation, "Perhaps a few weeks under my tutelage would do him some good."
"Undoubtedly so," said Gimli, "I shall have to speak to his father of this."
Boromir laughed, "Threatening to teach my Uncle Eomer polite speech availed to little, as you'll recall Master Gimli. There are those who say I am even more willful and wayward than he. I may be a hopeless case."
"Yes, you are," said Gimli. Unable to contain his laughter any longer Boromir let out a loud guffaw and was soon joined by Gimli and his men. Only Nomi remained stone-faced.
"Come and sit," Gimli motioned them all to a table in the corner. "Food and drink will be arriving shortly. Tell me, how was your journey?"
"Uneventful," said Boromir with a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Gimli was well aware of the young man's eagerness to prove himself in battle, and he had lectured him on this many times, but it would be wrong to admonish him in front of his men. The dwarf could not help thinking that Boromir might be granted his wish in the near future if things played out as all feared they would.
"How are your father and mother? I trust they are well," said Gimli.
"They are in excellent health, though they both continue to brood over the news out of Mordor."
Gimli nodded in agreement, "As we all do. And how is that daft elf, Legolas? Is he managing to keep out of trouble?"
Boromir smiled to himself. Everyone who knew them was aware of the great love Legolas and Gimli bore for one another, but all were smart enough to never utter that knowledge in their presence. "He is, master dwarf. His wounds have completely healed it seems, though it pains him that he is unable to leave the protection of Minas Mallen."
Gimli was surprised, "Unable to leave Minas Mallen? Isn't your father taking things a bit far? The elf should be allowed out into the city at least."
"He would be, if not for the letter from King Thranduil claiming Legolas's life was in great danger."
Gimli's eyes narrowed at the mention of Thranduil. His love for Legolas did not extend to the elf's father. Many years ago he had captured and put Gimli's father, Gloin, in the dungeon of his woodland hall along with 13 other dwarves. Eventually amends were made, but Gimli did not bear much love for the king of the woodland elves, and although dwarves were now welcome into his realm Thranduil still regarded them with some doubt and suspicion. But Gimli was more interested in the king's message. "Boromir, tell me precisely what Thranduil wrote in that letter."
Boromir related the contents of the correspondence to the dwarf. Gimli was very distressed by the news. "And did he not say any more? Who are these murderers? And what do they want with Legolas?"
"I have related all that he said to you. I believe by the tone of the letter that he wished to discuss the details with Legolas personally," said Boromir. "It appears the king has a dark secret to tell."
"Yes, and his past may prove to be the downfall of his son." The dwarf continued somewhat angrily, "Well, he is safe enough within the confines of Minas Mallen. When Thranduil arrives perhaps he can shed some light on the murderers, and then we will find them and make certain that they trouble Legolas no more."
Boromir nodded in agreement. He also considered the elf a friend, and would not easily suffer harm done to him.
There was the sound of a door opening at the back of the room, and Gimli clapped his hands together with delight, "Ah, our food has arrived. I hope you all have brought empty stomachs with you." But the last words died on Gimli's lips.
Instead of the serving dwarves from his kitchen twenty black-robed men with swords at the ready had entered the room. Boromir's men jumped to their feet and drew their swords, as did Boromir. This seemed to startle the enemy, who had apparently not expected armed fighting men of Ithilien to be present, but they regained their composure quickly. Boromir's men ran at the intruders shouting, "Ithilien! Ithilien!"
Boromir charged into the fray and was immediately met by one of the tall men in black. His sword flashed in a wide arc before his eyes, but his foe's blade was there to meet it. Quickly the intruder spun around with a blow aimed at Boromir's head, but the prince ducked and as he went to one knee he jabbed upwards with his blade. The enemy danced backwards out of harms way, but in doing so he tripped over the body of one of Boromir's men and fell. Boromir was upon him before he could rise and with all his might he ran his blade through the body of the cloaked figure.
Briefly he stood there with his sword imbedded in the body of his foe. The body twitched momentarily and then was still. Never before had Boromir, crown prince of Ithilien, taken another man's life, and he was now overcome with emotion. But although he was young and unaccustomed to real battle he had trained hard and well with the rangers, and their lessons are not easily forgotten. Though he knew not how long he had stood there eventually his mind returned to the battle at hand.
Several bodies lay motionless on the floor. The entire chamber was empty of people except for one man still fighting one of the attackers off to his left. Boromir ran to his aid, and though the black-robed man was highly skilled in the use of the sword he could not overcome to ranger-trained soldiers. With a mighty thrust Boromir impaled him. The man hung there a moment gasping and choking then he slid to the floor a lifeless corpse.
Boromir turned to his guard, a man called Andru, "Are you hurt?"
"No, sire, I am well."
Boromir looked around. There on the floor were the bodies of five of his guard. There, also, lay three of the attackers. The prince bent over the dead attacker at his feet and pulled back the hood. Andru drew in his breath sharply. Under the hood was not the face of a man, but of an elf. He was beautiful yet cold. His dark eyes were full of malice, even in death. "So, King Elessar was correct," he muttered to himself.
Andru took his arm. "Come, sire, the others fled this way after our enemy."
Boromir followed Andru out of one of the doors and into a tunnel. Had it not been for the bodies of dwarves lying at intervals along the enemy's escape route they might have become lost. Soon they found themselves in the large gathering hall of Khazad-bizar. There was great confusion in the hall for the dwarves were lamenting the dead and tending to the wounded. Andru pointed to their left and Boromir saw another of his guard lying dead. Not far from his body was one of the elves laying facedown, an axe protruding from his back.
Guessing that the enemy had tried for the main entrance they hurried across the great hall and entered into tunnel heading for the surface. It took only minutes, but it seemed like hours to Boromir for them to reach the top. Finally they burst out of the tunnel into the darkness.
The waxing moon gave little light to see by and it took a few moments for Boromir's vision to adjust, but his eyes were loath to see the devastation left behind by the elves. Two more of Boromir's men lay dead on the ground, and next to them was the body of Mali. Two of the elves lay dead as well. Momentarily overcome with grief the prince stood rooted to the ground unable to think or move.
One of his men shouted from the direction of the stables shaking Boromir from his stupor. He and Andru ran toward his voice. Torches were lit here, but they illuminated a dreadful scene. All their horses and the dwarves' ponies lay slaughtered upon the earth. The small stream in the middle ran red with blood, and Gali lay in a pool of his own blood, his hand still gripping the haft of his axe.
The remaining four members of his guard gathered around Boromir. Though all were seasoned warriors who had fought in the War of the Ring there was not one among them who did not appear shaken. Boromir knew that now was the time that true leadership was needed, but he did not know what to say to his men. Gripping Andru's shoulder tightly he said, "Go and find Gimli, if he is still alive. Though we are grieving there is much work to be done tonight."
Andru nodded in understanding, but before he could leave, Tolmoth, the captain of his guard spoke up. "Gimli may yet be alive sir, but you will not find him in Khazad-bizar. The enemy has fled with him as their captive."
"Gimli was taken alive? Why?" Boromir could not believe the news he was hearing. This enemy seemed to prefer death to captives. Why start now?
"I do not know, sire, but when they attacked a number of them grabbed Master Gimli and then ran. We gave chase, but we were sorely outnumbered against such skilled warriors. Still, we made it to the surface here in time for me to see the dwarf being carried away by these men."
"Not men, Tolmoth. They were elves," said Andru.
Rarely was the captain of Boromir's guard surprised by anything, but Andru's words had rendered him speechless.
"It is true," spoke the prince. "We unveiled one back in Gimli's greeting chamber." The four men stared at Boromir with looks of complete disbelief. "There is more, though I have not spoken of this to you before now for we were not certain. King Elessar's inspection of the site where Lanuitha and Teleren were murdered had led him to believe that the murderers had been elves."
Tolmoth shook his head, "This is grave news indeed, and unlooked for."
Boromir took a deep breath, "Yes, Tolmoth it is grave, and unlooked for, but we must now take action. The dwarves of Khazad-bizar will need our help to bury their dead and the horses and ponies in the stable. Then we must attend to our own dead, though I fear their bodies must remain here until we can return. Without our horses we cannot carry them if we hope to reach Amon Galen quickly. Tomorrow will be a long march for us, and one fraught with peril. We do not know the designs of our enemy or where they have gone. I do not believe we shall receive much rest in the coming days."
"I, for one, should be glad of that," said Tolmoth, "for what dreams may be borne out of such a day I do not want to know.
1 Chapter VI
Khazad-bizar
The sun was sinking into the west casting a red glow on the Emyn Arnen. The mountains were not nearly as high and majestic as the Misty Mountains in the west or the nearby White Mountains, but what they lacked in height the made up for in beauty. Emyn Arnen meant "Mountains of the Noble Valleys", and so they were. It was in one of these valleys that Edhil-e-londe lay, and the others were no less beautiful. They were filled with giant oak trees whose thick branches often spanned more than 50 spans from tip to tip. Further up the mountainside the trees changed to rowan and beech, and the uppermost reaches of the mountains were covered in thick groves of pine trees. Few rocky escarpments could be seen on the Emyn Arnen and snow rarely fell on them. In summer months the mountains were varying shades of green from valley to peak, but in the fall they positively blazed with every hue of red, orange, and yellow.
Boromir, son of Faramir and Eowyn, made his way through one of these valleys. The year was waning and few of the trees in the valley bore any leaves at all, except the evergreens in the heights. Still, the land was beautiful. The air was crisp and the earthy smell of rotting leaves hung thick in the air. A small brook ran through the valley, taking its time, wandering the many dells and vales before finding its way to the great River Anduin. The air was cool and refreshing and Boromir took a deep draught to fill his lungs and revive his weary body.
He had been sent by his father to the dwarven mines of Khazad-bizar. The dwarves had been hard at work excavating the rich ore from the roots of the mountains, and their smithies had been turning out fine weaponry. Boromir's visit was diplomatic in nature. Faramir believed in keeping abreast of all his communities not just the nearby Amon Galen, and since Boromir had grown into manhood he had placed upon him the responsibility of visiting the outlying settlements.
Boromir rather enjoyed this freedom. Though he loved his parents dearly they were ever watchful of him in Minas Mallen. Many times had Boromir heard tales of his uncle when he was Third Marshall of the Riddermark, and of his glories in battle. And also of his father's stand at Osgiliath holding the forces of Sauron at bay, and even of his mother's bravery when she slew the terrible king of the nazgul and nearly lost her life. Boromir was heir to a legacy of two great families, and every fiber of his being was longing to be tested in the throws of battle. It was not that he did not appreciate the peace, which had been dearly bought by so many even of his own kin, but the ease of his life did not sit well with him. He eagerly looked forward to each journey into the far reaches of Ithilien where he was free to lead his men and meet any challenges that might befall him.
The crown prince and his guard rounded a great shoulder of a nearby mountain and came within sight of the entrance to Khazad-bizar. The way in was neither grand nor ornate, merely a small archway into the side of the mountain. This was intentional, for in the event of an attack the opening could be easily defended.
As they drew near Boromir raised his hand in a silent command to halt. The twelve men of his personal guard reined in their horses and waited for the prince's orders. Both men of Gondor and men of Rohan had sworn allegiance to the heir of Ithilien. A strange company they may have looked to outsiders, but Boromir trusted each man with his life. The rangers from up north had trained them, and like those grim men they held a constant vigil for signs of danger.
Boromir saw no sign of dwarf or man at the entrance, but he knew there were guards within. "All hail the dwarves of Khazad-bizar!" he called in a loud voice, "All hail Gimli, son of Gloin, and ruler of Khazad-bizar! I, Boromir, son of Faramir, ask leave to enter for myself and my men!"
The prince's voice echoed among the mountains then faded away. After a few moments two dwarves appeared out of the entranceway and the first one called back, "All hail Boromir, son of Faramir! Welcome to Khazad-bizar! You have leave to enter."
With formalities now out of the way Boromir dismounted and came to greet the two dwarves. They were the brothers Mali and Gali and Boromir knew them well. "It is good to see you again my friends. How goes it with you?"
Both dwarves bowed low to the prince. "Greetings to you, sire. All is well within. The dwarves toil night and day, but such labor is close to our hearts and so it seems not so difficult to us," said Mali.
"Spoken like a true dwarf, Mali," laughed Boromir, "But even dwarves must rest from time-to-time. My father sends his greetings and also this gift." Boromir motioned to a large wagon at the rear of his contingent. "Inside you will find a great quantity of the pale ale brewed by the men of Amon Galen. Gimli was quite fond of it when last he was in my father's city." Both dwarfs' eyes lit up at the mention of the beer. It was hotly contested as to which the dwarves prized more: gold or a fine mug of ale. In any case Boromir was assured that the gift would be well received.
Gali strode forward, "Follow me, sirs, and I will bring you to the stable for your horses." Boromir and his men followed the dwarf into the heart of a deep cleft where two of the mountains came suddenly together. In the recess was a large stable. It had been constructed by the elves of Edhil-e- londe and so was not made of stone, but of sturdy oak. The rivulet from a ribbon-like waterfall flowed through the midst of the stable providing water for the animals. Inside Boromir spotted Gimli's pony. He was not alone. At least a dozen similar ponies were lazily chewing on hay beside him. Gimli was not the only dwarf to suffer the humiliation of learning to ride.
"Leave your beasts to me, sirs," said Gali. "I assure you they will be well cared for." Gali was the only dwarf that Boromir knew of who actually liked horses and ponies. He even had some skill in riding the animals. The dwarves of Khazad-bizar all thought Gali had lost all sense, but he paid little attention to them, and in fact had a small house next to the stable where he spent most of his time. Mali motioned for Boromir and his company to follow, "Come. I will bring you to see Gimli."
The way into the mine was a long tunnel which wound its way slowly downwards and into the heart of the mountain. It was lined with many torches that cast shadows everywhere. Though Boromir knew this to be the dwelling of a good and decent people the deep places of the earth had always held an air of unwholesomeness to him. He could feel the tension in his men as they descended into the city of the dwarves. The tunnel continued on for more than a league with no branches or side corridors until it ended finally at a great cavernous hall.
Though not nearly as large as the great hall in Moria it was still massive. Two great rows of fluted columns ran the length of the hall. Each column was a good 5 spans across and reached more than 50 spans to the ceiling above. The cavern had been painstakingly carved out, stone by stone. Gimli had brought over 500 dwarves to Ithilien, but in the eighteen years since the work was begun this hall had been completed only a year ago. So for now it was filled with tables and chairs so that the dwarves might use it as a meeting hall as well as a place to take meals together. Large braziers were lit throughout the chamber, but for light rather than heat. Boromir passed a hand over his brow. He had forgotten how stuffy and warm Khazad-bizar was.
Mali continued through the great hall and eventually through another door on the far side. This tunnel was wider than the one leading into the city and many others branched away from it. Mali led them through a maze of tunnels to a large room. Boromir recognized it as Gimli's greeting chamber, but although he had been here many times he was certain he would never be able to successfully navigate the tunnels they had taken to arrive here. The young prince had often thought that dwarves made the tunnels of their cities in a maze-like pattern so that any enemies who might breach the inner sanctum of the city would become confused and lost.
"Here is where I leave you, sirs," Mali bowed to Boromir's men and then to Boromir, "Sire." He quickly departed and as he left another dwarf entered the room from a side entrance,
"Greetings Prince Boromir. You and your men are most welcome in the halls of Khazad-bizar." The dwarf bowed low.
A mischievous look came across the prince's face, "We are most honored to be welcomed into Khazad-bizar, but as near as I can tell there is as yet only one hall. Have you excavated another, Nomi?"
The dwarf glared fiercely at Boromir, "There is entirely too much of your father in you. Your mother always speaks with a graceful and beautiful tongue, but you and your father speak insults with every other breath. The dwarves will not stand for further verbal abuse." The dwarf snorted with righteous indignation.
Boromir could not help the smile which spread across his face. "My good Nomi, you are as cheerful as ever, and I do believe your sense of humor is developing nicely."
Boromir's men turned suddenly at the sound of a door opening behind them. It was Gimli, and he strode into the room with all the bearing and countenance of royalty. When he reached Boromir and Nomi he took one appraising look at them and then laughed out loud, "So, Nomi, has our young prince here offended your delicate ears yet again. Pay no attention to him, he has learned all his manners and speech from Legolas. We must pity those who have been afforded such poor instruction."
Nomi sorted with irritation, "Perhaps a few weeks under my tutelage would do him some good."
"Undoubtedly so," said Gimli, "I shall have to speak to his father of this."
Boromir laughed, "Threatening to teach my Uncle Eomer polite speech availed to little, as you'll recall Master Gimli. There are those who say I am even more willful and wayward than he. I may be a hopeless case."
"Yes, you are," said Gimli. Unable to contain his laughter any longer Boromir let out a loud guffaw and was soon joined by Gimli and his men. Only Nomi remained stone-faced.
"Come and sit," Gimli motioned them all to a table in the corner. "Food and drink will be arriving shortly. Tell me, how was your journey?"
"Uneventful," said Boromir with a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Gimli was well aware of the young man's eagerness to prove himself in battle, and he had lectured him on this many times, but it would be wrong to admonish him in front of his men. The dwarf could not help thinking that Boromir might be granted his wish in the near future if things played out as all feared they would.
"How are your father and mother? I trust they are well," said Gimli.
"They are in excellent health, though they both continue to brood over the news out of Mordor."
Gimli nodded in agreement, "As we all do. And how is that daft elf, Legolas? Is he managing to keep out of trouble?"
Boromir smiled to himself. Everyone who knew them was aware of the great love Legolas and Gimli bore for one another, but all were smart enough to never utter that knowledge in their presence. "He is, master dwarf. His wounds have completely healed it seems, though it pains him that he is unable to leave the protection of Minas Mallen."
Gimli was surprised, "Unable to leave Minas Mallen? Isn't your father taking things a bit far? The elf should be allowed out into the city at least."
"He would be, if not for the letter from King Thranduil claiming Legolas's life was in great danger."
Gimli's eyes narrowed at the mention of Thranduil. His love for Legolas did not extend to the elf's father. Many years ago he had captured and put Gimli's father, Gloin, in the dungeon of his woodland hall along with 13 other dwarves. Eventually amends were made, but Gimli did not bear much love for the king of the woodland elves, and although dwarves were now welcome into his realm Thranduil still regarded them with some doubt and suspicion. But Gimli was more interested in the king's message. "Boromir, tell me precisely what Thranduil wrote in that letter."
Boromir related the contents of the correspondence to the dwarf. Gimli was very distressed by the news. "And did he not say any more? Who are these murderers? And what do they want with Legolas?"
"I have related all that he said to you. I believe by the tone of the letter that he wished to discuss the details with Legolas personally," said Boromir. "It appears the king has a dark secret to tell."
"Yes, and his past may prove to be the downfall of his son." The dwarf continued somewhat angrily, "Well, he is safe enough within the confines of Minas Mallen. When Thranduil arrives perhaps he can shed some light on the murderers, and then we will find them and make certain that they trouble Legolas no more."
Boromir nodded in agreement. He also considered the elf a friend, and would not easily suffer harm done to him.
There was the sound of a door opening at the back of the room, and Gimli clapped his hands together with delight, "Ah, our food has arrived. I hope you all have brought empty stomachs with you." But the last words died on Gimli's lips.
Instead of the serving dwarves from his kitchen twenty black-robed men with swords at the ready had entered the room. Boromir's men jumped to their feet and drew their swords, as did Boromir. This seemed to startle the enemy, who had apparently not expected armed fighting men of Ithilien to be present, but they regained their composure quickly. Boromir's men ran at the intruders shouting, "Ithilien! Ithilien!"
Boromir charged into the fray and was immediately met by one of the tall men in black. His sword flashed in a wide arc before his eyes, but his foe's blade was there to meet it. Quickly the intruder spun around with a blow aimed at Boromir's head, but the prince ducked and as he went to one knee he jabbed upwards with his blade. The enemy danced backwards out of harms way, but in doing so he tripped over the body of one of Boromir's men and fell. Boromir was upon him before he could rise and with all his might he ran his blade through the body of the cloaked figure.
Briefly he stood there with his sword imbedded in the body of his foe. The body twitched momentarily and then was still. Never before had Boromir, crown prince of Ithilien, taken another man's life, and he was now overcome with emotion. But although he was young and unaccustomed to real battle he had trained hard and well with the rangers, and their lessons are not easily forgotten. Though he knew not how long he had stood there eventually his mind returned to the battle at hand.
Several bodies lay motionless on the floor. The entire chamber was empty of people except for one man still fighting one of the attackers off to his left. Boromir ran to his aid, and though the black-robed man was highly skilled in the use of the sword he could not overcome to ranger-trained soldiers. With a mighty thrust Boromir impaled him. The man hung there a moment gasping and choking then he slid to the floor a lifeless corpse.
Boromir turned to his guard, a man called Andru, "Are you hurt?"
"No, sire, I am well."
Boromir looked around. There on the floor were the bodies of five of his guard. There, also, lay three of the attackers. The prince bent over the dead attacker at his feet and pulled back the hood. Andru drew in his breath sharply. Under the hood was not the face of a man, but of an elf. He was beautiful yet cold. His dark eyes were full of malice, even in death. "So, King Elessar was correct," he muttered to himself.
Andru took his arm. "Come, sire, the others fled this way after our enemy."
Boromir followed Andru out of one of the doors and into a tunnel. Had it not been for the bodies of dwarves lying at intervals along the enemy's escape route they might have become lost. Soon they found themselves in the large gathering hall of Khazad-bizar. There was great confusion in the hall for the dwarves were lamenting the dead and tending to the wounded. Andru pointed to their left and Boromir saw another of his guard lying dead. Not far from his body was one of the elves laying facedown, an axe protruding from his back.
Guessing that the enemy had tried for the main entrance they hurried across the great hall and entered into tunnel heading for the surface. It took only minutes, but it seemed like hours to Boromir for them to reach the top. Finally they burst out of the tunnel into the darkness.
The waxing moon gave little light to see by and it took a few moments for Boromir's vision to adjust, but his eyes were loath to see the devastation left behind by the elves. Two more of Boromir's men lay dead on the ground, and next to them was the body of Mali. Two of the elves lay dead as well. Momentarily overcome with grief the prince stood rooted to the ground unable to think or move.
One of his men shouted from the direction of the stables shaking Boromir from his stupor. He and Andru ran toward his voice. Torches were lit here, but they illuminated a dreadful scene. All their horses and the dwarves' ponies lay slaughtered upon the earth. The small stream in the middle ran red with blood, and Gali lay in a pool of his own blood, his hand still gripping the haft of his axe.
The remaining four members of his guard gathered around Boromir. Though all were seasoned warriors who had fought in the War of the Ring there was not one among them who did not appear shaken. Boromir knew that now was the time that true leadership was needed, but he did not know what to say to his men. Gripping Andru's shoulder tightly he said, "Go and find Gimli, if he is still alive. Though we are grieving there is much work to be done tonight."
Andru nodded in understanding, but before he could leave, Tolmoth, the captain of his guard spoke up. "Gimli may yet be alive sir, but you will not find him in Khazad-bizar. The enemy has fled with him as their captive."
"Gimli was taken alive? Why?" Boromir could not believe the news he was hearing. This enemy seemed to prefer death to captives. Why start now?
"I do not know, sire, but when they attacked a number of them grabbed Master Gimli and then ran. We gave chase, but we were sorely outnumbered against such skilled warriors. Still, we made it to the surface here in time for me to see the dwarf being carried away by these men."
"Not men, Tolmoth. They were elves," said Andru.
Rarely was the captain of Boromir's guard surprised by anything, but Andru's words had rendered him speechless.
"It is true," spoke the prince. "We unveiled one back in Gimli's greeting chamber." The four men stared at Boromir with looks of complete disbelief. "There is more, though I have not spoken of this to you before now for we were not certain. King Elessar's inspection of the site where Lanuitha and Teleren were murdered had led him to believe that the murderers had been elves."
Tolmoth shook his head, "This is grave news indeed, and unlooked for."
Boromir took a deep breath, "Yes, Tolmoth it is grave, and unlooked for, but we must now take action. The dwarves of Khazad-bizar will need our help to bury their dead and the horses and ponies in the stable. Then we must attend to our own dead, though I fear their bodies must remain here until we can return. Without our horses we cannot carry them if we hope to reach Amon Galen quickly. Tomorrow will be a long march for us, and one fraught with peril. We do not know the designs of our enemy or where they have gone. I do not believe we shall receive much rest in the coming days."
"I, for one, should be glad of that," said Tolmoth, "for what dreams may be borne out of such a day I do not want to know.